The Knife in the Dark (The Seven Signs Book 2)

by D. W. Hawkins

  “Don’t apologize, dear, just do it the right way,” he said, patting the top of her hand. “Now, with more control, picture it again.”

  Bethany brought the image up again, fixing every detail she could muster into the front of her mind. She remembered the way the stone felt against her bare feet. She remembered the way her hands had clutched into fists, and the way his magic had felt when it attacked her.

  The room around them swirled, shifted, and reformed. The Mekai held tight to her hand, sensing her unease, and tried to comfort her. She could feel his Kai doing the same thing to her magic, singing to her power in slow, soothing tones.

  The picture of the hallway formed around her. It was as if she stood again in the darkness, staring at the pool of light. The man was there, crouched under the candlelight, trying to read her footprints. His image was hazy, indistinct.

  “I need you to take us further, Bethany. Can you show me what he did, how he tried to take you?” the Mekai asked. He was peering at the man as if he was trying to see who he was, but the man’s features were no more than smeared darkness and light.

  “I think so,” Bethany said. She took a deep breath and clamped down on her beating heart. She knew there was no reason to be afraid now, but she still quailed at the thought of conjuring this moment again. Summoning her strength, she brought up the memory of his magic.

  The scene changed. The man now stood, hand outstretched in her direction. Light flooded the hallway—the light he’d nearly blinded her with—and his face was revealed. He had a strong chin, his jaw clenched with fierce determination. He was frozen in the instant which he’d used his magic on her, and his eyes were locked in her direction—one brown, one blue.

  The Mekai hissed in surprise, and the scene dissolved so quickly that it made Bethany dizzy. He turned to her then, and crouched down to her level, taking her head in his hands. His Kai was tense, and his sudden change in behavior put her on the defensive.

  “Are you certain that was the man, Bethany? Are you certain that it was him, and that wasn’t just some mistake, some face from your memory that you put there accidentally?”

  “No,” she said. “That was him. I remember his eyes. That was him.”

  The Mekai took a deep breath, his shoulders rising as his chest filled with air. He rose and turned from her then, and gestured to the armlet. It floated down from its place and deposited itself into its silver box, which had been sitting on the table. Once the armlet was secure, he turned back to her.

  “Let’s make a promise between friends. Can we do that?” the Mekai asked.

  Bethany nodded, though she didn’t know where he was going with this.

  “I need you to keep quiet about this, alright? Don’t tell anyone about the man in the tunnel, about what he looked like. This is very important—no one but me. Do you understand?” he said. He got down to her level and took her shoulders in his hands. “This is a secret between you and the Mekai.”

  Just then, a commotion could be heard ringing through the hallway. Voices were echoing down the corridor, coming in their direction. Bethany thought she heard Dormael’s voice, and she felt a wild surge of relief.

  “Bethany,” the Mekai said, shaking her back to reality. “Promise me!”

  “I promise,” she nodded. “Just me and you.”

  The Mekai smiled and ruffled her hair, not unlike the way Dormael did.

  “Smart girl,” he said. “From now on, when someone asks about it, you just keep quiet. I’ll do the talking, alright?”

  “Alright,” she said.

  Just then, a group of people burst through the door and out onto the platform.

  **

  “Bethany!” Dormael said, a barrel’s worth of air escaping from his chest. He hadn’t realized that he’d been holding so much in, but his shoulders went slack at the sight of her. She ran down the walkway toward him, and Dormael pushed his way out ahead of the rest of the group. He caught the girl in a fierce hug. “Are you alright?”

  He pushed her out to arms’ length, and ran a critical eye over her. She didn’t have any bruises or apparent injuries, though a haunted look hovered in her eyes. He pulled her into another hug, and then rose to his feet. Bethany sidled close to his leg, putting herself between him and Shawna as the rest of the group strode up to them.

  Victus approached, scowling at the entire scene—or perhaps because Lacelle hovered just at his arm, directing as much cold disdain in his direction as was possible. The two of them had been trading barbed niceties since the woman had met them in the tunnels, bringing the already stressful situation to a boiling point.

  “Hello, little one,” Victus said, crouching down to her level. “My name is Deacon Victus—I’m a friend of your father’s. I need to ask you something about what happened in the tunnels. Is that alright?”

  Bethany sidled further behind Dormael’s leg, peering at Victus with a wary eye.

  “Can’t it wait, Deacon?” Dormael asked. “She’s been down here all day. Hasn’t eaten, and she lost her shoes again.” He said that last over the girl’s head with enough emphasis to show her that he’d noticed her bare feet. The color that rose to her cheeks made him feel a bit of relief—the haunted look in her eyes wasn’t a return to the way she had been after they had taken her from Colonel Grant. The Bethany they had all coaxed out during the last season was still very much here. “Let me get some food in her. I’ll bring her report to you myself.”

  “Dormael, you know it’s important to ask these things when they’re still fresh in the mind,” Victus said. “I’m not going to hurt the girl, for the gods’ sake, I just want to know what happened.”

  “I think your Warlock has a point,” Lacelle said. “The poor dear is frightened—look at her. It couldn’t hurt to act like a person for once, Victus. She’s a little girl.”

  “And I think you should pay more attention to matters that concern you,” Victus said, turning an angry eye in her direction. “This is Warlock business. Don’t you have some old tome to be studying, something about the way ancient people shat in the bushes, or something?”

  Lacelle narrowed her eyes.

  “Oh, I’d much rather stand here and watch you scare little girls. What a big man you are, Victus Tiranan,” she clipped. Dormael thought he heard Shawna utter a chuckle under her breath, but he couldn’t be sure. Victus stared daggers at Lacelle, but he rose from his crouch and backed away.

  “Very well,” he said, holding his hands up for peace. “I’m certainly not here to scare anyone, that’s not what I want. I just want to catch whomever hurt her, that’s all. We’re all on the same side, here.”

  “Aren’t we?” the Mekai said, choosing this moment to turn from something he’d been studying on the table. Dormael had seen him, of course, but he’d only been concerned with Bethany. Now that the moment was over, the Mekai walked over to join the conversation.

  Everyone offered him a short bow. Shawna echoed the gesture after a moment’s hesitation, but executed her own bow with more grace than any of them, save maybe Lacelle. The Mekai nodded in return, and offered Shawna a genuine smile. Then, he turned his eyes on Victus.

  “That was a question,” the Mekai said. “I said—aren’t we?”

  “Honored One?” Victus asked.

  “On the same side,” the Mekai replied. Dormael thought he saw a tightening around the eyes of the Mekai, but he couldn’t be sure. The light in the room was pulsating in time with the Crux, as the various runes around them glowed with magic.

  “Of course,” Victus nodded. “I can wait until the girl is seen to. Have you been filled in, Honored One?”

  “I’ve learned a very great deal,” the Mekai said. “Bethany and I have had quite the long conversation—haven’t we, dear?” The girl smiled up at the Mekai and nodded, and the old man winked at her. “Such a delightful child. As bright as any I’ve ever taught. I remember all of their faces, you know. Every one of them.” He turned an opaque look on Victus. “I remember every one
of them.”

  “So, you know of the body in the tunnels?” Victus asked in a cautious tone. Doubtless he thought the old man was simply commiserating, but Dormael wasn’t so sure. D’Jenn’s accusations against Victus rang in his mind, twisting his interpretation of what he was seeing. Was the Mekai suspicious?

  Maybe I’m just overreacting.

  “I know,” the Mekai nodded. “It saddens me. This is the first killing in the Conclave in over fifty years. The one responsible for this should be ashamed of themselves.” Dormael’s hand tightened on Bethany’s shoulders, a surge of anger rising in his chest. Surely anyone could see that Bethany had been defending herself!

  Mekai’s eyes, though, stayed locked on Victus.

  Maybe I’m not overreacting.

  The moment stretched on for an uncomfortable second.

  “I’ve looked into this already,” the Mekai said, breaking the spell. “Interviewed the girl already. I’m satisfied with what she has told me, and the evidence she has presented. What I need from the Warlocks, Deacon, is to investigate this person that attacked her. The poor dear couldn’t see his face, but he attacked her with magic. Above all, we need to keep this quiet. No one can know until you’ve gotten to the bottom of this. Understood?”

  “I will oversee the investigation myself, Honored Mekai,” Victus said with a bow.

  “Good,” the Mekai said. “I want a full report as soon as it’s available. Fall to purpose.”

  Victus gave them all a tight smile, bowed to the Mekai, and strode away down the path to the opening in the wall. Dormael watched him go, unsure of what he had just witnessed. Shawna, too, was giving him an odd look, but Dormael ignored it for the moment. Lacelle was watching the scene with just as much interest, and he didn’t want to give anything away. She already assumed they were sleeping together.

  “Lacelle, do me the kindness of gathering the research we have been collecting, and bringing it to my chambers. I’ll ask all of you to dine with me tonight—in the Mekai’s personal rooms, understood? We have much to discuss, and very little time.”

  “Time, Honored One?” Lacelle asked, giving him a strange look. Dormael felt his own hackles rise, as well. Expressions like ‘very little time’ rarely came packaged with anything pleasant.

  In response, the Mekai turned a serious eye in her direction.

  “Don’t forget the scrolls in Old Vendon, Deacon Lacelle,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “And hurry. As I said—very little time.”

  “Of course, Honored One,” Lacelle said, bowing at the waist. She shared a confused look with Dormael as she turned to leave—the first human emotion the woman had ever shown him—and glided from the room. Dormael and Shawna watched her go, then shared a confused look between them.

  “Dormael,” the Mekai said, turning toward him, “when you come tonight, make sure to bring everyone. D’Jenn, your brother, little Bethany here, and, you, of course, Baroness Llewan. I regret that my hospitality needs to to be so rushed, but the gods give us a strange world in which to live, do they not?”

  “They do,” Shawna said, giving him a confused smile. “I will be honored to receive your hospitality, Honored Mekai, in any case.”

  “Very good, very good, indeed,” the Mekai said. He took a few steps toward the exit, then turned back to them as if he had forgotten something. “One more thing, Dormael. Don’t forget to wear a clean shirt—that one is ripped, and there’s quite a bit of blood on it. What happened to you, dear boy?”

  His hands, though, were spinning in the Hunter’s Tongue, his back to the two deacons who had yet to reach the exit.

  Pack for a long journey, you all leave tonight. Say nothing.

  It took Dormael a stunned moment to separate the messages in his mind, but he stammered out a reply.

  “Ah—of course, Honored Mekai. Apologies, I’ll fill you in at dinner.”

  “Very good, Warlock Harlun. Very good,” the Mekai said. “Also, don’t forget to take the armlet with you when you leave this room. I’ve completed my study of the thing. We shall speak about it over dinner.” He offered them a smile that never touched his eyes, gave Bethany another conspiratorial wink, and then strode off in the wake of his deacons. Dormael watched him go, feeling numb and confused.

  “Did you catch that?” Shawna whispered. “Did you see what he said?”

  “Aye,” Dormael replied. “I saw.”

  “Me too,” Bethany said.

  Dormael reached down and hugged her tight against his side. He had been so afraid that they would find her body in the tunnels, or never find her at all. He clutched to her like a lucky charm, and she pulled just as tightly against him. Shawna strode over and grabbed the box with her mother’s armlet, and then the three of them made their way back into the Rat Holes.

  Bethany didn’t let go of Dormael’s hand the entire way, and he didn’t ask her to do so.

  Unsanctioned Operatives

  The Mekai’s private residence was its own separate building on the Green. Wizards long ago had built spells into the place that warded it from scrying, intrusion, or magical tampering. More power was sunk into the very stones of this building than any other in the Conclave, save the center of the Crux. Given the number of defensive spells, it was the most secure place in the entire city of Ishamael.

  Dormael ate without gusto, his stomach unable to accept much more than dread for its fuel. His thoughts were racing, trying to piece together everything that had happened in the past day. Inera, Bethany, Victus—it was as if his whole world was unraveling. He tried to feel something, anything else about it, but his emotions had all fallen into a single, yawning pit made of dread.

  The hairs on the back of Dormael’s neck itched through the entire meal.

  He tried to keep his eyes on the decorations of the dining hall while the roast was served, taking in the expensive paintings and the rosewood paneling. The roast was delicious for two full bites before it was whisked away. During the second course, he tried to take stock of the various infused items he could count in the room—a decanter here, an ancient stylus there—but the activity failed to distract him. Try as he might, Dormael couldn’t keep his mind from the issue that sat just behind the pleasant conversation being made during the meal.

  Everyone’s eyes reflected his concern.

  Lacelle peered into her food as if some great secret were contained in the depths of her soup bowl. Shawna considered everyone at the table in turn, her eyes narrowed in thought. The Mekai made small talk with Bethany, though Dormael could feel the old man’s Kai moving through the room, rooting in every empty corner in anxious spasms. D’Jenn scowled at everything, and Allen pretended not to notice the pregnant silence in the room.

  Dormael felt like screaming.

  By the time everyone passed around a bowl of the Shaman’s Leaf, Bethany had fallen asleep on one of the benches at the edge of the room. It was late in the evening, and Dormael was beginning to feel tired himself. Though the tension kept him alert, his body had been through all Six Hells today. It begged him for a respite.

  “I’m quite sorry I kept everyone waiting,” the Mekai said as the pipe went around the room. “It was important that they think we were up late into the night, long after anyone would do much but sleep.”

  “They?” Lacelle asked, raising a single cold eyebrow.

  “Your esteemed colleague,” the Mekai replied. “Victus Tiranan, Deacon of Warlocks.”

  Silence filled the room in the wake of his words, like a startled intake of breath.

  “So what D’Jenn said is true,” Dormael said, looking to his cousin. “Victus is a traitor.” The words sounded so odd coming out, as if he was saying his own father was a traitor. He wanted to grab them out of the air even as they passed his lips.

  “Let us all lay what we know on the table,” the Mekai said. “First—what happened tonight, in the tunnels. Tell me, boys, has Bethany ever seen Kendall Induriam? Has she ever spoken with the man?”

  “Not
that I know of,” Dormael said, shrugging his shoulders. “I thought Kendall was out of the Conclave. Haven’t seen him since last year.”

  “You saw him earlier today,” the Mekai said, “burnt to death in the Rat Holes. Bethany showed me his face in her memories, and there was no doubt in my mind. His eyes, you know.”

  “One brown, one blue,” D’Jenn nodded. “We used to call him Evil Eye Induriam. He hated it.”

  “Doesn’t hate anything anymore,” Dormael said. He couldn’t believe the man was dead. He had been friends with Kendall, after a fashion. “Why would Kendall try and take Bethany? She said the man attacked her. She said he tried to take her.”

  “I can’t be sure,” the Mekai shrugged. “It’s possible Victus wanted to speak to her, to gain her trust. It’s possible he meant to kidnap her. It’s possible he wanted to plant a suggestion in her mind, perhaps—there are any number of possibilities.”

  “Bethany is linked to the armlet,” D’Jenn said. “It speaks with her. If he can control her, then maybe he can control the armlet through her. He said something about how powerful she was, and how she should become a Warlock like the rest of her family. He’s trying to gather up his loyal followers, counting his eggs.”

  “Doubtless he wants the two of you on his side,” Lacelle said, narrowing her eyes at them.

  “He must be planning on making a move soon,” D’Jenn said. “Perhaps I can provide some context. I spent some time looking into a thing that kept bugging me. I discovered that Victus has been sending Warlocks on missions as political favors. He had Kitamin Jurillic rescued from the Golden Waste, and Jurillic suspected that he has something to do with the murder of Berrul’s brother.”

  “Berrul?” Shawna asked.

  “Nilliam Berrul,” Dormael clarified. “He’s the Kansil of Soirus-Gamerit.”

  “So Victus has been dispatching his agents as his personal mercenaries?” Lacelle asked, her voice gone quiet. It was a damning thing to suggest. A personal army of Warlocks would be a terrible thing.