Savants of Humanity (The Scholar's Legacy Book 2)

by Joshua Buller

  Instead, he laughed.

  “A woman with some real fire!” he said. “If only you were a few years older, you'd be worth more than all the other mewling pansies I've known put together.”

  I resisted the urge to punch him again. It took all my patience, and most of the patience I'd have for the rest of my life. “I guess it's safe to assume you are the Giant's Shadow, if you took that hit,” I said. In my anger, I'd put some essence into that punch, yet he didn't show so much as a bruise for it.

  “The Shadow is a fairy tale, the kind only found in songs like the one your friend is singing.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Hawke. His song was just finishing up, to the raucous applause of the ever-increasingly drunken crowd.

  “Then may I call you Fasketel?” I said.

  “I suppose, if you tell me who gave you my name.” There was a rumble to his tone that noted his displeasure of being found out.

  “The Forge.”

  “Gacht!” he spat in the grinel tongue, turning his head away. “I thought that guitarist looked familiar. Then you must be the little lady they say follows the Scholar, like a lost puppy.”

  “We're friends and partners,” I corrected.

  “You're a little girl hanging onto the remnants of a forgotten era,” he corrected me in turn. “I'm not interested in getting swept up in their insane plans. If you're here to take my ticket to Grankul, then maybe I should just kill you both right now.”

  “You think you could? Hawke has survived for centuries, and you have no idea what I can do.”

  Fasketel chuckled. “Power users always think they're invincible. Makes it all the funnier when they die without an idea of how I did it.”

  The air thickened around us. I'd made the blunder of my life provoking him. I knew he had a power, Uraj had said as much, but I had no idea what it was. My locks would do nothing unless I could get ahold of him, and even with my essence I doubted I could overpower him.

  Hawke chose that moment to start another song. I knew what it was four notes in: Waltz of Final Days, a macabre little piece that told the story of the end of the world. His voice rang out, low and urgent.

  Skies of blood, sea of sand,

  Step by step, hand in hand,

  We trudge on towards that last endless night.

  Hear their screams, can it be

  Dearest friend, enemy

  Do you know what's the point in this fight?

  Hawke had told me it was a song soldiers often sang when they thought they were marching to their deaths. I didn't know if he could tell how fast things were going south with Fasketel, or if he just thought the room full of lowlifes would find it funny. I certainly wasn't.

  One by one, we expire

  One more log on the fire

  Who will mourn us when all's said and done?

  Dear Almighty, I plea

  Find some mercy for me

  That I may see the new world of none

  The dawn of an era of hope yet to come

  Fasketel looked ready to draw our negotiations to a close, and my life with it, so I went with the only move I had left: non sequitur.

  “I forgot to mention,” I said as calmly as possible, “Winter says hi.”

  Some of the venom drained from his face, replaced with puzzlement. “Winter? I don't know…wait, you must mean little Ice Princess.”

  I would have laughed if I didn't think my life was riding on my next choice of words. “Well, actually she said to say hi to 'Snaggletooth.' ”

  He was caught short at that. “You must know her, then. Nobody else knows that nickname for me. No one alive, at least.”

  “I hope I get to be the second, then.” I forced an innocent smile onto my face.

  “Hmph,” he grunted, and then he gave a smile of his own. “I wouldn't dream of hurting a friend of hers.”

  Hawke's voice rose in a desperate crescendo:

  At the world's final turn,

  Even ashes will burn

  From our soul fires snuffed by their scorn

  All the things we despise

  Celebrate our demise

  As our cries echo out to a future unborn!

  Hawke probably had no idea how narrowly I avoided making his song truly prophetic. I let out a relieved whoosh of breath and figured I should keep Fasketel talking to stay on his good side.

  “I've never heard Winter call herself Ice Princess, I must admit,” I said.

  “Probably because she wouldn't,” said Fasketel, “no more than I'd call myself the Giant's Shadow. Those were nicknames people came up with due to our reputation. Assassins like to use them amongst each other; safer than throwing our real names all over the place.”

  He leaned back in his chair, his face taking on an odd, almost wistful look. “Ice Princess, though, she was unlike anyone I've known. You have some fire in you, but that woman was an inferno locked beneath a glacier. She'd stab a man with all the passion of staring at a rock, but you could just tell there was something under all that, something that'd set the world aflame if it got loose.”

  “Are you sure we're talking about the same Winter?” I couldn't associate anything he was describing with my cheerful, bubbly friend.

  “No. That woman is long dead. That ragged prince of hers cracked the ice, but snuffed out the fire underneath when he did.” He grew quieter the more he spoke.

  “You loved her.”

  His shoulders twitched. He might have been shrugging, or maybe he was surprised I guessed it so easily. “The closest thing I've ever felt to it, I suppose. I'd have tried harder, but she scared me shitless. For more reasons than one.” A corner of his mouth twisted upwards. “I saw her not too long ago.”

  “She told me about it. That's how we found you.” I sipped my drink, hoping I hadn't sold her out.

  “I figured. My own damn fault, telling her where I was. Guess I always hoped she might come back one day. The way she clung to her man, though, the way she looked at him, talked to him. That was the only time I saw a spark of that old fire in her.” He stared into my eyes, and the pain there was palpable. They were eyes that had sought to replace an emptiness in his heart, and failed.

  “You can still be there for her,” I said. “You can still help. We need someone with your strength.”

  His lips curled back in a silent snarl. “Don't you dare try to use my feelings to get me to do what you want.”

  “I don't want you to do what I want. I want you to take a chance you might regret passing up.” It was do or die for me. I was using his feelings against him, but we were out of time, and the stakes were much higher than my own safety. “Could you at least tell me what you go to Grankul for?”

  His grimace didn't disappear, but it lessened. “I get cheap stock out there for my bar. Grinel have fewer problems dealing with half-breeds than with full humans. The stuff I get out there is twice as good as anything you get on this side of the pond, and half the price. That wine you bastardized there,” he said with a nod to my glass, “is worth more per glass than the most expensive bottle out of Vinas.”

  I appraised my drink, and felt ashamed that I'd wasted something so valuable without a second thought. I chugged the rest in a single gulp and slammed the glass down.

  “I'll tell you what, then,” I said. “Have them bring me another glass, unwatered, and I'll meet the price you set as an apology for what I already wasted.” I slammed my other hand on the table and dropped a purse with enough ruples to buy a small house. I was glad Hawke had insisted on bringing so much coin with us, in spite of the danger it'd welcome.

  He stared at me for a second, then raised his hand and summoned our serving girl. He gave her the order, and she practically ran back to the bar. In less than a minute, I had another glass, this one brimming with unadulterated liquor the color of bloody roses. The waitress also brought him a wooden tankard with an ale so dark it looked part of the mug.

  I reached for the glass, but I caught Fasketel's gaze and realized, somehow, that wa
sn't the move to make. He still expected something of me, more than the small fortune I'd coughed up.

  “You were talking about chances and regret,” he growled. “Explain.”

  I had him. “I've never been to Grankul, never met the grinel and spoken to them, but even I know that this is no simple pleasure visit. You know that the grinel leader is dying?”

  “He's been dying for decades. So what?”

  “Uraj told us that things are worse than ever. When Origin's own subjects think the end is coming, that's cause for alarm. What do you think will happen when he does die?”

  “What's it matter to me?” Fasketel said. “I'll just do what I've always done: lay low and play the hand I'm dealt.”

  “You think it'll be that simple?” I asked. “What if whoever takes over decides to start a war with Astra?”

  “Then I'll have plenty of work.” He chuckled darkly. “All the more money to put into this hobby of mine.”

  “And if they don't care about what you want? If they decide they don't want half-breeds in their new world any more than they want humans? What then?”

  “That's a lot of what-ifs,” he said.

  “Then let me ask you,” I said, “do you like the way things are now?”

  “Sure,” he said slowly. “My pockets are full, my business does just fine. Not much to complain about.”

  “Well, everything you have now is thanks to the peace we have with the grinel. It's why you can get your stock, why you don't have to worry about a bunch of demons running through town and ruining what you've got. You might be half grinel, but you live amongst humans. If this fragile peace breaks, everyone will suffer for it. You'll be no exception.”

  I grabbed the glass of wine and held it over the table.

  “All that Hawke and Uraj and I want is to make sure what peace we have isn't ruined. If that means dealing with demons, I'm willing to take that risk. So, Fasketel, you have two choices. You can risk doing nothing and hoping nothing will happen as you stand by. If that's your choice, I'll waste this wine, just like you wasted my time, and I'll take that nullstone by force.” I shook the glass just a little, the wine threatening to slosh over the sides.

  “Or,” I snapped before he could interrupt, “you can join with us. I don't want to fight you, and I think you want the same thing as us, even if you don't realize it. We need all the strength we can muster, if we want to protect what little we have. If we want to protect those we want to keep safe.” If you want to protect the woman you love, I almost said, but I knew I'd already probably said too much.

  He stared at me, incredulous. My arm started shaking, and not just from the strain of holding the glass up. I thought I might have just sealed my own death.

  Fasketel reached forward, and I assumed it was to throttle me. Instead, he grabbed the tankard's handle.

  “We've only just met, but you ask a lot,” he said. “How can I expect to trust you?”

  My shaking got worse, but it was from the thrill in my chest. I might actually pull this off. “How about we show each other our powers, then?”

  That took him aback. “So forward. A man doesn't show his power lightly.”

  “Nor does a lady,” I retorted. He cracked a smile. “But I'm not much of a lady. Gents, first.”

  His eyes crinkled, and I caught a glint of mischief. “How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?”

  I returned the grin. “How else? We drink to it.”

  He cackled. Raising his tankard, we clacked our drinks together, spilling alcohol all over the table. At the same time, we both pulled back and downed our beverages in a single draught. The wine spilled over my lips and trickled down my chin, even as it ran down my throat. It was almost thick enough to be syrupy, full of the taste of cloves and cinnamon and apples and a dozen other flavors I couldn't place. It truly was a drink too good for my unrefined palate.

  Fasketel lowered his empty tankard, belching in satisfaction. “As you will,” he said. “Keep an eye on the girl that's been serving us.”

  I caught sight of her weaving between tables with a tray of drinks, and the wine soured in my mouth. Was he going to hurt her, just because of me?

  Fasketel brought up his hand, slamming it on the table hard. Or, at least, it appeared he did. A blow like that should have crushed the flimsy wood, reducing it to flinders. The surface didn't so much as shiver.

  At the same moment, the waitress hopped forward and shrieked in surprise, the tray she was holding dropped to send glasses and spirits clattering across the floor. The room exploded into laughter. The waitress, holding her backside with one hand, turned angrily and glared at a man sitting at the table behind her. Her free hand flew up and slapped the patron, hard enough to send a crack echoing through the room. The laughter only grew louder as the man was sent tumbling out of his chair.

  I stared in confusion at Fasketel's hand, still sitting on the table. “That was you?” I asked.

  He grinned like a predator. “Yep. Just sent my little lovetap through the table, across the floor, and up to meet her personally. Of course, if that doesn't satisfy you, I can show you what happens when I do the same thing with this.” He let go of his tankard and with a flick of his wrist produced a gleaming dagger.

  “Please, no, I get the picture,” I said hastily. Maybe trying to recruit him had been the real mistake.

  “Well, it's your turn, milady,” he said. I noticed his hand still resting on the table and let a smirk creep onto my face.

  “As you wish,” I said, sliding my fingers across the table to rest on his. I let them stay there for a moment before pulling away. He looked at me, his lips pursing as best they could around his tusks.

  “You have the power to hold hands?” he said in disbelief. “Lady, if that's something special, you should see the powers some of the girls I've—” He was caught short as he shifted his hand and the table came with it. I made sure to smile wide enough that I felt my face crinkle up.

  The look on his face as he tried to pull himself free was worth more than the wine I had just downed. It only took a few seconds before he set the table back down and sighed.

  “I assume you can undo this?” he said in defeat. “I'd rather not have to smash my table apart to get loose.”

  I made sure to widen my smile as I reached over and gave his hand a tap with a single finger, releasing the lock. He pulled his hand away and rubbed it protectively.

  “So, now that we know each other, do we have a deal?” I said.

  The room erupted into cheers. Throughout our whole meeting, Hawke hadn't stopped playing for a moment, and the crowd had fallen in love with him. As he stood and bowed, his eyes met mine across the room. His humble musician disguise didn't reach his expression, one of a man ready to leap into a fight at any given moment. Fasketel turned and looked at Hawke, then back at me.

  “I'll think about it,” he said finally. “Now get out of my bar. You two make things too rowdy here.”

  Chapter 17: Legends

  Hawke and I walked back to the family's inn with higher spirits than expected. We might finally have a strong ally to depend on for Conclave, and almost as important, someone who would be a huge boon in recovering Othenidus' nullstone. The idea that we would probably have to resort to force against the self-appointed Lord didn't cheer me, but my hopes were high for Fasketel. Hawke and I even found ourselves cheerful as we constantly swatted the hands of pickpockets away on our return trip.

  I had just finished explaining Fasketel's power to Hawke as we came back into the inn. He had been listening with rapt attention, and he was lost in thought while we ascended the stairs to our room.

  “Amazing,” he said. “I can't imagine how he gained the power of kinetic transference.”

  The wine had kicked me a bit harder than I had hoped. I was in the process of figuring out how to open the door to our room, only to freeze to gape at him. Sometimes I got the feeling he liked throwing around strange terms just to make me look at him like I was an
idiot.

  “His power to take force and move it somewhere else,” he explained.

  “You could have just said that from the start,” I said, closing the door behind him. I turned around, but the room didn't stop spinning around me right away. I managed to stumble to my bed and flop onto it, avoiding a possible meeting with the floor.

  “I wish I'd been watching when he showed you,” said Hawke, oblivious to my drunken state. “A power like that would be useful.”

  “Well, if he comes with us, it won't matter,” I said. I burped and tasted cinnamon and bile. Almighty, I was going to hate myself in the morning. “I'm going to sleep. I'll need to be up early if I don't wanna talk with Fasketel as a hungover mess.”

  Hawke had started saying something in reply, but I sped along into the darkness of sleep with the wine's help. It was going to be a rough day tomorrow.

  * * *

  I awoke the next morning to the sound of silence.

  At first, I couldn't quite place what was off. My head pounded, distracting me as I fumbled for the nightstand and the pitcher of water we'd left there. I quaffed a glass and smacked my lips, trying to wash out the grimy taste filling my mouth. Slowly, the room came into focus. Hawke was sitting on the edge of his bed, shoulders tensed, head cocked to the side.

  “You're awake, good,” he said. “Pull yourself together as quick as you can.”

  “What's the matter?” I stretched a bit, trying to encourage my blood to get pumping.

  “You can't hear it?”

  I strained my own ears for a second. There wasn't so much as a peep.

  “Not a thing,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  It took my foggy brain a moment to catch up to his meaning. Hafwei had been bustling from the moment we set foot in it. Even the night life had been filled with people carousing and shopping. I had taken the background noise of hundreds of people for granted the whole time, but something had made the town go quiet.