A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (54 page)

BOOK: A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence)
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This is my work. Recently smith-crafted by me alone according to my own design and resources, from start to finish. The metallurgy, the design, the
crafting
, all my own work.


It looks pretty, but any goldsmith could make something similar.

He looked again at the wristband.

Almost any,

he added.

I’ll admit you may have a talent for making pretty jewelry.

Caldan opened his well and linked to the wristband. His skin tightened and vision blurred as the shield flowed around him.

With a gasp of surprise, the clockmaker took a step back, hands raised.


What?

he exclaimed.

I’ve heard of such
craftings
but never seen one before.

He reached a hand out then looked at Caldan for permission.

May I?

Caldan nodded, and the clockmaker extended his arm to touch two fingertips to the shield. Where they touched it, tiny motes of purple light spread from the contact, fading to nothing a few inches from their origin.


I’m impressed,

the clockmaker said, nodding.

I think we can do business.

 

After a long discussion, Caldan and the clockmaker shook hands on an agreement. In exchange for limited knowledge on the internal workings of his devices, answers to any questions Caldan could think of and assistance with a simulacrum design, the clockmaker would receive from Caldan pieces of smith-crafting he usually paid a high price for from the Sorcerers’ Guild, as well as knowledge of how the basics of
crafting
worked.

Both were pleased with the final bargain, and Caldan left the shop in good spirits, promising to return in three days with the
craftings
the clockmaker required, relatively easy pieces for him once he located designs in the library.

 

Chapter Forty

 

Sunset bled through the streets and alleyways of Anasoma. Through the thin clouds on the horizon and the dust and pollution of the city itself, red light filled rivers and canals. Exhausted, dirty groups of workers left workshops and factories, clerks trudged wearily from offices rubbing tired eyes, dock workers and laborers headed for nearby inns and taverns. Above the city, smoke from countless fires across the districts obscured the sky, and the smell of burning wood and coke pervaded the evening air, mixing with the usual rank stench overpopulation.

Caldan stood in a secluded courtyard among a group of ten fully-armed Protectors, journeymen and two masters, including Master Simmon.

The master had roused him from his room as he rushed past, explaining hurriedly that he should join him as the experience would show him what the Protectors were really about.

Puzzled, Caldan scrambled after the master down a few corridors and out into the courtyard, where they joined a group of gathering Protectors, all of whom were bristling with crafted amulets and rings, the masters also sporting
trinkets
. Two journeymen carried large shields, the outside surfaces covered in a thin sheet of crafted steel.

All eyes turned to Caldan as he entered the courtyard.

Master Simmon spoke, raising his voice to address them all.

He’s coming with us. He needs to see what we have to deal with.


A bit early, isn’t it?

protested an older journeyman, one of the two carrying the strange shields.


Maybe, but he’s old enough, and from what I’ve seen he can handle himself well.

The older journeyman shrugged, and they all returned to their tasks. With a nod, one of them handed Caldan a sword with a worn leather scabbard and belt. He checked it quickly before buckling the belt around his waist. Serviceable, but hardly a quality blade.

Gear was inspected, blades eyed for rust and given a quick wipe with oil. Both masters inspected each journeyman before nodding and moving to the next. To some, they commented on equipment they carried or the purpose of various
craftings
.

Soon, both Master Simmon and Master Jazintha stood before Caldan, eyeing him critically. He’d only seen Jazintha in passing as she walked the halls. She was the master in charge of all the Protectors who traveled outside of Anasoma. She made sure they left well equipped, kept tabs on where they were and their status, and debriefed them after they arrived back in the city. Slender and wiry, she carried herself with assurance and exuded a presence of stillness similar to Simmon. Buckled to her belt she carried a thin sword with a crafted hilt.


Leave him,

she said to Simmon.

We can’t afford to babysit someone tonight.

Simmon grunted, eyes still on Caldan.

We don’t have time to argue. I think he needs to come with us. I’ll take responsibility for him. He needs to see what we do firsthand.


Ancestors willing, there won’t be any excitement, but he’s your responsibility. Make sure he knows his place and doesn’t bugger this up for us.

With that, she frowned at Caldan before turning to berate a journeyman who hadn’t polished his leather belt and scabbard to her liking.


Don’t mind her,

said Simmon.

We’re all edgy tonight. A lot of things could go wrong, and that wouldn’t be good, for us or for you.

He looked around to make sure no one was close.

Show me your ring,

he said firmly.

He knows it’s a trinket,
thought Caldan.
Nothing much escapes this man.

Caldan raised his hand. Simmon ran a critical eye over the
trinket
before touching it lightly with a finger. Caldan sensed him access his well, and a faint hum combined with the scent of lemons filled the air around him. After a moment, the vibration faded along with the smell.

Caldan started. Had he sensed Simmon accessing his well and using his talent? Was that what the lemons signified? Casting his thoughts back, he remembered smelling lemons before, when the master teaching them about shielding had disarmed the wards on the box containing the shielding amulets. Curious.

Simmon’s voice brought him back to the present. He sounded puzzled.

I can’t tell what it does. Perhaps you can enlighten me?


I’m afraid I can’t. Not that I don’t want to,

he added when Simmon frowned at him.

But I don’t know. It was handed down to me, but I can’t figure it out. I was told it was my family’s, an heirloom.

Caldan swallowed, his throat thick with sudden emotion.


It’s good I haven’t seen you wearing it. Without proper protection, you might find yourself in some trouble from people who wouldn’t hesitate to stoop to murder to get their hands on a
trinket
. Wear it tonight. You might find out something about it, if you’re lucky, but don’t wear it any other time until you can protect yourself properly.

With a nonchalant shrug, Caldan rolled up his left sleeve to reveal his crafted wristband.

I made something that might be helpful.

Simmon’s eyes widened.

You made this?

Again, Caldan felt the air hum and caught a faint hint of lemons before both faded.


Yes. I needed one so I could start wearing my… ring.

Caldan was hesitant say
trinket
with so many people around. In the darkness, no one would notice it on his finger, he hoped.


It feels sound, but without proper testing I wouldn’t rely on it.


Testing?

Simmon nodded.

All
craftings
are tested before earning the guild’s approval for sale or for individual use. We can’t sanction faulty goods being sold in our name or allow unsafe
craftings
to be used by guild members. The quality looks good, better than good in fact, but I still wouldn’t rely on it. Come to me tomorrow and we’ll see about having it certified. If it doesn’t pass, you’ll have to melt it down, you know.

Caldan scowled. The medallion he had purchased was probably a reject, a
crafting
that hadn’t passed the tests, and he had paid well over what such a
crafting
was worth. If his wristband was to be melted down, its only value was in the cost of the metals. He’d been sold a vastly overpriced
crafting
, and his own would have to go through what sounded like a rigorous process to determine if it passed the guild’s assessment. Though a part of him knew his
crafting
was good, he couldn’t help but feel trepidation at having his work judged by masters he scarcely knew.


Listen carefully,

said Simmon.

I think it’s important you come with us tonight, if only to see how we operate. So far, all you have to go on is what I’ve told you.

And not told me,
thought Caldan.


I want you to remember,

continued Simmon,

that what we do is for the good of all. There are reasons for keeping secrets, and there won’t be parades in the street for us. What we do is best done with as few people knowing as possible. Again, stay back and keep your head down. If all goes well, there won’t be any drama; if it doesn’t, well… we might be glad you’re along.

He gave Caldan a pat on the shoulder and moved on, leaving him to his thoughts.

They’re preparing as if for battle but what could they be fighting in Anasoma? Unless… there’s a rogue sorcerer?

It wasn’t long before the group formed up and moved out of the guild headquarters and into the city proper. Simmon headed the group, leaving Caldan at the rear with Master Jazintha. Caldan could feel her eyes on his back.

They followed Simmon without a word, booted feet against the pavement and the creak of leather the only sounds of their passage. Deep into Deadhorse they went, a district Caldan hadn’t yet had occasion to visit. They avoided larger groups when they could. When they passed squads of Quivers, Simmon paused to make his presence known and they continued without fuss.

Simmon gave a signal to halt as they approached a well-lit intersection from a dark alley. Glowing a muted yellow, two sorcerous crafted globes bathed the junction with light. Across the street was a large three-story stone building with double doors, above which was the sign of a bank, three golden ducats arranged in a triangle.

Without a word spoken, one of the two shield-bearers quickly crossed through the light and positioned themselves to the side of the door. Two journeymen moved behind him. The other shield-bearer disappeared into the shadows at the side of the building and headed towards the back, with another two journeymen also following.

Simmon motioned Jazintha and the last journeyman forward. Caldan moved up behind them.


What’s the plan?

Jazintha asked.


You know the drill,

he heard Simmon say.

Shield-bearers lead the way with support. They’ll flush him out. If he heads for the front door, you take him out. Same for us if he moves towards the back. If he goes up, we’ll have him cornered and he shouldn’t be any trouble. My guess is he’ll try to move past one of the shield-bearers and head for the nearest door out to the street. That’s what I’d do, and that’s where we’ll be waiting for him.

Jazintha glanced at Caldan.

Sure he won’t hamper you any?

Simmon shrugged.

I wanted him here, so I’ll handle it. Nothing flashy, if you can avoid it. We need to find out how much he knows and whether he’s acting alone. I don’t have to tell you what’s at stake here.

Jazintha nodded curtly, and they moved across the intersection to the other side of the door.


Caldan,

said Simmon.

Stay behind me. Our role is to stop anyone coming our way and to provide assistance to the others if they need it. Understood?

Caldan nodded, chewing on a fingernail.
What could put up enough of a fight to get past seven journeymen sorcerers and two master sorcerers with crafted shields and weapons?
His throat tightened. He didn’t want to think about it, but soon he would see what the Protectors feared. No, they didn’t look fearful but wary. He wiped damp hands on his pants.


Let’s move,

whispered Simmon, and he took off across the intersection and down the side of the building. Caldan followed in his wake.

As they passed the double doors he saw Jazintha press a flat stone
crafting
against the lock. A flash of light and a sizzling sound filled the street. Door hinges creaked, and Jazintha shouted,

Go, go.

Moments later, he and Simmon arrived at the rear of the building. Another, smaller, access door stood open. The smell of burnt wood and hot iron filled the air.


Inside,

Simmon said to the Protectors. The shield-bearer disappeared through the dark opening followed by two others then Simmon. Caldan stood alone in the street.


By the ancestors,

he said, plunging inside after them.

A muffled explosion came from the front of the building. A blinding flash erupted, and sparkles filled Caldan’s sight. He raised an arm to cover his eyes as the shield-bearer stumbled forward, closely followed by the two journeymen. Thunder rippled through the air and prickled his skin.

With watering eyes, he followed close behind Simmon, who shimmered as a shield engulfed him. Following the master’s lead, Caldan opened his well and linked to his wristband. His skin tightened and his vision blurred.

Ahead of them, the shield-bearer and journeymen were on their knees. Smoke drifted up from their torn and bloody clothes. One clasped a hand to his side. Blood spattered the floor and flowed through his fingers.

Simmon cursed. He dragged the shield-bearer out of the line of sight through the doorway. All three journeymen wore dazed expressions and red faces, as if exposed too long to the sun. Small pieces of shattered stone littered the floor.

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