Stealing Sorcery

by Andrew Rowe

  Lydia lowered her head into her hands, rubbing at her temples. “Well, to begin with, you’re completely unnatural.”

  “We knew that. Anything with a bit more substance? You’ve been keeping me in suspense for months.” He slid his chair closer, putting his hand on the back of her neck and beginning to slowly rub the soreness away. She let out a soft hum of appreciation.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled. She knew it wasn’t a romantic gesture – Taelien just seemed unusually comfortable with being physical with people he was close to. When she had asked him about it before, he had attributed it to his upbringing among the Rethri, but none of the Rethri she knew were as tactile as he was. Perhaps the Rethri in the Forest of Blades were more culturally accustomed to physical contact, but she suspected it was more of a personal characteristic of his – possibly even tied to his unusual dominion allocations.

  Either way, Lydia wasn’t going to complain, as long as the door was closed. If someone saw them, rumors would be spreading within hours.

  Which wouldn’t be bad, once he was more established. In fact, it might be useful – but she wasn’t quite ready for that stage yet.

  “Right.” She paused, focusing her thoughts. “I have a hypothesis about why you’re having such a hard time igniting that fifth rune. Or, a component of the problem, anyway.”

  “Really?” He sounded excited, which was unfortunately rare these days. His happiness level had steeply diminished as the stress of nearing the tests had approached, but she expected that he’d acclimate to the challenges and improve his mood when the testing was over.

  “So, each time we’ve been doing this, I’ve been recording the amount of essence you expend on igniting each rune. It goes up every time.”

  Taelien lifted his other hand and scratched at his chin. “That’s strange. What do you think it means?”

  “At first, I considered the possibility that the development of other dominions in your body was making the transfer of essence less efficient. I postulated that if some dominions are more compatible with the runes than others, and your dominion balance was shifting in an opposite direction –”

  “The total amount of essence needed to accomplish the same result would increase. Yes, that makes sense.”

  He’s sharper than I give him credit for sometimes. If he actually bothered to try thinking about his problems instead of brute forcing them, he’d be even more of a force to be reckoned with...which could be dangerous, in the long run.

  “It does. But, unfortunately, it doesn’t hold up to scrutiny. I’ve measured the changes in your body’s dominions over time, too, and while some of them have increased in measurable quantities – notably metal and flame, which I know you practice regularly – none of them have increased in an amount to scale with the increasing costs. None with the exception of the one I can’t measure properly, that is.”

  “Ah, my mystery dominion. So, you think that it is getting stronger at the same rate at which my efficiency is decreasing?”

  She nodded. He shifted his chair, moving to rub her shoulders with both of his hands. She let herself sigh audibly as he continued to work. “Essentially yes, but it appears to be more complex than that. In addition to that dominion growing more dominant in your body over time, I’m seeing something even more unusual. When you are igniting the runes, that particular dominion seems to draw in more essence from an external source.”

  “That doesn’t sound that strange. Don’t normal dominion sorcery spells use your essence to call something from a dominion?”

  “Yes, but that’s to conjure something outside of yourself – like a ball of flame or one of my barriers. Dominion sorcery doesn’t summon anything directly into the body’s systems for storing and manipulating essence. Even spells that directly interact with the body do so by changing the body’s physical form – they don’t put more raw essence into it. The body isn’t designed to handle much more essence than it has while at rest. There are a few spells that sorcerers can use to transfer essence to one another, but they’re dangerous, especially if the target is already near their essence capacity.”

  Taelien slowed his massaging, apparently distracted by his thoughts. “So, I’m pulling in foreign essence, which is both unusual and dangerous. Wonderful. I’m getting less efficient at using the sword because of this strange dominion essence, I take it?”

  “In a sense, but I don’t think it’s working the way you’re thinking.” She paused for a moment, contemplating how best to explain her hypothesis. “You know how Esharen are supposed to adapt to a dominion the more they’re exposed to it, developing a resistance over time?”

  Taelien went still, his jaw tensing. “Yeah, that’s common knowledge.”

  He still hasn’t forgiven himself for that Esharen he killed, she realized. I need to be more sensitive about that.

  “Well, my second hypothesis was that the sword was adapting and developing a resistance. But that didn’t make sense – as unusual as your sword might be, I’m relatively certain it isn’t sentient, and I’ve never picked up the Dominion of Adaptation on it. Nor can I even think of a good reason for someone to build in an autonomous mechanism for it to be resistant to the user’s attempts to control it. Granted, your own dominions do grow stronger from the strain, but building an unnecessary essence cost into a weapon is a horrific risk. This sword wasn’t made for training. As you’ve pointed out to me before, it was clearly made for destroying things.”

  The swordsman pulled his hands away from her back, folding them in his lap. “At first, I thought the runes were a test – something the gods put on the weapon to see if someone was worthy to wield it. If it only gets harder over time, however, that doesn’t seem to serve much of a purpose.”

  “Right. So, if it’s not something philosophical, there must be a practical reason behind it. I thought about that a lot, and I went back and questioned our assumptions about the runes. We’ve never been able to identify the runestones directly, but we know the pommel’s gemstone has something to do with the Dominion of Travel, and the hilt gem has to do with the Dominion of Insight. The blade’s only obvious function is the cutting aura – nothing to do with teleportation or the manipulation of essence like those dominions would imply. I tried looking at the picture holistically, rather than just the disparate component parts.”

  “Don’t keep me in suspense, Lydia.”

  “I believe that every time you try to use your essence to control the sword, some of the sword’s essence is bleeding back into you in the process. Your own essence is gradually becoming more like that of the sword, especially near your right hand. It’s not that the dominions in your body are opposing the sword now – it’s that they’re too similar.”

  She paused, contemplating how to explain the problem. “When you attempt to control the sword, it’s like trying to dilute a liquid – say, mixing water into wine. But every time you do it, some of the wine is getting into your water supply. Now you’re trying to dilute wine with something with wine already in it, which is less efficient.”

  Taelien was silent for several moments, glancing down at the sword. “That’s…it doesn’t make sense. It means that every time I train with the sword, I make it harder to use next time.”

  He shook his head, resting his left hand on the hilt of the weapon. His expression was grim. “You’re saying that my training with the sword has been worthless. Years and years of training.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about this. Impulsively, she leaned over and put a hand on his. Taelien took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

  “No, I don’t think so. You’re building up some kind of dominion in your body – that’s something you could learn to control.”

  “But it’s possible that my training is going to make it harder to use the sword – I might never be able to control it completely if I keep mingling my own essence with it. And that unknown dominion might have no useful function – we have no way of knowing at this point.”

  She f
rowned, but she had to concede the point. “You’re not wrong. I’m sorry, Taelien.”

  “It’s fine. I’ve managed to ignite more and more runes over time – which means not all of my training was a waste. Just the training focused on the sword itself, it seems.”

  “That wouldn’t be a waste, either. Just because training with the sword isn’t going to make the number of lit runes increase doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a purpose – it’s still strengthening the other dominions in your body, even if you don’t value the improvements to the unclassified one.”

  He lowered his head. “I guess you have a point. I’ve just been so focused on the runes for so long – it’s been my only sign of progress. Why would someone make a sword that gets harder to control over time? That seems like madness.”

  “Well,” she said in a tender tone, knowing that this point might be making things worse, “It was probably forged for someone strong enough to use all seven runes from the first time he picked it up. With sufficient control, the essence might not have bled back into the wielder at all.”

  “Oh.” Taelien released his grip on the sword’s handle, folding his hands in his lap. “The god of blades. Of course. If he could wield it at full strength immediately, he’d never have to worry about training with it.” Taelien gave a hollow laugh. “I’ve been looking at this the wrong way the whole time. The runes were my way of trying to earn the right to use the sword. To prove that I was somehow worthy of having the blade of a god left in my care. How hilariously misguided.”

  Taelien stood up. “Thanks for telling me the truth, Lydia. I know you’ve probably been keeping this from me to protect me, but it’s better that I know. Now I can try to plan around it.”

  The sorceress nodded, uncertain of what to say. “I’m sorry if the knowledge disappointed you, Taelien.” She used the title deliberately, and he seemed to notice the gesture, giving her a half-smile. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you need the sword to prove if you’re worthy. You’ve proven it to me, at least. I hope you can prove it to yourself.”

  “Thanks, Lydia. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Still bearing an expression of pain, Taelien turned and left the office.

  ***

  It was midday by the time Lydia found her way back to the grounds of House Theas. The house guards swiftly escorted her to Nedelya, who she found seated at a small table on a patio on the second floor of the manor. The baroness wore a fine red dress trimmed with gold, her hair raised into an elegant display. She looked less like a woman in mourning and more like a lady prepared to attend a courtly ball.

  In her right hand, Baroness Theas held a mostly full glass of wine by the stem. The bottle on the table next to her, however, was quite nearly empty.

  Nedelya did not turn toward Lydia as the sorceress approached. Instead, she silently stared out over the nearby railing. The sorceress glanced at the nearby house guard, but he simply shrugged. Lydia stepped closer, looking over the railing and finding the source of Nedelya’s distraction – a familiar pair sitting at a similar table in the gardens below.

  Aladir and Nakane seemed oblivious to their observation, staring in rapt concentration at the game board in front of them. Lydia squinted, trying to make out the details of the individual pieces. The game was Crowns, a popular war game among the local nobility. It was asymmetrical, with each player selecting an army that represented a particular faction, such as the armies of a city or an organization like the Paladins of Tae’os.

  “She must like him,” Nedelya noted without shifting her gaze. “Nakane almost never lets anyone win.”

  Lydia tilted her head to the side, trying to get a better angle to look at the board. Aladir’s pieces were bright blue, and she noted several archers on his side of the board. Nakane’s pieces were red, but with orange highlights rather than the gold of House Theas. They appeared to have an equal number of troops still in play, but Aladir’s archers had the high ground, giving them the range they needed to fire on Nakane’s sorcerers.

  “Perhaps she’s just distracted, given everything your family has been going through.”

  Nedelya just shook her head. “Nakane is never distracted, my dear. Do you see how she clenches her jaw as she moves that paladin? She knows she is making the wrong move, extending herself needlessly. Aladir knows this as well – that is why he is smiling.”

  Lydia leaned out over the railing, watching the pair play. It was only after several minutes of watching that she grew certain of what she suspected.

  Aladir is deliberately making suboptimal moves, too.

  But, unlike Nakane, he never stopped smiling.

  “Do you play, dear?”

  Lydia glanced to her right and saw that Nedelya was finally looking directly at her.

  “No, Baroness. It’s not an accurate depiction of military tactics, and thus I’ve never found it useful.”

  The baroness took another sip of her wine, frowning. “I don’t believe most people play because they are making a study of tactics, Miss Hastings. I believe they find it enjoyable.”

  “Hm.” Lydia pushed up her glasses, which had been slipping down her nose while she leaned against the railing. “Do you play, then, baroness?”

  Nedelya chuckled lightly, raising two fingers to her lips. “Of course not, darling. Crowns is not a lady’s game.”

  The baroness turned her head, looking back over the railing. “Nakane, unfortunately, has never been much of a lady. She has always taken more after her father.”

  I’m not sure how to respond to that in a way that would not be insulting to someone. “She seems to be very talented.”

  “Yes,” the baroness nodded. “She plays each game on several different levels.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Baroness Theas momentarily shut her eyes, and then waved her wine glass over the railing. “She plays a friendly game with the son of a man who may have murdered her brother. In playing, she chooses the armies of Blake Hartigan, her father’s greatest rival – and then allows herself to lose to the pieces of House Dianis, skillfully chosen by Aladir as a logical army to counter her own.”

  Lydia frowned. Is she testing Aladir somehow? “Why is she playing the game that way?”

  Nedelya fluttered her eyes, forming a slight smile. “I haven’t the faintest idea, my dear. I don’t play Crowns.”

  ***

  It was hours past nightfall when Lydia finally found an opportunity to meet with her partner alone. The pair patrolled the grounds, searching for any sign of intruders, as they had each night since the attack. Pairs of guards were placed outside Nakane’s and Nedelya’s chambers, rotating every four hours. Initially, Lydia had pushed for the guards to wait inside the rooms, but the noblewomen both scoffed at the idea.

  “Any luck at the citadel today?” Aladir asked, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers. It wasn’t particularly cold by Lydia’s standards, but she was wearing a long sleeved robe, and Aladir almost always wore sleeveless tunics. They were both wearing standard issue single-handed paladin swords on their belts, and Lydia noted that Aladir also had a dagger sheathed on the opposite side of his own belt.

  “None. Arbiter Stone remains as implacable as his name implies. He won’t even give me a single squad. He said he’s lucky we’re being allowed to pursue this at all, given that it’s not officially in paladin jurisdiction.”

  Her partner shook his head, his green eyes the brightest thing in the night. “I could try talking to Arbiter Lyselia. She’s a friend of the family.”

  “Going to another arbiter after being denied is a good way to get both of us demoted, Aladir.”

  Aladir paused in his step, lowering his head. “Kae is dead, Lydia. You think I care about politics?”

  “Of course not, but you should care about practicality. If House Theas wasn’t so influential, I don’t think they’d even be letting the two of us look into this.”

  The life sorcerer balled his hands into fists. “I hear your wor
ds, Lydia, but how can our order turn their gaze aside when an innocent is dead?”

  The sorceress sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss. Truly. But any breach of protocol is only going to hurt us when we catch the bastard who did this.”

  “If. If we catch him.” Aladir looked up, turning his gaze to Lydia’s eyes. She met his stare. “You’re more confident than I am at this point. With each passing day, our chances diminish. We guard when we should hunt.”

  “The city guard is investigating, and they have more manpower than we do. If we find anything that warrants additional resources, I’ll ask again –”

  “We’re not getting help, Lydia. And we’re not helping here.” He jerked a thumb toward the tower where Nedelya slept. “What are we going to do if the assassin returns, using the same methodology as last time? Presume that it was a Harvester of Poison that was summoned.”

  “I —”

  “I’ll tell you what we’d do – die messily.” Aladir withdrew his hands from his pockets, folding his arms in front of him. “We can’t fight a Harvester, Lydia. But we can fight someone who can summon a Harvester – and you’re our best chance of finding him.”

  Lydia folded her own arms. “You’re wrong. About the first part, at least.” She reached into the pouch on her left side, withdrawing a large crystal – the Dominion Essence of Poison that they had found in the ritual area. “If we encounter a Harvester of Poison, I would throw this at it and run. Then, while it’s busy absorbing this lovely crystal, I would gather Nakane and Nedelya and flee to the citadel. Two paladins may not be able to fight a Harvester, but you can rest assured that two thousand would be more than sufficient.”

  Aladir sighed, unfolding his arms and rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sorry for being so negative, Lydia. But it’s been weeks with no sign of progress. I’m sure the city guards are doing all they can, but…”

  “Protecting the most likely targets for a second attack is more important than catching the assassin. And we’re the best chance the remainder of the Theas family has to survive.”