The Arcanist (41 page)

“Liar!” April screamed it at him suddenly making everyone jump.

She surprised him with her angry retort. She was never an angry person. In fact in her nature she took after Leona, a truly gentle soul. Always wanting to believe the best in people. But something had changed.

“April. Little sister.”

Simon called up to her a smile beginning to stretch across his face. He thought he would win her over to his side. He'd always been able to bend her to his will. He thought he always would be able to. But maybe he was finally going to be proven wrong.

“Do not call me sister Weasel. You have not the right. Not after what you've done. You are no longer of either the House of Barris or the Severin family. You have been disowned in all ways. And while Father weeps for you, he has demanded that you face trial for your crimes. That you swing at the end of the hangman's noose as is proper.”

Simon's smile froze on his face before vanishing completely. He had likely never heard April so angry before. And no more had he heard what their father had said. Save for the call for him to hang it probably wasn't a big thing to him. Not the part about family at least. But the dishonour involved in losing not just his title and House but also his family name surely stung. Still, he kept trying.

“April you know they exaggerate.”

“I saw Edouard's injuries. I saw those of the others. No one could do that to one of their own family. No one of any worth. Now prove your lies or run away like the treacherous little weasel you are.”

April wasn't backing down, and despite the fact that it wasn't her place to defend him but rather his to protect her, Edouard was pleased. Maybe this alliance with the temple wasn't such a troubling arrangement after all. Not when his little sister was finding her voice. Learning to stand up for what she believed in.

“Fine!” Simon spat on the grass with anger. But he knew he had no choice. “First Vesar. He's not human. He has grey wrinkled skin and tusks. And his blood is dark purple. The same is true of his guards I assume. And they can take a shot from a musket and get back up.”

Not human? Tusks? Edouard didn't quite know what to think of that, save that it matched well with what the dragon had said of them. He had called them vermin. Maybe they actually were vermin of a sort.

“I know the secret ways in and out of the city because I used to run thieves and smugglers across the city. In and out of the castle. Between the buildings and down through the black markets. They were how I escaped the castle when the war started.”

“And for the last Vesar hides his workshop and stores in the basement of the tannery on Brook Street. There's also what looks like a small altar there. He thought it was well hidden but I had people following him from the first. Skilled people. They were not seen.”

“Is that good enough little sister?”

April said nothing because there was nothing to say. Simon had of course proven his worth. He had likely expected that he would have to long before he'd arrived. Which reminded Edouard of another matter.

“How did you make it past the ward?”

“I didn't. It did.” Simon pointed at the scattered debris that had once been some sort of wind demon.

“Vesar sent it hunting you and because it is mindless it made it through your wards. I guessed that it might when I saw it heading your way, so as it hunted you I hunted it. I could not find your fort but as long as I kept it in sight all the way, I didn't have to.”

Deception. Edouard knew his brother was lying again, or at least hiding something important. He could hear it in his voice. But he didn't know what it was. Fortunately he wasn't the one asking the questions or he would simply have screamed at him.

“So you know of this thing?” Anatha wasn't about to be turned aside in her questions. “How?”

“Vesar sent it against me and my soldiers when he betrayed us. It killed nearly all of them. It throws rocks at things. Huge rocks.”

Vesar had betrayed him? Edouard found himself unable to accept that. Everything else, but not that. It was Simon who betrayed. And while it might be fitting that for once he was the one turned upon, it just didn't ring true.

“So you are no longer king?” That much was obvious from his presence and his plea for shelter. But it would still be good to hear it confirmed.

“I was never king. I never wanted the throne. I don't know why I did what I did. Vesar did something to me I think. Turned my thoughts somehow.”

And there it was, the excuse. The lie. The thing Edouard had been waiting for. He wanted to scream with rage at his brother. All his life it had been the same. He wanted something. Gold, a title, a business. He took it. And then when it all went wrong he was ready with his excuses. His lies. He hadn't understood the tax laws. His mother had always intended that the gold of her estate go to him. The others were being unfair. Everyone was lying about him. It never ended. And every time Edouard had watched as his father and Simon's mother had born the shame. Hiding their faces in court. Making reparations to those who had been wronged. Apologising for their son. This was just another one of his lies.

“Liar. Why did you come here?” Edouard was in no mood for his stories. And finally he had enough self control to actually ask questions instead of just screaming.

“To help with the –.”

“Liar!” Edouard screamed with fury and almost without his thinking about it a tiny fireball appeared in his hands and streaked at his brother's foot. He simply couldn't listen to any more lies.

Simon screamed as his foot caught fire. Then he fell to the ground and started screaming some more, all while trying desperately to put the flames out. Patting them down with his hands, rolling about on the grass beneath them like a madman.

“Edouard?”

Kyriel was suddenly beside him, urging him to calm down and he knew that she was right to do so. Simon had come to them under a flag of truce. And he might actually have something to offer. What Edouard had done was dishonourable. But he couldn't listen to her just then. And looking around at the others who had escaped the dungeon with him, he knew many of them couldn't have listened to her either. The same rage screamed behind their eyes too. They wanted to kill him.

Eventually things calmed down. Simon stopped screaming and rolling around on the ground and he settled for cursing him in between gasping with pain. Edouard too found a measure of self control. Not a lot, but enough.

“You foul bastard! I came under a flag of truce!” Simon started yelling at him as he clutched at his burnt leg, bits of blackened material and skin flaking off, and Edouard didn't give a damn. Simon needed to suffer.

“And you’ve been lying under a flag of truce. You dishonoured it. Now why have you come?” Edouard wondered a little how he could sound so calm when the fury was flowing through him instead of blood. If it was even him that was speaking. But he knew that what he was saying was true.

“Brother –.”

In all the dictionaries in all the world Simon could not have found a worse word to use just then, and the fury just exploded within Edouard's beating heart. Before Edouard even knew it another fire ball had streaked from his hands to his brother's other leg. And this one was hotter than the first.

Simon screamed with all the strength he had, a sound that as terrible as it was, was also sweet to Edouard's ears. After that there was more screaming, more rolling around on the ground as he burnt, and when he eventually managed to put out the flames, more swearing and crying. And Edouard didn't give a damn about it. Instead he saw his brother lying on the ground, sobbing like a child, cursing him as he cried in pain, and it meant nothing to him. Nothing save that it was just. Edouard waited quietly, trying once more to control his anger, until his brother was more or less quiet again.

“Why have you come?”

This time there was only silence from his brother as he lay there, understanding that if he said the wrong word he was going to burn again. Simon wasn't stupid. And the silence endured as he no doubt wondered what the right words were. But it ended quickly enough when Edouard grew tired of waiting and called another fire ball to his hands.

“All right! All right! They're hunting me!”

Suddenly Simon began speaking, babbling as fast as he knew how. Desperate not to burn. And for the first time Edouard believed him. He was too scared to lie. And so the whole sorry story came bursting out. About the rock gnomes and their tusks. About how they hunted like animals and tore people's throats out. About how angry they would be after he had destroyed their temple. Simon held nothing back. And when he was done Edouard found himself faced with a difficult decision. Offer him sanctuary or send him on his way? And yet suddenly he knew the decision wasn't that difficult after all. There was no decision to make.

“You can leave.” And he could. Edouard even released his fireball no longer having a need for it. He didn't want to hurt Simon anymore. He just wanted him gone. Away from him and his home.

“But I can't!” Simon screamed up at him from the grass, his face curled up in horror and pain. “I can't walk! They'll be on me in minutes! They'll kill me!”

“So?”

“I have information! Information you need!” For maybe the first time in his life Simon was desperate, pleading with him, and like his pain it meant nothing to Edouard. The only thing that mattered was that Simon finally admitted the truth of what he was and what he'd done. Before he crawled away to die.

“There is nothing you have that I could ever need so badly as to have you in my home. Near my friends and family. You can leave under your white flag, or if you prefer I can offer you a quick death. I will not offer you sanctuary. Ever.”

Simon stared up at him, his face a picture of pain and shock, and Edouard knew it spoke the truth where his lips did not. Simon truly did not understand why Edouard hated him so. He lacked that part of the soul which allowed him insight into other people's feelings. Maybe he lacked a soul completely.

“Edouard.”

Kyriel was once more beside him, looking very worried and trying to make him see reason. And maybe she had a point. The information might be useful. If it wasn't all lies. But he would not yield.

“No!” Edouard was in no mood to listen to her. Not about this.

“My Lady I will not offer him sanctuary. Not ever. If Tyrel wishes the information and is prepared to offer him sanctuary in return it will have to be her decision. And she should know that he lies. He always lies. But even if she does it will not be on my land. I will offer him passage only. He will be her responsibility. And you will bring him through the portal as quickly as possible. I will not have him on my land for a heartbeat longer than necessary.”

Kyriel stared at him, disbelief and maybe even horror in her eyes, and he knew that she was shocked by his coldness. Even he found it strange. But just then he didn't care. She could be disappointed if she wanted to be. She could criticise him day and night about his actions. She could think him a monster. He didn't care anymore. All he wanted was Simon gone from his sight.

“Edouard.” She tried to reason with him, but there was no reason in his path. Not then.

“Lord Edouard.” He corrected her much too coldly. Later he knew, he'd be upset with himself for speaking to her like that. But not now. “This is my home, my land and my word. You will not cross me on this matter.”

Something in his words, his tone and the anger on his face must have finally got through to her and she backed down. Holding back the words she obviously wanted to speak. And that was enough for him.

“I'll be in my workshop.” And with those few words he left them then, marching off to the one place where none of the troubles of life had ever touched him. But this time he doubted that even there he would be safe from them.

But at least he would be away from Simon.

Chapter Thirty Eight

“Another brother?”

Denetta sounded surprised. More than that she even looked it. It was a strange expression for a demoness to wear. As a rule demons always looked confident. Sure of themselves. Too sure perhaps. But it went against their nature to look weak. “Just how many of them are there?”

“Four. So far.” Kyriel added the last belatedly, knowing that there might well be a fifth on the way. “How is it that you don't know? You seem to spend a lot of time with Marcus.”

And each time they had come together, or so she understood from what the other handmaidens had said, they had embarrassed a lot of people with their noise. They were becoming a regular topic of conversation in Bitter Crest and both the temple and the House of Barris were being laughed at because of them. But neither Tyrel nor Count Argus seemed to be too concerned by it. Certainly neither party had been taken aside and spoken to.

“Sister you should know better than to ask such a question. We don't spend a lot of time talking!”

Kyriel tried not to redden but despite her best intentions she still did. And Denetta laughed gaily at her embarrassment. But then she wrapped her up in a hug to apologise for it. Despite her people's reputation she was actually a good hearted woman. Surprisingly ignorant of her boyfriend's family – she was never a curious sort – but that ignorance didn't come from a cold heart. It was simply her way.

“So what happened to this one? He looks a little burnt.”

She picked Simon up by the back of his jacket and lifted him up one handed so that his feet dangled limply while she studied him. Simon just moaned a little as he hung there but didn't struggle. He didn't even open his eyes. But then he was in a bad way. The burns to his legs were extensive and despite Edouard's apparent confidence that he hadn't killed him, he might well die of them. Even if he lived she doubted that Simon would ever walk properly again. If he walked at all.

“Edouard.”

What else was there to say? Though he surely had reason to be angry with his brother, he had gone too far. Gone beyond what either honour or decency permitted. But there was no point talking about it. He wasn't talking. Edouard had left immediately after, heading for his workshop, telling them that under no circumstances was Simon to be allowed into the fort. Not even to heal him. Not unless Tyrel agreed to offer him sanctuary, in which case he was simply to be carried straight through. And they'd had to respect his demands. Edouard was not in a mood to compromise.

After he had left the others had stood there staring at the injured brother as he lay there, crying out in pain and begging for mercy. And though there was shame in standing there and doing nothing, it was all they could do. The lord of the house had spoken and as his guests they were bound to his word.

So they had stood there and watched while Mara had made a hurried visit through the portal to speak with the Mother and tell her of what had passed and what had been offered. It was several hours before she returned with the Mother's words and a deal. That the Mother would offer him his life and healing in return for his knowledge. By then Simon had been almost unconscious. He had woken briefly though when they'd used a few smelling salts to rouse him, and then he'd agreed. He had no choice. Shortly after that Denetta had arrived to carry him through. He would not be able to walk on those blackened legs.

At least Simon was alive, for the moment. He had agreed to the deal that was given him – not that he'd had a choice. He'd had little before Edouard had burnt him, and even less since. After all, he was still stuck outside the fort's walls unable to either enter or leave. Unable to even stand up and probably dying slowly. And all the time the pain of his burns had been tormenting him. He would have agreed to anything to make it stop.

“The tinker? I wouldn't have thought him capable of such malice.”

“Neither would I.”

And that was the sad truth of the matter. She had not understood him at all. Not in all the time she'd known him. At the start Edouard had seemed like such an inoffensive sort. Intelligent, educated and gifted with magic but content to live a pointless existence. A waste of a life but an all too common arrangement among the nobility in these soft lands. Still, he had kept his brother safe from Tyrel's wrath and shown courage in meeting the Honoured Mother despite his obvious fear. There was nobility there and she had liked that.

Then he had had battled the sprigs and she had realised she'd underestimated him. He was far more dangerous than he looked. Those weapons of his were not toys and he wasn't playing. Somewhere lurking under that elegant exterior there beat the heart of a warrior. As one of the Tennari she respected that.

After he had come back from the dungeon however, he had been a changed man. There was something darker in his soul. Something of anger and hatred. He hid it. He pretended to be the man he had been before. But underneath his pretence of civility and behind his light tones and considered words it was there. She had seen it before. In the eyes of those who had been hurt too badly. In trapped and wounded animals that would strike out at anyone. She had seen it in him. And when Simon had come to the fort it had burst loose for all to see.

Just a little bit – and he had somehow contained it. But now she knew that the darkness was close to the surface. Closer than she'd guessed. He was controlling it. Hiding away from the others in his workshop and letting his bitterness consume him instead of simply letting the rage loose in front of everyone. But when things went wrong as they so often did, she knew it would return.

In most people that was a bad thing. In someone from the Severin family where both the givings and the thievings of life seemed to be magnified that was worse. And in someone with both the knowledge of technology and the spark of magic – an arcanist as he called himself – that could be truly terrible.

He would need to be watched.

“Sister, is this the usurper king of Therion?” Denetta had obviously finally realised who Simon was. Kyriel nodded.

“He looks bad. Close to the other side. We should get him to the Mother before he passes.” Denetta gave up on studying the badly injured brother and simply slung him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Simon didn't even seem to notice save to grunt a little in pain.

“Agreed.”

Denetta wandered in through the gate heading for the shrine at the back of the property while Kyriel shut the gate behind them. At least Simon was finally inside the fort, for however long it took to carry him through. And then he would have to face the Mother's justice for all the innocents he had harmed.

This had not been a good day for the false king. But he had survived it. And as she followed her sister to the shrine, Kyriel had to remember that. He suffered, but as terrible as his pain was, it was nothing compared with what he had brought to so many others. And all so that he could sit upon a throne.

Maybe Edouard was wrong to have done what he had done. But it could also be that Simon was only suffering what was right for him to suffer given his crimes. He had brought this upon himself. Besides, what sort of gall did it take to wander into the home of those you had harmed and expect them to take you in?

Or what sort of desperation?