The office was shadowed, cold and silent when he peered into it. Gilkore had left a pile of papers on his desk, and those were the first to
receive Morghiad’s attention. He leafed through them as rapidly as he dared, but found nothing of significance among the scrawls. What he needed was her file... He looked to the leatherbound folders upon the shelves on the side wall, and made them his next route of enquiry.
Half-an-hour later, and he had found no sign of Artemi’s records, though he had come across plenty documents about himself. Troublesome, ill-tempered, withdrawn and spoiled were some of the words
used to describe his performance through the years.
Self-important teachers, all of them. They knew far less than they claimed. He shoved the last of the folders back onto the shelf and rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. Artemi’s file had been consigned to a bin of some sort; there was a chance that all aspects of her existence had been erased from here too, just they had elsewhere in this damned city. He was left with no choice but to root through every box and every drawer that could store information.
He started with the cupboards under Gilkore’s desk, which were mostly full of cigar cases and candles,
before looking inside the scrolls and correspondence that lay hidden behind the main door. Nothing of note there. Next, he moved on to the piles of ledgers and accounts that stood in tall towers, apparently ranked by agedness and layers of accrued dust. They were filled with nothing but digits and statements of accounts. He flicked to the end of one book, and found himself quite surprised by the numbers there. Forty-eight million sovereigns? How was it that they had forty-eight million sovereigns in their coffers? Even his family’s wealth was far from that magnitude.
Morghiad went back through the pages with more care this time. All of the numbers seemed to be different, and labelled with symbols he did not understand. Why were there no numbers that corresponded with the fees that all students paid? He dropped the ledger he was holding, and went to the one that covered the dates for the fees he had paid on Artemi’s behalf. There was no mention of it. Whatever these accounts referred to, it was not the business of running the school. He pondered the documents for a moment longer, and made a mental note of the symbol that appeared the most often. It looked like the old Sunidaran character for a farm or field, but his knowledge of that language was hazy at best.
He set the ledgers back in the pile exactly as he had found them and moved his attentions to the side room he had arrived at. It was full of boxes, and if one was likely to house anything of Artemi’s records, then it would be one of the uppermost cases. He opened the first one, and immediately her name was apparent. “I didn’t dream you up, after all,” he muttered to himself. Morghiad extracted the bound record, which was surprisingly thick, and settled down to read it.
There was a great deal about her behaviour and actions that he found hugely amusing. Three times she had been punished for answering back to a tutor and once for telling Mistress Kenyen that she “was a bumbling idiot.” And then there were the punishments she had been set for her larks with him. He remembered the time they had been set to wash the food hall’s walls, and how happy it had made him to see her scowl. Morghiad grinned, but the smile soon fell. He missed her terribly.
The rest of the reports consisted of mild annoyances from the tutors
about the increasing number of complaints she had made about Lord Calyrish, culminating in the final word from Gilkore. He’d declared that, if she ever mentioned Renward’s name in anger again, she would be thrown out of the school altogether. There was a brief note about the death of her father, and then there was a large, inky stamp. It stated: “Residence terminated.” There was no mention of any conversation that had gone on beforehand and no hint was given of her reasons for leaving. Just a stamp
and a date.
Morghiad closed the folder
roughly and lifted it back to the box it had come from, but paused before he returned it. That was odd. The folder that had lain beneath Artemi’s was Laiarala’s. She had left many years ago, and plenty more cadets and several wielders had departed in the interim. Why was her file next to Artemi’s? He lifted her documents out and looked at the ones below. All names of women, and none he recognised. Some of them looked very old indeed. Laiarala had been a wielder too - could that be the designation of this box? He examined it closely, but found no labels to indicate that was
what this box was for.
Laiarala had engaged in a relationship with another cadet – that had been the reason for her departure. Perhaps Gilkore had known about Morghiad and Artemi, after all. He turned to the end of Laiarala’s folder to find the same stamp as Artemi’s had contained, and a brief mention of Laiarala’s unsavoury behaviour. They had not made a note of such activities in Artemi’s file. But if the school had known what Morghiad and Artemi had been getting up to, why had they not mentioned anything to him? Was their plan to wait patiently until he died and
then send his remains back to Hirrah?
He checked the next file, this time for a woman named Erloa, and found the same stamp at the back. She had been a wielder too, but there was no mention of any relationship. It was too odd to be coincidence: a box of dismissed or absent wielders.
Perhaps Laiarala hadn’t been forced to leave; perhaps she had been taken instead. If that was true, then what had happened to her lover? Morghiad’s memory of the cells he had visited took on a very different hue in his mind. There could be nothing innocent about their existence, and
there could be nothing innocent about Gilkore.
Morghiad reached inside his pocket for the lone fibre of Artemi’s hair. Already it had lost some of its power. There was not much time left to them. He counted the days since he had last held her close: one day had passed in which they were married, one day had gone after she had left, then two days to travel after her, one to find her belongings amongst the rubbish and now another to find her records. Five days gone, five remained until the pains began and four more to reach death. It was now imperative that he find
witnesses to her arrival the previous day.
The darkness of the night time permitted him to walk from the office unseen, and then venture into the corridors of the female accommodation. By his best guess, he had enough Energy for one more accessway left within the Blaze bundle. There would be no use in wasting before it became absolutely essential. Also, cutting holes through space tended to hurt rather more than he liked.
Ulena was already standing at her door when he arrived, apparently
waiting for him. She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the room as soon as he approached. “They’ve taken her. Is she dead?” Her eyes were wide and searching.
“No, still alive. Who took her?”
“Geffin says she saw Sergeant Kerkland and Meller march Tem into the offices as soon as she got off her horse. Geff said she was training outside the building all day, but didn’t see Tem get out. No one’s seen her since. Where do you think they’ve put her? And why? What has she done?”
“I don’t know, but I did find something.” He turned to make sure
Ulena’s door was fully shut. It was.
“Do you remember Laiarala?”
“Yes. She was the one who...” Ulena’s cheeks coloured. “She broke the rules.”
Morghiad nodded. “And she was sent away. Her file was in the same box as Artemi’s, and those of several other wielder cadets from years past.”
“Do you think that Artemi was getting up to... that?”
He could not prevent himself from frowning. Ulena really was terribly prudish about these things, and he found her embarrassment infectious. “No. Well... I wouldn’t know,” he lied, “but the other women don’t appear to have done anything like that – at least, there was nothing in their records to indicate they had. I think Gilkore might be using them for something. There’s something else... cells. There are barred cells in the walls of the compound. They’re
empty now, and they look old, but Artemi had been put there yesterday.”
“What? There isn’t a part of this school that doesn’t go unexplored by some adventurous kid. We’d know about it.”
“The access is through Gilkore’s office storeroom. Or through the water
merchants’ houses. Either way.”
Her features altered suddenly, taking on a look of horror. “Water merchants’ houses?”
He nodded.
“You shouldn’t go in there.”
“Artemi was scared of that place too.”
“Of course she was. I was there when it happened!”
“What did happen?”
Ulena told him about the eisiel she and Artemi had met, and the peculiar voice they had heard. She also described how Gilkore had responded to their claims with disbelief, but had
then gone on to muster all the blade masters to go after it. Gilkore knew what was going on, and was trying to hide it.
“You genuinely believe those things are real? It couldn’t have been a man in a costume?”
“It was real.”
“But why keep it a secret? And all that money...?”
Ulena shrugged.
“We need to find someone who will tell us where she is, and not put up much of a fight.”
“That cuts out Gilkore and the sword masters.”
“Mirke?”
Morghiad frowned. “He is involved in this... but he is poor.”
“What does that have to do with it?!”
“Men who know secrets worth knowing are paid well for keeping such secrets. Mirke is not paid well. I’d be willing to bet that he is just an orders man – he does what he is told but doesn’t know the deeper details of what goes on. We’ll take Zandrin.”
“Zandrin?! But he’s nice! And a blade master, and he has been to war!”
“Yes, he is more honourable than the rest, and consequently more
likely to help us. I think I can best him, ifI need to.”
“You think?!”
“Fighting may not be necessary. We can drug him.”
Morghiad peered over the top of the wall that surrounded the well. If
there was one thing you could guarantee in Sunidara, it was that everyone had to seek water at several times during the day. Master Colffi Zandrin had worked up a sweat during one of his own practice sessions, and he did look very thirsty indeed. He took a ladle to the nearest bucket of water, poured the contents into his mouth, swallowed it hungrily and promptly collapsed to the floor.
It had been gratifying to find some of the leftover ruulbane from the tricks he had played upon Artemi, and still more gratifying to find that it was not too desiccated to still be active.
“Take his feet,” he whispered to Ulena.
Together they picked the blade master up and hauled him into one of the store rooms that lay to the side of the well yard. He could not be kept there permanently, of course, but it would do for the moment. Ulena wedged the door shut behind them and stood guard. She looked very nervous. The dosage used on Zandrin had been sparing, given his size, but Morghiad had not wanted to wait another day while the man woke up. He set about tying ropes across Zandrin’s wrists and ankles. A gag was made ready in case he tried to shout for help.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Ulena whispered.
“What else is there we can do?”
She did not answer, but Zandrin began to stir. His grey eyes fluttered a little and he grunted; after only a moment, his gaze was wide and blinking. He wriggled in his bonds. “What have you-?”
“There is something we need your help with, Master Zandrin.” Morghiad kept his voice calm, measured.
“And you think tying me up is a good way to go about it? Blazes, did you drug me? This is a very serious
offence, Calyrish! Who is that over there?”
Ulena stayed in the shadows, which was sensible of her.
“A friend. But it is another friend I am interested in: Artemi. What have you done with her?”
“Done with her? Nothing. She left of her own accord.”
“I have seen the cells on the eastern side of the building. I’ve seen the accounts. I’ve seen how her things were thrown away and her horse sold. Gilkore had her taken somewhere. Why?”
Zandrin blinked. “Cells? I
honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re lying.”
“I saw you go after that eisiel in the water merchants’ houses,” Ulena said quietly.
He was quiet for a minute. At length, he said, “Why do you have a problem with me removing a threat to the school?”
No... Blazes... Zandrin had just confirmed it. Eisiels were real. Morghiad felt ill, very ill. Would he be turned into one? Just then, something snapped together in his mind. Missing wielders, a rogue eisiel and a hole dug
from Fate’s cells. Oh... light. “I know why they took her. They want to use her to make eisiels.” He could feel his desperation growing; his heart was thumping harder against his ribs. “Why? Why make eisiels?”
“I think you have a very active imagination, Lord Calyrish. Now, are you going to be sensible and let me go before this lands you in any more trouble?”
Morghiad bared his teeth, grabbed hold of Zandrin’s coat lapels and thrust him against a wall. “Where is she?!”
The blade master grunted; his
eyes had the first signs of anger. “I. Don’t. Know.”
“Tell me!”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I have no idea what you are going on about!”
Morghiad dropped Zandrin to the floor. He could not have made a mistake. How could Gilkore have kept women in those cells without the other sword masters knowing? He certainly couldn’t do anything without their help. They would see the activities of their fellows – they lived under each other’s feet! No, Zandrin knew, alright. “If
really you have no idea, then tell me what excuse Gilkore gave you for that escaped eisiel, and why you believed it.”
Zandrin began to laugh; it was not a pleasant sound. “You are almost as clever as you are good with your blades, young...” he twisted his mouth. “... Morghiad.”
“Tell me where Artemi is.”
“There is too much to lose, and I sincerely doubt you would dare kill me.”
This man had no idea of Morghiad’s devotion to his wife, or how far he would go to save her. “Why make eisiels?”
“I do not wish to tell you.”
Morghiad turned to Ulena. “I need you to get me some items. Salt is one of them. Acid – some kind of acid. And a saw.”
“Mor – please don-”
“Just get them,” he said quietly.
Zandrin’s composure had altered significantly. Morghiad knelt and whispered in his ear once Ulena had left. “Artemi is worth far more to me than she is to you. Are you sure you’re prepared to suffer as much as you’re about to? Is it really worth that much pain?”
“I’ve been in war, kid. I know pain. Legs grow back. And you have no idea how much that girl is worth to us.” His lips thinned, and he formed a toothy grin. “Do you know anything about torture, about inflicting that much hurt on another person? Once you cross that line... you can never go back. A part of you will be lost forever.”
“You are not a person. You have conspired to kidnap and use an innocent woman for...”
“For what, lad? We’re saving the world.”
“How?”
Zandrin only smiled. Blazes... after all these years. Colffi Zandrin had always been the good blades master – the kind one who understood a difficult situation, who offered reassurances that any skill could be learned with time. He was patient and warm with the younger ones, and yet his eyes were cold and empty now. Whatever business Gilkore was running, it was capable of sucking even good men in.
When Ulena returned with the items he had requested, Morghiad set about gagging
Zandrin’s mouth. “We’ll start with the eyes,” he said under his breath.
They worked on him for several hours, and at times his stifled screams were hard to listen to. Ulena remained remarkably stoic throughout, and Morghiad was thankful for her strength. This was for his wife, he reminded himself. He would stoop to any crime, at any cost to save her.
When the night time was halfway through, Zandrin had become delirious. He had revealed nothing: no whereabouts, no explanation, no excuses and no clues. Worse, the man was just about drained of blood. If Morghiad pushed him any further, he would almost certainly fall into stasis.
“We need to move him somewhere safer.”
Ulena nodded, and under the cover of darkness, they carried his bloodied body to Artemi’s old room. No one would hear him or think to look for him in there, and no new cadets would be admitted to the school for another three months.
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 176
