The Mark of Gold

by A. S. Etaski

The Naulor smiled patiently. “Only because you want Morixxyleth, Davrin. That is plain as the day to me. Whether he makes a bargain with you is his decision for I am not his keeper. But I shall not allow him to be misled by you if I see it. All your motives must be placed in the light where he can see them. He suffered greatly under the Davrin and was a feral fugitive when I met him.”

  Krithannia at last straightened up to her full height away from the wall and finished her speech. “There is something else to your presence and that of the death mage you found than his past, however. Such that neither of us would disregard your goals or its importance to Manalar, but there are shadows around your people where he may miss a warning. That is why he brought you to me.”

  I disliked her intelligent and cutting insight but admired her boldness to negotiate on a bua’s behalf, and the clear boundaries laid down. Finally, a powerful Matron on the Surface I recognized, and probably the “one” female contact Mourn admitted was not a current lover, but a former one.

  She can say his name correctly, after all.

  Motives all in the light, she said. Alright, let us start there.

  As much as I can.

  “The Deathless knew Gavin and I were headed to Manalar,” I began. “He tried to force me to stay with him, tried to enslave me with the Ma’ab helping. Mori… Mourn executed Kurn and Castis as part of his current contract and offered me protection should the Deathless recover enough from his injury to follow me and Soul Drinker before we made it here.

  “I want to take his offer of protection further. I am not stupid to believe I can evade the Deathless each and every time, and if the sorcerer did not follow me immediately out of Troshin Bend, then he may try to cut me off where I go next.”

  Krithannia arched a thin, dark eyebrow. “What injury, if I may ask?”

  “I stabbed him with the relic. Though I… do not remember doing it. I was, ah, trapped between them, and it was the first time I drew it…”

  I waited for a moment of dizziness to pass, realized my skin was mostly dry, and I was chilled. I moved to dress despite my clothes smelling of the week sailing on a ship.

  The Naulor noticed, her delicate nose sniffing, and offered, “Shall I clean them for you?”

  So, that was where Mourn learned that trick. I nodded, watched her cast with word and gesture, and my clothing and gear refreshed before my eyes, all odors dissipating. I began again to dress.

  “You were trapped, you said?” Krithannia encouraged.

  I ground my teeth then smirked. “If you are angry at my sister for mounting Tamuril to try to break her, you may be satisfied to hear I suffered the same. The innkeeper and Kurn violated me at once.”

  A beat.

  “I am not, Sirana,” she replied with force. “I am sorry to hear it happened at all. I am also glad that you survived them and escaped, as much as I am glad for Tamuril. I have seen the bodies of too many victims who do not.”

  For a while, I couldn’t say anything. I finished putting myself together, feeling the added protection around me, physical and intangible.

  “I must go to Manalar with Gavin,” I said with care. “Plainly spoken, Naulor, I want Mourn’s protection should Cris-ri-phon appear again. I saw him fight the mass of insanity amid the warp rot. The Dragon’s son is the reason I saw the next day, giving me the second chance against the relic overtaking my will. And he is the reason my child still rests in my belly when I was starving but tricked not to know it. He is supremely capable, and his skills are much in need. He wants the Ridhian, and I will negotiate that and more if he will be my bodyguard when we go South.”

  “Why must you go to Manalar?”

  “That can wait until Gavin is present.”

  Krithannia dipped her chin. “And the Soul Blade? Why would you intend to keep it when it is so dangerous?”

  “It is not for greed or desire to keep it,” I answered fiercely. “I stole it in desperation, but I am afraid of the demon’s manipulation, of its voice in my head. Yet who else may keep its interest when it wishes to learn what happened to the Davrin after the Desert war? I know how consuming the Abyss is. I have stared into that Void for all my life.”

  Her lovely, contemplative frowned slightly. “But you are young.”

  “Indeed, I am only a century old, yet in ways Tamuril seems younger than me,” I said with every intent to keep the tremor out of my voice, “and I cannot tell your age, Krithannia, when you can’t be less than seven centuries.”

  She did not deny this. Her calm silence pulled me to continue.

  “If you know how the Dragon’s son suffered under the servants of Braqth, you might imagine how I have struggled to live as one of many trying to avoid being slapped on the altar. You may know I have been broken, but I must stand up again or simply die. My elders lead by example, they have seen and survived worse than you have lived. They become hard as the stone cavern around them, though you can only ask why my sergeant did what she did, while most of our buas die young with even less choice, abused to catch children from them before being sacrificed to a hungry goddess.”

  The pale Elf was like a statue as I quivered. My vision blurred at the edges as I spoke again.

  “I-I am astonished at the relative peace and plenty of the Surface, at the widespread travel and the trade with others. There is struggle and greed, always, but I seek not to spread Braqth’s ways up here. Let her stay hidden below in the dark! The spider clerics deserve to fight over the Soul Blade after I toss it into the web among them, should I succeed in carrying it to my city as it wishes.”

  My voice slowed then stopped on that inevitability as I tried to read the Naulor’s mood. Her face had softened in response to the words tumbling free out of my mouth; she watched me and did not look away. She’d listened.

  I tried to catch my breath, my heart thumping in my ears, eyes blinking to keep that telling shimmer at bay. I had no further words that wouldn’t burn my throat. After many long moments, when the Naulor had returned from her inner reflections and leveled her elder’s gaze to me, she bowed her head and made a graceful, if unfamiliar, gesture with her pale hand.

  “I shall count myself fortunate you are the first pureblood Davrin I have met,” she said solemnly. “You are driven by more than you say, yet all you say is true. You and your death scholar recognize that you need help, and I may say with similar truth that the Guild can help you. I wish to hear from both of you together. Come, call your guardians and let us move to comfortable quarters with our allies.”

  I listened, numbed to consider it being that easy, but gathered my spiders and belongings. As I followed her, I turned over what she had said.

  The Guild can help you.

  This was good for Gavin’s goal but uncertain for a major part of mine, if Krithannia meant she would recommend Mourn not bargain with me to become my bodyguard. Perhaps she hadn’t decided yet.

  What would happen if Mourn didn’t come with us to Manalar? Would I leave Gavin and Jael to merciless Witch Hunters to follow him wherever he went next? What if he simply vanished like the Priestess and her Sathoet Son, but did so to avoid me? What would I be compelled to do next?

  Those possibilities scared me more than dealing with Soul Drinker again.

  To her credit, the Naulor knocked on Gavin’s door wearing her Elven form and did not quibble about her introduction when he asked for identification through a tightly closed door.

  “I am the Guild Mistress of Augran. Sirana is out here with me. I am here to learn about the soul shard you carry and the message you must pass to the Bishops hoarding a sacred site. Would you come with us to speak in a larger room?”

  Mourn leaned against the door jamb to his own room, arms folded, watching us. Based on his tail twitching mixed with a lash or two, either he hadn’t listened to a word we’d exchanged, or he heard every single one. I wagered on the latter.

  As usual, Gavin took a while to gather his things before opening the door, though
he had not yet verbalized his agreement. Perhaps he’d forgotten. Krithannia did not seem to mind. Finally, the scholar opened his door and stepped partway through the frame then stopped.

  The Human death mage stared at the Naulor at eye level. Whatever irritable, rude thing he was about to say was on her, as she could have warned him. I didn’t because I wanted to see his face.

  I wasn’t expecting his eyes to shift void-black immediately.

  “Uhh, wait,” I spoke up. “She’s important to your mission, Gavin. Not a threat.”

  “I know,” he said, his head tilting first this way then the other, staring at the pale-skinned Elf through glossy, black eyes. “But I have never seen anything like this.”

  Krithannia smiled in welcome. “What is it you see, Deathwalker?”

  “Perhaps I’d best not say until I understand more. But… you are the primary essence?”

  “Hm.” Her smile seemed almost flirting, her eyes a lighter grey now. She apparently did not find him repulsive to look at for so long. “If you wished to intrigue, messenger, you succeeded. And yes, I always have been the ‘primary.’ You may call me Krithannia. What do you prefer?”

  The former monk shook his head. “Nothing in particular. Gavin. Deathwalker. Death mage.”

  “He dislikes ‘apprentice,’” I volunteered.

  Gavin darted me a look that made me smile, while Krithannia seemed close to laughter.

  “Please, come. If there is anything you need to make our talk open and undistracted, do let me know.”

  Taking two corners made the building larger than I had thought at first, then the four of us entered a much larger office with food, drink, and enough places to sit. Krithannia made it obvious she was casting a privacy spell to lock down listening and scrying.

  “No troubles could arise from speaking as we did in the hallway?” I asked.

  “I selected my cooks and housekeepers this night,” she said. “This is to keep our own auras from unsettling those nearby.”

  Not to keep anyone out but to keep us in. Uh-oh.

  “You selected Mai?” I asked. “She seems new to the spirit world. Easily flustered.”

  Mourn emitted a brief rumble in his throat and raised one brow at me. I was tempted to blow him a sarcastic kiss but instead raised both eyebrows in challenge. Krithannia noted the exchange and chuckled.

  “Yes, she is new and easily flustered,” said the Mistress. “I wanted to see how you treated her, Sirana. Simple enough.”

  I lifted my chin. “I did not hurt her. She fainted.”

  “I know, Lantiu-janshi. She told me.”

  Mourn responded to the joke of the name; his fang poked out as his lips stretched.

  The Guild Mistress looked between us and waved to the food on the table. “Now, would anyone like water, wine? A snack?”

  I’d just eaten and had drunk enough that I would need a bucket break sooner or later, but I glanced between Mourn and Gavin inquiringly.

  Inhaling at an oddly slow rate, the Deathwalker stepped forward and did his one bite of food, one sip of water ritual with no visible enjoyment. Nonetheless, Krithannia watched with interest. Mourn helped himself to quite a lot more and sat down, slowly, in a stout chair. I followed suit, figuring I could have it nearby when I grew hungry, for there surely wasn’t anything wrong with it.

  In time, we were each seated on one side of a square table, our respective packs and equipment resting on the floor, staring at each other.

  Krithannia led again with impeccable politeness. “May I see this soul shard you created, Gavin? That which must be thrown into the sacred pool.”

  The death mage sat for a moment before reaching into his belt pouch for a lump he kept wrapped in a drab cloth. He set it down carefully and unwrapped it slowly with one hand, revealing the glossy piece of flint, sharp at two ends, with a center that churned so gradually one might overlook it.

  He waited without speaking as Krithannia’s cheeks flushed like Tamuril’s, though not in arousal or shame. I wondered what she saw that I didn’t.

  “Perhaps begin with the night the Witch Hunters murdered you.”

  The Guild Mistress was certainly well-informed. I tossed a glare at Mourn across the table. He smiled back, leaving me to wonder how he’d communicated so much detail so fast. Gavin stared at the Naulor for quite a while.

  Then he spoke.

  “My Vis became aware in the Nexus. What modest preparations I’d made assured I did not arrive centered in a wasteland of hungry ghosts, but on a border where I could be found by a psychopomp who’d even heard of this world. I knew what I needed to do, and it guided me to an oasis to wait. I waited for a long time.”

  Scores of tiny bumps spread out over my arms listening to him. None of us made a peep; I doubted any of us blinked.

  “She sent tutors to me in the form of crows,” Gavin said. “I had to feed them, somehow, for them to feed me in return.”

  He glanced down at his right arm.

  “She?” Krithannia invited respectfully.

  “The Grey Maiden. Nyx. I never saw her as an eidolon. Never heard her. Not as I’ve seen her as I’ve slept.”

  The Naulor waited as she had with me, motioning for him to continue. The Deathwalker considered the cup of water he’d poured, of which he’d only taken a sip.

  “Eventually,” he said, “I deduced that my Vitas was the pool by which I waited, and through the crows on both sides of the veil, I could affect my original body. I had performed the ritual properly for I could touch the ‘water’ and see flashes of my home world.

  “I knew I was to return through it, to entwine my Vis with this altered Vitas once I’d learned enough, but no matter how much I fed the crows of my flesh so they would regurgitate what they knew into the pool, no matter how it turned black, and blacker…” He paused, studying his palms. “The pool repelled me. My Vitas and my Vis would not reunite. The silver dagger of the Dyos Guerrimos kept them severed despite my efforts. Despite seeing and hearing the crows above the shed where my body lay.”

  My fingers fiddled with the tips of my gloves; I noticed and made myself stop. Krithannia noticed this as well and offered us a small smile. “Until you received a little earned luck from an ally who had not given up on you.”

  My scholar won’t know how to respond to that.

  Sure enough, Gavin looked away from all of us, at a point on the far wall. “Indeed, Sirana removed the silver dagger before my Vitas or my body could be corrupted by the Ma’ab or the Deathless. Although she was ignorant of the cause or the outcome, I owe this opportunity to her. I would see her well through what I must do, that we may return to the Ley Tower to complete her mission as well.”

  Huh, bua…

  Now Gavin and Mourn shared a look, and my face flushed hot with a stab of pain in my skull. I hoped it wouldn’t get worse. I was glad I didn’t blush like a Naulor, though I could sweat like one.

  Krithannia looked intrigued with Gavin’s offer. “And what is it you both must do?”

  I breathed slowly, willing my trembling stomach to calm down. Gavin didn’t show his teeth when he smiled and spoke for us.

  “To remove Sarilis and whatever influence has been keeping him entrenched there. My Lady has made it clear to me this crossroad must remain open and neutral, and the sacred pool at Manalar is due a change of hands. It would seem another Seer agrees with both visions, given I did not arrive in Yong-wen alone.”

  Krithannia turned that over, interlacing her elegant fingers in front of her lips. “Hm.” She refocused on the shard. “And I understand this soul shard is attuned to the Bishops of Manalar, specifically, and will not harm other magics.”

  “It is. Correct.”

  “That is an incredible first task, Deathwalker.”

  He shook his head, dismissing the praise. “Only one of many, Guild Mistress, and each with many facets.”

  “True.” The black-haired Elf looked to the side as we
ll, in deep thought once again. It took her time to come out of it. She blinked at me, at the food, at Gavin. “Hm. So, the path is clear for you, and the Guild has means to infiltrate the Temple if the need is dire, though do not think even we are without risk of failure. Tell me, what known obstacles lie in your way?”

  “The Ma’ab army,” Gavin began. “Possibly the Deathless.”

  He fell quiet and glanced my way. The Naulor lifted her brows expectantly at me.

  I sighed. “Soul Drinker.”

  And this fucking geas.

  Gavin twisted his neck to look at me. “You must know now, Sirana, I have carried this dagger so it could not prey upon you at your most vulnerable. But, in doing so, I have been listening to the void of souls inside for some time, and the demon becomes ever more agitated while it cannot dig hooks into me. I understand the strain on the bearer, but for the sake of living and dead, I cannot carry both the soul shard and this relic close to the pool. The consequences—”

  My mouth opened as my gut tightened in fear. “I-I was not expecting you to carry it for me the entire journey, Gavin. I will bear it again.”

  Gavin was satisfied; it was Mourn who asked, “When?”

  “Do you wish it to be here at the table?” I retorted.

  “I do not wish for fast actions from you. I ask what you need for this transfer to be successful.”

  “Your word of protection from others at Manalar,” I answered, “however long it lasts.”

  The hybrid smirked wryly, but I continued.

  “I cannot bear the dagger and be prepared for the Deathless or Witch Hunters every moment I am awake. Sometimes, I am neither awake nor in Reverie.”

  “A great concern,” the Dragonchild said. “The demon would prefer that I not protect you. One of those times you are neither awake nor asleep, you may attempt to stab me from behind.”

  But I can’t do that, ever! I can’t!!

  I burst out laughing, my head tilted up. I knew my voice sounded hysterical; otherwise, it hurt too much. Mourn and Krithannia watched me warily, neither moving nor talking.

  Gavin tapped the table with his fingers; whether he meant it or not, it gained their attention. He said, “She, ah, has tried and failed already.”