The Border Keeper

by Kerstin Hall

  She gazed at the distant steppe. “My son’s name was Kol,” she said.

  Vasethe glanced towards the door.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “Almost everyone here knows what happened, anyway.”

  “I didn’t know you’d had children.”

  “Hm. Never liked the idea of them, really. But I had lost Yett and I wanted . . . something.”

  “Who was the father?”

  “I’m not sure. Ahri-dweller. More travellers visited back then. As a result, Kol was mortal.”

  “Oh.”

  “It felt like he was slipping away from me, every day.” Her voice dropped. “He was fourteen when I tried to change the shape of his soul. Make him like me.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “He broke. I splintered him into pieces. Eight pieces.”

  Eight figures beyond the shadowline.

  “So, now you know. Maybe you can write a new dissertation on it.”

  “I would never do that.”

  “No?” The moonlight caught on strands of her hair.

  He tore his gaze away from her. “We should return to the festivities; you might be missed.”

  “I doubt it. Let them find me if they want me.”

  But someone was shouting. Eris frowned. More voices joined in. Vasethe listened, but could not work out what they were yelling.

  “Sounds like trouble,” said Eris.

  He had a sour taste in his mouth. The shouting grew louder.

  “Oh, no,” he muttered.

  “Sethe?”

  He took one step, and then another, and then he was running.

  Guests had withdrawn towards the edges of the hall, leaving the dance floor empty. Buyak stood opposite Lfae. Tyn was on the ground in the shadow of her ruler. She clutched a broken arm to her chest.

  “I was protecting Res Lfae!” she shouted.

  The audience muttered.

  “I can’t lie!” She struggled to her feet. “I can’t break the rule.”

  “Second Spear, hold your tongue.” Lfae’s voice was sharp.

  “Res Lfae, surely you understand that I won’t permit a lowly attendant to accost my guests.” Buyak’s voice had a lilting quality, the timbre clean and smooth. “This dweller’s life is forfeit. Let us not allow the incident to spoil the whole evening.”

  “I’ve gone to war over less, Buyak.”

  “Her disrespect should not simply be overlooked.”

  “Stand down, Lfae,” Eris murmured. Vasethe had not noticed her beside him. “He’s trying to draw you into a fight.”

  “Please save her.” His voice came out oddly flat. “Please. Don’t let this happen.”

  Eris’s expression was pained. “It’s too risky. I can see what Buyak is trying to do, Sethe. If I get involved—”

  “I’m begging you.” Despair choked him. “I’ll do anything; please, don’t let her die again. She’s Raisha. Tyn is Raisha.”

  As soon as he said it, the knowledge became certainty, the realm rules affirming him.

  Eris’s eyes widened. “You reckless idiot! You had no way of knowing that for certain.”

  “Please,” he whispered.

  She glared at him. Then she reached up, pulled off her headband, and tossed it aside. It hit the floor with a clatter.

  Her posture changed, shoulders thrown back, chin raised. She broke away from the crowd and strode towards the dance floor. Guests shrank from her as she passed.

  “In the presence of the rulers of the first three hundred, I, the border keeper of the shadowline, Custodian of the First Realm, call for a Tribunal of the High for the immediate impeachment of Kan Buyak.” Her voice rang clear as crystal. “Heed me.”

  Lfae’s teeth gleamed. “I heed you.”

  Silence.

  “Am I to know what charges you are levelling against me?” asked Buyak.

  “Charges can be brought at the trial,” Eris said.

  “Come now.” Buyak raised his hands, his silver eyes glinting. “I would not want to waste the High’s time. Let us hear the charge.”

  Vasethe could sense a trap. Lfae made a sound of warning, but Eris motioned for quiet.

  “Border keeper?” Buyak prompted.

  She could not back down without losing face. Her reputation was at stake.

  “You forged a God Instrument,” she said.

  Around the hall, there was a collective intake of breath. Then agony laced through Vasethe’s throat, and Eris cried out and fell to her knees.

  “Lying is not permitted in my realm,” Buyak said, his thin lips curling into a smile. “I am innocent of that charge. I’m afraid you are mistaken, border keeper.”

  “You . . . possess a . . . God Instrument,” she said, through gritted teeth. She cried out as the lie cut into her again. Blood flecked her lips.

  “Please stop. Some of the guests might find your discomfort distressing. Res Lfae, for example.”

  The demon swore at Buyak.

  “I’ll reach the truth eventually,” she panted.

  “What truth? Even you cannot hope to survive much more of this. At any rate, the grounds for a Tribunal have not been met. It renders this spectacle a little redundant.”

  “You built a forge,” she said, heedless of the risk, then whimpered.

  “Enough. Let’s forget this incident,” Buyak said. “The night is young and you look lovely, border keeper. Why don’t we dance instead?”

  He bent to grasp her forearm.

  “Get away from her.”

  Hundreds of curious eyes turned towards Vasethe.

  “Isn’t it enough that you’ve humiliated her?” Vasethe spat. “Get away from her.”

  No one moved. Blood pounded in his head; his vision had narrowed to just Eris and Buyak. His breathing was ragged.

  “More attendants?” Buyak said with mock incredulity.

  Scattered laughter.

  “Are you another of Lfae’s, then?”

  Vasethe stayed silent.

  “No matter. Your impudence will—”

  “He’s mine,” said Eris. She picked herself up, smoothing her dress. “Before you suggest any more executions.”

  Buyak’s eyes gleamed. All around the hall, guests were whispering. “My apologies, border keeper. I didn’t realise that you had a new consort, after all these years.”

  Lfae took a step towards Buyak, fists clenched. Eris glared at the demon, then turned back to Buyak.

  “He is not my consort,” she said.

  “Then what exactly is your relationship to him?”

  “None of your business.”

  “My apologies,” said Buyak, not at all sorry. “It seems I struck a nerve.”

  “I’ll strike more than that, Buyak,” Lfae snarled. “You underhanded, sadistic piece of—”

  “No, Lfae.” Eris was shaking. She drew her head up, although Vasethe could tell she was in pain. “We’re leaving.”

  She swept out of the hall without another word. The crowd’s muttering grew ever louder.

  “Come on,” Lfae told Tyn, throwing a last disgusted look at Buyak before guiding their attendant towards the door.

  Vasethe gazed around, feeling the weight of the room’s attention on his shoulders. Buyak’s expression was smug, self-assured.

  “You know who possesses a God Instrument,” Vasethe said, loudly.

  The onlookers fell deathly silent, and Lfae paused at the door. A heartbeat. No punishment, no pain. Buyak’s face twisted.

  “Thought so.” Vasethe smiled coldly. He followed Lfae. His footsteps rang on the tiles, and no one spoke.

  Chapter Seventeen

  HUDDLED IN THE BIRDCAGE, Eris looked battered and defeated. The wind tugged at her loose hair, and her eyelids were half-closed. She seemed smaller, her eyes hollow. Lfae sat beside her with one arm wrapped around her shoulders, either to console her or keep her upright.

  “This is my fault,” said Tyn.

  “Silence, Second Spear.”

  Lfa
e’s attendant shook her head. Her expression was mutinous, her cheeks flushed with emotion. She clutched her left wrist close to her chest. With every jolt in the flight, she winced. Soundlessly.

  “Tyn,” Lfae began, troubled, but stopped. “We can talk about it later.”

  Vasethe held himself apart. His throat ached, but even now Eris was withstanding the hex on his behalf. Just as she always had. The oasis beneath the cage was a well of darkness; he imagined falling into it. High above, the music started up again.

  “You still have allies, Midan,” said Lfae. “Recover, and then we can decide on our next move.”

  “I saw,” she said. Her voice was scarcely above a whisper, her first words since the party. “The way the rulers looked at me.”

  “You’ve come back from worse.”

  Her eyes drifted closed.

  They landed on the balcony of Lfae’s quarters. The moment the cage touched the ground, Tyn was on her feet. She knocked into Vasethe as she pushed the door open and stalked across the balcony into the chambers. A second later, he heard a door slam.

  “Oh, First’s blood,” Lfae muttered darkly.

  Eris shivered and stood, using the bars of the cage for support.

  “They’re going to turn on me,” she said, and there was fear in her voice. Her breathing emerged shallow. “That’s what Buyak intended. He wants them to think I’ve lost my mind.”

  “Let them think what they will”—the demon offered her a hand—“and then prove them wrong.”

  Vasethe stepped out of the way. Lfae guided her inside, and the fire in the grate burst to life. She slumped onto the couch before the flames.

  “Vasethe, a word, please,” said Lfae, and nodded towards the balcony.

  The egrets took to the air in a perfectly synchronized movement, their wings rising and falling as one. Lfae slid the screen shut to prevent Eris from overhearing their conversation.

  “Are you hurt?” the demon asked brusquely.

  “No.”

  “In that case, I want you to find Tyn and bring her back here before anything else goes awry.”

  “What about the border keeper?”

  “What about her?”

  Vasethe met the demon’s eyes. Something in his expression caused Lfae’s lips to thin.

  “Watch yourself. I’m astonished that Buyak didn’t kill you for your impudence tonight. In his position, I might have.”

  “Eris needs—”

  “Who are you to say what she needs?”

  He bit his tongue.

  “I don’t doubt your integrity,” said Lfae, with less heat. “However, I’ve known Midan for close to a thousand years. She trusts me to watch over her.”

  Vasethe felt the slight but remained silent.

  “If there’s any danger, I’m better prepared to protect her.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  He stiffened when Lfae placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Vasethe, I understand that you are angry. I do. But I’m not your enemy here. I’m only asking for your help because I don’t want to leave her alone while she’s vulnerable. You see that, don’t you?”

  The demon’s hand was warm and steady. The last of Vasethe’s resistance crumbled and he nodded.

  Without the cries of other rulers’ attendants, the landing beyond Lfae’s chambers felt eerily quiet. Vasethe’s instincts guided him; he made for the stairs. Given the choice, Raisha would have moved closer to the ground.

  Ropes of reddish lights lit the passages, imbedded in the walls like fat, glowing tapeworms. The floor shone wetly, and the stone’s appearance had a liquid quality, slow-melting ice or thick cream. One landing, then another. The wind whistled through the tower’s hollow core.

  Eris’s cry of pain rang loud in Vasethe’s memory.

  She hadn’t flinched when he had poured brandy on her open wounds. The hex that drove him half-mad was little more than an inconvenience to her. And yet, when she lied to Buyak, she had screamed.

  The sound of rushing water grew louder. Vasethe emerged from a stairwell to find himself on the lowest level of the tower. A sheet of water gushed over the farthest wall; the lights of other towers blurred and diffused through the liquid partition. The room served as a communal lounge, crowded with low, heavy furniture upholstered in white and gold and mint-green. Thick drapes hung between the couches to create the illusion of privacy, and pale shoots of bamboo grew in porcelain vessels. The light was dim; the braziers had burned down to embers.

  Tyn paced like a caged animal. Her boots scuffed the stone, and the knuckles of her right hand were bloody.

  “Lfae asked me to find you.”

  She nodded, although she didn’t stop moving. Vasethe leaned against a column. He waited.

  “Not yet,” she said, under her breath. “I intend to go back but . . . not yet.”

  “May I see your arm?”

  Her steps faltered. She raised her head.

  “It must be painful.” Vasethe gestured at an ivory-coloured divan. “Please?”

  Her forearm was only slightly swollen. He cautiously raised her elbow, lightly pressing on the skin around the bone, testing her responses. She suffered his examination without complaint.

  “Clean break,” he muttered to himself. He eyed the plants. “Got anything sharp?”

  Tyn jerked her right wrist, and a shiv fell from her sleeve into her palm.

  “You might as well keep it,” she said. “Didn’t do me any good.”

  Vasethe tested the strength of a tender bamboo sapling. The leaves had only just begun to bud. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

  “I disgraced my ruler.” Her shoulders sank. “Are you sure you want to damage Kan Buyak’s property?”

  The wood gave under her shiv, bleeding sap. He snapped the stem off sharply. “Quite sure.”

  He cut a swath of rich, soft brocade from the drapes—relishing the sound of the priceless fabric tearing—and fashioned it into a sling. The thick material cushioned his bamboo splints.

  “Lfae is worried about you,” he said.

  “Which is far more than I deserve.”

  “Isn’t that against your code or something?” Vasethe tied the ends of the fabric around her neck. “Questioning the wisdom of your ruler?”

  “We don’t have a code,” she said sourly. “And Res Lfae doesn’t demand obsequiousness.”

  “That’s lucky. You might have made a terrible dweller otherwise.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Hm.” He straightened. “Just a suspicion.”

  She moved her arm a little, testing the sling. It appeared to satisfy her. She glanced up. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “I probably shouldn’t ask, but—” She sighed. “It makes very little sense to me. Why did she intervene?”

  The full weight of Vasethe’s guilt pressed upon his shoulders.

  I can see what Buyak is trying to do, Sethe.

  The words stuck in his throat. “I asked her to.”

  Tyn stared at him and he looked away, shrinking from her eyes. Eyes that had seemed a little familiar, even though Raisha’s had been darker, and Tyn’s were larger, but in some inexplicable way they were alike to him. “I didn’t consider the consequences at the time,” he said.

  “You asked the border keeper to save me?”

  “I begged. And she suffered for it.” He shook himself, and quickly added, “I’m glad she stopped Buyak from hurting you, I just . . . I wish things had turned out differently.”

  Tyn was still staring at him. “But why would you do that?”

  “I was scared Buyak would execute you.” He frowned. “Actually, what did you do? When I arrived, Lfae was arguing with Buyak.”

  “I attacked a guest,” she said.

  “That much I gathered.”

  “She had a knife, and she lunged towards Res Lfae.” Tyn made a frustrated sound. “So, I tried to stop her, and she broke my arm. Like I was nothing. Not even
a threat to her.”

  “A woman?” Vasethe’s stomach sank.

  “Buyak’s attendants escorted her to safety.” Tyn’s lip curled. “I don’t think I even left a scratch on her.”

  “Did she have white hair?”

  “Yes. Tall, very pale, green eyes. Did you see her?”

  “Not tonight.” He stood up.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve got a really bad feeling,” he said. “We should return to Lfae.”

  “Okay.” Tyn rose. “I’m sorry for running off; I just—”

  “I understand.” He smiled uneasily. “You wanted space.”

  And yet, even as they climbed the stairs, Vasethe’s anxiety increased. He needed to talk to Eris; he was missing something. Tyn moved easily despite her arm and eyed him with obvious concern.

  “Who is this woman?” she asked. “A ruler?”

  “I assume so.”

  “I think she must hold a minor realm, then. I should be able to identify most of the first three hundred.”

  Vasethe ground his teeth together. “Maybe.”

  “If so, she shouldn’t pose much of a threat. Especially with Res Lfae protecting the border keeper.”

  Vasethe could see the logic of her arguments, and yet his instincts still insisted that she was wrong.

  “It feels like a setup,” he said.

  “A setup for what?”

  “Something that requires Eris to be weakened.” Or eliminated. “The shadowline? Maybe someone wants to cross it. Where is the exit for Res Lfae’s realm?”

  “A few miles outside Demi Anath. Vasethe, slow down.”

  His mind raced. “We should get her out of here now. If the woman is still in the city, who knows what—”

  “Vasethe.”

  He ground to a halt. “What?”

  “I’ve never seen this passage before.”

  Her words took a few seconds to sink in. Although the corridor looked no different to him, Tyn had spoken unequivocally. A truth. The smooth, undulating walls radiated coldness.

  “Okay,” he said. A shiver ran down his spine. “Maybe we took a different path through the tower.”

  “I don’t think so.” She ran her fingers over the surface of the wall, distracted. “Some kind of illusion, perhaps. I hope—”

  She turned abruptly and retraced her steps. Vasethe followed after her.

  They reached the top of the stairs, or rather, the place where stairs should have been. The light vanished beyond the third step, and darkness gathered into an impenetrable barrier.