The Sorcery Code

by Dima Zales

  There were also thoughts out there. Some belonging to her, some to other things—things that were nothing like her. Only one stream of thought was vaguely similar to her own.

  She wasn’t sure, but it seemed like that stream of thought was seeking her, trying to reach out to her.

  Waking up with a gasp, Gala sat up in bed, looking around the dark room.

  “What happened, child?” Esther asked, putting down the book she had been reading by candle light. “Did you have a bad dream?”

  “I don’t think so,” Gala said slowly. “I think I was dreaming of a time right before my birth.”

  Esther gave her a strange look and returned to her book.

  Gala lay back down and tried to calm her racing heartbeat. This was the first time she had dreamed at all—and she wished Blaise was there, so she could talk to him about it. He would find this dream fascinating, since it had been about the Spell Realm.

  Closing her eyes, she drifted off again, hoping her next dream would be about Blaise.

  Chapter 36: Blaise

  The confrontation with Ganir left Blaise feeling strangely unsettled. Had the old man been genuine in offering his help? He’d seemed so shocked when Blaise had told him about the vote that Blaise had almost believed his lies.

  The Council didn’t know about Gala—unless Ganir had lied about that too. But if he hadn’t, and if the Council was not involved, then who had been following Blaise that day? Thinking about it, Blaise decided that it could just as easily have been one of Ganir’s spies; the old sorcerer was famous for having his tentacles everywhere.

  Ganir clearly had some plans for Gala—that much was obvious to Blaise. The Council Leader was far from a fool; he, more than most, would see the potential in an intelligent magical object that had assumed human shape. Of course, Blaise had no intention of letting Gala become Ganir’s tool. No matter what Blaise himself had intended for her originally, she was a person, and he needed to make sure she was treated as such.

  Walking back to his study, he sat down at his desk, trying to figure out what to do next. If the Council didn’t know about Gala, then there was still some time. Somehow Blaise had to get to her without leading Ganir there. His experiments with the Spell Realm were clearly not the answer; it would take too long to perfect something so complicated.

  Blaise needed some way to evade whoever was watching his house.

  Pondering the problem, he wondered if it would be possible to increase the speed of his chaise. If he could go significantly faster than his pursuer, then he could outrun the spy and collect Gala before anyone caught up to them.

  Suddenly, a crazy idea occurred to him. What if, instead of flying, he teleported himself part of the way? If the teleportation was over a sufficiently short distance, it would be significantly safer, reducing the odds of materializing someplace unexpected. In fact, he could always teleport to a spot that he could see with enhanced vision—and from there, he could do it again and again. This would make the trip significantly shorter in length, and make him impossible to track.

  The only problem would be the complexity of the code he would need to write—but Blaise was up for the challenge.

  Chapter 37: Barson

  Walking into Ganir’s chambers, Barson forced himself to keep his face expressionless.

  “You summoned me?” He purposefully omitted any honorific due to the head of the Council—a subtle insult that he was sure Ganir would not miss.

  “Barson.” Ganir inclined his head, foregoing Barson’s military title as well.

  “How may I be of assistance?” Barson asked in an overly polite tone. “Should I put down another small rebellion for you?”

  Ganir’s mouth tightened. “About that. I regret that I was misinformed about the situation in the north. The person responsible for this grievous error has been dealt with.”

  “Of course. I would’ve expected no less from you.” Barson would’ve done the same thing in Ganir’s place. The old sorcerer clearly didn’t want any witnesses to his treachery.

  “I have a small task for you,” the Council Leader said. “There is a sorceress who is causing some disturbances in Kelvin’s territory. I’d like you to take a few of your best men and bring her to me, so we could have a discussion.”

  Barson did his best to conceal his surprise. “You wish me to bring in a sorceress?”

  “Yes,” Ganir said calmly. “She’s young and shouldn’t present much of a challenge. You can just talk to her and convince her to come to Turingrad. That might be the best way. Of course, if she’s reluctant, then you have my leave to use whatever methods of persuasion you deem necessary.”

  Barson inclined his head in agreement. “It shall be done as you wish.”

  * * *

  Leaving Ganir, Barson walked through the Tower halls, trying to make sense of the Council Leader’s request. The sorceress in Kelvin’s territory had to be the same one Larn had informed him about—the mystery woman who could supposedly perform miracles. Why did Ganir want her detained? And why would he send the Guard to do it? Sorcerers usually dealt with their own affairs, not wanting to seem vulnerable to outsiders—not even to the Guard. The precedent of non-sorcerers subduing one of the elite would be something most in the Tower would find frightening.

  There were only two reasons Barson could think of for Ganir’s request: the old sorcerer was either trying to keep this matter hidden from others on the Council, or it was another ploy to send the Sorcerer Guard into a potentially deadly situation. Barson did not for a second believe Ganir’s claim of a ‘grievous error.’ It was obvious the old man had somehow caught wind of Barson’s plans and was doing his best to sabotage him.

  Of course, it was also possible that Ganir had staged this whole thing in the hopes that Barson would refuse to follow his orders, thus giving him cause to take up action against Barson at the Council level. No doubt the Council Leader thought that if he eliminated the immediate threat of Barson and his closest lieutenants, the rest of the Guard would return to being the sorcerers’ loyal tool.

  Approaching his chambers, Barson was surprised to find Augusta standing by his door, about to knock. She looked beautiful, but surprisingly anxious.

  “I need to speak with you,” she said as he got closer.

  “Of course.” Barson smiled, his heart beating faster at her nearness. “Come inside. We’ll talk.”

  Opening the door, he led her into his room. However, before he could so much as kiss her, she started to pace back and forth in the middle of the room.

  Barson leaned against the wall, waiting to see what was on her mind.

  She stopped in front of him. “Ganir will summon you,” she said, sounding worried. “He’ll want to send you on a mission to Kelvin’s territory.”

  “Oh?” Barson did his best to look mildly interested. Augusta was clearly unaware that he had just seen Ganir, and he was curious to hear what she was about to say.

  “It’s a different kind of a mission. He will tell you that you are to apprehend a dangerous sorceress.”

  “A sorceress?” Barson continued pretending ignorance. This was a serious stroke of luck. Perhaps Augusta would give him the information he needed.

  “Yes,” she said, looking up at him. “A powerful sorceress that Ganir wants to use for his own purposes.”

  “And what purposes would those be?”

  “He wants to replace me with her on the Council,” Augusta said, giving him a steady look. “As you probably know, Ganir and I don’t get along very well.”

  That wasn’t what Barson had been expecting to hear. “Is that right?” he asked softly, lifting his hand to brush a stray lock of hair off her face. Was she lying to him right now? For someone who didn’t get along, she and Ganir had certainly been seeing a lot of each other.

  Augusta nodded, reaching up to capture his hand with her own, squeezing it lightly. “It’s the truth. And that’s why I want to ask you for a favor.” She paused, holding his gaze. “I don’t wan
t her brought in alive.”

  Barson couldn’t conceal his shock. “You want me to go against the Council Leader and kill a sorceress?”

  “She’s not what she seems,” Augusta said, her hand tightening around his palm. “You would be doing the entire world a favor by getting rid of her.” Her voice held a note of fear that startled Barson.

  He stared at her, trying to figure out what it all meant. “You are asking me to go against the Council Leader and to commit the greatest crime of all—murdering a sorcerer,” he said slowly. “You do realize the consequences of this?”

  She nodded, her eyes burning with some strange emotion. “I know what I am asking you to do. If you do this for me, Barson, I will be forever in your debt.” Her hand still held his own, her tight grip betraying her desperation.

  Barson did his best to conceal his reaction to her words. “We will be in this together then, right?” he asked quietly, curving his other palm around her cheek. “If Ganir becomes my enemy as a result, you will be on my side?”

  “Always.” Augusta held his gaze without flinching.

  “Then consider it done,” Barson said. He could hardly believe this turn of events. He had been wondering how to get Augusta to join his cause, and she just jumped into bed with him herself—figuratively this time.

  Her face lightened, and her grip on his hand eased. Standing up on tiptoes, she kissed him softly on the lips. “Be careful,” she murmured, reaching up to stroke the side of his face. “Make it look like she resisted so violently that you and your men had no choice but to kill her. It might even turn out to be true.”

  “Just how powerful is this sorceress?” Barson asked, his mind turning to the upcoming quest despite the distraction of Augusta’s touch. He didn’t like the idea of killing a woman, but he suppressed the feeling. A sorceress could be just as powerful as her male counterparts—and potentially deadlier than a hundred of his men. He remembered how useful Augusta had been during the peasant rebellion, and he knew that it would require more than a few swords and arrows to win this fight.

  “She’s powerful,” Augusta admitted quietly, looking up at him. “I don’t know just how powerful she is, but I want you to be ready for the worst. I will also prepare some spells to make sure you and your soldiers are well-protected, both physically and mentally, against whatever attacks she might launch against you.”

  “That would be helpful,” Barson said. Although Dara had already given him some protective spells, Augusta was a stronger sorceress, and he would welcome the additional protection for his men.

  “I also have a gift for you.” Taking a step back, she reached into a pocket in her skirt and took out what looked like a pendant. “This will enable me to see everything that happens in a special mirror,” she said, handing it to him.

  Barson took the pendant and put it on his commode. “I will wear it when we depart,” he promised. It would be somewhat limiting to have his lover watching him, but it would also strengthen their alliance.

  For now, though, he wanted to reinforce their bond in a different way. Reaching for Augusta, he drew her toward him.

  * * *

  “You must let me come.” Dara gave him an imploring look. “Barson, let me go with you.”

  “For the hundredth time, you’re not going.” Barson knew his tone was sharp, and he softened it a bit before continuing. “It’s too dangerous, sis. If anything were to happen to you . . .” He couldn’t even complete that horrifying thought. “Besides, you know you’re far too important to our cause. If you got hurt, who would continue recruiting for us? You know what happened when Ganir found out I was meeting with those five sorcerers.”

  His sister stared at him in frustration. “I would be fine—”

  “No, there’s no guarantee of that.” Barson shook his head. “I will not put you in danger like that. Besides, you know that if we are to overtake the Council, we have to be able to fight them. We need to start testing the waters now, to see how my army would fare against one of them. This is a perfect opportunity because we just have one sorceress to deal with, not the entire lot of them.”

  She still looked unhappy, but she knew better than to argue further. Once Barson made up his mind, there was very little anyone could do to change it.

  “So did you have a chance to look at the defensive spells Augusta put in place?” Barson asked, changing the subject.

  Dara nodded. “She did a superb job. She must really care about you. The spell that she put on your armor—and on your men in general—will protect you against most elemental attacks, as well as against many that could tamper with your mind. Her anti-Shriek defense, in particular, is a masterpiece.”

  Barson smiled. He liked the idea of Augusta caring about him.

  “Why doesn’t she come with you?” Dara asked, looking at him curiously. “If this mission is so important to her, why doesn’t she come along?”

  “And openly go against Ganir?” Barson’s smile widened. “No, Augusta is too smart to do that. There is a Council meeting coming up, and if she’s not there, Ganir will know immediately something is going on. My men have explicit orders from the Council Leader to go and capture this sorceress, and if she happens to resist arrest . . .” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Well, these things happen. It would be much tougher to explain a dead sorceress if Augusta were there—or you, for that matter.”

  “But you’re bringing almost your entire army,” Dara protested, “not the few men that Ganir suggested. Won’t he be suspicious of that fact?”

  Barson chuckled. “How many men I take on a military mission is entirely my prerogative. Ganir doesn’t have any say in that.”

  “Do you think he did it on purpose again?” Dara asked. “Telling you to take just a few of your best men while sending you against a powerful sorceress?”

  “I’m not sure,” Barson admitted. “It sounds like Ganir genuinely needs this sorceress, but at the same time, I know he’d love to have me and my closest men perish in battle. Maybe it’s a win-win proposition for him. If we bring her, he gets what he wants. And if we die during this mission, he will get rid of what he perceives to be a threat—and there will be other opportunities for him to capture her.”

  “I still wonder why he hasn’t killed us all outright,” Dara mused, “or gone to the Council with his suspicions.”

  “Because I don’t think he realizes the full extent of our plans,” Barson said. “He probably thinks I’m just an overambitious soldier with fantasies of grandeur—”

  “That is what you are,” Dara interrupted, smiling.

  “No.” Barson shook his head. “I don’t do fantasies. I make plans. Ganir, like all the rest of them, underestimates us. But even if he does have his suspicions, he’s too smart to act on them openly. He doesn’t know how many supporters we have, or how deep the conspiracy runs. If he openly accuses us of treason, my men will not stand idly by—nor will those we convinced to join our cause. There will be war—a real civil war—and I don’t think Ganir is ready for that.”

  Dara frowned, an anxious look appearing on her face.

  “What is it, sis? Are you doubting our plans again?”

  “I can’t help it,” Dara admitted. “Even with all our allies, going up against the Council sounds like an impossible mission.”

  “You’re right.” Barson smiled at her. “We’re not ready yet. However, if we can get Augusta to join us, that would significantly increase our odds of success.”

  “Do you really think she would join us? She’s part of the Council.”

  “She has already joined us; she just doesn’t realize it yet. Her request goes against my orders—orders that come directly from the Council Leader—which means that we are now both involved in a treasonous conspiracy.”

  Dara considered that for a moment. “Yes, I could see that. And with her on our side, things would be different.”

  Barson nodded. He could already see it—the aftermath of the eventual power shift. He would be king an
d Augusta his queen. Both of them of noble blood, as rulers should be.

  “Be careful on this mission, Barson.” Dara looked unusually worried. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  Barson gave his sister a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, sis. All will be well. It’s just one sorceress. How bad could it get?”

  And walking out of Dara’s house, he headed back to the Tower, where his men were already preparing to depart.

  Chapter 38: Gala

  On the day of the Coliseum games, Gala made the decision to venture out of the inn again. Over the past three days, she had done every chore imaginable, from emptying chamber pots (at which point she truly understood the concept of disgust) to making cheese out of the milk that farmers delivered to the inn every morning. While most of the tasks were interesting in their own way—and Gala turned out to be surprisingly good at them—she was beginning to feel caged, a prisoner in the inn where Maya and Esther insisted they stay while waiting for Blaise.

  “I am going to attend the games today,” she told Esther, ignoring the anxious expression that immediately appeared on the old woman’s face. “They say the Coliseum is closing after this, and I would like to see the games at least once.”

  “I don’t think you’d like those games, child,” Esther said, frowning. “Besides, what if someone recognizes you?”

  Gala took a deep breath. “I understand and respect your concern,” she said, determined to allay her guardians’ fears. “I considered it thoroughly, and I think it’s safe. It has been several days since the market, and nobody has recognized me thus far. The disguise you’ve given me is such that nobody even looks at me twice. I’m just a peasant girl working at the inn, and nobody will think anything different if I attend the games today. I’ll wear the shawl to the Coliseum as well.”

  Esther sighed. “Child, you are obviously a very talented sorceress and you seem to be getting wiser with every hour that goes by, but Blaise wants us to stay hidden. Here at the inn, we’re just a couple of old women with a young niece who’s trying to earn a little coin by helping out. I worry about you in a public venue, child. Things seem to happen around you that I don’t understand. I don’t know how you do what you do, but we can’t draw any more attention to ourselves.”