His Cure For Magic (Book 2) (6 page)

That bit of work done, he dressed himself in Eagan's clothes, grabbing a bit of rope from a hook on the wall and using it to cinch the pants. There was little enough he could do about the long white hair and his uncommon blue eyes, but the hood of the cloak should take care of that.

"I'm coming with you," Eryn said when he emerged.
 

Patmos had returned, and he was holding a plain brown wool cloak in his arms. He handed it over.

"No," Silas said. "You've done well so far, but you haven't spent much time in places like this. I'll draw less attention alone."

Eryn didn't argue. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Amman be with you, my friend."

"Which way would he go?" Silas asked.

"There is a clothier not far to the south, near the other end of the Heart. The Golden Thread. The owner, Mackle, is sympathetic to the revolution."

"Any idea who would be following him?"

Patmos shook his head. "The Overlord has spies in every inn in the city, and double that in the Heart. I'm sorry, Silas. I don't know how he heard me."

"A Mediator?" Eryn asked.

"It is possible," Silas replied. "Or they may have a device of some kind, like the discs."

"I have a sword, Silas," Patmos said. "It's nothing much, but it will cleave flesh with enough force."

"No. I'll go unarmed. The more threatening I look, the more attention I'll receive."
 

He bowed to them all and walked out into the street, turning left and vanishing from view. Whoever the Overlord's spy was, he was sure they would observe Andreaus for some time, which would allow him to catch up.

The Heart was a murky place. The roads were unpaved and rutted, the storefronts unpainted, their signage and patronage both looking to be in need of repair. Prostitutes wandered near dark alleys, where raucous laughter echoed from around the timber. Young girls sold bread from baskets on their hips, and local merchants sat behind carts loaded with rotting food, burlap clothes, and cheap trinkets. Their patrons tended towards the unkept side, though he did notice one or two with fine linens poking out around simple cloaks, which also bulged above the end of a blade.

There were no soldiers here. At least, no obvious soldiers. When anyone could be a spy for the Overlord, it made everyone all the more cautious.

Just not cautious enough.

Silas found the Golden Thread without trouble, its worn exterior and well kept sign of a spool of yellow painted string marking it as a clear borderline between the Heart and the more affluent regions of the city beyond. A brute of a man was sitting on three short steps that led up into the shop. The plain canvas he wore had been patched and mended more than a few times, and there were no visible weapons on him, but his size suggested he didn't need any. He stared at Silas as he approached.

"Shop's closed," he said.
 

"Do you work here?" Silas asked. "It seems a bit early in the day to be closed?"

"Master Mackle's taken ill. He paid me two coppers to tell any customers he was closed."

"I see." Silas glanced through the shop's windows. He could see movement inside. Was Andreaus in there? "Then you don't mind if I check the door?"

He reached the first step when the brute stood. He was at least a head taller, and three times as wide. "I do mind." He put his hand on Silas' chest. When he did, Silas saw it was branded with a bleeding heart. He wasn't a soldier at all.

"You have my apologies," Silas said. He grabbed the man's wrist, bent, and turned, using the brute's weight against him and throwing him over his shoulder. He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.
 

Silas didn't wait for him to get up. He hopped off the step, planting a knee in the man's gut and knocking the rest of his breath away. Then he put his hands to his head, pressing hard on his temple and forcing him unconscious.

He climbed the steps and opened the door.

"Andreaus?"

"Here, old man."
 

They were standing between two shelves piled with cloth. The attacker was another ox, a definite relative of the first. He held Andreaus with an arm around his chest and a dagger to his neck.

"I don't appreciate when people throw my brother."

Silas smiled. "I don't appreciate when people threaten my business associates. If you let him go and walk away, I'm willing to forget this ever happened."

"I'm the one with the stick here," he replied, "and I don't see any soldiers behind you. How about you get your associate to hand over the rest of his debts, and I'll be on my way?"

Silas couldn't believe it. The man had followed Andreaus for his coin? He must not have heard the vintner and Patmos talking about them.
 

"Andreaus, I think our friend here has a point. It would be easier if you just gave him your purse."

"I did," Andreaus said.
 

"There was barely three deca in there," the thief said. "Look, I'm not a violent man, but this worm owes my boss a lot more than that. He'll either pay with his purse, or he'll pay with his life."

Silas put his hand up. "I'm sure we can come to an arrangement. Who's your boss?"

"You aren't from around here, are you? You've never heard of Davin Capaldi?"

Silas tried to reach back into the fog of his older memories, but while the name sounded familiar he couldn't match it to anything. "I'm afraid not."

"The King of Hearts? He runs half the businesses in the Heart, along with the mercenary guild. He owns this fine establishment."

"Mackle?"

"No, Mackle's just his daughter's husband." He laughed. "The boss sure was pissed when Sazi told him she wanted to marry a clothier." He realized he was loosening the grip on Andreaus and his dagger while he talked. He pushed it close to the man's neck again. "Anyway, this merchant here owes the King some money."

"Is this true, Andreaus?" Silas asked.

He looked embarrassed, but he nodded as much as the other man's grip would allow.

"And yet you were going to purchase supplies for us at one of his shops? Was my perception of your intellect skewed?"

"As I was explaining to him before you arrived, I brought enough coin to pay my debt. I just don't have it with me. If this brute would let me go, I'll go and retrieve it. We can even go and get it together."

"There, you see. He'll pay his debt. You can let him go."

The other man shook his head. "I can't. I have to bring him-"

A single step, a single motion. Silas used his left hand to snatch up one of the folded parcels of cloth and throw it into the man's face, and his right hand to grab the hand holding the dagger. He squeezed down on the nerves, forcing muscles to numb and lose their strength, and the dagger to clatter to the floor.

Disarmed and unable to see, the large man released his grip on Andreaus so he could get the cloth out of his eyes. A second step put Silas on his right, and he slammed a fist into his kidneys and another into the side of his head. The man fell to his knees in pain.

Silas bent down and picked up the dagger. He didn't point it at the man. Instead, he slid it under his rope belt. "My apologies, but you've worn down my patience. Andreaus, go and get whatever coin you owe this King of Hearts. I'll wait here with our friend and pick out some suitable clothing for myself and my companion." He extended his hand to help the brute to his feet. "When he returns, we'll all go and visit the King together."

Andreaus looked shocked, but he nodded and backed out of the shop.
 

"Who are you?" the large man asked.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Wilem

Wilem found Talia riding with Kelkin, Lawson, and General Clau at the front of the retinue. Clau was leaned over in the saddle, speaking quietly with the old Mediator, when he noticed Wilem's arrival.

"Wilem, how are you feeling, son?"
 

"Much better, General, thank you."

Clau nodded. "There's no shame in falling ill. It happens to the best of us."

Lawson snorted. "You've never been sick a day in your life."

"I wasn't speaking about myself. Captain, the squad is yours. Wilem, if you will." He motioned for the Mediator to follow him to the side of the road. Once they were there, he dismounted.

"Shouldn't we stay with the retinue, General?" Wilem asked.

Clau waved his hand. "We'll catch up with them soon enough. I needed to speak to you, and the back of the supply wagon is too confining for me."

"Yes, my Lord." Wilem joined him on the ground, and followed him as he led the horse further off the road. "If you don't mind... where are we, my Lord?" He looked around at the trees and brush lining this part of the Empire Road. So much of it looked the same, at times he found it hard to even know which direction they were headed in.

"Still in Portnis, though we'll be crossing over into Varrow by dawn tomorrow. We have a hard ride ahead of us, son. Are you sure you're up for it."

Wilem didn't hesitate. "Yes, my Lord. I'm well."

Clau smiled. "Good. Tell me, Wilem, what did they say to you, when they assigned you to my command?"

"Not much, General. Only that Kelkin was growing old, and would be nearing the end of his service soon. They said I would be taking over for him."

The General didn't seem surprised. "That is part of it, but not all. I have a secret to tell you."

Wilem felt his heart begin to race. What would the General want to tell him, of all people? "Yes, my Lord?"

"We aren't out here to capture any Cursed."

Wilem tried hard to swallow the sudden lump that lodged itself in his throat. "Are you saying..."

Clau nodded. "I never expected to take any of the Cursed alive. In fact, even if they hadn't run, I had no intention of returning them to Edgewater. That isn't why we're out here."

He managed to swallow at last, but it did nothing to calm the sudden chill he felt. "I don't understand. You have three Mediators with you. Why would you..." He trailed off, when he realized Clau's meaning. "The Liar?"

Clau chuckled. "I suppose that's what the soldiers are calling him these days. I knew him by another name, a long time ago." He paused and rubbed his forehead with a gloved hand. "We were friends once, he and I. Did you know he was a General?"

Wilem shook his head. He had heard a rumor that the Liar was a former soldier, not a General.

"He was. The best of us, in fact. A hero for the Empire."

"He killed the Overlord of Elling."

"Yes, and my brother, Feng. I wish I could tell you why, Wilem. I wish I knew. Maybe it is the Cursed girl who they say never leaves his side. Could it be possible that she's enchanted him in some way?"

"I've never heard of anything of the sort, my Lord. I have no such ability with enchantment."

Clau seemed disappointed by that fact. "Kelkin said the same thing. I knew it was unlikely, but I was hopeful. You must understand, Wilem. The thing I am charged to do I take no pleasure in, but it is necessary to maintain the peace and order of the Empire. Despite the fact that we have regained control of Elling, our ears within the populace are reporting that whispers of rebellion grow louder with each day. These dissenters are doing their best to get organized while they wait to see where Talon turns up next."

"And where is that?" Wilem asked. He understood now why the messenger had come, and what he had said.

"Varrow. He fooled the guard into thinking he was trying to get in through a secret access gate meant only for soldiers, and used the opportunity to disappear inside the city. With over fifty-thousand people inside the walls, he will be difficult to locate."

"My Lord, if you will, I think the more important question is... what is he doing there?"

The General's expression changed, softening into... surprise? Respect? "How old are you again, Wilem?"

Wilem smiled. He knew it could be difficult to tell with Mediators. "Sixteen, my Lord."

Clau nodded and returned the smile. "
He
has not disappointed me. You'll make a fine replacement for Kelkin when the time comes. That is the exact question I've been asking myself, and one that I cannot yet answer. Whatever it is, we need to find him before he can carry out whatever plans he has. Now, since you seem to be astute, do you know what
you
are doing here?"

Wilem did know, and the truth of it didn't scare him. In fact, it excited him. "His companion, Eryn. I'm meant to protect you from her."

Clau laughed at that, and Wilem began to feel embarrassed for being too presumptuous. "You've come highly regarded, son, both for your talents and your intelligence. This Cursed girl he travels with is raw, but she has power, and as you know the only way to counter such power is to match it. I need you to match it."

"I understand, General."
 

The General's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, putting his face only inches away. "No, Wilem. I'm not sure that you do. What happened last night... We have no room for error, and no room for failure. Do you understand that, son? My blade is only as strong as your Curse, and believe me when I say that defeating Talon in combat is hardly a sure thing. I've brought three Mediators with me, and I need you to convince me it will be enough."
 

Wilem could feel his face turning red, the heat of his shame rising up from his chest. His pride at figuring out their true mission dissipated in the face of his failure. "Yes, my Lord," he said. Whatever had happened to him, he needed to make sure it wouldn't happen again.
 

"Good. Lawson, Talia and Kelkin have already been apprised of our orders. We'll be breaking from the rest of the retinue in order to make better time to Varrow. I've already had Talia pack a change of clothes for you in your saddlebags."

"Change of clothes?" Wilem asked. He was proud to wear the black cloth and cloak of the Empire, with its embroidered red eye visible across the front.
 

"The last thing we want is for Talon to know we're coming. We'll be going into Varrow as merchants, not soldiers."