The Queen of Lies

by Michael J. Bode

  He waited for Jessa at a table on the wine barge under the canopy section. An Invocari hovered behind him, hands folded. Jessa had started to recognize the Silverbrooks’ Invocari bodyguards—this one had a bit of a gut and ginger hair on his knuckles. A few other couples drank and talked at other tables, but they made a good show of not staring as the hostess brought Jessa to his table.

  She wore a modest white gown that seemed old-fashioned compared to the other women on the barge, who bared their shoulders.

  He stood up sharply and stuck out his hand. “Lord Torin the Fourth.”

  Did he really expect her to shake his hand? Clearly he was unschooled in refinements, but then again manners in Rivern were curious when it came to women. She actually had seen the countess sporting a pair of trousers in public.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Jessa awkwardly placed her fingers in Torin’s hand as if they might pinch them off. He squeezed them for a moment then released her.

  “Will you sit?” He awkwardly motioned to a chair, suddenly realizing he probably should have pulled it out when he had greeted her. It scooted back a foot or so.

  Jessa giggled as she took a seat. “Impressive trick.”

  “It’s no trick,” Torin said. “I’m a Master of the Seal of Ardiel. And a Master of the Seal of Veritas, which I’m required by Rivern law to inform you of.” He took a deep breath. “I hope you don’t mind that I started us off with a bottle of Lowland red cuvée from 560.”

  Jessa and Torin both took their seats.

  “Oh, not at all. I don’t drink,” Jessa said. Mother does enough of that for the both of us.

  “Oh.” Torin’s brow furrowed under that mass of hair. He was so close to her that Jessa could have reached out and quickly brushed it to the side, but she resisted the urge. “I guess this was a bad choice for a first date then. We can go somewhere else—”

  “It’s fine. I enjoy being on the water and watching the people.” Jessa looked out across the railing of the wine barge’s deck. All around her small boats and gondolas plied the massive fork of the Trident River while people bustled back and forth between tall stone buildings on its banks. The deck hummed from the vibration of some sort of mechanized propulsion that she felt slicing through the current.

  “Oh, right.” He gave a sigh of relief.

  The waitress appeared with a bottle in her hand and set it down along with two glasses. “Lowland red cuvée. A blend from Barstea County. The grapes are grown on the north bank on the site of the old city, which is said to be haunted. The wine is aged in Maenmarth timber for twelve years. It’s a personal favorite of mine. Please enjoy.”

  Torin smirked and waited till she walked away before saying, “She’s lying. It’s probably terrible.”

  “How does that work? Your Veritas Seal?” Jessa asked. She’d never met a mage with a seal, outside of the occasional notary Mother brought in for important affairs of state.

  “Lies sound different,” he explained. “When someone says something that’s not true, their voice reverberates. You hear what they’re saying, but you can also barely make out what they aren’t telling you. It’s not intelligible speech, but it’s louder when what they say differs from what they know to be true. And she was practically screaming when she said this was her favorite.”

  “It must be horrible,” Jessa gasped.

  “It can be.” Torin shrugged. “It’s a little awkward at times to know when people aren’t telling the truth, especially about personal stuff. And it can be lonely when people stop talking to you because they’re afraid you’ll tell their secrets.”

  “I meant the wine must be horrible,” Jessa hastily clarified. “I would love nothing more than to know when people are being honest with me. Can you ever turn it off?”

  “Once a seal is bound, it never turns off. The arcane force is contained in a perfectly closed construction. That’s why seal magic doesn’t have a limit as to how often it can be used. What about you? Does a Stormlord’s magic draw from a source or is it self-contained?”

  Jessa shrugged. “What’s the difference?”

  Torin cocked an eyebrow. “Sourced magic requires something to fuel it, so mages might feel tired after casting, or they may run out of power and need time to recharge. But they also can create massive bursts of power. Self-contained magic is inexhaustible, but it never gets weaker or stronger.”

  “I never really thought about it,” Jessa said. “I don’t think my magic makes me tired, but I don’t know what the limits are. We measure power based on our blood relation to the Coral Throne. The person next in line for it is always stronger than the one after them.”

  “So you never had to study the Principia Arcana or pass the Trials of Focus?” he said, shaking his head. “You’re so amazingly lucky.”

  “When I was a little girl, I always wanted different powers. People don’t really like storms, and you’re always blamed when there’s awful weather. I wanted to be like the witches who lived in the Maenmarth and be able to change my form. I never had any opportunity to study magic anyway. Amhaven has no colleges, which is why we haven’t prospered like Rivern.”

  Torin’s wine bottle poured itself into the glass while he pondered.

  “Maybe I could start a college.” He blushed and quickly added, “That is…if I decide to become king. It sounds so strange to hear myself say it.”

  “Not at all!” Jessa insisted. “We badly need institutions of learning. My people aren’t backward by choice—the empires on both sides have withheld their knowledge from us for centuries. Even with just a few more glyphomancers, we could meet them on even footing.”

  Torin added more confidently, “I also think Amhaven needs a parliamentary body where people could have a say in their governance. No leader should have unlimited power simply by the accident of birth. And the fate of a kingdom shouldn’t rest on two total strangers hitting it off.”

  Are we hitting it off? Jessa laughed as she considered it. “It’s not a terrible idea. The Protectorate has prospered under such a system, and you’re right—if the monarchy falls, there needs to be something in place to maintain order. We would need to consider the dukes of course…but I think the people would love it.”

  “You know”—as Torin spoke, his wineglass levitated and swirled the liquid against the edges of the crystal, “I wasn’t sure I could go through with this, but you’re nothing like I expected. And forgive me for saying this—you’re beautiful.”

  Jessa smiled bashfully. He was full of ideas and maybe a bit idealistic—like her father might have been, if he hadn’t been beholden to centuries of tradition. She giggled. “Since I can’t lie to you, I think you need a haircut, but your virtues outweigh your flaws.”

  “Is it that bad?” He peered at his reflection in his floating wineglass. “It’s been insane at the Lyceum. The dean passed away last night. I just—” He cut himself off and sipped his wine. His eyes seemed to darken.

  “The wine…is it terrible?” Jessa asked, trying to veer the subject back to something more pleasant.

  “It’s quite good. It’s got a fruit-forward flavor with a smoky finish that’s very nicely balanced. There’s even a slight hint of something…vegetal but that balances the berry flavors nicely. In a few years, I think this vintage will be drinking wonderfully. Are you sure you won’t have at least a taste?”

  “What the hells? I think this calls for a celebration.” Jessa sighed as she reached for a glass. It slid into her hand, and then the bottle floated and poured a bit into the glass. She raised it delicately and clinked it against Torin’s.

  She inhaled the bouquet and tasted the wine. The first drop exploded with bitterness. One must cultivate a refined palate, Jessa. As queen you’ll be expected to attend state dinners and preside over feasts where all manner of delicacies will be proffered. Food and drink are the perfect vehicles for toxins, so we’ll be tasting them all.

  Jessa spat the wine and knocked the glass from Torin’s hand.
“It’s poison! Someone find a healer!” She looked around the barge. Couples were staring wide-eyed in shock.

  Torin fell back in his chair, confused. He was breathing heavily.

  Her eyes met with those of the waitress at the other end of the wine barge and saw her reach for something beneath the counter. The woman jerked a crossbow from under the bar and drew it on Jessa with nearly lightning-quick reflexes. If her reflexes had been lightning quick, Jessa might have died.

  Before she even knew what she was doing, Jessa stood and threw her right hand in front of her. A flare of blinding light exploded from her palm as a crackling trail of electricity struck the waitress in the chest and sent her crashing limply against the wine rack behind her. Glass bottles tumbled and crashed to the deck of the ship. The waitress didn’t move.

  Screaming and chaos ensued as the couples dove under tables. A young man abandoned his date and plunged into the Trident River.

  Jessa looked to Torin, who was breathing shallowly. His body wasn’t moving or speaking, but his blue eyes searched hers fearfully. The Invocari hovered by his side, trying to loosen his collar, but it almost seemed as if Torin were pushing him away. On the table a shard of glass cut into the wood of its own accord, scratching a final message.

  “THIS SUCKS.”

  The shard of glass fell over, and Torin’s eyes stopped moving. The tip of Jessa’s tongue felt cold with the paralytic as she spoke. “Torin?”

  Desperately she pressed her hands to his chest. She never had used her lightning to revive someone from the brink of death. She had no sense of how much power to apply. She shocked his chest, but he remained motionless, his rib cage silent of rumblings of life.

  The Invocari rushed over to her. “We need to get you to safety. I’ll carry you to the riverbank.”

  Jessa shrugged off his hands and gathered her skirt. “It’s fine…” She stepped off the edge of the boat onto the river, letting the surface of the water support her. “I’ll walk.”

  The Invocari followed her as he signaled to the city guards on the bank. People gaped in open amazement as Jessa stepped across the river. Her heart was racing. Overhead she felt the skies start to darken.

  TEN

  Expulsion

  MADDOX

  XIII. FORBIDDEN ARCANA

  I. Any mage who seeks to alter the course of past events through chronomancy will be made to relive the memory of her greatest anguish for the rest of her natural days.

  II. Any mage who seeks to traffic with beings from the other realm of existence by planar summoning will be stripped of his power and given unto the chimera to devour.

  III. Any mage who seeks to undo Creation through the practice of annihilation magic will be tortured to death over the course of a fortnight.

  IV. Any mage who seeks to become a god through the Rituals of Apotheosis will be offered to the Primal Titans in a blood sacrifice appropriate to the element.

  V. Any mage who seeks immortality will be made to live with her mistake for all eternity.

  —THE THIRTEENTH TABLE OF ARCHEAN LAW

  MADDOX STOOD IN the center of the drawing room as the Scholars and Masters took their seats. Torin’s face was thankfully missing from the crowd. Magi Lidora and Turnbull sat front and center, a grim scarecrow of an old woman and a bald man who looked like a giant fat baby. Maddox scanned the faces for any sign of the Archean High Wizard, Petra, but she wasn’t present.

  Turnbull spoke first. “Once again we find you here, Scholar Baeland, and under circumstances most dire.”

  “Speak before those who bear the Seal of Veritas what happened last night,” Lidora intoned.

  “Magus Tertius threw me off the observation tower,” Maddox said, not seeing any point in trying to conceal it.

  “Truth,” the assembled scholars with the Veritas Seal muttered in unison, although some of their voices said it more like a question. There were gasps and whispers.

  “He poisoned me first.” Maddox paced back and forth leisurely as he recounted the events. “I don’t really blame him. Deaths from the Vitae Seal are a fucking lousy way to go. I just wish he’d maybe waited. Anyway he lifted me into the air and dropped me onto the pavement, where I lost consciousness and half my brain matter. I awoke in Magus Quirrus’s laboratory next to what I’m told were my removed organs.”

  “Truth.”

  “And do you have any idea how you came back from your apparent demise?” Lidora asked.

  “No,” Maddox said.

  The chorus of notaries chimed back whispers of “Evasion” and “Uncertainty.”

  “Obviously I think it has to do with my seal,” Maddox clarified, “but since I don’t know that, I can’t testify as to its nature. You can’t ask me what I think after making open-ended speculation.”

  “Tell us about the seal,” Turnbull said. “Why did you draw it that way? Did you know this would be the result?”

  “I…I had a vision. I didn’t know what would happen, just that it felt right.”

  “Truth,” the mages said.

  “Do you have to keep doing that?” Maddox snapped at one of the notaries. “Both the magi and record keepers have the Veritas Seal. And I know if I’m telling the truth. No one needs you to keep telling everyone.”

  Turnbull nodded. “Let it be known that Scholar Baeland foregoes his rights to know the results of the Veritas in regard to his testimony. Now…you were saying you had a vision. Have you had visions before?”

  “No.”

  “Have you studied any arts that would grant you the power of visions? I didn’t see any in your records.” Turnbull indicated a leather folio stuffed with parchment that rested next to him.

  “No.”

  “Did you have anything to do with Magus Tertius’s untimely death? Even so much as a desire for it to happen during those final moments?” Lidora asked pointedly.

  “No,” Maddox said, suddenly angry. “I didn’t have time to think about revenge. I was pissed as hell when I woke up because the man was like a father to me and the only person in this entire institution I considered a friend, but I never once wanted him to die.”

  “But you must agree,” Turnbull said in his high, lispy voice, “the timing and nature of his death are highly suspicious. We’ve never had a harrowing inside the wards of the Lyceum, yet the very man who tried to end your life winds up dead the same night. And to compound the suspiciousness, you’re miraculously restored to life within hours, if not minutes, of another life being taken.”

  Maddox waited before folding his arms. “I didn’t hear a fucking question.”

  “Watch your tone, Scholar.” Turnbull rolled his eyes. “Tertius may have found humor in your antics, but that doesn’t apply to the remaining faculty. It’s not cute.”

  “Truth,” one of the mages said under his breath. The one next to him hit him in the side.

  Lidora continued, “Have you had any contact with the Harrowers last night or ever, either directly or through one of their agents or through any area of study not sanctioned by the Lyceum? An answer of yes must account for anything remotely suspect—anything from agreeing to a pact or as innocuous as handling an artifact from one of the dark dolmens. “

  “Absolutely not.”

  Maddox paused. The mages were staring at him intently, almost leaning out of their seats. It was a loaded question, and Turnbull was clearly out for blood.

  “I know justice is a legal gray area in this situation, but I’m not even going to get a fucking apology? Tertius killed me rather than risk his own reputation.” Maddox was furious. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Magus Tertius exceeded his authority as dean of the college,” Lidora said. “It’s a regrettable coda to an exemplary life of scholarship. I speak for everyone when I say we all feel deeply betrayed by his actions.”

  “Actions you inspired,” Turnbull added quickly.

  “So it’s my fucking fault?” Maddox couldn’t believe his ears. He couldn’t even look at the bastards. He tur
ned his back to them and stared at the drawing table.

  “You’re a troubled, unstable individual, Maddox Baeland.” Turnbull raised his voice slightly. “You’re a drunk and a bully. Exactly the sort of person who has no business learning the Grand Art, and we’re seeing firsthand the consequences of having allowed it.”

  Lidora offered sympathetically, “You may spend the time you have remaining here in the special annex for observation and study, where you’ll be made comfortable. Since no one at this school aside from Tertius has attained the Seal of Life, we must bring in an expert from one of the other colleges to determine whether your seal is in fact pact magic.”

  “You can’t do this.” Maddox turned red. The special annex was a euphemism for the arcane loony bin—for people whose magic or minds were too shattered for them to return to a normal life.

  “It’s already done,” Lidora said. “Magus Turnbull has been elected dean, and it’s his decision. With your death the school is legally under no obligation to offer you any further services. The annex is a generous offer, not a punishment.”

  Turnbull added, “And your meager wealth has been remanded to the Lyceum, as per your last will. It won’t cover even a fraction of the damage to the conjuration circle incurred during your attempt to bind the seal. Obviously your license to practice any magic outside the school is revoked.”

  “Hell. No.” Maddox pointed his finger accusingly. “You can all shit flaming centipedes! I’m not going to the annex, and you can’t keep me here to study me. I’m done. Go fuck yourselves.” He stormed toward the side door, but it shut firmly as he approached.

  “You should really reconsider,” Turnbull said mildly. “If you leave we’ll have to turn this investigation over to the Hierocracy. I’m sure the inquisitors will be…thorough.”

  “Tell the Hypocrisy they can choke on it. I’ve broken no laws.”