Song of the Dead

by Sarah Glenn Marsh

  Taking a deep breath, she nods. “All right. And, Odessa?” Her smile finally returns. “My friends call me Zee.”

  Relaxing against the driver’s seat board at my back, I nod, an idea quickly forming in my mind. “You know . . . my friend Valoria is starting a school for mages of all sorts back in Karthia. I have a feeling you’d fit right in—that is, if you don’t mind a bit of seasickness and a yearlong detour to get there. If that doesn’t deter you, you’re welcome to come along.”

  Azelie leans forward, her eyes widening. “Seriously? You’re talking about a chance to see the world and attend a . . . a school for mages? That’s a real thing?”

  “I wouldn’t joke about something like that.” Holding her gaze, I take a deep breath and plunge ahead. “Founding the school was one of the first things Valoria wanted to do as the new queen of Karthia.”

  Azelie grips the seat of the cart like it’s all that’s keeping her from falling over. “Queen?”

  “That’s right. If you’re going to consider coming to Karthia, there’s a lot you should know. Kasmira’s not a court-appointed cartographer. None of us are . . .”

  I hesitate on the verge of saying more. She’s given me no reason to doubt her, but then, I’d have said the same of Hadrien not too long ago. I trusted Meredy, too—with my heart, of all things—and look how that’s turned out. But as Azelie smiles at me, her face warm and open, my resolve to keep to myself weakens. I guess I’ll never learn.

  After swearing her to secrecy, as we ride through lonely stretches of swamp and fields, I explain everything that happened before we came to Sarral—starting with the day Evander and I watched Master Nicanor die at our feet.

  VIII

  We don’t reach Glia Raal until late evening, missing the curfew for the living along with supper, but I’m not hungry after so much discussion of Karthia and all that recently happened there.

  By the time we part ways at the boarding house, after asking a million and one questions, Azelie has decided to join us on the Paradise to see the world and attend Valoria’s mage school. She dashes off, almost colliding with a Dead woman in the street, promising she’ll be at the harbor tomorrow.

  When I trudge up to my room at the boarding house, leaving Nipper to frolic in the backyard for a bit, Kasmira greets me at the top of the stairs.

  “My old girl is seaworthy again, Sparrow,” she declares with an air of long suffering. “Finally. Being stuck on land makes me itchy after a while.” She follows me into the cramped, daffodil-colored room where I’ve spent my sleepless nights, and sits on the bed.

  “That’s good news, Kas.” I try to smile, but find I can’t, as I look down the hallway and see no sign of Meredy.

  “Yeah?” Kasmira tilts her head, deep gray eyes searching my face. “Doesn’t sound that way, and here I thought you wanted to see seventeen new places this year . . .”

  “It’s not anything you said.” Turning away, I bury the leather bag holding the stupid crystal at the bottom of my pile of belongings. “Look. I’m packed already. Wouldn’t want to miss another chance to be, I don’t know, locked up forever just for being a necromancer, would I?” I force a smile. “We leave tomorrow, first thing?”

  Kasmira’s still looking a bit too closely at me when I turn back to her. “I don’t know about first thing. More like afternoon. Dvora and I are meeting a few of the others at a tavern for one last night of drinking and depravity.” She grins. “I know this city has a curfew and all, but we’ve found a fine establishment that’ll serve you at any hour whether you’re living or Dead, long as you can pay. You’re welcome to come, but . . .” Her expression softens, and there’s no mistaking the concern in her gaze. “I imagine you want to spend your time saying your goodbyes here. Unless, of course, you want to stay, too.”

  “Stay? What do you mean? Who—? Oh.” Understanding dawns before Kasmira can elaborate, and my heartbeat quickens. “Meredy’s staying here? What? Why? When did she decide—?”

  “It’s not my place to say.” Kasmira climbs to her feet and throws her arms around me. She pulls me in for a hug with immense strength.

  “Kas, I need to breathe.”

  “Oh! Sorry.” Kasmira sighs against my hair, but she doesn’t let go just yet, and neither do I.

  “Why is she staying?” My voice comes out slightly cracked.

  “You should go talk to her.” At last, Kasmira steps back, but she raises my chin with her fingers. “She was outside last I saw, in the yard with the others.”

  I don’t stop to ask who these others are. I’ll find out soon enough. Nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste, I somehow manage to get down the stairs and out into the large fenced yard where I left Nipper to play. The sky outside is black and starless, but thanks to the firelight spilling from the boarding house windows, I can see well enough.

  Beneath the shelter of a large tree, Meredy and three strangers—a girl with raven hair and twin boys with emerald pins on their tunics—sit in a circle, their hands in their laps and their eyes closed as if in a collective trance. None look up at my approach, and as I glance toward the far end of the yard, through an open gate and up a hill, I understand why.

  The strangest group of beasts I’ve ever seen are running through the night together, barking, growling, and nipping playfully at one another whenever they get close enough: Lysander the grizzly, a black dog with long, glossy fur, and a pair of giant cats with identical spotted coats. The animals’ eyes all glow an unnaturally bright green as their masters share their minds—all except the eyes of the small pink dragon who rolls herself into a ball and collides with one of the big cats, causing them both to tumble downhill.

  “Nipper,” I groan, shaking my head. Any other time, her antics would make me laugh.

  Slowly, the glow fades from all the beasts’ eyes, and the people beneath the tree begin to stir. My heart quickens as I hurry to Meredy’s side. Sometimes, she needs help remembering who she is after occupying Lysander’s mind. I’ve seen it happen before. All beast masters are a little more like their animals after using their magic; it’s the cost of their gift. The longer they stay inside a creature’s mind, the more feral they tend to become. And if they push too far, they can lose themselves entirely, stuck inside a creature’s mind forever.

  But as I help Meredy climb to her feet, there’s instant recognition and alertness in her eyes. “Welcome back,” she says softly. Her face radiates happiness, her cheeks glowing pink as though she, not Lysander, just enjoyed a run through the night air.

  “Meredy,” I say in a low voice as her friends talk among themselves. “Why aren’t you—you know . . . ?”

  “On all fours, trying to catch a squirrel for supper?” she finishes for me, grinning. “My new friends have been teaching me how to control my magic better.” She stands a little taller, seeming proud as she explains, “That’s why I couldn’t come with you and Azelie. I just didn’t want to say anything in case things didn’t go well. But as you saw, they did!” Her face falling slightly, she adds, “I still have a lot to learn, though. So much that I’ve decided to stay a while and work on my bond with Lysander.”

  Suddenly, every angry word I wanted to shout, every question I wanted to throw at her about staying dissolves on my tongue. She looks more alive in this place, more at ease than she ever did in Karthia.

  Her desire to stay has nothing to do with me. She deserves this. Sure, I’ll miss her every second of every day, but who would I be if I couldn’t see how she’s slipped right into this world that celebrates her magic as though it’s where she’s always belonged? Seeing her like this, I realize her happiness matters far more than what I want. Not only that, but if she gets an even better grasp of her magic here, she’ll be far less likely to descend into Lysander’s mind for good. She’ll be safe. She’ll always be the person I’ve come to care about more than I would have imagined possible.

 
“I’m sorry about earlier—at the fireworks,” she continues, seeming hesitant when I’m the one who’s silent for once. She’s so focused on me that she doesn’t even wave as her friends and their animal companions depart. “But I needed to make this decision on my own, and I couldn’t let you factor into it. That’s why I kept my distance, even before your trip with Azelie. Besides, I thought if we spent more time apart, my staying here might hurt less.” She bows her head. “You don’t deserve to hurt anymore.”

  She extends both her arms, beckoning me closer. I hesitate a moment, but I can’t seem to resist her pull, the tide to her moon, and I let her draw me into an embrace.

  “You could stay, too,” she whispers, her lips brushing my ear. “And if the chance to be your girlfriend is still—”

  “We both know I don’t belong here. I don’t know where I belong,” I interrupt, not wanting to hear the rest of what she was going to say. It would hurt too much. “But I’ve never seen you like this. You deserve to be where you’re happiest, and that’s why you have to stay, no matter how you feel about me.”

  Meredy’s eyes shimmer, forcing her to blink hard to clear them. “Will you take my father’s journal, then, and fill out more of the maps he started before he died? And keep Evander’s dream of seeing the world alive? I mean, the way you came up with nineteen places . . . you were more than worthy of his love. I don’t know that I’d have thought of it.”

  I nod, my throat too tight for words.

  If I could, I’d tell her that I meant what I said about waiting a long time for her. I’d tell her I’ll miss keeping each other company through the deepest, longest stretches of night. I’d tell her this wasn’t how I wanted our story to end.

  Her voice unnaturally high, Meredy says, “I guess this is goodbye, Master Necromancer.”

  Drawing a breath, I manage to whisper, “Goodbye, Master Crowther.” I turn to go.

  Meredy puts a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back. “Odessa. Wait.”

  Her lips are so close to mine as she tries to kiss me. I turn my head so her kiss grazes my cheek, cool and dry.

  As I stride back to the inn without another word, something inside me cracks. Just a hairline fracture at first, becoming a full-blown break by the time I’m at the staircase, the pain intensifying with every step I take away from Meredy.

  * * *

  * * *

  I’m happy for her.

  “I am,” I insist as I try to drink a cup of tea in the boarding house’s small parlor, watched over by Nipper. “So happy. See?” I attempt a smile.

  Nipper yelps and scoots backward, her long tail nearly swiping a lamp off a table. I guess my smile isn’t exactly convincing.

  As I raise the delicate teacup to my lips, Nipper scampers off, only to return moments later with something between her teeth. She drops a drool-covered sock in my lap and swishes her tail from side to side again, clearly proud of herself.

  “Thanks,” I tell her weakly, rubbing her head.

  She disappears again, this time returning with a torn-up book.

  A dirty glove.

  A knit hat with holes in it.

  An apple core.

  Before I’ve even finished my tea, I’ve accumulated the contents of a rubbish heap on my lap. I can’t help it—I laugh. “You’re not so bad to have around, you know,” I tell Nipper as I throw my arms around her neck. I let her chew affectionately on my hair for a moment. “Is this one of your magical powers Azelie was telling me about? Making me laugh when I’m miserable? It’s pretty impressive.”

  Later, after tucking Nipper into my bed—someone might as well use it—I stagger bleary-eyed into the tavern where Kasmira, Dvora, and the rest of the crew are already deep in their cups. Just for tonight, I’m going to wallow. I’m going to mourn the loss of a future with Meredy that never got started, and tomorrow, I’ll be stronger.

  While Kasmira and her crew play a game of darts that involves drinking and losing various items of clothing when they miss the board—Dvora is already without her blouse—I stride to the bar. I want to try something new, something strong and bewildering enough to make me forget Meredy.

  Nearby, a woman with battle scars on her cheeks and hands—I’d recognize the mark of a blade anywhere—lifts a slender glass of crimson liquid studded with berries and topped with a pink blossom. As I lean in to ask what it is, her conversation with the man on her other side becomes clearer, and I pause to decide whether I should interrupt after all.

  “Still doesn’t feel real that the commander sent me home.” The woman sighs, lifting the crimson drink to her lips. “Three days ago, I was fighting the Ezorans, and then I took a blade to the leg that forced me off the battlefield for who knows how long . . .” She shrugs. “Not that I’m complaining. This way, I’ll be home with my wife and son on their birthdays. Of course, I hate to think of what new, painful tactics the Ezorans will devise while I’m away.”

  The soldier’s companion swears creatively, then grunts. “No sense worrying about them for now. Enjoy your holiday.” He takes a sip of his ale, then peeks at Kasmira and the crew over his shoulder, his expression turning thoughtful. “Say, here’s something to distract you: Have you heard the latest news from Karthia? About the rebellion?”

  I grip the edge of the bar as my heart falters.

  “Apparently King Wylding is dead,” he continues, his voice softening with awe. “There’s a young queen on the throne now, and her citizens aren’t happy. A couple Shade-baiters—that’s what Karthians call rogue necromancers—created a Witherling on purpose and set it loose on her. She’d barely recovered from that when a weather worker turned traitor and struck her with lightning. And it’s not just the attempts on her life—the unhappy people are organizing, she claims, building a force to oppose her guards . . .”

  For a moment, the man’s voice becomes too soft to hear. There’s a faint ringing in my ears as I imagine Valoria on the brink of death. Valoria, hurt and scared in the face of a Shade’s unrelenting hunger, the way Evander once was.

  Digging my nails into my palm, I force myself to refocus on the conversation.

  “. . . the details aren’t exactly clear, mind, as I heard all this from my second cousin who works as a lady-in-waiting for Queen Jasira,” the man says proudly, his chest swelling a bit. “Karthia’s new queen sent ours a message just yesterday, asking for help in sending a distress call to her missing friends. But the best part is how she sent the message. Want to know?”

  His soldier friend nods, looking stunned. “I . . . suppose . . .”

  “A metal bird with working wings that took it all the way across the sea!” The man grins. “I just hope this new Karthian queen lives long enough to make an appearance over here. I’d like to shake the hand of anyone who can make metal creatures strong enough to fly over the sea. That’s a fine mind.”

  “Not likely.” The soldier scoffs, shaking her head. “You know what they say . . .” She lowers her voice to a whisper after casting a furtive glance at Kasmira and the crew. “Getting a Karthian to change is harder than teaching rocks to dance. This new queen isn’t the leader they’re used to, which means she doesn’t stand a chance at living out the year.”

  I dig my nails harder into my palms, fighting the urge to scream shut up shut up shut up as more images of a bloodied Valoria clutched in a Shade’s claws flash through my mind. She must really be in danger to have sent a distress call—I doubt that’s how she wanted to introduce herself to the world.

  “Karthians are impossible,” the soldier’s companion agrees in hushed tones, disappearing momentarily into his ale. “This queen had better hope the Ezorans don’t get wind of her troubles, or soon she’ll be fighting them off along with her own people. What a mess.”

  A chill sweeps through me. The man is right. The Ezorans getting wind of Karthia’s new queen could mean trouble, and they definitely know, tha
nks to that loudmouthed sailor from the Paradise gossiping at the tavern in Lyris. The Ezoran woman who was there that night, watching from the shadows, even heard me confirm it.

  The man pushes away his glass and stands. “Queen Jasira’s delegate should be contacting the Karthian ship captain with the message tomorrow, but since she’s here, and I’m here . . .” He shrugs. “Might as well pass along the news myself, right?”

  “Don’t bother,” I tell the man swiftly as I stride past him. “I heard everything.”

  Rushing toward Kasmira, I kick someone’s discarded trousers out of my way in my haste to reach her. We have to go to Valoria. Now. We can worry about the possibility of the Ezorans setting their sights on Karthia later.

  If there are mages working against our queen, aiding in a brewing rebellion, she needs the strongest and best at her side to stop them. Ordinary guards will only suffice against ordinary dangers. I was King Wylding’s prized necromancer, and while Jax and Simeon are smart and strong as can be, I’m the only necromancer close to Valoria who’s killed a Shade. Make that several. And Kasmira . . . I used to think she was the strongest weather worker in Grenwyr, but after seeing her handle a storm created by several of her fellow mages, I’m sure of it. She might be the strongest in all of Karthia. Valoria already has the best healer at her side—our friend Danial—but she needs more than that. She needs her most capable mages to fight for her with the power and control we’ve worked so hard to master.

  “Sparrow!” Swaying like we’re back in rough seas, Kasmira throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. “Dvora and I have a bet going. Suppose I can—?”