Broken Rule | Chapter 33
This post is chapter thirty-three of my not-previously-published epic fantasy novel Broken Rule, which I'm serializing here on Steemit.
The story so far:
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32
Master Wizard Arturo Boroni woke and began his morning routine. His first stop, as always, was to poke his head into the Hall of Sorrows. Today he heard a tiny chime in the darkness. He waited a moment, hoping that it was merely the breeze from the door he had opened too quickly, but it wasn't. He dropped his head and called for his apprentice.
His apprentice carried a small storm lantern to light the way into the pitch dark hall, and Arturo carried a long pole with a hook on the end. Arturo hated the darkness in the hall, and shuffled his feet as he walked, worried as always that he would trip over something in the dark, even though he never did. Windows to the outside would let in drafts and breezes that would set the chimes going, which could never be allowed. The hall was so seldom used that it was a waste to arrange more permanent lighting, so his apprentice's small lantern and the meager light it provided were the only realistic solution.
They closed in on the chime that was sounding, and Arturo spent a minute squinting up at the small wooden frame that held it, to make sure he had singled out the right one. He reached up with his pole and snagged it, gently lowering it down. He had to be careful not to jostle any of the chimes packed in next to it. None of his associates would appreciate the shock they'd feel in their souls if he should knock into one of them by accident. Even when he brought the chime down to his hand, he hoped there had been some mistake, but no matter how still he held the frame, the little metal chime continued to twitch slightly, hitting the tiny metal ring surrounding it, letting out crisp, clear notes. Someone had crossed the veil.
He carried the frame out of the hall and into the sun where he could get some real light. He didn't want to risk misreading the name that had been painstakingly carved into the frame. The chime was an old one, presumably prepared by Arturo's master, or even his master's master. Arturo strained his eyes trying to make out the name through the dust. Speaker of the Council of Lords? That made no sense. The chimes were supposed to bear the name of the person they were linked to, not their title, especially not a title as transitory as Speaker. Arturo mulled it over in his mind. The Speaker before Lord Ignatio had died in office some years ago, so it couldn't possibly be him. Perhaps some forgettable, short-term Speaker from decades past? If so, it was unfortunate that the chime wasn't more clear about the name since Arturo had no idea how he would go about puzzling out the next of kin. Still, as keeper of the chimes he was obliged to tell someone. Having no better idea than to contact the current Speaker, Arturo dispatched his apprentice to invite Lord Ignatio to the viewing.
Arturo winced as his apprentice dragged Lord Ignatio onto the patio. The breathless expression on the boy's face had undoubtedly given the Speaker the impression that the matter was far more urgent than it truly was. The Speaker was visibly annoyed, or at least what passed for visibly annoyed in a politician who was so adept at concealing his emotions.
"Thank you for coming," Arturo said. "I hope my apprentice explained matters clearly."
"He said there'd been a death, and that my personal attention was needed," said Ignatio.
Arturo stared daggers at his apprentice, reminding himself that he'd need to discipline the boy later. Had he no sense of propriety? Arturo regretted leaving matters to the boy's own judgment, and hoped that he'd be able to rectify the situation. He had no desire to be in the Speaker's bad graces. "I apologize, he should have been more clear. A chime has sounded but I do not know for whom. The only clue is this inscription of 'Speaker of the Council of Lords'." Arturo held the chime before him, irrationally hoping that it would somehow pique the Speaker's interest.
“Get on with it, Arturo,” said Ignatio. “You've already taken too much of my time.”
Inwardly cringing, Arturo motioned them all to sit down at a small round table on the patio. “As you say, let's begin.” A large bowl filled with water sat in the center of the table. It was protected from direct light by a large awning overhead, but the bright morning sun made everything seem bright and cheerful. Perversely, Arturo wished this part of it could be done in the dark. It seemed that weighty moments like this should occur in a more somber setting. But there was nothing for it, they needed the light if they wanted to see through the veil. He extricated the chime from its wooden frame and dropped it into the center of the bowl. As he waited for the water to settle he focused his senses, stretching them out along the Veil of Death, attuning himself to the chime and to the soul it was linked to. With the water still and flat, Arturo reached out with his right hand and, using his index finger, began rapidly tapping the water near the edge of the bowl, sending ripples across the surface. A moment later he reached out with his left hand and did the same on the opposite side. The ripples from both sides met together, forming larger waves on the surface. The water in the bowl darkened, and it became harder and harder to see the bottom. The liquid took on mirrorlike properties, but the reflection wasn't the awning over their heads.
"The Tarkannan throne room," said Ignatio. "I saw it once in my youth."
They watched the scene before them play out in silence, shocked by the cold blooded murder of King Radoslav. "Damn it!" Ignatio shouted as the vision faded away. "Conti was supposed to put a stop to that!" Arturo was stunned that the usually imperturbable Ignatio was raging openly. The Speaker suddenly grew silent and locked Arturo in a malice-filled stare. "What's your game, Arturo? Do you show me this at Uberto's urging, or do you seek to play us against one another?"
Confusion washed away Arturo's fear. "Game? I don't understand."
Ignatio's anger melted away into a wry grin. "You really aren't maneuvering, are you?"
Arturo still found the open display of emotion unsettling, but this was far preferable to anger. "I don't think so," he said, unsure what response Ignatio wanted.
Ignatio laughed, and not a mere polite chuckle but something that seemed to indicate genuine amusement. "Sometimes I forget that not all men are schemers and manipulators," Ignatio said. "You actually mean what you say. You are as surprised as I am that we saw the death of King Radoslav, aren't you?"
Arturo analyzed the question for a long moment, feeling that there must be some trick to it that he was missing. "Yes?" he ventured.
Ignatio leaned back in his chair. "Even so, Uberto can't learn of this from you. It will take me time to prepare for his reaction. Can I trust you to be discreet?"
Arturo was flabbergasted. Was the Speaker bringing him into his confidence? Arturo looked around at the villa the church provided for him to live in. Should he keep this secret from Uberto? The idea of reporting a death vision to the bishop would never have even crossed Arturo's mind, but now that Ignatio had suggested keeping it secret that somehow felt like a betrayal. "Uberto is my patron..." Arturo began, not sure how he would finish the sentence. Silence dragged on as his brain tried to puzzle it out. Why did there seem to be a difference between not telling the bishop what he had seen and promising to not tell the bishop what he had seen?
"Ah, not so free of schemes as I first suspected," said Ignatio, "just not very subtle about it." The Speaker looked around at the villa. "I believe that Uberto could be persuaded to sell this place to me. Apparently some previous Speaker saw the wisdom of having a spirit wizard on retainer, I see no obstacle to reinstituting the practice. I suspect you'll find me a far more generous patron than Uberto."
Arturo gaped in silence. Without meaning to, he seemed to have initiated an intrigue. Now that the matter had been broached, however, Arturo couldn't deny that he would be pleased to be out from under Uberto's thumb. And all it would take would be to conceal from Uberto what he had learned in the vision. If it had been a normal viewing there would be no question that it was a private matter, not something that he would repeat for anyone else. Arturo had every reason to agree, but that the question had even been raised somehow tainted it with the suggestion of dishonesty. Arturo closed his eyes and shook these thoughts from his brain. "His excellency will not hear this news from me," he said.
"Very well," agreed Ignatio. "I'll dispatch agents to begin bargaining for the villa immediately."
Arturo nodded, not knowing what else to do, and fearing that anything else he said would send the conversation careening down another frightening path.
"It will probably be best not to mention that I'm interested," said Ignatio, "or that old buzzard will run up the price."
Arturo nodded again, adding something else to the list of secrets he must keep.