This extra chapter is dedicated to everybody who's ever reviewed, but especially to my regular reviewers! And also, be sure to read 26 first because this kind of ruins it if you read this first.
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4/3/101
They froze, feeling cold steel touch their necks. Ides was the first to speak, his voice calm and controlled. "Pirean smugglers?"
"Yes," breathed a soft voice into his ear. "Don't move, Sílica. Who speaks for you?"
"I do," Ides said after a pause.
A hand groped around, pulling off Ides's blindfold. A sharp, grizzled face filled his vision, the knifeblade still at his neck. "What do you want?"
"We have the keywords and the coin, and we mean no harm to you or what you do," Ides said, meeting the man's eyes. "All we require is passage out of the city and shelter for the night."
The smuggler hesitated, eyes flicking to where Gen, Matiel, and Rina stood perfectly still, blindfolded and at the points of various knives. He jerked his head back to Ides. "One night?"
"And passage," Ides said quietly. "While Sílica and Pirean are not friends, nor are we enemies. We have need of your aid."
The man laughed, a harsh bark. "Sílica is no more, so don't play pretty talk with me. We'll give you shelter for the night. Stay out of our way and don't poke your nose where it doesn't belong, and no harm will come to you." He nodded to the others; they sheathed their knives. "You've got one room. Where's your coin?"
Gen looked down at the oilpaper-wrapped package in his hands, offering it to the man with a charming smile.
The man looked him over and snorted. Directing his gaze to the package, he slit it open, running fingers through the coins, counting them with the rapid skill of a black market trader. "It'll do," he said.
They were shown to a room, smelling faintly of mold, with a few lamps and a roll of blankets tucked neatly into a corner. The wooden door slammed shut with a heavy bang, leaving the only source of fresh air four small windows around the room. Rina and Matiel lay out the blankets in stony silence, putting a layer on top of the dirty floor.
"Well," Gen said with a forced attempt at cheerfulness, "It doesn't look too bad. Really."
Matiel shot him a dark look. "Really?" he said archly. "It took us four hours of aimless wandering to find this place, only to be blindfolded and threatened by a bunch of tough guys. Now we're stuck in this tiny room that might as well be a jail cell, with no promise of what will happen the next day. We've got no coin even if these smugglers do happen to be honest and toss us out of Uru'baen. We are definitely in trouble, so get your dreams out of your head."
He locked gazes with Gen, jaw jutting out defiantly. Ides and Rina looked from one man to another and traded a glance of their own. Finally, Ides said quietly, "Matiel. We know you were close to Serrion; you were best friends. But we all knew him, and we all liked him, and now we all mourn him. Please don't inflict your bad temper onto us."
Matiel's eyes flashed dangerously. "If you knew what he said—"
"That's enough!" Ides snapped, his voice gaining an edge of anger. "You've made nothing but sniping, cutting comments for hours now, not helping in any way. Either tell us what's wrong or—"
"I am telling you!" Matiel shouted. "Just shut up, Ides, all right? You don't understand, you and your—"
"Shh!" Rina hissed, listening intently, one ear placed against the door.
The three men looked at her, startled, having almost forgotten she was there. Her voice carried a sharp tone of urgency as she listened by the door, her eyes half-slitted. "They're talking," she said distractedly. "Voices—outside—"
The door swung open, Rina jumping out of the way just in time. The burly smuggler from before stood them, his eyes hard. Behind him stood another man, his face partly in shadow, his expression hidden. The sword in his hand did not need any explaining, nor did the soldier's uniform he wore.
"You led them here?" the smuggler barked, pulling Ides forward. "You led the soldiers here?" He raised his hand, slapping Ides violently across the face, his expression screwed in rage. "You led the city patrol here?"
"Enough!" the man in the shadows snapped, stepping forward. "You run an undoubtedly illegal operation—"
"Tell me," the smuggler spat, whirling around to point a finger at the soldier, "tell me why I shouldn't stick you full of arrows right where you stand."
The soldier looked around him, gray eyes taking in the scene—at least twelve men stood in the various little corners of the smugglers' cave, wielding very businesslike bows and swords. He dropped his gaze to meet the smuggler's eyes. "I see twelve men here," he said calmly. "I have at least five times that number outside. You may kill me, but understand that we are not here to destroy you or your little operation here. We are here for them." He gestured at Gen, Matiel, Rina, and Ides, the latter who had a red handprint across his face.
"Us?" Ides said, his voice barely a whisper.
"Will you come peaceably, or do we have to subdue you—"
"You!" Matiel cried, lunging forward. "Serrion told me, you traitor, you traitor—" he reached out, seeking to strangle—Gen.
"Matiel!" Ides shouted, lurching forward. "Matiel, stop!"
An arrow hissed through the air, burying itself deeply into Matiel's back. He fell away, blood streaking downwards, his breath coming in weak gasps. Gen dropped to his knees, touching the wound, blood staining his fingers. "You knew," he said softly, to the dying Matiel. "Serrion knew, and he told you."
"What?" Rina whispered.
With a detached air, Gen stood, wiping the blood on his breeches. Turning to the soldier, he inclined his head slightly. "You can take us to the emperor."
Ides shook his head, grabbing Gen's arm. "Gen, what are you talking about? What's going on?"
"That's not my name, Ides," Gen said quietly.
"Eugenides, then, Eugenides Farrow—"
"No. Eugenides Farrow is dead." He looked up, meeting Ides's painful gaze. "I'm sorry, Ides."
Another man, a third man, had been waiting silently behind them. The soldier cleared his throat. "Sir, the emperor is here. He wished to meet you himself."
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Galbatorix stepped out, his elvish features standing out strikingly in the dim light. His eyes flicked around the smugglers. "Lower your weapons."
His voice carried the tone of undeniable authority. Slowly, the smugglers lowered them, eyes wary, their watchfulness tinged with fear.
The emperor stepped over to Gen, who had knelt. "Stand, Teleus," he said, his voice light and melodious. "After all, you've given me a wonderful gift today." There was a tinge of amusement. "The last of the Sílica. And how long it took to set this all."
Gen—no, Teleus—stood slowly, mud caking his knees, looking fixedly at the ground. Finally, he said, "I live to serve, your majesty."
"Yes," Galbatorix agreed. "You do."
He smiled and looked directly at Ides, who stood in a state of horrified shock. "Henrides, is it? Yes, Henrides Miyan. Teleus's little friend." Galbatorix shook his head, the look of perpetual amusement still on his face. "Here's a little advice for you, Henrides," he said conversationally. "In case you ever become emperor." He cocked his head. "Won't you like to know what it is?"
Ides's eyes moved slowly to Gen, who still wouldn't meet his gaze. His lips moved slightly, and his face was white with fear. Rina moved closer, an arm laying on his shoulder, eyes glaring at Galbatorix in hatred. "What games are you up to?" she snapped.
"Don't interrupt," Galbatorix said softly. "Don't you know that's rude?"
He flicked his finger in her direction. A powerful, invisible hand wrenched her up from the ground, slamming her bodily into the wall. She slid to the ground, blood trickling from her head, unconscious. Two soldiers in the shadows moved to carry her, tying her hands and feet together.
All through this, neither Ides nor Gen had moved a muscle.
"So, my friend Ides," Galbatorix continued smoothly, as if nothing had happened. "Would you like to know the little flaw in your organization? And—" he smiled congenially, tilting his head to one side. "My own flaw? The one that cost me so much time?"
He didn't wait for an answer, beginning to pace, his strides slow and measured.
"Everything about you was set up," Galbatorix said softly. "Your printer master was equipped with a suicide spell, and you yourself had only the faintest inklings of Sílica at the time. Do you think it was a coincidence that Teleus took you in? No. I don't like loose ends, Ides, I would've killed you any other time. But if there's anything I hate more than one loose end, it's a whole pack of them. So I set Teleus up to be just right there when we threw you from the palace."
He paused, then continued.
"When you healed and joined Sílica, you vouched so passionately for Teleus, thank you, that their magickers didn't even bother to search him. Your talent for magic helped bring you up in the organization, and you brought Teleus up with you. But see, here was my mistake. Through Teleus, I knew of Peregrine and all your little plans. But I couldn't get him. You, all of you, squared him away far too well, changing hiding places far too often for me to find you or them, placing all sorts of little fiddly wards. Teleus couldn't keep up with all the nitty-gritty, especially because he doesn't have a drop of magic. My mistake, I'll admit. If I'd picked someone different, undoubtedly it'd be done faster."
He sighed ponderously, black eyes lazily watching Ides. "So now we come to this. Teleus gave me the names of the top few; Jacob was taken first. Tria came next—" he laughed, a chilling sound. "She fought so wonderfully, but she gave up in the end. As did Jacob. I gave my Rider's dragon a little target practice on him, you know. Quite satisfying. And after that, you moved Peregrine to the woods, where supposedly they were safe. I sent a troop to capture them."
His eyes flickered. "Why don't you continue the little story here, Teleus?" he said. "You know it far better than I. After all, you were the one who had to deal with it."
Teleus/Gen didn't say anything. It was Ides who finally spoke, his voice soft and painful. "You killed Serrion, didn't you? He knew. You killed him. And that wound—that wound you had came from Serrion, when he tried to defend himself. And Matiel knew. That's why he was so—angry. So bad tempered." He closed his eyes. "And Matiel—when he left for the woods, I'd wondered why he didn't come back with Peregrine. But it was because he knew you were here, and bringing them back into the city would be the most dangerous thing to happen."
The puzzle pieces were fitting in place. Ides swallowed and continued doggedly. "But how did you tell—how did you inform him—"
"Ides—" Gen whispered.
"No!" Ides spat. "No," he continued in a softer voice. "I remember now—when I was in Samker's mind, when I lost control—there was a scroll, a scroll on the ground, you—"
"Wrote it?" Galbatorix supplied as Ides faltered.
"Wrote it," Ides echoed, pain clear in his eyes. "And so you led them here."
Silence reigned in the air. Finally, Gen nodded. "Yes."
"But—why?" Ides cried, his voice cracking. "Gen—"
"I didn't want to do it, at the end," Gen interrupted, raising his head to meet Ides's eyes. "I'm sorry, Ides. I—in the beginning, it was choice. But at the end—" he shook his head wildly, a bitter smile appearing on his lips.
"Spare me the ballads," Galbatorix yawned. "That's the problem with untrained agents—they go all soppy in the end."
He strode over to Ides, smiling benignly and yet, viciously. "You've led me on quite a little chase, Ides," he said, "but surely you know better than to try to escape me. If the Riders couldn't do it, if the Varden can't do it, you wouldn't either. Through Teleus, I took you. Through you, I'll take Peregrine. Not to kill him, of course—after all, he's got the blood that will make him my second Rider. Which is what you planned to do, and failed. Isn't that nice?"
Galbatorix turned away from Ides's frozen frame and beckoned to the soldiers. "Captain Blackfire," he said with a nod, "take them to the palace, will you?"
The soldiers moved to obey. Galbatorix watched them take the unmoving Ides and Rina, then turned to the smugglers. "I've got no quarrel with the slave trade or whatever lots you're moving," he said cheerfully, "but take care you don't transport traitors next time. I'll be very cross. For now, though, the Pirean smugglers can stand."
He gave a little wave and followed the soldiers out.
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End of Chapter Twenty-Seven