Cursebreaker

by Carol A Park

  “I get it,” Danton said. “I really do. If I seem like I’m in trouble a lot, it’s because I’m terrible at saying no to all the bad influences in my life”—he threw a pointed look at Thrax, who crossed his eyes in return—“not because of my own inclinations.”

  “How about this?” Thrax said. “Burn aether at the most miniscule level you can manage, as regularly as you can manage. Go about life. Do what you would ordinarily be doing. Except keep projecting those love-beams. See what happens. You don’t have to specifically try to persuade or manipulate anyone. You’re practicing your efficiency, that’s all. Just don’t overdo it and pass out.”

  Driskell turned that over. That didn’t seem so bad. “That’s…I could do that. I could try that.” But not around Tania.

  “There, see? I can be helpful,” Thrax said.

  There was a knock at the door to Danton’s room.

  Danton stood up and opened the door.

  One of the newest-arrived Banebringers—a middle-aged Arlanan man named Huiel, and one of Yaotel’s inner circle who had been elsewhere—stood there. “Dal Driskell? Lady Nahua is looking for you. You, too, Danton.”

  “Uh-oh,” Thrax said. “What’d you do now?”

  Huiel threw Thrax a sharp look. “The Conclave army is moving.”

  Later that day, a crowd spilled out of the gates of Marakyn, a thousand eyes on Driskell and the group assembling just outside the city walls.

  Driskell stood next to his horse, holding the reins and waiting for the signal that they should leave, trying to ignore the murmur of the crowd behind him.

  “Driskell!”

  He turned, startled, to see a lone figure dashing out of the crowd. Tania.

  He had said goodbye to her earlier, giving what explanations he could—but there was no denying or hiding that a Conclave army was marching toward Marakyn.

  She drew up in front of him. Her brow was knit in worry.

  “Tania. I thought you were needed at work?”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t come to see you off? I’ve heard so many rumors—” Her breath caught in her throat. “You will be careful?”

  Driskell tried to school his face as well as Nahua or Tanuac might. “It’s just a diplomatic envoy.”

  “But why is the Conclave’s army still here? Tanuac did meet their demands, didn’t he?”

  Driskell swallowed. His stomach was churning as much as Tania’s own probably was. He could allay her worries. He had the power within him to potentially convince her that they were for no reason.

  “Didn’t he?” she repeated.

  No. He wouldn’t begin that. Where would it end? What was the line? He already hated lying to her. He hated it with every fiber of his being and had since all of this had started. And he already had to do it again. “Of course. Which is why there’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure it’s just some misunderstanding.”

  She studied his face. She knew him too well. She knew he wasn’t being entirely truthful. She knew it was because he was in a position of confidence and simply couldn’t tell her everything.

  He took her hands in his own, lifted her right hand, and kissed the back of it. “And when I get back, we have your grandmama’s birthday celebration to look forward to.” He tried to smile. He didn’t know if he was successful. That was another matter. His planned proposal was looming, and he still didn’t know what to do about it.

  She nodded, but she didn’t smile. Instead, she drew close to him and buried her face in his neck. “Driskell,” she whispered. “I know this isn’t what it seems. I know you can’t tell me what’s really going on. But promise me, please…”

  He turned his head to breathe in her hair. He blocked out the gaze of a thousand people, not caring in that moment. Who knew when his secret might be found out? Who knew if she’d ever let him hold her again, once it was? “I’ll be careful,” he said softly.

  “Driskell,” Nahua said from behind him. “It’s time.”

  He started back, feeling guilty—as though he had given away more than he should have, even though he hadn’t technically said anything incriminating.

  Tania reluctantly let go. She inclined her head to Nahua. “My lady,” she said softly.

  Driskell stepped back, and Nahua gave Tania a warm smile. “Tania. I know you’re worried, but please don’t be. I can assure you your Driskell would not be among a group destined for more than diplomacy.”

  Driskell wasn’t sure whether he ought to be offended at that, despite the truth of it. He was no soldier. He’d be more likely to harm himself than someone else if he tried to use a weapon.

  “Yes, my lady,” Tania said softly.

  She exchanged one last look with Driskell and returned to the crowd.

  “You’re so good at that,” Driskell said, wishing he could speak half-truths so naturally.

  “It’s all in the wording, Driskell,” Nahua said. “I spoke no untruth. You’re here as my aide, and nothing more. It makes it easier to lie when you’re also telling the truth.” She flashed him a half-smile. “All the same, I’ll be glad when the truth is the truth again.”

  Driskell pondered her words as they mounted their horses and their envoy moved out. Perhaps that was the trick to using his charmblood powers. The information Danton and Thrax had dug up had been that the likelihood of success was higher if he was working with what the person already wanted or believed to be true. Perhaps it was also more likely to succeed if what he said was still technically true as well.

  He glanced up the line. Tanuac had sent over a hundred soldiers as well as Nahua’s personal guards to accompany her…and himself.

  The Banebringer team—Danton, Yasril, Linette, and another moonblood who had just arrived with Huiel’s group—that would infiltrate the Conclave’s camp and steal their aether had started on their way earlier that morning.

  Driskell took a deep breath. Nahua was right. He was here as her aide. In truth. He wasn’t part of the infiltration team. They were here under the banner of peace. Even if talks went sour, for the Conclave to attack Nahua and himself would be entirely inappropriate.

  Right?

  Right.

  They spotted the vanguard of the Conclave army a day and a half out from Marakyn, where the forest began to peter out into the hilly plains of Donia.

  Nahua gathered a dozen soldiers and her guards and rode out to meet, once again, Bherg and a small contingent of priests, while the rest of the men stayed behind in the temporary camp they had erected the night before.

  This time, there were no refreshments. There was their group of mounted soldiers and the priests on foot.

  Nahua held up her hand to their group. One of her guards hoisted the Donian flag with the white cloth of peace tied underneath, and they met Bherg on the plain.

  She didn’t dismount.

  “My lady,” Bherg said, bowing low as his party approached. “I—”

  Nahua cut in. “I demand to know the meaning of this.” Her gracious demeanor of the last “negotiations” had evaporated. “We have complied with your demands and bent over backward to accommodate your ‘representative.’ And yet your army has remained on our border for weeks, and even now marches toward Marakyn. Did our last tax payment not reach your coffers? Have you other charges to unfairly levy against a region that has faithfully submitted to Setanan rule for centuries?”

  Driskell stared at Nahua in amazement. She was a holy terror, and Driskell had never seen her like this before.

  Even Bherg quailed for a moment before regaining his composure and sneering in return. “Where is your father, girl? Why does he continue to send out his puppy to negotiate?”

  “I was given legal authority long ago to represent Ri Tanuac whenever he deems it appropriate,” Nahua said, “as you surely already know. And as his representative, I demand an answer on his behalf for your actions.”

  “Very well,” Bherg said. “We received word that your Xambrian ambassador was spotted in the city not three days ago.” />
  “Impossible,” Nahua returned immediately, not missing a beat. “He was soundly ejected, per your stipulations.”

  “You would say that, of course.”

  “Your spy probably can’t tell one Xambrian from another,” Nahua said. “We have a Xambrian trader who makes an appearance on occasion, fluent in Setanan per the law.”

  On occasion was stretching the truth. Driskell couldn’t remember the last time a Xambrian trader had come to Marakyn.

  “In addition,” Bherg said, “our representative feels that you have not been fully including him in all matters of business.”

  “Nonsense,” Nahua said. “He has attended every council meeting, has had access to all our files, once again, per your stipulations.”

  “He believes—”

  Nahua seemed to grow. “He believes? You’re threatening my city with an army because your spy believes we’ve failed to comply with your demands? And on that meager evidence you plan to what? Slaughter our people and raze the city to the ground, perhaps? Is this the new standard under Conclave rule? I think you’d best turn your eyes toward home if so because you’ll soon find revolt in your heartland while you gallivant around the Empire inventing reasons to intimidate the outer regions.”

  There was a long pause in which Driskell slowly came to realize that Nahua had struck a nerve.

  Perhaps things weren’t as tidy back in the core of the Empire as the Conclave wanted everyone to believe.

  Was there a struggle to hold on to their power, perhaps?

  And then an idea began to form in his mind. Perhaps he could…help.

  Could he? Was he capable of doing so?

  This wasn’t Tania or a random innocent person. This was someone determined to destroy Donia for whatever slights, real or imagined, it had committed against Conclave sensibilities.

  He twisted one of the reins around his wrist, uncertain…

  No. He could do this. He might fail, but no one would know.

  He burned aether. He tried to do it slowly, to come to that almost-simmer at first rather than after an initial furious boil, and it sort of worked, but there was still too much on the front end.

  Even as he did so, he had to keep himself from shrinking back, as if Bherg might somehow know.

  Bherg ignored him.

  He stabilized and stretched out his bubble toward Bherg, who was rallying himself to another verbal assault on Nahua’s reasoning. Driskell encompassed himself and Bherg in the bubble, and he didn’t hear Bherg’s next spoken words, nor Nahua’s next rejoinder.

  Driskell suddenly had the hunch this was a grasp at power. That they were striking out to bully the outer regions into behaving out of fear, rather than because they believed Donia was planning to revolt, and they had seen Donia as an easy first target.

  Tanuac had guessed as much, but Driskell suddenly felt it, knew it to be true.

  The irony, of course, was that they were planning to revolt.

  He repeated Nahua’s words back at Bherg in his mind, feeding off the fears Driskell was already certain were true. While you linger here, what’s happening back home? Should you be spreading your army so thin?

  “Setana has more than enough troops to protect itself while also devoting resources to its outer regions,” Bherg said.

  “Devoting resources? Is that what you call it? Perhaps a better word would be wasting,” Nahua rejoined.

  Driskell continued to project words of doubt. Wasting resources better used on solidifying your hold on Setana, perhaps?

  Yes. That felt right. Were Bherg’s masters even now growing antsy at this side trip? Had they been clamoring for results?

  His aether was burning faster than he would have liked, and he wasn’t sure why, other than that he wasn’t good at this. He had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t even know if he was helping or throwing nonsense into the wind.

  Even so, he took another chance. What would a man like Bherg be after personally?

  Almost immediately, the answer came to him.

  If you fail here, how will that lower your esteem in the eyes of whatever masters you serve? Perhaps more caution should be in order…

  “How dare you insult my honor in such a manner!” Bherg burst out. Driskell had missed the inciting words, but Bherg was obviously becoming too agitated. Driskell didn’t know if it was because of Nahua’s words, his own influence, or both. But he sensed the soldiers behind him straighten up, and Bherg’s own men grow tense, and he worried Bherg might do something rash to stop the onslaught. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

  No need to panic! Just withdraw for a bit to think it over! he threw out desperately.

  At the same time, his head began to spin.

  Oh no.

  He withdrew the bubble instantly, but it was too late.

  Blackness passed over his eyes.

  When Driskell woke next, he was no longer on the ground, no longer on the plains, no longer outside even.

  Instead, he was on his back in a strange cot in a strange tent.

  And there was someone else in the tent with him.

  He turned his head. It was Nahua.

  She sat in a chair next to the cot, watching him. His spectacles rested in her hands.

  He sat up. Based on where he had awoken, he half-expected to feel dizzy or pain, but other than feeling a little stiff and achy, he felt fine. He flushed, remembering his rather dramatic episode. What had happened? Had the Conclave army left? “My lady. What…?”

  She handed him his spectacles. One of the side arms had broken, and someone had then taped it together. “Dal Yaotel assures me that you are not the Banebringer already among our staff that he spoke of some time ago, and that he had no idea. Further, Danton assures me that, rather, this just happened at the recent sky-fire. Even so…why didn’t you tell at least me?”

  Driskell settled the spectacles back on his face, but a pit opened in his stomach. He lowered his gaze to his hands.

  Silence.

  When the silence became unbearable, he looked back up at Nahua. “I just couldn’t. I was afraid.”

  “Afraid? Given the current treaty?”

  “No. Afraid that—afraid I’d lose my job. Afraid you or Ri Tanuac would think less of me. Afraid—” He swallowed. Afraid the wrong person would find out. Afraid of his own powers. Afraid of the fact that his blood turned silver. Afraid of what he would lose.

  Afraid that everyone was wrong, and this meant he was damned. “I don’t know. Just afraid.”

  “Oh, Driskell. I had hoped you knew me better than that.”

  Relief washed over him, but also guilt. “I’m so sorry.”

  She sighed. “Who else knows?”

  “Danton. Thrax. And anyone you’ve told.”

  “Yaotel, my father, and Linette,” she said. “Not Tania?”

  He wrung his hands together and shook his head, ashamed to admit he hadn’t even told the woman he hoped to marry. “How did you find out? What happens to me now? And…what happened to the Conclave army? Did we get the aether?”

  She held her hand up. “One question at a time. You passed out while we were negotiating with Bherg. You slid off your horse, your hand got tangled in the reins, and your horse bolted. He only dragged you for a few seconds before you came free, but when I got to you, you were out cold. You were lucky not to be injured worse than you were.”

  “I was injured? I don’t feel injured.”

  “Linette worked on you. Mostly bruises. Your wrist took the brunt of it.” She nodded toward his hand.

  He flipped his hand over. His wrist was bruised and red. And there were still the remnants of what looked like healing scrapes, some still flecked with bits of silver.

  Well. That explained how she knew.

  “I got to you first. Wrapped your wrist. No one else saw.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “You can trust me, Driskell.”

  “Danton—” he began.

  “He didn’t betray your con
fidence. I felt I needed to inform my father and Yaotel and asked Danton to help.”

  Driskell swallowed, then nodded. This was it, wasn’t it? Now, he would have to join the Ichtaca and work for them instead.

  “Why do you look like you’ve swallowed a rotten egg?” Nahua asked.

  “I-I don’t want to join the Ichtaca,” he blurted out. “I want to continue in the position I’m in.”

  “Good. I was hoping you would say that.”

  He blinked. “My lady?”

  She gave him a gentle smile. “You’re invaluable to me, Driskell. I wouldn’t let go of you so easily.”

  Tears stung his eyes, and he blinked them away. “How long have I been out?”

  “About two hours. We’re back at the camp.”

  “The Conclave?”

  “After your incident, Bherg withdrew. He…” Her brow furrowed. “He seemed on edge. Said he needed to contact his superiors back in Weylyn City before proceeding with further…discussions. It was rather unexpected. I half-expected him to give his army the order to attack then and there.”

  Had it worked? Had he made a difference? Goaded Bherg into an alternate course of action by manipulating his own anxiety and fears?

  “Did Danton say anything more? Like about what I could do?”

  Nahua shook her head. “He only said you must have passed out overusing your magic. Why? What can you do? What were you trying to do?”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m…apparently a charmblood.”

  Nahua sat back. She knew the basics of what that was. She had read all his notes and charts.

  “You were trying to get him to leave us alone,” she said softly.

  He hesitated, then nodded. And then looked down at his hands. It was awful, wasn’t it? What he had done. Using someone like that. He felt sick, even knowing it was the “enemy.”

  “Driskell, look up. You might be the only reason we’ve bought ourselves some time. It may not be much. Once they discover their stock of aether has been replaced with less combat-oriented aether, I imagine there will be no further negotiations. But it’s still time.”

  “They succeeded?”

  “They did. We were waiting on you to wake up to get back to Marakyn.”