Honor's Price

by Sever Bronny

  Haylee snorted at that, which made Leera crack a smile too. Both girls relaxed their arms. Leera even gave Brandon a light punch on the arm. “Don’t, uh, do anything stupid. Otherwise you’ll never have the chance to make it up to us for being such an ass.”

  Brandon sniffled. “So you’re saying there’s something I can do? To make it up to you all?”

  “There is,” Augum said. “And it’s important.”

  “What is it? I’ll do anything. Anything. If I have to get down on my knees and beg, I will. Even if it’s in front of the entire kingdom, I’ll do it.”

  Augum glanced at the girls before fixing Brandon with a serious stare. “We need you to spy on the Canterrans for us.”

  * * *

  After hashing out the details with Brandon and giving him some desperately needed encouragement, the three friends resumed their pace, leaving Brandon with a new quest, one that reinvigorated his soul.

  “See, that’s the difference between you and the rest of us, Aug,” Haylee said, limping along. “Whereas Lee and I wanted to throttle Brandon, you took the compassionate path. You saw something we didn’t see. You saw he was ready to come back into the light, as corny as that sounds.”

  Augum shrugged it off, cheeks burning. He’d rather not talk about himself and focus on the coming meeting with Eric.

  “No, really, Aug, when the history books are written about all the amazing things you did, I hope they mention your compassion and care for others.”

  “Don’t act all sheepish,” Leera chimed in. “You know it’s true. Do you remember in the war, when we were in the middle of a vast snowy field and I foolishly wallowed in my anger at Haylee and egged her on to stay out there and die? Do you remember that? And how you stepped in and inspired her to keep going?”

  “You saved my life, Aug,” Haylee said. “I wanted to be left alone out there in the snow. But you brought me back with kindness and compassion. I’ll never forget that.” She stopped to stare up at Augum’s face. She was smiling and gratitude flowed from her blue eyes. “Thank you, Augum. And thank you for being bigger than hatred. Take it from me, hatred is easy. Really easy. It’s like an old pair of shoes you slip on and go for a stroll in.”

  He stood there stupidly, not knowing how to handle one of his close friends thanking him in such a manner. He couldn’t handle accolades or gratitude in general and was more comfortable with being loathed and spit on, all stemming from his bullied childhood.

  “Bridget taught me compassion,” he blurted. “So did Mrs. Stone.” Was that the right thing to say? “All right, enough, you two,” he said, waving them along. “Stop slobbering on about this, it’s embarrassing.” He resumed walking, although too hurriedly, and had to slow down. As the girls caught up, they smiled at each other. Mercifully, they said nothing more on the subject.

  Haylee adjusted her pink-starred satchel so it wouldn’t impede her gait as much. “Sorry I’m so slow,” she said, adding in a mutter, “Blasted limp.”

  Leera gave her a light backhanded slap on the shoulder. “You said you would stop apologizing for that.”

  “I know.”

  Leera tried not to smile. “You can always use the cane again.”

  “Ugh, I loathe the cane. Don’t bring up the cane. Cane is done. You bring up the cane, I boot you out of my house.”

  Leera raised two hands. “Cane is done. No more cane.”

  “Darn right.” Haylee swept a hand through her long blonde hair. “Ugh.”

  They soon stepped through the portal into the snowy and dark courtyard and strolled past pairs of overseers dressed in heavy fur coats. Haylee put on a small winter coat while Augum and Leera withdrew their Ohmish cubes, which they transformed into fur coats.

  “I have got to get one of those,” Haylee said, bundling her undersized wolf coat close.

  “Being Arcaners sure is coming in handy against the Canterrans,” sniped a young burgundy-robed girl in passing, voice oozing with sarcasm. She was with two other friends, both of whom flushed with embarrassment at her remark.

  “Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?” Haylee snapped back. She shook her head after the two groups passed each other. “Sheeze, I wasn’t like that at her age. Haughty little twit.”

  “Yes you were,” Leera said. “You were the mortal enemy of my entire friend group.”

  “That’s true, I was. But you were a little pretentious.”

  “I was not. You were downright evil, even coming up with a song about me which you made the whole academy sing!”

  “Right, I forgot about that. Okay, I was a little evil—”

  “Let’s not rehash this right now, you two,” Augum said.

  “Oh lighten up, we were just kidding around,” Leera replied.

  They made their way to Anna Atticus Stone’s statue and began descending the Steps of the Crescent Moon to wait for Eric, when they heard a hiss. They turned to see him hiding at the base of the statue, bundled in a thick fur coat and jumping from foot to foot to stay warm.

  “Got your note,” Augum said as they all huddled against the statue to shield against the wind.

  “I have something for you,” Eric said, withdrawing an ancient parchment and handing it over to Augum.

  “What’s this?”

  “A map of the coal tunnels that run under the city. Turns out it’s possible to travel underground all the way from the Royal Armory to the catacombs of the academy. But there’s a catch.”

  “Of course there is,” Leera muttered.

  “The entrances to both the academy and armory are arcanely sealed.”

  “We already know where the coal tunnel entrance in the academy is,” Augum said. “It’s in the servants’ quarters of the catacombs.”

  “Can the sealing enchantments be disenchanted?” Haylee asked.

  “No, they’ve long sunk to permanence.” Eric raised a finger. “However, there are separate keys for each entrance. One key will be in the academy and the other held by the military, meaning you’d need to pull serious rank to attain it, rank even I do not have.”

  “But the king does,” Augum said, wondering if the key he had returned to The Grizzly would open the academy entrance.

  “Correct. Further, you’d need the military to stand down from the portion of the armory where the Dreadnought suits are held—”

  “We can do that,” Leera interrupted. “We already have somebody on the inside.”

  Eric raised a skeptical eyebrow before continuing. “As well as the portion of the armory where the coal tunnel entrance is. And that is the most guarded part.”

  “And who can get the guards to stand down or look the other way?” Augum pressed.

  “Since the Lord High Commander’s place is still vacant, only the Lord High Steward … and the king. Not to mention it’s possible the Canterrans might take it over at any time. They haven’t yet, mind you, only because they don’t think the military will do anything. But that could change any moment.”

  Augum rubbed his face. Gods, this would be more difficult than he had foreseen.

  “Something else. I think I know who’s hiring the assassins.”

  Augum dropped his hands and gaped. “You … you do?”

  “I did some spying and overheard two nobles talking about you becoming an Arcaner. So I chimed in pretending to be concerned, and I told them how much I loathe you and how you’ve publicly insulted my family. One of them was wary, but the other took the bait and tried to gain my favor—I am, after all, heir to the throne. Turns out they’re both part of a small cabal of rich nobles determined to crush any chance of Arcaners returning. They come from very old money, and those families remember all too well how the Arcaners meddled in their affairs.”

  “Well, all mighty Fates who the hell is it already?” Leera pressed. “This isn’t drama class. You needn’t keep us on tenterhooks.”

  Eric took a breath. “The Lord High Steward.”

  No one spoke. The wind raked at them as the implication set in. T
he Lord High Steward was one of nine high council members, with the Lord High Steward’s position the most powerful, for he dealt directly with the king. And he and his cabal were bent on murdering Augum—during an occupation, no less.

  Augum rubbed his scalp with both hands, steadily working his fingers through his chestnut hair. “How did he find out I wanted to become an Arcaner before I even declared?”

  “I asked that in a roundabout way. Turns out Iron Byron mentioned it in passing over wine. Byron thought it ‘interesting,’ whereas alarm bells rang in the steward’s brain.”

  “So it was Byron after all,” Augum muttered, sighing. Except the man had no idea what he had unleashed. Although, it didn’t really matter as the Lord High Steward would have found out after the Occupation Ceremony anyway and hired assassins then.

  “But do you see the cleverness of it?” Eric continued. “The assassins are Canterran, and if you publicly out the Lord High Steward, he’ll have leverage with the occupiers by saying he really is on their side. There’s more though.”

  “Great, there’s more,” Leera muttered.

  Eric ignored her. “I think the Lord High Steward was already working with the Canterrans. He’s quite persuasive, and has advised my father in a way that, looking back, I suspect has favored the Canterran invasion, arguing to let them have total access and march in unimpeded. The Lord High Commander vociferously argued against it, but was politically outflanked. That’s why he resigned in protest. The Lord High Steward is astonishingly greedy and ambitious, and is consolidating power by going after his enemies. He’d have you hanged if you weren’t such a war hero to the commoners.”

  “What about The Path?” Haylee asked. “Are you aware it’s all a sham?” And she explained what they knew on that front.

  “Then things are worse than I feared,” Eric said. “And will be difficult to overcome. You know how zealous superstitious people can be with their beliefs.” He shook his head. “I only wish I knew what the Canterrans are looking for.”

  “Does your father know?” Augum asked.

  “No, but he’s been trying to find out. It got harder when the Lord High Commander resigned, for he was his primary source of quality intelligence.”

  “Does he know the Lord High Steward sicced the assassins on us?”

  “I think Father suspects the man places his own interests ahead of the kingdom’s, but beyond that I am not sure.”

  Augum pondered the problems at hand, then he looked Eric square in the face. “I need to speak to the king. Immediately.”

  “Stone, my father considers you an enemy—”

  “He also knows I care about this kingdom, even though it hasn’t always cared about me.”

  Eric gaped. “That is … rather profound, Augum.”

  “It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Augum elbowed Eric. “And you know, I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me by my first name.”

  Eric smiled sheepishly. “I don’t have to pretend to be someone else around you lot. It’s … liberating, to be honest.” Then he hesitated. “Look, if you do this, I can’t protect you. It will be dangerous—”

  “Everything is. We’re surrounded by wolves. The kingdom’s getting eaten from the inside out.”

  “You don’t understand. My father is in a terribly weak position, and I’m deathly afraid he’ll find out I helped you with that loan—”

  “Just get me a private audience with him. Please, Eric.” It would be an incredible feat if he could stop the assassins without having to fight another one of them. But it would be tricky. Although Augum had the power of the shield on his side—the ability to provably tell the truth—he’d still have to get the king to go against the second-most powerful man in the kingdom, a man who was almost certainly working with the invaders.

  But he was also thinking beyond that, to a possibility that was too tantalizing to pass up …

  Eric placed his hands on his hips as he looked down at his shoes in thought. “Your bravery humbles me, for I fear what comes next. I fear it in my bones.” He glanced up. “Very well then, let us get you a private audience with my father, and may the Unnameables help us all.”

  The Black Castle

  They made their way through the city unmolested, perhaps due to people staying inside to avoid the atrocious weather. The Black Castle loomed dark, as the wind had snuffed out many of its torches. Eric led them over the drawbridge and to the gate tower, where the guards made them sign a guest log and flare their arm rings to match up their names with their recorded degrees. The guards, a mix of overseers and Solian troops, stirred uneasily when they found out who Augum and Leera were, but allowed them to pass when Eric told them Augum was there to see the king.

  “Did you see how on edge they became when you told them your name?” Eric noted as they rushed through the expansive outer ward.

  “Is Prince Darby at court often?” Augum asked.

  “Yes, delegating on behalf of his father like a good little puppet.”

  “But I thought he was in charge of the invasion.”

  “His father rules his children with an iron fist. They will always answer to him. It’s his vision they are enforcing.”

  “Has Darby been going after Ordinaries, or mostly warlocks?”

  “Only the ones who cause trouble. He’s pushing The Path and the tithe on the rest. It’s the warlocks he fears. Meanwhile, the worst of our men enjoy the repression of the women, and so they cheer loudly, quieting the already timid.”

  “People like Carp.” Leera gently shoved Augum. “Get your gender in order, mister. It’s running amok.”

  “Sure, and you can corral Katrina.”

  “Ha—fair.”

  Eric led them through the inner ward and on to the keep, where they had to pass through a second set of guards. “I’ll take you to his hidden solar,” he said as they climbed a set of torchlit stone steps, then down a dimly lit back passage. Augum, Leera and Haylee removed their coats as they walked, with the former pair returning theirs into cube form.

  “And ready yourselves, for we still have to get past Ethios Kamagant. Man has an eye for treachery, so act casual and reveal nothing.”

  “The Butcher. Great.” Augum had read of the man in the heralds. He was a ruthless 17th degree warlock best known for slaughtering entire bandit enclaves—all on his own. He had served the Lord of the Legion in Tiberra, and was rumored to have killed indiscriminately, earning his dark nickname. But because high-degree Solian warlocks were in desperately short supply, instead of putting him to the guillotine, the high council pardoned him and gave him a post as a Black Eagle.

  Before long, the foursome found themselves standing before the infamous Black Eagle, who was guarding a nondescript brick wall.

  “Good evening, Lord Kamagant. I wish to see my king father.”

  The Butcher did not immediately respond, but rather examined each of them with alert, steel-gray eyes, discerning what sort of threats they posed to the king. He was an older man with a round, brutish face creased with a spiderweb of wrinkles. When those eyes fell upon him, Augum saw nothing but hardness, and knew the man to be utterly pitiless. And there was iron rigidity there too, the kind that enjoyed taking orders, as long as those orders allowed him to be ruthless.

  “He is at court, young Southguard, hearing pleadings from commoners,” the man said in a rasping voice.

  “Then I shall escort my visitors into the anteroom and fetch him.”

  “You will fetch the king, is that it?” There was a note of amusement in his voice.

  Eric swallowed. “I shall ask him to return to his solar to speak with Lord Stone.”

  A gray brow rose a touch. “Mmm.” The Butcher glanced at each of them in turn once more. Haylee shrank before the elite Black Eagle’s gaze while Leera stiffened. Augum remained impassive—or tried to appear that way, for the man creeped him out.

  At last, the infamous Black Eagle stepped aside and placed a palm to the wall. “Shyneo.” His hand
burst with fire. “Mage Ethios Kamagant, Black Eagle, King’s Royal Guard.” The brick rumbled open.

  As Augum passed, the man inclined his head and coldly said, “Lord Stone.” Augum did not incline his head in return, as would have been polite and respectful, for he considered the man’s war crimes unforgiveable.

  “Shyneo,” Eric said, lighting up the pitch-black passage with an icy glow. When he got to the other end, he placed his lit palm to the wall. “Initiate Eric Davinius Chestin Southguard, Prince and Heir to the Throne.” The wall rumbled open, revealing a candlelit antechamber with plush carpeting, oaken tables, and crimson-upholstered settees. Two Black Eagles glanced over from either side of an ornately gilded set of double doors.

  Eric padded across the carpeted floor to a small unadorned door. “Wait in here and keep quiet until I fetch you.” He opened the door and the trio stepped inside, closing it behind them.

  “Shyneo,” Haylee said, lighting up her palm with the same icy glow as Eric. The room was adorned with gilt-framed paintings of kings and queens of ages past. Gilded settees lined the walls. The girls slumped into one.

  “Sure about this?” Leera whispered.

  Augum paced as he waited. “Honestly? No.”

  The girls exchanged a look.

  Augum continued pacing, steeling his mind for the meeting, searching for the right words and approach. If he failed, not only would they be completely ostracized, but they might be carted off in arcane chains. But the alternative was waiting for the swords hanging overhead to fall. No, in his mind, this was the only recourse.

  At last, the door creaked open and Eric stepped inside. “He is ready for you. You two close the door behind us and remain in here,” he told Leera and Haylee. “If something goes wrong, I’ll fetch you.”

  Leera hugged Augum and pecked him on the lips. “Good luck, love.”

  Haylee extended her hand. “Good luck, Augum.”

  Augum took it. “Going to need it.”

  Eric guided Augum back into the hall. As the door closed behind them, he took a deep breath and faced Augum. “Are you ready?”