by Matt Russell
"Splendid!" Hervin bellowed, and she heard the creaking sound of him sitting back down in his bed.
Livia sighed and rose. She had already dressed for the day hours ago when it had become apparent she would not be able to return to sleep. Her head still ached slightly from the psychic onslaught, and she might be bitter over that fact if the news were not what it was. Cassian Asango was not going to be executed! That was an enormous relief for many, many reasons, not the least of which being that the continuation of Livia's own life was more assured. Would all Cassianites be pardoned of their crimes now? That seemed extremely likely given that the majority of their activities did not involve breaking imperial laws but only spreading sedition against the Nemesai. There were, of course, more zealous individuals who had freed slaves from their bondage, sometimes even using violence, but they were only a small minority.
Livia meandered to the wood stove in the left corner of the house. She had cleaned out the old ashes the other day, which made cooking easier to begin. Even so, as she reached to the wood collection on the left and drew dried sticks and spread them out into the bottom of the stove, the result was a tangled, poorly distributed mess that would burn unevenly. Iona was so much better at cooking... That thought tugged at her heart, biting into the joy of the morning. Even if Asango would become Emperor in a few decades, Iona was still gone.
A knock came at the door rather abruptly, and Livia jumped. She turned toward the entryway to her home, wondering who might be calling so early. She glanced back at the stove, feeling irritated that her work was being interrupted, and then walked forward and lifted the latch to her home's front door.
"Hello," Simius said. The young sorcerer had a cordial smile on his face, which Livia immediately sensed was a mask. His eyes held frustration. She frowned at the young noble. Only a few days ago he had been courting her, and then he had flipped in an instant to threatening her with death. What did he want now?
"May I come in?" he said. There was an edge to his tone which hinted that refusing would not be advisable. Still, Livia blocked the door with her foot and stared at him, giving no indication. She was feeling just a little empowered after learning that Cassian Asango was sacrosanct in the eyes of the church. Could she be arrested for associating with the Messiah?
"I'm coming in," Simius said in a sharp voice, and just as the other time, Livia felt the sudden push on her stomach and chest of some invisible force. She was shoved backward and lost her grip on the door, stumbling as Simius stepped inside her home, uninvited.
Hervin came wandering into the kitchen just then. He had just started to mutter something about helping Livia start the stove fire when he noticed Simius and exclaimed: "Goodness! Hello."
"Hello," Simius said, flashing a far friendlier grin than he had given Livia. He thought Hervin an oblivious fool, and so he poured on the charm. "My father is extremely pleased with your recent wine delivery."
"Oh?" Hervin muttered, standing stupefied at the presence of his lord's son in his home. "Well, uh, t-that is very good."
"Of course it is," Simius said. He stepped toward Hervin and drew out a silver coin from a pocket in his elegant, silken tunic and said: "I'm afraid my father and I must borrow your daughter for a short meeting. I know she was making you breakfast. Please allow me to purchase you a meal at the tavern." He flipped the coin with his thumb.
Hervin fumbled for the silver piece in the air and dropped it onto the floor. When he rose back up, he had a confused look on his face. "Uh... may I ask what you wish to speak to Livia about?"
"A small matter," Simius said with a dismissive wave. "I'm sure she'll write you an explanation later."
"Well..." Hervin muttered, and he turned to look at Livia.
She smiled and gave a nonchalant shrug and a forced smile. Hervin stared at her for a moment, then said with a confused sigh: "A-alright then."
"Let's go, my dear," Simius said, offering his arm.
The thought of touching the young man made Livia’s skin crawl, yet she sidled up to him and slid her wrist through. They walked outside, where she saw a resplendent carriage with windows veiled in blue silk curtains waiting in the street. The side of one of those curtains drew back, and Simius's father, Lord Baradon, stared out at her. He bore a contemptuous look that made her blood run cold.
"We need to talk," Simius said, all pretense of kindness gone from him now.
Livia froze. What was this? She cast a look around and saw armed city guards standing in the streets. Each one was blocking off a route of escape and staring directly at her.
Livia felt herself begin to tremble. Her head was swimming, but she forced herself to give Simius a nod. An image flashed briefly through her mind of the thin dagger concealed in a pocket under her skirt. It was the only defense she had at the moment, and nowhere near enough to overcome the enemies surrounding her. The only thing to do was to move forward and try very hard to keep her wits.
"This way," Simius said. He made a quick gesture with his right hand, and a carriage door swung open. Livia allowed him to walk her up to the cart and help her up inside of it. She took a seat on a velvet cushion across from Lord Baradon, who continued to glare at her. There was murder in his eyes.
Simius moved into the cart and took a seat next to his father, and then swung the door shut. "Ho!" he grunted, reaching a hand up and out through the window to slap on the roof twice. The driver in front responded by snapping the reins, and the horses lurched forward.
"Did you sleep well, Livia?" Lord Baradon said, narrowing his eyes at her.
She swallowed, shrinking in her chair under the harsh stare as she shook her head.
"Neither did I," the old aristocrat said. He thumbed at his peppercorn beard nervously. "I doubt any lord in the empire caught much sleep last night—not with that radical starborn being deemed a Holy Figure!" Baradon narrowed his eyes at her and said: "I am certain you have read many of the things he has written about men of my stature—the ‘ruling class’ as he calls us—not to mention the things put out in his name. You've written quite a bit yourself, have you not, Slave of the West?"
Livia felt a cold shiver rise from the pit of her stomach. She drew in a breath, meeting the man's stare. Did he know for certain? She tried not to appear nervous—not to give anything away.
"She's very good," Simius said. He was staring at her with eyebrows knitted together. "In truth, I've never seen anyone with this level of talent for occlusion. I can't even catch the vaguest trace of emotion."
"Where does a slave learn such skills?" Lord Baradon growled.
Livia gazed from one man to another, studying them. Beneath their anger was a deep fear, and that made them dangerous. She hesitated, not sure what to do, and then she looked nervously at Simius and made a writing gesture, scribbling with an imaginary pen onto a pantomimed paper in her hand.
"You may write," he said in a cold voice. "Do you need paper?"
Livia shook her head and drew out her paper. She tried not to let her hands shake as she pressed it against the wall of the cart while angling her charcoal pencil. The ride was already bumpy over the uneven road, and so her words came out somewhat squiggled:
Why do you believe I am the slave of the west?
She was careful not to actually deny the accusation, as that might lead to consequences if they had proof. When she held up the note, Simius read it and then breathed in very slowly through his nose. After a small bit of hesitation, he answered: "Because I had a more aggressive conversation with your dwarf friend." The young sorcerer's face became grim. "You might as well know he tried like hell not to give you aw
ay—even when he realized I was going to kill him."
Livia gasped aloud. Domor was dead? Because of her!
"Mhh," Lord Baradon grunted, leaning forward. Livia could feel the blood draining from her face. "Did you think your seditious writings would not carry consequence? You poor little fool, this is the Denigoth Empire, and you have been inciting rebellion!" He reached out a veiny hand and gripped her right arm while drawing back his other appendage to slap her.
"Father!" Simius said. The Lord turned to see his son staring at him. The young noble's blue eyes were filled with an intensity that gave the old lord pause. "There's no need to be brutish. I'll get what we need out of her. I already told you that."
Baradon glared at his offspring for a moment, and then relaxed, sinking back into his seat. He looked at Livia and made a grunting chuckle. "My son does not wish me to markup that lovely face of yours."
Simius whispered into her mind.
"Stupid child," Lord Baradon muttered, oblivious to his son's psychic words. He stared at her. "You think the peasant class is fit to rule itself? Your kind has neither the wisdom nor the wit to govern! It is the nobility of this empire that keeps the peace! We are educated and bred to the role. If that power were given over to ignorant peasants, there would be chaos in the streets! Do you even know what anarchy looks like?" He leaned forward, his face reddening. "Rape! Murder! Buildings burning to the ground! I swear by the gods—"
"We want to know how many Cassianites are in this territory," Simius cut in, speaking in a markedly more composed voice than his father. "We need to know who they are, what resources they possess, and what their immediate plans are, now that their leader has been... sanctified."
Livia stared at the two nobles. Did they think there was some carefully orchestrated rebellion about to be executed? She blinked. The attack on the Nemesai temple—these men had no idea who had carried it out. In their minds, she could have been a key figure in the operation. They were desperate to cling to their power, and she was the closest thing they had to a leader in Cassian Asango's secret army.
The cart slowed to a stop, and Livia heard a man climb down in front. The door swung open, and a soldier in ring mail stood outside, a large sword at his belt. She looked past him and saw a dozen more armed men, and suddenly it was sickeningly clear that there was no clever escape to any of this.
"Get out," Lord Baradon snarled at her.
Shaking, Livia moved to the door of the carriage. The soldier in front of her grabbed her forearm and pulled her roughly out onto the paver stones below. Her feet hit with a slap, and as soon as they did, her eyes raised to the wall of Lord Baradon’s keep. She had seen it many times from a distance but never gotten close. The building looked like a fortress, with thick stones and heavy wooden doors preventing any unlawful entry or exit.
"Take her to the dungeon," Baradon's voice boomed from behind.
Two additional armored figures moved to grab hold of Livia, but both of them were abruptly jerked back in different directions. Both stumbled to the ground, wide-eyed.
"I'll walk her down," Simius said, casting a sharp look at the soldiers and then back at his father. He offered his arm once more to Livia, and, trembling even harder now, she took it. As they began to move, he said in a psychic whisper:
Livia swallowed. She did not have what they wanted. Other than Domor, she had only communicated with other Cassianites through codenames. They had never communicated about any militant contingent within her city, or anywhere else really. Livia still had no idea who attacked the Nemesai, or what 'Elyria' meant. Her entire involvement with the organization had been limited to writing essays and drawing cartoons. She could tell them the locations she sent her documents, but that would be a shameful betrayal and probably not enough to satisfy them.
Simius led her in through a large hall with large tapestries and elegantly carved and varnished tables. This opulent entryway was quickly contrasted as the young sorcerer waved his hand and a steel door on the left swung open, revealing a dark, winding stairway from which the scent of sweat and death rose up.
Livia heard her own breathing, rapid and frantic as the sorcerer led her down. It all seemed like a horrible dream from which she needed to awaken. As they descended the dark corridor, every step took her farther and farther away from saving Iona, from her freedom, from safety.
The bottom floor was lit by wall torches that burned a soft orange in the shadowy room. The dungeon was much smaller than Livia might have imagined – basically a hallway of stone with two tiny cells on the side. A table sat in the center, with several rusted iron tools that could only have one purpose.
The world was spinning as Livia walked to the center of the cell. She turned to face the young sorcerer and went down on her knees. What was he going to do?
Lord Baradon and six of the armed guards crammed into the dungeon behind, each positioning himself to look at her. "Take it all out of her brain," Lord Baradon hissed at his son.
"I will," Simius said, and he raised his right hand, fingers extended toward Livia's forehead. "Drop your psychic walls," he said in a soft voice as he stepped forward.
Livia's eyes widened. Simius was going to try to force his way through the barriers in her mind. She remembered in visceral detail what had happened the last time a sorcerer had tried to do that, and somehow, she knew with terrifying certainty it would happen again now. The curse—or whatever it was that resided within her—would eviscerate the young aristocrat’s mind, and he would draw back screaming. She eyed the six armed men before her. The instant something happened to their lord's son, they would plunge their blades into her body. She had no defense... If she did not think of something—anything—she would die in the next moment.
"Don’t resist," Simius whispered. His voice was almost gentle, though it had a coldness just beneath. He had killed Domor only a few hours before! His outstretched hand moved closer, and closer, and closer, and panic began to boil up through Livia's body. She searched as she had many times before for the power that had shown itself once in her life, but nothing came.
Livia lurched to her feet, her right hand rising with the forefinger extended, indicating for Simius to wait a moment. The guards drew their weapons at the sudden movement, and the sorcerer paused, a startled look coming over his face. She stared at him and made her writing gesture in the air, trying not to let her hands shake. She did not wait for his permission then but drew out her paper and slapped it against the floor with her left hand while yanking out her pencil in her right. With a ferocity that nearly tore the sheet, she wrote two words:
I confess.
When she held up the paper to Simius, he stared at it in the dim light and then gave her a quizzical look. "What do you confess?"
Once again Livia held up her finger and put her paper on the floor. She moved her pencil over the parchment sheet, writing things that terrified her nearly to death. This was insanity, but she could think of nothing else that would save her life. Her soul contracted with each word. She had thought that working with the Cassianites was the most dangerous gamble she would ever take, but this was worse. Finally, she finished and held up the sheet, which read:
I am the one who obliterated the memories of the Nemesai sorcerer two years ago. The reason my mind cannot be read is that Cassian Asango himself constructed the barriers within it and laid traps for anyone who would look inside. I am his agent, and if you kill me, he will know.
Perhaps halfway through the reading, Simius snatched the paper out of her hand. He glared at it, and then at her, and then back as he continued to read.
"W-what did that little slave write?" Baradon hissed, gripping the bars of the cell. Simius handed his father the note, keeping his eyes on Livia. She stared back at him, forcing herself to display confidence she did not at all feel. These men were terrified of Cassian Asango. That was her only power over them. Could it possibly be enough to save her life?
"The Nemesai..." Baradon muttered, staring at the paper. "You're the one who—" He glanced at her, a look of disbelief on his face. "Simius, is that possible?"
"I don’t know… perhaps it is," Simius muttered. He continued to stare at Livia, but he took a somewhat nervous step back from her. "I suppose... if anyone could lay a mental curse that powerful, it would be a starborn." He edged still further away.
"Is she a sorceress?" Baradon said, looking frightened himself.
"No," Simius whispered. "I've scanned her thoroughly. If she had magic, I'd know."
"Then what the hell is she?" Baradon growled.
Livia stared at the two noblemen. If they saw how frightened she was, they would see through her deception, so she made her hands stop shaking and forced the closest thing she could come to confidence into her features. She had no clear plan—no thought out path of leaving the dungeon alive—but her death had been halted a few moments at least, and that was a start.
"What do you mean he’ll know if we kill you?" Baradon said in a low voice, staring at Livia. She gave no answer. Keeping them guessing was keeping them off balance.
"A trigger spell," Simius muttered, gazing at the floor with a look of consternation. "It’s something small I’m not seeing—so fine and subtle that only a starborn could create it."
“What the hell is a trigger spell?” Baradon snapped.
“It's magic that only activates under a specific condition," the young noble said, and his eyes traveled to Livia, "like death."
Lord Baradon drew in a very slow, deep breath through his nose as he continued to glare at Livia. "Asango really might be able to tell if we killed her? Would he be able to tell we did it?"
