His Ancient Heart (32 page)

"How are we going to know who they are?" Delia asked. "Or if they're still here?"

"They must have sent Mediators from the Academy," Wilem said. "All we need to do is find them, and I'll know them."

They were walking the wide, cobbled thoroughfare that cut through the center of the town and wrapped around the constable's office. It was the busiest part of the town, and the population was thick enough to make it possible that the exchange would be made, and their opportunity wasted before they discovered the envoy.
 

"Carriers are bound to draw whispers," Talon said.
 

"What do they look like?" Delia asked.

"They wear full ircidium armor that shines like a mirror, including full helms that hide their entire face. They ride the largest and heartiest of the Empire's stock of destriers, which are also armored in ircidium. They're terrifying." Wilem shuddered at the thought. "I was only close to one of them a single time, and it was more than enough. The rumor at the Academy is that they are special Mediators who excelled with the sword. If they're meeting here, it may be that they pass through the town all of the time. I think the townsfolk would be accustomed to it."

"And yet word has never reached the other provinces of their existence?" Talon asked. "Surely soldiers like that would start rumors with minstrels if no one else."

"A secret meeting place, then?" Wilem said. "Somewhere outside of town? Either way, the Mediators would have to be here ahead of time, to make the rendezvous the moment the Carriers arrived."

They paused at each inn and tavern they passed. Wilem would duck inside with the hood of his cloak pulled up around his face and surveyed the room, while Talon and Delia waited out front, watching for anything out of the ordinary.

Three hours saw evening arriving, and most of the town searched. They had even visited a secret guild house, marked by a bucket of water near the door, and gone down into the tunnels that ran below the town. Either the envoy wasn't there, they were well hidden or Delia had been wrong.

"I heard
him
say Gilspie," Delia said. They had settled on the steps of a bakery, near the western corner of the town. It was off the main road, on a dusty back path that led into a less savory part of town.

"It isn't your fault, my dear," Talon said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. The three days together had shown him that Curio's daughter was nothing like Curio. In fact, she reminded him of Eryn.
 

"I led you here. It
is
my fault."

"We can still find them," Wilem said. "The day isn't over yet."
 

"How?"

They fell silent.

"
He
sent Mediators," Talon said at last. "Wilem, how many teach at the Academy?"

"Twelve."

"Eleven now. You killed one of them in Doovan."

"Master Canlin, yes. Why?"

"How many can Overlord Olmas send, and still be able to run the Academy?"

Wilem thought for a moment. "Three, at most."

Talon rubbed his chin, rough from a few days' growth. "If one had left to join the search for us, does it stand to reason that four would have? One is certainly an odd number to dispose, and two wouldn't be enough to distribute the cure to the provinces."

"I think that's a safe assumption," Delia said, nodding along with Talon's remarks. She knelt down and scratched a few lines in the dirt."I'm familiar with all of the trade routes throughout the Empire. Even though our business was mainly transport through the Gorges, we still had to know them all, in order to charge merchants based on their need and desperation. Even if they used a minimum of routes to reach all thirty provinces, they would need at least six groups to do so in a reasonable amount of time." She scratched out lines from Edgewater that looked like the branches of a tree.

"Even if you cut that number in half, that is still more Mediators than they likely have to spare," Talon said.

"Unless
he
shuttered the Academy," Wilem said.

Talon sighed. "That is possible, but considering our current failure, let's assume it isn't the case. Discounting the Overlord and the Mediators who teach at the Academy, who else might have been sent to retrieve the cure?"

Wilem thought about it for a moment. Then a smile grew across his face. "It would have to be students. They wouldn't have finished their training yet. They may have been rushed because of you."

"Would you recognize them if you saw them?"

"Of course." He shook his head. "I was looking for the teachers that I knew, not the students. If they were disguised at all, or facing away from me, I wouldn't have noticed."

Talon got to his feet. "It's a lot of conjecture, but we have to try. If we miss this opportunity, we may never get another one."

"Where do we start?" Delia said.

"We don't," Wilem said, growing excited. "We don't have to go anywhere."

"You have an idea, my boy?" Talon asked.

"Yes. Mediators can talk to one another through the magic. It isn't secret, it can be heard by any other Cursed nearby. We use it..." He paused, unsure if he should continue. His voice lowered. "We use it to frighten the Cursed when they run." He paused, his face turning dark from his confession. "At the Academy, we had a few different code words that we would say, late at night when we hoped the Masters were asleep, mainly so we could meet and leave the Academy grounds. If they sent students, I can call out to them. If even one responds, I'll sense their magic."

"They'll sense yours," Talon said.

"Yes, but they may just think I'm one of them. You're supposed to be headed to Edgewater after all, and as far as anyone in the Empire knows, I'm already dead."

Talon clapped Wilem on the shoulder. "Brilliant. Do it."

"I already did," Wilem said. "Follow me. The Mediator's name is Terryl."

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Talon

They moved back through the streets of Gilspie, onto the main thoroughfare and across to one of the smaller districts to the north. They walked quickly, a set in their step and their eyes that told the other townsfolk to stay clear of their path, because their business was rather important.

They wound up at another block of housing, rows of apartments rising four stories above coopers and bakeries, a haberdasher and a seamstress. The cobbles had trailed off a few blocks earlier, leaving them walking on less expensive brick.

"Up there," Wilem said, pointing to a window on the third floor.

"That's very precise," Talon said, impressed with the Mediator.

"I told you I was gifted." Wilem looked over at Delia as he said it, and then at the ground, embarrassed.
 

"Delia, wait down here in case he tries to escape. Keep a lookout for anyone suspicious."

"Like men in ircidium armor?" she asked.

"Especially that. Wilem, with me."

Delia moved to the front of the building, positioning herself on the ground with her knees pulled up to her chest, bathing herself in shadow. Despite her clothing, she somehow managed to give herself the appearance of a street urchin through body language alone.

"She doesn't act like a merchant's daughter," Wilem said as they moved into the building. The inside stairwell of the apartment was cramped and musty, a track of dirt caused by muddy boots running from the doorway to the first set of stairs.
 

Delia had already told them a great deal about her relationship with Dal during their trip up the river. The so-called 'savage' had allowed himself and his partner, Abeleth, to be sold in exchange for the ebocite. They both became a part of Curio's collection, but also new deckhands and a gift to his then six year-old daughter. The man was an alien to more civilized ways, but he had his own unique education which he had passed down to her, always treating her like he was a doting grandfather instead of a prisoner. He was happy with Curio, she insisted, and happy to have helped his community.
 

Talon was still upset that he had forgotten to ask Curio what the islanders wanted the ebocite for.

"Still taken with her?" Talon asked as they climbed.

"What?" He sighed. "More than before. I don't mean to be. I love Eryn; it's just..."

"You're a young man, traveling with a beautiful girl, and she's miles away."

"Yes. That exactly."

"I don't know how long it has been since I saw Alyssa last. Ten years? A thousand? She is still the only one I think of."

Wilem opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again.
 

"All I ask is that you are honest, my boy. With yourself. With me. With Eryn when we see her again. If you use the word love again, if you promise yourself to her, make sure you mean it."

"Yes, my Lord," Wilem said.

They reached the second floor and walked halfway down a narrow hallway. They pulled up at a plain door, and Talon put his ear to it. He could hear the thump of a cup against a table, a satisfied belch.

"You're sure this is the place?" Talon asked again.

"Yes."

"Get ready."

Wilem shifted his staff, letting the blanket that wrapped it fall to the floor. "I'm ready."

"Don't use it unless you must."

Talon pulled his dagger from his belt and put his shoulder to the door. He listened again, making sure they hadn't been discovered. His heart began to pulse rhythmically as he fell into a state of calm.
 

One more breath.
 

He shoved against the door, pushing so hard that it swung on its hinges and then cracked and fell off of them. It had barely hit the ground when Talon was in the room, his eyes charting a course past a sofa and over to the table where Terryl sat.
 

The Mediator was frozen in surprise, and Talon was across the room before he recovered, his arm latching onto the man's shoulder and ripping him to his feet, the knife pressed against his neck.

"Hello, Terryl," Wilem said, making his way into the room with the staff held out towards the Mediator. "Thank you for answering my call."

Terryl was motionless in Talon's grasp. "W... Wilem? You... You're helping the Liar?"

"My name is General Talon Rast," Talon whispered into his ear. "I know why you're here. Where are the others?"

"Others?"

Talon moved the knife away, shifting his weight and shoving the Mediator back into his chair. He pulled it away from the table and circled around in front of Terryl. "The Carriers. Where are you to meet them?"

"I... I don't know what you mean. I..." He struggled to think of a suitable lie.
 

A whistle like a bird call rose from the street. Talon ran to the window and looked out in time to see a squad of soldiers heading towards the building. They were wearing standard issue blacks. but he could tell by their build and the way they moved that they were armored underneath, in what he guessed was ircidium chain. He noticed that the bleeding red eye patch over their hearts had a small black tear in the center.
 

The Overguard. The military elite.

Talon looked away from them, finding Delia. She was on her feet, her cloak removed, her hips swaying as she stumbled towards them.

Talon spun back around, kneeling in front of Terryl. "Where. Is. It. Being. Held?" He growled in the Mediator's face, wrapping a hand around his left hand and pinning it to the arm of the chair.

"I..."
 

Talon's knife came down, severing the hand.

"Scream, and you die," he whispered violently. "Where?"

The Mediator looked down at his bleeding wrist, his face turning pale, his eyes watering. "There's an abandoned farmhouse, two miles west of town. One hour." His terrified eyes shifted to Wilem, as though he would save him. "Please."

Murderer
.

Yes.

Talon slid the knife along Terryl's throat in a tight line. Then he ran back to the window. The soldiers were still in the street. One of them had pulled Delia in and was trying to kiss her while she turned her face away. He laughed and shoved her to a second soldier, who put his hand on her rear before a third grabbed her from him and groped at her chest.

"Meet me downstairs," Talon said.

He took two steps back, and then threw himself from the window.

He dove headfirst towards the pavement below, his eyes on the soldiers, who paused in their assault and started reaching for their swords. He shifted his weight and brought his legs over and down, hitting the ground, bending to absorb some of the shock, and counting on the ebocite heart to help him with the rest. Pain lanced up his legs, but he was able to stand.

The soldiers only made two steps towards him when Delia was on them, producing a pair of short, thin daggers from somewhere on her body and jabbing them into two of the Overguard's necks. They cried out, alerting the other three to the ambush.

They froze, unsure who to attack. Talon rushed them, throwing his knife at the nearest soldier, aiming for his unprotected leg. It sank to the hilt, but the soldier barely reacted. Instead, he finished drawing his sword and launched himself at Talon.

Talon sidestepped the first thrust, backing away and drawing his sword. He saw Delia out of the corner of his eye, crouched low with her hands raised near her face, the tips of her exotic knives dripping blood. The other two Overguard were closing in on her, cautious in their approach.
 

He turned his attention back to his attacker, a shorter man with a strong build and quick feet. His dagger was protruding from the soldier's leg, and blood was staining his pants, but he didn't seem troubled by it. He came at Talon without hesitation, his blade darting left and right, up and down, searching for a weakness. Talon parried the attacks, finding it more challenging to keep pace than he had expected. He could hear the smack of metal on metal behind him as Delia worked to stay away from the Overguard's swords.

Parry, parry, thrust. Talon slipped inside the Overguard's defenses, the edge of his sword slamming into the man's chest at the level of his heart, ripping the patch from his tunic, and freezing on the strength of the ircidium mail beneath it. The Overguard smiled, thinking Talon had made a deadly mistake, shifting his weight to counterstrike. A moment later his face changed as he realized the move had been intentional. His body was too far forward, his arms committed to the strike. Talon stepped further into his guard and punched him hard in the jaw, harder than any man should be able to hit. The Overguard tumbled to the ground, and didn't get back up.