CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
*~~~**~~~*
Iris Everton
*~~~**~~~*
Septos, 927 PC
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In the year and a half since coming to Locke, Iris could count on one hand how many things she’d encountered that she would consider good luck. None of which were anywhere as significant as King Te’Korei walking out of Alaric Sampson’ house unexpectedly while she and Walber watched from the shadows. A blessing dropped in her lap at the twenty-fourth hour, a way to access the man’s personal life without having to risk getting close to him or anyone he would come searching for.
Iris had dabbed the captive’s sweaty forehead so many times since they’d tied him up that she’d gone through three wash rags and was halfway through a fourth. She felt an odd amount of empathy toward the man and his sweat but there was no place for a childish mentality like that right now. Or ever it would seem. “Sweats like a pig,” she said to Walber.
Despite what Urman had said about the skeevy shapeshifter, his quality of work was actually quite impressive. It pained her to admit it but they shared several of the same ingredients necessary for excellence; relentless attention to detail, thorough checks and re-checks, and remarkably high standards. He’d stared at the half naked captive like he was a piece of art for over an hour before the real examination began. At that point he proceeded to examine every inch of King’s tan-skin, his brown eyes, his black hair, everything, right down to the moles on his back. The odds of Alaric seeing the false King without a shirt were low but then again, so were the odds that Iris would have ever needed Walber’s services in the first place. No, they couldn’t be too careful.
“I’d be sweating too if I were him. Didn’t think you had this in you when you walked in my place over at the Lion.”
“Please, I just want to go home,” King said.
Iris wiped the sweat from King’s forehead, frowning at the moisture that had touched her fingertips. “I find if you want anything done correctly you must take care of it yourself. Or with people like you. You’re impressive.” She may have resented Urman’s suggestion that she be less like herself than usual around Walber, but she’d not been too dense to heed the advice. She found herself doing that often with Gant the better she got to know him. Though the words did taste like dirt in her mouth.
“Aye, you mentioned that already.” He lowered King’s arm and leaned in close to study something behind the man’s ear. “Never know what someone else notices most about a man. Don’t wanna find myself with a mole with no hair growing in it if I need one.” He glanced at her, holding King’s folded ear between his finger and thumb. “That happened to me once. Right on a tit.”
“No, no you wouldn’t.” She waited until he had gone back to his work to frown at the disgusting image in her head.
“Please, I’m begging you.” King’s eyes were a darker shade of brown now. A fact that may have been lost on a commoner that hadn’t been terrorized by the notion of light blue turning navy.
“Stop.” King lifted his eyes pitifully and for some reason, power filled her, growing her to enormous heights. She felt like a queen.
“I think that’ll do,” Walber said. He stepped away from the out of shape piece of art and scratched his chin thoughtfully. A moment later a perfect replication of the sweaty hostage was standing right beside her. She had to do a double take when her eyes went from the original to the copy.
“Incredible.” One might think she would be disingenuous toward a Purist, including herself, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Seeing the flawlessness of Walber’s magic gave her high hopes that she could manipulate lotus magic to be something more than just a chaotic blast.
Walber’s expression snapped from nothing to annoyance. “Don’t toss that word around like it ain’t worth anything. Does it look believable or not? I’m not walking a trained dog down the street. Sampson’s a bull waiting to charge anything in his path. No, he ain’t that either. More like the hand of The Creator ready to erase anything it doesn’t like.”
She spent the next several minutes scrutinizing the man’s work, comparing each and every distinguishable feature on the two bodies. She couldn’t find a single noteworthy flaw. “Perfection. And I don’t use that word lightly. What about his voice?”
“Takes some time to get it just right. Best we get him talking sooner rather than later.”
She dabbed King’s glistening forehead again and grinned at Walber. “Don’t forget to sweat profusely.”
“Noted.”
“Mister Te’Korei.” She made her voice as menacing as she could. Something she’d been practicing at night as she laid in bed. All she knew of armies indicated she’d eventually need to be able to strike the fear of… well, herself… into her soldiers. “You find yourself in an unusually fortunate position. Most Purists I encounter don’t have the opportunity to leave unscathed. But, because what I ask of you is so vitally important, I am willing to let you walk out of here completely unharmed… if you cooperate.” A lie, of course. No one sits on their boat all day in hopes of catching food for their family just to throw it back when they do. This man had magic in his soul and it would be hers soon.
King swallowed hard. “What do you want from me?”
Another dab. “It’s simple really. You tell us every detail about your new friendship with Alaric Sampson and you’ll be on your way. Refuse and you’ll find I can do things to you that you couldn’t imagine.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Ah, don’t fuck around. Watched ya walk right out of his house with my own eyes. Day after day, you’d come and go like you were one of his family.”
When King didn’t speak, she lifted his sweaty chin, her finger wrapped in the rag. “Save yourself. Tell me what I want to know.” She turned sideways and waved her arm at the glass instruments on the kitchen table. In addition to Walber’s excellent shapeshifting, he was also a capable lockpick. He’d broken into her old apartment so easily she was almost glad to still be living in the laboratory. “Trust me, you don’t want me to use those on you.”
Whether it was the instruments or the dead family sitting around the table, she wasn’t sure, probably a combination of both, but King’s sensibilities began to surface. “What do you want with him?”
“He knows something he shouldn’t. But it’s all just a misunderstanding and I wish to make sure his temper doesn’t get the best of him. Or anyone else. That’s all.”
“Why can’t you just talk to him then?”
Walber laughed.
“It just makes more sense for him to come here,” she said. “You wouldn’t go to a pub to pray to The Creator, would you? Some things are meant to be done in certain places.”
“You’re going to kill him.”
Walber raised his hand to clap King on the back but when the other man flinched he refrained. “Look, you’re a smart man. And as a smart man, you should see that your only way out of here is to tell her everything she wants. Why die when you could live? No matter how bad you’ll feel afterward, it's better than the walk home.”
King shook his head. “I won’t. He took me into his home. Fed me. Made me feel like family. I won’t simply betray a man like that.”
She walked across the hideous brown rug that had the audacity to lay where her beautiful blue one once had. The mother’s dead eyes watched her from across the table as she found her knife. A few drops of Red Venom in the pitcher of water and a flash of Walber’s dagger and the whole family had drunk themselves right to the gates of the road home. She wasn’t the least bit sorry either – horribly annoying children and a father who was more sloth than man. She’d offered to spare the wife because she’d had the telltale signs of being overworked and underappreciated. She deserved a fresh start but the foolish woman chose to go out with the rest of her family. You’re either born with wisdom and self-preservation or not. It wasn’t Iris’ responsibility to educate anyone.
When she returned to King she wasted no time pressing her surgical knife to his chest. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather this blade find Alaric’s chest instead of yours? At least he won’t be able to feel anything when I work on him.”
Stolen novel; please report.
There were a few moments of silence. Too many for her patience. King winced and jerked away as she pushed the blade just hard enough to let it slip into his skin. “You can make this difficult for me now, but I have plenty of ways to change that.”
More silence.
She turned away to get more of her instruments.
“Wait!” King side. “What do you want to know?”
She turned around. “That’s better.”
*~~~**~~~*
Three hundred forty-two Leos. That’s how much she’d gotten for the platter Master Rellin had given to her as a gift when she’d moved into this apartment. That’s how much Urman had tossed to Walber and that pill addicted whore he worked with. Iris had nearly hyperventilated when she’d left the Roarin’ Lion. Even if she’d spent the two hundred she’d offered what she would have had left would have been enough to live on for a year or more. But, when she heard Alaric Sampson’s voice as he and Walber, disguised as King, clambered through the front door, she lost all interest in money. Walber had delivered the thorn in her side on a much more useful platter than the one she’d sold and that was worth every coin she’d spent.
“I was so delighted to hear you were staying in Locke a bit longer.” Alaric’s voice was as affable and kind as it had been the day they’d met on the streets.
“I’m glad to be staying. The city has taken a real hold on me.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. A Purist like you, you’ll thrive here.”
“I do hope so. Please, sit, sit. I’ll get us some wine.”
Iris had never interacted with a shapeshifter before this, but she had watched actors in Faylawn once; a traveling group. She could tell the performance was horrible even then and she had nine years to her name. Walber, on the other hand, was incredible. It was as if the real King Te’Korei wasn’t lying on the bed behind her with the dead family she and Walber had piled there.
“I think we’ll make a wonderful duo.” Alaric’s voice was louder now as he called to Walber in the other room. “One of us will be sitting in the High Chamber soon enough.”
“No doubt in my mind!”
She pictured Walber pouring the wine mixed with Dreamweaver into the dented tin cups she’d found in the cupboards.
“Is there anything I can do for you while we wait for your plans to go through? I feel incredibly indebted to you for allowing me to stay with you for so long,” Walber said as he came back into the living space.
“Please, please, I’ve told you time and time again, don’t mention it. It was nothing. Catalina loves playing hostess and Camila, well, she’s shy but I can assure you she enjoyed your stay as well. Told me herself every night when I’d tuck her in.”
“Sweet gal. Precious. Still holding out on the idea that she may have magic in her soul?” There was silence all throughout the apartment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“No. No. It’s fine. It’s just disappointing to think she won’t have the same luxuries we have had.”
She thought of Cora, then Jameson and how horribly he must be treating her baby. The man could barely take care of himself, let alone an infant. And yet another side of her, the more logical side, believed what had happened was for the best, that perhaps she had seen Jameson walk out of the laboratory with Cora but she didn’t want the child around because she didn’t want to be burdened with that responsibility while she changed the world. She could fix things when things settled down. It was a large empire, yes, but there was a force pulling her to Jameson, and he to her. Their paths would cross again. She was as sure of that as anything she’d ever known.
“May I tell you something, without sounding as though I’m fishing for sympathy?” Alaric said. She pushed herself closer to the door.
“Of course.”
“I had a second daughter. Her name was Ceralline.”
“Off studying somewhere else in the empire?” Walber asked, purposely missing the past tense nature of Alaric’s claim. Coy bastard. She’d told him exactly what had happened to Ceralline. Not an easy secret to reveal, knowing how simple it would be for Walber to betray her right here, mere inches before she rid herself of her final distraction. But if Walber had somehow struck the wrong chord in his temperamental guest she could very well find herself atoning for Jameson’s sins.
The living space was silent for an uncomfortably long time. Seconds in truth, but seconds could be painfully long when you were waiting to see if you’d be running for your life.
“I’m afraid not. She was murdered. Thrown from the belfry in Walendar’s Tower.”
“Oh, lords. I’m so sorry, Alaric. I meant no offense. Oh, lords. That’s simply tragic. Did they catch the person who did it?”
Another agonizing silence, even knowing the answer first hand.
“No. The City Guard tried but there was no evidence, no witnesses. Eventually they labeled her death an accident. As if my brilliant daughter would accidentally fall to her death inside a tower she knew was off-limits. No. Impossible. She was killed.” There was an eerie silence that often followed those three words. “And I know who did it.”
“Might you tell me?” Walber said. “I’m afraid I’m a man of curiosity.”
“A man named Jameson Wicket. And a woman named Iris Everton. Took ages to find someone that would even consider speaking of the incident. But then a man calling himself The Old Wolf sought me out.” Yormir! That fucking asshole! That fucking asshole! I should have known not to trust any of Jameson’s men. “Told me exactly what had happened. I considered telling the City Guard but with their inadequacies I decided to take things into my own hands. Unfortunately, Jameson has gone missing. For now. I… Well, I was hoping perhaps you could help me find him.”
“Of course, Alaric. And the woman as well?”
Rage turned to panic as she started to think she may have walked herself into a trap. This was it. A year and a half of slopping around in the pig sty had finally caught up to her.
“That won’t be necessary. I know exactly where to find her.”
Oh lords. I have to get out of here. She was trying to decide how badly the drop from the second-story window would hurt her when there was a light tap on the bedroom door that made her freeze. The knock she’d been waiting for since the magnitude of Ceralline’s death had sunk in. Only it wasn’t the City Guard here to drag her to the gallows. It was something far worse. She stared at the door. Swallowed.
The doorknob wiggled. She reached for her dagger in her pocket.
Walber’s voice trickled under the door. “Hurry up. He’s out cold.”
*~~~**~~~*
All her fear and frustration lay on the kitchen table, bare chested and pumped full of enough alchemicals to paralyze a horse. She’d taken extra precautions too though, trying his limbs to the legs of the table and restraining his fingers so he couldn’t make fists, gagging him with a sweaty wash rag and the laces from her boot. According to King, the man needed to make fists to unleash the real brutality of his magic. Who knew if that was true but she’d be taking no chances. Still, even with her diligence, she was jittery and nervous as she scrambled to finish the job as quickly as she could.
“Why not just kill him?” Walber asked. He sat opposite her at the table, habitually studying every detail of the captive. The strum of his fingers on the table would have normally driven her crazy but in this case it was oddly calming.
“I need his magic and these opportunities don’t come easily. Or cheaply.”
Kovey shrugged at her as if to say you got what you wanted, didn’t you… She couldn’t argue with that.
“What do ya need it for?”
Her hands were trembling. Petrovi had been able to speak to animals. All he could have done if he’d woken up while she was harvesting his magic was chirp like a bird, or at worse, roar like a lion. What this man could do was beyond her wildest imagination. Though, all her visions ended with her dead. “I-I’m an alchemist. It’s… It’s for scientific purposes.”
Her hand shook wildly as she lowered the knife to Alaric’s chest. She stood back up, wiped the sweat from her forehead. I’ve done this before. Cuts like butter. Simple. I can do this. Deep breaths. Just two, no time for more. She tried to turn Walber’s thumping fingers into a melody she could concentrate on but it did nothing for her nerves. Any cut will do. Just do it.
Walber turned away when the blade finally slipped into the skin. Thick, dark blood surrounded it as it wobbled down Alaric’s chest. Sloppy cut after sloppy cut. Horrible work. She wondered what Master Rellin would think before telling herself she didn’t care what he thought anymore. She was in charge now. She was the one who got them this far. She was the one who dealt with problems like the City Guard and Alaric Sampson. If he wanted to continue learning from her, he’d be best served to stay out of the way and try to keep up.
She tossed the knife on the ground and peeled back the skin on both sides with clumsy fingers. “Hand me those,” she said, pointing at the hammer and chisel. Walber examined the tools as he picked them up. “Quickly!”
“You’re gonna open him up with those things…”
She was too busy thinking about how Master Rellin had always done this task to answer. The chisel bounced and thumped on Alaric’s sternum a few times before she could get the tool settled down. Suddenly, Alaric’s body twitched. Something she’d seen Petrovi do as well but it still scared her terribly. Walber’s chair slid backward, drawing his dagger with impressive speed.
There was a moment when neither moved as they waited to see if anyone would have to die. When she regained what few nerves she’d had before she stepped back to the table and placed the chisel again. This time the hammer rose. She’d imagined herself bringing the thing down with all the rage Alaric had caused her, but instead it was as if she was knocking on a door quietly, trying not to disturb too many people inside. Again. Thump. Thump. Thump.
“That ain’t gonna do it.”
“I’m aware.” She brought the hammer up again. Brought it down harder. Felt the bone crack slightly under the chisel. Harder! You hate this man.
The weapon rose. Then surged down, accompanied by a sound she’d never made in her life; an angry grunt of exertion. She missed the chisel entirely and smashed Alaric’s ribs.
“Lords, woman! Get this shit done!”
She was lifting the hammer again when the door smashed open. Iris spun toward the living space. Walber spun faster, his dagger raised, pointed at Jameson. Yormir stood beside the charmer, sucking on a wad of suri in his bottom lip and pointing a crossbow at them.
The hammer was still raised over her head as she said, “Jameson, what are you-”