Prodigal Steelwielder (Seals of the Duelists Book 3) (6 page)

I am here.

Her eyes scraped the stone walls once more. “Show yourself. What are you?”

Silence.

It’s just parroting. But that doesn’t mean it won’t murder me into a thousand wet fragments.
She eased backward down the tunnel, gently giving a wider berth to the strange, dark void in the stone. The rock at the very edge began to extrude, blocking her view.

I am here. Where are you?

The strange presence felt plaintive. Lonely. A burst of compassion—warm, orange, and multipetaled like a chrysanthemum—burst open within Kiwani’s chest. Without thinking, she eased all the way into the void and hovered in its very center. She hunched against any potential attack and closed her eyes, but she left her mind open. Intense, boiling existence seemed to both press against her and pass right through her. She felt surrounded by a churning notion of emptiness. “I’m here. I’m here. What am I doing here? This is insane.”

It echoed her once again:
What am I doing here? This is insane.

Lifeseeker tried again and again to sense the force that surrounded her, but it had no answer. Slowly, Kiwani brought all of her elemental magics to bear as well. Strange feedback began to reach her mind. The hollow consciousness seemed to possess flame, shock, even wood—all six elements, in fact. Yet the feedback was so unusual that she doubted it would have registered at all with her perceptions if she hadn’t already been struggling to understand what Lifeseeker was trying to tell her.

The presence pressed against her in a more coherent manner. Kiwani twitched away, darting through the air back toward her tunnel. But its stone mouth had closed. Pressure wound its way around her feet and hands and sieved its way through her braided hair, feeling like nothing so much as a thousand tiny fingers.

Those fingers probed deeper, through her scalp, and Kiwani cried out in pain and fear. The fingers receded abruptly, then grasped her like a small toy and thrust her backward. Her feet hit solid stone, and she staggered, using her magic to brace herself.

Her tunnel held her safely. Her flame light was restored, the pain in her head had vanished, and the force no longer pressed against her. She almost felt like she had slipped backward in time, except that she could remember having stood on that exact spot several moments ago. The essence seemed to coalesce before her, and she stared intently forward, trying to make her eyes focus enough to see what she already knew was right there before her.

Kiwani.

Kiwani’s soul trembled. “I may be a hexmage, but I know when I am completely out of my league. Tell me what you are, that I may understand. To my humble skills, you seem of magic. But I don’t even understand what that means. Help me know. I mean you no harm.”

The vast presence seemed to loom closer, examining her the way a child studies a pretty new flower.
I see you. Kiwani the Hexmage. Your skills are tiny, unformed. You have many desires which you seem unaware of how to fulfill. Many thoughts that contradict. You are of many purposes. You are not ready. And I, I am past ready. I am once again of many purposes. They hurt. I cannot escape them.

“You are a prisoner, then. This is your pen.”

Pen. Yes.

“How long have you been here?”

Time fell apart long ago.
A series of bright images pressed against Kiwani’s mind: coastline, breezy skies, hills swathed in deer herds, and a flat, fertile plain where the Shadow Canyons now stood.

Kiwani felt her neck go stiff with shock. “You’re ancient. Older even than our civilization.”

Civilization? So much has been lost.

“Were you alone, then? Were you a god?”

A broken god. More broken than most. I saw a different future, and it did not come to pass.

She couldn’t decide if the being was bitter, sad, or simply insane. “They put you here. The others. Punished you.”

Because they could.

“You were enemies?”

No.

Kiwani couldn’t imagine friends choosing to punish one of their own forever. But she and her hexmates had been unable to prevent Bayan’s exile. Maybe this being’s fate had been out of his friends’ hands, impossible as that seemed. On the other hand, the being was vastly more powerful than she was in ways she couldn’t begin to comprehend. Perhaps it had broken rules. Or perhaps it was evil, in which case she had no business holding the door open for it.

The consciousness seemed to sense her confusion and doubt.
Go or stay, it matters not. Our fates are one.

“I don’t understand.”

Freedom is an illusion. Choice is irrelevant. This place is not truly a prison. It is… a muzzle. The danger you fear you’ve unleashed was fated long ago. You are well matched to your civilization. I offer you an unfulfilled wish. In thanks.

A strange, prickly shiver seemed to sunder Kiwani from head to toe, leaving her weak, feverish, gasping. Her hold on her magic weakened, shot through with a frisson of unfocus.
I… I need to go. Slipping…

Am I the last?
The being’s urgent curiosity flooded Kiwani’s mind.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know what you are. What did you do to me?”

So long have they been gone from me. I miss. We… We used to talk.

***

Despite an oncoming headache and a strange case of body chills, Kiwani managed to extricate herself from the Shadow Canyons and return to the duel den. Exhausted, she fell asleep the moment her head touched her pillow, and in the morning she felt much recovered.

Two days later, a pair of clients scheduled a duel between Kiwani and Gorwin. With the force of habit, Kiwani held back and only used her avatar skills. Four spells later, Gorwin stood encased in solid stone, earning her another win. Still, one of his stone chips had blasted straight through her left arm, leaving a bloody trail that dripped from her pinky finger tip.

She released him and bowed, first to Gorwin, then to her client. As the pain of her injury set in, she strode to the edge of the arena where the visiting chanter held his gnarled hands out, ready to receive her injured limb. “Not too bad this time,” he said. “Not like some of your injuries.”

Kiwani glared at him, and he glared right back. He slipped a hand into his crystal pouch and retrieved the Southern Common crystal, holding it between Kiwani’s injured arm and his chanting.

But the pain didn’t lessen. Kiwani winced. “What in sints is going on? Did you take the wrong crystal?”

The chanter twisted the crystal to examine its marking. “Southern Common, says right here. What in sints?” He chanted again as if somehow, the second time he would get a different result. Meanwhile, Kiwani continued to bleed. Gorwin jogged over in polite concern, and the clients stood in their arena rows, gazing down with curiosity.

The chanter looked at Gorwin in desperation. “I don’t understand,” he said plaintively. “This is the same exact crystal I used on her last time. It hasn’t left my pouch. I don’t understand.”

Gorwin’s dark brows knitted together. He thumbed the area next to the wound on Kiwani’s arm, and his lips stretched in guilty sympathy. “I don’t know, Kiwani,” he said with a confused grin, “did you change your blood status between duels?”

Fire wrapped Kiwani’s spine, and the world spun to a halt around her.
My most fervent wish after Bayan and Doc discovered my secret was to be who I’d always thought I was. The Waarden child of Waarden parents, instead of the unwanted, adopted daughter of two Shawnash indentureds.

Her hand trembled as she raised it to point at the chanter’s pouch. “Use the Waarden one. And if you would please, make a change to the permanent record at your home den. The other chanters in your rotation will need to know, too.” She lifted her chin, but she couldn’t manage her usual dead stare. She felt too much chaos swirling behind her eyes.
Just when I was getting used to who I am.
“My name is Kiwani t’Eshkin, and I am a Waarden duelist.”

Eward forced his shoulders back and stood as tall as he could on the arena sand as his Head Duelist berated him in front of the entire duel den. A corner of his mind coolly observed that Cavan’s fury looked strikingly similar to his pleasure, his curiosity, and his exasperation.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice, duelist?” Cavan monotoned. “Did you think you could bring your twisted ways to my duel den and continue just as you have been? Did you think that, because of your inherent strength with elementalism, I would let your unseemly habits slide, that I would wink them away in exchange for the benefit of your participation in our duel den? Did you really think that you were so sints-damned important that I would change the way I have run this duel den for the last dozen years just for you?”

Cavan turned in a slow circle, his hooded eyes seeming to pierce every watching duelist that surrounded him and Eward. Their faces were still, their eyes wide. “And have we, your fellow duelists, not suffered at your hands? Have we not been forced to defend you to the uncomprehending public? Have you not made us complicit in your depravities?” He completed his turn and faced Eward once more. “That stops now. You’ll answer for your heinousness and summit to my correction, or I will remove you from my roster and have you reassigned—No. That would not be fair. I will not have you inflicting yourself on another duel den. You will submit to my correction, or I will have you
potioneered
.”

Potioneered? Is he serious?
Eward scanned the faces of his fellow duelists, gauging their reactions to Cavan’s words. Most of them seemed genuinely surprised at Cavan’s threat of potioneering, but a few of them—Seela, Bergam, and Ashlen—just looked so irritated at Eward’s continued existence that they didn’t seem to mind the overly harsh punishment.
This situation has spun off into the realm of the truly insane. If I don’t talk to Philo about this right away, I’ll be in real trouble. I’d rather be exiled like Bayan than potioneered.
He felt a twinge of guilt for Odjin and his potioneer colleagues.

“Well? Speak.”

Eward took a deep breath and marshaled his response. “Head Duelist Cavan, I assure you, there is nothing to correct. This has all been a gross misunderstanding. That girl in the market—”

“—came to me unprompted. I have no reason to doubt her word, nor any of the other girls’ words. It is
your
word, in fact, with which I am currently most concerned. Your behavior has been absolutely reprehensible, and I will not have a member of this duel den besmirching its reputation amongst the populace whom we serve. Am I in any way unclear?”

Eward schooled his features to stillness. Cavan liked it when his duelists imitated his expressionless calm, as if it were the signature feature of his duel den, indicative of a close connection to the void
. I’m pretty far from the void right now. Why do these rapine accusations keep popping up? I don’t even remember the girl from the market, let alone assaulting her in her father’s back storeroom.

“Duelist Eward? I await your reply. Will you or will you not accept my correction?” Cavan crossed his arms, a sign that he was truly infuriated.

Maybe I can channel Kiwani just enough to get me out of this bind.
Eward tipped his head down and gave Cavan a dark look from below his brows. “Are you quite sure that you want to threaten your most powerful duelist with potioneering? Is that really going to reflect well on your duel den’s reputation? How are you going to answer all the questions you get about why I’m not here anymore? The citizens of the district of North Keenacht like me pretty well, and I’m a particular favorite amongst the merchant ladies, despite all those bizarre accusations you claim have been leveled against me. Are you sure you’re ready to lose their business?”
Sints, I have no idea if most of those merchant women remember my name, let alone possess enough loyalty to me to realize that I’m not here anymore.

The muscles around Cavan’s eyes tightened a fraction. Before he could reply, however, a bright white ring of light expanded into existence just outside the loose ring of watching duelists.

Eward whipped his head around in shock, and a spike of fear stabbed his chest as he recognized Ingerika stepping through a portal onto the warm arena sand.
What is she doing here now? This isn’t our regularly scheduled meeting place or time. She’s endangering our entire operation by letting herself be seen!

The willowy young trio singer tucked her twin crystals and their brass holders in a deep pocket on the front of her white tabard and passed between two of the duelists, wearing a serene look on her pretty oval face. She gave Cavan a respectful nod, then turned to Eward.

He begged her with his eyes not to ruin everything. But her expression gave nothing away. “Avatar Duelist Eward Raalgat, you are summoned by the Minister of Information for an immediate mission of diplomacy. From this moment on, you are in the direct employ of the Ministry of Information and will report only to Minister Philo. Do you understand?”

Eward swallowed and took a calming breath. “I understand, Singer. What is my assignment?”

Ingerika held out a folded and sealed paper. “All your instructions are contained within. Please meet your contact without delay and secure her services. The deadline is not a suggestion. Sints guard you.” She gave Eward a nod of farewell, bestowed one upon Cavan as well, then exited the watching circle of duelists and sang open a portal that swallowed her and winked out.

In the silence that followed her departure, Eward cracked the wax seal on his message and unfolded the creamy paper to read Philo’s flowing hand. His eyebrows rose, and he folded the paper shut again. He looked around the circle of his colleagues, seeing their curiosity, confusion, and envy.
How would my friends handle this situation?
He envisioned Tarin’s flip remark as she strode out of the arena tunnel without looking back, or Taban’s snide commentary on their inability to survive without him. Calder would promise to return only if he got a better room in the duel den. Kiwani, in her current state, would probably already have left by now. And Aleida, well, Aleida probably would never have gotten herself into this situation.

Cavan still stared at him, apparently having evolved past the biological necessity to blink. Eward swallowed, held up his orders, and said, “Well.” He nodded once, summoned his wind disc without bothering with the motions and let it carry him into the arena tunnel.
Let them wonder.

In his room deep within the arena walls, Eward changed into more formal attire. He used a bit of Wind and Flame to remove the wrinkles from the heavy silk sleeves of his pale blue duelist tunic and matching trousers. Needing some time to think things through, he hailed a carriage out on the street and let his thoughts wander as the mundane transport carried him south through the crowded streets. Renallen was an ancient and fortified city, and every section within it was guarded by its own high, mazelike walls, which hampered transportation within the city rather more than anyone liked.

As his carriage passed beneath yet another arched gate between city sections, following closely behind half a dozen other carriages, and trailed just as closely past half a dozen more, Eward let his mind play over the information Philo had included in his letter. He knew that Emperor Jaap had been in closely guarded negotiations with representatives from the Corona for some time. The sudden arrival of another diplomat, and one who was to be whisked to the Kheerzaal as quickly and as decorously as possible, unwound a worm of worry in his belly.
Kiwani would probably know exactly what this means. She’d be a better escort than I would. Well, if she didn’t sulk the whole time.

His carriage eventually turned onto Ambraith, one of Renallen’s broadest boulevards. It ran through the city’s historical heart, not far from the docks. The warm, briny scent of the Teresseren Sea reached his nose, and the foul concoction of odors from the docks themselves was pleasantly masked by hundreds of enormous, street-side barrels blossoming with
waskukone’yen
. Still, the smell flooded his mind with unpleasant memories, and he had to take a moment to shove them back into the recesses of his mind. He fingered a pale bead on his necklace.
I’ve conquered you. You can’t hurt me anymore.

His inquiry at his contact’s spacious caravan security office presented him with another dilemma, however. The lady was out. Specifically, out on the private promenade beach on the other side of Vantage Spire, upwind from the docks. “What’s she doing down there?” Eward asked, barely concealing his exasperation.

The burly Balang behind the desk crossed his tree-trunk arms. He looked more suited to hand-to-hand combat than desk work. “Walking. She bought her privilege time, like all the other rich folk.”

Eward waved his cream-colored letter of instruction as though it were his duelist flag. “I am on official business for the Minister of Information. Tell me how to reach the beach.”

The Balang complied, and Eward paid the driver and dismissed his carriage before heading on foot through the few city blocks between him and the coastline. His formal duelist attire drew plenty of attention, as did the tattoos on the backs of his hands. To his surprise, he enjoyed walking amongst the people he served.
I really do need to get out more, as long as I’m not accused of rape afterward.

The sun was nearing its zenith as Eward reached the guarded entrance to the promenade beach. On the far side of the wrought iron fence, a white expanse of sand lay perfectly combed and gleaming in the sunlight. Artfully planted clusters of palms and trumpet flowers sprouted at occasional intervals, and brightly feathered songbirds, their wings clipped to prevent them from escaping, chirped and sang from the shrubbery. Eward only needed to hold up his letter and mention Philo’s name before being ushered onto the exclusive beach. Sand climbed into his sandals’ open sides and clustered under his toes. He flicked the grains away with a puff of Earth magic, then summoned his wind disc again.

Eward eased forward above the sand, studying the few people in sight. An elderly couple sat in the shade of a small gazebo to his left. On the right, two young girls in the shell headdresses and nearly see-through garments of the careless nobility giggled and waved at him from their chaises beneath a palm tree. Eward gave them as serious a nod as he could manage, then floated closer to the edge of the sea in search of Imee Magittang.

The endless blue stretch of the sea all the way to the horizon dragged his childhood fears back to the front of his mind. Frustrated, he shoved them back again
. We are not doing this now. Stop it.
Then he spotted a lone female figure, young and curvy, wading through the foam of the fresh waves. “Of course she’s walking in the ocean. Why wouldn’t she be?”

He briefly considered talking to her via a Wind tunnel from his current position, but that would probably be seen as rude and bizarre or possibly showing off. He didn’t want any of that associated with him by the girl who had once been promised to marry Bayan. After all, she had slapped his friend pretty hard once.

He took a deep breath and floated closer to her. She paused and watched his approach with interest. He drew close enough to see her dark eyes flicker down toward his feet and react to his apparent levitation. Her lush lips spread in a satisfied smile. “And to what do I owe this very special pleasure, Duelist?”

His hand began to lift Philo’s letter, but he thought better of it. Clasping his hands and the letter behind his back, he said, “Merchant Magittang, I need your help.”

She turned to face him more fully, placing her hands on her ample hips and favoring him with a broader smile. “Well, there’s something you don’t hear every day. How can a humble merchant like myself lend aid to duelism this day?”

“It’s not duelism you’ll be aiding. The emperor himself has need of your services, and he has sent me to secure them. Time is of the essence. How many of your caravan guards can you have gathered and ready to travel by sundown?”

Imee’s glance sharpened, and Eward imagined calculating variables flitting behind her eyes. “All of them. It so happens that two of my crews returned to the city yesterday, and no one has been assigned outward bound yet. Knowing the minister’s reputation as I do, perhaps that isn’t coincidence. Where are we traveling?”

Sints help me, I like her.
“First, to the docks, as an honor guard and greeting cohort for a Corona diplomat. We’ll be on the road to the Kheerzaal at dawn. We have a tight schedule and an unbreakable deadline. Can you handle that?”

Imee swayed back and regarded Eward frankly. “Absolutely. But I insist that you travel with us.”

Eward blinked. “Me? I’m not on the agenda.”

Her gaze was direct, though a smile played along her lips. “You are now. If the emperor wants this precious diplomat to arrive on time and in one piece, my men will do their best to make sure that happens. But just in case, I want emergency support personnel. I have a chanter who travels on dangerous missions with my men, but for a task of this magnitude and importance, I want you too. I see those tattoos on the backs of your hands. Should the sudden need arise, I want someone who can take that diplomat all the way to the Kheerzaal without needing to worry about vagaries or road delays or the bother of too much decorum. Can you handle that?”