Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (51 page)

Lies and more lies, heaped one upon the other.

Everyone out for their own interests with no thought to the consequences, except for themselves. And he was guilty of the same. For when he decided not to deliver Bells straight to the Protectors and tried to use her to heal Miranda, he’d allowed her to escape. And if he was right, she was planning a strike when the emperor arrived. Whether at his forces, or a direct attempt on his life, Caldan couldn’t be sure, but there was no other reason for her to have remained in Riversedge.

And now, because of choices he had made, Elpidia was dead. Miranda was no closer to becoming whole, despite the suspension of her deterioration, and he was tied to Joachim, a man whose motives were questionable, in order to have some hope of healing her. He suspected all Joachim wanted was the bone
trinket
, and to deliver him into the emperor’s hands, where he would be exploited until he was no longer useful.

With the emperor and his armies approaching, Caldan didn’t have much time. Once they arrived, along with his warlocks, his choices were stark. And as yet, he couldn’t see a way out of the situation. Now that the warlocks had found him, they would never let up, never cease looking for him, unless he were dead. Or they thought he was dead.

Caldan turned the idea over in his mind, not liking the conclusions he drew. Fooling Joachim would be nigh impossible. Then there was his
trinket
, which had led Joachim to him in the first place. He would never again be able to wear it. He pushed the idea to the back of his mind. Maybe a plan would bubble to the surface, but for the moment, it was too hard and too risky.

He needed to take matters into his own hands. Joachim asserted the Protectors knew hardly anything about coercive sorcery, but they had to know something, else they would be woefully prepared to counter it. Caldan suspected Joachim had played down their knowledge as another way of binding him. If he thought Joachim was his only hope for Miranda, then what better way to keep him in line?

He needed to find out what the Protectors knew about coercive sorcery. The books Annelie had mentioned would be his best start. Knowledge of coercive sorcery they don’t understand secreted away. If possible, he also had to find some way of teaching himself how to counter it, and how to heal Miranda. If he was successful, there would be nothing binding him to Joachim. Except, he had a feeling the warlock wouldn’t let him go so easily.

First things first. Any books on sorcery would be in the masters’ library, with coercive sorcery books kept well hidden and secure. Did he want to risk it? It seemed he didn’t have much choice. He didn’t like the idea; it was against everything he’d been taught. But he was desperate.

Tonight, then, when everyone was asleep. He’d spend the rest of the day working on
crafting
his new automaton, then see what he could find. It was risky but, in his mind, well worth it.

•

Caldan met no one in the corridors—not surprising considering the hour of the night. Cricket chirps came through the window on his right that looked out from the second floor onto a garden, and the air felt humid from an approaching storm.

A wooden floorboard creaked, and he muffled a curse, moving slightly to the side, where a row of nails extending out along the corridor indicated the wooden support beam underneath. Walking the dotted line should limit any more protests from the floor.

Clothed in a black, tight-fitting shirt and pants he’d gone out and purchased in the evening, he would have some explaining to do if anyone stumbled upon him, crouched as he was in the shadows next to a painting of a past master. The stern-faced man gazed down on him in disapproval. Caldan shrugged. Some things you have to do, no matter the consequences.

Moving stealthily through the dark halls, he felt a quiet exhilaration. He was well prepared, but getting caught would mean a lot of explaining, and punishment. He didn’t know the Protectors’ penalties for breaking into the masters’ library, but they would certainly be harsh.

Slipping a paper lion out of his pocket, he accessed his well and linked to his creation. Runes covered its surface, and its single clawed feet would be enough for it to grip onto any rough surface, for he needed it to act as a lookout. Such a meager use of sorcery within the Protectors’ building should go unnoticed, or appear unremarkable. The symbols on its surface flashed in the darkness before fading to a muted glow. His tether was in place. It wasn’t inconspicuous, but it was the best he could come up with in such a short time.

He crept along until he came to a locked door, across from which was another painting of a past master. He placed his paper
crafting
on top of the painting’s frame, pointing its head toward the door opposite. With his
crafting
in place, he would have advanced warning of someone passing or approaching the door.

Caldan slipped across the hallway as silently as he could. The door looked ordinary. He couldn’t feel anything different about it, no vibration, no power emanating from the wood. The lock must have been subtle, which stood to reason if it was crafted by one of the masters. He rubbed his hands in the chill air to warm them, then placed his right hand against the wood. He crouched motionless for a few moments, expanding his senses, searching for any hint of an active
crafting
. Still nothing.

Taking a stick of chalk from his pocket, he quickly drew on the lock—shifting runes and a linking rune, the same as he’d used to enter the Sorcerers’ Guild with Miranda.

Focusing his well, it was the work of a moment before the lock clicked open. It was becoming easier for him. He stood, quickly entering and closing the door behind him.

Even with his sight having adjusted to the meager light in the corridor outside, Caldan could barely see his hand in front of his face. He stood motionless, the only sound to reach his ears his own breathing. A pinprick of light caught his eye, ahead of him and off to his left—moonlight peeking through a crack in the window shutters. He dared not open them, as someone might see, or the hinges could squeak and draw attention. He stopped and blinked. The room appeared brighter already; his eyes appeared to be adjusting quickly to the lack of light, as they’d done in the tunnels underneath Anasoma.

There should be… ah, there.
From the table next to the door, he took a small glass ball. Rolling the smooth surface in his palms, he opened his well and linked to the anchor on the sorcerous globe. It sparked into light, faintly at first, then with increasing intensity. He restricted the flow from his well and dimmed the glow.

Sweat dripped from his brow. Sneaking around the Protectors’ headquarters, breaking into the masters’ library to steal books, wasn’t how he imagined things would end up.

Now he could make out blurry shapes around him: tables and chairs. The room looked exactly like the apprentices’ library, though the tables were of better quality and covered in less clutter. Wooden pens with metal nibs lay next to ink wells, and on a table in the corner sat a pile of low quality paper, presumably for anyone to use for taking notes.

Nothing out of the ordinary, though he didn’t know what he expected. He held the sorcerous globe high and loosened his grip, allowing more light to illuminate the room. There was only one other door against a far wall, and it didn’t have a handle or a lock. He grinned in the semi-darkness. The apprentice he’d asked about the masters’ library had said there were rumors of an inner library that had no visible lock and was only able to be opened by masters. It looked like the rumors were true.

Beyond that door should be the texts the masters felt they needed to secure not only behind a physical lock, but a crafted one as well. He only had to open it.

At the door, he brushed a finger against the wood. A faint tingling, humming sensation pervaded the wood. He sniffed, and there was a scent of lemon, but it was very faint.

Closing his eyes, he opened his senses to the patterns of the door. The flowing grain of the wood, he discarded, along with the glue surrounding the wooden pins used to join the timbers together; then the metal hinges he felt without seeing. What remained was the
crafting
on the other side of the door—a metal lock, impossible to open without the proper knowledge.

Drawing from his well, he tried the few techniques he’d experimented with himself for opening sorcerous locks. None worked. He paused to gather himself. Without being able to see the
crafting
, he was at a disadvantage. But the lock was designed for masters to use, and they had to be sure a lesser sorcerer, such as a journeyman, wouldn’t be able to open it. And one of the only things he knew separating masters from the rest was the ability to split multiple strings from their wells.

He quested his
crafting
sense at the lock again. There were three, no… four, no, five sections of the lock that felt different, like an absence that needed to be filled. Could these be the linking runes? They had the same feel.

Five strings from his well—it was doable, but… he’d be stretched.

He split his well into three strings and held them in his mind. Then he separated another string, until he held four. His head ached with the effort, and they squirmed in his grasp, as if eager to get away. Taking a deep breath, he nervously wiped his damp brow. Concentrating, he tried teasing another string out and fumbled with it. Pain burgeoned in his mind as it snapped back, and he winced.

Focusing his will, he drew the fifth string out, and while it wriggled in his mind’s grasp, he connected to the linking runes… The metal lock released, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He trembled all over, and sweat prickled his skin. His mind felt drained, but he smiled with satisfaction.

He pushed the door open, and musty air washed over him. His light revealed a room twenty yards square lined with shelves filled with books and scrolls.

A tremor reached him from his watching lion as something disturbed it. Caldan froze in place. The only sound he could hear was himself breathing. Silence hummed in his ears. He felt the lion move as it fluttered to the floor. It fell from the painting as if someone had brushed it off. He swallowed, not daring to breathe. He stood crouched at the open door, waiting.

His tether was still in place, and nothing else happened to the lion; it rested upside down on the floor. He couldn’t feel anyone around it or passing by. He waited a minute more. Nothing. Must have been a stray gust of wind that knocked it off.

He entered the masters’ secret library.

Caldan scanned the shelves for titles, wanting to spend as little time there as possible for fear of being caught. The books were ordered, divided into sections on the various
crafting
disciplines. He brought his fist up and allowed more light to shine through his fingers. Hastily, he scanned the spines of the books and shook his head at most authors’ attempts to make their writing sound important.

“By the ancestors,” he cursed a short time later. There weren’t any books on coercive or destructive sorcery that he could see. The only place he hadn’t looked was a small chest tucked into a corner under a table. It had a solid iron lock and, as far as he could tell, no
crafting
to secure it. Taking his chalk, he again scribed some runes and opened the lock.

Inside were a number of leather-bound books, some relatively new compared to a number of brittle ancient tomes. Lifting one, he opened it and flipped through a few pages. Ah, this was what he was looking for, though it was fairly basic. He wanted to read it along with others, but if he took more than a couple it would be obvious someone had removed them. Even one was risky.

He returned the book and found another describing more complex coercive sorcery. It even had a section on what it described as backlash. Caldan recalled Bells had used the word once during one of their conversations about Miranda.

He would have to return the book soon, but perhaps there was a way… Coming to a decision, he took the basic book as well. He wiped off the chalk, careful to remove all traces, and slid the chest back under the table. With both volumes under his arm, he exited the library, re-locking both the chest and the door behind him.

Caldan cracked open the door wide enough to look into the corridor beyond. He heard crickets and the strengthening wind from the storm, but nothing else.

Across the corridor, his paper lion lay on the floor. It twitched and slid along in a gust of wind. Of course. As he’d thought, the wind had blown it off the painting; it was, after all, only paper.

He slipped through the door and scooped the lion into his pocket, then made his way to his room. The books could wait until tomorrow. With all the sneaking around and splitting his well into five strings, he was worn out. And he had an idea that would make studying the texts easier, but one that would have to wait.

•

Caldan woke as the room brightened in the morning light. He insisted on sleeping in the same room as Miranda, however unseemly it was. He left the windows wide open and moved his bed so the light shone on his face. His first thought was for Miranda, and he checked her condition. No change. She was asleep, though, which was a mercy. When she was awake and staring, he almost couldn’t bear to look at her.

Caldan kissed her brow. She stirred but didn’t wake.

Leaving her to rest, he sat on his bed and examined the books he’d obtained last night. They looked promising, from what he could determine with his limited knowledge. One clearly covered the basics of coercive sorcery along with the runes and patterns to create simple
crafting
s. The other dealt with more complex coercive sorcery, from erasing memories to forcing someone to perform basic tasks against their will. This was… horrible sorcery. No wonder the Protectors didn’t want it known by anyone.

He closed the books and secured them in his satchel, covering them with one of his spare shirts, in case someone asked to inspect it. Borrowing two books from the masters’ library had left him feeling paranoid and guilty, and though he doubted they’d be missed so soon, he felt the need to be done with them as quickly as he could. Their subject matter was forbidden, and returning the books would ease his mind, but it was another risk. If he was caught, he’d have no choice but to rely on Joachim to get him out of the mess, and that would leave him further in the man’s debt. He had no doubt Joachim would smooth things over with the Protectors, if Caldan was found sneaking around. It would be a wrinkle in his own plans for Caldan and one the warlock would want to avoid. But if they found the books on him… Stealing forbidden texts would be dealt with harshly. In fact, it would show he couldn’t be trusted, ever.