62. Raengar
Raengar slid off the back of Deimos, dropping down onto the moss-covered stones below.
It was nearly midnight in Luxamal, the City of Poisons, but as he stepped to the edge of the landing platform and looked over, he could still make out the outline of the buildings in the city with the witch lights and torches that illuminated the night sky.
Luxamal, one of the largest cities in the House of Foliage and home to the largest universities, was made up of numerous blocky, stone pyramids. Raengar had been there only once before, while his father had still been king. The University was infamous for not only its poisons but for its recreational drugs, and his first experience in the city had not disappointed him. Rorax had been with him, and they had tried one of the many exotic blends for the first time together. The memory made his chest ache. He had been receiving constant updates from Kiniera about how she was doing and her progress in the trials, but he was still worried.
“Welcome, to Luxamal, Your Grace.”
Raengar turned to find one of the female acolytes of the University wearing a long moss colored robe, standing behind him, eyeing Deimos carefully. Upon further inspection the robe wasn’t just moss colored, it was moss, a thick, dark green moss robe wrapped over her. A thick braid of golden threads draped like a sash across her body, marking her as one of the High Acolytes of the University. He had worked with her before, and he hoped she could help him now.
“I received your letter; I assume your journey went well,” she said, her voice cold and her shoulders and back as stiff as a rod.
Raengar turned to face her. “You’re still the one who heads the Luxamal Division of Poisons?”
The acolyte nodded slowly, but she was wringing her hands. “You said in your letter that this matter was of the utmost importance.”
“It is. In fact, it’s a matter of national security.” Raengar pulled the four vials Jia had given him from the inside pocket of his cloak and handed them out to the woman who did nothing but stare at them with wide eyes. “Test these. There is a blocker in the blood, Waterlily Rine. I think it was made in this school and used against my soldiers.”
The acolyte sucked in a breath and wrung her hands harder as she looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. “Your Grace, I would—I would never have approved such a thing.”
Raengar didn’t need her to be any more terrified of him than she already was, so he tried to soften his expression. “I know. But I need to know who did. If it was the King of Alloy this could provide the evidence we need to convict him in his upcoming trial.”
The fear in her eyes dissipated and instead the acolyte eyed him warily. “I knew your father. I knew King Katalon. He came to visit me on many occasions, perched on this very same dragon, demanding poisons to kill his enemies.”
The acolyte moved her attention to his dragon, who was watching them both with one lazy electric blue eye, and Raengar felt his blood pressure rise. “I am not my father.”
“And yet they call you the Butcher King.”
“Ah yes, the Butcher King. The people do whisper that name around their dinner tables and in their halls.” Raengar took a step closer, giving the acolyte a poisonous smile. “But I could not have become the Butcher King without help. If I remember correctly, my sister was the one who procured the poison that helped kill my father. I wonder where it originated from. Under the Guardians’ Laws, it is illegal to aid and abet in the killing of a king.”
The acolyte’s face went pale, and her mouth tightened into a frown. “You would implicate yourself with this.”
“You must not have heard many rumors about me if you thought I wouldn’t rather rot in jail than let King M??r of Alloy rule another day.” Raengar smiled, but it was not kind.
The acolyte nodded hesitantly. “Despite my . . . reservations, I do believe we are on the same side, My Lord. The King of Alloy has proven to be a dangerous enemy to the free people of the Realms. I will find what we need.”
“Good.” Raengar handed the vials over to her and stepped around Deimos’s side gently reached up to unhook a cast iron cage that held a beautiful, azure blue hawk, its head tucked into his wing.
The acolyte gasped in girlish delight, pressing her empty hand to her chest. “I . . . I have never seen a Blood Hawk in person before, My Lord.”
Raengar smiled softly as he reached into the cage and rustled the feathers of the hawk, who lazily peaked its head up at him. “This bird is named Gawain. Give me your hand.”
The acolyte moved her hand from her chest out towards the bird. Raengar gently wrapped his fingers around the woman’s wrist and brought her closer to the bird. “This might sting.”
To the acolyte’s credit she didn’t so much as flinch when the bird reached out and bit the woman’s finger with its long, deep blue beak and ran its slimy black tongue over the injury, tasting the magick in the woman’s blood.
When the hawk looked up at Raengar, and then lazily buried its head in its wing once more, Raengar held out the cage to the woman.
“This hawk is blood-bonded to me. He’ll always be able to find me wherever I am, and he will not release the message to anyone but me.”
“My Lord . . . but why did you have it taste my blood?”
“Because now, on my command, when I send you messages, he will release the message to you, and only you.”
The acolyte’s eyes went wide with wonder, and she held the cage up slightly closer to her face. “Let us pray that this bird carries nothing but the best of news, then.”