by Will Wight
“I think it wants to eat me,” Calder whispered.
Shuffles leaned closer to Calder’s ear, growling with the voice of a malevolent earthquake: “EEEAAAATTT.”
Alsa walked over and ruffled Calder’s hair. “See? It likes you!”
~~~
As Calder and his mother sat in the back of the carriage, rumbling down to the harbor, an uncomfortable thought lodged in his brain. It wouldn’t go away, jabbing him with every crack of the carriage wheels on the cobblestones.
What was he going to do if he failed?
If he and Jerri were caught before breaking his father out of prison, they probably wouldn’t see much of a penalty. At worst, it was another case of a young Watchman testing the limits of his authority, which the Guild had seen many times before.
But what if they were caught after unlocking Rojric’s cell? What if they couldn’t sneak him out of the facility?
Even if they escaped capture, it wouldn’t be hard for the Candle Bay staff to figure out what had happened. Calder had attempted to visit his father every few weeks, after all, and he would become the premier suspect in any investigation.
Of course, he had considered all that before. But now there was a new ingredient to his thoughts, a new note to his dark daydreams.
If he were caught, what would happen to his mother?
He hadn’t planned on taking his father to stay at the Grayweather house—not only would Alsa never allow it, but it would be the first place Imperial investigators would check. However, the thought didn’t bother him. Rojric Marten was perfectly capable of disguising himself, finding another place to stay.
But if Calder failed, and was caught, how much blame would fall on his mother? Would she be able to keep her position in the Guild? Would the Blackwatch itself come under scrutiny, with a crime committed by one of its members? What would Bliss do, when two of her Watchmen had disgraced her so thoroughly?
And if he succeeded, his mother would eventually find out. Would she turn him in? Would she demand that he resign his post at the Guild?
For the first time, Calder was starting to realize how little he’d actually considered about the outcome of his plan.
But it was already too late.
Jyrine would be preparing herself even now. He had his own tools, invested and designed specifically for this operation, hidden inside the carriage, disguised as materials from The Testament.
The plan was going through, and he would free his father.
But, like a gambler who found himself trapped in a bad bet, he suddenly wondered if the stakes had risen too high.
CHAPTER TWENTY
When they pulled up to the long stone dock on the Gray Island, three people were waiting for them.
One was a pretty Heartlander woman with a long white scar down the center of her face. She wore her hair in dozens of small braids, and she had traded in her black outfit for an elegant purple dress that wouldn’t have been out of place in the Capital. Two men, wearing the same black outfits as the Consultants on Nakothi’s island, flanked her to either side. Their mouths were covered by black cloth, and they kept their eyes fixed on the dock.
When Calder walked up to the edge of the ship, he sent a mental command to slide the ramp down. As soon as it was in place, the Consultant gave a smooth curtsy.
“Captain Calder Marten, it’s quite an honor to meet you. My name is Kerian, and I am here to facilitate your visit to the best of my ability.”
Calder gave her his best smile. “Calder, but you already knew that. Should I introduce the rest of my crew?”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m told you have quite a guest onboard as well. Would you mind if he joined us for our meeting?”
“Naberius?” For a moment, Calder’s mind raced. What if he’d been lied to? What if the Consultants wanted Naberius to be the next Emperor as well? They could kill the whole crew as soon as they had Naberius on shore.
Kerian whispered something to the black-clad man on her left, then turned back to Calder. “I assure you, he will be far more secure on the island than on your ship. We will not let him escape, if that’s your concern.”
His primary concern was that Jarelys Teach could catch up to him at any moment, and if he didn’t have Naberius within easy reach, she would kill him without remorse.
But he didn’t see that he had a choice.
“Help yourself,” he said graciously.
“Thank you, Captain.”
Someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind, and he turned to see two different black-clad Consultants supporting a still-bound Naberius between them.
Calder kept his expression pleasant, bowing the two Consultants and their prisoner down the ramp. But where had they come from? How had they gotten onto the ship without walking past him on the ramp? If they could do that, what had stopped them from killing him in his sleep weeks ago?
He patted his jacket pocket, reassuring himself. You’re not a helpless target. You’re in charge here. Act like it.
Calder strode down the ramp, calling back over his shoulder. “Andel, Foster, it’s time to leave.”
Kerian raised her eyebrows in evident surprise. “What happened to your Champion? Urzaia, was it? And you have an alchemist too, don’t you?”
“Former Champion,” Calder corrected. “He decided to stay on another island about a day back. He decided to meditate in order to hone his skills, or some such Champion business. And our alchemist doesn’t leave the ship if she can help it.”
Kerian’s face was pleasant and completely unreadable. He had no idea if she believed him or not. “I see. Well, if you’d like to follow me, we’d be happy to accommodate you in our local chapter house. I have to tell you, Captain, we expected you to sneak onto the island from behind. Not many of us thought you would simply walk in the front door.”
Calder tried to look as though the idea shocked him. “We’re both professionals. We should be able to settle this with business.”
“That’s very mature of you,” she said. Her voice told him no more than her expression.
She was walking alongside him, with her original two companions leading the way, and the other two carrying Naberius at the back. He stepped forward, brushing against her elbow as if by accident.
He caught no vision—there wasn’t enough Intent in her dress for that. But he received a sense of her current mental state.
Absolute focus. That was the only way he could describe his impression of her Intent. Usually, when you got the chance to read a person’s active Intent, you got a sense of their background and emotions. Not so with Kerian.
She had a purpose, she knew what it was, and she was absolutely focused on that single point. There was nothing else for Calder to see.
He took an involuntary step away, though he managed to keep his pleasant expression. He couldn’t even Read her. Was she human? How did anyone end up with such needle-sharp Intent?
Kerian turned her smile on him, and he tried to hide his shiver. “Please try to relax. You’re a client. We will do everything we can to accommodate you as long as we’re conducting business.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Calder said.
Andel and Foster turned and stared at him.
~~~
A staircase began at the base of the dock, winding up a grassy hill and terminating in a crown of a building. It was white and arching, almost like a Luminian cathedral, but it gave the impression of modern advancement rather than ancient dignity. Its glass panes, stained with the garden shear crest of the Consultants, flanked the polished wooden doorway. Trees and benches lined the path leading inside, though Calder was sure no one ever casually strolled outside the headquarters of the Consultant’s Guild.
He glanced behind the chapter house to the rest of the island, and was surprised at how natural it looked. There were one or two shapes that may have been the tips of distant buildings, but other than that, the island was a sprawling, natural mix of hills, rocky slopes, and trees.
&nbs
p; “I thought you would use more of the island,” Calder remarked, just before they entered the chapter house.
“We do,” Kerian responded. “It’s more use to us in a natural state, that’s all. We wouldn’t want it to look like the Capital, would we?”
That’s what he had been picturing: the Consultant chapter house in the Capital, which was nestled like the missing puzzle piece in the middle of a hundred crowded buildings. Now that he thought of it, there was no reason why their private island should look anything like that.
The island looked like someone had taken an especially large Imperial Park and transplanted it directly into the middle of the Aion. The only thing spoiling the view was the rolling gray background, making it seem like the sky was perpetually overcast. Only when he looked directly upward did he see a blue circle, like the eye of a storm.
Inside the chapter house, Kerian directed them straight past the reception room. Calder was unsurprised to see that it was as well-appointed as the Imperial Palace itself, with priceless art decorating the shelves and gilt-framed paintings hanging on the wall.
Five hundred goldmarks, Calder thought, passing a Cannalli original portrait. It portrayed an ancient Aurelian general standing victorious after a battle with the Izyrians. Not a single painting he passed would have fetched less than four hundred goldmarks at auction. In most parts of the Empire, that was enough to buy a house.
And he’d thought Navigators were well-paid for their travels. Maybe he should have joined the Consultants.
The woman at the desk had hair almost as pale as Bliss’, and she stared at him with an iron gaze. For some reason, she kept her hands conspicuously tucked beneath the desk.
Aren’t receptionists supposed to be friendly? She looked as though she’d rather kill him and deal with his corpse than listen to a single word he had to say.
Kerian kept walking without stopping, leading them down a red carpet marked with the moon-in-sun symbol of the Aurelian Empire. They finally reached a private room standing open, decorated in much the same manner as the reception room. A round conference table in the center, surrounded by padded chairs, took up most of the floor space.
There was a hat rack in the corner, but he kept his hat on. And thus do I strike a blow against my enemies.
Kerian gestured for them to seat themselves. “Can I offer you any refreshment? Drinks? Something to eat, perhaps?”
Foster cleared his throat. “I could use some coffee, if you have it.”
“Of course.”
Andel shook his head, but Calder was interested in testing this out. “I could use a light lunch, actually.”
“Do you have any preferences?”
Perhaps he should have some sort of plan here, to trap them and show the Consultants that he was in charge, but he was really just curious. “Surprise me.”
Kerian nodded to the back of the room, and when Calder turned to look, he found that Naberius was being supported by a single black-clad Consultant. His partner must have gone to get their order.
Come to think of it, weren’t there two more of those guys? Where did they go?
Naberius was not led to a chair. They left him tied and gagged, scowling across the room at Kerian, standing against the wall and held by a black-gloved hand. Calder couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the sight.
“Let’s get right to business, then,” Kerian said, brushing a few braids out of her eyes. She reached beneath the table, pulling out a leather satchel, which she set on the table. From inside the satchel, she withdrew a single file. “You’re looking for the Heart of Nakothi and for your wife, Jyrine Tessella Marten.”
Straight to the point. Calder could play that game, though it still unnerved him to think about how much the Consultants knew. If they wanted to take over the Empire, what was stopping them? Why hadn’t they backed Naberius?
“I’d also like a way to keep Jarelys Teach from killing me and my crew,” Calder put in. “That’s a fairly important point.”
Kerian made a note. “And you two gentlemen? Anything you would like to discuss?”
“We’re with him,” Andel said.
“And you, Dalton? I’m given to understand that there’s something we could do for you.” She pulled a different file out of her satchel, and Calder saw Dalton Foster’s name written in a tight hand on the front.
Foster scowled at the file, no doubt upset that someone had found out who he was. “Maybe later. On my own. For now, we’ve got more important things to do.”
Kerian gave no indication whether she was pleased or not, she simply slid the file back into her satchel. “Of course. I will take the initiative and preemptively answer your questions while you enjoy your refreshments.”
Was she going to wait until the food arrived? Calder glanced over at the doorway, and then back to the table.
A pile of chicken, rice, and steamed vegetables sat in a shallow bowl just in front of him, framed by silverware, a napkin, and a glass of orange wine.
“How did you do that?” Calder asked, impressed.
The corner of Kerian’s mouth twitched up, and that smile actually looked genuine. “You know, that’s the most common question I get. Would you believe I never answer it?”
“I would suspect you always answer,” Andel responded. “You just never tell them what they were hoping to hear.”
She nodded to him, conceding the point. Foster simply sipped his mug of coffee.
“So while you enjoy that, Captain, I will lay out the situation. Your ship was attacked by an unknown assailant in Candle Bay, and your wife was taken.”
Calder swallowed a mouthful of chicken. “Not unknown. A Consultant by the name of Shera.”
“Is that so? Did she introduce herself?”
He waved his spoon in the Chronicler’s direction. “Naberius recognized her from the Imperial Palace.”
Kerian tapped her pen against the paper. “The second most common question I receive is regarding assassins. I’m afraid I have to tell you that the Consultants do not employ, and never have employed, hired killers.”
Calder gripped his spoon like a dagger, forcing a grin. “Oh really? Then who do you think attacked our ship, dressed in all black?”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t one of our Consultants,” Kerian said. “But tell me, did she actually kill anyone?”
He thought for a moment around a mouthful of chicken and rice. He didn’t know anything about Consultant cooks, but Urzaia needed to take lessons from them.
“She took my wife,” Calder said at last.
“Yes, she did.”
Well, that was easy. She had admitted to Jerri’s abduction. Now it was just a matter of negotiation.
He leaned forward, meal forgotten. “So where’s Jerri?”
Kerian flipped through the file, shuffling papers. “‘That which sleeps will soon wake.’ Does that mean anything to you, Captain Marten?”
He took a sip of wine to buy himself time to think. “I’ve heard it before,” he allowed.
“I thought you had. It’s the credo of a group that call themselves the Sleepless. While the Great Elders sleep, these men and women stay awake and serve their interests. It’s little more than a modern-day cult, and I’m led to believe that you’ve had some run-ins with them in the past.”
“I have.” The latest only a little more than a year ago.
“Then you’re aware that your wife is a member of that group?”
Andel and Foster exchanged looks, but they didn’t meet his eyes. What did they think about this? There was no love between them and the Elder cults, especially in Andel’s case. Did they think Jerri was better off rotting in a Consultant dungeon?
“That’s one of many topics I would like to discuss with her when I see her again,” Calder said.
Kerian scribbled another note, and Calder found himself wishing he could see the file. “Let’s discuss the Heart of Nakothi.”
As far as Calder was concerned, they weren’t through discussing his wife, but
he played along. “The Guild Heads seem to think that you intend to destroy it.”
“And by ‘Guild Heads,’ you mean Bliss, Jarelys Teach, Cheska Bennett, and Mekendi Maxeus?”
“I’m not going to ask how you know that, and I’ll just say yes.”
“Very wise. While the Guild Heads are correct about our ultimate goal, they are mistaken regarding our methods.” She folded her hands on top of the file, meeting his eyes seriously. “We have a method to destroy the Heart. But doing so without taking the proper precautions, in the wrong way, could be even worse than letting it go free. Tell me, Calder, what did you think of the Emperor?”
He was going to need a file of his own just to keep track of each time she changed the subject. “I am a loyal citizen of the Aurelian Empire.”
“Off the record.”
“He was a suicidal captain who almost steered us into a cliff,” Calder said. “He was so much older and more powerful than anyone else that he thought he was beyond human. He wrote laws and traded lives like a Great Elder, rather than a man just like anyone else. When I learned he was dead, I laughed until my sides hurt.”
Kerian nodded as though he had said exactly what she expected. “This may surprise you, but many on our Council of Architects feel exactly the same way.”
That did surprise him. The average Imperial citizen didn’t know much about the Consultant’s Guild, but two things were common knowledge. First, they would help you with anything so long as you had enough cash to interest them. Second, they were absolutely dedicated to the Empire. Even the Imperial Guard had its stories of traitors and rebels, but not the Consultants. To be a Consultant, in the popular opinion, was to be among the Emperor’s most dedicated servants.
“Humankind has never governed itself,” Kerian went on. “The Emperor did it for us, and as you pointed out, he didn’t do so as one man ruling over other men. He borrowed the power of the Elders to stand above us as though he were a Great Elder himself.”
Calder couldn’t have put it any better. Maybe he would be able to come to an agreement with this Guild after all.
