He had to pick a place to start.
The cup.
The artifact.
Had Thorne made a mistake while activating it? Scorio had watched closely. He summoned the memory and played it over and over again until he couldn’t even be sure.
No. Thorne had slowly and methodically followed his instructions.
Had Scorio told him the wrong order?
Dimple, third, fifth, sixth, fourth, second.
No, there was a logic to that order he couldn’t mistake.
Had Dameon told him the wrong combination by accident?
The Dread Blaze had been calmly certain.
Had Dameon told him the wrong combination on purpose?
Scorio paused.
Saw again Dameon’s exhausted, quietly triumphant expression in the dark of the hall.
“We were asked to make you suffer.”
We. Manticore.
Scorio sought to rebuff the conclusion. But what else could it mean?
Staring deep into the glowing gold, he decided to just run with it. The theoretical.
Say Dameon had given him the wrong sequence on purpose. Why? He’d not trusted Druanna with the code. Had insisted Scorio represent Manticore, demonstrate the cup’s abilities to Thorne.
But he couldn’t have been sure as to where that would take place. Thorne himself had suggested the demonstration take place inside the Shoals.
Let us be quick about this—I know you have little time, and I would rather spend it hearing from you how the transitions have been executed, the minutiae of the production schedules, and perhaps review the mana discharge process so that I can be assured of your satisfaction.
Scorio’s thoughts stilled. Awful implications hung over his mind like primed thunderbolts, but he clung tenaciously to this single thread of inquiry.
Druanna had made entering the Shoals sound as onerous as possible. Thorne’s expression had blanched. The Captain had been on a tight schedule, ready to depart, and being pulled into a boring review by a Pyre Lady whose authority exceeded his off the deck of his ship was unappealing in the extreme.
Prompting Thorne to invite Scorio on board.
Davelos remembers your speaking with Captain Thorne in Bastion. Are you friendly with him?
Scorio had thought Dameon was hoping to offload him onto the Iron Tyrant. But what if…?
Scorio’s mind blanked for a moment, but then he forced himself on. Say Dameon had told him the wrong sequence on purpose, then coordinated with Druanna to trick Thorne to have the demonstration take place onboard his ship.
The cup would drain the ship of its shields.
Leaving it open for Druanna to attack.
Was this all a complex ploy for House Kraken to seize The Coffer and its shipment of Gold mana?
That made no sense. It not only would be a violation of the Queen’s Accords and the Consortium’s rules, but would open Kraken to punitive measures from the other three Houses and the Iron Tyrant.
For an uncertain span of time, Scorio’s mind wandered, going over memories, overcome with shock and overwhelmed by what had taken place.
A memory surfaced.
Druanna’s eidolon in battle. Awesome, huge, but missing an arm and with a badly cracked chest.
Evelyn’s voice from so long ago: “Druanna can manifest the power to summon a twenty-foot tall obsidian golem with six swords that’s invulnerable to damage.”
Had Evelyn exaggerated?
The eidolon had taken damage quickly. Jova alone would probably have been able to batter it apart in moments.
Scorio’s mind froze. A dozen small details all came together at once.
Simeon.
His power was to take control of someone, and in so doing attain a weaker version of their powers.
But he’d been wounded, stayed below with Evelyn.
Unless.
He’d taken control of Druanna. But he couldn’t have been the only one to stay below, that would have been too suspicious, so Evelyn had opted to remain out of sight as well, hiding the fact that Simeon was gone.
But he couldn’t take control of higher ranked Great Souls.
Unless they were rendered unconscious, perhaps? Or drained of all their power?
Had Manticore waited till Druanna was at her weakest to turn on her?
Mavel, Tsing Ma.
Had they died fighting fiends, or…?
Scorio’s mind recoiled from the thought.
He thought of Ydrielle spending most of the trip below decks with Druanna. How the Pyre Lady had avoided all conversation and remained hidden. Her stiff way of handling the House Kraken bureaucrats. How quickly she’d ordered everyone to attack The Coffer.
That look of understanding she’d shared with Ydrielle at the last.
Scorio’s mind went perfectly still.
For long, aching moments he thought of nothing at all.
And then, rising from the tortured depths of his mind, came a silent, soul-shattering scream.
Chapter 44
Scorio must have fallen asleep. The golden glow became diffuse and fell away even as he continued to stare at it. He fell into a dazed slumber, half-dreams, half-memories playing across the theater of his mind.
Time ceased to have meaning.
His body never ached, never grew restless, never itched and yearned to stretch. It became easy to detach from it.
For his mind to grow unmoored.
Finally he roused himself.
Manticore had screwed him, screwed Captain Thorne, and engineered the battle on the esplanade.
“We were asked to make you suffer.”
Who’d asked them? House Kraken? No. If that were the case, why would Simeon take over Druanna’s body, why would they have ensured both Kraken Dread Blazes died?
Not died. Were murdered.
House Kraken’s play on the docks made no sense. Even if they seized the mana cargo, they’d only incur the wrath of the Iron Tyrant and the other Houses.
The Hydra ship.
It had been docked innocently down the way.
When the fight broke out, it had begun to disgorge a serious number of Great Souls. Great Souls who’d rushed eagerly into battle without hesitation or surprise.
Who’d been waiting on a ship with no activity taking place before it. No loading, no cargo, nothing.
Just waiting.
House Hydra.
“We were asked to make you suffer.”
Praximar.
The name hit Scorio like a blow to the chest.
Was this all his doing?
Did he hate Scorio that much?
No, that was foolish. Even Praximar wouldn’t go to such convoluted extremes to settle his petty vengeance with a Tomb Spark.
Then… House Hydra.
The consequences of what had taken place unspooled in Scorio’s mind: House Hydra had shockingly breached the Accord. House Hydra was on hand to help. The Coffer would be recovered—Simeon wouldn’t truly fight in Druanna’s body against his employers. Hydra would take the Shoals in the name of securing peace, and send desperate envoys to the Tyrant.
But would Praximar wait for the mandated neutral third party to intervene? His heart oath demanded he seek out the Iron Tyrant’s adjudication unless the danger to his House was overwhelming.
Would he deem Kraken’s attack to qualify? If so, he might move against Kraken in Bastion immediately, notified by Moira.
A completely unsuspecting House. Octavia would be ambushed. House Kraken would fall to the sudden attack. By the time the Iron Tyrant’s forces arrived, the battle might already be over.
And then?
House Kraken would be blamed, Hydra perhaps censured for being over enthusiastic. Basilisk wasn’t a serious contender for political power. Chimera was outwardly focused.
Praximar would effectively take control of the Council and the Shoals.
Of course.
Scorio stared out at nothing as this thought resonated in his mind.
But his heart oath. He’d sworn to take no actions against his rivals, either directly or by proxy.
The terms were meant to prevent exactly these kinds of machinations.