The Blood Wars Trilogy Omnibus: Volumes 1 - 3
Page 82
Merran glanced back at him, knowing that the comment was not meant to be humorous. Regardless, Ceth was still being a tad absurd. His mind was not one that forgot, or couldn’t quickly sort out, how to work anything. Merran let him make his complaint about his constant station at the Seminary in silence.
He looked at Onyx again, lifting his good hand to the animal’s sleek black neck. If Korsten had not gone far—perhaps only to some other part of the Islands—he may yet return to the city. He would come back here, to Irslan’s, and be informed and directed by Vlas and Cayri. Considering that scenario gave him a better sense of optimism than he’d had since the crone. It seemed plausible … practical, and surely more reliable than a situation that might inspire Korsten to Reach desperately back to someone. To Ashwin.
He forced that last thought back, reminding himself that he wasn’t being fair to Korsten, or to Ashwin. He had every opportunity to say what was on his mind … to say it in a way Korsten would hear. And if it chased Korsten away from what they had?
Korsten wasn’t ready, and for that reason, Merran waited. There was nothing for him to do now either, except to wait.
“The weeks ahead will be a greater test of our endurance,” Ceth said, drawing him back to his presence. The elder walked Erschal out of his stall by the bit. “Once he’s had rest, Vlas will join us at the Seminary to relate everything he’s experienced in better detail, regarding the Vadryn activity on the Islands. I’m certain you already know that Eisleth and Ashwin will both have many questions for you, regarding the vessels the demons used as well as the coven’s matriarch.”
“They’ll have a new one eventually,” Merran said. “I believe she’ll make a better fit than her predecessor.”
“Let’s continue to hold out that sort of optimism,” Ceth said, again not sarcastically or in jest. And then, “We should leave. I fear I’ve already risked exposure too long.”
Stuck still with whether or not he should leave Onyx, Merran hesitated.
“Your intuition must lean you in one direction or the other,” Ceth prompted with patience.
Merran realized then that it did, and he stepped back from Onyx after patting the animal’s muzzle. He collected Erschal’s reins from Ceth when he joined him outside the stalls, freeing the elder’s hands for the ensuing Reach back to what he hoped would be at least a full physical recovery.
There was one more thing to be done before night fully settled and any of them could get to bed. Vlas supposed the matter might have actually been able to wait until morning, but he would never have slept properly with Dacia Cambir stuck on his mind. Her father was dead, gods only knew what had happened to her demoness mother—or Korsten—and she had a blood relative she’d spoken with on at least two occasions without even realizing it. There may have been nothing correct about her, with thanks to Vaelyx and Serawe, but perhaps there was nothing wrong with her and it might benefit both cousins to realize that they weren’t alone. Besides, the walk to the forum wasn’t far and he had a strong suspicion they would find Ersana there with her daughter, tonight and many nights throughout the forthcoming conflict with Morenne.
Irslan was exhausted, though. Vlas almost felt badly for dragging him out once more, but they’d negotiated with a Reach spell. For some reason, Irslan felt he’d missed something when he’d gone with Ceth and he wanted another chance to experience it. He was an odd fellow, but whatever pleased him enough to help Vlas find some closure to Vaelyx’s death was well and good enough for the time present. It was almost haunting how easily he envisioned the look Vaelyx might have given him for making this effort, ultimately telling him he was wasting everyone’s time. Perhaps, Vaelyx. Perhaps not.
Thought of Vaelyx’s relation to the Islands cult led Vlas to another concern. “Where did Konlan get to?”
“I truly wish that I knew,” Irslan answered, more tired than gloomy about it for the moment.
Vlas found himself almost disturbingly alert in spite of a dire lack of rest. “The man was a practitioner of witchcraft, by the evidence you described, but by his behavior it’s difficult to say which coven he was actually member to. I imagine all of the followers of Serawe couldn’t have been ghouls, though. She must have had agents to operate away from the Islands, or even among them.”
Irslan nodded, either too tired or too glum to inquire of ghouls.
“I suppose it isn’t overly important just now,” Vlas said. “But it should get resolved nonetheless. I’ll help you, Master Irslan. Cayri and I both will, but what’s more important is to show you what your uncle left for you outside of his library.”
Irslan exhaled while he considered, then shook his head. “I can’t even imagine what you might have discovered. I feel remiss over what he showed you on that island, though. I had no idea he had gone so far. Tahrsel did and I regret to say that he may have known my uncle better than I did.”
“Don’t fret over it right now, Irslan. Fret over this.”
Irslan appeared roundly confused by the statement, and the gathering place they had come to. Vlas redirected his attention to something … or someone more specific as they passed through one of the entries.
Dacia stood not far across the entryway with Ersana, who rested her hands on the girl’s shoulders when she noticed Vlas and Irslan. It may have been protective, as if she anticipated they might attempt to take her daughter from her. They had no such intention and it was not within their authority to do so even if they had considered it.
Before long, Ersana seemed to realize that and came closer. With very little attention given to Vlas or Irslan beyond awareness of their presence, she spoke to the girl. “Dacia, you’ve met Master Treir before.”
“Yes,” she replied in her typically, if not oddly, polite manner. After her earlier bouts of staring at Vlas outright, she seemed to not notice him much now. He deliberately put away thoughts on the creature that was her mother.
Irslan half-smiled at Dacia, but cocked his expression in Vlas’ direction, seeming to just grasp what this might have been about.
“Dacia,” Ersana continued, “this man is your cousin, by blood.”
Vlas watched a small twitch move through the girl’s expression. He wondered if it was in response to the news of her relation or to the mention of blood. He wondered also just how well she was faring in the aftermath of her unnatural mother’s existence.
For the first time since Vlas had been in her presence, the girl came out with a truly awkward reply and self-consciously said, “Hello … cousin.”
Vlas looked to Ersana, who smoothed Dacia’s hair before returning the gaze. Silently, they were agreed and for the moment there was nothing further to discuss. Dacia could not be entered into a situation outside of the coven for now and was going to have to be observed and cared for until such time that they could discern what the consequences of her situation were. They might never know, but she could not live out the rest of her days committed to the caves with Ersana once they were made suitable again. Fortunately renovating the hub of their system was going to take a good amount of time during which Dacia would remain as she had been and now also untouched by her well-meaning though somewhat hapless father.
Irslan, in spite of what he didn’t know, actually managed to smile alertly for the first time since the aftermath of the wave had settled. It was a smile of appreciation, perhaps of knowing … perhaps of seeing that Vaelyx had left more of a legacy than madness and books. Vlas had no intention of telling him of how that legacy had come to be. At least not until it was supremely relevant. For now, the obligation of telling Irslan the truth about a family member was satisfied. Hopefully, the realization would instill a sense of or want for understanding between Irslan and Ersana, which may allow them to work together as the leaders of their respective groups of activists and purists. Civil unrest was the last thing they needed this close to the war.
Irslan began introducing himself
to Ersana properly, which gave Vlas hope that his previous idea wouldn’t come back at him with the two at odds over where Dacia belonged. Irslan’s decency continued to show itself.
Vlas took a step back from them. His mind worked back around to relevance and whether or not it would be that, or even pertinent to go to the constabulary. Imris was smart and capable. He doubted she had been hurt or killed by the relatively minor assault the overflow from the wave had been. Still….
Dacia looked at him just then and though it was only brief, he was instantly reminded of Vaelyx and how they’d met. He looked over his shoulder toward the street, half expecting to see a man in cloak and hood. Though there was no sign of such a person, Vlas stepped away from Irslan and the others to go to the entryway. He leaned against it, scanning the street, which was not quite as abandoned now that the city was on alert instead of a curfew advisement. His gaze moved in the direction of the constabulary, though was quickly caught by a familiar, dark-skinned woman who walked by in the presence of another constable. She was frowning, as was her wont—she was probably also quite tired—and when she noticed him, she continued to frown. She also continued to walk, but not without discreetly raising her hand, perhaps unintentionally reminding him of their last parting gesture. He returned the gesture as automatically as he had then and after Imris had passed, he found himself smiling.
“The sea came,” Deitir said to his slumbering father. “The mages set it back. I know something’s been harassing you, but I hope that when you wake you’ll see that we’re indebted to them. I trust them and I believe that Indhovan’s future can only include them if it’s to be a safe one. I have not been able to speak to you much before this. I hope that afterward it will be different.”
Deitir leaned forward to kiss the elder’s forehead and Cayri discreetly departed. Since his summoning her to the mansion she had scarcely been out of his presence and he seemed to prefer it that way. He had taken to her guidance more readily than she would have believed upon first meeting him. She hoped to continue advising him and if Raiss Tahrsel should recover and resume his station, she hoped that he would heed his son’s experience and take note of his leadership. Indhovan had come to be in a vital position and what was to come would be crucial to determining the path the war would take. And from there….
… whatever comes of this era will be a transition into the gods’ ultimate plan for all of us.
Korsten’s words came back at her as she walked down the passage, toward one of the many towering windows that looked out on Indhovan and the sea. Where had he gone?
She considered Ceth’s response to the topic of Korsten earlier, and Vlas’ account of what he’d witnessed. He believed that he had seen their fellow casting the Siren spell. He said that he had felt it.
Siren was rare … a verbal and emotional casting which required no staging. It could potentially countermine the discipline they all had been taught … to be able to use magic without gesture, and maybe without the deliberate thought that went into their stylized tactics. The only unconscious spells they utilized universally were spells that affected very little of any importance, such as minor wards on their clothing to protect against dirtying and wear. Another was the color influence, once they’d chosen a color. The receptive grays—the only fabric used for the mages—reflected the mage’s choice. These were things they never had to think of and for which there were no consequences. But a spell that emotionally and physically seduced, that could cast itself just with the use of the mage’s voice—and with no specific words….
When Cayri—because her talents fell in line with red at some points—learned of Song, she felt secure knowing that it was not even a dormant talent. It required Allurance first. It was one of the few talents that partnered, as she liked to think of it … like Foresight in regards to Reasoning. A mage could have Reasoning alone, but Foresight would not Emerge without Reasoning. Foresight was also not common, but it was a more likely talent to have than Song. Also while Foresight could enhance many other talents and spells, Song only drew from Allurance and made possible only one spell.
Cayri believed that Ceth was nervous about the rarity of the spell and the lacking opportunity the Superiors had to observe and understand it. It was nothing they could properly train a mage to perform since it was so rare that more than a single mage ushered Song to Ambience at once. It was almost as if it had been slipped into their system by one bearer, who continued to hand it down, which negated the possibility of two living mages sharing the talent. Siren was also not a spell they could govern, even by omission. Neglecting to speak of it wouldn’t negate the possibility of its use. It was better that the mage understood that it might be used and that they knew to learn how to use it. She imagined Ceth had also been eager to bring the information he had regarding Korsten to Ashwin. When Korsten returned to them, their mentor would have much to say and much guidance to offer on the topic, even without being a master of the spell himself, or even a mage blessed with red. He had been spouse to the last mage to have that talent and who had utilized that spell. His insight would undoubtedly be invaluable to Korsten in mastering that rare ability.
While Cayri held herself optimistic, Vlas had also emanated strong signals of worry and doubt when he related his experience to her. She worried for him and what he had witnessed, perhaps more than she worried over Korsten. Though she didn’t know Korsten well, she had been in his presence enough to believe that he had a way at finding his way. They all would have to, as the gods intended.
Stopping at the grand window, Cayri lifted her hand to the glass warming in the coastal morning sun. She cast her thoughts to the sea. Be safe. We’ll wait for you.
The house stood in open isolation, fields of tall, flowering grass to either side of a high cliff. Slightly misted ocean rested lazily along the horizon behind it. The road had led up from the shore, from a shipyard juxtaposed against nature in a less quaint manner than the house. Inside was a man in conversation with something that never had a hope of being one. Renmyr had heard this conversation ongoing at the back of his mind for over a day now, an outpouring of excuses and of information that could no longer be considered useful. It was time to still this conversation and move on to other matters.
Alsaide had felt him coming before Renmyr dismounted from his horse and passed the reins to what could be considered Alsaide’s spiritual brother; their souls both belonged to him by one means or another. Alsaide was literally conceived by him and yes, favored at times … favored with responsibilities that Loel’s lacking will would never have allowed for. But Loel listened well even when not a word was spoken to him, and Alsaide was still recovering from his last error.
Stalking across the grounds, Renmyr allowed a doorman to grant him entrance. The man did so quickly and without making eye contact. Renmyr moved through the front room, toward the voices that had scratched at the back of his mind previously, and which now manifested as proficiently as weeds going to seed. Useless clutter on the earth.
“Once the city is taken, we’ll simply reconstruct the well and continue with the digging. The resources remain and our access is only hampered by recent events, not lost.”
“So you’ve been saying, Master Ossai, but Serawe has gone silent. For all we know that old crone lurking in the caves managed to overpower her.”
“Her dealings with that bitch have nothing to do with me or my duties! I was to keep people off her island except those selected to serve her. I did that.”
“And yet, her island was infiltrated. By mages, no less.”
“By one mage.”
“You don’t think that improves your argument, do you?”
“The mages could have proved an unlikely benefit. My people have told me of the wave that was meant to destroy your forces, men and not. The crone must have been dislodged from her hole. Now it is only a matter of resuming our efforts, reconstructing or relocating the well, and then….”
“He is lost to me. My last attempt to affect him inspired a fit that assailed his health.”
Arriving in the doorway of the parlor, Alsaide and his guest were in view; Alsaide draped lazily in his chair and Ossai standing rigidly before the window. Alsaide’s gray-blue eyes slid in his direction, which prompted Ossai to look as well.
The man’s ensuing breath failed to supply him with the air necessary to fully form his next words. They came out in a distressed murmur while Renmyr walked across the room. He hooked Ossai by the throat with one hand on his way to the window, and forcefully thrust him through the glass and out of it. The man’s body made an awkward fall toward the ocean, trailed by blood and glass.
Alsaide straightened somewhat in his seat and said nothing. Renmyr cast him a heavy glare as he turned from the window and left the room.
Warm air hovered around Korsten, like a blanket. Feeling the moisture in it, he wondered if he was still in the water, but the motion was not of being afloat or carried by the spirits in his dreams. He gradually came to realize that it was the tide and that beneath him was the warm, packed earth of the shore. So he had not died and appeared to be done dreaming. How much of that was a dream? He wondered. And where had he gotten himself to?
He opened his eyes and felt almost too exhausted to lift his head, but that the sensation of a presence beckoned him to do so. In the morning sunlight, he just descried the silhouette of a woman.
“This is somehow not surprising.” Her voice was not harsh in spite of a less than gentle tone, but the sound inspired an immediate headache. He caught the motions of her hands just barely as the shadow the sun made of her shifted. And then the full of the spell struck him back into his dreams.