Читать книгу The Wielder Trials - Franca Ogbonnaya - Страница 8

Piotra looked out the dirty, stained window. Where in the Deep was his contact?

His morning had started as normal. Wake at the crack of dawn, run down to the docks of Virtoria for another day of hauling cargo for minimal pay, and leave an important message in a hidden compartment in the wall in the worker’s toilets. He had checked later in the day, and the parchment had disappeared, so his contact must have picked it up.

But the appointed time for the meeting had come and gone, and his contact in Malaquey Naval Intelligence was yet to appear here in one of the rundown shanties at the edge of town.

This part of the city had once been the jewel of Virtoria decades ago; it had been home to one of the most acclaimed wielding colleges in Namira. But now it was the poorest sector, home to the vagrants and criminals. Unless one had nefarious purposes, it was best to avoid it after dark. However, Piotra had lived here long enough to know which areas to sidestep. He had also discovered hardly anyone loitered near this particular abandoned house, almost as if the locals were scared of it.

Which made it an appropriate place for clandestine meetings. But something had felt off when he had approached the meeting point earlier that evening, and his feeling of unease had only grown the longer he waited. With his nerves screaming at him to leave, he turned and did so.

Only to run into the Namiran Military Patrol. And from their expectant expressions, the four officers had been waiting for him.

“Evening, officers,” he tried to say calmly as he wondered why their patrol schedule had changed. He had memorized their route, and they hardly ever patrolled this abandoned part of town. It had been another reason why he had chosen this location for the meeting.

“You’re out quite late, friend.” The patrol officer’s smile was chilling.

Piotra tried to keep his voice calm. “I…I was checking out this house. I heard it was on the market, and quite cheap too. So, once I got off work, I came over to investigate.”

The leader faced him while the remaining three surrounded him. “It’s not surprising it’s dirt cheap, considering it used to belong to traitors of our beloved monarch.”

“Oh, I see,” said Piotra, trying not to tremble. There was something odd about this patrol. The others he had met in the past usually asked for money right off the bat. “Well, it’s getting late. I better head home. Please have a pleasant evening.” He turned to leave.

“Leaving so soon?” asked a female patrol officer, blocking his path. He noticed something different about her coal-black uniform. She had a pistol. Where was her truncheon? He glanced at the other three. No truncheons in sight, just pistols.

This wasn’t a real patrol. He had to get away from them. “Um…I need to get home. I start work early tomorrow.”

The leader chuckled coldly. “Good excuse. Almost believable, if one didn’t already know you’re a spy for Malaquey intelligence.”

Piotra froze as he stared at the fake patrol leader in shock.

“I must admit, I am impressed you chose the house of the late Master Tren Baths, the former headmaster of the destroyed Astral Wielding college. No one would have thought to look—” He was abruptly cut off when Piotra wielded sand into the faces of the four officers.

As they yelled in pain and fury, Piotra took to his heels.

“Find him! Take him alive!”

Piotra realized he was in a bigger mess than he’d first thought. The four pursuers soon became several more, which meant backup hadn’t been far away. With his heart beating painfully against his ribs, Piotra wielded small balls of hard-packed sand behind him as he weaved his way through the dark alleys. He felt a moment of grim satisfaction at the shouts of pain as his sand balls struck targets. His inattention almost made him crash right into someone lunging at him from a side alley. Veering to the right, he barely avoided the outstretched hands of a young man in a Namiran military police uniform.

By the Maker! He had to reach safety. They must not catch him. A plan began to form in his mind as he changed direction and turned right to run towards an enormous, also abandoned, building.

“He’s headed for the old school!”

Suddenly finding new strength, Piotra outpaced his predators as his new destination came into sight. It was a looming structure, which in its heyday would have been an impressive work of architecture filled with bright wielder students. But the ravages of time now had its once proud walls peeling, its windows cracked and dirty. Piotra ran for the damaged double front doors, wielding a blast of sand at the doors so they sprung open at his approach. He ducked inside and started up the damaged stairs. Having explored this place extensively in the past, he knew which would bear his weight and which wouldn’t.

It wasn’t long before the supposed military police were inside too. Screams of pain soon followed as the unwary officers stepped on rotted wooden steps and crashed through.

But Piotra didn’t have time to gloat. His pursuers would learn fast.

After what seemed an eternity of running, he reached the roof. He had almost reached the edge when the fake patrol leader and several of his officers burst through the door.

“Halt in the name of the Immortal Queen! You have nowhere to go!”

Piotra paused and turned to face the Namiran officer. Though winded, he couldn’t help but laugh.

The fake patrol leader’s expression went from triumph to shock. “What are you laughing at? You’re under arrest for treason. There is no escape!”

Piotra raised his hands and inched slowly backwards, nearing the roof’s edge. He wasn’t surprised when no one raised their pistols to shoot at him. Someone important really wanted him alive.

He didn’t have to guess who that may be.

“You’re wrong. I do have options, and I do have somewhere else to be.”

The counterfeit patrol leader looked behind Piotra and suddenly realized what the spy was about to do.

“Stop!” But he was talking to empty air as Piotra casually stepped backwards off the edge of the roof.

#

Such a waste, thought Minister Nathan Lensworth as he studied the vacant eyes of the broken body of Piotra Velztra. Nothing of any worth had been found on his person apart from a worker’s temporary identity card that bore his name. Probably a fake name at that.

The head of Namiran Intelligence eventually held up a hand to stop the sham patrol leader from trying to explain for the umpteenth time why he had failed such an important mission.

“So, Lieutenant Kato, let me get this straight. Instead of grabbing the suspect, you decided to gloat?”

“I…I just wanted to be sure we had the right person—”

The minister gave the unfortunate officer a look that shut him up. That was the weakest explanation yet. True military police were known to grab their victims without any ceremony, but this fool had thought to show off his powers before his juniors instead. He knew this masquerading idiot had been promoted too soon.

It was time to rectify that mistake.

“Well, do you know who else is going to be, shall we say, disappointed, by this blunder?” The junior officers moved away from Lieutenant Kato.

The officer was confused for a long moment. “Um…I…”

Minister Lensworth decided to just tell him. “Her Immortal Majesty.”

Lieutenant Kato went deathly pale.

“Since you were in charge of this operation, you shall have the honor of reporting directly to her.” He watched the officer’s eyes fill with horror, glancing around him as if searching for support. None of his fellow officers dared make eye contact. “You will be escorted to the palace to ensure you arrive safely.”

Lieutenant Kato was still speechless when two of his colleagues grabbed his arms and marched him off. The minister went back to studying the body. He wondered what had been so important that the spy had jumped to protect it.

“Orders, sir?”

“Bury him. He deserves that at least.” Then he turned and walked away.

#

Minister Lensworth strode down the empty but grand marble hall. After searching the abandoned wielder’s college and finding nothing useful, he had made his way back to Flintwood Castle. The granite-faced guards at the double doors leading to the throne room nodded at him as he approached.

“Her Majesty is expecting you. I’ll announce you.”

“Thank you,” said the minister, waiting to be announced.

It took only moments for him to be shown in. For once, no courtiers were in attendance, but the stench of burnt meat filled his nostrils, and he noted the still smoking corpse of a nearly unrecognizable Lieutenant Kato in the corner of the throne room.

As for the queen, she was lounging on her throne, reading a book.

The minister approached at a steady pace, neither too fast nor too slow. He wasn’t keen to anger her. Once at a distance he knew to be safe, he stopped and waited.

Several minutes passed, during which he remained mute.

“Wise of you to send him first before making your own appearance.”

The minister wisely continued to keep quiet.

“It seems I’m becoming a disposal unit for the dredges of our military and intelligence agencies. I’m disappointed you think that’s all I’m here for.” Queen Kallesa closed her book with a snap that almost made Minister Lensworth cringe.

“However, you’re not completely useless. At least you found this spy in our midst.” Minister Lensworth relaxed a bit. “Though, I am surprised he turned out to be a wielder.”

Turning to fix her livid green eyes on the intelligence minister, she added, “And you know how I hate surprises.” She delivered her last words with a hiss.

Mindful of the burnt body beside him, he said, “That fact wasn’t relayed to us by our informant, Your Majesty.”

The queen glared at him for a long moment. “Well, I suppose it’s not entirely your fault. Any news on the merchant ship responsible for the destruction of four of my new warships?”

For once, he was grateful for her habit of abruptly changing subjects. “Our informant asked for more time. He is yet to gather enough data on all those involved—”

“Time is a luxury we cannot afford,” cut in the queen in a calm, icy tone. “Inform our spy of the consequences of not sticking to the agreement. Maybe that will be an incentive.”

The minister swallowed nervously. “By your command.” He turned to go.

“Oh, Lensworth, I have an idea.”

He tried not to flinch at her words. Her ideas usually resulted in someone dying horribly. Ensuring his face was a mask, he turned and asked carefully, “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Maybe you also need an incentive. I think from now on, a division of my Specialists will work with you.”

Minister Lensworth felt the blood drain from his face. Surely, she wasn’t talking about them ?

The queen laughed softly at his expression. “Oh yes, the Specialists will work with you from now on.”

#

Britea stared at the blank sheet of paper before her, then glanced at the closed envelope beside it. It had been easy writing letters to her parents, and even one to her sister.

But each time she tried to think of what to put in this next letter, she found herself at a loss for words. Well, to be honest, this was the first time she’d written to this particular person.

“Better get on with it.” She sighed to herself as she picked up her pen. The more she hesitated, the more anxious she became. What if he thought she was a fool?

Still, she found herself reaching for the blank parchment.

Dear Kahl,

Was that too forward? Britea shrugged and continued.

I hope this finds you and your family well and happy. I have been at Syla College for two weeks now, and it has been an interesting experience.

She thought about telling him about the bullying, then decided against it. She hadn’t even mentioned that to her family. Why make him worry unnecessarily?

I have been fortunate enough to make a few friends. They are helping me with my general studies but not wielding. Only instructors can do that here. I can’t really talk much about it.

Because there is nothing to talk about , she thought. She was still in the most junior wielding class. Not that she minded. It hadn’t taken long for her to see the wisdom in Instructor Shelley’s decision. But she hoped a certain student never found out. Lady Arkei always found ways to make her life unbearable. At least for now it was just a few snide words here and there, though the noble was always careful not to do it in front of the instructors. Britea had a feeling that things would escalate at some point though.

I am still trying to adjust to the school. It is very different from Weldaros. My village seems so small compared to the college and even smaller compared to Raven’s Fall. My roommate, Danai, feels it’s time for me to explore the town. We got permission from our instructor yesterday, so wish us luck.

Britea leaned back and reread her letter. For a first attempt, she thought it was all right. She wondered if she should ask him to write back. Then she shook her head. That would be up to him.

Kind wishes from Novice Britea D’Tranell of Syla College, Raven’s Fall, Malaquey.

Britea folded the letter, stuffed it into a separate envelope, then wrote out Kahl’s full name on it.

“You ready to explore?”

She looked up at an excited Danai. Her roommate was dressed in a soft cream blouse with puffy sleeves that ended at the elbows. Dark reddish-brown, close-fitting leather pants, and thigh-high black boots completed the outfit. Clearly not a college uniform.

“What?” asked Danai when she noticed Britea’s expression.

“You’re…you’re not in uniform. I thought we would be in…” Britea’s voice trailed off as she thought of the few clothes she had. Back in Weldaros, she hadn’t minded what she wore. But here, she’d soon realized how she compared to others—especially Lady Arkei and her cohort of nobles.

“Ooh.” Understanding shone in Danai’s eyes. “I’ll change back into my uniform, and then we can match.”

Britea jumped up. “No, no. It’s all right. It is your day off after all. I can buy some clothes in town later for other outings.”

Danai frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” said Britea firmly.

“All right, but I’ll only accept your decision if I get to take you shopping.”

Britea smiled with relief. “Deal.”

#

A black coach was waiting for them when they left through the grand entrance. Britea spied a coat of arms painted on each side. It took the shape of a shield divided into four sections representing each of the four elements: a single orange-red flame for fire, a small whirlwind for air, a blue wave for water, and a rock for earth.

The Wielder’s Shield.

“This is one of the college’s coaches,” explained Danai when she caught her roommate’s curious expression. “The official recommendation is to book one at least three weeks in advance if you wish to be dropped off in town. However, I always find one available at a moment’s notice, especially if you don’t mind sharing a ride with other students.”

“Does everyone use the coaches?” asked Britea.

Danai scoffed. “Nah. A lot of the nobles would rather die than use them. It’s for us folk who don’t have the same resources. Some call it the Pauper’s Coach, but I don’t care. Their opinions don’t matter to me.” She turned and greeted the man high above them. “Good morning, Trevor.”

A short, stout man alighted from the driver’s seat. “Top of the morning to you as well, Mistress Riverun. Looks like it’s just you two for Port Trident.”

Danai gave him a surprised look. “No one else is joining us?”

“Not today. And you must be Novice D’Tranell? I haven’t had the pleasure yet.”

Britea finally remembered her manners and said, “Good morning to you too. This is my first time going into town.”

“Welcome to Syla College,” said the portly man with a smile. “Stick close to Mistress Riverun. She won’t steer you wrong.”

“Thanks for your overly kind words, Trevor,” said Danai, embarrassed.

“Ah, you know them to be true. Now, let’s be going. Daylight is wasting!”

#

Once they were underway, Britea found she had questions. “How often do you go into town?”

“Every two months. My parents were adamant I keep to that schedule. At first, I thought they were just being silly.” Her expression darkened but she continued. “Then I realized how important these regular visits are.”

“Oh,” was all Britea said. She suspected the first few months had been tremendously hard for Danai. She tried to find something else to talk about. “What about Navos, Lexia, and Shran? When do they visit town?”

“They have their own schedules. Besides, sometimes Lexia and Navos want to get away from the college on their own. Shran or I wouldn’t be welcome on their special outings,” Danai said with a wink.

Britea blinked. “Wait, Lexia and Navos are…” her voice trailed off.

Danai smiled at her expression. “Yes, they’re dating. She may seem exasperated with him sometimes because he’s in defense class, but may the Lords of Light and Shadow help anyone who gets between them.”

To be honest, she had thought it was a bit odd the towering Navos paid so much attention to the petite Lexia. Now Britea realized there had been times when the two wielders had sat close together, exchanging fond glances, even when Lexia was scolding the gentle giant.

“So, what do you want to do in town today, apart from delivering your letters and shopping?” asked Danai.

“I don’t know really. I didn’t plan on doing much. I guess we could look around, if you don’t mind,” said Britea. She touched the small purse in her right pocket. It contained her allowance for the week. Apparently, the royal court gave the poorer students a weekly allowance.

Danai observed her movements. “Word of advice. In the market place, make sure your hands are in both pockets, so the pickpockets won’t know which one to target. Plus, it’ll discourage them from stealing in the first place.”

Britea frowned. “What if I want to look at something by holding it in my hand?”

“First, try to limit touching anyone’s wares, especially if you don’t intend to buy it. The merchants of Carlellis aren’t friendly. Second, if you really need to examine something closely, lean against the stall with the pocket containing your purse, and make sure no one is crowding either side of you. If there’s a crowd around a stall, avoid it at all costs. Whatever they’re selling will certainly be there tomorrow, or you might find something even better elsewhere.”

“Thanks, Danai,” said Britea in a subdued voice. “This place is so different from Weldaros.”

“Don’t be so glum, dear sister,” Danai gave her an encouraging smile. “I felt the same way when I first arrived. You’ll learn fast. You’ll see.”

#

The noise at Carlellis Market seemed even louder than the first time Britea had gone through it when she’d disembarked in Raven’s Fall. The coach slowed to a crawl as it joined a queue of similar vehicles trying to reach the center of town. This gave her time to properly observe the market.

It was large, overcrowded, and noisy, and it smelled terrible. Small stalls covered with straw-brown canopies dotted the edges of the charcoal-grey brick road; merchants hawked their wares with loud voices and frantic gestures. Some even brought samples of their goods right up to the coach windows, and though Britea politely declined, the hawkers still shoved their products in her face. Danai had to speak harshly to the more insistent ones many times until they backed off, shooting dark looks at the senior wielder.

The shops, however, were more impressive. For one, they were clearly bigger than the stalls. They were also located further from the main road, and they had a pedestrian walkway in front. Though all the shops had dark-blue canopies, some shops had just one floor while others had two or three floors. They had been built side by side with barely any space between them. Many shops even shared a wall. Britea frowned. That could be a security risk if someone tried to break into a shop from another one.

Her attention was soon caught by lone stoic figures in dark-red uniforms standing resolutely in front of many of the shops. Britea peered closely at them. They were diligently watching anyone who approached the shops. “Those people in dark-red uniforms, who are they?”

“The Crimson Merchant Guard. The Merchant Guild pays for them. The more guards you see, the richer the owner of the shop. However, the astronomical cost of those guards is always transferred to the customer.” Britea took note of her roommate’s cynical tone and was about to say something, but then she noticed something else as the coach pushed ever deeper into the market.

“These shops…they’re different from the ones at the entrance.”

“In what way?” asked Danai with a knowing smile.

“They keep getting bigger for starters,” said Britea, pausing when they reached the largest shop yet with three guards at the entrance.

“The bigger and more expensive shops are at the center of the market while the cheaper ones are at the outskirts,” explained Danai. Britea nodded as she stored that small bit of information away for later. The wielder coach soon came to a stop beside other packed vehicles. As Britea alighted from the coach, she felt a sudden sense of being watched. She glanced around only to see several people walking across the square, going about their business. No one looked in her direction. She shook her head. She was probably just being self-conscious.

“Here we are, ladies,” said Trevor. “I’ll be heading back to the college in exactly four hours. Please don’t be late.”

Danai smiled at him. “Thanks, Trevor. We’ll be there.” She set a timer on a chronometer and tucked it into her pocket before turning to her roommate.

“Let’s go exploring!”

“Oh, yes!” replied an excited Britea.

#

At first, Britea was content to listen to Danai as she named the different parts of the large market. Grocer’s Lane was east, and it had several small roadside stalls and at least four large shops with bright green canopies that sold fresh and preserved foods. Britea nodded when she realized it was close to the docks, which lay northeast. Directly opposite Grocer’s Lane was what Danai grimly stated was Armaments and Armor Lane. These shops were bigger than the rest. They had black canopies and they all had at least three crimson-clad guards. Britea felt a shiver run down her spine as they walked past the imposing row of heavily guarded shops

The next important sector was Fashionista Lane in the northwest area of the market. As she and Danai stepped into that area, she understood the reason for its name. For one thing, the road here was a bright, pinkish-purple, brick-laden road. A few roadside stalls displayed small vividly colored hats and unique clothing accessories, belts and scarves, and other items she had never seen before. Britea wondered how they kept stock dry when it rained. Secondly, the bigger shops had bright pink canopies and brightly colored signs advertising clothes, jewelry, and accessories. Most of these shops also had crimson-clad guards. Even the roadside stalls had one or two sentries.

Her jaw dropped when she tried and failed to count the various buildings. Carlina, her older sister, would die and go to heaven if she ever came here. Then her gaze happened upon a small shop with grey walls and a distinct blood-red canopy.

Carlelli’s Books and Writing Materials . A bookstore. And it didn’t have any guards.

“Please, can we look in there quickly? If you don’t mind?” asked Britea in one breath.

Danai laughed softly. “Of course. I’m looking for a good book myself.”

Britea smiled with relief. She had been worried Danai might be irritated because she probably had better things to do. Britea knew the school had an extensive library, but nothing beat owning your own books. The few she had brought with her were her favorites, and she was ever so careful with them.

Her thoughts returned to the present as the two wielders entered the bookstore. A bell rang above them as Britea pushed the old but well-preserved wooden door open.

Though small on the outside, the interior appeared vast.

“Hmm, that’s odd,” said Danai in a low voice.

“Good day. How can I help you?” Both wielders turned to face a middle-aged, pale-skinned woman dressed in a brightly colored emerald gown. A frightened expression replaced the smile on the woman’s face when she saw Danai.

“You…you’re here?”

Danai and Britea shared a confused glance. “I’m sorry, but have we met?” asked Danai.

The woman shook her head, then smiled. “Forgive me, but for a moment, I…I thought you were someone I’d heard of…I mean, that I knew.” Her laughter sounded a touch hysterical.

Britea was beginning to feel uneasy and could see from Danai’s expression that she felt the same way. Maybe they should leave.

The shopkeeper laughed again. “Where are my manners? I’m Erina Seaworth.”

All thoughts of leaving disappeared when Britea heard the name. “Erina Seaworth? The author of Lost Histories of the Deep, Volumes One and Two? And Wielder’s Tales, Volumes One and Two? And Doomed Love Stories of Time and Legend!?” Her voice was rising as she listed all the books. It was Britea’s turn to be stared at.

“I have all your books!” squealed Britea in delight. “You are such a talented writer!”

Erina blushed. “Well, thank you. I’m so glad you like my work,” she looked uncertainly at Danai.

The fire wielder nodded. “I’ve read some of your work too. I never thought I would meet you. It is an honor.” Then to Britea’s amazement, Danai placed her right hand on her chest and bowed to Erina. What happened next stunned the two wielders. Erina began to cry.

Danai and Britea shared a startled look.

“I’m so sorry,” apologized Danai. “I didn’t mean to mock or insult you.”

The writer waved her left hand as she used a handkerchief with her right to blow her nose. “No, no. You didn’t insult me. I am truly happy with your gesture of respect. To think that I would receive it from one such as—” she paused before taking a new tack, “one as noble as you.” Britea suspected she had been about to say something else.

“So, pardon me for asking, but why the tears?” asked a worried-looking Danai. The writer stared at her and Britea for a long moment, then sighed dramatically as if she had made an important decision.

“Have a seat, both of you, and hear my tale. Oh! And I have tea and biscuits.”