Revelation (Seeds of Humanity: The Cobalt Heresy) (6 page)

“I am not your ‘Master,’ Pi’Vari,” I corrected him wearily, “and I am also not a Magos of any Circle, in case that particular detail also escapes your memory. I am a Journeyman of the Path, and we would all do well to remember that,” I said pointedly.

Pi’Vari, who had been straightening himself out of his bowing posture, paused momentarily before finding my eyes, which I held firmly on his own. “Quite so,” he said with a tilt of his head, “again, my apologies, Jezran.”

I really didn’t want to spar with him any more, so I switched gears. “What have you found among these notes,” I asked with a wave to the assembled books of bound parchment and half-rolled scrolls which were arranged quite neatly on his limited workbench. Pi’Vari, for all his flaws, had a mind for organization and logistics, and that talent came in handy from time to time.

He nodded gracefully and moved to the far end of the table, almost appearing to glide as he did so. “I have found a few bits which may assist us in devising a method by which we might dislodge this particular threat, but they are only fragments and I have not yet completed my examinations,” he warned before handing me a small scroll of Imperial make which he had used to compile his notes.

I accepted the scroll and read it silently. I had essentially been required to learn how to read the language of the Empire when I arrived in this world, but strangely enough it had been a fairly easy process for me. As a result, my reading speed was less than exemplary, but I had a full working knowledge of their language. I read the scroll and found references to various types of magic which the now-deceased Court Wizards of Castle Coldetz had believed were behind the attacks, as well as references to the relationships between some of these magic forces and the effects we had confirmed with our own eyes the night before. Many of the references were arcane, even to a learned wizard, and while I had never actually attended the College at Veldyrian myself, I possessed all the knowledge of one who had.

Finding the common threads interwoven among the data was simple enough for me to do, and those threads all pointed to a confirmation of our original suspicions: the God Sworn were behind the attacks, as only their magics—or those of the Imperial Circles—could produce effects like the ones witnessed here at Castle Coldetz, and Master Antolin had confirmed that none of the Houses capable of such a display had participated. How he had confirmed this was beyond me, but he rarely asserted anything without being absolutely positive about it.

What the God Sworn wanted with this particular Castle had originally been a mystery, but my tour of the caverns beneath the fortress the day before the attack had illuminated the situation considerably.

“Then we have the first piece of evidence we need,” I said quietly, contemplating the consequences of God Sworn involvement.

“Indeed,” Pi’Vari agreed with relish, “the God Sworn have once again risen up, and the Empire will crush them under its velvet boot like the worthless insects they are.”

I shot him a look and I saw Aemir do the same, but before I could intercede Aemir grabbed Pi’Vari by the collar and slammed him back-first onto the table. “Are all who disagree with your Empire’s philosophy of ‘Guidance by Enlightenment’ worthless insects?” Aemir seethed through bared teeth. “Perhaps we should test how worthless
this
insect is,” he snarled, pointing at himself.

“Gentlemen,” I snapped, having witnessed similar displays all-too recently, “the last Gods War is a decade in the past. Not only are we unfit to decide when the Empire declares war, or who it will release its wrath on,” I said darkly toward Pi’Vari, “but there are people here who need our help regardless of who’s to blame. These petty squabbles need to end—now.”

Aemir was still clearly furious, but he released Pi’Vari’s collar. Pi’Vari stood and straightened his clothing, noticing a tear along the front of his deep, V-necked shirt. His face was still an unreadable smile, but I knew this wasn’t the end of it. I really didn’t care at that moment, anyway; I was sick of dealing with their tantrums.

I took a deep breath and shook my head slowly before releasing the air from my lungs. It actually made me feel better, so I used the fleeting, positive energy to try advancing the meeting. “The Empire knows that they didn’t kill every single one of the Young Gods,” I began, and thankfully this was enough to turn their murderous attentions away from each other, “and since the Old Gods have been gone for thousands of years, it stands to reason that this is the work of one of the Young Gods who escaped annihilation. Do we have any idea which one that might be?” I asked, hoping Pi’Vari had something.

He furrowed his eyebrows and drummed his fingers on the table before replying, “All of the Primary Young Gods of these lands were slain and while it is not absolutely verified, it is widely believed that their successors, the Secondaries, were also wiped out,” he said absently as his eyes flicked back and forth, which I had learned in college psychology classes was a way to tell someone is accessing their memories rapidly. Pi’Vari had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of subjects which interested him, and being a staunch Imperial, the latest victory the Empire had won over forces they considered ‘heretical’ and ‘obstructive to progress’ was certain to be of interest to my herald.

I shook my head. “It has to be a Secondary,” I argued, “a Demigod or Touched human wouldn’t have the power to do this, even with a frequency of just once a month—which is what Castle Coldetz has endured for more than half a year now.” Pi’Vari nodded, but I knew he was holding something back. After waiting a few fruitless seconds for him to volunteer it, I finally asked, “What is it?”

His blue-tinged lips parted in a smirk of satisfaction and he shrugged his shoulders. “You are correct; a Demigod could not do this…at least, not alone.”

It seemed obvious when he put it that way, but I didn’t see where he was going just yet. “Even a handful of Demigods couldn’t summon up the power to do this, so the questions are:” I said as I began ticking off fingers, “first, which entities would have enough power to fuel these attacks; second, of those entities, who would be willing to work with a Demigod from an annihilated pantheon still subject to persecution,” I continued, my curiosity piquing as I went, “and finally, what possible value could even a band of listless Demigods provide in exchange for such a commitment?”

Pi’Vari shrugged. “Those are good questions, Jezran,” he replied calmly. “They are also questions to which I do not currently have the answers.”

“A Dragon Lord?” I asked, drawing blanks.

Pi’Vari shook his head. “Certainly not, as even if Arch Magos Rekir had not stamped out the last of their kind within a thousand miles thirty years ago,” he said with a thin sneer, as we both knew how unlikely it was for Rekir to fail at
anything
, “there is simply no possibility that a Dragon Lord would use its precious life force to fuel ineffective attacks like this. It would instead employ a real, tangible army of mercenaries using riches and the promise of more riches on fulfillment of the contract.”

I nodded, knowing he was absolutely correct. I thought for a few moments before another idea hit me. “A cabal of free wizards, then,” I said hopefully.

Again, Pi’Vari shook his head. “Impossible. Even if Sbeegl himself returned from the void to lead a cabal of a dozen equally legendary figures, their combined resources would only be able to produce this effect,” he furrowed his brow as he performed some mental gymnastics, “once in a year,” he said with finality. “I suppose if they were willing to risk death due to overexertion,” he mused absently, “they might be able to produce it twice in a year, but not seven times in seven months.”

I was stumped. As usual, my herald’s logic was unassailable.

Pi’Vari stopped drumming his fingers on the table, which immediately got my attention. The man’s habits were infuriating and ever-present, making their cessation more notable than their presence.

“What is it, Pi’Vari?” I asked, hoping he had something.

He clenched his teeth and looked like he wished I hadn’t noticed anything. Finally he offered, “It could be a High Wizard of the Imperial Inner Circle.”

I raised my eyebrows, and I could sense even Aemir’s surprise at my herald’s suggestion.

“Why would a High Wizard of Veldyrian do that?” I blurted. “Even if they didn’t know of its riches before we put in our official claim to the territory of Coldetz this month, to know that such a large store of mythicite lay just beneath the castle’s walls would have prompted even the most insane Imperial Wizard to cease these attacks,” I asserted, but seeing that Pi’Vari wasn’t convinced, I pressed on. “mythicite is more valuable than anything—other than prospective High Wizards—to the Empire, and the amount here is more than any other recorded find in Veldyrian’s history.”

Pi’Vari finally nodded his head. “I suppose that such an ambitious individual would opt for political, rather than physical, pressures after learning of the mythicite’s presence,” he agreed.

“What makes Gods’ Blood so difficult for your people to find?” Aemir asked unexpectedly.

Pi’Vari rolled his eyes, but I ignored him and turned to Aemir. “Gods’ Blood, or mythicite as the Empire calls it, is impervious to all efforts at Augury or other forms of Divination,” I explained, although my own knowledge of the substance was limited. “It’s highly prized among Imperial Houses, and as Veldyrian is a relatively young city of only five centuries, discovery of large pockets of the mineral is still a fairly regular occurrence.

Aemir nodded slowly before continuing, “What is so important about the Gods’ Blood to the Empire? Among my people, its only use is to augment the durability and effectiveness of weapons and armor, and in the hands of our finest craftsmen it can produce items which could only be called magical.”

“That is the usual application for it,” I agreed, “and I’m sure you noticed the telltale golden tint to Baeld’s armor, as well as the ceremonial garb of the High Sheriff. These people are clearly aware of the same properties which your people value in mythicite.”

“But that does not answer the question: why is it so valuable to an Empire,” Aemir pressed, “that has little need for large quantities of enchanted weapons and armor since your wizard magic is powerful enough to intimidate all but the bravest foes?”

“Or the most foolish,” quipped Pi’Vari, drawing a dark look from Aemir.

“It’s a fair question,” I replied quickly, to forestall any further conflict between the two ranking members of my entourage. “But it’s one which I don’t know the answer to, Aemir. The amount of money Imperial agents pay for mythicite makes it all but impossible for even the wealthiest of Veldyrian’s Houses to hold onto the stuff for any length of time. It’s just worth too much to the Great Tower’s Archivists.”

Aemir folded his arms across his chest and looked to consider what I had said before continuing, “Just how much is the Gods’ Blood worth to your Empire?” he asked pointedly.

I shrugged my shoulders. “A cup of refined mythicite would be enough to buy House Wiegraf’s entire estate in Veldyrian, if I understand correctly,” I said, having some small experience in trading the precious commodity.

Aemir stroked his beard. “And just how much is beneath our feet?”

I hesitated. The truth is that I didn’t really know, but to call it the richest find in Veldyrian’s history was something of an understatement. If the High Sheriff’s representation, and my own observations, were even close to reality then the mythicite beneath Coldetz Castle would easily equal as much mythicite as the entire city of Veldyrian had accounted for accumulating in the last century.

I knew that bluffing would be pointless, so I answered as truthfully as I could. “It’s a lot, Aemir; definitely enough to change the balance of power in the Imperial City. I honestly don’t know more than that.”

Dancer, who had been his usual, quiet self during lengthy conversations like this one, stood up abruptly and strode toward us. “That why we alone?” he demanded.

I nodded reluctantly. “That’s right, Dancer. That’s why we have to fight alone.”

Pi’Vari nodded his head in agreement. “If we asked for any Imperial help, they would have cause to seize the entire Castle and relegate us into a supporting role,” he explained, “but since we were first to discover Coldetz and its wealth, and our esteemed colleague Jezran Cobalt Wiegraf,” he said with an exaggerated bow in my direction, “happens to be a member of Imperial nobility by the simple fact of his having successfully navigated the hazards of the Wizard’s College, House Wiegraf is then afforded first opportunity to secure the area and its wealth in the name of the Empire.”

Dancer nodded, and while it was hard to believe that the little barbarian actually understood everything we were talking about, he had never shown this much interest in a meeting before. “How long?” he asked simply.

I took a breath, exhaling slowly as I tried to find the answer. “Imperial Doctrine is vague when it comes to time,” I began, “but to make it simple, no less than six months and no more than one year. That’s how long we have to secure Coldetz and prepare it for inspection teams.”

“And what happens if we fail?” asked Aemir doubtfully.

I shrugged. “It depends on who secures the right to pacify Coldetz if we fail to secure the region,” I replied. “If it’s a House we’re on friendly terms with, we probably receive a minimal finder’s fee before being ejected from the scene.”

“Not friendly?” pressed Dancer.

Pi’Vari interrupted before I could answer. “If ‘not friendly,’ my little barbarian of the wastes,” my herald said in that silky smooth voice I had come to hate at least as much as I had come to depend on, “then we shall be charged with actively obstructing the Great Enlightenment and attempting to transport mythicite without permission, in addition to whatever other flowery charges their barristers decide to throw at us.”

I nodded solemnly. “Pi’Vari is right,” I confirmed, “and there is only one punishment for either of those crimes: Sundering.”

Aemir’s eyebrows shot up, but Dancer was understandably confused.