Chapter 7

Corec laid the two staff-spears across the narrow bed so Ariadne could see them. The two of them, along with Ellerie and Marco, were crammed into Ariadne’s tiny room at the village inn in Livadi. She had agreed to look over the enchanted items they’d found, but the inn didn’t have a private dining room, and the common room was full of villagers curious about their foreign visitors after the tales brought back by the wagon drivers.

“I don’t recognize them,” she said. She hadn’t been familiar with any of the other weapons either, or the tower shield.

Corec nodded and moved to retrieve the spears, but she stopped him.

“Wait,” she said, peering closely at some tiny markings along the shaft. “Is this the one Sarette carries?”

“Yes.”

“It’s an elementalist’s weapon.” She grasped the staff-spear in a fighting pose and closed her eyes, seemingly waiting for something. Her knuckles went white as she tightened her grip. Finally, a weak flame lined the edges of the blade.

She gazed down at what she’d done, a look of regret passing over her face. “It’s meant for infusing elemental strikes. It’s similar to a Mage Knight’s sword, but if it’s made of fortisteel, like this one, it only makes elemental infusion easier, not other temporary enchantments. Some of the knights had spears like these made of mirrorsteel, but we only took our swords into stasis. I’m not sure where the spears are now.”

“These were the only enchanted staff-spears we found,” Ellerie mentioned.

Ariadne nodded and sighed. The flames disappeared, and she laid the weapon back down. “Elder magic is difficult for me. I usually don’t bother with it.”

Marco was scribbling furiously. “Elemental... infusion? Is that the word?”

She eyed him with distrust. “What does it matter to you?”

“I have to keep records of everything we plan to sell,” Marco said. “The company needs to know that we’re getting a good price.”

Ariadne clenched her fists.

Before she could speak, Corec said, “Sarette wants to keep that one.”

The Chosar woman relaxed. “Sarette spars like an elementalist. She would be a fitting bearer.”

Marco rolled his eyes and continued writing.

Hoping to head off an argument, Corec moved the spears out of the way and Ellerie set out the last item they’d found in the warded armory room, a shirt made of very fine metal links, no thicker than cloth.

“Spellmail,” Ariadne said without hesitation.

“What is spellmail?” Ellerie asked.

“Armor for a wizard. The metal won’t block spellcasting.”

“It actually works as armor?” Corec asked. The shirt was so flimsy, he’d expected it to be ceremonial.

“Why else would they have made it?” Ariadne said.

Ellerie gave the chain shirt a thoughtful glance before moving it aside. “That’s the last of what we found in the armory. The rest of these things came from the Enchantment Repository.”

The objects from that room had been grouped together in four different glass cases. Corec laid out the items from the one he thought of as the jewelry case—three rings, a golden circlet, and a pair of silver cuff bracelets.

Ariadne shook her head, apparently not recognizing anything.

“What about these?” Ellerie asked, showing her four gemstones cut into spheres.

Ariadne picked up the red one. Holding it in her palm, she tapped it three times with her finger. A red light began emanating from it. “Permanent mage lights,” she said. “I’m not sure why they’re different colors.” She tapped it twice and the light faded.

Marco said, “I think that’s a real ruby, though I’ve never seen one cut perfectly round before. Gemstones that make light ... we might do better to sell them as a matched set rather than individually.”

Ariadne glared at him.

Corec cleared his throat and when Marco glanced his way, he gave a quick shake of his head. The factor grunted but stopped talking, seeming to understand the message.

The Chosar woman didn’t recognize the next item, a pair of spectacles with yellow lenses, but when Corec unpacked a brass lamp, she frowned thoughtfully, then tapped it three times. Nothing happened, and she shook her head. “I thought it might have been a different kind of mage light, but if so, the creator used a different activation sequence.”

The only remaining items from the repository were small figurines—four tiny freight wagons, two wooden bridges, three catapults, a cart-mounted ballista, and two siege towers. They looked like toys, but were far more detailed than any children’s toy Corec had ever seen.

“Are these all that were left of them?” Ariadne said, almost to herself.

“You know what they are?” Corec asked.

“Miniaturized war equipment. I thought they were all lost—the Transport and Logistics depot was in the eastern half of the city, beyond where the cave-in started. These must have been moved to the repository after the war ended.”

It took Corec a moment to realize what she meant. “You’re saying these are real?”

“Yes. They’re meant for rapid deployment, when the High Guard needs to move faster than the normal transports will allow.” She reached for a wagon but stopped herself. “There isn’t enough room in here, but they expand to normal size.”

“That would be...” Corec started, then paused as he considered the ramifications. If an army didn’t have to wait for siege equipment to arrive, it would change the face of war. Siege engineers could ride along with the cavalry or the advance scouts, their equipment stowed away in saddlebags.

“There should be more than this,” Ariadne said. “The rest must not have been transferred to the repository. Or perhaps it was lost during the fighting.”

“I’d really like to learn about the war,” Ellerie said. “If you’d be willing to tell me.”

Ariadne stared out the window, silent. Finally, she said, “You’ve really never heard of the Third Demon War?”

“No, I’m sorry. Even the oldest records don’t mention any wars with demons.”

“Entire Tirs were razed to the ground. Hundreds of thousands of people died. My brother...” Ariadne turned away from the window to face Ellerie. “How could you have lost it all? People should know what happened.”

“You can help me tell them.”

The Chosar woman nodded curtly. “Agreed.”

“Thank you.” Ellerie waited a moment, then said, “The figurines were the last of what we found, except for a statue that looked like a person. It was warded and too large to move, so we left it there.”

“We don’t make statues of people,” Ariadne said. “Do you mean the tunneling golems? There should have been four. No, wait, some are in the western passage finishing off the underground route to the Darkstone—Skotinos—Mountains.”

“Golems?”

“Clay or stone creatures brought to life to serve a purpose.”

“It was alive?” Corec asked.

“Not true life, just a magical semblance of it. When they’re not being used, they return to their natural state.”

“When you say tunneling...” Ellerie prompted.

“They dig out underground tunnels and caverns. They have a gift for moving stone.”

“Is Skotinos a Chosar word? The mountains still go by that name.”

Ariadne nodded. “I’ve heard you call them that, but the necklace translated the word before I could stop it.”

Ellerie glanced at Marco. “Do you have what you need?”

He frowned down at his notes. “It’s not much. And what about that staff Shavala’s been carrying around?” Marco had only learned the staff was enchanted after Shavala had used it to grow the small grove of trees back at the ruins. When he’d tried to get her to hand it over, she’d informed him, brusquely, that the staff belonged to the elven people and that she was going to return it to them.

Ariadne shrugged. “The vasta druids have their own magic. They’re the ones who grow the tershaya. I don’t know why they would have left something in the Enchantment Repository.”

The factor scowled at his notes, apparently not happy with the answer. “And what about those two swords? The ones that belonged to ... what was the name? Argyros?”

“The king’s weapons belong to Ariadne’s people, Marco,” Corec said. He’d offered those to Ariadne without clearing it with the others first, but he wasn’t going to back down. “They’re not enchanted anyway.”

“The fancy one’s still worth something. And what about the hammer you took? That belonged to him too, didn’t it?”

“I’m the only one who can carry the hammer,” Corec said. “If it changes its mind, I’ll let you know.”

The wood grain running along the bar top must have been particularly interesting—or, at least, Razai couldn’t figure out any other reason why she’d been staring at it so intently for the past ten minutes. Finally, she shook her head and looked around the nearly empty room. Bleary-eyed, she poked Josip’s shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, “we should go back.”

He was slumped face down on the counter, not moving. His only response was a light snore. The village inn in Livadi didn’t serve hard liquor, so the two of them had gone to a tavern after supper. Razai figured she was probably strong enough to carry him back, but she didn’t want to try it while she was drunk. She would send Boktar for him instead.

She slipped off her stool and steadied herself, then walked slowly and deliberately to the door. The bartender called out after her, but she ignored him. She’d been paying for the drinks as they came, so whatever he was saying couldn’t have been all that important. Careful, the whispers said, but she ignored them too. Walking was taking all of her concentration. Outside, she stopped and peered up and down the street. The dark didn’t bother her, but it took her a moment to remember where the inn was. Luckily, there was only one real street in Livadi, and she could see the building from where she stood.

As she started out, though, figures appeared around her. Human men scowling and smirking. Some carried cudgels. The closest one said something, but Razai didn’t speak much Nysan. She only understood one word. Demonborn. Her features wouldn’t have been obvious to them in the dark, so they must have seen her earlier and been lying in wait.

Razai muttered to herself. She’d really had grown soft traveling with a heavily armed group all the time. It had been months since anyone had harassed her for her parentage.

Being surrounded by a mob of angry villagers brought back bad memories. Memories of her mother screaming as the villagers beat her. Memories of the villagers screaming as her father passed through the barrier between worlds and slaughtered them all. He’d had to shift into human form to calm her down—she’d been convinced the massive beast was going to kill her as well. He’d taken her hellside after that. The hells were a lousy place for a child to grow up, and Vatarxis was a lousy choice for a father, but he’d still done more for her than the rest of her family had. It had been her uncle who’d led the mob, murdering his own sister for refusing to abandon her demonborn child.

When Razai had returned to the mortal world as an adult, her first act had been to hunt down and kill her grandparents and her other uncle. They were the ones who’d turned her and her mother out of their home in the first place. She’d slit their throats while they slept, not even bothering to let them know why they were dying—they simply weren’t worth the effort. Her only regret was that Vatarxis had already killed the man who’d killed her mother. The Razai from those days wouldn’t have allowed herself to be surrounded, but that had been over a hundred years ago. She’d lost her edge.

Her heavy, curved knives hung comfortingly from her belt, and the prospect of a fight had washed away some of the drunken haze. But should she respond with fist or with blade? That would depend on whether the men were just trying to look big in front of their friends, or if they actually wanted to hurt her. Should she try to scare them away with her demon disguise? She wasn’t sure she could muster the control for that in her current state.

Then Corec’s voice cut through the darkness. “Gentlemen, hello! What can we do for you?”

The villagers couldn’t understand what he was saying, but light from the lanterns hanging outside the tavern flickered off his mail, and his sword hilt was visible above his shoulder. The mob backed away, some ducking their heads, other simply slipping away between buildings. Soon Razai and Corec were alone in the street.

Hells of my fathers, Razai thought to herself. Now he’s going to think he saved me.

“I could have handled them,” she muttered.

“I know,” Corec said, “but how many of them would have lived through it?”

She glared at him. “Maybe they didn’t deserve to live.”

“Maybe not, but it’ll be hard to buy supplies tomorrow if the whole town turns against us.”