by Matt Russell
Cromlic's eyes widened, and he trembled for an instant, seeming to consider the suggestion, but then wheezed out "I am afraid we cannot oblige you in that just yet, Prince Arkas." His dark eyes shifted to Cassian. "The Nemesai have business with this heretic, but do not worry, his fate from this moment forward will be more terrible than you can imagine.”
Cassian could vaguely feel his men now, rallying outside the castle walls, but everything was dull and distant. Soulic was lying on the ground next to him, and it was difficult to tell if the man were alive. They would both be dead soon. Cassian drew in a slow breath shutting his eyes and resigning himself. The Emperor had betrayed him, and all was lost, so he gave one final telepathic command to his soldiers outside:
Chapter 31:
Livia’s Suitor
Ally in the west,
I have news that I believe will excite you! We recently managed to get closer to Prince Arkas than we ever had before on one of his excursions into the countryside. An agent of ours, inspired by your essay on the doctrines of freedom, volunteered to help. I shall, of course, not name him in this letter, but he is highly skilled at avoiding the perceptions of sorcerers, and, as our intelligence has suggested on previous occasions, the claw-hand-prince seems to be the least adept of this generation's Starborn. Our man was able to follow Arkas to the edge of a large forest hill, where he disappeared into a cluster of trees.
It was not safe to follow further, for it was obvious that the prince’s destination lay within, and there have been numerous sightings from travelers in this area of a monstrous creature that looks much like an ogre but wears a thick cloak and wields a tremendous ax. Our agent found quite a few footprints on this hill which he described as: "inhumanly large." He also found a second set of tracks that often accompanied this set. These were small and bare-foot, so of course, they did not match the fine boots Arkas was seen wearing.
Livia felt a swell of excitement seep up through her stomach as she read this last sentence. The tracks had to belong to Iona, though the massive creature that guarded her—what in the world was he? She swallowed and read on:
Our agent created a map for you, which you will have noticed I folded in with this note. Prince Arkas stayed upon this hill for two days. In that time, our man glimpsed a hulking figure through the trees here and there but never caught direct sight of it. He heard it several times bounding through the trees at a crunching, thunderous pace. There was also an unnaturally large dog with a strangely shaped face prowling the parimeter, which might well have detected our agent had he not laid a powder of his own concoction over his tracks to mask his scent.
We strongly suggest that any course of action be taken while the Starborn is away. Our agent also suggests employing archers, armed soldiers, and sorcerers if possible. An entire trade caravan disappeared in the area several months ago, and our intelligence indicates that the group had more than twenty armed men guarding it. Local authorities ascribed the disappearance to banditry or mutiny among the mercenary guard, but our agent discovered a cluster of long-dead corpses in the forest. I have no desire to fill this letter with gruesome detail, but he said that many of the bodies had been torn apart so horribly that even their skeletal remains were difficult to identify as human.
That is all I have for now. You have proven an inspiring figure in our cause. I pray that you tread very carefully. Best of luck,
Your friend,
--Yellow Dog.
Livia frowned down at the paper. It was ironic that the 'yellow dog' implored her to be cautious when he—or she—was using the prince's name openly and including the map and letter in the same package. How stupid! If the envelope had fallen into the wrong hands, then Arkas would almost certainly be notified that he was being followed, which would cause all sorts of problems. Still, the letter had arrived safely, and Livia had nearly everything she needed to finally act. Her hands trembled as she reread the note, studying the description of Iona's jailor over and over. Arkas had an enormous monster guarding Iona… Why?
Livia was troubled, yet at the same, this letter was the strongest tangible evidence she had acquired that her sister was alive. As she thought on this, her heart swelled so painfully in her chest. She missed the sweet little Iona. What in the hell were Arkas and this creature doing to her?
Livia slowly folded the note, handling the paper as if it were something holy. She knew she would read it many, many more times, as was her practice with all the notes and scraps of information she had managed to acquire on Prince Arkas’s movements. It was enormously dangerous to keep such documents anywhere near her. The words in this letter alone were more than enough to justify her execution. Once she had memorized every line and taken careful notes, selecting out keywords while keeping her notations vague and inscrutable, she would burn this letter. That would likely take three or four days.
Livia gazed over at the back door to her office. The morning light was just beginning to show in through the edges. She would need to prep the shop for the day and then go and cook breakfast for Hervin and herself. The two of them had been financially well-off over the last year—especially given the absence of the cow and her expensive wine habit—but Livia had abstained from hiring additional help. Every spare dessek was saved to secret stashes in preparation for hiring mercenaries if her attempts to elicit help from Cassian Asango failed. Livia still had not managed to make contact with anyone in Asango's inner circle, and without an introduction, she was just some mute girl trying for a one-on-one meeting with the future ruler of Denigoth. It could be suicide to announce herself as the ‘Slave of the West’ who had been mass-producing seditious and even heretical pamphlets, though that might be her only chance.
There was a sudden knock at the door, and by reflex Livia bent down, her hands darting to the removable floorboard beneath her desk where she kept dangerous documents. Like herself, this hiding place was quite silent, with the wood carefully whittled to be thinner than its brother pieces except at the very top where it caught between them. She slipped the note amidst a few other scraps of documentation and was on her feet facing the door within a single heartbeat, years of experience with the cow having taught her proper habits of secrecy.
Livia walked to the back entrance to the shop and lifted the small bar holding the door shut. As the dense wooden mass creaked open, she blinked at the sight of Simius, the noble-born sorcerer who had somewhat aggressively flirted with her a week before. He stared through the crack at her, a grin on his handsome face.
"Livia!" he exclaimed. "I've missed you. May I come in?"
She said nothing. It was troubling that he had come. She had hoped that her note had dissuaded him from further romantic pursuits, but the look in his eyes said differently. If anything, he seemed more eager than before.
"There was no need to send the coin back," Simius said with a chuckle, holding up the silver piece he had given her. "It was yours—a gift."
Livia tensed. She had no desire for such a gift, and all that it might imply.
"Please, may we converse a bit?" he said, flashing his nearly perfect teeth, "in whatever medium you prefer of course. I assure you I can read and am happy to do so to know your mind." His smile flickered on the right side very slowly, as if to emphasize his sculpted cheekbones. Livia had to admit to herself, Simius was quite handsome, and there was a charm to his voice and every mannerism that was impossible to ignore entirely. "Please, I beg you," he continued, "after I read your letter, I was unable to think of anything else—in fact ever since we met, I have thought of little else. Won't you speak to me just for a few moments?"
Livia hesitated. She knew how dangerous it was to refuse the son of her overlord. Simius could destroy both her and Hervin's life with a few words to his father. At the same time, his expecting to be let into her private office with no witnesses was quite audacious. Any onlookers might well assume that he had come to bed her. Several in the town
thought of her as a whore already, even though she was past the age of twenty and had never even kissed a boy on the lips.
With a foot blocking the door from opening further—though gods knew what that could do against a sorcerer—Livia drew out the latest of her sheets of paper from her pocket as well as her current charcoal pencil and wrote:
I have no interest in this romance.
Please leave me in peace.
She held the paper up for him, and he glanced at it and then peered at her. Livia gave a small flinch as she felt his psychic tendrils attempt to prod into her mind. He seemed to notice her reaction, for his mouth twitched, revealing a hint of fascination.
"How do you do it?" he whispered, looking her up and down. "I've met grand master sorcerers who can't block as well as you. It is... unreal how talented you are."
Livia stared into Simius’s eyes as a piece of his attraction to her fell into place. She was a puzzle to him. He could read virtually everyone in the city, but not her. It was almost charming to be... intriguing to a clever, handsome nobleman, but there was something behind all his smiles that she did not like.
"Come on a walk with me," he said. "Please?"
Livia shook her head and pressed against the door, sliding it shut. She reached down for the wooden bar to secure it when she heard his telepathic voice whisper inside her head:
Livia felt twisting barbs creep up from her stomach and into her heart and limbs, and even into the skin on her face. She had given Domor bottles of wine as part of their cover at first when he had begun making prints of the essays and pictures she made for the Cassianites, but the dwarf had guzzled them down and produced shoddy work. Why had she not resorted to giving him urns filled with water? Livia had wanted to keep her damned costs down... Gods that was stupid!
She turned and looked at the door again. What could Simius know? Dwarf minds were nearly impossible for sorcerers to read... weren't they? As she considered this, the bar lifted of its own accord and whisked to the right, and then the door swung open. Simius stepped inside, meeting her gaze.
"Are you having a romantic affair with that stunted warthog?" he said, lifting an eyebrow.
Livia remained still, offering no answer. If Simius were simply jealous, that would make matters far simpler. She tried to look embarrassed by the question, cringing and glancing away. Simius watched her do this, and he seemed to find dark amusement in it.
"I thought it was an affair," he said, staring at her with unblinking eyes, "at first. However, I've had my telepathy since the age of four, and I have quite a bit of experience looking into people." His gaze narrowed. "I've observed hundreds of secret trysts between men and women, men and men, and so on. I know the sorts of people who carry on clandestine affairs, and you are not that sort—certainly not with a crass, alcohol ridden dwarf who leers at every female he sees." The nobleman took a step forward, causing Livia to edge back. "Knowing this, I find myself wondering why you have secret meetings with such a creature—ones for which the two of you have taken the time to construct excuses."
She felt his eyes boring into her, daring her to answer. Her hands began to tremble at her sides, and she closed her fingers into fists to stifle it.
"You look nervous,” he said, nodding. He gestured toward the seat by the desk and said: "Please sit down."
Livia's head was swimming. Was this the end of all her efforts? She ambled to the chair and sank into it, all the while feeling the eyes of the young sorcerer upon her.
He moved to her and put a hand on her shoulder, and as he did Livia gave a little jump. Would this be the moment? She felt truly threatened now. Would her power finally come to her aid as it had against Arkas? Simius leaned down until his mouth was alongside her right ear and whispered: "Dwarf minds are exceptionally difficult to read, but you can catch little pieces under the right circumstances. Getting them drunk can be quite helpful, for example."
Livia felt the blood drain away from her face and leave a painful tingling in its stead. And then Simius added five words that made her heart nearly burst within her chest: "You work for the Cassianites."
She shot up from her chair and wriggled free of his hand, stumbling back against her desk and nearly toppling with it back onto the floor. This drew an amused chuckle from Simius, who seemed remarkably relaxed for having just uncovered sedition against the church in his father’s territory.
"Hey-y-y," he said in a suddenly very gentle voice, "you have no need to be so afraid. I am... something at least of a fan of Asango. Gods know he's probably about to become the crown prince of the empire—if he hasn't already." Simius looked her up and down. "I want you to know I understand. You were a slave. Of course, you would support his ideas."
Livia stared at the young nobleman, trying to ascertain what was happening. How much did he know? Why was he not calling for the city guards? Why was he smiling at her like that? She gazed around the room and inadvertently noted that his right foot was directly on top of the floorboard that hid all her secret documents.
"It is all right," Simius said, moving closer. "I can help you." His grin brightened. "I did not understand why you would reject my advances—actually it drove me a little mad." He let out a soft chuckle. "But you were just protecting yourself and what you were doing." Simius brought his hands up and gently grasped her by her upper arms. "Now that all is clear, I can protect you, and we can be together."
Livia was so baffled by these words that she just stood there for a long moment, gazing at the aristocrat's utterly shameless eyes. His expression was seemingly so light and friendly, but she saw what lay underneath. He had not precisely threatened her, but there was no need now. They both knew that he had all the excuse required to throw her in his father's dungeon or... hand her over to the Nemesai. The way he was staring at her—the look in his eyes—was so... possessive.
"I'd like us to have dinner," he said, and then with a little smirk added: "tonight." It sounded almost like a command. He reached into his pocket and drew out the silver piece once more. "Take this.”
Livia's hand trembled as it rose to take the coin. She did not know what else to do.
The door creaked open behind Simius rather abruptly, and a burly guard staggered in, panting. The man had his sword and shield out, and his face was dripping with sweat. When his eyes fell on Simius, he bellowed: "Thank the gods, I must have asked half the town where you were! Y-your father sent me to find you. "
"What is it?" Simius said, his voice suddenly quite sharp. Wide-eyed, the soldier started to speak, then hesitated, glancing at Livia. Simius said in an impatient tone: "Don't worry about her. Tell me what's going on."
The guard swallowed. "The Nemesai Temple down the hill, sir, it's... it's been destroyed!"
"WHAT?!" Simius snapped. "What do you mean?"
"I—I mean it's nothing but a pile of rubble, my lord. The whole thing was burned, but it isn't just that. Every statue was smashed—everything in the place was completely destroyed. And the Nemesai themselves—they're gone—at least we're fairly sure they are. There wasn’t a single body in the rubble. We questioned a few tradesmen who were near the temple last night. They said they heard sounds of grunts and screams, but they thought it was just men being interrogated inside the walls."
Simius's fists balled at his sides, and he fidgeted. "You're telling me that someone... abducted Nemesai inquisitors?"
"Uh..." the soldier grunted, looking nervous, "I don't know, sir—it looks like it."
Simius gazed down at the floor, taking seething breaths through his nose. "Why didn't anyone report the fire last night?"
"Nobody saw any fire, sir," the soldier said, his face growing even paler than before. "It was like the whole thing was done with... sorcery."
"Gods," Simius panted. He put his hand against his forehead, suddenly panting. "Are there any tracks? Any evidence at all of who did this?"
The guard fidgeted. "Well, sir, it's a common road that runs by their temple, so there are tracks going all over the place and we have no way of telling what's what. But there was a piece of evidence... it was everywhere, sir."
"What was it?" Simius whispered.
"A single word painted on the stones over and over again. I can't read, but your father said it was ‘Elyria.’"
"Elyria?” Simius hissed. “What the hell does that mean!”
"I—I don't know, sir."
The young nobleman’s face was growing redder. "What about dogs? Has anyone thought to set dogs tracking these men?"
The soldier hesitated, casting another nervous glance at Livia, then said: "Your father... wasn't sure if he s-should, sir. I mean, anyone who could do this to a Nemesai temple—who would do it—we aren't sure we would have the resources to fight them."
"I see," Simius whispered. He stood still for a moment and then turned his head rather suddenly toward Livia, a dangerous look in his eyes. His psychic voice hissed into her mind:
Utterly bewildered, Livia shook her head.
He glared at her, and she felt his psychic tendrils lash at her mind...harmlessly. This seemed to infuriate him, and his telepathic voice snapped within her skull:
