“What sort of suggestion?” She feigned disinterest, but he saw it in her face.
“One that will make each of us happy, I suspect.”
She slung her sack over her shoulder. “Oh, all right. Come, walk with me.”
He stood and followed the girl, who had already started walking away from the fountain. A gathering of starless had formed in the park to watch the conversation between singer and Arbiter, a rare sight indeed. The crowd parted before them, allowing them a large berth. Most stood and stared, some chattered or yelled, but Veydun saw something else: figures in simple blue robes with clasped hands on their knees and bowed heads. There were few, but each very noticeable.
“Do you see those people, Miss Ferai?”
She did not respond, but nodded.
“Any idea who they are? I don't think I've seen anything like that before in Celaena.”
“Then you must not have walked the streets lately, Brother Veydun.” Her voice was matter of fact, but he caught a hint of sarcasm that he did not like. “They are disciples of the celestial faith, Arbiter. These are the remnants of my father's legacy.”
“Those are the faithful?”
“Indeed,” she said. “You're surprised?”
He needed to be cautious. The girl seemed intelligent, perceptive. “I didn't expect them to be here. I had no idea the faith had come as far as the Nightmarkets.” They exited the park, seeming to be headed toward the docks. They reached the channels and saw several boats tied up to the dock. He picked one, stepped inside, and offered the girl a hand. She took it and joined him. Together they untied from the dock and kicked off, floating into the middle of the channel, and caught the gentle current pulling them forward. They began to circle the Nightmarkets, but didn't take any of the exit channels that led through the various quints. Instead they just floated.
“Why were they kneeling?” he asked in earnest, curious about the powerful movement that rested at the girl's fingertips. She only needed to reach out and grasp it.
“They recognized me,” she said flatly.
“Through your clever disguise?” His wit came through, escaped his control, but the girl didn't seem to mind. She responded with a calm he didn't understand.
“There's a connection between the starless and the singers. One you can't see or explain. The renewal of the faith made the connection live again. They feel me, just as I feel them.”
“You know this?” This time he asked for real. “How?”
She turned to him and smirked. “I read about it. Now, what of your suggestions, Dawnman?”
Time to get to the point. “Do you know Sotma Rayn?”
“I know of him. I believe he wanted me betrothed to his son, Antarro, may he rest in the light. That was a long time ago.” She paused for a moment. “We've both lost, since.”
“It was sad, the deaths of his children. I believe he carries the same sorrow as you, my Lady.” She did not react, but he dared not linger on the subject. “Sotma bonded an Arbiter, you know. A great man amongst the Order, once.”
“Once?”
“He has been excommunicated—banished, stripped of title and status.”
“Shame,” she said. “I guess Sotma will not have his justice, either.”
“Not quite, Miss Ferai. The Lion allowed the Arbiter to keep his bonds, though he may not make any new ones.”
“The Lion?”
“Uriyeh, the head of our Order. A war hero and a legend.”
“Why did he allow this shunned man to keep his bonds? Isn't that contrary to your Order's purpose?”
“On the contrary, little one. The Order espouses honor above all things. Uriyeh did the right thing.”
She seemed to ponder. “Is that so? And you think this forsaken Arbiter will finish the job?”
“I know him,” said Veydun. “This man will not rest until he finds the justice he has sworn to provide.”
“How nice for Sotma Rayn.” She plunked an oar into the channel and pushed against the sides, pointing the boat toward the southwestern channel. Toward the Ferai quint.
“Yes, well that is the basis for my suggestion.” Veydun sensed an urgency. “You see, Sotma sent me to find you.” That got the girl's attention, and she turned on him, the faintest of blue mist forming in her eyes.
“Did he? Tell me why. Now!” Her voice elevated, the volume elevated by starlight.
How cute. The little girl and her young starlight power did not scare Veydun. It would be so easy for him to slip to her side with his thin blade. But there was no call for such violence, and he did not lust for blood. Further, he would be fulfilling the prophecy the Starsingers had worked so hard to attain: An Arbiter slaying an Astral? Unthinkable.
They continued to float round and round the Nightmarkets. “The man recently lost his children, Miss Ferai, and you recently lost your parents. You did not finish your training at the seminary, and he is a legendary warrior. There is much he can offer, and perhaps you would provide him company during these lonely days. You could fill the void his children left behind.”
“He is asking much,” she said. “I am my father's daughter, and my father’s alone. I've no interest in being anyone's pretend child.” Her eyes no longer threatened a mist, but her voice was filled with venom. Veydun rolled with her punches, shifting and adjusting.
“Perhaps another angle, then. The moonlight treasury has approached you, no doubt? Who will shepherd your family's estate? Who will serve as trustee over all that your father built, and all his fathers before him? You are hiding in the Nightmarkets reading books, full of sorrow. You want justice for your family, but you risk your House's honor and integrity. Sotma Rayn can help you there, acting as steward until you are ready to take your place. In return, he will train you. Not only in your starlight, but also with this.” He gripped the hilt of his sword and unsheathed it, holding it straight up before his face. “Starlight alone won't protect you, Ahryn. It didn't save Antarro and Valura, and it didn't save your family. Whatever evil comes must be met with a new might.”
Ahryn listened to every word. Her teeth were clenched, to be sure, but he saw the words strike home. She whispered, “The Elegance.”
“Yes,” he said. “That is what they called him. No other Astral has taken the sword and learned the dance of steel and star. But Sotma offers this to you. My suggestion is that you accept.”
The girl hooked her oar into a rivet at the bottom of the channel, halting the boat's momentum. They sat at the precipice of the southwestern channel. She remained silent for some time, seeming to consider his words. Then she spoke, quiet, not as forceful as she'd once been.
“I have a choice?”
“Of course you do,” he said. “You are an Astral, after all. This world is yours, and your path is your own.”
The girl's passivity did not last long, and the fire returned. “Then I will make my choice in my own time, but it won't be long. Tell Sotma Rayn to watch his doorstep. If he finds me there in the coming days, he will have his answer. Until then, I'd rather not see you again.” She steered the boat to the channel's side and flipped a panel, creating a walkway.
Veydun took the cue and exited the boat. He looked down to the craft as she pushed away and headed into the southwestern channel and called after her. “As you wish, Miss Ferai. Light guide you.”
He turned from the channels, smiling to himself, confident that she'd been sufficiently primed. As he walked away, ready to begin the journey back to the Keep and his next task, he saw a blue-robed figure standing alone and watching him. The figure stared for a moment before turning and disappearing in the Nightmarket crowds.
Chapter Twelve
“Breathing is the key to control. The light will rush inside and seek to fill every gap, every hole, until all the space of your body is consumed. If you do not control your breath, how can you think to control the light. Breathe!”
- Neranian's Second Degree
A magnificent vista split murky shallows as Eza
i's swiftclip streaked through the shoreline. Fine, white sand covered the beach of the Vo island. Not ten feet from the coast, the beach disappeared under a canopy of dark green trees through which no light seeped. Nowhere except the arched corridor carved into the rainforest. The cobbled road underneath would carry him straight to the Twilight Orchards and the Vo's ancestral manor. The memory of sweet perfume filled his nostrils.
The swiftclip scraped the shore as it beached, white sand splashing against its hull. Ezai hopped out of the craft, still chewing the last of the dried and salted meat he'd purchased back in the wharf to nourish him on the long journey. No one joined him, the sole visitor to the emerald island, which was lush with vegetation and color so different from the dusty plains of his island.
Standing in the sand, took a moment to bask in the rays of a brilliant sun finding their way through cracks in the thick clouds, then dropped his sack and peeled the soaked strawskin from his body. In turn, he changed into his tunic and feathered cape, safely stored and dry. The beach was empty, swiftclip already sailing away, and Ezai felt no shame at stripping himself bare to change his clothes.
Finally settled, he approached the arched tunnel through the rainforest. As he entered, the sunlight dissipated and a shadow fell over him; it was not a complete shadow, however, as specks of light dotted the ground and all around him, finding their way through branches and leaves.
No rivers flowed on the island, and there were no streams to carry him the distance, nor were there channels to cross. Most visitors walked the many miles between the beach and the Orchards, far away in the rolling valleys of the island. It was a pilgrimage of sorts, whether intended or not. But Ezai passed a waypoint with stationed starlight wagons, which were extremely costly and rare; no doubt a select few paid the price and rode in luxury. Not he, though.
“Be humble in all things.”
Ezai heard his father's voice, another lesson. To be an Arbiter was to be pure, to reject the convenient and the posh, and to embrace hardship and overcome. Luxury was a trap, hedonism a penance. The tumult of life bred suffering and perseverance, and strength was derived therefrom. So, he kept walking past the station, eyes forward, one foot after another. Occasionally he played games to help the passing of time, like stepping only on the cobblestones engraved with the hourglass, but not much else kept him entertained. Instead, his mand wandered to Saryx, and the Ferai girl, and the hidden knowledge within the Vo's libraries.
The sun had moved across the entire sky by the time Ezai broke through the rainforest, the spotted shadow shifting its pattern in a slow dance. Immediately, the lonely passage from the beach ended; in its place, two young women waved to him. Each wore pale-yellow blouses and sat under matching gazebos flanking either side of a shiny, white leystone road. The women in their gazebos was a bizarre sight, one that had not been there on Ezai’s last visit, so long ago.
The women did not startle at his emergence, but calmly rose from their chairs, walked out and down from the gazebos, and approached him with arms open.
“Welcome, traveler, to isle of Vo.” The woman on the left removed her wide-brimmed hat, then bowed in unison with the woman on the right.
They were not Starsingers, merely starless in the Vo's employ. Such a strange display. It seemed the Vo became odder as time went on, if that was somehow possible.
“Thank you,” he said. “I'd like to visit the Orchards.”
The women twinkled in unison. “Certainly, traveler. May we have your name?”
Ezai glanced to the gazebos, then to the horizon, beyond the rows and rows of blood orange trees, to where the Vo manor sat nestled into a series of hills. Everything seemed so open, so free, yet so completely vacant.
“You can report back that Ezai Mishpat has come.” He omitted his title, for he no longer held the honor.
With a giggle and a bow, the women retreated to their gazebos. Ezai watched as the one on the right removed a dove from a cage and whispered in its ear. It cooed, then fluttered away. The Astral had reimagined the archaic tool of sending messages by courier bird. They commanded starlight, and just as they could empower horseless carriages, or blow unnatural winds behind the swiftclip sails of the coastal network, they could communicate long distances if needed. He understood it took an enormous amount of energy, reserved for the most important of messages.
Ezai watched the bird fly away. As it did, the gates to the Orchards, high doors made of polished coral, opened in silence. He heard nothing and tensed out of instinct. There was no creak of the gate, no scrape against the stone, no clank as it shut. No sound came after the women’s retreat into their gazebos and the dove’s disappearance into the horizon, only the breeze ruffling the leaves and swaying the grass.
Undeterred, Ezai strode forward. It didn't take long before the facade broke, and the Orchard changed before his eyes. Only minutes before it had seemed pristine, picturesque, and he’d wanted to reach up and grab at one of the blood oranges dangling from a sea of emerald green.
But the starlight illusion faded, and the reality of disaster revealed itself. Splintered wood and mangled leaves were strewn all over, interspersed between smashed and rotted oranges on which rodents feasted. Everywhere, a thick blanket of fog sat over the ground, and Ezai's nostrils filled with the stink of mold. The trail of tragedy stretched for miles, all the way to the hillside manor from which gray smoke billowed.
What happened here?
Ezai inspected the scene as he walked toward the manor, dusk beginning to fall and a chill settling in the air. Only something immeasurably powerful could have caused such desolation. There were no scorch marks or other telltale signs of starlight. Something from the ocean? A wave? He couldn't remember the last time anything similar had happened in the Dominion.
Eventually, he reached the hillside manor, the area still unmanned and absent any human life. The Vo had constructed the majority of the structure underground, an unusual choice for a people who relied on a clear line of sight with the stars. The Vo dealt with the problem by boring a number of enormously large chutes on top of the hills that went straight down to the chambers below, like living at the bottom of a flask. Genius, but a limited design given the distasteful lack of privacy in the basin.
The entrance was subtle and small, a simple doorway built into the side of a hill. He walked up to it, then knocked, and the thuds from his gauntlets echoed through the tattered meadow. No one answered. He waited a few moments before trying again. Still nothing. The Arbiter took several steps back from the door and peered up and down. Nothing seemed out of place or otherwise jumped out as a way to get some attention. His memory of this place contained no secrets.
“Is there anyone there? It is Ezai Mishpat, formerly of the Orange Dawn. I seek admittance to your libraries.” He raised the volume of his voice; it was not a shout or a yell, but firm speech that carried.
At last, the door opened to reveal none other than Bril Vo, the rotund and joyful man who wore the pale-yellow colors of his House. But Ezai did not see any gleaming in the man's eyes, nor any hint of red in his cheeks. The man he remembered, happy and aloof, now seemed bereft of emotion, as if it had been sucked from his being. Was it a consequence of whatever tragedy had befallen the formerly majestic Twilight Orchards?
“Can I help you?”
Ezai looked down on the short, round man, and cocked his head at the odd greeting for the sole visitor of their island.
“Good to see you again, Bril Vo. It's been too long.” The fat man blinked, slowly, and kept his face neutral. It disturbed Ezai, but he ignored the display. Instead, he cut right to the chase. “Surely you've heard; I am bonded to Sotma of House Rayn, tasked with bringing justice for his departed children.”
“I'm aware. What of it?”
Ezai continued. “The next step requires knowledge I don't have—knowledge I believe you may possess in your libraries.”
“The libraries are not for any Astral outside my House,” said Bril, “let alone for the starle
ss. Or worse, an Arbiter.” Ezai caught enough contempt lacing the words to bristle, but he was the beggar here. The Vo were academics first, Astral second. Ezai tried to appeal to that truth.
“I appreciate your tradition, Bril, and your rules. Keeping to them maintains a balance. Above all else, that I understand.”
“Oh?” he said. “What I understand is that you've been thrown out of your Order. So many years adhering to your tenets rendered meaningless in an instant.”
Ezai masked his surprise. Word traveled fast.
“The tenets will always be with me, Bril. I will pursue righteousness until my last day, and justice will follow. The Order may not have a place for me anymore, but I will always keep a place in my heart for the Orange Dawn. In so doing, I must complete my bonds and see justice through.”
Bril Vo yawned. He peeked to the sky and the fading sun. Soon the stars would be out. “Fascinating.”
Ezai hesitated, which was unlike him. Was it desperation he felt?
Father, what if I fail?
“Please, Bril, I would not make the request if not necessary. Your libraries are legend—the wisdom hidden within must be extraordinary. I'm sure I'll find what I need. The secrets I seek are immense; it is likely not even you or your House are aware of the depth of truth lying within.”
The fat Astral did not respond with a quip; instead, he seemed to consider. Then the corners of his mouth turned up and a glint formed in his eye. He beckoned Ezai inside. The manor was unlike the other ancestral homes of the Houses, where visitors were greeted by grand halls and shows of splendor. Here, Ezai stepped directly into a study, which was completed with three walls plastered with several different types of maps of the Dominion. Instead of a closed room, the study transitioned into a cavernous structure dotted by similar pod-shaped rooms around the perimeter. Inside the study, scrolls littered a large, teywood desk, and a bottle of ink lay on its side, tipped over, thick black liquid pooling in a corner of the desk. Bril sat there now, then leaned forward with hands clasped.
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