The Hunt for the Three Roses Read online

  But currently, in a strange twist, Kane was convinced that they had discovered one of the Three Roses, and he was interested in discovering the other two while Callie couldn’t care less. Her search, which she had once been so passionate about, now seemed more trouble than it was worth, and she wanted to forget it ever happened. And again, she had a hard time believing that one of the objects of Hugo’s desire was an addled man who had trouble adding two simple numbers together. Kane suggested there was perhaps more to Jonas than what he appeared to be, but Callie couldn’t see what he was talking about. No, Jonas’ rose tattoo didn’t indicate anything special; it was just a coincidence that he had it, nothing more.

  Maybe Jonas is some long-lost relative of Hugo’s, and Hugo wants to protect him from the war. If so, then Hugo can have him; I’m through with kidnapping innocent people for ransom.

  She was in the middle of scrubbing a mud stain while thinking about what there was to eat when a slight breeze ruffled her ponytail, followed by something hitting the side of her head. She blinked in confusion and looked around to discover a balled-up piece of parchment on the grass. She searched angrily around for whoever threw it. It might have been one of the Terrible Trio, hoping to start trouble just because they were bored. Then again, the maids didn’t have access to parchment; that was reserved for commanders and the Mage Corps.

  She picked up the parchment, unrolled it, and smoothed it out to reveal a scrawled message: Master Cypher is in camp. Keep a low profile.

  In spite of the message, Callie straightened and searched again. Her anger was forgotten, for it was undoubtedly Kane who threw the parchment at her, using a small wind spell to aid him. She couldn’t spot him, though, since he must have kept walking. It was smart of him since he wasn’t allowed in the maids’ camp without any business being there; sending the message was risky enough.

  So Cypher’s here. If he sees me, I’m a goner. Of course, I was hooded when he saw me in the tower, but I shouldn’t assume he can’t recognize me like this.

  She was about to go back to her laundry when she peered into the massive army host and smiled as she imagined Kane ambling through it.

  Thank you for thinking of me, but you should worry more about yourself. Cypher should be hanging his hat close to you in the Mage Corps. I bet he’ll try to collect the bounty on you should he see you.

  She quickly went back to washing when a fellow maid caught her smiling. A few minutes later, the hammering from the smithies suddenly ceased, only to be followed by the sound of an angry bee swarm that made Callie jump. It was too loud and surreal to be insects, though, so it must have been a magic spell of sorts.

  Callie looked at the curtains with a frown and wondered what in the world was being made there. Making swords and armor was all well and good, but why did the blacksmiths need mages to assist them?

  Three

  After the free period when Kane sent Callie the message, the Mage Corps went into weapons-training. The commanders wanted to stress that mages couldn’t rely on spells alone, not when a mage could be poisoned by drinking too many potions in a short time. Some of the more experienced mages used real swords while the less confident ones used wooden blades. Kane opted for the latter since he still didn’t feel his best after his last battle. He grew tired more quickly than he used to, and he had to constantly fight the urge to wipe off imaginary ants from his arms. It appeared he wasn’t alone in that regard, judging from the expressions on his peers. It made him wonder if the corps was truly ready for another battle in the week to come.

  Like in most regiments, men were prone to chatting as they swung and thrust their weapons at each other—something the commanders frowned upon but couldn’t stop. Kane heard at least two people bring up the rumor about the Church working on an armistice, but there was no new information. What people mostly discussed was the reason why they were stuck on this spot along the river. Several regiments had already gone ahead to lay siege to the enemy dam, including horsemen and catapult units, while the mages were merely biding their time. Surely they could be more useful against a dam than non-mages?

  As others chatted, Kane mostly worked on his parrying skill. Knocking a weapon aside to deliver a killing blow was essential to winning most sword fights, but as usual his sparring partner was better at it than he. Not that he didn’t get a few good hits in, but he found himself knocked to the ground more times than he cared to admit.

  After two hours of faux combat, Master Maclean ordered everyone to rehydrate themselves and assemble for a meeting in the classroom tent. Kane expected to be given the usual lessons on war strategy but held onto hope for something more. Confirmation of the armistice, perhaps?

  Once the classroom tent was filled with tired, grumbling mages, a commander whom Kane was little familiar with, Master Jenkins, addressed them. “Before we start your lessons, there are a few things I want to go over,” he said after adjusting his spectacles. “There are more than a few loose lips talking about the Pope meeting King Hugo about an armistice. I tried looking into the matter myself but couldn’t find anything coherent. I know an armistice is welcome news … but there is the possibility it was a rumor planted by enemy spies.”

  The class began murmuring, prompting Master Jenkins to hold up his hands for silence.

  “We’ve been having problems with spies lately. We’ve caught a few, but that doesn’t seem to deter the few remaining ones. As much as I hate to say it, nearly everyone is suspect, even amongst yourselves. If you hear anyone say or do something suspicious, you should report it immediately to a commander, no matter how small it may be. This is very serious, so don’t report false information to play pranks on each other. If you do, you’ll be severely punished.”

  Kane swallowed back a lump in his throat. If anyone had seen him send that message to Callie, they’d probably suspect him of being a spy, and they’d be right to do so. He also wondered if Master Cypher would present himself. It might be only a matter of time before Cypher sees him, but Kane didn’t want to be spotted here in the assembly.

  “With that said,” Master Jenkins continued, “I can confirm there’s a secret project going on. It will involve the Mage Corps, but due to the spy problem I can’t reveal what it is. When the time comes, be ready to learn some new spells, and quickly. I know that’s easier said than done, but we all need to learn to adapt. For now, everyone should practice their shield spells.”

  Jenkins turned the class over to Master Maclean, leaving everyone mystified yet intrigued. This “secret project” was probably the reason why the mages were held up away from the dam, so at least one mystery was solved. But how in the world could everyone prepare for it when they had no idea what it was? Doing spells wasn’t as simple as waving a hand and saying a few words; many of them, especially ones designed for war, required great knowledge and concentration. Kane could only hope all this secrecy wouldn’t come to haunt them later.

  Master Maclean went over war strategies illustrated on a chalkboard and suggested a few new spells for everyone to practice. However, he stressed that they should prioritize practice for a joint shield spell since it will be instrumental in the upcoming secret project. The orders brought up uncomfortable memories of the battle for Fort Lauer, where twenty Shieldbearers had lost their lives and brought up a need for new ones.

  By the end of the class, Master Cypher had not shown up. It did not mean he was gone from the camp, but Kane was relieved he didn’t have to hide from him. Even so, he suspected he couldn’t avoid him forever, not if Cypher wanted to assess the condition of Consaria’s mages. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to keep avoiding him and delay the inevitable; instead, he should go ahead and meet him, keeping their words private from the others.

  Callie would of course call him crazy for thinking it, and in truth he felt crazy. Master Cypher had nearly killed him even though he was his apprentice and a nobleman’s son, and Kane would be foolish to assume Cypher d
idn’t know about the bounty on his head.

  But if things went well, the two of them could set aside past transgressions and focus on the future. Cypher could recognize him as a soldier loyal to Consaria, and after the war he might smooth things over with the King, convince His Majesty that Kane shouldn’t be put on the chopping block. It wouldn’t be because Cypher owed it to Kane, but because Cypher was an honorable man who could see a situation for what it was and act in all fairness.

  Then again, what honor was there in nearly killing an apprentice just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

  That evening, Kane asked Master Maclean where Cypher was, making it sound as if he was merely acquainted with the old sorcerer. Maclean said he was still in camp and was not to be disturbed, but Kane convinced him that he only wanted to give his regards, nothing more.

  Maclean hesitantly pointed to a red tent with gold trim. “He’s in there. If you see him, make it brief. I don’t think he’ll join us in battle, so don’t bother asking him to. It would be rude.”

  Kane thanked him and approached the tent. He first took a moment to compose himself, and then, with a steadying breath and a silent prayer that he wasn’t jumping into his grave, he opened the entrance and stepped inside.

  Master Cypher was in a white shirt with his usual suspenders, sitting at a small table with an open book. Kane had expected to see a number of magical items being used in a ritual, but the storage chests were left unopened. He made a polite cough and said, “Excuse me … Master Cypher?”

  The sorcerer looked up. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but he otherwise kept his composure. His hair, usually perfectly coifed, was a little messy, and his shortened beard nearly made him look like a different person. But there was no mistaking those eyes, for they held the same cold gaze that Kane remembered.

  Kane stood up straight and said, “Master Cypher, greetings. I saw your arrival, and I thought it only prudent to welcome you to the camp. If you’re here to join the war effort, you would make an excellent addition to the corps.”

  Cypher straightened in his chair and peered at Kane with a slight nod. “I hear there was a young noble who gave a girl from the streets information that was not his to give.”

  So, it was going to be like that. No warm welcome, just an accusation. For a long moment neither man spoke, for Master Cypher hadn’t asked a question and Kane didn’t want to give a hasty reply. If Cypher wanted a battle of wills, Kane would give it to him.

  “Was that you?” Cypher finally asked.

  Kane tried reading Cypher’s body language, looking for any indication that his former master would try to subdue him. He found none, but then, Cypher was a hard man to read. “If you speak of the Three Roses, then yes, it was I. I let it slip as a way of saving my life. A clan leader asked me what worth I was to him, so I said the first thing that came to mind.”

  Cypher pounded on the table. “An unforgivable offense, according to His Majesty. Your lapse in judgement could have cost more than you know. You’re lucky you only spoke to a clan leader, for he is the least of the King’s enemies … but if the wrong person hears of the Roses, then you’ll be more of a traitor than you already are.”

  Kane formed a pair of fists at his sides. “I am a soldier fighting for my kingdom. I’ve seen battle and nearly died from it. I may have made a mistake back in the city, but I’ve made up for it by fighting for my homeland—and I plan to fight even further.”

  Cypher pressed his lips together, unsure how to respond. “You’ve caused your father a great deal of grief. He actually thinks you’re out to get him after that jailbreak.”

  Kane now pressed his own lips, for Cypher was more informed than he liked. “Maybe someday he and I will talk, but at present, I want nothing to do with him. Please understand, master, I just want to live my life, even if it means I am no longer my father’s son.”

  Cypher raised an eyebrow. “As a follower of Micah, you should never throw away your family legacy.”

  Kane almost laughed. “As a follower of Micah, my father should have never had children out of wedlock.”

  “Touché. Still, you do realize it is my duty to turn you in to the King’s justice?”

  “Yes, but I think it would be a mistake. Times are trying enough as they are, and if my fellows see me taken away, they’ll lose heart. I may not be a big name around here, but if the mages see that one of them can be punished for an unknown slight, there will be whispers of rebellion.”

  Cypher scoffed. “You think too highly of yourself. There’ll be no ‘whispers of rebellion,’ not if I tell them you’re a noble-in-hiding. If there’s anything a commoner likes more than a good lay, it’s seeing a lord fall from grace.”

  Kane opened his mouth to respond but drew a blank. It took him a moment to come with the right words. “I am fighting for the kingdom … not plotting against it.”

  Cypher leaned forward in his chair. “And what of the Three Roses?”

  Kane remained silent for emphasis, then replied, “What about them?”

  Anger flashed across Cypher’s features, but instead of doing something drastic, he leaned back and absently rapped his knuckles on the table. He studied his former protégé for a long moment, keeping his cold eyes stoic, until he finally waved his hand. “You’re dismissed.”

  Kane wanted to protest, needing some assurance that Cypher wouldn’t rat him out as a fugitive, but he realized Cypher would never give it. He had said his piece and let Cypher know where he stood, just as he had planned. Now his fate was in the old sorcerer’s hands, and all he could do was give Cypher time to think things over and hopefully come to the right decision.

  Soon after he left the tent, he couldn’t help but drop to his knees and take deep, fearful breaths. He was suddenly unsure he had done the right thing, and he felt like a huge fool. Before deciding to see his old master, he should have thought back to the cold dungeon cell under the Royal Castle, where he had awaited his time of execution. He should have thought back to the scene in his manor’s dining hall, where his father casually watched him being placed under arrest, and of King Hugo’s dark eyes which were somehow colder than Cypher’s, studying him as a hawk would its prey.

  If only he had remembered more clearly the cruel injustices he had suffered back in the city, then maybe he wouldn’t have been so stupid to go in that tent like a chicken waddling into a fox den. He may as well rip his beating heart out of his chest and deliver it to Master Cypher on a silver platter, just to have the deed done with.

  A mage by the name of Dunham noticed him and asked what was wrong. The genuine concern in his voice lifted Kane’s spirits, if only a little. Kane lied that there was nothing to worry about, he just had a dizzy spell. Dunham suggested he get tested for potion-poisoning, but Kane assured him he would be fine. The fellow mage then helped him rise to his feet and accompanied him back to the barracks.

  “Don’t try to be a tough guy,” Dunham said. “You can’t always wait out a poisoning; sometimes you need a little help.”

  Kane shrugged. “Hmm, you’re probably right. A little help is just what I need now.”

  Four

  For three days, the mages bided their time until their next turn in battle, and for three days, Kane awaited Master Cypher and the other commanders to lock him up in chains. The atmosphere grew tense as energy was being pent up and everyone began to suspect that something was amiss. A few bold mages asked the commanders if they were withholding critical information, to which the commanders angrily brushed them off and reminded them of enemy spies in their midst.

  The mages spent much of their time practicing the setup of a shield, in which a glowing red barrier safeguarded a large area, as well as basic offensive spells using fire, ice and wind. They were the kind of spells that could be grueling for novices, but many in the corps could do them in their sleep, and after they repeated the same training routin
e over and over again, the air was filled with restlessness.

  But on the third day, they were given something new to do: a spell that gave life to automatons. In a few wealthy households, automatons did much of the daily chores in lieu of human servants. They needed to be recharged with magic at least once a year, and sorcerers charged enormous fees to do it, but the lords and ladies loved the convenience of not having to pay a full staff every week. There were only two lingering problems: An automaton could not be easily reprogrammed to do different chores, and if one made a mistake, yelling at it would accomplish nothing.

  Most automatons were empty vessels of wood, though sturdier ones of steel and rock were also available. (Wood was usually preferred, though, in case an automaton needed to be destroyed after becoming faulty.) Some models were humanoid figures, complete with heads, arms and legs, but most were of simple shapes that moved on wheels and had as many arms as needed.

  After the mages brushed up on the basics of the spell, they were given thirty figures to turn into automatons for practice. They were short, reaching up to a man’s knee, and were vaguely humanoid with short, stumpy heads. There weren’t enough for everyone at once, so a handful of mages had to wait for hours for a chance to practice.

  The commanders instructed their charges to program the automatons to do simple things, such as picking up stones and plucking leaves off bushes. A few mages picked up on the concept well while others had hilariously bad early results. One automaton began to jump up and down and had to be held down with straps, and another ran from the camp at breakneck speed, never to be seen again. There was one that picked a fight with another when it should have been punching a boulder, and another started climbing a tree but was too witless to go around a branch that its head rammed into.

  Kane was one of the unfortunate ones who had to wait for his turn in the early morning. With nothing but time to kill, he asked for leave to fetch some purified water at the quartermaster’s. On the way, he passed by the maids’ camp where he searched for Jonas. It took a few minutes, but he spotted the man by the cooking pots where he stirred some stew with an innocent smile.