“Really? That is good news! Who was it?” Ari asked, her lingering fear momentarily forgotten.
“Megan Valor, a maintenance engineer who has served House Dothranan for nearly as long as I have. It was a fairly short list of people who would have had unquestioned access to all areas involved. My suspicion rose when it came to light after investigating her that she had no close friends and did not socialize with other Holders of her profession.”
Siri took a sip of her water and continued, “That led to the discovery that she rarely spent nights in her room in the Hold. I had her followed, and it seems she had been meeting with an as yet unidentified man in East Vallad. I had them taken into custody quietly this afternoon. They each had encoded documents in their possession. Likely reports and orders I would guess, but we will know for sure after Jima finishes decoding them,” she concluded.
“Does anyone else know we have them?” Ari asked with a glint of excitement in her eyes.
“No one, Mistress. I had my people handle this. Not even General Tarsis is aware of their presence,” she replied.
Ari knew what her people meant. The men and women Siri had to handle delicate situations. Siri's Shadows were how her step-bitch had referred to them in her private journal. There was only the one reference though, and no names were recorded.
“The assassin's corpse will keep. We need to move on this quickly before they are missed. We may be able to use them,” Ari grabbed her coat and quickly buttoned it up. She made her way out of the room with Siri trailing closely behind.
* * *
Thrakus Meril woke abruptly when the frigid water struck his face. He tried to stand and found his hands and feet were bound securely to the stout chair he was on. He looked and saw several people, wearing black robes with executioner's hoods covering their heads.
He worked hard to keep his breathing under control. The last thing he remembered was going out the back door of the tavern he'd met his agent in. He was grabbed; then there was darkness.
He'd been captured by the enemy most likely.
He looked around and saw a thick pane of glass several yards in front of him. On the other side one of his agents, Megan Valor was tied to a chair naked. The poor woman looked like she was screaming, with a red hot iron being applied to her breast. He could see the smoke rising from her flesh. Two other robed and hooded people were with her. He couldn't hear her screams through the thick glass though.
“He's awake, ma'am,” a hooded man with a bucket in hand said.
“Good,” a woman's voice replied from under a hood.
Two of the hooded figures walked towards him; one was tall and the other more average in height. He tested his bonds; they were quite secure. He always knew this day might come, and now all he could do was face it with as much dignity as he could muster.
“I won't tell you anything,” he told his captors defiantly.
The tall woman just started laughing, like he'd just told the funniest joke in the world. He'd been subjected to torture to learn how to resist it, but this reaction unbalanced him a bit.
“You have already told us a great deal,” the first woman said. The hooded figure unrolled a scroll and began reading. “Top priorities: record Mistress Dothranan's schedule for each day, learn who she confides in, and who gives her counsel. Learn the identity of the man she was seen with at the Academy. Shall I go on?” she asked.
It was very bad for them to have already decoded the messages. “Am I a prisoner of House Dothranan?” He asked.
“A prisoner? Of House Dothranan? Does anyone know what this man is talking about?” The formerly laughing woman's voice asked mockingly.
“No, ma'am,” the voices all said together.
“This isn't a prison; this is the legendary scrying glass that tells your future. You've seen charlatans make such claims, have you not? On the streets of the city?” Her tone was filled with dark amusement.
He faced this woman and refused to engage her. He would not answer such a ridiculous question. He wished they would simply get on with the torture, or whatever they were going to do to him so this could come to an end.
“Nothing to say?” She said with amusement. She began drawing with fire in the air in unrecognizable letters. The realization that the woman was a Wizard struck such fear into him, his sphincter tightened involuntarily. The letters faded into the air they had sprung from.
“You see that woman, there?” She pointed at poor Megan being tortured on the other side of the glass. “That could be your future; this is the true scrying glass unless you wish to be of use to us.”
So they wished to convert him to their use? Fine, he could play along with that if the Wizard wasn't here. He knew she could tell if he was lying, with certainty. Wizards were always used to judge cases punishable by death.
“What would you have me do?” He asked, uncertain about this course.
“Do? Why, do your duties of course, except a new agent will be supplied for you; this one, unfortunately, is dead. She just hasn't finished breathing yet. That will come soon enough,” the woman's voice said with a laugh.
Whoever this woman was, she was obviously insane. One cannot reason with insanity, he knew this well enough.
“If I refuse?” He had a fair idea what the answer would be, but there was no harm in asking, he hoped.
“Then you will die. Slowly. If you betray this bargain or try to run, I will still be able to find you wherever you go. The spell I cast upon you will allow me to track you anywhere. I will find the best torturers and doctors to ensure you will live in agony for years. That woman is quite fortunate compared to the fate that would await you. She will only wait a short time to die,” she said it with such relish, it seemed as if she wished he would try.
His training hadn't prepared him to deal with an insane captor and the fear that was welling within him was far greater than any he'd ever experienced before now. He was afraid because he believed her. He had no real basis for it, but his instincts screamed it in his mind and heart. She was serious, he was certain of it.
“All I must do is use the new agent?” he asked, doubtful it would be so simple.
“Oh, and tell us all of your others... give us copies of what is reported, that sort of thing,” she said lightly.
“I'll be killed as a traitor if I am discovered,” he said seriously.
“Don't pretend to be afraid of that. You knew you would be killed as an enemy if you were discovered anyway, but you did it. So now, you have another choice. Live the rest of your life in pain, or live well as long as you can. We all die, but you are in the rare position to decide when and how you will die right now. Choose,” she ordered firmly.
* * *
Siri pulled her hood off outside the secret interrogation rooms beneath Dothranan Manor while her Mistress did the same.
“Mistress, you truly amaze me sometimes. I doubt very much I could have secured his cooperation in less than a day. But you did it in less than an hour! Without putting a single mark on him! And that bluff about being able to find him anywhere, I suppose to someone who knew nothing of Magik it would seem feasible, but..,”
Ari cut her off. “It is no bluff. I discovered this technique a year ago, and I have used it. I did not cast it until I had gained his cooperation though. What I wrote said, ‘I'll have you used by my horse.’” She smiled wickedly.
Siri was taken aback by this. She was no Wizard but knew the basics of what was and wasn't possible due to her Legion Officer's training. Such training was required since Officers would have to deal with any Wizards attached to the Legion, and lead soldiers against them.
“I had no idea Mistress, forgive me,” Siri said apologetically.
“No forgiveness is necessary. Even trained Wizards with their staff don't believe half of the things I've found, even though I can prove many of them easily. They are blind fools who are not willing to think creatively with the power. It limits them severely,” Ari said in a sour tone.
�
�May I ask who and where this person is you have used it on before, Mistress?” She inquired.
Ari stopped and closed her eyes. “That way,” she pointed to the northwest. “About two-hundred miles I would say. And who it is not important right now.”
“Of course Mistress,” Siri replied, containing her curiosity.
Wednesday May 8th 1624th year of the First Great City
Questions and a Warning
Thorel slept surprisingly well last night. He cut his time with Nigel and Eliel short, to give him time to think about recent events. He had many questions for his Mistress. But the way she had run down the stairs with Siri had given him no chance to ask any of them.
It was understandable though, this assassin's attempt on her life would have required quick action he supposed. He had no idea what a noble would have to do in such a situation though. All he knew for certain was that he intended to keep a better eye on his surroundings from now on. That arrow had nearly split his skull. Sleep hadn't come easily to him last night.
When he sat down to his breakfast, Sergeant Greer spoke to him briefly.
“Sir, the Mistress has commanded you to inform Headmaster Stiral she may be tardy for her first class due to a meeting with Crown Lord Kendal.”
“Of course, sir. I will leave early then,” Thorel replied with a bit of surprise. He hadn't expected such a task, but he supposed being in service to a Great Lady he had better get used to unexpected tasks.
He found himself in Headmaster Stiral's office sitting across from him a one-quarter hour before his first class.
“I am not surprised that the Great Lady will be late. That ugly event yesterday will be felt for some time to come, I suspect,” Stiral said over his teacup.
Thorel nodded seriously and was about to say “Thank you Master, I must be off to my class,” when he interrupted his thought.
“And how well are you dealing with this, young man? Do you understand more of what I was trying to tell you before?” Stiral asked looking intently into Thorel's eyes.
“I think I do, Master... I also think since you have opened this door to me, there are other questions I would have answered now if possible,” Thorel said facing Master Stiral firmly.
“I am not surprised, young man. Very well, what would you ask of me?” He looked at Thorel evenly.
“Do you think that there will be more attacks like the one yesterday, Master?” Thorel asked with concern.
“It is possible... but I judge it unlikely. With House Quarrel's surrender before the High Lady Vallad to your Mistress, Ari Dothranan's strength will have to be acknowledged by all Lords and Ladies of the land. Even her parents never forced a surrender from the man, and they were considered to be among the strongest in the realm,” Master Stiral said seriously.
“House Quarrel's surrender? I heard nothing of this, Master. What happened?” Thorel asked with surprise.
“I will tell you what little I know, young man, but do not take this as an authoritative overview,” Stiral began.
Thorel nodded with understanding.
“According to the public portion of the surrender document itself, Quarrel accepted responsibility for the attack on House Dothranan in which one-hundred-thirty-six Dothranan holders were killed. They also acknowledged that House Dothranan's counter-attack was a legal response to their attack,” Master Stiral said with a serious look.
“I heard nothing about this at all, sir,” Thorel said startled.
“Well, according to rumor the tremors felt on Sunday afternoon were the results of your Mistress's counter-attack. It is said that several thousand of House Quarrel's soldiers were killed. Until this surrender was publicly declared though, it was said there was an “accident” in the northern Hold which resulted in the collapse of several buildings. It would be reasonable to assume these things are related but irresponsible to treat such tenuous connections as facts; however reasonable,” Stiral said while sorting some of his papers absently.
“Then how should I treat them, Master?” Thorel asked intently.
“As you may wish to treat any partial information, young man; both with a grain of salt, and as tools to ask the right questions to get real facts. I would suggest a degree of tact should be used when asking any questions related to this though. You do not wish to offend anyone with the power to answer truthfully,” the Master said meeting Thorel's eyes.
“Like the Mistress?” Thorel inquired.
“Precisely. I would use great caution, young man. Since we have last spoken, I have seen more of your Mistress and have had cause to re-evaluate her. I can now say with certainty she has inherited the family tradition of ruthlessness that the Dothranan's are known for.”
“Why do you say that, Master?” He asked.
“Unfortunately, I cannot say young man. But do be cautious. And now you must be quick, for you have a bare five minutes to be to your first class. I'll write no excuse for you today. Off with you.” The Headmaster shooed him off and turned his attention to his papers.
Thorel was both stunned and irritated at the sudden dismissal. He looked to the guardswoman at Stiral's shoulder for a moment. She met his eyes and shook her head negatively. Her meaning was clear. Don't push it.
Thorel stood and bowed properly; “Thank you Master,” he said with far more respect than he felt at the moment.
“Of course,” Stiral said absently without looking up from his papers.
Friday May 10th 1624th year of the First Great City
Turbulent Emotions
The last three days were the most normal days Thorel had experienced since coming to the Great City of Vallad. He had gone to his classes and enjoyed Nigel and Eliel's company for a few hours after school. Then he had eaten his dinner and studied. He had stayed far away from the wine rack though.
Now he found himself in the Mistress's carriage riding to Dothranan Hold after school. He'd known he would be going and had packed his bag last night. The Mistress had spoken with him yesterday after classes and told him that she wanted him to come to the Hold again this weekend. She said she had more to teach him, as well as duties for him to perform.
He turned his attention to the Mistress when she spoke his name, “Tonight, after dinner I will teach you a technique to defend yourself from attack.”
The cost of this choice, he thought. Being struck in the head with that arrow was as frightening as encountering the Kryss in the alley with Nigel. He'd thought he was dying at first. He'd read about battles in stories, but the heroes in the stories never took such a light wound so seriously. It was a grim reminder of the difference between stories and reality.
She continued; “Based on what little I have seen, it should be simple for you to use the techniques I teach you with your animal spirits. Assuming of course, there is not a qualification for using that power we are currently unaware of. Testing will be needed to determine the truth of this though.”
He nodded. He looked at the woman's spirit beside his Mistress. She looked back at him. It still disturbed him, but he didn't look away. Instead, he looked more intently, trying to discern why she disturbed him so. She did nothing else but look at him. In fact, she did nothing actively to accomplish this. It was her eyes alone that seemed like they followed him. Like she alone, of all the human spirits he had seen, was aware in some way.
Ari's voice interrupted his thoughts. “You are distracted. What are you thinking of?”
“I was trying to figure out what was different about the spirit with you, Mistress,” Thorel said, still looking at her intently.
Ari looked a bit surprised at that. “Her?” she asked, pointing to the beautiful woman's spirit.
“Yes, Mistress. She isn't like any other I have seen. She looks at me,” he said seriously.
“That is impossible. Spirits have no mind, and, therefore, no will. They cannot do anything, except be used for the power within them,” she lectured.
“The animal spirits with me aren't like that Mistress. They don't sim
ply float as human spirits do, they seem to walk, and they look at things. Like the old tomcat here.” He pointed to him, curled up on the floor by his foot. “Sometimes he seems to sleep, sometimes he plays. The others act much as they did in life, too. They are obviously aware of me, they even seem to try to comfort me when something is bothering me.” That was all true: but before this had spilled out of him just now, he had never tried to quantify it before.
Ari's eyes lit up with interest. “Fascinating. So you are saying this spirit is like an animal spirit?”
“Well, yes and no Mistress. I mean, she does not seem to do anything else... she does not move I mean. But her eyes, whenever I look at her, she looks back at me. It isn't like I see her doing anything, I just feel it, Mistress,” he said still looking at the woman's spirit.
His Mistress looked at him intently and seemed to be thinking. “You have seen no others like this?”
“No Mistress, I haven't. May I ask who she was?” Thorel inquired.
Ari clasped her hands in her lap and looked at them, before speaking. “I do not know. I think she was my mother. But I don't know,” she said quietly.
Thorel could feel her pain: it reminded him of not knowing anything about what had happened to his father. The Mistress was the first person to try to help him with that emptiness. He would do anything he could to help her with hers.
Thorel looked at the woman again, closely. Yes, it made sense. She does look like the Mistress. She could easily be her mother or sister.
“I would say she is a close relative, Mistress, but more I can't say with certainty,” Thorel said thoughtfully. “Mistress, didn't your parents pass recently?” Recalling she had said this woman's spirit was her first memory.
“My father and stepmother did, yes,” Ari nodded. “What of it?”
Spirit of Magik (The Dothranan Chronicles Book 1) Page 18
