Talent's POV
The journey from Ashil to Kasin’algrade was a long one but the time passed quickly. Talent wouldn’t have minded more time to consider how best to confront his father. It might’ve also been nice if he’d had time to properly probe Three-sixteen.
The power contained in an S-crystal should have killed him immediately and yet the boy was alive. There was also the oddities of his battle in the raven’s nest. The boy should have died then too, but somehow he didn’t and a lurker imploded. Then the bird, how could a number possibly escape the beast? It was like the boy had summoned some sort of defensive beast. The cat, the cat that fought the raven king, was it a product of that power?
It made no sense. It was also strange the way the king suddenly turned on the boy. There was definitely something wrong about him, but without knowing more, Talent couldn’t decide how he should handle him. If he was truly a number then it wouldn’t be long before his body expired, no matter how strong the crystal he ate, his body would still have limits. As they landed in the hanger, Talent told himself he’d have to investigate further another time.
He was eager to leave the cruiser, even if he wasn’t quite ready to face his father. The hangar doors slid open, admitting him and his companions to the great hall.
A large crowd had gathered to greet them, the entire staff was there, including several of the magistrates. All had come to welcome the lord’s heir home.
Talent felt slightly embarrassed by the display. He liked putting on a show, but not so much when others performed for him. He only wanted to see one face, but he didn’t need to scan the crowd to know she wasn’t there. Mila would never demean herself by joining the crowd of fawning servants hoping for special treatment or extra attention. She may have insisted on service, but she still had her dignity.
Talent couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sorrow. He had no one else he could call a friend, and even though Mila hated him, he was certain she’d listen to him. She would give her honest opinion, and she would offer him sound counsel. If she were present, she would have been his rock, his pillar of support. Although, she’d also give him a sharp rebuke upon learning he’d brought home yet another number to be entered into his service. It wouldn’t matter that this would likely be preferable to the number over his previous work in the mines, or that he was not actually planning to force this number into service. Talent’s curiosity about the boy had only grown since they’d met and now he hoped to be able to study him, to test him, to—
“Lord Talent, we’ve been waiting anxiously for your arrival! Every moment since we learned of your safety has been filled with joy and your father has prepared a grand gala to welcome you back,” said a uniformed attendant that Talent had never met before.
“Tell him I am grateful for his concern and for the effort he’s gone through to welcome me home. Unfortunately, I don’t believe I’m feeling up to any parties at the moment. I will see him immediately, then I intend to retire to my quarters to rest.”
The attendant looked like Talent had just struck him, but after a moment his composure returned and he nodded, turning to speak quietly into a communication device.
When he returned his attention to Talent, he said, “The high lord is currently handling an important matter, but if you’ll wait in the usual room I’ll try to have him join you as soon as possible.”
Talent nodded. “Tell him that the Crystal was eaten and Ashil is now an ash heap. I’m sure that’ll make your task easier.”
The attendant’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of the lost Crystal, but his face remained otherwise impassive. He nodded again and quickly departed.
Another man stepped up to escort Talent, dismissing the magistrates and waving another servant towards Three-sixteen. Talent held up his hand to stop them. “The number stays with me. I’m not done with him yet,” he said.
The servant nodded and the others backed off, though they continued to cast wary glances at the number until Talent and his escort were out of sight.
The usual room was a small meeting area with a view of the asurian garden. It was one of Talents favorite thinking spots, he also liked to sketch there. The flowers there were each unique and their colors so vibrant that each new bloom was an adventure in itself. The creatures they attracted were equally beautiful and interesting.
Talent sat in a cushioned armchair by the window and sighed. He was not looking forward to the coming confrontation. His father would not be pleased to learn what happened to the crystal. However, that was the least of Talent’s concerns. Talent needed to know if his father was responsible for his abduction.
If not, he needed to know what his father knew about the kidnappers and why the ravens would target him.
If so, then… he wasn’t sure. He’d never been so uncertain about his next action. He didn’t know how to react, but it wasn’t something he was ready to think about right now.
Instead, Talent shifted his focus to Three-sixteen. “We probably have a few minutes before my father arrives. I expect he’ll be angry when he learns you’ve eaten his crystal. Possibly he will kill you.” he said.
Three-sixteen nodded. “I thought you would have tried by now. I think I can persuade him to a different possibility though.”
“Can you? You sound awfully confident.” Talent tried, but he couldn’t suppress a laugh.
Three-sixteen grinned. “If I fail I’ll die.” He shrugged. “It’s not so much that I’m confident and more that I’m not ready to die.”
Talent felt himself grinning, but he didn’t know what else to say to the boy.
The two fell into silence, staring out the window and admiring the garden, waiting for Lord Asher to arrive.
Some moments later Talent thought of something. “You’re not like most numbers. You’re different. You must have realized that by now. I want to help you, to understand you. I think I can keep you alive, at least until your body gives out.”
Three-sixteen seemed to consider the idea, but he did not respond.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
It was just as well. Lord Asher entered the room then. He shut the door and sat down at a table across from Three-sixteen and Talent. He did not bother to look at the boy, but focused intently on Talent. His jaw was clenched tight and his ageless face looked weary. “What’s this drivel I’ve heard about the crystal?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble. “You lost it is what I’m told.”
“Yes, I did.” Talent answered flatly. “Have you heard anything else about what happened?”
Lord Asher nodded. “You know I have, boy. Although, I’ve also been told you refuse to attend the homecoming welcome I’ve organized for you.” The Lord’s tone rose, making the statement sound almost like a question.
Talent nodded.
His father sighed, shaking his head. “You disappoint me Talent. You shame and embarrass me, lose a priceless crystal, then have the gall to disrespect me when I show you grace and mercy?”
“I wasn’t kidnapped by accident, was I?”
Lord Asher paused. His face was stone. “What are you saying?”
“The raven king and his flock came for me specifically, they knew I would be there—he told me.”
“Nonsense. They are an insane, violent lot. They kidnap people all the time, it’s just by chance that they took you.”
Three-sixteen opened his mouth to speak, but Talented raised a hand to silence him.
“Father, please, I know you sent them. I know it was you that put me there. The timing was too perfect. You meant to be rid of me, but do you know what he offered me?”
Lord Asher stared back. His expression was still hard and unmoving, his eyes were cold and calculating, but he did not respond.
Talent continued, “He offered me diato.”
The words dropped like a bomb, shattering the tension and causing Lord Asher to sit straight up, his eyes narrowing and his nostrils flaring.
The silence between them was heavy, their eyes locked together. After a long moment, Lord Asher said, “And you believe him? By the crystals, boy, you really are a fool.”
“The raven king is an immortal, he must know how to grant diato. How else could he be immortal?”
“He is a monster, an unnatural being that should not exist, but does, because of the nature of the power that flows in this world—”
“I’m sure the people see us much the same way. But you’re right. It is only a dream to believe I might regain diato at this point. Still; he showed me many things and my time there taught me that there is a way to achieve even without absolute power.”
Lord Asher snorted, but his interest was piqued. “Oh? And how is that?”
“By understanding one’s subjects and giving them what they desire most.” Talent’s gaze shifted to Three-sixteen, who was staring at his lap, looking uncomfortable.
Lord Asher followed his gaze, finally turning to acknowledge Three-sixteen. “And what does this one desire?” he asked, his tone dismissive.
Talent wasn’t prepared for the question, and he did not know the answer. His lips parted and his eyes flicked to the side as his mind considered and dismissed various possibilities. He was still pondering the question when Three-sixteen answered, his voice clear, unwavering.
“I want to be free, to be left alone.”
Lord Asher gave in to an outburst of undignified laughter
Three-sixteen’s brow furrowed and he frowned, but Talent understood.
His father was not mocking Three-sixteen; he wouldn’t consider a number worth the effort. The high lord was mocking Talent for his foolishness. His laughter said that Talent could never understand the desires of people, that no matter how hard he tried, he would fail and people would continue to hate him. But mostly, his laughter was a reminder that he was raised to rule, to control and to dominate. He couldn’t rule anyone if his subjects wanted to be free.
Talent didn’t care. “What does it matter? I don’t want be a judge!” He roared, and immediately wished he could take the words back when his father stood up. His laughter ceased and his eyes narrowed. His expression was murderous. “You are my son. My blood. You will be what I say you will be!”
Talent snorted, leaning back in his seat. “If only that were true. I suppose we wouldn’t have to wonder if the raven king spoke truth or lies.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll may never have diato, and that means I’ll never be judge you want me to be.”
Asher Kastin could not contain his anger. His brown eyes lit up with amber energy as the pressure in the room built.
Talent focused intently on his father, afraid that if he looked away the lord would kill him. He should have known better than to provoke his father further, but he said, “This conversation is unfruitful, I’ll take the number and go.”
Asher Kastin could not contain his anger. His brown eyes lit up with amber energy as the pressure in the room built.
Talent focused intently on his father, afraid that if he looked away the lord would kill him. He should have known better than to provoke his father further, but he said, “This conversation is unfruitful, I’ll take the number and go—”
Lightning artifacts dimmed as Lord Kastin clenched his fist. The room darkened until only the lords glowing eyes were visible. Talent choked on his words, coughing as if he’d swallowed a mouthful of smoke.
Three-sixteen must be suffering, or perhaps he was even dead, Talent thought. He needed to find a way to put an end to this. He should apologize, maybe his father would forgive him and calm down.
“I—” he choked again, his words ending with more violent coughs than before. He began blinking, unable to keep his eyes fully open as he tried to check on Three-sixteen.
His heart stopped when he saw the boy standing, a dark aura swirling around him. The number had eyes red as blood with a deep luster like a pool of magma. He seemed wasn’t sure, but he thought they may even be brighter than his father’s. That couldn’t be possible though; he was just a number… or was he?
Lord Kastin seemed to notice as a thick miasma filled the room. It was Three-sixteen’s malice that choked Talent and forced its way into his lungs even as he held his breath. The high lord didn’t appear to have any easier a time breathing, but he pushed outward with the force of his will commanding, “Stand down!” It was all he could afford to say before the miasma pried into his mouth and forced him to choke on the toxic air.
Three-sixteen ignored the order. His malice had a mind of its own and he was not yet ready to reign it in. His body shook, but the aura only grew stronger.
The door burst open as several magistrates seemed to sense the disturbance, or perhaps they heard the lords command. In either case they were choked up in the black mist almost as quickly as they filed into the room.
“I will be free,” Three-sixteen boomed, his words pounding Talent’s head like the beat of a drum. They pierced through his skin and vibrated through his body until he thought they might shatter his heart. “You won’t…” the boy coughed blood and fell to his knees. His aura calmed rapidly as he struggled to stand.
The malice faded, but the pressure remained as the high lord approached Three-sixteen. “You dare?” he demanded. His eyes burned with amber flames as he raised a hand, preparing to strike Three-sixteen.
Talent wanted to shout or move to stop him, he might even have thrown his own body between them, but every fiber of his being burned with exhaustion. His throat felt raw and scared and his limbs wouldn’t move. He collapsed, only able to watch and pray that his father would not make a rash choice.
Asher was a very strategic man and he rarely allowed emotion to cloud his judgement. Pride was a different matter, but as time passed without him striking the boy, Talent knew his father must have shared his thoughts and curiosity.
He lowered his hand, biting his lip as he swallowed his what remained of his anger. “Who are you boy?”
The number looked up, his eyes weary as he spoke weakly, “I am nobody. Just a number from the mine.”
“Try my patience again and I will not hesitate to kill you.” Lord Kastin warned. Imbuing his words with his will, he asked again, “Who are you?”
“I don’t know.”
Talent was surprised by the response, but his father took it to mean the boy was resisting. He drew a sword from his spatial storage, its blade shimmering blue in the dim light.
“You don’t know?”
“I…I can’t remember.” An instant after the words left his mouth, the boy winced with pain, grabbing his face and screaming as if something had struck through his eyes.
Talent didn’t understand. The boy was judge, that much was clear, but something was definitely wrong with his body. It didn’t seem fit to contain his power. His father seemed to realize it as well. The boy was likely telling the truth, but that only left more questions and uncertainty.
How could a judge be born as a number?
Talent tried, but maintaining his consciousness became too difficult and he blinked himself into a dream.