by Deck Davis
“Evening, boy,” said Jakub, and gave the animal a stroke as he threaded his way past hay bales and an upturned bathtub.
The latrine was a shed barely big enough to turn around in, with a hole in the ground that must have ran into a sewage duct underground.
Jakub started to relieve himself, when the wooden panel inches away from his face began to change.
A face appeared in it; scaly, old, with narrow eyes and long, wispy hairs trailing from his nostrils and then twisted into decorate threads.
At first, he thought it was Kortho, because he’d never, ever seen another liguana apart from Kortho and his wife. This wasn’t him, though. This liguana didn’t have Kortho’s kind eyes.
He stopped relieving himself midstream and stepped out of the latrine, so that half of him was in the open with the draught blowing on him, half was inside.
“Young Jakub Russo, isn’t it?”
Wow – he even sounded like Kortho.
“That’s me. Who the hell are you?”
“A friend.”
“A friend wouldn’t have chosen right here, right now to appear. What is this, a spell?”
“You’re from the academy, no? Surely you’ve recognised the spell.”
Jakub shook his head.
“It is of no consequence,” said the liguana. “I only ask that you come inside and shut the door, so I may talk to you privately.”
Jakub looked around. There was no sign of anyone outside, and the only movements came from smoke rising from the tavern chimney, and the mule adjusting itself on its hay pile to get comfy.
He went into the shack. “Who are you?”
“My name is Bendeldrick.”
Jakub hadn’t been prepared for this, that Bendeldrick could cast a spell to talk to him, nor him actually wanting to.
“I’ve been hearing a lot about you,” Jakub said, trying not to show anything but a sense of cool.
“Many people have. I hear you have an item of mine?”
“An item?”
“The torturer. Studs Godwin; you have him in an artificed suitcase, do you not?”
How does he know that?
Jakub thought to keep a calm front, but it was getting harder. Bendeldrick knew things that he shouldn’t, and he could seemingly speak to Jakub whenever and wherever he liked.
He could only assume that until now, he hadn’t stirred Bendeldrick’s attention.
There was no point in lying about it, he guessed. You didn’t earn anyone’s respect by lying about something they could easily unmask you on.
“I can only assume that, given you chose to contact me like this,” said Jakub, “you’re too far away to have one of your men come grab me. That means you’re too late, Benny. Studs is going to help us now; he’s going to get the academy to listen.”
“Have you ever heard our side of things? A story has different ways of being told, and a man cannot decide if he only hears one. The academy trains you to close your mind to any way of thinking but theirs. All I ask is that you hear what I have to say.”
Jakub remembered what Studs had told him in the church of the Brightlight. About how the academy rejected otherwise good candidates for magical training just because they felt their minds would be a little too free for the academy’s tastes.
How the academy chose its students based on ones they felt they could hammer their ideals into.
He’d been turning it over in his head since leaving, because here was the part that made him cold – some of what Studs said made sense.
“Your academy accepts a dozen or so students each year,” said Bendeldrick. “But consider the fact that at any one time in the Queendom, ten times that number of children are out there with the magical proclivity inside them. Only, most aren’t chosen for training. Most are left alone with their gifts, where they either use them wrongly and cause damage to themselves or others, or the gifts wither inside them. But you wouldn’t know what it feels like for a gift to wither, would you?”
“I’ve been at the academy since I was eight,” said Jakub.
“A person’s magical proclivity isn’t just an abstract; yes, it might not be a physical thing, but it is like an organ inside them. When it withers, they feel its pain, only they feel it as a lifelong absence, a darkness inside them. The Queen commissioned a census once, you know. But the results were never published.”
“What about?”
“About increased rates in the number of children born with magical proclivity in each generation. On the other side, they studied the mortality rates among children under twelve years old, comparing those with magical potential and those without. Do you know what they found?”
“I can guess.”
“For those with magical potential but who had not been accepted to the academy for training and so had suffered their magic dying inside them, mortality and suicide rates were 30% higher.”
Jakub felt sick.
He thought about the children who’d lived in his camp back when he was with his parents. How many of them had the proclivity? One in five? More?
As far as he knew, he was the only one to be given academy-standard training. So, what had happened to the rest of them? Hosandra had turned out okay, but what about the others?
Even more ice spread through him now, because with every word Bendeldrick spoke, the more he made sense.
At least he should hear him out, anyway.
“What do you want?” he said.
Bendeldrick grabbed a lamp from somewhere and put it next to him, so that the wooden panel he had projected himself on was lighter.
He held a square patch of some kind in his hand. It was pale but had dark lines drawn over it, forming a pattern.
The truth hit Jakub.
“That’s a glyphline.”
“I can offer you more power than the academy ever could have, even if they hadn’t cast you aside.”
“What do you want?” said Jakub, unable to take his eyes off the glyphline.
“I want Studs back.”
“Where are you?” said Jakub.
“A few hours ride away. I will give you directions.”
CHAPTER 89 - Witas
Witas woke the next morning with thunderclouds in his head. He turned over on his bed and heard the tink of a glass bottle rolling across the floor.
“Urgh. Shouldn’t have brought a bottle of Firejack to bed with me.”
He sat up and willed the throbbing to subside. He put his arm out…only to hit nothing and fall over onto the floor and bang his skull.
Gods damn it. A one-armed Black Cleric.
Would he ever get used to it? It had only been a day since he’d lost his arm, and he knew that the divines hadn’t just healed the wound but had tweaked his mind too, they’d altered his thought patterns to force acceptance of his loss on him.
He knew how it worked, of course. He had been a white cleric himself once, and he knew the tricks the divines had in their healing.
In some ways, he wished Jakub hadn’t gotten the girl to heal him. It was an unnatural form of healing, after all; at least if he still felt the pain of his wound, his mind could understand his loss naturally. Now, it was like he’d never had the arm in the first place. It was like missing something that had never existed.
That brought on more unwanted feelings, like what was he going to do with his life?
No. That’s a question for when this is over.
He pushed himself to his feet using his left arm and walked over to Jakub’s bed, only to find it empty.
“Must be an early riser.”
He left the room and went downstairs and into the tavern, where the barkeeper was setting out stools.
“Have you seen my friend?” he said.
The barkeeper shrugged. “Part of my job is to not ask questions. I don’t keep a book of people’s comings and goings.”
Thinking about what Archie had said about his little secret entry way in his yard, Witas said, “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.�
��
He went outside and to the latrines by the stables, but he found that empty, too.
“Where the hell is he?”
He went back inside and checked their room again, and that was when he realized something; the suitcase was gone.
Jakub was gone, and he’d taken the suitcase with him.
Was it because Witas had drunk so much? They’d said they were getting an early start, that they’d go to the academy as soon as daylight broke.
Had Jakub tried to wake him, but Witas’s drunken sleep was so heavy that he couldn’t?
Whatever had happened, he felt sure of one thing; Jakub had gone to the academy, so Witas was going to have to go there, too. He was going to have to go and see his brother.
The strangest thing was that as nervous as it made him, as much as he wanted to turn back and head somewhere else – not Dispolis, but somewhere far away – a part of him wanted to do this.
A small piece inside him was, in a way, looking forward to seeing Ian.
It wasn’t as if he’d never thought about him over the years. They were brothers, after all. There were some bonds that people always said were unbreakable, and that of siblings was one of them.
Witas put on his coat, and felt the pathetic empty space in his right sleeve, and once again wished that none of this had ever happened, that he’d never answered Captain Blackrum’s request, that he’d never gone to see the pickpocket.
Too late for that now. He had to go to the academy.
And then, as he was ready to leave, he noticed something under Jakub’s bed; a leg poking out from underneath.
Wait…not just one leg – there were four.
CHAPTER 90
Jakub followed the directions that Bendeldrick had given him, travelling for hours across the boundaries of the academy lands, until he found them.
Their camp was on the far side of the woods, which shielded it from view of the academy. He guessed that at some point today, they planned to use the cover of the forest to get as close to the academy as they could, and then they’d begin whatever it was they had planned.
An invasion? Storming the academy gates with their men wearing stolen glyphlines?
He didn’t know, but all he could think as he walked toward the tents pitched on the ground was, am I doing the right thing?
Two men rode out on horseback to meet him. They wore long-sleeve shirts, so Jakub couldn’t see if they had glyphlines grafted onto their skin.
“Are you Jakub?” asked one.
“That’s me.”
“Bendeldrick’s tent is this way.”
They led him through the camp. He saw men tending to their weapons and their horses, packing up tents, carrying armor.
Fires burned and the smell of meat drifted from spits above them. Sounds of chatter mixed with laughs, with songs, with the neighing of horses.
Only a few people even bothered to look at Jakub, and those that did paid him no more than a passing glance before carrying on with whatever they were doing.
By the time he reached Bendeldrick’s tent, which was the largest of them all, some of his nerves had left him. Doubt still nagged at him, and even now that he was here he still wasn’t sure that he was doing the right thing.
Could he do this?
Holding the artificed suitcase in his hand, he pushed back the tent flaps and stepped inside.
CHAPTER 91
The tent was artificed. Inside, it was four times larger than it had appeared, and it was obvious that Bendeldrick travelled in comfort. It was warm, light, and well furnished, with a king-sized bed in the corner, and even a desk opposite it, piled high with books.
Bendeldrick was sitting at the desk and writing something, pinching a quill between his liguana claws.
Jakub only had Kortho to compare him to when it came to liguanas, but he could see that where Kortho had been sleight and had a build that many would have called an academic’s, Bendeldrick was toned, with athletic biceps and big shoulders.
Even so, he was old. Strands of his grey hair fell back over his scaly head. When he turned around, Jakub saw his long nostrils hairs that were platted and greased.
The men who led him here had gone now, and Jakub stayed by the entrance holding his suitcase.
It was then that a figure moved to the left of him, and a tall man stepped into view.
Jakub knew who it was instantly. He’d only seen him wearing a mask before, but his tall frame was unmistakable.
Two Last Rites, both of them with this man in them. He thought about Trout, about the pickpocket, about however many people throughout the queendom that these men had taken glyphlines from, and he felt sick just being here.
“Take a seat,” said Bendeldrick.
“I think I’ll stand.”
“Sit, boy,” said Hackett, his voice a growl, menace seeming to pour off him as if it was wrought into his aura.
“Come on, Hackett, don’t be rude to our guest,” said Bendeldrick.
Hackett pointed at him. “You brought Studs here in a suitcase?”
“I couldn’t let him wander around. The last time Studs was upright, he smashed my nose.”
“Stand down, Hackett,” said Bendeldrick. “I told you about this; we discussed this last night, Jakub and I, and he assured me Studs was alive, and he warned us about the artificed case. You have to control yourself.”
“Well, he’s here now. Kill the little shit and take the case.”
Jakub’s doubts became screams now.
He’d taken the biggest risk of his life coming here, but he’d thought it through as much as he could, and he’d seen no other way, no other chance.
“Can I get you a drink?” said Bendeldrick.
“I’ll take the glyphlines you promised and then I’ll be on my way.”
Bendeldrick smirked. “And you can transplant them on yourself, then? I think not. You need us to fit them on you.”
“I brought Studs, and I want the glyphlines, and then we’re done.”
“We have things to discuss. There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“No,” said Jakub. “You promised me safe passage in and out of here. I brought what you wanted, and now we’re done.”
Bendeldrick nodded to Hackett. “Give them to him.”
Hackett grabbed a leather pouch and threw it at Jakub’s feet. He picked it up and put it in his inventory bag.
“Now open the case,” said Bendeldrick.
Jakub shook his head. “Open it when I’m gone. Like I said; you promised me safe passage. If you let Studs out while I’m here, it will be anything but safe for me.”
“You still harbor feelings for your academy, don’t you? Even after they expelled you, after I explained the hurt they cause generation upon generation.”
“I feel nothing for them or for you. I have my glyphlines, and you have Studs. We’re done.”
Hackett moved toward him, but Bendeldrick stood up.
“No, Hackett. I always keep my word. Jakub will leave here now, and we have other things to do. You have your friend back; that should be enough. Go, Jakub.”
CHAPTER 92
Jakub stepped out of the tent and into the morning air. He couldn’t believe that he’d kept it together in there; Hackett looked ready to tear him apart, but it wasn’t just that.
When he’d thrown the leather pouch to him and Jakub had picked it up and felt its weight, all he could think about were the glyphlines inside, and who they’d taken them from.
At least he’d done something about it.
The night before, when Bendeldrick had spoken to him in the latrine and offered his deal – the return of Studs in exchange for a dozen glyphlines he hadn’t transplanted on his people yet – Jakub had been ready to tell him to go the seven hells and burn.
Then, he’d had an idea. He’d remembered the alchemist’s fire lythes that he’d looted from the brigands after he’d killed the gwarflock.
All it took was to twist them to let the powders inside beg
in to mix and then to expose them to the air, and they’d blow.
He’d opened his suitcase and called Studs out, and then smacked him with his sword, knocking him out. After tying him up and gagging him, he left him under his bed in the tavern for Witas to find.
Then, with a suitcase full of activated fire lythes, he’d gone to meet Bendeldrick.
Now that it was done, his pulse thudded, and he knew he had to leave, but he had to make sure they couldn’t chase him.
He walked through the camp and toward the edge. There, a dozen horses were tied to a tethering, each of their reins wrapped around the length of wood that had been driven into the ground.
Jakub took out his sword and snapped through the reins one by one. With all of them free, he slapped one on the rump, then another, then a third.
They didn’t move.
Sorry about this, he thought.
He pinched one horse’s rump firmly. Enough to cause pain, but only a little.
It was enough; the horse reared and then bolted away from camp, and the rest of them followed suit, unsure of what they were actually running from but acting on instinct.
Voices cried out as the campers noticed their beasts fleeing, and Jakub turned to see men tearing toward the edge of the camp, intent on making sure their horses didn’t escape.
With that, Jakub started running. He fixed the forest in his sights, and he sprinted until his lungs burned, until he reached the treeline and then stepped into it.
He turned to see dozens of people far away from the tents now, nowhere close to catching their horses, but far enough that he felt relief flood through him.
And then he saw a flash of light, and a boom sounded out over the land as Bendeldrick’s tent exploded.
CHAPTER 93
It took him four hours to get back to the tavern. It was midday now, and the tavern was full of traders and even a few academy students who must have sneaked away from classes.
After checking the tavern, the latrines, and their room, there was no sign of Witas. He expected that – he’d hoped that Witas would find the body and the note, and he’d head to the academy.
