by Brian Farrey
“I bet he’s already tried to make the solvent himself and failed,” I said. “Nanni’s right. If he’d succeeded already, you’d be on trial for fateskein possession by now. But he never knew about the spiderbat’s milk. That’s why his solvent isn’t working.”
“So what do we do?” Da asked. “That fool Edilman’s going to use up all the ingredients trying to get the mixture right and then we’ll be stuck where we were before.”
“It’s worse than that,” I said. “The winged creatures are on their way to Vengekeep.”
Everyone exchanged looks. Aubrin’s eyes were wide. “You mean, you’ve seen them?”
I grinned at her and Ma tousled her hair. “She’s been chirping like a bird since you left. We can hardly get a word in.”
I nodded to Aubrin. “They’re going to tear the town-state to shreds if we don’t destroy that tapestry.”
Our discussion was interrupted by the clatter of metallic boots. Aronas descended the stairs, opened the door to our cell, and pointed at me. “You! You’re wanted.”
“Why?” I asked defiantly.
“The cursebreaker heard of your return to Vengekeep and thinks you may be important. He wishes to interrogate you himself. Come!”
I looked to Ma and Da gravely. “Don’t worry about me. The ‘cursebreaker’ and I need to talk.”
Two members of the stateguard thrust me into the Viewing Room. The first thing I noticed was the small pool of yellow liquid that had formed beneath the tapestry, which continued to drip. A tall man in green robes, holding a staff, stood in front of the tapestry. Long silver hair spilled down his back to the base of his spine. A thick beard did likewise down his front. A sprybird with gray feathers around its eyes sat perched on his shoulder.
“Hello, Edilman,” I said.
Edilman chuckled. “Oya, Jaxter. Glad to hear you made it to the party.”
Nearby, I saw Callie’s pack and a large wooden bucket. Water had spilled all over the floor and bits of chopped plants were strewn everywhere. One of the wraithweed pods, now desiccated, lay discarded in the corner.
Edilman went over and gave the pack a light kick. “Fat lot of good it did me, taking all this. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy to make the solvent on my own. Maybe it was my pride. I figured if a snot-nosed kid could do it, how hard could it be? So I tried making my own version.”
He held up his right hand. The skin was red and blistered. “I forgot the wraithweed was acidic. I’m sure you know that my solvent did nothing to the tapestry. So I figured that either I wasn’t mixing it properly … or you hadn’t told me about all the ingredients. Which is it?”
I folded my hands behind my back. “Little of each, actually. I hope you didn’t use up everything we collected. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to make the solvent.”
Edilman charged across the floor at me. “Wrong. I’m going to make the solvent. Oh, you’ll be there to provide guidance but if anyone is going to be thanked by the High Laird for saving Vengekeep, it’s me.”
I glared right back at him. “If you had just told us about your plan to get the High Laird’s pardon, Callie and I would have figured out a way to make it work. You didn’t have to steal the ingredients. You could have trusted us.”
Edilman snarled, throwing his staff to the floor. “I trusted your parents! Years ago, the stateguard caught me dealing in muskmoss and were hunting me down. I went to your parents, asking them to hide me until the heat died down. They refused and cast me out into the street. The stateguard captured me and I spent six years in prison! So you’ll have to forgive me if trust isn’t high on my list of priorities.”
I remembered what Callie had suggested at the Dowager’s. “Did you … did you sell Ma the fateskein?”
For a moment, Edilman looked confused. Then a slow, dangerous smile slid across his lips as he laughed. “No,” he said, “I got caught dealing fateskein in Tarana Province. But wouldn’t it have been poetic if I had sold it to dear old Allia?”
“So you’re angry at my parents and you’re willing to let Vengekeep—”
“This has nothing to do with your parents!” he spat. “It’s not like I’ve been wandering the Provinces dreaming of revenge. I don’t care about your parents.” He breathed heavily for a moment and then calmed down. When he spoke again, his voice was measured and more like the reasonable Edilman I remembered. “We both want the same thing, Jaxter. We want that tapestry destroyed. I just want the credit for doing it. All you have to do is help me.”
I glanced over at Callie’s pack. I had no idea how much of the ingredients he’d already used. Based on the formula Talian and I had devised, what remained might not be enough. But I had to try.
“On one condition,” I said slowly. “You can’t mention the fateskein to anyone. Once you get your pardon, you can’t say anything that can incriminate my family.”
“I can’t make that promise, Jaxter. The High Laird is more likely to commute one death sentence if he thinks he can enforce another.”
I swallowed. “Then there’s no deal.”
Edilman reached out, gripping my tunic in both his fists. Perrin shot into the air with a squawk. I struggled, but his grip was unbreakable. “Give me the last ingredient!” he screamed.
His threats cut off at the sound of smashing glass. Looking up, we both only just managed to dive out of the way in time as huge shards of the skylight above rained down and broke into millions of pieces on the floor. Two great skeletal talons reached down into the Viewing Room. I heard the balanx’s unearthly shrieks. The hole in the roof was too small for the beast to get in but that didn’t stop it from feeling around, trying to grab us.
Edilman and Perrin bolted for the door and I snatched Callie’s pack. The beast’s talon thrashed around, accidentally wrapping itself around the cables that suspended the tapestry and its copper frame. Realizing it couldn’t reach us, the beast suddenly lurched upward. The cables holding the tapestry snapped and the beast flew off … taking the cable, frame, and tapestry with it from the Viewing Room. The sky beyond the open window darkened as the balanx hordes descended on Vengekeep.
26
The Siege of Vengekeep
“Accusations are merely the envy of the unenlightened given form.”
—Ancient par-Goblin proverb
Memories of the magma men and firestorm came flooding back as the balanx began their attack. Screams filled the streets as, everywhere I looked, people ran for cover. But no place appeared to be safe. Hugging Callie’s pack to my chest, I charged through the streets and watched as one of the skeletal beasts wrapped itself around the clock tower and tore it to shreds, leaving a pile of dusty bricks and twisted clockwork. I dodged debris as one by one, the balanx laid waste to homes and businesses alike.
Passing near the perimeter wall, I saw members of the stateguard scurrying around, loading small catapults and hurling stones at the flying beasts. Occasionally, a stone would connect, severing a balanx’s arm from its body. But a moment later, the fallen bones would leap back up into the air and reattach themselves, good as new.
I kept my head down, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. “Make the solvent, find the tapestry,” I repeated over and over to myself. “Make the solvent, find the tapestry …” Then, for good measure, I threw in, “And try not to die doing either.”
Thick dust clotted the air. I covered my mouth with my hand and made the turn down the street toward the Strom house. Arriving outside, I pounded on the door. A moment later, Callie answered. Her broken arm hung in a leather sling.
“Good evening, madam,” I said, tipping a hat I didn’t have. “I don’t suppose you know anything about tapestry solvents—?”
She saw her pack in my hands and, with her good arm, yanked me into the house. I immediately went to the fireplace in the living room and began stacking wood inside. “I need a size-four kettle,” I said, setting aside the solvent ingredients. “And fill it with water.”
“Uncle Maste
ron!” Callie cried, running to the kitchen. “I need your help!”
Mr. Strom emerged from a broom closet, shaking. He looked around nervously. “C-callie,” he whispered, “I think we need to stay where it’s safe—”
“Zoc that,” she said, pointing to the space on the wall where they hung their kettles. “I need that kettle. Filled with water.”
Like everyone who’d ever met her, the Keeper of the Catacombs knew better than to cross Callie. Mr. Strom obeyed promptly, taking down the cauldron and filling it from a cistern in an alcove.
We all ducked when we heard a mighty crash outside. Glancing out the window, I saw the house next door reduced to rubble, smashed by a catapult most likely dropped there by a flying balanx. I struck the flint and started the fire roaring. A moment later, Mr. Strom carried the water-filled kettle to the fireplace and positioned it over the fire.
Callie joined me. “What do you want me to do?”
I handed her the recipe that Talian and I had concocted. “Once the water’s boiling, read this off to me. Be sure to tell me the amounts.”
As bubbles rose to the surface of the kettle, it finally sank in how the odds were against us. The tapestry was missing. The recipe Talian and I had created was nothing more than a guess. And Edilman had used nearly all the ingredients, making a second chance at mixing the correct formula unthinkable. I felt queasy. The only sure thing was that we had exactly one shot.
With the water boiling, Callie started calling out ingredients, when she wasn’t complaining about my penmanship. I added the necessary roots and herbs to the cauldron. Soon, an earthy aroma filled the Strom house. With all the ingredients in place, I slowly poured the prized spiderbat milk into the cauldron.
“We have a small problem,” I said, and then I explained about my encounter with Edilman and how a balanx had accidentally taken off with the tapestry. “It could be anywhere by now.”
“It has to be near the town-state hall,” Callie reasoned. “I can’t imagine the balanx letting it dangle from its leg for long.”
Once Mr. Strom had fetched us a bucket, we dipped it into the kettle and filled it to the brim. The solvent had the pungent smell of ernum tree sap.
“You stay here,” I instructed Callie. “You’re hurt. You can’t—”
“Not in a million years, Jaxter Grimjinx,” she said fearlessly. “You need two sets of eyes to find that tapestry and I’m not—”
With a bang, the front door swung open, coming off one of its hinges. Standing there, dagger in hand, was Edilman. He’d shed his cursebreaker disguise, and without his old man wig and beard, he looked crazed and dangerous.
“Oh, Jaxter,” he tsked. “I’m embarrassed that we share the same name. You didn’t even try to shake me when you came here. You must have known I’d follow you.”
“No,” I said, glaring at him. “I just assumed you’d run away like the frightened maldok that you are.”
His eyes narrowed. “Give me the solvent. I’ll destroy the tapestry and put an end to all this. Give it to me now or I’ll kill Callie.”
Mr. Strom, meek as he was, steeled his shoulders and stepped between Edilman and his niece. “You won’t touch her.”
“Wanna bet?” Growling, Edilman advanced with his blade. Then, a purple flash of light behind him froze Edilman in his tracks. He looked down and found that he was slowly rising into the air. Thrashing about, he gazed around, perplexed. Suddenly, he shot straight up, his head smacking into a beam in the ceiling. Then he flew across the room, hitting the far wall before falling into a battered lump in the corner.
We turned to find Talian standing in the doorway, his spellsphere glowing. “Sure,” he said to Edilman’s sleeping form, “I’ll take that bet.”
Leaving Mr. Strom to return to the safety of his broom closet, Talian, Callie, and I charged into the ravaged streets of Vengekeep with the solvent.
“After I sent word to the Palatinate, I waited at the Onyx Fortress for them to take Xerrus into custody,” Talian explained. “I told them that I was prepared to deal with the charges of desertion but first I had to help Vengekeep.”
“What did they say?” Callie asked.
“Didn’t really give them a chance to respond,” he admitted. “I used the quickjump spell before they could argue.”
“Glad you could join us, Talian,” I said, “because we’ve got a new problem.”
Callie and I told him about the missing tapestry. Talian took out his spellsphere and whispered to it. A moment later, it glowed a dark, deep red.
“If there’s fateskein in Vengekeep,” he said, “this will find it.”
The spellsphere lifted gently from Talian’s palm and then flew off down the streets. We ran to keep up with the flying ball. The deeper into the town-state we got, the harder it became to follow. The streets were littered with the remains of buildings, forcing us to climb over and around to continue our pursuit. We came across throngs of injured people, stumbling about blindly amid the ruins. You can’t help them until you destroy the tapestry, I reminded myself as we continued on.
The spellsphere took us to the heart of Vengekeep and, as Callie had predicted, not far from the town-state hall. There, dangling from the edge of a pub’s roof, hung the discarded tapestry, blowing in the wind. A momentary peace prevailed in this part of town, the balanx having turned their attention to the stateguard mounted along the perimeter walls.
“So what do we do?” Callie asked. “Do we have to say any spells or anything?”
I shook my head. “The solvent’s not magic, remember? Let’s lay the tapestry on the street so I can pour the solvent over it. And at that point, if you’d like to say a little prayer, I think that would be okay.”
Talian agreed. “Callie, climb on my shoulders.”
He bent over and Callie did as she was told. I waited with the solvent as Talian stood to his full height and Callie reached up for the tapestry. It hung just beyond her grasp. She stretched with her good arm, grunting with effort.
As her fingers grazed the edge of the tapestry, something happened. Every balanx stopped. As one, their jaws dropped and their terrible screech rang through every city street. Suddenly, they all turned and flew directly toward us. Within moments, they were all swooping down, swiping at us with skeletal talons and claws.
Talian stumbled, sending him and Callie to the ground. I covered my head with one hand and lugged the bucket of solvent behind the rubble that was once a cheesemonger’s shop. “Over here!”
Talian and Callie scrambled across the street, avoiding the onslaught of balanx who hovered over the pub where the tapestry hung.
“What’s going on?” Callie asked, holding her sore arm.
Talian shook his head. “It’s the fateskein. I think it knows what we’re up to. It’s protecting itself.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “We’ve got one chance, Jaxter. Callie and I will draw them away. You go for the tapestry.” He turned to his cousin, whose eyes had grown dark when she realized what he was saying. “Ready?”
She nodded. As one, they bolted from where we hid, each running in a different direction. The ploy had the desired effect. The balanx, confused for a moment, divided, half chasing Talian, the other half pursuing Callie. I eyed the pub. If I climbed the drainpipe on the side of the building, I could pull the tapestry down. It just meant fending off my clumsiness for one, shining moment.
I took a deep breath and jumped out. But I’d gone only two steps before I fell face-first onto the street. I knew on the way down, though, it wasn’t my fault. A leg had swept out of nowhere and tripped me. My glasses flew from my face, landing beyond my reach. I looked up, half-blind, and saw Edilman’s blurry form charge across the street. Before I could stand, he’d shimmied up the drainpipe and snagged the tapestry.
I retrieved the bucket of solvent and ran at him, but he held the tapestry away from me. “This ends now, Jaxter,” he warned. “Give me the solvent.”
I couldn’t see Callie and Talian or the balanx th
at pursued them. But the second Edilman grabbed the tapestry, the creatures appeared above to protect it. The skeletons shot up into the air, screeching, and dove down toward us. Edilman didn’t even see them; his eyes never left the bucket of solvent.
He was right. I had to end this now. I glared at the tapestry in Edilman’s fist and, raising the pail, I took aim and tossed the solvent.
In a panic, Edilman attempted to shield the tapestry and both got doused. The boiling liquid hissed as it made contact with fateskein and flesh. Edilman dropped the tapestry and clutched his face, screaming as the wraithweed acid burned away at his skin. He ran blindly to a nearby watering trough and threw himself in to wash away the solvent.
The tapestry smoked as red and blue sparks shot out. The brown fabric quickly dissolved, great chunks falling away, eating themselves and turning to small piles of ash. The prophecies burned as the fateskein crackled, its power vanishing.
High overhead, the balanx gave a final cry of agony. I looked up to see the skeletons, their necks arched backward as they screeched. Then, as one, the balanx collapsed, showering Vengekeep with their brittle bones. The air still stank of smoke and dust. People still cried and screamed. But it was over.
27
Doing What You Have to Do
“Innocence is a multicolored cloak.”
—Ancient par-Goblin proverb
A week later, with Vengekeep still struggling to rebuild, the Grimjinxes were cordially invited to an assembly in the town-state council chambers. The sort of cordial invitation we’d become accustomed to: enforced by an armed escort.
My family, Callie, and Talian all sat on one side of the massive wooden table that split the chamber in two. On the other side sat the Castellan, the High Laird’s Chancellor, Captain Aronas, and a woman we were introduced to as Neryn Hordrin, the head of the town-state council. You’d never guess they’d all been saved from disaster, the way they were scowling.
