by Claire Frank
Cecily kept her face still, trying not to show her growing impatience, as he glanced aside at her.
“The artifact is Nihil’s Arcstone,” he said.
The words hit Cecily in the gut and she stopped in her tracks. “Nihil’s Arcstone? The stone he used to alter his subjects, including my husband?”
“Yes.”
“How could you possibly have gotten it? And how did you know what it was?”
Windsor paused, waiting for a group of students to walk by, and lowered his voice. “When we flushed out the tunnels under the city, just before Nihil attacked the Lyceum, someone found the stone. Nihil had hidden it away, along with numerous journals detailing his work. Eventually it made its way into the hands of my contact in the Underground. When he realized what he had, he offered it to me.”
“You mean he sold it to you,” she said.
“Well, yes, I did pay, but you can’t blame me for that. Once I knew for certain what it was, I knew the only safe place for it was the Lyceum.”
Only it wasn’t safe, she thought, but chose not to say so out loud as another thought crept into her mind. “Paragon, please tell me you weren’t using the stone.”
Windsor put his hands up. “Certainly not in the manner that Nihil did, of course not.”
“Then in what manner? That stone was the means by which Nihil did unspeakable things. We don’t know how many poor souls died in his experiments. It could have been hundreds, if not thousands. And we both know the results all too well.”
“As I said, I know this is a sensitive matter. You must understand, the stone is an unprecedented artifact. The experiments Nihil conducted did not leave it unchanged. It holds incredible power and in the right hands, has the potential to unlock secrets we’ve been trying to uncover for generations.”
Cecily stared at him. “You want me to find the Arcstone that nearly ruined my husband, and bring it back so you can continue to work with it? That piece of rock needs to be locked away where no one can touch it, if it can’t be destroyed.”
“Destroyed?” he said, his eyes wide. “No, that won’t be necessary. I can give you my strongest assurances, it belongs here, in the hands of the magisters.”
“I can’t be a part of this,” she said and turned to walk away. After everything Daro had gone through, the Arcstone needed to disappear. It would have been far better if it had been washed away when the tunnels were flooded.
“Cecily, you’re right. It was kept secret and secure,” he said. She turned to face him. “Whoever took it, or whoever paid them, knew precisely what it was. No one would have infiltrated the Lyceum for a chunk of rock left over from the Life Tree. Believe me when I say, I understand how dangerous it is. I have seen what it can do. This is not to be trifled with, and right now, I don’t know in whose hands the Arcstone rests. We’ve already seen what Nihil did with it, and whether he realized it or not, he infused it with terrible power.” He paused and looked at her, his gaze intense. “I fear what will happen if we don’t get it back.”
She let out a breath. Did she have any choice? “Very well. I will find it.”
Windsor’s body seemed to slump, as if he’d been held straight by a string and the line had suddenly gone slack. “Thank you.”
Daro is not going to be happy about this. “I’ll do my best,” she said.
***
The door to the Ale Stone was heavy, and a wash of stuffy air, thick with smoke, billowed out as Cecily opened it. Why Callum had to operate out of this godsforsaken place, Cecily did not know, but she knew it would be the quickest way of tracking him down.
Luck appeared to be on her side and she saw him sitting at his usual table, near the back. He watched her approach with a raised eyebrow and the corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile.
“Lady Cecily,” he said as she pulled up a chair and sat. “I heard you were in Halthas. Fancy you coming all this way to visit me.”
“How did you hear I was in Halthas? We haven’t been here two days. Although, wait,” she said. “Never mind. I don’t suppose I want to know, and you aren’t going to tell me anyway.”
“A magician never shares his secrets,” he said, spreading his hands wide. “What brings you here? Other than the desire to see my smiling face, of course.”
“I have a problem,” she said.
Callum’s face dropped. “Who disappeared now? It’s Griff, isn’t it? No, that couldn’t be. He’s too loud and heavy to disappear. Serv? That would be a shame. I always liked Serv.”
Cecily rolled her eyes, although she couldn’t help a smile. “No one is missing, but the Paragon has lost something he values. He’s asked me to help him find it.”
“And when you say lost, you actually mean….” he said, with a wave of his hand.
“It was stolen, yes,” she said.
Leaning back in his chair, Callum rubbed his chin. “Someone stole from the Lyceum, but it wasn’t us? That’s unfortunate.”
“I never stole anything from the Lyceum,” she said.
“I beg to differ, my dear,” he said. “You stole an entire magister, and killed him, I might add.”
Cecily frowned. “And thank you for bringing it up. Perhaps we should see how many more painful memories we can evoke?”
“So delicate,” he said. “Tell me, what did the Paragon misplace?”
She put her arm on the table and leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Callum, this has to stay between us. I mean that. No one else can know about this.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Secrets are what I do. What is it?”
“Nihil’s Arcstone.”
Callum’s eyes went wide and Cecily wondered if, had he not had his back to the wall, he would have fallen backwards in his chair. “That’s not possible.”
“I didn’t know the Arcstone was still around either. I assumed it was gone.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Callum said. “The Paragon had it stolen out from under him?”
Cecily narrowed her eyes. “Callum,” she said, her voice stern. “Did you know the Paragon had the Arcstone?”
His face smoothed instantly. “How could I possibly have known?”
“For a thief, you aren’t a very good liar,” she said. “At least not to me.”
“You see right through me,” he said, flashing her a grin. “Okay, I did know he had the Arcstone. But that’s only because I sold it to him.”
Cecily’s mouth dropped open. “You? Why would you sell it to the Paragon?”
“This is surprising,” he said. “I thought for sure you’d be proud of me. His wasn’t even the highest offer.”
“The highest offer? You had Nihil’s Arcstone and you sold it?”
He put his hands out on the table, palms up. “Of course I sold it. What else was I supposed to do after I bought it? Throw it in the river?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what you should have done with it. That piece of rock is dangerous. You know what Nihil did with it. Who knows what could happen if it were to fall into the wrong hands?”
“That’s why I sold it to Windsor,” he said. “I got my investment back, and the rock was tucked safely away at the Lyceum. I fail to see what was wrong with that plan.”
“Well, obviously it isn’t safe anymore. And since when do you trust the Paragon?”
“Trust has nothing to do with it. The Lyceum seems like the place for a scary Wielding artifact. Apparently their security is worse than I thought. I should send him a message. I could really help him with that.” He set his coin to spinning on the tabletop and dug in his pocket and pulled out a nub of charcoal.
“Callum, do you have any idea who might have taken it?”
He looked up. “I haven’t heard anything about it, so probably wasn’t one of mine. There aren’t many people in the city who could pull off a Lyceum heist, so at least that narrows it down. I’ll check with a few people and see if I can find anything for you. I have to warn you, though, I have my own problems to deal with
right now. There’s only so much I can do.”
“That’s fine. But do you have any suggestions of where I might start searching?”
“Sure,” he said, as he snatched the coin off the table. “The other bidder.”
19. A NEW VICTIM
Callum held the slip of paper over the candle flame and watched it catch. He let the fire lick the message, curling the bottom into blackness, before tossing it into the fireplace. Brushing the ash from his fingers, he patted the small key he wore on a chain around his neck, tucked beneath his shirt. Luck was for the ill-prepared, but he figured his little token didn’t hurt anything. That little key had saved his life once, when the odds were squarely against surviving. The way things were going, he could use a little luck on his side.
The message had contained nothing but an address and the word, “Latest.” He knew it meant another assassination. So far, his inquiries had led him nowhere. The usual assassins who took these sorts of jobs were notoriously tight-lipped about their trade, but Callum knew where to squeeze to get some of them to talk. Unfortunately, he hadn’t uncovered so much as a whisper that could connect the deaths, let alone the money trail that would lead to the source.
He sighed as he thought about Cecily’s visit earlier. That woman was incapable of keeping herself out of trouble. He wondered if Daro knew about the Arcstone. Somehow, he doubted it. Keeping that from Daro seemed like the kind of thing Cecily would do, thinking she was protecting him. Although Callum intended to look into what might have happened to the artifact, he was more than happy to have washed his hands of the infernal thing. Maybe Cecily was right and he should have thrown it in the river. But he’d gone through more than his share of trouble to get his hands on it and he wouldn’t have thrown gold in the river, would he? He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Cecily he thought putting it in the Paragon’s hands had been the right thing to do. Where else to unload such a dangerous lump of rock? At least he hadn’t sold it to the Sahaarans—but could Cecily show any appreciation? Of course not. With women, you simply couldn’t win.
Whipping his black coat around his shoulders, he headed down the stone hallway to find Wraith. Strictly speaking, he didn’t have access to the victim, but Wraith made it easy to get around when it was best people not see. It was getting harder to find Wraith these days. In the beginning, he’d trailed Callum like a shadow, only twice as quiet and half as visible. The altered Wielder was skittish and nervous most of the time, but Callum could Project just a hint of calm and smooth his mood. Callum always told him what he was up to and Wraith would nod, appreciative of the reprieve, or so it seemed. Recently, however, Wraith was spending more time tucked away in his hideaway, or helping Callum keep watch over the increasingly unruly Sahaaran Quarter. Wraith could practically make himself invisible, so it was hard to tell when he was around.
Wraith’s room wasn’t far down the hallway. He and Callum lived in the Quarry, a series of underground tunnels beneath the southern half of Halthas, which had once been a quarry site for the stone that built most of the city defenses. Someone before Callum’s time had carved it out into a web of rooms and hallways, and some of the Halthian Underground operated from its space. There were numerous entrances peppered throughout the city, and various sections, only some of which connected to each other. Callum’s domain was a portion beneath the Ale Stone tavern, and he’d taken control of it when he was still just a message runner, albeit an important one. Since then, his influence had grown, but unfortunately so had his responsibilities.
He rapped at Wraith’s door with his knuckles. “Wraith? You in there?”
Pausing to wait for an answer, Callum stood in front of the closed door. Silence.
“Wraith?”
“Yes.” The voice through the door was quiet and muffled, but Callum lifted the latch and went inside.
Wraith’s room had once been used mostly for storage, but he’d adopted it for his own and insisted on keeping the stacks of empty wooden crates. A small sleeping pallet was wedged underneath a tower of boxes that looked liable to fall at any moment, and most of the room was shrouded in shadows. Callum wasn’t sure if Wraith kept the boxes for hiding places or to display the artwork he kept lifting. The room was covered with painted canvases, everything from expensive works by famed Halthian painters to sketches by street artists from the southern market. Callum smiled to himself as he noticed a new painting near the back wall, a landscape depicting the moon over the Bresne River. He wondered where Wraith had stolen it from.
“We have work to do, my friend,” Callum said, squinting to try to determine where Wraith was before he appeared. Strictly speaking, Wraith wasn’t invisible, but his ability made your eyes slide over him. Callum had found if he looked hard enough, he’d eventually see him.
“Where?” Wraith’s voice came from the opposite side of the room.
Callum jumped and clutched his chest. “Don’t do that to me.”
Wraith melted out of the shadow, his form coalescing before Callum’s eyes. He was impeccably neat, his dark hair brushed back, his black clothes always perfectly clean and mended. His eyes tended to dart around as if he were a prey animal wary of nearby predators.
“Someone else is dead,” Callum said. “I want to get in and see if I can find out why.”
Callum led Wraith out of the Quarry through an entrance in the back of the Ale Stone. Outside, the air was pleasant and warm, the cool spring breeze alleviating much of the usual stench in the streets. They stayed on foot, although the address was on the north side of the river; it was just on the other side of the wall, near the Merchant Span, so the walk wasn’t long.
The address was a modest home on a quiet street. Two city guards stood at the front door.
“Shall we?” Callum said, gesturing for Wraith to lead.
Wraith walked straight toward the house, padding along on silent feet as Callum followed close behind. He could just make out a slight ripple in the air as Wraith worked his magic. He needed to remember to thank Cecily again for bringing them together. Wraith made certain tasks far less complicated. The guards didn’t even flinch as they walked right past and around to the back of the house. The door was unlocked, so they slipped in and carefully closed it behind them.
The inside was quiet and tidy, a simple home for a small family. Callum looked around for signs that anything was amiss, but it might as well have been the middle of a normal day. Bread sat out in a basket on the handmade wooden table, next to a stack of clothes that someone appeared to have been in the midst of mending. Nothing was toppled or broken, no sign that someone unexpected or unwanted had been in the home.
A doorway on one side led to a bedroom, and the body. A man was tucked into bed beneath a beige and blue quilt. Callum could see the first signs of death in his face, but at a casual glance he could have been mistaken for sleeping. Wraith poked around the room as Callum pulled back the quilt and gave the body a cursory inspection. There were no wounds or scratches, nothing to give him any idea as to why the man died.
“I’ll have to find out what the Serum Shapers say,” Callum said, keeping his voice low. “I can’t see anything wrong with him—other than, of course, being dead.”
Wraith glanced at the body. “Looks healthy.”
Callum nodded. The other victims Alastair claimed were assassinated were older, and none had been in particularly good health. Aside from the timing of their deaths and the similarity of their positions, there was little to indicate it was anything other than natural causes. But Alastair was right: losing three military leaders in close succession was suspicious. This man, however, appeared young. Old age or a poor constitution couldn’t be blamed for his death.
The thought made Callum nervous. If the deaths were connected, the killers were widening their net.
“Why would Alastair even know this man died?” Callum asked aloud, although he didn’t expect Wraith to answer. “The other three were all commanders, people in positions of power. Who is this?”
Wraith picked a piece of fuzz from the sleeve and smoothed out the front of the coat.
Callum gave him a sidelong glance. “I don’t think he cares if his uniform is dirty.”
“We should go,” Wraith said.
Callum couldn’t hear anything, but he trusted Wraith’s instincts and followed him out the back door. He didn’t think he’d find anything more, anyway.
“Nothing out of place and I’m guessing, like the others, nothing was stolen,” Callum said as they walked the streets back toward the Merchant Span, the bridge that would take them back across the river to the southern city. “No wounds, or signs he did anything other than not wake up.”
Frustration itched at him. Didn’t the king have his own men to handle things like this? It irked him that he was spinning in circles trying to figure out deaths he wasn’t even convinced were murders. Although this latest one was certainly suspicious.
When they returned to the Quarry, Wraith went off to his room without a word, and Callum closed the door to his own quarters. He penned a note to Alastair and was about to call for a message runner when a thought occurred to him.
He wrote a series of messages, asking his contacts in various parts of the city to report back to him with news of any mysterious deaths, particularly deaths that didn’t have an obvious cause. He wanted to know if anyone else was dying in their sleep. If this went deeper than a few military leaders and a Fire Watch captain, things might just be getting interesting.
20. THIS ISN’T MY FIGHT
The colors in the Life Tree seemed to shift and move, as if the leaves rustled in the wind. Daro knew it was solid stone and that the effect was the result of Imaran craftsmanship, but the impact was never lost on him. His Imaran Sight only enhanced the Life Tree’s wonder. He could See the flows of energy moving through the tree, causing the variations in tone and the sense of peace it exuded. It was one of the few places in Halthas he truly enjoyed.
