Emblems of Power

by C L Patterson

  “Which was what I wanted to show you,” The words faded and words from Mearto’s personal journal appeared.

  Today was a concussive blow to my research. It was announced publicly today that the individual who would eventually kill the Dark One was discovered. He is the senior student of the Capital Barracks. He is not in tune with the Faye in any way and the Teachers want to make him a Forced Conduit. The Seer will choose me as the boy’s mentor and teacher for this process, considering I am the only one who has survived the ordeal. I now have to rework my schedule around him, and find a way to prepare him for the Awakening, as well as continue researching who in this school is leaking the trade routes. Jaiken isn’t nearly smart enough to be so close to both the Seer and I and still be undiscovered. It is my belief that the Seer has deceived us all and he is betraying the people, for an unknown reason. I have to find that reason if I am to succeed. I am also troubled that the Seer has declared to us who will destroy the Dark One, but not how. Perhaps that will come to light soon enough.

  The entry faded and another appeared.

  Our newest recruit, Kosai, has only been here two days, and already someone tried to kill him. He fended off his attackers and came away fine. I wasn’t sure how to read him at first, whether or not he was lying, but I could find no reason for him to. He was racing up the stairs to see the Seer about something, and I am under the assumption that Kosai talked to the Seer about the failed attempt on his life. He is still young, and stupid, but that action of going to the Seer may play into my hand yet.

  Kosai seems like a strong young man, and I fear he is growing fond of me. I have done all that I can to distance myself from him, ensure his survival, and still teach him and prepare him for the Awakening. I am not sure yet if he remembers me healing him that night.

  Kosai is taking well to his book studies and there is minimal resistance on his end. His training with the Barracks has paid off, for me anyway, and I think this process is working well enough, for both our sakes. He still has an issue with retention, I can see it in his eyes when he speaks, but there isn’t enough time. I hope he understands the gravity of the situation, and at least in time, comes to understand that he may die if he isn’t prepared for the Awakening. Each day he spends in study is a day closer to defeating the Dark One.

  I have expended all my resources and have found nothing, not a trace, about who is leaking the routes. If it is the Seer, I cannot find a trace to him. If it is Jaiken, I can most assuredly promise that he is acting under someone else. If it is a member of the council… Faye help us if it is.

  Tonight I plan on talking to a member of the syndicate about this. They used to be attacked by Nomads, but not so frequently anymore. I met with a low-ranking official, who led me to another, who showed me to another syndicate member, who eventually told me to meet someone at one of their schools the next night.

  “This last entry was from last night,” the book wrote underneath the journal entry. The words faded and the last entry appeared.

  I visited with a few managing members of the syndicate. No names were shared and each wore a cloth about his face. If word got out that these people were helping me, the syndicate would come down on them, and they could lose their jobs, possibly their lives. There were four syndicate members there looking over a large map when I arrived. Apparently, this small group of syndicate members has been tracking where the Nomads have attacked, and forecast where they would attack next. From what I could learn, there was a pattern to their behavior, and the syndicate members were somehow able to attach a monetary value to the risk of loss on when and where and what caravans were going to be attacked. But that changed not too long ago. The nomadic attacks began trending more heavily towards government caravans.

  This group of syndicate members suspects that the nomads have been organized. Their attacks are more precise and devastating. They told me that though this benefits syndicate members this method of dominating the market place was below them. I asked them if they had any control over planning the routes for syndicate caravans. To my luck, one of the group members did. I am going to use them as a resource tomorrow. I have a plan that should begin to solve this mystery.

  When Kosai finished reading the journal entries the words faded and the page blank. While he felt both relieved and surprised to know that there were members within the syndicate that seemed to have a heart, frustration and anger seethed in his mind.

  Perhaps we need to widen our search, Kosai thought.

  “It seems that all of your trouble started with Theo,” the book wrote. “Perhaps he has some information locked away in his office that would be of use.”

  How would I get into his office and plant the book? Kosai thought. Kosai was the only one who could read it, but it would look suspicious finding a book with no words. Wait. Patience, Kosai thought again. He continued to stare at the book, though not looking for answers. Be still, let Theo make the mistake. He thought back to his combat training and sparring. No one was perfect and everyone made mistakes, the Captain taught him that many times. He closed the book and put into his shirt, placed his hands behind his head, and looked up at the ceiling.

  Even though he could feel his strength returning to him, he knew he needed to rest before this evening’s mission. As he began to dose off, he thought more and more about Mearto and the smell that surrounded her. He was sure now, after reading the journal entries that she was the one that healed him. But why was her smell stronger in certain situations? He knew he could trust her, and that she would earn the Captain’s trust after this evening, but there was still something about her that made Kosai curious. It was something about the smell. It waxed and waned and was rarely constant. Combining that with her strong will, direct demeanor, and independent attitude, she seemed very distant. Kosai recalled when she had taken him by the collar of his unirom and shoved him against the bookcase in her office. He hadn’t thought of it then, but she also hid a vast amount of strength in her figure. He could feel it pressing against him. Kosai was jolted awake as Mearto tapped his arm and leaned down next to his ear.

  “It’s time to go,” she whispered. “I was able to buy some clothes for you to wear for tonight. Don’t wear shoes. As soon as you are outside rub some dirt in your face. Walk with a hunch. Keep your head down and don’t make eye contact with anyone. You know where to meet us.” She laid a soiled brown shirt and torn green trousers at the foot of the bed and left. Kosai quickly changed and placed the book inside his shirt, searching for a pocket for the book to rest in. Not finding an inside pocket, he tucked the book between his left hip and the waistline of the trousers. He tied the trousers tighter and let the shirt flow over the waist, concealing the book. Lastly, he put on the amulet the Captain gave him and tucked it under his shirt. Once outside, he rubbed dirt on his face and walked towards the fountain with a hunch. Mearto was staring into the water at the fountain. A beggar, layered with rags, dirt, grime and soot sat next to Mearto, staring down Capitol road. He had a metal dish in front of him. Kosai covered his mouth at the smell and looked into the water.

  “Your father has more skill than I first thought,” Mearto said. Kosai looked at her confused. Then a half second later, heunderstood.

  “There is still much about him I don’t know,” Kosai said.

  “Mmm… perhaps it will stay that way too, until you open your eyes,” the beggar said. His voice was like gurgling mud. He picked up his pan and stood up, looking like a pile of refuse that grew into a mountain. The smell intensified as he reached his full height. Kosai looked into the man’s eyes, past the dirt and grime, and smiled. He also noticed that the Captain tucked his left arm inside of his disguise hiding the injury and medical service that was received.

  “Impressive,” Mearto said with a half smile and took a half step back. “I didn’t recognize you at first. How did you manage such a wretched costume?”

  “I paid a beggar my size a few coins for his clothes. He seemed mad enough that if
he were to ever tell someone that the Captain bought his clothes, no one would believe him.”

  “Fair enough,” Mearto said. “Don’t follow to close now. We are going to take the Northwest Interior and then turn on to West Interior. We will walk past the Syndicate Schools on East Interior. Once we arrive, I will look over my shoulder and signal for you to approach.”

  Kosai thought it was strange for the Captain to be taking orders in such a direct manner. It seemed beneath the Captain, but when he said “Yes ma’am,” Kosai dismissed the thoughts for the time and stuck close to the Captain until Mearto walked off.

  “Why did you let her take control of the situation? You should be the one in charge,” Kosai said quietly.

  “She needs to feel comfortable and in control of this situation. She seems like an intelligent enough of a woman, and if I was in her place, I would suspect myself of foul play. I know what the routes are the morning of the caravans, and who knows, maybe to her, I am able to get a word out to some nomads before we arrive. She needs to know that we are on the same side and if that means taking an order or two from her, then so be it.”

  The Captain watched Mearto disappear into the street before he started to follow her. Kosai was right next to him, staring at the ground, back hunched. The Captain held to the sides of the street, walking behind beggars and other civilians. His walk was more of a hobble. His body was hunched over and he had a violent limp to his right side. He grunted and spat often. At times, Kosai forgot that he was following his Captain.

  In a few minutes they arrived at the place, seeing Mearto stand outside a home with a syndicate logo above the door. Cautiously, she walked up to the Captain and Kosai.

  “I just visited with one of the members letting them know I had two companions that needed to be a part of tonight’s meetings. The syndicate member at the door said he would talk to his boss and then be back with a yes or no. If anyone asks, you two were in my confidence in the beginning and anonymity is your main priority.” The Captain nodded.

  The door opened. The man filled the doorway with his body. His skin was as black as ash. Every inch of his body seemed to be muscles. He folded his arms over his chest and looked down the road in both directions.

  “He says that if you trust them, he trusts them, so be quick before he changes his mind,” the syndicate guard said softly and deeply.

  Mearto, Kosai, and the Captain shuffled into the residence. A large, square wooden table was in the center of the room, taking up half the floor space. Burning candles sat in candlesticks attached to the walls. Suspended from the ceiling was a metal chandelier. A large map of the desert was laid out on the table, inkwells on each corner holding the map in place. Mearto’s contact sat across the table on a stool. His face was covered with a golden cloth and he was dressed in a brown-hooded robe. All that was visible were two eyes in candle light. Behind the syndicate member was a desk, with drawers on either side. Papers and spare quills covered the desk and stuck out from the drawers. The syndicate member who greeted them continued to stand by the door. Kosai and the Captain stood on either side of Mearto a little ways back from the table.

  “What part do your companions play in our situation?” the man behind the desk asked. Mearto bowed and pointed to Kosai with an open hand.

  “This young man is an informant of mine. He has seen the patterns we talk about, and he has ears that seem to penetrate walls. His life is without price to me.” She then pointed to the Captain. “This beggar has eyes that can pierce any mist. He sees everything that goes on in the city.” The Captain snorted and grumbled some unintelligible talk. He looked around the room, never looking the syndicate member in the eyes. “Together, they provide me with information in the city, and with what we have discussed, the information you provide may be able to refine their talents.”

  “Fair enough,” the syndicate member said.

  The Captain shuffled up to the map, snorting and grumbling. He stared at the map through one eye, tilting his face down, and then turned and looked at the map with his other eye. Mearto slowly walked up to the table and Kosai followed. Mearto cleared her throat and stared at the door man. The door man flushed and brought her a stool. The room began to fill with the aroma of lilac and sea salt.

  “Have you or your friends come acrros any helpful information relating to the attacks since our last visit?” the syndicate member asked.

  “No,” Mearto said. “Everything has come to a standstill.”

  “And for good reason too,” the syndicate member said. He looked down at the map and traced some of the routes with his finger, seeming to look for something. “The south winds bring a chill from the ocean, and that, combined with the heat of the desert, is almost deadly. Caravans move slowly and the nomads don’t move at all. Sandstorms kick up easily and the hot air and crisp breeze causes illness. But beyond that, we do have a few more developments.” He continued to look at the map.

  “Go on,” Mearto said. Her smell filled the room.

  “Recently, Aldair, Master of Inventories, one of the higher ups, ordered some private cargo. According to the documents, his private shipment contained grain, cloth, ink, and a few spices; regular commodities for trading. As I and my counterparts analyzed the shipment, we came to the conclusion that even if Aldair were to sell those goods at a two hundred percent markup, he would still suffer a loss. He paid quite the coin to the government caravan drivers to ensure its safety and rumor has it that the Captain personally looked into it.”

  “There was something else in that shipment,” Mearto said softly, now looking at the map.

  “Exactly, and there hasn’t been a word said about what it was. We have been watching inventory levels for quite some time, and over the past few months, inventory levels on grains has been growing ten percent per week. It isn’t that there aren’t people who are buying—it’s that those who control the flow of goods, such as Aldair and Thuane don’t want to sell. We’ve wondered if that means that they are simply storing it.”

  “Why would they be storing commodities like that?” asked Kosai.

  “It’s almost as if they are preparing for something,” said the syndicat member.

  “What could they be preparing for?” asked Mearto

  “War,” the Captain said in a guttural tone.

  “I don’t think I follow,” the syndicate member said.

  “War!” the Captain said louder. “Despair, chaos, starvation, people killing people, people eating people.”

  “Who would attack us? The cities need each other. There haven’t been any threats from Caite for decades. No one could march an army across the Broken Blades and then into the desert. It’s ludicrous. No one would attack us.”

  “No,” Kosai said, his eyes growing wide as he realized what the Captain implied. “Not from the outside anyway…” The syndicate member looked at him curiously.

  “I think what my friends are saying is that perhaps the Three Brothers are preparing for an uprising, a revolt if you will,” Mearto said.

  “Because the government caravans aren’t bringing enough food,” Kosai said slowly. “The city will be in chaos, and the syndicate will be able to swoop in, charge exorbitant amounts, more so than they do already, feed the people, and make out filthy rich with every single coin, and every valuable item in this city.” The syndicate member looked back at the maps. Kosai looked down and then noticed why the Captain was studying it so closely.

  The map showed all of the trade routes ever used and was littered with black and red “X” marks and dates. Each mark was where a caravan was attacked. The black seemed to be the government caravans, as there were more of them, and the red were the syndicate caravans. As far as Kosai knew, there was no such map in existence. From Kosai’s experience he knew that the map was correct. Black “X” after black “X” brought back memories of ambushed caravans and fallen guards. Having a map like the one on the table was evidence, hard evidence, that the government caravans wer
e being attacked far more often then the syndicate caravans.

  “Over the past years, we have been watching the caravan attacks, and when we started, each attack appeared to be completely random, favoring neither syndicate nor government caravans. Lately though, the odds of a safe caravan have shifted in favor of the syndicate and worse. The attacks are becoming so common, up until this weather, that we were able to predict fairly confidently which government caravan was going to be attacked, where it was going to be attacked, and when. Yet the attacks on the syndicate caravans still remain random.”

  Kosai thought about that last comment for a moment and looked down at the map again. The marks for government caravans were not concentrated, nor did they seem to have a visual pattern. In his mind, he was able to see how, according to the dates, that this syndicate member was able to predict an outcome of a caravan drive.

  “What are you thinking young man?” the syndicate member asked. Kosai looked at Mearto and she nodded.

  “If the syndicate is contracting nomads, why are they still being attacked? That leads to two conclusions. Either the syndicate has formed a contract with a small group, which would allow for quick travel, or someone else has. There is no way a large group would be able to traverse that much ground unseen,” he said pointing at the areas between sequential X marks. If the syndicate was contracting the nomads, why not buy off others who would attack? That would be too obvious a trail to find. What if the syndicate wasn’t behind it to begin with? Then how did they know trouble was coming? Kosai thought.

  “Your boy’s gears are turning,” the syndicate member said.