Weight of the Crown

by A. C. Cobble

  Ben reached the gaping hole that Cogdill’s street magic had blown open and stepped inside. Just like the other palaces, it was a plain stone hall dotted with unremarkable doors. Storage rooms for goods delivered on the water, guessed Ben.

  He frowned. The thieves had already passed out of sight, but Towaal was being held somewhere in the building. It could be down below in a storage room just as easily as a comfortable guest suite upstairs.

  When Rhys climbed through the blasted-open hole, Ben gestured at the string of closed doors dotting the hall. “Do you think…”

  “No,” responded the rogue. “Wherever they’re keeping her, they’ll have guards posted outside.”

  “I think the thieves went that way,” said Ben, pointing to the stairs. “Hopefully they spring a few traps for us. We can use all the distraction we can get before the real fun starts.”

  “You don’t feel bad about them triggering a trap?” asked Amelie, coming to stand beside them and brushing rock dust from her hands.

  “They are a guild of thieves,” replied Ben sardonically. “Plus, the last time we saw them, they would have executed me if it hadn’t been for Rhys.”

  “I’m always there, pulling your ass out of the fire,” declared the rogue.

  Ben grunted. Prem and O’ecca joined them, and he asked, “Ready to make some noise?”

  O’ecca spun her naginata. “Want me to lead the way?”

  “Stay behind me,” advised Prem. “It’s not the soldiers we need to worry about. When you see lightning coming… just, stay behind me.”

  O’ecca’s lips pressed into a pout, and Ben shook his head. Amelie winked at him, a nervous smile on her face.

  Sighing, Ben started off, heading toward the stairwell the thieves had taken and drawing his sword. It would be next to useless against any mages they faced, but it gave him a great deal of comfort to hold the sharp steel. He could at least try to do something instead of simply standing there and hoping it was over before he was roasted like a Newday chicken.

  More explosions shattered the still air, echoing down the stone hall.

  “Cogdill wasn’t joking,” said Rhys. “They were prepared.”

  “I don’t feel any significant manipulation of energy yet,” confirmed Amelie, walking ahead of them, activating wards, and gesturing them past the barriers. “That was the thieves, not the mages. They’ll know we’re here, though. I don’t have time to disable the wards.”

  “No matter what we did, they would know we’re here,” assured Ben. After another quick succession of blasts, he added, “How could they miss it?”

  They scampered up a flight of stairs and stepped out into a huge kitchen. Two scullions lay on the floor, fresh blood leaking from wounds in their throats. Thirteen, fourteen summers, if they had seen that.

  “That’s unfortunate,” said Ben. “If I see those thieves again—”

  “Come on,” said Rhys, putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  “We knew there’d be collateral damage,” said Ben, unable to tear his gaze away from the bodies. “I thought it would be mages, the Sanctuary’s soldiers…”

  “A lot worse will happen if we do nothing,” suggested Amelie.

  Closing his eyes, Ben gathered himself and then started moving again. He whispered back to Amelie, “I’m sure the Veil and Avril use the same rationalization for what they do.”

  She didn’t respond.

  Ben peeked into one door and saw a well-appointed dining room. A polished mahogany table, crystal stemware, silver utensils, and all of the trappings he’d expect to find in such a place. No people, though. He led the group through the dining room and several other entertaining spaces.

  They found one broad room which looked promising. It was filled with notebooks, scraps of paper, and a huge board dotted with notes that had been pinned to it. Three bodies of Sanctuary soldiers littered the floor.

  “They’re looking for signs of Avril,” said Rhys after a quick glance at the board.

  “And?” asked Ben.

  “They haven’t found her,” replied Rhys, “hopefully because she’s right here in Fabrizo.”

  Ben grunted.

  They stumbled across several frightened staff members but left them alone after confirming they were not a mage pretending to be less than they were. They found dozens more bodies. A few appeared to be thieves who’d stormed the front of the building, but most were left by the thieves.

  In several locations, the walls and floors were blackened by spent munitions, but they could hear the active engagement was outside or on the floors above them. The main floor was for entertaining, not storing valuables. The weapons Cogdill’s men used left ugly smears of crushed bodies, and Ben’s discomfort with using the thieves in his plan grew as they went.

  “If we see them again, we can settle it,” advised Rhys.

  Ben grunted and stepped over another pulped pile of meat and bone. He passed an open stairwell but led them toward the rear of the building instead.

  “Towaal should be upstairs somewhere,” reminded the rogue. “She’s going to be held in a room, not a kitchen.”

  “The fastest way to find her will be to find a guard,” replied Ben. “When we came in, we saw some of them looking down at us, remember? They have to be around here somewhere.”

  They had no luck, only finding terrified staff who couldn’t answer their questions, until they entered a huge ballroom which spanned the back of the palace. It had tall windows, rising two stories along the back wall, letting in the morning sun and opening onto a patio. Several Sanctuary soldiers were standing outside, looking down and shouting to someone below.

  “I saw them enter there!” cried a man. “You must have passed them.”

  There was a muffled response.

  Then, the man yelled down, “How would I know who they are? Probably assassins. Come back and find them. They’re inside the palace somewhere.”

  Ben walked quietly across the polished floor and stepped out into the sunlight. “Excuse me.”

  “What?” cried the guard, spinning around.

  Ben smashed his fist into the man’s face, sending him reeling back and flipping him over the stone railing. A short scream and loud splash followed.

  Prem stepped up and sliced neat lines across the necks of two other guards, and Rhys buried a long knife in the back of the fourth before he could turn. Ben frowned, looking between the three dead bodies.

  “You didn’t have to kill them all,” he complained. “We needed one to tell us where Towaal is.”

  “You killed yours!” protested Prem.

  “No, I didn’t,” retorted Ben. “I only punched him, and he fell in the water. I’m sure he’ll be fine, as long as he can swim.”

  He glanced over the balustrade and didn’t see a sign of the man.

  “You did knock him over the railing, Ben,” said Amelie. “And he was wearing pretty heavy armor. I’m not sure he could swim in—"

  “There!” yelled a voice from below.

  Ben looked at the blasted door they’d entered and saw a guard poking his head out.

  “Come up here!” called Ben. “We need to ask you a question.”

  “What?” responded the guard, staring at Ben, confused.

  “We need to ask you a question,” repeated Ben.

  “I’ll ask the questions, assassin!” barked the guard. The man was leaning out of the open doorway, shaking his fist at Ben.

  “I’ve got one,” said O’ecca from within the ballroom.

  Ben turned and rushed inside, the guard below yelling for him to come back.

  O’ecca was standing behind a man, the shaft of her naginata wrapped around him and pressing against his throat. He was struggling against her, but the small girl tightened her grip, and he went still.

  “Where is Lady Towaal?” asked Ben.

  O’ecca loosened her grasp so the man could speak, but instead of answering, he spit at Ben.

 
“We don’t have time for this,” growled Rhys. He strode forward and placed one hand on the man’s face, spreading his left eyelids wide open. The rogue’s other hand rose, the razor-sharp tip of a long knife hovering a finger away from the soldier’s eye.

  The man started thrashing violently. O’ecca swept a foot around his leg, spilling him onto the floor. Rhys pounced on him, slamming a hand down on his head and bringing the knife in front of the man’s eye again.

  “Upstairs!” cried the guard. “Third floor, third… or fourth room on the right, I think. There are guards out front! You won’t get in.”

  “Rhys,” said Ben quietly.

  The rogue glanced up.

  “Get Towaal out of here safely.” He turned to Prem and O’ecca. “You go with him.”

  “We’re not leaving you here,” announced O’ecca.

  “You have no protection for what’s about to happen, O’ecca,” declared Ben. “Go with Rhys, and get Towaal away safely. Prem, you too. If we fail, someone has to tell your father and Lloyd.”

  “I can—”

  “You’re the only other one who can reach them,” reminded Ben. “Maybe with the army, Adrick and Lloyd can figure out another way.”

  “Are you sure about this, Ben?” asked the rogue. “The Veil has the strength to slap you and Amelie around like children.”

  “No,” answered Ben. “I’m not sure, but we don’t have time to think about it. Someone has to face the Veils with Amelie, and someone has to get Towaal. We knew we might have to split up.”

  Rhys grunted. Then, without hesitation, he plunged his long knife down into the guard’s eye.

  Ben winced.

  “Sorry,” muttered the rogue. He stood after wiping the bloody blade on the dead man’s tabard. “I know we are trying not to kill too many people, but…”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Ben. “We don’t have anyone to watch him.”

  Rhys shrugged, and Ben looked away.

  “We need to go,” said the rogue to O’ecca and Prem.

  O’ecca swept Amelie up in a quick hug. “It’s been fun.”

  “If you say so,” mumbled Amelie.

  “Go now, before we lose our chance,” instructed Ben.

  Rhys was already off, looking for the set of stairs they’d passed earlier. With pained expressions, Prem and O’ecca turned to follow him.

  “If the timing isn’t right,” said Amelie, moving to stand by Ben, “we’re probably going to die.”

  “It will work,” insisted Ben.

  Taking his hand, she turned him toward her and dropped her eyes. “Is there anything you want to say to me?”

  “It’s been fun, Amelie.”

  Her gaze snapped back up to meet his. “That’s all you have to say? O’ecca literally just said the same thing! That is unbelievable, Ben.”

  “Wait. What did you want me to say?”

  “For someone so sensitive… Ben, sometimes I don’t know what to think about you.” She held his gaze.

  Slowly, a flush crept into his face. “Oh. Amelie. I meant that, well, it has been fun. It’s been so much more. I-I… I’ve never said this to anyone, but I want to tell you that I—”

  “Are you serious?” barked a voice from across the room.

  A petite blond woman stood in an open doorway, her arms crossed under her breasts, a glare fixed on her pretty face.

  “You’re going to tell her that, for the first time, just moments before you die? You may as well tell her heartbeats after she found you cheating or, even better, while you’re inside of her, making love.” Lady Avril snorted loudly and shook her head in disgust. “Men.”

  “Why wouldn’t I tell her while we’re making love?” asked Ben, shooting a glance at Amelie.

  Amelie coughed. “We should talk about this later.”

  The blond strode into the room, her cornflower blue eyes darting around. “Is she here? Are you actually working with that woman?”

  “I’m sure she will be here soon enough,” replied Ben.

  Full lips formed into pout. “It was a trap, then.”

  “Do you do that unconsciously?” wondered Amelie. “The pouting and the cute little facial expressions?”

  Lady Avril blinked at her, still maintaining her pout.

  “Of course it was a trap,” said Ben. “Your trap, her trap, our trap. Or are you claiming you weren’t watching and waiting for a chance to attack?”

  “All we’re missing is Coatney?” asked Avril, stepping into the room and declining to answer Ben’s charge.

  “No,” called a voice from the opposite side of the ballroom. “I am here.”

  Lady Coatney strode into the open, two flanks of mages spreading out on either side of her. Ben saw she had the repository dagger hanging on her belt and had one hand wrapped around the hilt. Unconsciously, he touched his side where weeks before that blade had been lodged in his stomach.

  The Veil looked between Lady Avril, Ben, and Amelie.

  Amelie closed her eyes and gripped Ben’s hand.

  “Well?” asked the Veil.

  “Well what?” responded Ben.

  “If this is a trap, aren’t you going to do something?” demanded the Veil. “That’s how traps work. Now that you have us in the room, you should try to capture or slay us somehow.”

  “I will soon enough,” said Ben, letting the tip of his longsword fall down to rest on the wooden floor, “but first, I want you to tell me why. Why did you attempt to assassinate Lady Avril so long ago? Why are you encouraging this war between the Alliance and the Coalition now?”

  Lady Coatney blinked at him uncertainly.

  “I’d like to hear that as well,” remarked Lady Avril, a smile gracing her heart-shaped face.

  “Is someone else coming?” asked the Veil, shooting a quick glance at her companions who shrugged back at her. “What do you have planned? You cannot believe you were just going to walk in here and question me.”

  “I don’t know how this boy thinks he’s going to survive,” said Lady Avril, stretching languorously and eyeing Ben like a predatory cat, “but I have to admit, he asks intriguing questions. Why don’t you tell us, Coatney, why you tried to kill me so many years ago?”

  “I know you have something up your sleeve,” snarled Lady Coatney, cutting her eyes from Ben to Avril. “Show your cards, bitch.”

  “So much hostility,” tsked Lady Avril. “You were the one who sent an assassin after me, remember? Answer the boy’s questions. Then I will show you what I have planned.”

  “You told me in Whitehall, and I want Amelie to hear it from you,” said Ben, turning to look at the Veil’s companions. “Unless, of course, you don’t want your followers to hear the real reasons you support the war between the Alliance and the Coalition.”

  “Just kill them,” muttered one of the women behind the Veil, Lady Elin, Ben thought. “Somehow, he’s got the entire Fabrizo Thieves’ Guild swarming all over this place. There’s no telling what mischief they’ve been up to. We have better things to do than talk to this farm boy.”

  “Why didn’t you send mages to face the demons at Kirksbane?” cried Ben, speaking quickly, searching for a soft spot. “If it wasn’t for us, they would have swept over Kirksbane, Venmoor, maybe even the City!”

  “I had a contingency plan for that,” remarked the Veil coolly, her eyes darting to the windows and doors that led into the ballroom, clearly anticipating an ambush.

  “The wyvern fire staff?” snorted Ben. “It wasn’t even in your hands until your son Milo stole it from us! Some guard he was. Surely that wasn’t your plan.”

  “You don’t quit, do you?” asked the Veil, turning back to Ben.

  “Three thousand demons!” stated Ben. “They could have overrun all of Alcott, and you did nothing.”

  “Why did you do nothing, Coatney?” asked Lady Avril, her voice high and lilting. Ben saw the former Veil’s eyes were locked on Coatney’s companions. Like him, she was speaking to the woman’s minions, trying to loosen
the grip of their loyalty.

  “Shut your mouth,” snapped the Veil.

  “You didn’t stand against the demons because the threat of those creatures was uniting the Sanctuary’s mages behind you,” speculated Lady Avril, a finger twirling a lock of honey-blond hair, her eyes still fixed on the other mages. “They would never stab you in the back while something like that was on the horizon. The Purple, the staff, you knew about it all along. You were planning on using it, weren’t you? Those ancient men should have been snuffed out ages ago, but you were willing to let them continue their research. You let them keep poking their noses into places they shouldn’t have been. All for what, so you had an ally you didn’t think I knew about? So they could scatter demons around the world to harass your enemies? Or was it so you could be the first Veil in a thousand years to call wyvern fire?”

  “What is she talking about? Wyvern fire?” asked one of the women behind the Veil.

  “Oh, this is going to be rich,” crowed Lady Avril.

  “This has gone on long enough,” declared Coatney, drawing her dagger.

  “They don’t know!” squealed Avril delightedly. “They don’t know you were in league with a group of male mages that was burrowing new rifts and causing demons swarms all over Alcott. They don’t know you had a wyvern fire staff in the Sanctuary’s possession and that you lost it to this stupid boy!”

  “I know of wyvern fire,” said another of the women behind the Veil. “I know of its history, at least. No one living has the knowledge or strength of will to call it anymore. Wyvern fire was from the age of the First Mages. If you will tell us lies, Avril, come up with something better.”

  “This boy’s companions called wyvern fire, what, two months past?” said Avril, nodding at Ben. “How do you think that tower ignited in the City? And let me guess, Coatney had you avoid Kirksbane and Venmoor on the way to Whitehall, didn’t she? You would have seen and heard the aftermath of the battle. I went and saw it myself, and I know how close the Veil came to sacrificing the Sanctuary all because of her petty insecurities. It’s no lie. You can go look yourself. You can see the corpse of the demon-king that nearly ended you. I know Coatney is aware of what happened. Why don’t you ask her about it and see who is lying?”