by Cara Witter
But now, looking at her supplies, at the things she’d been drawing, Perchaya felt she had turned her back on her people and their suffering.
All these years, all she’d thought about was her own.
Perchaya lifted a quill and reached for a fresh sheaf of paper—and then, at the back of the house, Perchaya heard a knock.
She heard Reisa’s feet on the floorboards and hurried downstairs to find Reisa standing before the open door, her hair tousled from an unsettled sleep. “You’re back,” Reisa said, her voice flat.
It wasn’t Iadan who stepped through the door, but Kenton.
He smiled, but without any real humor. “That I am.”
“Do you have news so soon?” Perchaya asked, though she cast a nervous look at Reisa. Kenton wouldn’t announce news of Iadan’s infidelity in front of her, would he?
Kenton rubbed his hands over the outsides of his coat. “I do. I have to go to Peldenar.”
Reisa’s eyes opened so wide Perchaya feared her sister might burst a vein. “Reisa,” Perchaya said. “Would you make us some tea?”
Reisa gave Perchaya a hard look, like she knew very well she was being dismissed from the room, but she cast one last uneasy glance at Kenton and then hurried to the kitchen.
“You have to go to Peldenar,” Perchaya repeated. “For your source about the ring?”
“No. I think one of the godbearers may have gone there.”
Perchaya’s chest squeezed tight. He’d found one of the godbearers already? And they were in Peldenar? “You know this because of the call from the ring?”
Kenton shook his head. “No. The ring won’t tell us where they are specifically. It calls the bearers to each other. It’s like the link between the gods. They’ll have already called their chosen, but they can’t find each other without you.”
Perchaya looked down at the ring, the silver glinting in the lamp-light. It still seemed a marvel that she could have such an important role. “Is that why it won’t come off?” she asked. “Would the call stop?”
“Possibly. If we succeeded in getting it off, that might stop everything. As will Diamis, if he finds the bearer and locks her away in some forgotten cell to rot while he hunts us.”
Perchaya’s skin broke out in goose bumps. She could hear Reisa shifting nervously in the kitchen. The door between them was open and the house was not large. She had to be listening to every word. Perchaya steadied herself against the back of an armchair. “But you’re leaving. And if I stay here, I’m a danger to Reisa and Iadan—and their baby.”
Kenton nodded. “Iadan is working with the resistance—that’s where he’s spending his nights.”
Perchaya’s jaw dropped. From the kitchen, she heard Reisa set something heavy down with a plunk. Better than an affair, maybe—though from what she’d seen, it didn’t speak well for the expected length of Iadan’s life.
“Gods,” Perchaya said. “He’s also put them in danger.”
“Diamis has put us in danger. The whole of the Five Lands. But we can stop it.”
Perchaya stared at him. He meant to take her with him. Away from Reisa and the baby, from her sister who surely needed her support to weather the storm Iadan would bring down on their household.
But nothing she could do would matter if others discovered she was a Drim. She knew enough about the Banishment to know that when blood mages came to power, people suffered. Even their minds would not be their own.
Kenton cleared his throat, perhaps sensing her hesitation. “I would protect you,” he said. “I promise you, I will not let any harm come to you while I still stand to defend you.”
Perchaya’s knees weakened. Gods help her, she believed him. She wanted to step forward into the dark and see what next thing was illuminated by the light.
“I’ll come with you,” she said.
Perchaya heard Reisa’s footsteps coming to the kitchen door, the slow creak of the door frame as her heavy body leaned against it. Perchaya couldn’t turn and look at her; even without seeing her sister’s face, Perchaya felt all the things Reisa must be experiencing—worry, disappointment, betrayal, abandonment. Perchaya had never imagined doing such a thing to her sister. But even so, deep in her heart, she knew.
She couldn’t change her mind.
“Good,” Kenton said. “Bring your gloves and whatever else you can’t bear to leave behind. We depart tonight. I’m going to get us some help leaving the city, if I can. I’ll be back in an hour.”
And with those words, Kenton left, closing the door behind him. Reisa walked into the room faster than Perchaya thought she could have moved and put a hand on Perchaya’s shoulder.
“The godbearers?” Reisa said. “The call? By Arkista, what’s going on? Is this about—about—”
“It’s about Maldorath,” Perchaya said. “It’s about the end of the world.”
Reisa’s grip on her shoulder tightened. “He says you’re going to fulfill the prophecy. In the Chronicle?”
Perchaya nodded.
“And you believe him?”
Perchaya looked down at her hand. She had nothing but the ring for proof of what Kenton said. Nothing but a flash of light and the way it clung to her finger.
And a lifetime of fear and hiding.
Perchaya did believe him, and she was tired of waiting for Diamis to come for her, to come for everyone she loved. “Yes.”
Behind her, Reisa sighed. “Then I guess I’d better pack you some food for the road.”
Perchaya turned and embraced her sister, squeezing her tight. She wanted to tell her she was sorry about leaving, sorry about Iadan, sorry about the uncertain future Perchaya was leaving her to. But the words caught in her throat as they clung to each other, and Perchaya realized that her own future was even more uncertain. She was being swept out with the tide, with no way of knowing the condition of the deep sea.
In these dangerous times, the only thing she could be sure of was the present. “Thank you,” Perchaya said.
And Reisa, too, must have sensed the uncertainty, because she didn’t ask Perchaya for anything more.
It had begun to rain as Perchaya followed Kenton through the back streets in the direction of the market district. They were laden with hastily assembled packs, both of them covered by thick woolen cloaks with hoods that draped low over their faces. Underneath her skirt, Perchaya wore a pair of Iadan’s trousers, cinched tight at the waist with some leather cording, the excess length tucked into her boots. Trousers would be better for traveling, but wearing her skirt would draw less attention in the city.
“Are you sure this woman is the bearer?” Perchaya asked.
Kenton gave a sharp look around, as if anyone might be listening, but no one was out on this wet street but them. “No,” he said. “But it’s a good lead. She’s never been to Vorgale, but she knows moon magic.”
They made their way through another quiet residential street, and then moved into a more lively district of brothels and taverns where perhaps the soldiers in the city had been less active, or perhaps the bartenders had been more free with their bribes. Kenton gave the few passersby a menacing glare and gripped the hilt of his sword, which Perchaya thought might be enough to scare away even the Elder Races of old.
When they moved into an alley at the far side, Perchaya thought it safe to speak again. “What’s she doing in Peldenar?”
“She went with the resistance.” He spoke through clenched teeth, and Perchaya could understand why. Traveling to the capital of the empire was the last thing a bearer should do.
On the other hand, trying to stop the man who wanted to release Maldorath—that sounded exactly like something the bearer of Arkista might be found doing.
Perchaya chewed her lip. “Do you know what she looks like?”
“No,” he said. “But I have a name.”
Perchaya tro
tted faster to keep up with Kenton’s long strides. He moved quickly, but with a purposeful grace. She hadn’t been asking about how they’d recognize the bearer. Perchaya wanted to know what she looked like so that she could draw her properly. Of all the illuminations depicting the bearers—and there had been many—no one had ever known what they looked like before. She was certain this woman wouldn’t look a thing like Reisa.
“All the gates are watched, including those at the canals,” Kenton said as they made their way across a bridge, “and we can’t afford to take the risk that one of the guards might get a look at your ring, or recognize my face. I’ve watched them upend carts, one after another. I’ve seen them confiscate a man’s needle, claiming it was a weapon.”
Perchaya nodded. After what she’d seen near the palace steps, she was happy to avoid the guards.
“So what will we do?” Perchaya asked.
Kenton was quiet for a moment, his boots sloshing through a puddle. Perchaya moved around it, not wanting to start her journey with sopping stockings.
“We,” Kenton said, “are going over the wall.”
Perchaya blanched. The walls around Drepaine were fifteen feet tall and heavily guarded. But she didn’t have any better ideas for getting out of the city, so she kept her mouth shut.
Kenton peered out onto the street to make sure it was clear of guards before he motioned Perchaya to follow him out of the alley. There, waiting for them on the corner, stood a man who was also wearing a dark hood, sheltering his face from the rain. When they approached, he turned toward them, and beneath the hood, Perchaya recognized Iadan. From the glare he gave Kenton, Perchaya gathered that he hadn’t come to meet them as a personal favor.
Iadan grabbed Perchaya by the arm as soon as she approached, pulling her away from Kenton. “Is he intimidating you?” Iadan asked. “Because you don’t have to go with him. He says that you’re in danger, but we can protect you. I know people—lots of people. I can—”
“You know people in the resistance?” Perchaya asked.
Iadan shot another glare at Kenton. “I, um—”
“It’s okay,” Perchaya said. “He’s not intimidating me. I want to go.”
Iadan looked into her face, as if he expected to see that she was lying. “Why? Your family has kept you safe this long.”
“You need to worry about your family now,” Perchaya said. “Iadan, you’re about to have a baby. Reisa needs you.”
Iadan’s face hardened. “Our baby needs a place to grow up that isn’t controlled by Diamis. I know you think I’ve been bad to Reisa, but trust me. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for her and for our child.”
Perchaya wanted to tell Iadan that he was misguided, that he ought to go home and attend to his own affairs, leave politics to others. But she couldn’t, because even now, she was making the same choice.
“Take care of my sister,” she said.
Iadan nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”
“If you’re quite finished interrogating her,” Kenton said, “perhaps we could get off this gods-forsaken street before we attract more trouble.”
Iadan nodded. “This way.”
The rain continued as Kenton and Perchaya followed Iadan through the back streets of the old city to the northern outer wall. The street before the wall was empty, butted up against the back of a row of houses. She wasn’t sure if Kenton or Iadan had picked this part of the wall, but it had been an excellent choice.
Hidden between two buildings, Perchaya saw two Vorgalians—a man and a woman. They both had sharp features and matching stern expressions under those distinctive Vorgalian hoods, but as they approached, the woman smirked at Kenton. “Good to see you again,” she said.
Kenton didn’t look at all like this was the case. “You,” he said flatly.
“I thought Vorgalians were apolitical,” Perchaya said.
“We are,” the woman said. “You never saw us here.”
Perchaya imagined that went for all of them, Vorgalian or not.
“I need to get into position,” Iadan said. He put a hand on Perchaya’s shoulder. “You sure about this?”
Perchaya nodded, and Iadan pulled her into a hug.
“I’ll be back,” she said. “And I expect to find my family alive and well.”
“I’d hate to disappoint,” Iadan said. And then he headed off along the building, keeping to the eaves.
A light splash of footsteps approached. Kenton had his sword half-way out of the sheath before the man drew back his dark hood enough for them to see his face. He was middle aged and bald, with a stocky build.
“Benick,” Kenton said. “Nice of you to join us.”
The man shot Kenton a look. “It is. You’re asking a lot of men you just met.”
“Common enemy. Mutual secrets. Besides, it was Iadan who asked you. You could have said no.”
“Iadan says helping you is a blow to Diamis,” Benick said. “Besides, if I don’t, the damn boy will whine at me for a week.”
“How are the fortifications tonight?” Kenton asked.
“Heavy. Rumor is the Lord General’s daughter took a boat back to Peldenar, but the guards are still raiding houses, beating people who have nothing to do with us.”
“That’ll probably last a while,” Kenton said. “Diamis will want to make an example.”
“The potion is ready,” the mage woman said.
Benick gave a sharp nod. “And the others are in position.”
The male mage nodded, then started chanting softly, words that sounded like nonsense to Perchaya’s untrained ears. Perchaya watched as the green liquid swirled of its own accord, slowly at first, then increasingly faster. The hairs on her arms quiver.
“Don’t look directly at it,” Kenton said. “Or it’ll affect you same as the guards.”
Perchaya closed her eyes. The chanting continued, and suddenly there was a soft pop as the cork was removed from the vial. The air felt charged with an indefinable strangeness that crawled along her skin, and along with the chanting, she heard a buzz like that of a particularly large insect hovering just outside of her ear. Perchaya resisted the urge to swat at it, and just when she thought she could resist no longer, the sensation was gone.
“You can open your eyes now,” the mage said. “It’s out of range.”
When she did, the first thing Perchaya laid eyes on was a green specter wavering in the air, a small mutely pulsing blob that shifted and bulged as it floated on the wall, just at the level of the guards’ waists.
The guards were utterly mesmerized by it, as promised. From this distance, it was hard to make out their expressions under their helms, but their gawky stance and outstretched beckoning arms painted a clear enough picture. The phantasm floated serenely through the rain towards the stairs, and they followed, practically tripping over one another in their yearning to be closer to the pulsing light. It guided them down the stairs and, what was most important, well away from the bell which hung at their post atop the battlements and which could summon a crowd of unpleasant, armed visitors.
It was unsettling to watch. “Won’t they know what you’ve done?” Perchaya asked the mage woman.
The woman shook her head. “The guards won’t remember the charm when it’s gone. They’ll only feel like they’ve walked along the wall by habit, when they meant to go the other way, as if they’ve gone partway to the market instead of heading to the blacksmith.”
Perchaya felt a small pit in her stomach. How many times in her life had she done exactly that, when there was no way to know if she’d done so by accident or by magic? Her mother used to say losing bits of time like that was a sign you were under control by a blood mage, but apparently other magics could manage it as well. Even from this far away, Perchaya found it difficult to tear her eyes from the thing, and was grateful when it disappeared from vi
ew, and the guards along with it.
Kenton put his hand on Perchaya’s arm, and she startled at the touch. “Now,” he said. “Time to go.”
Perchaya moved beside Kenton to the wall, Benick following not far behind.
It took a great deal of effort not to look in the direction of the guards as she raced up the stairs to the top of the wall, which was several feet across, with battlements along either side. Kenton crouched down as he crossed to the outer side of the wall, and Perchaya did likewise, matching his footsteps, using the battlements as protection from wandering eyes down below. They squatted together against the wet stone, and Benick handed Kenton the rope, which he immediately proceeded to loop around Perchaya.
“I can’t climb that far,” she said. “I’ve never—”
“I’ll help you,” Kenton said. His face was inches away, taut with tension, and Perchaya couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t fallen into one of those adventure stories about fair maidens who got swept off their feet and carried off into the sunset by men both courageous and dashing.
“But if we get attacked and I have to let go,” he continued, “I don’t want to find you lying on the stones with your head split open when I’m done.”
Dashing and abrupt, Perchaya thought. But she supposed the storybooks had to lie about something, and now that she thought about it, she preferred truthful to glib. And if it didn’t sound like a line from a storybook, well. Perchaya would simply have to find the right sort of book.
Kenton finished the last knot in what would serve as a makeshift harness.
Benick raised himself just enough to look over the wall to the city street they’d been on. He dropped back to a crouch with a decidedly ungentlemanly curse. “Rovers,” he said.
Perchaya couldn’t help but look, and found four guards on patrol. Their voices drifted up from below as one made a comment while pointing at a man lying drunk against the wall of a shop. The others laughed.