by C. Night
The king smiled lazily. “Of course.”
“Then it is not your enemies that Conden should fear. It is your ally,” Cazing said in a low voice. His words were bitter.
At this, Terre’s brows pulled slightly together. He blinked again, but quicker, more normal. He looked, for the first time, confused. “What ally?” he asked with genuine surprise.
Now Cazing looked confused. Rhyen glanced between the two. He understood what his master was saying: Terre was allied with Taida. But Terre obviously had no idea what Cazing meant.
Cazing was not to be deterred. “Your ally who has blinded you, who has made you think you are invincible. Through your vanity, you’ve weakened Conden by wasting its resources. Now your people have no means to protect themselves!”
The king smiled his crooked smile wider. “Why would a king waste his own country’s resources?”
Cazing shook his head. He looked disgusted. “You are no longer the king,” he said sadly.
There came again soft laughter from the throne. “I think that’s treason,” drawled the king, his voice too confident, and with a casual flick of his hand, he summoned the soldiers, who moved away from the golden walls and surrounded the sorcerers. They looked reluctant, afraid to do anything to bring the wrath of the sorcerers upon themselves. But they were soldiers first, and obeyed their king. The guards formed a tight circle about the two men, but the sorcerers’ attention could not be turned from the haunting shadow of the man on the throne.
Then, without warning, the clear calculating eyes turned their full force on Rhyen, and again images of the Dark Rider flashed before his eyes. The familiarity between the otherworldly figure and the king was uncanny.
“Foolish of you to come here, Rhyen of Avernade, Eighth Born sorcerer,” he hissed, staring down and appraising Rhyen. “If you knew who you were, you wouldn’t have come at all. But since you did, I offer you my hand. You are strong, if stupid. Be my ally, and you will be rewarded richly.”
At this, Rhyen found his courage, and he glared daringly back up, standing tall and straight. Of course he knew who he was! He was Rhyen of Avernade, Cazing’s apprentice. He looked the king full in the face.
“How could that be so, when you’ve already spent all of Conden’s money padding your ego!” Rhyen spat hotly. He glared at the king. “You think you know quite a lot about me,” he said in a ringing voice, “but I have never given a moment’s thought about you.” He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. He didn’t care that this was the king of Conden. All Rhyen cared about was that the king was somehow connected to the Dark Rider, and he didn’t want that still figure to hear that he, Rhyen, had been afraid, or had doubted himself. So he hurled his indifference like a javelin. “And it gives me great pleasure, your Majesty, to tell you that you are quite mistaken about me. I know exactly who I am, and it is not whoever it is that you think. I am a wielder, and I remember my responsibilities. I will not pledge my magic to a selfish king who is willing to sacrifice the well-being of his people in exchange for his own pride.”
There was total silence in the hall. Wanall’s eyes were popping, and his face was purple as he spluttered silently. The guards exchanged wary glances with each other. But Rhyen kept his eyes on Terre. The king had raised his eyebrows briefly, surprised. Then he began to laugh again, his eyes roving across Rhyen’s face. “You’re perfect,” he said so quietly Rhyen was barely sure he heard him.
The king nodded at the guards, and they closed in, forcing the two sorcerers back. Cazing and Rhyen let them push them back to the door, both eager to get away from the king. Cazing still had his arm out in front of Rhyen, as though holding him back, but Rhyen could think of nothing he would rather do than put as much distance as possible between himself and the cocky king on his throne. Just before they reached the massive doors, which were being slowly opened behind them, the sunlight streamed in and the king fell into shadow, being too far away for the light to slant across his face. From the throne he called out, “Happy 29th Name day, Rhyen Hyldhem of Yla.” And Rhyen could do nothing but glare in astonishment in the direction of the throne before he was roughly shoved outside the hall along with his master. He heard the cold laugh again before the doors shut and only the echo of the noise lived on in his mind.
The guards escorted them down the hundred golden steps, then as one they turned and left them, marching back up the stairs. Rhyen was still chilled despite the heat of the day. Cazing shook his head clear and finally lowered his arm. He nodded at his apprentice, and the two set off toward the Palace gates.
“The king has been Persuaded by Taida, hasn’t he?” Rhyen shakily asked his master.
Cazing nodded, his face lined and sagging, as though he had aged years the minutes they were before the king. “I think so. He has convinced the king there is no war, and that Conden is far richer than it actually is. Terre truly believes he is invincible, and that no enemy would attack Conden. But Taida’s best trick of all was Persuading Terre that he has not made any new allies. Only wielders could feel the magic rolling off the king and guess his ally. No one else would know anything was wrong, save for the bizarre decrees.”
Rhyen narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. “If Taida is searching for me, and he Persuaded Terre, why did the king let us go?”
Cazing looked down. “What do you mean?”
“The king has been Persuaded. Even if he doesn’t know it, he’s doing Taida’s bidding. So, shouldn’t he have held me there for the Zirites to come and collect?”
Cazing didn’t meet Rhyen’s eye. “King Terre is not a wielder. He couldn’t have compelled you to stay.”
Rhyen shook his head. “Maybe. But that doesn’t explain why he didn’t just order the guards to hold us there.”
Cazing didn’t answer. He was studying the ground as though it was the most fascinating object he had ever seen. Rhyen frowned. Why was his master refusing to meet his eye?
“Cazing,” he asked slowly. “How did the king know I was an eighth-born child? Why was that so important to him? Who did he think I was?”
Cazing paused for a long moment. He looked like he was having some internal struggle. Finally, he shrugged. “The king was mad. Who knows what he meant?”
“Terre isn’t mad,” Rhyen answered quickly. “He is Persuaded, but he is in his right mind.” Cazing was still looking at the ground, his eyes refusing to meet Rhyen’s. Rhyen was watching his master with a frown. “What is it you’re not telling me?”
But before Cazing could answer, a man stepped out from one of the giant golden columns that arched over the marble walkway. “Sorcerers, I can help you,” he said, bowing his head and holding his hands up. “I am on your side.” He was dressed all in black nondescript clothes, and he had strong form and military posture.
Cazing snorted, and some of his usual pep was restored. “You don’t even know which side we’re on! How could you help us?” He kept walking.
“No, please—something is wrong with the king, and he does nothing to prepare for the coming war!” The man insisted, following after them. He was almost as tall as Rhyen, and his long legs produced strides that quickly caught up to them.
Rhyen looked at the man, his interest piqued a little. At least someone within the Palace walls recognized the inevitable war. “What do you know of the war?”
The man reached out and put his hand on Cazing’s arm. “Everything,” he claimed in hushed tones.
Cazing narrowed his eyes, but did not throw off the man’s hand. This encouraged him, and he hastily went on. “I am Captain Dawsliem Day of the King’s Eyes, and I have information for you.”
Chapter 26
Rhyen had no idea what the King’s Eyes were, but this information seemed to mean something to his master. Cazing raised his eyebrows fractionally, impressed. He searched the man for a long moment before jerking his head. “Then you’d better come with us.”
The three didn’t speak again until they had sidled past the guards at the golden entryway. When they were back out into the third level, they walked a few streets away from the Palace grounds, and Cazing turned down an alleyway, windowless and secluded from public view.
“All right,” he said finally, turning so that he and Rhyen were shoulder-to-shoulder and squared together before Dawsliem Day. “Go on, then.”
He glanced casually around him before speaking. Rhyen saw that now that they were away from the Palace, Dawsliem’s stance was nonchalant, though his eyes swept the area with a military professionalism. “I was a captain in the king’s army, but gradually I worked my way into the King’s Eyes, his arsenal of spies. I’ve just returned from a mission in Zirith, sir, that King Terre personally delegated to me. I was there for five years. I know they are planning to invade and attack, using their garrisons as leverage within the capital. When I tried to report this to the king, his Majesty dismissed it.” Dawsliem shook his head. “Something is wrong with him. He’s not the same man I knew before I left for Zirith. But something needs to be done, and you two are the only ones who can help me.”
“I thought you said you would help us?” Cazing asked shrewdly.
Dawsliem nodded. “I can.” He spoke with the quiet authority of a man confident in his skills and motive. “I’ve spent the past five years building a network across Zirith and her allies.” He paused, thinking of how much to say. “I know that you will need my help moving through enemy territory.”
“Why would you think we’re going through enemy territory?” Rhyen demanded in a low voice.
Dawsliem answered, tilting his head in slight confusion. “Because the Zirites are expecting you to. Well,” he amended, looking at Rhyen with calculated interest, “They are expecting you to cross Zirith, at any rate.”
“They’re expecting me?” Rhyen asked. Fear coursed through him. Why were the Zirites looking for him? What was he to Taida?
“That’s correct, sir,” Dawsliem replied.
Rhyen and Cazing glanced at each other from the corner of their eyes. “Why should we trust you?” Cazing asked.
“My country is going to fall, Sorcerers. They will make their move within the next few days, and we are utterly unprepared. I returned to a king who barely recognized me and certainly not the danger about to befall us.” Dawsliem’s gaze was steady, and Rhyen saw the sincerity in his eyes. “My only hope is to aid you to defeat Zirith, or else my country will be forever lost.”
The two sorcerers looked at each other again. Dawsliem radiated none of the dark potency of the king. He was under no such magical influence. He awaited their decision now, and although his face was smooth and unreadable, hope lit his eyes. After the meeting with the king, Rhyen felt he would never trust a stranger again—these times were far too dangerous. Anyone could be under Taida’s influence. But, deep down, and for reasons unknown to him, Rhyen was absolutely certain that Dawsliem could be trusted. He could see that his master thought the same. Cazing nodded at his apprentice, and Rhyen turned back to the soldier.
“My name is Rhyen, and this is my master Cazing.” He held out his hand, and, smiling crookedly, Dawsliem grasped it. Rhyen could feel thick calluses on his palm as they shook hands, and the grip was firm.
“It’s good to meet you, Dawsliem,” Cazing said when he shook his hand.
“Liem, to my friends,” he answered, grinning.
“Why don’t you come with us and meet our colleagues,” Cazing said, more commanding than suggestive, “and tell us what you know.”
Liem held up his hand toward the mouth of the alley. “Please. Lead the way.”
When they arrived at Thom’s house and entered his enormous foyer, Rhyen asked the first servant he saw where Caliena was. “In the market, sir,” she replied, inclining her head.
“Thanks.” Rhyen nodded at his master. “We don’t have to worry about being overheard.”
The three walked up the grand staircase and entered the magnificent great room. Both Avarek and Thom were present. Avarek was seated at the table, fidgeting with a goblet, which, Rhyen would hazard a guess, was filled with plain water. Thom was standing just out on the balcony, staring over the city. He turned when he heard the door open. They both looked nearly expectant, but when they spotted the newcomer, their expressionless faces became almost surprised.
“That’s a piece of the Pankara Stone, then?” Liem asked, nodding toward the center of the table where the shard was placed. They had entered so suddenly that the gnomes hadn’t had time to put it away.
“What makes you say that?” Avarek demanded, his wooden face betrayed by his suddenly suspicious eyes.
“It’s all right,” Cazing said, waving him off. “This is Captain Dawsliem Day of the King’s Eyes. He’s just returned from a five-year mission collecting intelligence on the Zirite queen. He’s our ally.” Instantly both gnomes relaxed. Rhyen wondered why they let their guard down so quickly.
“You’re Thom’varDa.” Liem stated. “I’m honored, sir.” He bowed low before Thom.
“You know me?” asked the old gnome, clearly surprised despite his lack of expression.
“I do, sir. We met once, though only in a group. I was just a nameless soldier then.” Liem grinned his crooked smile. He caught sight of Avarek. “You’re clearly his son, Avarek’varThom. It is my pleasure to meet you.” He bowed again.
“Avarek,” the young gnome replied.
“Liem.”
“How do you come to know about the Stone?”
“It’s all the queen speaks of,” replied Liem. “Her master Taida is trying to put it back together. He has most of the pieces, I gather.”
Cazing lit his pipe. “We’ve heard just under a thousand.”
“That sounds right, though intelligence on the subject varies.”
The original four regarded the soldier. He was standing ramrod straight, the picture of discipline and precision. Rhyen wondered how much they were going to tell Liem. Cazing answered that for him by saying, “Liem, I’ve decided to trust you. You seem a loyal fellow. But if you betray us, I will kill you.”
Rhyen widened his eyes. He had never imagined his master would say such a thing, yet he knew as soon as he heard it that it was true. Cazing had hammered into him that wielders had a responsibility, and that they must put aside personal convictions for the greater good. Rhyen himself had made a similar decision just yesterday, when he condemned Taida to death. Still, he found it brazen that his master would simply tell the soldier that.
But Liem only smiled. “Of course, Sorcerer.”
“We will tell you what we know, and you will tell us what you know. Then, you will help us achieve our goal. Are we agreed?”
“Will your goal save Conden?”
Cazing shrugged. “I can’t say for certain. But what we do will be in the name of saving her.”
“If that’s all we can do, then so be it. We’re agreed.”
Rhyen had to work to keep his face composed. He concurred that Liem seemed a decent sort, but including him like this so quickly was baffling. If their errand really was of the utmost secrecy and importance, why in the name of the gods were Cazing and the gnomes so eager to bring a stranger into their midst?
“What do you know about the Stone?” Thom asked.
Liem shrugged. “Only that once it is put together, Taida’s power’s will increase.” He looked at Rhyen. “And he expects you to do it.”
The gnomes and Cazing looked sideways at each other.
Rhyen blinked. “Me?”
The soldier nodded meaningfully. “He’s been searching for you for months.” He hesitated. “And he knows everything about you.”
Rhyen clutched the table to steady himself. “What do you mean?” he whispered, afraid.
“Why does he know so much about me?” Rhyen’s mind was reeling. Why was Taida so interested in him?
Liem shrugged. His eyes were hard as he gazed at the young sorcerer, sizing him up.
Rhyen looked at his master, but Cazing wouldn’t meet his eyes. Rhyen felt like he was in the dark. The gnomes and Cazing seemed saddened but unsurprised, yet Rhyen’s whole world was being turned upside down. Why was this happening to him? He knew already that the Zirites were searching for him, but to be told that Taida—not some lowly foot soldier, but Taida himself, the most powerful sorcerer ever to walk the earth—was looking specifically for him, was far beyond overwhelming. And why did Taida think that Rhyen could put together the Stone? Was it anything more than just a mere suspicion that Cazing’s apprentice would try to stop him from gaining its power?
“Why does he expect me to put the Pankara Stone back together?” Rhyen finally asked.
Liem raised his eyebrow. “I was hoping you could tell me that.” He was still searching Rhyen, his eyes calculating.
“Enough,” Cazing said harshly. “Taida expects Rhyen to put together the Stone because my apprentice is strong and, more importantly, against him. Nothing more.”
Rhyen and Liem both regarded the old sorcerer with disbelieving looks. Cazing jutted out his chin and stared fiercely back. “Taida is a liar and a danger, and more powerful than you could ever imagine. Don’t underestimate him, and don’t believe everything he says.”
Liem made smooth his face and looked thoughtfully between the sorcerers and gnomes. “I know he is a sorcerer, and I know he has tremendous pull over the queen. But he’s not the same Taida from the legend, is he?”
