Masters of Deception

by J C Kang

  “Oh, look at the pyramid!” Makeda pointed at the top, its Dragonstone sparkling light blue in the darkening sky. It was the same color as Makeda’s Tear at the university. However, unlike the basalt columns of the pyramid back home, this one was cream-colored, and had hard edges which spread to what appeared to be a square base.

  Hand forgotten, Cassius nodded with enthusiasm. His tone carried excitement. “Yes, built by the orcs in ancient times as a temple to their gods. My ancestor, Tatiana, foresaw when their flaming chariots would depart, allowing our people to rise up against their masters. We are going to stop there first.”

  To think, he wasn’t just a pretty face, but interested in history as well. Brehane would’ve clapped her hands together, but that would’ve meant untangling hers from the Diviner’s fingers. Instead, she clasped the crystal hanging from her neck. “My ancestor, Makeda—”

  “Our ancestor,” Makeda growled. “For whom I am named. I am the True Heir.”

  “—was the lover of the Elf Angel Aralas.” Brehane seethed inside at the interrupting assama.

  “As I guessed, from the signs in the heavens.” With that charming grin, Cassius looked down at their interwoven fingers. “Our destinies are as intertwined as our ancestors’ were. After all, my progenitor, Tatiana, was also one of the nine loves of Aralas.”

  What? Brehane exchanged knowing glances with Makeda. At least in this they agreed: Cassius had it all wrong. The elf angel had taught men their humble place in the world by yielding only to Makeda, thereby imbuing her with magic.

  Makeda snickered, her usual obnoxious bird titter. “The others were just Aralas’ students. No more, no less.”

  “Only the great Makeda received his essence,” Brehane said, “and therefore became the most powerful of his disciples.”

  Cassius’ forehead furrowed. He opened his mouth, but then closed it. Like a good man, he knew when to be quiet. Still, he loosened his fingers from hers.

  Brehane frowned. What had she said? Or was he playing hard-to-get? She withdrew her hand, crossed her arms, and looked up at the pyramid.

  Unlike the bundled basalt columns back home, this pyramid looked to be made of smooth, seamless stone. However, the glittering Dragonstone looked just like Makeda’s Tear. While the Resonance had lulled a bit on the sea journey, it pulsated just as strongly here as it did back home. Maybe that was why Adept Melas and the other missing Mystics had come here.

  Did the strong Resonance make magic easier, as all the books claimed? Brehane would test that theory. With a sidelong glance at Teacher Dawit, she grunted out several syllables and opened her hand. A cold, purple flame sprung to life in her palm. Though fatigue crept into her limbs, the Pyromancy didn’t drain her like it had on the ship ride over, where she’d used it to shut up a sailor who didn’t know his place.

  Cassius stared at her in wide-eyed wonder. “I am quite fascinated.”

  “Brehane is only a Biomancer. Watch what a Pyromancer can do!” Makeda’s eyes lit up.

  The blood burning in Brehane’s cheeks was a reminder of her own Pyromancer heritage. How dare Makeda lie like that!

  Teacher Dawit glared at the two of them, but the ugly assama waved him off. She barked out similar words in the language of Shallow Magic. A green flame danced in her hand, but shifted from red to purple and finally a luminous blue. She winked. “See? Like the color of your right eye. The Dragon’s Eye.”

  “And yet, not as beautiful as yours.” Cassius dipped his chin.

  Brehane’s chest squeezed tighter. In insulting her Biomancer tribe and flaunting her power, Makeda was winning the race to mount this most intriguing man. Well, if he thought dancing colors were impressive, wait until they both saw her latest experiment: fusing Pyromancy with the simple Biomancy spell.

  Brehane snorted. Now, now. It would be foolish to reveal this magic to her rival over something so trivial. Not to mention, fighting over a man just distracted her from finding Adept Melas, and the ultimate goal of restoring her tribe’s honor.

  She turned to Cassius. “You must live here because the pyramid makes Divining easier.”

  The Diviner looked up from where he was ogling Makeda. “I’ve never left the city, so I wouldn’t know.”

  “Never left?” Makeda arched that furry caterpillar of an eyebrow.

  Cassius gazed at the pyramid. “It is my family’s sacred duty to protect the pyramid. The elf angel’s Last Command—”

  Brehane recited the line from history: “Keep well the pyramids, reminders though they may be of your enslavement...”

  “…lest the orc gods return on their flaming chariots,” he finished. “Most of the signores are descended from the heroes of the War of Ancient Gods, who swore to obey the Last Command. Unfortunately, despite the wealth their prestige has brought them, they no longer take it seriously.”

  She turned back to the pyramid. Up close, it appeared as if it were made of huge, smooth stones. On the side of the access road stood a grey metal statue, rising head and shoulders above passersby despite crouching on one knee, opposite hand to the ground. Its free arm was bent at the elbow, as if punching with its spiked knuckles. Its horned head had no nose or mouth, just lusterless crystal eyes. A beggar, head covered by a hood, huddled in its shadow.

  She turned to Cassius. “What is that?”

  He tore his gaze away from Makeda and to the statue. A smile blossomed on his pretty face. “These are the remains of Konkistor’s Iron Avatar. My ancestor Helio, Seer for the last Arkothi Emperor, witnessed its descent from the heavens during the Hellstorm.”

  The Hellstorm! The statue didn’t look three hundred years old, though it certainly resembled paintings of Maher, God of War. Brehane squinted. Puncture marks marred each of its major joints. “In ancient times, not even the elves with their sorcery and magic weapons could defeat Maher’s Avatar. How could humans with no magic do such damage?”

  Cassius searched her expression. “Helio’s memoirs claim the Elf Angel Aralas returned that night and defeated the Iron Avatar with magic rapiers. It fell on this spot, and it was too heavy to move.”

  Teacher Dawit pointed to a series of jagged gashes on its calf. “These, too?”

  He shook his head. “Over the last decades, Ayuri Paladins have come on pilgrimages to the pyramid. They test their nagas on it.”

  Brehane’s shoulders tensed. Dishonorable Paladins. They’d betrayed her people before the Hellstorm. Now they vandalized a statue. “Of course they would. They are nothing but rogues and bandits.”

  “No, no.” Cassius waved his hands back and forth. “We allow it, and only in that spot. They pay a fee that funds the pyramid’s honor guard. And in the event the avatar reawakens, or another one comes, we know what weapons can damage it.”

  Brehane pursed her lips. It was doubtful Paladins would risk their hides for anyone besides their own people.

  As the carriage drew closer to the monument, the Resonance of the Universe quieted. A cold shiver crawled up Brehane’s spine.

  “You feel it, too.” Cassius draped an arm over her. “I cannot Divine in close proximity to it.”

  Despite the satisfaction of seeing Makeda pout, Brehane shuddered. To be cut off from the Resonance, stripped of magic, would be horrible. “I would have the Paladins hack it apart and haul it away.”

  Cassius shrugged. “It’s not bad, actually. Sometimes I enjoy the quiet.”

  She searched his eyes. Beyond his pretty face, the man was full of surprises. Still, when the carriage passed, the Resonance of the Universe returned, louder than ever. Her shoulders relaxed.

  Kirala’s book vibrated in Brehane’s pouch in her lap, startling her. Teacher Dawit, Makeda, and Cassius all stared.

  Heat rushed to Brehane’s cheeks. She reached for the pouch, but paused. The book was her secret. She settled her hands in her lap, even if her fingers itched to see what was undoubtedly a new entry.

  “Stop here,” Cassius ordered the driver.

  The carriage eased to
a halt, providing a view of the pyramid plaza. Hundreds of men in shiny metal cuirasses and baggy red pantaloons stood in neat rows, poleaxes held at attention.

  “Just why are we stopping here?” Makeda yawned.

  Brehane glared at her. Leave it to that assama to be rude.

  Ignoring Makeda, Cassius jabbed a finger at two burly men in black longcoats. “You there. You are not allowed in this district.”

  Brehane studied the two men. Nothing distinguished them from any other Estomari, save for their poor taste in colors.

  Both of their eyes roved over the carriage, pausing on her and Makeda, then Dawit. They leaned their heads close to one another, whispering. They tipped their hats and skulked off back the way the carriage had just come.

  “Who were they?” Brehane asked.

  Cassius frowned. “Mafia.”

  It wasn’t a familiar word. She tilted her head. “What is that?”

  “Crime families. A blight on our beautiful city. They usually keep to their own territory, but they’ve been more brazen lately.” His eyes stared off for a second.

  Brehane gestured at all the soldiers lounging in front of the pyramid. Many leaned on spears, and some didn’t seem to care about their disheveled armor. “Why don’t those men run them off?”

  “They are there to protect against orc attacks, not vagrants or thugs.” Cassius laughed. “But that’s a good idea.”

  Leave it to men not to go above and beyond their duty, nor to have the creativity to consider multiple tasks. Brehane rolled her eyes.

  “One moment.” Cassius wagged his fingers at the lines of soldiers, his lips moving. He then looked up, a scowl melting. “I need to gather information about the honor guard before tonight’s reception.”

  On his signal, the carriage set off again. Brehane craned her head as the road from the pyramid lengthened, but the superstructure itself didn’t seem to get any smaller.

  “Here we are.” Cassius gestured up ahead.

  Brehane followed the motion. She gasped. So focused had she been on the pyramid, she’d missed the rows of enormous mansions, all surrounded by white stone walls rising to the height of a man. Back home in Bahir, she’d passed the villas of wealthy merchants and plantation owners, but even the largest of those was half the size of these grand concrete manors with vaulting decorative columns. And there were so many in one place.

  Servants dressed in the same drab livery as Cassius opened a gilded gate, each bar spiraling upward and ending in a disk. The carriage wheels clunked over white pavestones on a path that led around a fountain until they arrived at the front doors.

  The driver dismounted and opened the carriage door. Cassius slid past her and hopped out. “My lady.”

  Taking his offered hand, she jumped off. She pulled him toward the house, but he held firm. Turning in a circle, he took Makeda’s hand as well. “My second lady.”

  Makeda pouted, putting her infuriatingly beautiful lips on full display. “Not your first lady?”

  Cassius bowed his head. “Second only in seating arrangements, but equally first in my heart.”

  Forgotten in the carriage, Teacher Dawit frowned, no doubt jealous of this beautiful man. Perhaps he regretted not taking his chance to share his seed when he was still young and handsome.

  A man emerged from the mansion with a tight bow.

  Cassius nodded in acknowledgement. “How are the preparations for tonight, Patrizio?”

  This Patrizio must be some kind of important servant. He straightened. “The dining hall is ready, and the chefs are almost finished in the kitchens, though they are waiting for you to taste things and put on any final touches.”

  Cassius’ expression lit up, and he turned to face them. “I can’t wait for you to try Estomari delicacies. You have some time before we eat, so please, rest and freshen up. Now, if you will excuse me, I must visit the kitchens. Patrizio, please take Mister Dawit, Lady Brehane, and Lady Makeda to their rooms and have the servants bring some wash basins.”

  Brehane clasped the jewel around her neck with her free hand. It was time to take a risk. She squeezed Cassius’ hand. “Mister Cassius, won’t you show me around your beautiful gardens?”

  Cassius’ eyes rounded, and he exchanged glances with Patrizio. “Patrizio, you go ahead with Mr. Dawit, and—”

  “Take me, too.” Makeda pulled Cassius’ hand to her chest, and glared at Brehane.

  Brehane gritted her teeth. The ugly assama. A forgetfulness spell might distract Makeda long enough for the two of them to get away for a private walk in the gardens, but she’d probably recognize the Neuromancy and use a counterspell. It would escalate into the petty magic squabbles Makeda had so enjoyed, ever since Brehane had taken the missing Adept Melas to bed. Ultimately, it would just tire them both out.

  Cassius’ cold, sweating hand in hers suggested they’d scared him off. Neither of them would be mounting him tonight. Then, he looked to Patrizio and lifted his chin. “You go ahead with Mister Dawit. I’ll be right up with the ladies.”

  Brehane’s heart flitted. There was still a chance. She watched as Teacher Dawit cast an unfriendly glance at Cassius before following Patrizio into the house.

  Cassius looked from her to Makeda. “Are you sure you’re not too tired?”

  “Never too tired to see beautiful things, Mister Cassius.” Brehane leaned into his shoulder and looked up through her lashes at Makeda.

  “You’re acting like a warthog in heat,” Makeda said in their language.

  Brehane smiled. “You’re just jealous.”

  Makeda barked a few syllables while reaching into a pouch at her waist and flinging some sand.

  The grains rained on Brehane, and she braced herself against the sleep magic with a quick grunt of a ward. Makeda had played the stupid prank often enough on her that she’d recognized the magic right away. The enchantment washed over her. Blood rushed from her head and darkness crowded the edge of her vision. She shot out a hand to catch…

  …Cassius. His arm draped under hers. “Are you okay?”

  How embarrassing, to be upstaged by Makeda, of all people. Brehane jabbed a finger at her. “This assama tried to make me faint.”

  Cassius looked between them and then smiled. “Now, now, no need to fight over whatever it is between you.”

  Was that it? No anger for attacking her with magic, no matter how mundane it might be? Brehane stared at him.

  His expression softened. “Lady Brehane, you do not look well. Allow me to take you to your room to rest.”

  If Makeda’s mouth could gape any wider, Brehane would stuff a Geomanced stone in. It was tempting as it was. Now, though, she had the advantage. She wobbled on her legs and leaned into Cassius. As he guided her up onto the manor’s stoop, she looked back at her rival and stuck out her tongue.

  Makeda’s eyes narrowed. “No Neuromancy,” she said in their language, before following.

  As if Brehane needed to charm him. She’d already won. With Cassius’ unnecessary support, they passed through the front door. Her home could’ve fit in the vaulting foyer, which boasted marble floors and a fountain in the center. A white stone statue of a half-naked woman rose from the rustling waters, the likeness to a real human unlike any sculpture in Aksumi lands. In her hands was a fist-sized globe.

  Patrizio strode in, bowing.

  Cassius recognized him with a nod. “I trust Mister Dawit is taken care of. Please take Lady Makeda to her chambers.”

  A frown cut across Makeda’s face, but she reluctantly took Patrizio’s gloved hand and allowed him to take her up a grand stairway of wood.

  Leaving the prey alone with a predator.

  Energy growing, Brehane smiled to herself as she studied the graceful lines and beautiful face of the statue, which bore a strong resemblance to Cassius. “Who is that? What is she holding?”

  “That is my ancestor Tatiana, the First Diviner. She holds a Starburst, a gift from Aralas.”

  A starburst! With Brehane’s interes
t in Dragonstones, she’d scoured the university’s library to learn about them. In millennia past, when orcs and elves first battled for supremacy over Tivara, the elves had uncovered starbursts in glittering caves. These magnified the power of their magic, and almost turned the tide of the war until the Year of the Second Sun. She edged over to get a better look, though slowly enough that she wouldn’t lose contact with Cassius.

  “The same Helio who’d witnessed the Iron Avatar commissioned it from one of the premier sculptors of the time. It’s been passed from father to son, in this house, for six generations.”

  Brehane searched his eyes. How strange it was, for a legacy to be passed along a patrilineal line. Whereas no one could question a mother’s claim to a child, how could anyone be certain of a father? Though… “What happened to the Starburst? Is that still in your family?”

  “No.” He shook his head, and frowned. “When the Arkothi Empire conquered the Estomar, the Sorcerer Imperator took our starburst and set it in his crown.”

  She nodded in slow bobs. “The Crown of Arkos, which helped fuel the Sorcerer Imperator’s magic.”

  “We call it the Crown of the Sundered Empire, lost during the Hellstorm.” He gave a wry smile. “Arkothi peasants pine for the day when an Emperor returns with the crown.”

  “They’ve forgotten about the hundred years of war.”

  “More than a hundred. Now come.” He withdrew his arm from under hers and took her hand. “The reception won’t start for another hour. You should rest.”

  Cassius guided her up the stairs and down a hallway until they came to an open door. He released her hand, though a finger brushed across her palm and down her wrist.

  The jolt might have stopped her heart if it weren’t beating so rapidly.

  He gestured toward the room. “Your room, until we begin our journey to find your lost friend. I will have Patrizio bring you to the reception once my guests arrive.”

  He started to turn.

  Brehane seized his wrists and pulled him into the room. She kicked her shoes off as she backed over plush red carpets towards a fluffy-looking bed. He brought his face close, like an alchemist sniffing a potion. How strange. She kept backing up until she fell into the luxurious covers, pulling him down onto her. Unable to retreat further, all she could was turn her head to keep his mouth off her nose. Was he trying to eat her?