Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

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Braylar said, “As to the first, when the good Emperor chose to pull us out of Anjuria with no notice, he likely undermined much of our good work there. I chose to kidnap the cleric in part to see what we can salvage there, if the goal is still to destabilize the barony.”

“As far as I know, nothing’s changed there. And as to the second…”

Braylar opened his mouth to respond but Darzaak cut him off. “Wait. Before we get to that, we ought to make our introductions here.” Darzaak fixed his eyes on me. “You know who I am. Can’t say as I know you. And you look awful scribey. Would you be Arkamondos then, called Arki?”

Everyone at the table looked in my direction, and I swallowed hard. “I am.” And then added, “Commander Darzaak. The scribe, that is. Arki.”

“So, Arki, does it make you nervous that the two in line ahead of you died?”

Well. That was direct. I replied, “I can’t speak to the others, Commander, never having met them at all. They must have been capable enough, or the captain would not have hired them in the first place. But I’m also confident there were good reasons they failed to hold the position for very long. So long as I perform admirably, I suspect my chances of survival are at least… better than awful.”

That earned a chuckle from Hewspear and Vendurro, and smiles from Braylar and Mulldoos. The commander, however, wasn’t especially moved to merriment. “Tell me, then, Arki, are you a trustworthy sort?”

“Yes, Commander-yes, sir. I believe so.”

“Believe or would have me believe?”

“Both, if it please you.”

Darzaak turned to Braylar. “So what of it, Captain? I’m assuming you would have killed the boy yourself if he troubled you overmuch. But let me hear it from you now. What makes you think the third will be any better than the previous traitors?”

Braylar replied, “Our young scribe nearly shot me. Twice, as it happens. But in both instances, he did so attempting to save my life. He has served admirably, translating the treasure we have collected. And he had opportunity to wander over to our enemy’s camp, and chose not to.

“And as to trustworthiness, the first scribe’s only lapse of honesty was exaggerating some of his skills. He wasn’t as competent as I was led to believe, but he did not betray us-the simple sod happened to walk into the path of an arrow that was made for me. His crime was clumsiness. It was only the second who actually tried to sell us out. Arki did not fail such a test. He is loyal. Though clumsy as well, which does cause me some consternation, I must confess. But we could easily be on our fourth scribe by now. And we are not.”

The Tower Commander looked at Hewspear and Mulldoos. “Are you of the same mind as your captain here?”

Hewspear said, “I have been wagering on his worth since I met him, and he has not disappointed yet. He even managed not to get himself killed in a few fights, which is somewhat miraculous when you consider his limitations on that score.”

Mulldoos looked at me, pale eyes unreadable, but never comforting. After a long pause, he replied, “I trust my brothers in arms in the Jackal Tower. I trust Cap. That’s where my trust begins and ends. Scribbler here ain’t a Syldoon. Never could be one in a thousand years.” I thought that was the end of it, until Mulldoos added, “But he does have more mettle and grit than you would suppose, just looking at the skinny bastard. And he’s proved useful a time or two.” He said this last grudgingly, but at least he said it. “Do I trust him? No, not a brother, like I said. Do I distrust him?” He shrugged his big shoulders. “Not as much as most.”

“A ringing endorsement,” Hewspear said.

“Considering he’s only been in the company a short while, it’s as like to be as ringy-dingy as he’ll get. And if any of you halfwits was being square here, you’d admit the same.”

Darzaak considered everything, staring at his hands on the table for a moment. “Fair enough. So, Arki, your good captain here managed to acquire quite a bit of old parchment by all accounts. Were you able to translate it then?”

“No. That is, yes, I translated a good amount of it, but not all. Not yet.”

The Commander looked at Braylar. “Not used to doing debriefings, is he?”

Braylar gave the smallest of smiles. “He is smarter than he looks-I swear it. Arki, explain what you uncovered so far.”

I had my writing case in my lap, but everything else had been carted off with the chests of documents. “Of course, Captain. But my notes-”

“Aren’t necessary, just now. The Commander doesn’t want every little detail. Only what you discovered about the Temple of Truth, and their efforts to control the memory witches of yesteryear. Broad strokes if you would, yes?”

I noted that he pointedly did not mention Bloodsounder, or what I assumed were related weapons that had been referenced, like the sword Grieftongue. And so after collecting my thoughts, I recapped as best I could.

When I was finished, Tower Commander Darzaak looked at Braylar again. “So. The puckered arse then. Was he able to elaborate at all?”

“He was indeed,” Braylar replied. “According to him, the underpriest Anroviak was burned alive after his trial. Which should have dissuaded any from continuing that line of thinking or research. The Temple continued hunting and killing the witches. But there was another priest who discovered some of those early records. Likely the very same Anroviak memoir that survived to this day, and some other documents as well. And this priest, Untwik, carried on Anroviak’s work on the sly. And apparently made some headway.”

“Discovered the frames, didn’t they?”

Hewspear said, “Well, the Syldoon have a long history of appropriating ideas from other cultures and improving on them. We simply didn’t know it was this long.”

Darzaak nodded. “So the Anjurians controlled themselves a few witches. We figured as much already, our own accounts hinted at it. But good to substantiate. Still leaves the real big question, though, the one I sent you boys prowling around there for in the first place… did they figure out how to siphon control, steal it from someone else? Break it, rebind it? Anything like that?”

“That’s actually several questions, Commander,” Braylar said.

“Same question in different clothes, more like.”

“Fair enough. The answer to one and all is no, not that we discovered. Henlester professed no knowledge of anything like that, and though he is a slippery eel, everything he volunteered corroborated what Arki had already learned. So I am inclined to believe him. Though you could certainly put him to the Memoridons to test that theory. But either way, Arki still has at least one chest to go through. We might yet unearth what we’re looking for.”

The Tower Commander nodded slowly. “Aye. That we might.” He didn’t sound convinced. Then he said, “You’ve done good work. I’ve read the reports-you’ve suffered losses, and likely more besides since those were penned. The Emperor in his infinite wisdom might have fucked you in the ear some, but could be we still find a way to make something out of it.”

Braylar leaned forward in his chair slightly, gripped the edge of the table. “So why did the Emperor recall us? What is happening here?”

“Wasn’t just you. Cynead summoned back every operative in the plaguing field. You might have been the last, but if there is anybody else out there, it doesn’t matter. The Emperor is short on patience and long on pomp. Called for a Caucus of the Towers, two days from now.”

Mulldoos curled his hands into fists and the look on his face said he wished he could use them on someone. “Never a good thing, a Caucus. Always ends bad for somebody or other. What do you suppose he’s planning?”

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