by Kris A Hiatt
“I’m not back too soon am I?” he asked when he got within earshot.
“No,” Kiril told him.
Treace got the feeling she was lying. She wanted Moffred to be gone for a while longer. He guessed there must be more she wanted to talk about. “Welcome back, Moff,” he told his friend. “Now pass me some food, I’m starving.”
“You’re welcome,” Moffred said in a mildly annoyed voice.
Treace just smiled, knowing full well it would irritate his friend that he didn’t offer any thanks for getting the water.
Next to him, Kiril smiled. To Treace, it looked like a knowing smile.
Chapter 14
Brental believed him, but it didn’t make him any less annoyed. He was supposed to have put the man out of his misery. He’d be doing him a favor by doing so, but it would pain Destin to do it. Brental was glad he came up with the idea. He had wanted to test the old man’s loyalty, but that part of the plan flew out the window when Destin couldn’t find Kint anywhere near the doomed man’s house.
“I swear,” Destin said. “I looked everywhere.”
Destin must have mistook Brental’s silence for disbelief, which didn’t matter to him. The old man could be playing him for a fool, but he highly doubted that. He’d pay dearly if he was and the man knew it. Destin was not stupid. But still, Brental intended on sending a man over to Kint’s house to be certain. “Perhaps he wandered around and fell into his own well.”
“He might have. But he wasn’t anywhere I looked.”
“Did you find any journals?” Brental asked.
“No,” Destin replied, clenching and unclenching the cuffs of his robe in his hands.
Since the old man was part of his order again, Brental insisted the man put on the appropriate attire for one who was a magister of the College. His nervous clutching of his robes could mean that the man was lying, or it could mean that he was scared of what Brental would do knowing he didn’t succeed in either of his tasks. “I’m sure you’re a better teacher than you are an investigator,” he told him, hoping he was right.
“How strong is your magic?” Destin asked.
Brental could sense the relief from the man that the subject had changed to something he was presumably good at. “Stronger than yours,” Brental told him.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
The old man had spirit. Brental hoped his magic was just as plentiful. He intended on testing the old man to see exactly what he was capable of before he wasted any more of his time. “Let’s find out.”
“Let’s,” Destin agreed.
It would seem that the old man liked a challenge as much as he did. He liked that. Whether Destin was up to the challenge or not remained to be seen. “Show me each Path, now.”
“I’ve nothing to heal,” Destin pointed out.
“You can skip that one,” Brental told him. It was the easiest Path to master. Any idiot that could find The Calm could heal to some degree.
“In order then, other than Heart,” Destin said, closing his eyes.
A handful of heartbeats later Brental could tell Destin had found The Calm. His face was serene and peaceful. Not long after, a shimmering barrier formed over Destin’s skin. It faded quickly and after a few moments Destin raised his right hand and cupped it. Water pooled quickly inside of that hand. Brental was impressed with the man’s ability to move so fluidly between the Paths. It took skill to do that and he wasn’t expecting the man to be so adept at it after all these years. When the water in Destin’s cupped hand began to boil, Brental knew the man had real talent. It wasn’t a rolling boil, but the bubbles were clearly rising to the top of the water. There was a good amount of anger in Destin after all.
“Good enough for you?” Destin said after opening his eyes, letting the water splash to the floor.
“Impressive,” Brental said, drawing an immediate smile from Destin. “For an old man.” The man’s smile faded quickly. It wouldn’t do to have Destin thinking that he approved of him just yet. He was powerful, that much was certain. Brental guessed the man might be more powerful than any of the existing magisters, excluding himself of course. And Brental did like the way the man demonstrated his mastery. He liked that very much.
“And you can do better?”
“Of course,” Brental assured him, though wasn’t entirely certain he could. Regardless, he had no intention of showing the man anything.
“Your turn,” Destin said, gesturing for Brental to begin.
“I don’t think so.”
“You offered the challenge,” Destin told him. “Does that mean you are forfeiting?”
“Hardly,” Brental replied. “It was a challenge. For you. I had to see what you could do. To see if you are truly who I want to help progress the order.”
“Simply a test then?” Destin asked.
“Yes,” Brental admitted. “And more.”
“Tell me then.”
Brental raised an eyebrow at the old man, hoping it was clear to him that he didn’t appreciate being told what to do.
“I’m too old for games, Archmagister,” Destin said, offering a disingenuous bow.
Brental realized he must have looked the same way when he first entered Shamir’s quarters not so long ago. He guessed the King appreciated the mocking bow about as much as he did. He reminded himself to be more careful in front of the King in the future. It appeared Destin would need to be reminded of such things as well. “I am your Archmagister,” Brental said, giving him a hard look. “You’d be wise to remember it.” He thought those words were nearly identical to what Shamir had told him.
Destin bowed again, this time he lingered at the bottom before standing back up.
“Good,” Brental began. “I need to know the man I’m working with can appreciate the order and respect its traditions, both new and old. Like respecting your leader. That’s an old one. I particularly like that one. And here’s a new one for you. When someone wants to rise to the rank of magister, they have to mimic what you just demonstrated.”
“Yes, Archmagister.”
Brental would have to take that as acceptance, and he was glad for it. He needed Destin, at least for now. If he found some things in the remaining journals which gave him some indicators what the older ways of teaching were, then he might not need Destin at all. But for now, the old man was all he had. He wanted to keep Destin happy with his place in the order, yet he wasn’t going to let the man too close. Neither was he going to let on that Destin may be the piece of the puzzle Brental needed to elevate the order past that of the previous leader. If he knew the old teachings that was. “Good, now let’s see what you know about teaching.”
“What is it you want to know?” Destin asked.
“Start from the beginning,” Brental commanded. “From when the student first arrives at the College.”
“Okay,” Destin said. “If that’s what it takes to prove to you that I know what I’m doing, I guess I can talk you through it.”
“Be as detailed as possible.”
“Well,” Destin started. “Presuming the student gets their letter stating they can come take their entrance exams, they would take them in October and be admitted immediately if they succeeded.”
“And how would they know that?” Brental asked, wanting to ensure the tradition of Path of Choosing wasn’t something Nimbril concocted. He abhorred the whole thing. Walking around the courtyard hoping someone tapped you on the shoulder.
“After the exams were graded by members of the board, the results would be written on sheets of paper. During the Ceremony of Choosing, brothers would refer to those sheets of paper to pick the new members from a line,” Destin explained.
Brental took care to keep his facial expressions from giving away the fact that there were some differences already, the largest being that members of the board graded the exams, not the Archmagister on his own. Further proof of one of Nimbril’s transgressions.
“Those selected would take a tour of their new home and would
be given the night with their families. They would need to report to the College at first light. Those not there when the light crested the horizon would not be allowed entrance,” Destin continued.
Brental liked that last idea. It was different than what he was used to. What he was used to was that the selected applicants only had a few minutes to say their goodbyes. He didn’t like the other idea better because it gave them more time with their families, he liked it because it would give those that decided not to attend time to back out without being a distraction and also put the onus on the applicant to ensure they made it back to the College on time. He found another tradition the order would be going back to.
“After that they’d spend two years learning mathematics, geography, and the like. But I’m guessing you didn’t really want to know any of that,” Destin said. “I’m guessing the whole reason I’m here is because the way you’re teaching now isn’t the same way that I used to teach.”
There it was. It was out in the open now. Brental was slightly annoyed that it didn’t happen on his terms, but it was going to come out sooner or later. At least Destin showed he wasn’t a complete idiot by figuring it out. “Good guess.”
“So I’m right?” Destin asked, sounding surprised.
Brental nearly winced with the words. Not only did Destin bring it out in the open before he could, but it appeared that he did so solely on a guess. What dumb luck. He wasn’t about to give the man the upper hand though. If the man wanted the full truth of what was going on, he was going to have to deduce that all on his own. “I wondered how long it would take you to finally figure it out.”
“I had my suspicions.”
“About?” Brental asked, not quite believing the man.
“Your true intentions.”
“And are you satisfied now?” Brental asked.
“Truth be told,” Destin said. “No.”
“No?” Brental asked.
“No,” Destin confirmed. “I believe you want to progress the order. I do believe that. But I don’t know what part I play in it. That is, unless.” Destin stopped there and began to nod his head.
“Have you figured it out then?” Brental asked.
“You have magisters to teach classes already.”
“True enough.”
“So I’m not needed for that,” Destin said more to himself. “I’m not needed for what I know. Wait!” Destin stopped pacing and looking right at Brental, grinning.
“Let’s hear it.”
“I’m not needed for what I know,” Destin told him. “I’m needed for what you think I might know.”
“Explain,” Brental commanded. While he was genuinely impressed with what Destin had figured out thus far, he wasn’t going to give anything else away inadvertently.
“Nimbril claimed to have the power to stone-face someone,” Destin explained. “You found the instructions in his journal but you can’t use it. Your current methods aren’t working. You want to know if my methods are any different and if they would allow you to actually use the magic.”
He was close. Very close. But he was stuck on the stone-facing part of it, which, admittedly, interested Brental as well. But he had more pressing matters. He needed to find a way to be useful to Shamir. As far as he was concerned, casting magic from afar was his best shot at meeting the King’s demands. Kint knew how to do it. But, since Kint was dead, Destin became the best option for Brental to unlock the secret of how to do so. “Well done.”
“But,” Destin said hesitantly. “That means you didn’t stone-face Kint.”
“Also true,” Brental admitted after a moment of consideration. He figured it didn’t matter whether he stone-faced Kint or if the man did it to himself. Dead was dead. By admitting it to Destin, it would help solidify the older man’s trust in him. They would soon be working side by side. Much of that time would be spent in The Calm with their eyes closed. It would be awkward at first, not fully trusting each other. He knew it would be better if there was some semblance of trust between them, so he decided he would be as truthful as he dared with the man. While he didn’t think Destin was the type to murder someone while they were in The Calm, he wasn’t about to risk his own life until he was certain of it. That had to start with him being truthful with Destin so he could get a better sense of the man.
“Interesting,” Destin told him.
“How so?”
“You led me to believe that you did.”
“Not at all,” Brental countered. “I let you believe what you wanted to believe. I never once said that I stone-faced Kint. You came to that conclusion all on your own.”
“But you didn’t stop me from believing it until just now,” Destin argued.
“And would you have believed me if I said that I didn’t?” Brental asked, knowing the answer to that question already.
“No,” Destin said, resignedly.
“And there you have it,” Brental told him. “Hence why I let you believe what you wanted to believe.”
“Even though it made me dislike and distrust you?”
“It didn’t matter to me whether or not you trusted or cared for me in the least,” Brental explained. “Until now.”
“Why until now?” Destin asked.
“Now you’ve earned my trust.”
“So I passed your test then?”
“You have,” Brental said. “And for now you’ve earned my trust. Some of it anyway.”
“Some?”
“Some,” Brental confirmed.
“As I said, Archmagister,” Destin said. “I’m too old to play games. I’m not playing one with you now. There’s no reason for you not to trust me.”
“All in due time,” Brental told him. “Like perhaps sometime after you tell me your true teaching methods.”
“Fair enough, I suppose.”
“Just hold on a moment,” Brental instructed, rising from his seat.
He walked to the exit of the room, opened the door and stuck his head out. He saw the guard instantly and the man quickly walked the few steps it took to get closer to Brental. “Is the name Kint familiar to you?” he asked, keeping his voice low so Destin couldn’t hear him.
“No, sir,” the guard replied.
“He owns a spice field west of town,” Brental told him. “Ask around until you find it. See if you can find the man.”
“Sir.”
“He’s not all there,” Brental informed him, tapping the index finger of his right hand to his temple. “Just ignore him if you find him, but let me know if you do. He has some journals of mine that I’d like returned. If no one’s there to assist you, look for them inside his home and bring them back to me.”
“Sir,” the guard said again, bowing.
“Any word on the search for the traitors?” Brental asked just before the guard turned away. It had only been a day so he wasn’t expecting good news.
“No sir,” the guard replied, shaking his head.
Brental nodded at the man and fully entered his quarters again. He hoped they’d find Kint’s daughter. She could be another piece of the puzzle. For now, though, he only had one of those pieces. And he fully intended on finding out what he knew.
He walked back over to where he was seated, stopping at his desk along the way to grab a journal to write in and a quill and ink to write with. “Go ahead,” Brental told him when he was ready to write.
“It would be easier to show you.”
“We’ll start with your descriptions first.”
“Suit yourself,” Destin said. “But it will take some time.”
“I’ve got plenty of ink,” Brental assured him.
“We should start tomorrow. It’s getting late.”
It was true, but Brental wanted to hear this. He wanted something to think about and mull over while lying in bed, unable to sleep. “I’m sure you can make it through some of it.”
“I’m old,” Destin pleaded. “And it will be better if I have time to think about how to say what I want to sa
y.”
Brental knew the old man was right. He had sprung the request on him and it would be better if the man thought about what it was that he wanted to say and how he should say it. He decided it couldn’t hurt to wait. Besides, he did have several more journals to read. “After breakfast tomorrow then.”
“Evening, Archmagister,” Destin bid him, rising from his seat and offering a bow.
Brental watched him exit. When the door closed, Brental sighed. He hoped he was making the correct decision with the man. He didn’t have much choice, but he wasn’t used to being so open with someone. For some reason, it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. He supposed it was because Destin was too old to gain any sort of advantage using any of the information Brental shared. He hoped he was right. The idea of shared information made him think of something else just then. There was other information that he thought should be shared. The King was against it, but Brental thought the people of Haven should know what Drevic was capable of. He just had to figure out a way to ensure it wouldn’t lead back to him when it reached Shamir’s ear, as it undoubtedly would.
After some thought, he passed on reading the journals and decided to write a letter instead. He had to be careful with that too. He didn’t know if Shamir’s men would break the seal on the letter and read it before giving it to Vrindel. He decided he couldn’t take that chance. He had to arrange a meeting. It was the safest method by far.
Chapter 15
The trees that were previously sparse were growing in number and density. The gentle rolling hills were becoming more steeply inclined and the plentiful wild grass was starting to become a little harder to find. The best Treace could figure, they were about another day from being out of Shamir’s land and back to land that was protected by Liernin. He thought they could sigh a little relief knowing that. It wasn’t as if Liernin had men stationed along the borders, but just knowing they would soon be on the right side of that border made him feel better. “It’s close, but I think tomorrow we’ll finally be out of Shamir’s territory.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Moffred said, adding more wood to the fire.
