“I do not know.”
“Where is Balien?” Aisling asked suddenly. He would know.
“He fled the palace when Gabriel broke.”
Aisling stood. “No, he would not. Please excuse me.” She gave them an incline of her head and marched out of the doors, headed for the kitchens. Marya was Balien’s closest confidant, and if he was still in the Palace, she would know where. There were a thousand-thousand places to hide, and Balien was familiar with a great many of them.
The palace hummed with activity as servants rushed to get the Mage guests settled in their rooms. Mages had a reputation for being wealthy and haughty since Jaden was a rich land. Most people gave the best of everything to Mages, from rooms and servants, to cloth and food, but those who were intimate with Castle Jaden knew all Mages worked hard to keep such things beautiful. Mages in Jaden did not sit on their tails and expect things to be done for them. Each one had a job and a purpose. In Kilkiny Palace, servants doted on Mages, and Aisling never saw fit to tell servants otherwise. Non-Mages had a healthy fear and respect of those who could bend the Elements.
A few people paused to ask questions, but she made it to the kitchens quickly. The cooks were busy making scones, stirring great vats of soup, and mulled wine to serve the newcomers. Marya was elbow deep in a bowl of dough, rolling little balls when Aisling walked up, ignoring the surprised looks of the servants.
“My Lady Aisling,” Marya smiled and wiped her hands on her dirty apron, but it only smeared flour around. “What can I be a’doin’ for you today?”
“I am looking for Prince Balien,” Aisling said quietly.
“Can’t rightly say I’ve seen his Princelyness around here for a while. Not one to fancy hard work and getting his pretty skin dirty or soil his fancy clothes.”
“That’s a bit unfair Marya,” a servant said from across the table.
“Nay, he’s a right louse, and he can’t make a red sauce to save his hide, and he spends too much time watching the girls churn butter.”
“Humm, but they jiggle in so many nice places.”
Aisling did a double-take at the servant with his brown hair, scruff of a beard coming in, and a smear of black across his nose and cheek. “Prince Balien? I hardly recognize you.” A hat pulled over his head, pushing his typically unruly locks over his eyes and around his cheeks.
“You should see me when I really try to disguise myself. But I dally. What need do you have of me?”
“Your sister is here to claim her throne and has need of your information,” Aisling replied quietly.
Balien nearly dropped the knife he was chopping with and stared at her with large eyes that, to her astonishment, welled up for a moment. “She lives?”
“Of course; Balien you knew that.”
“No, Nolen said…. Let me see her.”
“Freshen up first,” Aisling commanded.
He dropped his apron and rushed off at a brisk walk with Aisling on his heels. In his chambers, he dunked his head in a bowl, washing the dye free. The air in his room always smelled of dried sage and lavender, mixed with a hundred other herbs she had never learned. She selected for him a brocaded green doublet to go over a gray blouse with tight sleeves, black trousers to tuck inside green knee-high boots, and an off-the-shoulder half-cloak of cream.
Dressed, he followed her out. Aisling wondered if anyone would try and stop them, and sure enough when they rounded a corner, they came face to face with Air Guard soldiers. Two of them grabbed Balien by the shoulders. Aisling was quick in forming a shield-pattern that would push objects away, but Balien had already freed himself by the time she finished, leaving one man unconscious on the floor, another sporting a limp wrist, and a third backing away.
Balien kept moving as if nothing had happened, straightening his cloak and smoothing back his wet hair. He was the first to reach the Map Room, and at a nod from Aisling, the guards outside buckled the doors inward.
Robyn was on her feet in a moment, her face lit brightly in her happiness, and she rushed to embrace him with her one good hand as he came forward to wrap her up. He held her for some time as the Council watched with a soft gladness in their faces.
He pushed her back to look at her. “I thought you were dead.”
“You knew where I was.”
“No, Nolen said you were dead. He presented a body to Gabriel and everything. I saw it. Disfigured as it was, it looked like you.”
Robyn gritted her teeth. “Did this happen the night I came for him?”
Balien nodded. “That and much more. Word was you were injured and fled into the City. Soldiers brought back a body claiming it was yours. They took Gabriel and…never mind. Regardless, when presented with the body, he broke.”
“That is because he thinks me dead. He will be fine when all is rightened. Where did they take Gabriel?”
“So did you remain unscathed?” Balien asked instead.
As Robyn showed her brother her missing hand, he gave a quiet curse. “Maybe if you are really polite to Nolen, he will fix it for you.”
“We have other things in mind, Prince Balien,” Casimir said kindly. “What was it you were saying happened to Mage Gabriel?”
“I…was not, my lord. Really all that matters is you are all here safely.”
“Prince Balien…” Casimir interjected in a tone that said he would be answered.
Balien tightened his lips. “Nolen had him publically flogged after they found him outside the walls.”
The room shuttered into an upturned anthill as every voice but Miranda’s raged a complaint. Aisling felt cold as she closed her eyes. When she opened them, she saw Cordis staring at the location his son was reported to be on the map. He had an intensity she knew to mean he was ready for battle.
“Was he terribly wounded?” Robyn asked over the cacophony.
Balien gave her a serious look but did not answer, instead turning to the Head Mage. “That reminds me, there are two Mages in the dungeons’ incanted room. They should be vacated so Nolen can take up residence.”
“Aye, Mages Oren and Malain,” Cordis piqued up. “Both are there because Nolen is a bloody—” he looked at Miranda, “rather unpleasant person.”
“We will need them. Markus, Galloway, please take yourselves down there and release our comrades. Cordis, would you lead?”
“As long as I can manage,” Cordis said and swallowed.
“Don’t be afraid of the dark,” Markus said and slapped a hand on Cordis’ shoulder as they walked out. “Though I’ll admit, it frightens me a touch at times.”
“Do keep thinking you’re hilarious. What do you have to say about Galloway’s hat?” Cordis said before the doors closed. Aisling smirked.
Councilwoman Adelaide swept in before much more could be said. “Mage Jade will be happy to accompany us,” she announced before taking her seat.
“Excellent, Adelaide. We will plan to leave on the morrow with the sun and sidestep to this location,” Casimir pointed with a long stick he had found amongst the tools. “We will plan to take them before they can leave their location.”
“If they leave before we can reach them, we will lose them completely,” Aisling chimed in. “Should we not leave now?”
“I did not tell you. Forgive me, birds cannot be relied upon. I know the Silex’s location. I know where they will be.” Casimir replied.
Aisling was not surprised. Jaden had a great many secrets and if anyone knew them, it would be the Head Mage. “Why do we not fetch it for ourselves?”
“We cannot. It is protected by wards too powerful for us—but for a Class Ten, rather simple.”
Aisling looked at their faces as she put the pieces together. “You want Gabriel to retrieve the Silex.”
“I do,” Casimir nodded and smoothed a hand over his neatly trimmed beard. “And with it, I will kill him, restore his life, and return him to the freedom he so deserves.” Robyn straightened in her seat and gazed at him as if he was made of crystal and light. “And
yes, sweet Princess, he can restore your hand to you. So, you see, we must let him retrieve the Silex in his broken state if we want to free him.”
Chapter 11
The energy in the Salt Fort, while faint, was angry enough to pierce Gabriel’s dulled senses. Kindle was furious with Nolen. They had been yelling at each other for the better part of two hours until Tabor stole Nolen away to glean more information. Tabor was not nearly as angry, rather, he was amused and even proud of his son.
Mairie turned down a fine room for Mikelle and Gabriel to share, and he was loath to discover it only had one bed. Mikelle had flashed him a dark grin and giggled, but of all women, he was most comfortable sharing the sheets with her.
“You know,” she had said as she shuffled through her things, “we women cannot get in and out of these dresses without assistance.” She pointed to the laces up the back of her gown. At one point, he would have a snappy retort, but he simply gave her a narrow glare.
He now leaned over a bubbling pot of a brown substance that smelled like butter and rum. Stirring the ingredients around slowly, he lost his thoughts in the mire. Nolen had wanted something warm and stronger than cider. He had sent Gabriel to find something like a common servant. Once, Gabriel would have balked and fought, but now all he cared to know was if Nolen wanted a goblet or a flagon. The strong will that had gotten him through the tortured hours in the dungeons was as far away from him as Robyn’s immortality.
“It’s ready, m’darlin’,” the main cook, an old wrinkled woman, said gently, putting a hand on his elbow. He shied away from her touch before realizing what he had done.
“I—forgive me.”
“Don’t you worry, m’love,” she said and patted his hand. “I’ve mugs here for you, and a tray if y’fancy. Fill one up for yourself and that pretty foreign girl, too. Dinner won’t be long in coming.”
Gabriel gave his thanks and carried the two goblets out in his hands to the same study where Tabor had first been. The floorboards creaked under his bootfalls, and the cold in the hall danced across his skin, making him wish for his Mage cloak upstairs in his room.
Tabor was speaking in his tenor monotone when Gabriel pushed the door open with a finger. Nolen had been so proud to display his catch that he required Gabriel to leave his collar unlaced and sleeves rolled up to display the Castrofax. In the dim light of the dusky room, they glowed in their ever cold yellow. Tabor could not help but watch them with a measure of caution.
“Sit with us,” Tabor said and gestured to a chair. Nolen bristled. “Do you have a name, or shall we call you Mage?”
“His name is unimportant. It gives him identity. Did I tell you—I did not. I spent weeks trying to break him, using the techniques you taught me. They say Class Ten’s have great will to resist and believe me, even you would have enjoyed having a go with this one.” Nolen laughed and took a swig of his drink. “I did everything I could possibly think of from public humiliation to every abuse conceived by man, and finally, finally, I got my hands on his love and killed her. Then he broke. Simple as slicing through a baked yam. Snapped like someone had cut his spine, and since then he has been as docile as a beaten puppy.” Nolen chuckled to himself as Tabor swallowed a draught.
“My name is Gabriel.”
Nolen shot him a wrathful glare.
“Careful, Gabriel, my son has a temper inherited from me. Were Princess Robyn and his love the same girl?” Tabor asked.
“The very same.”
“You know your sister has more claim to the throne than you do.”
“Can you imagine Kindle ruling a kingdom? This land needs a leader who can handle the people, not a ragdoll.”
“She will not tell you where the Silex is. She has been here five bleeding years and will not speak of it. In fact, I did not find out what she harbored for over three years until she got drunk one night. She won’t touch the stuff now so rule inebriation out.”
“I am sure there are other ways.”
“You would not dare harm her.”
“I would not. But we have a Class Ten with capabilities beyond our own.” Nolen fell silent, and Gabriel felt eyes on him. “Tell me, Mage, what do you know of mind manipulation?”
He took a deep breath and raised a hand to point to the back of his head. “There is a place within that can be dulled. Once stripped of its layers, you can inhibit reason and emotions. There is no pattern I know to control the brain completely. The user must be very gentle, or he could cause irreparable damage.”
“Can you control motion?” Nolen asked.
Gabriel bit his lip as he thought. “Nerves can be tweaked and pinched, but full motion is not possible.”
“If damage were done, could you heal it?” Nolen asked. “Look at me when I am talking at you.”
“The brain is a vast concoction of nerves and links and triggers so minute that a hundred could fit on the cross-section of a hair. I could mend some things, but you lack the skills to lay the patterns carefully enough. To strip away the brain is to kill it. It cannot be mended afterwards.”
“Kindle is still under my protection, so I will not have you tampering with her mind,” Tabor said, swirling his mug. It was so faint Gabriel could not feel it, and the sudden realization clamped his throat together as he watched the liquid move. Every time Nolen used his energy, his connection to the Elements felt less and less. He looked to the fire and tried to calm his heart. ‘At least I can still feel that.’
“Did you not hear me?” Nolen asked as Gabriel came to his thoughts. He looked at the mug Tabor swirled then back at Nolen with raised brows. “Is there another way to control a person?”
“No, but Mage Ryker might know.”
“I will not have that bleeding Mage in my house!” Tabor suddenly roared, slamming his mug down on the armrest. “Nolen I will not have you drag us into the mess you got yourself into, and I will not have one of his,” he gestured to the Castrofax, “things on my daughter. If you bear your sister any love, you will leave here and forget she knows what you crave.”
“I will take her with me when I leave. She will be safe once the Silex is freed. I hope by morning she will come around, though you may need to push her along,” he jerked his head in Gabriel’s direction.
The men began to drone on about future plans, and how they would rule Anatoly before Mairie announced supper was ready. Gabriel followed at some distance, listening for Mikelle somewhere in the manor, but all was quiet. The Novacula men led him into a long hall with tall boxes running down the center where a table should have been. The men refilled their drinks as a younger woman entered with a flagon of buttered rum. She brought one for Gabriel and the two women. He took it without thanks and held it, feeling the warmth trickle through his skin. ‘Will I lose that feeling someday?’
The Novaculas stood close to the fire, so Gabriel found a pillar to lean against, facing the opposite direction. A side double door opened, and four servants entered carefully carrying a long board with a dozen plates and bowls on it. They slowly positioned themselves over a section of the boxes closest to the fire and set the board down gently and straightened it. As they worked, the women entered.
Mikelle had changed into a wool dress of soft blue and a thick white mantle of fox fur with a hood, framing her pale face. On her bent arm walked Kindle with a look only women can obtain when angry and trying to calm themselves. In fact, Mikelle’s expression was similar but showed a touch of victory in her eyes. ‘Oh, please don’t make me sit with you,’ Gabriel thought. There were many things he could handle, but vindictive and angry women were things he tried to avoid.
He looked to the table as Tabor took the head, Nolen at his left. The women stole to the other side of the table. ‘Oh, don’t make me sit with Nolen,’ Gabriel sighed, but he reluctantly took the chair beside the Prince. A fine display of turnips and carrots around a small turkey, mashed apples with raisins, fresh bread, and steaming squash with butter arrayed for them, along with several flagons of mulled win
e and buttered rum. It filled the air with savory scents.
The women remained silent through the meal, looking at the food or fire or far walls with distain, while the men were too wary to voice a syllable.
Tabor finally took a chance as he mopped up his plate with bread. “Mage Mikelle, I have a love of Dastanian reds. You are far from home. Can I open a flask for you?”
“That would be most kind of you, but no, I am not thirsty.”
“We often retire for the evening in the library for drinks and stories. I am sure you all have some fresh tales to add to our dull conversations. I will open a flask for you anyway. Perhaps Mage Gabriel would fancy some?”
“Would you?” Kindle asked before Nolen could crack his lips.
“I—I would have a mug,” Gabriel replied quietly.
“It is settled! Coryn, open one of the Dastanian reds in the library!” he shouted. “The library was picked mostly clean years ago when the Generals used this place for retreat and training, but we have a few books. Mostly drab histories.”
‘Don’t make me spend another hour with these people.’ Gabriel stood with the rest of them and made their way across the manor.
“Mikelle, can I draw you a bath?” Tabor asked as he crossed the room to walk beside her.
“I would be very careful how…fresh you get with me, Mage Tabor,” she replied. “Is that the correct term?”
He laughed heartily. “You misunderstand me. We lack plumbing here, so if you require a bath, I will have it boiled in the kitchens and brought up to your room. It takes a while so if you would like one, I would ask for it now.”
“That is most kind. I would like that.”
“You go help them,” Nolen said quietly to Gabriel.
‘Bless you.’ Gabriel cut his way back to the kitchen without complaint. The manor had a well sunk in a side room, so Gabriel drew ice water as the women boiled it in large kettles. In the higher altitude, the water took longer to boil, but he was glad for it gave him blessed moments without the Prince.
Breaking Stars (Book 2) Page 12
