Chapter 280 - Visitors

Oliver 

Month 9, Day 26, Sunday 12:00 p.m.

Oliver leaned back in the cheap carriage he had flagged down not long after leaving Liza’s house. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and scratched the stubble on his cheek. When he’d left, Siobhan still hadn’t woken up, even though it had been almost three whole days now since her spell went wrong. Leaving her made him even more anxious than waiting by her bedside, but there were too many urgent things waiting for his attention. He would finish seeing to everything as quickly as possible. 

If Siobhan didn’t wake up by the time he returned, he resolved to call Healer Nidson to check on her. No matter how important secrecy was, Siobhan’s life was more important. Oliver had been using an artifact meant for coma patients to keep her from dehydrating, maintain her cleanliness, and prevent bedsores. Why he’d found such a convenient thing in Liza’s house, he could only guess. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t have agreed to help her with this experiment. But he hadn’t seen a better option, and would never have guessed things might go wrong like this. Since he couldn’t kill Thaddeus Lacer for her, he’d wanted to lend his support to something that might take at least one of her many troubles off her shoulders. 

Thinking of Thaddeus Lacer, Oliver clenched one fist, pressing it against his thigh. He had done his best to suppress his reaction while Siobhan told him everything that had happened while he’d been on his futile trip to Osham, but the thought of the way the other man had violated her made him sick. 

Oliver didn’t consider himself a good person. But using those kinds of tactics, and on innocents… It reminded him of the rumors he’d heard as a child about some of Osham’s own black sites and recruitment centers. And after his visit there, he couldn’t stop thinking about his own sister. Would she have experienced something like that—someone tampering with her mind, her very being—before she died? 

Would his sister have fought back desperately, futilely, just like Siobhan had done? 

When he reached the Verdant Stag, he sent out a flurry of instructions before hurrying through the most urgent paperwork that Katerin had left on his desk. He was over halfway through when Tanya Canelo arrived, responding to his summons. 

He put on his mask before she entered his office—it wouldn’t do to appear outwardly haggard, even if he didn’t worry about exposing his identity to her. 

Miss Canelo looked around cautiously as soon as she entered the room, eyeing the corners and any shadowed area with slightly too much attention. She visibly steeled herself, clenching her broad jaw and sitting carefully on the edge of the chair in front of Oliver’s imposing desk. “Why did you contact me?” she asked. 

Oliver didn’t have the time or the energy to play games with her. “I need your help to find out what the Architects of Khronos are planning, and most importantly, where they are keeping the group of Nulls that they kidnapped.” 

Miss Canelo stared into the shadowed-eye holes of his mask, working her jaw back and forth in what seemed to be anger. “Does the Raven Queen know you’re asking me to do this?” 

“She doesn’t. But if you agree, I won’t keep it a secret from her. She would not allow me to place you in danger, and that’s not what I hope to do. I have several other informants within the Architects of Khronos, but none in positions of particular power or access.” Anticipating her next objection, he added, “You would just be one more, and I wouldn’t expect you to risk yourself, only to keep your eyes open and inform either myself or the Raven Queen of anything you might find. Even something small could be a clue.” 

“This isn’t the Raven Queen’s wish, and no matter what you say, it would be placing me in danger. She can’t protect me if I recklessly throw myself into the fire.” Canelo thrust out her jaw defiantly. “So what’s in it for me?” 

Oliver steepled his fingers together and leaned back in a way that he knew made him look slightly villainous. “Anything you want that I can provide. Gold, celerium, introductions to powerful people. But most importantly…” He trailed off dramatically, then softened his tone. “A small chance that you save those poor children.” Calling them children might have been a stretch, when most of them were probably only a few years younger than Canelo herself. But that was how Oliver couldn’t help but think of them. 

“Have you heard the stories of how Osham treats its recruits? The Nulls, especially.” 

She didn’t respond, but her eyes narrowed. 

“They’re ground down physically and mentally, everything unique or special about them suppressed and punished, and tormented until they can no longer remember who they once were, or distinguish their own desires from those of their owners.” His throat grew tight, and he paused to swallow hard. “They are treated like tools until they either lose their resistance or escape. And of the latter option, it can be achieved in only two ways. Some of them manage to flee or seek asylum beyond Osham’s borders. But do you know the percentage that commit suicide?” 

Canelo flinched. 

“I’ve heard the group that was kidnapped is being held somewhere underground. I cannot help but imagine a small, dark space, as devoid of hope as it is of freedom. You know the Architects better than most. Do you think they attacked a military outpost and kidnapped all the recruits out of kindness? Do you think they will treat those children well? If they want to leave, to try to live a normal life, to you believe they will let them go?” 

The young woman remained silent for a long while, staring down at the wood grain of Oliver’s table. Finally, she said, “Why not ask the Raven Queen for help to save them? Surely, she would be much more effective than I. She would likely be willing to save them if they are innocent.” 

There were times when the outlandish rumors about Siobhan’s abilities became inconvenient. He could only say truthfully, “She is occupied and unable to spare the attention. I do not know how long the children can wait.” 

Canelo drew in a deep breath, held it while puffing out her cheeks, and then deflated with a huge sigh. “I see why the Raven Queen likes you. You’re a good person. Alright, I’ll help you.” 

Behind his mask, Oliver blinked. While her misconception was beneficial to him, for some reason, at least today, he didn’t feel like accepting it. “I’m not some paragon of righteousness. I just like to do things that make me feel good. Saving people is a totally selfish decision.” 

She lifted her eyebrows wryly. “You’re a very selfish person, then. You’re spending the income of an entire Crown Family every year on helping people.” 

“I’m incredibly, ambitiously, prodigiously selfish. So much so that you probably cannot fathom the depth of my greed.” 

Her eyes widened for half a second. She was neither stupid nor oblivious. 

“Since you’ve agreed, don’t stay too long. You need to avoid suspicion. Take a cloak for the road and leave a different way than you came.” He stood, ushering her out quickly. It was rude, but he didn't have the time to dillydally around with niceties. Siobhan was alone, and he couldn’t feel at ease. 

When Canelo had gone, he almost decided to abandon the remainder of the paperwork, but hesitated. He had been funding an “underground” escape route out of Osham for Nulls for a long time—since he’d first become an adult. The people working to save Nulls had started before he was born, and would continue with or without his help. Still, gold greased all wheels. But now, he realized it wasn’t enough. Too focused don what he was achieving in Gilbratha, he’d grown complacent and narrow-sighted. He wasn’t young and powerless anymore. He could do more. 

Maybe a couple of the Nulls living in Lenore would be willing to reveal themselves to someone in the Architects of Khronos and get “forcibly” kidnapped so that he could trace them to the others. 

He spent another hour finishing the paperwork, then made a few notes for Katerin about helping the network of people working in Osham. They could shuffle things around to free up some of the always-tight resources flowing into and back out of the Verdant Stag. Since he’d come to Gilbratha, “his” income had increased multiple times, until, as Miss Canelo said, the Verdant Stag was earning the revenue of a Crown Family every year. Of course, their projects had also expanded multifold to match. 

Before he could leave, one of the door guards knocked and informed him that Deidre Johnson had shown up requesting to see him. With a sigh, Oliver waved for her to be let in. 

The woman strode past the guard and all the way to Oliver’s desk without an instant of hesitation. Instead of sitting, she pressed both her hands against his desk and leaned forward. “Do you know where the Raven Queen is?” Before Oliver could respond, she continued, “I haven’t heard from her since before the Siverling boy was attacked, and she hasn’t responded to any of my prayers. I’m the leader of the Undreaming Order, first among the awakened! If she’s not communicating with me, I fear something may have happened.” 

“Ah,” Oliver said eloquently. “She didn’t contact you since Sebastien’s…incident?” He cleared his throat. “It must be because she’s busy with something very important. I believe an unexpected emergency has been taking all her attention recently.” 

Deidre stared back at him. “Take off the mask, will you? It’s so irritating talking to someone without being able to see their face.” 

He hesitated, but acquiesced, since she already knew his identity. 

Her eyes narrowed when she saw his face, trailing over the signs of fatigue. He gave her a roguish smile, but she ignored it entirely. “Is the Raven Queen taking revenge on the person who hurt Sebastien? Or is it something else?” she asked.

“I can’t say.” 

Frustrated, she dug her fingers into the side of her scalp that had hair. “Does she need our help?”

Oliver raised one eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. “If the Raven Queen were to face a problem so severe that even she found it difficult to overcome, do you somehow imagine that would be something you’re capable of helping with?” 

Deidre blushed immediately, drawing back her hands from his desk and straightening. “Of course, my power couldn’t even come close to plucking one of her feathers. But sometimes, problems aren’t only solvable with sheer power. Perhaps there’s something…” 

Oliver tilted his head even farther to the side. “A problem you can solve without the Raven Queen’s request? Just taking it upon yourself as you see fit? Even after you prayed to her several times and she ignored you?” 

This time, Deidre paled. “That…” she swallowed. “I take your point. I was thinking too recklessly due to anxiety. Then…what do you think I should do?” 

Oliver rubbed his tired eyes. “As long as you can avoid causing any trouble that she’ll need to deal with once she’s free, that should be enough.” 

Deidre sneered at him, then tossed her hair arrogantly. “Thanks for the advice, but I’d recommend you just look after yourself. It’s obvious you’ve only latched onto her because of the benefits being associated with her brings, but she’ll cut you off if you get too greedy.” With that, she turned on her heel and strode out with the same ground-eating stride she’d entered with. 

Oliver put his mask back on, sighing as it adhered to his face magically, and was reaching for his jacket when the door guard knocked once more. Oliver nearly groaned aloud. 

The man, perhaps sensing Oliver’s impatience, seemed a little hesitant. “There’s someone else here to see you, m’lord.” 

“Who.” 

“Err… They’re wearing a mask. And a trench coat. And some kind of voice-changing artifact. But they said they were an architect. And that you were working on a project together that’s facing some…missing materials?” 

Oliver stilled, then took off his coat again. Someone from the Architects of Khronos, here to talk to him about Kiernan’s disappearance, most likely. 

When the person came in, Oliver completely understood the guard’s hesitation. Everyone who entered would have been thoroughly scanned and searched for weapons or other dangers, and if it weren’t for that fact, Oliver probably would have hesitated to be alone with them. Not an inch of skin, hair, or any other identifying feature was visible. They walked with a slightly stiff gait, and when they greeted him, their voice had a strange, inhuman tone. 

“Lord Stag. We apologize for the sudden arrangement, but there has been a concerning development that affects our collaboration.” 

Oliver had a sudden suspicion that he wasn’t speaking to a person at all. Or at least not directly, with a living body. If the Architects were paranoid about their high-level members being discovered and kidnapped, perhaps they had sent an automaton or some kind of golem instead, controlled from afar by sympathetic magic. “Please be at ease,” he said, gesturing toward the chair and sitting back down himself. “I’m in a hurry, so if you could get to the point quickly?”

There was a pause, but he couldn’t read anything from their body language or tone. “Grandmaster Kiernan has gone missing. We have searched his home and attempted to divine his location through several methods, to no avail.”

Of course they hadn’t succeeded. Oliver’s people had taken plenty of precautions when kidnapping Kiernan, and the man was now beneath the earth, in a room so heavily warded that a prognos could walk right past the open door and never notice a dragon wearing lingerie within. Liza had spared him no expense, and Katerin had almost grabbed Oliver by the hair when she found out how much all the new wards for the Verdant Stag’s vastly expanded basement cost, but obviously it had been worth it.

“However, we have reason to believe he is still alive,” the Architect’s spokesperson added.

Oliver leaned back. “So how can I help?”

Completely unfazed, they asked, “Do you believe the Raven Queen might have taken Grandmaster Kiernan?”

Oliver blinked slowly. “Why would she do that?”

“Because he’s annoying,” they replied immediately. They paused, looking slightly to the side as if remembering something—or listening to something—and amended their previous statement. “What I mean is, she’s threatened him in the past, and based on his reports, has not been particularly friendly to him during the course of working together. Perhaps he offended her.”

“That seems unlikely.” Oliver crossed his arms. “I’ve never known the Raven Queen to act against an enemy in secret. Sure, she might scheme and plan, but when it comes time for action, I think she would have been more likely to break into your home and leave Kiernan mentally broken and gibbering in your bed for you to find.”

“That’s…true.” They nodded. “But the Raven Queen didn’t show up for the most recent decryption session, which seems a little coincidental.”

“She’s busy with something else.”

They didn’t ask what, perhaps sensing from his tone that he would not divulge. Siobhan had told Oliver that she sent a letter to Thaddeus Lacer begging off because of Will-strain, but apparently the man had not shared that with the Architects. That was probably wise. Normally, it might not matter, but for someone with as many enemies as Siobhan, it would be foolish to advertise any weakness.

“I’m willing to help you track Kiernan down if the incentive is appropriate. I happen to have a contact who is highly placed in the coppers. Of course, the other option is that he wasn’t taken by the coppers, per se, but directly by someone in the Crown Families. Unless you can think of some other enemy who would have benefitted from this?”

“The Crowns…” they repeated. “Please ask your contact in the coppers. We’d be willing to pay an extra five percent on the next shipment of goods if your efforts aid in finding Grandmaster Kiernan. But if it was someone in the Crowns…”

They looked down, then up again, though Oliver could feel no gaze meeting his own. “What about the Raven Queen? She can break people out of extremely secure locations.”

“She can.”

“She might even be able to find Kiernan, if he were to pray to her?”

Oliver smiled. “Is he devout?” Before they could respond, he waved his hand nonchalantly. “Setting that aside, even if she can, that doesn’t mean she will. Just rationally speaking, she tends to help a certain type of person. Kiernan doesn’t fit that profile at all.”

“What type of person?”

“Those who are innocent but have the potential for a bright future, and those who treat her particularly well.”

“We can treat her particularly well. What kind of offering do you think she might like?”

Oliver considered what kind of reward he might want to split with Siobhan, but after considering how unpleasant their fallout had been and how recently their relationship had improved, stopped himself from being excessively greedy. “I can’t say. The next time I see her, I will ask her. If she’s interested in helping, I will inform you immediately.”

“Can you urge her to move a little more quickly? We can pay an extra seven percent.”

“She is busy,” he repeated. Unfortunately, he knew he would likely never get that extra payment, since he had no plans to return Kiernan to them. “As am I. Do you have anything else to discuss?”

He thought he almost sensed a bit of anger from the spokesperson, but if so, they didn’t show it overtly and politely left him alone.

Oliver usually kept a change of clothes in his office, which was part of the reason for his visit, but he had forgotten that he had already changed into them when he got blood on himself a while ago. So, before someone else could suddenly arrive needing to meet him, he took off his mask, disguised himself, and hurried out one of the side exits.

When he got to Dryden Manor, Sharon was aghast at his unkempt state, and even made an unpleasant face at him. “You look like you haven’t bathed in days! Go wash yourself. Thoroughly! Then you can come back down for dinner.”

He scrubbed himself thoroughly, shaved, and changed his clothes before hurrying back down to the ground floor. His hair was still wet, and he rubbed it roughly with a small towel as he put on his boots.

Sharon tried to get him to stay for dinner, arguing with him when he refused until he agreed to take a packed lunchbox with him.

Oliver opened the door in a hurry, only to run into Thaddeus Lacer on the other side.

The man pressed his lips together, lifting one eyebrow as he looked Oliver up and down. “Oliver Dryden,” he drawled. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

Oliver’s hand fell away from the doorway, his surprise giving way to a combination of unease and outrage. “Grandmaster Lacer,” he greeted. “To what do I owe this honor?”

“You should thank Sebastien Siverling.” In a grave, almost threatening tone, he added, “My apprentice.” Without waiting for Oliver to invite him inside, Lacer pushed forward, stepping over the threshold as if he owned the place.

Oliver was forced to take a half-step back to avoid bumping shoulders with the man. His stomach sank, but he tried to keep his worry from his expression. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Are you looking for Sebastien? He’s not here. Or did you come to discuss his sponsorship for next year’s University fees?”

Grandmaster Lacer’s expression darkened. “My apprentice is in no need of ‘sponsorship’ from you. Nor does he need to be subjected to your inappropriate ‘interest’ in him. Sebastien may not be accustomed to asking for help, but that does not mean he will not receive it. And it does not mean that if you commit an offense against him, you will be safe. I can assure you that is not the case.”

Oliver frowned slightly, then gave a faint, aggressive smile as he worked his jaw back and forth. “I think perhaps you have some sort of misunderstanding. When have I ever done anything inappropriate to Sebastien?”

Lacer snorted, somehow making the sound sophisticated rather than crass. “If that is the case, I am sure it has little to do with your sense of restraint. My apprentice may have been vulnerable when he first met you, but at least he is not always a complete idiot. Where is he?”

Oliver felt a sudden wave of dizziness and rocked on his feet before steadying himself. “Not here,” he snapped back.

“Did you harm him—physically, mentally, or emotionally?” This question was accompanied by another wave of dizziness.

A sudden suspicion bit at Oliver, and he narrowed his eyes. “Did you just try to cast some sort of compulsion on me?”

“I did not try. But it seems the rumors are true. A Null, a noble from Osham. And yet…not a member of their military.” Lacer stepped forward, invading Oliver’s personal space once again.

This time, Oliver did not step back. Lacer was slightly taller, but Oliver was more muscular. Physically, at least, Lacer couldn’t push him around.

“With enough power, even a Null’s resistance can be overcome,” Lacer told him in a soft voice, staring into his eyes.

Oliver didn’t flinch. He’d heard about the oppressive atmosphere that followed around the most powerful thaumaturges, but he’d never been affected by such things. “Even if you can, my answer will not change. Sebastien is not here, and he has not been here recently. I didn’t harm him, or do whatever sick thing you’ve got in your head. We are friends who have a minor business collaboration. Isn’t it you, his mentor, who should know where he is? Has something happened?” he allowed some of his genuine worry to slip into his voice. Did Lacer have some way of detecting that something was wrong with Siobhan?

“Has he gone missing?” Oliver asked suddenly, as if the idea had just popped into his head.

Grandmaster Lacer raised a hand to Oliver’s shoulder, pressing down with his thumb at the edge of Oliver’s neck. It was not a subtle threat. “Speak.”

“Grandmaster Kiernan seems to have gone missing, too,” Oliver spilled immediately. “I’ve heard rumors through some of my contacts. Have you…” He paused, then lowered his voice. “Have you spoken with the Raven Queen?”

Lacer drew back slightly. “Why do you ask that?”

Oliver pressed his lips together. While they had prepared for her to cast the crown of madness spell, they had also brainstormed some ideas to deal with Lacer, and Oliver had learned about some of Lacer’s misconceptions surrounding the Raven Queen. “They have a…connection. She looks out for him. If he’s missing, is it possible he’s with her?”

Lacer took a full step backward, almost as if the idea were a blow. His brows drew together in what looked more like worry than anger. “Has Sebastien told you anything that would hint at where they might be?”

Oliver raised his eyebrows innocently and asked incredulously. “Do you think Sebastien is stupid enough to give away the location of the Raven Queen’s secret hideout? And even if he was, do you think I’m that stupid? I have no intention of being driven insane or murdered in some extravagantly malicious way. All I know is that Sebastien was staying with his friend Damien Westbay a while ago. Perhaps you should ask around there.” In truth, Oliver suspected that was where Lacer had come from, after receiving some hint that all had not been as well with Sebastien as she tried to pretend.

Titus Westbay was the only other person who had ever insinuated that Oliver was trying to take advantage of Sebastien due to an inappropriate interest in him, after all. Unless Sebastien was going around spreading strange rumors, where else would Lacer have gotten that idea?

Grandmaster Lacer quickly questioned a few of the servants, ensuring that Oliver was not lying and that none of them knew where Sebastien was, and then, without giving Oliver another glance, stormed out with his jacket flaring out behind him.

Oliver breathed a sigh of relief, then turned around and hurried out of the back door. Rather than taking a carriage or saddling Ebenezer, he walked a few blocks away, checking for tails before hailing a carriage. He didn’t think Lacer had been suspicious enough to follow him through magical means, but if so, he could only hope that Liza’s wards would be enough to deter the man.

And at the very least, the one lying in the cell below was not Sebastien, but Siobhan Naught.

When Oliver arrived, he was already making plans about which experts to call to examine her first. But the sounds he heard when walking down the stairs sent him into such a panic that he almost fell and tumbled down them. He threw himself down the narrow walkway toward the cell and threw open the door.

Siobhan was still on the bed. Her hair was matted to her temples and neck with sweat, and her eyes were open, but they were unseeing, rolling around and up until the irises disappeared. Her body shook and jerked spasmodically. She was seizing, and judging by the bloody foam spilling from the corner of her mouth, she had bitten her tongue.

Author Note:

My tentative surgery date is in the first week of March. (The constant long wait times for every single appointment continue to be ridiculous and frustrating.) I'm on a cancellation list, so that date could unexpectedly be moved forward. 

If nothing stops me, I'll be back again next Thursday with the next chapter. And since I imagine you guys are impatient to get back to her, I'll spoil that it is from Siobhan's POV. 

Weekly discussion thread on the Alcove: https://alcove.azaleaellis.com/t/chapter-280-weekly-discussion-visitors/892