Spellbreaker (29 page)

Nicodemus blinked and had to fight down his annoyance. Imperial scouts and an unknown deity stalked the bay and the Trimuril wanted to play? “What game, goddess?” Nicodemus asked levelly.

The Trimuril's enigmatic smile grew. “A game of imitation.”

“How do you mean, goddess?”

“I challenge you to do something that I cannot imitate perfectly. The only limitations will be that it must be performed in this room and cannot involve Language Prime. Other than that, your challenge could be anything: a feat of spellwrighting or singing or storytelling or dancing.” The statue smiled and the spider voice tittered in his ear. “Anything really. It will be fun.”

Nicodemus frowned and then glanced at Francesca and Leandra. They wore reflections of his own confusion and had tilted their heads to one side; apparently the spider was speaking in their ears as well.

Nicodemus turned back to the Trimuril. She had always been his reliable ally, and he could think of no reason why that should have changed. It seemed unlikely that she was trying to punish or humiliate him. “When might we play this game, goddess?”

“Whenever you like, Nicodemus. You simply need to speak your challenge and we will play. You may have as many attempts as you like until you admit defeat. Doesn't that sound like fun?”

No, it bloody didn't. Nicodemus could think of nothing he could do—outside of altering Language Prime texts—that the divinity complex couldn't. “What stakes shall we play for?”

“Ahh,” Ancestor Spider said into his ear as the statue pressed her three pairs of palms together. “I would like to play for your daughter.”

Nicodemus made a surprised choking sound while Francesca blurted out, “What?”

The Trimuril's expression did not change. “I am a very old divinity, and I should like to have a child. Did you know I never had? Hearing how your daughter so cleverly discovered these thugs with the perfect circle tattoo—oh, and I agree with her assessment that they are an organization, likely criminal, impersonating a cult—makes me think she would be a good daughter for me, if she and her mother also consent to our game.”

“But I don't understand why we should play such a game,” Nicodemus said.

“If you should win,” Ancestor Spider creaked in Nicodemus's ear, “I will grant any request you might have of me so long as it doesn't harm another soul.”

Nicodemus's confusion worsened. He had no requests of the Trimuril and couldn't think of any that he might soon have.

“However,” Ancestor Spider continued, “if you should admit that I win, then I will adopt Lady Warden Leandra as my daughter and you will cease all familiar relationships with her.”

Nicodemus wondered why either Leandra or he would want such a thing.

Apparently anticipating his confusion, the Sacred Regent spoke, “There is an obscure law that pertains to this game. As the daughter of the Trimuril, Lady Warden Leandra would have a guaranteed seat on the Regency Council.”

Francesca started to speak with heated words. “But—”

Leandra interrupted, “I consent.”

Nicodemus and Francesca looked over at their daughter in surprised silence.

Ignoring her parents, Leandra kept her eyes on the goddess. “I trust in the Trimuril's wisdom.”

“What fun,” the spider creaked in Nicodemus's ear. “And Lady Warden Francesca?”

Nicodemus looked over at his wife, who was staring openmouthed. If Nicodemus were not so distressed, he would have been amused to see his unflappable wife at such a loss.

“Consider,” said the Trimuril, “that Nicodemus need never invoke the challenge if he doesn't want to.”

Francesca closed her mouth. “Goddess, I think perhaps we have more pressing—”

“The divine Trimuril is able to decide what is pressing in her own kingdom,” Leandra interrupted.

Nicodemus looked back at his daughter and then to the Trimuril. Were they conspiring? To what purpose?

“Then…” Francesca spoke hesitantly, “… then I would defer to my husband.”

“You'll what?” Nicodemus asked. This was a first.

Francesca looked at him with a flabbergasted expression.

Nicodemus turned back to the Trimuril. The divinity complex regarded him with an enigmatic smile. Impatience overwhelmed Nicodemus. This was ridiculous; they needed to get on with pressing business. “Very well, Goddess, we accept but I can't imagine a situation in which I would challenge you.”

“Wonderful fun!” Ancestor Spider creaked in Nicodemus's ear as the statue clapped each of her three pairs of hands, from lowest to highest. “Well then, pardon my interruption. Please continue with your reports. I believe Lady Warden Leandra had just finished telling us about the thugs with the tattoos.”

There followed a silence in which Nicodemus waited for the goddess to say more. When she didn't, he looked at Francesca. She looked back at him. They both looked at Leandra, who ignored them both.

“Lord Warden Nicodemus,” the Sacred Regent said in his raspy voice, “would you describe your recent expedition in pursuit of the monkey neodemon of brigands to the east who has evaded us for so long?”

“Yes, your excellency,” Nicodemus replied and then reported about how he had falsely claimed to pursue the brigand neodemon when he had sought to entrap the River Thief on the Matrunda River. He explained that he had done so because he believed someone in the Regency or in Leandra's service was informing the neodemons. On hearing this, Leandra stiffened.

Nicodemus described his encounter with the River Thief, what he had surmised about her cult, and his recommendations about preventing her reincarnation.

The only thing that Nicodemus withheld was mention that the River Thief had been wearing Leandra's face; he wanted to discuss this with his family before making it public knowledge.

“Most distressing,” the Sacred Regent said when he finished. “My Lady Warden Leandra, have you any idea who in your service might have been leaking information to the River Thief?”

“No, your excellency.”

The old man frowned as if waiting for the Trimuril to speak. When she did not, he nodded. “We shall investigate immediately.”

Nicodemus glanced over at his daughter and could almost feel the coldness radiating off of her. He didn't blame her. It had been an infringement on her independence to take down the River Thief as he did, but still he could not see any other way he could have brought the neodemon down.

“Lord Warden,” the regent said. “I hope you do not have any more distressing findings?”

Nicodemus turned back to the dais. “I'm afraid I do, your excellency.” He described the carnage at Feather Island and what he had learned from the pyromancer, who was now under guard in the city's infirmary.

As he spoke, the regent's expression grew more and more puckered until the man looked as if he were sucking on a lemon. “Imperial scouts? What can the meaning of this be?”

To Nicodemus's surprise, Francesca spoke. “I'm afraid, your excellency, I have the answer.” All eyes turned to his wife. She paused, a little dramatically. “When my husband and I first learned that the empire was strengthening its air and sea fleets, we decided that he would travel to Ixos both to cast his metaspell and also to help deter any thoughts the empress might have had about a misadventure on the archipelago. At the same time, I set my agents in Dral to discover what might be causing the empress's actions. Roughly ten days after Nicodemus set sail, I made a horrible discovery, the news of which I could not trust to a colaboris spell or a messenger.”

Leandra clenched her hands so tightly her knuckles blanched. Nicodemus felt the same anxiety.

Francesca continued. “For decades now I have suspected several men and women in Dral of selling information to the empire. Our investigation started by examining their recent activities. Surprisingly, we learned that half of them had disappeared. More distressing, perhaps forty days prior to our investigation, all three of the suspected imperial spies in the city of Cree had met unexpected deaths.”

The Sacred Regent made a low, thoughtful sound. Beside him, the Trimuril wore her usual enigmatic smile.

“Further investigation revealed that all the suspected spies had either fallen ill or were the victims of violent accidents during the same time a powerful shape-shifting neodemon was discovered in the city. The exact nature of the neodemon was never discovered because the local deities deconstructed it before my agents or I received word of the events. I sent the druids Kenna and Tam, both of Thorntree, to discover the shape-shifting neodemon's potential worshipers and requisites; however, they found no evidence of his cult in Cree. In fact, they found no evidence of any new worship at all. Given this finding and the neodemon's great power, we suspected that the divinity had migrated from elsewhere. When looking into this possibility, the twins discovered a devotee of the shape-shifter, one of his priestesses no less. She had fled Cree and was trying to make it to Warth. Without her god's protection, she was dispirited and near starvation. After an offer of protection, she confessed that her god was, in fact, an old god of the kingdom of Verdant.”

The room was filled with involuntary sounds of surprise. Everyone had heard the rumors that the empire was deconstructing their weakest deities in order to empower their texts and spellwrights, but if deities were fleeing the imperial kingdoms, then the situation was far worse than suspected.

The Sacred Regent cleared his throat. “It was my understanding that it is impossible for a divinity to escape the empire.”

“That is the most distressing thing of all,” Francesca replied. “The priestess reported that her god was smuggled out of Verdant by spies of the league.”

“Impossible,” Nicodemus said. “None of our allies would be so foolish.”

Behind him, the room filled with murmuring. For the league to smuggle deities out of the empire would be to violate their sovereignty, no different from kidnapping their citizens or stealing from their treasuries. To smuggle imperial deities would be to incite war.

Francesca's expression was calm. “It might sound impossible, but in this case it seems to be the truth. We found witnesses in Calad who had helped the priestess and her god enter Dral. Worse, we believe we have found strong evidence that several other neodemons discovered in Dral and Ixos originated in the empire and were somehow smuggled in.”

The surprised murmuring grew louder. The Sacred Regent raised his hands. “There will be silence.” When the room quieted again, he motioned for Francesca to continue.

She nodded. “Now I come to the gravest part of my news. The empire has long suspected that their deities are being smuggled into the league. Three years ago, they launched their own investigation, which eventually led them to Cree. It seems that all of the imperial spies in Cree had been seeking the refugee shape-shifter. When they were close to discovering their target, the shape-shifter killed them all. However, one of the spies managed to send a message to his handler in Warth, who has successfully left Dral and has made his way to Trillinon.”

Behind Nicodemus, the murmuring rose again.

“It is our belief,” Francesca continued over the din, “that this spy has already told the empress that the league is stealing imperial deities. As I am sure everyone in this room realizes, such news will incite the empress to immediate and violent action. For this reason, I met urgently with the Council of Starfall. It was agreed that immediate action was needed. The Council sent all available mundane and spellwright forces to the Spirish border in case of attack there. However, at that time, the Council received news that the Silent Blight caused crops to fail again in Verdant. Unless the empress can quickly secure surplus supplies of food, she will be facing a famine. So now, the empress has both political justification and a powerful incentive to invade Ixos. So the Council decided to send all available Southern deities of war to Ixos.”

Francesca paused to draw breath. “I set sail immediately, and I fervently hope that several ships filled with the Southern war deities are even now sailing toward Chandralu. That my husband has discovered imperial scouts in the bay does not surprise me. It is my great fear that the empress will soon launch, if she hasn't already, an attack on the kingdom of Ixos with the full force of the empire's power.”

*   *   *

Vivian's glorious golden-prose world tilted.

Her hands, clutching the arms of her throne, told her that she was upright. Yet all around her, the master spell reeled. Then a vertiginous discovery: A subtle textual pressure had been cast against her master spell. Only a deity could write such a complex spell, and the only purpose of such a spell could be to find Vivian.

Using the Emerald, Vivian adjusted her sentences to avoid the strange spell. A moment later her master spell righted itself. Nothing had been damaged. The interfering spell could not have detected her. The satisfaction of a puzzle solved bubbled through Vivian.

But what deity was looking for her? And, for that matter, where was she? Vivian searched her mind for the name of a city and found nothing. She couldn't even recall which kingdom she was in.

Tension was building in her master spell, so she returned to editing. Casting and recasting, such intricate prose … Hours passed. Days passed, maybe …

Vivian felt movement in the Numinous matrix. Lotannu had returned, so it seemed. She had not talked to Lotannu in … She could not recall. In fact, when Vivian tried to remember why she was casting the master spell, dull pain spread behind her eyes and tension gathered in the Numinous matrix.

So she returned to editing. Surprisingly, the spell had little textual reserve, so Vivian redoubled her editing efforts as Lotannu approached. It felt as if she kept him waiting for another hour, but when she raised her hands and lifted her halo, Lotannu stood without sign of impatience. “Empress.” He bowed.