Lighter Days, Darker Nights (Rune Breaker)

by Porter, Landon

  But what if it wasn't? If that were true, it still wasn't a sign of something negative. Jewelry designed to confer enchantments was common; from charms to make someone more attractive, to powerful magics that allowed the wearer to call up elemental servitors or become invisible. Rings that powerful were rare and expensive, but vanity charms could be found in any city.

  What concerned him was that it was hidden. Most people flaunted their magic, even when that would mean admitting that they were not as attractive, tall, or not-bald as their necklace would lead everyone to believe. A hidden spell almost certainly meant that its function was meant to be a secret.

  And while everyone was entitled to their secrets, Kaiel was forced to admit that Ru had placed a drop of poison in his mind when it came to Brin, but not enough of one to prove fatal to his initial feeling. He would be wary, for he wasn't a fool, but he wasn't about to sacrifice something potentially meaningful on the altar or paranoia.

  He allowed part of the war being waged in his mind show on his face, a technique taught in his diplomacy classes for using real emotions to convince people of false ones. “Unfortunately, I can't sit with you much longer. I have some business yet to attend to. I should be free by midday. And as I'm technically acting in an official capacity for Solgrum, perhaps you would like to join me in charging our personal preparations for the ball to his account?”

  Slowly, they unlinked hands and Brin laughed heartily at the suggestion. “Loremen and contractors have something in common then. I once charged the purchase price of an ornithopter to a regent named Belucsas Bracy. The pudding of a man demanded access to the Hessan Temple atop Mount Kapre-Chubra. If you're unfamiliar, Kapre-Chubra's foothills are the tomb-mounds of the Red Nation. I refuse to fight one dragon, much less all of them.”

  “A good plan of action for staying alive.” Kaiel agreed. “What did Bracy have to say about that?”

  Unseen by him, Reflair spoke to Brin and the contractor quirked her eyebrow in an enigmatic manner, pleased with the suggestion. “It was colorful to say the least. But I think I'll save that until mid-day. Loremen put value on stories, yes? This will give you incentive to be prompt.”

  Kaiel rose to his feet in one steady, smooth motion. “As if I needed more. I look forward to it.”

  “So do I.”

  When Kaiel took his leave, he had to pass by where Ru was sitting. Before he could offer his commentary, reaching into an inner pocket, he tossed the artifact disc inscribed with the 'home' character onto the open pages of the Rune Breaker's book.

  “I bought it from Brin earlier. If you keep your words to yourself, I'll allow you to study it.” said the chronicler tersely.

  “The Matul Garu people had a saying, back before my world ended.” Ru rumbled. “'It is rude to pay a man not to eat and breathe'. In my case, I believe that would include bedeviling you.”

  “Do we have an agreement or not?”

  Ru looked down at the disc. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't a disc at all: more of a rounded rectangle with one end both more rounded and more narrow than the other. It had landed face down, revealing that the back was slightly convex while the front was prominently concave. There was nothing written on the back, but there were symbols: circles, lines and hollow triangles, arranged in concentric circles to form a sight-bending pattern.

  In his mystic sense, he could pick up on the layers upon layers of vox structures. There were so many in so little space, and buried among them were patterns for gathering, storing and moving other elements: flaer and akua mostly, but a rather powerful one for vin that was tied to the akua and flaer, and a prominent ere-a based array as well.

  What was most strange was that he recognized some of them. One was the most basic of spells: akua Crea, the spell to manifest water, which made little sense when coupled with vox arrays that most often featured into extra dimensional storage. And even those didn't make sense: the largest ones he knew of were room-sized, while the arrays he was examining were several times more complex.

  It was an enigma of spellcraft, and likely represented either a lifetime of precise work, or a level of cooperation among mages the likes of which Ru had never seen before. He couldn't pass that up.

  “We are agreed.” He finally said. “But only on this matter. I remain free to comment on such things as your unwitting indenture to this pocket despot who will find himself overthrown and in chains by the time this season comes again. I wonder how deeply this ball will associate you with him.”

  Kaiel was already walking away, deciding it wasn't worth preventing Ru from having the last word for once.

  ***

  Despite the link making it possible the track Ru's location at all times, Taylin was surprised to find him in the wagon when she returned to it later that day. As exhausted as she was, she counted herself lucky that she even saw him sitting there on the floor at the epicenter of what looked to be an entire tree's worth of paper. Stepping on him without noticing seemed a very real possibility.

  “I would have thought you would be at your tavern by now.” She stepped carefully around the papers to reach her pitcher. For once, she didn't set it to heat her water before she drank. Cooling down was a priority, but something in her refused to let her drink cold water.

  “For once, there is something much more intriguing right here.” He gestured at the artifact. At the moment, he was busy diagramming out what looked to be the primary command array. It said something that it was taking in-depth study in order to just activate it.

  Not seeing the point of propriety around Ru, Taylin drank directly from the pitcher before going to sit on the bed. Likewise, she'd given up on conversation with him when he was in such a mood; which was odd, as he was at his happiest at such a time.

  She stretched, filling most of the wagon with her wings before laying down on her stomach. It wasn't a nap exactly, but it was so comfortable that it refreshed her all the same. Silence sank in around them as she watched him consult the artifact and transcribe what he saw onto paper.

  The link made it a surreal experience. She didn't understand any of the patterns he was scribing, and whatever he was seeing in the bauble in his hand was invisible to her. Yet she felt his keen interest punctuated by fits and bursts of surprise and even awe. It fixed her attention as she lay there, idly wondering about the hidden world that was open to him but not to her.

  “I have the same reaction to your swordplay and reading for reasons other than research.” Ru's voice startled her out of her thoughts. It was less rough than usual, had been becoming so over the past few days as if he no longer saw the need for aural cues about his nature.

  She propped herself up on her elbows. “I suppose it would be as difficult for me to explain them to you as it would be for you to explain that to me.” A nod from her indicated the artifact.

  “At the moment, I can easily explain it as a mystery that intrigues.” Ru waved a hand at the papers around him, all densely covered with whorls and intricate symbols in black ink. “I started not knowing what it did. Now I do, but it continues to elude me as to what it is for. That is the allure of spellcraft: Discovery. “

  His gaze flicked up to meet hers, inspired by something he felt in the link. “What?” he asked, affecting the same reptilian growl he did upon first emerging from his prison.

  “You've never talked about things you enjoyed, even when I asked.”

  “I've made no secret that I am a practitioner in the art rather than a mere user of magic, Miss Taylin.”

  Taylin shrugged. “I suppose.”

  His lip twitched, maybe it was a sneer, maybe not. “Even monsters have hobbies, Miss Taylin.”

  Her wings drew close and her gaze became shifting and pensive. “Is... reading a hobby?”

  “In some places, even practicing the sword is one. You have nothing to concern yourself about.”

  Chapter 10 – Memories of Dances Past

  Taylin grunted painfully and her back hit the edge of the bed. Her vision blurre
d temporarily from the sudden movement more than the discomfort. She wasn't happy at all with this. Part of her, the part that danced when battle came and willed the scales and claws to come, howled at the idea of putting her back to anyone like this on purpose.

  “Does it have to be so tight?” She pleaded.

  “You don't have enough hair for braids.” Brin clucked. She was sitting on the bed in Taylin's wagon while Taylin herself was on the floor in order to give Brin free access to her hair. “So I'm giving you buns like the women wear in Mindeforme.”

  “It's a wonder women have scalps in Mindeforme.” Rai commented from her place sitting atop the chest at the foot of the bed. “Why your people came up with all this bother is a mystery. Hair is hair. You wash it, you brush it and that's it. It's dead. Teaching it tricks after the fact seems a cruelty.”

  “Cruelty is having this done to you.” Taylin muttered.

  “I hate doing this to myself too, you know?” said Brin.

  “Then why are you?” Rai's frustration with outsider traditions had been pushed to their limit earlier that day when she learned that Solgrum's ball didn't allow children in attendance, only after volunteering to take Grandfather's place in the dignitary party the clan was sending. “Is this mental shortcoming natural, or does it come from being raised by tall folk mothers?”

  Brin's eyes glittered in a way that only seemed to be summoned by avarice. “Because this is a royal ball. No matter how weak or fragile Solgrum is politically, the wealthy families and merchants from all the towns and enclaves for miles around will be represented here. And those types of people are always in need of a contractor or two to guard, procure or destroy something that strikes their fancy. It's always nice to ingratiate yourself.”

  “That makes sense for you.” Taylin said, still struggling to angle her head in such a way that she wasn't in pain anymore. “But I'm no contractor, I'm nir-lumos, I don't intend to leave the caravans for a very long time. Why do I need to be prodded and adjusted like this?”

  “Because you're mad if you think I'm going to suffer all this alone.” Brin smiled as she pinned the last bun in place with a pair of copper pins. “Done. Now stand up, let’s have a look at you.”

  Taylin was just happy her ordeal was over with. She got to her feet, careful not to muss her clothing, or open her wings too far and jostle the others.

  As a hailene, it was literally impossible for her to dress in the eastern Nov traditional formal manner of an ankle length gown with a heavy, ornamented coat hanging off the shoulders. Instead, she wore a sleeveless white blouse with a copper embossed starburst over her ribs on the left side. This buttoned up in the back, conveniently making room for her wings. Her skirt was flowing, coming down to her past calf. Nearly as red as her wings, it was edged in coppery patterning and the fabric itself bore an embroidered pattern reminiscent of the waving sea of grass out on the savannahs to the south and west of Daire. Brin also added a red, silk scarf that hung freely from her shoulders.

  Her hair was pulled back into a pair of tight buns on the back of her head, bound by, again, copper. Brin seemed to feel that the color of her wings and hair needed to be reflected in every ounce of decoration on her person.

  She felt odd in the dress. On the ships and in the mines, breeches were the only option and it was a near thing if they fit properly. And yet, it felt somehow familiar...

  Of course, the more disturbing feeling was the lack of Dottir Logi's weight on her back. Weapons outside of uniform swords for Solgrum's army officials were strictly prohibited. That was why Issacor politely refused the invitation she extended him (on Brin's insistence) to join them at the ball: He and Faith-be-Forgiven were a matched set and not even the will of a king could make him break that bond.

  While Taylin situated herself, Brin went and got the wash basin off the table and set it on the chest of drawers. The basin already had water in it, lightly perfumed by an infusion of flower petals. The scent that now filled the wagon was easily the best part of the whole ordeal to Taylin.

  Once the basin was in place, Brin murmured a few words to the reliquary around her neck and Reflair made her presence known by flowing into the water as a barely perceptible mist. Moments later, the liquid rose from the basin, flattening and stretching until it formed an oblong monolith with a surface that reflected like a polished mirror.

  Taylin goggled at the sight. She was only used to seeing partial reflections in water. The last time she'd looked into a real mirror was during the cascade of memories she accidentally gleaned from Ru and then it had been his face, not hers. Before that, she had been at a very young age and somehow, she expected herself to look like that still.

  The dress and other accoutrements might as well have been bales of raw cotton for all she noticed them. Mostly she saw the eyes. They were hers: the eyes she remembered. And yet the face was different. It might have been the coming of her maturity or the weeks of caravan living, but the sunken eyes and hollow cheeks of the frightened girl that was fresh from the mines and bound for the ships were gone. She was healthy now, and the fear was gone.

  She didn't find herself beautiful. In truth, she didn't know what made a hailene beautiful aside from how red wings and hair made her automatically abominable. But she did find that she liked the other woman looking back at her from the mirror. Seeing her and pondering if others found her beautiful made something stir inside her. Pride? Vanity? She had no idea.

  Before she could start to sort it out, a jolt hit her spine from the hard ball of consciousness that was Ru. In the same instant, the nearly forgotten gray tomcat that had been sleeping soundly on the window sill went from asleep to frenetic.

  He leapt into the open space between window and door and promptly resumed his human form. Whatever nightmare roused him from his nap drove him to action hard enough that he only did a minimal job shifting. His beard was unkempt, his hair wild and his clothing only consisted of the simple black robe he first appeared in.

  It took him a confused moment before he registered that contrary to its state when he fell asleep, the wagon was now occupied. His eyes slowly focused. His hair tied itself back away from his face and his beard evened itself out while the robe gained more complex folds and simple embroidery.

  For a moment more, his yellow eyes scanned over Brin and then Taylin in their party finery. An alien feeling flitted briefly in the link and finally, he nodded. “Heh. Solgrum's ball. Yes.” His eyes strayed to something beyond the wagon's walls, causing Taylin to wonder just what the city looked like to the sixth sense for magic he possessed.

  “Unless you require me further today, I will be in the city, Miss Taylin.” He said absently.

  Is everything alright? She asked through the link. Aloud, she said. “I don't think I will, thank you.” It was customary between them now. The link required him to ask, so she accepted it, but was always quick to thank him so he knew that if it were up to her, he would not have to ask permission.

  “Thank you, Miss Taylin.” Normally, that part was full of sneering condescension for her compassion. This time it was simply a hollow expression, said by rote.

  I cannot tell yet. He informed her. Though he muffled it, Taylin could feel apprehension from him. That in itself was concerning, given how little care he gave most things.

  “You're not going to the ball?” Rai asked. Normally it would have been Brin, but the blonde made it a point to pay as little attention to Ru as possible.

  Ru raised an eyebrow, surprised she even cared. “This affair is for the caravan, plus whatever monied individuals typically earn invitations from royalty and their guests. I am none of those things.” There was no bitterness or hurt feeling in his words, only statement of fact. And all the while he stole glances in the same direction he'd looked before.

  “Someone like you, I figured wouldn't care if they were invited or not.” observed the halfling.

  “Someone like me doesn't care if they attend parties or not.” Ru turned to the door and in doing
so began to change. His hair became short and wispy, giving up its color until it was steely gray. His beard disappeared entirely, replaced by the wrinkles and crags of old age. The yellow eyes they were familiar with became a washed out blue, set above a hawkish nose.

  By the time he actually opened the door, he resembled one of the stately town elders of Daire; no one in particular, but certainly the type who freely wandered the city, offering advice and correction unbidden, as was tradition in that part of Novrom.

  When the door closed, the other two women looked to Taylin for explanation.

  “I have no idea.” She said honestly.

  ***

  Hours later, Ru found himself prowling the so-called Militia Quarter of Daire. Solgrum kept his warriors close; inside a barracks he'd had constructed just outside his palace gates. But for decades, his predecessors sheltered them in three smaller barracks around the western gates, where their enemies were most likely to strike.

  As a result, the Militia Quarter was home to all of the comforts a soldier could afford on their salary, and everything they needed to survive. Alehouses and brothels, dojos and sword schools, smiths, tanners and bowyers, lesser temples to Pandemos that functioned solely as gambling dens, and the same for Hessa serving as hospices. All of those could be found in other places in Daire, but here they were provided on the cheap and with haste to fit the life of fighting men and women.

  This day however, Solgrum was trying to hide that. Canvas panels painted with scenes from classic tales and songs were stretched out in front of the shops to hide the worn, plain buildings and their vulgar signage. Bards were stationed on the street corners, spinning tales or singing to cover the sounds of drunken rollicking, and highly paid servants of Sylph patrolled the streets with bags of seed, growing ordered lines of fragrant flowers to cover the smell of beer and bodily functions.

  The reason was clear: the Murderyard was on the western plain, just outside the city; and any of Solgrum's guests inside the city would have to pass through the Quarter to reach it. So Solgrum was draining his coffers to make the place as invisible to them as possible.