The Sleeping Life (Eferum Book 2)

by Andrea K Höst

  The relief at no longer being alone, of definite help unravelling Auri's miscasting, made him feel light-headed. More than light-headed: he needed a break. Sitting on the nearest tumbled wall, he watched the two girls hunt for vines and worried about his energy use. He'd managed some Sigillic casting—a transformation to weld stones and packed earth together—but shouldn't be this near to dropping. It had been a mistake to go into the Dream by the cellar. Auri had tried to walk over the top of the shield to the cellar's centre, but immediately complained that it felt sticky and given up. Her interest was fixed on the results of Lieutenant Meniar's divinations, and what the Duchess was planning to do about Fallon, and not at all on cellars. Fallon had made the mistake of arguing, which was never the right way to get around Auri, and so he'd wasted even more energy.

  He was so sick of being tired.

  "There's one," Kendall said, and a still-glossy sassflower vine detached itself from the branches of a nearby tree.

  Fortunately she wasn't facing Fallon, who hadn't been able to hide a flash of panic. Self-immolation. Drowning on dry land. Explosions. Fallon couldn't remember all of the cautionary tales that warned mages away from attempting Thought Magic, but he knew he didn't want to learn a new one.

  "You will bring your headache back," Sukata said, quite as if that was the only concern.

  "I feel fine, now," Kendall said, coiling the vine into her collection.

  "You over-extended yourself and now you must rest," Sukata said firmly, which told Fallon that the Kellian girl did, after all, know how Kendall had progressed. Perhaps Lord Surclere had told her.

  For a moment Fallon allowed himself to be sheerly and meanly jealous. Kendall made no bones about her lack of interest in magical theory, and openly admitted she was studying with Duchess Surclere simply to learn a profession. Of all the people to make the transition to abstract Thought casting! But still, he hardly wanted her to accidentally kill herself—or any of them—as a consequence. And she had made a very large difference in finding the Duchess.

  At least Sukata and Kendall seemed to have worked their way through their disagreement, at least to the point where Kendall had reverted to doing whatever Sukata suggested. She made no more attempts at Thought Magic, and they returned with a considerable haul of vines to watch with interest as Darian Faille and Tesin Asaka used them as binding and hinges for a door. Lieutenant Meniar, who was pacing his use of magic in case of emergency, had risked a few Sigillics to carpet the floor of their new building with a thick cushiony grey stuff transformed from the lining of his coat pocket. That would only last a few days, but with heat castings and a door they would be relatively comfortable if the weather turned bad.

  The clear midday sky kept it pleasant enough outside for the moment. Fallon raided their growing stock of food, and settled down not far from where Duchess Surclere lay curled before a tumbled wall. The scene—with the ruins, the lake, and the most powerful mage in all the world sleeping in a pile of leaves—scarcely seemed real.

  They had started out to hunt a monster and now faced a hopeless muddle of escapes and mysteries, but they had the Duchess back again, and so at least Fallon could continue to hope. She knew, and she would...well, she knew. He had to haul back on his expectations, keep them in hand. She had promised to investigate.

  Not at all inclined to get up again, Fallon watched Lieutenant Meniar stretch out inside their new house to test his matting with a nap. Lady Rennyn woke up almost immediately after, and was taken off to the new privy by Lord Surclere, but settled down next to Fallon when she returned. He couldn't hide his excitement, and she smiled at him.

  "Don't worry about trying to go to sleep immediately," she said. "I want to get a proper feel for what, if any, emanations you produce while awake first."

  Fallon wished he could talk, could begin to say what it meant to him that she was even looking. He started to pantomime this, but perhaps it was fortunate that Lord Surclere distracted the Duchess, returning with two of the pages of Lieutenant Meniar's book of slates, and his chalk box.

  Duchess Surclere settled down to some meditative Sigillic drafting, plainly still trying to think of a way they could open a door in the shield. But her occasional glances at him told Fallon her mind was not entirely on devising. He wished he had a view of the slate, but decided not to risk distracting her by moving, even though the sun had shifted so he was in shadow and a bit too cool.

  Dezart Samarin was less circumspect, strolling over to sit on the wall behind the Duchess. He watched silently until she glanced up at him, then said: "What about a variation of a Fingalese Reflection?"

  The Duchess lifted her eyebrows, and turned back to consider her Sigillic draft. "A distinct possibility." She picked up the second slate and began writing, before adding: "If you're going to start openly collaborating instead of just dropping hints, perhaps you'd like to assist Lieutenant Meniar in the 'unpinning' issue. Healing is really not my area of expertise."

  "You think it's mine?"

  "I gather you're famous for it," Duchess Surclere said, and smiled as if she could see the Dezart's momentary shift of expression behind her. "The price of teasing Kendall is her excellent memory. Too many dropped hints, I'm afraid."

  The Dezart now appeared entirely unruffled, but Fallon thought he wasn't overly pleased. "I wonder what leaps of imagination you've made?"

  "It's also because you remind me rather of my Wicked Uncle."

  That startled the Kolan. "Of an Eferum-Get monster? How very complimentary you are, Duchess Surclere."

  "And you remind me of myself, as well. All three of us, we are very powerful and we have been set to an overwhelming task. Solace created Prince Helecho to help her regain Tyrland. My whole family devoted itself her defeat, to the point where I know so little outside Eferum theory that I'm frequently embarrassed by the gaps in my education. And you...Prince Helecho is a good deal more vicious than you seem to be, Dezart, but he's entertained by people in a similar way. Perhaps because he was so separate from our world, but I think also because so much of this is new to him. You are much more widely experienced, but you frequently give me the same impression. A great deal has been denied to you, but for now you are out of your cage, and enjoying the freedom."

  Fallon had absolutely no idea what the Duchess was talking about, but her comments were obviously hitting home. The Dezart's expression had become ominously still.

  "I seem to have vastly underestimated your ear for intent, Your Grace."

  "I also met you when the transformation—it's a Symbolic Transformation, isn't it?—must have been very recent."

  So Dezart Samarin really was a shapeshifted mage? But why did he insist he couldn't cast? And what was the point of pretending to be someone else when no-one in Duchess Surclere's entourage had any tie to Kolan society? Really, the only person they'd likely have objected to was Prince Helecho.

  Deeply interested, Fallon was sorry when the Duchess glanced back at him, frowning. Perhaps she had forgotten he was listening.

  "Sukata, could you please wake Lieutenant Meniar?" she said, then added: "I'm presuming you can hear me, Fallon. Your energy use is worryingly high, far higher than the amounts Lieutenant Meniar divined last night. I don't know if such variation is usual for you, but I don't think it's safe. Are you able to stop?"

  Fallon goggled. Or didn't. He didn't move, watching with the same fixed regard that he'd maintained since...since...

  Since he'd gone into the Dream. He was asleep. Had been asleep for...surely a large portion of the time the Duchess had been sitting with him. Without Auri.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Fallon's sudden leap to wakefulness prompted an immediate flurry of weapons-readiness from all four Kellian. The boy swayed on his feet, then took off at a run toward the lake, only to be effortlessly collected by Darian.

  "A threat?" Illidian asked, then added to Rennyn: "I feel nothing."

  "Is this something to do with the enchantment on you, Fallon?" Rennyn aske
d, starting to climb to her feet and then hastily changing her mind, perching on Samarin's wall instead.

  The boy allowed the barest dip of his chin, and flinched as he did so, no doubt expecting retaliation from his Ban. When that did not happen, he nodded more firmly, and then gestured at the cellar island, tugging at Darian's hold.

  "Very well. What I'm going to do is speculate on what is happening to you, and you will confirm that as far as you are able. If this triggers your Ban, I will make you sleep." Seeing his reaction, she added: "And then take you back to that island, perhaps."

  This produced clear relief. He had done something, then, when he'd gone to sleep during their morning reconnaissance.

  "First, however," she said, "I would very much like to know what you have attached to your right ankle. Perhaps someone could check?"

  It was like a game of hot and cold, with Fallon's reactions her guide. He didn't even need to nod: merely looked both pleased and fearful as Sukata bent to investigate the chunky, artificially-stiffened bed socks. The girl produced a thin leather anklet and tiny pouch, which she opened to reveal a ball a little larger than a marble.

  "Looks like your focus," Kendall said. "But not quite as dark."

  "Not a focus at all," Rennyn said, since focus echoes were entirely different to what had drawn her attention to Fallon's ankle.

  This produced astonishment. Interesting.

  "You thought it was? Certainly not your focus, for its failure to amplify your casting strength would be obvious."

  "The sister."

  Fallon didn't even have to nod, turning eagerly to Illidian, naked hope writ large.

  "Lost a sister three years ago during an attempt to summon a focus," Lieutenant Meniar said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "The miscasting warped the entire room about her. Did your sister return with the focus?"

  From Fallon's reaction, his tentative shake of the head had been accompanied by the punitive impact of his Ban. Fortunately it did not seem to last, but they needed to take better care.

  "Phrase everything as statements," Illidian said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "This object was the result of your sister's miscasting."

  Fallon nodded.

  "Your sister did not return."

  This produced an expression combining 'no' with something more complicated. Rennyn, running short on sure guesses, turned her attention to the sphere Sukata handed her.

  A dark red-brown stone. Most definitely not a focus, but still with an elusive trace of power about it, though less than she'd felt when he'd been asleep. It was tied in some way to whatever allowed Fallon to observe those around him. Was he able to see all the way to the island cellar? But, no, if that was the case he would not have needed to sleep during their reconnaissance.

  Postponing the risk of more questions, Rennyn cast several divinations, trying to amplify intent. There was nothing clear, no purpose that she could untangle. The stone didn't seem to do anything except draw power from Fallon. She pressed it to her temple.

  Keep this a secret or I'll kill you.

  Blinking, Rennyn lowered the stone. That was the Ban then—probably not even deliberate, and thus entirely unpredictable. Confirming their guesses was definitely not 'keeping a secret', and if Fallon was not clearly facing some urgent crisis she'd abandon this game of hot and cold.

  Casting a physical divination, a broad and simple 'what is this', Rennyn considered the object she held. Then she tried very hard not to drop it. Dezart Samarin, beside her, reached over and took the sphere from her hand, giving Rennyn a chance to regain her composure. From the exceptionally blank expression he wore, she suspected he had caught the results of her divination.

  "Does the Ban prevent you from talking about your sister entirely?" Rennyn asked.

  Fallon shook his head, firmly this time.

  "So your sister—she was called Auri...?"

  "Aurienne," Dezart Samarin said, neatly demonstrating that Rennyn had not been paying nearly enough attention to her students.

  "Aurienne created an Eferum-gate in order to summon a focus. She miscast, and...you weren't home at the time, I understand. So you returned home, and found this...stone."

  Fallon shook his head. Rennyn frowned at him, and then at the stone Dezart Samarin handed back to her.

  "Still, for you to be caught in the miscasting, even though you were absent, there would have had to be something to draw you in. If that wasn't triggered by finding...I suppose she left a note? Telling you to not talk. You read the note, and were caught by this Ban." At his eager nod, she continued: "And then, when you went to sleep you found yourself able to see everything immediately around you—a casting not of your design, but fuelled by your energy."

  This produced both a nod, and an expansive gesture to indicate something more than just seeing.

  "Your sister was there," Illidian said. "When you sleep you meet your sister."

  Rennyn hid her surprise, both at the idea, and at Fallon's positive response. She looked down at the sphere she held, then around at her ramshackle collection of rescuers. Darian, Illidian and Tesin: excellent against physical attacks but vulnerable to magic. Lieutenant Meniar: more tired than she'd like given how much they would need him. Sukata: full of quiet determination, but without the strength of a focus. Kendall, who she should warn not to—no, if it came to a point where Kendall tried to cast, then the risk would probably be worth it. The 'Dezart', who probably genuinely couldn't cast. And Fallon, who she rather suspected would die in the night if she did not find a way to relieve his current power drain.

  "Well," she said. "I think I have a way through the shield, and perhaps on the way we can decide on a first attempt for separating plant and mage. At the least, I think we need to get Fallon closer to whatever...whoever he left back on the island.

  She glanced down at the stone again, and closed her fingers about it. Now was not the moment to tell her puzzle-box student the result of her physical divination. This was not a focus. This had once been bone and blood and flesh.

  This was Fallon's sister.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  No-one argued with Rennyn's decision to troop back to the garden of mages. A feeling of urgency had descended, all muddled with a sense that they were hurrying off to get themselves killed. And all for a bunch of people they'd never met. By far the smartest thing to do would be to head south, have His Smugness report the find, and set a few hundred people at the problem. The mages had all been there weeks—even months—and so no-one could say it was necessary that Rennyn personally poke that nest of glass hornets.

  The Pest was a different matter. He always looked a bit peaky, but now wore a spun-sugar air, as if one good knock would see him in pieces. His expression kept bouncing between bubbling-over and worried sick, and he obviously ached to explain properly what was wrong with him. His sister had tried to summon a focus and instead got herself stuck in Fallon's dreams? Somewhere that didn't sound like the Eferum, but certainly wasn't anywhere even Rennyn had been able to spot. And this sister was now trapped on the mage island, while still being maintained by Fallon. Maybe.

  It was a pity they hadn't brought Sebastian along after all. Some whole new place that wasn't the Eferum or maybe was, and sisters who only came out at night, would be just the sort of thing he'd love to dig into. And bore everyone for hours warbling on about how it all worked.

  While everyone else was agreeing that the first thing they'd have to do would be to see if they could section off the glass golems, Kendall privately admitted that if they marched off south, Rennyn would probably only get vanished again. Fixing this problem was a thing Rennyn Claire couldn't walk away from, any more than facing down Solace had been. All of the most powerful mages that Kendall had met had either been complete monsters, or stuck sacrificing themselves for noble causes.

  Like the stupid Emperor of Kole.

  Rennyn asked, in the mild tone Kendall knew to distrust: "Have you any further recommendations regarding separating the mages fr
om the vine, Dezart Samarin?"

  "I may," he said, equally mild. "I want to see them personally first."

  Kendall was fairly certain that the Imperial Smugness couldn't be the Emperor of Kole. The Kolans would sure as shine have kicked up a fuss if their Emperor had taken off on a jaunt to the Forest of Semarrak. But what else could Rennyn be suggesting, with her talk of transformations, and mages famous for healing lore. Had the Emperor traded places with someone? Who was ruling Kole while he was gone? Who would get up on that throne, put on that mask, and... No. It couldn't be the Emperor, because Rennyn had been totally clear that the Emperor couldn't leave that throne room, could never take off that mask. Not without dying.

  Shaking her head, Kendall tossed the question to the back of her mind for later. Even though she wasn't going to be casting, let alone fighting, she needed to focus. Anything might be a clue or a warning of an attack. Kellian instinct meant they could anticipate almost anything coming at them, but that didn't mean it wouldn't help to watch Sukata's back, and keep an eye on Rennyn and the Pest.

  They marched all the way back to where they'd first stopped to peer into the cellar, with Rennyn writing Sigillics all the while. She handed one of the slates to Sukata, then looked at the Pest.

  "Do you need to sleep to address whatever has changed? If so, I'll put sleep on you briefly while we're re-establishing the pattern of the constructs' patrols, but I don't want you asleep while we're making our attempt." She smiled faintly. "In case we need to run."

  The Pest just nodded, and sat down with his back against the nearest rock. A tiny flicker of magic sent him off right away.

  "His energy use has dropped with the relocation," Rennyn said, after a short pause. "If we can't untangle this problem this afternoon, I think we're going to have to sleep here."

  Lieutenant Meniar grimaced. "Could we keep him awake all night and then bring him back here to sleep tomorrow morning?"

  "Possibly. But even awake he's likely being drained at a higher rate than normal." Rennyn handed a second slate to Lieutenant Meniar. "This is a guise-shield. It's power-hungry, so I'd rather you didn't have to use it, but if the constructs refuse to stay where we put them, I'd rather avoid combat if at all possible. For one thing, we don't know precisely how they're linked to the vine."