by Lucy Hounsom
Lord Loricus had placed his trust in him, not in Caius or Sylve, who thought they were so smart. Me, Janus thought fiercely. The councilman had brought forward the day of his dreams and Janus wouldn’t let him down.
Leaving his new quarters, he wove comfortably through the citadel. It was the end of afternoon repast and Naris’s main thoroughfares were teeming.
‘Janus!’
Ranine dashed at him, brown robes flying. She skidded to a halt just inches from his toes. ‘I still can’t get used to it,’ she panted, eyeing his new gold outfit. Janus heard jealousy in her voice and smiled to himself.
‘I’m afraid I can’t stop to talk,’ he said with just a hint of loftiness. ‘Lord Loricus is waiting for me.’
‘You’re so lucky.’ Ranine rolled up her sleeves and fanned her face with both hands. ‘To think a councilman is taking such an interest in you.’
Janus felt the familiar flutter in his stomach. ‘Yes. I mustn’t be late.’
‘Of course not,’ Ranine agreed. She paused. ‘I’m happy for you.’
Janus touched her cheek and Ranine blushed scarlet. ‘One day,’ he said softly, ‘the Council will see that you deserve to be raised too.’ He moved his hand to her shoulder. ‘Until then, work hard. I could even put in a good word for you.’
‘You’d do that for me?’ Ranine said breathlessly. ‘I would be so grateful.’
‘I know.’ Janus smiled. ‘See you later, Ranine. I really have to go now.’
‘Good luck!’
Janus left her standing apple-red in the corridor. In truth, he felt a bit guilty for teasing her. She was his closest friend and they’d known each other since they were children. He sighed and brushed a curl of hair out of his eyes. He could catch up with Ranine later – now he had a more pressing appointment to keep.
His palms began to sweat when he neared Lord Loricus’s quarters. Housed in one of Naris’s spires, the three Council apartments each spanned two floors. Janus had never seen inside one. The corridors were quiet: perfect. Lord Loricus had told him to come at this hour. Masters were seldom invited here, let alone those of low rank, and Janus didn’t want any awkward questions.
Without stopping, he turned to look behind him, but the hall was empty. Black marble lined the floor, its surface buffed to shine like a mirror. Busy scrutinizing his reflection, Janus didn’t see the person in his path until he bumped into him.
‘Lord Gend!’ Janus took several steps back, awed by the councilman’s height. Gend’s quiet, dark face looked down into his. More mountain than man, his silver robes couldn’t conceal the muscle that rippled beneath. He stood with huge arms folded, barring the way.
Janus thought fast. There was a roll of paper in his pocket and he seized upon it gratefully. ‘I am to-to take this to Lord Loricus,’ he stammered, producing the fake missive. Gend merely stared at him, his eyes flicking once to the paper. An age seemed to pass before the councilman unfolded his arms. ‘Give it to me. I will take it from here.’
Janus knew he couldn’t refuse, but the barest glance at the scroll would be his undoing. To his horror, he realized he held the sketch Ranine had given him last night, his own face expertly caught in inky strokes.
‘Janus,’ Lord Gend said firmly, ‘you can go. I will deliver the missive.’
He was out of ideas. Already suspicion tightened the lines around the councilman’s mouth, as Janus extended his hand ever so slowly.
‘There you are, Master. What kept you?’
Warm, wonderful relief surged through Janus. He swiftly retracted the scroll. Gend didn’t turn at the new voice, but continued to observe him.
‘I see,’ Loricus said, his eyes alighting on the huge man. ‘Why are you disturbing my messenger, Gend?’
Janus glanced at him. Loricus leaned against the door frame, arms folded and his golden robes rumpled, as if he’d recently been lying down. When the big man didn’t answer, Loricus beckoned Janus over. ‘Come on, you’re late. Give me that scroll and then I’d like the report from your own lips.’ His hazel eyes glittered.
Janus hurried over. Gend, he saw, had not stopped watching him. Only when he crossed the threshold did the councilman finally remove his gaze. ‘Loricus,’ he said, ‘be careful.’
Lord Loricus shut the door crisply in the other Wielder’s face then motioned the young man through to the sitting room. Janus gazed at the sumptuous furnishings, taking in the polished tables laden with fresh fruit, the marble sculptures and bookshelves. Intricate carpets blanketed the floor and tapestries softened the harsh, black walls. It was all so rich, so lavish.
Lord Loricus unfolded the scroll and held it up to the light of the golden fires that bathed the room in a cosy glow. Janus blushed. ‘It’s a good likeness,’ the councilman observed. ‘Who is the artist?’
‘My friend. Novice Ranine.’
‘She has captured the bones of your face exquisitely.’ Loricus raised an eyebrow.
Hating his flaming cheeks, Janus studied the carpet. ‘Would you like some wine?’ he heard Loricus ask. The councilman swept up his own goblet from the table and Janus nodded eagerly. He realized his hands were trembling and hid them behind his back. Lord Loricus noticed and smiled. ‘Did “the Mountain” give you a fright?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Janus said hastily. ‘I just … you said the corridors would be clear.’
‘I can’t account for the arbitrary movements of my fellows.’ Lord Loricus sat down on a wide, backless divan and crooked a finger. Heart skipping, Janus went and sat nervously next to him and gulped some wine. The heat of it rushed down his throat and he looked at the goblet appreciatively.
‘Yes, it’s a good vintage,’ Loricus said, taking a sip. Those hazel eyes and olive skin hid his years well, Janus thought, knowing the councilman was at least twice his age. It didn’t trouble him, except to think how much more accomplished Lord Loricus was in wielding the Solar. He still had a long way to go.
‘So,’ Loricus said, giving him a look so predatory that it made him shiver, ‘what have you to tell me?’
Janus drained his goblet and the wine sent a warm pulse through his body. ‘She’s a nice enough girl, but nothing special. She will definitely need your help.’ He paused and met the councilman’s gaze. ‘If only she knew how generous you’re being, my Lord—’
‘Here you may call me Loricus.’
‘Loricus,’ he whispered, liking the sound of it in his mouth. The councilman poured more wine and Janus took a long drink. He licked his lips. ‘She found the book just as you planned,’ he said. ‘The novices will tell her what it is – and what she could do with it.’
‘Good. I see my trust was well placed.’
Janus drew in a breath. ‘It is, my Lo— Loricus.’
‘Above all, the girl must believe it her own idea,’ Loricus told him. ‘My hand cannot be seen in this. You know I act without my fellows’ knowledge.’
Janus nodded. ‘They don’t have your compassion,’ he said boldly. ‘Kyndra’s death would mean nothing to them.’
‘Yes.’ Lord Loricus sighed. ‘I find that hard to swallow. It grieved me to speak so harshly to the girl in the hearing, but I couldn’t let the others suspect. This way she will “pass” the test, be admitted to Naris, and then we may help her to escape later in secret.’
The wine was making his head fuzzy and Janus found he liked the feeling. He settled himself more comfortably on the divan. ‘You would do all this for an ordinary girl?’ he asked.
‘I don’t like deception,’ Loricus answered with a shake of his head. ‘But sometimes it is necessary to ensure justice is met. Brégenne did wrong by the girl in bringing her here and Kyndra has suffered for that mistake. She shouldn’t have to die for it.’
Janus started on his third goblet of wine, relishing the chilled liquid as it slid down his throat. Dimly he noticed that Loricus wasn’t drinking. ‘What if she tells someone after she’s left?’ he asked. ‘How will she explain where she’s been?’
Lord Loricus waved an impatient hand. ‘It is possible to alter memory. But from the little I’ve seen of the girl, I think gratitude may seal her lips quite effectively.’
Janus nodded again, distracted by the lazy glitter in those hazel eyes. ‘What should I do next?’ he asked.
‘Go to my desk over there.’
Janus put down his wine and stood up unsteadily. The desk was a huge piece of mahogany, which held neat stacks of paper and ink pots. ‘In the first drawer,’ Loricus instructed.
Janus opened it and found a single scroll, tied with red ribbon. ‘It carries the Council’s seal,’ he heard Loricus say. ‘Show that to Hebrin and he will grant you admittance to the seventh spiral.’
His back to the councilman, Janus slowly lifted the scroll. ‘What is it?’
‘It orders you to retrieve a certain artefact for use in deciphering the source of Master Rush’s affliction. The girl must be given a chance to access that level.’ Loricus paused. When he spoke again, his honeyed voice was tempered with ice. ‘And your job is even more important. You have a week. Use that time to fan her fear of the test. She must be desperate. She must be searching for a lifeline. We will throw her one, and it’s your responsibility to ensure she takes it. If all goes to plan, she’ll be out of the way this time next week.’
‘That is clever,’Janus said softly.
‘It is necessary,’ Loricus whispered and Janus spun around. The councilman was there, standing close behind him, framed by the room’s golden light. Janus hadn’t even heard him move. His breath caught. He gazed at Loricus and felt a stir in his groin.
‘Will …’ he stammered and coughed his voice free. ‘Will Kyndra be able to use the object you plan for her to find?’
Loricus regarded him, his head on one side. ‘I’ve made it easy for her,’ he said. ‘The object in question is the only one of its kind. And the book describes it in detail. All she has to do is hold it in her hand.’
‘In her hand,’ Janus whispered, still looking into his face. When Loricus stepped away, breaking their contact, he felt embarrassed and bereft all at once. He dropped his eyes.
‘Approach Hebrin the day before the test and remember not to refer to me personally.’ Lord Loricus turned his back. ‘Don’t fail me in this, Janus.’ The councilman’s voice was utterly cold now, all its honey gone. ‘The girl’s life depends on it.’
19
‘Look at this,’ Irilin said, hefting a book and pushing it towards Kyndra. It was called The Test: A History of the Unfortunates.
‘Like that’s going to help, Iri.’ Shika made a swipe for the book and missed. ‘She’s trying to survive the test, not die from it.’
They were nearing the end of their fifth day in the archives and it had been no more promising than the ones before. ‘I know,’ Irilin said. She blew a floating strand of hair away from her mouth. ‘But it might be useful to see where others went wrong.’ Ignoring Shika’s protests, she opened the volume on a random page. ‘Aha! Listen to this: “If the potential, hereafter referred to as the unfortunate, was indeed possessed of an affinity, they failed to demonstrate it within the allotted span. A mortal body cannot sustain so violent an assault indefinitely, and prolonged exposure to the test’s brand of cosmosethic energy results in the unfortunate’s flesh blackening, their vital organs—”’ Irilin stopped, flushing. ‘I … uh, was sure that was leading somewhere else,’ she said sheepishly. ‘Sorry, Kyn.’
‘Ümvast’s balls, Iri.’ Gareth’s deep voice boomed in the dusty quiet of the antechamber. ‘What’s that book going to do for her morale?’
Irilin looked down. ‘I just thought—’
‘Don’t worry,’ Kyndra said. She’d been touching her ribs without realizing it and now dropped her hand. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
Shika slipped the book from the blonde girl’s unresisting fingers and tossed it contemptuously onto the pile they had deemed useless. It was far larger than the one opposite, which consisted of a single small volume and a scroll. ‘It’s amazing how few books there are on the test,’ Shika mused. ‘Pretty much all of these assume that the reader’s already passed it.’
‘I told you this was a waste of time,’ Gareth said, folding his arms. He scanned the antechamber for Hebrin and – assured of his absence – thumped his booted feet on the table.
‘Janus just keeps bringing us more,’ Irilin sighed.
Shika smoothed a crease out of his novice robe. ‘He won’t after tomorrow.’ He glanced sidelong at Kyndra. ‘Day of the test.’
‘You’ve done enough,’ Kyndra said. She tried to keep her voice steady. ‘The test is my problem. All this reading is taking you away from your studies.’
Gareth snorted. ‘We’re not missing them.’
‘All the same,’ she said. ‘If we haven’t found anything helpful by now, I don’t think we ever will.’
Irilin made a sound of disagreement, but didn’t put words to it. Kyndra knew they were thinking the same as she: that a person simply couldn’t be taught how to pass the test. The experience differed for everyone and the novices had told her all they could. Nediah had also talked for an hour on the subject and Janus, her almost constant companion now, had readily described his own test when she asked.
Now she realized that none of their answers would be remotely useful. The best she could hope for was a sense of this affinity they kept talking about. Even then, it depended on the individual. Irilin described it as a kind of unfurling, as if she had wings, while Shika called it ‘an infinitely graceful dawning of apprehension’, a phrase which caused Gareth to snigger. When Kyndra asked the big novice about his own experience, Gareth waved the question away. ‘You can’t describe it,’ he said flatly. Then, ‘Maybe I’d compare it to the swell of courage a warrior feels in his blood before battle. The kind of courage that makes heroes of ordinary men.’ He meticulously avoided Shika’s eyes as he said this, but Kyndra saw the dark-haired young man look surprised and then oddly gratified.
‘Why don’t you come and have dinner with us?’ Irilin suggested now. ‘Too much time in this place will drive you mad.’ The other three stared at her and Irilin shifted uneasily when she realized what she had said.
‘I have to eat in my room,’ Kyndra told her. ‘Janus brings it.’
‘Oh. I forgot.’
‘Poor Master Rush.’ Shika fiddled with the purple streak in his hair. ‘Is he still getting worse?’
Gareth re-crossed his legs on the table. ‘I heard that even Master Nediah can’t stop whatever is eating away at his mind.’ For the first time, Kyndra thought he looked apprehensive.
‘Novice Hafgald.’
Gareth yanked his feet off the table. Hebrin stood behind them, obviously just returned from the galleries. His lips thinned as he observed Gareth and the scuffs on the table. ‘The archives are not a place of leisure, Hafgald. Nor of idle chatter,’ he added, pale eyes scanning the rest of them.
‘We were talking about Master Rush,’ Shika said soberly. ‘I was asking the others if there’d been any change in his condition.’
Hebrin sucked in his papery cheeks until he looked almost corpse-like. ‘It is very serious,’ he muttered. ‘The citadel has not encountered the like in all its time.’
‘Will they find a cure?’ Irilin asked.
Hebrin didn’t seem to hear her. He walked slowly back to his study, where he collapsed into a chair and sat unmoving, long fingers cradling his chin.
Kyndra and the novices shared a tense glance. Irilin reached for another book, but before she could open it, Janus came through the doors to the antechamber. He looked even more harried than when he’d come to wake Kyndra that morning. His curls were unkempt and a hint of stubble roughened his jaw.
‘Janus has let himself go a bit,’ Shika remarked to Gareth out of the corner of his mouth.
‘He seems worried,’ Kyndra hissed reproachfully. ‘Maybe I should ask him what’s wrong.’ She gazed at Janus’ rumpled form. For some reason, today’s imperfections
made him even more handsome in her eyes. She felt a blush coming on and looked quickly away.
‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ Shika hissed back. ‘Believe me when I say he’s not interested in—’
‘Shhh,’ Irilin whispered. Janus had walked straight to Hebrin’s study and was speaking to him.
‘… a request from the Council,’ they heard.
‘Let’s see it.’
Janus handed over a beribboned scroll sealed with red wax. Hebrin brought it close to his face before nodding and cracking it open. The novices were all watching as furtively as she, Kyndra noticed.
‘This is a request to enter the seventh spiral,’ Hebrin muttered after he’d finished reading.
Janus’ shoulders tightened. ‘Yes,’ he said and coughed. ‘An artefact kept there may be of help to the healers attending Master Rush.’
Hebrin shook his head. ‘Terrible business,’ he muttered. ‘Terrible.’ He tucked the scroll into his robes. ‘I will give you a token that will allow you to pass the gate.’ He rose from his chair and disappeared further into his study. When he returned, he carried something small in his hand.
Janus deposited it swiftly in a pocket. ‘Thank you, Master Hebrin.’
‘If it can wait just a little while, I would advise you to come back after hours, Master Janus.’ Hebrin gave Kyndra’s table a pointed stare. ‘The archives will be closed then and you may enter the galleries undisturbed.’
‘Yes. I’ll come back a couple of hours after dinner.’
‘This will unlock the antechamber.’ Hebrin handed the young man a key that looked uncannily like the one Nediah had used the other night. ‘You may return it tomorrow.’
‘Thanks for your help, Master Archivist.’ Janus turned on his heel and walked out. He looked rather pale.
There was silence around the table. Then Gareth whispered, ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’
