The Sorcery Code

Chapter 33: Barson




Walking into his sister’s house, Barson inhaled the familiar aroma of baking bread and scented candles. It smelled like home, reminding him of when their mother would bake delicious rolls for the entire household. Unlike most other sorcerers, their mother enjoyed working with her hands—something that Dara had inherited from her, along with her aptitude for sorcery.

“Barson! I’m so glad you came by.” Standing at the top of the staircase, his sister gave him a radiant smile before hurrying down toward him.

Barson smiled back, genuinely happy to see her. He missed Dara, though he couldn’t fault her for preferring this comfortable townhouse over cramped quarters back at the Tower. Low-ranking sorcerers received terrible accommodations there, and many of them chose to live outside of the Tower most of the time.

“It’s good to see you, Dara,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Is Larn here also?”

“He should be here soon. He’s passing by the well right now,” she said, grinning up at him mischievously. Her dark eyes were sparkling, making her look extraordinarily pretty.

Barson sighed, knowing what she was up to. “Did you put a Locator spell on him again?”

Dara’s grin widened. “I did indeed. But don’t tell him; it’ll be our secret.”

Amused, Barson shook his head. His sister and his right-hand man had been together for the past two years, and she drove Larn insane with her insistence on using spells in everyday life. For Dara, it was a way to practice sorcery and sharpen her skills, while Larn viewed it as showing off. “All right,” Barson promised, “I won’t.”

“Come,” Dara said, tugging at his arm. “Let me feed you. I bet you’re starved. That sorceress of yours doesn’t cook, I presume?”

“Augusta? No, of course not.” The very idea struck Barson as ridiculous. Augusta was . . . well, Augusta. She was many things, but homemaker was not one of them.

“That’s what I assumed,” Dara huffed. “She does know you need to eat, right?”

“I’m not sure,” Barson admitted, taking a seat at the table. “Most sorcerers—unlike you—rarely think about food or consider that others might need it.”

“Well, I hope she’s good in bed then,” Dara muttered, putting a bread basket and sliced cheese in front of him. “That and some spells is all she seems to be good for.”

Barson burst out laughing. His sister was jealous of Augusta’s position on the Council and was doing a terrible job of hiding it. “I’m not about to discuss my love life with you, sis,” he said after a few seconds, still chuckling.

She sniffed disdainfully, but kept quiet until Barson had a chance to eat some bread with cheese. “So guess what?” she said after Barson ate his second slice. “I was offered a chance to work with Jandison today.”

“Jandison?” Barson frowned. The oldest member of the Council was known for his teleportation skills and not much else. It was not exactly the most promising opportunity for Dara, given her ambitions.

“I know,” she said, understanding his unspoken concern. “But it’s still better than what I do now.”

“Do you think Ganir put him up to it?”

Dara shook her head. “I doubt it. I get the sense Jandison doesn’t like Ganir very much.”

“Oh?” Barson was surprised. He was well-versed in Council politics, but he hadn’t heard of any enmity between the two sorcerers. “What makes you think that?”

“A woman’s intuition, I guess,” Dara said. “It’s just a vibe I got from him when he mentioned Ganir’s name to me once. When I thought about it later, it actually made a lot of sense. Jandison is the oldest sorcerer on the Council, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he thinks he should be the Council Leader instead of Ganir.”

Barson gave his sister a thoughtful look. “You know, you may be right. Are you going to accept Jandison’s offer?”

“I think so.” She smiled. “And yes, I will definitely keep my eyes and ears open.”

At that moment, Larn walked into the kitchen, and Barson got up to greet him.

When Barson had first learned of his best friend’s involvement with Dara, he had been less than pleased. For one thing, being with a non-sorcerer was looked down upon in the Tower, and Barson had been concerned that her relationship with Larn might be detrimental to Dara’s desire to be recognized for her sorcery talent. However, he could see that Larn genuinely loved her, and that ultimately proved to be the most important thing of all. That, and the fact that Larn was one of the few men Barson was not tempted to kill immediately for laying a finger on his older sister.

“So tell me,” Barson said to Larn when the three of them sat down at the table, “do you have any news for me?”

Larn nodded, chewing on a piece of bread. “There has been a lot of activity with Ganir recently. Augusta visited his chambers again, and so did a number of commoners.”

“Commoners? Why?” Barson looked at his friend in surprise.

“We don’t know. Ganir’s spies spirited them out of the Tower before we could learn their identities. They were literally brought in to see Ganir and then were taken away immediately. My man only got a quick look at them.”

“Anything else?”

“We got a report from our source who’s watching Blaise’s house.”

Barson’s hands curled into fists underneath the table. “Did Augusta visit him again?”

Dara shot him a curious look and opened her mouth, but Larn reached over and squeezed her hand in gentle warning. “No,” he said. “It was even stranger than that. It was Ganir.”

“Ganir visited Blaise?” Barson’s temper cooled immeasurably. “I thought they weren’t on speaking terms.”

“Blaise is not on speaking terms with anyone these days,” Dara said. “Once he left the Council, it’s like he disappeared. Why would anyone visit him now?”

“Was our ally able to figure out what Ganir wanted?” Barson asked.

“No,” Larn replied. “He’s petrified of Ganir. They all are. As soon as he saw the old sorcerer arrive, he got out of there as quickly as his chaise could carry him.”

Barson’s lip curled. “Those sorcerers are such cowards. No offense, Dara.”

“None taken.” She grinned. “I fully agree with you, in fact. I would’ve definitely stuck around to learn as much as I could. By the way, speaking of sorcery, I finished working on your armor. It should now be resistant to most of the common spells.”

“Thank you, sis.” Barson smiled at her. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” she said without false modesty. “And soon they will know it, too.”

“Yes, they will,” Barson promised her, and for the next few minutes, they ate in companionable silence, enjoying the meal Dara had prepared for them.

When his stomach was comfortably full, Barson looked up at his friend again. “Any news from outside Turingrad? Any more uprisings anywhere?”

“No,” Larn said, “everything seems quiet for now. There’s just one thing, which is probably nothing.”

“What is it?” Barson asked.

“There have been some curious rumors about a powerful sorceress.” Larn paused to pour himself some ale. “Apparently, she’s beautiful, young, and wise beyond her years . . . They say she heals the sick, brings dead children back to life, and can even make the crops prosper wherever she is.”


Dara laughed. “That’s ridiculous. Bringing back the dead is impossible, even in theory.”

“The common people always make up stories that cast sorcerers in this kind of light,” Barson told her. “They want to believe the elite cares about them, that their overlords simply don’t know they’re suffering.”

Larn snorted. “And I’m sure many of them don’t—because they just don’t care.”

Barson shook his head, thinking about the gullibility of the common people. The peasants had been conditioned to think that the old nobility had been bad, while their new sorcerer masters were an improvement. Of course, with this drought, many of them were starting to see the truth—hence the increasing uprisings throughout Koldun.

Remembering the last rebellion he’d been forced to quell made Barson’s thoughts turn back to Ganir. Why had he met with Blaise? Could it somehow be connected with Augusta’s visit to her former lover? And what about all those commoners coming to the Tower?

Ganir was obviously playing a deep game, and Barson intended to get to the bottom of it.