The Traitor and the Chalice

by Jane Fletcher

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The innkeeper looked as if he understood only too well. His shoulders were twitching as he led the way along a wide corridor. Light from the lantern he held lurched wildly, magnifying the shaking of his hands. Hanging tapestries gleamed with rich colour where the light fell, but shadows in the folds dissected the pictures, leaving a montage of heads, arms, and half-animals.

  The innkeeper stopped outside a door. He pointed to it with an overdramatic gesture and then nearly tripped in his haste to back away. His clumsy retreat drew fierce glares.

  Jemeryl stood in front of the door and studied it intently. The fingertips of one hand traced the frame without making contact with the wood, while her other hand held her iron-tipped staff level with her eyes. As her examination progressed, her frown deepened. At last, she drew back and indicated with a jerk of her head that Tevi and she should return to the lobby.

  “What’s wrong?” Tevi asked once they were there.

  “The door is barred on the inside. That wouldn’t be a problem, except Levannue has placed alarms across the higher dimensions. I can’t open the door by magic without alerting her.”

  “Are you going to break the door down?” The innkeeper hovered nervously. Both women ignored him.

  “I suppose she’s locked the windows as well.”

  “We could go outside and check, but I’m sure she will have.”

  “And there wouldn’t be a wide chimney or anything like that?” Tevi looked at the innkeeper.

  “No, we don’t have fires. Bykoda heats the inn directly by her magic arts. She—”

  Jemeryl let the innkeeper go no further. “Impossible! Do you think I wouldn’t know if Bykoda was shunting that sort of load through the sixth dimension, all the way from Tirakhalod? Don’t be stupid. They’d sense it in Lyremouth.”

  The remnants of the innkeeper’s composure dissolved. “It’s not proper magic, but it...I-I-I’m not supposed to tell visitors.”

  “What?”

  The innkeeper’s eyes darted to the talisman “The floor is raised on pillars. We’ve got a fire in the stoke room, and hot air is drawn through. The whole inn gets heated without any fireplaces. We like visitors to think it’s magic. In winter, the fire burns continually, but at this time of year, we let it go out at night. Otherwise, if you touched the floor, you’d feel the warmth.”

  Tevi knelt and rested her fingers on the ground, as if testing his words. She picked at the join between two flagstones. “Would you have a crowbar?”

  “You’re thinking we could get in that way?” Jemeryl asked while the innkeeper still stared blankly.

  “I could. Once I’m in Levannue’s room, would it upset the alarms if I then opened the door for you?”

  “No. Only magic will trip them.”

  “The floor stones are too heavy for you to lift.” The innkeeper’s words seemed to escape his mouth against his will.

  “That will be my problem.”

  “But—”

  “We would like a crowbar.” Jemeryl’s tone left no room for argument.

  The innkeeper’s son was dispatched. He reappeared shortly, bearing a metal bar, curved and flattened at one end. The innkeeper fluttered around fearfully. There was no mistaking his relief when he was told to stay in the lobby.

  The flagstones outside Levannue’s door were a yard square. To Tevi, they looked like close-fitting marble, the work of a skilled craftsman. However, Jemeryl had no trouble inserting the wedged end of the crowbar between two.

  “You did that by magic?” Tevi whispered, looking anxiously at the doorway.

  “No. As I said before, the workmanship isn’t good. I can see around Bykoda’s attempt to hide the cracks.”

  Tevi took over with the crowbar. The flagstone rose to the rasping of grit. Once it was high enough to get her fingers under, Tevi lifted the slab and rested it against the wall behind.

  Warm air rushed out, carrying the smell of wood smoke. Beneath the flagstones, a forest of stone pillars stretched off in all directions into the black void. Between ground and floor was a gap of nearly two feet. Tevi studied the crooked avenues of pillars, then slid her legs into the opening.

  Jemeryl squeezed her shoulder. “Take care.”

  Tevi smiled stoically in reply.

  The ground and pillars were hot to the touch—uncomfortable, although not enough to burn her. The smoky air stung Tevi’s eyes. Space was tight. The pillars were barely wide enough apart to let her shoulders through. The ground was too rough to slide over. She fought for progress inch by inch, wriggling on her back. The light vanished as she moved away from the entrance. In the dark underworld, she lost all sense of distance.

  Tevi marked her progress by feeling for joins on the underside of the floor, but it was as if the flagstones had grown. Her sweat-drenched clothes clung to her. The air rasped her throat. She tried to focus on her task, but a bubbling hysteria threatened to erupt. In the back of her mind, a voice screamed that she was buried alive. Tevi fought to ignore it.

  At last, she reached the fifth flagstone. Four hard-won yards, far enough to be clear of any furniture around the edge of Levannue’s room. Tevi pushed against the paving above. The stone did not budge. Suddenly, Tevi was desperate to escape the claustrophobic prison. She pushed again, borrowing strength from the wave of panic. This time, the flagstone shifted.

  A second, strenuous effort let in a rush of cold air to play over the sweat on Tevi’s face. A thin line of moonlight, dazzling after the darkness, broke along the crack. No sound came from the room above, but Tevi’s imagination pictured Levannue, silently watching the moving flagstone.

  Tevi ignored her fear. There was no going back. She braced her knees against the pillars on either side and raised her shoulders off the ground, her arms locked rigid. Every muscle in her legs and stomach strained. To her ears, the scratching of stone on stone was deafening, even louder than her pounding heart.

  Tevi found herself inside a large room. Moonlight flowed in through tall windows, throwing the ornate furniture into silver relief and shimmering off the drapes around a four-poster bed. Just as Tevi started to relax, a sound from behind the curtains ruptured the silence—a raw sound, swelling to a feral growl. Tevi jumped, but then her lips pulled into a mirthless grin, mocking her own nervousness. The sound was merely heavy snoring. A nearby fur rug made a silent cushion for the flagstone—once she managed to loosen her fingers from their deathlike grip.

  The bolts gave only the faintest metallic squeak as Tevi eased them back. The door hinges made a similar sound. From Jemeryl’s expression, it was clear that the long wait in the corridor had held its own strains. Jemeryl clasped Tevi’s hand before passing over an iron collar.

  The rasping snores did not falter. Jemeryl’s eyes met Tevi’s in a last supportive exchange. She moved towards the bed, gesturing for Tevi to take up position on the other side. Cautiously, they pulled back the curtains. In the centre of the bed, Levannue lay encased in folds of blankets. Her head was completely hidden between the pillows. Locating her neck would not be easy. It was hard even to be certain which way up she was. Briefly Tevi was struck by a simpler solution involving the use of a sword, but killing in cold blood did not fit well with her conscience.

  On the other side of the bed, Jemeryl held her staff above the sleeping woman and looked over, waiting for Tevi’s signal. Instead, Tevi mimed the words, “Where’s her neck?”

  Their plans depended on catching Levannue by surprise, preferably without waking her. They certainly could not waste time scrabbling about in the bedclothes.

  Jemeryl frowned, but then reached out and shook Levannue’s shoulder gently. “Excuse me disturbing you, ma’am, but Bramell wants to see you right away.” She spoke with a servant’s deference.

  “What...”

  Lost between dreams and reality, Levannue pushed herself up. Her eyes searched about wildly until they fixed with disbelief on Jemeryl. Suddenly, Levannue’s body seized, freezing as if time had
missed a step.

  “Now, Tevi!” Jemeryl called, her voice straining with the effort.

  Tevi sprung forward, diving across the jumbled bedding with the open jaws of the iron collar held ready. The air felt viscous, heavy with the weight of Jemeryl’s spell clamping down on her opponent.

  Tevi did not need a sorcerer’s senses to feel Levannue fighting back, tearing through the ether at the bonds holding her. The air changed to static. The hair on Tevi’s arms stood upright, and ozone filled her nose. Levannue’s hand shot out, wrapped in blue fire, and Jemeryl stumbled back, dropping her staff. The magical bonds were unravelling—but too late for Levannue. Before the dropped staff had hit the floor, Tevi snapped the two halves of the collar shut around her neck.

  Chapter Fourteen—The Ruins of Graka

  Stars still shone undimmed, but the black sky was yielding to the first shades of blue. The stables were set in a small courtyard behind the inn. The warm smell of hay and animals countered the predawn chill. Jemeryl and Tevi escorted Levannue to the tethered horses. The porter and innkeeper trailed behind, bearing Levannue’s belongings. Tevi held the stirrup while the prisoner mounted and then she tied Levannue’s hands to the saddle.

  Jemeryl knelt to rifle through the baggage. “I just want to be sure there’s—” She broke off.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you recognise this?”

  Tevi took the chalice from Jemeryl’s hands. Her fingers traced the remembered pattern of small dents. “Yes. This is it.”

  “So you may get to complete your quest after all.”

  A succession of emotions chased through Tevi’s mind. “It might be best if I don’t.”

  Jemeryl continued rooting through the bag and pulled out her next find. “Lorimal’s manuscript. That will please Moragar. We knew Levannue had taken it, so it couldn’t be used to track the chalice again, but he was worried that she’d simply destroyed it.”

  “Why didn’t she?”

  “Sentimental reasons?” Jemeryl looked up at the prisoner as if hoping for confirmation, but Levannue’s face was turned away.

  The innkeeper’s relief at their departure was unmistakable. He dithered outside his inn, his need to be certain that they were gone clearly battling his urge to run and hide. The women passed through empty streets. They saw no one until the southern gatehouse loomed before them. Even at that early hour, a full compliment of vacant-eyed sentries stood watch. At the sight of Bykoda’s talisman, the guards unbarred the gate. Tevi grimaced with abhorrence. The soldier’s mechanical movements were as devoid of true life as the walls.

  The southern approach to Uzhenek was less populated than the east, where they had entered. Only a scattering of shoddy huts were squeezed between the cultivated fields and the road leading down to the river. They crossed the dark, sluggish water on a solid and very real-looking bridge. The road divided on the far bank.

  Jemeryl circled her horse around and looked back. Thin bands of golden cloud lined the horizon. The pink flush in the eastern sky was reflected in the citadel walls. Graceful spires and turrets caught the dawn light in ripples of colour.

  “Isn’t that an amazing way to deconstruct transient cross-flow?”

  Tevi laughed at Jemeryl’s tone of wonder. “I’m afraid I haven’t a clue what you mean, and I doubt you’ll get any show of enthusiasm from Levannue.”

  No word came from the prisoner. Levannue had hardly spoken since her capture. The collar was clearly troubling her. She rode with her eyes fixed on the distance and an expression of strained disbelief on her face.

  “I guess you’re right,” Jemeryl conceded. “I’ll save my praise until I meet Bykoda in person. I want to learn whatever she’s willing to teach. That’s the road to Tirakhalod.” She indicated the wider fork, heading north, then she turned and urged her horse onto the smaller western track. “But first, it’s back to Lyremouth. This will link with the Old West Road, which goes over the pass above Denbury. Once there, we can catch a barge down the river Lyre.”

  Jemeryl set off across the open plain with the sun creeping into the sky behind her. Levannue’s horse trotted forward to go two abreast.

  Tevi fell in behind. Several times, she glanced back at the road to Tirakhalod. For her, it was a relief to be out of Uzhenek and heading to the Protectorate with Levannue as prisoner. She had seen enough of Bykoda’s empire. Jemeryl had not discussed her plans for the future, and Tevi had chosen not to ask, unsure of what part she would be allowed, or wanted, to play. Yet there were decisions to be made, and they were not going to be simple. Tevi’s eyes fixed on Jemeryl, full of doubt, but then they shifted to Levannue, and her face hardened. When Levannue was safely delivered to Lyremouth, there would be time to consider her options.

  *

  That evening, they camped on the plains under a translucent new moon. A sharp wind from the north hissed through the long grass and snapped at the campfire made from dried dung. The horses grazed nearby. Out on the plain, an immense herd of shaggy, cowlike animals shuffled through the dusk. Apart from the track, there was no sign of human life. Uzhenek lay many miles behind. A fair day’s journey, but one planned not to push the horses too hard. It was a long ride to Denbury, with no chance to swap mounts.

  Jemeryl and Tevi talked of routine matters, their speech inhibited by Levannue’s sullen presence. She listened but made no attempt to join in. Her expression had settled into one of resentful scorn.

  As true dark fell, Tevi shook out the blankets. She looked at the prisoner. “What about keeping watch? Should we take turns?”

  “No need. The horses are mind-locked, so they won’t wander and won’t let Levannue within twenty yards without one of us present. And Klara’s slept on my saddle all day. She can stand sentry. She’ll wake me if Levannue sends so much as a filthy look in our direction.”

  “If Klara does that, on today’s evidence, you won’t get much sleep.”

  “True. I don’t think Levannue is our friend at the moment.”

  This finally provoked an outburst. “You’re so pleased with yourself. Does it feel good, getting revenge for what happened in Ekranos?”

  “Revenge doesn’t come into it. I’m just obeying the Guardian’s orders,” Jemeryl replied without bothering to turn her head.

  “‘Obeying the Guardian’s orders.’ You make it sound so virtuous.” Levannue sneered.

  “If you remember, it’s something you once swore to do as well.”

  “Look at you, the Guardian’s trusted follower! I’ll bet she hasn’t even told you what the spell is all about.”

  “No. And we don’t want to know, either,” Tevi cut in.

  “I wasn’t addressing you. You shouldn’t interrupt when your betters are speaking.”

  “You can drop that attitude,” Jemeryl exploded, stung more by Levannue’s arrogant rebuke of Tevi than the venomous tones directed at herself. “You’re a traitor who’s broken her oath of allegiance. You’ve got a nerve to claim superiority to Tevi.”

  “I don’t have to claim it. If you took this collar off, I could demonstrate it.”

  “No. All you could demonstrate is that you’re more powerful than her. Every honest citizen of the Protectorate counts as a better person than you. You once swore to support the Coven, but you’ve been trying to destroy it.”

  Levannue’s anger faded into amused contempt. “Is that the lie the Guardian told you? The spell will destroy the Coven? You’re wrong. Lorimal’s spell won’t hurt anyone. Quite the opposite. All Lorimal’s spell does is give eternal youth. Immortality. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “You’re lying. If that was all, the Coven wouldn’t ban it,” Tevi said quickly.

  “How dare you accuse me of lying?”

  “Why not? I think it goes quite well with theft and murder.”

  While Levannue floundered for a reply, Jemeryl answered. “Levannue might be telling the truth, as far as immortality goes, but it’s not that simple. The Coven bans work on immortality becaus
e all attempts have done more harm than good. At best, they’ve raised false hopes. At worst, they’ve been...” Jemeryl considered her words. “Evil. Sacrificing the lives of others in an attempt to prolong one’s own.”

  Levannue made a sweeping gesture, as if knocking the argument aside. “No. Lorimal’s spell is different. For one thing, it works. Look at me! And the spell is only beginning to show its effect.”

  Jemeryl opened her mouth but then froze. Now that her attention was drawn, it was obvious that Levannue was more youthful than the woman who had left Ekranos. The lines on her face had softened; skin and muscle were firmer.

  Jemeryl’s expression hardened. “I concede that it’s done something, for now. But do you really think it will work forever? And who pays the cost of your youth?”

  “No one.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Don’t you—” Levannue bit back her words. She glared into the fire while she mastered her anger. “I’ll tell you how the spell works.”

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “If you’re going to accuse me of lying, you might have the decency to let me defend myself.” Without waiting for agreement, Levannue continued. “What Lorimal worked out is this: Our bodies grow from conception to adulthood, following a plan held within our cells. But then the plan fails. It builds a healthy body but can’t maintain what it created.”

  “I know the theory,” Jemeryl cut in. “The plan becomes corrupted with time.”

  “Not completely. Else what do we pass to our children? If the plan had worn out, then babies would be born as old as their parents.”

  “There’s more to it than that.”

  “True, there is. But it’s the starting point of Lorimal’s work. The other attempts at immortality went wrong when they saw death as an enemy to defeat. Messing about with zombies and life forces was childish idiocy. Lorimal’s great achievement was realising that death is merely the failure to remain living. She worked out how to make the plan repair itself. Soon, I’ll be back at my prime. I’ll still be vulnerable to sickness or injury, but I’ll never get old.”