by Megan Derr
"Good evening, Kaiser." His Krian, he knew, was perfect and flawless. Not a trace of an accent. He was not Sol's equal—he was far superior. "And Lord General Heilwig."
"Who dares—" Her voice snapped out across the room like a whip.
Tawn laughed. "I thought the usual exclamation was something about Tits and a Princess." Heilwig climbed off the Kaiser and dropped to the floor, then stood with sword in hand. She moved to attack—
—and dropped with a curtly spoken word from Tawn. He stepped over her and approached the bed.
"Salharan," the Kaiser said. "What is the meaning of this?"
Tawn stepped back and bowed. "I've come to speak with you about a matter of some concern to both of us."
Kaiser Benno swung his legs over the side of the bed and snatched up his clothes from where they lay on the floor. He frowned as his tunic stuck and yanked hard, jarring Heilwig's body. She didn't stir. "I have nothing to discuss with a filthy Salharan."
"Not even if that something has to do with a certain general and the men who helped him escape?"
Benno's head snapped up. "Where is he?"
"Then I guess we have much to discuss?" Tawn smirked and moved to a table, helping himself to a goblet and the untouched jug of wine there. It was rich, dark, and quite fine—but nothing like arcen.
"Talk!" Benno snapped, sitting down and waiting impatiently for Tawn to obey.
Amused, Tawn complied. "Several weeks ago you lost your Wolf, yes?" Benno said nothing. "At the same time, I believe it was noted that a Krian by the name of Grau also vanished."
"Yes," Benno said. "But we could not find a connection—Grau is just a poor country noble."
Tawn threw his head back and laughed. "How easily tricked, you stupid Krians!"
"Do not test me."
"Or you'll what?" Tawn set his wine down and moved toward Benno. He bent over the Kaiser, planting his arms on the rests to pin him down, and grinned. "Try to attack me like your slut on the floor? Look at my eyes, Kaiser." Arcen triggered dormant abilities and contorted others. It forced the body to do things. One side-affect was the alteration of the eyes—often temporary, but prolonged use and stronger colors made it permanent. After several doses of orange arcen, his eyes were forever stained the color of glowing embers. "My magic could kill you with a word. Stupid of you not to have your sword near to hand." He pushed off the chair, rising back to his full height. "Here I was always told you Krians slept with your swords more often than your lovers."
He returned to his wine. "Anyway—Grau was no Krian. He was a comrade. Or so I had thought."
"Salharan?"
Tawn laughed. "Who else could have given arcen to the Salharan slave your Wolf brought home? What was his name? Ah, yes. Beraht. Do you begin to see what they were doing right in front of your face?"
Benno glared into the fire, face clouded with rage and hate. "Where are they now?"
"Ah, that's where it truly gets interesting." Tawn finished his wine and leaned against the table, folding his arms. "They're in Illussor."
"What?" Benno demanded after a moment of silence. "Impossible. The Illussor have nothing to do with anyone, but themselves unless they deign to join the war bleeding slowly into their lands."
Tawn laughed again, a chilling sound. "I am still gathering the details, but I did learn one very important fact from the men I interrogated."
"Which is?" Benno leaned forward in his seat, the anger in his face mixing with hunger.
"The Illussor, it would seem, are going to be suffering mightily soon. I interrogated five. The first four had little to say—mostly they begged to die." Tawn grimaced. "But the last one apparently was privy to special information. Hand-picked by the Duke of Ferra to watch for three men who would be attempting to cross the border: two Salharans and an injured Illussor. One of those Salharans—Beraht I'd imagine—is quite instrumental to the Illussor. I believe the word was 'Breaker'. Apparently he is going to cause quite the upheaval in Illussor."
Benno frowned. "What manner of upheaval?" He sat back in his seat, crossing one leg so that the ankle lay across the knee of the other.
Tawn grinned. "They are going to lose their magic. Why such information was trusted to a mere soldier, I could not tell you."
"More than a mere soldier."
"Most likely." Tawn shrugged. "I care not. Suffice to say, Illussor will soon be quite vulnerable."
"Yes…" Benno regarded him. "Why are you telling me this, Salharan? What game are you playing?"
"Only the usual one."
"What do you want from me then?"
Tawn stood up. "You can attack Illussor with ease. Do so, and do whatever you want with it. Salhara has no need, and you Krians seem to like your space."
"And you want?"
"The Disputed Lands."
"I figured." Benno leaned forward again, eyes reflecting the firelight. "Is that all?"
"Land for fifty miles to the south and east of it. Plenty of room for arcen."
Benno nodded. "You are not finished."
"A treaty. No more hostilities between us; I will be too busy doing other things to deal with Krians."
Benno laughed. "You are powerful, Salharan, but I doubt you are so powerful as to be allowed to make these sorts of arrangements."
"We will see. And if you try to betray me, you will see just how powerful I can be. Kaiser."
"Do not try to intimidate me, Salharan. If your pollutions could kill so easily, there would be no war."
Tawn's laugh spread through the room like ice freezing over a lake. "Perhaps, Kaiser, we wanted the war as much as you did. They're useful, yes, for keeping people under control? Attack Illussor before winter ends."
"I do not need you to tell me how to go to war, Salharan."
"No?" Tawn asked. "I wasn't sure, as until now you've had the Wolf doing it for you. What do you think it will be like to fight against him? You should ask all those prisoners you have—but they're all dead by now, aren't they? Hmm…" Tawn didn't move when Benno stood and strode toward him. He vanished just as the Kaiser reached out to grab him.
He reappeared in a village some miles away from the Winter Palace, just across the river to the west of it. Tawn held a hand to his chest, willing his heart to slow down and stop aching. It wouldn't, though, not for a while yet. His entire body burned, ached from the inside out. Even breathing deeply was going to be somewhat trying for a few hours.
It was too much too soon. He laughed. The Kaiser was more right than Tawn had any intention of letting him know: killing a man instantly wasn't so easy. Only with red, and his body wasn't ready for more than a very small dose of that. Right now, high on orange, even that might finally overstress his heart. He would have to take more orange, soon. All the long-distance transporting had drained the new vial and taxed his body. It had been worth it. Now he could transport to the Winter Palace, nearly anywhere in Salhara, and five of the ten watch stations along the Illussor border.
The town was quiet. Everyone had gone elsewhere for the winter—these small villages simply could not last. Tawn had laughed to hear the stories of the days when the villagers had tried it. Horrible, fascinating stories. He wondered if people really did resort to eating each other when food ran out. Surely not. How vulgar. Shouldn't people who lived in this wretched country with its miserable weather know how to avoid falling into such dire straits?
But they were Krian. Their brains were obsessed with steel.
Tawn entered the stable at the edge of town and went to his horse in the furthest stall. Halfway there, he found himself on the floor. He was dizzy and had nearly blacked out. Stars take it. He would have to slow down. How bothersome. Pushing himself to red too fast, however, would prove even more of a nuisance—he had no plans to let the arcen kill him. Not quickly. Not slowly. He was in charge.
Forcing himself up, willing away the lingering dizziness, Tawn readied his horse and led it from the stable. It would be best to return home for a few days. His arcen supply was running low,
and he would have to give the fools some sort of report before they began to grow suspicious.
What to tell them? Certainly not the truth. There would have to be a fine balance. How satisfying that would be, to be given the order to kill the traitor at all costs. Really, who trusted a man who came from a family of traitors? Did those fools think that they were special? Too powerful for betrayal to touch them? The Brotherhood of the Seven Star existed for treachery and underhandedness; they ruled the country from the shadows.
Tawn laughed as he mounted and rode out of town. He hated Sol with a passion, but he was proving useful. There was nothing for him to engineer; Sol had done it all. All Tawn had to do was inform the appropriate parties to set his own plans into action.
Illussor would fall to Kria, the Regenbogen would go to Salhara, and in due course, Salhara and the Seven Star to him.
Gingerly Tawn reached up to touch his nose, which still did not feel quite right. Nor did it look quite right. Sol would pay soon—very soon. He'd kill that little blind Illussor right in front of his face, maybe get him to scream like he had before—it wasn't hard to figure out why Sol had latched on to the pathetic thing. Afterwards, he'd leave Sol to die a very slow death.
Maybe he'd whisper about Ariana while he watched Sol die. Stupid woman. And her brother was so much worse. Tawn's hand clenched the reins. Bastard. Maybe he'd pretend to exchange the Illussor's life for the striking of his name. He was tired of it. Sol had not been worthy of naming Tawn, but it had been necessary to obtain the deVry surname. Soon, he would be the only member of the family left. Then he would move on to stronger names, better names, and the deVry name would cease to exist.
By dying in Illussor, the bastard would not be able to rot in the ground beside his sister. Tawn grinned. He held a hand to his chest, feeling the slowed beating of his heart. It was nearly at a normal rhythm now. Perhaps in another hour or so, and he would be all right to transport.
*~*~*
"Is everyone assembled?" Ormin asked, dark orange eyes skimming over the shadowy figures of the Brotherhood of the Seven Star. "We are missing two, three if you count the nameless."
Beside him, in the center of the raised dais, Jaspar gave one of his weak, raspy laughs. "The nameless? He is still missing."
The doors creaked open as Tawn stepped into the room, dressed in muted brown wool and high brown leather. "Brother Tawn, you are late." Tiad's red eyes flashed with ire.
Tawn bowed. "Apologies. I have been pushing myself with arcen; transporting took some time. But I come with interesting news. I assure you it will excuse my tardiness." He rose to his full height and smirked.
Jaspar's red-black eyes flickered like lantern light on a dark lake. The doors clicked, locking the nineteen Brothers into the chamber. "What is this news, Tawn? And why do I sense it has to do with our missing general? Did you finally succeed in killing him? I warned you about letting personal matters interfere with business."
"I haven't touched him," Tawn said. "It's hard to reach him, in fact, because I had to transport somewhere I've never been."
Ormin lifted a brow. "Where is that?"
"Illussor. Unless I'm mistaken—and my informants were most forthcoming after they lost their eyes—he and Beraht are assisting the Illussor King."
Whispers exploded around the room. On the dais, Jaspar, Tiad, and Ormin sat it an angry silence. "We should have seen it coming," Tiad said at last. "His family has never been anything but trouble. We executed his father for traitorous dealings!"
Jaspar scoffed. "His father was killed for consorting with those coastal heathens. He smuggled arcen. Just like half the people in that part of the country. That's a far cry from running away to Illussor. Is there some new deception involved here?"
"No," Tawn said.
"Wait," Ormin interrupted. "Who is this Beraht?"
Tawn threw his head back and laughed until he was ordered three times to cease. "Beraht was once nameless. For reasons unknown, he allowed the Wolf to name him. The Wolf is also in Illussor, along with the prisoner I first brought here, who was rescued by Sol deVry."
"How long has Sol been a traitor?" Tiad asked.
Jaspar's long, thin fingers stroked the dark wood of his chair. Even at a cursory glance, it was easy to pick out the way those fingers shook and trembled. "When did our Brother Sol go missing? Do you remember that?"
Ormin nodded slowly. Around the room, the whispers resumed, rising occasionally into full clarity before ebbing back into whispers. "We thought him dead. He claimed a river dragged him off, and he was rescued by Salharan villagers. We checked into everything. There was no cause to doubt his story. He bears the scars of the injuries; they would have taken months to heal, even with arcen."
"That still is several months in which he could have been doing other things. I guess now we will never know."
"Why should we believe you, Brother Tawn?" Jaspar said. "I think everyone here knows of the hostility that exists between you and your brother. Without him here to defend himself, you could be playing any game. You are as sly as every deVry to ever come into the world."
Tiad rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But that would explain Sol's absence and his lack of reports. He is not normally so remiss—indeed, I know no one more thorough. Yet we have heard not a word, and other reports state that there was quite the upheaval in Kria some time ago."
"Yes," Tawn said. "The Wolf was sentenced to die. Sol and Beraht helped him escape, and now they hide in Illussor. To what purpose, I know not." He hid a smirk.
The three men shared a look. Jaspar pulled a large vial from the depths of his cumbersome robes. His hands shook almost too hard to hold it, but a moment later they stilled, and he was able to drink the thick, dark, near-black red liquid inside it. Stowing it, he finally looked at Tawn again. "What are you scheming?"
"I merely gather the information," Tawn said. "It's your job to put it all together."
"Cease playing games."
Tawn laughed. "No one ever likes to play. You're all so impatient. But I do have one last bit of information for you, from Kria."
"Which is?"
"The Kaiser is planning to attack Illussor. I have no doubt he wants his general back—or dead."
"Yes," Ormin said. "I would imagine so. Without the Scarlet Wolf, I do not think they'll hold the Disputed Lands. The other three generals would not last long, I think."
"The Cobalt may," Tiad said. "He likes to get his hands dirty. We've lost more than a few along the border to the games he is purported to play." His red eyes slid over Tawn. "But again, Tawn, why should we believe you? It's absurd that the Krians would attempt to attack the Illussor. Magic in such quantities would crush the Krians, and it is still winter. Neither country stirs unless absolutely necessary."
Tawn smirked. "As I said, the Kaiser desperately wants his general back. For some reason, he believes he'll have an edge." He said nothing as his Brothers regarded him.
"What edge?"
"I couldn't say. After I reported to my Brothers, I was hoping to gain permission to go deeper into Illussor."
Jaspar laughed. "I admire your ambition, Tawn. That alone, I think, keeps you from being a traitor. Though I don't wonder if you're going for personal reasons as well. It must chafe that he's outwitted you."
Tawn said nothing, but he remembered the pain of every insult. Every punch, every backhand, his broken nose, and all the insults and humiliations he'd suffered while in court or on the battlefield. The melancholy Sol deVry was known for his quiet, complacent manner—except in battle or when he addressed his brother-in-law. "We've never denied we hate each other. Some differences cannot be reconciled. I will address that matter while I am there, yes. It is my right after his last insult. But I am a Seven Star Brother. My loyalty runs red."
"Indeed," Jaspar asked. "Never mind. Go take care of the traitors; find out what the Krians are thinking. If they actually succeed in taking Illussor, that will make things far too easy for us."
Tawn fo
lded over in a lazy bow. "I will need more arcen."
"Is the need beginning to claw at you, Tawn?" Ormin asked with a mocking smile. "So easy to use, isn't it? Like having wishes granted."
"I control the arcen."
"Yes," Tiad said. "That's what we all used to say. Be careful, Brother. Arcen does not consume; it seduces." Tawn remained silent.
"Fetch it," Jaspar said. At his words, one of the shadowy figures in the room ducked away, a hidden door clicking open as he left. Jaspar eyed Tawn. "Use it wisely. This time of year, I need not remind you how precious arcen is, especially the colors you require. Let us hope that come this spring we finally take those damnable Disputed Lands. Our fields are more and more reluctant every year to take to arcen."
Beside him, Tiad swore softly; around the room voices murmured their agreement. Arcen did not like Salharan land, and each year it was more difficult to grow. The territory the Krians called the Regenbogen always flooded with arcen flowers in spring, but the Krians destroyed them almost immediately. Then the warring began all over again.
The man who had vanished before reappeared, and he handed a small, flat box to Jaspar before rejoining the shadows surrounding the dais. Jaspar held it out to Tawn. "You may have this."
It was about half the size of Tawn's hand, made of black leather and silver fastenings. He opened it, nodding approval. Five vials—three of dark orange and two of bright red. It was especially thick, he could tell at a glance. Concentrated arcen—any thicker, and it would have to be chewed.
Arcen flowers changed color with age. The youngest buds were dark violet, and with each stage of growth the color shifted, rising through the colors of the rainbow. Violet arcen was the easiest to make. It took seven full years to get to red arcen, and in so much time, a great deal could go wrong. No one outside the Brotherhood could come by it without a license that was nearly impossible to get—and a great deal of money. Fortunes had been lost to the addiction that came with the stronger colors. Up to green, there was no addiction. While in yellow, it could be fought. Orange was the point of no return.
"Though if you wanted Tawn, you could have this." Jaspar reached into his cloak again and withdrew another vial. He held it up—in the meager light of the chamber, it looked black. Even under a good light it would appear black. Only under direct sunlight did the deep red become apparent. "One sip would equal everything in that case and more."
