Of Killers and Kings

by Will Wight

  She even kept her shroud pulled down to avoid suspicion. Jyrine knew who she was anyway.

  The guards and servants outside might get a whiff of the incense, but at the worst, they’d be a little chattier than usual for a few minutes.

  After a minute or two, Jyrine decided to speak.

  “The Great Elders want to pass through the crack in the sky in order to ascend beyond this world. This isn’t their home; they’re trying to leave. So you see, we’re really trying to help you.”

  Jyrine would have kept talking, but Meia interrupted with another question. “How do they plan to leave?”

  She scratched notes as Jyrine spoke, but it was largely a pretense to keep the prisoner comfortable. Meia would remember everything Jyrine said.

  “I don’t know,” Jyrine said.

  Meia let her sit.

  Under the effect of the incense, Jyrine couldn’t tolerate the silence. “…but they’re supposed to take human vessels. Well, we have conflicting reports. Some say they can’t leave unless they’re in the form of a person, but others suggest they could leave, but they seek human bodies anyway. In the Elder War, some fought in human bodies at first before reverting to their true forms, but some didn’t.”

  They had that testimony already, both in the historical records and in the firsthand accounts provided by the Regents, but Meia wrote it down anyway.

  “And what do the Sleepless want?”

  Jyrine brightened. As Lucan had once mentioned, she seemed like she was desperate to share her point of view with someone. “We’re working to secure a bargain with the Great Elders so that they will leave their power and knowledge with us when they depart.”

  She leaned forward, keeping eye contact with Meia. “That’s why we need Calder. If he can negotiate with them directly, he can get their concessions. He might even be able to open the crack in the sky himself and let them out without any conflict. I’ve told him—”

  “About that,” Meia interrupted. “How do we heal the sky?”

  “I don’t know,” Jyrine admitted, and this time Meia believed her. “I can’t even begin to guess. It was made by the Optasia as the result of a plan by Ach’magut. As far as we know, they were never able to do so much even at the height of the Elder War.”

  That lined up with what Jorin remembered. He had all sorts of theories about the crack in the sky, but ultimately he had never dealt with anything like it before.

  Meia scribbled some more notes. “I see. I’d like to speak some more about your knowledge of the Great Elders, but first…we’ve talked about the desires of the Sleepless and the Elders, but what do you want, Jyrine?”

  Asking about the prisoner’s state of mind wasn’t unusual in an interrogation, but this question was mostly to satisfy Meia’s personal curiosity.

  How did a traitor to humanity think?

  How did she justify lying to everyone she knew for her entire life?

  What made someone turn?

  “I want it all to be worth it,” Jyrine said softly. The incense was in full effect now, and she lounged in her chair, speaking while staring into the distance. “My father sacrificed his career, his reputation, and eventually his life because he believed the Elders were the path to a better world. I’ve given up everything myself. I don’t want it to be for nothing.

  “And if we don’t get it now, on our terms, with someone on the throne speaking on behalf of humanity, then the Great Elders will break us and get what they want anyway. We either cooperate with them or we are trampled beneath them.

  “Calder can give them what they want from us while getting what we want from them. It’s symbiosis. But if he won’t do it…then I’ll still do whatever it takes to strike an agreement. If they’re going to break us anyway, we need a foundation to rebuild. I…”

  She blinked repeatedly as though coming out of a dream.

  Her eyes widened as she looked Meia up and down, and then she turned to the incense. Anger began to twist her expression.

  It was satisfying to watch.

  With a small smile, Meia snapped her notebook shut. She hadn’t waited for the ink to finish drying, but the notes were just a formality anyway.

  “I see that my time has run out.” While keeping eye contact with Jyrine, Meia reached out and snuffed the burning incense between two fingers. “Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Tessella. I’ll be back to see you.”

  She turned to leave Jyrine to stew in frustration…but turned back. She couldn’t resist one last parting shot.

  “If you really intend to lean on the power of the Elders to protect us from the destruction of the Elders, then you’re even more of a fool than I took you for. Would you adopt a wild wolf to protect you from wolf attacks?”

  Jyrine wore an iron mask of anger, but she still responded. “Kelarac keeps his bargains. Ask Calder.”

  Meia wished she could see Jyrine’s reaction to the news about Calder’s death. It would be more than satisfying.

  But it would be foolish to give out more information than necessary.

  From the door, Meia looked down on the prisoner. “I will,” she said lightly.

  Then she left.

  To Shera, “victory” in the Guild War felt like having a thousand new responsibilities pushed on her. While the Imperial Guard had mostly returned to Jorin, even he hadn’t been able to wake Jarelys Teach. Shera had gone to see her in person, finding the Head of the Imperial Guard in a strange transformative coma.

  Her hair had turned navy blue, growing out far longer than Teach had preferred it, and her pale skin was stained in patches of purple. Her cheekbones stood out more sharply, and it looked like she’d lost weight, although that could have been due to the coma more than any transformation.

  It had been uncomfortable seeing someone she knew in such a state, especially since the alchemists said the changes to the Guild Head’s body were most likely permanent.

  But what frustrated Shera the most was that the Imperial Guard held her responsible.

  Dozens of reports from Shepherds and Masons suggested that the Guards thought Jorin was refusing to treat her, not that he had failed. And every member of their Guild blamed the Independents for fighting in the first place.

  Discontent in the Imperial Guard was bad enough, but they were the most loyal Guild. The others were all worse.

  Bliss of the Blackwatch had simply vanished. She’d had a showdown of some kind with Bareius—the Consultants had a full report on the matter, but Shera hadn’t read it yet—and afterwards, she had dropped off the planet. The Architects couldn’t even begin to guess where she was.

  Cheska Bennett of the Navigators showed up, met with the other Guild Heads, and pretended nothing was wrong, but Shera’s Consultants suggested she was just putting on a front to contain the Elders.

  Seemingly by coincidence, the Navigators were all drifting back to the Capital. Cheska was preparing to make a show of force, and it was likely to be directed at the Consultants.

  The Magisters and Champions still hadn’t elected another Guild Head.

  That was both a blessing and a curse, as Shera didn’t have more opponents to wrangle, but at the same time, there was no one to lead their Guilds. They were locked in a stalemate, and until it ended, the Independents wouldn’t be able to use the Magisters or keep a leash on the Champions.

  Her own allies were just as bad.

  Tomas Stillwell had taken the Greenwardens and left the Capital. He sent his regrets, saying that his health didn’t allow him to stay any longer and that his Guild members had to care for their Kameira, but they were all just excuses.

  He had done nothing throughout the conflict, and he was still taking any opportunity to do nothing.

  Jameson Allbright was…well, Shera didn’t have much to criticize the old man for except that the Luminian Order was stretched thin. They’d lost too many members in the fighting, and knights were difficult to replace. He was focused on rebuilding broken lines of communication all over the world so
that he could coordinate Order resources around sites of heavy Elder activity, but it was slow going. He was the only one working longer hours than perhaps even Jorin himself.

  Which now left Shera in a meeting with the only Guild Head who was her equal in power and influence: Nathanael Bareius.

  Bastion’s whispers in her mind urged her to leave, gather the Consultants, and retreat to the Gray Island. They could retake their headquarters at any time, now that Jorin was acting as the Emperor.

  Syphren just wanted her to kill someone.

  Of the three voices in Shera’s head, none of them wanted to stay where she was.

  But she did anyway.

  “…and we’d be better off with loyal, reliable members in positions of authority anyway, if you ask me,” Bareius went on. He adjusted his glasses. “And the Regent did ask me, so I’ve prepared this report.”

  Two of his servants unfurled a massive sheet of paper and pinned it to the wall, and Shera groaned aloud. He didn’t even seem to hear her, caught up in his own vision.

  He was trying to persuade her of the virtues of assassinating all the other Guild Heads except for Jameson Allbright and the twin Witnesses. The rest couldn’t be trusted, and matters could easily be arranged so that their successors were “more amenable to influence.”

  He’d already been talking for twenty minutes. Now he had diagrams.

  In Shera’s opinion, he could have made his pitch in two seconds.

  “I think we should kill all the Guild Heads we can’t trust.”

  The end.

  They could go over the details once the decision was made.

  Of course, there was a more fundamental issue: she didn’t want to assassinate the other Guild Heads.

  They had already lost too many of the world’s most powerful Soulbound in the Guild War. Estyr Six showed no signs of improvement; in fact, Jorin had begun to suggest she was on the decline. Jarelys Teach was in a similar situation, and even if she did wake up, who knew if her mind would still be her own? She could be corrupted by her Kameira blood.

  They could easily replace the current Guild Heads in terms of political influence, but what about actual ability? How could they find another Baldezar Kern or Mekendi Maxeus?

  “…and of course, you understand why we have to get rid of Bliss. Especially Bliss. Let the record show that even if no other Guild Heads are removed, we should most certainly remove Bliss.”

  Shera rubbed the back of her neck. “We can’t afford to lose any of these people, except maybe Cheska Bennett. So are we done?”

  The Head Alchemist’s glasses gleamed as bright as his smile. “What do you think, High Mason?”

  Both of them had brought an entourage to this meeting, secret though it was, and Shera’s was led by Yala. She’d expected that to be more of a headache, but Yala had done her duty silently all day.

  For his part, Bareius had a couple of servants who were clearly alchemists themselves. They wore not just glass goggles, but masks that covered their whole faces. He hadn’t brought Furman, his duplicate, with him today.

  Shera couldn’t care less. At least she didn’t have to watch two of Bareius.

  Once he’d addressed his question to Yala, Shera tilted her own head back to look at the High Mason. Yala had her yellow-and-gray hair pulled back, which made her weather-beaten face look even more severe.

  “We should give it consideration after the Regents have stepped down, the regional governors are supported, and the Guilds are established as independent entities.”

  Shera jerked a thumb at Yala. “Sounds great. I’m leaving now.”

  Bareius laughed, though Shera hadn’t been joking. “I wouldn’t want to imply anything, of course, but it almost sounds like the Head of the Consultant’s Guild isn’t willing to give Guild matters her full attention. There are those who might suggest that such a person isn’t suited to be a Guild Head at all.” He raised both hands. “Not me, you understand! Other people.”

  “This is your responsibility, Guild Head,” Yala said stiffly.

  The masked alchemists around the room shifted in place, but none said a word.

  Shera pushed up from the table and stood.

  She didn’t disagree with Bareius about her position, really. Shera had never wanted the position of Head, and it was better suited to someone who was willing to tolerate veiled insults for the sake of the Guild.

  Shera was far more likely to kill someone when her patience ran out. Though her Vessels were oddly against it.

  Don’t bother with him, Syphren seemed to whisper. The blade sounded disdainful, if anything. There is better prey close by.

  He is no threat, Bastion agreed.

  Both of her Vessels urged her to ignore Bareius, and it would cause her far too much paperwork if she were to rip his life straight out of his body.

  The alchemists stepped out of her way as soon as she stood up, but the moment she placed her fingers on the doorknob, Bareius spoke again.

  “A word of warning, Guild Head! I know you’re new to this, so take this as advice from someone who is your senior in experience: a Guild Head who neglects their Guild is often…replaced. Suddenly and violently.”

  That was the feather that tipped her exhaustion and frustration over the edge.

  Shera kept her hand on the door and did not turn around. “Does your Guild make sedatives, Bareius?”

  “In all different grades and price ranges. Are you having trouble sleeping, Shera?”

  “No, I’ve been told you were up at three o’clock the last four mornings in a row. And you were such a sound sleeper before." She wrenched open the door and marched out, leaving a parting comment behind: “Try to sleep well, Guild Head.”

  She let the door shut behind her, but Yala still appeared beside her, having slipped out. “Are you a fool?”

  Whispers from Bastion and Syphren filled her mind, and Shera put a hand against her temple. Yala didn’t let that slow her down.

  “Do you have any idea what an enemy he’d make? He can afford to hire every surviving Champion. As an ally, he could personally fund our entire Guild for a year. I can’t imagine what was going through your head.”

  “Where’s Kerian?”

  Yala’s eyes narrowed as she searched Shera’s face. “Ignoring me won’t solve your problems.”

  “It’ll solve one. Where’s Kerian?”

  When Yala finally told her, Shera climbed out through a window. She marched along the red-tiled rooftops of the Imperial Palace rather than staying in the hallways. Up here, she could make sure she was alone.

  At least as alone as she ever was these days. Syphren insisted on drawing her attention to every strong life in the buildings below her, whispering that she could be down there and feasting on them before anyone knew.

  Bastion was agitated about something, insisting that the Veil should be drawn over the entire Palace. The people here were too vulnerable.

  The Vessels may have learned to work together, but in some ways, that made them harder to disregard.

  Shera stuffed her ears to both daggers until she found Kerian’s room.

  As Yala had suggested, Kerian had indeed retired to her own room for privacy. Though not to relax, as Shera would have done.

  The High Gardener sat at her desk, black-and-gray braids swinging over some paperwork. She scribbled her signature with one hand while absently tracing the thin scar that ran down her face with the other. It was an unconscious habit she’d shown for as long as Shera had known her.

  Kerian finally tapped her pen dry and set it down next to her paper. “Come in, Shera.”

  Shera had been peeking into a corner of the window, so she’d thought Kerian hadn’t noticed her. She should have known better.

  A spade from the pouch on her belt was thin enough to slip beneath the window-latch and slide it upward. It tripped the wire to an alchemical trap that would likely have sprayed acid in her face, but Kerian’s hand shot out and grabbed the wire before it could activate th
e mechanism.

  She wore an annoyed expression as Shera pushed the window open.

  “I’d have thought you would disarm the trap yourself.”

  “You were closer.”

  Shera hopped down from the windowsill.

  Kerian carefully unwound the wire, preventing it from triggering. When she’d finished, she dusted her hands off and turned to Shera. “How can I help you, Guild Head?”

  “I quit.”

  “I see.”

  Shera had prepared counterarguments for everything Kerian could say, but the High Gardener didn’t say anything. Instead, she reached into the papers on her desk and slid one sheet in front of Shera.

  “Sign here,” she said.

  Consultant training had ingrained into Shera an inability to sign a contract without reading it first. She scanned it, but the document was fairly simple: it stated that Shera would retain the title of Guild Head but would rely on the Council of Architects for day-to-day maintenance of Guild affairs.

  Shera grabbed Kerian’s pen and was about to sign, but hesitated. “This isn’t a trap, is it?”

  “It is not.”

  “This isn’t going to make it harder to quit, or somehow you’re going to twist my words to mean that I have even more responsibility…”

  “It means what it says, Shera.” Kerian sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I am not so blinded by tradition as to force you to keep a position that you are clearly unsuited for just because you happened to become Soulbound to a certain Vessel. Until recently, we needed you at the helm in order to have a voice among the other Guild Heads. Now, the situation has changed.”

  Shera signed, and she wasn’t prepared for the relief that surged over her. Finally, no one would be looking to her for decisions about their lives.

  Kerian touched the scar on her forehead again. “I do admit, I had hoped you would adapt to the role. For your sake.”

  “You don’t need me giving orders. Just stabbing things.”

  “I will call you when we need a Gardener. Or a Guild Head on the battlefield.”

  Shera paused climbing out the window. “You can call me for whatever you want.”