Читать книгу Spellbound: Book 2 of the Spellwright Trilogy - Blake Charlton - Страница 20

When consciousness returned, Deirdre found her eyes filled with tears. It was always like this after repossession. At least she’d learned not to sob.

She was lying on a thick carpet, her head resting on a pillow, her body covered by a blanket. Beside her a low hexagonal table held a kettle and a small metal cup of steaming mint tea. Other pillows lay around the table.

She rubbed the tear tracks from her cheeks and sat up. The wide room was bright and airy. Beyond the furniture stood ornate redwood screens. Late afternoon sunlight spilled through the screens in the shape of their geometric latticework. A cold breeze brought the scent of redwoods and the distant ocean.

The Savanna Walker had brought her to the top of the sanctuary, to what had been the canonist’s quarters but now was Typhon’s. Deirdre’s last clear memory was of shoving Francesca from the kite. After that, everything was blurry sky and an ecstatic heat.

After catching her breath, Deirdre noticed a break in the screens that revealed a wide balcony and a view of Avel’s winding avenues and the wind-tossed savanna. Gingerly, she stood and discovered that she now wore a blue silk blouse and a white longvest threaded with gold. Once again Typhon had dressed her up as a Spirish noble, an officer of the canonist’s court.

At times Deirdre enjoyed this outfit; the white longvest contrasted nicely with her dark skin. More often she was vexed that Typhon insisted on costuming her like a doll. The demon had planted his worshipers within Cala’s court and compelled her to help them play the nobility’s political games … games Deirdre had once played for Boann a lifetime ago, when she had been a Dralish noble in the city of Highland.

For the past decade, Typhon had compelled her to become his Regent of Spies, to help renew the network of demon worshipers that Fellwroth had devastated when he usurped the demon’s control of the Disjunction. Presently, most of Avel’s powerful citizens—military commanders, merchants, bankers, even clergy—were sworn to Typhon. Without their help, he would never have enslaved Cala. The demon made Deirdre use her political savvy to manipulate Avel’s pliable nobles and her strength to assassinate the resistant.

But after years of preparation, Deirdre had put a plan in motion to escape the demon. A bloom of hope made her smile until she wondered if she’d pushed her luck too far.

She’d convinced the demon that she had been converted, that she was devoted to the Disjunction. As such, the demon had ceased to search her memories, which he could only do when in her physical presence. The process also left her debilitated for two or three days and so interfered with her role as Regent of Spies. It had been two years since he had read her thoughts. But now that Deirdre was freed, could she continue to fool him? Could she keep him from reading her mind?

She paused and prayed for strength and a chance to see Boann again. When finished, she balled her hands into fists and walked out onto the balcony. To the west, clouds were rolling in from the ocean, darkening the air with giant columns of rain, but overhead the late afternoon sky shone a fresh blue.

Deirdre walked along the balcony and found Typhon in a white alabaster body, his usual seven feet of bulging muscle. His mane of silky red hair hung down his shoulders. From his back grew wings of checkered red and black feathers. He was facing away from Deirdre.

Near him stood a large cube of blindness. It was not a cube of blackness. Black was a shade. Deirdre’s eye could have perceived and her mind could have experienced blackness. When she looked at the cube, she did not see blackness; she simply did not see.

The cube was how she perceived the Savanna Walker. She could resist most effects the beast had on a mind. This close, most anyone else would have been aphasic and delirious.

“Demon,” Deirdre announced, “I’ve returned.”

Typhon turned. His eyes were now black onyx, but his features were the same as ever: snub nose, thin lips, high cheekbones. His expression of supercilious amusement filled Deirdre with a hatred so hot it nearly made her jump. It took every ounce of her control to keep her face blank.

“My troublemaking daughter,” Typhon said in his rumbling tone. “Was it worth it? I thought you were done with childish suicide. It’s been years.”

She bowed. “This was not the same. This was for the Disjunction.”

It was hard to tell, his features being so white, but Deirdre thought the demon had raised his eyebrows. “Convince me, daughter. Why did you need to escape my possession to advance the Disjunction?”

“I had to protect our work from that reckless beast you’ve taken into your confidence.” She glared at the Savanna Walker. It was difficult; her impulse was to look away from blindness.

“Daughter, you are under my compulsion not to oppose—” Deirdre went momentarily deaf as the demon spoke the Savanna Walker’s true name.

To better control the monster, Typhon had altered the Savanna Walker’s mind so that the beast had less influence over someone speaking or even thinking his true name. As a result, the Walker deafened anyone hearing his name’s sounds, blinded anyone seeing its letters.

Deirdre’s hearing returned. “If you persist in defying me,” Typhon said, “I will reinvest more of my soul in you. Haven’t I proven that you are no longer capable of resisting the Disjunction? You cannot help but advance our cause.”

“I am convinced, my lord. I will do anything to advance our cause and to convert my beloved Boann to the Disjunction. You must believe—” Her voice stopped and she tottered to her left.

This had happened before. When the Savanna Walker moved, he caused the balcony tiles to vibrate as if in an earthquake. To prevent her from feeling this, the Walker had briefly paralyzed the nerves in her legs that sensed vibration. Those same nerves, she’d learned, also sensed the angle of her joints. Therefore, when they were disabled, it became hard for her to keep her balance when she wasn’t looking at her feet.

When Deirdre steadied herself, she found she was deaf again. The Savanna Walker was speaking.

“Typhon,” Deirdre said, though she could not hear her own voice. “I must … I have to tell you …” She stumbled to her left again. Suddenly her hearing and balance returned.

Typhon was frowning at her. “What did you do when you were free?”

She smiled. “The beast isn’t being open with you, is he?”

Typhon’s frown deepened. “What did you do?”

She bowed. “When I explain, you will want to reward my dedication. And you will want to protect me from any reprisal from the Savanna Walker.”

The demon only stared.

Deirdre pressed on. “You know I have long desired to learn how the Silent Blight figures into your plans for the Disjunction. How can I serve our cause without knowing of what you have called our most powerful tool? Perhaps now that I’ve protected the Disjunction from that beast, you will reward me by telling me of the Silent Blight.”

This time Deirdre was ready for the Walker’s reply; she spread her feet and waited until she could hear again. Then she looked up at Typhon as he spoke to her: “You’ve made”—again the Walker deafened her as Typhon spoke his true name—“defensive.” The demon stepped toward her. “Tell me now. What exactly did you do?”

She smiled. “I put Francesca into play.”

“I gave no such orders,” Typhon said coldly. “I’ve no intention of wounding Nicodemus yet.”

Deirdre’s smile grew. “And I beg your forgiveness, but it was necessary to … to …” The Walker had made her deaf to her own voice. She kept talking. “I had to put her into play to protect her and everything we’ve worked for. As your Regent of Spies, I’ve learned that the Savanna Walker has been manipulating you. He’s determined to remove her for himself.”

When she stopped, she was still deaf. Typhon pointed at the Savanna Walker and said something. Deirdre’s hearing returned.

The demon studied her. “You put Francesca into play to protect her from the Savanna Walker?”

She nodded. “Francesca will soon find Nicodemus. She can still keep him alive after you wound him. I couldn’t tell you what I was planning because the beast would have stolen or killed Francesca before my petition reached your ears.”

He studied her. “And so you planned to do this during Nicodemus’s little raid?”

“Raid?”

“Nicodemus snuck his students into the sanctuary when the lycanthropes attacked North Gate. The boy and his kobolds fought their way up into my private library.”

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I don’t understand. What happened?”

The demon snorted. “The shock on your face had better be genuine, or I’ll never trust your expression again.”

“It is not only genuine but also profound. What are you talking about, my lord?”

Typhon explained how Nicodemus had broken into his private library, nearly reaching him when his mind was partially deconstructed. “I should thank you, daughter. By bringing”—deafness as he said the Walker’s true name—“to the sanctuary, you forced Nicodemus to abandon his attack. Though the boy would have discovered a surprise if he had reached me.”

As comprehension sank into Deirdre’s mind, so did cold dread. Had she inadvertently stopped Nicodemus from freeing her? “My lord, I did not know—”

“Of course not, daughter. But that’s not the issue; Francesca is. Tell me everything she said.”

Deirdre took a deep breath. Whether or not she had foiled Nicodemus’s plan, she had to push on with her own. “My lord, I will humbly withhold my obedience unless you tell me the Walker’s true name so I can protect myself from his manipulation. I also humbly request an explanation of the Silent Blight so I might better know the Disjunction’s plans.”

“Humbly?” The demon laughed and crossed his arms. “I could peel the memories from your mind.”

“That would take you a day and leave me incapacitated for longer. You can’t afford that. My agents have found proof the Savanna Walker is stealing powerful objects from you again. Remember the Lornish necklace he swallowed two years ago? Or the Ixonian urn the year before that? Only this time the Walker’s greed is focused on Francesca.” Though the Savanna Walker had stolen from the demon in the past, Deirdre was presently lying; she knew the beast had no designs on Francesca. To induce Typhon to believe her she would have to produce evidence.

She continued, “I have learned that the Walker removed the anklet you put on Francesca. He did so to take power from it, and to hide Francesca from you so he might consume her. I couldn’t tell you of my suspicions, my lord, until I knew where the beast hid the anklet. I needed evidence. Now my agents have learned that the Walker is hiding the anklet in the body of one of his followers. One of the bodies that he … forgive me, my lord, but I don’t know how he consumes them. One of the bodies he swallows? that he magically preserves? Whatever the case, the anklet is in one of those.”

Typhon became still as the alabaster statue he resembled. Deirdre knew that the demon was now sending his mind in search of the magical anklet.

Suddenly, Deirdre tottered back a few steps. She was deaf again. When she looked up, she saw the cube of blindness advancing on her. “Don’t you dare touch me,” she said without hearing her own voice. She might not have the Savanna Walker’s ability to manipulate minds, but she was still Typhon’s avatar. She could summon enough strength to crush a block of marble with her hands. “I swear on the Creator’s name, I will break your—”

The cube stopped advancing. “Both of you will be silent!” It was Typhon, his alabaster body again animated. Moving with frightening speed, the demon marched into the cube of blindness.

For a moment Deirdre was left seemingly alone on the balcony. She took another step back, fought the urge to run.

Suddenly Typhon stepped back out of the cube of blindness. Both his arms up to the elbows were covered with dark, clotting blood. Between the giant thumb and forefinger of his right hand glinted a small silver chain.

Deirdre smiled.

Typhon turned his horrible white face to Deirdre. “Daughter,” he said, “you will explain everything you did to Francesca, or I will pluck it out of your mind.”

“My lord, you will not have my cooperation until I have the Savanna Walker’s true name and knowledge of the Silent Blight. I am the Disjunction’s true champion; he is not.”

“You are my Regent of Spies,” the demon repeated. “I have the right to know.”

“And because it is best for the Disjunction,” she said with a stiff bow, “I have the right to resist. If you steal the memories from my mind, you’ll be cutting our cause when we can’t afford to bleed.” She nodded at the Savanna Walker. “The beast is manipulating you to—”

“Quiet,” the demon snapped and then turned on the Walker. Deirdre heard nothing of what followed but judged by Typhon’s expression that he was demanding an explanation from the beast.

Deirdre smiled. The Savanna Walker might be a half-completed dragon, but he wasn’t much of a talker. As the demon’s avatar, Deirdre could vaguely sense Typhon’s emotions; his suspicion was rapidly growing. As well it should; the Walker had demonstrated his greedy and larcenous nature in the past. More important, Typhon had found the anklet in the stomach of one of the Walker’s consumed devotees. The demon could not conceive that Deirdre had planted it there … and, in fact, she never could have done so without Francesca’s help.

Just then she sensed the demon’s anger flare. The Walker couldn’t explain the anklet. Chances were good that Typhon was now threatening the beast.

At last, Typhon finished speaking to the Walker. He turned and strode past Deirdre before pausing. “I will deal with him later. He has much more to explain. But now, follow me, daughter. We shall peer into your mind to see if your intentions are what you claim. If you prove yourself to be a true servant of the Disjunction, I shall have Canonist Cala teach you of the Silent Blight.”

Deirdre bowed and murmured her thanks.

“Nevertheless, I want Francesca brought back immediately. Organize our best agents and find her. I’m not ready to wound Nicodemus.”

“Yes, Typhon,” she said.

He nodded. “Let’s go.” The demon started to walk away.

Deirdre bowed again. Now began the most dangerous part of her scheme. She glanced back at the cube of blindness. The beast was standing near the balcony.

Until now, the Walker had ignored her. Their only interactions had been when Typhon had sent the half dragon out to repossess her after she had died. But now the creature knew she was his mortal enemy.

His first attacks would be directed at her person. That would be dangerous, certainly, but later the beast would strike against Nicodemus or, worse, Francesca.

Deirdre needed to act to reduce the beast’s power now. Usually, she could do nothing to harm or even hinder the half dragon when possessed by Typhon’s soul. But presently the demon was infuriated; it gave her a certain freedom to enact his desire for punishment.

She took a few steps after Typhon and then turned and charged the Savanna Walker. The blindness rushed to meet her.

In a few steps, she moved into the cube of blindness. She’d also gone deaf. Even though she could no longer tell where her limbs were in space, she tried to throw her arms in front of her. A jolt of pain suggested that she’d struck something. She couldn’t feel what; her skin had become numb, but she was aware that her forward motion had stopped. Blindly, numbly, she tried to wrap her arms around her foe. She moved her arms so as to lift … and …

A sudden blast of sound struck her ears: Typhon bellowing for her to stop. A flicker of vision. She was holding a massive object above her head. A long gray something hung before her. It looked like an impossibly long arm consisting of twenty or thirty elbow joints. Beyond stood the balcony railing and the sloping red tiles of the sanctuary’s dome. Blindness enveloped Deirdre again.

She bent forward and with all her strength threw the beast forward.

In the next instant, she was panting with the exertion. Sensation returned in a dizzying rush. Something hard and powerful wrapped around her right arm and hoisted her into the air as if she were a child.

It was Typhon grabbing her; she had no doubt about it. But she cried out victoriously as the cube of blindness went tumbling down the dome to a long, sheer fall.

Something forced her to look at the demon’s face, now a white mask of anger. “You can no longer resist the Disjunction,” he hissed. “Those who oppose us become us.”

Deirdre felt as if ice chips were forming in her blood. Some part of her knew—though she did not understand how or why—that the demon spoke the truth.

STANDING GUARD AT the alley’s entrance, Nicodemus saw the Savanna Walker fall down the dome, the impossible body tumbling over itself, nightmarish limbs flailing.

“What is it, Nico?” Shannon asked from deeper in the alley. The old man and Nicodemus’s disguised students were crouching in the mud of a Water District alleyway. They had been shambling from one dilapidated neighborhood to the next, hoping to avoid notice.

Nicodemus jogged back into the alley toward Shannon. Behind the old man, the kobolds were spread out, more comfortable in the shade of the alleyway. Vein and Flint were talking quietly, while the other three played a dice game. The sight made Nicodemus’s heart ache. Nearly ten years ago, he had led fifteen kobolds out of the Pinnacle Mountains to hunt Typhon. All but these five had been killed by lycanthropes or demon worshipers.

Nicodemus spoke to Shannon. “The Walker just fell from the canonist’s quarters.”

“A clash between Cala and the beast?” the old man asked.

“Possibly, or the demon is disciplining the Walker. Either way, things are looking worse. We should get out of the daylight.”

The old man adjusted his gray robes. “I could have told you that. But where? Under the Sliding Docks?”

Nicodemus shook his head. “Reservoir’s full.”

“Merchant Dal?”

“Not after what happened to the ware house last time.”

“Old Fatima’s gang then?”

“She still is offering a price on my life.”

Shannon snorted. “My boy, what did you say that night in her bedroom?”

Nicodemus grimaced. “What about Guy Fire’s crew?”

“Remember what Vein did to his brother’s left hand?”

“It wasn’t Vein’s fault. He should have had more sense than to suddenly grab a kobold. And Guy doesn’t even like his brother.”

Shannon sighed. “Still, won’t work. So that leaves the boys at the abandoned gate house.”

Nicodemus looked at the dome. “They might be our only option.” He paused. “What about hiding in the burn?”

“Who’s running that territory now?”

Nicodemus looked back. “The old dog still.”

Shannon scowled. “I’d rather chew glass.”

“Magister, the old dog is not that obnoxious.”

Shannon only narrowed his blind eyes.

“All right,” Nicodemus said with a sigh, “maybe he is.”