Mages' Uprising: Defenders of the Wildings, #3

By Kyra Halland

Once, Silas and Lainie Vendine, former bounty hunters and renegade mages, had a home and ranch of their own and the friendship and respect of their non-magical neighbors. Then the mage-hating Chardonikans came and drove them from their home.

Now, Silas and his children have been captured by the Chardonikans, who are intent on spreading their despotic rule through the Wildings.

On the trail of Silas and the children, Lainie and her companions approach the Broadgrass, territory of the hostile P'wagimet people, in search of the Chardonikan stronghold.

When the true extent of the Chardonikans' plans in the Wildings is revealed, Silas and Lainie must somehow work together, even though they're separated by the enemy, to defeat the Chardonikans, reunite their family, and protect the freedom of all the people of the Wildings.

Mages' Uprising is the 3rd and final book of Defenders of the Wildings, epic romantic fantasy-western. Contains language, violence, and mild to moderate sensual content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kyra Halland
• Release date: Oct 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393266358

Kyra Halland

Kyra Halland has always loved fantasy. She has also always loved a good love story. She combines those two loves by writing the kinds of romantic fantasy novels she loves to read, tales of magical worlds where complicated, honorable heroes and strong, smart, feminine heroines work together to save their world - or their own small corner of it - and each other. Kyra Halland lives in southern Arizona. She's a wife, mom and mom-in-law, proud grandma, and devoted servant to three cats.

Book preview

Mages’ Uprising

Defenders of the Wildings Book 3

by Kyra Halland

Copyright 2019 Kyra Halland

All Rights Reserved

Cover art by Yuriko Matsuoka

https://www.deviantart.com/sicarius8

Sign up for my email newsletter and get Rough Justice: A Wildings Prequel Story free! You’ll also get other subscriber-exclusive stories, updates, release news, exclusive sneak peeks, special offers, and more!

https://www.kyrahalland.com/email-signup.html

Once, Silas and Lainie Vendine, former bounty hunters and renegade mages, had a home and ranch of their own and the friendship and respect of their non-magical neighbors. Then the mage-hating Chardonikans came and drove them from their home.

Now, Silas and his children have been captured by the Chardonikans, who are intent on spreading their despotic rule through the Wildings.

On the trail of Silas and the children, Lainie and her companions approach the Broadgrass, territory of the hostile P'wagimet people, in search of the Chardonikan stronghold.

When the true extent of the Chardonikans' plans in the Wildings is revealed, Silas and Lainie must somehow work together, even though they're separated by the enemy, to defeat the Chardonikans, reunite their family, and protect the freedom of all the people of the Wildings.

Table of Contents

Mages’ Uprising

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

More Tales of Fantasy, Heroism, and Romance

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter 1

RATTLING AND BOUNCING, the rail wagons sped across the prairie. Silas watched the grasslands blur by from the bench where he sat, shifting uncomfortably on the hard red leather upholstery with Vera curled up next to him. The smoke drifting in through the open windows made his lingering headache from the heavy aura of Regulator energy on the boat get worse, and his arms, bound behind him with chains infused with Regulator power, ached and burned.

The wagon jolted and Silas’s stomach lurched. He closed his eyes and forced back a surge of sickness.

Do not worry, Mr. Vendine, said Dorbiza, sitting across the aisle from him. That is a common reaction to one’s first ride on the rail wagons. One soon gets over it. Are you in need of a bucket?

It’s okay if you throw up, Pa, Blake said from his seat towards the front of the wagon. Mama says it happens to everyone.

Silas fought back more nausea. He’d be damned if he disgraced himself in front of his children and his enemies any more than he already was, chained like this. The memory of what had happened at the dock, when his six-year-old son had felt compelled to defend him and Dorbiza had threatened the boy, made him burn inside. One day, no matter what it took, even if it was the last thing he did, he would send that sheep-humping son of a bitch to stand before the gods to answer for his sins. I’m fine, he growled at Dorbiza.

Despite the open windows, the inside of the wagon was hot and stuffy. Vera lay asleep, her head heavy and sweaty on Silas’s lap. Lulled by the heat and the constant, steady sound and motion, Silas started to doze off as well.

He caught himself, jerking his head up. It wouldn’t do to fall asleep when he and his children were in the hands of the enemy, being taken to gods alone knew where – if the gods even knew. If he fell asleep and the children were taken from the wagon, he wouldn’t know what had happened to them. Yawning, his head pounding, he forced his eyes to stay open.

At last, with a loud screeching and grinding, the wagons slowed down, then stopped. We have arrived, Dorbiza said. I am certain, Mr. Vendine, that is the fastest thirty leagues you have ever traveled.

Silas shook his head, trying to clear it. Thirty leagues? How long had it been? Not long enough for him to start feeling hungry or for the boys to announce that they needed to pee; an hour, or maybe a little more. In that short time, he had gone nearly a full day’s journey. No doubt, these rail wagons would be a great thing for the Wildings, allowing people and goods to cross the vast distances in a matter of days rather than ninedays or months.

But the price the Chardonikans were asking was far too high.

That was fun, Pa! Blake exclaimed, bouncing up and down in his seat. I wanna do it again!

Do it again! Garis echoed, jumping on his own seat.

I’m sure you shall, children, Dorbiza said in the oily voice of someone who loathed children who was pretending to be kind.

The door of the wagon slid open from outside. The older nursemaid, who had been sitting near the boys with Miss Vorsich, the younger nursemaid, came over to Silas and picked up Vera. The little girl’s face was red from heat and sleep, and her dark curls were all in a sweaty tangle. Pa! she whined, rubbing her eyes and squirming in the nursemaid’s arms. Miss Vorsich stood nearby, holding Kessie.

Silas’s heart, his pride, his fatherly instincts all demanded that he carry his daughters himself instead of leaving them to strangers. But with his arms bound with these blasted chains, he couldn’t do a damned thing. It’s okay, baby girl, he told Vera, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. I’m right here.

He turned to Dorbiza. Now that we’re here, are you going to take these chains off?

Dorbiza gave him that small, tight-lipped grin that always made Silas want to punch him in the face. Soon, Mr. Vendine. Once you are safely in your quarters.

As the nursemaids took the children from the wagon, a guard grabbed Silas’s aching right arm and hauled him to his feet. Something in that shoulder twinged sharply. Pushed along by three guards, Silas stepped down from the wagon onto a wooden platform, Dorbiza right behind him.

He shook his head, trying to get his hat to sit straight. The soldier to whom Dorbiza had given his duster and empty gunbelt stood nearby, still holding them.

I want my things now, Silas said. Even with his arms chained, even with no gun in his holster, he would feel stronger, more capable, less exposed and vulnerable if he was fully outfitted.

Dorbiza brushed invisible dirt from his long, split-sided brown robe and adjusted his flat-topped round cap to sit perfectly straight atop his white-blond hair. There is no need for you to have them now. You will be taken to your quarters shortly, and your possessions will be left there for you.

A short path of smooth, hard-packed dirt led from the platform to a pair of metal doors set in a high brick wall. The wall was a measure and a half tall or more, half again the height of a man, topped with tall metal spikes. Beyond it, Silas could see the tops of several buildings.

Holding Silas by the arms and pulling him along at a quick pace, the three soldiers led him to the metal doors, which were guarded by two more soldiers. Dorbiza followed, the nursemaids and children and the rest of the soldiers trailing behind. At a command from Dorbiza, the guards pushed the doors open and the group entered the compound.

Inside the wall was an orderly spread of large, low red brick buildings. Most were one floor high, a few were two floors. The tallest, on the far side of the compound, was a large, square building about two and a half floors high. Silas sensed a heavier concentration of Regulator power over that way. The buildings had few windows, and many of those windows were barred. Straight walkways of some kind of flat, smooth, whitish stone led between the buildings. There were no trees, grass, or shrubs along the walkways to soften the buildings’ stern appearance, nothing but bare dirt.

Welcome to our facility, Dorbiza said with another smug smile. A thoroughly modern facility, with all the most advanced necessities and conveniences.

Advanced or not, Silas didn’t like the look of this place. He had heard of the sorts of things that went on in certain rooms high up in the Mage Council tower in Sandostra, back in Granadaia. Somehow, this flat, dull complex of buildings struck him as being no less sinister than the tower. What are you going to do with us here?

We have some tasks for you. Some research. In the meantime, your children will be well cared for. How well depends on your cooperation and the results you produce for us.

Research. On the Regulator? Silas wouldn’t say no to the chance to learn more about how to fight back against the weapons. Still, he shouldn’t agree too quickly; Dorbiza wanted something from him and he couldn’t pass up this chance to bargain. Send my children back to their mother. I’m sure she’s still following us. Put them back on the boat with the nursemaids and take them to her, and I’ll do whatever you want.

Dorbiza’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr. Vendine. As I said, we have a use for them. And for your wife, as well. It is still my hope that she will join us. In fact, if she wishes to see you and the children again, I am certain she will.

A chill went up Silas’s back. It was an obvious threat, but against whom? Lainie, the children, himself? Fighting to hide his fear, he said, People who try to make my wife do something she doesn’t want to do generally don’t come out of it too good. There was a dead renegade mage whose bones lay in the Bads, who could tell Dorbiza exactly how trying to force Lainie to do something would turn out.

They simply haven’t tried hard enough, Dorbiza said with absolute certainty, or used the right methods. But, at the moment, that is neither here nor there. Let us proceed. He gestured towards the first building on the left, a sprawling single-story structure.

The group entered the building. From a plain foyer, hallways branched off; footsteps and voices echoed from farther down the corridors. The nursemaids and their guards took the children down a hallway to the right. Silas started to follow, but the guards who were holding him tightened their grip on his arms, stopping him in his tracks.

I want to know where they’re taking my children, he said.

As I said, your children will continue to be well cared for, Dorbiza replied mildly. You will have regular opportunities to see them, so long as your behavior is satisfactory. Of course, as we have a use for your children, we hope that your actions will give us no cause to have to take stern measures.

Silas’s chest tightened with rage. I’ll see you in all the hells for threatening my kids.

Dorbiza smiled. If it pleases you to imagine so, Mr. Vendine. But, in fact, this world is all there is, and I will do whatever is necessary to make it the best possible world for the greatest number of people.

The best possible world – except for mages and anyone else the Chardonikans took a dislike to. But if he kept arguing, his children would suffer the consequences. Silas bit his tongue and allowed the soldiers to steer him down a different hallway, that led straight back from the foyer.

The walls and floor were formed of the same sort of smooth, seamless, dirty-white stone as the walkways outside and were lit by small, hissing lights in glass containers mounted on the walls. Not candles, not oil lamps, but definitely not magic, either. Wooden doors reinforced with metal lined the hallway, each inset with a narrow glass window lined with a hatchwork of wires. To prevent them from being broken, Silas guessed.

As the group walked down the long corridor, they met a man heading briskly in the opposite direction. Like Patsov, the Continental Company man back in Prairie Wells, he was stocky with amber skin and curling red hair cropped close to his head, and wore a dark business suit instead of a brown uniform. Dorbiza halted the group and spoke to the man, then turned to Silas. Mr. Vendine. Allow me to introduce Yugalis Semov, the Underminister of Regulation for the Central Territories.

Semov gave Silas a curt nod, which Silas returned with no more effort at being polite. He didn’t know what an Underminister of Regulation did; whatever it was, he was sure he wouldn’t like it.

Mr. Semov will be overseeing the education of your children, as the areas of education and culture fall under his authority, Dorbiza went on. They will learn of the benefits of science and civilization that the Chardonikan Union is bringing to the Central Territories and of their role and place within this new society.

That, Silas knew he didn’t like. The role of mages in the Chardonikan Union was that of accused criminals and subversives; their place was in graves. He had a feeling that mages in the Chardonikans’ version of the Wildings wouldn’t fare much better. I want to be there for their lessons. I want to know what my kids are being taught.

Do not concern yourself with that, Dorbiza said. You will be occupied with other matters. The children will be taught what they need to know, and you will be informed as necessary.

It was like arguing with one of these stone walls. Conscious that his children’s well-being depended on him not getting on Dorbiza’s bad side, Silas bit back further words. Dorbiza gave Semov an apologetic shrug. The two men exchanged a few more words, then Semov proceeded on up the hall.

Silas’s group started on their way again, only to be interrupted a moment later when footsteps came running up behind them and a man called Dorbiza’s name. Dorbiza stopped and turned around, allowing a running soldier to catch up with the group. The soldier saluted the underminister, left fist to right shoulder, and handed him a folded piece of paper.

Dorbiza opened the note and read it, frowning. He spoke briefly to the messenger, who saluted again and walked back the way he had come.

Ah, Mr. Vendine, Dorbiza said as he led Silas and the guards onward, you might think that my position of authority is something to be envied. However, it is mostly a constant stream of difficulties which must be solved. I am plagued by incompetence in those around me. That message informed me of mismanagement at another of our facilities, resulting in the decease of two more laborers, a specialized kind of laborer not easily obtained or replaced. I shall have to discipline the manager of the facility.

Somehow, Silas entirely failed to find within himself any sympathy for Dorbiza’s troubles. What kind of laborers? he wondered. He had an uneasy feeling that he could guess, considering Dorbiza’s statements about having a use for Lainie and the children.

At the end of the hall, Dorbiza opened a metal door and led the group around a corner into another hallway. Regulator energy slammed into Silas so hard he stumbled and his inner magical wellspring tried to twist itself inside out. Through wavering vision, he saw metal grates set at regular intervals into the smooth stone floor of the corridor. From beneath the grates came a fog of sickly green light.

Silas clenched his jaw against more nausea. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me.

You are not the first wizard to take up residence here, Mr. Vendine, Dorbiza said. Unfortunately, your predecessor has gone missing, which is why we now have a need for you.

That was, what, twice now that Dorbiza had mentioned a mage who had been working for them. Certainly, this had to be the mage who had led the kidnapping of the children, who had been killed by his P’wagimet associate to keep him from telling Silas anything. The fatal spell had also killed the P’wagimet man who had worked it.

Silas remembered the ring he had taken from the dead mage’s hand. What had he done with it? As far as he could remember, it was still safely buttoned in the inner pocket of his duster coat, in case the day ever came when he could turn it in for a bounty.

Some distance down the corridor, Dorbiza stopped at a door marked with a metal plaque engraved with symbols Silas didn’t know. Dorbiza unlocked the door’s three locks and the soldiers took Silas into a small room, less than a measure and a half wide and long, lined in the same smooth, seamless, grayish-white stone as the hallways. It was furnished with a narrow cot, a table and single chair that appeared to be bolted to the floor, and a wooden stool-like contrivance with a bucket underneath that must be the necessary. There was no curtain or partition to offer privacy, and barely enough space to move around between the bed, the other furnishings, and the wall.

The room was chilly and lit only by what little daylight came in through the single barred window, which looked out onto another building that stood no more than a measure away, blocking out most of the sunlight. That window and the one in the door were both too narrow for anyone but the smallest child to squeeze through, even if the bars and wire mesh weren’t in the way.

It was a prison cell, plain and simple. All at once, Silas couldn’t breathe.

I know the quarters are rather sparse, Dorbiza said cheerfully. However, your cooperation will entitle you to additional comforts.

You aren’t putting my children in a cell like this, are you? Bad enough that he would be locked up here; he couldn’t stand the thought of his children being imprisoned in a room like this.

Do not be concerned. Their quarters are quite suited to the needs of young children. Your evening meal will be brought in one hour; in the meantime, you may rest from the journey.

Dorbiza said a word to the soldiers. One of them unbound the chains from around Silas’s arms but left the green-tinged manacle attached to Silas’s left wrist. On the floor was a longer chain, fastened to a metal eyelet embedded in the floor. The soldier attached the other end of that chain to the cuff on Silas’s wrist.

Remove your boots, if you please, Mr. Vendine, Dorbiza said.

Silas hesitated, torn between the need to protect his children by cooperating with Dorbiza and his deep reluctance to do anything to make things easier for his captors.

Dorbiza spoke a word in Chardonikan. All at once, all three soldiers came at Silas and grabbed him. Silas tried to fight free of them but got tangled up in the chain between his arm and the floor. The soldiers pushed him down to lie face-down on the floor. One sat on his back and another held his legs down while the third pulled off his right boot and sock and fastened a manacle around that ankle.

When they let him sit up, he saw a chain running from his right ankle to the small metal loop in the floor. The sensation of smothering got worse and his heart started to race. Chained in a room barely longer and wider than his own height, with no sight of the sky…

He scrambled to his feet and yanked at the chain fastened to his arm. The eyelet in the floor didn’t budge. Damn it! He kicked at the metal loop. Pain shot through his toes; he’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing a boot on that foot. Shit! Damn it!

More curses boiled out of him, Island curses, every foul thing he could think of to describe Dorbiza and the guards’ parentage and personal habits. "Slimy get of a bottom-feeding fornicating sea-slug, suckers of limp minnows, may lightning eels eat your man-oysters, may the demons of the sea drown you in their darkest pits… Let me go. Take the chains off. I won’t fight you. Just take them off." The words spilled out even as his gut curdled with shame. He hated to beg, but worse was the thought of remaining chained like this in this small cell.

Dorbiza smiled, shaking his head slightly. We are not getting off to a good start, now, are we, Mr. Vendine? I know the present situation is unpleasant, but you will be given the opportunity to improve it. I will return in the morning with further instructions for you.

He and the guards left, and the three locks on the door clicked shut.

Shaking, fighting to catch his breath and slow the panic racing through his body, Silas sank down on the cot. The chains on his arm and leg were just long enough to allow him to lie down. Sickly green power pulsed through the chains and the manacles; his arm and leg burned where the manacles touched them, and his muscles and insides cramped painfully.

He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out what was happening. When had he turned into such a useless wreck of a man? If only he could think, or use his power; if only he had his gun. If only the bastards weren’t holding his children hostage.

The one advantage he had was that Dorbiza wanted something from him. But that was coin that had to be spent to ensure the children’s safety. All he could do to help himself was obey Dorbiza’s orders and learn as much as he could about the Regulators while he waited for a chance to fight back.

Chapter 2

BREAKFAST THE NEXT morning was some ungodly concoction of cold pickled meat and fruit served over cold, gummy rice. Silas poked at the mess, trying to decide how hungry he really was. But one of the principal rules for surviving hard times was to eat what you had when you had it, so he dug in.

As he forced down the sticky, weirdly sweet-and-sour mess, he wondered if they only served this stuff to prisoners or if all the Chardonikans ate it. Gods willing, the children were getting something better than this. Hells, even the old standby of critter on a stick cooked over a campfire would be better than this.

What he wouldn’t give for some of Lainie’s good Wildings home cooking right now. Bacon, biscuits, scrambled eggs, beef stew, cooked greens, spiced beans, applesauce cake, chicken and dumplings, warm sour-everlasting bread spread with fresh butter… He wasn’t ashamed to admit that when he first met Lainie, he had fallen as much in love with her cooking as with her.

A painful longing swelled inside him, and not just for food. If only he could be back home on the ranch with her and their children, to have everything the way it had been six months ago, before the Chardonikans came.

When he was done eating, the two men in plain brown uniforms who had brought in his breakfast – low-ranking soldiers? civilian servants? – returned with a large basin of wash water, towels, and fresh clothing. Silas couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a chance to get cleaned up; if he’d taken Dorbiza’s offer and tried to talk Lainie into joining the Chardonikans, she probably would have refused just based on how he smelled.

The men removed the chain from his left wrist, allowing him to take off his shirt, then replaced it and did the same with the chain at his ankle so he could finish undressing. He hated the helpless indignity of being chained and naked before the enemy, but as he scrubbed off the dirt and grime with a wet towel, he felt increasingly refreshed, and a little of the murk over his mind lifted.

However clean he got, though, he didn’t think he could ever wash away the guilt he felt at failing to protect his ranch and his family and at cooperating with the enemy even in the slightest degree.

When he was done washing, he put on the clean clothes, the men again removing and replacing the chains as needed. At least the clothes were things he was used to, cotton drawers, thick socks – he could only pull the right one up as far as the manacle on his ankle, but it was better than going barefoot in the chilly room – heavy canvas work pants, and a plaid cotton shirt, instead of the brown uniforms nearly everyone else wore.

Washed and dressed and clean, he felt somewhat better. Now, if he could only get rid of those chains and get away from the Regulator power and put some decent food in his stomach, he might almost feel human again.

The men left. Alone in his cell, Silas lay back down on the cot, listening to his stomach protest the indigestible breakfast and wondering what would happen next.

He didn’t have to wait long; only a few moments later, Dorbiza came in, followed by four soldiers. I hope you slept well, Mr. Vendine, Dorbiza said.

Silas’s slightly improved mood soured. Go bugger yourself with a pitchfork.

I will take that to mean you are dissatisfied with your present circumstances. As I said, you will have the opportunity to improve those circumstances. Come, I have work for you.

It wasn’t just his own comfort that was at stake, Silas reminded himself. His children’s safety depended on his cooperation. He sat up; the constant dull throbbing in his head worsened and black splotches floated in front of his eyes. If this work has anything to do with magic, it would be a lot easier if you got rid of that damned green power.

We will discuss that at the research laboratory.

Research laboratory. The words put Silas uncomfortably in mind of when the Mage Council used to instruct mage hunters to try to bring back an A’ayimat specimen for study and eventual dissection. He hoped Dorbiza wasn’t planning on cutting him open to see what mages looked like inside.

I want to see my kids. If he reminded himself why he was doing this, that would help him face whatever it was Dorbiza had in mind.

Of course, Dorbiza said. Each day, if you perform your work satisfactorily, you will be taken to visit them. He spoke to the soldiers, and one of them unfastened Silas’s chains from the eyelet in the floor.

Wait, I want my hat and coat. And my gunbelt. He didn’t need them, with the hot weather and no gun for his holster. But he would feel more like himself if he had them on. And my boots. He raised his right leg, displaying his stocking foot and the manacle around his ankle.

You may have your hat and coat, as you seem to be unusually attached to them, Dorbiza answered. But the other items will not be necessary. Come along now.

Silas took his hat and duster from the hooks on the wall where they hung alongside his gunbelt – low hooks, too low for a prisoner to hang himself from. He set his hat on his head, then pulled his coat on, awkwardly allowing the soldier holding the chain attached to his left wrist to thread the chain through the sleeve.

In his stocking feet, the soldiers holding the ends of the chains like he was a dog on a leash, he followed Dorbiza from the cell. They led him back up the hallway, around the corner, and through the door into the other hallway, which had none of the metal grates. Silas took some deep breaths, reveling in the freedom from the green energy and trying to clear his head.

In the main foyer of the building, Dorbiza stopped and spoke briefly with another man who was walking by. This man was short and powerfully built, with skin dark as polished blackwood and a long black braid trailing down his back. Like the underminister Silas had met the day before, he wore a well-tailored business suit rather than a brown uniform.

The exchange between the two men was businesslike and polite but with an undertone that sounded to Silas like mutual dislike, cautious on the part of the darker man, more obvious on Dorbiza’s part. The other man went into a room off the entry area; Dorbiza watched him walk away with narrowed eyes.

Silas wondered who the other man was; he found it interesting that Dorbiza hadn’t introduced them. The fact that he and Dorbiza seemed to dislike each other only served to commend the man to Silas. Though he was still the enemy; Silas couldn’t let himself forget that. Everyone in this place was an enemy.

Dorbiza and the soldiers led Silas down a corridor off the right side of the foyer, but not the same hallway the children had been taken down. They turned a corner and went through another metal door. This next hallway had a single grate set into the floor at the entrance with Regulator power glowing from beneath it. The fresh blast of green energy muddled Silas’s thoughts and made his insides cramp up again.

A few dozen paces down that hallway, the group stopped at another door with a narrow, mesh-lined window, marked by another metal plaque Silas couldn’t read. Dorbiza unlocked the three locks on the door and led Silas and the two soldiers who were holding the chains into a white-painted room, brightly lit by the same hissing lights as in the halls. The other two soldiers remained outside the room, taking up watchful positions to either side of the door.

The room was unfurnished except for a table and single chair. A closed metal box, about a forearm’s-length on each side, sat on the table along with some blank sheets of paper and several of those pens with the ink contained inside them, like the ones he had seen at the Continental Company offices back in Prairie Wells. The soldiers locked the ends of Silas’s chains to an eyelet in the floor.

Please have a seat, Mr. Vendine, Dorbiza said, indicating the chair. Under the watchful eyes of the soldiers, Silas sat down.

In this box is a sample of the substance used to power the Regulators, Dorbiza continued. "You are to study it and learn everything about it that you can. In particular, you are to find the weaknesses in the energy that make it vulnerable to Mr. Magical Mik’s counterattacks, and develop ways to compensate for those weaknesses or remove them altogether. You are also