The Book of Shadow, page 3
part #1 of The Curse of the Unnamed Series
“Aye, but we need a traveler.” And so much more, he thought. “And a champion.”
The affront of his words showed on Cirril’s face, and the knight opened his mouth to object, but Carpera raised his hand, stopping him.
“You sound like you have something in mind.”
Misk spied his staff leaning against a log five paces away and made his way across the grass to retrieve it. He sensed the eyes and expectation of Carpera and the others on him as they awaited his response. With the stick in his grip, he straightened, relieving a modicum of the strain on his legs and lower back as he leaned on it for support. He stood for a moment, running the fingers of his free hand along the knurled wood, wishing for it to be smooth and straight, but the staff of his memory was long gone, though perhaps returning to him soon enough. If things transpired how he hoped. The way he’d hoped for them to happen for more years than he cared to count.
He cleared his throat and toddled toward the brace of men again.
“I understand the baron has a man who might suit our needs.”
Someone in Carpera’s retinue let out an audible gasp. It wasn’t the nobleman himself but his face reflected the same sentiment.
“You can’t mean Rein Shriken?”
“Is that his name?” Misk asked, knowing full well it was. “Tall fellow, good with the ladies, even better with a sword?”
“That’s him,” Cirril confirmed with a noticeable snarl.
“But hiring the baron’s champion will cost a small fortune,” the merchant said. “And we’d still lack a traveler.”
Misk nodded. “I’m sure the baron has a spare handler lying around he has little need of. A traveler costs far less than this Shriken fellow.”
Caedric Carpera lifted his hand to his mouth and began chewing on his thumbnail. Misk imagined the thoughts and calculations going on inside his head. How much would a true champion cost? How much was his son’s life worth? The old man remained quiet as the nobleman did his mental accounting. The wrong word now might send the fragile house of cards he’d worked so hard to build tumbling to the ground. Cirril and his companions shifted, looked from one another to their employer, glared at Viden Misk, but stayed dutifully silent. After what seemed enough time for Carpera to gnaw his thumb off, he lowered his hand, raised his chin, and fixed his gaze on the elder man.
“I’ll send word with an offer,” he said, then sighed. “If I don’t save Cassemir, my Nsiri will never forgive me.”
The wife, Misk thought to himself. I should have brought her into it sooner.
“But your traveler is dead,” Cirril said, glaring in Misk’s direction, then shifting his gaze toward where Linian’s corpse lay cooling in the grass. Viden Misk wondered if they might have been friends.
“Other ways exist to get word to him.” The nobleman looked at the deceased handler, too, but his demeanor did not hold the same regret and loss as his knight’s.
An employee , Misk thought. An undesirable one.
Caedric Carpera turned away from where the traveler lay and started toward his modest castle. Cirril and the others followed; the knight fixed Viden Misk with an expression designed to leave no doubt of his disdain for the old man. The nobleman was correct—the baron’s champion would not come cheap, but at a price likely to stretch a former merchant of Carpera’s ilk to his limit. He loved his son—and his wife loved the boy even more—but Misk wouldn’t be convinced of his willingness to pay until this Rein Shriken fellow stood before him, the allegiance of his sword pledged to their task.
He watched them go, waiting for them to be a suitable distance away before he took the broken candle from his pocket and held it out on his flattened palm. The deep emerald surface of the creature’s skin shivered, a near imperceptible movement he’d not have noticed if not for it touching his own flesh.
Well, not really my own.
“I’m sorry, little one,” he said, voice quiet and soothing. “I meant no harm to come to you.”
The insignificant creature made no reply. Of course, it couldn’t in a way perceived by the world. Only the creature’s handler—Linian, now lying dead and cooling where she’d stumbled from the portal—might have any chance of understanding it or being understood. The handler, and one other person.
Viden Misk.
He inhaled through his nose, filling his lungs, then let out his breath in a great sigh between his lips. The sun was dipping behind the trees, bringing a slight crispness to the air, and he shivered. The frail body he found himself in trembled more easily than he’d have liked it to—experiencing the chill was not his favorite thing. In moments like these, he wondered if he’d made the right choice. How easy to fix the problem by finding himself a new, younger vessel to carry him again, as he’d done so many times over the years.
The creature in his palm stirred, drawing his attention. It reminded him why he found himself in this place and time and, more importantly, how magical creatures like this one found themselves without their own lives, instead spending their existence beholden to unappreciative masters. Sadness poked at his heart and curved the corners of his mouth into a wistful and pained expression.
“Let’s get you to my chamber and see what you can tell me, little one,” he said, beginning the long and painful toddle to his chambers in the basement of Carpera’s stronghold.
His back hurt. His leg caused him discomfort, and his shoulder ached. All the physical manifestations of this body’s age annoyed him, distracted him, but the feeling of light inside him waning—the power he’d relished from the time of his birth so long ago—gave him the greatest concern.
If he didn’t complete his task before he died, if he proved unsuccessful, what might become of the world?
He shuddered and made his way across the grass toward his current home, the tiny creature clutched in his hand, his heart filled with regret.
Chapter 3
L lyris had never visited a palace.
Truthfully, the baron didn’t live in a palace but, compared to everywhere else she’d ever been, his home seemed palatial. People like her never received invitations to places such as this. Handlers were vital to the operations of fiefdoms and duchies, but as he who cleans latrines is necessary; nobody wants to perform the job or befriend the fellow who does, no matter how many benefited from the work.
The well-dressed man and his companions guided her through the double-door entrance into a wide room carpeted in deep reds. Doors at either end led out to other rooms she couldn’t see, but the broad staircase lying straight ahead of them caught her attention most. The wood gleamed as though someone had finished polishing it an instant before they crossed the threshold into the baron’s abode. At the top, a door set in a wall of cedar paneling stood open. The stairway split, continuing to the left and right before climbing another half-flight before finding its end.
“Come, girl,” the man said. Only then did Llyris realize she’d stopped to gawk at the opulence.
She shook herself into moving and followed the men as they mounted the stair, her eyes flickering between carved panels, embroidered tapestries, and paintings of landscapes or victorious knights. They left not an inch of the surfaces of the walls undecorated. After the hovel where she was born and raised before they came to kill her mother, and the sparse quarters of the handlers’ guild, the sight of the place threatened to leave her breathless.
Each step of the staircase proved solid beneath their feet, with nary a squeak for their passing. In all her life, had she ever climbed a set of stairs free of complaint for her doing so? Many had shivered under her spare weight. The stairway’s workmanship boggled her mind so much she didn’t consider the stonework of the foundation, or the skill of the carvers and artisans who created it. She wondered if men built the castle, or if they’d employed the help of Unnamed.
They reached the top and Llyris saw through the immense doorway, its two doors standing open. A carpet of ruby woven with gold and silver led down the long room, ending at a raised platform set with several ornate chairs. A man dressed as though he must be very important—the baron, she assumed—sat in one while the others remained empty. Rein and Jai attended on the carpet in front of him, both knights appearing a mix of annoyed and impatient. She wondered how they showed such disdain in the baron’s presence and got away with it. If she tried such a thing with even a lesser noble, she’d spend a night in a cell. Ilkari stood to the left, sack in hand, a red stain across its bottom.
The men led her through the long chamber, its length lined with statues, four on each side, depicting a familiar scene: Amnayel Prisma subduing the magiks and saving humankind. She peeked at each of the carven figures, not wanting to slow their progress to meet the baron. Even in the quick peep, she saw the craftsmanship of the sculptures equaled or surpassed the awe-inspiring stairway.
“Hurry along, handler,” Rein said, his voice echoing in the near empty hall. “I yet must wash the day’s doings from myself before the night can begin.”
She suspected he meant his comment more for the baron than for her, but she hurried her steps, anyway. Her hand slipped into her pocket in search of Flayre’s smooth surface to offer her some relief from the anxiety building in her chest. When they reached the two knights, her escort peeled away to the sides, leaving the three of them standing before Baron Sylleth alone. Llyris drew a deep breath, attempting to calm her jangled nerves. Surely she’d done nothing wrong. They’d sent her to transport Rein and Jai to subdue the rogue shifter… or so she thought. Did she misinterpret her orders?
“Ilkari,” Rein said, and held his arm out straight toward his attendant, fingers spread as he trained his full attention on the nobleman seated before him.
The squire stepped forward and handed the sack to his charge, bowing his head as he did. Llyris recognized he performed this formality for the benefit of the baron; in the brief time she’d known him and Rein, she hadn’t seen him act in such a way. The knight neither saw him as an equal nor treated him as such, but a familiarity existed between them which precluded courtly formalities. Ilkari returned to where he’d started and directed his eyes floorward, making her wonder if she should do the same.
“I have brought you a gift,” Rein said.
He grabbed the sack by the bottom, uncaring about the drying blood transferring from it to his gauntlet, and flicked it toward the dais. The contents flew from the bag, tumbled through the air, and landed on the lowest step leading to the platform with a sickening thunk.
“The rogue jick has returned. A little worse for wear, I suppose, but here he is, back to his owner, as promised.”
The baron’s gaze lay upon the severed head for a few seconds before he raised his chin to scrutinize his knights, a sour expression tainting his face.
“When I said dead or alive, I’d have preferred the latter. Shifters are not cheap.”
Rein shrugged. “A ravening beast, this one. If you look closely, you can see tufts of fur poking out of his cheeks.” He gestured toward the young man’s head, but the baron’s attention remained on him. “He’d killed his handler before our arrival—an action punishable by death on its own—and he endangered our lives, so I put him down. Your choice: replace a shifter, or two knights and sundry personnel?”
Jai stifled a laugh at his friend’s words, but no one else in the room made a sound. Llyris awaited the baron’s response, expecting a torrent of anger to flow from the man’s darkening visage but, to her surprise, his expression lightened and a smile crossed his lips. It held a devious cant, but she supposed some might consider it at least a smirk.
“Luckily, I have sourced the funds to replace the shifter and then some.”
“Well, how fortunate,” Rein said, no humor present in his words. “And why does such a proclamation warrant the delay of my bath?”
“Because you are my solution.”
Standing behind him as she was, Llyris couldn’t see the knight’s expression changed, but his body language suggested the sternness it might hold. The knight put both hands on his hips, spread his legs wider, and leaned forward.
“You can’t mean for me to pay for a jick you sent me to kill,” he said, his tone confirming Llyris’ assumption. “I won’t be putting a penny toward such a thing.”
If it weren’t for those gathered around her, she might have gasped in shock at the manner he spoke to the baron. If she’d ever used such a tone with one of her masters at the handlers’ guild—lowborn though most were—she’d have received a palm aside her head. The baron’s men who’d escorted her to the chamber shuffled, but none of them moved forward, nor did their commander gesture for them to do so. Instead, Sylleth leaned back in his ornate chair, fingers steepled in front of his face, the tips touching his lips showing through his graying beard.
“No, you won’t be paying for one, Rein Shriken, but you will earn me the coins to replace him.”
“Of course I will,” the knight scoffed. “Or you’ll add a shifter tax to the serfs. Whatever it takes, m’lord.”
Rein spun on his heel and stepped away from the dais, brushing Llyris as he did. He glared down his nose at her as she stumbled back a pace, trying to get out of his way. The baron spoke again, stopping him before he took another step.
“The merchant Caedric Carpera has sent word he needs your assistance, and he has agreed to pay a price which surprised even me. You’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”
Rein swung around to face the baron. “Carpera? Never heard of him. What does he want of me?”
The corners of the baron’s mouth pulled down, taking his mustache along with them, and he shrugged. “Something about a sick child and a quest for a grimoire to cure him.”
“A quest? I’m to be sent on a chase for some wild goose?” Rein spread his arms out to the side, the bloody sack dangling from one hand. “Your greatest knight is to be wasted looking for a book?”
Baron Sylleth sneered. “For the price he’s paying, he can have you cleaning out his latrines if he likes; I care not.”
This time, the baron’s three men chuckled, the sound soliciting dissatisfied looks from Rein and Jai. Ilkari stared at the floor, content to stay out of the conversation and knowing wherever his charge went and whatever he did, he’d go along, too. A few seconds later, as Sylleth’s gaze shifted to her, Llyris wished she’d chosen the regard of her own shoes as the squire had.
“And you will take him, young lady. Carpera has need of a traveler, too.”
Her eyes widened and, with an audible click, she gulped the sudden flood of saliva filling her mouth. She thought about asking if he meant it, or questioning whether he’d spoken with her masters at the handlers’ guild. Or perhaps she should thank him for the opportunity. She knew better and kept her lips shut. Rein’s gaze slid over her, like liquid flowing from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, before he rounded on Sylleth again.
“This is ludicrous,” he snapped. “Whatever this fool needs done must be of such little import if he wants this child to travel us instead of using his own. Why doesn’t he—”
“Enough,” the baron bellowed, the word echoing through the chamber and making Llyris flinch. He stood from his chair, towering over the knight from his place on the dais. “You do not have the right to treat me thus because you are my son. You will do as you’re told, as any faithful subject, or suffer consequences. Do I make myself clear?”
Llyris stared at Sylleth for a second, surprised by his proclamation of Rein’s lineage. She wondered if this was general knowledge unknown to her, or if she’d become party to a secret. She looked to the knight, whose shoulders had sagged, and his chest appeared less puffed.
“Of course, Father,” he said, dragging out the ‘ah’ part of the word longer than he should to show his contempt despite agreeing. “But Jai will come with me.”
“I suspected as much. Now go have your damn bath. You leave at first light.”
The baron waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, spun in a flourish of robes, and headed for a door hidden in a far corner. The well-dressed man who had escorted her to the interview hurried to reach the exit ahead of him and open it on his behalf. Once Baron Sylleth exited, he faced the group.
“Get them out of here,” he said, before darting after his master.
“Come on,” said one of the baron’s men who’d spoken nary a word until this point.
“Doesn’t need to tell us twice, does he, Rein?” Jai commented, but he didn’t start toward the door. Instead, he stood waiting for his friend to make the first move.
“No. No, he does not.”
Rein spun on his heel and trudged along the red carpet. As he passed Ilkari, he whipped the bloody sack at him, eager to get rid of it, as though he hadn’t realized what a loathsome thing he held. The squire raised his gaze in time to catch it out of the air before it smacked him in the cheek. As the knights stalked to the door, Llyris peered at the shifter’s head lying on the steps leading to the top of the dais with its ornamented chairs. It rested at an angle, the dead eyes staring to the side, as if admiring the statue of Amnayel Prisma, the savior of humanity.
What will happen to the poor man’s head?
Circumstance gave her but a few seconds to wonder about the shifter’s plight before Ilkari’s hand gripped her elbow. He tugged at it, and she redirected her attention to him.
“Come,” he said. “We need to leave.”
She nodded and let the gray-haired squire lead her toward the door, soiled bag still clutched in his fist. The two men who had accompanied them followed, halting at the doorway to watch them go. Jai and Rein awaited them at the bottom, the latter’s gaze pinned on Llyris as they descended the stairs. Her cheeks flushed.
“Have you attended Carpera’s estate before?” he demanded, giving her no chance to speak.
She shook her head. As Rein himself proclaimed when Sylleth mentioned the merchant, she’d never heard of him.
“How close can you get us?”
