Chapter 4 - Veridan

With each step, the soles of patent leather shoes against stone floors announced Veridan’s presence. He squinted against the sunlight that shafted downward from small, round windows high on the walls.

He passed Xasdia, who stood atop a small ladder, running a dusting wand over a large tapestry. The girl gave him a quick, dirty look before doing an awkward curtsy.

Veridan ignored her. She was nothing but a servant girl, who thought herself more because she slept with that stupid young apprentice, Perry Hambleton. Once more, Veridan made a mental note to have her fired. She was so inconsequential, he kept forgetting. Too bad the girl was a Singular, else he would have had Danata take care of her. The more, the merrier.

After traveling through several corridors and encountering a few servants who actually knew their place, he stopped in front of the large wooden door leading to Ashby’s bedroom. He rapped three times, then, knowing he was expected, entered without further preamble.

Regent Danata stood by the window, looking out onto the south gardens, her angular nose made more prominent by a trick of the light. He went to stand by her side. They watched the topiary below in silence.

The early afternoon sun hid behind a thick blanket of gray clouds, marking the last day of Danata’s disregard for her duties. What he held in his amulet would set things right and would make the Regent turn back into her old self.

She needed to refocus on the important issues, if she was to remain in control. The Regency was slipping away, but she was so caught up in this uncharacteristic bout of motherly affection that she barely seemed to notice. Veridan hoped that what he’d brought to her today would set her straight. He couldn’t have her rights to the Regency challenged. She was too important.

“I believe the incantation is ready,” he finally announced.

For the last two months, while he’d searched the inner reaches of the nebula, he’d lied to the Regent, saying a spell was needed in order to accomplish this. She need not be aware of the exact details. That she was the source of his ever-growing power was something only he needed to know.

Danata’s breathing halted, then resumed with an ill-concealed sigh of relief.

“If it is so, Veridan, then I am in your debt.”

He nodded, eyes fixed on the perfectly round shape of one of the shrubs below.

Danata turned with determination. Her long hair was loose and hung down her back in wavy locks. Her skirt rustled as she moved with the same grace that had once captured Mateo’s attention, as well as his own. Veridan shook his head, displeased at the way these memories of his old friend kept resurfacing. He pushed them away.

The Regent moved toward the large four-poster bed that dominated the room. A shape lay under heavy covers, looking small and wasted. Danata’s grieved expression still looked out of place on her face. Veridan would have never thought it possible, not after all he had seen her do this past fifteen years.

On the bed, the boy looked gaunt and sallow-faced.

“Will it work?” Danata asked. “Or will he be like that fool, Bernard? Will he be a Void?”

Her tone as she pronounced her brother-in-law’s name held even more contempt than usual. Not only that, it also held a healthy dose of fear, which was rather well-placed. Bernard’s miraculous recovery two months ago had been a terrible, terrible setback. He had been reconnected to his Companion, Roanna, and had found her shortly thereafter, tracing her to Modena House, a forsaken human asylum the mentally infirm.

If only Danata had killed him, instead of letting him roam the castle babbling stupidities and sowing turnips. With a severed link, he had been but an empty husk that got in everyone’s way. The ripping process always made essenceless creatures out of those strong enough to survive the shock of separation. They became Voids, simpletons who deserved the mercy of a swift knife to the heart. But Danata had deemed his death unnecessary, and now, due to her misplaced sensibilities, her Regency was in danger, and Veridan’s quest for more power in need of expediency. All thanks to that girl and her Keeper.

“No,” Veridan answered. “He should be just fine. I expect him to make a full recovery. I have . . . my means.”

“Heal him, then.” Her violet eyes grew hazy as she regarded the figure on the bed.

He hadn’t expected her weakness for the boy. Maybe she was also struggling with past memories of Mateo. Odd how after all these years, they each seemed to be developing a conscience.

“Heal him!” she repeated. “Give me back my son, so I can return my full attention to Bernard and Roanna.”

“As you should.”

Veridan sat on the bed, more than ready to put an end to her nonsense, not to mention his own daily chores of administering nourishing spells to keep the boy from wasting away.

The Sorcerer’s manicured fingers unfastened the small ivory buttons of his shirt and retrieved his talisman. The onyx at the center seemed to move, the blackness inside twisting like a whirlpool in an oil pit.

He spoke an incantation. When it finished, a black plume of smoke rose from the gem into the air and floated right above the boy, leaving the onyx back in its normal state.

What was Ashby’s life essence floated in midair for a fraction of a second, then shot toward the unconscious body and greedily seeped in through the half-opened mouth, nostrils, eyes and ears.

Veridan smiled. If he’d held any doubt as to whether or not this was the right life force, it was immediately dispelled at the sight of the willingness with which the energy traveled into the boy. With the wrong vessel, it would have never been this easy.

They waited in silence for a few minutes. The boy remained the same, giving no signs of snapping out of his coma, in spite of the bit of color that seemed to return to his face.

“Well?” Danata said, putting in one word the weight of her full expectations.

Veridan stood and buttoned up his shirt. “It might take a few days.”

“A few days? I can’t wait any longer!”

“You should have thought about that before you ripped his vinculum.” Veridan walked to the window once more. “But you have always let anger cloud your judgment.” Not that he was complaining. He had benefited from her temper more than she could ever imagine.

“He defied me. I couldn’t let him do that.”

“And you didn’t. But stand by your actions. If you don’t, guilt will get the best of you.” He straightened his cuff-links and examined his perfectly manicured fingers, trying to show indifference and hide the fact that he, himself, had felt pity for the boy.

“You are right,” she begrudgingly said.

He looked up from his polished nails in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to agree. The woman was certainly losing her edge.

Before he could respond, there was a knock at the door. Danata looked displeased but gave the order to come in, all the same. She’d been spending too much time in this chamber, so much that her advisers had opted to come here when there were pressing matters that needed the Regent’s attention.

Vitorio Carso Pestile—the pretentious dolt insisted in using all three of his names—stepped in, wearing a deep scowl that made Veridan run a hand across his own forehead, whispering a rejuvenating spell. Why Danata kept the annoying man as her personal secretary and assistant was a wonder.

“My Regent.” Vitorio bowed, then looked in Veridan’s direction. “High Sorcerer.”

Veridan almost glanced around for Portos, but the old Sorcerer was gone, disappeared right alongside Bernard. Veridan’s new title sat poorly with him. He didn’t have Portos’s patience or disposition to deal with Danata’s people and their petty affairs. But refusing to fulfill the role at this critical juncture would have been unwise and counterproductive to his goals, so here he was, the Regent’s High Sorcerer.

Bloody Portos!

A month after the old bastard’s defection, intelligence had arrived of his whereabouts. Not that it had come as a surprise, but the ex-High Sorcerer had joined the Morphid Order for Regency Fealty, better known as MORF, a faction that had come to life shortly after Danata announced her sister and niece had died in a mysterious car crash while on an excursion to London.

At the time, several members of Roanna’s retinue challenged their Regent’s closed-coffin memorial. They suspected foul play, but couldn’t prove anything in the short time it took Danata to install herself as the new Regent and head of the council.

As Danata demanded everyone’s allegiance and loyalty, a handful of Roanna’s closest advisers vanished without a trace. Shortly after that, the first signs of unrest appeared in the shape of MORF. The movement had always been subtle, enough to be ignored, but Veridan doubted it would remain that way.

“You asked me to report back as soon as we had word from the Seekers,” Vitorio said.

“Well, speak. Did they find him?”

Vitorio lowered his gaze. “They did not.”

Danata sucked in a breath, the oxygen needed to fuel her fury. “What kind of inept Seekers are these?”

“They are the best we have,” Vitorio said in low voice. “They suspect magic has been used to make your brother-in-law untraceable.”

She exchanged a look with Veridan, then took a seat in a high-back chair with a cushion decorated in intricate patterns of silk thread.

There was no reason for this to come as a surprise to Danata. Veridan had already told her that tasking the Seekers with searching for Bernard was a waste of time. Portos was with him. A cloaking spell would be a trifling thing even for the decrepit ex-High Sorcerer.

“There’s something else, my Regent,” Vitorio said, looking as if he’d rather slit his own throat than give Danata the next piece of news.

“Apparently, there is a . . . rumor circulating the castle. I suppose the . . . events of that dreadful day,” he cast a glance toward Ashby’s bed, “have caused everyone’s imagination to run wild, and the staff has been gossiping.”

“Out with it, Vitorio. We don’t have all day.” Danata practically vibrated with impatience.

“Well, they are saying the girl healed your brother-in-law.” The grooves on Vitorio’s forehead grew deeper, as impossible as that seemed.

Danata glanced toward Veridan again, this time with an intensity that suggested she wished him to intervene. Her face was too red, her mouth probably too full of expletives, to allow her to handle this situation properly. What staff members the rumors had come from, Veridan couldn’t say. He had placed memory spells on Simeon and Omar, the guards who had witnessed Bernard’s miraculous recovery. The men were the only witnesses besides Portos, Samantha, and the Keeper. There was only one possible explanation. Portos was somehow behind this. He, Bernard and the recently-rescued Roanna were already at work, undermining Danata.

“Healed him?” Veridan asked, his tone innocent and perplexed.

Vitorio turned his drooping eyes away from the Regent. “Yes. Like I said, I personally believe it is nonsense—a product of their imagination, mere gossip.”

“Keep your opinions to yourself, Vitorio,” Danata spat. “Explain this rumor.”

Vitorio inclined his head. “My apologies.” He cleared his throat and began, “As the rumor has it, the girl supposedly repaired Master Bernard’s broken vinculum.” He paused to gauge their reaction. When he received nothing but impatient glares, he continued, “They are saying the girl prayed over his unconscious body, reached her hands to the heavens toward a ribbon of light, and somehow connected that to another ribbon of light that emanated from your brother-in-law.

“After that, Master Bernard supposedly stood and asked for his wife and the baby. They said that, for a moment, he seemed in command of himself. However, it wasn’t long before he took his leave in search of the late Regent Roanna and his daughter.”

No. Clearly, this rumor wasn’t the mere product of the staff’s imagination. Even if there were enough bits to fuel the castle’s idle minds—what with the Regent’s son in an unexplained coma, and his uncle and Companion missing—this rumor was too accurate a description of what had actually happened to be any less than an orchestrated attack to begin undermining Danata’s rule.

After a short, tense silence, Danata let out a sharp cackle. “That’s ridiculous.”

Vitorio shook himself and laughed, looking relieved. “I know. Ridiculous!”

The knowledge of vinculums was to Morphids what the concept of souls was to humans. Many thought the links existed, but none had seen one. In their minds, it was simply an old myth passed down from times immemorial, a piece of lore that required a sizable amount of faith to be accepted.

And even though Morphids believed wholeheartedly in Fate and magic, they weren’t any less skeptical than homo sapiens. If anything, their familiarity with the supernatural made them even more likely to expect proof before trusting any nonsense about ripped and joined-again vinculums.

“And how, pray tell, did Bernard’s vinculum break in the first place?” Veridan asked, wishing to know the depth of this rumor.

Vitorio stared blankly, his mouth working but producing no words.

So they hadn’t dared involve Danata. Yet.

“Ah, the shallow workings of people’s imagination.” Veridan vaguely waved a hand toward his head. “They know all too well that Bernard suffers from . . . an imbalance.”

“Of course. Everyone knows that. I just thought I should let you know, regardless.” Vitorio inclined his head and took a few steps back toward the door.

“Before you leave,” Danata said, “Tell the staff that if these nonsensical rumors continue, I will take matters into my own hands. I will not tolerate their useless gossip while my brother-in-law is missing. We need to find him. That is all that matters,” the Regent finished.

“Of course. I will make sure everyone understands, my Regent.” Vitorio gave a small bow and exited the room, leaving behind a heavy silence.

After pacing the length of the large bed, Danata spoke, “I thought you took care of the witnesses.”

“I did. Do not doubt it for a second.” Veridan hated being challenged. He was thorough. Always. He knew better than to leave anything to chance, especially when so much was at stake.

“This rumor can have only one source.” He paused for effect. “Portos. I have no doubt he is with Bernard and your resurrected sister.”

“I should have killed them both when I had the chance,” Danata said, her violet eyes burning with anger and frustration. “I’ll never be that weak again.”

Veridan bit back a scoff. She was being weak at this very moment. If she didn’t wise up, this weakness, this spoiled son of hers, might prove her undoing.

“If my dear sister thinks she can take the Regency from me, she is sorely mistaken. Modena House will pay for their incompetence. Bernard should have never been allowed to get to her.”

For over fifteen years, Danata had kept her sister prisoner, so she’d had more than enough time to make sure Roanna never came back to challenge her. Instead, she opted for confining her to Modina House, the first place Bernard had gone to as soon as the link with his wife was restored; and with it, his innate ability to find her.

“Don’t waste your time,” Veridan said. “I told you many times a human asylum was not the best place to keep your sister. As a matter of fact, I warned you about keeping her at all. Everyone thought her dead in the car accident, why leave her alive and give them the chance to prove you a liar?”

“Cora Warelow should have foreseen this.”

“Who says she didn’t?”

“You think she’s a traitor?”

“I think you shouldn’t trust anyone.”

“Do you think anyone suspects I’m a Ripper?”

“No. Your inept secretary didn’t know what to say when I asked him how the vinculum broke. They don’t know it is you who has this unique power.”

If only they’d had a chance to prevent this debacle, but it had all happened too fast. Veridan had been at death’s doorstep, nearly killed by his fight with the Keeper. Danata, for her part, had been out her mind with grief over the son she thought she’d killed.

By the time they were well enough to hear the guards’ report of Bernard’s recovery, it’d been too late. The fool had found his wife and had taken her into hiding.

As a result, the rightful Regent was now on the loose, in full command of her faculties, and mother to a girl who was Danata’s direct opposite . . .

A Weaver.

If Veridan didn’t know better, he might even be scared of what Fate had in store for them. Except he didn’t believe in that nonsense. He was a Singular, the sole master and captain of his actions.

As if she’d read his thoughts, Danata said, “Fate seems to be against me, my dear High Sorcerer. She could undo everything I have so carefully torn apart. I cannot allow that to happen. If Roanna comes forth . . .” She didn’t finish that thought and skipped to a more productive one. “As soon as Ashby recovers, I want you to find Roanna and Bernard and kill them.”

“I understand.” He might not be scared of Fate, but there was enough reason to worry, especially over the effect the girl’s weaving powers could have on his nebula. He hadn’t perceived any change in it yet, but it was safest to plan for the worst. Idleness at a time like this was unacceptable.

Veridan was lost in thought when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement by the bed. Slowly, the gaunt figure sat up.

“You’re . . . you’re a Ripper?” Ashby asked, dried lips trembling with each word, dark eyes ablaze with accusation and incredulity.