The automaton replaced its mask, adjusted it, and then looked at Tane again through narrow eye-slits. “You killed Talain Nieris. In every way that matters, at least. A great man, who devoted everything to the cause, and you stripped him of his mind and his magic. And in doing so, the two of you became a symbol to the non-magical, making them believe they might stand up to their betters. I couldn’t allow that.”
Tane shook his head. “No, not that. That part is obvious enough. But why not just kill us? You could have walked through my wards at any time. Why lure us into investigating?”
“Killing you might have made you martyrs,” said Endo. “That was never my intent. I wanted Thaless to see you fail. I wanted you humiliated, not dead. And I must admit, there was a certain appeal to besting the son of the man who took my legs.”
That was something. A hint of motivation beyond dispassionate plotting. And he’s still answering questions. Why? It feels like boasting. He wants me to know how he beat me. Which made it easier to stall for time, at least. “So you mentioned us in your messages, knowing we’d get involved.” Tane paused, remembering. “And it was you who first nudged us toward Deepweld, wasn’t it? You meant for us to see you there that night.”
“Yes. I knew that the automaton’s size and the names on the list of ward exemptions would lead to Noana Uuthar.”
“And her sudden shift in the Senate,” said Tane. “You were the one blackmailing her. Setting up a lead for us to follow. Her secret made her look guilty. An easy scapegoat.”
“But not as easy as I expected.” It was hard to distinguish tone behind the automaton’s uncanny voice, but there might have been a hint of respect there. “I’ll grant you that much. I thought you would find the evidence against Uuthar and stop there. When the next victim died, all of Thaless would have seen your failure. Their precious Magebreakers accuse the wrong woman—a senator, no less—and the real killer strikes again when no one expects it. Your reputations would have been suitably ruined. But you didn’t take the bait. I hadn’t anticipated that you would speak to Talain. Or that he would give you something useful out of that smouldering ruin of a mind.”
“All of this, just to discredit Tane and Kadka?” Indree said incredulously. “That’s… you’re insane. How could that possibly be worth it?”
A low, distorted chuckle through the mouthless mask. “You misunderstand, Inspector Lovial. Destroying the Magebreakers was a happy confluence of events, but I had much larger goals. Operating in the shadows is fine and well, but there are limits to the influence one can attain that way. My Knights and I are ready to step into the light. Eliminating these magicless pretenders to the throne is a fine way for an Emperor to announce himself, don’t you think? Already I have the Senate discussing changes to their outdated restrictions on the Protector’s office, and when I kill the first elvish candidate in centuries, it will serve as a signal to the right-minded that our time has come. Speaking of which, I have an appointment at the Audlian estate that I cannot miss.” The Mask turned to Tane once more. “A shame it came to this. I would have let you go, when it was over. As I said, I only wanted you shamed—alive or dead is immaterial. But now you know too much.”
“Then do it,” Tane said defiantly, and prayed to the Astra that he’d read the situation correctly. He won’t end it now. He’s got something to prove. I hope. “Don’t you think you’ve taunted me enough?”
Endo regarded him for a long moment with the Mask’s eyes, and then shook his head. “No. Not yet, I think. I want you alive when I kill Faelir Audlian. I want you to know how badly you’ve been beaten before you die.” The huge automaton turned toward the door and pulled it open. Before leaving, those silver-blue eye-slits turned back one last time. “But I won’t keep you waiting very long.”
Chapter Twenty-two
_____
KADKA LED THE way, following an ever-fainter trail of ink spots through darkened passages. Whenever they came to a dead end, Iskar let them through by twisting a bolt or pressing a brick or some other trigger. True to his word, he knew the secrets of the tunnels—and there was no shortage of them.
Gradually, the ink marks became scarcer and farther between. Kadka had to choose which path to take at some forks by gauging what dust and debris seemed most recently stirred—or sometimes just by guessing. They doubled back more than once. But inevitably, no matter how far between, she would find another drop or smudge of ink, however small. That made little sense to her. The Mask—if it was the Mask who had taken Carver—had to be able to see in the dark, and no one could miss a growing ink stain forever. How had it not been noticed sooner?
After more than an hour, they came to another dead end, an apparently unfinished passage. The brick walls ended in ragged edges, giving way to raw stone. Somewhere under the far edge of Stooketon, if she’d judged the distance and direction properly—and she rarely got such things wrong.
“Had to go through here,” she said over her shoulder to Iskar. There was no ink, but she’d passed a small droplet a short way back, and there hadn’t been a fork in the tunnel since. “Open it.”
Iskar frowned, and his silver tail slapped against the floor. “Hrm.”
“What?” Kadka turned fully around to face him. “Is problem? We need to move fast. Carver is in trouble.”
“I… I don’t know that there is a way through. I’m not aware of any passage here. If there is, it wouldn’t go through the stone, but maybe…” He moved a silver-clawed hand along the brick wall to one side, then the other, tapped with the back of his knuckle at a few points. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t know, Kadka. I’m sorry.”
“There is a door. Must be.” Kadka pushed past him, started prodding bricks with her fingers. “Is no other way.”
“Maybe they took a wrong turn, doubled back?” Iskar suggested.
She shook her head. “No. No sign of it, and never did before. Must be here. Must be.” She balled up her fists and slammed them against the wall; fragments of old brick crumbled away, but no door opened. “Only used passages you know before. If you don’t know this, must be end of trail. Mask’s hideout. Carver is in there. We need to get in.”
Iskar put a hand on her shoulder. “Kadka, I don’t think—”
A sound came from behind, brick grating against brick. Kadka put a finger to her lips, spun to face the other wall.
A narrow line of light appeared there, ziz-zagging between bricks, and growing wider.
Kadka grabbed Iskar’s wrist and rushed down the hall, ducking around the next corner. She yanked Iskar against the wall with her, and they both pressed their backs against the brick.
Moments later, a massive shadow stepped into the fork in the tunnels. A dark robe covered its body, but it was some nine feet tall.
The Mask.
Kadka held her breath. If she’d picked the wrong passage—if the Mask turned their way—her chances of getting to Carver fell substantially.
Instead, the figure turned in the other direction, moving away from them into the dark.
As soon as the Mask was out of earshot—and she knew she was cutting it close—Kadka sprinted back down the tunnel. The brick had sealed shut once more. “Deshka!” she swore. Taking a step back, she hurled herself shoulder-first at the wall, ignored the pain of the impact, and did it again.
“Kadka!” Iskar caught up with her, grabbed her by the shoulders. “You’ll only hurt yourself!”
She struggled against his grip—he was nearly as strong as she was. “Carver needs help. Can’t stop.”
“Then we need to find another way,” Iskar insisted. “You’re no good to him with a broken shoulder.”
Kadka relented, stopped fighting him. “What other way?”
He sighed. “That I don’t know. I could keep searching for a trigger, but that could take time Mister Carver might not have. And we can’t simply knock on the front door. I wish I could be more use to you.”
But something he’d said perked Kadka’s ears. “Maybe w
e do go in front door.”
“What do you mean?”
She was already moving back down the hall. There’d been a hatchway to the surface a short way beyond the last fork. “Stooketon is above, and main disc lines far that way.” They were crossing the fork now, and she gestured down the passage to her right, where they’d hidden from the Mask. “So passage must go to basement somewhere. Just need to find what basement.” She reached the ladder to the surface, started to climb. “And I am good at directions.”
Iskar hesitated. “Kadka, I… I’m not sure I should. Someone might see.”
Kadka paused on the ladder to look down at him. “No one will see. Is late, and dark. Please. Might need more strength than I have alone. I know you have secrets that make you hide. Is not for me to ask. But are they worth Carver’s life?”
Iskar looked up at her for a long moment, and then, “No, I don’t believe they are.” He grasped the rung above his head and started up.
There was no one in sight when she emerged—it was late enough that the alley and the surrounding streets were deserted. She’d been right in her estimate of their location. They were at the far side of Stooketon, very near the Gryphon’s Roost. Kadka hurried along the streets, tracing the lines of the maintenance tunnels in her head. It was only a few blocks to the spot, a windowless storehouse among several others like it at the very edge of the district.
“Here,” she said. “This is place.”
A single door led into the building. She tried the handle. Locked.
“How are you going to get through that?” Iskar approached from behind.
“Door isn’t problem,” said Kadka. Carver had taught her that. In a city of magic, no one relied on physical security. “Between two of us, should be strong enough. Problem will be ward behind it.” That, she had no solution for.
Iskar took a deep breath. “I can deal with the wards.”
Kadka cocked her head. “Thought you had no magic?”
“I don’t. I have… it’s difficult to explain, Kadka. But I can get you through any ward you might face.”
“Good. Help me with door.”
Iskar grabbed her shoulder before she could turn away. “Wait. I… I cannot help you fight if it comes to that. I will not harm anyone. I hope I can explain it to you in a way that you will understand, one day, but there is no time now. Please believe that I have good reason.”
There wasn’t time to ask more. She either trusted him or she didn’t, and she decided in that moment that she did. “Is fine. Just get me in.”
“No hesitation at all.” Something glimmered in Iskar’s bright blue eyes—admiration, maybe. “If we are dealing with the Knights of the Emperor, there will almost certainly be mages on the other side of that door. But you would face them alone.”
“Carver is not perfect, but he is my friend. Maybe best one I have. If he needs me, I come. Always.” She beckoned him forward. “No more talk. On three, we kick.”
Iskar just nodded, and moved into position beside her.
“One. Two. Three!”
With a great crack, the door slammed inward under their feet. It opened into a curiously empty storehouse. A staircase descended into the basement on one side of the room, and in the opposite corner across a mostly bare floor sat a stack of chairs and several folding cots. Two of those cots were already laid out, though, and occupied. The figures in them stirred at the noise, and started to rise.
Instinctively, Kadka stepped forward, and met an invisible wall. A ward, just as she’d expected. “Quickly!” she said. She drew her long knife from behind her back, dropped a shorter blade from her sleeve into her empty palm with a flick of the wrist.
“Move aside,” said Iskar, and centered himself before the door. He breathed deep, and then deeper still. His bare silver chest swelled. And then he opened his jaws wide, and exhaled with a terrible roar.
White hot flame gushed in a torrent from his mouth.
The fire spilled forth so bright that Kadka could hardly bear to look, rolling against the invisible ward like a great wave. Even from behind Iskar, the heat was almost unbearable; she took a step back to escape the pain on her bare face.
This was dragonfire. She knew it without doubt. Not a sad lick of flame like Sivisk had breathed at her, but true dragonfire, the kind so many kobolds boasted of but none possessed. Or at least she’d assumed none did, until now. She didn’t know how he was doing it, what truth lay behind his evasiveness and secrecy, but just then she didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was breathing dragon fire, and it was better than anything she’d ever seen. Better than magic.
Or at the very least, stronger.
Silver-blue light flared in the empty air across the doorway as the ward struggled against the white of the flame, and then Kadka felt something shatter—as if she could hear crystal breaking, but without any true sound.
“Go,” Iskar panted as the flames died in his mouth. He bent, bracing his hands on his knees. “The way is clear.”
But Kadka was already moving. She’d felt the magic break, and that was all she needed. The ward had stopped the flame from catching inside, but the outer doorway was still smouldering, uncomfortably hot to pass through. It didn’t matter. She was through before Iskar finished speaking.
Two figures in black executioner’s masks stood to face her, clearly hesitant to get any nearer the source of the white flame. One had retrieved an ancryst pistol from somewhere, and the other was already chanting magic words. A third was just emerging from the stairwell to join them.
“Only three?” Kadka felt the corners of her mouth rising. “You should have taken someone else’s friend.”
She met them grinning, knives in hand.
_____
Tane heard the guard leave, but he didn’t know why—there were only footsteps rapidly climbing the stairs, and then nothing. Nothing made it in past the sound-damping spell on the basement.
He rushed to the small window in the door, slid the metal plate aside. No one was there. They’d been left alone. “Something’s happening,” he said.
“Could just be changing shifts,” said Indree.
“I don’t think so. He sounded like he was in a hurry.”
Indree moved to stand beside him, and took his hand. Neither of them had to say why. It had been near an hour since Endo’s automaton had left them there. Tane didn’t know who was upstairs, but if the Mask had returned, they didn’t have long left.
“I’m sorry, Tane.” Indree’s voice was quiet and sad. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t talked you out of going to the Audlians… because of me we basically walked right up to the Mask’s door and told him we knew what he was planning.”
He squeezed her hand. “You did the best you could with what you knew. And even if we had gone straight to the Audlian estate, we didn’t have the resources to help them very much. We’d probably have ended up asking Endo for his crawlers either way. Which was entirely my idea, by the way. So save some blame for me, if that’s what we’re doing.”
“Right. I forgot. I guess it’s all your fault, then.” Indree offered him a shallow smile. “I’m not sure that makes me feel much better, but thank you. For trying.”
A sound came from the top of the stairs. A door creaking open, inside the sound-damping spell. A heavy footfall, and then another. Someone large.
It was easier to look at Indree than to just wait for the end, so he did. “We never did get that dinner,” he said.
Indree gave him a sad smile. “I wouldn’t have waited if I’d thought we’d run out of time.”
There was too much to say. Too many regrets, too many things he’d done wrong. He took a step towards her, still holding her hand in his. Looked into those amber eyes that he’d missed for so long, and wished to the Astra that he’d been smart enough not to leave. “Ree, if this is it…”
“I know.” She moved to meet him, and then her body was against his.
Their lips met.
Tane grabbed
her by the waist and pulled her as close as he could. Her arms were around his neck, clinging just as urgently as he was. Spellfire, I missed this. I missed her. Together, they tried to stretch the moment as long as they could, tried to ignore what was coming.
It didn’t last.
The cell door swung open. Tane squeezed his eyes shut, and held Indree tight.
A familiar laugh came from the doorway. “Wouldn’t hurry, if I know you two are having so much fun.”
Tane’s eyes snapped open, and he looked to see Kadka standing just outside the cell, a broad, toothy grin stretched across her face.
“Kadka!” His face flushed red, and he and Indree separated abrubtly, avoiding each other’s eyes. Tane crossed the room and threw his arms around Kadka’s broad shoulders. “I knew you’d come. I knew it.”
“He’s not lying,” said Indree, exiting the cell behind him. “He was annoyingly sure of it, really.” She clapped Kadka on the arm. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t so convinced. But I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.”
“But how did you get in?” Tane asked, finally releasing her. “There had to be wards on the place.”
“Iskar.” Kadka nodded over her shoulder. Behind her, the tallest kobold Tane had ever seen rounded the bottom of the stairs, bare-chested and silver-scaled. “He breathes fire, breaks the spell. Couldn’t have found you without him.” She looked at Tane with a glint of defiance in her eyes, her thick jaw thrust out stubbornly. Making a point.
Tane raised his hands in surrender. “Kadka, I’m sorry. Everything I said last night… I should have just listened to you. You see things more clearly than I do, most of the time. You’re so much more than just the muscle.”
Kadka relaxed her jaw, and smiled. “I know. But is nice to hear you say so.”
Tane looked to Iskar, then, as the muscular kobold drew near. “I don’t know if you know this, but I owe you an apology too. I misjudged you without ever meeting you, even when Kadka told me you could be trusted. I’m sorry. Thank you for helping us.” There was something curious in Kadka’s story, though, and he just couldn’t help himself. “But… you breathed fire on the wards and they broke? I’ve read legends that say dragonfire can break wards and shields, but even if that’s true, kobold fire is… usually a bit less impressive.” Although if any kobold had ever truly looked like a descendant of dragons, this man did, standing tall with huge silver wings at his back.
The Emperor's Mask (Magebreakers Book 2) Page 18
