The Eighth Tier

By Martin Mason

For the Erania Empire, the gift of magic was a blessing. For Counsellor Antani, it was a curse that cost her people their pride and many more of them their lives. When a deadly curse threatens the country once more, she must face her past and team up with her most hated enemy - a young witch - to free them all for good.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Martin Mason
• Release date: Feb 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005149420

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The Eighth Tier

2022

Martin Mason

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2022 © Martin Mason. Smashwords Edition. All rights reserved.

Reproduction of this work in whole or in part in any manner without express written consent is prohibited.

1 The Mouse from Erania

Among all the insults Deenar had suffered in her sixty years of service, Counsellor Antani knew this had to be the worst. The dark-skinned Eranian boy standing in the waiting room couldn’t be more than thirteen years old, though with his small size even that was a generous estimate. His plain linen outfit included trousers, boots and a cloak – no doubt the weather was too cold for his constitution – and an attempt at formality with the sash around his shoulders and waist. Besides that, the only other notable thing about him was the fancy instrument strapped to his back; she couldn’t tell what it was, only that it was stringed and shiny, probably expensive. No gold that she could see – hard to tell whether or not he was a noble.

But he was very likely a witch.

And he was humming to himself, apparently totally unaware of the gravity of the situation as he admired the patterns and gold carved into the palace walls.

The Counsellor’s fists clenched. She cleared her throat to get his attention – he looked up, started to greet her – and she ignored him utterly, instead circling around the little creature, still looking for some hint on his person of why he had come here and come alone. He let her examine him in silence and she was just about to deliver her verdict when he abruptly broke protocol and looked straight at her.

They locked eyes, his dark and staring. It was only a fraction of a second before he remembered himself and looked down again, but it was enough. The Counsellor leant back, pulling her shawl closer to disguise the goosebumps on her skin. Witches’ eyes were always unnerving, but something about his was worse. They didn’t belong on that young a face.

He’d stopped humming, clasping his hands before him and standing straighter. A twitch of his features betrayed his nerves. She wasn’t the only one thrown by the situation, at least. The Counsellor cleared her throat again and he tensed.

Is this a joke? she asked. He wrung his hands, his gaze briefly meeting hers again.

No, my lady, he said. "My name is Elie. I am an emissary, come from Erania to deliver a message to your King – a warning."

She laughed and his confidence visibly crumpled. So they sent a child? She matched his formal posture with her own – hands folded behind her back as she paced back and forth before him. He was so small she could tower over him without really trying but he managed to hold his ground, unable to refrain from looking directly at her even as he tensed up. Has the Empire given up the pretence of respecting the usual protocols when requesting an audience with royalty? Do you realise he has served Deenar longer than you’ve stood on this earth?

I recognise this is unusual, my lady, but there simply wasn’t time. I meant no disrespect-

Your presence is disrespect. The King values Erania’s protection and her trade. But we have boundaries you did not care enough to learn or elected to ignore. Laws against sorcery used on our soil, for example.

He frowned. You don’t know that I’m a witch.

You’re Eranian. Same difference.

That’s a misconception, he said, folding his arms. Only about ten percent of Eranians are actually… Her expression was getting less and less impressed by the second and he finally noticed. He trailed off, stalling as he searched for the right thing to say. With all due respect, ma’am, I was aware of that law when I crossed the border. But this is an extraordinary situation that called for an extraordinary response.

She stopped pacing. What? she said. What do you mean?

The emissary squared his shoulders, trying his best to look confident despite his small stature. As I said, I came to deliver a warning. The Magus has had visions of a creature living in the mountains – a supernatural one, that can only be defeated with sorcery. Your people are in danger and even now...

He was still talking, but the Counsellor didn’t hear any more. As soon as he had said the mountains, a cold dread overcame her. The rest of the room was suddenly very far away and she grasped at her middle as panic churned in her gut. The emissary trailed off a second time, young features crinkling with concern. My lady, are you all right?

Antani tried to hide her discomfort by folding her arms across her body instead, the feathers stitched into her dress scratching and poking into her skin. She swiped at them, fidgeting with her clothes like that would settle the ill feeling in her stomach. The Counsellor shook her head, not as an answer to him but as a silent reassurance to herself that there was some mistake, that this wasn’t happening.

It’s forbidden, she said, talking to herself more than to him. Going anywhere near the mountain is forbidden – as forbidden as using witchcraft is. And I need – I require clearance from His Majesty before I hear any more.

But my lady, your own priests practice divination of a sort, don’t they? If I could just-

You will not find your way around this with clever words, she snapped. The law is the law and given your age perhaps it is best you simply find your own way home if you cannot respect it.

Quite, he said, his own ire starting to flare. "The law is the law. And is it not also the law according to the Code of Unification that any audience from across the border must be brought before the king, and can be dismissed by him only?"

Quia help her, she was too old for this. But she knew he was right – and more to the point, the other courtiers must have known it, too. No wonder they had dragged her out of an idle afternoon writing letters to greet their visitor: they didn’t want to be saddled with him themselves. No doubt he had been demanding an audience with the King all damn morning.

The Eranian was watching her with a shy smile, no doubt sensing weakness in her silence. I had no opportunity to say earlier, but it is a pleasure to meet you. Counsellor Antani, isn’t it? I’ve read so much about you-

He held out his hand and the revulsion she felt towards the little witch was so severe that his smile vanished immediately. He dropped his hand, his face falling. A guilty feeling immediately needled her, but she kept silent – while she had no desire to punish a child for the poor choices of his government, she couldn’t shake the disquiet she felt over his message.

The Eranians might look on the Magus as their god-king, as was their right, but she knew he couldn’t be more wrong about this.

Magic couldn’t fix what magic had broken, not after all these years.

She sighed, figuring she would try and smooth things over by offering some kind of compromise when suddenly their master weaver – Micos, she was pretty sure it was – entered the room.

Counsellor, he greeted her, red-faced and breathless.

Micos, she said. Is something wrong?

He looked uncertainly from her to the emissary – perhaps as head of the royal weavers he had intended to present Elie with the usual gift of their finest cloth, but had nothing to suit someone of his stature? But that wouldn’t explain why he looked so nervous…

The emissary noticed the tension in the air and said, If either of you wish me to leave the room, you need only ask.

The Counsellor’s hopes were dashed when Micos shook his head. No, I – I think it best you stay. He turned to the Counsellor. Lady Antani, it’s the machine. The witches’ machine, it was behaving strangely all morning and now the servants are insisting there are noises coming from it.

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her heart was starting to speed in her chest. If they’re so superstitious about the thing, have them move it to another room-

I told them as much, my Lady, but when I went to look myself, I thought I saw that it – it was glowing. And I thought perhaps our priests could divine whether there was some ghoul possessing the thing or not, but the others told me not to waste my time. And then I remembered that you had read the instructions once, back when it was installed...and that you were seeing to an Eranian guest, so… He looked down at the emissary, evidently unsure how to address someone so young. Well, I hoped between the two of you, you could silence the infernal thing.

You have Eranian machines here? Elie asked, his eyes wide. What kind?

"We have one, the Counsellor said. For communications. Every kingdom in the Eranian empire has at least one, nothing special about it."

He looked back at her, his stare so intense Micos started to fidget next to her. Then you could talk to the Magus directly, he said, something odd in his tone.

She shrugged. "If I wanted to, I could." Elie tipped his head to one side, giving her a curious look, the implied dig going completely over his head.

Micos was shifting his weight from foot to foot as he watched this stand-off, anxious to get back to his work. If I can count on the two of you, then…?

Yes, the Counsellor said, deciding to seize on the chance for a distraction. We can take a look at it. Perhaps it’s just a fault.

Excellent! If you’ll follow me, then. And he swept out of the room without a backward glance. The Counsellor followed suit, leaving the emissary to trail after them both. She and Micos walked side by side, leaving the Eranian to follow behind, but even then they attracted curious looks from servants as they passed. With his dark skin and the clothes he wore, he stuck out immediately. She was debating telling him to just walk by her side instead when they came to the narrow doorway of the old storage room.

She knew that they’d moved the witches’ machine somewhere out of the way, but it was much further from the other rooms than she’d recalled. The Counsellor wrinkled her nose. They really think they heard something all the way from here?

Yes, my lady. They even claimed they followed the noise to this room. She frowned and wanted to question further, but his gaze had wandered to the emissary waiting behind them. Micos leant closer, lowering his voice to ask, "Something seems off about him, doesn’t it. Is this one a sorcerer?"

Just a messenger, most likely, she said, sounding more like she was trying to reassure herself. They’d have more sense than to send someone like that. And anyway. She sneaked a look at the emissary. He was staring off into the distance, apparently unaware they were studying him. It’s not as though someone his age could do any real damage.

Suddenly the emissary turned and looked them both dead in the eyes, his own dark and watchful. Chills danced down her spine, his stare giving her the eerie feeling that he knew exactly what they were talking about. Next to her, Micos shivered and muttered, Are you sure about that?

He didn’t wait for an answer before bowing to her and hurrying off, saying nothing to Elie as he did so. The Counsellor and the emissary were left studying one another in silence, but for once it was the emissary who spoke first.

"Can you hear anything?" he asked.

Right, the machine. In this remote part of the palace any noise would be noticeable, but she strained to listen anyway, just in case the machine was making the kind of hum her old ears wouldn’t pick up on right away.

But still she heard nothing. She shook her head. What about you?

He met her gaze, an unreadable look in his eyes. Without saying a word he dodged around her and into the storage room, leaving her stood outside. The Counsellor didn’t follow him, not right away. Instead she rubbed her arms, trying to shake off the goosebumps still stood on her skin and tell herself she was being foolish, that he was just a child...but it wasn’t working.

If there was one thing she had become sure of over the years, it was to always pay attention to a bad feeling. And right now that feeling was telling her that Micos was more right than either of them knew.

Warning or not, the mouse could not be trusted.

*

The palace had a good amount of storage: the treasury, of course, and the foodstuffs they had stored up on the cooler hills. And then there was this room.

The old storage room was a mess of boxes, with raw materials for making cloth stored around the place, as well as fabric for their tapestries. They were far from the best in the palace, likely they were the only used in emergencies. The only other thing in the room was the witches’ machine. It sat beneath the triangular window at the far side of the room, on a little table all its own. Height-wise, it was as long as her arm and almost as wide.

But the Counsellor had to admit to herself that the machine would have been impressive even if it was half as big. It was made of three panes of glass held by bronze rods and each layer held a different part of a larger mechanism. On the top layer was a series of dials and levers and immediately beneath it was a metal map of the Eranian empire, the bronze marked with little jewels in various different spots. Beneath that was the third layer, the part the Counsellor couldn’t understand at all: a series of complicated circles carved into the surface that glowed even when the sun wasn’t hitting them.

Of course, it would probably be more impressive if someone hadn’t partially covered it with a sheet and left it to gather dust.

The emissary wrinkled his nose in disgust as he surveyed the little room. "What is this? he asked, picking at the piles of fabric and yarn and baskets that had all been shoved into the dusty little cupboard. You put the Relay in a storage room?"

So what if we did?

The emissary started lifting and shifting the piles that were encroaching on the table and covering up the machine. You do know how valuable the Relay is, right? What if you accidentally damaged it by piling all this claptrap on top?

The Counsellor rolled her eyes and didn’t answer. The Eranians were lucky the palace had agreed to set the contraption up at all, though she wasn’t about to tell him that.

Your poor operator must have a miserable time of it, the emissary was going on, pausing in the middle of moving something to look at her. I feel sorry for them, holed up in a dingy room like this for hours at a time.

The Counsellor cleared her throat. Looked away.

The emissary scoffed in disbelief. You – you don’t even have an assigned operator? Counsellor, what if there was an emergency?

She sighed, rubbing her temples. She was sure she could feel a headache coming on.

"Come off it, mouse. If there was an emergency, Deenar is hardly the first place anyone would contact. She noticed the scowl on his face before he could hide it. And don’t give me that look. You may be an emissary, but you obviously know little about how the Empire operates. You witches run the show, the rest of us stay out of your way. That was the agreement."

His scowl deepened, making him look even younger than usual. What about from within? Suppose someone called you from within the kingdom for your help. You’d never know.

No Deenarian citizen would think of touching a witches’ machine, she said, rolling her eyes. We want a message delivering, we use our runners and roads. We don’t need to reinvent communications in Deenar.

Elie gave up interrogating her and went back to moving the clutter and clearing the table, but all the while he was muttering to himself about how they were totally squandering their advantage over Rame and didn’t they have any sense of civic duty and so on and so forth-

I can hear you, you know, the Counsellor said flatly.

He straightened up and suddenly stopped moving. The Counsellor frowned. She’d never been good with people, but she hadn’t spoken to him that harshly, had she? Listen, emissary- she started, trying to get a better look at his face to make sure she hadn’t upset him. But then she too stopped. Far from being upset, the emissary looked tense.

And he was staring right at the machine.

The Counsellor looked too. There on the map, one of the crystals embedded in the metal was lit up, flashing on and off with a red light. The location looked familiar and as soon as she placed it, her stomach twisted.

It was coming from near the old capital.

No, she told herself. No jumping to conclusions. Surely this was just a technical fault.

The emissary had stopped moving or responding, so the Counsellor nudged the small stool back and gestured for him to sit. Answer it, she said.

He looked up at her, his face pale. You don’t... know how?

She just shrugged. She had been one of the few to glance at the directions when it was installed all those years ago, but she had no desire to touch the thing now. I won’t be as proficient as you. Answer it.

All right, if you’re sure... He dumped the dusty instruction manual onto the floor with the rest of the mess, cleaning off the table as best he could before turning to the machine. He began to turn the dials and switches, the machine humming to life and the engravings on the third layer casting a golden glow through the rest of the map. He rotated a lever so that a pointer on the second layer clicked into position, moving it from gem to gem until it hovered over the one that was lit up.

He moved his hand to another lever she’d overlooked, one on the side, but he didn’t pull it down. His small shoulders shifted with a deep breath, like he was preparing himself. She frowned, not liking the way he was stalling. She wasn’t one for superstition the way an Eranian would be, but it was getting hard to ignore how many odd events were happening, one right after the other…

Emissary? she prompted again, trying to sound calm. Something wrong?

He shook his head, not looking at her. He turned the lever.

The machine secured the controls around the glowing crystal, a deep ringing tone emitting from within as it vibrated. The sound echoed through the room, actually easing her growing headache somewhat. It was almost...calming. Elie leant back in his stool, looking over at her.

What do you call this station? he whispered. She shrugged. No doubt it was in the dusty book somewhere, but she valued her lungs too much to check. He sighed, turning back around and holding down another button on the side.

Deenar Palace Station, he said. Who is calling? Then he released the button.

There was a shift in the low ringing sound, a change to an inconsistent crackling and the Counsellor shivered as for a second it sounded like the machine itself was trying to speak. Elie scooted his seat closer, pressing the button again. Who is calling? he repeated. You have reached Deenar Palace Station, please respond.

Again he released the button and again there was silence.

Perhaps there’s no one there? she suggested. Elie didn’t answer. His small shoulders were tensing more and more by the moment. Emissary. What’s happening?

He didn’t answer, instead rising from his seat and holding the button down again. I know you are there, he said – in Eranian. The Counsellor’s eyes widened. I know you are listening. Will you not speak to me?

"Come to Knavesmire…"

The Counsellor gasped, her hand going to her mouth like she could contain her shock. Elie tensed, his hands shaking inches from the controls. He took a deep breath, pushed down the talk button.

Who are you? he said.

He let go of the button, but the line ran silent. He tried again.

Are you the one from – the one in the visions?

There was another pause, but then the crackling increased, the voice urging once again, "Come to Knavesmire…"

The Counsellor’s fist curled, her nails biting into her palm and she lunged forward, cutting the emissary off so she could slam the talk button down herself. If you are what I think you are, she warned, a violence in her tone that she hadn’t heard in years, Then you won’t hurt a single civilian if you know what’s good for you.

Counsellor? Elie said softly. He was staring up