by C. M. Hayden
“His name is Aris. Tall guy, ratty hair. Kind of crazy. He wears a—”
“The magister.” Ashur looked like he’d scraped something disgusting off his boot.
“He is a magister, yes.”
“Everyone in the Downings knows about him. The kook’s on the south grate. Nobody wants him here, but he refuses to leave.”
“Maybe I can convince him to.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Thieves and Liars
Aris’ wagon was right where Ashur said it would be, surrounded by crate-homes. It was covered in trash and filth, and the words THEIVES and LIARS covered the front in what Taro hoped was brown paint.
Taro retrieved his inscriber from his pocket and wrote out a dispel that would keep the door from knocking him out.
Inside, the piles of junk were shoveled into the back corner. On a cot in the center of the floor was a young woman in the late stages of an illness.
Aris knelt beside her and took a long syringe from the counter. He stuck it into his arm, drew a full vial of blood, and injected it into her. Her symptoms eased immediately and she sat up, wobbling like the whole world rushed into focus. “Who are you?” she asked. “What did you do?”
“Go home,” Aris said flatly. When he went to open the door, he saw Taro. “Would it kill you to knock? Manners, boy.” He shuffled the dazed woman out.
“Does she have what I think she has?” Taro asked.
“Depends on what you think she has.”
“Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot. It’s the same sickness my mom and dad have, isn’t it?”
Aris washed his hands in a porcelain water basin. “I believe so.”
“How did she get it this far from Ashwick?”
“Let me ask you a better question. What kind of infectious disease only affects adults and completely ignores children.”
“There are plenty of diseases that only adults get—”
“No, no, no. You misunderstand. This is an illness that someone seventeen years, eleven months, and thirty days old cannot contract, but add one day to that number and it strikes them immediately.”
“That’s impossible.”
Aris batted him upside the head. “Are you an artificer or not? Use your brain, boy.”
Taro thought it over. “It’s not a natural sickness.”
“Very good.”
Taro pressed his back against the wagon wall. “But my parents...”
“You don’t think it’s odd that both your parents contracted the same illness at the same time, while you and your siblings remained untouched? No, they were lab rats for Halric and Vexis. It’s in the water.”
“That doesn’t add up. Vexis isn’t an adult, and she’s sick.”
“Unless she’s older than she appears.” Aris tapped his temple knowingly. “Magic-based diseases are horrendous amalgamations of alchemy and magistry. It shouldn’t be possible for an ordinary human.”
“Maybe she isn’t an ordinary human.”
Aris’ eyes perked. “Excuse me?”
“I went to visit Vexis’ sister. She’s locked in an asylum, completely mad. She had the same void magic as Vexis, but wasn’t in control. Something was inside of her.” He thought back to his time at the asylum. “‘Valon uru danik-es...and ith-something.’ That’s what it said to me.”
Aris rummaged through some shelves before he found one of the journals he’d stolen from Mathan’s back-alley mansion. He laid it on its cover and ruffled through the pages. When he found the one he needed, he spun the book around and pointed to a word. Ith-harus.
“That’s it,” Taro said.
“You’re certain that’s what she said?”
Taro nodded. “Without a doubt.”
Aris shook his head. “Afraid she’s just out of her mind.”
“Why?”
“Ith-harus is another name for Nuruthil. It was claiming to be Nuruthil.” Aris put the journal away.
“Maybe it was.”
“Claiming to be Nuruthil is like a homeless man claiming to be emperor of the world. It was probably a lesser lieutenant—a step above the void apparitions. Nuruthil wouldn’t waste his time speaking through a nothing girl to talk to a nothing like you.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s just a fact. It would be like going out of your way to stomp on an ant a thousand miles away. What would be the point?”
“Maybe Vexis is a bit more important than an ant.” Taro removed the green vial Vexis gave him. Is this why she wanted Aris’ memories gone? To avoid Taro finding out what she’d done to his mother and father?
“She has vials of your blood. Any idea how she got those?”
“She must’ve taken them when they were holding me. Maybe to resist her own disease.”
Taro handed the green vial to Aris. “I’m supposed to get you to drink this. It’s supposed keep your memories suppressed.”
While Aris examined the elixir, there was a thump at the door.
“Inspection. Open up!” a voice called from the other side.
Aris sat the vial on the counter. “Inspection, my ass.”
The warders barged in without further warning. They fished through Aris’ things, checked his packs, and patted him down. They pulled out mostly worthless junk: some bottle caps, a crock pot, and a ceramic beagle.
“Excuse me, those are family heirlooms,” Aris said, snatching back a circus poster. “You have no right to be in here.”
“Sit down,” the warder barked. “This lot is Magisterium property and, by order of the Imperator, all items are subject to search.”
The larger of the two warders checked Taro’s pockets, and found his aurom. “Who’d you manage to steal this from?”
“I didn’t steal it.”
“You expect us to believe you’re a magister?” Both warders laughed.
“Believe what you want.”
“I think we’d better bring them both back for questioning.”
Their captain appeared in the doorway. It was at this moment that Taro noticed what was going on outside. It wasn’t just Aris’ wagon being searched, warders rummaged through every crate and cot outside.
“Have you found anything?” the captain said.
“Not yet. But this one’s stolen a—”
“You’re not looking for thieves. Stop wasting time.”
The captain left and his men followed. The larger one tucked the aurom in his pocket.
“Give that back,” Taro shouted.
“I’ll be keeping it, for evidence.”
Taro snatched the aurom back and made a run for it. The crowds passed like a blur as he bolted. When he reached the soup line, he found Ashur and his family kneeling with their hands over the backs of their heads. The children sobbed as their father was put in chains. The mother tried to plead with the warders, but she was casually shoved aside.
Taro helped her up. “What’s going on here?”
She was in tears. “They’re arresting him.”
“What did he do?” Taro asked the warder.
The warder unfolded a piece of parchment that he’d gotten from the man’s pocket. It was propaganda written by Vexis supporters, urging Lower citizens to rise up.
The warder chasing Taro caught up and pointed a sweaty finger toward him. “Take that one, too.”
The warders herded Taro and a dozen others into armored carriages and hauled them to a jail complex downtown. The administrator entered minutes later, carrying a parchment with a wax seal. “By the authority of Imperator Amelia Ross, and the will of the Sun King, you have all been detained for conspiracy. If you wish to see your families again, all we want are names.”
One by one, they took the men into an interrogation room. Ashur sat on a stone bench, gripping the bars, waiting for his turn.
“What have I done?” He pressed his forehead against the bars. “I just need to tell them whatever they want to hear.”
Taro paused. “Give them me. Tell them I’m the one that re
cruited you, and I’ll play the part when they interrogate me.”
“They’d lock you up for the rest of your life, or worse.”
“Let me worry about that. You worry about your wife and kids.”
One of the warders pointed at Ashur. “You next.”
The cell opened and they ushered him into the interrogation room. He was in there a half-hour longer than the last man. When he was done, the interrogator pointed at Taro. “You.”
The room was small and bare, with nothing but a table and two chairs. The interrogator was a magister, though not one that Taro knew. He had a stiff, thin nose and greased hair combed over a bald spot. He was rummaging through his notes as he spoke.
“Good evening, I’m Magister Kubrin. I’ve heard an interesting tale...Taro, is it?”
This wasn’t the first time Taro had been interrogated. The warders in Ashwick questioned him on occasion, with no success. It used to be a point of pride, but this time he had to work for different results.
“So, you’re a pretty piss-poor interrogator,” Taro said, leaning back in his chair.
Kubrin set his pen down. “Excuse me?”
Taro pivoted the seat. “I just saw you talk to Ashur. So, now I know he squealed.”
“You admit your ties to Vexis?”
“I’ll only talk to Imperator Ross herself.”
Kubrin scoffed. “Out of the question.”
“All right, but you don’t know the opportunity you’re passing up. I know where Vexis is.”
Kubrin’s eyes perked. “You’d be willing to tell us?”
Taro tapped the table. “I’ll only talk to Ross.”
Kubrin thought about it for a long moment, then laced his fingers. “If you’re wasting my time, I’ll make sure you wind up in the deepest, darkest dungeon in Endra.”
Taro was put into shackles, placed back in the cell.
It was nine hours before Taro got any kind of update. While he waited, he played cards with the other prisoners. Generally speaking, the nicer the man, the poorer the cardplayer. Unfortunately for these gentleman, they were all very nice.
Taro slapped down his hand face-up. “Full house. Aces over jacks.”
“Damn it,” one said.
“Wild cards are a bad idea,” Taro said. “They muck up the game. That’s four pence from you, three from you, and seven from you. The second we’re out of here, I’m coming to get paid.”
A middle-aged man with a long curly mustache, shuffled the cards and passed two to each person in the group. “The way things are going, I don’t think we’ll be getting out of here any time soon.”
The sounds of rattling keys rang from the cellblock door. Magister Ross entered with Kubrin. When she saw Taro, it seemed to take her time to notice who he was. The clothes, the hair, the smudges on his face obscured him, but she finally figured it out.
“Taro?” she said, then changed her tone to be more accusatory. “Come with me.”
Ross brought Taro back into the interrogation room and told Kubrin to stay outside.
“What the devil are you doing here?” Ross said as soon as the door shut. “And what the hell are you wearing?”
“They arrested me for stealing an aurom,” Taro said.
Ross laughed aloud. “Dressed like that, I’m not surprised. Your work clothes, I presume. I’ll talk to Kubrin and have you released. You couldn’t have had them summon a lower-ranking magister for this?”
“I thought you might be interested in what I’ve learned about Vexis.”
Ross rapped her fingers on the table. “I’m listening.”
“Her supporters are corrupting the waterways in the lower city with some kind of disease.”
“Disease?” Ross said. “There hasn’t been a disease in Endra Edûn in centuries. The Arclight would purge it in seconds.”
“But the Arclight is broken. Maybe this was the reason. Without it, the sickness is free to spread. Look at the Sun King, he’s dying. I think Vexis infected him.”
Ross looked unsettled by this. “To what end?”
“The murder of the Sun King, unrest in the lower city, what more of an end does she need?”
“If that’s the case, there may not be much time. The Sun King’s on his last leg. He’s dying, Taro.”
“How much time does he have? Months?”
“I’d be surprised if he lasts the week.”
Chapter Thirty-three
The Will of the Sun King
Taro wished he’d changed into something more suitable before trying to enter the palace. The warder at the gate wouldn’t even entertain letting him pass.
“You let me in just a few weeks ago,” Taro said. “I’m a friend of Kyra.”
“Sure you are, kid.”
It was only through a stroke of luck that Axel was leaving at that very moment. Taro reached through the wrought bars of the courtyard wall and waved to get his attention. Axel’s first reaction, as you might expect, was to hurry off as fast as possible; however he soon recognized Taro under all the grim and dirt.
“Gods above,” he said, approaching.
The warder grabbed Taro by the shirt and was prepared to yank him from the bars. “Can you please tell these gentlemen that I’m a friend of Kyra?” Taro pleaded.
Axel gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m afraid he is. I don’t understand it either, but you’d better let him in.”
The warder released him, and Taro smoothed out his shirt. “Thank you.”
“Kyra was studying in the palace library last I saw,” Axel said. “I’d better escort you, or you’re liable to get thrown out again.”
Taro may have thought of Axel as a snob, but that wasn’t exactly fair. Axel could’ve chosen to ignore him, or even have him arrested (again) if he wished. Axel’s manners may have been lacking, the fact that he did neither of these things spoke to his character.
As they neared the library, Taro spoke up. “Thank you for helping me.”
“It’s little bother,” Axel said. “I was only fetching His Majesty’s medicine, not exactly a long journey.”
“Is he doing any better?”
Axel shook his head. “I don’t understand why he’s deteriorating as he is; he’s not that old.”
“You people really don’t have much experience with illnesses, do you?”
“This is the first time I’ve ever seen one in person. Are they especially common in the rest of the world?”
“Fairly common.”
“How dreadful.”
Axel paused with his hand on the library door. He glanced through a crack, then whispered to Taro. “I see her. Be exceptionally tactful, she’s not in the best of spirits.”
Kyra was the only person inside. She sat at an old desk with her nose buried in a huge genealogy book.
She’d been crying recently, but when she saw him she seemed genuinely happy. She pushed her book aside and picked at his clothes. “You’re trying to give Axel a heart attack, aren’t you?”
“Sorry, just got out of jail.”
Kyra gave him a crooked look; she wasn’t quite sure if he was joking. “I’m not even going to ask.”
“Studying?” Taro asked.
“Not quite. Just reading up on some family history.”
“Sounds...interesting?”
“It’s boring as all hell, actually. I’m just trying to keep my mind off...well, you know. I really want to be with him right now, but he doesn’t like me seeing him as he is.”
Taro was happy that he didn’t have to bring up the subject of her father first. “My parents are very ill, too.”
“Both of them?”
Taro nodded. “For almost a year now. Believe me, I know how it feels.”
Kyra scooted her chair closer to him and slid her arm around his back. She then slumped her cheek onto his shoulder. “Does it get any easier?”
“A bit. But it’s a lot like this—” He motioned toward his mechanical leg. “—you get used to the pain, after a while.”
<
br /> “You stop feeling it?”
“No, you just stop fearing it.”
“When Magister Ross leaves, I think I’ll go read to him,” Kyra said, closing the book on the table. “He’ll hate it, but I can be quite persuasive.”
“Ross is talking to your father right now?”
“She might be gone by now. They seemed pretty upset with each other when I passed by earlier.”
“Why don’t we take a walk and see?”
Kyra laughed. “You can’t help but eavesdrop, can you? Didn’t I yell at you for this very thing during admissions?”
“I prefer to think of it as being exceptionally curious. Besides, that was completely different.”
“How so?”
“Number one, we’re not in the Magisterium. And number two, you’ll be with me.”
It didn’t take too much coaxing to get Kyra to come with him. As they neared the Sun King’s chambers, Taro could already hear raised voices echoing through the wide halls. The door was cracked just enough for Taro to see Magister Ross, standing at the Sun King’s bedside, with her arms clasped behind her back. The Sun King was propped up on his bed, sweating and shaking.
“Out of the question,” he said, cutting the air with his hand. “I won’t allow you.”
Ross spoke firmly. “This is a threat unlike any we’ve ever faced. We must respond, accordingly.”
“Sealing off the lower city would spark chaos.”
“Chaos is coming, whether we want it or not. The lower city is infested with Vexis’ supporters, not to mention a hideous disease. You yourself can see just how devastating it is.”
The Sun King pressed his hand to his chest, like he was having trouble breathing. His veins were inflamed. “Find another way.”
“Your Majesty, I’m afraid I must insist.”
The Sun King glared at her with furious eyes. “You would defy me?”
“I’d rather us appear united, but I won’t allow this infestation to continue. I don’t need your permission to command my magisters and artificers.”
“The Magisterium will follow my orders,” the Sun King said.
Ross clenched her fist behind her back. “Is that a path you want to go down? Their king telling them one thing, and their imperator telling them another? You spoke of chaos a moment ago, what sort of chaos will that bring?”
