The Ventifact Colossus (The Heroes of Spira Book 1) (14 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ARAVIA ENJOYED THE quiet during the walk home; it was a somber journey, a funeral march, and so no one talked much. This gave her uninterrupted hours to ponder how one would set up a stasis field, and mentally compile a list of questions for Abernathy. From time to time she wondered when her own sadness would set in, but it never did.

Ernie went out of his way on several occasions to point out flowers or cloud formations Mrs. Horn would have liked, and cried himself to sleep more than once. Tor tried a couple of times to strike up actual conversations, but they faltered and went nowhere. Grey Wolf and Dranko stayed as far apart as possible. Still, Aravia was confident that the time on the road was blunting the sharp edge of the others’ grief. She worried about what would happen when they next talked to Abernathy, but she was also eager to share her hypotheses with him about what had been going on in the ruins.

They returned to Tal Hae after a week of travel, just an hour before sunset. The temperature had been dropping throughout the day, and a nettling sleet was falling as they reached the Greenhouse front door. The others dropped their packs in the foyer, then either slumped into the living room and fell into the couches, or headed upstairs for baths. But not Aravia.

“I’ll let Abernathy know we’re back.” She shed her damp boots and cloak, bounded up the stairs, and entered the room with the crystal ball. “I wish to speak with Abernathy.”

The ball fogged, and the face of Mister Golem appeared.

“Greetings! Abernathy is indisposed at the moment, but I would be pleased to convey your message to him.”

Drat. “Please tell Abernathy that we’re back, and have important news from Verdshane concerning his prison door. I’m sure he’ll want to talk with us right away.”

“I will convey your message to Abernathy at his earliest convenience. Is there anything else with which I can assist?”

“Yes. Please remind him that he has promised me access to his spellbooks, and also that I’d like him to see about having my cat, Pewter, delivered from Master Serpicore’s house.”

“I will convey that message also. Is there anything else with which I can assist?”

“No, that is all.”

She stared disconsolately at the empty crystal ball for a minute, then realized just how dead-weight weary she was. A bath in her magical hot water tub would do her good. She had herself a long soak and nearly fell asleep, but the smell of roasting meat roused her. She dressed and headed downstairs. Perhaps Abernathy was already there, ready to hear her report.

The others (without the archmage, alas) were all gathered by the fireplace; someone had dragged an extra sofa over so that everyone could bask in the fire’s warmth. Before preparing their dinner, Eddings had stacked their boots at the edge of the hearth to dry and had hung up all of their wet cloaks. He brought Aravia a mug of hot cider before she could even sit down.

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, Mistress Aravia. I have used the Icebox for venison and cider, but am still preparing a vegetable soup upon the stove.” The butler’s voice was unusually somber and he looked crestfallen; it took Aravia a moment to figure out why. The others must have told him about Mrs. Horn while she was up having her bath. She gave him an encouraging smile, settled into a sofa, took a sip of cider, and wished Pewter were there to jump up on her lap.

Eddings turned to Dranko and removed an envelope from inside his jacket. “Master Blackhope, this arrived for you two days ago. My apologies for forgetting it until now.”

Dranko took the letter. “Maybe it’s a summons by another archmage. Gotta climb that ladder…” He tore the letter open and read, eyes scanning rapidly back and forth. It was a long letter, written across several small sheets of paper. His smile faded as he read, and by the time he finished, he was practically shaking.

“Son of a bitch!” he shouted.

“What happened?” Aravia asked.

“Did your church send you a bad letter, like Morningstar’s?” asked Tor.

“No,” said Dranko. “I mean, yes. Well, in a way. Dammit!”

They all waited for him to continue. Even when Dranko stormed out after his tiff with Morningstar, he hadn’t been this upset.

“Back when I lived in the church, I had one measly friend. One! She was the only one who didn’t treat me like…like a goblin, and now she’s run away because she uncovered some corruption that Mokad was part of.”

“Who’s Mokad?” asked Aravia.

Dranko answered by pulling up his sleeves. “All these scars? On my arms, my face, my back, my legs, my…” He stopped and looked up at her. “And a few places I won’t mention with ladies present? Mokad is the one who put them there. It’s part of church discipline, and Mokad loves to dish it out.”

“Where is your friend now?” asked Morningstar.

“She didn’t want to say. She’s afraid for her life.”

“Can you read it out loud?” asked Tor. “Maybe there’s something we can do to help.”

Dranko stared at Tor for a second, but instead of delivering some unkind words about the suggestion, he hunched forward on the sofa, reshuffled the pages of the letter, and began:

Dear Dranko,

I’ve run away from the church. I think I didn’t have any choice, and there’s something really bad going on there. A couple months back Tomnic got sent off to Hae Charagan, and a bunch of others with him—you remember Wister and Palinaya, they never liked the scarbearers much. Mokad and his bunch have been having lots of secret meetings, so I snooped around Mokad’s bedroom and got caught which earned me seven scars and a week in the closet.

When I got out things were worse. A couple other scarbearers I don’t like got brought in from Minok and one day Sirus was gone, the nice old priest, and no one would say where he was. So this time I broke into Mokad’s office, which wasn’t easy because he always keeps it locked, but I still remember how you showed me to pick locks so I broke in while he was in morning prayers. Well, you know I was never as sneaky as you, and I got caught again, but I’m fast and slipped by and ran out of the church, and now I’m hiding and I can’t go back.

I found a bunch of papers in Mokad’s office and I was caught before I could read everything, but I still remember what was on some of them. It was weird. Some of it was gold crescent counts, and they were high, in the hundreds I think. There’s some kind of expensive project going on in the desert near Sand’s Edge that they think might go for weeks yet, but they’re not sure. Dozens of people are working on it. I guess they’re using church money for it, but then why are they making it all a secret and having sneaky meetings in Mokad’s room? And the papers mention something about the “Black Circle” a couple of times, like it’s something important, and there was a letter that was signed with a circle instead of a name. It’s weird, and I don’t know what it is.

I guess this means I might not ever be a full priestess, with me running away from the church before my elevation. You’re probably the only one who really understands how much that hurts. But if I learned something from all the teachings and sermons, it’s that Delioch will see me through as long as I’m doing the right thing, and I am.

You were always my best friend, Dranko, and I wish you’d have visited sometime. I don’t want to say where I am yet since this letter might get stolen. I’ll write again if I find out more, and maybe we can meet in person.

Your friend,

Praska Tellenhien

Aravia shook her head. “I’m sorry about your friend, but it’s not germane to our current assignment, is it? And it’s not terribly surprising. Master Serpicore always says that churches are rife with corruption, and questions why the Gods don’t do something about it.”

Ernie glared at her. “That’s awful, Dranko!”

“If we had a way to get in touch with her, she could stay here with us,” said Tor.

“She knows Dranko’s here,” said Aravia. “How else would she have known where to send her letter? Eddings, has Dranko’s friend come calling while we were gone?”

“She has not,” replied Eddings.

“The thing that gets me,” Dranko said, “is that if I hadn’t agreed to work for Abernathy, I could go try to find her, or go to Sand’s Edge to discover what Mokad is up to. Not that I mind all of your sparkling company, but now that we’ve done our job for Abernathy, maybe he can spare me for a couple of weeks.”

“That depends,” said Abernathy. “What exactly are you talking about?”

Aravia leapt to her feet, and everyone whirled to look toward the foyer. Abernathy stood in the entryway to the living room, bedecked in his white robe and outlined in the same azure glow as when he had visited her room and promised her access to his library. A gold chain hung around his neck, from which dangled a bright red ruby in a silver hoop. The wizard looked even older than he had the first time they had met, his back more bent, his face more creased, and his voice was tired, spent.

Abernathy took short shuffling steps toward them and leaned on his staff like a crutch. “I thought I owed you a visit. I understand you have some news from Verdshane.”

Eddings hurried forward and helped ease Abernathy into an armchair, then fetched him a mug of cider. The old wizard’s magical projection into the Greenhouse was fascinating. Somehow he was physically both in his tower
and
in the Greenhouse at the same time.

“Mister Abernathy,” said Ernie. “We have some awful, awful news. Mrs. Horn…she died. We were attacked by monsters, it was terrible…”

He described the events at the Shadow Chaser, his narrative punctuated with stammers and sniffles.

“Why did you summon her?” Grey Wolf demanded when Ernie was done with his tale. “If she was just going to die the first time we went anywhere? Why? Abernathy, I don’t care much that you’re a powerful wizard, and I don’t care if you can turn me into ten different kinds of frogs. As far as I’m concerned, you’re as responsible for Ysabel’s death as if you’d planted a knife in her chest with your own hand.”

That was the sort of confrontational outburst Aravia had been afraid of. She hoped Abernathy had a satisfactory explanation. Abernathy didn’t react immediately; he stared into the fireplace.

“I’m sorry,” the old wizard said eventually. “Grey Wolf, I summoned her for the same reason I did the rest of you. My spell
chose
you. I didn’t know if…” He shook his head. “There was a reason, even if we can’t know what it was.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Grey Wolf angrily. “There wasn’t a reason. She died because you sent her to a dangerous place an old woman shouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near!”

“And I accept that responsibility,” said Abernathy, his volume rising. That was the first time he had sounded even slightly angry. “Let me shoulder the blame. But take away the lesson, also. There may be fate at work here, in some fashion, but it’s not going to save any of your lives. The world is dangerous, and it’s only going to become more so in the coming months and years.”

“That’s not good enough!” said Dranko. “There has to be something more to it than that. Mrs. Horn was not a lesson. She was a person. A damn fine person who had her doubts right from the start about why you had picked her for this job. And she was right. You shouldn’t have picked her. For that matter, you shouldn’t have picked
me!
My religion forbids me from striking with a weapon, but it turns out I can’t channel, either. Is it too late for me to opt out of this group, so you can find a real channeler? And you say, ‘My spell did it’ like you didn’t have a choice, but it was
your
spell. How can we trust anything you tell us? Which one of us is going to be next?”

Abernathy frowned, the firelight casting his eyes in the flickering shadows of his brows. He touched his steepled fingers to his lips. Was he contemplating some kind of magical compulsion, sensing his team might be breaking apart?

“It is not too late,” said Abernathy. “I promised you I would not use force, or a threat of force, to make you stay. I intend to keep that promise. But before any of you decide to leave, please, tell me about the rest of your journey and what you found at Verdshane. If your news is good, perhaps I will not need your services any longer.”

“Sir,” said Aravia, “we went to Verdshane as you requested and found the ruins there. We even found your building with the blue magical field. But the person—”