Death Marked

by Leah Cypess

  Girad slid away, pulled open a narrow black door, and headed into the interior of the building. The rest of them followed.

  Inside, the walls were painted starkly white, dotted regularly with doors and large open windows. Through the windows, Ileni could make out rooms with beds, rooms with tables, and rooms with colorful mats and balls. Every single room was stuffed to bursting with children, and every single child seemed to be shouting. The noise echoed back and forth between the walls, making her feel like she was inside a very loud, very badly played drum. But there were also a fair amount of adults—all women, all wearing bright yellow or orange robes. Ileni couldn’t resist asking, as they turned a corner, “Are they the Black Sisters?”

  Evin nodded distractedly.

  “So why are they called the Black Sisters?” Judging from Evin’s look, that was a stupid question, but he was too kind to say so. He opened his mouth just as a wave of children turned a corner and descended upon them in a running, screaming mass.

  Girad whirled, and Ileni was surprised to see real fear on his face. Without thinking, she reached for him, and was even more surprised when he lifted his arms to her. She hoisted him onto her hip.

  Two thin arms wrapped around her neck. In a small voice, Girad said, “Those boys are mean to me.”

  “Well,” Ileni said, “if they’re mean to you now, I’ll freeze them all with a spell.” With magic she had sworn not to use anymore. Why was it so hard to remember that?

  Girad rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. “I tried that already. It just made them meaner.”

  What was she supposed to say to that? Ileni settled for tightening her grip until the older children were past, at which point Girad wriggled out of her arms as if her holding him was an indignity. He led them around that corner into another hall, where a group of toddlers were all crying at the tops of their lungs while an orange-robed woman tried to coax them into moving forward. By the time the four of them entered a small, yellow room filled with wailing babies, Ileni’s head felt like it was being battered with hot rocks.

  The wailing was something else, though. It was more than annoying. It made her muscles vibrate.

  There were ten babies in the room, in rows of roughly hewn wooden cradles. In the corner, a woman dozed in a large chair. How she could sleep through all that crying was beyond Ileni, but her eyes were shut and her chest heaved rhythmically up and down.

  “This is the temporary nursery,” Girad said. “It’s where they decide which babies they’ll keep.”

  Ileni bit her lip. “What do they do with the babies they don’t keep?”

  Girad shrugged. “There are three new ones. In the corner, over there.”

  Over there was near the sleeping woman. Ileni started to cross the room. The woman’s eyes immediately snapped open, and she fixed Ileni with a glare.

  “Um,” Ileni said. “Hi.”

  Even through the crying, she could hear Arxis snort.

  “We’re from the Academy,” Evin said. She hadn’t realized he was right behind her, and his voice—crisp, martial—made her jump. “One of these babies’ mothers donated her magic. Her child will remain with the Sisters.”

  “Right.” The woman sounded like she was still asleep, or would strongly prefer to be. “Which one?”

  Silence—except, of course, for the crying.

  “Um,” Ileni said, and bit her lip. “One of the recent arrivals. A girl.”

  The woman lifted her hand barely an inch and gestured at the three cradles against the yellow wall. “They’re all girls.”

  Of course they were.

  With an effort, Ileni bit back another um and approached the cradles. Two babies looked back from tiny bright eyes; the other slept soundly, eyelashes resting on red cheeks. Aside from that, there was no difference between them. She couldn’t have said which was the dead girl’s if that baby had just been pointed out to her two minutes ago.

  Arxis’s gaze burned into her back. Maybe he was right. What difference did it make which one she saved?

  “Couldn’t you keep all three?” she asked.

  Evin stepped on the side of her foot. The woman straightened the tiniest bit. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I’m not sure which one—”

  Evin stepped harder, and Ileni broke off with a yelp. The woman shook her head. “If you don’t know, why are you here? Her mother should have marked her. Too bad for her if she didn’t.”

  “Wait,” Ileni said, as the woman’s eyes slid shut. “I do know. I mean, I will. I can . . .” The woman peeled her eyes open and examined her balefully. Ileni took a deep breath. “They’re not identical. There must be a difference between them.”

  The woman let out an aggrieved breath.

  “One of them cries a lot,” Girad said.

  “What?”

  Girad stood next to Evin, his small hand clasped in his brother’s. His round face was intent and serious. “I had to help out in the nursery last week, as punishment for . . .”—his eyes slid toward Evin—“something. One of them cries all the time.”

  “Babies cry,” Evin said.

  “Wait,” Ileni said. “Her mother died of childbed fever. She probably couldn’t nurse her. Was one of them hungrier than the others?”

  “That one.” The woman nodded at the sleeping baby. “Wouldn’t take to the wet-nurse at first, either. It was like she’d forgotten how to eat.”

  “Then that’s the one,” Ileni said.

  The woman looked unconvinced. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes,” Ileni said, with every ounce of confidence she could fake.

  “All right, then.” The woman levered herself out of the chair and lumbered forward. She drew a piece of chalk from somewhere in her dress and smudged a black line across the baby’s forehead. Then, with far greater speed, she backed into her chair and settled into it again.

  The baby didn’t move. Ileni wondered if she would live after all. If her mother hadn’t been able to feed her . . . but apparently, now there was a wet nurse. She didn’t know enough about babies to know what that meant.

  One of the other babies let out a little mewling cry. Ileni looked at her, at her splotchy red face and tightly shut eyes, at her broad wrinkled forehead unmarked by a chalk line. The baby’s arms were crossed over her chest, tiny fingers curled under her chin. Ileni didn’t move until Evin took her by the arm and pulled her out of the room.

  “Well done,” he said approvingly as soon as the four of them were back in the hallway.

  “I don’t even know if it was the right baby,” Ileni said.

  “Shh,” Evin hissed. “Even if it wasn’t. You did a good thing.”

  A good thing. She should have been happy; it was what she wanted. To do something unmistakably good. But it was so paltry and insignificant. She had saved one baby. She, who could do so much more.

  Her palm hurt, and she realized that her fingernails were digging into her skin. She forced herself to relax her hand. Things would be better. She would get back to the Academy, she would open the portal, and she would tell Sorin she was ready. The Empire wasn’t indestructible. They would find that out soon enough. She would make sure Evin and Cyn and Lis were safe, and then she would shatter all those mountain peaks and bury the lodestones in rubble.

  And the rest of them? The beginner and intermediate students? Why should she save her friends and let them die? They were all equally guilty. She was as guilty as any of them. She had used the magic, too.

  We face the truth, Sorceress: not that they deserve to die, but that their deaths serve a greater purpose.

  She could see the wisdom in that, now. Better to think like an assassin, and live with the truth of what she would do, instead of trying futilely to convince herself she had nothing to feel guilty about.

  “Ileni?” Evin said, and she looked at him sideways. It occurred to her, suddenly, that soon he would hate her forever. It surprised her how much that hurt.

  She kept looking at
him, frozen by the realization. He looked back, his brown eyes steady.

  “I’m all right,” she said, because she couldn’t bear the concern in his eyes. “Everything will be fine.”

  “Yes,” Evin agreed, because he didn’t know what she meant. His fingers brushed her hand—by accident, she thought—and he tilted his head down toward hers. “Yes. It will be.”

  That was when they emerged into the courtyard and found an army of sorcerers waiting for them.

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  ..................................................................

  The fountains arced and swayed, crescendoing curves of water soaring and descending into mist. Behind the white lines of water, behind the invisible walls, were two lines of sorcerers in red-striped white tunics. Karyn stood in front, glowing with a blinding white light.

  Ileni stopped in her tracks. Behind her, Girad said, “What?” then uttered a word Ileni was pretty sure a six-year-old shouldn’t know.

  Karyn raised a hand. The fountains went still. A series of graceless splatters filled the silence, and then there was nothing but a flat rippling pool separating them from the sorcerers.

  The silence was so absolute Ileni could hear her heart thudding against her chest. A quick glance at Evin revealed that he was as wild-eyed and panicked as she was. She had no idea what Karyn was going to do.

  Behind her, Arxis laughed, a low, satisfied sound. The danger shifted. For a moment, in the set of Arxis’s face and the sharpness in his eyes, Ileni saw Sorin.

  “What’s funny?” she snapped.

  He tilted his head slowly, and the resemblance broke. Sorin had never looked at her with that edge of cruel disdain. “That this ridiculous little quest of yours has finally given me what I need to complete my mission.”

  Evin blinked, but didn’t turn to his friend. He still didn’t know where the real danger lay.

  “And what,” Ileni said, as steadily as she could, “is that?”

  Arxis smiled, a triumphant and contented smile.

  “An audience,” he said, and moved.

  But not toward Evin.

  Understanding rushed over Ileni all at once. She dashed past Evin, throwing herself in front of his brother.

  She wasn’t fast enough.

  The knife meant for Girad pierced Ileni’s shoulder, a bolt of searing pain. Her healing spell was instinctive, but the shield she tried to throw up was not, and it was a shade too slow. The second stab went under her arm, with deadly accuracy, and Girad screamed.

  No! Ileni put her hand on Girad’s small chest, and blood poured between her fingers. His eyes were wide and uncomprehending, and he was no longer screaming. That was a bad sign, wasn’t it?

  Arxis grabbed her arm. Evin snarled a spell, and Arxis was flung away. Behind her, a hard thud and the crack of bone, though the assassin didn’t make a sound.

  Ileni threw a healing spell at Girad, then another, digging frantically to remember what she had been taught. Half of healing was knowing what to fix, and the Renegai didn’t focus on knife wounds; she could feel that things were wrong, that there was blood where there shouldn’t be blood, rips in what should be whole, but she couldn’t tell what precise spells would do the most good. Another random healing spell, and another—and then nothing. She had drained her power.

  Girad’s brown eyes closed, and Ileni choked down a sob before she saw his chest rise and fall. Her hands, when she lifted them, were dark with blood. It was under her fingernails, and the thick, metallic smell was in her throat. She couldn’t tell if she had saved Girad, but at least he was breathing. For now.

  There was blood on his face, too, smeared across his cheek and forehead. So much blood—how much could a tiny body lose?

  Evin dropped to his knees beside her and reached for his brother, making a noise that didn’t sound like him—that barely sounded human. He gathered the small body into his arms, and finally Ileni turned.

  Arxis was a crumpled heap against the far wall, and she didn’t have to check to know he was dead. She had felt the power Evin unleashed against him. A ward shimmered around them, and outside it, Karyn was shouting orders. The ward was also Evin’s work.

  Four of the imperial sorcerers linked hands, and magic burst from them in a spray of violet light. Ileni braced herself and was ready when the world tilted around her. She landed on her hands and knees on a cold stone floor, stomach heaving.

  She wasn’t quite ready for the realization that she had landed there alone. But it made sense. Girad would need a healer, and Evin . . . Evin would need to be with Girad.

  She, on the other hand, would need to answer for what had happened today. She had known a killer was among them, and she had said nothing. Until it was too late.

  When she got to her feet, she left bloody handprints on the gray stone.

  It was half an hour before Karyn walked into the small stone room—enough time for Ileni to compose herself, steady her stomach, and force herself to think. When Karyn thrust the door open, Ileni said quickly, “Is Girad all right?”

  Karyn slammed the door behind her and leaned against it. “He’s alive.”

  A rush of relief went through Ileni. She closed her eyes, then opened them and focused on Karyn’s hard face. Girad would live. Now Ileni had to concentrate on whether she would.

  “For now,” Karyn added, between her teeth. “He hasn’t woken yet. The healers aren’t sure he will.”

  “He’s alive because of me.” Ileni kept her voice mild, not defiant. She didn’t have to prove this. Twenty sorcerers had seen her throw herself in front of Arxis’s dagger.

  “How long,” Karyn asked, “have you known there was an assassin among us?”

  Ileni had already decided there was no point in lying. “Since I first saw him.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You had just kidnapped me. Remember?”

  “But Girad hadn’t.”

  Ileni flinched. “I didn’t . . . I thought his target was Evin.”

  “Evin,” Karyn repeated flatly. “And he did deserve to die?”

  This is war. But now was not the time to argue. She had to concentrate on getting through this, on convincing Karyn to let her live. Ileni shook her head.

  Karyn stepped toward her, a slow, deliberate motion Ileni recognized. That of a predator sensing weakness. “But you weren’t going to stop it. You were going to let Evin die rather than betray your assassin lover.”

  She hadn’t just been going to let him die. She had been considering killing him.

  “You know they won’t stop,” Karyn said. “The assassins never let someone go, once they are marked for death.” Sorin had told her that once, proudly. “They will send someone else after Girad. Probably soon, while he is weak and helpless and easy to kill. And if the next person fails, they’ll send another. And another. You might have saved him today, but Girad is dead.”

  “No,” Ileni said. The protest was instinctive, but she meant it.

  “And then they’ll send someone after Evin,” Karyn said. Whatever reaction she saw on Ileni’s face made her lips compress. “And then, I am sure, after you. I assume you’re more willing to help us now?”

  Ileni stepped back. “I want to see Girad. Maybe I can heal him. I ran out of power before, but there might be more I can do.”

  Karyn’s face tightened. “You think I’m going to let you keep drawing on the lodestones? After this?”

  “I don’t want to draw on them,” Ileni said. She meant it, though she couldn’t tell if Karyn believed her. “I don’t want to use this magic anymore. But if I can help Girad . . .”

  Karyn pursed her lips, and for a moment Ileni thought she was going to refuse, just out of spite.

  Instead she said, “I’ll take you to him.”

  Girad was in a small round room with a bed in its center, so large it dwarfed its tiny occupant. Around the bed, several wooden chairs were arranged on th
e gray rock. Evin was slumped in one of those chairs, holding his brother’s hand, eyes half-closed. But when Ileni walked in, he started upright, power coiling in his upraised hand.

  No need to ask what he had been dreaming about. “It’s all right,” Ileni said. “It’s me. I just wanted to make sure . . .”

  Evin lowered his hand. His eyes were red and hollow. “He’s doing better. I think . . . I think he’s going to make it.” It sounded like hope, not belief. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Ileni said.

  Behind her, Karyn stepped out into the hall and closed the door. No doubt she was using magic to listen in on them anyhow.

  Ileni walked over to Girad and reached out with her power. She couldn’t feel anything wrong within him—at least, nothing she was skilled enough to detect. If he had simply lost too much blood, there was no spell to give it back. It was one of the few things Renegai magic couldn’t fix.

  She had done everything she could when the knife went in, and she had known then that it might not be enough.

  “Ileni.” Evin started to get to his feet, then sagged back into the chair. “I don’t understand exactly what’s going on. But I know you saved my brother’s life.”

  And had put it in danger in the first place, by keeping quiet about who Arxis was.

  Evin clasped his hands in his lap. He was holding a small wooden toy carved in the shape of a dog. “It was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t . . . I don’t even know how I can thank you. But if there is ever something I can do for you, anything, all you have to do is tell me.”

  Ileni couldn’t meet his eyes. “You saved my life, too, you know. More than once. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “He’s my brother. I owe you everything.”

  Was it possible to literally shrivel up from shame? She kept seeing the knife, impossibly huge in that thin chest, the wide-eyed incomprehension on Girad’s round face, the blood everywhere. The smallness of his body as Evin gathered it up.

  In the caves, news would have come of this child’s death, and there would have been dancing.