Chapter Five
An Unfortunate Revelation
Bryn Calazar, Caladorn
THE LIGHT OF THE setting sun coming in through an open window wakened Merris from sleep. She stretched, enjoying the comforting warmth of the rays. She could hear the faint tinkling sounds made by many strings of colored beads that lined the windowsill. The beads were stirred by the same soft breeze that toyed with the wispy strands of her hair.
Her stomach growled. Looking up from the pile of assorted fabrics she had thrown together to form a makeshift bed, Merris squinted against the light coming in through the window in golden streams.
“I’m starving,” she complained to her inhospitable host. She had no idea whether the man was anywhere within earshot. “Let me guess: you don’t have any food around here, do you?”
She rubbed her eyes then let her stare wander across the floor, taking in the assorted piles of garbage that lay strewn about. She frowned, nudging something half-buried beneath a pile of clothing with her toe. Was that a chicken bone?
Revolted, she jerked her foot back away.
“I try not to eat if I can help it. Food sours my stomach.”
She turned to find Quinlan Reis standing behind her, leaning with his elbow resting against the wall, gazing out the window toward the sunset. He was still shirtless, but had mercifully managed to find a pair of trousers that looked a few sizes too big for him. Beneath his skin, she could make out the outline of every rib etched into his sallow flesh. The man was more than just gaunt; it was as though he had some kind of wasting sickness.
“How do you live like this?” Merris grumbled as she stood up, gesturing broadly at the array of filth that surrounded her.
Keeping his gaze upon the window, Quin responded to her question miserably, “My home was a much happier place before your arrival.”
With a sigh, he paced away toward a small wooden cabinet set against the wall. Opening the cabinet’s door, he produced a painted ceramic jar and proceeded to pour himself a drink from it.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Merris cried, lunging toward him from across the room. She snatched the cup out of his hand just before the liquor reached his mouth. “That is the last thing you need right now!”
Setting the jar down firmly on top of the cabinet, Quin glared sideways at her in reproach. “Kindly remove your claws from my beverage,” he directed her in a tone that brooked no argument. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for her to let go. When she released her hold, he threw his head back and downed all of the liquor in one swallow.
Then he went on to explain, “And I beg to differ with you, but this is exactly what I need right now. Unless you want me to succumb to a fit of the shakes before the Prime Warden of the Lyceum.”
Merris bit her lip to keep herself from saying anything as she gazed into the man’s sad, skeletal features. He appeared to be somewhere in his late thirties or early forties, although with mages it could be hard to tell. It defied belief that this man was Ambassador Braden’s own brother. Try as she might, she could find no resemblance at all between the two men. Quin’s red and watery eyes held no trace of the strength and integrity she had envied in his brother. Instead of envy, the only emotion she could dredge up for Quinlan Reis was pity.
“I thought Masters couldn’t drink to excess,” Merris sighed in frustration as she turned away from him, giving up the fight.
“Let me assure you, I can drink well beyond excess,” he responded tartly as he moved to pour himself another cup. Gazing down at the amber liquid, he swirled the fluid around with his hand. “Strong liquor dulls the perception of the magic field,” he explained quietly. “Most mages don’t appreciate the loss of that sensation.”
Merris narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “But you do. Why?”
He downed the liquid in one swallow. Then he moved away from her back toward the window. Merris allowed her eyes to follow his gaze. Through the many-colored beads, she could make out the orange glow of sunset streaking the western sky.
Softly, he asked her, “How well do you know my brother?”
Merris frowned, turning her attention back to him. “Your brother? Not very well at all, I’m afraid.”
He was still staring out the window, watching the slow changes that were taking place across the sky. The shadows were lengthening, orange and golden hues giving way to streaks of pink and vermillion.
“Oh, hell.” Quin set his cup down with an air of finality, turning his stare toward the wall. “It’s time to deliver that last letter you carry.”
Merris’s eyes widened with understanding. The third letter Braden had given her was addressed to Prime Warden Zavier Renquist. He had called it a last resort.
“Something’s gone wrong, hasn’t it?” she asked.
Quin nodded, then muttered ruefully, “I suppose I should go try to make myself look presentable.”
He started to wander toward the bedchamber but then stopped and turned back around. His hand came up to his chin as he stood there, gazing at Merris appraisingly. He slowly shook his head.
“Oh, my. That’s never going to do, is it?”
His eyes moved over the floor in a searching pattern. It took him a while to find whatever he was looking for in the pile of fabric Merris had gathered for a bed. Reaching down, he scooped up a handful of rumpled garments and practically dumped them into her hands.
“Wear this,” he advised her.
Merris had no idea what he was talking about. Perplexed, she stared down at the bright wad of fabric he had shoved her way. Fingering the silk, it took her a moment to realize that what she was holding was a thin but elegant dress. There were also pants, as well as a shawl-like wrap. It finally dawned on her: these must be the clothes that the whore had left behind. Merris’s mouth dropped open in dismay.
“You can’t be serious,” she started to protest, shaking her head and offering the clothes back toward him.
Apparently he was. Quin raised his hands in the air in a gesture of refusal. “Well, it’s not like she’s coming back for them,” he argued spiritedly. “You may as well.” In response to the look on her face, he pressed, “You certainly can’t go out in what you’re currently wearing. You’d look ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” Merris echoed, feeling honestly offended. The dress she wore, though slept in, had been one of Master Sephana’s finest gowns. The woman actually had taste. “You’d rather me dress as a prostitute?”
“An expensive prostitute,” Quinlan Reis corrected her acidly. “Just do us both a favor and wear the damned clothes.”
He turned and headed back in the direction of the bedroom, picking his way carefully over piles of filth.
Merris waited for a moment to make certain that he was gone, then slipped quickly out of Sephana’s yellow dress and donned the outfit he’d given her, running her fingers through her hair.
The new dress was actually very beautiful. It was sleeveless and flowing. The colors were brilliant: saffron at the top fading to turquoise at the bottom of the skirt, embroidered with a pattern of blue branches full of leaves. The pants were made of bright-blue silk.
Merris could not figure out what to do with the other piece of fabric, a wide strip of royal blue that was longer than she was tall. It was too long to be draped like a scarf, and she had no idea how to wear it. She tried to wrap it a couple of different ways, eventually giving up.
The sound of Quin’s laughter behind her made her startle. Whirling, she found him staring at her from the doorway. “Never wrapped a dupatta before?” he wondered with a roguish grin.
Merris was stricken speechless. With clothes on, Grand Master Quinlan Reis was actually almost handsome. He was wearing the standard indigo robe of the Lyceum, the same as Merris had seen his brother wear on countless occasions. But over the robe, Quin had donned an embroidered vest girthed by a sash of golden silk. In his hand he held a black felt hat of a style inspired by the Rhen. He had actually washed up, even shaved his beard into a wel
l-groomed mustache. His cheeks still looked flushed from the passage of the blade. His dark hair was wet, combed back away from his face. He was still quite gaunt; no amount of grooming could fix that. But to Merris, the improvement was vast.
“You look…respectable.” Merris attempted a smile in his direction as he strolled forward.
He relieved her of the long strip of fabric, spreading it out before him in his hands. He then proceeded to drape the long material over her shoulder, letting it fall down across the front of her body before bringing it up again from behind to achieve a crisscross effect.
“What is it for, exactly?” Merris tried to clarify, spreading the fabric out by extending her arm away from her body.
“How the hell should I know?” He shrugged, stepping back with a critical stare. “That looks about right. Are you ready, then?”
“I’m hungry,” Merris admitted plaintively. “Is there any way we could get something to eat along the way?”
Quin sucked in a cheek, nodding thoughtfully. “I suppose we could,” he allowed. He offered his hand to Merris. “Shall we, then?”
She accepted his offered hand and allowed him to lead her toward the door, picking her way carefully. Once outside, Merris pulled up short, halting on his doorstep.
She closed her eyes and breathed in the heady scent of the city. The smell of the ocean was strong in her nostrils, the warm night air thick with salt and humidity. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. And all around her, surrounding them on every side, were the walls and towers of Bryn Calazar, the brightly lit terraces draped with hanging vines and greenery.
“It’s amazing,” she whispered. She wandered away toward a low wall and gazed over the balustrade. Far below, an ocean wave broke against the seawall, sending spray high enough for her to feel the mist.
“I never knew that a place like this could even exist.”
Quin took her by the arm and maneuvered her away from the edge. “You’re hungry, remember?”
“I am,” she sighed as she let him lead her forward down a tiled walkway. They turned a corner then emerged onto a busy thoroughfare.
Merris allowed Quin to guide her out into the bustling city street. There were crowds of people moving by, walking every which direction, and yet somehow a bubble of space seemed to just open up around them and let them pass. To Merris’s amazement, she saw that people were actually stopping at the sight of Quin’s robes and moving backward out of his way, yielding him room to pass.
Quin tipped his hat at the occasional passerby, but otherwise moved through the streets without any acknowledgement of the deference being paid to him by the citizens of Bryn Calazar. Merris could only gaze in wonder at the scene unfolding around her; it was so distinctively foreign. She had never seen the like, not in Aerysius, not anywhere.
“It’s almost as if you’re a prince,” she said wonderingly, staring around in amazement.
He shook his head dismissively. “It’s status,” Quin corrected her. “This entire society is utterly obsessed by it. It’s like a caste system, only you’re not born into it. You can fight and claw your way to the top if you have it within you. Or you can just put on one of these wretched robes.”
“So being a mage of the Lyceum confers its own status?”
He grinned at her wryly. “There’s only two classes of people in Caladorn: those who have the potential to sense the magic field and those who can’t. Those who can’t serve those who can. People like you and I, we are the royalty here. Caladorn knows nothing of kings and queens, pawns and princes.” He gestured around expansively with his hand. “The heroes of this land are warriors and magicians, whether real or imagined.”
He drew her toward the side of the boulevard and stopped at the stall of a street vendor that had skewers of meat roasting over a woodfire grill. Quin spent a good amount of time haggling with the woman tending the meat, at last procuring two skewers of lamb. He took one for himself and handed the other over to Merris. She bit into the lamb gratefully, to her delight finding the meat savory and delicious.
“Is there anything in this city that’s not exquisite?” She laughed with a surge of joy. They strolled onward through the market, Merris taking in the vibrant colors and energy of Bryn Calazar as she dined. And then, as they rounded a corner, she saw a sight so spectacular that it stopped her in her tracks.
Up ahead on the cliffs overlooking the ocean rose a massive stone structure, a palace of such majesty and vastness that Merris had never before imagined its equivalent. Not even the Hall of the Watchers in Aerysius could rival it. It was a massive edifice, a glorious cascade of domes flanked by tall minarets, one at every corner. Each of the domes was spectacularly wrought and looked to have been tiled in purest gold. Its curvaceous walls were lit with many-colored tendrils of magelight writhing upward from the ground.
“Is that…?” Merris gasped.
Quin nodded. “The Lyceum of Bryn Calazar.”
Merris stared, stricken speechless by the view. Strangely, the sight of the Lyceum filled her with only confusion. Merris glanced again at the man beside her, then let her gaze wander back to the stately domed structure with its fragile arcades and graceful minarets. She shook her head, unable to understand how one could ever be a product of the other.
“Tell me,” she pressed at last. “How did you end up…the way you ended up?”
Beside her, Quinlan stopped in his tracks, sucking in a deep breath as his eyes rose musingly toward the imposing walls of the Lyceum.
He said quietly, “Since I can remember, I’ve always had a problem avoiding temptation. It’s a character defect, I suppose. A flaw in my personality. There’s just something about the forbidden that I find unbearably seductive.”
Merris frowned. “I don’t understand. What did you do?”
Quin spread his hands as if for once at a complete loss for words. After a long moment of searching, he finally managed to admit, “I simply can’t resist the irresistible.”
Then he was moving again, guiding Merris by the arm toward the billowing array of domes as the citizens of Bryn Calazar backed deferentially out of his path.
The road that they traveled took them up the hill toward the cliffs overlooking the ocean. For the first time, Merris had a good view of the harbor and the sea. The broad expanse of ocean was calm and black, unfolding before them toward the horizon. An exceptionally bright star glowed low overhead in the eastern sky, larger than all the others.
As they passed through the tall gateway into the Lyceum’s outer courtyard, Merris was reminded of the Arches of Aerysius that guarded the entry to the Hall of the Watchers. The Lyceum’s portal consisted of a carved, horseshoe-shaped arch that was held aloft by a matching set of carved marble pillars. Like the Arches of Aerysius, the Lyceum’s outer gate was more than just ornamentation; it was a ward. No person insensitive to the pulse of the magic field could enter through that doorway.
Merris felt a familiar prickling sensation as she passed across the threshold of the portal. The brightly lit courtyard beyond was flanked by grand successions of arcaded walkways. No one appeared to be about; for all its splendor, the Lyceum appeared starkly empty.
“Where are we going?” Merris whispered as Quin led her through a side door almost hidden in the forest of columns.
“The office of the prime warden is this way. It’s not under the Grand Dome,” Quin explained.
“Then what is?” Merris wondered.
“The Lyceum’s Circle of Convergence,” he answered matter-of-factly.
Merris nodded. The eight Circles of Convergence were the strongest objects of power that existed anywhere in the world. Within each circle were lines of power that formed two four-pointed stars, one offset against the other. Together, the twin stars of a Circle of Convergence formed what was known throughout the world as the Silver Star.
The rays of a Silver Star worked like a giant magical focus, collecting the vast power of a vortex into one single point at the center. A
t such a place, all of the energy of a vortex could be harnessed by one single Master, one strong enough to control such a vast well of power. Some circles were inherently stronger than others; these were the greater circles. The greater circles of Aerysius, Bryn Calazar and Vintgar were the most powerful foci of magic anywhere in the world.
“Is it…Quinlan Reis…?”
Merris turned toward the sound of a female voice and found an elegant, middle-aged woman striding toward them across the hallway.
“That’s Grand Master Quinlan Reis,” Quin corrected the woman with a sardonic grin. “How have you been, Gertris? I just need a quick audience with the prime warden, if you don’t mind—nothing that will take too much of his time, I assure you.”
The woman frowned, shaking her head. “The prime warden is quite busy—”
Somehow, Quin managed to retain his smile without faltering. “It’s a matter of terrible urgency, you see.”
The woman appeared suddenly flustered. Instead of waiting for her to respond, Quin started forward, brushing past her. “Actually, if he’s in there right now, I’ll just go on ahead—”
“You know better than that, Quinlan Reis, Grand Master or no!” the woman’s voice called after them as Merris jogged to catch up.
Quin didn’t slow his pace at all. Leaning into her, he whispered in Merris’s ear, “Trust me.”
Despite the woman’s loud objections, Quin strode across the hallway and thrust open a door in the wall, leading her through by the wrist. Inside, Merris found herself in a dimly lit corridor. Quin paused, his finger pointing from one door to the next as if trying to remember which was the one he wanted. At last, he nodded to himself and moved forward.
Merris found herself being propelled through a doorway by the force of his hand on her shoulder. Then Quin caught her arm, dragging her downward with him toward the ground.
It took her a moment of disorientation before Merris could figure out what he was doing. Quin was forcing them both to the floor to assume the mandatory position of abasement that was required before any prime warden. Merris’s body knew instantly what to do; she dropped to her knees and bent forward until her forehead brushed against the floor. There was a long moment of silence while they both held their positions.
Darkstorm (The Rhenwars Saga Book 1) Page 8
