With Mirian’s knee off her back, Specter wriggled away from her until she ran into the nearby wall. She’d recovered from the paralysis relatively quickly. “Who the—what the fucking—!” she gasped. “I am an Arcane Praetorian! Release me at once, or you’ll find the full force of the Baracueli government turned—”
“Please don’t bother lying,” Mirian said calmly. “I already know you killed Adria Gavell. Without your orichalcum, I can see the soul bindings you set on yourself so that you’d look like her. I already know you’ve committed high treason several times, and that you’re part of Operation Zenith. I already know you’re a capable necromancer, but I also know the actual runic devices you’d need for any of your curses are firmly secured in your locked room in the Akanan spy’s headquarters near the train station. I already know Nathanial Hache is playing Captain of the Torrviol Guard under your watch, and the plot to secure the Divine Monument. I even know about General Corrmier’s impending coup in Palendurio and the planned assassination of the Akanan Prime Minister.”
Specter’s eyes had grown wide, but she quickly masked her emotions and shut her mouth. That was, Mirian thought, one of the reasons she’d been so hard to find. When she was outmatched, she hid and went silent. She didn’t strike unless she was sure of victory.
She didn’t even ask ‘what do you want from me.’ She used an interrogator’s tactics of keeping silent and learning as much as she could, and knew to reveal nothing if she didn’t have to.
“It all would have worked, too, except for one thing: the Ominian started a time loop. So I have as many tries as I need to get you to talk.” Mirian paused, and thought of Arenthia, and the lessons of Zomalator. “This is another blessing for you. You can’t take back the murder of Adria, but the worst of the crimes you’ve committed haven’t actually happened yet. You have an opportunity for a kind of redemption that few are ever offered. You can help stop what you helped plan.”
Specter peered up at her, keeping her face still, though Mirian could see her jaw grinding.
“I even know what you’re thinking right now: ‘why didn’t the Ominian choose me?’ Probably because you’re an evil bitch,” Mirian said. She thought of Lecne, Pelnu, Tlati, Sethra, and Maruce, those wonderful heretic priests who had saved her life and taught her so much. Each of them had done horrible things. But then they had dedicated themselves to a new path. She said to Specter, “But you can make amends.
“You see, all this stupid political shit doesn’t end up mattering, because there’s a catastrophic leyline collapse and then the Divir moon falls down and wipes out all life on Enteria. I know you already know about the arcane eruptions in Akana that are a prelude to the main cataclysm I’m talking about, and how they’re getting worse. All the plans you made just hurry things along. When Marshal Cearsia successfully takes Torrviol, though, she decides to destroy the Divine Monument, and armageddon comes early. So ultimately, what I would like is for people like you to help stop the coups, assassinations, and invasion, because if the peoples of Baracuel and Akana Praediar can work together, we’ve got a better chance of actually stopping this. Help me, make amends, and I’ll spare you.”
Specter clenched her jaw, then said, “Why should I believe you?”
Mirian conjured Eclipse from thin air, then brought the rapier’s tip down to slash Specter’s shoulder; a light wound, but one that would show that what she had was no illusion. “This is the Sword of the Fourth Prophet, now soulbound to me.”
The woman’s eyes went wide again, then she steadied herself. It was a remarkable display of control. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
Mirian closed her eyes and sighed. “Look, I know you know all these anti-interrogation techniques. Given enough loops, I’m sure I could draw out what you know. But I’m not going to. It’s not worth my time. If I decide you’re not worth it, I’m just going to kill you. Every. Single. Loop. So that you can’t hurt anyone. I did that to Agent Gerard, pulling him off the Alchemistry Building roof for dozens of cycles. I already know how to break the cipher for the orders he was carrying.” Mirian quickly listed off the math formula of letter shifts the Akanans had used, then continued.
“I know how to use the Fort Aegrimere Garrison to defeat the Akanan army and take down the two dreadnought airships. Do you see this school uniform I’m wearing? It’s not a disguise. I was a regular student before this all started. I’m giving you a chance, which is more than you ever gave me.”
Specter remained silent.
Mirian sighed again. “I’ll give you a bit to think about it.”
She went over to Specter’s orichalcum, and began to change its resonance to match her own soul, keeping her eyes locked on the other woman. Then she picked up her spellbook, paging through it for anything innovative. The shifting illusionary disguise spell she’d been using while walking through town was neat. It segmented the illusion into three major parts, making it so that changing one aspect of the disguise didn’t affect the other two sections, which made it far more mana efficient than doing the same thing with major illusionary disguise. There were the usual combat spells, and there were several torture spells, which made Mirian’s stomach turn.
Nothing else stood out, so after ripping out the page she wanted, she levitated the spellbook in the air and incinerated it, using an inverted fire shield to keep the intense energy release from breaking so many glyphs from causing an explosion. Only the catalyst was left over, which she blew the ash off then pocketed. She started rooting around in Specter’s desk next, using magnetic force to break open any of the mundane locks for the drawers.
Most of the documents were, of course, in Eskinar, which took Mirian longer to read, but they also weren’t using a cipher. Specter clearly hadn’t thought anyone would discover her little hideout here. And to be fair, no one had, even in dozens of cycles where every other part of the Akanan spy operation had been dismantled.
As she read, she noticed Specter edging closer, so she casually stuck out her rapier near her leg. “This is ridiculously sharp,” Mirian said, then jabbed it into the stone floor to demonstrate. When the spiderweb cracks spread out from the hole she’d just made, the woman froze, then edged backward.
There were several networking diagrams that showed the social relations of targets in Torrviol, as well as extensive dossiers on high ranking people. Unlike the ones in the spy’s headquarters, these extended to people in Cairnmouth and Palendurio. She recognized Ravatha’s name, as well as one of the Syndicate brokers she’d purchased smuggled myrvites from in Palendurio. Interesting. They have leverage over the Syndicate, but clearly not as much control as they think they have. None of them ever sold me out.
She also recognized Marduke Sacristar. Her heart dropped as she read the file. ‘Edge member of operation,’ she read. He’s considered unreliable, but a tentative ally. Fuck. Poor Nicolas. So that’s how his dad intends to reestablish the Sacristar family as a great power in Baracuel.
Then there was the file on Archmage Luspire. It detailed his character flaws, and his strong desire to join Vadriach University, where his name might be lauded among the best of the best, where the most advanced, cutting-edge research was being done. She was leveraging that career move against him. Luspire would be willing to suppress all the break-ins and deaths while ‘Adria’ ‘investigated’ so that his name would stay untarnished. Luspire felt if he could hold out another month, he was sure to get the position in Vadriach. And they keep dangling it in front of him, but never give it to him, she knew.
There was another interesting note. ‘Worked with Emera Cearsia on airship project to gain Akanan favor. Possible former lovers. If so, departed on poor terms.’
That was interesting. Did he help work on the two dreadnought airship engines? He’d never revealed that information when he’d been mentoring Mirian, but then again, Luspire never liked to mention anything that might make him look bad, and angered quickly if it looked like something would shine on him in a less than flattering light. Also the perfect thing to deliver to Luspire to make sure he stays pissed at the Akanans. And, there was a quick reference sheet naming dozens of the Akanan spies. Sloppy, she thought, but then again, Specter was dealing with a ridiculously complex operation. It made sense she needed some way to keep track of it all. She added both those documents to her satchel.
Specter had been crafting several letters that she’d signed off as other people. Pretending to be the other Deeps agents she killed. And not just to the head of their cell in Palendurio. The woman had prepared letters to the spouses of the murdered agents. Another letter to the son of a dead agent. She was going to send a love letter signed as Adria to a partner in Palendurio, the pages full of apparently heartfelt declarations and regret for how much she wished she could take time off to go see him. Mirian felt visceral disgust. “You really are monstrous,” she said.
There was a lot of information to go through. There were several encrypted communications that Mirian stuffed in her satchel to decode later. Plenty of other info she’d already learned from ransacking the headquarters in previous cycles. There was a document that revealed something she’d been looking to learn for some time. It was addressed to Nikoline Brunn, codename Specter. Nikoline, she thought. Now I know who to name when I eventually get around to investigating the Deeps, she thought.
“I’ll help you,” Specter said suddenly.
Mirian raised an eyebrow. “Great. First question. I know there’s an Academy professor being targeted for assassination today. Who’s the target?”
“Professor Torres,” Specter said without hesitation.
Mirian gave her a disappointing glare. “I know that’s a lie,” she said.
“Did… it go awry? Maybe they got the wrong person.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“You target Professor Jei, and I know it’s not a mistake because you get the Torrviol Guard to break into her private residence if she escapes the attempt on the way to the Monument. I’ll give you another try. Who are the main infiltrators running sabotage missions in the Academy?”
“Gerard and Ayland,” Specter said.
“Lie of omission. You missed Idras. Who’s your contact for Operation Zenith in the Department of Public Security?”
Specter hesitated briefly, then said, “Operation Zenith is confined to the Akanans.”
“You have a contact for the conspiracy in the Deeps,” Mirian said. “Who is it?”
“Sayco Palamas,” she said. Mirian didn’t know what position he had in the Deeps, but it wasn’t one of the directors, and she already knew that the operation targeted the Palamas family.
Mirian shook her head. “Liar. I already know it’s Arturus Castill.” She looked at Nikoline, lying prone still. “I don’t understand you,” she said. “When you were interrogating me, you told me some crap about ‘human nature’ and ‘power.’ It sounded stupid, and I wondered how someone as smart as you could believe in something so… horrible. Any comments on your motivations?”
“I’ve told you the truth,” she said. “You can check—”
“I already did. That’s the thing about time travel. I can check things that haven’t happened yet. I can witness things that already did.”
Nikoline didn’t seem to know what to say to that, but Mirian could see her brain making calculations. “I serve God and country,” she said at last. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“No you don’t!” Mirian exclaimed. “You’re a double agent who killed several agents of the Crown! You killed your whole cell! You’re not even loyal to your new country because you’re part of a conspiracy that assassinates your own head of state! You—” Mirian took a deep breath. “I guess I’ll never understand you. And I guess I just have to accept that. Arenthia did warn me. Redemption isn’t for everyone. You have to want it. And I guess you… don’t.”
She plunged Eclipse through Specter’s heart.
The woman seemed surprised. She had this shocked look, like she couldn’t believe Mirian had actually stabbed her. Then she went limp, her blood pooling on the floor.
Mirian searched her body one last time, finding her divine focus hidden on an ankle bracelet. It was the same silver-gray with veins of green minerals that she’d seen on every priest except for the heretics. Underneath Nikoline’s shirt, she found a poison pill sewn into the collar. The agent could have bent down and taken it at any point, but she hadn’t.
She spent the next few hours scouring the rest of the hideout. Most of it was dedicated to day-to-day living, though there was, of course, the nasty little interrogation room she’d brought Mirian to twice. Lastly, she discovered an exit behind a false wall in the bedroom closet that led to a ladder. That ladder in turn led to a hidden hatch in a brush-covered area overlooking the lake. Ah. So here’s how she gets to the lake when she escapes by boat, Mirian thought. The deadbolts that secured the hatch were very thick, and the lock for opening it was only on the underside, but that would be easily overcome with magic.
She had all the papers she wanted, and if she needed them again, now she knew where to find them. Mirian set the place on fire, then closed the hatch behind her.
***
The next morning, Mirian went to registration. “I’m a transfer student from Akana Praediar,” she said. “Here’s my transcript, and tuition for the quarter,” she said. When she’d broken into the registrar’s office in previous cycles, she’d seen what Akanan university transcripts looked like.
“Micael Nezzar? That’s not a very Akanan name,” the woman at the counter said, glancing over the paperwork.
“It’s not. My family was from east Baracuel originally. It’s good to be back.”
“I see. Ah, we don’t have your record of acceptance because of the… incident. So we’re allowing students to pick classes, but credit for completion may be delayed or rescinded, depending on information we receive from your previous institution or information we recover.” She smiled. “But for now, everything is in order. That spell engine over there can show you if a class is full, you just need to select it using the illusionary interface—”
Mirian smiled. “We have those in Akana too.”
“Ah. Of course,” the woman said. “That’s where they were invented, after all!”
Mirian went off to pick her classes. It was the strangest thing, coming back after all this time.
***
When Jei found her, Mirian was trying to calculate how much soul energy her hypothetical spellbook cover would need. The answer was ‘a lot,’ and most of the energy would have to come from strong-souled myrvites like bog lions or greater wyverns. But assuming she could find any relicarium in the Vaults, she needed to maximize the benefit.
“Something has changed,” Respected Jei said. “Luspire has requested our attendance at a welcoming ceremony in the plaza. Ferrandus said it had something to do with a new research agreement with Vadriach University.”
Mirian raised an eyebrow.
Jei said, “It is very strange seeing your facial expressions on a stranger’s face.”
“Sorry. It has to be this way. Are students allowed to attend?”
“Yes. Several of the apprentices are participating. Novices are invited to watch.” She paused. “How does this affect… my fate?”
“I don’t know yet. With Specter gone, they may stop trying. I wish…” Mirian grimaced. “But it doesn’t matter what I wish.”
Jei’s mouth was a thin line. “It is a hard thing you ask of me. I do not like to live with a sword dangling over my head. I try to remember that your path is no easier, and much longer.”
“Thanks,” Mirian said. “I’ll keep an eye on the ceremony from one of the buildings south of the plaza.” She paused, closing her notebook. “Vadriach. So they must be arriving by airship. Sulvorath’s changed tactics. But if he doesn’t park his airship in the forest and destroy the engine…”
“I’ll tell Iliyia to see if she can examine it.”
“Perfect.” Torres would be the best person to look at any artifice.
“May I tell her your new identity?” Jei asked.
“I’d prefer not. I’m unhappy enough as it is with how many people know it. When’s the ceremony?”
“Two hours.”
Miran’s chair scraped the floor as she shoved it back. “Shit! Do you have access to—actually, I already know. There’s several divination checks I want to do on… no. I shouldn’t. I don’t know what kind of divination they’ll be running. If he detects it… hm. I hate it. I hate not having enough information.”
“I know the feeling,” Jei said. “Iliyia is well networked with the other professors. I can also talk to Svani and Sefora. We will get you information.”
“Does Professor Marva know?”
“Most take advantage of the break to visit Cairnmouth or take a day on the lake. The reception may be poorly attended, which Luspire should well know. I do not know.”
“Fair enough. I can try and find them. They might be close enough to get a good look at any celestial magic.”
Mirian was, perhaps, one of five people in town who could actually find Professor Marva, and the other four were all priests. They hadn’t been in their office, or anywhere in Castner Hall. Instead, they were lounging on a boat on the lake, eyes closed, leaning back on several cushions while blatantly ignoring a fishing rod.
They’d changed their form since the morning, and were now a more masculine build with a dark mop of hair and a scruffy looking outfit. They blended right in with the fishers, except anyone seriously fishing was actually paying some attention to the water.
Mirian gently started pulling the boat ashore, feeling mildly guilty about it.
Marva realized their boat was heading to shore and sat up, only to find Mirian giving them a friendly wave from shore. They sighed.
“There’s going to be an airship arriving with Vadriach researchers. Some deal Luspire just made. It’s a change in the timeline, so Sulvorath is changing tactics. I need information on what he’s trying to do so I can thwart it,” Mirian explained when she was close enough.
“Did it have to be during the break?” Professor Marva said, voice as grizzled as they looked.
“Wouldn’t have interrupted you, except it is the fate of the world at stake.”
“Yes, I understand. I just… I hate subterfuge. I know that must sound ridiculous, coming from an illusionist. Danger makes me sick to my stomach. I just wanted a peaceful life.”
Mirian nodded. “So did I.”
Marva looked at Mirian and blinked. “You still look like a student. I have to remind myself you’re nearly my age now.”
They began walking toward the plaza, clear across town. “If it’s any consolation, you were very courageous when we raided an Akanan dreadnought airship,” Mirian said.
“I… thanks, I guess. So what do you want to know?”
“If Sulvorath is aboard that airship. He’s used illusions before, but I need to know if he’s graduated to celestial binding magic. Not through use of any divination or spells, though—I don’t know what preparations he’s made, and don’t want to alert him. How good are you at viewing others’ souls?”
“Not great,” Marva admitted. “I was never interested in affecting other people. All my focus has always been on my own body. That, I know well. But if I make contact with him, I may be able to get a glimpse. Handshakes,” they said as the two of them neared the old theater. “It’s a great way to detect illusions, too. Most people don’t actually make the illusion perfectly flush with their skin, or there’s some other discrepancy. I’ve graded far too many students on practical illusions to be able to miss that sort of thing.”
“Perfect,” Mirian said, “And thanks. We’ll split up here. I’ll be watching, but not participating. Any information you can get on the goals of the researchers, or on Sulvorath will be helpful.”
Marva started reforming themselves into someone who looked a bit more like a professor, their hair straightening and beard becoming neatly trimmed. Mirian casually pressed her focus to her chest to watch. It really was masterful work. Marva didn’t remove the complex bindings on their soul, they simply readjusted them. It took a measure of fine control Mirian still didn’t have, and it took knowing exactly where the key points of their soul were.
Then Mirian headed for one of the halls south of the plaza, where first year students generally learned how to flail about ineffectually with an arcane catalyst for a few quarters. The study rooms in two of the buildings overlooked the plaza, and the windows were usually already open so it would be a perfect view of the plaza.
When she got into position, she could already see Archmage Luspire and High Wizard Ferrandus were both wearing formal robes. There was a white, black and orange carpet rolled out across the plaza, as well as a crowd of professors and students, though none of them were wearing anything formal. Someone had placed both the banners of Akana and Baracuel up on a wall, and those fluttered in the brisk afternoon wind.
Mirian cast an enhance hearing spell on her left ear, turning that side of her head slightly so she could pick up the noises below. Mostly, it was indistinct chatter, but she caught Luspire asking, “Where’s Adria?” to Ferrandus, who subtly shrugged his shoulders.
Bad news about that one, buddy, Mirian thought.
Then the crowd started oohing and pointing up, and there was the quiet hum of airship engines.
The airship that came down wasn’t Sulvorath’s usual little skiff that sat one or two. This thing was better classified as a sky yacht. The hull was painted with blue and white swirls, and the masthead was the classic Akanan double-headed eagle. The two huge wings on each side with the gossamer spellcloth taut between them barely fit in the plaza, but the airship touched down gracefully to much applause.
From her perch on the third floor, Mirian could look down at the deck and see some of the people on board. They were dressed in the suits and jackets favored by Akanans for formal wear. Most of the people on board were strangers, but she recognized two.
The first was Marshal Cearsia’s strange assistant who had behaved erratically in previous loops.
The second was Marshal Cearsia.