Aethersmith (Book 2) (11 page)

“Any others, besides us?” Faolen queried, having some
inkling as to another who might be kindred to them.

“It would have been more kind to let another puzzle that one
out, Faolen, but since you ask: yes. You are all familiar with Sir Brannis
Solaran. His is the example you are following. With few allies in the present-day
Empire, I turned to Sir Brannis to lead the army. I gave him four sorcerers and
a decrepit garrison to defend against a host of goblins that was undercounted
by nearly half. I consider the unexpected presence of the dragon and my
intervention to roughly cancel one another when deciding how he handled that
assignment; and let me assure you that without Sir Brannis, I would very likely
not have survived facing that dragon. I have since given him almost entirely
free rein within the Empire and I am confident that we are the better for it,”
Rashan explained, gushing about the leader he had handpicked for his armies.
“He is working on something remarkable, he tells me. I look forward to his
surprise.”

* * * * * * * *

Celia strode down a dimly lit stone corridor in the lower
levels of the palace. Ahead of her, Brannis strode purposefully along, trailing
his cousin Danilaesis in his wake.

He is making this hard on me intentionally!
Celia
thought.
Danil can manage at a half run and has the energy to keep pace thus.
He wants me to give up.

His sword Avalanche bounced along at his hip, but Brannis
wore no armor. Traveling about in the safety of the Imperial Palace, and not on
any official business as far as she could gather, he had forgone his golden
armor. She had always found him dashing and handsome in that armor, but she
found she was enjoying seeing his body less obscured by metal as she trailed
behind him, eyes drawn to his backside.

“So it’s really done, Uncle Brannis?” Danilaesis asked
eagerly, looking up at Brannis from close enough to trip him as they walked.
Just seven summers old and the son of Brannis’s uncle, Caladris, Danil had
apparently been involved in the little side project Brannis had been working on
in secret. The boy was too smart for his own good (or anyone else’s), and
stronger in aether than either Celia or Brannis had realized.

“Yes. You just need to fill it one last time and it should
hold aether on its own after that,” Brannis answered, then continued just loud
enough to be heard: “If I got it right, anyway.”

“So what is it that you have been sneaking off to do all
season?” Celia demanded from a few paces behind them, struggling to keep up
with the rapid pace of a long-legged knight and an energetic young lad while
wearing formal robes and heeled slippers.

“Since it is too late for anyone to find out now: making
wedding gifts,” Brannis replied, not turning back to look.

“You went to all that trouble to hide from me just to make
gifts for Iridan and Juliana?” she asked. “Did you think I was going to spoil a
surprise or something?”

“No, not really. You barely know Iridan and if either you or
Juliana ended up floating facedown in the sewers, I would suspect the other,”
Brannis replied, stopping in the hall so that she could hear him clearly. “Mostly
I wanted a bit of privacy and to prove I could slip free of your leash any time
I wished.”

“That’s not fair, Brannis,” Celia shot back, hurt by the
implication.

“I know that Rashan assigned you to keep me from causing
trouble with the wedding. I had that figured as far back as Raynesdark. You are
not bad company when we both manage to forget that, but I have an excellent
memory in general,” Brannis said.

“Except when you’re drunk,” Danilaesis piped up,
interrupting the grown-ups’ conversation. Celia blushed immediately.

“Brannis, what have you been telling him?” she demanded.

“Telling him? Nothing. Danil’s the nosiest boy I have ever
known and we were at the family’s estate that night,” Brannis said.

“I cast a quick shield for privacy and everything,” Celia
protested.

Danilaesis laughed. “That’s why I got curious what you were
hiding. Brannis’s door never has any shields or wards on it. He wouldn’t even
be able to let himself in.” And he laughed anew at his own joke. “Besides, that
shield was
so
bad. You must have wanted to keep mice out or something,
cuz it wasn’t going to stop anything smarter.”

“I can only imagine what harm we caused his delicate—”

“Danil, you want to tell Celia here where babies come from?”
Brannis asked solemnly, trying to keep a straight face.

“She doesn’t know?” Danilaesis sounded puzzled.

“It would seem not.”

“Well, you see—”

“No! I know. I know,” Celia cut him off quickly.

“It is from Axterion looking after him so much. The old
codger is too old to remember what is appropriate for a seven-summer-old to
know about, so he tells him everything,” Brannis explained. “He is about as
innocent as the door guard to a brothel, and it surprises me at times too.”
Danil just grinned. He liked knowing things he was not supposed to know. “I am
sure he will be very popular when he starts at the Academy this autumn.”

“Someone else should be looking after the boy, then, I would
think,” Celia said.

“If you are volunteering, just clear it with the warlock
first. I do not know that you can act as nanny for both of us. He wore the
nerves of two esteemed governesses to tatters before Axterion took to watching
him, so the old man must know a thing or two about how to raise young boys. I
would just leave it alone if I were you.

“Now, if we are done with the subject, I have a busy day
planned,” Brannis finished. He started down the hall again without waiting for
Celia to respond.

He always has a busy day planned!
she thought.
He
wears himself down to the nub every day, with hardly a moment unspent.

Rashan had commissioned the forge for his own secret project
over a hundred winters ago: the forging of Heavens Cry. It was well built and
had been easily refurbished for making Brannis’s gifts.

Sitting on a stool by the bellows was Sanbin Colvern, whom
Celia had recently met, and whom she was not aware Brannis knew at all. He had
a black-bladed sword across his knees and was polishing it with a cloth.

“All finished, Marshal. All but the boy’s part, anyway,”
Sanbin said.

The burly smith did not acknowledge Celia at all, which was
more than she could say for herself. She had given an audible gasp upon
recognizing him. The three visitors gathered around to admire the blade as
Sanbin held it up for inspection. It was smooth and razor-edged, with finely
carved runes etched into the surface, only visible when the light caught them
just so, being black on black. It curved slightly all down its length, a
stylistic choice reminiscent of the dragon’s fang from which it had been made.
It even retained the length it had originally had in the mouth of Nihaxtukali,
the mighty dragon they had slain at Raynesdark more than a season ago; it would
be a greatsword to Iridan, too long for even Brannis to wield properly with one
hand.

Celia leaned in close to examine the runes. “I do not recognize
these. I mean, I know the individual runes, but none of the patterns make
sense.”

“The stone folk showed me. I paid them enough in dragon
bones and scales to rebuild five cities. I insisted as part of the bargain that
they show me how to work the stuff ourselves, considering how resilient it all
is. Try to imagine forging a sword when the ingots are impervious to fire.
Well, Sanbin had that very problem given to him by the warlock, and came to me
for help,” Brannis explained, smiling with pride. “Well, the stone folk use
special acids to etch runes into the bone. They create wards to soften the bone
to the point where it can be worked with a hammer. After it gets flattened out,
they hammer the runes out of it and it hardens again. Once they get that going,
they etch the softening runes on one side and the runes they want the finished
blade to carry on the other. They then fold the piece, sealing the finished
runes inside, before the blade is flattened again and the process is repeated.”

“Would that not destroy the runes within, as the material is
stretched?” Celia asked, curious and impressed. She had not expected to come
down to a forge in her formal attire, having caught Brannis shortly after
leaving the meeting of the newly chartered Unfettered, but she was already
finding the trip worth the taking.

“They thought of that, of course. Every layer has
protections for the runes, so they stay intact as the blade is folded and
flattened,” Brannis answered.

“And Danilaesis’s part in all this?” Celia asked. “More
secrecy?”

“Hardly. He has kept the secret well, I will grant, but I
needed someone with a strong enough Source to empower the runes—someone not
busy about a dozen other tasks. I had tried a few sorcerers I could pry free
from Dolvaen’s oversight, but none could manage. I went to Axterion to ask
advice and he recommended Danil. I had no idea how strong he was already,”
Brannis said. “He has done a wonderful job.”

Danilaesis smiled, looking that peculiar mixture of innocent
and smug that only young children can manage.

“How hard can it be? Most sorcerers do a stint as
wardkeepers at some point in their career, unless they are well connected. You
could have just asked me, you know,” Celia said to Brannis. It seemed silly to
her that he would involve a seven-summer boy when more competent help was so
close at hand.

“Go ahead. Try it,” Danilaesis said, grinning at her.

“Oh, no. I could not. You have already worked so hard on it.
It would not feel right,” Celia demurred.

“Oh, it’s all right. I’ll still get to do it,” he replied
sweetly.

Arrogant little imp. I will show him.

Celia took the blade from Sanbin’s hands, and focused her
aether into it. She felt the flow seeping into the blade, but it slowed the
farther into the runes it went. It was like pulling back a bowstring: easy at
first, but growing harder rapidly the farther it was drawn. Before long, she
gave up and the aether spat harmlessly back out.

“You can try again if you want.” Danil smiled, enjoying
seeing her fail.

“Just finish it, Danil,” Brannis interrupted. “We have a lot
to do today and it is not getting done while you and Celia play at this.”

He must feel like he is watching two children instead of
one,
Celia realized.
Why am I competing with a little boy?

Celia set the blade down on a work table, and Danilaesis
laid his hands on it. Celia shifted her vision into the aether to watch. When
she did so, she noticed that Danilaesis had a Source stronger than just about
anyone she had met. Usually a Source was not fully matured until puberty or
thereabouts, so either the boy was well ahead of his peers, or he was destined
for great power. Iridan, Caladris, Dolvaen, Jinzan … the dragon … she had seen
stronger Sources, but never on one so young.

Danilaesis furrowed his brow in concentration, seeming serious
for the first time she had seen all day. Aether flowed into the blade, slowing
as it went, but never coming to a stop. After a few moments, the runes sprang
to life, glowing blue-white against the black dragon-bone metal.

“That was harder than the daggers,” Danilaesis observed
sagely, turning to his elders for approval. He turned back to the blade before
any of them could say anything, though and picked it up by the handle.

“Danil, be careful!” Brannis shouted.

Whooom. Whooom.
The blade cut through the air
effortlessly. Brannis, Celia, and Sanbin took cover.

“Uncle Brannis, try to block with your sword,” Danilaesis
called out.

Brannis kept his head low and did no such thing.

“Danil, put that down right now, before you hurt someone,”
Brannis ordered. Of all the people in Kadrin who would jump to obey an order
from the Grand Marshal of the Imperial Army, Danilaesis was far down the list,
in Celia’s mind.

“I helped make it. I just want to try it before you give it
to Uncle Iridan,” Danilaesis said, slamming the blade clean through the work
table he had just been using. “Oops.”

Danil realized he had overstepped caution by a wide margin.
It was all sunshine and roses to say you just wanted to try something, but once
you smashed a piece of furniture to pieces, you lost a lot of credibility with
the “I have it under control” argument. Danilaesis set the sword down on the
floor and stepped back from it.

Brannis took three angry steps across the room and picked up
the blade, examining it for damage. It had picked up a bit of grime, but was
unharmed. Brannis took a cloth when Sanbin proffered it and began cleaning
Iridan’s sword.

He has a war to run, and a wedding to prepare for, yet
here he sits, cleaning a sword,
Celia thought. It was going to be a long
day.
Still, it was impressive to see it work.
She could not help
noticing the grin on Brannis’s face, carefully turned so that Danilaesis could
not see.
I bet he wishes he had been the one to try it.

* * * * * * * *

“Marshal Brannis!” came a shout from across the docks.
“Marshal Brannis, I need a word with you.” The shouting voice belonged to
Dolvaen Lurien, to whom Rashan had ceded the day-to-day operation of the
Imperial Circle. Brannis had been waiting half the afternoon and well into the
evening for Dolvaen to arrive while he oversaw the final preparations. He had
not invited the second-highest-ranked sorcerer in the Empire, but had arranged
for matters to require his attention …

Brannis turned from the plans he was studying, and looked to
the self-made sorcerer of no bloodline at all. Nearby, one of the Imperial
Navy’s ships swarmed with activity. Carpenters, riggers, shipwrights, and
sorcerers bustled about anxiously. It was well past the time that they usually
broke off from working, and went for their evening meal, but they were so close
to completion. None wanted to miss the spectacle that everyone had been
picturing since Brannis had recruited them for his plan, so they worked past
sundown in the growing cold of night on the waterfront.