Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (33 page)

“You don’t sound drunk.”

“I’m not.”

The old archivist squinted and looked her up and down. “I don’t know…”

“The Indryallans held me prisoner, and I’ve escaped. The information I have could be vital, but it needs confirmation. You can help me now and be rewarded, or I can come back with a few men and—”

“Don’t threaten me, young lady.”

Despite the situation, Felice almost laughed out loud. It had been a while since someone had called her young.

“My apologies. How can I convince you I’m who I say I am? As you can see—” She gestured to her coarse spun wet robe. “—I doubt my appearance helps.”

“Pfffft. It’s a poor judge of a person that relies on appearance.”

Felice smiled. “That’s true.”

“Let me think…” said the archivist. “Answer me this: who came second in Dominion at the Autumn festival three years ago?” The old man snickered, as if at his own wit, then yawned.

“Three years ago, that was… me. I came second.”

“Indeed. Well, I’m not totally convinced, but you’ve made a start. I’ll have a few more questions for you, since I’m not letting you wander around on your own. But for now…”

The wrinkled face disappeared, and the peephole slammed shut. Moments later, a number of latches clicked, and the door opened.

Sighing with relief, Felice stepped inside to the familiar scent of musty paper and a faint alchemical tang, the preservative the librarians used on the books and scrolls. In one hand, the old man held a crafted sorcerous globe enclosed in a metal cage on the end of a wooden rod.

“Thank you. You won’t regret this, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Hmmmf. Maybe. First things first. You look like you could use some warmth, a fire, and a hot drink.”

Without waiting for a reply, the archivist shuffled toward a corridor to the left. He was right, she did need some warmth and a little time to recover. She shivered again, though her face was flushed and sweating. Her skin itched, and she rubbed at a number of cuts on her arms, a result of the broken glass from the window. They weren’t deep and had stopped bleeding, but the river water couldn’t have been good for them. She’d have to visit a physiker to treat the cuts—perhaps some ointment. Soon, she promised herself. Once she had some answers.

She followed the archivist until they reached what looked like a common area for them to relax in. An orange glow filled the room from a fireplace, and the librarian threw a couple of peat bricks onto the coals from a pile to the side.

“You,” he said, pointing the crafted globe at her. “Sit there.”

Felice blinked at the bright light thrust at her eyes, then at the chair in front of the fire he’d indicated. Gratefully, she slumped into its warm embrace “Why do you have someone watching all night?”

“Secrets. There are secrets here, in the information. If you can find them.”

“Yes, there are.”

“A word here, a sentence there, some numbers… Some people can piece it together, and they don’t like to visit during the day. So one of us stays awake. There is a side door, though; it’s more… furtive.”

He cackled, as if he’d said something funny, gave her a quizzical look, then wandered away, presumably to bring her a hot drink. If he did, she’d probably kiss him.

She held her hands to the heat of the flames and rubbed them vigorously. Pignuts, she was still sweating. Then why did she feel so cold?

Soon, the man returned cradling a mug in both hands. Steam rose from the top, and Felice smiled gratefully as she accepted the drink. Tea, strong and heavily honeyed. He just might have earnt that kiss.

She gulped a few mouthfuls of tea, scalding her mouth, then cleared her throat. “I really need to see your records. Please.”

“In a moment. I’ve another question for you.”

“What is it, then?” Felice sipped her tea. She wanted to finish it quickly then begin her search.

Pausing, as if to think, the archivist scratched his bald head. “Why would the Indryallans take over Anasoma and then just barricade themselves inside?”

Felice shrugged. “To make a point? There’s something here they want? I don’t know.”

“Perhaps you’d better think about it, then. Why stir up a hornets’ nest? Especially when you know you can’t match the might of the Mahruse Empire.”

Why indeed?
The man had a point. What reason could the Indryallans have? They’d just painted a target on themselves and were waiting for… what? To be defeated and pushed back to Indryalla? The emperor was no fool, and he’d surely have gathered enough soldiers for a strike on Indryalla and to march on Anasoma… Pignuts!

Felice stood abruptly, tea sloshing over the side of her cup. “I need to see those records now. From the Autumn Festivals, the old ones from centuries ago. I don’t know what year, so you’ll have to help me look.”

“Come, then. But I don’t want to get involved in whatever you’re up to. The library is our responsibility, and whoever rules here doesn’t matter to us. We keep the knowledge for everyone.”

“Enough. Lead the way. I fear there isn’t much time.”

•

“Try these ones.”

Felice accepted another pile of books, along with loose paper sheets in a number of leather folders. So far, they’d not even found the year she was looking for, and it had been almost an hour. The librarian complained every few minutes about her, the library, his colleagues, the weather, and anything else he thought of; and the way her nerves were fraying, she reckoned his count was up to around twenty.

“The lists,” she repeated again. “Just look at the winners list for Dominion, and tell me who placed first.”

“I don’t think any of these people are alive anymore, if you were planning on taking lessons.”

Felice opened another book and sneezed. They’d stirred up quite a bit of dust in their search. By the ancestors, she was tired, but at least she’d stopped shivering. The room felt warm, hot almost. The cuts on her skin were getting itchier as well. She’d better see to them as soon as she could. During their search, she’d remained standing, but the empty stool next to the old man looked inviting. Perhaps she could sit for a short time. Later.

“What would you say if I told you that’s exactly what I think?”

“I’d say you were crazy.”

“So would I if I were you. Nevertheless, I can’t discount the fact without evidence.”

Felice leafed through the pages of the book until she found the lists she was after. The Autumn Festival in Anasoma was well documented, with programs, winners lists, and fixtures, reviews of musical troupes and plays, along with sketches commissioned by the nobles.

There. Finally. In the concluding game, a newcomer named Kelhak had defeated the favorite, one Councilor Osmund. She passed a pile of loose paper to the librarian. “Here, I found something. What I need should be in here. Can you search through these pages for sketches of the Dominion games? I’ll go through these others.” She wiped her damp face with the sleeve of her robe.

“I must say, young Felicienne, you’re not looking too well. Perhaps you’d better rest for a while.”

“I’m fine. I… we just need to do this. We’re almost there; then I can rest.”

She checked the sketches as quickly as she could, searching for Dominion games in progress or anything related to the finalist or winners.

And there it was.

The beaming winner of the Dominion competition accepting a token from the emperor’s representative, with purses filled with ducats at his feet, thrown by the nobles. The sketch was annotated:
Kelhak, winner of this year’s Autumn Festival Dominion Competition. A tall, well-muscled man with radiant blue eyes.

“Pignuts,” whispered Felice.

The room swirled around her, and she lurched for the stool. Hands steadied her, and she managed to sit with their assistance.

“You’re burning up. And you’ve cuts on your arms. What happened?”

Felice closed her eyes. Just for a moment, she convinced herself. It was the same Kelhak. But he didn’t recognize his own Dominion strategies used against him. This had to mean something, but what? She just wasn’t seeing it. “Think, curse you.”

“How did you escape? Those cuts are swollen and inflamed; they don’t look good.”

“I jumped through a window into the river.”

The librarian hissed, alarmed. “You need to get to a physiker. River water’s not good for anything. Even children know it’s bad for cuts.”

“There’s… no time.”

“Stupid girl; there’s no time if you’re dead, either.”

“Gaa—” she managed before tumbling sideways off the stool.

Chapter Twenty

Master Annelie was waiting for them before they’d finished washing the road dust from their hands and faces using rain water collected in a barrel.

“You’re back sooner than expected,” she shouted across the courtyard, hastening toward them. “I assume you didn’t find this sorcerer, Bells?”

Morkel shook his head. “She didn’t make straight for Anasoma like we thought. She’s somewhere in the city. But there’s more.”

“No time for niceties, I expect,” Annelie said. “Spill your story now. Wait, Morkel. How big is it? Do we need the other masters?”

Morkel shifted his weight to his other foot. “I believe so. Hear us out first, then you’ll be better able to decide.”

Annelie scowled at Caldan. “Keevy, round up the masters, whoever you can find quickly. Have them wait in the masters’ dining room. If they complain, tell them I’ll be there shortly with important news.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Keevy and entered the Protectors’ building.

Annelie tutted and motioned for Caldan and Morkel to follow her. Inside, she pointed Caldan toward a bench. “Stay here, and don’t speak to anyone while I’m gone. I’m sure a few of the apprentices and journeymen will have questions, but ignore them. We’ll decide what to do with you later, once we’ve recaptured Bells. At least we know she’s in the city somewhere, and with luck, we’ll find her soon. You, though… You’ve seen too much for an apprentice, know too much. I’ll speak with the other masters, and we’ll decide your fate.”

“Master Annelie, is there anything—”

“No. The fact Simmon trusted you enough to have you bring that… sword… to us is a mark in your favor. A big one. But don’t think you’ll get out of this lightly. Now, I have to inform the masters what’s happening and organize the hunt for this sorcerer.”

Caldan nodded and watched Annelie’s back as she strode off, followed by Morkel. They disappeared into another room, presumably where the other masters were gathering.

He rubbed aching eyes and lowered himself onto the bench. By the ancestors, he was tired. What the masters would decide about him, he had no control over, but if he was allowed to speak to them, he was sure he’d be able to convince them of his sincerity.

No matter. If they confined him to the headquarters, at least the troubles with the Indryallans and Bells would be off his shoulders. They were a burden he could do without. Still, he was left in a worse position than he’d been in days ago. Miranda was no closer to recovering, and steadily deteriorating. His only hope to help her, Bells, was gone. And the masters here… well, he had no idea what they would do for Miranda. What they could do. And what did they do to apprentices who stepped beyond the rules and stumbled onto, or learnt coercive sorcery, as he’d done? Nothing good, he imagined.

Coming to a decision, he stood and made his way further into the building, stopping the first apprentice he saw.

“Excuse me,” he said to the dark-haired girl. “Some friends of mine arrived recently, an older woman who is caring for a younger woman. Do you know where they are?”

“Yes. She’s very sick, isn’t she? The pretty one, I mean.”

Caldan felt himself blushing at the girl’s words. He was attracted to Miranda, and even in her state he found his eyes following the curve of her hips and breast, but it felt wrong. “She is. Could you tell me where they are?”

“Upstairs, in the sick rooms. I heard she needs a lot of looking after.”

Caldan nodded. “She does. Thank you.”

Moving as quickly as he could without attracting suspicion, he left the apprentice and climbed the nearest stairs. It wasn’t long before he poked his head through a doorway covered by a curtain and found Elpidia. He noted his gear, and Miranda’s, was piled in a corner. The physiker had her back to the doorway, and looked preoccupied with various jars and bottles in front of her. She was shaking a clear vial and peering at the faintly pink contents.

Caldan slipped inside. “Where’s Miranda?”

“Oh! Don’t do that. She’s in the next room, and they’re taking good care of her. Did you find Bells?”

With a shake of his head, Caldan stepped back toward the doorway. “No. The masters are meeting, and they’ll decide what to do.”

“So, we don’t have to worry about her?”

“That’s not what I said. I have to try and make this right.”

Elpidia’s eyes narrowed. “Make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” replied Caldan, and when Elpidia looked at him dubiously, added, “I’m not going to go haring off on my own trying to hunt down Bells. I have to focus on Miranda.”

“Good. See that you do. I didn’t know if I should have mentioned this before—probably—but this might help.”

Elpidia rummaged through her leather case and produced a folded handkerchief. “Here,” she said, presenting it to Caldan.

“What is it?”

“A few of Bells’ hairs. I collected them from her clothes after we left Anasoma. Just in case… Well, they should come in handy now, shouldn’t they?”

Caldan smiled and gave her a brief hug. “They certainly will. Thank you. I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I’ll have to make another compass, but there isn’t much time.”

“Ask the masters, then; they’ll come up with something.”

“Maybe.” Caldan took the proffered hairs and rummaged through his belongings. If he could think of something quickly, he might be able to salvage some goodwill from the masters.

He made his way to the room next door and checked on Miranda. She was sitting in a narrow bed, a blanket covering her legs. Her nose was dripping, and her blank eyes didn’t seem to recognize him. He smoothed her hair down and wiped her nose before taking a candle from near the window and settling himself on the floor. He drew out some paper and his inks and pens, lit the candle, and waited for some wax to melt. He envisioned what he needed to do, using the compass Elpidia had made as a guide. Not the perfect
crafting
, but it didn’t need to be.