The fall of skullkeep, p.23
The Fall of Skullkeep, page 23
“All right. Let me know as soon as they arrive, and we’ll head out to the next camp. Oh… have we made any provisions for one or more people from other camps arriving here as message couriers? I’d hate for us to be discovered, all because someone showed up here after we left and only found a clearing. I don’t want these people to go to ground on us.”
“That is a very valid concern,” Shara said. “I think we should leave five Wraiths here to guard against that, and as we clear out all the camps closest to this one, we pull everyone back together and move on to a new region.”
Jennifer nodded as she pulled out the map and unfolded it, waving Shara over to her. “I like that. Here… if these camp locations are accurate, we can clear all the camps in western Roshan and Wygoth provinces and still have Wraiths left over. Then, we start moving east, and once we get a couple days ahead of the farthest east camps that we’ve cleared, the Wraiths at the farthest east camps move forward to re-join us.”
“That sounds good, but how will they know when to move?”
A memory of a story her dad told her popped into her mind, and she smiled. “That might not be too difficult. Can you have someone gather thirty stones—preferably smooth—that can fit in the cup of a person’s hand?”
Shara nodded once. “I’ll see to it now.”
Jennifer re-folded the map and went inside the pavilion that had once served as the camp leader’s home away from home. Most of the furniture and accoutrements remained, and she went to the chest she knew held writing implements. She carried a stylus, bottle of ink, and a stack of parchment over to the table and sat to sketch out a design for an imbued item… well… thirty imbued items.
Upon leaving Young Kirloth in the pavilion, Shara went straight to the stream that ran close by the camp and provided its water. Yes… she absolutely could’ve farmed out her request, but Shara didn’t like that. She understood what Young Kirloth wanted and why. That almost certainly wouldn’t be the case with anyone else.
Yes… she could take the time to explain the situation, but why should she bother when she herself could handle the request easily enough?
She enjoyed working with Young Kirloth. The young woman seemed to have a decent head on her shoulders and wasn’t full of herself at all. Shara had developed the impression that the young woman had some darkness in her past, but these days, who didn’t?
Still, though… Young Kirloth seemed especially sensitive to it. That conclusion didn’t come from anything she said or did. It was more a sense that Shara had from the young woman’s priorities and worldview.
In all truth, she liked that about Young Kirloth. She liked working for someone with a conscience… even if it seemed a bit overactive at times. Far too many people in the world cared naught for how their actions or priorities or views affected others. Shara didn’t believe people should live their lives for others, but at the same time, she appreciated people who tried to make the world a little better for their travels through it.
She chuckled as she collected her fourth stone. There were probably people who would look at her askance for those thoughts, given what she did for a living. She was essentially an assassin. She made no effort to hide it, either. She knew there was something broken inside her… or at least, something that everyone else would say was broken.
Shara took pride in her mastery of her chosen craft. When she was assigned a challenging task—even if said task was the elimination of one, specific person—and when she completed that task flawlessly without leaving any evidence that she had ever been there? That was a matter of pride to her.
Almost everyone else in the world—aside from her colleagues—would be appalled that she took pride in something like a well-executed murder or infiltration for information. She didn’t just know that; she understood it. And the Wraiths valued her anyway. In fact, they had recruited her out of the Tel Wygoth dungeon, where she awaited execution for a host of actions that the province and kingdom as a whole deemed criminal. She understood those actions had been illegal, but she still felt they were appropriate to the circumstances and would do the same things all over again if given the chance.
Shara stopped and considered the belt pouch that was moderately full of palm-sized rocks now. Dammit all… she’d lost count. She moved over to a rather large stone and leaned against it as she withdrew all the rocks from the pouch and re-counted them. When she moved the final rock from her hand to the pouch, the count was twenty-two. She repeated ‘eight’ to herself a few times, hoping she wouldn’t lose count again as she went back to her task.
It took little time at all to collect the remaining stones Young Kirloth requested, and she secured the flap of the pouch to make sure they didn’t bounce out as she returned to camp. After all, there was no reason not to do a little agility practice.
That was the major reason she felt so many other Wraiths were lacking. They didn’t display the same commitment to their craft that she felt they should. She turned a simple walk to return to camp into a series of cartwheels, shoulder rolls, and handstands. Most of her associates probably would have just trudged back through the underbrush.
When she broke through the brush that lined the camp, she saw that the fifteen extra Wraiths had arrived, and she forced herself not to react when she caught sight of the leader of the group. Bertram. A self-serving, egotistical nightmare. She despised even the thought of working in the same organization as him, let alone the same unit or assignment. Even though her demeanor and expression betrayed no hint of her internal thoughts and feelings, she braced herself for what she knew was an imminent power struggle over who would have and control access to Young Kirloth.
It wasn’t that she sought to raise her status through proximity to House Kirloth. No… not at all. She merely liked Young Kirloth. She enjoyed working and talking with her. Shara felt she was a kindred spirit in a lot of ways and found that… comforting.
By that point, she approached the cluster of Wraiths surrounding Bertram, and the ass himself had noticed her. As the cluster of people around him opened to admit her, she put every effort into keeping her expression and demeanor void of any reaction.
“Hello, Bertram.”
Movement in her peripheral vision pulled Jennifer’s attention away from her sketches and thoughts. She looked up and saw some guy she didn’t know standing almost at her elbow. He wore Wraith leathers and held a collection of stones in his cupped hands.
“Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Jennifer.”
“Yes, Young Kirloth, it is an honor to meet and work with you. I am Bertram, and as I am now the senior Wraith, I have taken over all of Shara’s duties in regard to liaising with you and overseeing this operation.”
Jennifer fought the urge to frown. There was… something… about this guy that she wasn’t sure she liked.
“So, Shara was the senior Wraith among the fifteen that were already here?”
“Ah… no. Not quite. But it isn’t my fault that they failed to exercise proper protocol.”
Now, Jennifer knew something wasn’t right. No one had ever mentioned anything about protocol to her, and as far as she understood, the only person who could supersede her with the Wraiths was her dad.
From the man’s expression, some of her skepticism must’ve slipped into her expression or demeanor. Not that she really cared at this point. “Are those the stones I requested?”
“Oh… uhm… yes?”
Jennifer raised one eyebrow. “Don’t you know? Or did Shara tell you she was delivering something to me, and you demanded to be the one to deliver it yourself? If you don’t know what Shara was doing for me, how can you be sure she hasn’t made a fool out of you?”
Bertram’s expression darkened just a hint at that thought, but before he could speak, Jennifer invoked a Word of Divination, “Klaepos.”
A circular area about six inches above the table’s surface began shimmering and rippling like a still pond into which a stone is thrown. Within a handful of heartbeats, that area became a scrying sphere focused on Declan. Jennifer smiled at seeing him alone and in what looked like an office or a study.
She squared her shoulders and once more invoked a Word of Divination, “Klaepos.”
This time, however, the scrying sphere appeared in front of Declan and displayed Jennifer, Bertram, and the fringe of her scrying sphere.
“Hi, Declan.”
Declan apparently was so deep in concentration that he failed to notice the appearance of the scrying sphere, and he started, one hand going to a dagger hilt as he scanned the area around him and finally settled on the scrying sphere.
He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with the hand that had reached for a dagger just a moment before. “Jennifer, has anyone ever told you that you can be a very trying individual?”
“Oh, I’m sure dozens of people have, Declan. You’re just one of the lucky ones to see me more than most.”
He gave her a flat look. “I’m not sure ‘lucky’ means what you think it means. How can I help you?”
“I wanted to ask a question about Wraith seniority and proper protocol.”
All of a sudden, Bertram started fidgeting at her side. “Uhm… if you will excuse me, Young Kirloth…”
Jennifer speared him with an expression that was nowhere close to kind. “Oh, no, Bertram… you’ve made your bed. Now, you get to lay in it. If you take even one step, I’ll freeze you in place.”
Sweat broke out on the man’s forehead, and both his expression and demeanor suggested very strongly that he wanted nothing more than to bolt.
Declan regarded them both in silence for a few moments before his expression turned wry. “If you’re asking about Wraith seniority and proper protocol, I’m betting Betram there has tried singing his old song and dance to elevate himself by getting closer to you. I don’t know what you’re doing precisely, but at the conclusion of it, Bertram will most likely do everything he can to use his association with you—however brief—to advance himself.”
“So… from what you’re implying, there isn’t such a thing as Wraith seniority or proper protocol?”
Declan snorted a laugh. “The only proper protocol we have is basic civility… which I argue should be a given throughout every intelligent race. And no, we don’t use seniority like armies use date of rank or anything like that.” Declan’s eyes flicked to Bertram for a moment. “Some few of us have tried to implement such a thing from time to time, but it never gains any support among the Wraiths as a whole.”
“Is it within my authority to expel someone from the Wraiths?” Jennifer enjoyed the sudden gasp she heard a short distance to her right.
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far, Jennifer. He honestly does have his uses.”
Jennifer let her true feelings about how Bertram had conducted himself flow into her expression and demeanor. “Then, we need to trade him out for someone else. I do not appreciate liars or ass-kissers, and Dad wanted me to have thirty Wraiths with me. This idiot’s lips are so brown all the soap in Tel wouldn’t clean them. If I’m stuck with him, there is every chance that I’ll return only twenty-nine Wraiths when I’m finished, and I have the feeling none of the other people with me would miss him overmuch.”
Declan regarded them both in silence for several moments before he nodded once. “I’ll arrange for another Wraith to meet you forthwith, and Bertram? If whatever you’re clutching is important to Jennifer, kindly hand it to her before you make yourself scarce. I’ll notify the local chapterhouse to expect your arrival. Don’t dawdle, either.”
Bertram laid the thirty stones on the table a few inches from Jennifer’s right elbow and scurried out of the pavilion like the rat she was sure he was.
Jennifer beamed. “Thank you, Declan.” Then, her grin turned utterly evil. “You should send him to work directly with Dad for a while.”
For several moments, Declan made no reply, verbal or otherwise. Finally, he slowly shook his head side to side. “No… I don’t really think that idea is very wise.”
“Oh, come on… it would be very fun to watch.”
His expression suggested she didn’t sway him in the slightest. “Jennifer… just because a given course of action would be fun to watch does not preclude it from being unwise. Not to mention detrimental to the poor man’s life expectancy.”
“Ha! So, you know how Dad would react to him, too!”
Declan sighed. “Jennifer, I know your father rather well at this point, and I hold an enormous amount of respect for you. You literally cannot fathom the sheer weight of even his simple day-to-day decisions. Yes… Bertram has a reputation for being a boot-licking fop, and neither you nor I are the only people who believe that reputation is well-earned. But that doesn’t preclude him from being a valued Wraith; it simply means that we are very careful about what assignments we give him.”
“I trust you will make certain the appropriate people know I am less than pleased with his time with me. I am happy to speak to anyone you like if it will help drive the point home.”
Declan gave her a rather rueful smile. “Young lady, I give you my word that no one will be surprised he survived only because you called me first. I wouldn’t be surprised but what calling me stymied someone’s plan to remove him from the organization, but that’s a question for me to look into. I’ll have a replacement for dear Bertram at your location by tomorrow morning. Will there be anything else?”
Jennifer beamed again. “No… thank you, Declan.”
“Thank you, Jennifer.”
Jennifer invoked a Word of Tutation, “Rhosed,” to cancel both scrying spheres.
Almost the exact same moment her scrying sphere vanished, Shara stepped up to the entrance to the pavilion. Jennifer smiled and waved for her to enter.
As she did so, Shara made a point of obviously looking all around. “I don’t see your new liaison anywhere. Did you give him a job so soon?”
Jennifer snorted a derision-laded laugh. “I had a quick word with Declan via scrying spheres, and we reached the conclusion that if the Wraiths wanted to continue to enjoy whatever expertise Bertram brings to the organization, he should stay as far away from me and Dad as possible. For some reason, Declan thought sending Bertram to work directly with Dad might have a detrimental effect on the man’s life expectancy.”
“I sneaked a glance inside before you created the scrying spheres, and I daresay his life hung by a thread with you, too.”
Jennifer curled her fingers to mimic claws. “I despise ass-kissers, Shara. I don’t have the words for how much I don’t like them. Why did you let him take over for you?”
Shara regarded her in silence for several moments, then asked, “Honestly?”
“Well, yeah. Of course, honestly.”
“One of the others had started a betting pool over how long he’d survive before you killed him, and I wanted in on it.”
Jennifer sat in silence for several moments as she considered that. Finally, she shrugged. “As good a reason as any, I suppose.”
CHAPTER 25
With Bertram handled, Jennifer turned her attention back to her sketches. She thought her design should work, but it might require a bit of trial and error before it did. After all, she’d never had the opportunity to hold one of the Speaking Stones, which meant in turn that she had no way to judge the effect imbued in them.
That was something else her dad had casually mentioned that blew her mind. Apparently, wizards could use their skathos to almost ‘read’ items imbued with power and get a sense of how to duplicate them. These knock-off Speaking Stones would be her first attempt at that.
She didn’t doubt that she’d succeed. How many attempts she’d need before she succeeded was the question.
Her dad also told her that the Speaking Stones were crystals. Did they need to be crystals to do what they did? Her instinct said ‘no.’ But if that was true, why did they look like crystals then? Was it merely aesthetics?
“I’m sure they’re sorry for doing whatever those drawings did to provoke such a frown.”
Shara’s remark pulled Jennifer out of her thoughts, and a small smile curled her lips as she shifted her attention to the Wraith. “Oh, you are, are you?”
“Undoubtedly. If a wizard of House Kirloth frowned at me like you were just frowning at those sketches, I’d be on my knees, begging for forgiveness, faster than you could blink.”
Though Shara delivered her words with an open, unfettered smile, all Jennifer heard was the implied threat that she and her father posed to anyone around her. Jennifer’s smile died a sudden and not-quite-painless death.
Shara moved to sit in the chair at Jennifer’s elbow. “Please, tell me what I said that ruined your smile. I was trying for a joke, and I thought I’d succeeded.”
Jennifer pursed her lips and turned to look at the tabletop a few moments before she sighed, then turned back to Shara. “I don’t like how everyone’s immediate, gut reaction around me and my dad is fear. In some cases, abject terror. I never wanted people to be afraid of me.”
Shara offered her a soft, consoling smile. “I understand, and your father openly said the same thing… at first. I suspect he simply stopped saying it instead of no longer feeling that way. The unfortunate situation is that there’s nothing you can do about your House’s reputation. It might as well be carved in stone that’s protected from weathering and damage. Your father’s mentor built it in the blood and bone and flesh of many, many foes.”
“He did?”
“Oh, yes. When people speak of Kirloth in terrified whispers… more often than not… they mean your father’s mentor. He was the most fearsome, implacable force in the world for over six thousand years, and he did it all outside the public view. Your father has… carried on the legacy, if not the extreme ruthlessness. When your father ended slavery, something on the order of three thousand people fell over dead, branded as if they themselves had tried branding your father.”
