Harbinger

by Shae Ford

  They very briefly entertained the idea of coming by land and charging across the mile-long bridge on foot. But when Chaucer mentioned it was rigged to burn, they dropped the idea entirely.

  “He’ll wait until you’re out in the middle before he lights it. I don’t think even the pirates can outrun fire.”

  Lysander looked up from where he’d been massaging his forehead and glared. “Just what do you mean by that?”

  Chaucer shrugged. “Perhaps charging in isn’t your best option. Aren’t thieves usually better at throat-slitting and backstabbing?”

  “You tell me,” Lysander retorted, and he went back to the map. “There’s got to be a way … some method of attack we’ve overlooked.”

  “We could always sprout wings and fly,” Chaucer muttered, propping his boots up on the table.

  “That’s a grand idea, I’ll hire a catapult,” Lysander said sarcastically. “And if you don’t get your feet off my table, I’ll let you be the first to try it out.”

  Chaucer smirked and put his hands behind his head, but didn’t move his feet. “Just come up with something quick, will you? I’ve got the Duke’s party in a fortnight and I don’t want to be late.”

  “Wait — the Duke is having a party?” Kael said, interrupting whatever retort Lysander had at the ready. “What for?”

  “Power,” Chaucer drawled. “He likes to force his managers out of hiding every now and again for a ball. Makes us prance around like idiots while he sits on his throne and lords it over us.”

  Kael felt an end pop loose in the back of his head. The tangled mass of information he’d absorbed suddenly came undone, and the mystery of how to get into the castle began to unravel. “What are the parties like?”

  “Like?” Chaucer snorted. “Have you ever had a red-hot poker rammed up your —?”

  “Be serious,” Geist said — the first words he’d spoken all afternoon.

  Chaucer raised his eyebrows, but strangely enough, he didn’t argue. “All right. They’re nightlong affairs with plenty of food and drink —”

  “And dancing?”

  “Yes —”

  “Is anyone else invited, or is it only the managers?”

  Chaucer made a face. “You ask a lot of questions, whelp.”

  “Answer him,” Geist droned, and Chaucer waved his hand impatiently.

  “I will, great seas! If there’s going to be dancing, there has to be ladies. So the Duke requires us to bring our wives and daughters of age. I’ve got neither. Do you know what that means? I’ve got to dance with all the ugly ones —”

  “What about guards?”

  “Well of course there are guards! Are you daft?” Chaucer dropped his boots off the table and leaned dangerously inward. “The Duke’s got them everywhere, on every level. They swarm all over the walls and buzz through the hallways. And if they catch you poking around anywhere you shouldn’t, you get to spend the rest of the party in the dungeons with the castle torturer. Does that sound like fun to you, whelp? Want me to get you an invitation?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  It was all unraveled, lying open and obvious before his eyes. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. He played it over again, just to make sure he got it exactly right. As he watched his plan unfold, he found he couldn’t hear anything — not a sound. Not even Chaucer as he roared or Lysander as he bellowed back. Nothing.

  The scenarios consumed him, the possibilities clogged his ears. When he was finally certain, he stepped back into the chaos of reality. “I have an idea.”

  After a long moment of stunned silence, Geist was the first to speak. He intertwined his fingers and said: “I knew you did. And I’m very interested to hear it.”

  Chapter 33

  Madness

  When Kael was finished explaining his plan, Lysander let out an astonished gasp of air. “Madness, pure madness,” he muttered. But as he pulled thoughtfully at the hair on his chin, his smile grew wider. “Madness.”

  “Ridiculous, is what it is,” Chaucer huffed, and he spun on Kael. “What if the Duke leaves the ballroom? What if he wanders upstairs during your little escapade and catches you haunting his hallways?”

  Kael had an answer for that — and for every other question he asked. Nothing said was anything he hadn’t already thought of, and with each calm rebuff, Chaucer grew more agitated.

  “But what if it simply fails?” he finally blurted out, the stern lines of his face tinged with furious red. “What if Fate herself comes waltzing in and says it’s not to be?”

  “Snake oil and smoke,” Lysander said with a wave of his hand. “If anything, Fate’s on our side. And if she isn’t, then it simply isn’t meant to be. Either way,” he continued before Chaucer could sputter on, “your part doesn’t come until the very end. The Duke won’t know you’ve gutted him until we’ve already got him clapped in irons. Don’t worry, merchant — your hide is safe.”

  The red in Chaucer’s face slowly retreated. “Fine,” he said after a moment. He stood and jerked his coat over his shoulders. “I’m ready to do my part. Quickly, now — I’ve got mounds of letters to write.”

  Lysander rapped on the door and two brawny pirates entered. One of them wielded a rough-looking burlap sack. Both wore menacing grins.

  Chaucer rolled his eyes at them. “Really, Captain. How much longer must I endure this humiliation? Won’t you ever trust me?”

  Lysander smiled wryly. “Sure I will. When my beard starts growing in purple, I’ll tell you exactly where you are. But until then …” He gestured to the pirates, and the one with the burlap shook it at Chaucer.

  “I still don’t understand why I have to be blindfolded,” he whined on. “Why don’t you ever —?”

  He gestured in Geist’s direction, but all that remained of the short, unremarkable fellow was his empty seat. Sometime during their conversation, Geist had simply … vanished.

  “That’s why,” Lysander said triumphantly. “Now, let’s get your blindfold on.”

  The pirate stepped forward and crammed the sack over Chaucer’s head while he cursed. They had him nearly through the door when he turned and thrust a finger in Kael’s direction. “I want you to know, whelp —”

  “He’s to your left,” Lysander said, and Chaucer turned until he was facing the empty room.

  “If this plan falls through, I won’t shed a tear at your execution,” he continued, shaking his finger threateningly at the table and chairs. “In fact, I’ll gladly bring the axe.” Then he turned … and ran smartly into the doorframe.

  “Ah yes, watch out for that. Lead him away, dogs. And do not throw him off the boat again!” Lysander added with a glare.

  When they’d gone, Kael gathered the map off the table and walked out into the hallway, his head spinning with all he had to do.

  Lysander caught up at a jog. “What’s next? Naval strategies? Traps? Archery practice —?”

  “We have to talk to Aerilyn,” he muttered, hoping that might halt him for a breath. And it did.

  “Aerilyn?” he said, and Kael could hear the worry in his voice from down the hall. “Our Aerilyn? Whatever for?”

  “Just come on, and I’ll explain when we get there.”

  *******

  After a fair bit of searching, they found her. She was tucked away in one of the mansion’s highest wings, abusing a large canvas with a brush and a smear of atrocious colors.

  “What do you think?” she said, her excitement showing clearly through the splatters of blue across her face. “Uncle Martin says I have quite a gift.”

  A gift for turning a beautiful view into a nightmare, perhaps. Under Aerilyn’s strokes, the brave white cliffs of Gravy Bay had melted into the sea, crumbling as they bled with long drips into waves that awaited them with too-sharp peaks. Her treetops were solid blobs of green and her clouds looked as if they’d eaten something that didn’t quite agree with them.

  “It’s lovely,” Lysander said as he stepped up for a closer loo
k. “Simply amazing. We ought to have the window knocked out and hang this in its place.”

  Aerilyn turned pink and crammed her brush roughly into a nearby basin. “Don’t be ridiculous. A canvas won’t keep the rain out.”

  “But perhaps on sunny days —”

  “We need your help,” Kael said quickly, before the conversation could spin entirely out of hand. “We’ve finally come up with a plan to sack the Duke.”

  Aerilyn gasped, and that’s when Kael remembered no one had actually told her about it. “Are you mad?” she hissed.

  “You don’t have to do anything. But we could use your —”

  “We’ll all be executed, or locked away forever!” she wailed, clutching at her apron. “I don’t think I could bear to be so far from the sun.”

  “You don’t have to help,” Lysander gently reminded her.

  She looked at him like he’d just stomped on her foot. “Oh no, I’m certainly going to help. Reginald has completely destroyed my region. He’s starved my countrymen and driven respectable families into poverty. I’ll not stand by and let him rule a moment longer!”

  “All right,” Kael said, before her tirade could take off. “If you want to help, here’s what you’ve got to do …”

  When he was finished explaining, Aerilyn’s fears were all but banished. She clapped her hands and declared: “Brilliant! Reginald’s vanity will be his undoing. It’s positively poetic.”

  “So you’ll do it?”

  “With pride.”

  Only Lysander seemed to have any reservations: he stared fixedly out the window and had grown strangely quiet. But when Aerilyn agreed, he suddenly had plenty to say. “Why her?” he demanded. “Why not Kyleigh, or — anybody else?”

  Aerilyn laughed. “Kyleigh? Oh please. If a man laid a hand on Kyleigh, she’d break it. No, it’s got to be me. Don’t worry, Captain,” she added with a smirk, “this isn’t my first turn about the harbor.”

  “Not your first —? And what’s that supposed to mean? Have you lured a man to his ruin before?”

  “Perhaps not to his ruin, but I’ve certainly gotten more than a fair price on several occasions. How do you think lady merchants get on? We have to rely on our own talents.”

  “Talents?” Lysander bellowed. “Talents?”

  Her brows snapped down as she crossed her arms. “Yes, talents. Men have muscles to do the persuading for them, is that any different? Why should a woman not be allowed to use her looks —?”

  “Oh, I’ll tell you why — because men are monsters, that’s why!”

  Kael didn’t have the energy — or the time — to try and separate them. A fortnight would come and go if he let himself get distracted. So he left the pair to their argument and slipped out to find Jake.

  *******

  “Are you sure it’s set in right? If this shatters my window, I’ll be a very cranky old pirate!” It was Uncle Martin’s squawking that led Kael to the dining room. He opened the door and found him bent over, his face inches from the enormous window.

  Kael only had to breathe in to know that the room was rank with magic.

  “Mage glass is a halfway-useful invention,” Uncle Martin went on. “You can see the spells, but I’ll be blasted if I know what any of the squiggly little blighters mean. Are you sure it’s set?”

  “I think so,” Jake said. He waved his staff at the window and the whole thing glowed for half a moment. “Yes, it’s definitely covered.”

  “Well, then.” Uncle Martin straightened up and turned on his cane. He grinned when he caught sight of Kael, blinking out through a monocle that made his eye thrice its normal size. “You’re just in time for the demonstration, lad! Jonathan’s about to put the spell to the test. Are you ready?”

  Jonathan held up the metal saltshaker he had gripped in his hand. “C’mon mate, this isn’t nearly big enough. Let’s throw a chair or something.”

  “We’ll start out small,” Uncle Martin said as he joined their line. “Then if nothing too disastrous happens, we’ll go a little bigger. Ready when you are! Arm the catapults!”

  All Kael could think, as the saltshaker went sailing through the air, was how marvelously bad of an idea this was.

  It struck the window and at first, he thought it’d gone straight through the glass. But then sunlight winked off the hole and he realized that the glass wasn’t broken — somehow it was bending backwards, stretching against the force of the throw. It cradled the shaker like a stone in a sling.

  “Duck!” Uncle Martin cried, and they fell to the ground just as the window snapped back into place.

  The saltshaker shot over their heads, faster than an arrow, and struck the wall behind them. It ripped through a portrait of a mermaid — taking all of her teeth out with it. The gaping hole in her mouth left her looking as shocked as Uncle Martin.

  “Gravy save us, what was that?” he said as Jonathan helped him to his feet.

  Jake rushed over to the window “I don’t — oh, no.” His thin shoulders slumped and he turned back to face them. “I accidentally linked the spell of indestructibility to one for ballistics when I etched it on my staff.”

  “What? I just need to know if it’s safe to eat my breakfast in here.”

  “It should be. But just know that anything that hits the window is going to get catapulted right back out.”

  “Anything?” Jonathan asked.

  “Yes … wait — don’t!”

  But it was too late. Jonathan sprinted for the window, left his feet with a whoop and collided with the glass. It bent, screeching to hold his weight until it finally belched him back out. He crashed into the table — taking napkins, plates and several large candlesticks down with him — before he tumbled to the floor.

  “What are you doing to my dining room?” Mrs. Bimply shrilled. She stuck her head out from the kitchen, and when she saw the carnage, the rose in her plump cheeks turned scarlet. “Those were my good dishes, Mr. Martin!”

  “They were the Baron’s good dishes, actually. And I’ll make sure the boys steal you another set. Now back to your lair, harpy!”

  With a rather indignant huff, Mrs. Bimply slammed the door on them.

  Uncle Martin twirled his mustache like a man up to no good. “Now that we’ve got all the spoilsports taken care of, lets nick some mattresses and drag them down here — then we’ll all have a go!”

  Jonathan was certainly up for that. They left in a rush — giving Kael a moment to talk to Jake.

  “Obviously, I won’t ask you to risk your freedom — not when you’ve only just got it back,” Kael said, when he’d finished explaining. “But I don’t see how we can do this without your help.”

  Jake hadn’t said anything: he’d been staring out the window, and only moved every now and then to push his spectacles back up the bridge of his nose. Kael had no idea what he was thinking until he said: “You mean … you figured me into your plan?”

  He thought that was an odd thing to say. “Of course I did. Having a mage on your side is pretty useful — especially if you think you can help us stay hidden.”

  Jake nodded, slowly. “I’m sure I can … it shouldn’t be too difficult.” Then his mouth bent in the tiniest of smiles. “Of all the things a whisperer’s ever called me, useful certainly isn’t among them.”

  Kael could understand that. He liked Jake all right, but mercy — the man stank. He had to turn his head every now and then just to get a breath of fresh air.

  “Speaking of mages,” he said, changing the subject. “Do you think there might be any more in the castle worth saving? Any that might join our side?”

  Jake’s smile went hard. “The Duke is many things, but unfortunately stupid isn’t one of them. He only keeps his most loyal mages inside his fortress. The rest — like me — are posted on cargo ships. The one you’ve really got to worry about is Bartimus.”

  “Who’s Bartimus?”

  “The court mage,” Jake said, rather darkly. “He’s got a gold impetus: a ring he
wears on his middle finger. He’s the one who cast the spell that bound me to the Duke.” He leaned back in his chair and propped his hands where an average man’s belly might’ve been. “It’s smart of you to attack on a party night. The Duke doesn’t like to have the mages around his guests, so he keeps them locked up in their tower. Which should make things easier.”

  True. Grisly as it was, having the mages pinned in and defenseless made things much easier. Kael thought for a moment. “In that case, if I were to mix a basic sleeping compound, do you think you might be able to make it a little more … potent?”

  “Certainly,” Jake said, his smile hard. “Death is a battlemage’s trade, after all.”

  *******

  When all the others were informed, there was only one person left that Kael needed to talk to. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find her anywhere. After he’d scoured the mansion twice over — a task that took him several days — he still had no idea where Kyleigh was hiding. He didn’t even know where she slept. And everyone else seemed to know about as much as he did.

  “No, I haven’t seen her since yesterday —”

  “Yesterday? Where was she?” Kael interrupted.

  Aerilyn frowned. “In the spell room with Jake. They were pouring over books and muttering about all sorts of boring things.”

  He’d already looked in the spell room — twice. And he had no desire to go back in. He’d hardly gotten the door open before the tang of magic washed over him and made the bile rise in his throat. He fought his way through the teetering shelves and piles of yellowed parchment for as long as he could hold his breath, and then he’d slammed the door.

  “You haven’t seen her since?”

  Aerilyn shook her head. “No, but I wish I had. Everything’s so …” She twirled at her hair for a moment. “Perhaps you can help me.”

  Kael took a step back. “I’m actually sort of —”