Ashes of the Sun

by Django Wexler

  Finally, Basel said, “Maya? Come in, please.” Maya opened the door, her posture stiffly correct, and gave him a precise bow.

  She and Jaedia had always maintained a friendly, informal relationship. But she had no idea if the same would be true in this new assignment, and after what her mentor had told her, Maya was determined to give the Council no cause to criticize her performance. If they think they’re going to be able to use me against her, they’ve got another thing coming.

  When she straightened up, Maya saw that Basel was not alone behind his huge, cluttered desk. On one side of the old man sat Kyriliarch Nicomidi, whom she’d met on her last visit. He cut a dashing figure, well-groomed dark hair swept back from a sharp widow’s peak, pale skin, and sharp blue eyes. His chair was angled slightly away from Baselanthus’, and something in his tight features and the way he sat spoke volumes about the tension between them.

  At the other end of the desk was another centarch, even older than Basel. He sported a long, bushy beard and fiery orange-red hair a few shades lighter than Maya’s own crimson. The rest of his face was nearly lost in the tangle, leaving his eyes as bright points of purple. As far as Maya could see, he wasn’t wearing any identifying colors, but he leaned back in his chair, completely at ease, and she guessed he had to be another Council member.

  “Kyriliarchs,” Maya said. “I am reporting as ordered.”

  “Indeed you are,” Basel said. “Kyriliarch Nicomidi tells me you’ve met?”

  “Only briefly.” Maya directed a bow in his direction.

  “And this,” Basel went on, “is Kyriliarch Prodominus.”

  Prodominus. Now, there was a name Maya had heard before. The oldest member of the Council was simultaneously a legend and a joke, famed for his youthful exploits and ridiculed for his devotion to an impossible cause. Alone of the twelve Kyriliarchs, he stood apart from both Pragmatics and Dogmatics, instead declaring himself a Revivalist. This group insisted that some of the Chosen were still in hiding somewhere, and the real purpose of the Twilight Order was to cleanse the world of the Plague so they could return to power. In the early days of the Order they had been powerful, but the Revivalists had dwindled as the centuries passed, until they consisted of only Prodominus and a handful of oddballs.

  She bowed to him as well, as respectfully as she knew how. “It’s an honor, Kyriliarch. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

  “That I’m a senile old fool who wastes Order gold on pointless quests, no doubt.” Prodominus grinned hugely under his beard. “No need for flattery, Agathios. My taste for it has worn thin.”

  Nicomidi muttered something that sounded like, “Not thin enough.” If Prodominus heard, he didn’t comment. Baselanthus cleared his throat.

  “As you know,” he said, “with Centarch Jaedia urgently needed elsewhere, the Council has agreed that you will be given an independent assignment. This is somewhat irregular at such short notice, but we have reviewed your records”—his eyes flicked to Nicomidi, and he frowned briefly—“and we believe you are ready.”

  “Thank you, Kyriliarch. I’m honored by your trust.”

  “If you insist on being honored by everything, it’s going to be a long interview,” Prodominus said.

  “I…” Maya paused, nonplussed. “I apologize, Kyriliarch.”

  Nicomidi rolled his eyes and glared at Prodominus. “If you could keep your prodigious wit under control?”

  “In any event,” Baselanthus said irritably, “you will be serving on a team with Agathios Tanax and two support trainees. Have you met Tanax?”

  “No, Kyriliarch,” Maya said.

  “He is my own agathios,” Nicomidi said. “I’m certain he will provide appropriate guidance for you.” There was a knock at the door, and Nicomidi raised his voice. “Come in.”

  The young man who entered was tall, with the very dark skin and hawk nose she associated with the Republic aristocracy. Like her, he wore a formal Order tunic, with a haken on his hip. His lips tightened at the sight of her, as though he were already angry, but he kept his posture rigid as he bowed to the three Kyriliarchs.

  “Tanax,” Nicomidi said. “Let me introduce you to Maya, agathios to Jaedia Suddenstorm. She will be your second on this assignment.”

  “Understood,” Tanax said, turning to Maya. His dark eyes seemed to evaluate her immediately, and his expression said he was unhappy with the results.

  “Honored, Agathios,” Maya said with a shallower bow. Tanax responded with a nod.

  “Honored,” he murmured, then looked back at Nicomidi. “What’s the assignment?”

  “The support trainees should be along in a moment,” Baselanthus said.

  Tanax looked impatient, but the sound of running feet from the corridor outside was clearly audible. A girl shot by the door at a dead sprint, grabbing the edge of the doorway to arrest her momentum. She swung herself into the room, breathing hard, and staggered in front of the desk, almost colliding with Tanax. Her bow was so deep she nearly banged her head on the unmetal.

  “Sorry…” she gasped. “Running… stairs… sorry…”

  “Arcanist-Trainee Bequaria,” Baselanthus said, with only the faintest smile. “We try to maintain a bit of decorum here, you know.”

  “Sorry. I mean. Apologies, Kyriliarch. Kyriliarchs.” She straightened up, took a deep breath, and bowed again. “I didn’t want to be late.”

  “Admirable,” Prodominus rumbled. “Why don’t you introduce yourself to your team?”

  “Right!” She turned to face Maya and Tanax. “Apologies, Agathia. I’m Bequaria. You can call me Beq.”

  Maya felt her cheeks go hot. It was the girl she’d seen in the baths her first day here. She was dressed informally, in a leather vest and trousers, both studded with dozens of little pockets. What Maya had taken for ordinary spectacles were some kind of arcana, with small glowing beads and gold knobs set around the rim and several sets of lenses one in front of the other. Her green hair was bound up in a long, complicated braid.

  “It’s an honor to be working with you,” Beq said with another bow.

  “Agathios Tanax will be leading the team, with Agathios Maya acting as his second,” Nicomidi said.

  “An honor,” Tanax drawled.

  “An honor,” Maya echoed, not daring to look Beq in the eye. She was certain, in that moment, that all her private thoughts were written on her face.

  “Now all we need is the scout,” Nicomidi said.

  “Scout-Trainee Varo, reporting as ordered,” said a voice by the door. Another boy was standing there, so quietly that Maya hadn’t noticed him. He had light brown skin and thin features, with his head shaved as clean as polished brass. He bowed to the Kyriliarchs, then to Maya and the others. “Scouts is only if you’re being polite, though. We’re spies, really.”

  That got a laugh from Prodominus, and Maya ventured a smile.

  “Honored,” Tanax said. He seemed to be growing as impatient as his master. “Good to have you on the team.”

  “You’ll come to change your mind on that point, I’m sure,” Varo said. “But I suspect you’re stuck with me, so I’ll do my best.”

  “The assignment, Basel?” Nicomidi said.

  “Of course.” Baselanthus nodded. “Agathios Tanax, the Council hereby charges you to travel to the village of Litnin, on the northern border. We have received credible reports that a group of smugglers operating out of Grace have been using Litnin as a way station to move products into the Republic, including dangerous dhak and unsanctioned arcana.”

  “Grace,” Nicomidi spat. “If we were properly vigilant, that hive would have been purged long since.”

  “If we were as ‘vigilant’ as you wanted,” Prodominus said, “every city within a hundred kilometers of the borders would be a pile of ashes.”

  “Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a tragedy.”

  “Gentlemen, please,” Baselanthus said. “These young people are not here for a Council debate. Agathios Tanax, your team will go to
Litnin and investigate. Take whatever action you deem necessary if you discover that the reports have merit. Any who aided in the smuggling of proscribed items should be brought to justice under Republic law. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Kyriliarch,” Tanax said, glancing first at Nicomidi, who gave him a quick nod. “When do we depart?”

  “Tomorrow morning. The quartermasters’ office has been informed, so request what you need. Travel funds and so on have also been allocated.” Baselanthus peered at the four of them. “Are there any questions?”

  Maya could think of a few, but before she could raise her voice Tanax answered for her.

  “No, Kyriliarch.” He bowed again. “If you’ll excuse me, we need to prepare.”

  “Go on.” Baselanthus looked at his fellow Kyriliarchs with a sigh. “I suspect we have other matters to discuss.

  Tanax straightened up, nodded again to Nicomidi, and turned to leave. Beq and Varo followed. Maya, feeling a little left behind, hurried after them. She expected to see them gathered in the corridor, but instead the two trainees were already going one way while Tanax stalked in the opposite direction. After a moment of indecision, Maya jogged to catch up with her fellow agathios.

  “Agathios Maya.” Tanax stopped and turned to face her. “Did you have a question?”

  “I just thought… I mean…” Maya gave herself a mental shake. Remember what’s at stake. Tanax, presumably, would be the one who informed the Council about her performance. And he and Nicomidi are Dogmatics. If they want me to fail here, to try to get at Jaedia… “I wanted to offer my assistance. This sort of assignment is very familiar to me.” Investigating rumors of smugglers and dhak had been half of what she and Jaedia did on their endless circuits of the Republic. “Do you have any thoughts you want to share on our plans?”

  “Our plans?” Tanax’s lips pressed tightly together. “I am the senior agathios on this assignment, I believe.”

  “Yes, of course,” Maya said. “I only meant—”

  “When I wish to hear your opinion,” Tanax said, “I will ask for it. Until then, all I require is that you follow instructions. Is that understood?”

  Maya froze. For a moment, all her effort went into biting back an angry retort.

  “Understood,” she managed eventually.

  “Requisition your gear as you please,” Tanax said. “I will expect you tomorrow morning, in the Gate chamber.”

  Maya had no idea how to requisition equipment, actually. The few times she’d been to the Forge, Jaedia had handled it. But she was plagued if she was going to ask him. Instead she gave another bow, as shallow as she could manage without giving offense. Tanax waved in dismissal, and Maya turned on her heel.

  This is going to be harder than I thought. Her hand kept straying toward the hilt of her haken. How much trouble would I be in if I lit him on fire just a little?

  The quartermasters’ office and storerooms were on one of the lower levels of the Forge, along with the archive and various libraries. A vast central rotunda covered in a checkerboard pattern of tables served as a working space. Like the rest of the Forge, it was much larger than it needed to be, and the few lonely arcanists and servants reading or copying out of tomes were separated by acres of empty seats.

  Maya spotted Varo and Beq, sitting together at a table, with a map and sheets of foolscap spread in front of them. She threaded her way to them, doing her best not to show her nerves. She’d never been down here before, and the vast, chilly space had a forbidding air.

  “Ah. It’s Varo, right?” she said. “And Bequaria?”

  “Agathios,” Varo said, inclining his head.

  Beq frowned at her, touching the dials on her golden spectacles. Lenses shifted, magnifying her eyes. “Agathios,” she said after a moment.

  There was a long pause.

  “Did you require something?” Varo said. His voice was cold.

  “I…” Maya looked down at the table and felt a spike of stubborn pride. “No, I’m sure you’re busy. Carry on.”

  Varo immediately turned and started peering at the map. Beq watched Maya for a few moments longer, then turned away as well, shaking her head.

  What did I plaguing do to them? First Tanax, and now these two. This is not going to be a pleasant expedition. Maya turned, spotted the sign for the quartermasters’ office, and stalked across the marble. I just need a few bits of camping gear. It can’t be that difficult.

  Five minutes later, she was back, all thoughts of pride forgotten.

  “Scout-Trainee Varo?”

  He looked up, eyes narrowed, voice polite. “Yes, Agathios?”

  Maya heaved a sigh. “Please help me. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  Varo glanced at Beq, and conflicting expressions flitted across his face. Finally he gestured at an empty chair. “Have a seat.”

  Maya shuffled gratefully around the table. She set down the catalog the bored clerk at the quartermasters’ office had handed her, an enormous tome considerably thicker than the Inheritance. At the sight of it, Varo laughed out loud.

  “Glad to see they’re giving you the full treatment,” he said. “At least some of the old traditions of the Order are being kept up.”

  Maya glared at the huge book. “This is someone’s idea of a joke?”

  “More like a ritual,” Varo said.

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Beq said. “Let me see.”

  Beq swiveled the book to face her, flipped it open, and twisted a dial on the side of her spectacles, which made something inside the lenses shift. The page was covered from edge to edge in tiny, neat writing, and she leaned forward to read. As she did so, she reached up automatically to brush back a coil of green hair that had escaped from her braid, tucking it behind her ear. Something about the motion, the perfect curve of the neck thus exposed, did strange things to Maya’s guts. She felt as though her internal organs were jostling for position.

  This is ridiculous, she admonished herself. You’re going to be a centarch, for the Chosen’s sake. Have a little self-control.

  “Sorry,” Maya said, aware that Beq had been talking but not of what she’d said. “What was that?”

  Beq looked up, her eyes huge beneath her spectacles. “I said it’s just lists of junk. Listen to this. ‘One spherical device, approx. one meter cubed, for the control of flame in piping, nonfunctional. One ovoid device, approx. thirty-five meters cubed, for the purification of water, working order.’” She flipped a page. “‘Devices of unknown purpose, cubical, of less than one meter cubed, separated by provenance.’” She frowned and flipped again. “‘Three suits of armor, of the Gevaudan pattern, badly damaged.’ That’s dated two hundred years ago!”

  “You know how big this place is,” Varo said. “The storehouses go on forever, so the quartermasters never throw anything away. Every piece of scrap that’s ever come into the Forge is still in there, somewhere, just in case someone needs it. When someone asks for the full catalog, they take them literally.”

  “That doesn’t seem the most helpful way to behave,” Maya said.

  “Even quartermasters need laughs, I suppose.” Varo shrugged. “If you needed help, why didn’t you ask Tanax?”

  Maya pulled a face. “Tanax doesn’t seem inclined to offer much assistance. Or to talk to me at all, for that matter.”

  “Oh?” Beq closed the book and dialed her spectacles back. “I thought it was just me.”

  “He gave me the brush-off, too,” Varo said. “But that’s centarchs. Not much time for the rest of us.”

  “Really?” Maya frowned. “I’ve never worked with any support staff.”

  “Never?” Varo raised an eyebrow. “Is this your first time doing this kind of work?”

  “Not exactly,” Maya said. “But it’s always just been me and my master and her other agathios. We never spent much time at the Forge.”

  “That explains why you’re so friendly,” Beq said with a grin. “I didn’t think that centarchs were allowed.”

&
nbsp; Maya smiled back as her heart double-thumped. Varo cleared his throat.

  “This will be Beq’s first time in the field,” he said, “so I was going over her equipment list with her. Would you like me to draw up something basic for you?”

  “Please,” Maya said. “I throw myself on your mercy.”

  Varo smiled a little at that and started pointing at the map and scribbling with a pencil. His efficiency was impressive, as he quickly figured the distance from Litnin to the nearest Gate along the most suitable route and converted that into a list of supplies, including a substantial safety margin. It made Maya uncomfortably aware how much of the basics Jaedia had always handled—their lessons had focused on deiat, not how to find water that was safe to drink.

  “You’ve been out quite a bit, then,” Maya said.

  “More’s the pity,” Varo said, looking down at his list and frowning. “That’s the scout’s life, I suppose.”

  “Better than being stuck in a damp basement fixing old blasters,” Beq said. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages.”

  “Travel isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Varo said, still working. “It’s mostly bad food, no sleep, and getting rained on. And you usually catch something right when it’s least convenient.” He perked up a little. “Sometimes there’s a good laugh, though. A friend of mine once used a Red Spider bush to wipe himself after a shit, and watching him try to walk the next day had all of us giggling. Of course, my other friend laughed a little too hard, so the first fellow found another Red Spider and stuffed it into his jock while he was sleeping—”

  “Is that why you said Tanax would regret having you on the team?” Maya said. “Because you shove Red Spider bushes in people’s underwear?”

  “That was my friend’s idea.” Varo shook his head. “And anyway, he fell through the ice into a lake we were crossing and drowned. Froze so solid that once we fished him out we used him as a sledge.” Maya raised her eyebrows doubtfully, but Varo went on. “No, the only problem with me is bad luck.”

  “I don’t believe in bad luck,” Maya said.

  “That’s what they all say, until they travel with me,” Varo said. “The other scouts call me Varo Plagueluck.” He stood up, lists in hand. “I’ll take this over to the clerk, then.”