Hart
patreon
25. [Carina] No Honest Answers
🕑 Added 2024-03-28 20:00:14 +0000 UTC-DRAMATIS PERSONAE-
Carina Goldstone, Logician of the 2nd Renown, Kingdom of Infinzel, a reluctant hostess
King Cizco Salvado, Quill of Infinzel, Kingdom of Infinzel, her guest
26 Hazean, 61 AW
The pyramidal city of Infinzel
244 days until the next Granting
Only when the attendant arrived at her door with a salad of goat cheese and apricots did Carina realize that the dinner King Cizco had demanded of her would be taking place in her apartments.
“Should I change?” Carina asked the attendant. “I should probably change.”
The woman shrugged, preoccupied with the mess of maps and charts on Carina’s dining table. “I need to set up somewhere, please. He’ll be down soon.”
Carina put her hands on her hips. Although the paperwork looked chaotic, there was an order to it for Carina. Reports on the exports of Infinzel fed into maps of the Merchant Bay; plans of the north continent mines under Cruxton’s control sat alongside Carina’s notes on the alchemies at work in the mineral gardens; a list of the living champions of Infinzel’s closest neighbors was wedged in the pages of An Encyclopedia of Runes, 7th Edition. All of these were thoughts that Carina intended to return to later.
“Nothing can be moved,” she told the attendant. “Come with me.”
To say that Carina had fallen in love with her apartment on Infinzel’s second highest tier would be an understatement. The place had felt to her like a culmination of years of work, even before she’d furnished it with the lavish gifts delivered to every champion. Her bed was the most comfortable she’d ever slept in. Her artwork—sharp-edged abstract sculptures and delicate paper screen in the Penchennese style—were the first pieces she’d ever chosen herself. The rooms already felt like home, not because they were comfortable or familiar, but because they felt earned.
She led the attendant over to the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out upon the northern plains, and cracked it open with her hip.
“Outside?” the attendant said.
“Yes.”
“Unorthodox,” the woman replied.
Carina looked down at herself—the loose blouse and pants cut short at the knee. “You know, I don’t think I will change.”
Since returning to Infinzel, Carina had spent a fair amount of time on the landing outside her apartments, either gazing across the expansive flatlands beyond the ring-wall or else squinting at the activity of the outer districts below. Sometimes, she simply laid down upon the graystone and let the summer sun bake her like a piece of pita. She’d brought a table and chairs out onto the landing, as if she one day might host parties—although the only people she considered close to friends in the pyramidal city were the middle-aged men who trained her every morning. And she’d called one of them an idiot just hours earlier.
Oh well.
The attendant went about brushing off Carina’s table—a granite base so it wouldn’t blow off the side of the pyramid—and arranging the first course. She dramatically monitored her steps whenever she got near the unguarded edge, a fall that would’ve deposited her twenty feet down to the roof of the tier below. Carina helped by dragging two chairs into position so that she and the king could sit side-by-side at a slight angle, both of them able to admire the view. In truth, she did not want to face the ageless king head on.
“I don’t have any wine,” Carina said. “Are you bringing some up?”
The attendant shook her head. “He stressed there wasn’t to be any.”
“Ah,” Carina said. Given the king’s reputation, she supposed that was a necessary signal to confirm what kind of dinner this was.
When she next followed the attendant back inside, she discovered King Cizco standing over her table, peering down at her piles of papers. Almost idly, he pushed a sheet of number aside with a raised eyebrow. He was indeed a handsome man—his brown hair loose, unshaven but not sloppy, sleeves rolled up over muscled forearms. Carina reminded herself that he was closing in on a hundred years old.
“My king,” she said, bowing now in a much more sincere way than she had in the training pit. “Welcome to my home.”
If Cizco noted the irony in her welcoming him to apartments that he’d granted her, he didn’t show it. He smiled tightly. “Carina. I’ve never had the patience for formalities. Let’s dispense with them.”
“Cizco, then?”
“Yes.”
“Cizco, you’ll have to climb out my window if you’d like to eat.”
He glanced at the attendant who still buzzed around Carina’s space, ferrying a plate of salted fish out to the terrace. “So I’ve been warned.”
The two made their way outside and sat down at Carina’s table. Cizco popped a single slice of apricot into his mouth and leaned back, taking in the view. The sun was low but not quite under the western horizon yet, a red orb casting long shadows across the plain. Carina sipped from a glass of ice water that the attendant brought her. She had decided to let the king speak first and play things from there.
“I witnessed an acrimonious training session today,” the king said at last.
“They aren’t always like that.”
“Do you not think Cortland is up to the task?”
Carina shook her head. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Stubborn men like him are useful only up to a point,” Cizco said.
He watched Carina from the corner of his eye. Carina said nothing and her face offered little. She was certainly not going to drop Cortland into the quicksand, if that’s what he was expecting.
“You don’t use all your Ink against him,” Cizco said eventually.
Carina scratched at her chest where the symbol for [Enthralled Defender] was tattooed. With that Ink, she could bend a person of lesser renown to be her unyielding protector. However, Cortland and Henry were too far beyond her strength.
“The nature of our training makes that impossible.”
“I suggest you find a way,” Cizco said.
“If I’d noticed you earlier today, perhaps I could have used you,” Carina said with a laugh.
Cizco didn’t smile. “Perhaps you could have.”
Carina smeared a cracker with goat cheese and chewed thoughtfully. “Why the sudden interest?” she asked.
“Sudden interest?” Now, Cizco breathed a laugh. “I am your Quill. And you have had my interest since the day you danced in here.”
“I see,” Carina said. “So, in that case, you’ve been avoiding me for a month.”
“When you get to be my age, decisions come slower,” Cizco said. “I no longer whip around with the determination of youth.”
“Most of us hear the clock ticking,” Carina replied. “We don’t have your luxury of time.”
Cizco sighed. “I hear the clock now. I have heard it since you first arrived.”
“What were you deciding, then?”
“What to do with you,” the king said. “Whether to support you, or destroy you.”
Carina’s hand trembled only slightly as she slathered another cracker with cheese. “And?”
“You said danger approaches. That my overdue death is imminent. That the gods have chosen you as my replacement.”
“No.” Carina held up a finger. “I said these were possibilities you’re ill-prepared for. The gods sent me here first and foremost to aid you.”
“I see.” Cizco eyed the pyramid-shaped Ink on her throat. “Perhaps I have kept too tight a grip on this place.”
Carina tilted her head. “How so?”
He answered her question with a question. “Do you know why Infinzel was built?”
There was little of Infinzel’s history that Carina hadn’t studied, but she got the feeling that the king didn’t expect an answer. He wanted a chance to explain.
“Infinzel was built to withstand the invasion of the trolkin from the north. Early in the first age, when they were formidable and had not yet discovered their vices. Infinzel stood astride the river and thwarted their path south.” Cizco paused, gazing north now, perhaps imagining the tundra that waited miles in that direction. “A century later, when the slaver mages tried to press their way in from the east, it was again Infinzel where their conquest was dashed.”
“Before my time,” Carina said.
“Mine, too,” Cizco said. “But not the third invasion. I lived through that one, didn’t I? The Orvesian horde galloping up from the south. This time, Infinzel could only hold its challengers to a stalemate. It wasn’t until the intervention of the gods that we were victorious. The second age dawned…”
“An age of peace,” Carina said.
“Indeed,” Cizco replied. “And what good is a fortress in a time of unalterable peace? No armies will come to break themselves against our walls. Instead, all of our strength and achievements could be wished away by four champions who survive on an island for a week. Hardly the calculus of old. Building so high now seems only good for attracting bored children who wish to knock down blocks. If you want this place, Carina Goldstone, I am almost of a mind to give it to you.”
As he spoke, Carina had turned to study the king. She could almost see the elderly man huddled within the middle-aged lothario’s body—a stubborn creature, frightened by change, stuck in the past. Here sat a man who had operated the controls of a vast system for so long and with such efficiency that he had not felt the arthritis taking hold in his hands until his fingers refused to release the levers.
“Are you tired, Cizco?” Carina asked quietly.
He considered the question. “Not until you arrived, I wasn’t.”
“I doubt that’s true.”
“I have kept Infinzel running for so long, perhaps it had been too long since I asked myself why.”
Carina had a hard time keeping the passion out of her voice. “How about because it’s the beating heart of the world? Stone, jewels, steel and iron, swords and fasteners and gods damned belt buckles—all of this flows out from Infinzel. I have studied the exports, Cizco. I don’t think the rest of the world quite understands how dependent on your works they have become.” She decided to offer up one of her favorite pet theories, something she’d been gaming out for years. “Do you know that if we turned our efforts to producing salt, in a year’s time we could have Merchant’s Bay in flames?”
“Commerce.” Cizco waved a hand like swatting a fly. “Every year, we lose people to lives outside the walls. Life here becomes harder, the dues higher. You know this better than most.”
Of course, Carina remembered her old apartments being packed up after her family’s misfortune. She shook her head. “That’s a simple matter of resource allocation,” she said. “It would be settled instantly if the nobles paid dues.”
Cizco smiled wistfully at that. The nobles of Infinzel possessed two tiers—the one directly below the champions—all to themselves. They were not expected to work except for in the areas that they privately owned. They did not struggle with the work dues of ordinary residents because of their ancestors’ contributions to building the pyramidal city.
“Imagine that,” Cizco said, then shook his head. “No. The nobles have paid in other ways.”
Most of the nobles, at least now, were tied into Cizco’s own family line. There were no shortage of Salvados living luxurious and useless lives within the walls below them. Carina decided now was the wrong time to push this point. She’d seen in his interactions with Vitt how little Cizco valued his own children, and yet he protected them from simple work. She did not quite understand it.
“Regardless, let us return to the matter of destroying or tolerating you,” Cizco said. Carina set down a piece of bread she’d just picked up. “I will ask you two questions that will decide your suitability to be my logician.”
Carina swallowed. “Fine, but only if I get two questions as well.”
“Must you always negotiate?” Cizco held up his hand to stop Carina from speaking. “No. That was not my first question. I agree to your terms, champion.”
Carina pulled her hair back as if to ready herself for thinking. “Proceed, then.”
Cizco nodded. “Where will this threat to Infinzel come from?”
“The southern continent,” Carina said without hesitation. “Something brews there.”
“Chanic,” the king said. “Your liar’s Ink.”
“Yes, but first a threat closer to home that will weaken our position.” Carina took a deep breath. “The Orvesians are doing strange and disgusting things, but that's nothing new. Penchenne and your estranged wife seek to expand and get bolder in their efforts every year. The Magelab, supposedly our allies, have long thought this place would fare better under their supervision. All these situations will need dealing with, if we’re to prepare for the real fight ahead.”
Carina had left out the danger that lurked closest to home. Bringing the people of Soldier’s Rest to the king’s attention would serve no purpose. Not yet.
“A lot to manage,” Cizco said. “Your first question, then.”
“Will you teach me the runes that power Infinzel?”
Cizco raised an eyebrow. “I have seen the way you scuttle about. Are you not teaching yourself?”
That was true, of course. In between training sessions, Carina has been all over Infinzel. From the pipe works to the mineral garden, she had been systematically checking off areas in the pyramidal city. She had copied Cizco’s runes and attempted to reproduce them, mostly successfully, albeit weaker versions as she would not have a wish to restore the life it required.
“Easier, if you show me,” Carina said. “There are things that I miss or blunder by. Flaws like those could cripple the city.”
Cizco considered for a moment, then shook his head. “No. I think it is better if you piece together how the city works on your own, as I once had to. A better education that way.”
Carina stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “Fine,” she said. “May I ask my second question? It’s related.”
“Go ahead.”
“Where does the power come from?”
The king cocked his head. “I don’t understand.”
“The arcane energy that’s poured into the runes, the magic that keeps the city running,” Carina continued. “I have attempted to calculate it and the numbers don’t make sense. Even with the wish every year, even a man of your skill that has been practicing for decades—the old ways are too cruel, the arcane bargain too high. The city requires too much energy for you to manage it as you say.”
As she spoke, Carina observed the king’s mouth press into a tight line.
“Calculations, you said,” Cizco said after a moment.
“Yes.”
“Calculations,” he paused, “for magic.”
She sank back in her chair. “It’s measureable, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Perhaps your math is off,” Cizco said with a blithe shrug. “My second question.”
“But—”
“Who had Ben Tuarez killed?”
Carina breathed out through her nose. “I can only give you theories.”
“Please do.”
“One of the aforementioned enemies, seeking to weaken Infinzel.”
Cizco dismissed this with a shake of his head. “Did you know I was amongst the Brokerage’s first targets, back when it was formed? No. The assassins operate on a much more personal level.”
“Revenge for a killing on the island, then,” Carina said, forcing herself not to pepper Cizco with follow-up questions about the Brokerage. “I checked the logs. Ben Tuarez mostly slayed trolkin, but there were some other incidents. Most recently, he’s killed Orvesians and Penchennese and a couple from Endpass.”
“The people of Endpass are too proud to employ assassins,” Cizco said. “It always comes back to Orvesis and Penchenne, does it not?”
“There’s another possibility,” Carina said. “Not revenge, but avarice. Someone who wanted to become a champion, or have a hand in choosing the next.”
Cizco’s lips quirked. “Ah. Who fits that description?”
“Me, I suppose,” Carina said. “I’m told Vitt expected his ratty little nephew to join him as champion. There are others in the Garrison. Someone hungry for glory. Someone who might need the Ink because of how their magic has eaten away at them.”
The king crossed his arms. “Have you shared these thoughts with Cortland?”
“He hasn’t asked,” she replied. “He has been doing his own research.”
“I know,” Cizco said. “I fear that he is weeks away from sailing for the Beach of Blades to accept the invitation of Ben’s assassin for a conference.”
Carina rattled the table as she leaned forward. “That would be unwise.”
“I agree,” Cizco said. “We need him here. Therefore, this mystery needs settling.”
“And you would like me to…?”
“Satisfy his need for vengeance,” Cizco said.
“With the truth?”
King Cizco met her eyes. Carina looked back steadily. They had reached an understanding. She was not to be destroyed; she was to be tolerated. Perhaps, even more than that. In unison, the two of them turned to look out at the plains. Shadows were creeping in now as the sun continued its descent.
“The truth,” Cizco said. “Of course.”
“Of course,” Carina agreed. “As you will it, my king.”
