Cimir shook his head. “You had no idea what you signed yourself up for. And every passing day, you prove to me more and more that you’re just a child. You need to grow up, Samuel. We’re criminals, living in a world that will kill us if we make mistakes. We don’t strike half-blows.”
There was nothing else that Samuel could say. No words came to him. He was facing the inevitable. Cimir, bloodthirsty and powerful, had the power to do whatever he liked. Samuel couldn’t save Prax’s life. He couldn’t stop a murder from happening.
Defeated, Samuel climbed out of the wagon. “I tried, man, I tried,” he whispered as he walked towards Cimir. A flash of red arced from the crystal to the wagon and an intense heat pressed against the back of Samuel’s neck. He could hear the screams of the man, bound and gagged, the hoarse throaty shrieks as he was immolated by the flames. Samuel said nothing, he did not turn to look at the display. The sound and the smell was enough.
“You’re a sick man, Cimir,” Samuel mumbled. “Killing a helpless prisoner.”
“The problem with you, Samuel, is that you assume that if the situations were reversed, he wouldn’t do the same to you,” Cimir replied. He gently patted Samuel on the shoulder. “You almost signed our death warrants here. Prax was not a good man, he did not deserve our mercy.”
Samuel looked up at the fierce eyes of Cimir. He couldn’t see any hints of regret or pain in the man’s eyes. There was nothing but determination.
“I didn’t want for this to happen,” Samuel said.
“But it did. And it’s going to happen, again and again and again,” Cimir replied. “Maybe…maybe you should reconsider your role here.”
“Are you asking me to quit?”
Cimir shrugged at that. “I don’t know. You’re naive, Samuel. You…you have no clue how cruel this world can be. I don’t know if you’re cut out for this kind of work.”
Anger flared up in Samuel’s heart, but he didn’t know what to say. Everything Cimir had said about him was true. But did he want to keep his principles or stay in the most lucrative business of his life? The smoldering smell of flesh behind him was sickening. Yet, Cimir had been unfazed, snapping his fingers as if it were nothing to end another man’s life in a cruel and painful way.
“Are you so cold blooded that you would kill anyone who stood in your way?” Samuel whispered.
“No. Only those who have earned their fates,” Cimir replied. “I don’t strike half-blows.”
“But what about the Falcon? What about – “
“The Falcon didn’t have the power to send an army to destroy this entire city. The Falcon isn’t an enemy of the state. He’s not a monster, just an asshole,” Cimir said. “I listened to you then because your heart balanced my bloodlust. But make no mistake, this is not the same. The agreement was that you would kill him. And you reneged.”
Samuel had no words to say. Cimir was right. “I don’t think I can keep doing this. Not if…not if it involves watching you kill your way to the top.”
“Then perhaps some distance would be best,” Cimir replied. There was sadness on his face. “You should quit. Of course, you’d still receive your share of the money. That’s only fair.”
“No, I can’t quit…but I don’t want to be a part of the inner circle. I don’t want to have to keep making choices about who lives or dies. I’m good enough as a salesman, right? I can drum up clients and take new orders, but no…no more voting.” His voice grew hoarse. “I can’t stomach another choice to kill someone.”
Cimir nodded. “I am sorry it had to come to this, but… I understand. I will inform Elias of the new situation. Samuel, you’re my friend first. Please, remember that.”
“Am I?” Samuel asked. “For how long? Until I wrong you? Then what? You gonna immolate me alive too?”
Cimir said nothing as Samuel turned to walk off. “I need some time,” Samuel mumbled. “Send my orders through messengers. Okay?”
“As you wish,” Cimir replied.
Samuel walked off into the darkness. This was a middle ground, he supposed. He’d still be bringing in plenty of money, but as far as he’d be concerned, his hands were clean. Well, as clean as they could be. As for his friendship with Cimir? He wasn’t sure. The quiet, shy young man that Samuel had met four years ago had turned out to be rather ruthless. Those weren’t the kind of people Samuel wanted to hang around. He preferred it when the two’s biggest problem was which fruit cart to knock over in the Market District.
Chapter 22:
Elias stared at the map, running the numbers in his head. There was a lot of territory in Glimmer and their operation was barely beginning to expand. Four major clients were all requesting crystals, two cleaning companies, a construction company and an elegant nobleman who refused to use servants because “people should not serve people.” Regardless of such a strange quirk, the man had ordered quite a bit of service to keep his entire manor clean and well operating.
Money was pouring in, and expenses were few. But this would not always be the case. According to Cimir, they only had enough crystals to last another month. After that, all supply would dry up. The crystals themselves, Cimirite, as Elias had started calling them, did not last forever. After a period of time, depending on how much they were used, a Cimirite spellholder would drain and disintegrate.
Cimir, upon hearing this report, told Elias he’d work on a way to improve the formula, but Elias had put a hold on that plan. A product that everyone needed and only had limited uses? That meant they’d have customers for life. As long as Kalimar held control of Glimmer, business would stay at the same rate. Cimir didn’t seem to care one way or the other about the business decision. Samuel wasn’t around anymore to argue about it either. For all it seemed, Elias was the only one truly in charge.
That suited Elias. He had spent most of his life vying for some kind of control, his time as a Magister left him despising any type of votes. With Samuel gone, Elias was the only one to make the business decisions. And now, as he looked at the map of Glimmer, the enormity of his plan began to overwhelm him.
There were 60 districts within Glimmer. A population of two million people and an ever-increasing wave of immigrants coming for a better life meant that there was a lot of money to be made. The operation could expand as large as Elias desired. Cimir would do as requested, provided he was given free reign over making choices regarding magic and apprentices. The Erice woman had worked out so well, there was already discussion of adding another individual to the repertoire. That meant they would have an even bigger capacity.
“This whole city,” Elias mumbled. “Ripe for the taking.” With the city guard in his pocket, Prax having been sufficiently bribed to look the other way and a growing bank account, the possibilities were endless. Wealth wasn’t the point, of course. No, Elias wanted something far more than just a few hundred thousand gold. He wanted to hold the kind of power that the higher ranking Magisters did. The power to vie for candidates during the elections, the power to ensure that his chosen people would win. One by one, he would see the entire Magistrate replaced with men and women of the caliber he desired.
Elias’ entire life had been a series of disappointments. From the first day that he became a court scribe and was told that he’d have to spend all his time copying notes in the library, as opposed to recording during meetings, to the moment he was sworn in as a Magister, the terrible truths never stopped coming. “You can’t do that,” a senior Magister would say, as Elias brought reformation bills to the table. “It’s impossible,” others would scoff when he spoke about his plan to bring about prosperity to the Golden District.
Yet, there was one common thread throughout all of the disappointments. Each time, he was following the rules. The rules he had so diligently sworn to follow were rules created by men and women who themselves didn’t give a damn about. And in the end, what did it get him? Not a thing. Now, that he had thrown the rules to the side and did things his own way, life had gotten much more promising. Sur
e, it was scarier. The constant threat of death, the dealings with an anti-social sorcerer who seemed prone to mood swings and the idea of being hanged in the gallows made Elias’ skin crawl. But then again, nothing ventured, nothing gained. He had far more power now than ever before. The only cost was a willingness to die in the line of duty. And the sick joke was, he was going to die someday anyway. Everyone did.
Now, as he stared at the map, he contemplated what he would be leaving behind, after his soul departed from his body. Would he leave behind a broken city, left to fend for itself as the elite slowly dismantled it? Or would he leave it behind as the Crown Jewel of the world? The decision was easy, but he was unsure how to actually achieve his desire.
There needed to be much more than they had. A connection needed to be established in the Snake People’s territory, so that a mine could be either purchased or contracted. A distribution network for casual buyers within Glimmer was also necessary. Then there was the question of exporting their Cimirite. It was a realistic endeavor to begin moving product outside of the city, to other places controlled by Kalimar. Still, that was a ways off.
All of this proved that Elias was in over his head on his lonesome. He would need people, good and valuable people who could aid him in this task. Supervisors and managers, people who could ensure that the many intricacies of this operation were followed through with. Perhaps that would be the hardest task in front of him. The kinds of people who would agree to these sorts of jobs would undoubtedly be criminals. How in the hell would he even find upstanding men and women he could trust?
Elias was no fool. Money only went far enough to a point. Those who took work purely for money would eventually find some motivation to upend their bosses, if the reward was big enough. He needed people who were motivated beyond wealth. There had to be some bigger purpose, or else he’d just ally with those who would slit his throat the moment they realized there was profit to be had.
His eyes glanced over at The Hospital of Saint Jarick. This hospital was more like a citadel, a gigantic center where doctors and healers took care of all the ill and the infirm within the city. Jarick had been some kind of miracle worker, perhaps a prophet, who saw a vision for creating a place of healing for the entire world. He built the hospital with his bare hands, or so the legend went. Although he died from exhaustion, having created such a divine medical center, the gods blessed the place, sending visions to priests and healers from all over the land to sojourn to the place.
At least, those were all the stories about the hospital. The common belief was that Glimmer would have never grown as large, had it not been for the reputation of a hospital that could cure any disease. Many journeyed to the city in the hopes of finding healing for their illnesses and would remain in the city, working after they were healed.
While the tales and yarns about St. Jarick’s were endless, Elias had no interest in such things. No, he realized. There was far more value in making connections with the impotent healers who were unable to wave their hands and remove diseases with simple incantations anymore. They would certainly do whatever it took to receive supernatural healing power again. Some might even be willing to work with Elias, to ensure that there was enough healing Cimirite to go around.
Cimir stared at the crackling fire in front of him. While he should have been feeling pride, with his apprentice having conjured it perfectly, creating a flame from nothing and letting it live on the cold ground without spreading, he felt nothing but sorrow.
Samuel had been his only true friend in this world. The relationships he had back in the Snakelands were nothing more than just associations, meant to foster his magical talent and train him in their culture. He had no fond memories of tenderness or love from them. No warm, fuzzy feelings of happiness. He had lived a quiet, stoic life back home. It had been peaceful but was far from pleasant.
Now, Cimir had driven the only man who had ever shown him love before. Cimir never had anything to give to Samuel, but had been treated like a brother, regardless of the burden he had placed on his friend. Not once did Samuel ever complain about Cimir’s contributions to their lifestyle. He had looked out for him, taken care of him, taught him not to unleash terrifying magics upon those who bumped him in the market square.
Regret was a strange emotion. Cimir had never really dealt with it before. Life more or less happened to him. He had been a passenger in most of the decisions that happened to him up until the last six months. He was abducted and raised to follow the High Priest. Magic had been fostered upon him, his master gave him no choice. He was exiled all the same. Even Glimmer had just been in his way as he wandered to civilization. When running with Samuel, he always deferred to his friend’s opinion. Partly because Samuel spoke with an intense confidence, regardless of the subject and partly because Cimir was never used to being in charge.
Now, he was making choices for the very first time. The ability to snap his fingers and alter reality made him more powerful than anyone else in the room. Overnight, with the simple passing of a law, Cimir had changed from man to god. But what a sorrowful god he was, to have his only true friend abandon him over his cruel decisions.
But was he cruel? No. Cimir would not harm those who didn’t deserve it. Prax was certainly one to earn such a terrible ending. Yet, how could he get Samuel to understand? The man was too…compassionate? Idiotic? Kind? Cimir didn’t understand why Samuel had been so broken up over the man’s death.
“Master,” Erice asked, interrupting Cimir’s thoughts. He looked up from the fire and glanced at her. “Are you okay?”
Cimir nodded. “I have a lot on my mind. You’re…you know people, right?” he asked.
“I’m sorry?” Erice replied. She crossed her arms. “I don’t understand your question.”
Cimir sighed. “I meant, you have friends? People you love?”
“Not much anymore, really,” Erice said. “Most of my friends are dead. I had a husband once, but he threw himself in a bonfire to prove his love for the Sun.”
“That’s horrific,” Cimir gasped.
Erice looked at him with sadness in her eyes. “At least, that’s what I tell people. The truth was he was…sad. Broken. I didn’t know how to help him. And he killed himself.”
“And you feel regret?” Cimir asked.
“For the longest time, I did,” Erice replied. She snapped her fingers, putting the fire out. She turned away from Cimir. “Then, I realized that I did what I knew how to do. Nothing prepared me to help my beloved. I can’t regret when I didn’t know what to do.”
Cimir nodded at that. “I understand.”
There was a silence that hung between them. Cimir wanted to ask for more of her thoughts but feared her seeing him as weak or vulnerable. He was her master and he needed to carry himself as such. Anything lesser and she’d lose respect for him.
“You have been troubled,” Erice said. “Tell me, what’s wrong?”
“That is for my own concern,” Cimir said. “You should focus on your magic.”
“Hah, aren’t you the big and strong leader,” Erice laughed. “Don’t’ forget that before I came here, I was part of a serious guild. Second in command. My number one didn’t hide a thing from me and I would expect the same from my master. Or am I not worthy enough, in your eyes, to hear what is plaguing you?”
Cimir frowned at that. What a strange perspective. Yet, before he could fully process the idea, his mouth opened to spill his pain to her. “I hurt Samuel deeply. We had a serious disagreement, one that broke our friendship because I ignored his wishes.”
Erice nodded. “That’s unfortunate, I figured you two were close.”
“I didn’t realize until he walked away…how much I care about him,” Cimir said. He tapped his foot impatiently. Speaking so openly about his emotions felt strange. He didn’t care for how weak it made him look.
“So, what are you going to do about it?” Erice asked.
“It has already been done,” Cimir said. “I broke his trust,
betrayed him and he has walked off. There is nothing that can be done.”
Erice shrugged. “My husband died anyway.”
“What?” Cimir asked.
“No matter what I tried. Praying, taking him to priests, studying some strange practice known as mindscaping. I worked as hard as I could to help him, but in the end, he died anyway.”
“I don’t understand,” Cimir replied.
“Can you say you tried everything to save this thing that you love?” Erice asked. “Because that’s the only time you are allowed to feel broken. If you can’t salvage your friendship or relationship or whatever, it should be because all of your efforts failed.”
“Wise words,” Cimir said. He slowly nodded as he absorbed the information. “Wise words indeed.”
Erice shrugged. “Try everything. After that, you don’t need to feel regret. That’s the only time you’re allowed to let go of that pain.”
Was there any way to salvage what had been broken between them? Cimir didn’t know. The bigger question was whether it was worth pursing or not.
Theft, Murder, and Crystals Page 19
