R. Salvatore - The Education of Brother Thaddius and other tales of DemonWars

“How touching that you will miss me,” Sadye said, and she didn’t completely fill her voice with sarcasm, at least.

“Indeed,” Orrin replied. “And a pity it is, too, that you were so headstrong and tight with your thoughts when first you came to me. I had big plans for you, young Sadye, but alas, by the time I came to trust in you, time had already run short.”

Sadye couldn’t help but tilt her head at that, though she knew that she was perhaps revealing too much of her intrigue. Never play your hand — that was the lesson she had learned on the streets.

“Did you move quickly enough to put it away this time?” Orrin asked, and he grinned at her and narrowed his gray eyes. “Or did you simply tuck it behind the crate again?”

“I know not of what you speak.”

A burst of laughter escaped Orrin, mocking her where she sat. Sadye instinctively glanced all around, seeking some escape route, should she need one.

“You know indeed,” said Orrin. “I have heard you play.”

“Play?”

“Sadye….”

She couldn’t resist his disapproving look. It made her feel little, like the look her father used to give her before the rosy plague had taken him. At the same time, though, and in a strange way, that look from Orrin now offered her some measure of comfort. For there was no maliciousness in it, and no promise of retribution. Orrin seemed almost amused.

Without any further hesitation, Sadye reached behind the crate on her right and produced the delicate lute, bringing it across her lap. She couldn’t help herself, and gently touched its strings, sending thin notes into the air.

“You like it?” Orrin asked.

Sadye smiled and nodded.

“It is very valuable, you know,” the old man remarked.

Sadye stopped touching the strings and looked up at him, suddenly fearful that she had overstepped her place here.

“You do not even understand its worth, do you?” asked Orrin.

“It is beautifully crafted.”

“Look deeper.”

Sadye rolled the lute in her hands, feeling its weight and balance, running her fingers about the carved and delicate neck and the meticulously crafted pick-ups and ties. She saw the small gray stones set into the instrument, edging the circular hole beneath the strings. They didn’t sparkle like rubies or diamonds, and hardly added to the beauty of the lute.

“Now you see the truth,” said Orrin, and Sadye looked up at him curiously.

“Gemstones,” Orrin explained. “Hematite, which the monks name the soul stone.”

Sadye looked back at the gray edging of the hole, her fingers gently feeling the smoothness.

“They are enchanted, of course,” said Orrin. “Abellican stones, brought from an island in the south Mirianic.”

“The lute is magical?” Sadye asked, looking up at him once again.

Orrin paused and looked at her hard, then looked all around as if he was torn. Sadye, ever perceptive, sensed that he was trying to decide whether or not to let her in on his secret, and judging from the intensity of his expression, she figured that secret to be no minor thing!

“You looked through the crates, though I told you not to?” Orrin said at length.

Sadye didn’t answer, figuring the question to be rhetorical.

“Of course you did, for the lute was near to the bottom, I believe,” Orrin went on. “Most of the goods are what they appear to be: instruments and tools, trinkets and the like. But did you not notice that several were set with gemstones?”

“Ornamental.”

“Magical,” Orrin corrected. “Every one. The Abellicans are tight with their sacred stones, so it’s said, but in truth, they’ve sold many of them over the years. Merchants pay quite well for them, you see, especially for the ones set in that lute. Soul stones can heal various maladies; it is no accident that many of the wealthy folk of Honce-the-Bear live longer than the peasants.”

“They use Abellican magic?” Sadye looked back down at the lute, at the soul stones, with even more curiosity.

“They try to,” said Orrin. “Using the stones is no easy trick, even for those so trained. And few are trained, for the Abellicans guard those secrets even more tightly than they control the stones. That is where we come in.”

“We? You and I?”

Orrin laughed again. “No, no, of course not!” he said. “Not you, at least.”

“You said ‘we’.”

“We, yes, we of the brotherhood,” Orrin explained. He laughed again and again looked all around, shaking his head. “What spell have you put over me, pretty young thing, to get me to divulge this to you? Ah, perhaps it is merely my own loneliness — keeping such secrets weighs on the heart, you know.

“And so yes, Sadye, I will tell you. But before I do, you must agree to stay with me when your indenture is ended.”

Sadye’s striking brown eyes popped open wide, and she reflexively shook her head so forcefully that her long black hair whipped about her angular features.

“Do you have a better life awaiting you among the children of Ursal’s streets?” Orrin asked.

The question steadied her, and reminded her that the last few weeks with Orrin hadn’t been so bad.

“Do you agree?”

“How long?”

“Three years.”

“No!”

“Then a single year,” Orrin replied. “Yes, one year will suffice, for I am certain that if you stay that long, you will be more than willing to remain. I could use a hand now in my business. A protégé — yes, you will be my protégé!”

“For what, old Orrin?” she bluntly asked. “What business?”

Orrin gave her a smirk.

“You’re a smuggler,” Sadye stated.

“Of course, though few understand the true value of that which I purvey.”

“And yet, the court of law, the ruling authority, grants you a servant.” Sadye looked away and blew a sigh, somehow not even surprised.

“It is a wonderful system. And you did not come cheaply, I assure you. Many of the bidders were eager to purchase your pretty face and that young body.”

Sadye found herself recoiling, moving deeper within the crevice between the two crates.

“I was more interested in your clever mind,” Orrin went on, and that calmed her a bit. “I heard of your confidence games and deceptive exploits and was quite impressed. One does not succeed at such a craft without being observant and perceptive, two traits I greatly admire and desire.”

“And you trust me enough to tell me all of this? Are you not afraid that I will betray your secret?”

Orrin’s face went suddenly grim and he sat up straighter and glared down at her. “No, because you are smart enough to understand that if you betray us, we will utterly destroy you. There are weapons more deadly than a sword, dear Sadye, and evils that make strong men beg for death.”

Sadye didn’t blink or shrink, but the point had certainly been made.

“Consider the soul stones set in that lute,” Orrin went on, mellowing his tone only a small bit. “With it, any of my brethren could enter your dreams and turn them to haunting horror. With it, any of us could drive you mad and deceive you into tearing your own flesh from your bones.”

Something in his tone told Sadye not to even question, and not to doubt.

“But enough of these unpleasantries,” Orrin said with a wave of his hand. “I tell you because I believe I understand that which is in your heart. Sadye wants more than to survive on the street. Sadye wants wealth and power. Oh yes, that is the sparkle in your pretty eyes. That hope. That burning desire.”

“Tell me, then.”

“The monks have their gemstones, and sell many to wealthy merchants, because they believe that the merchants will never be able to utilize those stones in any manner which would threaten Abellican supremacy. But there is another facet of the gemstones which the monks do not even completely understand. If I handed you a soul stone and bade you to heal even a minor wound, you would surely fail. But if I took that stone and prepared it correctly and embedded it in a magically prepared item — a lute, perhaps, or a wand — then you would more likely succeed with that healing task. The items — and they are not easily prepared, I assure you! — bring the powers of the gemstone and the wielder into focus.”