Kingdoms at war, p.18
Kingdoms at War, page 18
Anguish flashed in his mother’s eyes. She had to blame herself for Darv’s death, for all of this.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, thinking again that none of them would have been in this mess if not for his insistence five years earlier that they continue Father’s quest. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Good.”
The cart floated through the gate—there hadn’t been even a faint lurch when it started up—and into wide streets full of pedestrians, laborers, a handful of bicyclists, and more float carts and individual float seats. A few people, mage and terrene human alike, glanced at Malek, but they never stared. They jerked their gazes away, not wanting his attention.
“I’m sorry as well,” Mother whispered after a couple of minutes. “I never should have brought you along on the dig. Had I truly believed we would find it this time, and that Uthari’s men were watching my every move…” She shook her head. “I should have known that. They’ve searched my office on campus in the past. I just thought it had been a while, and they’d stopped paying such close attention. I was so careful to put together the expedition telling as few people as possible about our destination and goals.”
“You couldn’t have left me home alone for a month. You know I’m a horrible cook. I would have wasted away, and you would have returned to my alarming gauntness and felt vast guilt.” Never mind that he never would have let her go without him; he’d skipped classes and stowed away before when she’d gone searching for the portal. It was his quest as much as hers. He’d wanted so badly to see his father’s work completed.
“Don’t you eat half your meals at the dining hall on campus?”
“Not when I’m working on my gauntness.” Or when he’d spent his modest earnings from assisting professors and working in the library on pens, paper, and atlases instead of food. Or the signed limited edition Map of the Legorian Labyrinths by Dranith Dragor. He’d skipped lunches for months to pay for that.
The city inside the walls was as magnificent as Jak had anticipated, and he fell silent as he peered all around the cart. Aware of Malek behind him, he tried not to gape too openly, but the architecture was unique and striking. It was so different from the styles both past and present in the main cities on Agorval—or even in cities on other continents that he’d seen in travels and books—that it seemed alien. And he supposed it was, if one agreed with the factions that said mages were no longer human. He attributed it more to their ability to levitate building materials and place stones in ways that would have been impossible for those using only mundane tools. Further, the stones themselves didn’t appear natural. The material used in many of the walls was more like a colored cement or other aggregate and appeared as lightweight as it was sturdy. All manner of dyes imbued in it made the buildings a riot of colors. Had he not hated the mages and all they stood for, Jak might have admired what they’d created up here.
The king’s castle, a walled compound within the walled city, was comprised of blue and gray buildings and courtyards that sprawled across several blocks. No lesser buildings dared encroach toward its walls; it was surrounded by lush gardens of plants, shrubs, and shade trees. Laborers walked among the paths, pruning branches and clipping grass. On one of the lawns, a group of boys threw a disc for a dog, laughing and giving treats to the pup. The mundaneness of the scene was strange in this anything-but-mundane city, and Jak wondered if they were young mages or children of the laborers working in the gardens. Probably the former. From what he’d read, children of laborers were put to work young.
Castle guards saluted Malek, their fists thumping against their chests, as the cart floated through a gate into a courtyard, along a flower-lined drive, and up steps and through open doors large enough to accommodate them. Nobody asked Malek for his identity or demanded a password. To be zidarr was to be trusted.
In an open hall, the cart stopped, and they climbed out. Malek led the way, with the guards walking after Jak and his mother. He took note of the halls, the corridors, and stairs they traveled, mapping out the place in his mind, partially out of habit and partially in case they needed it for an escape later. After seeing all the ships at the dock, the idea of escaping didn’t seem as impossible as it had before. If they could sneak onto one of those farm barges, maybe they could make it back to land and from there home.
“You would be easily found if you fled to your home,” Malek said, not looking over his shoulder as he kept walking.
Mother gave Jak a startled look.
“I wasn’t being irreverent,” Jak protested. Anyway, it wasn’t his fault that Malek was a big snoop of a mind reader. “Just contemplating escape.”
“The ideal thing to think about with a telepathic zidarr two steps in front of us,” she murmured.
“Sorry, I’ll go back to contemplating the architecture.”
“A good idea.”
Malek led them up several wide sets of staircases and down an equally wide corridor with only one set of doors in it. They were gold-plated—or maybe solid gold—and featured imagery of dragons flying over castles.
“I doubt King Uthari has any need for the boy,” Malek surprised Jak by saying. “Perhaps you could negotiate for his return home.”
“What about my return home?” Mother asked.
“I do not know if that is the king’s desire, but if he gets what he wants from the portal, perhaps.”
“What is it he wants?” she asked.
“He will share it with you if he wishes.”
The doors opened of their own accord as Malek approached. They were six inches thick. If they were solid gold, they would weigh tons. Jak wondered how much the entire city weighed and what power kept it all aloft. It boggled his mind that such a thing was possible, even with magic.
They entered a spacious parlor with numerous sofas and chairs as luxurious and plush as the ones in the cart—did they also heat one’s butt?—though these were covered in rich brown leather rather than fur. A slender man with wispy gray hair stood off to one side, tinkering with a strange apparatus that looked like something from Mother’s old lab. Glowing liquids in flasks flowed through a maze of tubes and clear pipes, the whole construct rising at least six feet. A reclining chair was nestled into a gap in the middle. What a strange piece of parlor furniture.
Mother frowned over at it, as if it were a puzzle to be solved. The reclining chair was empty, and the man—why did Jak want to call him a scientist?—only glanced over as they entered.
Someone else was waiting for them in the main seating area, and Jak slumped. General Tonovan. Oh, how Jak had hoped he wouldn’t see the murdering ass again.
Tonovan lounged on a plush sofa, his legs crossed, and an arm resting over the back as he sipped from a glass of amber liquid. Ice cubes clinked when it moved. Did the mages magically freeze water or have giant slabs cut, packed in sawdust, and hauled up from the frozen lakes in the Sawtooth Mountains every day?
“Took you long enough, my lord,” Tonovan drawled to Malek. “Did you take the scenic route?”
“Our guests were awed by the city.”
“So you let them stop and gape? I would have put bags over their heads so they couldn’t find their way out again.”
“Your tour-guide services must be coveted far and wide.”
Tonovan grunted. “Yes, that’s what I’m known for.”
“I know my treasured warriors aren’t sniping at each other again,” a voice came from one of several open doors off the antechamber. King Uthari?
The slender man who stepped out, clad in simpler clothing than half the people they’d passed in the city, wasn’t immediately recognizable. King Uthari’s face was on the currency in Sprungtown, but the portrait the coins were based on must have been painted when he was much younger. His pale face was leaner and sharper than the one on the coins, his head bald with wispy white tufts around the ears instead of full of thick hair. But his pale blue eyes were sharp in a way that wasn’t conveyed on the coins, and nothing about them, or about his sure walk into the room, suggested frailness or senility.
“You know it’s our favorite hobby.” Tonovan rose and saluted Uthari.
Surprisingly, Malek only gave him a head nod. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back and behind Jak and Mother, where he could watch everybody in the room.
“Malek tried to lure me into a duel last night,” Tonovan continued. “I believe he’s been fantasizing about my death again.”
“Haven’t you been fantasizing about his?” Uthari asked.
“Every chance I get.”
“One would think his hobbies would occupy his mind more than that,” Malek said.
Tonovan curled a lip at him, then gave Mother an openly lascivious look that startled Jak so much that he almost sprang over two couches to plant a fist in Tonovan’s face. It didn’t seem to startle his mother, but she took a step closer to Malek.
“Control your hound, Professor,” Tonovan told Mother, glancing at Jak’s closed fists. “It would be unfortunate if anything happened to him.”
Jak forced his face to smooth, though he didn’t have it in him to erase the loathing from his mind.
“He’s too smart to do anything foolish,” she said, though her glance toward Jak let him see the warning in her eyes. She hoped he was too smart to do anything foolish.
“It’s so unfortunate that your other colleague wasn’t.” Tonovan waved casually. “I hadn’t intended to kill him, you know. It was simple self-defense.”
Mother clenched her jaw and didn’t respond.
“When I intend to kill people, I draw out the moment more. To savor it.” The smile Tonovan sent her was ghoulish, and he glanced at Jak—to check his response?
Jak also clenched his jaw and did not let himself respond.
“Are you done being sanguinary, General?” Uthari asked, his voice neither amused by nor condemning of his officer’s antics.
The scientist poured some chemical or maybe alchemical substance into a tube on his contraption and didn’t look over at the conversation.
“I could be, Your Majesty.” Tonovan looked at Uthari, an eager gleam in his eyes. “Is there a new mission you called me here to discuss?”
“It’s likely there will be. As you know from your midnight battle, our acquisition of the dragon portal has not gone unnoticed by other players on the field. King Zaruk is drawing in allies and has put out a call to numerous mercenary companies. According to our spies, he hasn’t said what battle he wishes them to fight, but the timing suggests we may be his target.”
“I would relish a chance to use our military might against piddling mercenaries,” Tonovan said, “but I do hope he sends his elite forces against us. I want another chance to embarrass General Mox.”
“I have no doubt,” Uthari said. “See to the troops and ensure all is ready. They may intend to move swiftly, attempting to catch us off guard.”
“They tried that last night.” Tonovan sneered. “With superior forces, but that didn’t keep me and my men from destroying three of their best mageships.”
“So you reported.” Uthari inclined his head. “As always, I appreciate your hard work and talent. You will be rewarded.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Tonovan saluted again, fist to chest. “I live to serve.”
“And I thank you for your service.” Uthari spread his hand toward the golden doors.
As Tonovan strode out with his chin up, like a hound that had just been given a treat, Jak checked Malek’s face, wondering if he was annoyed that Tonovan hadn’t included his role in that description of who had defeated the other ships. But Malek was in the same military parade-rest stance, his features no more peeved than usual.
The doors automatically closed behind Tonovan, and Jak’s muscles loosened an iota. To believe they were safe was foolish, but at least the sadistic pervert was gone. Maybe Uthari was one too—he certainly had no problem with employing one—but he looked too old to be interested in ogling Mother. And so far, Malek had only gotten close when he’d been removing things from her pockets.
Uthari walked over to murmur a question to the scientist—Jak couldn’t hear the words—before sitting in a chair facing another chair and a sofa. A tea set, an alcohol decanter, and glasses and mugs rested on a silver tray on a low table next to a large plate of small sandwiches and fancy pastries.
“Join me, Professor Freedar.” Uthari gestured to the sofa. “And Professor Freedar’s son. Jakstor, is it?”
It would be surprising if he didn’t know who they were—he must have written their names down for Malek when instructing him on who to kidnap—but Jak still found it creepy. He reminded himself that this slender man was probably as powerful as Malek.
The wizard kings had all carved out their territories by raising armies, throwing wealth and power around, and magically blasting away all their enemies. Some ancestor of Uthari’s, who shared his name, had taken over an existing kingdom and established this sky city a couple of centuries earlier, though there were rumors that this Uthari had been the one to do it, some magic keeping him alive far longer than humanly possible. Jak suspected he was simply the fifth or sixth Uthari since his ancestor had done the dirty work, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t powerful. The kingdoms didn’t automatically pass from father to son—or, in a couple of cases, mother to daughter—since the mages respected power above all else and ousted those who weren’t strong enough to keep their kingdoms.
“I see you’re a mute family,” Uthari said, then nodded to one of the guards.
Neither Jak nor Mother had moved at his invitation.
The guard came forward and bumped them in the backs, growling a terse, “Sit.”
Jak was surprised Uthari didn’t have Malek manhandle the guests. He was scarier than the uniformed guards, but maybe such acts were beneath a zidarr.
With her face a mask, Mother walked past the scientist’s contraption and sat on the sofa facing Uthari. Jak perched on the edge of a chair where he could see the old man and also the door and Malek.
“The loss of your colleague no doubt has left you particularly irked with me.” Uthari poured himself a cup of tea. “And you must be frustrated by the removal of the artifact you sought, but I trust you understand that it would have been illegal for you to claim for yourself a relic found on a king’s property.”
“That is not its original resting place, and King Zaruk has no right to it,” Mother said. “But if we’re strictly interpreting property law, is it not illegal for a king to claim a relic found on another king’s property?”
“It is contentious, and it’s possible we’ll have a small war over that very issue.” Uthari smiled and gestured toward the food and drink. “Are you thirsty? Hungry? Have refreshments if you wish. Malek, I would invite you to sit with us and snack, but I know your distaste for removing your weapons and how hard it is to sit while wearing swords.”
“Especially hard on your upholstery,” Malek murmured, not moving from his spot.
“Ah, yes. I haven’t forgotten the split cushion incident. Not so egregious a faux pas as when General Tonovan decided to entertain here while I was away.”
“Is that what he called swiving your servants?”
“It’s what I call it. You know my distaste for uncouth language.”
Jak looked at his mother, wondering what she thought of all this. It wasn’t the torture and interrogation he’d expected—at least not yet—but it felt surreal and dangerous, like the eerie calm before a storm. Something clanked as the scientist made adjustments on the apparatus, and Jak envisioned being locked into that chair for an alchemical interrogation. Or experimentation. There were stories of mage scientists stealing human children off the streets or even away from their homes to test their magical gizmos on them. Or simply study them like lab rats.
“Have you heard any news on the key yet?” Uthari asked Malek.
“Not yet. I offered an enticing enough reward that I expect it will turn up soon, but if you wish, I’ll return to Bakora to search for it myself.”
“It is imperative that we find it, if indeed the portal will not operate without it.” Uthari focused on Mother. “Or do you think it’s possible to replicate the key? I know we’re unable to work dragon steel, but could a replica be made of some lesser material?”
“I don’t know for certain,” Mother said, “but that seems unlikely.”
Uthari sighed. “I concur.”
“We’ll get it, Your Majesty,” Malek said.
“Of course.” Uthari looked at Mother. “I’ve brought you here because I assume that activating the portal, even once we have this key, will not be as simple as propping it up in the courtyard and waving our hands. I require that you stay here long enough to figure out how it works. I understand there was little in the journal about that.” Uthari lifted his eyebrows toward Malek.
“Little,” Malek agreed. “The journal deals mostly with locating it.”
“I am pleased that you were able to find it.” Uthari nodded to Mother. “My time left in this world may not be infinite, even with magical intervention, and I should like to see my legacy left firmly in place. Can you guess what I seek?”
Jak blinked. What he sought besides the portal itself? What more was there? The dragons? That was what Father had hoped to find. Possible allies to change the course of the world.
“And why I was so pleased when you of all people took up the quest?” Uthari added softly.
Mother studied his face, but Jak couldn’t tell if she was as puzzled by the question as he. She looked toward the scientist and his contraption for a thoughtful moment, then back to Uthari. “Jitaruvak?”
“Jitaruvak.” He smiled at her. “Or, as it’s referenced in most ancient texts, the immortality herb.”
Jak had never heard of it.
“It’s reputed to exist on the dragon home world of Ezarith,” Mother said. “Our legends of those times say that dragons brought it here to extend the lives of the humans who worked with them. Whether those humans were slaves or colleagues is fuzzy and depends on the interpretation of the texts, but the ones selected supposedly lived until they were killed, never dying of old age or disease. As long as they continued to receive the herb regularly.”
