EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (130 page)

Augusta gave him a sharp look. What he was talking about was the very thing that made her so uneasy. Blaise’s horrible creation was acting human, like it was one of them. “That’s partially what makes this thing so dangerous,” she told Ganir. “It manipulates people with its appearance, and they don’t see it for the horror that it is.” The whole situation was sickening, as far as Augusta was concerned.

The Council Leader shrugged. “Perhaps. The fact that she’s so beautiful does make her more noticeable—and easier to track. All my men had to do was ask about a pretty blond who may or may not have done some strange things.”

“That is a plus,” Augusta agreed, though her stomach clenched with disgust and something resembling jealousy. She hated the idea of this creature out there, seducing other men like she had already seduced Blaise.
 

“Indeed.” Ganir smiled, looking inexplicably amused.

Augusta thought back to what the young man just told them, her eyebrows coming together in a slight frown. “So it sounds like the thing spontaneously teleported itself after making that peasant sick,” she said, puzzled. “He didn’t say anything about it using an Interperter Stone or doing any verbal spells.”

“Yes.” Ganir looked impressed. “It seems like she doesn’t need any of our tools to connect to the Spell Realm. It makes sense, given her origins.”
 

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and another man came in. This one was a bit older, with tired-looking features and thin, greying hair.
 

“My lord, you summoned me?” His voice shook slightly. It was clear the commoner was terrified to be at the Tower.
 

“Tell her what happened, clown,” said Ganir, gesturing toward Augusta.

Augusta gave the visitor a small, encouraging smile. The man looked far too frightened; the last thing they needed was for another peasant to soil himself.

Her ploy worked; the man visibly relaxed. “I was at the fair, entertaining children and doing tricks for them,” he began, and Augusta realized that the man was quite literally a clown. “A little girl got pushed into a stack of barrels at the ale merchant’s stall next to mine. A barrel started falling on her, and a beautiful sorceress saved the girl by stopping the barrel. She made it float in mid-air, my lady . . .” His tone was almost reverent.
 

Augusta got chills down her back. The thing could levitate objects, as well as teleport on a whim. Granted, most sorcerers could do a relatively simple verbal spell and make a barrel float, but no one would’ve been able to do it fast enough to save the child from the falling object.
 

“Did she utter any words?” she asked, staring at the clown. “Was there anything in her hands?”

“No.” The man shook his head. “I don’t think she uttered a single word, and I didn’t see her holding anything. It all happened so fast.”

“Was she alone?” Augusta asked.

“There were two older women with her.”
 

“Please describe them for me,” Augusta requested, although she was beginning to guess at their identities.

“It is Maya and Esther, as you would suspect,” Ganir interrupted. Looking at the man, he waved toward the door. “You can go now, clown.”
 

“Are you sure it’s those old crones?” Augusta asked when the man left the room. She remembered them well. The two old women had constantly meddled in her former fiancé’s life, showing up at his house unannounced and generally fussing over him. Blaise tolerated their attentions with good humor, but Augusta had found them annoying.
 

“Quite sure,” Ganir confirmed. “I had both witnesses use a Life Capture and recall the event.”

“So what’s next?” Augusta asked, taking a few steps toward his desk. “We now know where the creature is, right?”
 

“No, actually, we don’t.” Ganir leaned forward, looking at her intently. “Apparently, Esther and Maya’s house is abandoned. No one close to them was able to say where the women went. It seems like we’ll have to wait longer to locate the creature—or we could try reasoning with Blaise again.”

Augusta frowned. Talking to Blaise again sounded like a terrible idea to her. She certainly wasn’t about to confront him by herself. “Do you think he would talk to
you
?” she asked doubtfully.

Ganir considered that for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “If I thought he’d talk to me, I would not have gotten you involved in this. But it might be worth a try at this point.”
 

“Didn’t he vow to kill you on sight?” Augusta asked, recalling Blaise’s fury with the man he’d once regarded as a second father.

“He did indeed.” Ganir’s face darkened with something resembling sorrow. “But we have to get through to him somehow, to contain the situation before the rest of the Council hears about it.”

“Yes.” Augusta could see Ganir’s point. “Something must be done and swiftly, before this creature has a chance to wreak further havoc.”
 

The Council Leader nodded, but there was a thoughtful expression on his face. “Have you noticed that she saved a child?” he said slowly, cocking his head to the side. “This creation of Blaise’s might not be as monstrous as you imagine.”
 

“What?” Augusta stared at him in disbelief. “No. That doesn’t mean anything. One act of compassion—if that’s what it was—does not eliminate the threat that this thing poses. You know that as well as I do.”

“Actually, I’m not sure I agree,” Ganir said quietly. “I think we need to study her before we make any rash decisions.”

“Are you saying you no longer wish to destroy it?”

“I never said we would destroy it. I need to know more about her before I do something so irrevocable.”
 

“You just want to use it,” Augusta said incredulously, the truth beginning to dawn on her. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You just want to use the creature to gain more power—”
 

Ganir’s expression hardened, his eyes flashing with anger. “You’re accusing
me
of grabbing for power? I’m already the head of the Council. Why don’t you take a closer look at your own affairs instead?”
 

Confused, Augusta took a step back. She had no idea what the old man was talking about.

“Leave me now,” he said, gesturing dismissively toward the door. “I will send word when I hear more.”

Chapter XXXI

Gala

T
HE
MARKET
WAS
DISAPPOINTING
. G
ALA
had been expecting something along the lines of the fair she’d seen the other day, but this was nothing like that. There were fewer products on display, and even the trinkets and jewelry seemed drab and of worse quality than what she’d seen in Blaise’s village. There were also fewer people actually buying the goods; the majority seemed to be simply browsing, often looking at the products with desperate longing on their emaciated faces. Still, Gala was glad to be out of the inn. Yanking off the shawl, she tied it around her waist, enjoying the cooling breeze on her hair.

As they ventured deeper into the market, Gala saw a number of stalls with foodstuffs, including a variety of breads, cheeses, and dried fruit. It was a more popular area of the market; most villagers seemed to be gathered in this section. Esther bought each of them a pastry filled with something rich and sweet, and Gala was greedily consuming the delicious treat when she heard some yelling behind her.

The noise came from the direction of one of the bread stalls. Curious, Gala turned to see what was going on and saw a figure running through the stalls. There were shouts from the merchant, and a tall man dressed in black started chasing after the runner.

Remembering the trial she’d seen at Blaise’s village, Gala wondered if the running person was a thief. She could hear the merchant screaming that he’d been robbed, and she took a few steps in the direction where the figure had been heading. The other market visitors seemed to have the same idea, and Gala quickly found herself swept up by the crowd, everyone pushing and shoving to get to whatever spectacle seemed to be ahead. Casting a glance behind her, Gala saw Esther and Maya hurrying after the crowd with anxious looks on their faces.

Desperate to figure out what was going on, Gala focused on her sense of hearing, and suddenly she could filter out extraneous noise. Now she could hear the sounds of the person running in the distance, as well as the heavier footsteps chasing after it.

“No! Please, let me go!” The high-pitched scream was undoubtedly feminine, and Gala realized that the runner was a young woman—a young woman who had just gotten caught, judging by her hysterical pleas.

As the crowd carried her forward, Gala could hear a harsh male voice speaking of justice, and she managed to break free, now running toward the middle of the market where the screams were coming from.
 

There were already spectators gathered there, surrounding a small figure huddling on the ground. The black-garbed man was standing over her, holding her arm in an inescapable grip. Looking around, Gala could see fear and pity reflected on many of the faces, as well as gleeful anticipation on a few. She didn’t know what was about to happen, but some kind of intuition gave her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wished Esther and Maya were here, so she could ask them about this, but they were far behind her at this point.
 

Staring at the girl, she noticed that she was thin—far thinner than Gala herself—and that her clothing was in rags. Her long brown hair was tangled, and the expression on her pale face was that of sheer terror.

Another man, this one dressed in richer, more elaborate clothing, pushed his way through the crowd, joining the young woman and her captor. There was a sword in a leather scabbard hanging on his left hip and a cruel smile playing on his lips. “You are going to be honored, thief,” he said, addressing the frightened girl. “I am Davish, the overseer of these lands.”
 

The thief visibly flinched, the expression on her face changing to that of utter despair. It was as if she had given up all hope, Gala thought, transfixed by the scene in front of her.
 

“You are being accused of stealing,” the overseer continued. “Do you know the punishment for thievery?”

The young woman nodded, tears running down her face. “My lord, please spare my life . . . I took a loaf of bread to feed my two remaining children. My youngest already passed away from starvation. Please, my lord, don’t do this—”

The overseer looked amused. “You are in luck,” he said. “In honor of the upcoming games at the Coliseum, I am in a good mood and inclined to be merciful.”

Gala exhaled, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She was glad the woman would be spared. Had they been seriously considering killing her for stealing a loaf of bread? The girl had only done it to save the lives of her children, and it seemed incredibly cruel to punish her for that.
 

The thief sobbed with relief. “I am forever in your debt, my lord—”

“Guard, take her to the execution stone.” The overseer issued the order to the black-clothed man. Looking up at the crowd, he announced, “Because I am merciful, her life will be spared. As punishment, she will simply lose her right hand, so she remembers never to steal again.”

And before Gala could register the full meaning of the man’s words, the guard took action. Holding the girl by her arm, he dragged her, kicking and screaming, toward a slab in the center of the square. Ignoring her struggles, he pressed her forearm against the stone surface, causing her to release the small loaf of bread that she had been clutching in her fist. The evidence of her crime fell to the ground, rolling in the dirt.
 

Gala instinctively started forward, trying to get through the crowd, but the people around her were packed so tightly that she could hardly move. Her anxiety spiking, Gala squeezed her eyes shut and tried to recall how she had teleported that one time. Nothing came to mind; she simply couldn’t make it work.
 

Opening her eyes, she stared in helpless horror at the scene unfolding in front of her.

The girl was still screaming, her voice hoarse with terror, and Gala could see Davish unsheathing his sword and approaching the girl.
 

No
, Gala thought in desperation,
this could not be happening
.
 

Making one last heroic attempt, she started shoving her way through the crowd, elbowing and kicking to make her way to the front. People were pushing back at her, yelling, but she didn’t care. She needed to get to this girl before it was too late. Up ahead, Davish lifted the sword into the air.

Gala doubled her efforts, heedless of any injury to herself.

The sword swung down with deadly force, and the thief’s agonized scream pierced the air. Bright red blood sprayed everywhere, covering the stone platform and splattering on the overseer’s elaborate clothing. The guard released his hold on the girl’s arm, taking a step back.
 

Stunned, Gala saw the girl’s severed hand fall to the ground next to the bread—and felt something inside her snap again.
 

“No!” Every bit of her outrage poured out of Gala in an ear-splitting shout. All around her, the crowd seemed to stumble, most spectators falling to their knees and clutching their heads. All of a sudden, Gala found herself free to move, and she ran toward the bloody slab of rock where the girl was huddled, moaning and crying.
 

It seemed like there was blood everywhere, the metallic scent permeating the air.
How could there be so much blood?
Then Gala saw that the girl was not the only one bleeding. Everyone around them was holding their ears, trying to contain the red liquid trickling out.

And Gala realized with sick horror it was her fault—that her shout had somehow caused this awful occurrence.
 

Dazed, she approached the thief, who was practically bathing in blood at this point and clutching desperately at her stump of a wrist. Driven by some unknown instinct, Gala put her arms around the girl, hugging her gently. And in that moment, it was as though their bodies became one.