“Annat?”
“Aye, him.” Killian nodded, a movement that elicited a wince. “He was the leader of the Syndicate Crewmen set to expand into the Artisan’s Tier.”
Evren’s eyes narrowed. “Just one small crew for the whole tier?” In Vothmot, the city had been divided by the local street gangs into nearly twenty different territories, each ruled by crews ranging from ten to a hundred thieves, thugs, and killers. It seemed impossible that just forty men could run a sector of Shalandra the size of the Artisan’s Tier.
“Think of them as an expeditionary force.” Killian pressed a finger to his bloody lip, wincing. “They were set to deal with the Black Widow and, evidently, me. Maybe they thought my Mumblers might be a threat or just wanted me out of the way. But whatever the case, Annat and his crew were operating on their own here in the Artisan’s Tier, under orders from Blackfinger.”
“Blackfinger?” Evren cocked an eyebrow. “Let me guess, he’s the top dog of the Syndicate?”
“That’s the one.” Killian sighed and leaned back in the chair. “He runs everything, but he lets his crew leaders handle the day to day business. Which is good, because it means Annat probably didn’t tell Blackfinger everything he knew about me and my Mumblers.”
“I sense a ‘but’,” Evren said.
“But, the fact that Annat and his crew were wiped out by the Indomitables means the Ybrazhe are going to step up their efforts to turn the people against the soldiers.”
Evren had seen the angry glares and muttered curses hurled at the Indomitable patrols. The Ybrazhe were clearly working overtime to stir up unrest among the lower castes.
“And Annat’s death doesn’t mean the Artisan’s Tier is safe,” Killian continued. “Blackfinger’s just going to see it as a setback. He’ll double down on his efforts, which means next time we’ll have to deal with twice as many men.”
“So what are you going to do?” Evren asked.
“Do?” Killian pretended surprise at the question.
“Yes, do.” Evren gave a derisive snort. “Don’t bother trying to pull the ‘innocent artisan’ shite on me, Killian. You and I both know that you’ve already started working on a plan to piss in the Syndicate’s porridge. So, Partner, tell me what you’re planning and maybe there’ll be something I can do to help.”
“You want to help me?” This time the surprise was genuine. “Even though it means you’ll be going up against the Syndicate again?”
Evren shrugged. “A punch knocks them down as well as anyone else I’ve met.”
“And what of your quest for the Blade of Hallar?” Killian asked. “You would give that up?”
“No.” Evren shook his head. “I’ll still keep working on that.” He shot Killian a wry grin. “But if I’ve got a few extra minutes of spare time here and there, I figured I might as well do what I can to help.”
Truth be told, he couldn’t do much about it himself. He was counting on Briana and Hailen to decipher the riddles in Suroth’s journal before the Anointing of the Blades, just over two weeks away.
For a moment, Killian said nothing, simply fixed him with that piercing, appraising stare of his. Evren met the man’s gaze without hesitation. He had nothing to hide, no secrets to conceal from the blacksmith. Killian knew what he wanted and what he was willing to do. In a way, that meant Killian knew him as well as anyone else in Shalandra. That made him as close to a friend as he had with Briana, Aisha, and Kodyn.
The tension in Killian’s face relaxed. “So be it.” The smile that spread his face held genuine warmth, and he extended his hand. “We are, after all, partners, right?”
Evren shook hard enough to make the blacksmith wince. “So, what’s the plan, then?”
Killian stood and bustled deeper into the shadows of the forge. When he reappeared, he moved with surprising speed, appearing far less injured than he had minutes earlier. Evren couldn’t help admiring the blacksmith’s brazenness. The pained act had been nothing more than a façade to dissuade the Indomitables from asking too many questions.
Which reminded him. “What did you say to that Dictator?”
Killian gave him a sly smile. “Secrets only hold power as long as they remain so. Which is why I keep this so well-hidden.” He set a book on the table—the proverbial “little black book” to a tee, even down to its palm-width size and the black-dyed leather cover. Opening it, he flipped through the pages, his expression musing.
Evren tried to sneak a peek at the book’s contents but found it was written in what looked like gibberish—likely a cipher similar to that used by Arch-Guardian Suroth. In fact, it looked almost exactly like the cipher Suroth had used. So close that they could almost be identical, though it would take a Secret Keeper to tell for sure.
Just one more mystery to add to the list. From the first time they met, Killian had proven himself an enigma. A blacksmith who recruited children to spy on the highest-ranked people in the city. A cripple who could fight with the skill of a trained warrior. An artisan that could forge masterpieces like his marvelous leg brace triple staff and the handheld crossbows hanging on the wall. A collector of secrets who had a mind and temperament like a Secret Keeper, and perhaps the knowledge of one as well.
Curiosity burned within Evren. He desperately wanted to know the truth of Killian—who in the bloody hell was this blacksmith? Yet he knew he would only see as much as Killian allowed him to. The time might one day come when Killian told him more, but until then, all that mattered was that they understood each other.
“Here!” Killian shot Evren a fierce grin and tapped a finger against a page of the book. “Over the years, I’ve been slowly collecting a store of information on the Ybrazhe, and Blackfinger specifically. I knew a day like today would come, and I fully intended to be prepared to deal with the Syndicate when it did.”
“So you’ve got everything we need to take them down?” Evren asked with an answering grin.
Killian’s lips pressed into a disapproving line. “Not quite. But what I do have is enough to form the beginnings of a plan.” He tapped a finger against the scribbles inked onto the pages of his book of secrets. “Not only to find Blackfinger, but to dismantle his operation from the ground up.”
Evren’s jaw dropped. When he recovered, he spat out, “If you’ve had this all along, why haven’t you done anything with it?”
“Because the time wasn’t right,” Killian replied simply. “I knew the Ybrazhe had someone powerful backing them. High-ranked Dhukari for certain, possibly even someone on the Keeper’s Council. Given what I found out about Councilor Angrak, I was right. Angrak’s related to Blackfinger—half-brothers from the same father. Either the Council didn’t know, or they simply didn’t care.”
The blacksmith’s face hardened. “But now that Angrak’s been removed from the Nizaa board, the Syndicate has lost one of their chief backers and protectors. They’re vulnerable, and now is the time to make our move!”
“And what move is that, pray tell?” Evren folded his arms. This is going to be good.
Killian opened his mouth to speak, but whatever words had formed on his lips died when the door burst open and a young boy, no older than five or six, raced into the smithy.
“Come quick!” the boy shouted. “It’s Issel, Rubal, Voris, everyone hiding in the safe house on the Slave’s Tier!”
Killian was on his feet in an instant. “What? What’s happened? Did the Syndicate get them?”
“N-No.” The boy’s face was white as a sheet, his eyes round as the fancy dinner plates Evren had spent hours polishing in Suroth’s mansion. “It’s the Rot. It’s got them. All of them.” He raised trembling hands to show Killian. “All of us.”
Evren sucked in a breath as he saw the blue scabbed, pus-oozing blisters that marred the boy’s skin—not just on his hands, but all the way up his bare arms and shoulders. Horror writhed within Evren as blue flooded the boy’s veins like blue fingers that crept up his face.
The boy coughed once, spewing a fine mist of
blood. “Help…Killian!”
With those words, he collapsed. Crimson leaked from his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears as he twitched weakly twice, then fell forever still and silent.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Confusion whirled within Aisha as she tried to understand why the spark of the Secret Keeper’s life hadn’t yet dissipated. With Radiana, the passage into Pharadesi had been instantaneous. The moment she had fulfilled her purpose—protecting her daughter—her energy had dissolved, her soul gone to join the Kish’aa in eternity.
Yet Aisha could still feel the Secret Keeper’s spirit within her. Weaker now, lacking the overwhelming emotions that had flooded her as she spoke to Uryan, but still there. Pounding in the back of her mind like a nagging headache that refused to leave.
No, not refused. Can’t. The spirits wouldn’t find rest until they had completed their purpose. Something was keeping Thimara bound to this world. But what?
She tried to push past the pain as she followed Briana, Hailen, and their Secret Keeper minders down the short hall. The plain stone tunnel ran for thirty paces before opening onto a small suite of rooms.
The chamber she stepped into gave austere a whole new meaning. The walls were bare, devoid of any decorations beyond smooth, featureless stone. The only comforts—and that was taking extreme liberties with the word—in the rooms were a desk with two chairs, twin beds of straw mattresses atop hard stone, and a small wooden armoire.
“We will have furnishings brought in for your companions,” Ennolar told Briana in the silent hand language. “All of your needs will be provided for, as long as you do not attempt to breach the sanctity of the Temple’s secrets.”
“I gave my word,” Briana’s fingers replied. “We will fulfill our end of the bargain.”
“Very well.” Ennolar’s expression softened. “It is good to know you are safe, Briana. Your father would be pleased at your presence here. He...” He trailed off a moment, drew in a deep breath. “He was a great man, beloved by many.”
“He always spoke highly of you.” Briana smiled. “Once, he actually told me he was pleased that you would succeed him as Arch-Guardian.”
Ennolar shook his head. “That was a task I never desired, but one I now must bear to honor his memory.”
“I, too, honor his memory.” Briana lifted her head. “His knowledge must not be lost to the world.”
“Indeed, for Einan would be a poorer, darker place without it.” With a sad smile, Ennolar turned to leave the chambers. He paused at the door and half-turned. “Perhaps you may find that the life of a Secret Keeper is not as bad as you feared, child. Knowledge is, in its own way, a reward unto itself.”
“Only if placed into the right hands. My father knew that, which is why he shared with me what he learned, or wrote it in his journal so I could one day follow his footsteps.”
Ennolar nodded. “He was a wise man, your father. Though it was a choice that went against everything we believed, everything he believed, it may very well be that it turns out to be the right choice in the end.” He inclined his head then strode from the room, his shoulders stooped as if beneath a great burden. The rest of his Secret Keepers filed out behind him with that same eerie silence, and the door slid shut without a sound.
Briana let out a long breath and turned to survey their room. “So this is home now.” She gave Hailen a smile, clearly forced. “Not so bad.”
Hailen nodded, his grin equally strained. “Yeah, not so bad.” He glanced around and gave a little laugh, clearly forced. “And to think I came to Shalandra to escape a temple.”
“At least we’re still alive.” Aisha tried to inject a hint of brightness into the gloomy atmosphere of the chambers. “And we’ve got your father’s journals and the Serenii artifacts.”
Both Hailen and Briana’s faces brightened slightly.
Aisha took the sack from Briana and, pulling it open, strode over to the bed. She tipped up the sack to empty its contents onto the bed when suddenly a jolt of power coursed through her. Energy rippled along her arms, down her chest, and into the core of her being with such force that it drove the breath from her lungs.
“Aisha!” The cry from behind her sounded distant, faint.
She dimly felt her knees strike the hard stone, everything around her had gone dark, a numb haze pressing in around her. One object remained solid, unmoving despite the whirling fog: a silver necklace that bore a black stone barely wider than her middle finger.
Her hand seemed to move of its own accord, her fingers reaching out toward the obsidian-colored stone. The moment her fingers touched it, color flared to life within its depths. The smooth surface changed from a dull black to a familiar blue-white.
But what surprised her most of all was the sudden feeling as if life had been sucked out of her. Not her own life, but the three sparks that burned within her. She could almost see the faces swirling in the stone’s surface—Thimara, Eldesse, and Osirath, staring at her with empty eyes and pleading expressions.
Then suddenly she was falling back, collapsing atop Hailen and Briana. She gasped for air, her mind reeling. Sensation suddenly returned to her limbs and she could feel their hands gripping her arms.
“Wh-What?” She blinked and shook her head, as if trying to shake the fog from her mind.
“That’s what I want to know!” Briana’s eyes were wide, her face pale. “What in the fiery hell happened?”
Aisha’s eyes went to the necklace, and to the stone. Once black, now a brilliant blue-white. “I…” She trailed off. She had no idea how to explain what had just happened. She didn’t even understand it. All she knew was that she could no longer feel the spirits’ presence inside her body. She studied her hands and found them normal. The sparks of the Kish’aa had gone, as if pulled out of her and into the stone.
“One second you were standing, the next you were on your knees,” Briana’s voice faded into the background. “It was like you were in a trance and…”
Aisha reached toward the stone, everything else around her becoming a shapeless, silent blur as she stared at the dancing light. She clenched her teeth the moment before her fingers touched the stone, again expecting the agony. Yet there was no pain this time. The energy sizzled through her skin and shot up her arms, blazing along her veins and setting her nerves crackling. But no pain. Just…power.
And clarity. She could feel the three distinct presences within the pendant: Thimara the Secret Keeper, Eldesse the chambermaid, and Osirath the guard. She could actually hear their voices as clear as if she’d just taken a full dose of Whispering Lily. Their emotions surged like a tidal wave within her, at once a part of her yet somehow separate, as if a barrier protected her.
The moment she broke contact with the stone, the sensations retreated, the emotions faded, and the crackling energy diminished. She stared down at her hands, eyes wide.
What is this stone?
This time she lifted the necklace from the bed, nestling it in the palm of her hand. The voices of the three spirits echoed in her mind.
“Vengeance,” whispered Thimara.
“Forgiveness,” echoed Eldesse and Osirath.
Suddenly, Aisha understood what the two wanted, as clear as if someone had shouted the truth in her ear.
“They didn’t betray you.” The words burst from her lips. Her eyes fixed on Briana’s. “Eldesse and Osirath. They want you to know that. No, they need you to know that.”
Briana gasped, a hand rising to her lips. “W-What?” Her words came out faint, shocked.
“Eldesse and Osirath, they didn’t betray you to the Gatherers as you and your father suspected.” Emotions surged within her, not as strong as Radiana’s but equally impossible to ignore. Tears slid down Aisha’s cheeks—not her own, Eldesse’s. Osirath’s anger formed her fingers into a clenched fist. “They were killed by the Gatherers the night you were taken the first time. They tried to fight, both of them. But they were betrayed by Samall. He stabbed Osirath in the back, and Eldesse w
hen she tried to scream to warn you. Even as Eldesse lay dying, she tried to fight Samall. They wanted you to know that. Wanted you to…forgive them.”
Suddenly, the flow of words fell silent, as if a dam had been blocked off. She gasped, a long breath leaving her lungs with the force of a hurricane. Twin sparks of energy crackled along Aisha’s hands, danced through her fingers, then formed into little blue-white wisps in front of her eyes.
They were so beautiful, the two of them. Eldesse with her lustrous locks, sharp nose, and twinkling eyes; Osirath’s strong jaw and confident smile.
In that moment, she could almost see every detail of the life they’d lived: growing up among the Earaqi, falling in love as teenagers, living together, serving Suroth as husband and wife. Never father and mother—sorrow flashed through Aisha at this thought—yet with love to spare for their master’s daughter. Pride at watching Briana the child grow into Briana the young woman. A strong desire to protect her, to watch over her, to serve as her shield from sorrow and strong guard from danger. A love shared with each other, a bond so strong it remained unbroken in the beyond. Eldesse and Osirath remained intertwined in death, twin spirits joined by life. They smiled at her, gratitude filling their empty eyes, then faded away into nothing.
Aisha drew in a long, shuddering breath, and the world around her suddenly swam into focus. She knelt on the floor in front of the sparse bed in that gloomy room within the Temple of Whispers. Hailen stared at her open-mouthed, and shock twisted Briana’s face.
“H-How….” Briana seemed at a loss for words. Her eyes went from Aisha’s face to the silver necklace with its stone pendant.
Aisha glanced down. The stone had lost some of its brightness, yet the blue-white light remained. She could still feel the spark of Thimara’s life within, her desire for vengeance. Yet Eldesse and Osirath had gone. They had passed on their message and journeyed into the beyond.
And somehow, impossibly, this strange Serenii stone had helped.
Her eyes lifted to Briana’s, and the Shalandran girl gasped. “Aisha, your eyes!”
Crucible of Fortune: An Epic Fantasy Young Adult Adventure (Heirs of Destiny Book 2) Page 41
