Nora and the Sacred Stones

by Laura Hatch Rupper

  “Oh great,” Limar said. “Are you saying we only have one piece of silver left?”

  “Yes.”

  Limar threw his arms up and stomped away. He picked up his slingshot and a stone and shot a rockrat that was scurrying through the cave. The animal flipped in the air and came down dead on its side. Good. Let Limar work his anger out on the rodents.

  “How are we going to get two more silver coins?” Beck asked.

  They had just paid three pieces of silver to enter Toren Node, which would let them use the tunnel to Clove, but they would need three more silvers to use the tunnel from Clove back home to Glynlea.

  “We’re going to have to spend some time in Clove earning them,” Nora said.

  Limar exchanged a smile with Beck and set his slingshot back down. Of course the boys were eager to spend time in the city. They didn’t feel the weight of being gone from home and work. Nora sighed. It would take them at least a week in Clove to earn the silver.

  Limar smirked. “You can beg Teacher Worthing for forgiveness for losing his precious book.”

  Nora scoffed. Limar didn’t care about apologizing to Teacher Worthing. He just wanted to make her feel bad. She shrugged and tried to put her worries behind her. “We’ll be in Clove tomorrow, and then we will find someone who will hire us so we can earn some silver.” She reached over and patted the flask of revar. “Then home to Dani.”

  Chapter Four

  Clues From the Kitchen

  “Tell me again why you didn’t call the guards,” demanded King Arnald. The king, dressed in his riding clothes, paced back and forth on the lush library carpet. “And you said she’s sixteen?”

  “Yes father,” Kyn said. His voice wavered.

  “Explain to me how a sixteen-year-old girl managed to escape from a strapping, seventeen-year-old boy.”

  Kyn shifted his weight and glanced at the window Nora had escaped through. His father was beyond furious. The king hated when people interrupted his morning ride, especially with bad news. This wasn’t going to end well.

  “Why did you wait so long to tell me?” the king asked.

  “She said she was visiting a boy, and I couldn’t see any danger in her.”

  King Arnald lashed out with the riding whip and hit Kyn on the arm. Kyn jerked back. His silk shirt offered no protection.

  Standing with his feet apart, King Arnald glared at his son, the king’s broad, strong body looking more like a soldier than a king. “You never see any danger, do you, Kyn? I have a whip in my hand, yet you stand here giving me ridiculous answers.”

  Kyn hesitated. Was the correct answer yes or no? “No, Your Majesty?”

  King Arnald lashed out with the whip again, striking Kyn in the same spot. Kyn blinked hard and tried to ignore the slash of heat on his arm.

  “You never sense it, but danger is all around us. Tell me how the girl got away from you.”

  Kyn swallowed. He knew better than to rub his throbbing arm. He looked his father straight in the eyes. “She seemed so docile. Then she struck me and dashed to the window.” He pointed to where Nora had escaped. “I had no idea there were climbing spikes placed in the wall. She threw herself out the window before I realized what was happening.”

  The whip was pulled taut through his father’s strong hands, and Kyn eyed it warily. “Why didn’t you give her some kind of a chase?” the king asked.

  “I was in my sleeping pants.” It sounded stupid even to his own ears.

  “I once chased down and killed a Dolmarkian assassin while I was stark naked,” roared King Arnald. “I was bathing when he entered. I jumped out of the tub, chased the assassin through the house, and strangled him on the steps of the lounging room.”

  Kyn shifted again. He never knew how to respond to his father’s stories.

  The king’s eyes narrowed. “Kyn, you didn’t even alert the guards. What were you thinking?”

  That was even harder to answer. Kyn didn’t know why he hadn’t called the guards. Nora had been in the palace, but he was convinced it wasn’t to do them harm. He’d gone back to the kitchen after she escaped, and he’d found a pot with a small amount of liquid in it, a strange old book, and a burlap pouch. Nora hadn’t snuck in to visit a boy; she’d been trying to make something in the kitchen. Deep inside, Kyn believed that she really was just trying to help her sister somehow. He’d acted on a feeling. There was no way he could possibly explain that to his father.

  “I was never in any danger,” said Kyn holding himself stiff.

  “Fool,” shouted the king. “You were in every danger. A perfect stranger was in our home doing who knows what in our kitchen. Of course you were in danger.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty” said Kyn, hoping to appease his furious father.

  The king tapped the whip in his hand and continued to pace. “Your mother has been too protective of you. She undermines my every effort to turn you into a half-decent soldier.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” shouted King Arnald.

  Lyli stood before the Liards in her kitchen uniform: a crisp, white linen tunic, pale pink trousers, and a kerchief over her head. The middle-aged woman bowed and entered the library with Nora’s beat up copper pot in one hand and the old book in the other.

  “Prince Kyn, I’ve analyzed the liquid in the pot like you asked.”

  The king looked at his son. “What pot?”

  Kyn groaned inwardly. He would have welcomed this interruption if it had been anyone but Lyli. Why did she have to come while he was with his father? Kyn had wanted to discuss the findings with her when they were alone.

  “I think the trespasser was trying to make something in the kitchen,” explained Kyn. “I asked Lyli to look into it.”

  “What’s in the pot?” growled King Arnald, turning to Lyli. “Do you think someone’s trying to poison us?”

  Lyli shook her head and set the copper pot down on a little table. “Your Majesty, you won’t believe it, but they’ve used our Ballutite.”

  “You’re telling me there was a concoctor in our kitchen last night?” King Arnald’s eyebrows rose higher than Kyn had ever seen them. “I thought the intruder was sixteen.”

  “All I know is that someone pulled from Ballutite, and it wasn’t me.”

  Kyn and his father gathered around Lyli, staring into the little pot.

  “There’s hardly any liquid left,” King Arnald said. “Are you sure it’s an infusion?”

  “There’s Ballutite in this,” Lyli said firmly. “Lots and lots of Ballutite.”

  Lyli and the captain of King Arnald’s guard were the only members of the royal staff who dared to speak to the king frankly. Kyn rubbed his sore forearm. What would that be like to have no fear of his father? To command his respect? Lyli had a rare gift, developed with years of training and study. Concoctors were the world’s best cooks. They could make liquid infusions from the power stones, and they could mix those infusions to make complex concoctions. Concoctors were irreplaceable.

  Maybe that’s what he needed—to find a way to be irreplaceable. Kyn had trained with his father’s soldiers, and he was proficient, but he lacked the intensity and killer instinct that drove the king. Kyn sighed. Proficient was a long way from irreplaceable.

  “Have you questioned the apprentices?” the king asked.

  “They were both accounted for in their chambers, Your Majesty. And no apprentice could have done this,” she replied.

  “How unusual is making an infusion?” Kyn asked. “I always thought if your pullers were strong enough, even an apprentice could get a bit of strength out of a power stone.”

  Lyli shook her head and rubbed the back of her neck. “Most apprentices can pull small amounts from the power stones, but this wasn’t a small pull.” Lyli grimaced and Kyn brac
ed for bad news. “The Ballutite the concoctor pulled from has gone cold.”

  “Cold?” Kyn asked.

  Lyli looked somberly between Kyn and his father. “That particular Ballutite stone was embedded into the counter five years ago. It should have been good for at least another ten years. I believe it had over five hundred pulls left in it. If you think of it in terms of silver, that’s nearly twenty thousand coins’ worth of infusion.”

  “How do you know it’s cold?” Kyn asked.

  “There isn’t any color left. It’s decimated.”

  Maybe his father was right. Maybe he didn’t see danger.

  The two Liards eyed the liquid in the pot.

  “You’re sure only Ballutite was used?” asked King Arnald.

  Lyli held the king’s gaze. “Yes. Whatever this is has no complexity. It isn’t a concoction. It’s pure Ballutite.”

  Kyn couldn’t take his eyes off the liquid in the pot. It was swirling in a way that didn’t seem natural. Shouldn’t it have stilled by now?

  “There’s something more,” said Lyli holding up the old book. “This book that the prince found next to the pot . . .” She paused and rubbed the leather cover.

  “Go on,” the king said.

  “It’s several centuries old and contains information on how to make a Ballutite revar.”

  His father’s expression turned to shock, and he reached for the book.

  “Revar?” Kyn asked.

  “It’s something from the old religion,” Lyli explained. “They used to believe that a stone could give up its life and that the liquid it went into would become much more than an infusion. It would become a revar.” She pursed her lips. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. I know Queen Maris doesn’t like talk of the old superstitions.”

  King Arnald pointed to the pot. “Is this a revar?”

  Kyn smiled a bit. His mother believed in the tenets of the noble class. His father believed in what he could see with his own eyes.

  “The only way you could really know would be to drink it.”

  “If revars are real, how would they be different from normal infusions?” asked the king.

  “Well, an infusion of Ballutite, for example, relieves pain temporarily and aids healing. It helps but doesn’t cure. A revar, if there really is such a thing, would be a miracle.” Lyli paused to nod at the book the king still held. “The old texts all claim that a revar could cure anything.”

  The word “anything”d rang through the library.

  Kyn squirmed. Ancient religion? Is that why Nora had sworn by the sacred stones?

  Lyli broke the silence. “If someone really made a revar, they would be the most powerful concoctor in centuries.”

  The king tapped the ancient book he now held.

  “I’ll drink it,” volunteered Kyn. He felt oddly pulled toward the liquid. There was something unusual about it—something special.

  King Arnald gave a disgusted grunt. “Your mother would never forgive me if I let you drink an unidentified liquid.”

  Lyli nodded toward the pot. “The queen’s not wrong to doubt unknown liquids, Prince Kyn. You should never drink anything you aren’t sure about. I can tell that this small amount of liquid is full of strength and healing from the Ballutite, but we can’t know if there is an ordinary poison added in. And if it’s not a revar, you could die.”

  “You think someone is trying to poison us by tricking us into drinking what appears to be a revar?” asked King Arnald.

  Lyli paused and rubbed her chin. “I’m saying there’s no way to know for sure.”

  “You say a concoctor made this?” Kyn asked.

  Lyli tugged at her pink kerchief. “Only a concoctor could pull this much power from a stone.”

  “Lyli, can you tell us anything about the concoctor based on the revar?” Kyn asked.

  Lyli looked at Kyn with something like respect in her eyes. “Yes, but it’s rather perplexing. Whoever did this was able to pull great strength from the stone, but the liquid itself is quite crude.” She paused as if she wasn’t sure she should continue. “There’s something else, but you won’t like it.”

  “Tell me,” King Arnald demanded.

  Lyli ran a finger around the rim of the copper pot. “This concoctor hasn’t been trained.”

  “That’s impossible,” the king said.

  Kyn asked, “Could a peasant girl have this type of power?”

  “Only if the old religion is more than myths.”

  “What does religion have to do with it?” King Arnald asked.

  “The old legends say that the strength to pull from the stones comes from the earth itself. They say that in times of great need, it is passed in its most pure form to one who is close to the earth.”

  “Close to the earth?” Kyn asked.

  “Like a farmer, a villager, or a peasant. Someone who lives off the land. Someone who loves the stones.”

  The king drew closer to Lyli. “The queen believes the legends are just stories that are made up by peasants to make themselves believe they are special. I was under the impression that the power to concoct only came through certain bloodlines.”

  Lyli took the old book back from the king and shrugged. “If you say so. All I know is that someone used the Ballutite in your kitchen in a way that even I can’t.”

  King Arnald drew himself up to his full height. “It’s imperative that we find this concoctor.”

  Kyn stood up straighter, trying to match his father’s stature. “I want to help. I could lead a mission to find her.”

  The king turned and directed his attention to his son. “You’re much too young to lead a mission, Kyn. Your mother would never allow it. Besides, you’re the one who let the girl escape in the first place.”

  “I know I made a mistake, but I’m the only one who knows what she looks like.”

  The king clapped his hand on Kyn’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “You’ve made your request. I’ll think about it. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to find a way to explain the disaster of losing a power stone to the royal council.”

  Lyli turned to Kyn. “I hope you find the girl, young master. I want to question her too.” She picked up the copper pot from the table and quietly walked out of the room. What would Lyli do with the few drops of liquid that were left? Maybe it could shed light on the mystery that was Nora. Would his father let him help find her? Kyn too left the library, his footsteps reverberating down the marble hall like the thoughts bouncing in his head.

  Chapter Five

  Death to the Liards

  “Come on, Nora. Nobody’s around. Why can’t we sing?” Limar asked.

  Nora pulled her knapsack higher, grateful that sleep and a late breakfast had renewed her strength. “We absolutely aren’t going to sing. It looks like we’re alone down here, but in the tunnels, you never know.” She waved her arm toward the murky darkness of the caves and side trails. Thousands of orbs floated in the air of the main tunnels, but the side trails and caves were a different story. Nora had heard stories about travelers who wandered off the main trails and were later found crushed under rocks. The thought made her shiver. Besides, you could never be sure what animals were lurking in the shadows.

  Beck pulled her attention back. “Limar is right. Who’s going to care about three peasant kids?”

  “No,” Nora said, slapping the palm of her hand against her thigh. “No singing. And we should keep our voices soft when we need to talk. Sound carries in the tunnels.”

  “We’re hours out from Palace Liard, and there’s no way they could know which tunnel we’re in,” Limar argued. “Lighten up, Nora. You take everything too seriously.”

  “Wonderful advice from a thirteen-year-old.” Nora shook her head. Limar could never just admit she was right.

  “A smile now and then wouldn’t hurt
you,” joined Beck.

  Of course he would back up Limar. The boys had been inseparable since they were three. Beck had always followed where Limar led, even if it was into trouble.

  “I smiled when we made it out with the revar for Dani,” Nora said, patting her knapsack. She had wrapped the leather flask in her extra tunic and had wedged it carefully between the flour and herbs. Her blanket was rolled up tightly and was tied to the bottom of the bag, giving the flask further cushioning. She hadn’t sacrificed weeks away from home and risked her life just to have the flask rip open. She would watch her footing carefully too, just to be safe. Though the trail was smooth here, and would be until they descended Queen’s Ladder, the revar was too precious to risk.

  “This isn’t a holiday jaunt. No singing,” Nora said.

  “You always take the fun out of everything,” Limar said. “I guess we’ll march to Clove like somber soldiers.”

  Nora snorted. Someone had to worry about safety. She trudged along the tunnel trail. What would it be like to not have the weight of heavy responsibilities? To head to the kitchen in the middle of the night like Prince Kyn—whistling, no cares in the world. Sleep was precious when you were a worker. She would never be up in the middle of the night wandering around.

  Nora kicked a rock. It was so unfair. The nobles had everything. Servants, comfortable homes, and, most of all, sacred stones. She looked at the ordinary stones that lined the walls of the tunnel. The tunnels were gritty, real, and solid like peasants, a stark contrast to the palace and the nobles. Nora eyed the rocky tunnel. She liked her analogy. The tunnels allowed travel from borough to borough, underneath the earth-vapor. They were serviceable, with no glamour, just like the peasants.

  The Clove tunnel began to widen, creating a more open feel between the boulder-lined walls. Bushes grew sporadically, a testament that life would survive wherever it possibly could.

  “Look,” Limar said pointing to the base of the rock walls. “Do you see those pale grey stones? Water moved them there,” he explained. “The stones around Silver Lake are the same.”