We all are resurrected. It is chance, he thought. The Realms are too full of injustice for anything but random chaos to rule.
“Auntie,” he whispered.
She opened her eyes. Out of habit, her fingers went to the hilt of her saber, but she did not unsheathe the sword.
“Do you believe the words of the priests?”
She shrugged. “The Realms are vast, and priests live cloistered lives, but it’s good that we respect their wisdom. They know things we do not. We know things they do not.”
“I think I’ve had a vision. I don’t know if I saw the future, past, or present. I think the present. Or it started as the past, but became the present.” Roark pressed his knuckles to his brow. His voice rose slightly. “How can I keep track of this madness?”
Beside him, Eohan mumbled in his sleep.
Alana touched his shoulder. “Do you need to speak of it, dearling?”
“I feel I better keep silent. I just need to know if I should take its wisdom over what the priests teach?”
“Well, I believe my foresight before the words of a priest.” She tilted her head. “I may live to regret these words, but I learned to trust my foresight even before the words of my master.”
Roark thanked her and laid back down, feeling Eohan’s stability and warmth beside him. “It’s good to be surrounded by friends. You were correct about that.”
“Indeed,” she whispered back.
*
Chapter 13
Port Denwort in the Realm of Dynion
While Port Denwort was a human city, peoples of all species moved about the market selling their wares. Guards wandered around in pairs, but they were lax in attitude and seemed uninterested in the petty crime around them. To the west was the slave block which was thankfully now empty.
To divert Eohan’s gaze, Alana asked, “What do you see, apprentice?”
“I’ve never seen such a population,” Eohan said softly. “I almost don’t know where to look.”
“But you’re hoping to see your brother running an errand.”
“Yes, milady,” Eohan said, slipping into his old habit of slurring common phrases into one word. On a different day, she would remind him, but today he needed a mother’s gentleness, not a master’s instruction.
The three Fairsinge rode slowly through the shop-lined streets. Above the shops were the homes of merchants. The wealthiest had multiple floors reaching to the sky. They turned down an eastbound street and stabled the horses and rented their lodging.
Alana felt easy as they waited for nightfall. They moved away from the square into a forest of stone houses and hedged gardens lining the streets on the hills until they came to a small, well-kept stone cottage with a clay shingled roof.
Alana touched Eohan’s arm. “You and Roark must hold back.”
“But milady…”
“Nyauail claims he is a shy one. We ought to listen,” she said.
Eohan’s hands trembled, and he chewed his bottom lip, but the boys hid in the shrubbery as instructed
She knocked on the cottage door. The small peep window opened and exposed a lich with a gruesome smile on his powdered white face and black charcoal around his piercing obsidian eyes.
“I seek Edar Candlewick,” Alana said.
“For what?”
“I heard you have special remedies.” She pulled at her collar and showed a hint of the weave.
The quiet was disturbed by grumbling and a creak of a lock being undone. The former human in scarlet robes sneered. He was easily three feet taller than her and wore a headdress which made him even taller. His breath smelled like death, and his chest did not rise and fall. Alana felt as awkward as a maid in a whorehouse under his gaze.
“Though you’re rotting flesh, you seem healthy enough. What do you want? A potion to restore your faded beauty? Or a gift that stops aging all together?”
“Tempting, but no. I wondered about a boy in your house.”
“I’ve no children.” He tried to shut the door.
Alana grabbed his arm. “A slave?”
“I keep no servants at this time.”
“You bought a ten-year-old Fairsinge boy named Kian a few months ago.”
“That whimpering creature was too weak for my needs. I discharged him within a week.”
Keeping her voice soft, she asked, “Where is he?”
“I shouldn’t know, now if you please…” Edar tried to push her out the door.
When she didn’t move, he slapped her cheek. Though he struck her with an open hand, the blow felt like he was pounding her repeatedly with his fists. The air was filled with static. Alana knew if she lost consciousness, she was doomed.
She ran her fingers along her belt until she found a knife. Snatching it from its scabbard, she thrust her blade to the lich’s neck. His menacing laughter choked, and he shoved her away.
“I want that name,” she growled.
“For an old woman, your blood smells rich.” He licked his lips.
“How much blood do you want for the name I want?”
“All of it.”
“I have more knives.”
He raised his hands. “A cup.”
“Which cup?” Alana said.
He first touched a large crystal goblet.
“No.”
Laughing, Edar plucked a small goblet from a cabinet filled with ceramics.
“You swear by your eternal life that in exchange for my blood you’ll tell me who you sold the boy to.”
“Yes.” He set the cup on a table and gestured toward an upholstered bench. “Please sit. I rarely have guests.”
“If you beat everyone when they enter, I see why.”
“At my age, danger is everywhere.” He pushed a bench to sit beside her. Perching on the chair, she sliced open the scar on her arm and leaned so the blood could fall into the cup.
“Is blood how you still walk?”
“Among other things.” He licked his lips as blood dripped into the cup. “Would you like a demonstration of what the right blood can do?”
“Certainly.”
She noticed movement outside the window and hoped the boys would not enter. This technology might be dangerous, but not so different than the blood magic that the Guild used in the binding.
The lich’s silk shoes squeaked across the wood floor as he hurried into another room. His silks brushed across the floor. She remembered how loud Corwin was walking and wondered if he was trying to tell her something the younger Guild members wouldn’t hear. But that was stupid, why would Corwin help her find a common boy? Unless he knew. Perhaps one of the birds told him.
Edar brought a beaker of blue powder and an empty pot. He plucked some herbs from his window garden. He added a bit of water and smashed the blue powder and herbs into a paste which he placed in the pot. “I keep two sets of cookware. That way my experiments are not tainted.”
He hung the pot over the flame and watched the paste spark.
“And your slave boy?”
“Oh yes. Forgive me, my lady, I nearly forgot. I sold him to Master Grunkit.”
“Grunkit?”
“The silk merchant who made this enchanting tunic and hat.”
Keeping her voice light, she said, “His work is very fine.”
The lich gently swirled the cup of blood and drizzled it with his concoction, stirring it slowly. “We must be careful not to let it clot early.” Edar drank, his carotid artery pulsed; his flesh grew flushed and pink.
She tried asking about his existence another way. “So the stories of the lich are true? The blood allows you to live?”
“I live without it, but blood allows me to enjoy the feeling of life.” He took a step closer. “I would never have expected an aged woman such as yourself could make me young … I’m willing to pay for more.”
His long nails brushed against the wooden table as he reached for her.
She stood, putting the table between them. “And Kian’s blood?”
<
br /> “Too weak for my needs. He wept his strength away. But you…” Edar’s pupils dilated as he stared at the wound on her arm. He sidestepped around the table and raised his empty right hand.
Before he could lunge, she slapped the cup out of his left hand. It tumbled to the ground. He howled in agony, knelt, and pressed his tongue along the grooves of the wooden floor, trying to get each drop.
Seeing his distraction, Alana escaped.
The boys waited for her outside. “Did you get all that?”
“Blood can make you live forever?” Roark asked, studying the front door of the lich’s townhouse.
“Apparently, but I meant about Kian.”
“He said there were potions to keep you young.” Roark said, “You could live forever. You wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”
“It’s nice you’re thinking of me, but I’m not sure I’d want to live as that one does.”
“It’s odd he’s so fearful when he can live forever,” Roark said thoughtfully.
Worried her nephew seemed so taken by the lich, Alana said, “Come. Let’s rest and discover what we can about Master Grunkit.”
*
Chapter 14
Port Denwort in the Realm of Dynion
The next morning, Alana arrived at the Mayor’s main gate in a blue linen gown the same shade as her eyes, edged in black embroidery. Following the human rules of etiquette, Alana allowed the footman to take her hand and escort her inside.
The Mayor of Port Denwort, who was also the chief spokesman of the Silk Merchants Guild, greeted her with a small incline of his head. His brown, grandfatherly face was surrounded by a cap of silver hair. His clean silks and waxed mustache showed his concern of self. Though as he crossed the small room to the upholstery, he used a cane.
“You’ve a lovely home. Thank you for seeing me.”
“Always delighted to see an elf-knight, especially one who works for the Guild.”
Alana sat on a plush, cushioned bench as the footman poured goblets of sweet amber sherry. She noticed a large tapestry of brown paths leading to a central design of intertwined swirls of rich blue threads surrounding black cherubim centered with an orb within an orb within an orb. Below the circle patterns, sparkling white and blue waterfall with figures hidden. If she moved her head, the figure disappeared, and a new figure appeared in a different place. A lich in Denwort and this tapestry wasn’t an odd coincidence. She studied the mayor carefully, seeking signs of death. There were none.
In a weak, wheezy voice, the mayor said, “Ah, War Ender, I see my tapestry of The Water of Resurrection has caught your eye.”
“Forgive me, sir, but you must take your medicine.” The footman took a small blue bottle and poured a thick, blood-red liquid into the mayor’s glass.
Alana smelled cobalt and herbs. The mayor’s medicine was from the lich. Pointing at the tapestry, she said, “What a vibrant blue dye. The waterfall looks very realistic.”
“It’s one of a kind. The threads are said to come from the UnderRealm.” The mayor winked.
Alana nodded. “You must have some brave merchants in this town to fib to the mayor.”
He chuckled. “We do, we do.”
She wanted to ask more about the tapestry but remained on topic. “I’m seeking Merchant Grunkit.”
“Grunkit is a fine man.” The mayor didn’t stop talking, but beheld the nearest door and scratched at the coarse stubble on his throat. “He sells high only the best silks, and he always pays his dues on time. An honest man.”
“I am certain he is.” Alana ensured her voice remained calm and soft. She did not want the man to panic when he already showed stress responses.
“Why do you seek him?”
Alana decided truth was best. “Grunkit purchased a boy from Edar Candlewick. My apprentice, Eohan, is the boy’s brother. We mean to buy him back. A life of a slave is no life for the brother of a Guild Apprentice.”
The mayor scratched his neck again. “Is the Guild angry?”
“Not yet.”
“Then, Grunkit routinely goes to the undertunnels of Si Na this time of year.”
“And when will he return?”
“Maybe a fortnight, maybe a year.”
“Do you know what route he took?”
“He headed north. He mentioned a few more stops in Dynion but didn’t say where. He travels to the elf lands within six months for more silk. He’s an honest merchant.” As he spoke, his complexion grew brighter, and his wrinkles unfolded slightly.
“Do you know if he would travel to Daosith or Fairsinge territory?”
“I don’t. I’m sorry, my dear, I don’t mean to offend you, but outside of the occasional slave, I don’t know the difference between the elfkin. All I know is you’re a maiden knight of legend.”
“It’s been a long time since anyone called me a maiden.” Alana laughed to show she was not offended.
The mayor drew in a great breath and laughed with her. The wheezing in his lungs disappeared.
“If he returns before I can find him, would you deliver a message to him?”
“Of course! I would be honored to be use of one of the great and mighty elf knight errants.”
For a favor later, Alana read in his expression.
She stood and shook the mayor’s hand. He stood without his cane. During the exchange, she stretched out her finger against his wrist to feel his fluttering pulse. He was alive. The blood potion could help one even who was not dead. Interesting.
*
Trying to be faster than Alana’s meeting, Roark raced to the lich’s house. In witnessing the mayor’s subtle transformation, he understood his vision of the Long Road. Panting, he pounded on the door until Edar Candlewick opened his little window.
“Second elf I’ve seen in as many days.”
“I want a potion for my aunt … I want her to live,” Roark said, peering into the pale skin, still flushed.
“The elf lady with the wonderful blood?”
“Yes. We’re related. If she has wonderful blood, then so do I.”
“I don’t sell my potions.”
“You sell them to the mayor.”
“I trade to be left alone.”
Roark pressed his face closer to the door. “I’m unsure about the Guild’s rule about allowing a lich to live. You play with dangerous technology.”
The lich smiled, exposing yellowed teeth. “Yet, you want your aunt…”
“To be strong. To fight alongside me for many years yet. My mother is her sister. We have the same blood!”
The lich opened the door. He plucked a large clay goblet off his ceramics rack. “A portion for me, a potion for her.”
Trying not to gag on his fear, Roark perched on the chair Alana sat upon earlier and rolled up his sleeve. The lich pressed a dirty nail into his smooth ivory skin until blood rose from his flesh.
*
Alana sighed as Eohan jumped from his hiding place and ran to her. She would have to work on that with him.
“What did you find out, my lady?”
“Where’s Roark?”
He stammered. “He saw something while we were watching … and ….”
“Damn it. Come along.” She sprinted back to the lich’s home. If Edar Candlewick hurt her nephew, she would burn him out of existence. Eohan ran behind her, unable to keep up with her speed.
From down the street, she spotted Roark’s auburn hair in front of the cottage, sitting on the stoop and staring at a blue glass bottle.
“Roark?”
“Auntie, I sold some blood.” He tried to hand her a bottle, which sparkled in the bright sun, but it dropped to the ground.
“And that was foolish,” she scolded. She collected the potion and set it in one of her small leather belt pouches. It was too expensive to waste.
“I want you to be strong.”
“It’s no gift if you weaken yourself.” She turned to Eohan. “Help him. We need to eat.”
“Eat?” Eohan echoe
d, his voice full of disappointment. “But what of Kian?”
“We need to eat to strengthen Roark. And yourself, unless you want to fall off your horse when you tire. We don’t know Grunkit’s exact route, and if we go the wrong way we’re just putting more space between us. We ride within the hour.”
“Yes, my lady,” he sulked, but lifted the other apprentice.
Once they were at a table in the public-house, Alana tried to recreate the image in the tapestry, even though she knew charcoal in her old journal was a poor substitute for the threads so vibrant they sang.
“What’s that?” Roark asked.
“A tapestry of The Water of Resurrections. Port Denwort has a surprising number of people trying to live forever.”
“Live forever?” Roark repeated in a murmur, his voice showed he was still enchanted by that idea.
Alana cut off a chunk of her own beef and set in on his plate. “Eat, or you won’t live to see tonight, young man, I’m still cross with you.”
“You’re the one who told me to believe in my foresight even before I heed the words of my master,” Roark said.
“I knew I’d regret saying that,” she replied.
*
Chapter 15
Town of Havinberg in the Realm of Dynion
They rode hard to the north. Dynion was alive with noise from the wind rustling through the trees singing birds, calves and whelps frolicking. After dealing with two death-obsessed men and one apprentice who seemed too enchanted by the idea, Alana was glad to sense life. Yet, she was tempted by the potion in her saddlebag. The memory of the flush of life on the mayor’s cheeks whispered for her to drink.
Roark was young and in good health. His blood loss did not seem to fatigue him. What kind of master would she be if she sacrificed her apprentice for herself?
The memory of the Edar’s newly-found life in his dessicated body whispered for her to drink.
In deepening, blue twilight, they entered the next port town. Although a strong wind blew in from the south and made the water rocky, with the enclosed bay, Alana immediately recognized it as a safe harbor for large Interrealm ships.
The War Enders Apprentice (Chronicles of the Martlet Book 1) Page 9
