by Andrew Rowe
“Nothing to worry about right now.” Wrynn took a breath. “I’ll explain some other time.”
“I’ll have to consider this...problem.” Kyestri sighed. “Perhaps I could get you to take a look at my other Artinian purchase? It’s so hard to get anything from there that I just bought everything I could.”
Wrynn nodded. “That’s because selling spirit-imbued items to foreign nations is almost entirely illegal. The ‘traveling merchant’ you spoke to was more than likely someone on the run from the empire. You’re fortunate that the presence of these things hasn’t brought you any Artinian interest.”
“My, that would be troubling. What about this?” Kyestri pointed to one of the object cases nearby, and Taelien tore his attention away from the weapons to follow Kyestri’s gesture and look.
Artinian Soul Diamond
This diamond is said to be imbued with great spiritual power. If properly utilized, it can increase the strength of the spirit of the one who uses it.
Creation Date Unknown
Wrynn looked at the object intently again, then nodded. “It’s real. I’m a bit surprised; that’s a valuable find.”
“Could you, um, perhaps, give me an estimate of the value? Purely as a favor to a colleague?” Kyestri seemed abashed.
Wrynn chuckled. “Open the glass. I’ll need to touch it to evaluate the amount of spirit inside.”
“I suppose that would be acceptable...” He reached forward, touching a rune on the glass and whispering a word. A section opened, allowing Wrynn to reach inside.
“Not bad.” She pulled her hand back. “It’s nearly a tenth full, which given the size and the cut... In Artinia, something like this would be worth a small fortune. Unfortunately, it’s very nearly worthless here, save for symbolic value. The Authority can’t be invoked properly here, so you can’t make use of the spirit inside.” Wrynn wrinkled her nose. “Maybe with a powerful spirit sorcerer, you could do something with it?”
Kyestri folded his arms. “I seem to recall that you are a powerful spirit sorcerer, Lady Jaden.”
“Guilty.” A wry grin crossed her face. “But I don’t offer my services lightly. Especially considering the risks of making a mistake when working with an item like that. It could tear my spirit to pieces.”
“You can spare me the theatrics. I’d be interested in moving the spiritual essence in there into someone, perhaps myself. What would you charge for such a service?”
Wrynn winked at him. “I haven’t found anything I like that much here yet. We’ll see.”
Kyestri grunted, leaning toward Taelien. “Be careful with that one. Feed her too much and she’ll bite your hand right off.”
“Now, that’s hardly fair of you, Korus. Hands are one of my least favorite foods.” Wrynn turned to examine the other miscellaneous items, and Taelien moved back to the weapons.
There were a few more in the case, but none of them were quite as tempting as the World Cutter or the Void Branch. There was a dagger with a lightning enchantment that the plaque claimed to originate from Rendalir, a fire-imbued axe said to have once been used by a Xixian general, and a single arrow said to have once been fired by one of the old gods that predated the Tae’os Pantheon.
There were three full suits of armor in the armor case, but Taelien was less interested in those, at least at first. He did see one particular item in the case that caught his eye, however.
Silverweave Tunic
This shirt is woven from silverweave, a form of metallic thread woven by the silverweave spiders of Kaldwyn. While metallic, it is nearly as light as conventional cloth, and nearly impossible to pierce or cut with ordinary weapons. It is not enchanted, but offers better protection than many enchanted suits.
Creation Date Unknown
“How much for the tunic?” Taelien asked.
“Ah, you have an eye for quality, I see.” Kyestri grinned. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be the one that makes an offer, however. You’re going to need to give me more than what I could expect to make at the auction, otherwise it would be foolish to sell it now.”
Taelien nodded. “I’ll think about what I’m willing to offer. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to compensate me or offer me a discount if I help you dispose of the Three-Thorned Rose?”
“I’ll consider that at some point, but not today. It hasn’t caused me any trouble in the months that I’ve had it, so I don’t believe I have any need to hurry.” Kyestri gave Wrynn a questioning look.
“You’re right, it isn’t that urgent.” Wrynn frowned. “But I wouldn’t wait forever, either. The yari will attract attention eventually, and not of a kind you’d like.”
Kyestri nodded seriously. “Very well. Have you found anything you’re interested in, Lady Jaden?”
Wrynn pointed at a case. “Maybe. Could I trade you something for this?”
Taelien looked over and realized Wrynn was pointing at the case containing the item he’d come to look for. It was a silvery mask that covered the upper half of the face with a single clear rune on the forehead.
The Mask of Kishor
Once the mask worn by Kishor the Artisan, one of the gods of the destroyed world of Rendalir. It is one of very few artifacts that escaped the destruction of that planet, most likely due to its enchantments, which assist the wearer in avoiding detection sorcery and identification. The mask is also notably resilient to damage.
Taelien watched the conversation, hoping that Wrynn was asking for his sake and not in an effort to buy it out from under him. He doubted she would make that kind of move, but he couldn’t be certain.
“Ah, that one might be a bit of a problem.” Kyestri shook his head. “I’m afraid I wasn’t planning to put that up for auction. I don’t trade items from Rendalir for anything but other items from Rendalir, since they’re so rare. In truth, part of the reason for the auction is so I can purchase more items from there.”
Wrynn leaned a little closer to the box. “Interesting. Don’t think I have any toys from Rendalir to trade.” She turned to Taelien. “What about you? Maybe we could do a two-part trade. If you have something he wants, you could trade me the mask for one of the swords you liked in my collection.”
She hadn’t offered him any swords, so the intent behind her remark was clear.
Taelien reached into his bag, retrieving the crystalline necklace that he’d shown Wrynn earlier. “Arturo’s Amulet of Sanctuary. You’ve heard of it, I assume?”
Kyestri’s eyes widened momentarily. “...That...” He regained his composure after a moment, shaking his head. “Was anything else with it? Any people, perhaps?”
Taelien hesitated. Kyestri seemed a little too interested, far more than he should be for something that was an ancient relic from a ruined world.
“Nothing else,” Wrynn said for him. He didn’t correct her. If she didn’t think it was wise to mention the map, she probably knew more than he did. “I’m the one who told him where to find it, you know.”
Kyestri looked noticeably flustered now. “And where was that, may I ask?”
“I think we’ll trade that to you along with the necklace.” Wrynn smiled. “For the mask?”
Kyestri raised a hand and ran it through his hair, turning away. “I’ll...need some time to think about that.” He frowned. “I don’t suppose I could trade you the Lady’s Hour instead? I know you had an interest in it before.”
“Definitely still want it, but not as much as the mask. Hm.” Wrynn lifted a finger to her lips.
“Perhaps I could trade you this dagger for The Lady’s Hour, and the amulet for the mask?” Taelien retrieved Sculptor from his belt, offering it to Kyestri.
Kyestri accepted the weapon, turning it over in his hands, then unsheathing it. “A stone shaping dagger? Ah, interesting. This is of Xixian make, no?”
Taelien nodded. “A tool that once belonged to the Xixian prince Shosan Ver. It’s called Sculptor. I thought it’d be useful in your line of work.”
“How fascin
ating.” Kyestri sheathed it, then handed it back to Taelien. “Unfortunately, while I do appreciate the concept of the item, it’s of limited actual use to me. I would trade it for another weapon, perhaps, but not something on the scale of The Lady’s Hour or the Mask of Kishor.”
Taelien nodded. “I’d like to discuss a weapon trade later, then.”
“Of course.” Kyestri turned back to Wrynn. “Did you have a better offer for me?”
“I do think I know about one more item from Rendalir. Maybe we could trade you items from Rendalir for the mask and the Lady’s Hour?”
“That would depend on the item in question, but I’d be willing to entertain it.” Kyestri’s gaze showed a great deal more interest now. “What sort of item?”
“It’s a crystal,” Wrynn smiled. “An intelligent item with powerful sorcery. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”
Taelien turned his head toward Wrynn in alarm. He knew about one of those crystals, too, and it was currently in Lydia’s possession.
“Yes.” Kyestri smiled brightly. “Good. Very good. If you truly can find one of those crystals and bring it to me, I will give you exactly what you need.”
“Excellent.” Wrynn grabbed Taelien by the arm. “Let’s go, Taelien. We have some exploring to do.”
Chapter IX – Jonan III – Hints of Things to Come
Opening his eyes did nothing to bring him vision.
The darkness around him was immutable, at least at first. Until the fires came.
There was a moment of panic as the air reddened and he began to smell the smoke. He tried to move, but he was constrained by wood on all sides.
A coffin?
No, there’s a crack in the middle. I can almost see through it.
And then he knew where he was.
An all too familiar cabinet, where he’d hidden in a thousand nightmares before this one.
But usually, he wasn’t quite this aware.
His hands clenched.
Wake up. Just wake up! I’m so tired of this.
He pulled his arm back, ready to smash a fist into the cabinet door. Maybe he’d alert the woman outside who was murdering his family, but it didn’t matter.
It was just another nightmare.
She couldn’t hurt him more than she already had, could she?
The cabinet doors swung open before he could throw his punch, revealing his childhood home, ablaze with the flames that consumed his family.
A woman stood in front of the cabinet, grinning brightly. She looked just the way that she had on that day.
But she wasn’t the one who had butchered his family.
“Happy Children’s Day!”
She was the one who had saved him.
Or, “saved”, at least.
Jonan lowered his fist, shuddering with rage. “Aayara.”
His mentor winked at him, then gazed around. “Dreaming about our first meeting? How appropriate! I was going to visit you either way, but you’ve already set the scene so perfectly.”
Jonan took a deep breath to center himself, but that forced him to inhale smoke. He let out a hacking cough, then wiped his face to clear the water from his eyes.
“...Change...it,” he managed before breaking into another cough.
“Change? Oh, this?” She glanced around. “I suppose I am here a bit early. Did you want to play out the bit with Lavender first?”
He almost swung at her, as futile as that would have been. “Get us out of here.”
“Oh, I suppose I can rescue you a little bit early. Come along, then.” He winced as she grabbed onto his shoulder, then after a moment of vertigo, they were elsewhere. “Better?”
They were in a simple circular bedchamber now. It was the one where he’d spent his next several years sleeping, high in an obsidian tower in the forests near Liadra.
Jonan stumbled back. It was in part because he was still nauseated from the smoke and the rapid movement, but the greater part was simply to get him some distance. “Much better.” He coughed again, then added, “Thank you.”
Aayara bowed theatrically. “Of course, my dear.”
Jonan groaned and rubbed at his eyes. They were still burning from exposure to the smoke. “You had something you needed that couldn’t wait for me to wake up?”
“Can’t I just want to celebrate a simple holiday with my child?”
Jonan folded his arms. “You could, but it would be completely out of character for you.”
“How rude. You’re just as bad as the other one.”
The other one?
“...You did this to Velas, too?” He processed belatedly. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”
“Oh, dear, don’t be jealous that I visited her first. You should be jealous for completely different reasons, like that I took your hard earned artifact away and gave it to her.”
Jonan let out one more cough, then managed to look up and roll his eyes. “Is that what this is really about?” He paused, considering. “You want me to compete with her. This whole thing with discovering the identity of the Shrouded One is a test to see which of us manages it first.”
“That’s within the dominion of possibility.” Aayara shrugged. “Or perhaps I truly need that information before the paladins get it. And since Velas is currently wearing a paladin hat, she counts as a paladin for this discussion.”
“No,” he shook his head, “Things are never that simple with you. There’s another layer to this. Maybe you’re trying to use competition to make us stronger. Maybe you’ve decided that you only need one of us, and this will determine which. Or maybe it’s something entirely different, unrelated to the two of us, so far into your chains of schemes that I can’t see it.”
“I’m flattered you think so highly of my planning abilities, Jonan.” She clasped her hands together. “You certainly know how to make me feel proud.”
“That wasn’t flattery. I’m just trying to figure out your current game so I have the highest chance of keeping my head on my shoulders.”
“Should you really be telling me what you think, then, dear?” Aayara went and sat down on the nearby bed. It had seemed massive and luxurious to his childhood self, who had shared something half the size with his siblings before being taken here.
“I’m tired. So tired, in fact, that I am literally asleep right now. I’m not exactly planning ten steps ahead of anyone.” He sat down on the floor. “So, Happy Children’s Day. You can give me a present in the form of some straight answers.”
“Straight...answers?” Aayara frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t have any of those. All out of stock at the local stores, too. Must be in short supply due to the holiday.”
Jonan put his hands over his eyes. “Fine. Give me some of your usual cryptic clues, then.”
“I already have, dear, if only you’d pay attention.”
That got him listening. He put his hands down, turning his gaze to focus on Aayara directly. “Care to repeat them?”
“No, you’re obviously already irritated. I suppose I’ll give you something different, however, since I’m feeling generous. It would be a good time to pay attention to prophecies and portents.”
Jonan wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Prophecies are nonsense. You made me write one and spread it as one of my earliest exercises in learning about rumors and belief.”
Aayara smiled. “Ah, yes. The trials of the Fateless Eight. You were nearly hung for heresy for that one.”
He managed a chuckle. “Ironic, considering who I work for. But it was effective at demonstrating a lesson — drop a few ‘ancient’ seeming documents in locations for them to be discovered, spread a few rumors in taverns....oh.”
“It seems you’ve had a revelation. A message from the gods, perhaps?” Aayara bowed her head, as if in prayer. “Praise be to the Fateless Eight, saviors of us all.”
“Praise be to the Fateless Eight, ‘til one by one they fall.”
Aayara tilted her head back upward. “That was a r
ather dark prophecy, wasn’t it?”
Jonan shrugged a shoulder. “You should have seen the earlier drafts. At least some of the children survived in the final version.”
***
“I’d like to access the restricted section,” Jonan explained. “I have the proper clearance.” He slid a card across the table. It read:
Jonan Kestrian
Scribe in the Service of Aayara, Lady of Thieves
No Permanent Address
Beneath the description was a single rune, etched with a mark corresponding to the Dominion of Sound.
Such objects were exceedingly rare. Dominion Marks were still the stuff of legends, and the idea of using them on something as mundane as a business card was almost unthinkable.
But Aayara did the unthinkable often, and on this rare occasion, that worked to Jonan’s advantage.
Most people believed that only deities could make dominion marks — and thus, a forgery would be even less plausible than the card itself.
The Thornguard librarian raised an eyebrow. “What’s this here?”
Jonan pointed at the rune. “Touch your thumb to that to activate it.”
The librarian frowned in obvious distrust. That was a good instinct, but fortunately for Jonan, curiosity won the battle. The librarian touched the rune.
A moment later, a woman’s voice rang out. “The owner of this card is my dear disciple, Jonan Kestrian. Or someone who killed him, I suppose. In either case, please afford them the same courtesy you would to me. Love and kisses, Aayara.”
The librarian paled, the card slipping out of his fingers. “What did you say you were here for?”
Jonan folded his hands and leaned closer. “I’m doing a bit of research on a cult called the Disciples of the First. Nothing to be overly concerned about. Unless you’re a cultist.”
The librarian’s frown deepened. He bent down to find the card, then lifted it again carefully, as if afraid it might bite him. “I’ll need to verify this, of course.”
“Of course.” Jonan smiled. “I’ll wait here.”
