Game of Stone: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  It had certainly been a fine thing in its day, exquisitely made of rare wood and silver fittings, probably costing more than the majority of the people of his grandfather’s time would have seen in many years of work. It had certainly held up better than a lesser-made vessel would have, but even so, it still showed the ravages of age.

  That’s what it’s got you, Stone thought, still full of bitterness. All that power, and there you are—a collection of bones and rot in a box. How do you feel about what you’ve done now?

  A temptation so strong it was almost a compulsion rose inside him: to let the magic within him loose, to rip the rest of the marble covers off the remaining crypts—all but his father’s—and yank the moldering old corpses out, strewing the bones and using more magic to pound them into dust and burn them until the conflagration engulfed the entire mausoleum. It would still be better than they deserved.

  The only thing that stopped him was Aubrey’s knock on the open doorframe.

  He whirled around, only allowing the rage to drain from his face when he saw the old caretaker take a step back, his eyes wide with fear. He slumped back against the sarcophagus. “I’m sorry, Aubrey.”

  “Sir…” Aubrey studied him a moment. “You—”

  “Come on,” he said, pushing off. “Let’s do this. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do with your Sunday than hang about in this moldy old building.”

  Aubrey looked as if he might say something else, but sighed and pulled cans of sealant and a putty knife from the bag he carried. He indicated the marble cover. “If you could lift it into place and hold it there, I can apply the sealant.”

  With a last look at the casket inside, Stone lifted the cover and, with Aubrey’s help, directed it into place over the niche opening. “Go ahead. I’ve got it.”

  He forced himself to keep his concentration steady as Aubrey carefully spread the sealant into the seam all the way around the cover. It wasn’t easy; his mind kept wanting to go back to what he’d discovered, and every time it did, his anger and shame surged again. The only thing that kept him on track was the knowledge that if he lost his grip on the heavy cover, it might fall and hurt Aubrey.

  At last, the final bit of sealant was in place. “There,” Aubrey said, stepping back. “That’s done. It dries quickly, but if you can hold it for a few more minutes, it will help ensure it stays put.”

  Stone nodded. The magical effort of holding the cover in position, especially now that it was sealed, was trivial. He leaned back against the sarcophagus again and bowed his head.

  “Sir…” Aubrey ventured after a moment.

  “Yes?”

  “You looked at whatever was in that box this morning, didn’t you?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  The pause was so long that Stone finally looked up. Aubrey was regarding him with an expression that was hard to read: sadness, love, and exasperation all mingled together.

  The old man put a hand on his shoulder. “Please, sir. Tell me what you’ve found that’s disturbing you so. It’s not healthy to keep all of this inside you. It isn’t that you don’t think you can trust me to keep your secrets, is it?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “Gods, no, of course not.” He knew, as he knew little else anymore, that Aubrey would die before he revealed a confidence. “It’s…just—”

  Aubrey waited silently, a steady comforting presence.

  “It’s just…” Suddenly, he was tired. Exhausted. His brain felt as if someone had swathed it in wet cotton. Still holding the spell on the cover, he slid down the side of the sarcophagus to sit on the cold granite floor and bowed his head again.

  Aubrey crouched next to him, his hand still on his shoulder. “It’s just what, sir?” His voice was gentle.

  He let his breath out, fighting the urge to leap up and run. “They were all black, Aubrey. Every last bloody one of them. They were…terrible.”

  “Terrible?” The old man’s brow furrowed. “In what way?”

  “In what way weren’t they?” he snapped, then shook his head. “No…I’m sorry…none of this is your doing.”

  “Tell me, sir. Please. Let me help you bear this.”

  Stone looked up, his gaze traveling over the plaques on the various niches. “They were all black,” he said again. “Not like my father. Truly black. I found…records of the early days of this house…Rituals…sacrifices…Letters where they talked about using their magic to intimidate mundanes into taking them into business partnerships…” He shook his head, and his voice shook. “It’s like a bad dream, Aubrey—some kind of dreadful horror movie. And they’re all my ancestors.”

  “Sir…” Aubrey’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “If that’s true…if that’s what you found…it is terrible. But it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. How could it be?”

  He couldn’t remain seated any longer, his natural inclination to cope with stress by moving re-exerting itself. He hauled himself up and paced the small confines of the mausoleum, still devoting a tiny corner of his mind to keeping up the spell holding the cover in place. “No…” he said. “It’s not my fault. But it is my family. It is my blood. What if I—”

  “What if you do those horrible things? Sir…” Aubrey got up too, more slowly, wincing. “Of course you won’t do those things. Why would you? Times are different now. And more importantly by far, you’re not like that. Your father wasn’t like that. Yes, he was a black mage for the last half of his life, but he never did anything like that. And you—you’re not a black mage.”

  Stone turned away from him; he was far too perceptive. “That’s not all…”

  “What isn’t all, sir?”

  He leaned over the sarcophagus, his palms flat on top of it. “I found a symbol…on some of the papers in the box. At first I couldn’t find what it was—I’d never seen it before. I thought I’d have to ask Eddie about it, if I could bear to tell him any of this.”

  “But you found it?”

  “Yes.” He took a deep breath. “They belonged to some kind of secret order, Aubrey. All of them did. Not just my ancestors, but quite a number of the powerful magical families in Britain. Even some of Desmond’s ancestors were part of it.”

  “What…kind of order?” Aubrey came around the sarcophagus, standing on the other side facing Stone.

  “They called it Ordo Purpuratus.”

  “The…Purple Order? That’s an odd name…”

  “Not really. Sounds just about right for a bunch of arrogant, wealthy men who were convinced the rest of the world couldn’t touch them, actually. Purple’s always been associated with royalty, wealth—and most importantly, magic. Many of the accounts I found made it sound like some sort of…magical gentleman’s club. You know—a place where they could get together, smoke, drink, and carve up the world.” He didn’t even try to censor the anger in his tone.

  “But that isn’t all it was?”

  Stone snorted. “Not by a long way. It’s been around at least as long as I have records of my ancestors—I don’t know if my great-great-great grandfather started it, but I’d wager a lot of money he was one of the founding members. The letters I found indicated it persisted at least until my grandfather’s day. I don’t know if it still exists, or if my father was a member.”

  “What…did the symbol look like, sir?”

  When Stone described it, Aubrey shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like that in the house or among any of your father’s books or papers. Have you?”

  “No. Of course, I haven’t been through every book in my library, and now that I’ve inherited Desmond’s I should probably look there too, since some of his people were involved. At least to find out whether this wretched thing still exists in modern times.”

  “I suspect they’d be a bit more…discreet about it if it did, sir.” Aubrey looked away, then back at Stone.

  “Yes…probably.” He paused a long time, staring down at the carved surface of the sarcophagus. “And…as if that wasn’t e
nough, I found out one more bit of information I’d never suspected before.”

  Once again, Aubrey waited in silence for him to continue.

  He pointed at the sarcophagus. “I’ve known for a long time that my great-grandfather was connected with the group who discovered how to build the teleportation portals, around the early part of the last century. That was always something I was proud of—that my family had something to do with a resource that mages all over the world use.”

  Aubrey frowned. “Was that not true?”

  “Oh, he was involved, all right. I found a whole series of letters and notes documenting the process. They were a scientific lot, I’ll say that for them. The notes were all quite precise—I could probably use them to build my own portal, if I didn’t already know how to do it.”

  Aubrey clearly didn’t miss the growing bitterness in Stone’s voice. “But…”

  “But…there wasn’t anything wrong with the notes. As I said, very scientific, very precise. Everything was documented, every attempt and failure noted.” He shoved himself back and began pacing again. “No, the letters were the bad part. They explained how the whole bloody thing started.” Snapping his gaze back to the crypt cover, he said, “Can I let go of this damned thing yet?”

  “Oh! Yes, I’m sorry, sir. It should be safe now.”

  Stone let the spell drop, prepared to bring it back up in an instant if the cover started to fall. It didn’t, though. The seal appeared to be holding. He let his breath out.

  “How…did it start?” Aubrey looked like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  “By accident, believe it or not.”

  “Accident?”

  “They weren’t even trying to create a portal at all. They were trying to summon something, and it went awry. They didn’t get what they were trying to summon, but what they did get is a small portal that opened to a place that looked like it was full of fog.”

  “Isn’t that the way you described the Overworld, sir?”

  “Exactly. They buggered up their summoning and discovered a new dimension.” Stone bent and began gathering the tools and rolling up the tarp Aubrey had spread out when they were removing the crypt cover. “So…being who they were, what do you suppose they decided to use this new discovery for?”

  “I…couldn’t say, sir.” Aubrey walked over and made as if to help.

  Stone waved him off. “They thought they’d found some kind of pocket dimension. Once they proved they could re-create the process for opening it up, they realized they had the answer to a problem that had plagued them for many years.” He cast a challenging glance at Aubrey; when the caretaker shook his head, he continued, “Now they had a place to dispose of the bodies they created during all their sacrificial rituals—not to mention anyone who refused to let them muscle in on their business ventures. A lot of people disappeared in those days, Aubrey. They probably ashed a lot of them, but sacrifices leave bodies, and you can’t ash a dead body.”

  Aubrey went pale. “Are you…sure about all of this, sir?”

  “Oh, quite sure, unless my ancestors were all brilliant fiction writers or playing elaborate pranks. You were the one who told me about my grandfather.”

  “Yes, sir, but I never said he—”

  “Of course you never said he did anything horrible—because he wouldn’t have let your father see anything like that. It’s probably best he didn’t, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  He slumped again, leaning against the wall. “So there they were, merrily using this dimension they’d found—what they thought was some kind of pocket dimension—to store bodies and other problematic items, until one night two of them tried to do it at the same time.”

  “I…don’t understand.”

  “One of them had taken a trip to Edinburgh for some business purpose—the letters didn’t say what it was—when he and my great grandfather tried to access the dimension at the same time. Do you know what happened?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Each of them saw another figure in the distance. At first they were frightened, thinking either they’d discovered a native of the dimension or someone else had managed to locate it. They almost killed each other with spells before realizing what had happened. But then, after they identified each other, my great-grandfather stepped out the other end of the portal while the other man remained inside to keep it open…and found himself in Edinburgh.”

  “I…see.”

  “After that, it took them a couple more years to work out all the math and ritual involved, and figure out what it took to keep the portals permanent. I suppose you might be wondering why a collection of wealthy, arrogant snobs like them didn’t just keep the discovery to themselves and use it for their own ends, right?”

  “The…thought had crossed my mind, sir,” Aubrey admitted.

  “The answer’s easy, it turns out: they couldn’t figure out how to make it work. Remember, they were using these dimensions to stash bodies and other incriminating evidence—they didn’t care if anyone ever found it again, and actually hoped no one would—including themselves. But once they realized they could use the portals to go from point A to point B—even if those points were thousands of miles apart—they decided having this kind of convenience outweighed letting other people in on their discovery. They enlisted some of the best academic magical minds of the world to help them, and a few years later they had the formula for permanent portals. Of course, there were too many high-profile people involved, so they couldn’t do their usual trick of making everyone disappear, so the information got disseminated fairly soon after.” Stone gestured at the sarcophagus, and the portal below it. “This is one of the first of them, apparently. So I suppose I should be proud of being part of history.” Once again, bitterness filled his tone and he did nothing about it.

  Aubrey waited several more moments, obviously to see if Stone would drop any other bombshells. When he didn’t, the old man sighed. “It’s terrible news, sir. No doubt about it. But it’s all in the past. None of it has anything to do with you.”

  “What do you mean? It has everything to do with me.”

  “No. Sir, it doesn’t. True, they were your relatives. But that no more reflects on you than it does on the descendants of any other terrible person.”

  Stone wondered once again what Aubrey would think if he knew about what had happened with his own mother. Apparently, he thought with disgust, he’d hit the jackpot on both sides of his family—they were either horrific tyrants or barking mad. If he had managed to dodge the fusillade of hereditary bullets thus far, how much longer would he be able to do so? It was a sobering thought. “You’ll forgive me if I have a hard time believing that, Aubrey. My ancestors were responsible for a lot of deaths—deaths of people who probably still have living relatives running about.”

  “But you didn’t kill them.” Aubrey came over and stood before him, but didn’t touch him this time. “Sir…I may be speaking out of turn again, but please, listen to me before you shout at me. None of this is your fault. The only thing you have control over is what kind of person you allow yourself to be. I’ve known you for your entire life, and so far you’ve shown me no indication that you’re destined to follow in their footsteps. If you don’t want to be that kind of person—don’t allow yourself to become it.”

  Stone snorted. “As simple as that, is it?”

  “Yes, sir. As simple as that.” Aubrey’s steady gaze met his, and his quiet tone was full of dignity and conviction.

  “We’ll see.” Stone broke the gaze, suddenly picturing the rapist in San Francisco, and how easily he’d justified taking the man’s power. Had that been the beginning? He’d done it easily that time—would it be even easier next time? Would he continue to justify his actions because the person “deserved” it?

  He sighed loudly. “I’m a mess, Aubrey. Not fit company at all.” He put his hands on the old man’s shoulders. “Thank you. For everything. For keeping your head when I’m falling apart. I don’t deserve
you.”

  Aubrey chuckled. “I believe we’re rather stuck with each other at this point, sir.” His expression sobered. “But please—if you don’t listen to anything else I say, please listen to this. You aren’t your ancestors. You’re better than they are. I know it, and more importantly, you know it. Just keep that in the forefront of your mind, and you’ll be fine.”

  “I hope so, Aubrey. I hope you’re right.”

  45

  Verity called early the following afternoon, waking Stone from the restless sleep he’d fallen into after returning home from England. “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “I should be asking you that.”

  “You sound half asleep. Did I wake you up?”

  “No,” he lied. “Long night. Are you back at home?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Everything go all right? Are you and Kyla getting on?”

  She hesitated. “Yeah. Hey, have you had lunch yet?”

  He looked at the disarrayed bedcovers and Raider curled up on his chest. “No.”

  “You want to? I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Er…sure. You’ll have to give me half an hour or so to make myself presentable, though.”

  “No problem. Want to meet me at Maxie’s? My treat.”

  She was already waiting when he arrived, sitting in a back booth of the little diner with a chocolate shake in front of her. She smiled as she spotted him, but as he drew closer it turned to a concerned frown. “Are you okay?”

  “Why? Don’t I look okay?”

  “You look really tired. Maybe like you’re not feeling well. And your aura’s kind of a mess.”

  Ah—he’d forgotten to conceal his aura. He must have a lot on his mind. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  The waitress came over and he waited until she left with their orders before continuing. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  She took another pull of her shake and looked like she was gathering herself to ask an uncomfortable question. After a couple false starts, she blurted: “Are you really okay with me seeing Kyla?”