Chapter 67 – Allies

The next day, while Respected Jei worked on getting an appointment with Archmage Luspire, Mirian went to see if she could reclaim an old new friendship. She headed over to the lakeview district to an apartment surprisingly close to Xipuatl’s place, and knocked on the door of Nicolus Sacristar.

Naturally, it was Sire Nurea who answered, left hand still lingering on the door knob, right hand casually close to her belt.

Mirian gave the honorary bow to her and said, “Hi. Do you know who I am yet?”

“Yes,” said Nurea, stone-faced.

“Great! Can I talk to Nicolus about—”

“No.” She started to shut the door.

Mirian stuck her foot inside slightly. “Oh come on, give me more than five seconds! You know, last time you approached me. Listen, I can help House Sacristar.”

Nurea looked unimpressed. “I doubt that,” she said, and started putting pressure on the door while Mirian kept her foot there.

The conversation hadn’t gone at all like she’d planned. Both Nurea and Nicolus were clever about gaining social advantages, negotiating deals, and getting people to help their interests, so she’d thought that was the tactic she needed to lead with. Mirian realized she’d miscalculated, though. That might work on Nicolus, but Sire Nurea prioritized one thing above all else: her ward’s safety. For her, the other stuff was just a consequence of that primary motivation. “I can save Nicolus’s life,” she said.

That got Nurea to stop. “Are you threatening us?”

“What? No! Gods, would you stop being so paranoid for once? Look, whatever you want to believe about how I got it, I have knowledge of the future. Knowledge of several futures, at this point—so I know you. I know Nicolus. I’m his classmate, not some Palamas baron. We were study partners. We read alchemistry books in the library together. He got grease on the pages.”

Nurea was still glaring at her, but she’d stopped pushing on the door, and her hand wasn’t so close to her belt anymore. That was progress.

“Look, Akana Praediar’s planning some sort of war. You won’t learn about it until Nicolus’s uncle off in Akana Praediar sends a letter on the night of the 20th. That’s your first piece of information. For free. Because I care about Nicolus.”

“He’s never mentioned you.”

“Because he doesn’t know me yet. But I know how the war goes. I know where it’s safe, and where it’s not.” She didn’t mention, nowhere is safe, because then Nurea would really not listen.

Nurea looked her over, like she was a fancy painting she was assessing the value of. “What do you get in return?”

“If I stop the attack, my friends don’t die. You’re not the only one protecting someone.”

That seemed to finally get through to Nurea. Mirian saw it in the way her gaze softened. She wasn’t seeing Mirian as her opponent anymore. “Alright. We’ll talk. Do you like tea?”

“Yes, please. Something floral.”

Sire Nurea, it turned out, had a cabinet full of exotic teas, most of which Mirian had never heard of. Well, everyone needed hobbies, didn’t they? While something called ‘velvet winter’s sorrow’ brewed, they talked.

“Nicolus is out drinking, then?” Mirian asked.

“Of course,” she said with a sigh.

“Doesn’t he have registration today? No, wait—I bet I know. There’s some weird bureaucratic process where you can submit registration early by proxy, but only if you fill out four different forms that each cost a hunk of silver to obtain.”

“So you do know me,” Nurea muttered. Louder, she said, “There’s only three forms involved, but you’re not likely to get the last one approved unless your family donates substantial amounts to the Academy. Anyways, I’ve told Nicolus to hurry back. He needs to hear whatever you have to say.”

“Oh?”

“You spend five years at this place tutoring someone in magic and you pick up a thing or two.” She did not elaborate on the spell mechanism she’d used.

They were sitting at an ivory-topped table by the window sipping the tea when Nicolus burst in. The tea tasted vaguely minty, but with lavender notes and some other flavor that Mirian couldn’t quite place. She turned as the door opened.

“Nur, this better be good because I was winning five-one in Juggler’s Jig and I’d—oh. You. I know you. You’re that weirdo who does calculus for fun.” Nicolus looked at Nurea, made a face, then held up a finger. “Nope, don’t say it. That was undiplomatic, which is a weird word. Sounds like someone didn’t get a diploma. Sorry, you’re that awkward girl who perseveres in class and is really c… uh….”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Two pints.” When Nurea glared at him, Nicolus admitted, “Okay, four. Maybe six. Look, this was our big celebration, no one looks for a forbidden party in the morning.”

“And I did intend to honor your day off, but plans change. This is Mirian,” Nurea said.

Nicolus froze. “Ohhhhh shit. Wait, you’re Mirian? You killed a guy.”

“Nicolus.”

“Right, five hell—Nur, give me a damned elixir, I know you have one.” Quieter, he said, “I can always punish my liver later.”

Nurea went to one of the cabinets and pulled out a small red vial, which she feigned throwing at Nicolus. He seemed to be used to this tactic, though, because he just rolled his eyes and held out his hand until she placed it there, then quaffed it and put his head down on the table. Nicolus would sober up in a few minutes, Mirian knew, though the process wouldn’t be pleasant. Practical alchemistry at its finest.

“So why are you coming to us? What’s the offer?” Nurea said.

Mirian told them, going with the same basic story of the war and leyline eruptions that she’d told the spy. She talked about the study sessions, and what she’d learned from the spies. She didn’t mention Nurea dying in the train car. “So I need your help. Nicolus, your uncle knows something. Even the spies don’t know about the attack on the embassy planned in Palendurio, but somehow, your uncle does. I need to know what he knows. He may be key in stopping the war from even beginning.”

Nicolus, who by now was sitting upright, said, “Huh.”

Nurea had started grinding her teeth.

Mirian knew she needed to start addressing Nurea’s concerns. She said, “If Idras’s message to Akana Praediar works, we may have time. A lot more time.” The lie felt bitter coming off her tongue, but Nurea wasn’t a fool. Mirian had constructed her story carefully, but not well enough.

Nurea clearly suspected Mirian was planning for future cycles, which meant they would die in this one. “I need a map and a timeline of the magical eruptions. A back-up plan. I won’t accept a deal otherwise.”

Mirian closed her eyes. She could make up something, but it would only take one zephyr falcon arriving with news of an early eruption Mirian didn’t know about for the scheme to evaporate weeks early. From what Idras had said, she was beginning to suspect these magical eruptions weren’t exactly new, they were just dramatically increasing in frequency. “I don’t have that yet.”

Nurea’s eyes narrowed. “Then there’s no deal. I need assurances that my ward will stay safe. I need—”

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“Nur, she can’t,” Nicolus said.

“Boy, don’t interrupt. My decisions take precedence in matters of—”

“Not a boy anymore. I know you’re still thinking of that pudgy little toddler who liked to play on high stone walls and sneak into the armory, but I’m an adult now. I’ll have full rights in a year. And this isn’t something you can control, any more than she can.”

Sire Nurea stood, smashing her hand down on the table hard enough Mirian involuntarily scooted back in her chair. She was livid, but she didn’t say anything, she just stared at Nicolus.

Nicolus didn’t flinch though. “Mirian, how many times have you died?”

“Thirteen.”

“Nur, you can’t protect me from the world forever. And I have been listening.” He stood and put his hand on his knight’s shoulder.