Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (22 page)

Mrs. Haroun, who had swelled to the size of a bull, nonetheless raised her chin a little. “I certainly hope you will recover your manners soon. Come, Malaika.”

Malaika gave Augum a longing look but obeyed her mother. Charissa lingered only a moment before following.

“What was that?” Augum asked after the women left. He was more curious than offended.

Leera shoved a third biscuit into her mouth. “Welcome to high society.”

Haylee watched them go. “My old haunt.”

“Snobs,” Chaska said. “I don’t like them.”

Haylee grabbed his elbow. “Agreed. Come, let us eat.”

Augum raised a brow at Leera. “Why did Mrs. Haroun ignore you?”

Leera rolled her eyes. “You can be so daft sometimes.”

“You’ll get used to it, Aug,” Bridget said with a sigh. “Lee, we’re guests here. Can you at least
try
and be civil?”

“Forget it. I just survived hell like, a thousand times, so if any of those vipers so much as hiss, I’m going to cast Confusion on them all. Then I’m going to sit back and stuff my face while they make mules of themselves before the entire town.”

“Ugh, please just don’t make a scene again.”

Augum flashed Bridget a wry smile. “What, you mean it’s happened before?”

Bridget folded her arms. “Don’t remind me.”

“Long story short,” Leera said, “bunch of snobby girls played head games I didn’t like.”

Bridget covered her mouth as she quietly spoke. “She poured stinkroot into the tea and the spirits at an academy supper party.”

Leera chortled to herself. “It was worth it. Should have seen them all hurrying to the lavatory.”

“You almost got expelled though.”

“Then I would’ve learned wild and blown myself up.”

A bell rang from the dining room.

“Please, everyone, do take your seats,” said the head servant.

“Finally, I’m starved,” Leera said, and dragged Augum and Bridget to the table.

Supper at the Harouns’

As guests of honor, Augum, Bridget and Leera were seated to the right of Mr. Haroun. His daughter Malaika and her friend Charissa sat to his left. Charissa kept giving Chaska, who sat beside her, horrified looks. Haylee, meanwhile, sat stiff as a board beside him. The table was long and covered with fine white cloth. Places were set with shiny silverware, fine porcelain, and crystal.

“What are all these knives for?” Augum whispered to Leera, feeling uncultured.

She shrugged. “Ask Bridge.”

Bridget leaned in. “That one there is for cutting bread, that one for cutting meat, and that one is for oysters.”

“Of course, oysters are very hard to come by this far from the ocean,” Malaika said loudly, “but we do try. Only the best for the town hero.”

“I, uh, I really haven’t done much,” Augum said. “Bridget and Leera though—”

“—would you like something to drink, Augum?” Malaika interrupted with a cheery smile. Before he could reply, she snapped her fingers at the servant girl. “Annelise, bring Augum and I some youngling ale, right away.”

The pink-eyed girl curtsied. “Yes, my lady,” but she flashed Malaika a hateful look soon as her back was turned, before disappearing to what Augum assumed to be the kitchen.

“Such a peculiar lot,” Malaika said to Charissa.

“You are braver than I to hire such … ghosts,” her friend replied.

“Father insists on his charity, but I really don’t care for the way they spook the guests.”

“Do not be rude, my dear child,” Mr. Haroun said after finishing a conversation with Constable Clouds. The latter was helped to a chair by his son Devon, who could not keep his eyes off the trio.

“We are extremely fortunate, Malaika,” Mr. Haroun continued, washing his hands in a basin of warm water, “far more fortunate than most, especially in these times. And if it were not for the demands of your mother, I would have us live … far more modestly.”

Malaika rolled her eyes. “If you had your way, Father, we would be living in squalor. I would be wearing rags and
never
find a suitable match.” Her eyes drifted to Augum with a flutter.

“Ugh, could she be any more obvious?” Leera muttered to the ceiling.

Ms. Singh picked up her bread and threw it at the elder servant. “Panjita is to be served the same bread as the host, not this peasant rat food older than she!”

Priya quickly glanced around the table before whispering, “Mother, if you do not behave, I will take you home.”

“Daughter will not speak to Panjita in such a manner if she wants to survive this so-called ‘feast’.”

“Mother,
please
—”

The servant picked up the bread with two fingers. “I shall rectify the problem immediately, my lady.”

“I hope Daughter hears how to properly address an elder,” Ms. Singh said to the table as Priya shrank in her chair. “Priya should be very kind to Panjita, as Panjita is still recovering from the nearly mortal blow of hearing her daughter betrothed to an unsuitable. A tall-as-a-beanpole, dark-as-night unsuitable. Look at him.” She waved a wild arm. “
Look!
”

“Really is quite the scandal,” Malaika said to a nodding Charissa.

Jengo only smiled and nodded his hello to the table, apparently taking it all in stride.

Priya, on the other hand, suddenly stood up. “He is
not
an unsuitable!” She grabbed Jengo’s hand. “Come, Jengo,” and stormed out, taking the tall Sierran with her.

“How rude,” Malaika said to her friend.

Ms. Singh adjusted her thick spectacles, chin held high. “Panjita’s daughter is ungrateful and spoiled. Panjita has a good mind to cast her out of the house.”

Mr. Haroun wearily rubbed his forehead as Gabe took the bowl of water from him, promptly returning with a fresh bowl and cloth, handing it to Augum.

“I am sure you find all this wealth … unnecessary, Augum,” Mr. Haroun said, watching him awkwardly wash his hands and face. “I assure you I quite agree. People are dying across the kingdom while I play the rich merchant.” He leaned closer to Augum. “I will give up my wealth—and there is a lot more of it than what you see here—the moment I see a worthwhile investment. Right now, the only thing I want to invest in is seeing the downfall of the Legion and the end of war.”

It was a moment before Augum found his voice. “We have something in common then, sir. My father is …” In a flash he recalled an entire group of people lifted from the ground, feet twitching as they burned alive with lightning.

“Augum, are you all right?” Malaika asked with a look of fawning concern. “Please, may I get you something—where is that careless girl? Annelise!”

“I’m fine, thanks.” He returned his attention to Mr. Haroun as Malaika kept snapping her fingers for Annelise. “My father
is
a murderer. He murdered Bridget and Leera’s families. He murdered their friends. He even murdered my own mother. And he surrounds himself with murderers.” Robin Scarson, for one …

Suddenly he saw an elderly warlock crumple to the ground, followed by a separate violent image of Sal’s head exploding. The buzzing in his ears was so loud it took him a moment to realize Mr. Haroun was speaking to him.

“… has slaughtered many, and also risen many with his necromancy.” Mr. Haroun accepted a glass of wine from the elder servant. “Thank you, Clayborne. Now as I was saying, Augum, I am a man of fortune, but even more importantly, I believe I can persuade other merchants to invest in a campaign to overthrow the Legion and return the rule of law. Secrecy would have to be paramount of course, as it would be quite dangerous.”

Annelise placed a crystal glass of youngling ale before Augum as her brother took away the bowl of water. She kept standing there in profound paleness, staring at him with awe. She had large ears that made the rest of her mousey face look even smaller.

“Oh, thank you,” Augum said, feeling uncomfortable with the staring.

Her milky cheeks reddened as her eyes fell to the polished floor. She quickly curtsied. “My lord,” before scurrying away.

Gabe offered the bowl to Leera. “My lady, some water to wash your soft hands with.”

“If I have to,” Leera muttered.

Augum flashed Gabe a hard look, but the boy did not see it.

“I am sure there are many who would rather see their money go to a worthwhile cause,” Constable Clouds announced as the table quieted to listen in. “They speak in whispers and tread on feathers for fear of having their fortunes confiscated and their daughters thrown into service.”

“Or their sons turned into soldiers,” Mr. Okeke added.

“This kingdom runs on gold,” Mr. Haroun said. “As warlike as despots get, it has, does, and will continue to always run on gold.” His eyes found Augum’s. “Your father knows this, that is why he took Tiberra. It takes a great deal of money to run an army, even one aided by necromancy.”

He took a small sip of wine. “We must all fight Lord Sparkstone in our own way, but united. Not everyone is a powerful archmage like your famous great-grandmother, Augum. Most, as you well know, are
Ordinaries
lacking the arcane talents. In fact, in this entire village, I do believe there are nine rings, and they are divided between the three of you.”

“Ten rings,” Haylee blurted, raising an arm and allowing a band of ice to flash to life around it.

Charissa made a
Well isn’t she special
face at Malaika.

“They are only fifteen years old, Hanad,” Mrs. Haroun said from the other end of the table. “What can fifteen-year-olds do in the face of such a monstrous army?”

Leera opened her mouth to speak, probably to say she and Bridget were not yet fifteen even, when she was silenced by an elbow jab from Bridget.

“Dear me, I too doubted their abilities once,” Mr. Goss said with a sheepish smile. He accepted the bowl of water from Gabe with a grateful nod. “Let me tell those who are assembled today, that I have found nothing but courage in these young persons’ hearts.” He dried his hands while Gabe took the bowl. “But it is their friendship that has taught me true strength. They will speak of neither, but I can assure you, they have endured and accomplished a great deal.”

He made sure everyone was paying attention as his gaze swept the table. “A
great
deal. The things they have survived are as harrowing as you can imagine. As to the things they have accomplished … well, let us say we stand a chance now. There is reason to hope.” Mr. Goss stared at Leera, then Bridget, and finally Augum. “I have nothing but faith in them.”

Augum felt his cheeks burn, acutely conscious of everyone staring at him and the girls.

“They might
look
fifteen,” Mr. Goss added, eyeing the trio with a kind of fatherly pride, “but they have witnessed things and done things that have aged their souls. In my eyes, they are brave young warriors.”

“Well, almost fifteen,” Leera muttered. “And as far as aging, just wait till we learn Cron—” but Bridget gave her another elbow.

Leland slammed his hand onto the table, clattering the dishes. He let out a long series of angry moans.

Malaika startled. “How barbaric,” she whispered to her friend, both girls clutching their chests.

“I am sorry, but what did the young unfortunate child say?” A portly woman with curly gray hair politely asked.

Everyone’s eyes fell upon Mr. Goss.

“In essence, my son said that many of the trio’s friends died, but no matter what the Legion threw at them, they are the ones who lived.”

For a moment, the table was silent as everyone stared at mangled young Leland.

“How can his father understand him?” Charissa whispered to Malaika.

“My father did that to him,” Augum blurted to the gathering. “His lightning melted his face and body like that. He lost his sight and his speech and he’s constantly in pain.” Under the table, Leera’s fingers curled with his. She squeezed. It gave him strength.

“My father won’t hesitate to do it to any of us,” he continued, “even me. He’s burned down two villages before my own eyes. I still hear those people screaming. I still see their feet kicking.” He glanced around at the ironwork candelabras, the porcelain plates, and the stained glass windows. He only saw flames. “I know what he’s capable of, and I know what his followers are capable of. What I don’t know is … how to stop him.”

Malaika clutched at her chest as she shared a fawning look with Charissa.

After a marked silence, Devon, sitting beside his father, leaned forward. “What about that Agonex thingy, Augum?”

“We don’t know how to use it yet.”

Leland made a series of quick moans while drawing a circle with his hand.

“What did the boy say, Mr. Goss?” Constable Clouds asked.

Mr. Goss hesitated. “My son thinks it could be a lot of, err … fun.”

“They treat ancient artifacts like toys,” Ms. Singh sang to the ceiling. “May the gods help these lost sheep, for they obviously lack the most basic competence. What sort of ill-advised resistance is this?” She turned to her daughter in search of the answer to that question before remembering Priya had stormed out with Jengo. She promptly sat up straighter, tersely clearing her throat.

“Did Mrs. Stone have a plan?” Mr. Haroun asked, ignoring Ms. Singh.

“My great-grandmother wanted Bridget, Leera and I to go the library in Antioc dressed as necrophytes, so that we could try to figure out how the Agonex works.”

“Anna Atticus Stone charged you with such a quest?” Mrs. Haroun asked from the other end. “Preposterous.”

“For once Panjita agrees with the fat hen,” Ms. Singh said.

Mrs. Haroun looked Ms. Singh up and down. “How
dare
you speak to me in such a manner in my own house—”

Mr. Haroun raised a hand. “Selma, please.” His wife curled her lip but held her tongue. Mr. Haroun turned back to Augum. “If I may, can you tell us more about this army? How large is it?”

“It’s Occulus’ army,” Leera said, turning her bread around and around on her plate, “and it’s under Bahbell. Been there the entire time. Thing is, we couldn’t exactly count how large it is because we were kind of running for our lives at the time.”

“We estimate tens of thousands,” Bridget added. “And the army is still equipped with Dreadnought weapons and armor.”