A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (Volume 1) Paperback

by Mitchell Hogan

  Caldan clenched a fist. The one holding Izak by the arm. Izak’s mouth opened in pain.

  “I don’t have two gold ducats. Let alone two to spare on a wager.”

  Izak tried to pry Caldan’s fingers off his arm. “Steady on, eh? I’m sure you said you wanted to win some ducats tonight.”

  “Not by betting coins I don’t have. What happens if I lose?” In debt two gold ducats and unspecified services to Lady Felicienne. His stomach churned.

  “I thought you said you’d win?”

  “I… it’s… probably. But that’s not the point. What if I don’t? I can’t pay.”

  “Hmmm.” Izak blinked. “Then you’ll probably go to prison or the work gangs. Owww!” He clutched at Caldan’s hand on his arm. “Let go!”

  “What does the paper say?” demanded Caldan.

  “Well, C, that’s you, Caldan. 2G, that’s obvious…” He glanced at Caldan, whose expression made him quickly return to the paper. “Um, T7 — that’s table seven. This table. LF is the dear lady here. And the last numbers are the odds. Fifteen to one.” He swallowed. “So..er… that’s thirty gold to you, if you win, less three as commission.”

  Caldan shook his head in disgust then released Izak’s arm.

  “Is there a problem, gentlemen?” Lady Felicienne’s words drifted across the Dominion table to them. Caldan quailed inside, and Izak went as still as a statue.

  “Er…no, not at all,” replied Caldan. “A friendly disagreement.”

  Felicienne wrinkled her nose. “Ah, the worst kind.” Her eyes shifted to Izak then returned to Caldan. “Has Izak done something regrettable?”

  “I barely know her,” whispered Izak. “We may have met before. Though there was that night at last year’s Autumn Festival, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t her.”

  Caldan frowned in confusion. “What night?”

  “Nothing… No, it couldn’t have been…” Izak rocked in his chair, eyes on the floor.

  “I hope you placed a wager on me.” She smiled at Caldan. “I’m about to crack this egg open, and about time too. For two silvers, I wasn’t expecting this much resistance.”

  A pain in his jaw made Caldan aware he was grinding his teeth. Hard. Two gold and more in debt if he didn’t win, and Lady Felicienne making light of the game. His face was hot, and the air around the table was all of a sudden stale, the crowd surrounding them too close for comfort. He shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

  “Are you all right?” came Izak’s voice, as if from a distance.

  Opening his eyes, Caldan shook his head. “No, not really. Especially if I lose.”

  “But you said you’d win.”

  Izak was beginning to annoy him. “No, I didn’t.”

  “You did. You said…”

  “Can you please be quiet? I have to concentrate.”

  “Oh, of course.” Izak held a finger to his lips. “You can count on me.”

  Caldan nodded. “Could you do me a favor? A glass of water would help.”

  “Water? What you need is a good strong drink. Something to…”

  “No. Water, please.”

  “I’ll be back shortly. Don’t make any moves until I return.” Izak weaved unsteadily through the crowd, and Caldan sighed with relief.

  “Good friends, are you?” inquired Lady Felicienne. “With Izak?”

  “No…my lady. I just met him tonight.”

  “My lady?” She smiled at him. “So formal?”

  Caldan squirmed in his chair.

  Felicienne continued. “If we ever have occasion to meet formally, you can call me my lady, but here you can call me Felice.”

  A sharp intake of breath could be heard from a few onlookers, and a sneer appeared on Felicienne’s face. “A good game deserves some reward, does it not? Though in the end, learning from a loss can also be a reward for those less skilled.” She met his eye. “I look forward to those unspecified services.”

  Heat rose to Caldan’s face at her words. He swallowed. “Felice it is. You can call me Caldan.”

  Felice nodded once. “And what is it you do, Caldan?” Her eyes traveled down his torso. “For someone who plays Dominion with no little skill, you seem a bit… muscular.”

  Caldan cleared his throat, deciding not to tell her he was with the Protectors. “I’m a sorcerer.”

  Felice raised an eyebrow at him. “Indeed. Well, a valuable calling, to be sure.”

  The air grew thicker with each passing moment. Caldan decided to make his move. “I believe it is my turn?”

  “You would believe correctly.”

  Caldan nodded. “I choose to use my five extra turns now.”

  He looked up to see Felice scowling in confusion, brow furrowed. His normal turn plus five extra turns made it a total of six moves he could make. Caldan stood and, in quick succession, moved his pieces over the boards.

  Lady Felicienne’s mouth opened in surprise.

  Izak returned to find the crowd buzzing with excitement. Lady Felicienne sat with an unblinking gaze focused on Caldan, who placed a piece on the board. A quick look told him each must have had a few turns, maybe more than a few from the changed position of the pieces. But what struck him was that Felicienne’s game had become disorganized, chaotic.

  Caldan returned to his chair and sat with a sigh of relief, the piece of paper with the wager on it clutched in a sweaty hand. Seeing Izak, he eagerly reached out for the glass of water he carried and drank it in a few gulps.

  “What happened?” hissed Izak. “I told you not to make any moves until I got back!”

  “I took a chance,” replied Caldan. “Moved a little early, but it worked out still.”

  “She looks angry. At you.”

  Caldan studiously avoided Felice’s gaze. “I take it she doesn’t lose often?”

  “Ah, no. Not often. Rarely, you could say.” Izak looked at his empty hands. “Where did my drink go?”

  “Forget your drink. We’re lucky I’m not being hauled off to prison now.” He glared at Izak, though Izak was peering at the Dominion board.

  Izak tilted his head and blinked. “I think she has lost,” he said with a tinge of wonder.

  “She has, and she knows it. Luckily for both of us, since I dare say prison wouldn’t be a good place to be.”

  “Oh, it’s not so bad, once you get used to it. Excellent! A rather interesting night so far! Who do you think you should play next? We can make some coin before word of your play gets out.”

  “I’m not playing anyone else tonight.”

  “But you must! The opportunity is tonight. Tomorrow, people will be warier… more wary.”

  Lady Felicienne stood abruptly. All eyes turned to her. She gave a bow to Caldan. “I concede defeat,” she said plainly. “Well played.”

  Gasps could be heard from the crowd, and the buzz of conversation rose in volume. Not knowing the usual protocol, Caldan nodded in return. After hesitating a moment, he walked around the board and held out his hand. “It was a good game. I’d be happy to play you again soon.”

  Felicienne looked at Caldan’s extended hand then grasped it firmly. “Likewise. I do believe we’ll be seeing more of each other. It’s not often someone teaches me something new with Dominion. And I fear I underestimated you, which won’t happen again.”

  Caldan gave a wry smile. “I’m sure it won’t.”

  Felicienne gestured to the silver ducats on the table, two of Caldan’s and two of hers. “Your winnings.”

  He thanked her and accepted the coins.

  She brushed a stray strand of hair back over an ear. “There is still the matter of the unspecified information. Izak here will know how to contact me, and I always repay my debts. I’ll arrange for someone to meet you and discuss what you need. Will that be sufficient, or would you like me to provide some kind of collateral before I leave?”

  “That… will not be necessary. I trust you.”

  At his words, Felice raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I believe I’v
e learnt more than enough for tonight so will be leaving. Can I offer you an escort back to the Sorcerers’ Guild?”

  Was she really suggesting…? “Ah, no… thank you. I can look after myself.”

  Felicienne paused. “I’m sure you can.” She glanced at the thinning crowd around the table. “Still, perhaps instead you can escort me to my apartments and we can discuss your needs in more detail tonight?”

  Caldan heard Izak cough into a hand then murmur something unintelligible and wander away from the table. His heart beat faster. What would Miranda think of him? Why did he think of Miranda at a time like this?

  “I must decline,” he stammered.

  “Must you?”

  “Yes, my lady.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Um… Felice.” Caldan scrabbled for an excuse. “Honestly, I don’t know where I am at the moment. I’m new to the city and was lucky the sorcerers took me in.”

  “I would say they were lucky.”

  “Either way, I need some stability right now.”

  “I won’t push, and I’m not offended. I had better be going.”

  She nodded and without another word left him standing there by the abandoned game.

  Izak sidled up to him. “Well, well, well. You must have impressed her.”

  Caldan shook his head. He didn’t know what to make of the Lady Felice. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. It felt like a long night, though it was still relatively early.

  “You should have another game tonight. You need to take advantage before word of this gets out.”

  “No. I should be getting back. I’ve had enough stress for one night.”

  Izak sighed in resignation. Out of his coat pocket he pulled a piece of paper similar to Caldan’s. “Let’s go collect then. Are you sure…?”

  “I’m sure. No more tonight.”

  Izak guided Caldan through the crowd by the arm. A few people nodded to Caldan, and one man clapped him on the back. They wound their way over to the man sitting under the chalkboard, who handed over their winnings with minimal fuss.

  The cloth purse lay heavy in Caldan’s hand. More ducats than he had ever had in his life, enough to pay Master Simmon back and have plenty left over. Enough to treat Miranda to a decent meal to repay her kindness.

  Izak bounced his purse in his hand. “Well, if you’re going to have an early night, I might do the same. Too much excitement is not good for someone my age. Except sometimes!” He laughed, and Caldan couldn’t help but join in.

  Declining a farewell drink, Caldan exchanged a brief goodbye with assurances that he would return to the Yawning Rabbit soon and seek Izak out.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Darkness. The night had been one made for restless sleep. Broiling and sticky, making Bells toss and turn in what felt like an endless nightmare of fetid sweat and stale air.

  She had abandoned sleep well before dawn, preferring to while away the hours on the deck of the ship rather than toss and turn in her narrow bunk. Never one for sea travel, this journey had thankfully taken less time than she dared to hope.

  Only her crafting prevented her from becoming ill due to the ship’s constant swaying, though she, her brother Keys and the few sorcerers with them were the only ones able to stave off the misery. Many of the soldiers below decks weren’t so fortunate, and the stench of vomit never went away.

  A scuff sounded behind her, and she opened her well, preparing herself. Ah, it was the captain, no doubt coming above deck as their destination neared. She closed herself off from her well and shivered, rubbing her arms. She was far too touchy these days, nervous and jumping at shadows. Keys would have laughed at her if he had seen her reaction.

  She watched as the captain, a thin, long-nosed man with spectacles, set the crew to readying the ship to dock, even though they were some time out yet.

  A cool wind blew from behind them, speeding their progress, and the patter of rain started as the long awaited downpour began. The storm was short-lived. A brightening sky swept the shadows as cliffs loomed on their right. Ahead, she could see a break in the bleak rock face.

  Not long now, she thought with trepidation. No need to descend below and make sure everyone knew their roles. Planning for this mission had been long and detailed. Everyone knew their part.

  As the sun peeked over the horizon, the ship rounded the northern breakwater of the harbor of Anasoma. To their right in the water were hundreds of decrepit old ships, clustered together as if that would shelter them from the ravages of time and the sea. The Cemetery, she knew it was called. A place ships went to die, now inhabited by some of the poorest people in the empire.

  She shook her head at the plight of the unfortunate and her crafted bells, woven into her long dark hair, tinkled softly.

  Even at this distance, the fishermen on the docks would see their ship was huge, dwarfing the ships moored permanently in the Cemetery. Its sails were being furled and oars unshipped to allow the captain control as the ship came into harbor.

  Keys finally make his way onto the deck. He met her eyes and nodded with a wry smile before joining the captain. Numerous keys were suspended from chains around his neck, how he came by his name, just as they called her Bells, and from his belt hung a scabbarded sword. Don’t ever leave me, she thought.

  Knifing through the water faster than any other ship dared move this close to the docks, the Black Lion headed straight for the stone wharves, where important foreign ships and the emperor’s own berthed. At the last possible moment, the oars dug in and reverse strokes cut its speed to a mere crawl. It was a display meant to impress.

  The docks themselves were deserted, apart from the fishing wharves. There, boats departed to begin the day’s work, while others were arriving, holds filled with fish to feed a starving city. Somewhere, a scream sounded, followed by a curt exchange of harsh voices. Sticky heat, poverty and overcrowding boiled away the barriers between man and his basic nature. Cursing the foreign visitors, the workers on the docks bent back to their tasks.

  An officer of the harbor watch strode down the wharf and stopped alongside the ship. “What vessel?” he bellowed.

  “Black Lion, out of Indryalla,” returned the captain.

  “What’s your business in Anasoma? This wharf is reserved for ships under the emperor’s protection, not for merchants.”

  “Then fetch your superiors. We are on a diplomatic mission under the personal orders of the God-Emperor of Indryalla. Be so good as to send us a provisioner, and a quality one at that. It’s been a long voyage, and my men need fresh rations.”

  The harbor watch officer screwed up his nose at the captain’s commanding tone. “After I’m done with you, and after my superiors are done with you, and after we confirm you are who you say you are, and represent who you say you do, then you can send your own men to fetch whatever you need. Am I clear?”

  On the deck, Keys’ hand shifted to rest on the pommel of his sword, perhaps unconsciously. “I believe you are, sir,” he replied for the captain with a half-smile.

  Soon the ship was secured to the wharf with thick ropes, sails furled, the hull gently bobbing on the swell. Men of the harbor watch bustled around the ship, senior officers appeared to deal with potential diplomats, messengers were dispatched.

  Two nights later, Rathin, a harbor watchman ordered to guard the approach to the ship, stood warming his hands by a brazier glowing with smoldering coals. Three of his fellows lay sleeping around him, wrapped in their cloaks as best they could to keep the night’s chill from their bones.

  Motion aboard the ship caught his attention, and he took a moment to nudge his fellow guards awake.

  Three horsemen, followed by five figures, left the ship, clattering down the sturdy gangplank after the moon slipped behind a cloud. One horse snorted, breath misting in the chill night air. They made their way along the wharf towards the harbor watchmen and the city.

  The guards’ hands gripped their clubs tighter as the figures approached, all eight with their faces obscured b
y the hoods of their cloaks.

  Four gold coins struck the stones at their feet. More than any of them could earn in a long, long time. Rathin licked his lips and glanced towards his fellows.

  “You never saw us,” rasped the lead horseman.

  Dumbstruck, Rathin nodded. “Y-yes, of course,” he stammered.

  His fellows scrabbled for the coins on the ground.

  The three horsemen headed west into the city in the direction of Cabbage Town. All five shrouded men following them split off in different directions. Soon, they were swallowed by the darkness, like wraiths dissolving into the shadows.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It took Caldan two hours to weave his way through the morning crowds before he arrived at the place he had agreed to meet Miranda. Six days had passed following his victory over Lady Felicienne, and Caldan still felt uneasy with the gold ducats he had won, courtesy of Izak. He’d paid Master Simmon back, his largesse being met with a raised eyebrow and pointed questions as to where he had come about ducats so swiftly. Caldan had confessed, red-faced, but Simmon had merely grinned and told him not to win too much, with an explanation that some of the merchants didn’t like it when sorcerers did well against them on account they might be cheating.

  A few coins he spent on essentials, the remainder he secreted under his straw mattress. He had crafted another lock for his door that should stop any casual thief from entering his room.

  He hadn’t yet repaid Miranda for the meal they shared, and he didn’t want to take her to the Yawning Rabbit lest they ran into Izak.

  Caldan caught sight of Miranda and waved. They had arranged to meet at an intersection in Dockside, as Miranda said she had some business to arrange and would introduce him to a contact he might be able to use to find out about his trinket.

  She waved back, and Caldan lowered his arm with relief. Master Simmon had him performing a seemingly endless succession of exercises the last three days. Designed to strengthen his body, the exercise sessions left him gasping for breath and aching. Afternoons were dedicated to crafting and lessons on alchemy and history. Caldan found his appetite returning to what it had been before he arrived, managing to put away twice as much as his fellow apprentices, to his embarrassment and their amusement.