Yet, Tevi could not abandon Jemeryl. Joining Bykoda’s army had been a compromise. Tevi had promised that if she could spend half her time out with the ungifted soldiers, earning her place by fighting against bandits, trolls, werewolves, and other assorted monsters, then she would struggle to put up with the daily humiliations of life in the castle for the remaining period.
Jemeryl had not been happy, terrified of the risks Tevi took each time she went into battle. But in the circumstances, she could not deny Tevi the right to make up her own mind. Tevi grimaced at the thought. Now there would be another scar for Jemeryl to get upset about, and what could Tevi feel had been gained by it?
She clenched her teeth at the irony. She had spent months out with the common ungifted soldiers, people like herself, demonstrating her abilities in her bid to be seen as a person in her own right. She had fought with them, suffered with them, saved their lives. And they still gave all the credit to Jemeryl.
*
Bykoda led the way down a series of stairs until they were deep underground. The passage had been hewn from the solid rock beneath the castle. Jemeryl could feel a chill radiating off the walls. The air smelt of mildew and mice.
The room they finally entered looked to be a store, either a trea-sury or an armoury—although, for a sorcerer empress like Bykoda, there was little difference between the two. A row of iron chests lined one wall. Books lay on a desk in the middle of the room. A large bookcase was filled with many more. Shelves held dozens of sealed bottles, crystals, charms, amulets, and some other artefacts that Jemeryl could not even name.
Bykoda unlocked one of the chests and took out a small wooden box, six inches square. Her expression was preoccupied, even wistful. She placed the box on the desk, but rather than open it immediately, she started to trace the carved pattern on the lid with her forefinger. When she spoke, her tone was dispassionate.
“I first received the oracle of my death four years ago. I was actually probing into another matter. It’s the annoying thing with foretelling. You only ever find out what you don’t want to know. I don’t blame anyone for not liking them. I wish I hadn’t bothered. It hasn’t done me any good, and I never did get the answer to my original question.”
“What did you see?”
“The moment of my death. I’m in my council chamber. It has to be one of the meetings I hold twice a year, because I’m sure that all of my acolytes are there, although I can’t see them.”
“Are you blinded?”
“No. I’m falling forwards out of my chair. My body feels like stone. A fist is squeezing around my heart. My lungs are blocked. And I can’t turn my head, say a word, anything. All I can see is the lamplight shining on the floor tiles as they rush closer until I thump into them. The next thing is a crash as the crystal shields drop and shatter. And then someone starts to speak. But the blood is roaring in my ears, so I can’t tell whose voice it is. I miss most of it. The only words that I get are ‘...and now you will die.’ My face is pressed against the floor. My eyes are fixed on one of the windows. Through the glass I see the third-quarter moon. Then blue fire bursts over me and...I stop.”
“Any other details?”
“No.”
“Why do you think that your acolytes are there?”
Bykoda shrugged. “Just part of the foretelling. But I’m sure that they are, and that only happens at the council meeting.”
“I imagine you’ve investigated the oracle further.”
“Oh yes.”
“What have you learned?”
“Nothing.”
Jemeryl pursed her lips while she added up the implication. “Then it’s certain.”
“I fear so. Of course, I didn’t simply give up. I tried everything I could think of, but it made no difference. It was after one of my failed attempts that I invited you here, by way of a backup plan. And I’ve been continuing with my efforts since, but it’s looking inevitable.”
“But you think that I can do something to prevent you being murdered?”
“No.” Bykoda smiled sadly. “I’m reconciled to it.”
Jemeryl frowned. “So what do you want me to do?”
“I’d actually be happy if you became my successor. I’d die that little bit easier, knowing my murderer wouldn’t get to take over my Empire.”
“Um...I don’t think that—”
“It’s all right. I know the offer doesn’t interest you.” Bykoda looked up. Her usual brisk manner returned. “Sight of the moon was the only piece of information that I’ve been able to make any use of. I spent some time lying on the floor of the council chamber, getting an exact fix on its position in my vision. Then I did a calculation of its phases. I’ve been able to narrow the date of my death down to three days this autumn. By which time you’ll be safely back in Lyremouth.”
“Oh, well before then. Tevi and I planned on leaving as soon as the passes over the Barrodens were open. Spring’s on the way. We could go in about a month.” Jemeryl hesitated. “Do you want me to stay longer? To do whatever it is that you want me to do?”
“No. Because all that I want is for you to take something back with you to the Protectorate.”
Jemeryl was bewildered. How could any item be so critical? And how did it link into the oracle? “What?”
“This.”
Bykoda opened the box. Lying at the bottom was a stone talisman in the form of a thick disc, carved to look like woven rope. Patterns in silver were inlaid on its surface. An ungifted observer would have seen nothing more to it, but Jemeryl could examine the talisman with all of a sorcerer’s extended senses. Deep within the stone were other designs, nodes in the lines of power, links and branches. The talisman was one of the most complex constructions that Jemeryl had ever seen, and its purpose was not easy to discern.
“What does it do?”
“It can change the past.”
Jemeryl glanced up sharply. “That’s impossible.”
“No. Just very difficult. And it’s limited in scope. The only thing you can change with it is your own mind.” Bykoda gave a wry smile and picked up the talisman. “My father was a carpenter; my mother was a silversmith. From them I got a knack for creating artefacts. This was one of my most ambitious experiments.”
“Experiment? Does it work?”
“I believe so.”
“Have you never tried?”
“Almost certainly. But then, the futures where I needed to use it never happened, so I have no knowledge of them. The temporal energy of the paradox is stored in the talisman.”
Jemeryl took a few seconds to think. “So you can’t ever be sure?”
“Not totally. But I know of three specific occasions, when I had fixed on a particular course of action, and then suddenly, for no reason, I did something different. With hindsight, all three of those switched decisions averted misfortune.”
“They might just be coincidences.”
“They might. Except that I’m not an impulsive person. I’d never have survived this long if I were. You’d have to be me to realise how out of character those spontaneous decisions were. They went in the face of all logic and available information. What I suspect is that, first time around, I went with the planned course of action, and when disaster struck, I used the talisman to reverse my previous decision.”
Jemeryl stepped closer and stared at the talisman in amazement. Many attempts had been made to change the past. All had failed. Bykoda’s claim was unbelievable, except that the Empress was the shrewdest realist Jemeryl had ever met, and certainly not the sort of person to indulge in wild boasting.
“Why do you want me to take this to Lyremouth with me?”
“Because it’s no longer safe. I told you I believe I’ve used it successfully three times. However, there was one final occasion when I tried to use it and I was not at all successful. The talisman nearly ruptured and exploded in my face. I managed to lock it back down, but it was a close thing. That was over two decades ago and I haven’t attempt
ed to use it since.”
“Do you know what went wrong?”
“I suspect that it was due to the situation more than the talisman. I had the choice of two candidates. I doubted the loyalty of one and the competence of the other. I made my decision on the basis that suitable threats could solve the loyalty issue, but nothing can be done with a fool. I was wrong, and the candidate betrayed me.”
“You tried to use the talisman to change your choice of candidate?”
“Yes.”
“So, isn’t it poss—”
“I know what you’re going to say. Three options: the first, that I’m sure you were going to point out, is that the talisman was inherently flawed all along and never worked. The other times I thought I’d used it were simple coincidence or due to getting a premonition without realising.”
“What are the other options?”
“The second is that, rather than just three times, I’ve used it hundreds, or even thousands of times. So by now, the energy of the stored temporal paradoxes is on the point of becoming catastrophically unbalanced.” Bykoda paused. “The third option is a variation on the second. Maybe both candidates produced their own version of a disaster and there was no right answer. Since, in using the talisman, I negate my knowledge of the future, I might have repeatedly picked one and then the other, putting a little more stress on the temporal web with each pass through, until time was at the point of rupture.”
“That’s your preferred option?”
“Yes.”
Jemeryl frowned in thought. “Would the talisman be safe to use now that we’re at a different point in the temporal web?”
“I wouldn’t recommend trying. Whichever option is the right one, the talisman is unbalanced. I can’t think of any emergency that would justify the risk. There’s always another solution. Like with my disloyal candidate.”
“What did you do?”
“I think you’d be happier not knowing the details. Let’s just say that she never betrayed me again.”
“Oh. Right.” Jemeryl took a breath, forcing her thoughts on. “Why do you want me to take it to Lyremouth?”
“Ideally to have it unmade. But if not, to keep it safe.”
“Unmade?”
“If it can be done safely.”
“So why don’t you unmake it?”
“Because it is going to take more than one sorcerer acting alone. Especially if she only has a few months left to do it in.”
“I’m not sure if I ought to take it with me.”
“You don’t want to learn how I did it? Pry open its secrets?” Bykoda’s voice was teasing. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be able to resist the temptation.”
“I’m worried that it’s too dangerous to have in the middle of Lyremouth. What if it caused a temporal cataclysm in the city? Hundreds of thousands would die.”
“It’s quite safe as long as you don’t try to do anything with it. And I’m sure the Coven will be able to find a secure environment when they start to investigate. Plus, it wouldn’t destroy a location so much as a series of causal relationships. Somewhen rather than somewhere. It’s far more dangerous leaving it here. Supposing an errant sorcerer tried to reverse a decision that had a profound effect on the Protectorate? All the miles between Tirakhalod and Lyremouth would be no protection.”
“Is there much chance of anyone doing that? Who, apart from you and me, knows about it?”
Bykoda sighed. Her rueful expression returned. “My acolytes. I mentioned it once as a threat. If ever they caused trouble, I’d use the talisman to retrospectively cut their heads off before they became a problem. But I didn’t allow for the temptation the talisman presents. I’m fairly certain that I’m going to be murdered by someone who wants the talisman for themself. That was another strong impression I got from the foretelling.”
“Have you tried telling your acolytes that the talisman is now unsafe to use?”
“Yes. It made no difference. I suspect my assassin realised I was only saying it in an attempt to stop them from killing me and hasn’t worked out that this doesn’t necessarily mean I’m lying.”
“If somebody made a decision in the past that they desperately want to reverse, maybe your talisman is simply too great a lure. Your murderer won’t believe it is unusable because they don’t want to believe it.”
“It must be something like that. Which means if they get it, they will try to use it.” Bykoda took the talisman from the box and pressed it into Jemeryl’s palm, making her fingers close in reflex around it. “So much of my life is bound up in the talisman. If it ruptures, I don’t know what it would do to me. That is why I want you to keep it safe.” The elderly sorcerer looked up and met Jemeryl’s eyes sadly. “I can come to terms with dying, but I don’t want to risk never having lived.”
Chapter Two—The Council Chamber
Turrets and battlements encrusted the top of the cliff face, grim against the darkening sky. The road leading to the gates ran beneath the heavy walls. Looming over all was Bykoda’s keep, a foursquare solid mass devoid of ornamentation. The weight of the tower seemed to crush the spirits of the troops marching along the road.
Sunset was not far off, and the wind had increased its bite, but it was not the chill that made Tevi hunch her shoulders. Her stomach clenched at the thought of entering the castle. She tried to stop herself from glancing up apprehensively, tried to stop herself from brooding on the days ahead. The exercise was pointless. Her mood was falling with each clop of her horse’s hooves. The first darts of sleet stung Tevi’s face. Yet not even the threat of the coming storm made her look more fondly on the promise of shelter ahead.
The castle was built on a wedge-shaped hill. At the apex, with sheer rock faces on two sides, was Bykoda’s keep. The road entered the outer bailey at the bottom end. The column of troops marched beneath the gatehouse in silence. Tevi wondered if they were any more pleased than she was to be back at Tirakhalod. The line of bound prisoners certainly would not be.
The outer bailey occupied the lower, eastern side of the hill. This was by far the largest of the three sections that made up the castle. Barracks, stores, stables, and training grounds were laid out here. Most ordinary soldiers, the lucky ones, would never enter the higher baileys. As she rode past, Tevi looked at one of the barrack buildings. Would she be happier living there with the other ungifted soldiers? But she knew that she did not fit in with them any more than she did with the officers.
Tevi grimaced as she thought again of her anomalous position, the only ungifted officer in the army. But, of course, a sorcerer’s favourite could not be treated as a common soldier, even though that was all Tevi had wanted. Many officers clearly resented her status. Everyone else with the rank of lieutenant upwards possessed magical ability. Although, according to Jemeryl, few were anything more than low-grade witches.
The road bent round, climbing towards the inner parts of the castle. The column marched on in formation until a second gatehouse rose above the road ahead. Bands of cloud were swallowing the sunset, hastening the onset of night. The black stone walls were fading into the dusk. Guttering torches marked the entrance.
Commander Ranenok signalled a halt, and the military beat of footsteps stopped. The rush of the wind sounded louder in the following quiet. Ranenok rode back down the line of foot soldiers for a final inspection. Then, at his nod, the sergeants barked commands and the troops broke from the line to drift off into the night in search of food, warmth, and sleep. Tevi watched them go.
Fresh troops arrived to escort the captives to the prison in the middle bailey, but these were markedly different in character from those who had left. Ordinary soldiers did not enter the higher sections of the castle unless they were bound in some way, either by chains like the prisoners or, as with the new guards, by magic stealing their minds. The sight of the ensorcelled thralls with their expressionless faces tightened the knot in Tevi’s stomach. She considered that the deserters with their shackles were the less wr
etched group.
Ranenok and the other captain, Altrun, had dismounted. Tevi likewise slipped down from her horse and handed the reins to one of the thralls. Two others removed her saddlebags and stood waiting.
From experience, Tevi knew that the thralls would follow her and deposit the bags where indicated. She did not know how the thralls received their orders, since spoken commands had no effect on them; nor did she want to know. Some form of magic was involved. Thankfully, Jemeryl refused to have them as servants in her quarters.
Thralls never deserted and never disobeyed orders, but their total lack of reflexes for self-preservation meant that they performed very poorly as soldiers in battle. In overwhelming numbers, they were terrifying. In a tough fight, they would all be dead within seconds. Even asking them to run was hazardous, as they would crash heedlessly into anything that stood in their way. If not for this, Tevi was sure Bykoda would have destroyed the mind of every ordinary soldier in her army.
Captain Altrun had already gone through the gatehouse. Now Ranenok and the line of thralls marched forwards, taking the prisoners with them. Tevi followed on, trailing her small retinue of bearers.
The middle bailey held the more important castle functions: the officers’ quarters, the forge, the armoury, the apothecary, and also the prison. The location of this last building in the middle bailey was not for security reasons. Prisoners were only taken so that Bykoda’s witches could use them as experimental subjects. If the captives were lucky, they would die very quickly. No trial was ever held. Most likely, they had committed some crime and thus were better candidates to sacrifice than loyal troops or rounded-up civilians, who would otherwise provide the test material.
Captain Altrun had taken word of their arrival, and two witches were already waiting with him at the jail entrance, but before the prisoners could be herded inside, the door to the apothecary opened and a woman emerged.
“Wait a moment.” Dunarth, Bykoda’s chief alchemist, trotted down the steps. “Good timing. I need someone.”
The Empress and the Acolyte Page 3
