Dragon War: The Draconic Prophecies - Book Three (17 page)

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He was Kelas again—at least, his face was Kelas’s. In the Ruby Chalice, taking Kelas’s face off had been like removing a bandage over an infected wound. It showed him just how much he’d become the man he despised, how much his newfound conscience had rotted in the short time since he’d come back to Fairhaven. Becoming Aunn—the proud, noble hero who strode out of the Demon Wastes just a few days before—had been inexplicably hard.

Before leaving the private room, he changed back into Kelas, and the ease of it bothered him. It was like changing into comfortable clothes after wearing stiff formal garb, and not just because the clothes he was wearing belonged to Kelas and fit his body better than they fit the taller Aunn. He was Kelas, and he was walking back to the Tower of Eyes. That meant immersing himself in the world of the Royal Eyes and getting his hands dirty. Kelas had no time for conscience or qualm—Kelas was the one who had beaten such things out of Aunn when he was a child.

Nausea churned his stomach as he walked, Kelas’s short, quick strides cutting a path through the busy streets of the city. He hadn’t slept enough at Kelas’s house, just a fitful hour or two before Gaven’s lightning blast had jolted him awake and into action. Just like the Dragon Forge—it was another mess in Gaven’s wake that he would have to deal with, one way or another, if he wanted to keep up the appearance of being Kelas.

The Tower of Eyes was never crowded, but it was very different in midday than it had been in the dead of night. He strode past the soldiers at the door, flashing Kelas’s identification papers, and found himself in a crowd of mostly familiar faces. He fought a surge of panic—how many of these people did Kelas know? What was his relationship with each of them?

He decided it didn’t matter. When he was under pressure—which was most of the time, in Aunn’s experience—Kelas was brusque with everyone. He fixed his eyes on the floor and strode up the stairs to Kelas’s office, ignoring the few people who made an attempt to catch his eye or nod a greeting.

“Kelas!”

He couldn’t ignore the voice of Thuel Racannoch, as much as he wanted to. He looked up and saw the Spy Master standing in the open door to his office at the end of the hall. Thuel jerked his head toward the inside of his office, waited an instant to make sure Aunn had seen, and disappeared back into the room.

The other people in the hall looked away as he passed them, and Aunn wondered what they were thinking. He knew that Kelas could be charming when he needed to be, but his sense was that Kelas was not particularly well liked by his colleagues. Were they embarrassed for him, or hoping that Thuel would humiliate him?

A fire crackled in a small fireplace, making the room a little too warm for Aunn’s taste. Thuel stood, arms folded across his chest, beside an upholstered chair that faced the fire. Another chair stood at the third point of a perfect triangle, but Thuel did not invite him to sit.

“What in the Ten Seas are you up to, Kelas?” he said. “Close the damned door.”

Aunn carefully pushed the door closed, making sure it latched, buying time to formulate an answer.

“Well?” Thuel demanded. “Why was Jorlanna d’Cannith looking for you at the crack of dawn?”

“Lady ir’Cannith,” Aunn said.

“Don’t correct me!” Thuel’s face was red with rage. Aunn had never seen him like this. Thuel was a calm, cultured man with an appreciation for fine music and excellent wines.

“My sincere apologies.”

“And answer the damned question. Why was she in a fury this morning? What have you done?”

No harm in telling the truth, Aunn decided. “I refused to turn over a House Cannith excoriate who is working with me.”

“Working on what?”

Except that the truth led naturally to more questions he didn’t know how to answer. More truth? “Keeping an eye on Jorlanna.”

“You’re spying on our queen’s newly-appointed minister of artifice?”

“I am not convinced of her loyalty to the queen.”

“Perhaps you should have considered that before you arranged for the queen to reward her loyalty in this way.” Thuel was no longer blustering—his anger calmed into quietly seething rage. “Are you surprised that I know about that? You shouldn’t be.”

“I suppose not,” Aunn said. He had said enough. It was time to hold his tongue and ride out the storm of Thuel’s wrath.

“So does Jorlanna’s visit mean that your operation has been compromised?”

“It appears that I no longer have eyes inside the Cannith enclave.”

“Why did Jorlanna excoriate your agent?”

“I’m not certain,” Aunn said. How much did Jorlanna know about what Ashara had done?

“You don’t think Jorlanna knows that your agent was spying on her and reporting to you?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“If you say so.” Thuel turned toward the fire and rested his hands on the back of a chair. “Does this Cannith agent of yours have any ties to the other Cannith barons?”

Aunn frowned. Jorlanna had used Ashara in all her negotiations with
Kelas, suggesting that she had absolute confidence in Ashara’s loyalty. But that confidence had clearly been misplaced. “I don’t believe so,” he said.

“Well, find out. You and Jorlanna and the queen might think you can ignore the Korth Edicts, but let me tell you, the last thing I want is to get Aundair caught in the middle of Cannith politics.”

“Of course.” Aunn tried to hit just the right mix of deference and arrogance—Thuel was right, of course, but he wasn’t saying anything Kelas wouldn’t know.

“I don’t like this, Kelas.” Thuel stared into the fire for a moment, then wheeled to face Aunn, his face red with rage again. “I don’t like it a bit. First you cozy up to the baron and Arcanix, playing games behind my back to curry favor with the queen. Now you tell me you don’t trust Jorlanna. Either you’re making a mess of things, or you don’t know how deep you’re getting. Either way there’s trouble.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Aunn said—his first outright lie.

Thuel stared at him, frowning, his eyes narrowed. Without shifting his gaze, he reached inside his jacket and pulled a small wooden case from a breast pocket. He glanced down at it as he opened it, and Aunn realized his danger—the case held a crystal lens, presumably enchanted with magic of seeing, a spell that would show Thuel Aunn’s true face.

“Listen, Thuel—”

He was too late. Thuel raised the lens to one eye and closed the other, then stepped back in surprise.

“Start talking,” Thuel said. He tossed the lens and its felt-lined case down on a chair and slid a rapier out of its sheath at his belt, pointing the tip at Aunn’s chest. “Are you one of Kelas’s changelings?”

Aunn sighed, cursing himself. He had never been so careless before. No one had ever seen his true face unless he chose to show it. He was slipping, and if he wasn’t careful, he knew, that first mistake might prove fatal.

No more lies, he reminded himself, thinking of the man he’d been when he strode out of the Labyrinth.

He held his hands out from his body, away from his own sword. “I’m Aunn,” he said. “Haunderk.” He changed his face to match the name, which was how Thuel knew him. “Everything I just told you is true. You’re right that Kelas was plotting behind your back with Baron Jorlanna and Arcanist Wheldren.” He decided not to bring Nara’s name into the discussion—not yet. “Kelas was plotting against the queen, and I believe Jorlanna still has her eyes on the throne.”

“Kelas is dead, then?”

“Yes.” He felt a surge of anger, remembering the dead body on the lip of the canyon.

“At your hand.” It wasn’t an accusation, but a statement of the obvious. “Yes.”

“And the world’s well rid of him. The question is: What do I do with you?”

“Let me continue what I’m doing. Please.”

“So far, you haven’t convinced me that you have the situation in hand. After I had the baron screaming in my halls this morning, demanding Kelas’s head, I have to wonder how useful it is to pretend Kelas is still alive.”

“She’ll talk to me. Kelas was part of her plot. No one else has her confidence.”

“Then I should find another changeling to become Kelas—one who won’t get caught.”

“No one knows Kelas as well as I do.” He wondered if that were true, remembering the other changeling he’d found in Kelas’s house. An acrid taste like blood soured his mouth.

The point of Thuel’s sword dipped slightly. “Show me,” he said.

Aunn drew a steadying breath and changed again, hiding himself behind Kelas’s arrogant smile. Thuel stepped closer, lowering his sword point to the floor. He peered at Aunn’s face, scrutinizing the details, staring into his eyes. Aunn didn’t meet his gaze, just as Kelas wouldn’t. Thuel made a slow circle around him, examining every detail.

“Kelas always said you were the best,” Thuel said from behind him.

He heard the rustle of Thuel’s coat and a soft intake of breath, then Aunn twisted around and away as Thuel thrust his blade forward. The rapier’s point cut through Aunn’s coat and shirt to scrape across his back as he whirled to face Thuel. His hand fumbled at his belt where he usually kept a mace.

“Don’t,” he said. He reached for the hilt of his sword, at the other side of his belt, and yanked it from its sheath.

Thuel took a dueling stance—sword arm forward, body turned to the side, and his off hand thrust behind him. “I’m sorry, Haunderk, but I can’t let you run free any longer.” He stepped forward, and Aunn scurried back away from his blade. “Kelas should have kept you on a tighter leash.”

Aunn gripped the short sword’s hilt and held the blade clumsily in front of him. “I’m not his dog,” he said.

“No, you’re his changeling, which is worse. You know too much, and your assessment of your own importance is greatly inflated.” Thuel punctuated his words with a quick lunge that Aunn beat aside.

Aunn felt rage wash through him like poison in his veins. He was trapped, he knew. Even if he managed to defeat Thuel—an expert swordsman—while he fumbled with an unfamiliar weapon, he would never get out of the Tower of Eyes alive. His only hope lay in convincing Thuel that his knowledge was valuable.

“I know more than you think,” he said.

Thuel apparently wasn’t convinced, as he launched a fierce barrage of jabs and cuts with his rapier. Aunn fended off as many as he could, but the blade nicked an arm and both legs. Stepping back with a smirk, Thuel said, “You talk too much.”

“I can give you details of the conspiracy,” Aunn said. “Help you save the queen.”

“You don’t know anything I don’t already know, or have agents finding out.” Thuel lunged again, and Aunn’s awkward parry only managed to deflect the blade to scrape across his stomach instead of piercing it.

Aunn had no choice but to play his best card and hope it was enough. “So you know that Kelas was reporting to Nara?”

“Nara?”

It worked—Thuel went wide-eyed and lowered his guard. Swinging the short sword with both hands, Aunn knocked Thuel’s rapier from his grip and sidestepped to plant a foot on the blade where it lay.

“I spoke to her yesterday, and I expect to hear from her again today. Do you have another agent in her confidence?”

Thuel’s look of bewilderment and anger melted into laughter. “Well played, changeling. You’re probably lying, but you’ve bought yourself a few more hours, at least. Why don’t you put that sword away and have a seat? Then we’ll talk this over.”

Warily, Aunn crouched to pick up Thuel’s sword. Gripping its hilt, he slid Kelas’s sword back into the sheath at his belt. He kept the rapier pointed at Thuel as the Spy Master walked around one of the chairs by the fire and took a seat, then he settled himself in the other chair. He kept the rapier in his hand, resting its point on the floor.

“So how is my dear predecessor?” Thuel said. His tone was light, completely out of line with both the circumstances and the subject of the conversation. “You say you spoke to her yesterday?”

“Yes. She contacted me—well, she tried to contact Kelas.” Aunn’s heart was racing. As he ran through his conversation with Nara ir’Galanatyr the night before in his mind, he realized how little he actually knew, and how little he wanted to share with Thuel, particularly after their duel.

“How?”

“Kelas had a crystal orb, which I took after his death. She spoke through that.”

“And you saw her? Her face appeared in the orb?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure it was her?”

“She looked more or less as I remembered her. It hasn’t been that long.” It was a subtle jab, reminding Thuel that up until just a few years ago, the office they were sitting in had belonged to Nara. Aunn saw it register on Thuel’s face, his brow crinkling in distaste.

“And why was she trying to contact Kelas?”

“She had been expecting word from him and she was concerned.”

“And he didn’t contact her because—”

Aunn finished his sentence. “Because he was dead, yes.”

“So Kelas was acting on her command?”

“Definitely.”

“Did she give you any new orders?”

Aunn thought for a moment—Nara had told him to lock Gaven away, to send Janna Tolden and Arcanist Wheldren back to clean up the Dragon Forge, and … “Just to move ahead with the next stage of the plan.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Aunn admitted.

Thuel tapped his fingertips together and sighed. “Very well, Haunderk,” he said. “Either you’re not telling me everything you know, or you’re even more useless to me than I first thought. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to back up, start at the beginning of the story, and tell me every scrap of information you can dredge up from your memory, whether you think it’s useful or not, and we’re going to put a stop to whatever Nara and Jorlanna are planning. If you fail to cooperate, you will die. Is that clear?”

Aunn fingered the hilt of Kelas’s rapier, hesitating.

“You hold my rapier,” Thuel said, noting the motion. “And you hold information that might prove important to the queen. That is all you hold. You are not in a position to negotiate, or to fight. You are in the seat of my power, and you do not want to learn the full extent of that power.”