The Geomancer Read online

  “Empress?”

  Adele spun to see Kasteel peering at her from the stairs. His face was pale and he trembled.

  “What’s wrong?” Adele asked quickly, sure that something had happened to Gareth. There was no other reason for the rebel leader to look so distraught.

  “Nothing.” He shrank back and muttered, “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

  She frightened him. The Death Bringer. The Empress of the End. She suppressed a scowl and waved him up. Her examination of the blue crystal cast waves of geomantic power in the confined space. It had to be painful for Kasteel. Adele set the stone aside and concentrated on bringing even these faint hints of energy under control. The vampire’s English was fair so she said, “Come, Kasteel. I won’t harm you. What do you want? Gareth isn’t here.”

  “I know.” He crept to the top step again. “I want to see you.”

  “Me?” Adele stood her ground, careful not to make any aggressive moves that might spook the vampire. “Speak.”

  “Was the food satisfactory?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Kasteel nodded silently, standing there like a shadow.

  Adele leaned forward. “Anything else?”

  He didn’t raise his head. “Lord Gareth is going away soon.”

  “Tomorrow. We’re off to Paris.”

  “To pursue the blue stone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will he return?”

  “I don’t know.”

  There was another long pause. Kasteel ran his hand along a stone column. Adele waited and watched the nervous vampire struggle to find words.

  “What does he want?” Kasteel met her eyes in desperation. There was true questing pain in them that vampires never showed, at least not to a human. It was the same unquenchable desire and curiosity she had seen in Gareth when he asked questions about the inscrutable nature of human life. “I want to help him as he saves our kind, but he doesn’t seem pleased with us. How can I aid him?”

  The catch in his voice touched Adele. “You’re asking me?”

  “I’m sorry, Empress. I know you could burn me to ashes for asking, but that doesn’t matter. There is no one else. Baudoin is dead. I’ve tried to understand Lord Gareth from his actions. I’ve tried to teach others. If he leaves without telling us we’re on the right path, we’ll have nowhere to go. We’ll be adrift once more.”

  The amazing vision of Kasteel standing before her, struggling with ideas, trying to plan and define behavior rather than simply feeding and killing, caused Adele to smile.

  “Why is that funny?” he snapped and turned away.

  Adele almost blurted out an apology before realizing she dare not show any weakness deep inside vampire territory. Still, she held up her hand to stop him from charging back down the steps. “Kasteel, wait! I’m not mocking you. Believe me. I’m merely overjoyed you’re trying to learn. I wish I knew how to help you, but it’s not my place to explain Gareth’s mind to you.”

  The vampire’s anger passed and was replaced with a sudden look of alarm. He had just shouted at the Death Bringer.

  She came forward with calm words. “It seems to me that you’re doing the most important thing. You’re showing others that change is possible. That’s incredibly powerful.”

  “Yes!” Kasteel brightened with pride, but then his expression fell again. “But why does he not see that? What have we done wrong?”

  For a moment, Kasteel looked as young as Simon when he was scolded by their father. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re just a surprise to him.”

  “I’ve tried to spread the word. I’ve tried very hard. And there are more of us than you know. There will be many more once others realize what Lord Gareth is.”

  “I’m sure you’ve tried.” Adele was eager to collect more hints of what these rebels believed, but she had to be cautious. It was difficult to bridge the gap between Death Bringer and confidant. “What exactly is Lord Gareth to you?”

  “He is the prince who abandoned his rightful place to live alone among his humans . . . and cats apparently; I’m not sure how to judge that. But I know how he fought to free himself from the grip of his father, Dmitri, the despot of Britain.”

  Adele looked doubtfully at the youthful face. “You’ll forgive me, but the Gareth I know is different from the one you seem to see. Gareth has said many times that it was Dmitri who formed him. His father believed that vampires should live in the night and leave humans to the sun. Dmitri preached against the Great Killing. All that, Gareth gained from his father.”

  “But they say Dmitri was mad,” Kasteel said, confused. “And Lord Gareth abandoned him.”

  “The madness came later,” she replied gently. “After the Great Killing. And it broke Gareth’s heart.”

  Kasteel watched Adele with glowing eyes. He sank to sit cross-legged on the floor, listening rapturously to the words he craved to hear.

  Gareth crouched in an alley, waiting. Hunger was gnawing at him; it had been several days since he fed. A huddled shape passed the opening and Gareth struck. The attack wasn’t particularly artful, but he seized the man quickly and took him in an unbreakable hold. Wrenching the man’s wrist up to his mouth, Gareth bit and tasted warming blood. The victim was healthy and frightened. He resisted, trying to pull away. Gareth found that unexpected, but heartening. After taking just enough blood to dull his hunger, he released the man. The large fellow rounded with a look of terror.

  Gareth narrowed his eyes. “You’re free to go. Take the road.”

  The man took a few halting steps, then turned and broke into a run. He vanished into the dark.

  With a satisfied breath, Gareth walked to the far side of the street and looked down at a frozen canal. He paused at a bare willow tree with its long slender tendrils draping down to where they were trapped in the ice. He heard the whisper of vampires floating past so he lowered his head, sinking deeper into his hood.

  A dark figure swooped in front of him, landing on the frozen white surface of the canal. Gareth angrily tensed for a fight until he saw it was Kasteel. The young rebel smiled up at him.

  “May I come with you to Paris?” Kasteel asked.

  “No.”

  Kasteel pushed off along the ice with one foot and slid a few feet. “I can serve you there, my lord. I have places you can stay safely.”

  “I work alone. Well, with Adele.”

  “You may need help. The Paris clan has become brutal.”

  Gareth turned away. “What do you know of that?”

  “I have been there several times since the war in the south began. Old Lothaire has lost his grip. Power resides with the Dauphin.”

  “Prince Honore?” Gareth spun back to see Kasteel skating gracefully from one bank of the canal to the other.

  “Yes. Honore. Do you know the king’s son?”

  “We’ve met. He was an acolyte of my brother’s.”

  “Cesare.” Kasteel’s voice dripped with venom. “It’s hard to believe that you are of the same clan, much less the same blood. Are you happy he’s dead?”

  Gareth was surprised by the pain that rose in him over Kasteel’s callous mention of Cesare. The young vampire spun on the ice with his arms out. It was a peculiar sight to see a vampire playing, almost like a human child. The carefree moment annoyed Gareth. “Have you never been back to your clan at Aachen?”

  “No.” Kasteel slowed his rotation and rose into the air while still spinning.

  “You claim a lot of wisdom for one so young.” Gareth watched the vampire drift toward him.

  Kasteel set his feet lightly on the stones in front of Gareth to stop his spin. “I know the most important thing, my lord. There are two paths to the future. Yours or Cesare’s. You’re standing here, and he’s dead.”

  “So if you’re so wise, tell me, after the clan lords fall, what next?”

  “We return to the night, as we were before the Great Killing.”

  “And the humans?”

  “They re
turn to the day. They thrive. We feed. As it always was.”

  “Happily ever after?”

  Kasteel narrowed his gaze in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  “You believe the humans will suffer to be our food source?”

  “Some may, like your humans in Scotland. Ultimately it doesn’t matter. We will take what we need from them. We need not rule them to do it. That only corrupts us. They’ll live their lives as they wish. So will we.” The rebel eyed Gareth, sure this conversation was merely another test of his interpretation of the philosophy.

  Gareth lifted his face upward and watched small snowflakes drift down like stars dropping from the sky. “That’s one dream you can have, I suppose.”

  “It was King Dmitri’s dream too, wasn’t it?”

  Gareth felt a jolt run through him at the mention of his father, but he didn’t look away from the sky.

  Kasteel dropped his shoulders, his voice despondent. “Baudoin always admired Dmitri. I feel as if I don’t really understand his legacy. Perhaps I never will. But I wish to.”

  “You have a safe place in Paris?”

  “Yes,” Kasteel answered eagerly. “We have already found a few new brothers there. Lothaire’s rule creates open minds. Honore’s not as much.”

  Gareth gave the rebel a warm smile. “Very well. Gather the most trusted you have. I may need you in Paris after all.”

  Kasteel clenched his fists in triumph. “Yes, my lord! I would die for you!”

  “Good. Just don’t do it until I tell you.”

  Kasteel kicked off and sailed into the air. He rolled away on the wind and vanished behind a clock tower. Gareth shook his head. He appreciated enthusiasm because it was such a human attribute, but he was wary of it too—because it was such a human attribute. Kasteel’s type of focused hero worship was very questionable, particularly since Gareth was intimately acquainted with the failings of the rebel’s hero.

  He stared down at the icy canal and saw the chaotic traces in the light snow that Kasteel had made. He glanced around for anyone who might be watching. He felt an odd surge of exhilaration, similar to his early days donning the Greyfriar costume. Childish, he knew. Gareth climbed down the sheer stone wall. Just before his foot touched the frozen canal, he stopped himself. The ice had seemed solid enough when Kasteel had been on it. Gareth had no desire to fall through.

  Grasping the rocks of the canal wall, he let his toes touch the ice. Then slowly he put his weight down. The ice creaked, but stayed firm. He went to stand free. His left foot slipped and flew up. Strong fingers crunched into the stones to keep him from falling. Then the right leg jerked aside. He desperately clung to the wall to keep his balance. Gareth pulled himself up and lightened his frame a bit. Once his feet were again planted, he straightened. A quick pause for balance and he pushed off.

  It was a strange sensation floating across the surface of the canal. He barely felt the ice under his feet. It was like flying. As he made a slow glide, he raised his arms in front of him and fell into a crouch for no particular reason. Then he went into an unplanned spin. His back slammed against the opposite wall, and he grasped thick rooted vines covering the stones. His feet flew out from under him, but he held himself up.

  Pleased with his first attempt, Gareth shoved off again with a cavalier kick. The ice seemed more hospitable now. This wasn’t difficult at all. Suddenly he crashed onto the ice with an undignified grunt and skidded along the canal with his legs splayed around him.

  A rhythmic sound rose over his breathy muttering. He saw a figure standing at the railing laughing.

  Adele.

  He collided with the bank near her. She stood with a brilliant smile and one foot up on the low stone curb overlooking the canal.

  “That was very graceful,” she called down.

  Gareth tugged on his cuffs and wiped snow from his legs. “It’s what I wanted to do.”

  “I have no doubt. It was beautiful. You could have a career in the ballet.”

  He rose, slipped down again, but then dragged himself to his feet. “I suppose you are skilled at this, as you are at everything,” he said, a gentle challenge in his tone.

  “Don’t be cross.” Adele pulled her scarf up over her nose, obscuring her amusement, except for her bright eyes.

  Gareth reached up. “Here. Let’s see.”

  “No. I’d kill myself down there.”

  He remained motionless with his arm extended up to her.

  “Gareth, stop playing games. I’m not going to . . . Gareth, seriously, I’m sorry. I wasn’t making fun of you . . . listen . . . I’m from the desert . . . Fine. Fine. But if I break my leg, you’ll have to carry me home.” Adele dropped awkwardly and clambered down the jagged frosty wall, kicking snow as she went. Gareth took her hand and helped set her feet on the glassy ground.

  Adele waited breathlessly for disaster. She stood frozen, as still as a statue with her eyes wide and hands outstretched. When she spoke, she whispered, as if even the motion of her jaw would throw her off balance. “Will it hold both of us?”

  Gareth drew her close.

  Adele slipped and she clutched him tight. “Whoa! Don’t just move without warning me.” She looked down at their feet and hesitantly inched one of her boots. Then she brought it back. She chortled like a child, pressing her forehead against his unmoving chest. “You know what you’re doing, right? You’ve done this before.”

  “Not at all.” Lightened by the clean ring of her laughter, Gareth pushed off suddenly with Adele in tow. “Shall we!”

  Adele let out a shriek before clenching her mouth shut. Her legs quivered as the ice flashed beneath them. She squeezed Gareth around the waist, his solid frame steadfast despite their perilous glide. High walls of stone and the wooden sides of abandoned houses flashed past. Snowflakes swirled around them.

  Gareth spun out in front of her and took the brunt of the impact when they bounced off a bank. Despite the bump, they remained upright and continued skating along the glistening surface.

  “Are you cloaked?” he asked.

  “I think so.” Adele let out another peal of laughter. “I was anyway, before this started.”

  They left their world behind, flying across the canal, and in this moment, it was just the two of them, free of obligations and moralities. Gareth turned to her and found her bright gaze upon him, sheer joy written upon it.

  Adele hesitantly released her death grip on Gareth’s body. They moved apart slowly. She drifted out until the length of their two arms, fingers entwined, separated them. They glided down the center of the canal, crouching to pass under a bridge and then back out into the open.

  Gareth laughed too, wondering at the spectacle any vampire was witnessing. A madman skating with a nonexistent partner. While human watchers might only suspect two lovers stealing a dangerous moment on the ice.

  Adele gave a spirited snort and kicked off to increase their speed. Gareth let her pull him faster down the canal. He watched her cutting the snow in a crystalline swirl about them. The flakes landed on their dark attire and sparked like gemstones. Her intense eyes were not looking at her feet any longer; they were focused ahead. She was bent slightly at the knees, luxuriating in the wind and cold and speed.

  A dark wall loomed up suddenly. Gareth moved quickly and swept them into a precarious right turn. Adele moved with him. Together they each leaned wildly onto one leg. They managed stay up and kept racing down the ice.

  Adele crowed with exhilaration. She came back to his side and he looped his arm around her waist again, pulling her close. She sighed as his warmth encircled her. “Did Kasteel find you? He went looking for you.”

  “Yes. He is coming to Paris with us.”

  “He is? Are you starting to enjoy having disciples?”

  “Hardly.”

  Adele let her head rest against his shoulder. She reached out and let her fingertips patter along the wall to slow them to a walking pace.

  Gareth said, “I’ve grown immune to p
ointless admiration. Whether ridiculous stories about the Greyfriar or now misplaced confidence in Prince Gareth. Humans and vampires can both create a figure in their mind and make it mean what they wish.”

  “You’re wrong.” Adele clutched at the stones and brought herself to a stop while Gareth continued slowly on and made a wide loop to return toward her. “Kasteel respects you as a leader of your people. And, my God, you know how humans love the Greyfriar, and it isn’t for nothing. You did great things.”

  Gareth stared into her questioning eyes and sighed. “We should go back.”

  “Fine, but I wasn’t the one who started this skating party,” Adele reminded him, climbing toward the street. “Maybe seeing Lothaire will cheer you up and remind you of better days.”

  “The only better days are the ones with you.”

  “Oh, don’t put the whip to your gallantry now. It’s not finishing this race.” She labored onto the street and brushed the snow off her coat.

  He took her shoulders, making her look up at him. “The truth is the truth.” His lips brushed hers, warming her with his breath. Her eyes closed and her arms encircled him under the drape of his cloak. The embrace did not last long, in case someone spied them. They parted reluctantly. The fire in Adele’s eyes had shifted from irritated to something decidedly more passionate. She adjusted her coat and sauntered off. Gareth smiled and drifted up into the air, floating just above her all the way back to their once-grand lodging.

  CHAPTER 11

  General Mehmet Anhalt walked across the large public square toward Victoria Palace. Lines of carriages streamed through the ornate gate leading to the palace grounds. The crowds in the square showed many combinations of long white thobes or grey morning suits, full gowns or embroidered jalabiya, top hats and fezzes and hijabs. Greetings and close conversations swirled in English, Arabic, Swahili, Hindi, and various other languages from around the Equatorian Empire.