“We do not rape those that we conquer. Not even Faoii whores.”
“No, you only enslave them.”
Amaenel’s eyes darkened for a minute, and when he spoke it was with a forced calm. “There has been no work required of your hands since we conquered you. You have not had to take care of the horses, hunt, cook, or do any manual labor. We have treated you fairly as prisoners. I hope to keep what little peace there is, but my men are getting restless. You and I both know that if my men try to force themselves on anyone, there would be a lot of blood on both sides.”
“Maybe that’s what the women want.” Lyn smirked and raised an eyebrow at the Croeli general. “We are Faoii. It is better for us to die in battle than live as slaves.”
“Don’t mock me, child. I’m not stupid. You’ve got some vague hope of surviving this campaign. If you were to fight against my men without your weapons, it would be a bloodbath. I don’t want that any more than you do.”
“Don’t you?”
“No. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already. Don’t pretend you don’t know it’s true.” Lyn shrugged casually. Amaenel continued, “So you’re going to get them to do what the men want, and we’re going to keep the peace.”
Lyn waved a hand dismissively. “Fine. That’s easy enough.” Amaenel looked down his nose at her, distrust in his eyes.
“I did not expect you to give in so easily.”
Lyn stretched luxuriously and smiled at him. “All you have to do is pay them.”
“What?” The growl was deep and angry. Lyn shrugged.
“Pay them. Gold. Clothes. A cot or bedroll to sleep on for a night. Trade it for food if that’s what it takes. You want their services; you have to offer a trade.” She looked him over, sizing him up like she would a cabbage at market. “You’re not exactly a merchant, are you?”
“We’re not going to pay any horn-blasted whores! They get their lives in exchange. That’s enough payment for an hour with a real man.”
“Please.” Lyn rolled her eyes. “‘Real men’ or not, these girls are Faoii. Their honor is worth more than their lives, and we all know you’re not going to kill them. If you were, it’d be done already.” She laid her chin in her hands and batted long eyelashes at him. “Threats won’t work, love. Make an honorable proposition, won’t you?”
Amaenel stood up abruptly. “Honor? What honor do whores have?”
Lyn’s eyes widened with fire. She rose to her feet and met his gaze with a steady stare. “They have the same honor as any of you, stupid Croeli. They have stood by their own codes, their own standards, for their entire lives.” She stepped around the table until her chest was nearly touching his. Her nostrils flared. “And you’re right—they are whores. But they were whores long before they were Faoii. Even then, they gave nothing that they did not choose, and they learned every way imaginable to keep their goods to themselves unless in fair trade that they agreed upon. They were without sisters then, without help, and still they fought tooth and nail to keep what was theirs. If you ever try to take that away without consent, you will be walking with far fewer men against Thinir—and no Faoii at all.”
Amaenel glared down at her for a long time before taking a rigid step backward and easing himself back down into his chair. After a moment, Lyn lounged lazily in her own again, her body loose and casual in the seat. “Don’t pretend you don’t know it’s true,” she added, smiling coolly. Amaenel glared in her direction for a long moment before finally offering a steely nod.
“The men have some goods they can offer in trade,” he finally conceded.
“Good. The girls have traded in scarce times before. It shouldn’t be hard for both sides to come to agreement.” She straightened in her chair, her eyes stern. “My girls have the right to refuse an offer if they see fit.”
“You’re pushing my patience, Faoii.”
“If my girls think they’re being robbed, or if your men think that we demand too much, either side may come to us to resolve the matter. We’re both fair people. We can ensure that they are, too.”
Amaenel crossed his arms over his chest but nodded. Lyn smiled. “Good. It’s settled, then.” She rose from her chair and turned toward the tent flap. Just before reaching it, she turned back and willed all the power she could muster into her voice as she spoke. “Oh, and Amaenel,” she purred, smiling softly over her shoulder, “if any of your men break this agreement, I will kill you personally.”
She was gone before he could reply.
35
Who are you?” Kaiya whispered into the darkness, seeking the voice that she’d heard upon waking. The answer came from much nearer than she expected.
“I am Faoii-Vonda. Or I was. I have earned my Preoii title by now, I think.” Kaiya turned towards the voice and waited for her eyes to adjust to the oubliette, where only a few strands of grey light trickled down to the grimy floor. When at last they did, she gasped in horror at the image that greeted her.
A frail, emaciated woman stared at her with haunted eyes, her wide lips too big for the gauntness of her cheekbones. Her eyes were grey, as was her skin and what was left of her thin hair. Her wrists were only bones chained into shackles that must have been far too tight when originally fastened. At her feet was a pool of greenish liquid as thick and dark as blood. Tonicloran grew from it, thriving despite the darkness.
Preoii-Vonda watched Kaiya with a soulless gaze. “You survived the tonicloran. You must be the one I watched enter Illindria’s hall. Kaiya.”
Kaiya nodded. “Have you been there? To the Tapestry?” Vonda shook her head.
“No. Not at all. Only people that have survived the tonicloran in all its potency have succeeded at that. I am no Weaver. But you know that Thinir and his men have gotten to its doors because of blood and tonicloran together. I did too.” Vonda leaned her head back to rest on the rocky wall, a crooked little smile lifting the left side of her mouth. “Now I stand there, watching the flow of the weave’s magic. It dances across the world into all of the Goddess’s playthings. And as long as I am part of the tonicloran, I go with it.”
Kaiya froze. A cold dread crept into her bones. “You’re the one that convinces the Croeli to coat their blades with tonicloran. To poison my sisters.”
“Yes.” Vonda caught Kaiya’s disgusted glare. “It was easier to believe the Croeli capable of such a thing, wasn’t it? I know. I wasn’t fond of it either, in the beginning. But the tonicloran has power in it. It keeps me alive and nurtures me even as I nurture it. And I am wise enough to know that if I cannot offer my sisters a life of freedom, then I can at least offer them a death without chains. So I spread the tonicloran, hoping that I can get there before Thinir can. Sometimes it works.”
“You’re . . . you’re forcing it to grow? Is that even possible?”
Vonda shrugged. “It has a life force as much as anything else in the Weave. A bloodline, you might say. I could control you if I had the blood of your father and the right words, and I could control you, your father, your uncles, and your cousins if I had your grandfather’s blood. All of this tonicloran was grown from the same sprig. A relic of the Croeli, brought from the Blackfeather Wilds.” The clarity faded from Vonda’s eyes as she pulled a long weed from the bowl that sat between her chained legs. The shackles on her arms jangled as she moved. “Such a simple weed. Easily passed over. Ugly. But oh, the power in it.” She grinned and set the sprig back in the bowl. Kaiya shuddered at the sudden madness in her eyes.
“How long have you been down here, Faoii?”
The insanity ebbed away as Vonda focused her gaze on Kaiya again. “Not long. Well, my body has been here for longer than I even know, now. But I don’t spend much time here. I stand outside the Goddess’s halls, watching the tonicloran grow.”
“You watch it grow, and you . . . what? Use the air around it to spread a song? Force the Croeli to coat their blades?” Kaiya tried to think of a magic that would work like that. None of her battle songs were similar, and even
Asanali’s savage wild magic was incapable of performing such feats.
“Don’t be silly. You’ve already seen that tonicloran can be used to dominate the wills of others. Thinir uses it to control his soldiers through their blood. It binds them to him. But he isn’t using it as he could. He focuses on their blood, their minds. He focuses on the dominated. I focus on the dominator.” Vonda cackled, her chains rocking in the darkness. “This pool? That’s me in there. Thinir controls his men through the tonicloran, but I am the tonicloran. I am part of it as much as it is now part of you. You have the panacea inside you. It will always be there. But me? I’m inside it. My blood has nourished it. I am its mother, its rain and sun. And where it is, so am I. I use its dominating effects to spread my will: coat your blades, spread my seed, and cut off the power of the man who would use me for evil rather than good.”
“But your tonicloran is the only reason Thinir can even get to the Goddess’s halls in the first place!”
Vonda spat into the blistering pool. “You think I want to help him? He rapes me every time he shackles a new prisoner to his blade. The tonicloran was made to be the Weavers’ final ascension. It was supposed to be something of beauty for those who were worthy. But Thinir pollutes it. He’s tarnished the purest element this world had to offer, and he doesn’t even realize it. So I scream and drown out his bells. I let my poison—my strength—shred the tendrils he tries to snake into my sisters’ and brothers’ minds. He uses me, tears at my skin and eyes trying to get to the Eternal One’s door, not realizing that I am aware of him. But I see him, and I fight him. He thinks he can control me, but I am destroying his army, one un-refurbished Faoii at a time!”
“You . . . you’re happy, then? With this situation?”
Vonda’s mad eyes cleared. “I was not at first. I thought I was enslaved by the Croeli, imprisoned by these walls. I refused to do as they asked. I spit on them when they explained how to drown the horned god out, how to use the dominating power of the tonicloran to convince the remaining armies to coat their blades. I refused to hear them, sure that Illindria could not have any use for a torture as foul as the tonicloran end.
“But eventually I saw the good I could do. I knew I would be trapped here whether I refused to serve or not. So I decided to help. Once I realized that even a harsh death was better than a chained life, She released me, and She let me see all the world through Her most humble creation.” The madness returned slowly as Vonda reached once more into the bowl, picking up the sprig by its long stem. “Such a simple plant. A weed, really. But like the Faoii, it will once again spread all across the world, digging its roots deep into an earth that has forgotten it. It will spread across the entire earth, and I will travel with it.”
“But don’t you want to be free of this place?” Kaiya frowned. Had all of this happened so that she could rescue someone who did not want to be saved?
“Free? Freer than I am now? Oh, Faoii, I have access to every place that my tonicloran grows. I ride on the blades of every Croeli soldier. I dance as the wind carries my seed. And in all of this, I scream against the stars and drown out Thinir’s bells of hatred and fear. I am the freest of any of you. You who are enslaved to the war, to the blood and the death, to the morals of your finite decisions. You are slaves to fear and choices. You are even enslaved to me.” She cackled and spread her hands as far as they would go against the chains. “You are a prisoner here, shackled to the earth as truly as though you had fetters. You, the last Weaver, with the power to see any time and be anywhere . . . you are only a prisoner. And until you use the keys that the Goddess has given you, your shackles are of your own making.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re trapped in a world that was not made for you. You’re trapped in circumstances that you wish to control but cannot. I know. I know everything about you. I am inside you now. I’m mixed with your blood. I am the one that opens the gate for those who survive my poison. I am the one that unlocks the door to the Goddess’s hall. You have been there with your mind—an impossible feat. But you need to dig deeper than that. You need to go with your entire being—your mind as well as your physical body—and you need to do so while keeping both intact.”
“Like the Croeli do? Like Julianne?” Kaiya shuddered as she thought about the maddened shells she’d faced before.
“The Croeli? The Croeli try, but they only have slivers of me and are only able to keep ahold of slivers of themselves. Their minds claw at walls they’re not welcome in and slip away as their bodies Blink. Their souls ooze from wounds they can’t see, dripping into the blades that Thinir controls. And Julianne… poor Julianne… her soul cracked like broken glass without the tonicloran’s power.”
With grieving eyes, Vonda looked to something at Kaiya’s side. Kaiya followed Vonda’s gaze and saw Julianne’s body for the first time, her frame twisted and shattered from the fall. Kaiya bowed her head. Goddess grant you better battles, Julianne.
Vonda’s gaze lingered for a moment longer. “There is nothing we can do for her now except take action to ensure that she is one of the last. Thinir uses parts of me to get the results he wants, but his jumps are not perfect, and he loses a piece of his men each time he tries. But you—you are perfect. You can do what the wolves cannot. You can go to the Goddess’s hall with all of you intact—and once there, you will see how to destroy Thinir.” Her grin widened. “The Tapestry can show you everything.”
*~*
Tendaji stood at the edge of the encampment, staring at the stars on the horizon. He had seen Lyn and Emery in the prisoner camp. He had watched the Faoii manipulate Amaenel with graceful ease. He thought that he should be proud of her and of the Monastery of the Unbroken Weave’s tactics, but he felt nothing—only a coldness that had crept into his bones and wrapped itself around his heart.
Some part of him knew that he should be on the other side of the guards’ circle. He should be there, next to them, one of the prisoners that whispered in the firelight on the other side of camp. He belonged there, among the group that had called him Faoli.
But he did not want to face them. He did not want to sit in that circle, staring at the empty seat that would never again be filled. He did not want to have to look into Emery’s eyes and explain Kaiya’s death, or have to face Asanali’s forgiving smile.
No. There were only two things that he wanted now. He wanted to make sure that Kaiya’s was the last empty seat to haunt that ring. And he wanted to make his uncle suffer.
He wasn’t sure which one he wanted more.
*~*
Kaiya wasn’t sure how many times she’d tried to obey Vonda’s orders. Open your mind’s eye. See the Goddess’s world. Open it. Open it! She had seen Illindria’s world unbidden so many times before, its ethereal images dancing across her vision in a superimposed ballet. But she had never forced it to happen. It wasn’t something she knew how to control.
Kaiya sagged, sweat dripping from her forehead as she gasped on hands and knees. She tried again, prying at the door she could just barely sense in the center of her forehead. It cracked ajar, threatening to slam shut again even as she pried. Straining, she pushed harder . . .
There. It snapped open with an almost physical blow as, for the first time, Kaiya purposely coerced her mind’s eye to obey her will. The images shook in her vision for a moment before breaking apart. The door slammed shut again, and Kaiya’s head reeled as she gasped for breath. Vonda scowled from her chained dais.
“No, no! You’re using your innate abilities. You must use me.”
“I . . . I can’t,” Kaiya gasped out, her arms shaking.
“No? And why not? Come on, Faoii! You’ve already accomplished the impossible just by seeing those fading images! Your mind is there. The next part is easy. Even the brain-dead Croeli can do it.”
Kaiya hung her head.
“You can do this, Faoii! So why don’t you?”
Kaiya knew the answer, but she didn’t want to admit it. Fear clawed at h
er like inky tentacles, wrapping around her face in a suffocating scarf. She couldn’t. It was too overwhelming. She was too helpless in that world of endless possibilities—endless mistakes.
“I . . .” She let her voice taper off, hanging her head. Bile rose in the back of her throat, and her stomach rolled. “I . . .”
“Faoii, look around you!” Preoii-Vonda spoke with the full power of the Order, making Kaiya’s head snap to attention. “Your world and everything in it is dying! Your friends are walking to their deaths, and they will fall painfully by my hand. I cannot save them, but you . . . you have the power to keep them alive, and you let your own fear control you?”
Kaiya heard the unspoken question: How dare you?
Tears of shame and anger leaked from her eyes, and in their glistening pools she saw those that had stood next to her through everything.
Eili with her firm gaze and gravely laugh. Lyn’s quick, saucy wit. Asanali’s open smile. Emery’s loyal salute. Tendaji’s quiet chuckle and concerned eyes.
The Last Faoii Page 28