Inkling of Violence Read online

  Contents

  Inklingof Violence

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  Other Books by Saffron

  About The Author

  INKLING OF VIOLENCE

  SAFFRON BRYANT

  Copyright © 2022 by Saffron Bryant. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

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  www.saffronbryant.com

  CHAPTER 1

  Skylar sat in the shadowed nook of the attic window, looking out over the moonlit roofs of Tarraria. The distant ocean reflected the glow in bright patches. The city streets lay silent, undisturbed, as if time had stopped for just a moment, leaving everything in peace. Except Skylar herself.

  "We should be out there," Remi said. "Not wasting our time here."

  Skylar sighed and rubbed her temples. She'd said the same thing a dozen times before. Had threatened and begged the Chroniclers, but they remained as stubborn as the creatures the farmers used to pull wagons into town. She'd been 'strongly encouraged' to stay inside of the Chroniclers' compound. Even in the attic where she could see the whole city it felt like a cage. The symbol of the Chroniclers; a pen on a roll of parchment, loomed above every door, reminding her where she was.

  Behind Skylar, Mag scratched away at her notepad. The sound grated on Skylar's nerves like nails on rusted iron. The woman was Skylar's own personal torturer. Not that the Chroniclers saw it that way. Mag was a Notetaker.

  Skylar glanced at the woman out of the corner of her eye. She stood a few yards away, far enough away that she couldn't be accused of invading Skylar's space, but close enough that she could hear every word. She clasped a crisp notebook in one hand while she wrote with the other. The quill hung from a bracelet at her wrist, complete with a vial of ink. The Notetakers recorded everything. Every damn thing.

  "It's weird having her here," Remi said, breaking in on Skylar's thoughts.

  She snorted. "You're telling me. At least you don't have one following you around."

  "Because they don't think I'm important enough."

  "What would they know?"

  Remi raised an eyebrow. "Everything, that's the point."

  "They like to think they know everything." At first Skylar had been reluctant to say anything against the Chroniclers with Mag always watching and writing, but she'd soon run out of patience. Besides, the notes wouldn't be made available until Skylar died—not unless something really bad happened, in which case she had bigger problems. And Mag herself wouldn't gossip. Part of the process for becoming a Notetaker required them to give up their voice Trait. That way they couldn't spill the secrets they'd overheard.

  It still made Skylar's spine crawl though, never being truly alone. Even when she slept, Mag lay on a small cot at the other side of the room. Pits, Skylar could barely go to the bathroom on her own. She'd argued with the Chroniclers at first, had demanded Mag leave her alone, that she didn't want her every move and word recorded. But the High Council Of Chroniclers refused. They said that because she'd killed The Protector, she had to be recorded. If anything they seemed annoyed that she hadn't had someone following her around since the day she was born, as if she should have known that all of the events of her life were meant to be written down.

  "They're making me go to class again tomorrow," Remi said.

  "It's good. You should learn to read and write."

  "So I can become a Notetaker too?" He jutted his chin at Mag who didn't look up, but kept writing.

  "I'd rather be learning how to read and write again than be forced to attend every one of these cursed meetings. Hundreds and hundreds of meetings where nothing is ever said or done."

  "Even more reason for us to leave." Remi gave Skylar a significant look.

  Skylar understood. They'd talked about it before; sneaking out of the Chroniclers' headquarters, even just for an evening of freedom. But neither of them liked to say too much in front of Mag. The woman might not be able to talk, but she'd be able to make herself understood well enough if she thought the Chroniclers' safety was at risk.

  And that's what it came down to in the end; the Chroniclers couldn't bare to do anything, wouldn't dare risk the secret of their existence. Which is why they'd been around for so many centuries and yet achieved nothing.

  But Skylar owed them her life.

  So did Remi and Emili. If the Chroniclers hadn't given them shelter after Tomys' death, the palace guards and the City Watch would have seen them dead. Which was why Skylar hadn't acted on her impulse yet. So far, she'd kept her word and stayed inside the Chroniclers' headquarters, even though it chafed. She looked out on those moonlit roofs and longed to be leaping between them. She ached for the good days, not so long ago, when her biggest concern was solving the next case. They were simpler times.

  "They say they're going to bring down the king," Skylar said.

  "And how many decades have they been saying that?"

  Skylar gestured over her shoulder at Mag. "I'm sure if you wanted to find out you could go through all the books."

  They lapsed into silence. Usually Skylar preferred to sit in the alcove on her own; it helped her think. But both her and Remi were supposed to attend another cursed meeting in a few short hours and he had nothing better to do.

  Skylar rubbed at her right arm where Tomys had cut her. Only a faint scar remained. Sometimes it hurt, or at least she imagined it did. For so long she'd thought Tomys was her closest friend. To find out that it was he who'd killed her parents, killed her friends… it still chewed at her. It made her wake up wet with sweat in the middle of the night.

  She should have realized.

  There must have been clues. Although even after three months of going over every second of their time together, Skylar still couldn't find any. And all of it because of some plant.

  Skylar steered her thoughts in another direction. If she got stuck on the plant then she'd be stewing on thoughts of revenge against the royal family for the next day and that would put her in a foul temper for the meeting.

  The one good thing she had to say for the Chroniclers was their fighting division, the so-called Tr
uth Bringers. Skylar knew how to fight, even though her formal training had been limited, but the Truth Bringers knew far more than she'd ever thought possible. As much as she hated being trapped in the Chroniclers' headquarters, the monotony was made somewhat bearable by her training sessions with the Truth Bringers.

  "Did you see Emili today?" Remi said.

  "At breakfast."

  "Is she okay?"

  "Are you kidding? She's better than any of us. She's finally allowed to do Trait transfers the way our father showed us. They even have the right plants here."

  "I've heard them talking," Remi said.

  "Who?"

  "The High Councilors, some of the tutors."

  "Saying what?"

  Mag's pen scratched away at her paper, like a rat chewing on the wall.

  "That she's good. Maybe even the best."

  Skylar relaxed back into the alcove. "She is the best."

  "When I get a Trait, I hope she does it."

  Skylar grinned at him. "What, you don't want me to do it?"

  Remi gestured at Skylar's face, to the puckered skin under her eye. A brief smile flashed across his face. "Thanks, but no thanks. You did a rubbish job of it last time."

  "It wasn't exactly ideal circumstances. Emili gets a nice chair and specialized ink. I had to do it while trying not to get us both killed."

  "Better stick to what you're good at."

  Skylar forced herself to smile. "I would. But there aren't exactly many murders happening in here, are there?"

  CHAPTER 2

  Skylar slouched in a chair between Emili and Remi, wishing she could be anywhere else.

  The upper command of The Chroniclers sat arguing across the table, as they had been for the last hour. Skylar's head pounded from the noise of their voices and the scratch scratch scratch of a half dozen Notetakers, all of them scribbling every word uttered, every movement made.

  "Is it like this every time?" Remi whispered.

  Skylar nodded as she massaged her head.

  "I'm regretting asking to be here," Emili said. She wore gloves on both hands to hide the ink that had stained deep into her skin from the many Traits she'd been transferring. Despite being bored with the meeting, she looked better than she had in a long time. For that Skylar was grateful. She was even willing to sit through torturous meetings like this if it meant Emili could stay in a place where people respected her skills.

  A thin man wearing a long purple robe smacked a wooden hammer against the table. The room fell silent. As much as Skylar disagreed with a lot of things about the Chroniclers, she couldn't fault them for their adherence to their own rules. There was order here.

  Absolom cleared his throat as he laid the hammer on the table in front of him. "We've become side-tracked. This meeting is to decide our next step in regards to the royal family and the Cruorgum. Not—" The broad-shouldered man halfway down the table started to talk but Absolom cut him off. "—to discuss recent pirate activity."

  "But they're interfering with shipments—"

  "It is irrelevant to this organization," Absolom said. "Truth above all." The motto was written on the walls in every room of the Chroniclers' headquarters. Some of them even had it tattooed on their arms; a constant reminder of their purpose. "The Protector has been dealt with." Absolom nodded toward Skylar. "It is time that the royal family were exposed for the liars they are."

  "It's like I've said all along!" A man with fiery red hair shot to his feet. Ramus made the same argument at every meeting. Skylar could have just about said it for him from memory. "The royal family must be made to pay. We go in there, and we drag them naked through the streets for public execution."

  Absolom sighed and rubbed the wrinkled flesh around his eyes. "Have you suddenly come into possession of an army, Ramus?"

  The red-haired man scowled. "No."

  "Then how exactly do you propose to get to the king and the prince?"

  "We can work out the details later. Or Pits! Let's light the palace on fire and let them burn inside like rats."

  "I would have thought that you of all people would hesitate to burn all the innocent people working inside the palace," Absolom said.

  A bright red blush raced over Ramus' face, blending with his orange freckles and the roots of his hair. He returned to his seat. "I'm just saying we have to make them pay for what they've done. In the north when a wolf betrays his pack, the rest of them will drag him into the woods and tear him to pieces. That's justice."

  "Truth will see justice done," Absolom said. "Not burning the palace, or tearing the royal family into pieces. The only way to show the truth to the people is to take the Cruorgum plant. We can show it to the people and they will realize the lie they've been living."

  "Don't forget old Truth-sayer will need a top up soon," said the man sitting opposite Skylar, who was almost as wide as he was tall. He had a special chair that his attendants carried around for him because normal seats couldn't hold his weight. He took a sugar cube from a bulging packet near his right elbow and placed it on his tongue.

  Ramus turned his fiery red head toward the fat man. "It's disrespectful to talk of the Truth-sayer that way, Clem."

  The man waved thick fingers at Ramus, as if at a fly. "I meant nothing by it. Merely pointing out an important fact. How long do you think the current vitality donor will last? And after that we've only got one vial of the ink left."

  Everyone at the table shared uneasy glances. From what Skylar had been able to work out, the Chroniclers had one vial of vitality ink which would have to be used soon, pushing them further toward taking action.

  "I agree with Clem that we need to find some more Cruorgum," said a tall man on Remi's other side. He wore thick plates of armor which forced him to stand rather than sit. Skylar had never seen him—Kais—without it. Him and all the martial Chroniclers wore their armor and weapons like the Notetakers wore their pens; constantly. Kais had to have Traits, probably a lot of them, but Skylar had never seen enough of his skin to be sure. She'd been hoping he'd visit Emili for a new one and Emili would be able to tell her more. It wasn't that Skylar had any reason to distrust Kais, but unlike most of the Chroniclers, he had a fighting streak, and she liked to know about the people around her. She'd taken a guess based on the way he moved that he must have at least three strength Traits and two of grace, but if he were skilled, he might be able to hide his true power.

  Kais twirled his fingers. "But then again, the current High Truth-sayer has been in his chair for a long time."

  A few gasps went up around the table.

  Absolom's knuckles went white where they gripped his hammer. "Surely, Kais, you're not suggesting…"

  "I'm not suggesting anything. I'm merely pointing out that two centuries is longer than anyone usually gets."

  "The High Truth-sayer earned his place. He has been a solid leader for—"

  Kais help up his hands. "Keep your robe on, Absolom. I just like to remind you all now and then that the Chroniclers would go on, even if we needed a new High Truth-sayer."

  "Your words have been noted," Absolom said, his gaze flicking to the line of Notetakers, all of their pens working. Skylar got the impression that he didn't say it to assure Kais that people were paying attention to him, but rather as a warning that whatever he said was being recorded.

  "So we take the Cruorgum," Ramus said. "And now is the time to do it. With the Protector dead, there's never been a better time."

  "The High Truth-sayer said the king will find a new Protector," Clem said.

  "But whoever it is will be untrained, new. Do you think it's better to wait until they've had time to gather Traits and train?"

  "Ramus has a point," Absolom said. "The last time we made a move against the royal family, it was the Protector who destroyed us. With him gone, we might stand a chance."

  "You can go in there," Clem said, waving a meaty hand which clutched another sugar cube. "But I don't imagine many will join you. We're called the Chroniclers, we Chronicl
e. There was nothing in the job description about risking our lives for pointless causes."

  Ramus leaned across the table. "You take that back, Clem. You might be happy to sit here, getting fat on the Chroniclers' work, but you know as well as I that we were founded to overthrow the royal family."

  Clem raised an eyebrow. "Best not be throwing insults, orphan. Besides, the founding happened centuries ago. I doubt old Haranga planned on it taking this long. He didn't know what we'd be up against."

  "It doesn't matter! The purpose of the Chroniclers is to show the lies of the royal family and their use of Traits. Who cares if it's taken us a century to get here?"

  Clem laid his hands flat on the table, rings gleaming on each of his fingers. "As I said, you can do as you like. But I won't be risking my life to steal a plant."

  "You wouldn't be able to get through the palace doors anyway, you—"

  Absolom struck his hammer. Ramus' mouth snapped shut but he continued to glare at Clem across the table.

  "Skylar, do you have anything to add?" Absolom said. He'd aged twenty years over the course of the meeting. Although if Skylar were being honest, it felt like the meeting had dragged on that long anyway.

  "This is your organization."

  "You killed the Protector. You can't wash your hands of this."

  "He was trying to kill me. It was self-defense. I didn't know it would lead to all this."

  "Are you honestly saying you have no opinion on this?"

  Skylar dropped her gaze from Absolom's watery blue eyes to stare at the table. She didn't want to see the faces of the others. They all had opinions that they'd want her to agree with. Even Emili and Remi. But what did she want? Pits, she wanted to be back at her and Emili's old house with a simple murder case. She'd never wanted to get mixed up with the royal family or a secret organization bent on overthrowing them.

  But she couldn't go back. She knew that.

  With great effort, she pushed her emotions aside. If this were a case, she would have looked at the options logically, with cold assessment. Facts were all that mattered.

  This organization had been around since the founding of the empire. According to them, that was when the royal family—the victors in a bloody clan war—began the rumor that they were divinely chosen to lead. A bastard son of one of the losing families saw what was happening and began the Chroniclers; he wrote every thing down so that the truth wouldn't be lost. But then he and his followers were hunted so they had to go underground. And that's where they'd stayed for years beyond counting.