The Cycle of Galand Box Set

by Edward W. Robertson

  Upstairs, Blays stuck his head out a doorway. "There you are. You're going to want to see this."

  Dante entered, shutting the door behind him. The other four members of the Hand were arrayed around the room's only table.

  "Note came in," Boggs said. "Somebody wants a meet."

  "Really? Which House?"

  "It don't say. Don't even know for sure it is a House."

  Brow creased, Dante read the note. It was a request for the delegates from Collen to show up at one in the morning at a place called Doche's Point. The opportunity would only be offered once.

  Dante shrugged. "So we go meet the mysterious stranger. We're leaving tomorrow anyway."

  "Not if the mysterious stranger is a Mallish ambush," Blays said.

  "Would be a fine opportunity to behead Collen and Narashtovik in one blow."

  Cord stood, the tallest one of them. "Then I will go."

  "We'll all go," Dante said. "But we'll do it in a way that minimizes the chances of us all falling victim to a predictably sudden death."

  Doche's Point was a spar of rock a short way south of town. Accessible only via a shepherd's trail, and with the steady boom of surf and hoots of sea lions drowning out any other sound, it would be a fine place to murder some of your enemies without drawing attention.

  They struck out for the point at midnight. Cord and Blays walked out onto the damp rocks, black crabs scattering away. The Keeper and Boggs were stationed on the cliffs above. Dante killed a pair of crabs and sent them scuttling down both sides of the trail, then climbed up to join the Keeper.

  The air was frigid. Mist streamed inland, dampening Dante's cloak until it hung on him like an anchor. As one o'clock neared, three silhouettes appeared on the southern trail. They carried swords, but seeing no army backing them up, Dante deemed it safe to join Blays and Cord on the rocks.

  There, he bit the inside of his cheek, keeping the nether close. The trio of strangers moved out onto the rocky arm and stopped in front of the members of the Hand. Two of the figures were bulky, clearly soldiers, but the figure between them was as slender as the saber she carried at her hip.

  "You came," the woman said. "Brave? Stupid? Or just desperate?"

  "It's quite obviously brave," Blays said. "If we'd been stupid, we wouldn't have thought to rig the rock you're standing on with bear traps."

  The woman looked down sharply, jerking her right foot from the ground. As her bodyguards went for their swords, she relaxed and chuckled, lifting her hooded head. "You would be Blays Buckler. The necromancer's pet clown."

  "I prefer to think of myself as his wrangler."

  "Who are you?" Dante said.

  "Me?" Her rapid, staccato accent was a match for Tanelo Itiego's, making Dante feel like he needed to lean forward to keep up with her. "I am the only person in this rotten city with the guts to stand up to the Itiegos. Do you have the blood to do the same?"

  "Yes," Dante said hurriedly, cutting off Cord, who'd thrust her fist in the air in preparation to launch into a declaration of their unyielding courage. "But you still haven't told us who you are."

  The woman flipped back her hood. The face she revealed was as smooth as glass. Her dark hair was swept behind her head, held in place by a silver pin. Her high cheekbones were an artist's dream. She looked no older than twenty, but her dark eyes bore the authority of an executioner's axe.

  "I am Vita Osedo, House Osedo. The Houses of Cavana turned away your requests to speak because Tanelo owns them as firmly as he owns the spices within his ships. But he does not own me."

  "And you speak for your father?" Dante said. "Or mother?"

  "If I'm too young for you to trust, I will be happy to find someone closer to your age for you to do business with. Shall we head to the cemetery to find a proper candidate?"

  A tall wave disemboweled itself on the rocks, spattering Dante with cold spray. "That won't be necessary. How can we help each other?"

  Her expression warmed, however slightly. "Itiego can buy the other houses because he has the fortune to do so. Do you know how the Itiegos made this fortune?"

  Boggs shrugged. "No secret about it. Spice trade."

  "Every House trades spice. So how is it Itiego can buy so many other Houses? Because his family is the only one that trades this." She tossed a tiny glass jar at Boggs, who fumbled it, dropping to a crouch to catch it before it shattered on the rocks.

  He unstoppered it, sniffed, then cocked his head. "Tallas?"

  Dante blinked. Tallas was the most expensive spice in Narashtovik. And, as far as he knew, everywhere else. A pale blue powder that tasted like something between pepper and cinnamon, it was worth more than its weight in gold.

  "The Itiegos are the only ones who know where it comes from," Vita said. "With the wealth it brought them, Tanelo's grandmother bought Cavana House by House. Fifty years later, Tanelo swept all of Alebolgia under his cloak."

  Dante nodded. "You want to end his stranglehold on your city."

  "I want to know where to find the tallas."

  Blays folded his arms. "Crazy idea, but have you tried following his ships?"

  Vita gave him a brief glance. "Theirs are the fastest on the seas. And they have the wealth to hire their own sorcerers. They destroy anyone who tries to get close."

  "Ask one of their sailors, then. If they won't talk, apply rum and repeat as necessary."

  "The sailors of the Tallas Route are chosen as children. Once they join their ship, they're never allowed on these shores again. When they finish their term, they're retired to a southern island." She took on a wry look. "Or that is what they're told. I assume it's easier—and safer—to kill them."

  "Well, that sounds like the strongest retirement you can give them."

  Dante was looking out to sea. He turned to find Vita staring at him. "We can get you the route," he said.

  She lifted the outer corner of one brow. "How?"

  "Leave that to us. Do you know what we wanted from Itiego?"

  "You come in the company of Colleners. So you want one of two things: either for Cavana to turn away any Mallish warships that come to port. Or to learn everything we know about how to remove dust from one's clothes."

  This drew a snort from Boggs, a bray from Cord, and a low chuckle from the Keeper.

  "Correct," Dante said. "Itiego won't agree to stop the Mallish from landing here. We have to change his mind, or break his power. You think finding the source of the tallas will be enough to make that happen?"

  Vita gestured to herself. "If I am the only woman in town, every man will fall to his knees if I so much as wink, utterly beholden to the rarity of my presence. But if the town holds as many women as men, who in his right mind will devote themselves to me like he is a slave? No one."

  Dante wasn't sure that was strictly true, but he had the impression that if he said so out loud, she might push him into the waves. "We'll give you the Tallas Route. And you'll dethrone the Itiegos."

  "In exchange, I close the port to Mallon?"

  "Just their soldiers. Call it a threat to the sovereignty of your new and fragile confederacy. If you tried to shut their ships out completely, you might find yourself bludgeoned to death by copies of The Gold Road."

  Vita smiled. The light it brought to her face didn't seem fair. "We have a deal."

  "I wasn't done. One more thing: I want a cut of the tallas for Narashtovik. Three percent of whatever you bring back, sold to us at the cost of its acquisition. And another three for Collen."

  She looked him up and down. "You speak like a Mallisher. But you bargain like an Alebolgian. I will offer you two percent each. And in coming years, you will marvel I was so generous."

  He looked into her eyes and judged them unyielding. "Agreed."

  They hashed out the details of how to stay in contact with one another, then went their separate ways. Dante sent his undead crabs up the trail to make sure no one was spying on or awaiting them, but the way was clear.

  As they neared the city
, a dense fog rolled in from the sea, smothering the town's lanterns and making everything feel vague and unreal. For half a moment, Dante's mind was certain there'd been an ambush after all—that he'd taken an arrow in the brain and died before he knew what was happening—and he was now in the Mists, the gentle afterlife where you made your peace before continuing on into the forever expanse of the Worldsea.

  Except if that were true, he'd skipped right past the Pastlands. Meaning these weren't the Mists, but just an everyday (if pleasantly mysterious) fog.

  Dante stopped, turning to the Colleners. "Did you agree with all of that horse-trading back there?"

  Boggs shrugged. "If I'd have had a problem with it, you would have heard about it."

  "I heard nothing but politics." Cord grinned. "Your responsibility, not mine. Wake me the next time there's a war to declare!"

  "Thought I'd better check," Dante said. "You guys didn't talk much."

  The Keeper made a noise that might have been a laugh. "That is because you seem to like to speak for us."

  "Vita seemed most comfortable negotiating with me. Besides, this is a good thing. If word gets out that you're meddling in Alebolgian affairs, you can blame it on Narashtovik."

  "This is so. But the leaders of the newly free Collen will need to learn to handle their politics on their own."

  This seemed so self-evident Dante didn't bother to respond. The streets of Cavana were damp with mist. Water condensed on the bare branches of trees and fell to the cobbles in a heavy and irregular rain.

  By morning, the fog remained, slipping between houses and tumbling over roofs in little streams. Dante was going to eat in the inn's common room, but Blays had chatted up the locals and been bewitched by rumors of a legendary bakery and coffee house down by the piers.

  The two of them ventured down the steep, slick streets. They could have found the shop by smell alone: the rich, almost scorched scent of coffee was even thicker than the fogs. Most of Alebolgia was built in pale stone, but the coffee house was constructed with dark brown bricks. Its roof was shaped into three thick cones.

  The interior was an unusual mix of raggedy sailors, local merchants in respectable but unspectacular trousers and jackets, and nobles in their high boots and higher collars. Blays approached the bar and ordered two of their strongest brews spiked with a dollop of cream. The coffeewright turned to the stove and removed a pot that resembled a chunky copper hourglass. He poured two cups that were irritatingly small for the price Blays paid.

  They took their cups out to the patio. It was nearly freezing, and the fog spoiled the view of the ocean, but that meant they were alone.

  Blays took a seat and then a sip. He immediately slapped his hand to his mouth.

  "Too hot?" Dante said.

  "Stopping myself from drinking it all at once. This is the best thing I've ever tasted. We have to buy this."

  "Are you drunk? We just did."

  "Not the coffee." Blays motioned toward the building. "The house!" For a minute, the mist thinned enough to see the ships bobbing in the harbor. Blays nodded to them. "Speaking of consumables so delicious they'll drive men mad, how were you intending to find the Tallas Route?"

  "How the hell should I know?"

  "My mistake. When I heard you telling Vita you knew a way, I assumed that meant you knew a way."

  "I had confidence in our ability to come up with one," Dante said. "So let's not tarnish our reputations by screwing it up."

  "I figured you'd follow them with one of your moths or something."

  "Won't work. If I tail it with a moth, and we fall more than fifty miles behind them, I'll lose my connection to the bug. If we stick close enough to maintain the connection, they'll be able to see us. Although it sounds like their ships will be too fast for us to keep up with anyway."

  Blays took a contemplative sip, slurping much more loudly than was necessary. "Bugs are out, then. So do what you did to find me. Get some blood from one of the sailors, and you can follow him all the way to the end of the route."

  "Got a suggestion for how to acquire that blood?"

  "Sure. Go up to a bar and punch one of their crew in the nose."

  "Vita said they never let their sailors off the ship."

  "Gods damn it, I'm getting tired of all my brilliant ideas getting slain by these peasantish facts. Vita said these sailors are trained as youths, right? Right, so here's what you do: collect the blood of every child in Alebolgia. Eventually, one of them will be chosen to crew on the route. You'll already have his blood, hence you'll be able to follow him."

  Dante swirled his cup. "What a wonderful plan. It will take a minimum of ten years to unfold and it will give me the reputation of someone who sucks the blood from little children."

  "Like that's any worse than the stories they tell about you now?"

  "What stories?"

  "Don't worry about it." Blays stood, brandishing his empty cup. "I require another."

  "You just got that one!"

  "And I depleted it in the service of our work. If you want more ideas, I need more coffee."

  He went back inside the building, returning a minute later with a refilled cup. This time, he sipped like a reasonable person.

  "You're okay with this?" Dante glanced at the patio door to make sure they were still alone. "Overthrowing the Itiegos?"

  "Yep."

  "You're sure?"

  "If I wasn't, rather than saying 'Yep,' I might say something like 'No,' or 'Your idea is so dishonorable I demand satisfaction in the form of a duel.' Are you okay with it?"

  "Why wouldn't I be?"

  Blays eyed him. "We're supporting the Colleners in order to win their freedom, right? Particularly the religious freedom that Mallon's always denied them. And in support of that cause, you'll happily subvert the religious freedom of the Alebolgians, whose holy scriptures insist on keeping the port open."

  "Yes. And?"

  "And some people who aren't you would consider that hypocritical."

  "Gladdic wants to exterminate everyone in Collen for believing in something that Mallon doesn't like. If we can stop him from doing that by twisting one small tenet of Alebolgian belief, it would be cruel not to intervene here."

  "I'm starting to think the most important skill a leader can have is the ability to rationalize anything." Blays took a drink of coffee. "Here's a different tack. We cut out the middlemen altogether. If we can find some tallas seeds, you can harvest them into a full crop."

  "That's not totally crazy. But I don't think I've ever seen a tallas seed. Even if we could find some, Vita wants a regular supply. They won't grow here on their own. That means I'd have to keep harvesting them for her—but the whole point of all this scheming is to untangle us from this region for good."

  "There's no way they can keep the entire crew confined to the ship when they come to port. The sailors might tolerate that, but what about the captains? Or young Itiego nobles assigned to sail off and check on the family investment? Should be able to nab a bit of their blood."

  Dante tapped the rim of his mug. "Could put the House under observation. I'll slip a moth or three into their villa. Though Vita made it sound like the Itiegos have their own sorcerers, so maybe I'll try something sneakier."

  Blays' eyebrows lifted like canoes on a swell. "Mosquitos."

  "People hate mosquitos. They'd only draw more attention."

  "Not to spy on the House. When the next tallas ship comes in, you send over the mosquitos."

  "To bite the crew. And bring back their blood to me." Dante laughed. "Time to ask Vita if she knows when the next ship's coming in."

  They returned to the inn to send a messenger to their contact in House Osedo. The messenger returned stating that while the arrival of the tallas ships wasn't known with precision, the first ones always arrived early in spring. Dante thanked the messenger, feeling disappointed they hadn't had another chance to speak to Vita in person.

  He was right about to summon the Hand and explain the si
tuation when his loon pulsed in his ear. He expected it would be Naran updating them on the situation in Collen, but it turned out it was Nak, contacting him all the way from Narashtovik.

  "No need to berate me," Dante said. "We've been delayed a little longer than I intended, but we're almost through here. We'll be back in Narashtovik before the summer."

  "I have a feeling we'll see you well before then." Nak's usually cheerful voice was tight with stress. "The first copy of the Cycle—it's been stolen."

  11

  Dante touched his loon, uncertain he'd heard right. "The first copy of the Cycle."

  "Correct," Nak said.

  "Not the false copy?"

  "Indeed."

  "But the original was hidden. Inside a stone wall. How could they have found it?"

  "We are as perplexed as you are, mighty commander. One of the guards noticed that the chapel study looked like it had been disturbed. When I investigated, it didn't look like anything was missing besides a few curtains. However, you will be pleased to hear that I am as thorough as I am insightful, and withdrew to reflect on my suspicions—"

  "Get on with it, Nak."

  "—which in turn led me to mount a more thorough search of the chambers. At which point I discovered a boot lodged in the wall."

  "A boot?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "In the wall?"

  "I was as confused as you are, sir."

  "There was a boot. Lodged in the wall. And you didn't notice this the first time?"

  "Well, it was hidden under a cloth, you see. May I move on?"

  Dante grasped his temples. "I'd like nothing more."

  "This curious boot was stuck in the wall concealing the original Cycle. Being a man of great reason, I deduced that I should look behind the wall. Short of a sledgehammer, I had no ability to check on the original myself. However, I knew that Minn was in the Citadel—she's waiting on Blays, incidentally, and is growing rather annoyed—and inquired if she would open the wall for me. She obliged. And I found that the book was gone."

  Dante's head spun. The original copy of the Cycle of Arawn held an immense and largely mysterious power. He knew firsthand that if someone with latent skill in the nether read its pages, the book could somehow unlock their abilities. Before Samarand had been sent off to Arawn's starry hill, she'd claimed the book could be used to open a portal that the god himself could step through.