by C. M. Hayden
Books from the Tombs were only allowed to be removed by fully commissioned magisters, but he was confident he could return the book before Moira ever noticed it was gone.
It was The Forty Truths of Ishal Valharis. He skimmed it idly, and decided that Mr. Valharis was a bit of a nut. Most of the ‘truths’ seemed like philosophical nonsense. The twentieth truth was where he closed the book:
It’s an often repeated lie that familial bonds are the strongest. Some swear by them. Some claim an other-worldly connection with their siblings or nonsense of that order. These can be dismissed as flights of fancy. Artifices of civilization.
In the wild, animals often exhibit what we would perceive as familial love. Some wild cats will grow up nurtured by their mothers, surrounded by their siblings; but should one stray from the pack for too long and attempt to rejoin, it will be summarily eaten or maimed by its ‘family.’ It’s no longer a part of them. The blood connection is irrelevant; what matters is the perception of the group.
Conversely, there have been recorded instances of unfaithful wives giving birth to children from a man other than her husband. The father, oblivious to the indiscretion, loves the child as if it were his own. Would that love fade if he found out the truth?
Who do you love more, your brother or your best friend? What if your brother tried to kill you, who then? Here, then, is my twentieth truth: Do not trust in blood, trust only in yourself.
Chapter Five
Unbreakable Bonds
Now that Taro was an artificer, Magisterium lessons were much less structured. Whereas before there was a specific course curriculum, he now had far more freedom in what he chose to pursue. Once a recruit became an artificer, they were expected to explore the different sciences and decide where they wanted to be placed. To raise to the next rank, a tribune, they needed a commissioned magister as a sponsor.
Taro’s heart was with artificing; but with Kyra as the head of the department, he didn’t put much hope in it. She didn’t treat him badly or unfairly, rather she treated him just like any other artificer. When he walked into the Artificium a half-hour late, she simply motioned for him to sit as she scribbled a long string of calculations on the blackboard with a nib of chalk.
“Glad you could make it,” she said, looking over the blackboard like she’d lost her place. “Since you’re clearly an expert on this already, perhaps you’d like to explain to your fellow artificers the templuric amplification principle.”
Taro fumbled his words. “I’m sorry, Ky—”
“Magister,” Kyra corrected.
“Sorry. Magister,” Taro said softly. He sat next to Ven and Suri, and set his copy of Conduction and Templuric Transference onto the desktop. “And sorry for being late. It won’t happen again.
“You’re already late, don’t add lying to your list of failings, too. Turn to page 617.” Kyra found where she’d been at and finished the equation. “As I was saying, with the right combinations of runes we can increase our normal two hundred percent amplification to as much as five hundred percent. Now, that’s especially important when it comes to motion enchantments. Can anyone tell me why?”
Ven raised his hand and was acknowledged. “Motion enchantments are the most common parts of most machinery. They often use the most energy, too. The better the runic leys, the less templuric energy needed to make it work.”
Kyra nodded appreciatively. “Exactly right.” She wrote two runes on the blackboard: val and ko in a typical rightward motion enchantment configuration. Beside it, she wrote another, but this one was composed of twelve runes arranged in a complex pattern. She pointed to one, then to the other as she spoke. “What are the pros and cons of these?”
Ven pointed to the simple one on the left. “That one will give you two hundred percent transference.” He pointed to the complicated one. “That one will give you maybe twice that.”
“Then why would anyone use the first?” Kyra asked.
“Simplicity?” Yorric called from the back row. His Sahaalan accent was as thick as ever.
“In a way,” Kyra said. She tapped the blackboard with her knuckle. “Take an airship for example. Each gear could be inscribed with something like this. But if even one of those inscriptions is off, or damaged, it could be catastrophic. The simpler the enchantment, the less chance of failure due to human error or just general wear and tear. Remember, efficiency is important, but we can’t ignore that, at our core, we’re only human.”
When Kyra’s lecture was over, they were given free time in the Artificium to mill about on their own projects. While Ven continued to work on his most recent project, Taro filled him in on what happened in the Conservatorium. Ven was in a much more attentive mood than he was the day before.
“You’re on thin ice with Kyra. Don’t give her more reasons to hate you,” he said.
“You think she hates me?” Taro said meekly.
“Umm…yes?” Ven said, as if he were talking to a simpleton. “Gods below, and Suri thinks I’m thick. Almost getting Kyra’s father killed officially shuts the door to any future relationships with her. Just drop it. At least until I’ve gotten my promotion, then you can do whatever the hell you want.”
Taro patted him on the back overly hard. “You’re a true friend, you know that?”
Ven gave an exaggerated smile. “I do try, lover-boy. Try taking my advice for once, though. You’ll be a lot happier, I promise.”
Chapter Six
The Sun King’s Advisors
Taro approached the gate to the Sun King’s palace with trepidation. Even after visiting several times, it was an imposing place. Since the restoration of the Arclight, life had returned to the once desolate courtyard. The gardens were in full spring; vines crept through the wrought iron fences and up the high, gray stone walls. A hundred stained-glass windows lined the arcing walls, many covered with foliage.
There were scaffolding structures on the sides and top of the building; stonemasons and other craftsmen were hard at work restoring the brick façade and marble statues that had been weathered by the ice and snow. They’d made good headway in a rather short time, and most had already been repaired.
By now the warders at the main gate knew who Taro was; but even so, nobody got to see the Sun King without an invitation. This meeting, however, was planned ahead.
“The Sun King’s expecting me,” Taro said with exaggerated confidence.
The warder glanced briefly at a leather ledger tucked under his arm. He gave it a ritualistic glance. “He’s in the library in the southern wing. Allow me to escort you, young sir.”
The warder walked him through the foyer and into the grand gallery. The air was crisp and smelled of potpourri; all around, colored light flooded in from circular stained-glass windows on the slanted ceiling. Long tapestries attached to ropes raised and lowered over these as necessary, giving the semblance of night and day without the aid of magistry glass. At that moment, all of them were open, causing the polished floor to gleam like it’d been carved from solid diamond.
It was much busier on the inside than it had been in the past. The restoration of the palace apparently extended to the interior as well, as dozens of artisans and craftsmen were hard at work there, too.
At that moment, the murals on the ceiling were being re-touched and the cracked buttresses were being filled in with mortar. Taro stared straight up as he walked, watching the painters touching up the faded colors. It was an image of the classical Old Gods—Sarona, Amín, Irenim, Terithoth, and Lorendamu. The dark god Nuruthil was, of course, conspicuously absent. The other gods were circled around a series of five stars. It was a common image in Endran religious architecture; however, this one was particularly detailed and breathtaking, and the original must have taken decades to complete.
The south wing wasn’t far. When they arrived, the warder opened the door and ushered Taro to enter without him. The Sun King was inside, leaning over a table with old scrolls unfurled over the top. Nearby were two advisors Ta
ro had never met. One was a tall, thin man with a pointed beard. The other was large and muscular, and wore warder armor with a general’s insignia on his left shoulder.
They seemed to be in a heated conversation, but quieted down when they noticed Taro enter. All at once, the men’s eyes were on him.
“Ah, Taro,” the Sun King said. His voice was warm, but Taro heard concern lurking beneath the surface.
Taro approached and the two men shook his hand. The Sun King looked better than he’d ever seen him. He was no longer frail and sickly; his muscle mass had returned, and his voice was strong and carried the weight of authority.
Taro glanced at the scrolls on the table. They were extremely old and so brittle they looked like a stiff breeze could blow them to pieces. Some of the scrolls were in Deific, and some were in old Amínnic. Through a year of language and calligraphy lessons in the Magisterium, Taro’s Deific was good enough to make out several important words on the headers, and he reasoned that these were copies of the treaties Arangathras had mentioned.
“Gavin, Fenris, you’ve heard of Mr. Taro,” the Sun King gestured at both of them. The warder-general was Gavin, and the tall thin advisor was Fenris, who the Sun King introduced as his royal chequer.
“Pleasure,” Fenris said dismissively. He had a permanent frown on his face, and Taro felt very unsettled by his demeanor.
Gavin gave Taro a token nod, but didn’t seem interested in pleasantries. Instead, he picked up where their conversation left off. “Your Majesty, the law is clear on this. We must honor our commitment.”
Fenris tapped one finger on the table. “She is a Helian citizen. The Shahl has no doubt already dispatched an envoy, and when they find we’ve passed her off like a party favor, he’ll demand retribution.”
“To hell with him,” the general said. “That sycophant has no standing here.”
“This is the first we’ve seen of the dragons in centuries,” Fenris said, holding up one crooked finger. “We deal with the Helians every day, and we share a rather contentious border. Vexis is still quite popular with the Helian refugees living here in the capital. Us punishing her is one thing, us giving her up to have her soul shattered is quite another. Do we want riots in the street again?”
The Sun King put his hand over his mouth. “How will Sivion react if we refuse to hand Vexis over? That’s the question.”
“We cannot act out of fear,” Fenris said.
“I disagree. Fear can be a useful tool,” General Gavin said. “To be frank, Your Majesty, if the dragons willed it, they could’ve taken her by force already.”
The Sun King waved for them to leave. “I’ll think on it. Give me a few moments with the boy.” His advisors left, and he managed a weak smile in Taro’s direction. “It’s good to see you, lad. General Gavin tells me your father is doing well. Talthis, his name is?”
Taro nodded. “He’s anxious to get back to work.”
“I can imagine. And you have two younger brothers too, is that right?”
Taro nodded again. He was surprised that the Sun King kept such close tabs on him. “The oldest, Decker, started school last month. I set him up at Saint Aeyn’s Primary School on Fourth Street.”
“My brother Landen went there when he was a boy. Decker must be a smart one,” the Sun King said, making it a question.
“I’d say so…” Taro gave him a curious look.
“Is something wrong?”
“It’s just, I thought you’d be more interested in my meeting with Sivion and—”
The Sun King chuckled. “I enjoy hearing about the small things in life. Having one’s head full of politics and war detracts from what really matters.” He motioned for Taro to follow him out of the library and into the gallery, which was still buzzing with workers and patrolling warders.
As they passed, the Sun King greeted every warder by name. He stopped and shook their hands every now and again, and would introduce them. Not only did he know their name, in many cases he knew their wife’s and children’s names too, and would ask about some innocuous bit of their lives.
“Gerric,” the Sun King said, shaking a young warder’s hands.
“Y-your Majesty,” the young man said. He was perhaps nineteen years old.
“Has your wife had the baby yet?” the Sun King asked.
“Not yet, sire. Due any day now though.”
“Be sure to take a few days off when it happens. I’ll speak with your captain if you need me to.”
Gerric fumbled his words a bit and thanked the Sun King several times.
Taro and the Sun King continued into one of the quieter halls. The Sun King continued greeting several warders along the way, all by name.
“How do you remember them all?” Taro asked.
“I can’t always. But I try my best,” the Sun King said. “I got it from my father, you see. He was a remarkable man. He had a mind like a vice grip, and he remembered every man that ever served him, even decades later. He used to say to me, ‘Lad, being king starts at the bottom.’ I try to never forget that. So tell me, how’s Decker doing?”
“His teachers say he’s got a knack for arithmetic and language.”
“Ah,” the Sun King said knowingly. “Maybe we’ve got ourselves another Magisterium recruit on our hands?”
Taro grinned. “Maybe one day.”
The sound of bells chimed outside. Eleven rings to mark the hour.
“The dragons will expect an answer soon,” the Sun King said darkly. “Did Sivion say anything of note when you were with her?”
“Not really.” He thought for a moment. “I can say I didn’t realize how important Antherion was to them. It makes me wonder why he was even here. Why not stay with his own people?”
“Antherion was a strange case. He’d been friends with my father and my father’s father stretching back thirty generations. To me, he was as much a part of Endra as the Magisterium itself. I can understand their anger.”
“Apparently, Antherion was more than just a dragon. He was Sivion’s…” Taro rolled his hand thoughtfully. “I guess the best word would be ‘brother.’ From what I gather, the Old Gods made them at the same time. To her, he was irreplaceable.”
The Sun King stopped and stood for a long moment. “Tell me then, in your opinion, what would she do if we denied her Vexis?”
“She might just take her by force. And if she were harmed trying to take Vexis away, then…”
The Sun King nodded his understanding. “Then it seems like the choice is clear.” The Sun King called to the young warder from before, waved him closer, then turned back to Taro. “You’ve served me well these last few days, Taro. My daughter has her misgivings about you, but as far as I’m concerned your actions have proven your loyalty. I’d like to reward you.”
“You’ve already done so much for me, I couldn’t accept anymore. Frankly, I don’t deserve it.”
The warder stopped a few feet away from them.
“Then consider it something to help me,” the Sun King said. “Gerric, fetch my seal and meet me at the forgemaster.”
Gerric bowed. “Yes, sire.”
The forgemaster was a burly Celosan man with enormous arms and thick, sausage-like fingers. He worked in an open-walled shed with a bent chimneystack, just outside the palace. He was working on a set of horseshoes when they entered, and almost dropped them when he saw the Sun King.
“Beggin’ your pardon, milord,” he said, bowing. The man was so large, the entire shed was almost like a dollhouse compared to him.
The Sun King motioned for him come up from his bow. “None of that. I just need some quick work done, if you have a moment.”
“O’course.”
“Could I see your aurom, Taro?” the Sun King asked.
Taro fished out the smooth gold medallion and set it on the anvil in front of them. After his successful trial the year before, the front had been stamped with the Artificer’s Insignia: a raven clutching a three-headed snake. The other side was blan
k.
Gerric came by with a long iron rod. The forgemaster placed the flat end into the fire and heated it until it was red hot. When it was ready, he pushed the end of the rod into the smooth back of the aurom and seared in an image of the Sun King’s seven-pointed crest. Taro wasn’t sure what it all meant.
The forgemaster cooled the aurom and returned it to Taro. “It’s quite an honor, young lord.”
“I’m not a lord,” Taro said.
“In all but title,” the Sun King said. He touched his forefinger to the new seal. “This is my seal. It denotes you as my eyes and my ears. One of my personal advisors.”
Taro was taken aback by what the Sun King was saying, but thanked him graciously. “I’ll do my best, Sire.”
The Sun King gave a grandfatherly smile. “I can’t ask much more than that, can I?”
They headed back to the archive room; the entire way Taro was trying to figure out a subtle way to ask the Sun King for a favor. Finally, just as they entered, he decided that being direct was the best course of action.
“Your Majesty,” he said slowly, trying to find the right words. “You’ve been very kind to me. I hope you won’t think me ungrateful if I ask you a favor…”
“Yes?” the Sun King said brightly.
“…regarding Vexis.”
“Yes?” the Sun King said again, this time his voice was thick with concern.
Taro spoke carefully. “Would it be possible for me to talk to her before you send her away?”
The Sun King gave Taro a significant look. “Is this about your sister?”
Taro nodded and let it all out in one breath. “Magister Ross told me that the paper I showed you was old Helian magic. Vexis is the only person in the city who might know how it works. If I could just talk to her for—”
