The Nullification Engine - Chapter Three

Chapter Three: A Funeral

SERENA STOOD NEXT TO AARON on a balcony overlooking the palace’s northeastern square. Beneath them, the funerary procession emerged from the palace’s main gate. An octet of royal horsemen, decked in blue-and-white livery, with ivory caparisons draped over their mounts and golden spears pointed heavenward, led the procession. Behind them marched a formation of foot soldiers in similar colors, except they wore golden-hilted swords at their belts and held golden shields at the ready. Both horse and foot soldiers wore silver-coned helmets tipped with purple or blue feathers. Their metallic surfaces might have shone if not for the somber clouds above. Inside the square, a silent crowd, bisected by a wide, open lane at its center, awaited the soldiers.

“The Vanguard of the Dead,” Serena whispered to Aaron. She leaned closer so she wouldn’t disturb the others sharing the balcony. “They guide Lord Nicholas and Lady Deidre into the afterlife. The spears and swords—the golden spears and swords—are the weapons they will use to fight their way back out, for ‘those of the Vanguard are still alive and so must return to the land of the living.’ That’s how the story goes, anyway.”

“The Saga of Syperion,” Aaron whispered back, “when they laid King Bacharia to rest.”

“We’re the only fiefdom that continues the tradition, as far as I know.”

A solitary figure followed the Vanguard. Though he wore the purple and blue of Brighton as a sash hanging from one shoulder, he draped it over a white surcoat that bore another mark too small to make out. Serena, who’d kept her ears open to the rumormongers’ buzzing since leaving her room, recognized the crest of neighboring Agratis—a buck with an antlered head held high. But the man who bore the proud symbol was not the Baron of Agratis. Though Lord Malcolm was Nicholas’s brother and therefore Phillip’s uncle, he hadn’t come. A decade ago, a falling out between the two brothers had nearly embroiled their respective baronies in an all-out war. It hadn’t come to that, but Malcolm had sworn afterward to never set foot in the barony of Rulana again. At least not as long as Nicholas still breathed. But, with the earl now dead, Lord Malcolm had still declined to come, sending his field marshal instead. On the surface, Field Marshal Chandler was here to pay his respects, like everyone else. But rumor said he’d also brought an ultimatum for Lord Phillip: surrender the earldom or prepare to lose it in battle. Serena had no idea about the truth of such talk. All three of Kettering’s baronies had always traded openly with one another, and therefore maintained amicable business relations. While the feud between brothers cast a shadow over the earldom, except for that brief period when everyone thought war was imminent, it had never been a dark enough shadow to halt lumber from coming down the Silvercross into Brighton in exchange for the city’s gold. Still, by failing to attend his brother’s funeral, Lord Malcolm had made a statement. Trouble from Agratis was coming, sooner or later.

But for now, Field Marshal Chandler held an honored place in the ceremony, leading the way for the deceased. Their flower-wreathed coffins lay on open carriages, each pulled by a single destrier, the two moving double file so they might enter the afterlife together. Another group of footmen followed—last of the colorful Vanguard. The next coach to emerge made a muted display of black. A team of four horses, managed by a pair of wagoners dressed in dark suits and hats, pulled this carriage, which carried the earl-in-waiting, Lord Phillip. The carriage moved at the slow pace the Vanguard set.

Halfway through the square, it abruptly stopped.

A collective murmur from the assembled citizenry below joined a similar buzz from those on the balcony. The Vanguard captains, who slowed and then stopped when they noticed the delay, seemed as perplexed as everyone else. When one of the coach’s doors opened, chatter ceased. Everyone watched as Lord Phillip stepped out and began walking toward the front of the procession. Along the way, he stopped to touch each casket. As soon as he reached the head of the first group of footmen, he exchanged words with one of the soldiers. The soldier bowed to his lord, then handed over his golden sword and shield. The soldier stepped away, and Lord Phillip took his place. No longer silent, the crowd broke into whispered murmurs of approval. He’d lead his parents into the Land of the Dead himself, then fight his way back out, shoulder-to-shoulder with the men he commanded.

His show of respect touched Serena.

This was her city and Lord Phillip her liege now. Aaron’s too, since Taloo and Norwynne were both part of Kettering, though she doubted he felt the same pride. Aaron was an outlier, living at the earldom’s fringes, where the earl’s influence was weakest. Most outliers—Aaron included—had never even seen their earl. But Serena had. Never face-to-face, but she’d seen the Lord and Lady of Kettering at least twice at palace events, and Lord Phillip too, though she’d been just one of so many others, and she doubted he remembered greeting her. Like many others, she’d had a childhood infatuation with him. Seeing him now stirred some of those feelings. She doubted she was the only one. Phillip had always been Brighton’s favorite son. Boys idolized him, girls swooned over him, and adults respected him because they fancied him cut from the same cloth as his father. Now, with a single act, Lord Phillip might have made this belief concrete.

As the procession resumed, Serena’s gaze wandered to the city. No repair work was happening today, though buildings, towers, and streets sorely needed it after last week’s events. The epicenter, where Shanna had raised her mountain and joined the Four Elements, was so far away, yet its destructive power had reached even here. So much power, but wielded by one with so little self-control. Master sorcerers never embraced such power so quickly for a reason. Sorcery required discipline of the mind and body, controlled thought, and an ability to concentrate one’s will, often learned over a lifetime of study and mental exercise. No shortcuts existed. Serena learned this fundamental tenet early on from her first master, and later from Ansanom, who hadn’t set the best example by throwing away such considerations in his mad attempt to gain mastery over the Elements. Two years of tutelage under him had not been what she expected. The strict regime, yes. The murdering and experimentation upon innocents, not so much. She’d never killed anyone herself, though, or assisted in any of the wizard’s life-draining experiments. But she hadn’t done anything to stop them either. Not until Aaron had come along. But despite the downsides, her regular studies had progressed well. She had to admit she’d learned a lot from Ansanom. Her knowledge had grown. Her discipline and control had increased. Assuming she’d completed her daily duties and made progress in her lessons, Ansanom left her alone to indulge in her own experiments. She hadn’t devised anything worthwhile, but that didn’t matter. Sometimes the journey mattered more than the destination. She’d even enjoyed Wildemoore’s quiet solitude for a time, though after a while the isolation wore at her until she found herself looking forward even to Ensel Rhe’s brief visits. She’d had to do all the talking, of course, but at least he was someone else to speak with. Now, however, an entire city of people waited for her to strike up a conversation. Too bad most would want nothing to do with her once they recognized her. More likely they’d try to run her out of the city.

Serena’s gaze went to the other side of the balcony where a group of girls about her age whispered to one another while casting furtive glances her way. Serena sighed, looking away lest they catch her returning their stares. If they’d recognized her so easily, others had, too. She might as well go pack her bags now and make ready to leave. She’d not really wanted to come back to Brighton anyway. But once they’d learned Kirschnick had closed its gates to any more refugees, they’d had little choice. The Dormont’s woodland villages and hamlets couldn’t accommodate them all, and no city other than Brighton lay nearby. If she’d seemed downtrodden at the notion of coming home, she didn’t think anyone had noticed. Most people had been too preoccupied with the prospect of a roof over their heads and a hot meal. Those sounded pretty good to Serena, too. No one had welcomed a hot bath and the opportunity to wash a week’s worth of traveling from her hair more than she. A warm room, clean clothes, and a real bed. They were luxuries she’d almost given up hope of ever having again. Chane, true to his word, had brought many of her outfits from home. Of course, nothing had fit at first. The clothes from her wardrobe fit a girl of thirteen. Now fifteen, she was no longer a girl, but a young woman. Chane, with his usual foresight, had considered this and brought three tailors. They stayed until she had enough outfits for several days, giving her plenty of time to shop later and leaving her happy with the dress she now wore.

Black to fit the occasion, it looked simple yet elegant, with embroidery running down the arms and around the waist. If not for her heels, its hem would sweep the floor. Though Chane had wanted to have her hair done, there wasn’t time, so she wore it long and straight, which was just fine with her. Chane had made a fuss over it, but that was just his way. Dear Chane, who had always been like a father. Even though he’d visited her regularly at Wildemoore, she’d missed him. When her father was too busy with work or her mother too engrossed in raising their family’s stature on Brighton’s social ladder, Chane was there. When she’d fallen and scraped a knee, Chane had picked her up and held her until the pain had stopped. When she struggled with her early schooling, Chane made time to help her. When she first showed an aptitude for sorcery, Chane encouraged her and finally convinced her parents to finance her apprenticeship, first with Master Persimmius here in the city and later with Ansanom. If her parents had had their way, her life would have taken a completely different path, and she’d have become an entirely different person.

Serena shivered as a cool breeze swept across the balcony. The morning had started with fall’s typical coolness. But where the sun had at least kept them warm on their way to the city, the afternoon had grown chilly now that the day was cloudy. Serena already had a shawl wrapped about her shoulders. It didn’t help much. She moved closer to Aaron for warmth. He didn’t complain, but he didn’t seem to notice either. He’d barely taken his eyes off the procession since it started.

A near-endless stream of Brighton’s military poured from the palace. Cavalry riding four abreast, followed by column after column of foot soldiers, all moving in slow, perfect unison from the palace square, across the white brick of Three Rivers Bridge, and down into the Southern Boroughs. From there, they’d cross both South Bridge and Alter’s Bridge before entering Hickory Heights. A couple more bridges and the Trader’s Borough later, and they’d complete their circuit back to the palace via Illuminating Way. Tonight, in a private ceremony attended by those closest to the royal family, pallbearers would carry the earl and countess’s bodies to the family crypt beneath the palace, where they would remain for eternity. Even more chilled by such thoughts, Serena did not relish staying on the balcony as long as the procession needed to complete its circuit. She said as much to Aaron, who nodded.

Aaron no longer looked like his old self. Washed and properly dressed, his sandy brown hair combed instead of mussed as it had been since she’d met him, he wore black trousers, a matching dress coat, and a tailored shirt, all of which Chane had found for him. A ruffled tie that she’d helped put on gave him quite the handsome look, she thought.

“I wonder how long it will take for them to make it back here,” Serena said.

“I saw the route on a map inside,” Aaron said, furrowing his brow. “Based on an estimation of the distance and their rate of travel, they should return in about forty-six minutes.”

He sounded very sure of himself. Seeking a distraction from the cold, from her thoughts, and wanting to toss a few barbs Aaron’s way for not saying anything about the way she looked, Serena decided to test how sure.

“Did you take into account the narrowing of the street on Maplewick and Parkland?”

Aaron shook his head. “I didn’t know those streets narrowed.”

“Also, there’s a circle where Lark and Berryway join. That will slow them down.”

Aaron crossed his arms, then touched his chin in a contemplative gesture. “So put the estimate at fifty-one minutes.”

“What about the ninety-degree turn at University and Miskatonic?”

“I saw that. I factored it in.”

“Their rate of travel will change, too, based on the road’s surface. It’s smooth marble and stone here, but out in the city, it’s mostly cobblestone. They won’t want to jar the wagons too much.”

Aaron scratched at his head. Clearly, he had not taken those criteria into account.

“Fleas again?”

“What? No!”

Aaron shot her his usual annoyed look, which she countered with her usual smile.

“It sounds like your estimate remains a little off,” she said. “Let me know when you’ve come up with a more accurate figure.” Turning a shoulder to him in feigned dismissal, she found herself face-to-face with one of the giggling girls from the other side of the balcony.

The girl was a tad shorter than Serena, with dark hair pulled into a tight style and a face Serena thought pretty, even without the light blush on her cheeks. She was alone. Serena didn’t know if she had been one of the worst gigglers, but she braced herself for the expected tirade.

When the girl only curtsied and said hello, Serena had to take a moment to shake off her surprise before returning the gesture and the greeting.

“My name is Emily Stewart,” the girl said. “You’re Serena Walkerton, aren’t you? I don’t know if you remember me. We learned our letters together. Oh, but that was a while ago, so I don’t expect you to know who I am.”

Serena, still mildly stunned by Emily’s cordiality, proceeded cautiously. “Of course, I remember you. We both used to sit at the front of the class, right?”

“Yes, we did,” Emily said, smiling. “You just returned to Brighton, right?”

“This morning. We had a little trouble at the gate, and the guards threw us into prison. But here we are.”

Emily gave Serena a confused look before dismissing the words as a playful jest. She may have heard about the square exploding, but initial reports were calling it a gas leak. A terrible accident, but nothing a lady would have involved herself in.

Both their gazes went to the ongoing procession, which had grown longer as members of the well-to-do class, many on horses or in their own carriages, followed the last of the soldiers. Serena imagined her parents somewhere in that last group, though the carriages all looked alike, so she couldn’t know for sure. Other people on foot slipped onto the back of the procession, emptying the square but for servants, groomsmen, and some others who preferred to await the procession’s return.

“It’s so sad about Lord Nicholas and Lady Deidre, isn’t it?” Emily said. “I don’t envy Lord Phillip having to go on without them.”

“It’s a tragedy,” Serena said. “I don’t envy him, either. But I think he’ll be all right, eventually.”

Emily nodded, though she did not look convinced. “That’s actually why I wanted to introduce myself. I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Serena swallowed. “For what?”

Here it came. Though Serena detected no sarcasm in Emily’s tone, she expected it to change as the girl expressed her bitter appreciation for Serena burning down her house. Or her parents’ business. Or…for killing them. Serena knew people had died. But no one had ever told her who, or how many.

“For saving my life. For saving my family’s life.”

Serena shook her head in small movements. She’d no idea what Emily meant.

“Two years ago, during the Burning, the fire trapped my parents and me inside our house. The fire came so quickly we didn’t have time to get out. We thought we were going to die. But then the flames died down, like someone had doused them with water or smothered them with a blanket. Except, no one had. No one came at all, actually. There were so many fires… I found out later that you’d stopped them all. I wanted to thank you back then, but by the time I’d made it to your estate, you were already gone. I can only imagine how traumatic it must have been to have your master go crazy as he did. He tried to burn down the entire city! But you stopped him. I know it must have been difficult to stand up to him and all that. So I just wanted to say, thank you.”

Emily’s words made no sense. That was not how it had happened at all. Serena managed a smile as she sorted through Emily’s version of the story. Serena did have a master who’d gone crazy, but it was Ansanom, not Persimmius. Meanwhile, Emily looked past her to Aaron.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked.

Serena turned back to Aaron. From the way he stood so deep in thought, she knew calculations still ran through his mind.

“His name is Aaron. As you can see, he’s a little busy right now.”

“Doing what?”

“I’ll let him tell you. Aaron, this is—Aaron!”

“Hmmm… Oh! Sorry.”

“This is Emily Stewart. Emily, Aaron Shepherd. She’s wondering what you’re doing.”

“Adding unsteady flow conditions to the time estimate. With all these additional people following, it’s created a stretched flow, which means—”

Serena interrupted. “He’s trying to determine how long it will take the procession to make its way back to the palace.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Emily said. She took out a sheet of decorative parchment that she’d folded in half. “The program says one hour.”

“There you have it, Aaron. One hour.”

He didn’t seem convinced.

The balcony emptied now as people wandered inside. Her friends were amongst them, so Emily excused herself.

“It’s very nice to finally meet you, Serena. Perhaps once you’ve settled in, you will join me for tea, or even dinner if it doesn’t interfere with your schedule. I’m sure your family will want to monopolize your time since you’ve only just returned.”

“That’s a nice offer. Thank you.”

“Wonderful! Mum and Dad will be so happy to meet you. I’ll have my steward contact your household and arrange something.”

As Emily rejoined her friends, Serena hooked an arm around Aaron before he returned to his little project.

“Shall we go inside as well?”

As they vacated the balcony, two royal guardsmen immediately followed them. Captain Fuchs might have agreed to release them into Chane’s custody, but that didn’t mean the captain didn’t want them watched. The men remained as unobtrusive as possible under the circumstances and maintained an air of neutrality toward their charges. Since they refused to give her their names, Serena had taken to calling them Dip and Dup. They didn’t seem to mind.

With their escort in tow, Serena and Aaron entered a busy chamber where guests spoke in low voices while servants wandered about with trays of refreshments. Serena led Aaron through the crowd, down two flights of stairs, and onto a wide, circular mezzanine. Thinly populated for the time being, the balcony overlooked the Earl’s Rotunda, a formal receiving area of blue-and-white marble that now served as the final lying-in-state chamber for the deceased before their burial this evening. Serena rested her arms on the balustrade and looked down at a set of catafalques arranged side by side and surrounded by a forest of roses. The biers, equal in size and design, were an exquisite blend of hand-carved, darkly lacquered wood beneath individual golden canopies. Pikemen in ceremonial armor stood at attention, facing outward and ringing the display.

Aaron settled in beside her. Neither of them spoke for some time as they watched others arrive. Their choice of location was perfect. They’d see and hear everything, since Lord Phillip intended to address the gathering from the rotunda floor.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Aaron said.

Serena gave him a sidelong stare. “Are you saying that I normally talk too much?”

Aaron shrugged. “You already know you do. Everyone tells you so the moment they get the opportunity, which isn’t often once you get going.”

Serena lifted her chin. “Humph.”

“So, what was your friend talking about?”

“What friend?”

“Emily. The girl on the balcony. She said you saved her family. Did you?”

Aaron was more observant than she gave him credit for sometimes.

“I don’t know. I mean, I guess I did. But it didn’t happen the way she said it did.”

“Oh? How did it happen then?”

With a simple thought. That’s how it had happened. One simple thought that she couldn’t control.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“I guess so. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s all right, Aaron. I’ll tell you all about it some other time.” Hopefully before someone else did. She’d rather he heard it from her. Of all people, Aaron might understand best.

The mezzanine was nearly full now. Whispers circulated. The procession neared its return to the palace.

“Do you know any of these people?” Aaron asked.

Serena looked around the balcony. Some, in fact, looked familiar. But she had no idea when or how she’d met them. “I recognize some better than others. But know any of them? Not really. Before my parents sent me away, I spent a lot of time by myself, studying and practicing.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Chane said they were taking part in the procession.”

“Have they come to see you yet?”

“No.”

“Shouldn’t they have?”

Serena shrugged. “You’ll meet them soon enough, and then you’ll understand.”

That quieted Aaron, but not for long.

“I heard Brighton has a planetarium. Have you been there?”

“Yes, many times.”

“Do you think it’s open today? Not that we can go, of course, since we’re supposed to remain in the palace. But maybe… I mean, I want to pay my respects to the earl and countess the same as everyone, but maybe they’ll make an exception to our house arrest for just this afternoon if we promise not to—”

“Everything is closed today, Aaron.”

“Oh.”

His genuine disappointment almost caused her to smile. She’d never known anyone quite like him. Smart and unassuming, he was humble above all else. She admired that quality in him.

“What about the palace arboretum?” he asked. “That should be open, right?”

“I suppose. Whatever do you want to do at an arboretum, Aaron? Look at flowers?”

“No. Well, yes, actually. I once read that Brighton’s arborists could grow a lotus species that lacks the usual addictive qualities. Healers can liquefy and dilute the pollen to make a solution with certain medicinal qualities. Healers in Alchester used it to cure a rare form of splotch disease. I was wondering if—”

“Now who’s talking too much?”

Outside, a single trumpet heralded the procession’s return. Its call silenced the chattering around them as it echoed through the rotunda. The flow of people onto the mezzanine stopped, but only because no room remained. Serena imagined the balcony above was just as crowded. Despite the crowd, a small space remained around Serena and Aaron. Serena attributed this to Dip and Dup’s presence. No one asked about the guards, but Serena noticed the curious, sometimes suspicious stares thrown their way.

The trumpet sounded again, much closer this time. They’d little time to wait now as a single trumpeter, garbed in full military dress, marched onto the rotunda floor below. The man put his instrument to his lips and blew a solemn, monotone note. As the trumpet’s soulful crescendo faded, the Vanguard’s marching steps replaced it. The horsemen must have turned off. The Vanguard’s foot soldiers entered the rotunda first. At their head, Lord Phillip stood alone. The soldiers’ lines, narrowed to fit the chamber’s entrance, moved with coordinated precision around the twin catafalques. As they made their turn, Lord Phillip left their ranks to position himself at the head of the biers. He stood there at attention, facing the room’s entrance while awaiting the entry of his deceased parents. As the last of the foot soldiers exited, the open carriages came in, one at a time. The first, carrying the earl, made a three-quarter circuit around the catafalques. The next, with the countess, moved to the opposite side and stopped. White-gloved pallbearers followed the carriages and assumed positions around them. They waited at attention as Field Marshal Chandler entered. He was the last.

This close, Serena got her first good look at the man. He wore his dark hair combed straight back so it fell to his shoulders. Sharp eyes, which took in the crowd with a glance, sat perched over a narrow but strong nose. A dark, well-trimmed beard covered much of his face. Beneath his sash and tunic, he wore new, well-kept leather. The field marshal signaled the pallbearers to lift the coffins and place them on the raised platforms. Once they finished, and attendants had led the open carriages and their horses outside, Durant spoke.

“I am Durant Chandler, Field Marshal of Agratis and Lord of Easthedge.” His deep, formal baritone echoed from the room’s farthest corners. “On behalf of our earl-in-waiting, Lord Phillip, I welcome you all to these proceedings. Today we bid farewell to our beloved earl, Lord Nicholas Roberts, and countess, Lady Deidre Roberts. While this day brings sadness, it also brings joy, as we celebrate the lives of these two most influential people. Theirs was a life filled with dreams of prosperity and peace for all.”

As Durant pontificated about the lord and lady’s many accomplishments, Serena noticed smiles, but mostly tears, on the faces around her. Many sobbed or cried, and one woman let out a wail of anguish before burying her face in her husband’s chest. Soon Serena found tears in her own eyes and a tightening in her chest as the full weight of the proceedings settled over her.

The field marshal concluded with a brief hunting story people knew well, judging by the nods around the room as Durant told it. The story began with the young lords Malcolm and Nicholas hunting as boys and ended with an escaped deer, young Nicholas sliding down an embankment, falling off a shallow cliff, and splashing into the Silvercross. Its conclusion shifted the tide of emotions from sorrow to subdued joy. Then Durant stepped aside, allowing the earl-in-waiting to address the assembly.

Lord Phillip took the field marshal’s place between the coffins. He did not speak right away, but composed himself as he took in those who’d come to pay their respects. Serena expected him to begin by thanking the assembled guests and to give a speech honoring his parents in a format similar to Durant’s. Also, she expected more tears from the crowd. She braced herself for her own emotions when Lord Phillip spoke, not with sorrow, but with anger.

“My friends,” he said. “My fellow citizens. What we suspected, we now know for certain. An enemy has attacked our earldom.”

The words swept over the crowd in a slow wave. Those weeping stopped. Those with heads hung raised them.

“This attack has damaged much of our city. It has taken the lives of many, including those of my mother and father.” He paused. “But our attackers have not defeated us. The spirit of our city—of our people—is strong, as is our determination.” Phillip moved out from between the coffins. “For the past few days, refugees from Norwynne have entered our city. I have spoken to these people. Broken bread with them. I know many of you have, too. We welcome them and, despite our own needs, will provide relief to anyone suffering because of the Chaos. Let none among us forget who and what we are, for we are of Brighton, the City of Light.”

Nods from the audience assented.

“Now, more than ever, we must live up to our city’s founding principles and remain the beacon in the dark for all. Save for those who attacked us. Save for the one who attacked us.”

Next to Serena, Aaron shifted. They both knew who the earl meant. Serena closed her hand with Aaron’s and squeezed.

“I will speak no more on this matter, here and now, for though I know this is a day of mourning, time is of the essence, and we’ve little to waste.” Phillip’s gaze strayed to the twin coffins. “It is necessity which must drive us now. But I am ill-prepared to take on that necessity alone. It is to my benefit—to our entire city’s—that we have men like Field Marshal Chandler to lean on.”

The field marshal took center stage once more.

“I arrived in Brighton at the behest of my lord, the baron of Agratis, three days ago. Since that time, I have put myself at Lord Phillip’s disposal. By his order, and in cooperation with the local authorities, I have spent my time investigating the cause of the Chaos. I have learned much. First and foremost, that the threat to our realm is as great as ever.” The field marshal paused, letting his words sink in. “Lord Phillip spoke of a ‘she.’ Sorceress. Witch. Demon. We know not what she is for sure. By most accounts, a girl, though she is anything but human. This girl, possessed of the powers of some Underland spawn, nearly brought ruin to your city and even touched Rockhaven, though her hand was not so heavy there. We know not what pact she made to gain such power, nor to whom—or what—she made it. Until we do…we are not safe.”

“They think she’s still a threat,” Serena whispered, more to herself than anyone else. “They don’t know what happened.” They should, given how many people from Norwynne they’d had the chance to interview. Obviously, they’d been talking to the wrong people.

“Initial reports indicated Norwynne was gone,” Durant said. “Not in ruins. Not merely damaged. But simply gone. When we heard this information in Rockhaven, Lord Malcolm ordered me to travel there and see for myself. I did, with my best men behind me. By now, you all know the truth of it. Norwynne is no more.”

A ripple of unsettlement coursed through the assembly.

“The girl did this thing. Some claim she is dead. Others, that she vanished to places unknown. We cannot corroborate either story at this time. But rest assured, we are not sitting idle, waiting for Norwynne’s fate to befall either Brighton or Rockhaven. The woodsmen of Agratis keep a constant watch over the forests, while Lord Phillip has his soldiers on extra patrols around the city and the surrounding countryside. We also sent Duke Brannigan a request for magical assistance. We can only hope the royal sorcerers arrive before this demon-girl decides to strike again.”

Serena listened and listened, forcing down a growing urge to correct the field marshal once and then again. But like a kettle set to boil for too long, the urge finally grew too strong to contain, and she blurted out, “Excuse me!”

Durant’s head shot up in her general direction. Others looked around, trying to identify who had spoken.

Committed now, Serena went on. “I think you’re missing a few crucial pieces of information. Like, for example, the demon-girl—she wasn’t really a demon, by the way—is no longer a threat.”

Only when every gaze in the rotunda turned her way did Serena fully realize what she’d just done. The room went completely silent. Durant stared up at her, saying nothing. Next to her, Aaron shifted very uncomfortably.

“Bring that person down here!”

Lord Phillip’s voice sent a shock through Serena. Seized by a rising sense of panic, she swept her gaze across the sea of faces looking back at her. She found solace in none of them. Not even in the single, solitary one she recognized. Of all the times in which to finally see her mother again, Serena had never imagined one worse.

“Oh, shat,” she said without thinking.

Her mother pinched her lips, her figure almost quivering. Her eyes, which were Serena’s own crystal blue, were icy barbs, threatening to freeze her in place. Only the commotion around them broke the spell.

Several other guards joined Dip and Dup in clearing a lane through the crowd. Serena grabbed hold of Aaron, making sure he came with her. A mixture of expressions, from shock to curiosity to disapproval, followed them all the way. As they stepped onto the rotunda’s ground floor, Field Marshal Chandler still hadn’t moved an inch. Impatient, Lord Phillip addressed Serena and Aaron the moment they appeared.

“State your name,” Lord Phillip said, looking at Serena. A head taller than her, he had sandy blond hair and a hard stare that demanded an immediate answer.

Serena first curtsied, as was proper, then said, “Lady Serena, milord, of the House of Walkerton, though more recently of Wildemoore Manor where I served as sorcerer’s apprentice to the late Master Ansanom.”

Phillip considered her introduction, then looked at Aaron. “And you?”

Aaron bowed so awkwardly and nervously that Serena wondered if he might trip and fall.

“Aaron, milord. I mean, Aaron Shepherd, of Taloo, milord.”

“Taloo?”

“Yes, sir. It’s a fishing hamlet down south, along the coast.”

The earl, already dismissing the fisherman’s boy, started to look away.

“Milord,” Serena said, “if I may? My friend is too modest. This, sir, is Aaron Shepherd of Norwynne Keep, alchemist, scholar, and apprentice to the late master sorcerer, Elsanar.”

Whether because of the mention of Norwynne or the master sorcerer’s name, the earl’s attention returned to Aaron and stayed there this time.

“We only just arrived this morning, sir,” Serena said. “We were sorry to hear about your parents.”

Though Phillip’s thoughts strayed back to her, his gaze remained on Aaron. “Yes. Yes, of course. As we all are.” He looked from one to the other. “The two of you… Both sorcerers’ apprentices, both of late masters. I am unsure what to think.”

Serena was about to explain when a figure stepped forward from the crowd. The Baron of Penwyre, Lord Chancellor Marcel Dadehill, the only man capable of speaking for the earl as if he were the earl himself, whispered something in Lord Phillip’s ear. Such was his height that he had to bend at a considerable angle to deliver his message. Serena made out only the word “Fuchs.”

“If what my chancellor tells me is accurate,” Phillip said, “you two were not only in Norwynne when it fell, but you may have had a significant role in its destruction. Is this true?”

“Yes, sir,” Aaron said. “I mean, no, sir. We were there, but we didn’t cause its destruction.”

“Who did, then?” The earl continued before either could answer. “Both Field Marshal Chandler and Lord Chancellor Dadehill have interviewed Norwynne’s refugees, and all tell a tale of a raven-haired demon-child who rained down hellfire and brimstone upon their home. Do you dispute this?”

Serena stayed quiet. She felt Aaron needed to answer. His friend had laid waste to his home.

“No, sir,” Aaron said. “But she wasn’t a demon. She was…a friend. Her name was Shanna.”

Lord Phillip nodded. “You, Aaron, are the first to assign a name to this…girl. The others…no one knew who she was. So much chaos and loss lately has made it hard to put the pieces together. I wish to hear your account of what happened. But, right now,” he said, his gaze straying to the coffins, “we have other matters to conclude. Still, I need to ask each of you a question first. I need to know if this is over. I need to know if my earldom is safe.” His gaze fell on each of them before he asked, “Is this girl… Is Shanna dead?”

Aaron didn’t speak right away. When he did, he spoke in a quiet voice. “Yes, sir.”

Serena responded similarly. “She slipped into the earth before the ocean took Norwynne, sir.”

Lord Phillip let out a deep, relieved breath.

“Milord,” Lord Chancellor Dadehill said. “I must urge caution. How do we know their information is accurate?”

“We don’t, but still I believe them.”

The Lord Chancellor opened his mouth to protest further.

“Yet you are right to exercise caution, Marcel,” Phillip said. “Nothing changes until we hear the entirety of their story. But first, we have present matters to bring to a close. Lord Chancellor?”

“Yes, sir?”

“See that the guards bring these two to the Sanguine Chamber. No one is to speak to them until I do. Please gather my privy council, along with anyone else you think should attend. We will meet as soon as we conclude these ceremonies.”

As ordered, the guards led Serena and Aaron away. Serena was disappointed she wouldn’t see the rest of the funeral, but she wasn’t upset that her mother had no immediate chance to confront her. Time enough for that later, in spades. Right now, though, she and Aaron had a story to tell.

Aaron welcomed the Sanguine Chamber’s shadowy interior and quiet solitude. Lit by a smattering of candles set upon tall candelabras, its deep maroon walls blended into complete darkness at the corners. The room was empty but for a quartet of plush chairs set in the middle. This changed as servants brought more chairs, moved the plush ones, and arranged the new ones in several rows, all facing one direction. Aaron and Serena remained under guard, but Dip and Dup had stationed themselves in the hall outside.

An hour passed before the earl and his retinue arrived. Aaron counted twenty men and a handful of women. Many were up in years. Amongst them were Chane and a woman Aaron assumed was Serena’s mother because she had similarly colored hair, fair skin, and the same piercing blue eyes that, right now, fixed on Serena. Serena’s father stood with her, fidgeting with his cuffs until he spotted his daughter. He flashed her a smile and a quick wave before finding his seat. The Lord Chancellor and Field Marshal Chandler, whose expression was unreadable, came up to the front and sat. Aaron expected Lord Phillip to join them, but the earl dragged a chair aside and sat away from the others. All told, the crowd was much larger than Aaron had been expecting.

With everyone situated, the earl gestured for them to begin. Though Serena had offered to tell the story in its entirety on her own, they had both quickly realized only Aaron knew the beginning. Taking a deep breath, he did his best to still the fluttering in his stomach. He’d given scientific demonstrations before to moderately sized assemblies, but he’d never spoken to such a distinguished audience. He was about to begin when a single latecomer walked in. Aaron paused, surprised because she was eslar.

Aware of her late arrival, she tried to enter surreptitiously, so Aaron caught only a glimpse of her as she ducked her head and took a seat at the back. But that one look, with the chamber’s flickering candlelight illuminating her face, revealed the telltale blue-black skin and, unlike Ensel Rhe’s shock of rust-red hair, a straight, shoulder-length arrangement of copper. Her eyes, like those of all eslar, were stark white.

Aaron had no more time to consider the woman. The earl and everyone else waited for him to begin. Nervousness kept his oration succinct as he started with the attack on Norwynne. Remembering Master Rhe’s request to not mention his name, Aaron referred to him only as a nameless mercenary. He faltered only when he and the mercenary arrived at Wildemoore Manor. Ansanom’s betrayal and the subsequent torture still stung, he found. Serena, who had developed a knack for reading him, stepped forward and urged him to step back. From then on, she told everyone she knew the story and would tell the rest.

She replaced Aaron’s terseness with a polished, fluid oration, despite it being her first time telling the tale. She moved about, too, gesturing to draw the audience’s attention to her. Aaron watched their audience’s heads move in time with her as she walked from one side of the room to the other. He observed their expressions, so flat when he’d spoken, come alive as Serena related the final fate of Erlek. They cringed in fear at the appearance of the houndmaster, and grimaced when she described the pact of blood Aaron had made to stop him. Then Serena turned from the audience and fixed her full attention on Aaron, who felt heat rise in his face when everyone in the room did the same.

Serena then spoke of how, in a stroke of ingenuity, he’d harnessed the hounds to an old wagon, using their tireless energy to get them back to Norwynne in time to stop the Chaos from growing any worse. Aaron wanted to shrug, but, with so much attention on him, he stayed still. It had seemed a good solution to the problem at hand. When Serena heaped further praise on his idea to put Erlek’s attunement engine into a pattern of mutually destructive interference, he thought anyone else would have come up with the same solution. When she told them how he’d tried to save his friend even after she was gone, a conflicting range of emotions assailed him, and he wasn’t sure what to think.

As she spoke, people exchanged nods and whispers, and many expressions that started troubled turned hopeful. Only the earl offered no reaction. He sat straight, hands placed in his lap, and, except for a few times when his gaze strayed to Serena, kept his focus locked on Aaron. Only when the story ended, with Serena describing how Norwynne had sunk into the ocean after Shanna’s defeat, did the earl finally shift in his chair. He took a deep breath and stood. While he paced to a corner of the room, servants carrying cups of wine entered unbidden. They served everyone, including Aaron and Serena. A servant brought one to Lord Phillip, but he waved it away. Others offered chairs to Aaron and Serena. Neither accepted. Not while the earl remained standing.

“I asked you this before,” Phillip said, “but I need to hear it again.” His voice silenced the hum of chatter. “Are you certain Shanna is dead?”

Serena answered. “Yes, milord. At the end…she…”

She glanced at Aaron. The retelling had taken its toll on him. Serena waited, giving him time. When he nodded, she spoke the words the earl needed to hear.

“Shanna was gone before she slipped into the earth, milord,” Serena said. “The ocean took her body—along with the Elements. There can be no doubt she is…dead.”

Lord Phillip took a deep breath and let it out. “This tale you tell is, at the very least, fantastical, to a point that had I not experienced the Chaos myself, I might wonder how much of it is true. But I saw its effects. We all did.” The earl’s gaze strayed to each of his councilors and the other guests before darting back to Aaron. “This tooth… May I see it?”

Aaron pulled it from beneath his shirt, revealing the long, pointed canine stained with a mixture of human and demon blood.

The earl approached him. “May I touch it?”

“Milord,” Lord Chancellor Dadehill said, alarm in his voice, “I do not think that is a good idea.”

Phillip, hand raised, lowered it. Not because of his advisor’s warning, but because Aaron had drawn the tooth closer.

“You are possessive of its power?” the earl asked.

“No, sir. I’m not sure what effect it might have on you. And, right now, it’s the only thing keeping me alive.”

“Really? How so?”

“If I remove it, sir, the hounds and their master will kill me. This purpose is part of their summoning. As long as I have the tooth on my person, they cannot harm me. The tooth is a middling charm.”

“Witchcraft,” the earl said.

“Yes, sir. Witchcraft provided the initial spark, but a specificity of energy courses through it now. I know because, when we reached Kirschnick, I built an encorder from bits and pieces a tinkerer gave me. Just a primitive one, but it worked well enough to take basic measurements.” Its alchemical power cell had died days ago, and since a child with them had shown an interest in it, Aaron had surrendered the device to him.

Lord Phillip shook his head. “I’ve no idea what you are talking about.”

Aaron held up the tooth and explained. “You see how the tooth is stained?” When he first received it, the tooth already had one dark stain across its surface. Now, it had three. “One of the stains is from my blood. This one—the darkest—is from the houndmaster.”

The earl nodded at that.

“You can’t see it, sir, but the blood permeates the tooth in the form of energy. This mingles the two sources with the middling core. The combinatory effect, coupled with the spell cast on the tooth, gives the charm its potency, which in turn prevents the dogs and their master from killing me.”

“Are you saying your blood—the houndmaster’s blood, as well—is charged with energy?”

“Not just mine or his, sir, but everyone’s. There is a correlation between mass and energy, the like of which we do not fully understand yet, but some scholars believe—”

“You said you were a sorcerer’s apprentice. To me, you sound more like a scientist.”

“I am, sir. Master Elsanar took me on as his apprentice, but mostly to help decipher the alchemical and scientific aspects of his research, not to learn sorcery. Like most, I do not have the inherent aptitude for it. Everyone assumed I studied magic, but I never did.”

“Did you try correcting them?”

“Yes, sir. But, sometimes, when folk have their minds made up about something…”

The earl almost smiled. “You are certainly right about that.” Phillip paced a few steps away. Over his shoulder, he said, “You two, sit.”

Aaron and Serena sat.

Phillip turned to face them. Something in his demeanor suggested a new direction for their discussion.

“Norwynne’s lord was a friend to our family and one of Kettering’s most loyal patrons. I was saddened to hear of his demise. Elsanar’s, as well. All in the earldom knew of his reputation as a sorcerer, logician, and inventor. The world is a lesser place for his loss.”

“Yes, sir,” Aaron said.

“Were you to have become his successor someday?”

“No, sir, I don’t think so. There were other sorcerers in Norwynne in line to inherit Master Elsanar’s place.”

“But if someone continued his work—his scientific work—would that person have been you?”

“I don’t know, sir. I would’ve taken the opportunity if they offered it. But I am only an apprentice. I still had—have—a lot to learn.”

The earl slipped into silent contemplation. With hands folded at his back, he paced away from Aaron, but then spun around and asked, “What were your qualifications that Elsanar selected you over all others as his apprentice, I wonder? By your own admission, you are not a practitioner of magic. You hail from a small fishing town, where opportunities to learn the higher sciences must have been few. Hardly the background I might expect for one apprenticed to Master Elsanar. For how many years did you serve him?”

“Four years, sir.”

“And you were how old when you started?”

“Eleven, sir. I’m fifteen now.” As if the earl couldn’t do simple math.

“Why did he select you? Norwynne was not a small city. There must have been many other potential candidates. Assuming you were still living in Taloo at the time, in what way did you catch his attention?”

“A lot of it had to do with my father, sir. He was a fisherman by trade, but he loved to tinker and repair things. He often serviced and repaired the town mill. Also, he built the smith an automated bellows for his forge, and he was always repairing wagon springs and axles. I suppose I inherited his passion for these things. But he cared only for the mechanical. My interests lay in alchemy, mathematics, and the theory of energy transference. The last caught Master Elsanar’s attention more than anything else. I wrote a paper, The Principles of Alchemical Energy Transfer, which might have languished in a drawer if not for a King’s Patroller who occasionally came through town. He and I spoke often. I think he was just humoring me at first. But when I told him about the paper I’d written, he offered to take it here to Brighton for inclusion in the Aidan Library. From there, it made its way to Master Elsanar. After he read it, he summoned me to Norwynne and, after a brief interview, offered me the apprenticeship. I was just lucky, sir, that the paper found its way to him and that he read it. I might still be in Taloo otherwise.”

“An interesting story,” Phillip said. “You give too much credit to luck, though. Luck does not exist. On one hand, there is only fate. On the other, the determination and courage to seize one’s destiny and forge it into something of one’s own making. You are wondering why I am probing so, aren’t you?”

“No, sir.” Aaron’s response—too immediate—betrayed him.

Phillip’s lips curled into a full smile that time, but it didn’t last.

“I ask you these questions because we face a problem which I think your insight might help resolve.” Phillip turned to the audience. “Professor Othini, please come forward.”

An older gentleman, dressed in the solemn, formal attire of the day, stepped forward and bowed. “At your service, milord.” He’d a mussed head of hair and a disheveled beard he had not trimmed recently, if ever.

“This is Professor Othini,” Phillip said. “He chairs my Department of Alchemy and Science and is my consultant on all things scientific. He and his staff are working on a very special project for me. But they recently hit a snag. I wonder if you, Aaron, can help get them over it.”

Aaron opened his mouth to answer, but Professor Othini beat him to it.

“Milord, I mean no disrespect, but the boy has described himself as nothing more than an apprentice—an assistant, really, in my assessment—with no one to vouch for even those credentials. Already, the city’s keenest minds strive to resolve this matter. I do not see—”

“Aaron,” Phillip said, “what did Elsanar have you working on? Tell us in layman’s terms, please.”

Aaron stood. “Mostly, sir, I did the usual things one might expect of an apprentice: cleaning vials, beakers, and tubules, preparing solutions, and tidying the lab.”

“You see, sir,” Professor Othini said. “Perhaps we should leave the—”

“What else?” the earl asked.

“Well, sir, I also assisted in research, documented procedures and results, and performed field experiments.”

“What did these experiments entail? Detail them for us.”

Elsanar had delved into many aspects of magic, science, and alchemy, with research leading to a broad spectrum of experiments. Aaron considered the question, narrowing the many experiments to one. “One time, we tethered a balloon and sent it into the air at different elevations to measure atmospheric pressure and temperature.”

“To what purpose did you perform this experiment?” Phillip asked.

“It was mostly a data-gathering experiment, sir, with no immediate practical application.”

“What else then?” the earl asked, impatience in his voice.

Aaron realized he hadn’t chosen the best option. He chose another, one that might carry more weight.

“Another time, we set up a bosur’s apparatus to measure alchemical mass transference.”

Professor Othini nodded. “I am familiar with the device.” But then he turned his nose up. “Its use is a trivial thing.”

“Yes,” Aaron said, “but we modified it, so any material passed through the apparatus had its mass-to-volume ratio normalized to three molar units. Usually, one can change a substance’s mass through pressure or temperature modification, but we accomplished it by altering the alchemical properties of the material. Transmogrification, essentially.”

“Is this possible?” Lord Phillip asked the professor.

Professor Othini narrowed his brow. He asked Aaron, “How did you accomplish the initial measurement?”

“Energy resonance. Then, a Veridian calculation mechanism to determine the inherent energy concentration.”

Professor Othini curled his lower lip. “I suppose, in theory, it might work.”

“It did work,” Aaron said. “We normalized the alchemical state and—”

The earl stepped between them, cutting off anything else Aaron was about to say.

“You said you wrote a paper,” Lord Phillip said. “Why was it of interest to Master Elsanar? Did its subject have something to do with his work?”

“Yes, sir. Master Elsanar was attempting to extend the Principle of Confluence, which states that when two identical energy sources come together, they combine to form a single, more powerful energy source. My paper formed the basis for the next stage in his research.”

“Which was?”

“To show that two dissimilar energy sources, instead of canceling each other out, could instead combine into a single, more powerful form of energy. The practical applications of this would be—”

“Enormous,” Lord Phillip said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you perform field experiments? Were they successful?”

“Initial lab experimentation yielded promising results. Though we planned field experiments, we never had the opportunity to carry them out. Except…”

“Yes?”

Aaron took a deep breath. “Shanna confirmed Master Elsanar’s theory in the field when she combined the Four Elements into the Fifth.” He paused, letting his listeners absorb that information. “Four disparate energy sources joined together. Instead of canceling each other out, they formed a single, more powerful form of energy: the Fifth Element.”

The earl asked no more questions, but turned to his closest advisors, who had gathered together out of habit. The earl’s gaze went to each of them. Something unspoken passed between them. Each advisor met the earl’s gaze with a single nod. Even Othini, whom Lord Phillip looked at last, nodded, though it seemed with some reluctance.

“I am willing to at least hear his initial assessment,” the professor said.

The earl’s attention returned to Aaron.

“May I ask you something personal?” Lord Phillip asked.

Aaron nodded.

“Was it difficult confronting her?”

Aaron knew who he meant without asking.

“More than you will ever know…sir.”

Phillip nodded. He took in a sharp breath and let it out. “My father was an excellent judge of character. I like to think I inherited that quality from him. I see in you someone who might one day achieve true greatness, Aaron. If not for your intellect, then for your moral character.”

Aaron didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

“As my mother used to say, sometimes we find opportunities in the most unexpected places. Aaron, I think I have found one such opportunity.”

“I don’t understand, milord.”

“You will, Aaron. You will.” Then, with a hint of slyness in his voice, he said, “I have something I wish to show you. It is something my scientists are calling…the Incandescent Engine.”