Keevan recalled Kors' words at the fountain. Perhaps the Pagoda wasn’t meant to be set free at all. What if they'd tried to kidnap it and failed somehow? He glanced back down the stairs, picturing the many relics left behind by the thieves who were obviously capable enough to take more than they did.
“They aren’t after money," Keevan whispered aloud. “They put thousands of gold pieces into this escape and didn’t even bother looting the basement to cover their losses. If they're that well-funded, with inside help to help them avoid the guards, they wouldn't need to use the Pagoda as a distraction. They must have wanted it for some other purpose."
Talking through his problems, especially the puzzles his mother sometimes presented him with as a child, helped to put the pieces together faster. The odd thing was that neither of his parents possessed such a trait. “So they must have wanted the Pagoda for a future distraction. What else would you want a storm born creature for?”
Pocketing the stone, he climbed the stairs. In the distance, heavy bells echoed through northern Issamere. The Suadan followers were marking the first quarter of the day. Keevan paused in the hallway, brushing aside the tapestry.
The Rankings were fast approaching and only excellent scores in academics would earn him enough marks to join the Haldrans. Still, this robbery left a number of unanswered questions, and Calistra was surely around here somewhere, too, and her hulking body guard. Something deeper called to him though, the pride in Madol’s eyes at how quickly Keevan read the scene. After years of elemental impotence, here was something he could actually do well.
Keevan headed for the showroom, where the Arnadi family displayed its most luxurious treasures. Surely a thief so well informed to find a secret stair wouldn't overlook the showroom's wares, and since none of those were reported missed... it warranted further investigation. He wandered down one hallway and then another. He glanced around, orienting himself to the basement’s location and the direction Madol pointed at the mention of the Pagoda’s cage.
He rounded the corner and found himself in a wooden walled extension of the mansion's stone foundation. A welcoming fire crackled a few rooms over, creating a noticeable increase in warmth from the colder stone-wrought half of the building. No footsteps tapped on the floor nearby, so Keevan headed towards the fireplace.
The showroom’s lacquered wooden walls and elaborately carved ceiling oozed wealth, even without the many relics, paintings and caged Pagoda in the room’s center. The red scaled lizard laid on the floor of its cage, curled into a ball, sleeping. Curious, he switched to his elemental vision. The cage itself wasn’t Danica reinforced at all, a hasty purchase until they could build a proper prison. Instead, a repulsor stone glowed under the creature, keeping all lightning at bay.
“They definitely weren’t after money, so they needed the lizard specifically," Keevan muttered, standing before its cage. The metal framework was freshly forged and a touch of the hand revealed, still wet with the oil its crafter used to gloss it up upon delivery. It wasn’t anchored into the pedestal though, like the repulsor ore beneath it, trusting in only the weight of its cargo to keep it in place. “This cage is brand new. So the old one must have melted apart, like the prisoner’s chains. Or did the Pagoda manage to blast it apart? That’s the obvious answer at least."
Footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor, giving him mere seconds of warning. The showroom wasn’t designed with stealth in mind however, every artifact’s pillar thin enough to support its burden without obscuring its fellows (or a wayward Sight Seekers) from view.
Calistra entered the showroom, wearing her fire Temple garb and lazily twirling a key in her hands. With a hiss of alarm at the sight of him, she stood bolt upright, trying to block the door behind her.
“What is it, girl? We’ve no time for games."
The voice sent a deep shudder of fear through Keevan’s bones. It was Kors’.
The big thief emerged behind Calistra, his gaze instantly shifting from indifference, to recognition, to shock, to rage. Pointing at Keevan with a fist roughly the size of Keevan’s head, he sputtered, “I knew it! He must be working with Madol. What now?”
“Me? Oh no, no, no," Keevan answered, skirting away from the Pagoda’s cage. He kept his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumped to look as innocuous as possible. “I’m just looking at the showroom, quite an impressive display of relics here. Calistra, you and I can settle this, why don’t we go get your dad? This is all a big misunderstanding."
“The only misunderstanding here,” Calistra said, eyes cold with that same inhuman concentration, he'd noticed at the steam gardens. “Is your lack of understanding when the Persuader brought you along to observe. Without his protection, you’re as vulnerable as any Rhet."
There, through his elemental vision, Keevan realized his mistake. This was the side of Calistra he’d seen at the steam gardens, drawing water around her with perfectly calm calculation. There wasn’t even a flicker of lightning in her soul, as one would expect when surprised by thieves, or being intimidated by dangerous people. No fear.
“By Raejin’s fall,” Keevan gulped in shock, taking a step back. “They’re your thieves. This is all you." Calistra and the thieves entered, flanking him between the far wall and the Pagoda’s cage. The daughter of Arnadi glared daggers at him.
Kors’ smile widened sadistically. “Well, miss. Looks like he figured out your big secret. What do we do with him now?”
“There’s a chance he could restore the people to Narivatari, should his powers return," the second thief offered cautiously. “If we endanger that, the scholar's guild and half the city will hunt us down."
“While the other half cheers in gratitude," Kors grumbled, water gathering in thick globs against his hands, half suspended in the air around him.
“His powers haven’t matured in fifteen years," Calistra said, her finger spurting blue flame. The air around her shimmered as her temperature rose, even causing the fire-resistant leather around her hips and shoulders to smolder. Her eyes flashed with hate for a moment, her only show of emotion. “I’m willing to accept that they won’t. He’s lying to all of Issamere, just to save his own skin."
A plummeting sensation threw Keevan’s courage aside. When would he learn to think to himself instead of out loud? The Etrendi circled around him until he felt the back of the Pagoda’s cage tickling his shoulder blades.
Both the thieves reached towards him with tentacles of water, thick enough to drown him where he stood. Fear held Keevan in place, held immobile by the recent unwelcome memory of drowning to death in a stone coffin.
Their attacks lanced towards his face, silent and final—then bent around him. His attacker’s paused, glancing at each other in confusion. Keevan sucked in a breath of unexpected relief.
“What is this?” Calistra said in surprise, paling visibly. “You blocked them. Did your Sight Seeker abilities finally mature?”
Hands still deep in his pockets, Keevan felt the repulsor stone in between his fingers and breathed a sigh of relief. They couldn’t touch him, not with water at least. Calistra's flames on the other hand... His mind raced, watching Kors’ anger swell.
“I don’t care if he has his power back," Kors spat, clenching his huge fists in frustration. Thick veins bulged from his head and neck. “Madol will be here soon. We need to take the Pagoda and go."
“You should care," Keevan said quickly, surprised at how quick the bluff fell from his lips. “If you value the nature of your mind as it is, you won’t set another foot towards me."
No one knew Sight Seeker lore better than he, not when such legends were his only connection to his true origins. He knew exactly what his fellow Outlanders were capable of. As he spoke, another part of his mind labored desperately for some answer. Stalling them might buy enough time, but Madol was thorough and meticulous. Keevan needed a backup plan. Now.
“Why not?” Calistra asked, her striking features looking more predatorily than attractive. Fear blanketed his m
ind with momentary panic. This woman could literally burn him to ashes, and the stone in his pocket could do nothing to impede her.
“I wasn’t talking to you," Keevan said, gathering what flickering of courage he could muster. He faced Kors. “If you want your world to stay as it is, you’ll make sure I walk out of here alive."
“Not likely," Kors snorted, after a brief pause he glanced at his friend hesitantly, “or what?”
Keevan grinned, hoping they saw confidence, not a fifteen year old boy trying with all his might not too wet his pants in terror. “Or I’ll twist your mind. How about I make you hopelessly attracted to your friend here?” He whirled on the second thief, who suddenly gulped just as nervously as his companion.
“Then, I’ll make you,” he pointed at the quieter thief, “convinced that Calistra here is dying of cold and your only chance of saving her is stripping off your clothes and warming her body to body."
Both the thieves glanced nervously at Calistra. The Arnadi noble woman only glared at Keevan vehemently. “You do a lot of talking," she hissed. “You can block elements, but not bodies. Kors, break him. Now."
Kors snarled, lunging forwards. Gritting his teeth, Keevan whirled to the side, knocking the Pagoda’s cage from its pedestal. Everyone had only enough time to gasp in shock, then the cage hit the wooden floor.
Before his elemental vision, Keevan saw the creature fall out of range of the repulsor stone on the pedestal. Then, all the electricity in the room rush suddenly inward, glistening within the Pagoda before exploding outwards. The blast hurled Keevan across the room. He smashed against the wooden timbers, the air rushing from his lungs and painful stars dancing before his eyes.
In seconds, the Pagoda disappeared from sight. A smoldering hole in the south wall marked its exit, pieces of its cage askew across the showroom. A couple tapestries caught fire, as well as the nearby wall, the flames spreading with surprising ease. Every muscle in Keevan's body ached, having contracted during the shock. His hair stood on end. His vision was left blotchy and ragged after the shear brightness of the Pagoda's escape.
Rough hands caught him. Someone tied his wrists and ankles together with strong strips of leather, despite his attempts to thrash and kick. A strong blow smashed into his stomach, throwing his priorities from escape to sucking in air. They shoved a foul tasting cloth into his mouth, tying the gag shut. Then, someone hoisted him into the air. He recognized Kors’ arms, now blistered and black in places. The thief dug into Keevan's pockets, pulling the repulsor stone free.
“So he was bluffing,” Kors hissed through gritted teeth. Something jingled in the distance, amidst the pain searing through his body. Kors was taking his reward money as well. “Now can I kill him?”
The air was thick with the rank smell of cooked flesh. Keevan looked around and saw a smoking, torched body where he remembered the quieter thief once stood. Keevan’s stomach threatened to vomit up his last meal.
“No,” Calistra insisted. “Bring him with us." Her knotted braid flapping in Keevan’s peripheral vision. “Zerik will want to see some sort of profit from this debacle. At the least, we can sell him for ransom."
“Fine," Kors hissed bitterly, lifting Keevan over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Keevan gasped for air beneath the exile's mighty grip. “But if Zerik says he’s not worth the effort, let me kill him. That’s twice now he’s out done me."
“Fine by me," Calistra said carelessly. “This way."
They walked over to the north wall, opposite of the Pagoda’s elaborate escape hole and the main entrance to the room. Intense heat radiated from Calistra and though Keevan couldn’t see the proceedings, he could smell the sweet scent of burning cedar and hear the wooden fibers falling away from her sudden attack against the far wall.
Bending to one side, Keevan strained with all his might, catching a glimpse of Calistra holding a ring before her, pulsing with fire energy. Surely a Danica-forged trinket—how did a girl like her get her hands on a weapon like that? At least it explained the source of the mysterious melted chains and the thieves’ inside information on the Arnadi residence.
The wall fell away, hot cinders falling down the neck of Keevan’s shirt as they stepped through the opening. Hissing from the pain burning down his back, he tried to wriggle free, but Kors’ tight grip kept him fixed over the big thief’s shoulder. Glancing up, Keevan realized they’d landed in a thin space between the wooden showroom and a tall granite wall of the original mansion.
Calistra lead them away through the underbelly of the reconstructed mansion, and what flickers of hope Keevan had in a quick re-capture by the Arnadi guards faded. Kors’ held him tight and as far as Madol and the Arnadi house were concerned, the Pagoda had escaped again and Keevan had gone home. No one would miss him for hours yet, much less organize a search for him. Alarm bells rang, guards shouted directions to the staff and Keevan could even see distant elemental fields pulling moisture from the sky to put out the fire. But the servants attending to the flames were approaching the showroom from the opposite side as their escape route.
A dark, immobilizing despair settled over Keevan. This was his reward for thinking his power could make a difference. He was a fool to think himself capable of greatness. Disaster and pain surrounded him on every side. His fellow Outlanders lost at sea, half of Issamere convinced he was useless or a threat worth eliminating and now, he’d proved to the wrong people just how much trouble one Sight Seeker could deliver.
Kors hauled Keevan along like a sack of grain, easily immobilizing the helpless Outlander in his massive grip. Keevan could only curl into a ball and try his best not to whimper. Just like when Keevan was seven and his scar stopped glowing, when his brother's power abandoned him to that beating in the alleyway. The young Tri-Beings didn't need the elements to overpower and pummel Keevan. Without the scar's power, his physical abilities were all too similar to his elemental ones. Nonexistent.
He thought of this Zerik, Calistra referred to. Keevan had walked into the showroom looking to solve a mystery or two. He recalled from his studies a man named Zerik instigated an uprising fifteen years ago, when Malik Morgra overthrew him. Was this same Zerik, now an exile like Kors, the man giving the orders? At least, before Keevan died, he’d have a chance to meet the thieves’ shot caller face to face. It was a small comfort. A very small one indeed.
They ducked beneath the mansion’s wooden foundations on the south side, cutting a wide circle around the building to exit opposite the fire. When they stepped out into a thick portion of the garden, no guards were in view. The escaping Pagoda did its trick. They turned and headed west, along a shallow ravine, hiding them from sight.
It was then that Keevan realized that only he, Kors and Calistra were walking those thick, grassy trails. He recalled the smell of burning flesh and grimaced, a thick nausea settling around him. His attempt at escape had maimed or probably killed the second thief, the calmer of the two as his misfortune would have it. He’d been standing on the side Keevan knocked the Pagoda towards.
Thick guilt settled over Keevan’s soul, like a stain no amount of cleaning could remove. He’d likely killed someone to save his own skin. This wasn’t a question of money or keeping the thieves’ identity secret now, it was about these people losing one of their own, to him.
The ravine led to a dark tunnel, a foot deep with trickling water for irrigation. Something clicked and Keevan heard stone grind against rock as a secret passage rolled open. Keevan stared out the tunnel for one last time, trying to scream but only managing another muffled gurgle courtesy of the gag. Then Kors hauled him into the cold darkness.
Chapter 13
Minutes trailed into hours. All the while grisly shadows pursued them, cast by Calistra’s flaming hands. Keevan shivered against the cold, worsening with each step as drops of runoff fell on them from above. Every minute or so, they passed old, rusted trap doors. Most were paved over to make way for the city above. Others were clearly rusted shut. Calistra ignored them all
, plodding onwards into the silent, rank network of sewage.
Keevan’s admiration for the Arnadi Heiress gradually grew, despite his less-than-friendly circumstances. Tri-Beings couldn’t summon an element without mustering up the emotion it connected to. Whatever her motivations for her actions against both Malik and father, they were both potent and lasting, the red glow from her fingers never faded.
The water in the tunnel deepened, until Kors wadded through the icy liquid, now so deep the top of Keevan’s head dipped into the cold with each of the lumbering man’s steps. An hour ago he could have returned home with a fat purse of gold and a priceless repulsor orb. Now, he fought back the urge to cry, both from pain and humiliation. Kors carted him along like so many goods, the way Keevan's parents carried him along for so many years, whenever his elemental lackings were an issue. Voices finally echoed amidst the darkness, whispers of relief and suspicion.
“Identify yourself," a scout called, his voice accompanied by the raspy hiss of metal against leather, a weapon sliding free of its makeshift sheath.
“Go soak your head in oil," Calistra snapped back, the light from her hands crackling a sudden burst of orange. “We’ve a prisoner for Zerik. Keep your faces out of sight until we know what to do with him."
“Yes, Heiress," the scout sputtered. Coins clattered into a purse. Then he and his fellows faded into the gathering darkness, their voices little more than whispers.
Kors stepped up out of the canal, setting Keevan down none-too-gently. The cave smelt like urine, sweat and excrement, with a faint breeze from the canal. The roughly cut rock floor ground against Keevan’s elbows and hands, but he rolled onto his back anyway, taking in the scene.
The Kors stood at the water's edge and concentrated, pulling up a thick draw of water from the canal. It soaked through his clothes and wrapped him in its embrace, pulling debris and filth from his body and tunic. In seconds, he returned the liquid to the canal, as dry as if he'd spent the day sunning himself in a garden. Then he turned back to Keevan, dragging the Outlander deeper into the chamber by his bound feet.
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