Rodel nodded.
“Regarding the lamp armor,” Marlan continued, “keep it if you dare. The master has been patient, but there is a limit. He will reclaim what he believes is rightfully his. You know that he is more capable than all of us combined.”
“We’ll see,” Fetzer said.
“You wouldn’t fight Arasemis for a mechan, would you?” Rodel asked.
“Arasemis doesn’t have to make that mistake,” Fetzer said.
Marlan shook his head and turned to Rodel. “How long before Juhl is well enough to travel?”
“Two days,” he said, watching her sleep. “The stiches should hold after two days.”
Marlan turned back to Fetzer. “You have two days to change your mind and come with us.”
“That’s two days you’re wasting,” he answered.
120. WREDEGAR
Eglamour, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
Wredegar had watched Vesamune come close to execution from a distance, wearing the local garb of his Ricot persona. He could not hear much of Vesamune’s final speech but he was relieved that Lord Valient had spared her, despite leading her away in chains. He knew the Donovards would not release such a valuable bargaining chip.
He had always disliked Vesamune, but he had never wished this fate upon her. He touched his neck frequently now, thinking about Lord Reimvick’s head. His would have been in the basket as well if he had not disobeyed her orders to remain at her residence. He knew the Donovards would have arrested him too. They would have suspected who and what he was, and he would not have been as lucky as she was.
He racked his brain as he left the square. It would be impossible to rescue her, so he needed to decide whether to flee or stay to monitor the situation. All his gold was at her residence, but it would be foolish to return there. Even if he had money, traveling southward in hopes of rejoining the Rugens would be dangerous, given that he was well behind enemy lines. All of it was a reminder that he wished to be back with the regular army. A Wosmok unit under his command in the capital would have made his predicament more tolerable, but now he was alone.
He reasoned that he was trapped in Eglamour for now. He was still a servant of the empire and a knight of the House of Auftengardin. He resolved to do whatever he could to make the capture of the capital easier for the Rugens. He would start by returning to the Calza Aria inn of the Borel District to find Cid.
Even if the rebel leader had perished in the recent army sweeps through the slums, he might be able to find others like Lunfrid or the young Arnaut. Anyone whom he could harness in the service of the empire against the Donovards. Perhaps, if he was successful in assisting the Rugen capture of the city, he would be transferred out of the Wosmok Legion and back into the army as a reward.
121. ARTHAN
Clonmel Estate in Eglamour, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
“You must be careful with General Chaultion,” Serdot said as they walked from the palace to Clonmel. “He still has the loyalty of the army despite what Brugarn did to the soldiers with the Proclamation of Expediency.”
“The general meddles in political affairs too much for a man in charge of waging a war,” Arthan said.
“He is steeped in war and politics,” Serdot said. “Asteroth and Erath both favor the general more than they ever did Brugarn or Erech. Before the war, and especially now, no one has done more to get the twins more reinforcements and supplies than Chaultion.”
“So when one of them is crowned king, they’ll keep him despite his longtime service as Brugarn’s right hand?”
“That is certain,” Serdot said. “His power may rival yours, or eclipse it. Everything depends on the whim of the new king. But you have gained great respect among the nobles and the people, my lord. And you have the wealth of Delavon. Asteroth and Erath will try to contain your power while remaining dependent on your support.”
“How soon will the remaining lord ministers arrive to consult about a new king?”
“They are all wary, given the assassinations. But Sigbert and Eperude are already on the road. Henrey’s brother, the steward of Elmbrel, should be here by next month. Lord Ferin is still fighting with the Calbrians over the channel islands. And Lord Halevane is traveling abroad, in Austveeden, but he will likely come eventually.”
“Barely a quorum for the council,” Arthan said.
“At least you’ll have some time to get things in order here,” Serdot said. “I for one am eager to talk with Danleri.”
“As am I.”
When they arrived at Clonmel, Sir Debanor led them inside. A peculiar-looking gray-haired man was seated near Arthan’s table. His robe was a modest honey-and-brown weave, a pattern distinctly foreign. His features looked like a Donovard except for his thick mustache, which reminded Arthan of the Ovelians.
“Lord Valient,” Debanor said, “I present to you the ex-rector Danleri.”
Arthan extended his hand to the old man. “Welcome, thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Of course, my lord. I hope I can be of assistance in these dire times.”
“I’m sure you will be,” Arthan said, seating himself. “Serdot, please fetch Sir Livonier. And, Debanor, please stay as well. All of my top officers should be present for this discussion.”
Arthan noted that Danleri was not surprised at the attention. Arthan looked down at a stack of unopened letters on his table, including ones from Rowan and Meriam. They would have to wait. Livonier soon joined the group.
“You already know why I summoned you here?” Arthan began.
Danleri nodded confidently. “Candlestone.”
“What can you tell us about them?”
“I know little about the assassins of today. But I’ve studied their long history.”
“This was your work at Bredahade Academy in Wallevet?”
“More of a personal fascination,” Danleri said with a smile. “As a youth, I attended the academy, and Raymond Reimvick was my friend and classmate. I also knew his younger brothers, Edmond and Arasemis, very well. All of this killing has been Arasemis’s work, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, and Edmond supported him.”
Danleri nodded solemnly. “I always worried this could happen…I stayed at the academy to teach, as did Arasemis, while Raymond and Edmond joined the court of their lord minister father. Arasemis’s academic interests were an embarrassment to his father. But he was gifted not only in his studies, but also with the sword. If not for his becoming an expert in multiple schools of swordcraft, Arasemis’s father would never have let him stay at the academy.”
“What were these studies?” Arthan asked.
“I’ll get to that,” Danleri said. “You need to understand how Arasemis’s mind evolved in those early days. He was quirky and awkward, and both Raymond and Edmond had nothing but contempt for him. But the Burgbud War changed him.”
Serdot nodded. “The conflict between the Reimvicks and the Ganymyds.”
“That’s right. Before Eperude was appointed lord minister of Lundwynland, that ministry was still in the hands of the Lundwyn folk. Gaerte Ganymyd was their leader and believed he could take old ancestral lands from the Reimvicks. It was a short war, but the cadets and instructors at the academy participated.
“Having seen the slaughtering of whole Lundwyn villages, Arasemis openly spoke ill of his own father. He had always been adverse to authority, but now his attitude sharpened. Before Arasemis returned to the academy, he spent a lot of time with his grandfather, who was also a family pariah, shunted away at Thorendor.
“Once back at the academy, Arasemis twisted what I originally taught him about the ancient history of Pemonia. Gradually he introduced his own version of events to the cadets, including controversial stories about the Pemonian natives and their struggle against the Brintilian colonists. Many troubled years passed for Arasemis, but his status as the son—and later brother—of the lord minister
of Wallevet assured his place. Eventually the rector asked Raymond’s permission to dismiss Arasemis from the academy. Arasemis then exiled himself to Thorendor.”
“I’m guessing that by this time his grandfather was dead?” Arthan asked.
Danleri nodded. “I continued to visit Arasemis at Thorendor after I became rector of the academy. We still had many of the same scholarly interests, and I never gave up hope that he would change. Naive, of course.”
“So he planned all of this after his exile to Thorendor?” Arthan asked. “Were you not aware of what he was doing?”
“You could say Arasemis and I were two sides of the same coin. I believed studying the ancient arts of the natives informed us of our past, its lessons to be learned and evils to be avoided. Arasemis believed the ancient Pemonian ways were something to revive, something to be harnessed as a tool against tyranny and injustice. But he twisted it all, you see? His views are disturbed, mangled. He read what he wanted to in those ancient texts, then romanticized and glorified it all.”
“Did he reveal his plans to you?” Serdot asked.
“Never. Eventually he no longer welcomed our debates and became hostile. So I went to Raymond. He was aware of Arasemis’s fantasies but could not believe anything would come of them as long as Arasemis remained a hermit at Thorendor. I believe this was when Arasemis began recruiting cadets from the academy to train as his assassins.”
“So Raymond was glad to have Arasemis holed away at Thorendor,” Serdot said.
“Like their father, Raymond was ashamed of Arasemis. He preferred that Arasemis stay in the dark and quiet hills outside Bredahade. Raymond’s failure to understand what Arasemis was capable of—and my failure to convey that—led to Raymond being Arasemis’s first victim. I’m convinced of that.”
“Tell us about the cadets he recruited,” Arthan said.
“Looking back, when I was still visiting Arasemis at Thorendor, he was sharpening his knowledge of the arcanae but also experimenting. Even as rector of the academy I was, admittedly, jealous of his discoveries. He built a large alchemy laboratory, he refurbished the telescope atop the castle, and he converted a dining hall into what I later realized was a mechanically equipped training hall.
“Later, when two of our cadets, Garion and Marlan, disappeared from the academy, my gut told me that Arasemis had lured them to Thorendor. Both young men had been his students and were attracted to his controversial views. I knew Arasemis intended to train them, but I never guessed it would be for something like this…”
“That’s when you left the academy?” Serdot asked.
Danleri nodded. “Knowing trouble was brewing at Thorendor, I convinced myself that I was the only one who could—or would—do something about it. I left the academy to focus on my own research. Barred from the best texts kept at Thorendor, I came to Eglamour to sift through the archives of the royal academy and other places where few can still read the old books.”
“I heard from Pelinaud, my old instructor at Rachard who gave me your name, that you went looking for the Forlorn Smithy’s disappearing gauntlets. Was that part of your research? And did you find them?”
Danleri shifted in his seat. “That was part of my research, yes. But I prefer not to discuss that matter at this time…”
“All right…What about Arasemis? Why do you think he killed the royal family?”
“Simply put, he believes the divine right of kings is a method of control created by evil men. Arasemis believes the chieftaincies of ancient natives, such as the Gallerlanders, Rahlampians, and others, are preferable and even holy. And so he has armed himself with their political and war-making methods, melded those with the swordcraft he learned at Bredahade Academy, and warped young minds to believe in a world he intends to create: a rejection of modern ways and a return to ancient Pemonia. Overthrowing kings is the first step.”
“Why would you think that?” Arthan asked.
“It’s not what I think, it’s what I know. I debated him countless times. I just never thought he’d seek to make his ideas reality.”
“The ancient heathens were conquered by the Brintilian colonists,” Serdot said. “Why would he seek to reverse that?”
“Arasemis believes the arcanae was imbalanced between the Old and New Worlds at the time. The Pemonians experienced a fate that should never have been. He seeks to correct history. To correct the imbalance of arcanae.”
“What exactly is the arcanae?” Arthan asked.
“Simply a modern term for the abilities of ancient peoples—Old and New World—that are combined, honed, and mastered. The term was originally used by scholars and followers of specific schools of swordcraft as a method of organizing and teaching students. But Candlestone adopted it as dogma. A philosophy of knowledge and training toward self-perfection for the sole purpose of overthrowing kingdoms and empires.”
“The candle alchemy, wall running, and mechanical armor,” Arthan said. “All of this is arcanae?”
“Unorthodox, to be sure,” Danleri said with a nod. “More conventional are things like swordcraft, metallurgy, and shipbuilding. But combining and advancing these skills in creative ways yields new surprises. Anything unorthodox is now shunned in our society, though this has not always been so.” Danleri paused and cocked his head. “I’m surprised you’re not more familiar with the arcanae, given the sword on your belt.”
Arthan unsheathed the blade and laid it on the table for Danleri to examine. Danleri was startled and looked at it anew. “I thought you weren’t surprised by it?” Arthan asked.
“I thought this was an imitation, either gladed or treated. These original alchemical swords were supposedly lost long ago…” Danleri traced the symbols in the blade with his finger. “Too worn to read…” he muttered.
“There is more than one of these?”
“Eight, in fact, collectively known as glyphblades. Well, there used to be eight. Some were confirmed destroyed when such things fell out of favor and alchemy became a concealed endeavor.”
“My father secretly willed this to me,” Arthan said. “Can you tell me about it?”
Danleri raised his eyebrows. “Your father owned this? Oh my, that is interesting…The glyphblades were made for the eight original petty kings of what later became Donovan. After the strength of the Brintilian Empire faded, its provinces and colonies in Pemonia became independent. At the time, alchemical metallurgy was not shunned. It was valued and controlled by the powerful. These swords became a symbol of the petty kings’ unity against their enemies.”
“My father wrote in a letter that this one was made for the House of Valient when we ruled Delavon Kingdom.”
Danleri nodded. “That confirms unequivocally that it’s one of the eight.”
“Can you explain how it works? When I sweep the blade through smoke or heat it seems to absorb those elements until I cross swords.”
“Yes, that was an attribute of the eight. I’m not a practicing alchemist, but I do know a lot of the theory behind chemina arcana. That’s why Arasemis and I initially worked so well together. I knew the books and could speculate about reactions, whereas he would actually experiment. Now, let me see…”
Danleri picked up the sword, feeling its weight and balance. He pinched the blade and rubbed it. He gave it a scratch with his nail, then flicked it to hear the ting. He held the blade close to his eyes, then slowly pulled it away. “Aha, I see…”
“What?”
“The grooves are worn. On this sword they are called veins, but obviously they still work. You can see them here.”
Danleri put the glyphblade back on the table. From his robe pocket he pulled a convex lens and slid it up and down the blade. Arthan leaned in for a look.
“I see them,” he said. “They look like ivy, with tiny pinholes.”
“Made by forgotten masters,” Danleri said. “The absorptive nature of the Eigenark alloy is enhanced with alchemical and metallurgical processing
, then folded into the steel. Then a skilled etchingsmith with a steady hand made the veins and reservoir holes, which are coated with serpent varnish. This keeps the absorbed material in the reservoir until a metallic vibration triggers release. A sword is referred to as charged when it has absorbed material. In truth, these swords are always charged with common air, but obviously without noticeable effect.”
“The king used this one,” Serdot said, laying Rhunegeld next to Adrithayn. “We recovered it from his tower. We saw it charged with fire.”
Danleri nodded. “I’d always suspected that Rhunegeld was one of the eight, but I knew the Avaleaus would never let me inspect the royal relic. Of course, the Avaleaus have no idea how to use it. They’ve simply used it as a symbol of their power and lineage without really knowing why. It never left the palace, and rarely left its scabbard. Marvelously preserved,” he said, leaning over the blade with his lens.
“I intend to restore it to them, once Asteroth or Erath become king,” Arthan said. “Should I tell them of its hidden worth?”
“Arasemis had always hoped to find a glyphblade. If you make Rhunegeld’s secret known, Arasemis will probably come for it.”
“His assassins know about Adrithayn and are afraid of it.”
“That may be,” Danleri said, “but I know how his mind works. He has tried to make his own. He’s no blacksmith, and I doubt he’s been able to make Eigenark alloy, but he seems to have been successful with some metallurgical methods, probably treating or glading—or both. I heard about the one assassin with the flaming sword. But those who wield such weapons pay a price, namely burned hands and accidental fires.”
“Surely you’ve heard of the exotic armor used by the assassins,” Arthan said. “The burning man’s had glowing veins of fire.”
“Yes.” Danleri nodded. “I believe Arasemis found—or, less likely, built—wearable contraptions called mechans. They are special armors that were used by Candlestone warriors for centuries. They combine all aspects of aerina, chemina, and machina, which was the great goal of the Candlestone masters—including Arasemis. He must have found them somewhere, but where I could not guess. He had many treasure hunts planned.”
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