by L. W. Jacobs
And in equal measure wonderful. Marriage was—well, she had never liked marriage, though she’d agreed to it with Tai. But having a child together, that was something real. And somehow that slender arc of light in her belly—she couldn’t stop looking at it—brought her such a measure of peace. Like everything could go wrong, and so long as that little arc was still shining, things would be right in the world.
She hated the thought, but even if she failed here, even if Tai died to one of Teynsley’s assassins, he would live on in that tiny arc of light. She would make sure of that.
Ella had no idea how long she lay on her bed, spear clutched in her hands, just coming to terms with her child. The sun had passed overhead, the street’s cries and shouts mellowed and the evening fog come in when she heard a knock at her door.
Ella jumped up, instincts flaring, ready to lash out with the spear. “Who is it?”
“Zaza, girl. Open up, teha?”
Ella relaxed and undid the lock. “What bring you up, mama?”
The big woman stood in the door, dress clean and hair fresh though she hadn’t stepped into a kitchen all day. “Like to check on you, tauera. Look like jega lunchtime.”
Ella made a dismissive ha. “Flux maybe, nothing big. Feeling fine, me.”
“Well no better flux cure than my porridge, sa? Brought you some.”
Jaja fetched a chipped ceramic bowl from the hallway. The smell of riverfish and turmeric made Ella want to gag—the nausea hadn’t gone away, no matter how much younger she felt with the spear’s influence—but she forced a smile.
“Ate this every night here, wei? Do me good.” She really did have fond memories of the porridge—but she hadn’t been pregnant when she was one of the girls working downstairs.
Zaza gave Ella a critical eye, then seated herself on the bed. “So? Flux gone all better?”
Ella summoned a smile despite her churning stomach. “Wei. Like new, me.”
The older woman snorted. “New child, maybe.”
Ella gasped, losing stiltspeak in her surprise. “How did you know?”
Zaza grinned, showing slanted and missing teeth. “Live around young things long enough, you get an eye. That, and your bucket.” She nodded at Ella’s mop bucket.
Ella blushed—it still held the morning’s vomit. “Been feeling it mornings. I’ll clean it, wei?”
“Carried my share, I know what it is. You know the maker?”
She meant the father—Ella had always hated the term maker. “I do.”
“Told him yet?”
“He’s—not in the city.”
Zaza gave a knowing nod. “Might be you need to go then. Men need their time to adjust if you want any help, sasa?”
“Soon enough. Some business to tidy up these parts.” This was one of the realizations she’d come to during her long afternoon—that as much as she needed to get out of the city she needed to finish her mission first, or there’d be no point. She was just going to be more careful about it.
Zaza shifted on her seat. “Been hearing some mongers lately. Crying Runaway Knife.”
A chill shot through Ella. Zaza had never asked where she came from, though she had to know it wasn’t Brokewater. Had she known the whole time? “Need me to move I can.”
“Not saying such. Just reading the tides, sa?”
Ella felt a sudden wave of gratitude for this woman, who had no reason to help her and always had. She straightened up on the bed. “Make sure tides don’t turn this way, me. Wei?”
“Wei. Have your hide if they do,” the woman said matter-of-factly.
That was Zaza: love and hard discipline all at once. How many girls had she saved this way? Ella had worked alongside more than one big-bellied tauera.
“You have people here?” Zaza asked. “Someone to help you? Going to need it.”
Ella opened her mouth and closed it again. This was something else she’d thought about during the long hours. About Marea and her mother, and how badly things had gone with both of them. “I do. Though might be I need to do them better, me.”
Zaza bunched her chin. “Best you start doing then. They love you, they’ll come through. Do what I can but I’ve got my own downstairs, sa?”
Ella felt ashamed suddenly, that she should be relying on this woman who had next to nothing. Where were her people? Her arguments with Marea and Elyssa felt petty in the face of this little being in her belly.
Ella took Zaza’s hand. “Just giving me this place is big, mama.”
Something shattered downstairs and Zaza sighed, standing. “Well shout if you need something, teha?” She took the bucket with her free hand. “Have the girls bring you a fresh one later.”
She left while Ella was still trying to find words to thank her. She did need to do better by her mother and Marea. And by Zaza, too. Ella stood, gripped by a sudden urge to go to her mother. To apologize and tell her everything. She sat again—it wasn’t safe, not with the entire city talking about the Runaway Knife. But she needed to do something.
So she took out quill and paper and started writing.
Elyssa, she wrote, then stopped. Crossed it out.
Mom, she started again, but that didn’t feel right either. She hadn’t called her mother mom in years, and what was she going to write, anyway? That she was sorry she’d been so angry about being locked up for years? She wasn’t sorry, and probably there wasn’t anything Elyssa could do that would ever make up for that, or for letting her father put the House’s interests over their own children. But this was bigger than that. This was the future. And having a child without her mother involved just felt wrong.
Mom, I know things haven’t been right between us in a long time. In years. And I am sorry for my part in that.
The words kept coming, not an apology but not angry either. And as she kept writing Ella realized she’d been holding on to her anger too long, hiding behind it. It felt good to come clean.
So she did—she told her mother everything, not just the bits she’d put in the articles, but the whole story, and her whole feelings for Tai, and her whole hopes for the future, and what living in a cell for five years had felt like. She couldn’t go to her mother, but she found she needed her to understand.
As she wrote, she realized that a lot of what she wrote sounded like what Marea had shouted at her. That she’d been unconsciously acting like her mother in trying to protect her and make Marea feel wrong for her choices. Marea was older than Ella had been when she’d escaped her parents’ house and come here, and she deserved to be treated like it. Like an adult.
Like a friend, hopefully. Or a sister.
So when she was done with the letter to her mother, she forced Zaza’s porridge down and started writing a riverpost to her friend, apologizing. Currents send it found her before it was too late.
42
Marea stood over the jerking, curled-up body of a Neverblade shaman, glowing blue soul in her hand. No, a revenant now. But a revenant with ten silver threads leading from it. She thralled five of them to her forehead and lost herself in the rush of power that followed.
Good work, Uhallen’s voice came in her head. That was cleverly done. I have a cigar waiting in my apartments if you care to come.
Marea went. There was no point in going back to her family’s house in Widow’s Hill. Her family was gone, and as she came into power she was realizing Uhallen was right. She needed to let go of the parts of her past that didn’t serve her. Like friends that didn’t understand who she was. Or memories of a family she no longer belonged to. She was a Fetterwel only insofar as she served their interests. She saw that clearly now.
And why should she worry about one House’s fortunes when the world held so much more?
43
The birch does not curse the leaves when they dry and turn brittle. It casts them to the wind, that new green may take their place.
—Uhallen of Thensgal, Engravings in Sand
Ella woke in the early morning to more knocking at
her door.
“Zaza?” she muttered, still half-dreaming of a ceremony with Tai somewhere in the verdant hills of the Yershire, her mother and father and friends all there.
The door burst open and dark figures rushed in. Ella surged out of bed. A cold hand clamped over her mouth.
“Shhh,” a voice whispered, something locking down on her arms.
Heart beating, Ella yanked her head free and yelled “Zaza! Help!”
“Not going to work,” a bemused voice, someone else pinning her legs and pushing her back onto the bed. “They can’t hear you.”
Ella arched and thrashed, an animal need for escape rising inside. All she did was hurt her wrists—the bonds were like iron. A light flared just as she collected herself enough to strike resonance.
Time slowed, and in the pause it gave Ella fought down her panic. One deep breath. Two. Look around Ella. Make a plan.
Three men stood in the room, one with a shaven head and thick arms holding a knife—hired muscle, no doubt.
The other two she knew: Praet and Arten.
“Scatting wastrels,” she cursed. Had they figured out she had the spear somehow? Seen through Falena’s filter? But no, they wouldn’t bother tying her up when the spear leaned against the far corner, undefended. For that matter why wouldn’t Praet come alone, if he was actually Teynsley come for the spear?
Maybe he needed to protect his identity in front of the other two. Who knew the mind of an archrevenant? All she knew was dear Gods he was here with the spear an arm’s reach away.
For a moment she considered just telling him to have it. Let the god take the spear, and Falena and the others deal with him. Tai would be safe.
Except Teynsley hadn’t survived this long by leaving loose ends. He would kill them just to be sure of his position.
Ella took another deep breath, pushing down the panic. Think. They didn’t know about the spear—that meant she still had an edge, if she could get to it. An extremely sharp and powerful edge. And if Praet was an archrevenant in disguise, he’d chosen to bring his cell with him rather than come alone, which meant he still cared about his false identity and would need to protect it here.
So why had they come? And how did she get to the spear with her arms and legs bound?
Something in yesterday’s conversation must have set them off, and they’d somehow known where to find her. Had followed her, maybe, then waited until they were sure she was asleep to attack.
Which meant they were afraid of her. Interesting.
Ella took another deep breath, steadying herself, feeling the ache already growing in her spine. Uai was not so rich in foods here as it was in the south, and she’d hadn’t been able to eat much of anything the last few days. She needed to preserve what little she had.
Ella dropped resonance, going stiff as the tough pressed a knife to her neck. “What do you want?” she asked, proud to hear no tremble in her voice.
“Just another conversation,” Praet said, looking calm as ever. “The walls are warded against sound, so no need to fear secrets will be overheard.”
Avery and Nauro had been able to do that too. “And the knife against my neck? Is that to keep secrets from getting out too?”
“Forgive the precautions, Ella,” Arten said, handsome face pained. “They are just to ensure our safety, I assure you.”
“But I will cut your throat if anyone tries to step in here,” the man behind her said.
Who did they think would intervene? The answer to that might give her the advantage she needed here.
“I thought we had a very thorough talk yesterday,” Ella said, speaking with a calm she didn’t feel. She pulled discreetly at her bonds. It was like pulling at solid rock.
“I did too,” Praet said, leaning against the far wall. Currents, he was less than a pace from the spear. Thankfully like most men he appeared not to see cleaning implements. “Until I reflected on how much older you looked today than when we met at the Downs.”
Ella frowned, then realized they were looking at the young version of her, which should be a total impossibility given her story of having no uai stream and needing Tai’s power to survive. “I—”
“If your resonance was aging you at that rate,” the shaman went on, “say twenty years per day, and you’ve been away from Tai ten days, you should be five days on the pyre. And yet you were well, and tonight we find you in the bloom of youth.”
Scatters. It had always been hard to judge just how old she looked compared to how she felt.
“I—have been fortunate to live as long as I have,” Ella said, scrambling for some explanation. “I do think the revenant Marea thralled to me yesterday changed things. Perhaps it took some time to take effect.”
“It would not take that long,” Praet said. “Meaning you have other sources of uai, despite your claims to the contrary.”
“Nor could we detect any thralls on you yesterday,” Arten added.
“I told the truth,” Ella said, trying to pull a story together. “I don’t understand how this works! You said yourselves the details of the standard resonances are not well known.”
“What is known,” Arten said, “is that age does not run backwards without uai to help it. Which means you lied to us.”
“I did,” Ella said, mind still searching for a way out of this. Maybe owning it would help her win them back. “I thought—”
“Lying is not so unusual,” Praet overrode her, “but then in discussion we both agreed we’d seen nothing to indicate an uai stream in your memories, though we were looking quite closely yesterday. That is less usual. I do not think either of us could create a mind filter so effective as the one you appear to be using.”
For the first time since waking to intruders, real fear struck through Ella. Like she might not be able to lie her way out of this. “I—”
“Which leads us to one of three conclusions,” Praet went on. “You either are an archrevenant, though I don’t know why you’d bother lying to us if you were. Or you’re working for one.”
“Tai mostly likely,” Arten said. “From whom you in fact are not estranged, and who has been coming nightly to give you the uai you need to live. Or perhaps Teynsley, who is said to be somewhere in the city.”
Ella’s mind spun. Neither of them were right, but how did she use that? “And the third option?”
“The third option is that you are doing this yourself, perhaps with thralls you are concealing from us, and some very clever mental gymnastics. I hope for your sake this is the truth, though it still means mutual trust will be difficult to reestablish.”
“For my sake?” she asked, keeping every trace of fear from her voice. They’d tied her up because they were afraid of her. She had to use that, no matter how desperate the situation seemed. “What do you intend here?”
“If you aren’t doing this yourself,” Arten said, “then you are our protection against whoever sent you. Insurance that the god you’re working for tries nothing further against us.”
Ah—there it was. They were afraid she could call down an archrevenant. There was her power here.
Making a snap decision, Ella cracked her neck, ignoring the knife. “Tai will slay you on the spot if you so much as touch me. Will likely kill you for this anyway.” She nodded at the bonds.
The men drew back, glancing at each other. But was Praet’s fear a show to keep up his persona, or the real thing?
“So,” he said. “We finally hear truth. And Tai made this mental filter of yours?”
If he was Teynsley, he could be trying to fish more information about Tai, looking for a way to attack without breaking their nonaggression pact. “He did,” Ella said. “As I said, my fiancé is a fast learner. Now untie me and let’s talk like civilized people.”
It was pure bluff, but the longer she waited here the less their fear would work as a lever. If she could just get to the spear—
“Oh no,” Arten said. “We need some assurance on your part that he isn’t listenin
g right now, ready to swoop in as soon as we let you go.”
“You think he couldn’t undo this?” Ella sneered. “He has the power of a god. Go ahead, cut my throat. He’ll heal it like it never happened.”
The men shifted their feet, and Ella worked to not hold her breath. There was only so much posturing she could do here.
“Then why hasn’t he?” Praet asked.
“Because I haven’t called him,” Ella said, realizing she needed a new lie. One they’d believe. “Now untie me and let us discuss matters of mutual interest. I lied to you in my initial approach, yes, but would you have let me in if you knew the truth? Believe me when I say we are not interested in you or your cell. Quite the opposite.”
“Meaning what?” Arten asked, eyes narrowing.
“I told you attackers have been sent against Tai,” Ella said, taking a further risk. “What I didn’t say was that these attackers bore bindings indicating an archrevenant sent them. I came seeking information you might have on Teynsley. The revenge story was just the most plausible one I could think of to gain entry. What I’m proposing is that we work together.”
Praet rubbed his chin and Sablo adjusted at his cuffs. Currents, but she couldn’t push this much further. They either bought her story now or she was dead, and all their hopes with it.
How ironic if she died with the power of a god just an arm’s length away.
Praet nodded at the thug. “Untie her.”
Praise the gods. “Thank you,” Ella said, trying to keep the surging hope from her face.
The shaman took a deep breath and let it out. “You are serious about wanting our help in taking down Teynsley? In what way?”
Ella’s arms came free and the thug moved to her legs. She just needed to keep this story going another twenty breaths. Long enough to get free and grab the spear. “Essentially in what I was asking before. You have the knowledge, and we have the position to use it. In this case it is the power of a god—we just don’t know how to wield it.”