Ashes of the Sun

by Django Wexler

  “Kitsraea Doomseeker,” Kit said with a slight bow. “By your temper, I’m guessing you’re Lynnia Sharptongue?”

  “Ooooh,” the old woman said with a dangerous smile. “Gyre’s been telling stories, has he?”

  “I have not,” Gyre snapped. “And, yes. I thought it would be safer for Kit here until we figure out what tipped off the dux.” He hesitated. “Have you heard anything from Yora?”

  “Got a note an hour ago,” Lynnia admitted. “She and most of the others got away clean. She says the plan is still on schedule.”

  “That’s something,” Gyre said.

  Kit’s expression had gone thoughtful. “I need to send some messages.”

  Lynnia sniffed. “I imagine you’ll also be wanting a bath and a change of clothes.”

  “And something to eat,” Kit said brightly.

  The alchemist snorted. “Of course. Be my guest. Since you apparently are.” She glanced at Gyre. “Will she be needing the spare bedroom?”

  “Yes,” Kit said, one eyebrow raised. “For the moment.”

  “Right.” Lynnia shoved the chair back and stood. “Come on, then.”

  She clomped up the stairs, with Kit just behind her. Gyre rolled his eye, said a silent prayer for safety, and followed.

  Chapter 11

  The sun also rose late in mountain-shrouded Deepfire, which under the circumstances was probably for the best. Maya opened her eyes and groaned.

  She lay on the big bed but had apparently twisted sideways during the night, drawing the sheets around her like a cocoon. The sun coming in through the bedroom windows felt too bright, even through a layer of thin curtain, and her throat felt like she’d swallowed a plaguespawn. After a few seconds frantically fighting her way free of her silken binding, she wormed off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, halting in front of the sink as the first wave of the headache hit.

  Chosen defend. She closed her eyes, one hand on the Thing, and focused on breathing. Ow, ow, ow.

  Eventually, the pain subsided to the point where she could fill a pitcher with cold water, and she guzzled it greedily. She washed her face, wincing at the icy cold. It seemed to help, a little.

  That was… not a good night. For more than one reason. Maya went back into the bedroom. The letter to Raskos, carefully unfolded and smoothed, was wedged under her pillow. She’d jammed it there, head swimming, in the hopes that it would be easier to understand in the morning. Now, head pounding, she pulled it out again. The script was awkward, with many corrections where Raskos had made mistakes with the cipher, but the results were at least legible:

  Cipher 17568.13

  To: Dux Raskos of Deepfire

  From: Kyriliarch Nicomidi Thunderclap

  Received your last. I grow tired of your delays, and your transparent excuses. You will deliver the Core Analytica as agreed. If you prevaricate further, my agathios, from whose hand you are receiving this, will be given instructions to begin an investigation in Deepfire that will no doubt prove to be very enlightening for the Council. For your sake, I suggest you expedite matters.

  Reading it again did not help with her headache, or the churn in her stomach. What am I supposed to do with this?

  I should tell Beq. Beq, at least, might have some idea what a “Core Analytica” was. Maya remembered the state she’d left Beq in, and winced. In fact, I should check on her anyway.

  In the sitting room, the servants had left her a silver tray laden with bread, butter, slices of summerfruit, and hard-boiled eggs. There was also a paper-wrapped tablet of quickheal, set neatly on its own china saucer. Maya hesitated before picking it up. Jaedia had always taught her to be frugal with sanctioned arcana—you never knew when you’d be able to resupply, and so using them for anything less than an emergency was a waste. A hangover probably doesn’t count as an emergency. On the other hand, her own supply was safe in her pack, and their host was the dux himself. I’m sure he can afford it.

  The waxy, mint-tasting stuff dissolved as she chewed it, and Maya gave a sigh as she felt wonderful numbness spreading back from her throat. In a few moments, her headache had been reduced to a manageable level, and she was able to properly address the food. When it was gone, she felt considerably better. She dressed—she had no option but to put her traveling clothes back on, sweat stains and all—and folded the letter into her pocket. With her haken on her hip, she ventured out into the corridor.

  She crossed the hall and knocked on Beq’s door. There was a distant thump and the sound of running feet. The door finally opened, revealing Beq in one of the palace’s silk dressing gowns, her green hair piled inelegantly atop her head, frantically adjusting her spectacles.

  “Sorry,” Maya said. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  Beq shook her head frantically. “No, I’ve been up. I was getting some reading in.”

  “Reading?”

  “There’s quite a nice little library in the sitting room, did you see? I found a history of Deepfire; it’s fascinating.”

  “Oh.” Maya hesitated. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

  “Fine!” Beq clicked a dial on her spectacles, and a lens flipped over. “Feeling remarkably good, actually.”

  “That’s… good.” Maya waited a heartbeat, then shrugged. “Well. If you’re okay—”

  “It’s not—I mean—” Beq shook her head, then stepped out of the doorway. “Do you want to come in?”

  “If I’m not interrupting your reading.”

  Beq gestured Maya to one of the chairs and took the one opposite, pulling her feet up to perch on the edge.

  “About… last night,” Beq said, pushing her spectacles up her nose. “I drank too much. Obviously. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Maya said. “I think everyone was… relaxed.”

  “I mean I’m sorry you had to take care of me.” Beq looked down at her hands. “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself, and then I dragged you away.”

  “Look, it’s all right,” Maya said. “Honestly.”

  “But—” At Maya’s warning glare, Beq subsided. “Okay. I’m also sorry if I said anything… stupid. You can probably ignore it. I don’t have a lot of experience being drunk.”

  “I gathered that.” Truth be told, Maya didn’t either; she’d had her share of wine and beer at village festivals, but always under Jaedia’s watchful eye. “I don’t remember anything too embarrassing.”

  “That’s good,” Beq said, looking genuinely relieved. “I’m… I’ll be more careful next time.”

  “And you really feel okay?”

  “More or less?” she said. “A little stiff, maybe, but that could be the bed. It’s too soft for me.”

  Some people, Maya thought, rubbing her own still-throbbing head. Oh well.

  “Listen,” Maya said. “I… found something, last night.”

  “What kind of thing?”

  “Something I wasn’t supposed to see.” Maya’s hand tightened on the letter in her pocket. Here goes nothing. “I think it’s the letter Tanax brought for Raskos.”

  Beq blinked, and there was a long silence.

  “How?” she said after a moment. “It should have been ciphered.”

  Maya let out a breath. At least she’s not turning me in to Tanax yet. “Raskos copied out the plaintext. He thought he’d burned it afterward, but he didn’t manage to, and I… picked it up.”

  “That’s careless of him.” Beq’s eyes were bright with curiosity, and Maya relaxed a little further. “Let’s see it, then.”

  Maya unfolded the letter and handed it over, and explained the conversation she’d heard along with it, about the assault on the rebels. Beq frowned, peering closer at the letter.

  “It explains what we’re doing here, anyway,” Maya concluded. “And why Raskos wasn’t pleased to see us. We’re not here to help him, we’re here as a threat, or at least Tanax is.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Beq said. “Nicomidi is a Kyriliarch. If he wanted someth
ing from Raskos…”

  “He could order him to hand it over, right?”

  “Not… exactly,” Beq said, thoughtfully. “It’s all a little vague. Technically, as a dux, Raskos serves the Republic and the Senate, not the Order. Most of the time, Republic officials will obey the Council as a courtesy, but if Nicomidi really wanted to give an official order to Raskos, he’d have to go through the Republic bureaucracy.”

  Something clicked in Maya’s mind, and she felt a chill. “And if he did that, it would be impossible to keep secret. Doing it like this, with a threat, only makes sense if he doesn’t want anyone to find out about it.”

  Beq stared down at the letter with a new tension, as though it were a snake. “You think he’s hiding something from the rest of the Council?”

  “If he isn’t, why would a Council investigation be such a threat?” Maya took the letter back and read it over again. “Have you ever heard of a ‘Core Analytica’?”

  “Not exactly,” Beq said. “Analytica are a kind of ghoul arcana; I know that much. They’re associated with some of their larger creations, but nobody really knows what they’re for. I know they’re supposed to be very rare, though.”

  Rare, and therefore valuable. Though it couldn’t be as simple as that, not for Nicomidi to go to all this trouble.

  “Why would Nicomidi want to keep this secret?” Beq said. “He’s with the Dogmatics, isn’t he? If they knew Raskos was up to something illegal, they ought to be ready to expose him on the spot.”

  “The only thing I can think of is that he’ll get some kind of advantage from it on the Council,” Maya said. “My master, Jaedia, works with the Pragmatics. Before I came on this mission, she told me that the Dogmatics might try to do something to sabotage it. Maybe this has something to do with it.”

  “My master told me that arcanists have to stay away from any kind of faction conflict,” Beq said unhappily. “Leave that to the centarchs, he said. They can afford to waste their time with nonsense; the rest of us have work to do.”

  “Sorry,” Maya said, suddenly uncomfortable. “I had to talk to someone about this. I didn’t think about the position it might put you in—”

  “No!” Beq squeaked. “No, I didn’t mean—it’s fine. I’m glad you… you trust me.” She hesitated a moment, then said, “So what are you going to do?”

  “I can’t tell Tanax,” Maya said. “Nicomidi’s his master.”

  “He didn’t know what was in the letter,” Beq said.

  “He’d just say that Nicomidi and the Council have their reasons, and report me for even looking at this,” Maya said. “When we get back to the Forge, I can take it to Jaedia and Baselanthus, and they’ll know what to do.”

  “What happened to the original ciphered letter?”

  Maya shook her head. “I left it on the table. I figured Raskos would come back for it.”

  Beq bit her lip. “Without that, this isn’t exactly evidence. It could have been written by anyone.”

  “Dhak,” Maya swore. She took a deep breath. “All right. So we need to figure out what’s going on, and find some kind of proof to take to the Council.”

  “Or you could just burn the thing and forget you saw it,” Beq said quietly. “It’s an option.”

  “I can’t,” Maya said. “Jaedia warned me that the Dogmatics were up to something, and this has to be it. It’s something they were going to use to try to hurt her, and I can’t let that happen. If I can get evidence of what they’re trying, then she can show it to the Council and defend herself.” Maya looked down at the letter again, then shoved it in her pocket. “Thank you. I’ll figure this out. I don’t want to get you any more involved than you already are.”

  “I—” Beq bit the word off and went silent. Maya cocked her head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t mind… being involved.” She took a deep breath, and the words came out in a rush. “I’m supposed to be supporting you, and I know I might not be much good, but I did help you fight those smugglers, but if you think I’d slow you down I can—”

  “Stop.” Maya held up a hand. “You’re sure? You might get in trouble, you know.”

  Beq smiled weakly and shrugged. “I’ve gotten in trouble before.”

  “Okay.” Maya grinned back, heart beating a little faster at the spark in Beq’s eyes. “So what are we going to do?”

  “We could try to track down this Core Analytica for ourselves,” Beq said thoughtfully. “That would lead us to whatever Raskos wants to hide so badly.”

  “That would mean getting out of the palace,” Maya said. “If a scavenger found this thing, someone must know something.”

  Beq nodded. “We should talk to Varo.”

  “You think we can trust him?”

  She nodded. “He won’t go running to Tanax, anyway. And if we’re going outside, we’ll need his help.”

  “You’re right,” Maya said. If anyone could get them outside without being noticed, it was the scout. “So let’s talk to him.”

  “Now? I mean, I guess now.” Beq looked down at her robe. “Give me a minute.”

  She retreated to her bedroom, emerging in her stained travel clothes, hair fraying from its bun. Varo’s suite was just beyond Beq’s. Maya threw a quick glance at Tanax’s door, but it remained closed.

  She knocked, and then knocked again, louder. Eventually it was answered, but not by Varo. A tall young man with long silver hair and a delicate goatee, wearing a loose silk dressing gown, looked Maya up and down and then gave a shallow bow. After a moment, Varo appeared behind him.

  “Good morning, Agathios,” Varo said, yawning. “Do you need something?”

  “I just… wanted to ask you something,” Maya said, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Of course.” Varo touched his guest’s arm, and the man bent close. They exchanged a few whispers, followed by a kiss that went on long enough that Maya’s blush deepened. The young man left, and Varo gestured Maya and Beq inside. His breakfast was on the table, half-eaten, and he sat down with a sigh, sprawling bonelessly in the chair.

  “You seem to have had a relaxing night,” Maya said carefully.

  “The comforts of civilization,” Varo said. “In the scouts we learn to enjoy them while we have the chance. My friend, for example—”

  “Can I ask you something?” Maya interrupted, not ready to deal with another gruesome anecdote. “Purely hypothetically.”

  “Oh?” Varo raised an eyebrow and took a slice of summerfruit from the tray. “Go ahead.”

  “If someone wanted to sneak out of the Spike, how would they do it?”

  “What sort of someone?”

  Maya hesitated. “Someone like me and Beq, say.”

  “Ah. That sort of hypothetical.” Varo popped the fruit into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

  “You don’t have to answer,” Maya said. “If you’re not comfortable—”

  “Hypothetically,” Varo broke in, “it doesn’t seem like it would be very difficult. Security in this part of the palace is fairly lax, except around Raskos personally, and there’s a lot of staff that no one really pays attention to. If you got your hands on a couple of servants’ uniforms, I imagine you could walk right out the front door.”

  “If we’re speaking hypothetically,” Beq put in, “I might know where there’s a laundry.”

  “What are you going to do about Tanax?” Varo said. “I assume, in this hypothetical, he’s not supposed to know you’re gone.”

  “I was hoping you might help with that,” Maya said. “If we tell him Beq and I are sick after last night, and staying in our rooms, you might volunteer to check up on us.”

  “I might.” Varo looked between Maya and Beq. “Do I get to know what this is about?”

  “It’s probably best if you don’t,” Maya said. “Not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t want you to get in any more trouble than you already might if Tanax catches on. Just tell him we lied to you
about it.”

  Varo pursed his lips and nodded. “Well then. Hypothetically, that sounds like a plan.”

  “Okay. What if I told you this wasn’t hypothetical after all?”

  “What?” Varo grinned. “I’m shocked.”

  It seemed like ages before Tanax knocked at Maya’s door. She waited, counting off the seconds, and then just as he knocked again she said, “Hello?”

  “Maya?” he said. “The dux has sent us another invitation. He wants us to attend a review of his forces this afternoon, and then tonight there’s a dinner with a few distinguished guests.”

  “Oh,” Maya said. “I’m very sorry to report that Arcanist Bequaria and I are… feeling poorly.”

  “What do you mean?” Tanax said.

  “I think we may have… overindulged last night. Neither of us is as familiar with this sort of event.”

  “I see.” Maya could hear the smug edge in his voice. “You’re certain it’s nothing more serious?”

  “Quite certain,” Maya said. “I think you should go to the review, while we rest for a while.”

  “The dux might be insulted,” Tanax said.

  “I think he’ll be more insulted if I throw up in his lap,” Maya said bluntly.

  Tanax paused at that. “I suppose,” he said gruffly, “that it can’t be helped. This sort of society is new for you, after all.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I’ll ask the dux to have a few servants check on you—”

  “No need for that,” Maya said. “Varo has already volunteered. That way we can… avoid embarrassment.”

  “Good thinking,” Tanax said. “I will make your excuses to the dux, then. Perhaps by evening you’ll be feeling better.”

  “Hopefully,” Maya said. “My apologies, again.”

  She stood quietly for a while, listening to Tanax’s booted footsteps retreating down the hall. When they became inaudible, Maya cautiously opened her door and found Varo and Beq doing the same across the hall.

  “I can’t believe that worked,” Beq said.

  “I can,” Maya said. “Of course the country bumpkin agathios got herself sick with drink the first chance she got at civilized company. It’s exactly what he wants to think of me.”