Lament (Scars of the Sundering Book 2)

by Hans Cummings

Pancras clenched his jaw. His heart raced, and he took a moment to breathe before shaking his head. “I could not.” Thumping from above drew his attention away from Gisella. “I think we should go.”

  Gisella touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  He lifted the maul. It still felt warm in his hand. Gritting his teeth, he reached into his money pouch. He left a handful of crowns and talons on Piotr’s anvil.

  “There’s a dwarf and a fiendling involved in some trouble at a place called Danica’s Den. Loath as I am to know the truth, I think we need to check it out.”

  Gisella’s words caused Pancras’s chest to tighten. The odds were slim of there being another dwarf and fiendling pair capable of causing trouble. He nodded and followed Gisella into the crowds.

  Chapter 19

  Delilah’s meeting with Master Galina was not the stress-filled interrogation she expected. The master told Delilah what to expect at her Novice Trials and then sent her on her way. In theory, Delilah’s performance in her Novice Trials would be judged by the high wizards, the archmage, and any masters who sought an apprentice. Delilah expected the archmage to claim her as his own, however, as she reflected while strolling back to the library.

  It’s all busywork and magical theater. A lot of what these wizards do doesn’t seem to have a point. About a dozen students moved about the library as they researched various projects. While a few were novices, most appeared to be apprentices. She saw Master Agata at the Rose Concordat’s podium. Delilah sat in a nearby chair to wait. Master Agata glanced over her shoulder at the drak sorceress.

  “Come to brush up on your guild rules, Novice?”

  “Master Renata said I should read the Rose Concordat. So, I have been.” Delilah swung her feet as they dangled above the floor. Not one chair in the Arcane University was sized to fit draks. She felt like a child among giants.

  “There are certainly worse ways to spend your time.” Master Agata turned to the codex and flipped forward, stopping about three-quarters of the way to the end.

  She stepped aside and moved a chair in front of the codex. “All yours, Novice.”

  Delilah hopped off the chair and bowed to the departing master. As she grabbed the pages to flip back to where she left off, a few words on the page caught her eye.

  Master Gil-Li, former student of Vlad the Iron Justice, was the first to ascend to the position of archmage by Rite of Combat. As enacted by Gerald the Craven in the third series of essays on “Arcane Rules: Civilized Magickry,” the Rite of Combat was a formal duel between a ranking wizard and an underling who felt slighted. Prior to the codification of the Rite of Combat, wizard duels were little more than battles of mass destruction. The rules written by Gerald the Craven allow for a formal dueling location designed to minimize collateral damage and allow for an audience of judges to observe the duel from a position of safety.

  Delilah scanned the room for Master Agata, but the older woman had gone. She wondered if she turned the book to that page for a reason. It gave the drak a new appreciation for her grimoire; it was the book of an archmage. She must continue to conceal it from Vilkan. So far, he kept his nose out of her personal affairs, but if she became his apprentice, she would be under closer scrutiny.

  She continued reading from the dueling section for the rest of the afternoon, committing the words, statutes, and rites to memory. Gil-li is mentioned in here a lot. Is she why Manless is so interested in me?

  * * *

  Pancras fought to keep his failure with Piotr’s mother from affecting him as he and Gisella entered Danica’s Den. A row of guards tried to hold back a crowd intent on pushing their way across the gambling floor. A haze of smoke lingered near the ceiling, the air thick with the odor of sweaty bodies and the residue of whatever it was people smoked from the large water pipes set up around the perimeter of the room. Statues of Pacha and Dolios stood on opposite ends of the bar that bisected the room, keeping watch over the proceedings that glorified drinking, gambling, and throwing away ones’ money on excess.

  Angry shouts filled the air as the crowd called for violent retribution. Angry gamblers stood on the gaming tables directing their ire toward the back of the room.

  “String ‘er up!”

  “Get the fiendling!”

  “The dwarf, too!”

  Part of Pancras hoped there was another dwarf and fiendling in town, but it didn’t take more than a cursory glance to determine that the crowd was, indeed, yelling for Qaliah’s head. The fiendling was visible in the center of a group of city guards escorting her through the crowd. Lady Aveline led the procession, shoving people out of their way with her shield.

  The minotaur sought a means to intercept Lady Aveline, hoping to smooth things over and release Qaliah and Edric from her custody before things with the townsfolk became ugly. The ice in her glare dissuaded him, along with the way the guards accompanying her half drew their swords whenever anyone came too close. Pancras settled for following them out of the gambling den and into the streets. A crowd of dedicated hecklers followed them shouting obscenities directed at Edric and Qaliah.

  Gisella pulled him to the side of the street under bakery’s awning. “Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow. Let the furor die down.”

  “They appear to be in a lynching mood.” Pancras shook his head. “I’d rather deal with this now.”

  “I have half a mind to leave them.” Gisella slammed her hand into the side of the building. “This was supposed to be a quick stop and a chance to sleep in a warm bed, not cause trouble and get arrested.”

  Pancras motioned for her to follow. “Edric gambled away an entire season in Almeria. I’m surprised he wasn’t arrested before now.”

  Following the mob through city streets, crowded though they were, was easy enough. Pushing their way through the crowd and guards to enter the jail was a different story. The guards turned away anyone not wearing one of their tabards. They met Pancras’s pleas with stony-faced stares.

  The minotaur threw up his hands. “I guess we wait.”

  After a few hours of grim stares from rather cross, armed guards, the crowd grew bored and dispersed. Mobs burned hot, but, given sufficient time, the alcohol and fury that fueled them wore off, and the people shambled home angry and hungover.

  Pancras approached the guards. “May we go in now? We have business with Lady Aveline.” It wasn’t strictly true, but he hoped the guards wouldn’t know that.

  “Fine.” The guard held the door for Pancras and Gisella. The interior of the jail was more spartan than Pancras expected. The stone walls and stone floor blended together in a depressing expanse of grey. Two desks sat facing each other on opposite sides of the room. Near the back, a large holding cell stood across from the hearth, and stairs led down to, Pancras presumed, the rest of the cells. A long-haired fat man snored in the holding cell as Lady Aveline sat behind one of the desks, cleaning her sword.

  “What do you two want now?” Lady Aveline glanced up from her sword, but she continued to rub the blade with an oiled cloth.

  Gisella pointed to the stairs. “You arrested our friends.”

  “The dwarf and the fiendling. So? Lord Koloman doesn’t tolerate cheaters in the gambling dens. The dens and brothels are the only things keeping the mudders happy since the mines dried up.”

  Pancras held up his hands. “We’re not here to protest their innocence. We want to see about rectifying the situation. We’re just passing through on our way to Cliffport to catch a ship to Vlorey. It’s been a long journey from Muncifer and more delays are”—Pancras sighed—“difficult.”

  “Not my problem.” Lady Aveline slid her sword into its sheath. Footsteps clomping up the stairs heralded the return of a guard from the jail.

  Gisella clasped her hands in front her. “What exactly is supposed to have happened, Lady Aveline?”

  “It’s simple: the dwarf was caught cheating, and several eyewitnesses say the fiendling used her demonic powers to help him.” She regarded the approaching gu
ard.

  Pancras glanced at Gisella. As far as he was aware, Qaliah did not possess arcane skill of any type, whether from her demonic heritage or not. The Golden Slayer’s cocked eyebrow revealed she shared his suspicion.

  The guard stood at attention. “The fiendling maintains she had nothing to do with the dwarf’s cheating. The dwarf continues to berate her for not backing up his story.”

  Gisella cleared her throat. “With respect, Lady Aveline, I am familiar enough with Qaliah, the fiendling, to know she does not possess any magical skills. Is it not possible the mudders are letting their prejudices against fiendlings shape their stories?”

  “It’s possible Dolios himself is locked up in our jail in dwarf form, but I find it highly suspect.” Lady Aveline pulled a scrap of paper from her desk. She scribbled a note on it, folded the paper, and handed it to the guard. She flicked the end of her quill toward the door. “Go to the apothecary. Tell Tasha I need a favor.”

  The guard saluted and quickly exited. Lady Aveline stood and ushered Pancras and Gisella toward the door. “Let me do my job. I will determine who is guilty and who is not. I don’t need the help of transients. Where are you staying?”

  “The Drunken Horse.” Pancras opened the door for Gisella.

  “I’ll send for you tomorrow, in the afternoon.” Lady Aveline closed the jail door behind them. Pancras heard the click of the lock.

  “We have to face the possibility that we may be going on without them, you know?” Gisella took Pancras’s arm and led him away from the jail.

  “I know.” Pancras would do what he could to help Edric and Qaliah, but he drew the line at orchestrating an actual jailbreak. If they were guilty of breaking Curton’s laws, they would have to face the penalties.

  * * *

  “Did they say what he wanted?” Katka wrung her hands as Delilah shoved her grimoire into her pack. The drak sorceress shook her head.

  A student interrupted their study session with a summons for Delilah to appear before the headmaster in his office. Delilah assumed the headmaster was Archmage Vilkan. The headmaster’s office was located at the top of a tower attached to the main keep in which all the lecture halls and laboratories were located. Katka hurried behind Delilah, asking the drak over and over again what she did to warrant a summons by the headmaster.

  “I don’t know!” Delilah stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading into the tower and shoved her pack into Katka’s arms. She was tired of lugging the thing all over the Arcane University and didn’t want the grimoire anywhere near the headmaster. “Guard this pack with your life. I’ll be back for it. Wait here, all right?”

  Katka nodded, her eyes wide. Part of Delilah felt leaving her grimoire in the human’s hands was asking for trouble, but there was another, louder part of her that needed to know if she could trust the girl. After the archduke’s revelations, Delilah needed another friend. Kale would always be there for her, but it wasn’t fair to Kali for Delilah to continually test her brother’s loyalties.

  The stairs leading up to the headmaster’s office started on the roof of the keep and wound around the outside of the tower. The absence of a railing didn’t bother Delilah; none of the precipices in Drak-Anor had handrails. She was weary of stairs built for humans, however, and felt as if she’d climbed a mountain by the time she reached the balcony at the top.

  Two guards stood watch outside the headmaster’s office. One yawned and held the door open for her. To her surprise, Archmage Vilkan was seated behind what she assumed was the headmaster’s desk. Bookshelves lined the walls of the office itself, stretching from floor to ceiling. Windows and skylights provided bright illumination during the day, and she noticed the dull glow of enchanted gems set in torch scones that provided evening illumination. Smoke from incense rose from a nearby brazier.

  “Ah, Novice Drak. Come in. Stand before me.” Archmage Vilkan smiled and stood. He gestured to a spot on the bear skin rug in front of his desk. “I understand you’ve been reading the Rose Concordat. I applaud your initiative. I have been brushing up myself.”

  “You wanted to see me, Arch… Headmaster?” Delilah wasn’t sure how to address him now.

  “Indeed, indeed. I’ve been going about things all wrong, you see. As archmage, I’m bound by the rules of the Arcane University, insofar as students like you are concerned. It never occurred to me my authority as headmaster provided an alternative.”

  Delilah narrowed her eyes. She shifted the grip on her staff as she calculated how quickly she could envelope him in a cloud of swirling blades.

  “The headmaster’s authority is absolute when it comes to the university, you see; yet, I’ve been so focused on how to accomplish things as head of the guild that I didn’t see the obvious solution sitting right in front of me.” He laughed and tapped a piece of paper on his desk.

  The drak sorceress craned her neck. She was too short to see details.

  “As headmaster, I can make exceptions of most of the rules here, and I have.” He drew his wand and tapped the paper as a blue glow surrounded the tip of his focus. “So, by the power invested in me as headmaster of the Arcane University of Muncifer, I hereby waive the university’s requirement to subject you to the Novice Trials and advance you directly to the rank of apprentice, effective immediately.”

  Delilah squinted as the blue glow flared, searing the paper. The archmage blew away the last remnants of azure smoke and rolled up the paper, holding it out for Delilah. The drak took it with a tentative hand.

  “As of now, you are my apprentice, Drak. Even the high wizards cannot dispute the judgement of the headmaster in this matter.” He chuckled. “I wish I’d thought of it weeks ago. In this case, the authority of the headmaster supersedes that of archmage. How fortunate I hold both titles. Take that to the seneschal, and he’ll see it is entered into the university records.” He picked up a brooch and tossed it to Delilah.

  She caught and examined it. It was engraved with the seal of the Arcane University, and she read “Muncifer” written in the common trade language around the edge.

  “You no longer need specific robes. That brooch will identify you as an apprentice. At dusk, report to the Court of Wizardry for your first assignment. Do you understand, my apprentice?”

  Delilah, unsure she understood what just transpired, nodded her assent anyway. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand and sat behind his desk. Her descent was slow as she read the scroll he gave her. She didn’t understand how his responsibilities as headmaster and archmage intersected, or didn’t, in this case. The scroll gave her no new information and failed to alleviate any of her confusion.

  Katka still waited for Delilah at the bottom of the stairs, just outside the door that led back into the keep. She sat on the grass with her arms wrapped around Delilah’s pack, holding it tightly against her knees. When she glanced up, her eyes caught the afternoon light from beneath black locks.

  “What happened? What did he say?”

  Delilah handed the scroll to Katka. “The archmage is the headmaster. He skipped my Novice Trials and made me his apprentice effective immediately.”

  “Why didn’t he do that before?”

  Delilah wished she had the answer to that question. “Maybe he’s not as smart as he wants everyone to think. I have to appear before the Court of Wizardry at dusk for my first task as his apprentice.”

  They descended into the keep. Other novices and initiates greeted them as they passed students in the hall. As they passed one of the divination classrooms, the smell of burning incense wafted past them. The pungent odor caused Delilah’s nose to burn and her vision to blur. When they entered the courtyard, she searched for the sun in the sky, gauging, based upon its position, whether or not she had time to visit her brother before going to the Court of Wizardry. It was over halfway through its descent toward the western horizon. With additional crowds in the upper city gathering for the celebration of Anetha’s Glory that night, it was doubtful she could travel there and back in time.


  “It’s strange he didn’t give the assignment to you when you met with him, don’t you think?” Katka stopped underneath the Blood Oak. She returned the scroll to Delilah.

  “I assume he wants to show off in front of the high wizards. He was proud that he thought of a way to circumvent their decree.” She hoped the archmage would give her an assignment to take her out of the city. Delilah wanted no part of his machinations against the archduke. As far as she was concerned, the two humans could fight it out themselves without her involvement.

  “At least you don’t have to wear those grey robes anymore, though, right? You draks don’t usually wear so much.”

  “So far, that’s the only good thing about it.” Delilah suspected the only way she’d obtain the answers she craved was to play their game a little while longer. She hefted her pack and motioned for Katka to follow her. “I’m going to change and then hit the tavern before the meeting. Join me?”

  * * *

  The sound of the printing press drowned out the crowds in the street. Kale tapped his foot and stared vacantly at Kali. The note from Boss Steelhand said Jairo’s cousin would be in his print shop waiting for them. So far, there was no sign of the other drak. Jairo offered to let them wait while he finished printing broadsheets.

  Kali tossed the paper she had been reading onto the counter. “How long are we going to keep waiting? Let’s just tell the minotaur ‘no deal’ and get on with our lives.”

  “It’s a way for us to earn some money without having to work for it.” Kale shrugged. He didn’t like waiting any more than his mate did. “Maybe it’ll pay all our expenses and we can do something fun for a change.”

  The bell rang as an out-of-breath, blue-scaled drak pushed open the door. He glanced behind him as he closed it and then recoiled when he saw Kale and Kali staring at him. “Oh! Sorry I’m late. Where’s… Jairo?”

  His mouth hung agape as he took in the sight of Kale’s wings. He turned his head, first one way and then the other.