by A J Witt
“A spectacular hole, one that must have cost a fortune to construct,” answered Elias. “These sunken sitting rooms? So in vogue throughout the Noble District, I heard all about it.” The officer looked around, mesmerized.
“It’s in vogue to put your guests in a hole in the floor?” asked Kyran.
“Yes!” snapped Elias. “And if you keep complaining, you’ll regret it. So you would do best to keep your limited aesthetic tastes to yourself and let the experts decide what’s art.”
“Why do they get to decide?” Brief silence followed the exchange, and Kyran counted the seconds it would take for his brother to jump in and voice his opinion. It’s inevitable, he always does. Six seconds passed, then seven … eight … nine …
“I actually like the whole sunken idea,” Edvon declared.
Kyran clapped his hands, delighted. “And why’s that?” he asked, pretending to be interested.
“It makes the entire room feel more expanded. If the sitting area hadn’t been lowered, the furniture would break up the space. It wouldn’t feel as open as it does now.”
“How fascinating.”
Edvon caught onto the sarcasm. “Whatever. It’s clever, and you know it.”
“Whoa!” Kyran broke the whisper they had adopted. “So now, you’re also an architect?”
“If you think that was technical architectural talk, then you clearly have no idea what an architect does.”
“An interior designer, then.”
“Shh,” whispered Elias.
“But sir, we might have found Edvon’s one true passion.”
“Could you two please just …” Elias’s eyes were closed, and he was massaging his temples. The brothers turned back to their thoughts.
The walk from the Albai Bridge to the Noble District had been less exciting than anticipated. Kyran, expecting another setting to materialize before his eyes, was disappointed to find much of the same lifestyle he had grown accustomed to in West Phaidros. The streets were similar, as were their inhabitants. However, once within the Noble District, he had struggled to contain his astonishment.
Sumptuous palaces boasting immense gardens rose high into the air around a series of lakes and ponds. Smaller villas surrounded each palace, used to lodge guests or serve as entertainment for the lords and ladies, and there were sprawling verandas along the outside, generally level with the ground floor. During the hot summer months, an enthusiastic Elias had explained, many Nobles would sleep out on the porches, taking advantage of the cool air that drifted from adjacent pools of water.
As they sat, Kyran reached for a goblet and gulped the tea down, wishing he was also resting in one of those veranda hammocks, enjoying the cool breeze. For once, Kyran and Elias shared the same aspirations.
“Someone’s coming.” Edvon was pointing a finger toward his ear. “Listen.”
Faint footsteps could be heard off in the distance, growing louder with each stride. Kyran felt his anticipation increase, when a door near the back of the room swung open, revealing a strange looking attendant. The man wore the same black tunic as servants in the palace, yet his was embellished with a sparkling hemline, a belt made of pure gold, and flashy arm cuffs. The man smiled, exposing a set of immaculate white teeth. His hairstyle featured undercut sides with textured length on top, and as he walked toward them, Kyran noticed a grotesque scar running from the side of his temple to his jaw.
“Welcome, dear friends.” The man bowed, greeting the visitors. He wore a subtle streak of dark-teal eyeliner under his bottom lashes. “My name is Ruan, I am the personal attendant to Lord Hanstun. Thank you for your patience, I trust you have enjoyed the refreshments?”
“Yes, thank you,” replied Elias.
“Good, very good. Now, if you would please come this way, Lord Hanstun is ready to meet with you.”
They followed Ruan into a long and dim corridor, the end of which Kyran could barely discern. The young Adept looked up instead and noticed an indoor balcony that ran the entire length of the hallway. Why is there a balcony with a view on such a boring corridor? Its railing was made of wrought iron, extending a third of the way up to the domed ceiling. And Elias was mocking my aesthetic tastes. Kyran returned his gaze to their usher and noticed a long scimitar hanging from the back of his belt. A personal attendant carrying a sword that size? He gave Edvon an inquiring look but found his older brother scrutinizing the end of the hallway. Kyran coughed once, and then twice, hoping to catch his sibling’s attention. Can’t he hear me? What’s he staring at? Then, the younger man caught sight of them. That’s what. From behind Ruan, Kyran saw a group of six or seven Overseers advancing in their direction, white robes fluttering as they marched in unison.
“I didn’t know you had other guests,” said Elias.
“Of course, you didn’t,” Ruan replied. “How could you possibly know the lord’s schedule of affairs?”
“Don’t be coy with me, boy.”
The hostile remark startled both brothers as well as Elias.
“I mean … umm … we’re not here for any kind of trouble,” the officer added.
“Quite on the contrary, they’re just leaving.” Ruan grinned. “There will be no trouble.”
“No trouble at all, by Auralus!” The group of Overseers had stopped a few paces ahead. Speaking was a gigantic man with long bushy sideburns extending down to the corners of his mouth. Yet he lacked any whiskers on his chin or upper lip, lending him the characteristics of a Fisherman’s Bay sailor. His long black hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail, and he glared at the Adepts.
“Gorgios.”
“Elias.”
“Look, we have nothing to say to these people,” Elias said to Ruan. “Can you just get them on their way, please?”
“You know you’re wasting your time,” taunted Gorgios.
“Okay, we’re going now.” Elias moved forward, but the gargantuan senator impeded his path with a small step to the left.
“We just had a very, shall we say, fruitful meeting with Lord Hanstun,” continued Gorgios. “Dare I say, I think he’s made up his mind on his preferences.”
“Here’s a little hint,” said another Overseer, a short woman with bangs covering her square forehead. “It’s not the Academy.”
The Temple’s delegation broke into laughter, causing Kyran to clench his fists. “You can’t prefer something when you don’t have anything to compare it to.”
Edvon cringed. Apparently his brother had been listening during Marrek’s lectures, though he was picking the worst time to showcase his newfound knowledge. The laughter ceased. Edvon put his hand out, hoping to prevent Kyran from uttering another word. It was too late.
“But given that a balbak rivals the brain capacity of an Overseer … we’ll give you a pass.”
“What did you just say, runt?” The Overseer standing nearest Gorgios was a tall and thin man with gaunt cheeks. He appeared eager for confrontation.
“Do you have trouble hearing too?” asked Kyran.
The man took a step forward.
“Wait!” interjected Elias. “Uh … let’s just … let’s …” He looked to Ruan for help but found none.
“We should go our separate ways,” offered Edvon.
Gorgios shook his head. “Not so fast. Your little friend here insulted us, and we want an apology.”
“Well, you’re not getting one,” Kyran answered.
“Yes, we are.” The senator shook his finger. “Or else …” His intimidating physique bolstered the threat’s credibility.
“Okay, fine. To whom should I offer my apologies?”
“To me, you should offer them to me,” said the lanky Overseer, delighted to be witnessing the upcoming humiliation. “Do it now.”
Kyran looked at Edvon and shrugged. Then, to the older brother’s horror, he broke into his notorious and mischievous smile. “That’s what your mother said to me last night.”
“How dare you!” shouted the Overseer.
“She
said that, too. Right when I tried—”
The Overseer lunged at Kyran. With no time to react, the Adept braced himself for the inevitable impact. It never came. A deafening bang echoed through the corridor. The tall Overseer soared into the air, slamming hard into the wall with a sickening crunch. After what seemed like an eternity, his limp body collapsed to the ground. Kyran turned and looked at his brother in awe. Edvon’s arms were extended out in front of his body, wrists joined and hands cupped. His eyes were shining brightly, knees bent in a fierce position.
“Matthias!” Gorgios approached the lifeless body of his fallen associate and attempted without success to reanimate him.
Elias twirled toward the brothers, gesturing at them with an agitated look on his face. “What have you done?”
Blood-curdling howls echoed through the hallway, and Gorgios rushed at Edvon. A bolt of Source energy hit the immense Overseer in the abdomen, but the giant ran through it, unharmed. Edvon launched a second anemic blast, missing to the right. Before a third try, the senator barreled into him.
The other Overseers approached Kyran and Elias, brandishing small blades.
“Stop this!” Elias appealed to Ruan.
The personal attendant was nowhere to be seen. Kyran dodged to the right, narrowly avoiding a first swipe. Another Overseer stabbed out, almost catching the young man in the thigh. He looked for his brother. Gorgios was crouched on top of Edvon, his thick fingers choking life out of him. Closing his eyes in anger, Kyran drew as much Source energy as he could.
A wave blasted down the corridor, knocking everyone to the floor. The dazed Overseers were stunned to have witnessed such a display of force from a young student. Kyran felt faint, and he dropped to one knee.
“He’s depleted!” Gorgios yelled. “Get him now!”
Taking advantage of the distraction, Edvon scrambled to his feet, followed by the burly senator. The Overseer swung his left fist into the young Adept’s gut.
“Ough!” yowled Edvon, writhing in pain.
Gorgios kicked the older brother in the chest, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Edvon managed to launch a crack of Source energy, a sharp little barb that grazed the side of the Overseer’s cheek, leaving a thin laceration in his skin. Gorgios brought a hand to his face. Seeing blood at the tip of his fingers, he roared in outrage and lunged once more at Edvon.
Another Overseer struck Elias, hitting him on the side of the head. The officer slapped back, connecting with the side of her face in a loud clap. Elias was kneed in the lower spine, and he let out a yelp.
Kyran looked up, desperate, as he saw several more Overseers closing in on him.
“Enough!”
The booming voice froze everyone into place, and they looked up toward the balcony. Leaning on the railing and contemplating the scene with delight was the palace’s master, Lord Hanstun.
CHAPTER TEN
The effect was never immediate. Actually, nothing happens in the first minutes. Novices were left wondering whether they had done it the correct way. And then, a tingle of anticipation, in the most pleasant manner possible. The gentlest flourish, skirting the corners of the mouth and drizzling down from the temples. Senses enhanced, music sounded sweeter, air felt lighter, and bliss permeated the Dominion once more. Out of nowhere, it hits you like a stack of bricks. Like water rushing through a broken levy, accompanied by an inundating flow of ideas, realizations, and desires. One second you’re fine, and the next, you’re flying high.
Neeta closed her eyes. The rules were clear and forbade Adepts from patronizing the smoking lounges. Being seen by the wrong person would most likely lead to a long conversation with Marrek, one that might set her promising career back by several years, if not derail it altogether. For someone so focused on her own success, Neeta often wondered why she took such a risk. Because it feels dread good, that’s why. So unfair. I’m sure the preceptor sampled herbs in his younger days. Bet he still secretly smokes in his Ivory Spire. Neeta chuckled at the thought of the old man getting high and babbling on about the latest book he had read. Perhaps Elias joined him. She brought a hand up to cover her mouth, the notion making her laugh out loud. That dweeb? He would never. She detested her puritan colleague, or at least, pretended to. Neeta thought about it, and she realized pity better described her emotions toward him. Elias was incapable of making the difficult decisions his position required. And he’s not even good at manipulating Source energy. He’d have made a good Noble. Sitting around in his garden, listening to the birds chirp and sipping his tea, shielded from worries and responsibilities. Neeta shook her head.
To his credit, Elias somehow gained access to Marrek’s ear, though she still had no clue how that happened. It’s not going to last. One slip-up, and he’ll be replaced. And the slip-up is coming, I’m sure. The Academy needed leaders with a tenacious temperament, capable of standing up to the likes of Rex Ruga and her band of thugs. And Neeta was ready to step in. All I have to do? Patiently wait my turn.
On the other side of the terrace, the Adept caught sight of two men ogling her. Those clowns again? Neeta turned her head away, not wanting to give them the wrong impression. This was the third or fourth time she had seen the pair since frequenting the Lucky Roach, and on each occasion they had acted just as unsubtly as the last. Like a pair of dopey balbaks. While most would find the obstinate behavior to be annoying, and Neeta did, she also considered it interesting. She had never thought of herself as the epitome of beauty, a sentiment deriving from her disdain for relationships. Given her unequivocal reputation for spurning potential lovers, men stopped pursuing Neeta. As a result, she had no idea what others thought of her looks, which ironically enhanced her attractiveness.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the two men had shifted their focus to a little glass pipe, refilling it from a dwindling pouch of herbs. One fumbled the pouch to the other and dropped it. The men quarreled over the incident, and Neeta giggled. The one on the left was lanky, with strange short hair and bold sideburns. His companion was short and pudgy, sporting an absurd mustache twirling up along both sides of his nose.
The men spotted Neeta scrutinizing them and stopped moving, their breaths held in anticipation. They both grinned at her, the smaller one making a clumsy little wave with his fingers. Realizing how ridiculous it must have looked, he blushed and retracted his hand under the table. For some reason, Neeta felt an urge to talk to them. No. I got better things to do.
The Adept stood up briskly, long dark hair falling onto her face. With a hand, she brushed it away, tucking it behind an ear. Neeta pulled out a little tube from the front pocket of her dark-brown pants, and bringing it up to her mouth, she applied another layer of dusk-red lipstick. She swung open the latch, disappearing down the ladder much to the chagrin of Pluto and Joss.
After making her way through the dining room, Neeta stepped out onto the street. She loved Phaidros, and it never ceased to amaze her how much the city offered. Though it was not the architecture that attracted her, nor the history or culture. What drew Neeta to the urban sprawl were the people. The massive amounts of people, of different shapes and sizes. She knew many of them, taking great pride in building her network of connections. Neeta had a talent for talking to others, and she routinely got what she wanted with her sweet rhetoric. That this rhetoric was often accompanied by threatening insinuations, the Adept ignored.
Neeta crossed the street, intending to take the quickest route back to the Academy. Only a few steps later, she spotted him. No … it can’t be. He was standing on his left leg, right foot planted against the wall, hands in pockets. His silky blond hair glimmered in the sun. The man flashed a dazzling smile when his ice-blue eyes spotted Neeta, and he pushed himself off the wall.
“What in the Gods are you doing here, Lecarn?” hissed Neeta.
“Same as you. The Lucky Roach always has top shelf herbs.”
“What - are - you - doing - here?”
“I just told you.”
“Do
you think I’m a fool?”
The man smiled. “You haven’t seen me in ten years, and this is the love I get?”
“You don’t need anymore love, from what I hear,” snapped Neeta.
“I can always use more love.”
“Why are you here, Lecarn? Seriously.”
He sighed, running fingers through his long hair. Something else had replaced the look of guiltlessness. Something much more difficult to ascertain.
“I need a couple Adepts,” he admitted.
“Get lost.”
“They’ll be paid well. I promise.”
“I said get lost.”
“Come on,” pleaded Lecarn. “Don’t make this hard,”
“No.”
“You wouldn’t want people to know about your little secret, would you?”
“What?” Neeta asked. “That I smoke some grass along with seventy percent of the Phaidrosian population?”
“Yes.”
“Go ahead, tell anyone you want.”
“You’re bluffing.”
Without hesitation, the Adept turned toward the street. “Attention everyone, attention!” she shouted. “I just smoked some herbs in the Lucky Roach. My name is Neeta, and I’m an Adept.” People stopped, then went along their way, indifferent to her admissions. “There, I did it for you.”
Lecarn paused. It was an unanticipated turn of events for a man who usually succeeded with his threats. “Fine,” he conceded. “Have it your way. We both know I could destroy your career. I have connections with people in higher places than the street.”
“Then do it.”
“No, I think not.” Lecarn smiled once more. “I’ll have better luck with Elias.”
Neeta let out a laugh. “Of that, I have absolutely no doubt.” She turned and blew him a kiss over her shoulder. “See you around, old friend.” Making sure not to walk too hastily, the Adept fought the urge to look back and check whether he was still there. Once she had turned the corner, Neeta broke into a sprint. She raced as fast as she could, zigzagging her way through side alleys. After a reasonable distance, the Adept stopped, leaning forward against the nearest wall and resting her head on the back of her hands. Panting, she reflected upon the events that had just unfolded.
