Caldan ran his hands along the ground, through the dead leaves, searching for the sack. By the ancestors, where was it? His hand bumped into something. Ah, there. He grabbed the sack, clutching at it greedily.
He rifled around inside then drew out his purse, which he stuffed in a pocket, his crafted wristband, which he slid onto his left forearm, his trinket which he slipped on a finger, and the bone ring on the chain, which he placed around his neck. Everything else he left in the sack. At the moment they were only components, a jumbled mess of metal rods and plates with a few semiprecious stones. He was glad he had managed to save these as well, though as they were they were useless to him. Perhaps, if they had time, he could complete the crafting.
The wristband gave him a degree of confidence, though from what he had seen and experienced of the invaders, they had their own craftings as well, and high quality ones, too.
Senira touched his arm.
“I should have asked earlier, but what is it?”
Caldan hesitated, for no reason he could fathom. There wasn’t any harm in telling her, and she deserved to know. “It’s a shield, like the ones the masters have.”
Senira smiled and fixed her eyes on him, as if evaluating him in a new light. Caldan cleared his throat.
“We should get going,” he said.
“To where, though? Do we even know which areas might be safe?”
“I think the apprentices’ smith-crafting area would be a good place to hole up, and we could do some scouting from there. Plenty of rooms to hide in. And nothing much of value for the invaders to bother searching the place more than once. There’s water to drink, but finding food will be harder.”
“How are we going to find the masters and the other sorcerers who managed not to get caught?”
“I don’t know… yet. Let’s go before the moon comes out from behind the cloud. We can get to the smith-crafting area from here. There’s a door which opens onto the garden.”
“Which way is it?”
“This way.” Caldan pointed towards the door. It was a fair way away on the other side of the garden. He was glad the night had been still so far. They hadn’t heard sounds of fighting or much of anything since escaping the cells. He wondered if that was a good or bad sign.
He went first, pushing his way through the bushes, trying to make as little noise as possible. Branches scraped against their bodies and arms. Clear of the bushes, they moved from tree to tree across the lawn, pausing at each to listen.
Satisfied there was no one behind it, he pushed the door open. Except it didn’t budge. He cursed under his breath.
“It’s locked, isn’t it?” said Senira.
“Yes.” Caldan thought furiously. Could he open the door from the outside? There was no lock. It was likely barred from the inside. He doubted his crafting could open it.
“Maybe I should hop in through that window there and open it from the other side,” suggested Senira.
“What?” Caldan looked to where Senira pointed. An open window a few yards away. “That’s… a good idea,” he said.
Without waiting, Senira stuck her head through the opening.
“A storeroom,” he heard her say. “Empty. Do you mind?” She lifted a foot and raised an eyebrow.
Caldan clasped both hands together and held them out for her to use. Senira stepped into the makeshift stirrup and dragged herself onto the window ledge, swung her legs inside and dropped out of sight. A few moments later, the door leading onto the garden opened and Caldan slipped inside.
The familiar forge room was empty. All the tools and materials were stowed in their proper places, tidied up for the night. It didn’t look like the place had been ransacked, and he doubted a workshop used by apprentices was high on the list of priorities for the invaders. Light from banked coals gave the room a soft orange glow.
They closed the door and re-barred it. Senira approached the forge and held her hands to the heat.
“Stay here and get warm,” he said. “I’ll go and find some water.”
“Thank you,” said Senira, brushing hair from her face. “I could use a drink.”
Caldan nodded and left her by the forge. He still carried his sack in one hand, reluctant to let it out of his grasp. He soon returned with two wooden jugs brimming with water after slaking his own thirst.
“Here,” he said, offering Senira a jug, from which she drank deeply.
With a grin, he pulled a metal pot and a cotton bag from his sack. Senira frowned but didn’t say anything. Placing the pot next to the hot coals, he poured in water until it was full, then opened the cloth bag and threw in a handful of black leaves.
“Tea?” asked Senira.
“Yes. The master in charge here had it in his room. We can replace it later.”
“If he… if we get out of here.”
“Of course we will.”
Senira sighed.
At a loss for what else to say, Caldan busied himself at a bench. From his sack he withdrew all the metal parts and the stones.
“Oh! You’re hurt!” exclaimed Senira. “I didn’t see before.”
Caldan followed her gaze to the tear in his pants, his thigh covered in dried blood. At a loss to explain, he lied. “It’s all right. One of the invaders did it. I bound it while I was in my cell. It wasn’t deep.”
“It certainly looks bad. Do you want me to take a look?”
“No,” he replied quickly. “It’s fine. It didn’t hamper me on our way here, did it?”
“Sorry. I feel like I’m useless. I need something to do.” Her gaze returned to the coals, hands extended.
Caldan looked around the room, thinking. He wanted to get to work on his jumble of metal and see if he could cobble together enough to get the crafting working, and they could use some paper and ink for emergencies. “I don’t think we should go too far from here. But we do need a few things, and it would go quicker if we both searched for them.”
Senira looked at him brightly. “Of course. We need something for tonight— blankets, any food we can find, possibly a lantern or crafted globe.” She scratched her head. “And mugs to drink the tea from.”
“Ah… yes.” He hadn’t thought about tonight. His focus on his crafting had blinded him to the obvious. “You gather what you can and I’ll work on some craftings, in case we need them.”
Senira left through a doorway and he heard her rattling around a storeroom. Abandoning the workbench, he went straight to the storeroom he knew held general supplies for sketching schematics. Rifling through the supplies, he took a stack of paper and ink and pens.
When he returned, there was a pile of rags lying next to the forge along with two metal cups. Senira was nowhere to be seen, but she had obviously been busy.
Sitting at the workbench, he laid out a sheet of paper and opened a bottle of ink. Taking one of the pens, he dipped it into the ink then paused. Where to start? With his experimentation in opening the cell lock, he knew he had stumbled upon a secret. Possibly one the Protectors would have revealed to him soon, but it was hard to say. Did they condone the use of destructive sorcery if it was for the greater good? Master Simmon had used it on a lock, but what was permissible and what wasn’t?
His biggest problem was Senira. He had a shield but she didn’t, which meant he needed to keep her out of any confrontations, if possible. There wasn’t time to make her one, and she probably couldn’t use one anyway. He guessed her talents didn’t run to complex sorcery, since he hadn’t heard of her before this.
So, he needed to protect them both. He stretched his neck and massaged his writing hand. Best to get to work, then. He started scribing.
Clunk. A metal mug filled with hot tea thumped down next to him and he jumped. Senira’s tinkling laugh filled his ears.
She waved at the workbench. “You were so engrossed, anyone could have come in without you hearing. I’ve made a few trips for supplies, and the tea has over-steeped while you sat here drawing.” She jumped up and sat on the work
bench next to him. “The tea is hot but bitter, and I couldn’t find any honey.” She shrugged.
“Thank you.” Caldan lifted the mug with both hands and sipped. He welcomed the warmth on his hands and throat. “I lost track of time.”
Around him lay scattered pages filled with patterns of runes. A few had been folded into quarters, and three he’d scrunched up into balls.
Senira examined the paper with an interested eye. “I don’t recognize some of the runes, let alone the purpose of the patterning. Care to explain?”
Caldan lay the pen down and recapped the ink bottle. His rubbed his fingers to ease the ache. He had finished the destructive sorcery craftings first and secreted some in his pockets and some in his sack. One he folded a few times and slipped into his boot in case of emergencies. What remained on the table were craftings designed to keep them safe tonight and warn them if anyone approached. There were a few entrances into this section of the building and he wanted to seal them off, leaving them the run of the place without fear of discovery. Once secure, they could rest for the remainder of the night.
“These ones,” — he took a hold of a piece of paper and started a pile, moving others to join it — “will block doors. One on either side of the door and the jamb, activate them and they should hold against all but the most determined sorcerer.”
“Should?”
“Will,” Caldan replied firmly, and she nodded.
“A neat trick. I don’t remember the class on that one…”
He coughed into his hand. “It’s not taught here. I learned it before I came.”
Senira raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment.
“These other ones,” — he began to separate the other pages into piles — “all have a different purpose. One can be activated close to the doors we will block, and they can tell us if anyone nearby has craftings or trinkets on them.” He gestured to another pile. “These ones I need to fold later. They’ll help us in the morning, when we get out of here and try to find the masters putting up resistance.”
“If any are. I mean, I hope they are but…” She shrugged and folded her arms tight around her chest.
Caldan rose on stiff legs and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything will be all right. A good night’s sleep here, safe, and everything will look better in the morning.”
With a sad smile, Senira nodded then hopped off the workbench and began arranging the pile of rags near the forge, which had grown while Caldan was preoccupied with scribing.
“It’s not much,” she said. “But it’s better than sleeping on the floor.” She gestured at the rags spread around her, barely big enough for one person, let alone two. “And keep your hands to yourself,” she added.
Caldan smiled. “Don’t worry. You take them all. I still have a lot to do and don’t think I could sleep now anyway.”
“Oh. Thank you.” She stood and looked around uncertainly. “Do you think… maybe we shouldn’t spend the night here? I mean, if it’s quiet out there, wouldn’t we have a better chance of moving around unseen?”
“I think it’s a few hours before dawn now, and maybe we should move soon. That would be best. Whatever’s happened, it’s likely everyone is resting up. There’s probably been some heavy fighting. When it’s time, we can sneak out. We know the layout better than the invaders, so we shouldn’t need luck to avoid anyone. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me. I could use a few hours sleep.” She brought a hand to her mouth and stifled a yawn.
Caldan felt himself start to yawn in response and suppressed it with an effort.
“You get some sleep. It’s been a rough day. I’ll place these craftings and make sure the doors are secure.”
Senira gave him a grateful smile then settled herself onto the pile of rags. She should be warm enough next to the forge.
He gathered the paper craftings and busied himself locking the three doors leading into the apprentices’ workshop. He resolved in the future to secure his own doors, no matter how safe he felt.
With barely a thought, he reached for his well and activated the craftings, one for each door along with the one which would detect the presence of other craftings and trinkets close by. Splitting his well into separate strings felt easier than it had before. He surmised it came with practice.
Caldan poured more water into the teapot next to the coals. It would help him stay awake to finish the paper craftings then work on his simulacrum. Small chance he could finish it tonight, but the more he assembled now the less he would have to do later. He had a feeling they would need all their talents to get through the next few days. And besides, if his simulacrum worked, it would be nothing like he had ever seen crafted before, something new.
Caldan spent the night fussing over the many pieces of metal provided to him by the clockmaker, muttering to himself or sitting motionless for a few minutes staring at one piece or another. None of the pieces were marked as yet with runes, which were the basic building blocks of crafting. He had planned to etch or stamp them in later, but barricaded in the apprentices’ workshop as they were, he couldn’t risk making any noise for fear that someone would hear.
Rummaging around another storeroom, he found a few different types of ink, one of which suited his purpose for the time being. Usually used for marking stone or metal, it was thicker and stickier than normal. The larger metal pieces and rods could wait, but the smaller ones he would start marking tonight. The clockmaker’s idea was that he should create a smaller model first, a prototype so he could see if his theories worked and he didn’t waste materials refining his craftings. A good idea, he admitted. He had never experimented much before, and it was likely the simulacrum would need many variations before he came up with one which worked as he wanted.
Sitting back at the workbench, he folded his remaining sheets of paper into small easy animals. He knew he might have to leave them behind, which was fine since they wouldn’t last long. He poured himself some tea and began the laborious process of marking the metal pieces and rods with crafting runes.
Chapter Forty-Six
Miranda was worried. Overnight, Anasoma had changed and the world had been turned on its head.
The city’s fishing fleets hadn’t sailed this morning as the big black ships of the invaders blockaded the docks. That they were from Indryalla was the most prominent rumor, but she had heard many in the last few hours, including that the sorcerers were taking over the city.
Around the city itself, the ancient wall meant to protect them had become the bars of a prison. Earlier she had made her way down the streets to see for herself. Crowds had gathered in places, making it hard to push her way through, people yelling and shouting at each other over what was to happen to them all. The commotion had settled down when after a few hours nothing had changed. At the edge of the city, thick blue flames sprang from the tops of the walls, including the towers dotted around the perimeter. As she approached, she heard them sizzling and crackling. Curiously, they gave off no heat. From a bystander she heard someone had seen a man burned alive as he tried to cross the top to warn the empire.
Stationed at all the gates in the wall stood troops of hardened soldiers, who to her eye looked slightly smug at the situation, as if they knew there was nothing that could stop them.
The city was sealed up so tight a rat couldn’t get out. Someone joked a few had died trying.
Whether the invasion boded ill or not, Miranda couldn’t tell. She didn’t agree with many of the emperor’s decrees regarding taxes and enforced slave labor for those who couldn’t pay, but generally the empire ran smoothly, as long as you had enough ducats. You worried about keeping yourself off the street first before you could worry about others. Once you started having to make a living off the streets you were lost.
Having wandered for a few hours gathering information on the state of the city and the feel of the populace, Miranda decided the place wasn’t going to explode with violence and rioting, at leas
t for a while. Generally, there had been no disruption to people’s affairs and daily routine, aside from the fact the Quivers were missing from their usual posts at almost every corner.
With the mood surprisingly calm, despite the uncertainty, she decided she should look to her own concerns. Her investments wouldn’t suffer in the long-term, depending on the invaders’ plans, of course. She assumed the Quivers would toss them out soon. All she had to do was sit tight and wait it out.
It was only on her way to see Caldan she heard there had been fighting at the Sorcerers’ Guild. So far, she hadn’t seen any commotion in the streets, though there were many reported clashes between the Quivers and the Indryallans, with the Quivers always coming off second best. The fact there had been trouble at the Sorcerers’ Guild was worrying. She hoped Caldan had kept out of danger.
She also hoped the Protectors Caldan had been hanging out with hadn’t done something stupid, like try to resist. That’s what the Quivers were paid to do, not some group of sorcerers playing at soldiers or whatever they were doing.
He’s likely to do something brainless like fight back. That’s who he is. Well, he’d better not get himself hurt.
She increased her pace, threading through the crowds milling in the streets. Not many had slept well last night after the ships rowed into the harbor. Word had spread quickly from the docks, from neighbor to neighbor, from inn to inn and through the people in the streets. Now the sun was setting, people looked even calmer, if that were possible. Nothing bad had happened to them during the day, so perhaps they felt safer. Some citizens had armed themselves but not in an attempt to repel the invaders. Reports of looting and violence from the shadier sections of the populace were rife. Without the emperor’s troops to keep the peace, disreputable people felt they could take advantage of the confusion.
Ahead of her smoke rose into a darkening sky, a problem since it was coming from the direction of the Sorcerers’ Guild and showed no signs of lessening. Which led her to believe there was hard fighting going on.
A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (Volume 1) Paperback Page 46
