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Blaggard returned the sightstone to the pouch, careful to place it back in the small wooden box with the correct label, returning it to the drawer with the others. Five boxes in all... quite a feat. He’d never attempted to empower more than two sightstones at once, much less five concurrent stones. And it had proven much more difficult to imbed the sight in a porous rock before breaking it into twin stones. Not only was the softer rock more resistant to farsight, but once imbued with power, it tended to shatter rather than split in two, like the usual hard mineral stones.
But he had finally perfected the technique and, after many failures, produced five perfect pairs of sightstones. After soaking the stones in Roseroot oil, the wearer would experience a few day’s worth of stimulation from skin contact, though it was more effective on those who were weak-minded. Still, he had convinced five different citizens to wear the sightstones, each believing they were experiencing exclusive benefits from his newly discovered magick rock quarry.
Thalaena was his prize convert, though a less than enthusiastic customer. Through her eyes, he’d witnessed an entire council meeting.
Admittedly, Blaggard only caught a small number of the words spoken. He’d long ago learned to read lips, but some of the more heavily bearded speakers were difficult to understand. In addition, Thalaena had an annoying habit of watching the reactions of others in the room, rather than keeping her eyes on the one speaking. As the council meeting dragged on late into the night, Thalaena’s eyes had drifted closed.
He screamed at her to open her eyes and pay attention—a futile action, since no sound carried through a sightstone. But Thalaena was clearly exhausted from sparring, having bested three of Laegenshire’s top warriors at short swords that afternoon. He’d watched some of the terrifying battles through her eyes, thanking his stars that he lacked the gifting to be a warrior.
Blaggard gleaned some information from the council meeting. He now knew Laethan had the gift of empathy—a clear violation of edicts for healers—yet the council postponed rendering judgment on the matter. Blaggard stored this tidbit of information away, hoping it might be useful at another time. When the discussion turned to the appearance of the portals and what action should be taken, he only knew an expedition was planned to some distant land, not the destination or the purpose. Furthermore, he only discovered a few of those who would be included on the trip.
Blaggard slammed the drawer shut in frustration. He had to have more information when he spoke to Vindrake that evening or the Water Clan leader might judge this other new agent to be more valuable than Blaggard. It was a fine line he walked with Vindrake—proving himself so gifted as to be indispensable, while not posing a threat to his power. He knew it was dangerous, but the potential gain was immense. If he maneuvered carefully through the pitfalls, he would not only destroy Graely and Stone Clan, but also attain a position of high power within Water Clan’s rule over all of Tenavae.
A pitiful mewling sounded from near his feet—Chince, his deceased wife’s cat, which now haunted his home—stared at him with accusing gold eyes. Blaggard kicked out with his heavy boot, but the cat leapt clear, letting out a hiss and disappearing through the open window.
He hated Chince with a passion almost equal to his detestation of Graely, but the scrawny cat refused to die or find a new home. Though Blaggard provided no food or water, the cat found other sustenance. And somehow the feline had the wherewithal to avoid his poisoned bait.
Blaggard let out a huge sigh, plunking his heavy frame onto a nearby stool. What shall I say to Vindrake this evening?
With a sudden burst of intuition, he checked Thalaena’s sightstone again. She’d been wearing the stone in the new belt Blaggard had fashioned, but he only observed another sparring session that morning, this time against the formidable Alleraen. Still, it was possible she might engage in a meaningful conversation while she ate her midday meal.
Opening the drawer, he removed the sister stone, gripping it in his palm. A smile drifted onto his face when he saw she was indeed eating with not one but two significant partners—Morvaen and Alleraen. And though both men were bearded, the proximity was close enough to allow Blaggard to read their lips with practiced proficiency.
Yes. Master Vindrake would be properly impressed with his report tonight.
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Alleraen was beside himself.
He’d been bested. For the first time since he came into his weapons gifting, someone had beaten him in combat. He tried to convince himself that he’d simply been distracted by Thalaena’s magnificent form during the blunt bladed sparring. But bruises in too many critical places spoke to the truth. Certainly he’d begun the match believing he would need to hold back, so as not to humiliate her while demonstrating his prowess. A blink into the battle, however, his goal changed to mere survival.
She’d beaten him handily, though he far outweighed and out-muscled her. Her agility more than made up for a deficit against his gift of strength as she parried every blow with ease, countering with unfailing accuracy.
Yet she sat across from him at the table, calmly eating her midday meal like the impossible hadn’t just occurred.
He stared into his bowl, jabbing at the stew with his table knife as if he could kill the meat again and achieve at least a small portion of victory to appease his bruised ego.
“Not to worry, Alleraen.... I also felt the sting the first time it happened.” Morvaen’s jovial voice broke into his reverie. As the weapons master heaved his massive form into an adjacent chair, he laughed, slapping his hand so hard on the wooden table he rattled the bowls. He shoved an elbow into Alleraen’s ribs. “You should have seen your face when Thalaena spun around and sent her boot into your gut. I’m surprised your stomach isn’t too sore to eat.”
Alleraen mumbled something that shouldn’t have been said in polite company.
Thalaena choked and looked like she was hiding a laugh behind her hand. Then she must have taken pity on him, for she turned the tide of the conversation. “Actually, Morvaen, I believe Alleraen presented a greater challenge than you. Did I not relieve you of your sword after only four parries?”
“Ha! That you did, Thalaena. But only the first time we sparred. Once I learned not to underestimate you, I made you work for your victories—every one.”
Alleraen perked up at this revelation. “How many times has she beaten you, then?”
“Too many times to count,” Morvaen declared. “But I’m a better warrior for it. Smugness makes one lazy and careless.”
“No chance of that for me,” Thalaena remarked, taking a deep drink of water from her mug. “I set up practice matches for all the warriors, but I fight at least three challenges most days. You were my first today. I’m hopeful my victory over you this morning will discourage others from seeking a match after midday. I could use a rest.”
“I didn’t realize you’d beaten Morvaen, as well,” said Alleraen. Taking his first bite of stew, he chewed with relish, reviewing the match in his mind. “I suppose I’ve joined a good company, then.”
Morvaen grunted. “Yes, a fine company, indeed—those whom Thalaena has defeated. I’m glad she fights for Stone Clan.”
“I can see why you’ve chosen her to be your successor on the council,” Alleraen observed.
