Chapter 5 – The Man who Sees All

Linton exited the elevator at the very top floor of the Arcanex, 102, with an escort of three truthers. They kept their eyes firmly on him, hands on their weapons.

It’s like they expect me to shoot up the place any minute.

If only they knew.

The plain-looking hall before him held a desk on the right-hand side where an assistant scribbled away at a document and a row of windows on the left with a view of the proud Kingswatch skyline.

He had never been this high before.

At the far end of the room was a black double door worked with golden runes. Enchanted—likely a safety measure in case of an attack. The enchantments were too intricate for Linton to glean much from them.

There were two guards, one on either side of the door, clad in dark suits. They wore no sashes, but their focused, intense auras told him that they were certainly mages. They made no attempts to hide it, either, which meant they were probably there just as much for intimidation as protection.

A greater force overshadowed both of them. A piercing, almost physically tangible power, growing stronger as Linton neared the black door.

“Inquisitor Granhorn?” the woman at the desk asked. “Minister Couldess will see you right away. You may see yourself in.”

Linton nodded slowly.

His lips were suddenly dry. A crushing pressure clamped down on his temples.

This can’t be… Is this… his power…?

Linton approached the door at the end of the hall, every set of eyes focused on him. The three truthers followed right behind him, their footsteps echoing off the bare walls. He tried to put on a confident smile for the two mages guarding the door, but it was shaky, and he knew it.

“Looking a bit pale there, pal,” one of the mages said. “Just try to stay on your feet. Some people pass out when they get near him.”

“Don’t be one of those people,” the other mage said. “Not a good look.”

“Yeah, sure,” Linton muttered, rubbing his head.

He walked through the doors. The truthers stayed outside.

As soon as he entered the room beyond, the pressure increased tenfold. Linton was forced to steady himself against the wall to avoid doubling over. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

The room was large and lavish, its high ceiling sparkling with floating magelights of different sizes like a starry sky. The dark walls were hung with paintings in gold frames. Probably famous ones, but Linton’s eyes weren’t trained to tell. Several bookcases filled with old tomes took up the back section of the room, with a private transceiver terminal on the right-hand side and the doors to a private elevator beside it.

A solid desk of rich mahogany graced the center of the room, laden with several folders and stacks of paper, as well as a wide hardlight screen.

The back wall was made of glass and framed by long, dark curtains, with a door leading out to a wide balcony.

A tall man in a black suit stood framed against the light of the window. Even from the back, the confidence in his posture was evident.

No, not just confidence. This man was utterly sure of himself in every regard. He did not bend the world to his will—it bent willingly for him.

“Fummel, have this sent to Drakemyth. Tell him I want that prototype finished.” Couldess handed a metal disc to a smaller man next to him with neatly parted grey hair and a dapper mustache, dressed in a grey suit with a red bow tie.

Linton hadn’t even noticed that someone else was in the room. His mind had been fixated only on the minister.

“As you wish,” the second man said with a deep bow. Tucking the disc into his breast pocket, he made to leave. He gave Linton a single glance, adjusted the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and walked past as if he had promptly forgotten Linton’s existence.

The door clicked shut behind him.

“Now, then,” Couldess said. He did not raise his voice, and yet it seemed to fill the whole room. “Inquisitor Granhorn, is it? I’d like us to have a little chat.”

Couldess turned to face him, hands in the pockets of his slacks. He had short hair, piercing grey eyes, and a salt-and-pepper stubble. His lips were upturned in a faint smirk. In the light of the sun, Linton could barely make out an intersecting pattern of triangles on his suit, gleaming gold.

The aura extending from him grew, dark and dangerous, enveloping the room like a smothering blanket.

Linton stumbled and let out a gasp.

“You’ll get used to it,” Couldess said. He walked up to the desk and got two tumblers from a drawer, placing them with a clink on the desktop. He picked up a bottle of whiskey and poured a thumbnail’s depth into both.

“Do you drink?” he asked.

“No,” Linton forced out. “I don’t.”

Get yourself together. This is not the time to trip up.

Stay neutral. Don’t let him read you.

Couldess shrugged. “Suit yourself. This is good stuff, you know.” He raised one of the tumblers to his lips and sipped at the amber liquid.

Linton straightened himself out and took a calming breath.

The bluebird walks on the yellow brick fence.

One, two, three, four, five.

The bluebird spreads its wings for a morning dance.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

“You summoned me here, sir,” Linton said. “If I may ask, what can I do for you?”

“You may,” Couldess said, taking another drink. “I have been watching this whole wildkin debacle with some interest. A recon force from Gaerwyn, maybe?”

“They’re from Anderland, actually.”

Couldess motioned to a leather-clad chair sitting in front of the desk, and Linton had a seat. Couldess sat in a high-backed swivel chair opposite him, almost large enough to resemble a throne.

“Anderland, huh? Regardless, the Crown they unearthed is of some interest to me. The power it contains could be of use to our cause. Which is why I gave Storm the task of bringing it under control.”

Linton closed his eyes briefly, trying to keep the tremendous pressure of Couldess’s aura at bay. He felt as if he was swimming on an open ocean, struggling to keep his head above water.

“I see,” he said.

“You are one of our better inquisitors,” Couldess said matter-of-factly. “Especially considering your age.”

Linton was taken aback. “I… Wasn’t aware you knew of me, sir.”

Couldess shrugged. “I know most of the officers under my command by name.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched out, hands behind his head. “Only a few manage to capture my attention, however. For better or worse, you have done just that.”

Linton grabbed the tumbler on the desk and swept its contents in one go. He gritted his teeth at the taste.

“Then…”

“You have potential, Inquisitor Granhorn. And yet, you squander it.” Couldess took another small sip. “You could be not ‘one of our better’ inquisitors, but the best. Your psychomantic aptitude—again, considering your tender age—is impressive.” He held out his index finger and tilted it one way, then the other, whiskey sloshing. “Yet, you settle for mediocrity. And now, I hear from Storm that you abandoned the task he gave you. The task I would very much like to be carried out.”

I’d never imagined he was watching me this closely, Linton thought. I’m stepping on mighty thin ice right now.

At this point, his only goal was getting out of this room alive and out of cuffs.

“I’m sorry for letting you down, sir,” Linton said. “Truthfully… I have been feeling conflicted.”

Couldess took a sip. “Why?”

Linton’s mind raced. He needed to deflect the minister’s attention. A lie wouldn’t do. Couldess would see straight through it. They didn’t call him the greatest psychomancer in the Concord for nothing.

“I dreamt of traveling when I was younger,” Linton said finally. “Adventuring, I suppose.”

Couldess nodded slowly. “Where to?”

Linton shrugged. “Somewhere. Anywhere. The destination wasn’t the point—I just wanted to discover the world. Now, I…” Linton paused, wetting dry lips. “I feel trapped. Laden with this responsibility. Sometimes, I feel it’s too heavy to bear.”

“Those who wield the greatest power are also those with the least freedom,” Couldess said solemnly. “It rests on our shoulders to hold up everyone else. It’s our duty.” He pursed his lips. “Our curse.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“I will give you a second chance at this, and you will do it right this time.” Couldess had steel in his eyes. “You will head down to Sub-Level 1 without delay and question the wildkin, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Linton said, slumping with relief. “Without delay. I won’t leave that chamber until I have everything you want to know.”

“See to that,” Couldess said with a smirk. “Or you might just end up in the chamber next to her, you know. Repeated tardiness is… bad for one’s image.”

Linton nodded. “Just one question, sir.”

“Mm?”

“Who did you get to replace me?”

“Taskmage O’Mare. The auramancer.”

Linton snorted.

I don’t know if I should feel offended.

Couldess cocked a sculpted eyebrow. “Not who you would have chosen?”

Linton blinked rapidly. “Well…”

“It’s alright. Speak up.”

“Truthfully, sir, O’Mare is a joke.”

“Oh? He comes highly recommended by his superiors.”

“Because he’s a ruthless bastard, yeah. He’s a blunt instrument. Couldn’t cut it forging constructs, so he settled for conjuring pale little ghosts to scare children into behaving.”

Couldess flashed a bright smile. “You think you’re stronger than him, then? Despite the difference in experience?” He finished off his whiskey and poured himself another glass.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“Hmm. I must say I find your confidence refreshing.” Couldess stood with a sigh and drank from his fresh glass. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I expect a report back from Storm about your stellar performance.”

Linton got up as well. “Yes, sir.”

Couldess waved his free hand. “Dismissed.”

Linton bowed and made his way towards the door.

“Oh, and Granhorn?” Couldess said.

Linton stopped and looked back, his feet frozen in place by the tangible will emanating from Couldess.

“Don’t let your confidence become arrogance. That’s the fastest way to end up dead in this business.”

He winked.

Linton swallowed.

***

Aeva endured the howling of the undead through clenched teeth. She screwed her eyes shut to avoid seeing their twisted visages, but she was stuck with their unhallowed wails.

That and the pain.

“This unpleasantness need not continue,” Bethil said, accompanied by the swishing of his wand as he gestured with it. “Simply tell me what I need to know.”

Aeva cursed him in Gjosi.

She had nothing left but her defiance.

With another word of power from the truther, the clawing of the dead ceased, and their screams dropped off.

Aeva opened her eyes and looked at Bethil. The white-haired man rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, muttering to himself.

“I suppose I will have to add you to my collection,” he said. “Then you will have no choice but to talk. Just remember—you chose this.”

The door burst open. Bethil started, nearly dropping his wand.

The blue-haired truther, Linton Granhorn, entered the room, cocksure as a kalyach during mating season.

“Hope I didn’t interrupt anything too important there, O’Mare,” Linton said with a smile, clapping the side of the man’s empty chest. “I see you’ve already acquainted yourself with our prisoner.” He clicked his tongue. “Well, I say ours—what I meant was mine.”

“Bullshit, Granhorn,” Bethil said. His cheeks reddened as he rounded on the smaller man. “You missed your chance. Storm appointed me—”

“I’ve got orders from up top. If you don’t like that, go talk to the minister about it. For now—get the fuck out of my interrogation room.”

Bethil went from red-faced to pale in the span of a few seconds. He swiftly chained his chest back up and left the room without another word, sparing only a baleful look back at his coworker.

The door closed behind them. Linton approached her, brows furrowed. A word and a wave of his hand made the metal eye on the wall droop on its stem with a sad whir, rendered inert.

“He really did a number on you,” he said, looking over her many bleeding cuts and blackened bruises. “Are you okay?”

Aeva gritted her teeth through another wave of pain, like icicles splintering deep in her flesh.

“You do not care,” she said.

Linton shrugged in his oversized coat. “No, not really. But I need you spry and healthy. Enough to walk, at least.”

Aeva frowned. “What?”

“You’re leaving with me,” Linton said firmly.

Aeva studied him closely. His large, brown eyes were earnest.

“Another trick,” she said.

“No. Not this time.”

Aeva doubled over with another wave of pain, a hoarse groan escaping her throat. “Liar…”

“There isn’t much time,” Linton said with a sigh. “I will explain, but not now. For now, just try to trust me.”

“Not a chance, snake.”

Linton blew out his cheeks. “Look. I was going to bring you the Crown as proof of my intentions, but things haven’t exactly been going according to plan.”

This human was full of mischief. She could not trust a word coming out of him. But he did look… unbalanced. Clearly in a rush. He was alone, the surveilling eye deactivated.

I might never get a more golden opportunity to escape.

“If you intend to exploit me for the Crown, yet you do not have it, why would you need me?” she asked.

“You’re the key to all this,” Linton said. “The Moon-King’s Chosen, all that. Even if I don’t get ahold of it, as long as you’re at large, the MOW can’t use the Crown, either. Besides, the day isn't over yet. We might get lucky.”

“You work for the MOW.”

“Past tense. Kind of doing my own thing now.”

Aeva harrumphed. “You deceive your own people as well. A baser worm I have never witnessed.”

“Demoted from snake to worm? You wound me,” Linton said, kneeling before her. “Listen, though.” He tapped her shackles with a knuckle. “I’m going to undo these as a sign of goodwill. I would really appreciate it if you didn’t try to kill me.”

Aeva nodded.

“Just as a precaution,” he murmured to himself, holding up a hand in front of her face, fingers dancing with bluish, ethereal energy. “Sovi.”

Aeva’s mind swelled with cotton. She growled as she slumped against the backrest of her chair, the edge slowly taken out of her anger. With increasing desperation, she tried to hold onto her purpose.

No. I will not allow him another victory. I know his tricks.

She bit into her tongue so hard that it drew blood. The pain sustained her, fed the fire in her gut, chased away the clouds that filled her vision. Slowly, painfully, as she ground her sharp teeth on the soft muscle, she worked her way back to full consciousness.

She let her eyelids flicker and nearly fall shut, allowing her a sliver of vision, made her body go limp to feign the effects of his infernal spell.

Linton pulled out a plain-looking key charged with a magical glint and unlocked one manacle, then the other. They fell free of Aeva’s wrists, exposing raw, singed flesh.

“Good, let’s—” Linton started.

Aeva shot up on unsteady legs, nearly toppling over in the process. She grabbed the small human by his throat, lifting him up and slamming him against the left-hand wall. He let out a low grunt of pain.

She grinned, showing teeth. “I finally got you, human.” She dug her claws into his neck, squeezing, and reached for the gun holster on his leg with her free hand. It closed on nothing.

She looked down.

“Empty…” Linton said with an infuriating grin. “I come in peace, alright? Just…” He hissed with pain. “Let me down.”

“No,” Aeva said firmly. “This is my one chance.”

Linton chuckled hoarsely. “That so? If that’s the case, have you thought about what you’ll do once you’re out of this room? How will you escape the Arcanex?”

“I will sneak out.”

He guffawed in her face. “Ha! That’d be something. Once they spot you—which, judging by the horns, will be quickly—they will have the front entrance and outer gates sealed. Taskmages and teams of truthers will sweep every floor until you are found. So how?”

“I expect you will know, human,” Aeva growled. She squeezed his throat tighter. “You will tell me how to escape, or you will die.”

“You’re... interrogating the interrogator, she-beast,” Linton said. “You could torture me for hours and I wouldn’t tell you a thing. Besides…” With some difficulty, he reached up and pointed at the metal eye in the corner. “I can turn that thing on whenever I want. That auto-eye transmits a near-live feed to the Communications Hub on Floor 91. If I wanted you captured, I’d start there.”

Aeva felt her shoulders slump.

Her options were shrinking, and this infuriating human wasn’t making things any easier.

“You would lead me out of this place?” Aeva asked, letting up her grip just a hair.

“Yes.”

“Swear on all you hold holy.”

“Nothing is holy.”

Of course he’d say that, Aeva thought.

“Then swear on your life.”

Linton rolled his eyes. “I swear on my life.”

She released her stranglehold and let the human fall. He landed on his knees and coughed as he rubbed his bruising neck. He got back up after a minute and pulled the collar on his coat a little higher to conceal the bruises.

“Okay, this is the plan,” Linton said. “We’re going to head up to the 43rd floor, where the Crown is kept. We steal it, then jump out of one of the windows—we won’t make it back down to the first floor before security shows up, anyway.”

Aeva stared blankly at him. “We… jump out of the window? Surely, you jest.”

“My magic will provide us with a safe descent,” Linton assured. “Well, fairly safe.” He shook his head. “No time to dwell on the details. Stand still so I can glamor you.”

“Glamor?”

“An illusion. I’m going to make you look like a truther so we can avoid trouble. You wouldn’t make it far with those horns.”

Aeva took a step back, unsure whether to let the human go on with his task or knock him senseless.

“Very well,” she said. “But try anything tricky and I will snap your neck like a twig.”

Linton grinned and made a mock bow. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He straightened himself and ran his hands over her. “Agar.”

Aeva looked on in astonishment as her body began to shimmer. A black overcoat appeared on top of her tattered clothes, sleeves covering her clawed hands, along with a set of dark grey pants and tall, black leather boots. She glanced up and noticed the edge of a wide-brimmed, rounded hat.

Aeva patted herself down to test the limits of this illusion. When her hands made contact with the supposed fabric it shimmered and crackled. It reformed as soon as she removed them.

“This will fool anyone who looks at me?” Aeva asked.

“It’s not perfect, considering your…” Linton looked her up and down and cleared his throat. “Stature. I’ve glamored your face as well to make you look human—sadly, I can’t do anything for your voice with this little preparation. I suggest you keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. Don’t make too many sudden movements. The glamor will start to break down if you put stress on it.”

“Very well.”

“Good. Then let’s go. Stay behind me, and don’t let me out of your sight.”

Linton opened the door and exited the interrogation room. Aeva followed close behind and they entered into a long, white hallway with enough room for six men to walk side by side. There were metal doors on both sides of the hallway, identical to the one they had just come out of, and countless passages intersected the one they were on.

Truthers walked this way and that among the hallways, sometimes escorting prisoners—many of which were hurt, some even having to be dragged—but none even cast so much as a glance in Aeva’s direction.

Aeva made sure to stay a few steps behind Linton. She kept her gaze firmly downward.

Linton stopped once or twice to speak amicably with one of the black-coats. They made their way through the complex without trouble, arriving at the row of enchanted lifts that the humans used for quick transportation.

Personally, she would have preferred stairs.

They entered the metal box, which bobbed disconcertingly when she stepped in, and Linton pressed the button on the glowing screen that read ‘43’.

Just as the doors were closing, a hand shot in between.

Bethil O’Mare stepped into the lift, clutching his chest under one arm, and pushed ‘56’.

Aeva pressed herself against one of the corners of the metal box, trying her best to avoid remembering the sensation of the departed clawing at her flesh; that only brought it to mind more keenly.

“Ah,” Bethil said with a wide, friendly smile, “what a coincidence that we should meet each other again, Inquisitor Granhorn. I thought you would have taken a little longer with the detainee.”

“I’ve already gotten some valuable information out of her,” Linton said. “I’m taking it to Storm for further instructions.”

Bethil’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “Ah, I see.” He glanced over at the control panel. “Then, if I may ask, why are you not heading for his office?”

“He’s been overseeing the testing of the Crown. I saw him there last, so that’s where I’m headed. Figure it’s quicker to try there than going all the way up to his office.”

The lift doors closed and the box hurtled upward, turning Aeva’s stomach upside down. She couldn’t take her eyes off Bethil and his chained-up chest.

This is just getting worse and worse.