Vol 7, Chapter 24

The deck of the ship was empty, yet I felt a gaze from the shadows. Flashes from the burning camp made them dance in rhythm with the fire. Even if I managed to extinguish the flames, there was no way to rid myself of the moonlight.

Closest to me was my own shadow. I shifted slightly so that it lay directly before me—it was easier to keep under control that way.

No real weapon. I couldn't very well poke uselessly into every shadow with a dagger. My only hope was…

"Don't you think it's time you proved you didn't swallow that entire firestorm for nothing?" I asked the demon.

"No." The reply came in a short, sneering growl. Far too mocking for the gravity of the moment.

And yet he knew that if I died, he would die too. Unless… she wasn't bluffing.

With a snort, I loosened my grip and let the dagger fall, embedding itself in the deck. I spread my arms wide. If I was right, I wouldn't need it. If I was wrong… then claws, not steel, would decide the outcome anyway.

"And what's this? Are you surrendering?" came a voice from the shifting shadows.

"No. I simply refuse to play your game."

"Which means you surrender." Another line drifted from behind me, provoking me to turn.

But I remained still.

Even when the shadow before me parted, revealing an obsidian blade. It darted toward my neck, only to twist flat at the last instant. The glassy stone chilled my skin, and it took every effort not to flinch away.

Leaving behind a pale line on my throat, the weapon slid back into darkness.

Silence broke under footsteps behind me. Close. Very close.

"Well then, there are other games we can play."

Her hand encircled my waist, slipping under my shirt. Cold as ice.

"Or do you only fancy drunk cripples and runts?" she whispered into my ear, brushing her tongue across my neck as if tasting me.

"My tastes are broader, but I'm afraid I must refuse again. I'd like to look lively for the Duke's negotiations, not like some drained mummy."

"Oh, as if you've ever looked lively! Never. Believe me, I've been watching you for a long time." She giggled, pressing her chest against me.

Truth be told, I was far more tempted by the fact she was within arm's reach. To try to snap her neck, rid myself of this trouble once and for all… but no. She would slip away. Too many shadows surrounded her.

When I didn't react, she snorted and stepped away, giving her hips a playful sway.

"And how did such a boring man  end up marked with Samael's sign? I don't understand… Fine. Then let's flip a coin to see who wins."

A coin flew toward my face. Instinctively, I caught it—only afterward realizing I shouldn't have.

But nothing happened.

I opened my palm. In the glow of firelight, the golden profile of Dastan stared back at me.

I traced a finger across it. Seemingly just a coin, yet something was off. Or perhaps it was merely my disgust at his face?

"A royal coin of the new issue. Stolen straight from the minting press," she remarked.

I tossed it lightly into the air. Yes, there it was—too light for gold. Scales crept over my wrist, and with a long claw I scored Dastan's profile, carving a deep groove.

Beneath the gilded layer was no gold. Not even silver. Worse.

Lead. So familiar, so beloved, a perfect material for bullets.

The layer of gold was so thin that even a mage would mistake it for solid at a glance. That was clearly the intent. One bite and the forgery would be exposed… hell, even the weight alone betrayed it.

What exactly did its maker hope for with such a crude counterfeit?

And yet, the method was intriguing. I'd stake a tooth that the lead coin had been turned golden by galvanic plating. Which meant they had access to a source of electricity for electrolysis. Interesting, indeed…

"Why would the King resort to counterfeits? Especially ones of such poor quality? Is he planning to abandon the gold standard? Or to create the illusion of wealth?"

"He doesn't care for appearances. He intends to use them. And no, most of the coins are genuine, pure gold. By the way, it landed head, so tonight you've won. A pity."

"I didn't even call a side." I smirked, flipping the coin. Once more, Dastan's profile stared at me. A misstrike. Both sides identical.

"Life doesn't let us call sides. You are a Condor, and I was born with the Gift of shadow. It's fair." She extended her hand.

This strange conversation was beginning to wear on me.

With a flick, I tossed the coin back to the girl, and she caught it effortlessly between two fingers.

"I could offer you a rematch, if you'd like." She patted her leather-clad thigh suggestively as she slipped the coin into her pocket.

"I'd prefer information. That's why you're here, isn't it? You yielded."

"Slander!" she cooed melodically, waving a hand in denial… then nodded in agreement.

"I understand the rules now, even if I don't understand why you make them so complicated. As a prize, tell me what… you want me to know."

"Hm. A great many things…"

"Then wait. If you were in that mint, tell me:   what does it use to coat the coins with gold? Does he have a generator? A turbine?"

"You care more about how he made them than about how he intends to use them?"

"I know perfectly well how he made them; I want to know what he made them with. His source of electricity. Did he use air mages?"

"No, but I see what you mean. The coins were immersed in a bath with thunderstones. I suppose that's what you're intere—"

"Goddamn it," I cut her off. "Of course. Damn stones."

Aside from the common fire crystals mined en masse around Ashir, there were other materials of the same kind. Some were too rare, and therefore impossibly expensive. Others were completely useless, like air crystals that exploded the instant they were disturbed.

Thunderstones belonged to the first category.

Well, at least I could rest easy now. Thunderstones were rare and nonrenewable, while my generators worked whenever there was fuel.

Still, if I could get my hands on them, I'd find a use.

"Could you steal me a dozen stones?"

"I could, but I won't. And besides, such a loss wouldn't stop him. He's expanded the mint and plans to ban the old coinage as soon as enough new ones are printed."

"Ban them, is it? I'd understand the logic if all the new ones were lead…"

"I don't know the details, but I do know this: he intends to use them. So… if the King offers you money, be wary."

"Thanks for the warning."

"Don't mention it. I wouldn't have even brought up the coin if you'd won differently. Just a trifle, a small foolishness of our deranged King… I assume you know his plans?"

"Uh, perhaps," I hedged. I knew some of his plans, but not which ones she meant.

"All right. I assume, like me, you don't want our little game to end with the world collapsing into the Void. Tell me how he intends to bring down the dome, what exactly he needs for it, and I will help you stop him." Her tone was deadly serious.

"Yeah! Uh…" I choked. "By the way, what do you mean, exactly, by the Void?"

***
​
​

I began ticking off fingers:

"So, while I was distracted by the First Duke, Dastan managed to create a magical plague, destroy the Academy, provoke the Commonwealth into war, start minting counterfeit coins, provoke the Second Duke into war, subjugate the Pontiff… and all of this just to slaughter more mages and somehow collapse the dome that shields us from the Void, which the theocrats worship as a god, calling it the One. Because the moment the dome is pierced, it'll devour us all. Did I miss anything?"

"The army of undead, set to ravage the Theocracy and then attack us afterward," the assassin reminded me. "Do coins really worry you more than an entire army of the walking dead?"

"Let's just say, a zombie uprising sounds like an exaggeration. Plenty of diseases make people look no better than corpses, and Dastan is a very talented alchemist."

"A man who employs a necromancer, surprised at the undead?"

"I've never seen them in person."

"Oh, you will."

"All right, fine, I believe you." I folded another finger. "And he's also unleashed those walkers on us. By the way, why does he need all this?"

"You're asking me? You were his student; you tell me why he can't just live in peace!"

The question made me falter. I had no good answer.

"Well… let's just say he covered his tracks, and I don't remember anything from that time."

She stared at me for several minutes, then sighed.

"Not good. But we can still ruin his preparations… or rather, you can. I can't act directly against him; that would break the rules."

I rubbed my head, which had suddenly begun to ache. Hm.

"Thinking about it, at least now it's clear why he needs counterfeit money. He wants to collapse trust in his own currency, to sow chaos."

"Money is the least of our problems. Right now, the Commonwealth matters most. Fortunately, after the failed assault on the desert fortress, the Magister's position has weakened. The Commonwealth is no longer so eager to attack. Especially after I spread rumors of an undead invasion in the Theocracy."

"Wouldn't that push them to act? Even I know it's easier to stop a necromancer early, before he fattens on an entire nation!"

"Heh." The sorceress's face lit with a scornful smirk. "They know that, but they'll do nothing. On the contrary, once they're certain the reports of a necromancer are true, those old men will sit in their Lodge rubbing their hands. Why act, when their enemy already has problems? But the King won't have it. Soon he'll send another crusade, with the Pontiff at its head. They'll march through these lands and strike the Commonwealth from the west. You must stop them, or else the Commonwealth will be forced into motion again."

"Wait, I need to process this. How much time do we have?"

"About a week. I'll give you their exact route once I get it."

"All right, let's say all of this is true. But can I trust you? Everything you've told me reeks of pushing me to make peace with the Second Duke. And what a coincidence, we definitely have his spy among us…"

"It's Count Bicon." She gave him up instantly, without a shred of hesitation.

"I'll need to confirm that."

The sorceress folded her arms in displeasure. "Oh, One above, haven't I already helped you enough? Your little shorty sailed calmly out of port on the ship I prepared. And the portal didn't drop you into the royal dungeons, but straight into the Goblin Forest. Have I lied to you?"

"When you posed as Archmage of Water? When you set me up in the Commonwealth? Or when you nearly killed me after I exposed you?"

"But I didn't kill you!"

I snorted and changed the subject. "Speaking of killing—why not just kill the King and be done with it?"

"Kill him? With what?"

"Anything. A sniper on a rooftop."

"Even I wouldn't have a chance at killing him, and I've eliminated nearly every target I was assigned."

"Nearly," I latched onto her slip.

"Hard to kill a man whose wife sees the future. Harder still one who, despite that, defeated her with a single strike. It's hopeless; forget it. Even the Pontiff couldn't handle him."

"What about a bomb? A barrel of powder."

"Like the one that couldn't even kill me?" She scoffed, glancing at the still-burning camp.

"A very large barrel of powder. Very. Large."

She sighed apathetically. "Just accept that you won't kill him. The only way is to disrupt his plans." Her voice carried… resignation? Defeat?

"You're protecting him?" I provoked.

"No. I just don't want him to win. And he will, if all you can muster are clumsy assassination attempts…" She spread her arms, then added melancholically, "For mortals, it probably makes no difference whether the barrier collapses in a year or a thousand. But I intend to live long enough for even the second option to matter."

"I still don't trust you," I cut her off. "I'll take into account everything you've said and verify it, but…"

"Fine. Want me to fetch your busty girlfriend?" she challenged.

"What?"

"Through the Commonwealth's portals. That way you can confirm my words and we can begin working together. I can do it… three or four days at most, the nearest portals aren't close. Yes… that's what I'll do. Wait for me."

In an instant, the assassin dissolved into shadow, leaving me standing alone on the deck. In the old camp, they were finishing putting out the fire.

Damn, all that talking left my throat dry.

I crouched down to pull the dagger from the planks when I heard footsteps. The assassin back already? No, these steps were coming up from the deck below.

Soon their owner came into view. She was awkwardly trying to fasten her doublet with one hand. Without much success.

"Need a hand?"

"I don't even know," Erin answered distractedly. On her breast I noticed the mark of teeth. Odd, I didn't remember that.

"Woke up because a certain redheaded shorty bit me," she explained, catching my look.

"I've been waking up like that a lot lately. Just don't hold her close, she doesn't like it," I advised.

She snorted. "Hopefully I'll never have a reason to use that knowledge again."

Awkward silence hung in the air, broken only by the rustle of fabric. Yeah.

I stepped closer and helped her with the buttons.

"Thanks." She tugged her doublet straight, clearly unsure what to do with her hand now.

Looked like it was time to talk.

"You drank a lot. I suppose I should—" I began, but she cut me off.

"Do you know people call the Second Duchess a drunk, because she never goes a day without wine?" she said suddenly.

"Uh, no. First I've heard of it." I shook my head, not sure why she brought her up.

"They do. But the truth is, for her wine is nothing more than grape juice. A warrior of her rank can't get drunk. I'm nowhere near her level, but still…"

Something clicked in my head.

"All right, I get it. Don't continue."

"Good. I wouldn't want you thinking… forget it, too embarrassing."

She walked to the ship's railing, staring thoughtfully toward the camp. The fire was fully out, just a faint smoke rising from the blackened ground where the tents had stood.

"If you leave now, there'll be far fewer rumors than if you stay till morning. I'm not driving you off, it's just…"

"My mother will be displeased either way. Very."

"I'll speak to her," I assured Erin.

"By the way, did you know that because of the size of our family, people tend to turn a blind eye to marriages even between close relatives… and when it comes to non-blood relatives — all the more so..."

Seeing me choke instantly, she burst out laughing.

"Just a joke. Or maybe not…"

"I thought you said your goal was to defeat the Duchess in a duel, and that you had no plans for marriage until you achieved that."

She made a strange sound, shrugging the remains of her shoulder.

"Yes… I've lived for training many years, but… it seems impossible, like trying to leap onto a mountain. So, I need a new goal. Something more reachable."

In her voice I heard the same note I'd heard not long ago from the assassin, when she mocked me for thinking of killing the King. A note of helplessness.

And it angered me. If you can't leap up a mountain, then blow it up with dynamite.

"You lost once and you're already giving up?"

Her fierce glare scorched me at once.

"Then maybe you'll show me how it's done? I'll watch."

"No." My answer was sharp.

She raised her brow in surprise.

"I'll help you achieve it. I'll create a weapon that can bring even her to her knees."

After all, if I needed to find a way to kill the King, the Duchess would make excellent practice. Especially if I could convince her to cooperate willingly…

Erin thought for several minutes.

"You want me to try again?"

"No, I want nothing. Whether you try or not is your choice. I'm only offering my help." When I finished, I extended my hand.

"In that case… I agree," she whispered, taking it.

Alas, the moment was spoiled by Asha's loud cry from deep in the ship.

"Well, where did you all run off to? I found more rum!"

She certainly wasn't afraid of waking anyone.

"She's so loud…" Erin grimaced.

"She is. I'll go shut her up. You coming, or heading back to camp?" I let go of her hand, making it clear I wasn't holding her. But she didn't release mine. On the contrary, she silently tugged me toward the stairs leading to the cabins.

Her answer was clear and pleasant, but… the assassin's grim warnings still echoed in my head.

"Undead, then. Damn, I'll need to set up mass production of flamethrowers…" I made a mental note before following her down into the ship's depths.

Morning is wiser than evening.