Cirilius VI

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“As much as I love surprises, this isn’t working for me.” Cir tried to remain as nonchalant as possible—easier said than done when his hands were bound behind his back and his eyes were covered.

“Are they still here?” he asked Smoke. If Knight and Paladin were still in the room, they would probably respond of their own accord—or Knight would. Paladin seemed more into tying people up than explaining things. But Knight seemed more like an ancient bard, twisting stories around his tongue that coalesced like smoke into tangible beings, things, places.

“I think so? But honestly, who knows. Dealing with the Outenders was less cryptic than this.” Cir could hear him struggling against his bonds, but the paper-thin metal was incredibly strong and painful when struggled against.

“Cir, do you still have your hookblades on you?” Smoke asked quietly, his deep voice little more than a gentle rumble.

“Of course. Because who wouldn’t need special climbing blades while meeting with the government?”

“So is that a no?”

Cir shrugged. “No. Conveniently for you, I always carry my hookblades on my person.”

“That is convenient. Ok, hand them over.”

“While blindfolded? The odds of me cutting myself or you, or you cutting yourself, or you cutting me while trying to free yourself, are high.”

“I’m not going to just sit here.” Smoke’s voice was resolute, like an old war general.

“Fine, fine, but don’t say I didn’t…”

“The blades?”

Wordlessly, Cir edged over toward where he thought Smoke was until he bumped up against him. Turning so his side was hopefully facing Smoke’s back, he whispered, “Ok, reach in the pocket. Carefully.”

Cir felt a slight rustling in his pocket, and then his whole longcoat became lighter as the hookblades were successfully removed.

Smoke made short work of the mysterious metal and then removed his blindfold and freed Cir.

“Thanks.”

“I’m going to knock the stars out of you when we get out of this,” Smoke rumbled.

“I know. You’ll have to get in line behind Axis and Steele though.”

“Watching them have a go at you may be sufficient.”

“You’re heartless.” Retrieving his hat where it had fallen on the thick carpet below them, he donned it and pocketed the hookblades.

“Ok, let’s get out of here,” Smoke said, moving toward the door.

“Hold on, aren’t you the least bit curious as to who those people were or why they brought us here in the first place? We were tied up and blindfolded—completely at their mercy. And yet, we weren’t harmed at all. They didn’t even take my hat. And for a man and woman to be fraternizing alone together and not be married…”

“That was odd. The Concord has made it abundantly clear—”

“Yep, I know. Not that Knight and Paladin would have made a great pair if you ask me…”

“And why is that?” Smoke asked, amused.

“She might sneeze and kill him.”

Smoke bit back a laugh and reached for the doorknob. “Let me at least check and see if the door is locked.”

The door swung open effortlessly, showing them the path they had taken with Knight to reach the room in the first place.

“We could just leave,” Smoke urged, looking through the open door.

“I have to know,” Cir argued. “They knew about Axis. Knew my last name. How?”

“I’m just as curious as you, Cir, but following these strangers may take you somewhere you aren’t intending.”

Cir tried to ignore Smoke’s words, choosing instead to glance briefly around the room to see if the pair had left any signs as to their whereabouts.

“How did they leave?” Cir asked abruptly. “They didn’t go through the door you’re by, did they? But no, we would have heard them opening the door. And after they tied us up they were absolutely silent. That must mean there’s another way out of this room.”

“Logical enough,” Smoke agreed, slowly closing the door. “I guess we have a moment to investigate.”

“Oh goody!” Cir rubbed his hands together. “Ok, any signs of another door? A roof exit of some kind? Windows?”

“We should also be on the lookout for any personal belongings. I was under the impression that this back area of the bullet was Knight’s personal space. Why else would he have the correct heat signature to get in?”

The two began combing over the room. Smoke immediately began circling the space, looking for other exits, while Cir started overturning the couch. Maybe the strange pair had left something behind. Dropped something. Intentionally left a clue, a hint, a message.

“No windows. I’m not seeing another door yet. And even if there was some kind of hidden exit in the roof, there’s no way they would be able to clamber through it without us hearing them.”

“Nothing in the couch so far,” Cir reported, tossing aside pillows, braided blankets, digging his hands in between the cushions.

“It’s strange that this room doesn’t have any windows, actually. All the other portions of the bullet seem to be made up of mostly glass. I wonder what this room is usually used for if it doesn’t have any windows and is always locked. What would someone have to hide, and why would they hide it on a moving train?”

“Makes it easy for your location to not be found or noticed by the Concord I guess,” Cir responded, surfacing from his couch dive with two copper coin and a crumpled-up piece of parchment.

“I found a piece of paper. Maybe it’ll give us some idea—” Cir stopped. The paper was completely blank.

“Never mind. There’s nothing on it.” But even though the paper was blank, Cir found himself pocketing it.

“I’ve searched every wall with my bare hands. There’s no other way in or out of this room,” Smoke called out, sounding defeated.

“And I’ve ripped the room apart. Nothing.”

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

“No.” Cir looked around the room one more time, desperately hoping to find something—anything—before repairing the damage he’d caused. Axis wouldn’t have bothered, but Cir knew someone had taken a long time arranging and organizing the place.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to play interior designer again,” Smoke groaned as he watched Cir folding blankets and arranging pillows.

“And don’t tell me that at some point in my life I’m going to have to bear you fawning over animals and making fun of me as I get stampeded by a horde of little, red, four-legged demons.”

“Horses.”

“Same thing. It’ll only take a second. Besides, do we want someone coming in after us and wondering what happened in here? We should probably pocket the blindfolds and what’s left of the restraints, just in case.”

“Fair enough.”

Smoke stood by the slightly open door, keeping watch through the slit he’d created as Cir tidied up.

“You know, I thought that Knight guy was onto something for a moment there,” he admitted, folding the last blanket.

“I have seen him around many times. I don’t know why he would have noticed me though.”

“Smoke, you’re only a handful of inches short of seven feet. You’re not the most conspicuous person. And why didn’t you mention to me before your uncanny ability to memorize faces?”

“Why would I? It’s not as though my memory would help us in hunting Outenders, seeing as we’ve never so much as seen one and, according to our wives, they don’t look the same to different people.”

“But it’s a pretty cool talent,” Cir prodded.

“As is perfect photographic memory, but I don’t see you bragging,” Smoke retorted.

“Old gunshot. You got me.”

“Should we meet with the Concord still?” Smoke asked as the two left the room, closing the door behind them. It clicked shut with a sense of finality—neither of them would be able to get back in.

“I’m not sure. I showed Axis some of the sketches I did last night and this morning of what we saw at that warped monastery yesterday, and she said I should keep what we experienced private.”

“I already figured that,” Smoke said.

“Me too. Obviously. You know how smart I am. Anyway, if you already knew not to share what we saw yesterday, what did you plan on telling the Concord?”

“That we saw a warped town. It’s got to be obvious now that something happened to Lazarenth. We haven’t even considered what happened to all of the people there.”

“You’re right!” Cir gritted his teeth. “Do you think the Outenders…”

“I don’t think they kill people, if that’s what you’re suggesting. We were easy prey yesterday. They weren’t wrong about the hunters being the hunted. Somehow, they managed to take some of our worst fears and use them against us.”

“You’re afraid of books?” Cir laughed.

“I’m afraid of drowning. Of the sea. And you’re afraid of losing Axis.”

Cir looked down and didn’t say anything.

He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Smoke looking down at him.

“It’s ok. I’m terrified of something happening to Steele. Even though she’s more than capable of keeping herself out of danger. Edge, she’s probably stronger than I am.”

“Won’t argue with that.”

“But it doesn’t change my worries. My concerns. Those abominations could just as easily have taunted me with Steele’s voice.”

“Thanks,” Cir muttered.

The two continued walking down the hallway toward the common rooms of the train.

“Should we just head back to Persis then?” Smoke asked.

“We could, but I think we both know where we need to go.”

“Lazarenth.”

***

“You know, it would have been easier to get to Lazarenth if we hadn’t missed the stop,” Cir said two hours later.

“We had planned on going to Elias.”

“I know! Just let me sulk.”

“Did you bring any sketching paper with you?” Smoke asked.

“I always do,” Cir said wearily.

“Can you sketch the faces of Knight and Paladin? I want to examine them a little bit closer.”

“Be my guest,” Cir said. Fishing a pencil out of his longcoat and a small sheet of paper, he quickly sketched out a likeness of the man and woman.

“Happy? I’m going on an epic quest now.”

“Which means?”

“I am in need of nourishment,” he growled, getting up from the side table they had snagged and making his way toward the middle section of the bullet, which housed an entire small gourmet kitchen and subsequent restaurant.

“Get me something too,” Smoke called out, his eyes riveted to the two pictures in front of them as though if he stared at them hard enough the sketches would materialize into bodies of flesh and bone.

“They should have a word for this level of hunger,” Cir grumbled. “The kind of hunger that makes you angry. Makes you wish—”

He was so distracted, he almost ran into the woman in front of him.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“No problem,” she responded curtly, her back to him. She quickly launched into a hushed dialogue with her friend, a short woman with dark skin and red, curly hair.

The line couldn’t move fast enough. By the time Cir could place his order, he was tempted to get a regular desk job, hang up his hat, and never leave home again.

“What’s the best thing you’ve got?” he asked the burly man taking orders.

“I would recommend the salted pork from Clementia with the blue isle salad.”

“Great, I’ll take four.”

“Four?”

In response, Cir set two gold coin on the counter between him and the man. “That enough?”

“I’ll get you your order right away,” the man grinned, scribbling something down on a leafpad and waving Cir to sit down at one of the many tables that littered the large room.

Sighing, Cir went searching for an empty table. Even though each could easily house up to four people, Loreians were notorious for taking up an entire table by themselves. Legs stretched out, bag taking one of the free seats, all sorts of random nonsense spread across the table that the person wasn’t even using—“Blasted people. I’d rather be at home.”

Cir’s bribe had apparently worked, because the large man waved him back over soon after, right as Cir had finally found an unoccupied table. Accepting the four boxes of food, Cir basically ran back to Smoke. Dumping two boxes in front of him, Cir ripped open his box and started shoveling his disposable wooden spoon into pork and salad, mixing the two together indiscriminately.

“They have the same face shape,” Smoke remarked, ignoring Cir as he inhaled his food.

“Who does?” Cir asked, some sense of clarity returning as he ate. “And eat your food before it gets cold.”

“I will. Could they be siblings?”

“I don’t think so. Even if their face structure is somehow similar, Paladin was built like a warrior. Knight seemed more like some kind of bard, someone who fights with words more than fists or weapons.”

“That wouldn’t keep them from being related,” Smoke said, gracefully opening one of his boxes of food—which seemed small compared to his large stature—and began slowly working on his salad.

“It’s possible. How much longer until we reach Lazarenth anyway?”

Smoke glanced out the window next to them. Trees were whisking by, a blaze of white and purple in sharp contrast with the burnished orange of the sky.

“We should be there in about ten minutes. See how the sun is close to setting?”

“Excellent. That’ll give me enough time to finish my meal.”

“You and your food.”

“You and your… gracefulness. You know, usually big guys like you would be attacking this delicious food I scavenged with a little more gusto.”

“I’ll leave the gusto to you.”

“Are either of you Cirilius?” a man asked.

Cir stopped attacking his meal and looked up at the man who’d stopped by their table.

“I am,” he said, curious. Cir didn’t recognize the man, and a look at Smoke made it clear he didn’t know the newcomer either.

“A man named Knight left this for you and your friend,” the man said, handing Cir a thick, black envelope with the name “Cirilius” scrawled across it in elegant, silver handwriting.

“Did you see him? Did he give this to you?” Cir asked quickly.

“I was only left with instructions to give this envelope to you and say it was from a man named Knight. If I remember correctly, the person who delivered the envelope to me was an old man with a rather distinguished beard.”

“Thank you,” Smoke said. Cir just looked at the man, deflated.

As soon as he left, Cir glanced around to make sure no one was looking and then slit open the envelope with one of his hookblades.

Inside were two front-seat tickets to the Holy Tournament, two days from now.