Knight Redeemed: The Shackled Verities (Book Two) Read online

  Giving voice to his, to their, desires, he said, “To spread true faith among all of Vinnr. To bring the maker’s dominion to every corner of the realm.”

  “Every corner of the Cosmos, Ecclesium. And now we shall decide which maker’s.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Jaemus stood in front of an open window on the citadel’s main story, far below Ulfric’s coop, as he thought of it. The pleasantly warm breeze of Halla’s early morning washed over him. Instead of staring out over the city of Elezaran, missing the glimpse of the sea he’d had in Vigil Tower, his focus and his thoughts were turned inward.

  The chamber he stood in was large, interspersed in perfect geometric intervals by ornate columns, somewhat similar to the columns in Lífs’s shrine, he realized. The floor was covered in vibrant woven rugs, and the ceiling arced high overhead. It was a luxurious chamber fit for a ruler, but he called it by what it really was. This was a sick ward for the ailing Himmingazians.

  They were all assembled, most of them resting—or languishing—on austere but comfortable cushioned pallets. Each woman and man was quite clearly sick. Their pale green skin had taken on an ugly brown-yellow tinge, and their eyes were glazed and their manners listless, some drawing breaths that were too shallow. None bore sores or bruises, besides the hollows under their eyes. They just seemed to be…wasting.

  Jaemus had stood vigil over them all night, unable to sleep while they suffered. He’d tried Eisa several times through his Mentalios, but she’d never responded. It was time, maybe past time, he leave and do what he could to restore Himmingaze. Vinnr, quite clearly, would never be their home.

  By the time Halla’s first rays filtered through the windows, he was determined: If today was going to be the day two of the Knights went to Arc Rheunos, he too would be leaving. He wondered whether Ulfric would try to pressure him to stay, in need of his Knightly endowment for protection with Safran and Stave off to another realm. He’d battle Ulfric for the right to go back to Himmingaze if he had to—though he didn’t harbor a spot of hope that was a battle he could win. He didn’t think it would come to that, though. Ulfric was, despite his grittiness upon their first meeting, a reasonable, sometimes even kind, man.

  Jaemus’s heart beat out of step for a moment as he wondered about Ulfric’s family. Could the same sickness the Himmingazians suffered be happening to the Knight’s own daughter? He could imagine the fear Ulfric must be enduring, though he’d said little about it.

  He walked across the room to Cote, who seemed to be stirring. He hadn’t yet told his lifemate what he’d learned from Eisa.

  “Cote,” he said, kneeling by his pallet. “How are you?” What a pointless question, he thought, but what else could he say?

  “I’ll say this,” Cote whispered, no longer even attempting Elder Veros, “whatever it is we have makes the barracks bug feel like a tickle.”

  “If it’s a tickle you want…” Jaemus playfully flicked his fingers along Cote’s thigh above the knee, where he knew the Glisternaut was most sensitive.

  Cote, as always, grabbed his wrists to stop him, but his grip was weak, his hands cold as ice. “Stop,” he almost gasped. “…don’t have the energy.”

  “Of course,” Jaemus said. “I’m sorry.”

  Cote lay back and closed his yellowish eyelids. His breathing settled, but not without a quiet rasp coming from deep in his chest. Jaemus frowned and rested his hand on Cote as the man fell back into a restless sleep.

  Enough. He rose, determined to find Eisa.

  But didn’t have to look far. The woman stood less than a foot behind him.

  “Bardgrim,” she said.

  “Would you quit doing that?” he huffed.

  “If you’re going to be a Knight, you need to better train your senses.”

  “My senses got me this far in life as they are, and I’m only going to be a Knight for another couple of cycles, thank you. After the whole save-the-world experience, I’m thinking of retiring.”

  Eisa had stopped listening, he could see that. Her eyes had drifted to the pallets and the sick ’Gazians. Silence lingered for a moment before she looked back at him. “Are you done?”

  “Apparently.”

  She reached into her bandolier and pulled out two pieces of stone, then held them out. He could see easily how their rough edges aligned in one spot. “Are they…?” he started.

  “Yes, two of three pieces of the lost Lífs Fenestros. I’ll have the third soon. You still have the map?”

  He patted his vest.

  “It is good.” From another pocket on her bandolier—did she ever take the thing off?—she pulled out another piece of parchment. “The Citadel Suprima is ancient, filled with hallways and passages, rooms and chambers. You’ll get lost if you don’t know how to read a map.” She paused. “You do know how to read a map, yes?”

  He hesitated. “I’m very versed on the schematics of ship operations systems and, recently, the diagrams I found in—” He cut himself off just before admitting to all the snooping he’d done in Ulfric’s craft rooms. “In, er, places I was most definitely allowed to be in.”

  She ignored his slip. “Take this, then. An hour before High Halls, go to the raised yard overlooking the arena outside the citadel, the one we crossed to the entrance hall. At the top of the citadel steps at the end of the arch-lined pavilion is a dais. Meet me there. The Dyrraks will be gathering for…an event. I’ll give you the last piece of Lífs’s Fenestros, and from there you can have Ulfric send you home.”

  “Why not you?”

  “Other matters require me today. Do not worry, once you show the Stallari the Scrylle map and the Fenestros shards, he’ll understand why you should, why you must, go.”

  He gave what he hoped looked like a sage nod, but inside he was hiding his confusion. Eisa seemed distracted, as if a simple matter of saving a world was a tiny concern. He decided prying would only result in getting his head chewed off and said, “I won’t have any trouble finding the dais, obviously. So what’s the map for?”

  She ran her hand along the side of her head, where the hair was cut brutally short. The other side matched, though she had a thick untouched strip of hair in the middle that was plaited and fell midway down her back. Jaemus had seen the style on many Dyrraks while going through the city. Those who wore it all seemed older, with more than the average number of skin markings.

  “If I’m not there to meet you, you’ll have to retrieve the last piece of the Fenestros yourself.”

  It suddenly hit him what she was talking about. He’d seen the Knights’ reaction to that unusual copper-headed woman on the Gildr, too. And he’d seen what she had stuck inside her chest. “You mean you want me to…to…” He couldn’t even say it, much less do it.

  “Yes, you’ll have to retrieve the last piece, as I said. If you ever want to take your people home again.” She looked around the ward meaningfully.

  “But…why wouldn’t you be there? I’m certainly going to make a point of it, aren’t you?” Because the last thing I think I’ll ever be able to do is yank a stone out of a creepy living dead woman’s chest.

  She shoved the map into his hand. “Look, the circumstances of my return to Dyrrakium have changed. The Domine Ecclesium and I are going to settle some things today that I know now I should have anticipated long ago. That is, unless he thinks to settle them by a knife in my back from the shadows first.”

  His brow wrinkled. “That doesn’t sound like the kind of guardian for Vaka Aster’s vessel that Ulfric and the others hoped for. I suppose that means we’re not trusting the Ecclesium anymore?”

  “No. It isn’t. And we should not. That’s why I’ll be taking over. High Halls, the dais. Be there, Bardgrim.”

  “I will, but—”

  She paced away without looking back and was gone before he could try to stop her.

  He looked at the crumpled map in his hand. Between the violence and politics of this world—he could barely tell the difference between the tw
o—he was far past realizing Vinnr was wholly unsuited for the ambitious but comparatively peaceful Himmingazians. Good thing he and the rest of them would be leaving soon. He just hoped he didn’t have to perform some kind of unmentionable surgery on a revenant before they did. He hoped even more that this world and its deep-rooted issues wouldn’t follow them back to Himmingaze.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Ulfric and all the Knights but Jaemus assembled at first light in the Verity’s chamber overlooking Elezaran. One other was notably missing.

  “Still no response, Ulfric, and no one’s seen her all night,” Mallich explained. “I’ll go look for her.”

  “Slag it,” Ulfric swore. “No, Mallich. Let’s wait a bit. There must be a reason she’s absenting herself now.”

  “I think I know where—” Mallich began.

  But then Eisa’s voice came to Ulfric through the Mentalios. Ulfric.

  He raised a hand to quiet everyone. Where are you, Eisa? You’ve been gone since yesterday.

  Listen, she sent. I’ve been staking out the citadel all night, taking the pulse of things here and in Dyrrakium to ensure we are safe.

  He detected some hedging in her tone. And are we?

  We will be more so soon. For now, you have to trust me. I will explain later. I have something to attend to today, but after High Halls, Dyrrakium will be the empire it was meant to be.

  What are you doing, Eisa?

  You’ll understand more after High Halls. And one last thing. She sent her next thoughts to everyone. Knights, watch the Ecclesium carefully—he has forgotten his place.

  Eisa, what are you talking about? Mallich asked. Several seconds went by without a response, and he tried again, but she was no longer answering their Mentalios link.

  Ulfric and the Knights stood stiffly around the Verity’s podium, not speaking. What was there to say? He looked at each of his companions, their numbers seeming to thin more and more by the day. Safran, calm but worried. Mallich, troubled. Stave…well, if nothing else, his disposition toward Eisa remained as surly as ever.

  Jaemus, he called through the wystic lens. Do you know anything about what Eisa is up to?

  …A bit?

  What in the worlds would Jaemus know that Eisa wouldn’t have told them? Stay put, I’m coming to speak with you now.

  Turning to the others, he said, “Safran, remain with the artifacts and keep an eye on them. You two, see if you can’t find Eisa. She’s taking some matter into her own hands, I can feel it, and I want to put a stop to it before things get…”

  “Slagged up the bahooky so far our tongues’ll be tasting our last meal twice?” Stave offered.

  They each looked at him with a level of horror usually reserved for the scene of a terrible accident.

  He was unfazed. “Well, that’s about the truth of things when it comes to Eisa, it is.”

  After a moment, Ulfric went on, “I’ll be back soon. If no one finds her before High Halls, we’ll all meet back here. And from there figure out what in Verities is going on and what next threat we have to face.”

  Before he could step away, Mallich stopped him with a hand to the arm. “Wait. Take Star Spark with you.”

  Ulfric shook his head. “No. The Dyrraks will wonder why a Verity would need to be armed. And it’s a hallowed weapon. If it were used against me…” There was no need to finish that statement.

  “Then I’ll accompany you.”

  He was about to protest, when Stave said, “No saying no, Ulfric. You need at least one of us. I’ll go look for that—for her.”

  They were right, but there was something he could make use of if needed. He stepped over to the dais and reached into the satchel containing the Verity artifacts, withdrawing one of Vaka Aster’s Fenestrii and the Scrylle. Retrieving a hard leather map case from among the sundries the Knights had brought, he stowed them inside and hung the case from his belt. As he lashed the base of it around his thigh to hold it secure, he said, “These are staying with me. Just in case.” In case what, he didn’t bother articulating as he nodded to Safran and Stave. “See you back here by High Halls.”

  As they paced to the doorway, Mallich suggested to Stave, “If you see the chancellor, ask her where the one called the Speaker is. I sense Eisa will be with her.”

  “Right.” Stave opened the door.

  The Dyrrak guard posted outside immediately fell to a knee. “Great Creator.”

  Ulfric approached him and said, “Venerate, show us to the Himmingazians’ quarters.”

  “This way, My Maker.”

  They arrived shortly and found Jaemus pacing back and forth in front of one of the large arched windows. When they stepped inside, Mallich posted himself at the doorway, closing it softly behind them to avoid disturbing those who rested.

  “Good Bright, or ‘morning,’ as you say here,” Jaemus said with very obvious fake cheer. “Do they have anything like chuffee in Dyrrakium, by chance?”

  “Chuffee?” Ulfric asked.

  “Never mind. Look, about Eisa…”

  He trailed off, and Ulfric waited several moments for him to go on. When he didn’t, Ulfric pressed. “Yes, about Eisa. What in Vaka Aster’s eyes is she up to?”

  “Well, see, I don’t know exactly. She just said something about having a score to settle with the Ecclesium, apparently about something she should have seen coming a long time ago, and she’d have it all sorted by midday.”

  “She knew our plan was to send someone to Arc Rheunos today to seek a way to break—” He cut himself off. He shouldn’t be speaking aloud about the entanglement with Vaka Aster. Not in this place where hidden listeners could lurk.

  “Well, she didn’t say not to go ahead with that.” His eyebrows rose as if to say It’s fine, everything is fine, old friend. Why wouldn’t it be?

  “Jaemus, do you know where she is now?”

  With a half sigh and pursed lips, Jaemus reached into his vest and handed Ulfric a parchment. “She’s given me a map to get to the chamber for that odd, er, person called the Speaker. She said to come find her there if she didn’t meet me in the courtyard before midday.”

  Ulfric nodded and said over his shoulder, “You were right, Mallich.” Then to Jaemus: “And why are you to meet her?” Jaemus got that look in his eye, a slight creasing at the edges that said he was about to use sixty words to say what only six were needed for. “Just answer me straight, and no waffling,” Ulfric warned.

  In what had to be record brevity—for the Himmingazian—Jaemus revealed a few other surprises: Eisa’s intention to get the broken pieces of Lífs’s missing Fenestros; her assurance that Ulfric would then send Jaemus back to Himmingaze to find Griggory and the Scrylle; and, after reaching inside the same pocket and retrieving another parchment, he revealed his final surprise.

  “You had this the whole time?” Ulfric said wonderingly.

  “Yes, since the Octopod, when you looked into the Creatress’s Scrylle. I’m a firm believer in being prepared, even if you have to do so through craftiness.”

  Jaemus was working hard, and failing, to appear confident. But Ulfric had no desire to chide the novice Knight. He’d put him in an impossible position in Himmingaze.

  Still, it rankled him. In all my turns as Stallari, never have so many of my Knights been this able, or willing, to bluff and mislead me. Clearly, I’ve grown too old for this role. He looked between Jaemus and the Scrylle map and said, “Crafty indeed. I won’t bother asking why you never told me you had this.” He rested a hand on Jaemus’s shoulder. “Do you have any idea what this means?”

  “Well, if I understood everything Eisa said, it means I just need to get back to Himmingaze and talk with Griggory—we go way back, you see. I hope he doesn’t hold a grudge about me taking the Creatress artifacts in the first place. Then he and I collect the celestial stones and the Creatress’s Scrylle again, and finally save the world. It’s just another day in the Knights Corporealis, right? I mean, I could be back to bring the rest of the ’Na
uts home before Cote even wakes up if things go well.”

  Ulfric snorted, mildly amused. “For a—what did you call yourself, a Glint Engineer?—for an engineer, you have a deceptively simple way of putting things.”

  “One of my many gifts.”

  “So Eisa’s going to get you the final piece of the Fenestros, which is being used to keep the cursed Yorish acolyte alive. And you have the other pieces?”

  Jaemus patted his tunic’s deepest pocket. “Here. And once I get that last chunk, you’ll send me back?”

  Ulfric nodded. “You have my word.” He eyed the engineer for a moment. “Though, I could send you back now if you wished it.” Drawing back the edge of his robe, he showed Jaemus the map case.

  The engineer, understanding what it contained, looked at it longingly, but only for a moment. With a shrug, he said, “It would hardly do me or any Himmingazian any good if I went without the fifth Fenestros, would it?”

  “No, it wouldn’t. This is incredible, Jaemus. There is hope for Himmingaze at last, thanks to you. Now back to Eisa—we still don’t know what she’s planning. Mallich,” he called, “get Stave and take this map to find her. Bring her back to the Verity chamber immediately. If she won’t come, do what you must. Something is happening at High Halls, something that may affect our safety in Dyrrakium. She knows what it is and must be made to tell us.”

  Mallich paced over to them. “Ulfric, I’ve known Eisa almost as long as you have. Whatever decisions she’s made, problems she’s caused, she’s only done them for the right reasons. Everything, except for this…this revenant.” He took a deep breath, then went on. “Let her have this last chance to right her most painful wrong. Let her take the Fenestros back and put Lillias to rest. After her long turns of service, her sacrifices, doesn’t she deserve that?”