PART THREE
“There are many recipes for disaster. Most involve revenge.”
- Arren Walendar
----------------------------------------
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
*~~~**~~~*
Iris Everton
*~~~**~~~*
Junia, 927 PC
----------------------------------------
Iris stood in front of the Tevronian mirror that had been delivered to Master Rellin earlier that week, its curved wood and rounded edges flowing gracefully the whole of its length, arches carved along the top, the three crescent moons attached at the point between them like a crown. She lifted her chin and stared down her nose at her reflection. Not terribly different from how she often stood but there was something missing. Entitlement? Worthiness? Lineage, perhaps? Master Styner had made her feel like a queen, but all she could see was a commoner coated in bad choices and ill-intent.
I just need practice and preparation. I’m good at that. I can do that. Besides, who could feel ready to be a queen without years of preparation? She certainly wasn’t ready but she was infatuated with the idea.
The big oak doors of the study opened and in stumbled Urman with one too many mugs of ale in his legs. She headed straight for her desk under the mural. “Where do you keep finding ale in the university?”
“Fuck off.” Urman made straight for the chairs by the fireplace, falling into one roughly, nearly knocking it over. He was only there briefly before he spotted the mirror nearby and went to it.
She watched uncomfortably as he looked at himself, appreciating what she’d seen moments before compared to the monster he had to stare down. She jumped at the sound of the glass shattering, and again when the heavy wood hit the floor. He turned to her. There were woods on his lips, she could see them, but he didn’t speak.
*~~~**~~~*
The praise and admiration that Master Rellin and Master Styner bestowed upon her as she poured her identifier into Petrovi’s chest cavity was intoxicating. Styner’s specifically. His words had a way of seeping deep into her ego and preying on the few slivers of arrogance that lived in the back of her mind. So much so, that she could sense any doubt she had about the future they wanted for her being incinerated by the hateful fire that burned in her chest.
She took the orb made of Rubach from Master Styner, working quickly, but trusting she’d made all the necessary adjustments to keep Petrovi alive until she wanted him dead. She lifted the orb into the torchlight. Light but durable, perfect curves that reflected the light on top, the hint of shadows lurked on the bottom. Masterful.
“What’s that?” Urman asked, interrupting her shining moment. How could she have ever cared about him getting his brother back? All he’d done since Master Rellin had shown him the forged, albeit extremely convincing, letter from Harlow was criticize everything they’d done. Embarrassing her in front of Master Styner multiple times, speaking of all the mistakes and failures she’d made along the way.
She lowered her work and glared at him like a child who’d interrupted a story. “It’s above your street urchin education.”
He laughed but not as if she’d told a joke. More like as if she was the joke. “If I had to reckon, I’d say the street urchins taught me that the higher ya put yourself up above everybody else, the less likely somebody’s gonna be willing to catch ya when ya come tumblin’ down.”
“Then I won’t fall.” Master Rellin cleared his throat, staring at her. She took one more glance at Urman. “Go away.”
“And miss this… I don’t think so. I wanna be able to tell the City Guard exactly what ya did in here when they come huntin’ us.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
She ignored him the best she could and placed the orb into the set of tongs Master Rellin had handed her. She submerged the orb into the orange pond that lived within the larger sea of purple bodily fluids in Petrovi’s chest, making sure to only let his soul, or importantly, his magic, seep into the corridor that worked its way into the center of the orb. She left it there until only a thin ring of orange was left inside the man’s chest then lifted the tongs out carefully to see an orb full of magic. Orange drops slid off the remarkably smooth exterior.
“Well done,” Master Styner said dryly. High praise from him, she’d come to learn.
“The stopper,” Master Rellin said, holding it out anxiously and waving the orb toward himself.
She laid the tongs down on the workbench and looked at her colleagues. As prepared and confident as she was for this moment, she was still in a bit of shock. Years of waiting for this moment. Years of telling Candice… She couldn’t remember exactly what she’d told Candice, what exactly their promise had been. No, she could, but she didn’t want to. There was no room for that childish mentality anymore. She’d become a part of something larger than equality.
“And how will you use it?” Master Styner asked. An interesting question. She’d spent so much time thinking about how to get the magic out of Purists, that she’d seldom ever considered what she’d use it for.
“I’m-I’m not entirely sure,” she said. He smiled. Though, calling his smile cheerful would be a drastic stretch of the word.
“I have an idea,” Master Styner said.
“More like a plan,” Master Rellin said. “An idea is somewhat spontaneous. Tripelthin’s been crafting this moment for years.”
Iris jumped away from the workbench as Petrovi’s body started moving. Urman laughed as he pulled the body off the bench. It hit the ground with a thud. Urman made a face like he might have done something he shouldn’t have. “Can’t feel nothin’ can he? Ain’t that what ya said?” She hesitated to answer. She knew the soul vanished upon death, but would a man die upon the removal of his soul? And what of the fraction of it that remained?
“I’m sure he won’t notice,” Master Styner said.
Master Rellin wasn’t as sure. “Just in case.” He swiped his finger across his neck. “Would hate for him to wake up with a chest like that.”
She turned her back to that. “What do you have in mind?” she asked Master Styner.
He came close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and led her out of Urman’s earshot. “We spoke of an army. Do you remember that?” A tinge of annoyance pricked at her ego when he spoke to her like a child.
“Of course.”
They sat down in the chairs from her apartment. Lucky they were still there. With Jameson working for her now, she felt more comfortable moving out of the laboratory again but hadn’t yet. Someone lived in the place she wanted to call home.
“I’d argue I’ve read more books about war than anyone in the empire. Books about great generals who won too many battles to count. And the losers too. Though finding information about them is much more difficult. But what I’ve learned is that there are a few common threads amongst those leaders we glorify for their achievements. One of which is that their soldiers were often equipped with far greater advancements in weaponry than their enemies. I believe we will have that soon enough. But another is the unshakeable loyalty of their soldiers. No one can accomplish anything like what we wish to accomplish without the loyalty of a large group of people. Whether they understand what they’re fighting for entirely or not, they must feel as though they want to win. That if they do, the world will be a better place… for them…”
She nodded her head. That’s exactly why she was willing to fight this war. Even if she would likely never do an ounce of fighting herself. “As you said, the Purists have rallied the troops for centuries, created the army for us.”
“Indeed. But their loyalty is to themselves. It takes years upon years, battles won, battles survived, to create the degree of fellowship we need. And that’s with men and women who are trained to be soldiers. We will be working with ordinary folk, most of which have never held a sword in their life. They will cut and run the first time they feel real fear. Well-equipped or not.”
“Then we look for better soldiers?”
He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands on his lap. “Aye. We could. And we shall. When you have enough clout to lead soldiers of that caliber. What we shall do until then is create a bond only the foolish will be willing to break.”
“How?”
“By providing them something they can’t live without.”
She didn’t need the answer. They both looked at the orb full of magic lying on the workbench simultaneously.
Master Styner spoke first. “If we can turn that magic into a weapon your soldiers will be adequately equipped to fight anyone in large enough numbers. But if we can make it an addiction… one they can’t live without… they’ll fight for you forever.”