by Devin Hanson
“Listen carefully,” Jules instructed, “you may speak to answer my questions. Anything else, and I will end you. Do you understand?”
The man nodded fractionally, and Jules released some of the pressure of her blade against his throat.
“Good. Who sent you?”
“The Order,” he coughed.
“Who are they? Where are they located?”
“Ki–” he coughed again, blood drooling down his face. He sagged forward against his bonds and Jules cursed.
“Burn it,” she cried, “we needed this lead!”
“Do not blame yourself,” Iria said calmly as she guided Andrew onto his side and prodded around the bolt. “It is difficult to withhold a blow in the heat of combat.”
Andrew winced as Iria’s fingers worked around the bolt. He turned his head away, desperate to find something else to think about, and focused on the intruder. He could see the man’s face from where he lay, saw his lips twitch, form silent syllables. Andrew’s hair rose as he recognized the forbidden rune worked into the man’s chant.
“Jules!” Andrew cried, “he’s using alchemy!”
Chapter 16
Incantor
“What?” Jules spun back, pushed the man’s head back so she could see his face. “He has no flux!”
Andrew watched the man’s lips move, pieced out the runes the man was saying. Kian’ skalani’ kion’ skalani’ kian… over and over again. The flesh will keep, consume the distance, bind the flesh, consume the distance…
“He’s healing,” Andrew said, stunned.
And it was true. The gaping knife wound in the intruder’s chest was knitting together as they watched, his breath was coming easier, the pallor in his cheeks coloring back to life.
“Impossible,” Jules whispered.
“Hold still,” Iria said, and yanked the bolt out of his shoulder.
Andrew’s world dissolved in flashing stabs of agony. He cried out and tried to jerk back, but Iria’s weight kept him from flailing free.
“I said hold still,” Iria repeated. “Relax, the bolt is out.”
“Jules,” Andrew gasped, “stop him!”
Jules shook free of her astonishment, hauled back and slugged the alchemist in the jaw. His head whiplashed and he slumped. Andrew strained forward under Iria’s weight until he could see that the alchemist’s lips had stopped moving.
Jules shook her hand out, her lips twisted in a grimace. “He stop?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Andrew relaxed as much as he could while Iria sloshed what smelled like brandy into the wound. “Is that necessary?” he gasped, after the third such application, followed by Iria prodding and massaging the wound.
“If you do not want your wound infected, yes,” the balai said. “I am nearly complete. Jules, my medical kit is in my room. I will make sure this man does not do anything.” It was unclear whether she was referring to Andrew or the unconscious alchemist.
Jules nodded and stepped out. Despite the pain in his shoulder, Andrew could only think about what the Incantor had just performed. Alchemy, he had been taught, could not be applied to living tissue. It was possible, of course, to produce an effect that in turn altered tissue, fire, ice spikes, exploding rock, et cetera, but it wasn’t supposed to be possible to apply alchemy directly to living tissue. Then again, Andrew remembered, Avandakossi could heal herself. If the dragon could use alchemy to repair her own wounds, there was no reason, in theory, that a human couldn’t do the same.
The alchemist had pulled off the trick, though, with ample evidence. He might be currently unconscious, but he was breathing easily and the gaping hole in his chest was sealed over with pink scar tissue. The second thing that interested Andrew was the man’s use of the Ska rune. Hearing it aloud in the context of alchemy, Andrew’s understanding of the dragon tongue gave him a simplistic understanding of its meaning. It didn’t make sense, though. Why would “consume” be part of a runeword for healing? Clearly there was something he was missing about how the Incantors’ brand of alchemy worked.
Lastly, the alchemist had done his trick without a flux or other source of vitae. Unless he was hiding a dragon tooth up his nethers, a prospect Andrew found unlikely given the sharp and spiky nature of the teeth, he had some access to vitae that was outside of his experience.
Jules returned and picked up the dragon tooth from the floor, pocketing it before joining Iria on the bed. She filled the role of surgical assistant as Iria stitched his wound closed, applied some green sludge out of a glass vial, then wrapped his shoulder in a bandage that crossed over his chest and passed under his other arm. She made him a sling, showed him how to wear it and pronounced him fit.
“No strenuous exercise for at least twenty-four hours,” she cautioned, giving Jules a pointed look. Jules flushed and Andrew felt himself go beet red. “Of course, if necessary, do what you have to do,” she continued, this time addressing Andrew. “You might pull out the stitches and get it infected, but that would be better than dying.”
Andrew settled his arm into the sling and found, to his surprise, that his shoulder didn’t even hurt. It still throbbed a bit from the alcohol Iria had scrubbed it out with, but the stabbing pains were gone. “Thanks, Iria,” he said.
“Of course,” the balai replied with a subtle bow. “There is good news about all this,” she continued, “our captive is once more hale. We can question him without immediate fear of his demise.”
“Yes… but is it even safe to do so?” Jules asked Andrew.
Andrew shrugged and winced as his shoulder objected. “Until we find the source of his vitae, we must assume he will have full access to alchemy. I haven’t heard anything that might suggest how he is performing it, though.”
“First thing we need to do is get all the metal out of the room,” Jules said. “The next time he uses that runeword we might not be so lucky.”
Andrew was tasked with watching over the alchemist while the women took everything out of the room until it was a simple stone hollow, the only furniture remaining was the chair the alchemist was tied to, which had no metal parts.
They had just finished shifting the bedframe out of the room when a knock sounded on the door. With a hand signal, Iria told Jules to hide behind the door; then the balai went to open it. With a jerk, she pulled the door open, knife flashing in her free hand.
Andrew heard a gasp from the hallway, and then Iria cursed and drew Nasim into the suite. The balai looked down the hallway before easing the door back shut again. Jules held her runed blade at the innkeeper’s throat, her green eyes hard, until Iria nodded at her. Jules took a step back, but held her guard up.
“Your night was not peaceful?” Nasim asked, speaking slowly in Salian. Her eyes darted to the bedspread stained with Andrew’s blood, the furniture piled into the free space in the main room.
“An assassin,” Iria replied shortly. “He did not succeed.”
“I am glad,” Nasim said. “I understand your caution. It is right. How fares the assassin?”
“Dead, thank you,” the balai replied, the lie coming smoothly. “Why are you here?”
“It is time for your meeting,” the innkeeper said, “the one I set up for you last night?”
Iria relaxed, the point of her blade dropping to her side. Jules followed the balai’s lead and sheathed her own blade. “Of course. I had forgotten.”
“You want to go to the meeting?” Jules suggested, “Andrew and I will stay here and see what else we can discover.”
“I can alert the Rangers. They will dispose of the body for you,” Nasim offered.
“Thank you, but I am not finished with my investigation,” Iria returned. “I will tend to that detail.”
“As you wish.” Nasim flicked a glance toward Andrew’s room, then sketched a bow. “If you are ready, I will lead the way to the meeting.”
“I am,” Iria said.
“Be careful,” Jules said. “Oh, before you go, give me a hair.”
Iria
ran a hand through her hair, coming up with a few loose strands and looked a question at Jules.
“For safety,” Jules supplied vaguely, accepting the hairs and tying them into a little bundle.
“I will return as fast as I can,” Iria promised and followed Nasim out into the hallway.
Jules locked the door behind them and hurried back into the room with Andrew.
“Was that wise?” he asked then oofed as Jules hugged him fiercely. “Ow, watch the arm!”
Jules released him, but pulled him down for a kiss before visibly pulling herself back to her typical aloof seriousness. “We need information, and Iria can handle herself, I think.”
Andrew shrugged, carefully using only his uninjured shoulder. Being in a relationship with Jules was going to take some getting used to. “True enough. I’ve been thinking about how this Incantor uses alchemy.”
“Really? Do tell.”
“Here, look at this.” Andrew twisted the man’s wrist around until the underside of his forearm was showing, revealing a tattoo near his elbow. “It’s a rune,” he said.
“Not any that I’ve ever seen.” Jules traced the rune with a finger, frowning.
“That’s because it’s forbidden. It is the Ska rune.”
“How do you know? I thought Ava refused to say anything about it.”
“She did. Refused, that is. But the Incantor used Ska as part of the Saying that healed him. It isn’t much of a jump to assume this rune is the same.”
Jules nodded thoughtfully. “Do you know how to disrupt it?”
“No,” Andrew shook his head. “But I don’t know that we want to right now.”
“Why not?”
“The Ska rune’s meaning is centered on the concept of consumption. I’ve been trying to figure out why that was important, but I can’t help but think of how dragons get their vitae.”
“How do dragons get their vitae? That’s one of the unsolved mysteries about dragons, Andrew.”
“You told me yourself, back in the mountains while we were tracking Ava. They eat their brooding scales to recover the vitae, and I saw Ava do it once. It follows that they gain the vitae initially through their food.”
“And Ska is about consumption,” Jules finished, speaking slowly. “It matches the Incantor stories. You’re saying that Incantors store vitae like dragons, that they eat to gain vitae?”
“They eat hearts,” Andrew clarified. “Remember all those Rangers slaughtered in the Sunwell?”
Jules stared at the unconscious alchemist, her mouth set in a thin line, her eyes hard. “So this man, this Incantor, gains his use of alchemy through eating the hearts of men?”
“Ava doesn’t eat people,” Andrew said. “Much. Presumably vitae can be had from the hearts of other creatures as well.”
“Somehow, tattooing the Ska rune is part of becoming an Incantor, you think?”
“Or it’s just the symbol of the Order, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Dragons have their power because of the runes that are part of them. Tattooing the rune would make Ska a part of the Incantor, at least that’s my theory.”
“If that is so, disrupting the rune would make him stop being an Incantor.”
“Which might have a terminal result,” Andrew pointed out. “So no experimenting until after we get our information. And now we’re back to square one: how do we question this Incantor without him killing us?”
“If nothing else,” Jules said with a grim smile, “we keep stabbing him and forcing him to heal until he’s out of vitae.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow then shrugged. “We’ll do it your way.”
Jules opened Iria’s first aid kit, brought out a vial of hartshorn spirits and waved it under the Incantor’s nose until he jerked away with a gasp. Immediately, she pressed the edge of her runed blade against the man’s face so the point was inches from his eye. Along his cheek, a trail of blood oozed from where the pressure of the blade had cut him.
“So we’re on the same page,” Jules said conversationally, “you try any more alchemy and I’ll stab you and leave you to bleed out, repeating as necessary until your vitae is used up.”
The man’s eyes welled with tears and he drew a shuddering breath, nodding as much as he could without lacerating his face. Jules curled her lip in disgust and drew the blade away as the man broke down into sobs.
“Tiny gods, man,” she said, “have a little self respect.”
“I-I- I can’t move my a-arms,” he sobbed, then snapped his head to the side. “Release me!” he screamed, the tears gone from his eyes and rage making veins stand out in his forehead. “I am a member of the Order!”
Andrew started at the man’s sudden emotional swing. He took half a step forward, to do what exactly, he didn’t know, but the man collapsed back into sobs again almost immediately.
“Burn me,” Jules whispered, her eyes wide. “He’s completely insane.”
“Hey!” Andrew said loudly, slapping the Incantor lightly on the cheek. “Pull it together.”
The Incantor drew several deep breaths and seemed to regain some control. The tears still rolled down his face, but it wasn’t the abject grief of the previous… persona.
“That’s better. Why don’t we start with something simple,” Andrew said smoothly. “Why don’t you tell us your name?”
“Fawkes. Jackson Fawkes.”
“Okay, thank you, Mr. Fawkes. You’re from Salia?”
The man nodded.
“You going to cooperate with us now?”
He nodded again.
“Well. Good.” Andrew looked to Jules and saw her nod encouragingly. “Why don’t we start with whatever happened there after we woke you.”
Fawkes nodded, his eyes heavy with despair. “I used too much. Too much of my vitae.”
“Your vitae?” Jules asked.
“You have to understand. I was not a bad man, not originally. But the vitae drains away and you have to replenish it.”
“That’s good, thank you. But please explain yourself,” Andrew said encouragingly. “What do you mean, it drains away?”
“They promised in the beginning that I would have a supply of vitae, that I wouldn’t have to kill anyone. And for a while, it was as they promised. I ate hearts from the butcher at every meal, animal hearts, offal that nobody wanted. They weren’t fresh, so it was just a trickle, just enough to keep my vitae from draining away completely, but not nearly enough to use, you understand.
“My first human heart was a man I killed in the line of duty. I was assisting a balai with a man-hunt, and the killer jumped me from the shadows. I took him down, and the heart, it was right there, as fresh as it can get. Power! You understand? Not just drips of vitae from dumb livestock, but great surges of vitae! The more intelligent the creature, the more vitae, you know.
“It’s the secret they don’t tell you.” He started to weep, and Andrew waited for a minute, impatient, then cleared his throat. “Sorry. The secret. You take a part of the soul with you when you eat the heart of a human. A bit of their intellect transfers with the vitae.”
“What do you mean?” Jules asked.
“You hear their voices in your head, like you’re going crazy, but as long as you have enough vitae they stay silent with a little focus. Once I had a taste of the power, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t! If I did, the voices would come! And it got worse, the more I ate, the more voices were competing in my head. I killed evil men, at first, hoping to justify my actions. They’re the worst, cruel souls whispering all the time in my head. The innocent are more peaceful; they’re just scared and confused.”
Jules turned away, her hand clenched on the hilt of her blade. Andrew could see her face was pale, and her free hand pressed against her stomach. “How many?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” the man groaned, sagging against his bonds, “I lost count. I couldn’t count after I started taking the innocent.”
“And all that power, the vitae,” Andrew asked, “what did you use it
for?”
“For the Order. Killings, mostly. I was happy to kill; it gave me more vitae.”
“How did a Salian get caught up in this? How come you’re here, in Nas Shahr?” Jules turned back around, her face composed once again, but Andrew saw the way she held her shoulders, her hand casual on the blade hilt, and knew she was close to violence. He wasn’t sure he wanted to stop her.
“Caught up? Oh no, I was sent here. From the Academy. There are too many people in Andronath, not enough livestock, you see. We don’t dare kill people in Andronath, there are too many people who know what to look for. But in Khar Bora, hundreds die every day. A few more go unnoticed.”
“The Academy?” Jules repeated, her voice heavy with a mix of sorrow and fear.
“How many Incantors are in Khar Bora?” Andrew asked, dreading the answer.
“There are twenty-eight in the Maari branch, though a few are always traveling.”
“Tiny gods,” Jules groaned, “twenty-eight of you murderous scum. How often do you feed?”
“It varies. Depending on the heart and the alchemy performed, once a week or once a day. If you’re lucky, you can get a few all at once.” Fawkes licked his lips, a faraway look in his eyes, “That was a good day.”
Andrew held up a hand, stalling Jules when he saw her grip tighten on the hilt. “You said it was too late for you. What do you mean by that?”
“The voices,” Fawkes said, “they lie in wait. Once your vitae drops too low, they try and take control if you attempt to tap into the remainder. I healed myself, but now I am doomed anyway,” he laughed, a choked sound halfway to a sob. “Unless you give me a heart to eat soon… I can’t hold them back for long.”
“What will happen to you?” Jules asked, her voice tight.
“The voices will come,” the Incantor replied with fear in his eyes. “I saw it as an object lesson once, one of the Order refused to obey a command. Please,” he whispered, “kill me before it comes to that. I’ll tell you anything you want, just kill me before I lose myself.”
