A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence)

by Hogan, Mitchell

  Charlotte frowned and crossed her arms. “I’ve won a fair few ducats on games, so I think I see the patterns fine. I won this set in a contest.” She cradled one of the pieces and ran her fingers along the grain of the wood. “Maybe I’m having an off day.”

  Caldan nodded. “Could be,” he said with a shrug.

  “The crew have a couple of their own sets in their common area. I don’t like them playing for coins, but men will be men. As long as it doesn’t get out of hand.” She leaned forward and, with quick economical movements, shifted two of her pieces. “There, see what you make of that!” she said with enthusiasm.

  Caldan studied the changes for a few moments then let a smile show. She’d lost the game and hadn’t realized it yet.

  “Amused?” asked Charlotte, taking another sip of rum.

  Caldan shook his head. “No. Interested, not amused. You know, it wasn’t a trap.”

  With a start, Charlotte coughed rum back into her cup. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, looked at Caldan for a moment then smirked.

  “Ha ha! You almost had me there. Of course it’s a trap.”

  Caldan used his turn to move two of his pieces. He placed each with precision, just so on the board. He sat back on his chair and gazed out the window at the stars appearing in the night sky.

  Charlotte peered at the board intently. A few minutes passed without a word being spoken by either of them.

  “Well,” she said, shoulders slumping. “That’s… interesting. You must have set that up close to the start of the game.”

  “It’s an old strategy we were taught. Apparently, it was first used around four hundred years ago.”

  “It’s not old if you’ve never seen it.”

  “I guess that’s true. But anyone can read books on Dominion and study strategies for themselves. That one is from Essays on Dominion, and it’s also detailed in the Morals of Dominion.”

  Charlotte stared at him, astonished. “Have you read those books?”

  “Yes, all the students did. Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve heard of them. They’re both extremely rare. The only copies thought to have survived are said to be owned by the emperor himself and the Sorcerers’ Guild. To have seen them, let alone read them…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

  “The monks have a large library, and their scribes copy many books for the students to study. I would offer to show you one day, but… I fear that’s not possible now.”

  “Maybe I’ll visit the monastery the next time I’m in port.” She turned her attention back to the board and breathed out a heavy breath, the corners of her mouth turned down in disappointment. “I was sure I had it worked out.” Her face lit up and she smiled. “I know just the people to use it on!” she said and laughed, her unabashed enjoyment of losing to a new strategy causing Caldan to join in.

  “You’re different to what I expected,” Charlotte said after a short companionable silence, where the only noise was the creak of the ship’s timbers as it swayed to and fro in the strengthening breeze.

  “What did you expect?” He didn’t like the idea of other people thinking him a criminal. Which was probably what they’d been expecting, he realized.

  “I wasn’t told much, other than someone had been exiled from the monastery for an unspecified reason. It was natural to assume someone who has been exiled is fairly… unsavory.”

  Caldan nodded in agreement. “Mine was more of an economical and political decision, which hurts, to be honest. I injured a son from a wealthy family who could have withdrawn their children from the monastery, even made life hard for the masters by influencing other families to withdraw students or funding. In the end, there may not have been an easier solution for them.”

  “What are you going to do when we make port in Anasoma?”

  Caldan stared into his cup. “I don’t know. I have some ducats, but not many. I thought perhaps to find work as a tutor to a wealthy family or a scholar with one of the guilds. I’m not really sure.”

  “How much do you have?”

  “A small purse,” he replied carefully.

  She raised her eyebrows at him and waved a hand around. “I own this ship. A small purse wouldn’t interest me, even if I were a thief.”

  Caldan felt blood rush to his face. “Sorry, I… I’m a bit out of my depth here.”

  Charlotte grunted and sat back, crossing her legs. “But you said you injured the son of a wealthy family. I wouldn’t have thought that other families in the city would welcome you if they knew about the circumstances of your exile.”

  Caldan brought his cup to his mouth and smelt the dark rum. Suddenly, he didn’t feel like drinking anymore. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he admitted. “I guess I’ll have to think more about my options.”

  “There are places in Anasoma, and the rest of the empire, where you can win ducats playing Dominion, either from prizes or wagering on matches. Competitions sponsored by nobles and wealthy families, as well as the Autumn Festival games, which are coming up soon. Forget about the other competitions there, the archery, horsemanship, swordsmanship. If you entered the Dominion competition…” She let her voice trail off then continued. “Someone with your skill could not only win some coins but might come to the attention of one of the noble families or the guilds. People hold a lot of value in a good player, as you know. Could be an opportunity, if you can take it. Don’t underestimate yourself. It’s been a long time since I was soundly beaten three games to none.” She grinned ruefully. “A very long time.”

  “They offer prize money to the winners?”

  “Not just the winners, for places as well. If someone performs exceptionally, nobles or wealthy merchants may hand out ducats as a reward. I heard a hundred years ago a man called Kelhak thoroughly trounced all comers in the Dominion contest. He won the first prize and literally had bulging purses thrown at him from the crowd.”

  “Kelhak? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, that’s what I was told his name was. Why?”

  “Kelhak used to be a student at the monastery, like me, except from a wealthy family. He was exiled as well, though for reasons the monks never talk about. He was a gifted Dominion player, and some of his games are studied by the students today.”

  “That’s something I didn’t know.”

  “What happened to him after the festival?”

  “No idea. He disappeared. Some say he was taken in by a noble family; others say he left with a caravan heading north. Can’t say I have heard anything of him since that time. Must have found a nice girl and settled down.” She chortled. “Anyway, one more drink before I head topside to check on the crew.” She reached for the rum bottle but in her inebriated state knocked it off the edge of the desk. She made an awkward grab and missed. Caldan lunged for the bottle, catching and twisting it upright before it had fallen a handspan below the top of the desk.

  “I thought it was gone, for sure,” exclaimed Charlotte. “I could see myself picking up broken glass and my cabin smelling of rum for a week. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” replied Caldan.

  “Quick reflexes you have there. I wouldn’t have thought someone could move so fast.”

  “Just lucky, I guess.”

  “No, I’ve seen people move fast, master bladesmen and the like, and you moved quicker than any I’ve seen.” She waved her cup for him to refill.

  “I doubt it. My swordplay is average. Any of the masters and top students at the monastery could best me.”

  She looked unconvinced. “You should enter the sword contest as well. No point being modest when you could earn some coins and a reputation.”

  Caldan shook his head. “There are plenty of better swordsmen than me. I don’t doubt they will be vying for coins and a ‘reputation’, as you say, at this festival.”

  “It can’t hurt to try anyway, can it?”

  “I… don’t know if I will.” Images from the duel with Marlon flashed in his head. He couldn’
t help but remember his last sword fight with apprehension. “I couldn’t bring myself to join in when the crew were exercising. I don’t think I will be practicing anytime soon.”

  “You should still do some training, forms, exercise. In the city it could come in handy. Some sections are not exactly the most law abiding. You could say they are downright dangerous. Though carrying a sword is forbidden in the city without special dispensation, some men carry sturdy walking sticks instead.” She tapped the side of her nose. “Of course, you could always take on the life of a treasure hunter. Outside of the empire and surrounding kingdoms there are lands in which leftovers from the Shattering flourish, jukari and the like. Brave, or foolhardy, treasure hunters can make a living searching old ruins in hopes of finding valuable craftings or trinkets. Not many make the famed fortunes they seek, but enough do to keep them returning. Someone like yourself, having been trained by the monks in sorcery and bladework, could do well at such a venture. A slice of luck and you’d be a rich man.”

  Caldan laughed and shook his head. “I’ll think on what you’ve said.” He could see from her expression she saw straight through his evasion. “All right,” he relented. “I’ll take your advice seriously, I promise.”

  “You’re an intelligent young man, and I wouldn’t want to see you maimed or dead because you were too stubborn.” She smiled at him. “If I were ten years younger…” She trailed off.

  Again Caldan blushed, and she laughed at his discomfort. She’d managed to put him off balance a few times today. He decided to make a polite withdrawal and stood.

  “I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’m sure you need to get on deck and make certain everything is well.”

  Charlotte stood, unsteady on her feet. “Yes, with the breeze strengthening I’d better see they put more sail on. Go on, have something to eat and think on what I said.”

  Caldan thanked her and exited the cabin, closing the door behind him.

  Captain Charlotte stared at the Dominion board.

  A polite knock on the door woke her from her reverie. Miranda poked her head in.

  “How went the games?” she said, frowning. “You were playing for a long time.”

  “Not bad. If you think being defeated three games in a row is not bad.”

  Miranda’s expression brightened. “Ha ha!” she crowed. “Did you win any coins off him?”

  “No. He beat me.”

  “What? That’s…”

  “Enough.” Charlotte glared at her. “You asked to play sailor on this trip, so act like one. Get on deck and tell them I’m coming up for an inspection. Ancestors help you if anything’s out of place.”

  Miranda swallowed and nodded. “Aye.” She withdrew her head and closed the door.

  Captain Charlotte paused to glance ruefully at the Dominion. She collected a light woolen cloak from the back of the door and headed up on deck.

  Chapter Ten

  Vasile cursed as a fist pounded on his door, dragging him from a dreamless sleep.

  He sat up, coming blearily awake, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feet touching the greasy floor. His patched woolen blanket fell from him and knocked over an empty bottle. He blinked sleep from his eyes and drew a deep breath of the stale musty air as he tried to dispel the grogginess of being woken far too soon. His mouth was dry and his teeth were coated in a thin layer of something unpleasant.

  The pounding continued, on his door and in his aching head.

  “Wake up and come out!”

  By the ancestors, my head hurts. What his door had done to deserve this eluded him, although jealousy was always a good bet, if you didn’t know the why of someone’s actions.

  He rubbed his scratchy eyes then grabbed a half full bottle from the floor and took a slug of rum. Torchlight speared through the cracks of his poor door. A fist hit it again. Words murmured by someone else behind the destroyer of doors, the clinking of armor, the predawn awakening. It seemed he was needed again. Forgotten until needed, like a seldom used tool put away in a box.

  Vasile Lauris, once Head Investigator for the Chancellor’s Guard, once Chancellor’s Advisor, once husband, took another deep breath and gathered his thoughts, shuffled to the door and dragged it open.

  No slums guard, this one. The guard wore a black jerkin made of leather, a layer of stubble, and carried a sword, not a club. Carrying a sword in public was forbidden in Anasoma without special dispensation from the emperor, even for the harbor watch. Of the three, his dark blue cloak made him the senior. In one hand he held a lit torch, black smoke twisting up into the still night.

  “Excuse me, Magistrate Lauris, we were sent to fetch you. Sorry to bother you at this time of night, but orders are orders.”

  The guard was hesitant to meet his eyes, while the others looked around, ostensibly scanning the shadows for trouble. He glanced at the bottle of rum.

  “Breakfast,” Vasile said, voice flat and without a hint of shame. “Let me get some things and I’ll come.” He coughed up some phlegm, only just stopping himself spitting the gluey mass out the door, past the guard and onto the street.

  He stepped back inside and swallowed. A few quick strides to his rickety table, avoiding the puddle on the floor caused by a leak in the roof, he scooped up his lucky silver ducat, which he squeezed once before slipping it into a pocket.

  Vasile glanced around his disheveled home then stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

  They set off at a brisk pace up the cobbled lane. Dawn wasn’t far off, and as they turned onto another street he could hear a baby crying, and across the way at the local communal oven, smoke poured from the chimney. He would miss his steaming fresh loaf this morning, crusty and salty with plenty of butter.

  As they walked, he wondered why the early summons, and why guards from the keep had been sent instead of the usual messenger. A guard caught him staring.

  “Sir, we don’t know much. Just that we were sent to fetch you.”

  “That’s all right,” he replied with the hint of a smile. “I got used to waking at all hours a long time ago. We’ll get this over quick and we can both go back to getting some rest, eh? Still, nothing like a brisk walk before breakfast to get the appetite going!” He had an inkling who wanted to see him, and he wasn’t someone you wanted to disappoint.

  The guard who had spoken gave a half laugh while another snorted. “After our shift, we’ll be having a plate of sausages and a few ales.”

  “Aye, that we will be,” Blue Cloak chimed in. “And off to bed after. They got us working long hours the last few weeks on account of the recent spate of deaths. Not much free time if you want to stay alert on the job. The time you aren’t alert is the time you get your throat slit.” He raised his eyebrows and gave a meaningful look to both the other guards.

  “Right you are, sir,” one said as they both split up, taking positions a good dozen paces in front and behind Vasile and their leader.

  Vasile looked up into the sky towards the west, where he knew they would be taking him. Outlined against the grayness, tops of buildings obscured any possible view of sunrise and stretched for miles. The city of Anasoma had come a long way from its humble beginnings as a fishing village in a sheltered natural harbor. Situated in a wide verdant valley that ran down to the sea, two rivers flowed through the city, merging close to Dockside and emptying into the sea. Massive rock falls on either side of a deep water bay created natural breakwaters, ensuring the bay was safe in the harshest storms. The fishing village had prospered, and it wasn’t long before a few traders realized the village made an excellent safe haven for their ships. A few turned into many, and the village became a town, then eventually a city.

  It was to the city’s keep that Vasile and his escort were headed. The guards strode purposefully along the streets while Vasile trudged between them. A soft glow lit the horizon. They were not the only ones abroad this early, Vasile was sure. The guards’ banter had ceased and their eyes moved constantly, alert for the first s
ign of potential trouble, but the flickering light from their torches only picked out a few scurrying rats. They wove down a few lanes until they reached a main street. The guards relaxed as they turned right and headed towards the High Road.

  A century ago, the city’s districts had developed haphazardly and the emperor decided to relocate hundreds of families and businesses and build the High Road. One wide cobbled avenue that ran from Dockside all the way to the city’s gate in the west. Everyone was pleased with the result, apart from the people whose forced relocation had cost them their home, and in many cases their livelihood. As the emperor at the time stated, “Progress, for the good of Anasoma and the empire, can sometimes be painful.”

  Words among the guards were scarce for the whole trip, restricted to a few quick words, grunts and a nod or two. Major intersections along the way were lit by crafted sorcerous globes, one of the many services the Sorcerers’ Guild provided for the city.

  At the High Road, the group started uphill, past shops and businesses, whose goods increased in quality as they approached the keep. Vasile could see a few lights on inside through cracks in doors and windows.

  Outside the keep’s entrance, four sorcerous globes attached to cleverly crafted mirrors directed their light into the square, leaving the doorway cloaked in darkness.

  Vasile and his escort marched through the opening and the dark hole swallowed him.

  Through the narrow windows of one of the keep’s questioning rooms, blood-red dawn light spilled across the ceiling, vivid stripes crossing the bare walls. Only a stained table surrounded by a few chairs and a stool gave any indication of what the room was used for. And the stink of stale sweat and fear.

  Vasile sat on a chair, facing away from the light pouring in. He had been sitting for a while, left by his escort and waiting on whoever had a use for him. Let them have their theater. He didn’t care.

  The thick oak and iron-banded door opened. Two burly guards entered carrying between them another man, whose feet dragged across the floor. Grunting, they deposited him on the stool opposite Vasile and took up positions on either side of the door.