The Scion Conspiracy, page 46
She wanted to protest, to deny her interest in him. But it was pointless. Something had taken root inside her, no matter how hard she had fought it. She thought to argue that Hector was wrong, and that she could root out all the conspirators in this mage’s shadow game. But the part of her that was cold and dark and hard knew better than that. Hector had been her mentor for nearly fifteen years and he had rarely been wrong about this sort of thing.
Hector went on, undeterred by her furrowed brow and frown of disapproval, “If you want your own territory, run your own crew, carve out a part of this city for yourself, you’ll have to choose. Maybe that choice will be made for you, but if it’s not, you need to be prepared.”
He gave her a small, pitying smile before turning and starting to walk back over to the other workers. She reached out and grabbed his arm, “But, couldn’t I just take the coin and the boy and start anew somewhere?”
“Aye, you could. But are you sure that’s what you want?” He gave her a steady look, golden eyes searching her face, “After all you’ve sacrificed, after the work you’ve done here? This is your city, Lyra. Do you want to give that up? Can you?”
Lyra was silent for a while. Hector patted her on the shoulder and walked away. She turned and stared back out at the city, her mind not as peaceful as it had been only moments before.
Lyra arrived at the shack in Wetrun without squelching boots this time. It had not rained in days and all the streets were dry packed clay. The children were playing in the morning sun and people busied themselves as they hurried up and down the byway. She slipped out of the traffic and approached the front door, nodding to the two burly men who manned their posts on the porch. One grunted and opened the door for her, just as always. She went in and was immediately cast into dim light which took her eyes a moment to adjust. Once they had, she searched the tiny home for Mother Moore, finding her seated in an easy chair in the corner. She was sipping tea and nibbling on a plate of biscuits, both of her ancient hands wrapped around the steaming cup as she brought it to her lips. When Lyra caught sight of her, she approached cautiously, worried she might startle the old woman, who had yet to acknowledge her presence in the least. Her milky eyes seemed to stare at nothing.
“Mother Moore?” Lyra said gently, kneeling beside the old woman.
“Little Lyra,” she said, her voice as smooth and strong as ever, “you’ve found the children?”
“I…sort of. There is a…cabal of sorts at the University. They are stealing away children with the Gift in secret. We don’t know for what purpose yet, nor how far this corruption goes.”
Mother Moore was silent for a long moment. She took a sip from her tea and set it down, raising her shaking hands to Lyra’s face. She held them there for a moment, then took a deep breath. Her rheumy eyes suddenly focused on Lyra’s, appearing silvery and clear like coins polished to mirror brightness. Then Lyra felt herself tumble backwards into darkness. She felt like she was free falling, tumbling backwards endlessly through a barrage of colors and sounds. She recognized some memories and feelings of the past few days. Other things were alien to her, events she had not witnessed, sensations she had no names for. She felt like she came unglued in time and was desperately seeking for her something solid to grasp on to. She had no idea how long it lasted, but when she finally became aware she was back in her own body, she felt herself shaking and covered in a cold sweat. She was still kneeling on the floor and Mother Moore was staring at her with her milky eyes.
“What was that?” She breathed, struggling to stand as she backed away from the old woman. She could barely speak as she felt like the wind had been forced out of her lungs.
“I just took a look inside, dear. This is too important to leave to the fickle whims of half memories and partial recollections.”
She fought hard to recollect herself. She had known Mother Moore almost her entire life, seen her work minor miracles and healings for dozens of the Wetrun’s citizens, but she had never seen her do something like that. It was an experience that made her reconsider everything she knew about the old woman.
“What did you see?”
The crone shook her head in disgust. She made a clicking sound with her tongue and spoke like she was sorely disappointed, “Children playing with their grandparents knives.”
“But what does that mean?” Lyra moved so she was in front of the old woman. Her eyes had returned to their typical unfocused milky white, but with what she knew now, she wondered exactly how much the woman actually saw.
“Harnessing…” she said the word as though it were a curse, “They’ve found the old secrets of that dark magic and they’re trying to resurrect it.”
Lyra blinked, “Why do you care? Aren’t you a witch?”
The old woman waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, “There are all kinds of forbidden magic, dear. Those stuffy old men in their towers and grand halls think they know so much, but the truth is their rules and regulations restrict them as much as they do everyone else. But Harnessing is something else entirely, that magic should have stayed buried wherever it was.”
She considered this, still not entirely recovered from the experience of having the old woman in her head. She took a deep breath, “Alright then, if it’s so dangerous, what are we going to do about it?”
The old woman blinked at her. She motioned to a stool which sat against the wall to her side, “Sit, Lyra. Things are moving very quickly now and we have much to discuss.”
Chapter twenty-nine
Legacy
Lawrence blinked at Holton and his crew, who had all gathered around, watching the mage with predatory focus in their eyes. The mage licked his lips as his eyes darted around the ship like a cornered animal looking for its way out. He glanced back towards the shore, only a small cluster of flickering lights in the darkness now.
“Holton, what is this?”
The red haired thief sighed and ran a hand over his hair, rubbing the back of his head, “It’s like this, Lawrence, you’ve paid well so far, far more generously than any other employer we’ve had in the past. Up until recently, this partnership has worked out for both of us…but we have certain concerns.”
“Such as…?” Lawrence eyed him, suspicion playing across his face.
“Well look at what just happened, Lawrence. You were caught and we were all in the dark about what your plans are or where we’re going. Hell, we don’t even know who we’re working for and you’re our only point of contact. You left us with no other option but to rescue you…”
“-for which you’ll be handsomely rewarded…” Lawrence interrupted, but Holton pressed on.
“See, that’s not enough anymore. Understand, one of my men died just a day ago. Because some unseen employers insisted we capture the Prince, not kill him like I wanted to. Then, when he broke out and murdered one of my men, you again insisted we still keep him alive.” Holton leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and getting close enough to smell the pungent mixture of sweat and perfume that still lingered on the well dressed mage, “I’m at my wits end here Lawrence. I need more information.”
The mage’s eyes flicked between the thieves and Holton could see the calculations spinning in his mind. He gave him a grim smirk.
“Wondering if you can fight your way out of this?” He asked, tone mocking, “Let me help you out, you can’t. See, I figured you mages out a long time ago. You have lots of power, but you’re not like a weather witch or a fireweaver, you can’t do it quickly. That is, unless you have your little toys, but they took all those off you back at the prison, didn’t they?”
Lawrence’s eyes widened and for the first time since he had met the man, the mage seemed to struggle with what to say next. The boat gently buffeted back and forth on the waves, the night air breeze cool as it cut across the open ocean. Finally, he managed to croak out a few words.
“You are…more resourceful than I gave you credit for.”
Holton smiled, letting menace fill his toothy grin, “Let’s start off simply, what are you doing with all these children?”
Lawrence swallowed hard, “Holton, we’ve been over this, everything is on a need to know basis…”
Holton felt his hand drift towards his belt, as he did his best to keep his anger in check. His voice held onto its civility by a thread, “I need to know, Lawrence. These aren’t recruits. These are prisoners. You told me they weren’t going to be hurt.”
“They haven’t been. A little sleeping spell, maybe a bit of rough handling, but none of these children have seen any real pain.” Lawrence argued weakly, face taking on a pallid tone.
“You’re avoiding the question.”
Lawrence cast a glance around the small boat, but found no allies in the hard faces of the crew of thieves. He sighed and turned back to Holton. The last traces of his cheeky grin were gone and he was left looking glum and defeated. Finally, he managed to find his words.
“I suppose, given your contributions, I can make some allowances.” He licked his lips again, pushing his fingers through his disheveled tangle of dark hair, “We need the children for their Gift.”
Holton blinked, “The children are mages?”
Lawrence snorted, “No. An Arcanist, what you insist on calling mages, are trained for years at one of the Universities. They are not even settled, practitioners of the Low Art, like a stormspeaker as you say. They simply have the talent for the craft, the innate ability required to wield magic.”
Erin cut in, “If they can’t do anything, then what could you possibly need them for?”
Lawrence sighed, “I don’t know how to explain this to you, it requires a deep understanding of the laws and concepts of magic that we simply do not have time for me to teach you.”
“Try.” Holton growled.
Lawrence grimaced, “Fine. There is an Arcanist in Oarenhiem, a genius artificer. He has discovered the secrets of Harnessing.”
“Secrets?”
“Yes,” Lawrence said, clearly frustrated as he rushed through his explanation, “there are nine disciplines of magic, the High Arts. That is what the various Universities teach. But there are also disciplines that are forbidden. The arts that are too dangerous to study or teach, ones that violate the cardinal principles of the Arcanists Guild.”
“You people have a guild?” Jarryd commented nonchalantly.
“It’s just a loose association of the major Universities from across the world. But they created a set of cardinal principles after the First War of the Southlands and they each enforce the rules within their own domains.” He had a distinctly uncomfortable look, “Too many Arcanists messed around with powers that were outside of their control during that conflict, desperate for anything that would give them the edge. It was decided after that there were lines we should never cross.”
“But you’re going to now…” Holton observed, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.
“We have a…unique opportunity.” Lawrence lifted his chin, defiant, “After the Cardinal Principles were created and many types of magic were outlawed, their secrets were lost over the generations. No one knows how most of those magics were done. Only the highest authorities have any real knowledge of them. But this artificer and his coalition have unearthed the secrets of Harnessing somehow, and they are going to use them to overthrow the Emperor of Oarenhiem.”
“So…you’re using these children as a power source?” Erin asked, a look of disgust on her face.
“More or less. Imagine one Arcanist with the power of two, or three, or ten!” His eyes were distant at that moment, all the apprehension melted away. They reminded Holton of many of the criminals he had known in his time, full of dark intent. Lawrence spoke like a starving man describing the banquet of his dreams, “A man with that kind of power could do anything. The world would be his for the taking!”
“And you’re going to be that man, are you?” Holton interjected, knocking him out of his stupor.
Lawrence blinked, seeming to remember himself, “No, of course not…I’m just saying, the possibilities are endless. No, there is a powerful Arcanist who has spearheaded this entire operation. I’m sure she will be the one to wield the weapon, once it’s completed.”
There was a pause. Holton mulled this over in his mind. When he spoke, it was with slow, deliberate emphasis, “What happens to the children when you do this?”
Lawrence looked back at him, brow furrowed in uncomprehension, “What do you mean?”
“Will they survive the process, Lawrence?” Holton demanded, his tone flat.
“I…why do you care?”
“Just answer the question.” Erin cut in, voice harsh.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders in a manner that made Holton want to wring his neck like a chicken, “does it matter? Holton, you and your crew are going to be nobility after this. What I promised you still holds. Once we’ve retaken the colonies, the New World will be ours for the taking. We are all going to be kings in our own nations.”
Holton paused. He looked at Erin, then to the rest of his crew. He furrowed his brow, considering his next step.
“Where are we going once we get to the New World? Who’s the buyer? I need a name, Lawrence.”
Lawrence smirked, “If I tell you that, what’s to stop you from cutting me out of this deal?”
“Good faith.” Barney interjected, his tone flat. He had a dark look on his face and Holton thought he caught the hint of sparks at his fingertips.
“You’re going to need to trust us, Lawrence.” Holton said in a low voice, meeting the mages gaze with his own, “A good crew runs on trust. Without that, you have nothing. Things have gotten more complicated. The stakes are higher now. We need to know we’re all on the same side. If you can’t trust us, after all this, we can’t work together.”
Lawrence took a moment. He stared at Holton, the calculations running behind his dark eyes. He sighed again.
“I suppose I have no choice. The plan is to meet up with the Blades contingent in New Oarenhiem. They have a stronghold there. The man in charge of the Blades is named Royce, Royce Broderick. He’s the only one that communicates with the people in Oarenhiem directly, they’re the ones that want the children, so he’s the man we need to see.”
Holton took a breath. He put a hand on Lawrence’s shoulder and gave him a grin, “That wasn’t so bad, was it? No need for all this cloak and dagger. From now on, we’re going to be open with each other, right?”
Lawrence nodded, silent as he stared at the red haired thief. Holton made a motion and the men all began rowing again. Lawrence attempted to conceal the sigh of relief he breathed as he turned and faced the forward of the boat again. He glanced back towards the city.
“I’m glad we were able to make this work. You are quite impressive, Holton. I’m amazed you were able to facilitate such a rescue with such a small number of men.”
“Oh, we had help,” he said casually, standing, “Carrigan lent us his crew as well. They provided our distraction.”
“Really? Are they…meeting us with us at the Sabre?”
Holton glanced over at Erin, who inclined her head. He shrugged, “They were supposed to meet us at the port. I’m not sure what kept them, but hopefully they’ll make it before we shove off.”
The Sabre had been anchored off the cost of a small, uninhabited island outside the Bay, just off the coast. The men had kept the lights to a minimum and the ship was near silent so Holton and his crew were nearly upon it before they found its foreboding form in the gloom. Once they had clambered aboard and roused the crew, Lawrence took command without missing a beat.
“Alright gentlemen,” he said, voice once again carrying his signature swagger, “now that that little delay is behind us, we are shoving off as immediately. We do have a schedule to keep.”
“Hold on,” a voice called out. Carrigan moved through the crowd, still wearing his red cloak, a dark expression on his face, “where are my men? What happened to Kacey?”
Holton and his crew still stood nearby, busying themselves as they finished unloading the boat before casting it adrift out to sea. He motioned back towards the city, “They never met us at the port, must’ve hit some trouble. They were our distraction, so mayhaps they got caught up before they could make their exit.”
Carrigan frowned, considering the thief for a moment. He turned to Lawrence, “We need to go back and get them. We can’t leave them behind.”
The mage looked from him to Holton and back again. His usual smirk widened into a full grin, “Carrigan, so glad you were able to keep the ship safe while I was gone, but I’m afraid we won’t have time for that. We’re too far behind schedule already.”
Carrigan’s frown deepened and he turned to cast an accusatory glare at Holton and his crew once again, “You did this. You left them behind.”
“It’s not our fault your crew couldn’t handle a simple assignment without being caught. Maybe you should’ve been with them to hold their hands.” Erin snapped back at him.
Carrigan looked like he could spit. He fumbled, silent words forming in his mouth as he tried to speak. Finally, he turned back to Lawrence, seeming to come to a conclusion, “This doesn’t change our deal. You still owe me, for their share.”
Lawrence nodded, keeping his expression pointedly blank.
The mage seemed satisfied. He nodded back, cast one last suspicious glare at Holton’s crew, then turned and stalked back across the deck. Lawrence gave Holton a curious expression, seeming to consider the thief for a long moment, before turning and beginning to give out orders to his men, striding across the deck.
The ocean waves beat rhythmically against the hull as the Sabre cut through the dark water of the Lancing Ocean. Holton and his crew had made their quarters in one of the lower rooms, hammocks swaying as snores filled the air. Jarryd and Barney had passed out as soon as they were able to lie down, exhausted from the day. Erin sat beside Holton on the floor, head on his shoulder as they passed a bottle of liquor back and forth. She had just finished a large gulp and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand as she spoke, a slight slur in her speech as she struggled not to stumble over her words.
