Flare: The Sunless World Book Two Page 3

  Rafe stepped through.

  Three men sat around a circular table, their heads nearly brushing the low-hanging quartz light fixture overhead. They turned surprised faces to him, the emotion sketched so large and exaggerated that he had no difficulty seeing it even in his shades-of-grey vision.

  “Rafe!” The word exploded out of the tallest man. He sprang up and set the overhead fixture swinging. Ka and light spun crazily. “Thank the Hidden God you’re here!”

  “Coop,” said Rafe, his tone the one he kept for social pleasantries, though the relief in his friend’s voice made him feel less, not more, secure.

  Had they expected a miracle worker? Sel knew that he was more an apprentice than a master, that his time in the Talar-e-Shoshan, the Fields of Light beyond the Divide, had given him more questions than answers.

  Coop gave him a broad grin, but his words were for the other men. “Told you Rafe wouldn’t let us down. Welcome back to these drear environs. You know Furin?”

  The man next to him, stocky with close-cropped hair and a serious cast to his face, rose politely. “I’ve heard of Kayan Rafael, of course. It is good to finally meet you, sir.” He spoke with careful enunciation.

  He and Rafe shook hands. Furin’s hand was rough and calloused, the hands of a laborer. Rafe suppressed a hysterical urge to laugh—they ought to have met in Blackstone over two years ago, when he had been an Oakhaven operative and Furin a Blackstone dissident with information to sell. Instead, Furin had narrowly escaped being murdered in an engineered mine collapse and Rafe had missed the arrest of the entire Oakhaven embassy. That missed appointment had led them both down a convoluted path. For Rafe, it had meant discovering the Tors Lumena, a legendary pillar of luminous quartz, narrowly keeping it from falling to Blackstone, and turning it over to Ironheart instead.

  In the process, he’d betrayed his uncle, his king, his and country, been betrayed by his sister, and discovered that he possessed the abilities of the kayan—the mages of long ago.

  And—feeling the cool, silent presence behind him—he’d met Isabella.

  How to sum up all the changes, the emotions, the weird turns and twists his life had taken since that missed meeting?

  “Likewise,” said Rafe, and left it at that. “Call me Rafe, though.” He offered Furin a slight smile and turned to the third man, the one who had not risen. This was an older man with a bushy beard, hooded eyes, and unhappy mouth. He stared at Rafe with the unwavering scrutiny of a predator. “I’m surprised and pleased to see you here, Preceptor.”

  Mirados, former Preceptor of Blackstone-occupied Shimmer, waved a hand, as if swatting away a fly. “Rafael Grenfeld, come back a kayan from his travels in the Trans-Point states. What an arrow we have in our quiver, now, to be sure.” He was bland, rather than ironic, but those eyes didn’t soften an iota.

  Why, I believe the man doesn’t like me. I wonder if it’s my taste in clothes, or the fact I drugged his nephew, broke into his vault, and stole his Renat Key while he was otherwise occupied fighting off Blackstone soldiers.

  Or maybe, suggested Isabella, it’s because you’re a full kayan, while he, for all his years and experience, is only a rohkayan. And you’re projecting again. She withdrew, and Rafe could’ve sworn that she left ice in her wake. Why else would he feel such freezing chill in their kyra bond?

  “Two years isn’t a long time to learn a subject as vast as the mage arts, Master Mirados.” Rafe’s smile was rueful. “I’m sure you will find many gaps in my knowledge.” There. He was not asking the man to mentor him, but leaving an opening for him to offer.

  Mirados didn’t take it. “Hmm,” he said, and shifted his gaze to Isabella. “I suppose the krin slayer needs to be here, too.” He said krin slayer like he might’ve said washerwoman.

  “Karzov has krin,” Coop said curtly. “We need Isabella.” It sounded like an old argument that Coop no longer had the patience for.

  “Karzov also knows that Rafe’s back.” Isabella gave no indication that she had heard Mirados’ mean-spirited remark. “A Fist came to the train station to meet him.”

  “Did you get the Fist alive?” asked Coop, eagerly.

  “No, they’re killing themselves before I can subdue them.” Faint disgust tinged Isabella’s voice. “And he’s stopped sending krin, as well, so I can’t interrogate them, either.”

  “Damn.” Coop raked his fingers through his hair in a familiar gesture. “We have to act quickly, now, before Karzov figures out what we’re up to.”

  “I’d like to know what we’re up to,” interjected Rafe. “I thought you wanted me at the Tower.” His stomach clenched at the thought of that acid sea of ka. Two years ago he’d thrown himself into that tainted magic. He’d thought back then that losing his sight was the worst that could’ve happened. Now he knew what else it could’ve done to him, what damage he could’ve done with it.

  But it was up to him to deal with all that polluted ka. That’s what he was born for—or so said the most of the shahkayan he’d crossed paths with in the domed cities of the Talar.

  Hmm. Maybe it is a nice change after all for Mirados to look at me like I was a mollusk rather than the savior of the world.

  “No, that’s what we hope Karzov will think. In fact, we’ve taken great pains that he should think so. I hope his spies see Kayan Rafe arriving at New Hope in suitably dramatic secrecy.” Coop grinned. “It didn’t take us long to find someone who is your height and coloring, Rafe.”

  “Yes, I’ve always striven to be average above all else.” Blend in. Don’t draw attention. He’d been happy to be average, if it meant that he could do Oakhaven’s work, Uncle Leo’s work. It had meant nothing to him to work in the dark, out of sight, be an anonymous cog keeping Oakhaven safe.

  Now he was anything but anonymous. And Oakhaven had torn herself apart from the inside.

  “In the meantime, though…” Rafe prompted.

  “Yes, in the meantime—come sit, sit.” Coop pulled out a chair for him, making a lot of unnecessary noise to guide Rafe. As he sat down, Rafe noticed his friend hovering, as if ready to grab him by the arm should he misjudge and plant his bottom on the stone floor instead.

  Maybe one of us should explain how kyra works to him, he thought to Isabella. No answer.

  Coop and Furin shuffled chairs closer together to make room. Mirados didn’t. He leaned back, just across from Rafe, folded his arms and watched.

  Sizing up the new kayan.

  “That’s a handy device you have there,” Mirados remarked as Rafe leant the walking stick against his chair. The sardonic twist of eyebrows and mouth said, So even you need to store ka, Mister Kayan, like the rest of us lowly mages.

  “Thank you.” Rafe made sure to give the man his most beatific smile. Coop unrolled a map in front of him and weighed down the corners with two chunks of quartz, an inkwell, and a box of bullets.

  Isabella stepped behind Rafe and put her hands on the back of his chair. The hairs on his neck rose. This close, she smelled like starlight, cold and thin and very very distant.

  “Well, thanks to Mirados we know where Karzov and his child kayan are, even if we don’t know what exactly they want. Right here—oh…” The dismay in Coop’s voice was comic.

  Isabella’s fingertips touched Rafe’s neck. The map, which had been a pale blur of a rectangle, snapped into focus. Coast lines and spidery writing appeared in black. Doodles of sea monsters on the borders were in—Oh, Sel!—color.

  He saw color.

  And the angle was all wrong. Too high up, for one.

  Isabella, letting him see through her eyes. He saw his own fingers, nails bitten down, at the edge of his vision. He whisked them out of sight. His sight. Her sight.

  “It’s all right, Coop.” He made himself sound pleasant and in control. “I can follow you. Why are we looking at a map of the Orric coast?”

  “Because of this.” Coop put his finger on a small spot in the Boiling Sea. “Renat Island.”

  “I’ve nev
er seen this on any map. I thought that part of the Boiling Sea was impassable. They always said the currents were wild and a monster whirlpool lurked in the center.”

  Mirados snorted.

  “Shimmer’s been hiding it for centuries,” said Coop. “We only know about it now because Mirados told us.”

  “Renat Island?” Rafe addressed Mirados. The kayan Renat had created the egg-shaped Keys that had led him to the Tors two years ago. They’d been shattered by the wild ka that ran through that massive spire of quartz.

  “Yes. Man couldn’t keep from meddling in everything, obviously. From flying machines to weapons to his own fortress built in the middle of the sea.”

  “What’s on the island?”

  “Everything that Shimmer thought was too dangerous to keep within her borders,” answered Coop. “Devices they couldn’t figure out, machines that behaved unpredictably, constructs designed to explode—they were all shipped out to the Island.”

  “So it’s a mage artifact treasury at best, a weapons cache at worst,” commented Isabella. “And how did Karzov find this place?”

  “He took over Shimmer.” Anger sparked in Mirados’ eyes. “He could’ve broken anyone who knew the secret, with krin if he had to. I thought it was your job to keep us safe from them.”

  “I didn’t know Shimmer needed my help,” Isabella pointed out. “You never asked. As I recall, I was told in no uncertain terms that krin slayers were unwelcome in Shimmer.”

  “In Karzov’s case, I was right, wasn’t I?” snarled Mirados.

  “One krin slayer betrays his oaths and suddenly I am suspect? Why is my reputation linked with Karzov’s?” Rafe’s skin tingled with Isabella’s anger. She was no longer a cool, contained presence, but sparking, electric, fluid. Within her flashing depths, he sensed a hard dark knot. He resisted the urge to move away from her, but it was like having a mage lamp at his back. “I have always—” She stopped, gathered herself back into herself. “My actions must speak for me,” she went on, drawing ice around her once again. “If Rohkayan Mirados feels he can take my place in the mission, I have other places to be and other duties to attend to.”

  She leaned over Rafe’s head and he blinked rapidly as his angle of sight changed again. He felt her hardness, with an undertone of bitter joy, but her voice was low. “Tell me, Mirados, are you able to face the krin?”

  Mirados’ face went mask-like, but both Isabella and Rafe noted the twitch at the corner of his mouth and the hunted look in his eyes. Ka spiraled around the Preceptor, as he activated magical spells. Rafe sensed five mage devices on the other man; all could be used to attack. Rafe shifted in his chair, reached out with his mind, and tweaked the ka strands around Mirados. The man didn’t seem to notice. Rafe twined purple and yellow ka and sent them sliding over Mirados’ hand and delving into his various artifacts. A little bit of knife-edged magic to catch the man’s attention and remind him there was another mage in the room.

  Mirados started at the pin-prick of ka, glared at Rafe. Rafe kept his expression bland.

  Simmer down, Isabella, he sent her, not caring if she blocked him from her sight for his impudence. It’s not the time to get into a crowing contest with Mirados.

  She listened. She sank back down to her heels, and glanced at Coop and Furin. Both wore the look of mice in a room full of warring cats.

  “Please continue, Coop.”

  “So we’ve ascertained this is where Karzov is right now. And he’s looking for something magical, because he’s emptied out his kayan training camp and taken them with him. Our foray last month into the last known location turned up only empty barracks, broken chalkboard, and left-behind socks.” Coop grimaced, and Furin’s face became shuttered.

  That’s right. Furin’s son was one of those youngsters with kayan potential that Karzov had kidnapped.

  “What of Oakhaven?” asked Rafe. “How is it holding up?” He’d heard bits and pieces of news, of course, trickling across the Talar, but he was hungry for more.

  “They’ve fought Blackstone to a standstill. They took in rohkayan after Shimmer fell and either created or unearthed magical technology. Blackstone’s aerial forces haven’t been able to take the city, but I think it could be because Karzov got bored—or distracted.” Coop shrugged at this. “Leonius Grenfeld is First Minister and undisputedly in charge.”

  Rafe’s great-uncle and mentor. Once they had been close, but Leo thought him a traitor.

  After all, Rafe had allied with Isabella and handed the Tors Lumena over to another state. He couldn’t quite fault his uncle for his stance.

  “And Tristan?” The Crown Prince had been in disgrace at the time Oakhaven fell into turmoil. Some even blamed him for the assassination of King Roland.

  “We have no idea what happened to him, sorry. But it’s probably for the better, Rafe. Oakhaven needs someone strong at the helm.”

  “And Tristan was young and foolish,” finished Rafe. The words were sour in his mouth. He felt like he’d failed his cousin.

  “There have been few challenges to Grenfeld’s authority, but he has the support of most of the nobles and the city of Oakhaven. Some of the hinterlands tried to break away but were quickly brought back into line. A bandit chief named White Oak has set up a fiefdom in Shaleshine…”

  “White Oak?” Rafe sat up. He felt Isabella’s wordless query, sharp as a needle. The woman missed nothing, but he chose not to respond.

  “A romantic name, don’t you think?” grinned Coop. “Man’s probably smelly and hirsute, though. People like him crawl out from under the rocks during times like these.”

  “Hmm,” said Rafe noncommittally. He’d have to look into this White Oak fellow some time.

  He wasn’t willing to write Oakhaven off. And if he couldn’t make headway with Leo, he had to have a backup plan.

  “How’s Ironheart’s training program going?” he asked hopefully. There were others like him who suffered from quartz sickness, a sensitivity to the tainted ka that ran in the quartz veins of their disc world. The worse the sensitivity, the greater the sufferer’s potential as a magic user. Rafe didn’t want to be the only kayan standing against Blackstone.

  Coop sighed. “Karzov made off with a number of children with potential before he burned Ironheart down two years ago. He had an agent fronting as a specialist in quartz sickness cures for years. That’s how he was able to get their names and addresses. All we have are a few young ones, less than ten years old. He’s been planning this for a long time, Rafe.”

  “What does he want with Renat Island?” Rafe couldn’t see Mirados, not with Isabella pointedly not looking at him, but he shifted his head so his eyes were on the man. It was disorienting when his vision didn’t change with the movement. “Is there something in particular he’s after?”

  “Knowing Karzov, nothing less than the Renat Scepter would satisfy him.”

  “Which is?”

  “A master control, apparently. A device through which all of Renat’s machinery and devices could be controlled—not to mention all the other artifacts that other mages made and hooked into Renat’s own. The man had a mania for centralization.”

  “And you know where on the island it is?” asked Rafe.

  “Maybe.” A note of caution crept into Mirados’ voice. “The island… it changes. And so does the Scepter, so don’t ask me to describe it. But its magical signature should remain the same. Once we’re there, I should be able to track it. And if not me, then”—said grudgingly—“perhaps you can.”

  “And that’s where we’re heading? When?”

  “As soon as possible,” broke in Coop. “Everything is ready.”

  “How are we going to get to the island without being spotted?” wondered Rafe. “You don’t have an invisible ship, do you?”

  A mischievous grin broke over Coop’s face. “Not an invisible ship, but something even better. You’ll like this, I promise. Come, let’s get some rest. We have an early start in the morning.”

 
As the meeting broke up, Isabella muttered, low enough so that only Rafe could hear, “So we’re going to go fetch something right under Karzov’s nose, and we don’t know what it looks like or where it is. Lovely.”

  Was it just him or did Isabella sound distinctly unhappy?

  Isabella, bothered and uneasy. That disturbed him more than any talk of Karzov and his school of underaged kayan.

  “A submersible.” Rafe’s voice echoed in the underground cavern. The vehicle was a cigar-shaped shadow, moored in shallow water. Waves lapped tinnily against its sides and a warm sulfurous scent filled the air. Frozen drips of limestone hung down from the cavern’s ceiling, and broken teeth of them heaved up from the ground. Glimmers of quartz pocked the chamber’s walls; Rafe saw it in the colors of its ka, a fizzle of orange, a splatter of green. All the colors were as dark as a mutter—not much ka in here, and all of it touched with poison.

  The brightest patches of ka were within the submersible itself, in oily patches of rainbow colors.

  “Yep.” Coop touched the submersible’s metal curve fondly. “We’ve had a prototype for ages, but Furin helped us take it from design to reality. With this, we can pop up right inside Renat Island, and Mirados says he can use the ka in the water to help hide us from any mage sight. I am glad you’re here, though.”

  “Don’t underestimate Mirados’ contribution, Coop,” warned Rafe. “I may be able to use more powerful ka, but he has the experience and the expertise. Don’t favor me over-much.”

  “Ah, but you see I like you. I only tolerate Mirados, and he—well he barely hides his disdain for us and our technology. I can almost hear him thinking Inferior people, inferior contraptions every time he encounters one of our machines. You should’ve seen his face when he first saw the Felicity.”

  “Named her after your sister, Coop?” Rafe arched an eyebrow.

  “Not me.” There was a grin in Coop’s voice. “That was Furin’s idea. Felicity did much of the original design and was rather cross that she couldn’t come along. There’s not much space aboard this, though. A woman isn’t able to have her privacy.”