The Sorcery Code (The Sorcery Code #1)(32)

“Ganir told me to.”

“So you knew about the three thousand men instead of three hundred?”

“What?” Siur appeared genuinely shocked. “No, I didn’t. There were three thousand peasants?”

“Yes,” Barson said, unsure if he believed the man.

“I didn’t know,” Siur said. “Captain, I didn’t know, I swear it! I would’ve warned you if I knew.”

Barson looked at him. Perhaps he would have; there was a big difference between selling information and sending all your comrades to their deaths.

Siur held his gaze, his face pale and sweating. “Are you going to kill me now? I told you everything I know.”

Barson didn’t respond. Walking over the Sphere, he brought it back and pressed it against Siur’s wound again, concluding the recording. He had to watch it now, to make sure Siur’s thoughts matched his words. Picking up the droplet that had formed inside the Sphere’s indentation, he gingerly put it under his tongue and let it take over his mind.

When Barson regained his sense of self, he gave Siur a somber look. “You told the truth. Since I’m a man of my word, your good name is safe.”

“Thank you.” Visibly shaking, Siur squeezed his eyes shut.

A swish of Barson’s sword, and the traitor was no more.



*



Wiping the blood off his sword, Barson walked toward Augusta’s quarters. He’d found it suspicious that Ganir wanted to talk to her. He doubted the old sorcerer could’ve learned about Augusta’s involvement in the battle so quickly, which left only two possibilities.

Ganir was either using her to spy on Barson as well—or he was suspicious of her, just as he had been of the two sorcerers who’d gone ‘exploring the storms.’

Barson considered the first possibility—a thought that had occurred to him in the past. But somehow he couldn’t see Augusta being a spy. She was fairly open in her dislike for Ganir, and she had far too much pride to let herself be used in such manner. If it came down to it, she’d be the one plotting something, instead of being someone’s pawn.

That left the other option—that of Ganir learning that Augusta was Barson’s lover and taking action against her. Even this seemed unlikely. She was a member of the Council and quite powerful in her own right. Making her disappear would be a significant challenge. In fact, if Ganir did try to take on Augusta, there was a chance that she would make the problem of Ganir disappear instead.

So what had Ganir wanted with Augusta? To his frustration, Barson was no closer to figuring that out.

Entering Augusta’s room, he was relieved to find her there, changing her clothes. And to his surprise, he realized that a small part of him had been worried for her safety. Rationally, he knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself, but the primitive side of him couldn’t help thinking of her as a delicate woman who needed his protection.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked, noticing that she was putting on one of her special-occasion dresses. Made of a deep red silk, it made her golden complexion glow.

“I just need to run an errand,” she said—somewhat evasively, he thought.

Barson suppressed a flare of anger. He wasn’t stupid; the last time he’d seen her wear a dress like this was at one of the spring celebrations. Was she dressing up for something—or someone? And did this have anything to do with her earlier conversation?

There was only one way to find out.

Coming up to her, Barson wrapped his arms around her narrow waist and bent his head to nuzzle her soft cheek. “What did Ganir want?” he murmured, kissing the outer shell of her ear.

“I don’t have time to discuss it now,” she said, slipping out of his embrace in an uncharacteristic gesture of rejection. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

And in a whirl of silk skirts and jasmine perfume, she walked out of the room, leaving Barson angry and confused.





Chapter 21: Augusta


Exiting the Tower, Augusta got on her chaise and headed toward Blaise’s house, mentally steeling herself for the upcoming encounter. She could feel her heart beating faster and her palms sweating at the thought of seeing Blaise again—the man who had rejected her, the man whom she still couldn’t forget. Even now that she had found some measure of happiness with Barson, memories of her time with Blaise were like a poorly healed wound—hurting at the least provocation.

Closing her eyes, she let the wind blow through her long dark hair. She loved the sensation of flying, of being high up in the air, above the mundane concerns and small lives of people on the ground. Of all the magic objects, the chaise was her favorite because no commoner could ever operate it. Flying required knowing some basic verbal magic, and non-sorcerers would not be able to do more than slowly float away to their deaths.

Passing by the Town Square, she made an impulsive decision to land in front of one of the merchant shops. Out here among the noise and bustle of the marketplace, on this beautiful day in late spring, it was hard to remain negative. Perhaps there was a good explanation for Blaise’s obsession with Life Capture droplets, she thought hopefully. Perhaps he was running an experiment of some kind. After all, she knew he had always been interested in matters of the human mind.

Walking over to one of the open-air stalls, she bought some plump-looking dates. They were Blaise’s favorite snack, when he deigned to stimulate his taste buds with some sweets. They would make a good peace offering, assuming that Blaise would agree to see her at all. Happy with her purchase—and fully cognizant of the futility of it all—she got back into the air.