Legacy of Kings (9 page)

By the time Colivar arrived at the meeting, the others were already there. He could sense their presence before he entered the room, and for a moment he hesitated, wondering if he really wanted to join them. The presence of other sorcerers was disturbing enough on a good day, and the fact that he had detected the scent of a Souleater queen at Siderea’s palace was not helping matters. It was one thing to find a nest full of eggs and speculate that at some point a queen might have passed through the area, but it was another to drink in that intoxicating scent with every breath, to feel the magical traces of a queen’s presence vibrate beneath your fingertips, and to know that a former lover might now be bound to her, sharing that ultimate intimacy.

All things considered, he would much rather go home right now and isolate himself with his thoughts than have to face others of his kind. But he needed the information that would be shared in this meeting; there was simply no way around that. And so, drawing in a deep breath, he pushed open the door and entered the chamber, trying to look more composed than he felt.

Lazaroth, Ramirus, and Sulah stood respectfully as he entered. They had positioned themselves on three sides of a heavy trestle table, using the piece of furniture as a shield between them. At one time Colivar might have been amused by that, but these days even the most casual gesture seemed ominous to him. The beast that lay coiled at the heart of each Magister understood what its relationship to its own kind was—even if its host was not consciously aware of it—and was perpetually bracing itself for combat.

“Magisters.” Colivar acknowledged Lazaroth’s role as host with a brief nod of respect, then took the place that had been prepared for him, at the fourth side of the table. Power rippled between the Magisters in the warm Kierdwyn air, tendrils of sorcery testing, anticipating, exploring. There was a time when so many Magisters could not even have been in the same room together, much less shared any kind of civilized conversation. Colivar glanced at Ramirus, and saw by the furrowing of his brow that he was remembering that time, too. Sometimes it seemed like yesterday. Should they have taught their apprentices more about that part of their past? For Colivar that would have required too much explanation, too much vulnerability. He had secrets that required forgetfulness. And doubtless Ramirus had made a similar choice. So now the younger Magisters were defined by their ignorance, just as the older ones were by their memories. Colivar thought he knew which category Lazaroth fell into, but with sorcerers you could never be sure; a man might change his flesh and play the role of a newcomer just for the novelty of it. Only when you brought a man through First Transition yourself did you know for certain just how old he was.

“Ramirus, Colivar, Sulah . . . I thank you for coming.” Lazaroth nodded to each of them in turn. “Back when you all assisted with the Alkali campaign, I promised to keep you informed of what we discovered there. Today I will make good on that promise. Please feel free to ask any questions you like, and if you have information to offer in return, it would certainly be welcome.” A corner of his mouth twitched: the fleeting hint of a cold smile. “Admittedly, our kind are generally more disposed to hoarding information than sharing it. But I think you will agree that the return of an ancient enemy calls for new strategies.

“Kierdwyn’s Seers have investigated the breach in the Wrath. Independent witches from Alkali were also brought in, to confirm their findings. I would not have chosen to trust the Alkali in this matter had I been the one making that decision, but the breach took place inside that Protectorate, so Lord Kierdwyn felt they could not rightfully be excluded.”

No doubt the delicate Seers would have preferred to march straight into Hell itself rather than get within range of the Wrath, Colivar thought. The willingness of the Guardians to sacrifice themselves never ceased to amaze him. Then again, were they not descended from the same witches and warriors who had offered up their lives centuries ago, to save the world from ruin? Sacrifice was in their blood. They sucked it in along with their mothers’ milk.

Yet even such a heritage can be corrupted
, he thought soberly.
Even a hero may do terrible things, if circumstances drive him to it.

“Apparently a number of ikati have already crossed into the south,” Lazaroth continued. “As we feared might be the case.”

“How many?” Sulah asked.

He shook his head. “Unclear. The impressions are hard to detect, for obvious reasons. Very few of the creatures made physical contact with the terrain—at least in the places we have searched—so there are few anchors to focus on. Most of the traces that do exist appear to have been left by a single Souleater, apparently connected with Nyuku.”

“Nyuku?” The color drained from Colivar’s face so quickly that he could not stop it. The sorcerous tendrils surrounding him began to prick at his mental armor like a thousand tiny spears, seeking insight into his reaction; it took all his skill—and emotional composure—to fend them off. He could not afford to let these Magisters see how much that name stirred his blood, lest they guess at the cause.

Nyuku is here. In my world.
The name sent emotions surging through his veins that he thought he’d conquered long ago. Deep inside, where none of the other Magisters could see, he trembled.

But if Lazaroth noticed his guest’s discomfort, he showed no sign of it. “Aye. The name was cited several times in Anukyat’s records, as that of the Kannoket who negotiated with him. He may have played a leadership role in the invasion or simply been left behind to guard its flank. Either way, he left his mark all over the terrain, as did one particular Souleater. The fact that those two traces were almost always found together would seem to imply there was some kind of working relationship between them, though we haven’t yet determined its nature. When Nyuku left Alkali, after Anukyat’s death, apparently the Souleater did so as well.” He paused. “All in all, my witches estimate that approximately three dozen Souleaters crossed through the breach. A guard has now been established to watch for any new arrivals, but I suspect that plan will amount to . . . “ He sighed. “I believe the applicable phrase is, ‘shutting the barn door after the horse has left.’ ”

Most of the colony must have come south
, Colivar thought. He was stunned by the revelation. How could they all have managed the crossing? Even with one of the Spears damaged, the Wrath still remained a formidable barrier. Only the strongest individuals should have been able to cross it.

Or the weakest.

Cold. The memories were so cold. Colivar felt an urge to wrap his arms about himself, as if that could somehow ward them off. Cursing silently, he forced himself to relax his body instead. But it was too late. Ramirus had clearly taken note of his fleeting disquiet, and his eyes were fixed on Colivar now, trying to determine its cause. Though direct sorcerous inquiries would net him nothing, human insight alone was a powerful tool. Colivar would rather face a hundred sorcerers on the battlefield than try to keep secrets from this one.

“You know this Nyuku?” Ramirus asked him quietly.

Colivar knew that he would have to choose his lies carefully; he could not afford to make a mistake with this many Magisters present. “Long ago . . . as you know . . . I lived in the north. There were rumors back then of someone who had crossed the Wrath and lived to talk about it. I heard the name Nyuku mentioned. Whether that was the same man I do not know.”

“What else did you hear about him?” Lazaroth asked.

You mean, what else that I am willing of speak of?
He drew in a deep breath, his mind racing as he tried to decide just how much information to offer up. Too little would just convince them that he was hiding something important. Too much would lead to questions he dared not answer. “It was said that north of the Wrath there were men who had established some sort of partnership with the Souleaters. Each man was allied to a particular ikati in a sort of . . . spiritual union. Supposedly the creatures were willing to carry these men upon their backs. They had to be mutilated in order to make that possible—some of the dorsal spikes had to be removed—but I guess the ikati found that acceptable. Or so legends claimed, back then.” He glanced at Ramirus. “The one that Rhys killed had been mutilated thus. That is why I guessed what I did about its origins.”

“Aye,” Ramirus said thoughtfully. “I remember that.”

Sulah’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “Tradition says that any man who comes too close to a Souleater will be drained of life. But that can’t be the case if men are using them for transport.”

Colivar shrugged stiffly. “These were only tales that I heard, many centuries ago.” Would his tone sound truthful enough? This was dangerous ground. “I cannot even vouch for their source, much less their accuracy.”

“So it may be that this Nyuku and his Souleater were such a pair,” Lazaroth said thoughtfully. “That would certainly explain the traces we found.”

“And I think possibly we have seen another one,” Ramirus said.

“You mean Kostas?” Sulah asked. “That was Danton’s Magister Royal, yes?”

“Perhaps,” Ramirus said. “Or perhaps he was something else, that simply posed as a Magister. Do not mistake me: He did have real power at his disposal. Enough to convince Danton that he was one of us. But according to my investigations, all his spells were small ones. Showy on occasion, but always limited in scope. So he might have been using some kind of witchery rather than true sorcery.” He paused. “Or perhaps there is a third variant of power that we do not yet know about, which these invaders wield. At any rate, the appearance of a Souleater within minutes of Kostas’ death certainly suggests they were connected. And if the stories Colivar heard are correct . . . then the mutilation we saw would imply that both of them were from north of the Wrath.”

“If Kostas and Nyuku were working together,” Lazaroth said, “then I think we can guess at their intentions. Nyuku used Anukyat to manipulate the Alkali Guardians, and through them an entire Protectorate. Kostas sought a position as counselor to one of the most powerful men on the continent. They seek control over morati society.”

“Predators with political aspirations,” Ramirus mused. “Interesting.”

“How many do you think are playing that game?” Sulah asked. “Passing themselves off as locals—or Magisters—as they quietly move into positions of authority?”

Ramirus shook his head sharply. “Not many are likely to be successful at that game. Remember, this Nyuku kept to the shadows for as long as he could. He never tested his disguise at court. And Kostas, who lived more openly, was peculiar enough in his demeanor that even Danton’s servants took note of it. Such men are easy to pick out once the full light of day shines upon them.”

“Aye,” Lazaroth mused, “I remember hearing rumors that Danton’s new Magister was not a human being at all, but rather some kind of malevolent spirit. Perhaps even a demon.” He shrugged. “Magisters collect rumors about them the way whores collect trinkets, so I didn’t bother to investigate. But perhaps these invaders don’t play the human game as well as they think they do. If so, that’s a factor we can exploit.”

“When did the Alkali invasion begin?” Colivar asked him. “Do we have any idea?”

“All the traces we could find appear to be recent,” Lazaroth told him. “Our best guess is that the crossing began earlier this year. Master Favias says that the Alkali Guardians stopped visiting the other Protectorates a few months ago, and disturbances in the Wrath were also noted about the same time. We are guessing that is the most likely time frame.”

Colivar nodded. “Which means that Kostas was a newcomer to our world when he first appeared at Danton’s court. His people had been isolated for centuries, trapped in one of the harshest regions on earth, with beasts as their closest companions. Our entire world was alien to him. Sorcery could have provided him with the raw knowledge he needed to walk among us, to speak our language, and not to make major gaffs, but internalizing all that knowledge would have required time and practice. He might have planned to put more time into training before making his public debut, had Ramirus not forced his hand by leaving Danton’s service prematurely. An opportunity that could not be missed. Under the circumstances, it’s to his credit that he managed to appear as human as he did.

“But those who follow after him will not necessarily suffer from the same handicaps. The longer these invaders are in our world, the more time they will have to perfect their masquerade. And even if there are still signs that give such men away, how do you propose we seek them out? With Magisters it is easy to say ‘all new faces are suspect’ and investigate anyone who made his first appearance among us in the past few months, but there are far too many morati in the world to support that kind of strategy. Can you imagine the chaos that would ensue if the human hordes found out that any stranger in their midst might be the vanguard of an invading army? The streets would run red with blood.”

Ramirus’ deep-set eyes fixed on him. “Do you really believe that a man from such an alien world could adapt himself perfectly enough to this one to become indistinguishable from . . . say . . . you or me?”

Colivar drew in a sharp breath. Did Ramirus mean that question to be the double-edged sword it was? Or was it just an accident of phrasing? He kept his voice carefully neutral as he responded, “Human beings are extraordinarily adaptable. In time . . . with sorcery and sufficient practice . . . yes, I believe such a man might be able to pass as human. A
normal
human, that is. “ He looked at Ramirus and added, “Well enough to fool even you.”

“And such a masquerade may not be necessary for all of them,” Lazaroth pointed out. “Not if they have allies in the southern kingdoms.”

For a moment there was silence. The name of Siderea Aminestas hung in the air between them, unvoiced but not unacknowledged.

“Ramirus. Sulah.” Lazaroth leaned forward, steepling his fingers on the table before him. “You, like myself, never patronized the great whore. Colivar . . . I’ve heard that she collected tokens from her lovers, to serve as anchors for her witchery. But that she no longer has yours. Is that true?”