Promise of Blood

Adamat followed his friend up to the third floor. The books he thought to find there were also missing. They looked in two more places before Uskan leaned against a bookshelf and wiped his brow. “Someone must be doing a theology dissertation,” he said. “Damned theology students always take the books. We don’t get many these days, but when we do, they think they own the place because their grandfathers gave this grant or that back in the day.”

Adamat wondered how much to tell him about his investigation. The words had little danger on their own, but Adamat wanted as few people as possible to know the nature of his investigation. No sense risking being branded a traitor before Tamas was in full power.

“Do you have any books from the Bleakening? I’ve heard there is an abundance of writing on Kresimir from that time.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“A newspaper I read in early spring, three years ago.”

“Bah, the newspapers will print any rubbish. It was a very religious time, certainly, but the Bleakening was a dark ages bereft of knowledge. Kresimir and his siblings had disappeared. The new monarchies were locked in a struggle with the Predeii—an ancient caste of powerful Privileged. Not much of anything survives from that period. The vice-chancellor once told me that if we had half the knowledge about sorcery and science that we did during Kresimir’s Time—most of which was lost during the Bleakening—we’d be living in a golden age for noble and peasant alike.”

“Well, try referencing theology, history, and sorcery.”

“I’ll make a librarian of you yet,” Uskan said.

“What do you know about sorcery?” Adamat asked.

“Sorcerous philosophy is a bit of a hobby of mine, though I have no talent for sorcery myself. My grandfather was a Privileged. A healer, actually.” Uskan paused here and gave Adamat an expectant look.

“Yes?” Adamat prompted.

Uskan scowled. “A healer. They’re the rarest of Privileged. Even schoolboys with an introductory class on sorcery know that. It’s said the human body is so complex that only one of every hundred Privileged has more than the most rudimentary healing capabilities.”

“Rare, then?”

“Very rare, Adamat. Lord, with your penchant for details one would think you’d know about this sort of thing. Don’t you know anything about sorcery?”

“Not really,” Adamat admitted. He lived in a world of city streets, citizens, and criminals. He didn’t have time for sorcery and frankly, it was a foreign thing. He came across the odd Knack here and there, but stronger stuff was the realm of the cabals, and an inspector had no business with any of that. What he knew came from a few hours of schooling when he was a boy.

“You’re a Knacked,” Uskan said, “so you have the third eye, correct?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure what that has to do with anything…”

“So you can see the auras of all things when you open your sight and look into what Privileged call the Else?”

Nowadays Adamat rarely opened his third eye. It was an uncomfortable feeling at best, but he remembered the glow that surrounded everything in that sight, as if the world had been painted in vibrant pastels. “Yes.”

“A Privileged manipulates the Else,” Uskan said. “Each of a Privileged’s fingers is attached to one of the elements: Fire, Earth, Water, Air, and Aether.”

“But fire isn’t an element,” Adamat said. “It’s the result of combustion.”

Uskan sniffed. “Bear with me. This explanation is recognized as imperfect in the light of discoveries of the last hundred years, but it’s the best we have. Now, each finger corresponds to an element and to a Privileged’s strength with that element, the thumb being the strongest digit. A Privileged uses his strong hand—most often his right—to call upon the auras of that which he wants to manipulate in the Else. He uses his off hand to direct those auras once they have been pulled into our world.”

“So how does a powder mage’s magic work?”

“Bugger if I know. Privileged hate powder mages, and the cabals have always discouraged a study of them.”

“Why such a strong hate?” Adamat had heard most Privileged were allergic to gunpowder.

“Fear,” Uskan said. “Most Privileged’s spells have a range of less than a half mile. Powder mages can shoot from over twice that. The cabals have never liked being at a disadvantage. I’ve also been told that whereas all things, living or dead or elemental, have auras in the Else, gunpowder does not, and that makes Privileged nervous. Ah, here we are.”

Uskan paused in front of a bookcase. He ran his finger along several spines before taking them out and piling them into Adamat’s arms. Dust rose as the books thumped against each other. “Only one missing,” Uskan said. “I know just where it is, too. The vice-chancellor’s office.”

“Can we get it?”

“The vice-chancellor is away, summoned to Adopest early this morning with some urgency. I don’t have a key to his office. We’ll have to wait until he gets back.”