The Sheening Of The Blades (Book 1) Read online

  Kane slowly took the pipe from his mouth, staring at Melkin in dismay. Finally, he said firmly, “I cannot believe we would not know it if Raemon were free.”

  Slowly, the other three men nodded. The pipe went back in the royal mouth.

  “Aye,” Melkin agreed quietly. “Aside from spinning up a new story of Montmorency that included the Empress turning into stone, that Shepherd wasn’t real helpful.” His lip curled in derision. “It’s the flaming Swords of Light that have all the information we need, to listen to him, but you wouldn’t have known it from the one we met in Alene.” Which seemed an understated summary for an event that had shaken Ari to his toes. It had been like having the door to a closed house suddenly thrown open so that sunshine streamed in. His dreams had been startlingly intense ever since, bursting with that sense of light and laughter that was associated so closely with his childhood. More than any actual tangible memories, it was the remembrance of that buoyant normalcy, the warm sense of belonging, that haunted him.

  “Her worthy advice was to continue our quest in Cyrrh.” Melkin’s rough voice was almost a snarl. Kane frowned but didn’t look surprised. Banion had no doubt passed this little morsel on already.

  “After the Kingsmeet, then,” the King rumbled, then rather confusingly said, “I tried to talk her out of it.” His voice bordered on the plaintive. “But she’d have none of it. The North can no more understand why a queen shouldn’t run a Kingsmeet than they do the traditional tithe to the Border Realms. And I, I was not perhaps as firm as I should have been. She’s barely older than my Kilde, and beautiful and prudent and thoughtful…and very strong-willed,” he finished drily.

  “You’re getting soft-hearted,” Banion accused him, grinning.

  “She needs a husband,” Melkin said suddenly, completely serious. “Especially if there is to be war this generation.”

  “I’m not sure a husband’s going to help,” Banion observed. “Northerner men are rarely as strong as their women. Perhaps someone from outside the Empire…” his eyes cut slyly to the Dra. “You’ve not taken a mate yet, Kai…rather unusual for a Dra of your age…perhaps…?”

  The Merranics grinned openly and Ari looked around the circle of faces in bewilderment. There was a lot of humanness going on here. Kings with guilt complexes, Drae courting Queens.

  Kai, hardly the blushing type, said merely, “Perhaps more changes than just the War are coming…”

  Grins faded and the King of Merrani said, “My spies say Ramshead seethes with activity.” The other men exchanged quick looks.

  “Aye,” Melkin said. “We saw Ram but a day’s ride from the Aepont.” Ari knew they were talking about the Addahites, knew Ramshead lay somewhere lost in the mists north of Alene, but was baffled why there was such ignorance about these people. Spies?

  “Why don’t we talk to them?” he asked without even thinking, and immediately wanted to crawl under the chair. But Melkin answered, without a trace of impatience, “We can’t get close to them. They’re better woodsmen even than Drae. There probably hasn’t been a conversation with the Ram since Montmorency.”

  “Not just the Illians are restless,” Kai murmured, the rich timbre of his voice resonating in the small room. “We were ambushed by over forty brigands on the Kendrick.”

  The pipe came out of a slack mouth as Kane raised his eyebrows, saying reprovingly to Banion, “You said nothing of this, Steelmists.” Which was a funny nickname, Ari thought. The Steelmists were the northern range of the Ethammer Plateau, the rough country up around Alene.

  Banion waved a big paw dismissively. “It was just a little skirmish.”

  Kane looked at Melkin, who shrugged. Then, so fast Ari thought he might have imagined it, Melkin’s eyes flicked to him and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Ari blinked, searching the faces opposite him for some clue to this enigmatic exchange, but they were already moving on. Had Kane been wondering if the attack was related to the boys somehow?

  “What news in Merrani?” Melkin asked.

  “Earthquakes.” The pipe came out of the mouth again, the storm-colored eyes above it grim in the craggy face. “Almost half the complaints I heard on the Stone Bench today were pleas for reparations for damages. They don’t seem to understand that the acts of the gods are out of my control.”

  “Why don’t you get a court system?” Melkin asked. “Personally issuing judgments is kind of a waste of your time, don’t you think?”

  “It’s only one day a week. And it keeps me in touch with the people. Makes them feel like they’ve got access to a higher ear, so to speak.”

  Melkin didn’t look particularly touched, but all he said was, “We haven’t heard of any quakes in the North, though the fault line runs right through the Ethammers…”

  “Fault lines…aftershocks,” Kane muttered. “You sound like the Magi. Maybe you could talk to Perraneus while you’re here,” he suggested darkly.

  “I’d intended to,” Melkin answered, shrewd eyes on the King’s face. “Why? Is he losing his, er, sense of discretion?”

  “It’s lost,” Kane said shortly. “If he challenges Vangoth openly, I’ll have no choice but to remove him from First. I’ve already threatened him—with that and with banishment—and he’s only getting worse.”

  “He’s always been bold,” Banion rumbled soothingly.

  Kane grunted, teeth mangling his pipe stem. “Vangoth came to me two nights ago. He feels…Perraneus is a threat.” The room went quiet. Kane’s powerful voice rippled with frustration, vibrating around their little circle. Amazement and alarm swept through Ari…such things didn’t happen in the North. Ari couldn’t think of a single instance where Marek had spoken personally with one of his subjects, to say nothing of being personally upset at one of them.

  Everyone was staring at the King of Merrani.

  “I love my people,” he grated out, with unapologetic (and very un-Imperial) emotion, “but I dare not cross Vangoth.” Ari was stupefied, wondering what in the world this poor sap had done to warrant such attention, and why in the world the Merranic god would bother about it.

  “What did Vangoth suggest?” Banion asked cautiously, obviously leaping a mental chasm Ari was finding a touch out of reach.

  “Something permanent,” Kane said flatly.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Melkin assured him, also untroubled. His steely eyes were thoughtful. “We’ve some catching up to do if he’s been provoking the gods. The Academy’s on the way out of town anyway, though it might mean pushing it to make the Kingsmeet.”

  Kane winced as if reminded of something. “I was going to take him,” he admitted. “Who better to explain the earthquakes?…I don’t suppose you, Melkin, with your ‘natural sciences’ background…?”

  “It would be better from a Merranic. I’ll be presenting fables and tall tales—and probably getting my Master-ly self laughed out of the room for conspiring with the Whiteblades.” The Merranics chuckled, the mood lifted, but the sardonic look stayed etched on Melkin’s face.

  From Melkin’s raging impatience the next morning, it was apparent that he was feeling the teeth of time gnawing at their heels. They rode down the backside of the Fortress Heights early, at a distinctly brisk pace. Fog clung heavily to the streets, protected from the sea breeze by the craggy bulk of the high ground behind them. Glimpsed surreally through the thick mist, structures of towering, delicate stone and ghostly, empty streets lay wreathed like some forgotten land floating beyond the veil of time.

  It was a chatty bunch that morning, unfortunately, which Ari thought kind of ruined the mood, but at least everyone was cheerful. A night of frank admiration hadn’t hurt Cerise’s temperament any and Loren was in veritable verbal ecstasies. He had not only found the female companionship a pleasant change from Fleetman muscle, hair, and sweat, but the Fortress Gardens had been, apparently, a rich, lush, varied oasis of flora, a gem of greenery amongst all the stone. He rapturized over their delights until he was reduced to reluctant silenc
e by Rodge’s, “Marek’s moneybelt, Lor, they were trees and flowers.”

  It wasn’t long before Melkin was slowing his ugly roan, and they all peered interestedly up at the Academy of the Magi, rising whimsically out of the swirling grey mist in pale, ornate stone. Irregular abutments and towers popped up here and there all over it; compared to the city full of stern, defense-oriented (if beautifully adorned) buildings, it was almost absurdly fanciful. Inside was just as bad. The Northerners were convinced that if Melkin hadn’t obviously already known his way, they never would have found the second Eastern Tower, South Wing, third floor. The hallways meandered like stream beds, the rooms sprouted off in an utterly disordered fashion, and stairwells appeared nonsensically in the middle of nowhere. The square corner was as rare as a double tirna.

  The classrooms and laboratories were familiar enough, though, with their universal scholastic sounds of dictating voices and quills on parchment…it almost made Ari nostalgic. It was strange, now, to think of those regulated days, of knowing exactly where you were going to be at any given hour for weeks on end.

  At last they came to the door of the First Mage’s Tower. Melkin knocked in a brief concession to politeness, and then proceeded to barge in. A neat, silver-haired man was already moving to meet them, looking unperturbed at the invasion. He had warm blue eyes that picked up the color from the deep folds of his robes and the smooth, rolling, instantly recognizable Merranic voice.

  “Welcome! Welcome all. I am Perraneus, and you are most welcome to the highest font of learning in Merrani.” The boys glanced at Cerise, sure this would inspire commentary of some sort, but she merely gazed around benignly, flicking dust off of the crisp beige of her newly cleaned riding outfit.

  “Please, feel free to look around; all here is for the purpose of teaching,” the First Mage said after a short pause, his eyes already seized by the look of simmering intensity Melkin was focusing on him. “Old friend…” he said, torn between bewilderment and amusement. “Let us talk…” And without further delay, which Melkin probably wouldn’t have stood for anyway, they headed into an adjoining room. Ari, watching them, thought it more likely the two would be reversed in their respective roles of popularity. It was Perraneus that was dignified, courteous, well-spoken, slightly stooped from carrying around that big brain, while Melkin, tall and commanding, with his caustic comments and air of barely controlled energy, seemed much more inclined to raving heresy.

  At the Imperial University, the Magi had been roundly denounced as superstitious dabblers in petty magic, useless as sources of knowledge except for a few admittedly brilliant advances in astronomy and the like. But, there was a virtual treasure trove of finely wrought mechanical wonders cluttering the room, some moving and whirring softly, some recognizable as compasses or astrolabes or telescopes. Rodge’s face was excitedly stuck to the biggest one of these Ari had ever seen, resting grandly before the big east window. Deserted after that one sentence of introduction, the Northerners began to rather aimlessly wander around looking at the curiosities, while Kai and Banion went over to one of the windows to have their own low-voiced conversation. Most of the contraptions Ari couldn’t identify. He picked up a cone-shaped device and peered into its tiny mechanical insides. It looked so much like the earhorns old people used that he idly put it up to his ear.

  “—and you were the one that mentioned the Empress to begin with,” Melkin said right next to him, and he jumped, head swiveling in surprise. But there was no one there; in fact, Melkin and Perraneus could still be seen deep in the other room, voices inaudible.

  Puzzled, Ari put the device back up to his ear. “—then ‘foresee’ me some answers about this Statue,” Melkin was saying with derogatory heat. You know what I think about your games—but this time you happened to be right.”

  “These are no ‘games,’ friend,” Perraneus answered, amused. “I have been lucky enough to have been granted a great gift, a gift of foresight so sure that it makes reading the stars as uncertain as casting bones!” He chuckled, and even Ari, not knowing him, could feel the wrongness in the sound. There was a pause before Melkin said, low and tight, “What gift?”

  There was no answer, and Melkin continued, “I don’t know what you mean, but you had better lay off these inflammatory pronouncements, especially in a Realm like Merrani. You’re walking a dangerous path, and provoking Kane—you’re going to force his hand.”

  “I do not fear the King, nor Vangoth,” the Mage laughed softly, and again an eerie shiver ran up the back of Ari’s neck at the sound. It sounded suspiciously like…madness. “And as for playing with fire, no pun intended, you’re one to talk…” Perraneus chuckled. “Does he know?”

  “No,” Melkin’s voice was clipped, impatient, as if he preferred the conversation back on its previous track. “We have bigger things on our plate than that. We must be ready for war, if it is to come, and you will not be able to share your knowledge with a king who can’t trust you—”

  “Ari?” He jumped guiltily, realizing in horror what he’d been doing, and put the horn down so quickly that Selah raised her eyebrows. He looked absently at the beautiful conch shell she’d brought to show him, his mind whirling over what had just drifted through the earhorn. What gift? Was prophecy really something Magi could do? And did who know what?

  Abruptly, Perraneus swept into the room and over to the big telescope, raising his gilt voice in the unmistakable tones of instruction. Melkin followed more slowly, face glowering blackly. Ari had the distinct impression he’d not been done with his conversation.

  “As I’m sure you know, the heavens can be divided up into twelve quadrants, corresponding logically with other events split into twelves,” Perraneus began saying, in such blatantly instructive tones that out of ingrained habit, Ari drew closer to listen.

  “This is more than coincidence,” the Mage said as everyone gathered around, his twinkling eyes and animated face devoid of any sense of distress over his talk with Melkin. “The study of the heavens is a complex and deeply revealing discipline, giving us insight and perspective into current—and future—events.”

  “You mean foretelling the future?” Cerise supplied in a drawl sodden with sarcasm.

  The First Mage seemed unoffended. “There are, of course, those who use it for such cheap circus tricks, but its value is much more profound for those who know its science as well as its art. Now, if you’ll—”

  “So, what do the stars predict for our future?” Cerise persisted, thin lips slightly upturned with condescension. “Master Melkin would have us believe we are tottering on the brink of war, despite the fact that there’s been peace for centuries. Surely something that momentous should be written in your skies.”

  Ari blanched, sure he would never have dared mockery with Melkin a lowering thundercloud nearby. Perraneus took the question with disturbing gravity, the animated sparkle fading from his face and his whole body going still. He didn’t speak for several long seconds, clasped hands hidden beneath the deep cowls of his sleeves and the fabric glimmering where bits of gold were strewn through it.

  Eyes glittering oddly, he said in a different voice, “You are very right…Uranus is in Scorpio right now, a very rare event that presages great, and violent, upheaval. It is one of the many indicators that make us believe things are changing, and perhaps not for the good…”

  Ari felt another chill creep up his spine. Uneasy, he looked away, his eye happening to fall on Melkin, and he blinked in surprise. Instead of the dark glower he’d expected to see, the Master’s face had an inexplicable look of searing, intense curiosity. He was staring hard at something on Perraneus’s big, cluttered desk, and Ari followed his gaze.

  It was immediately obvious what had captivated him; Ari felt his eyes almost seized by it as they drifted over the messy work surface. It stood out from the papers and odd objects with a darkly fascinating clarity, a beautifully worked trinket box of bronze with a dark, rounded jewel set in its top. In this room full of practical
and sterile science, it seemed to almost seethe with artistic life, with a kind of morbid beauty. Ari didn’t know why he would get such a feeling of blackness from such airy, lovely artistry, but then something happened that drove any objective analysis out of his mind. In the dark, faceted opacity of the big jewel, a light gleamed suddenly, an oily, reddish light that was gone as soon as it appeared.

  Fascinated, not believing he’d really seen it, Ari took a step toward it—

  And the floor began to tremble. Surprised, he looked down. The stones were solid enough, but even as he looked, the whole thing seemed to shudder and blur under his eyes.

  Around him, the group was exclaiming, Rodge yelping, Cerise strident.

  “Earthquake,” Perraneus warned, voice low-pitched and unpanicked. “Get against a wall.”

  Everyone scrambled, uncoordinated in a shifting world, across the room to grab a piece of wall. Stones began to rasp and grate as they moved against each other, and dust sifted down in a thick screen from the ceiling. Ari’s heart was pounding. What if the ceiling gave way? What if the FLOOR gave way?

  He’d barely had time to run through a set of catastrophes when all motion ceased. Dust settled. A deep, wary silence descended. Several people started to cough, and Ari peered anxiously through the murky air, looking for the members of the party. Down the curved wall a good space, he could see Kai, his black hair and broad, well-muscled shoulders piled with dust. He was spread protectively over a small person, and with a start, Ari recognized Selah. She was standing quietly mere inches under him, staring very seriously up into his face. Ari rose abruptly from his crouch against the wall, earthquake forgotten.

  “Everyone out. Get downstairs. The aftershocks can be worse than the original quake, and the tower is the last place you want to be for that,” Perraneus instructed, still calm. There was a relatively mad rush for the door, and Ari was grabbed by Loren before he could get any ideas of his own. He didn’t see Selah until they were outside, the halls clogged with the rush of students and the press bearing him out like a wave in the sea. She found him out there, coming up to him with a reassuring smile. He took her hand.