by Elise Kova
When the clock struck ten, they ventured outward.
“The guards are on rotation right now,” Jayme murmured as they wound down. “By the time we get there, they’ll be settled in positions. We should have a blind spot of about ten minutes before anyone has a chance to notice us at the store room.”
“That should be enough time.” At least, she hoped it would be.
They passed by the guard positioned at the entrance to the royal quarters. The woman gave a nod to them both, settled her eyes on Jayme, and didn’t ask any questions. Otherwise, they only ran into two other servants on their way down to the pits.
The storeroom was just as Jayme had said, adjacent to the warrior barracks and back by the wall. There was one door that led in and out of it, a lantern blazing over top, and a heavy padlock hanging from the handle that seemed to grow larger as they approached. Vi stared at it, running through the words of power in her mind. She could destroy it clean off with juth, but that would likely arouse suspicion, prompting a search. Perhaps there was something with mysst, fashion a key of some sort? Though Vi didn’t know of—
“Stand there.” Jayme pointed to a spot just before the door, by the padlock. “And keep an eye out.”
“What?”
Jayme was already crouching. She unrolled a small kit, tools lining various pockets. Vi stared at the silver that flashed in the lamplight as Jayme selected her first picks and began to insert them into the lock.
“How did you…?”
“You pick things up on the road.” Jayme shrugged. She situated one of the tools and held it in place, beginning to fidget with a second at the bottom of the lock. “I want to do the best I can for you and your protection, princess. That means learning as many skills as I can.”
“I don’t know how many guards learn lock-picking to protect nobility.” Vi swept her eyes across the pits and bridge-ways, but saw no one.
“Well, don’t you think my eagerness to account for every possibility makes me even more valuable?” There was a metallic click, and Vi heard the shank of the padlock slide from its place. She turned, shocked at Jayme’s speed. By the time her eyes landed on on the lock again, Jayme had already hung the lock on the door, her tools collected. “After you, princess.” Vi continued to stare dumbly, struggling to process what she had just witnessed. “Ten minutes, remember? We need to keep moving.”
“Right,” Vi mumbled, slipping past her and into the darkness.
Just how much about her friend did she not know? How many skills did she possess that Vi would never suspect? Who had she learned them from? Vi glanced back at Jayme, who closed the door nearly all the way, leaving just a crack to peer through.
Questions for another time, Right now Vi had to—
Her mind went blank as she stared at the sheer amount of goods stacked up. Boxes were piled high, making small mountains out of the tarps that covered them. Baskets lined the floor, making it difficult to walk. Everything was sealed and packed away.
Where should she even begin?
“What’re you looking for?” Jayme asked, glancing at her.
“A key.”
“A key in a haystack.” Jayme looked back out. “If I can help, let me know… but I want to keep an eye out for any rogue warriors who happen to wander by and notice the lock dangling open on the door.”
Vi shifted all of her focus on the goods before her. She began peeling back canvases and taking a quick loop of the room, trying to see what was there. She was looking for something familiar—something that would remind her of Grendla—though there was nothing in the illogical piles to suggest that any one person’s goods were still together.
Closing her eyes, Vi took a deep breath and followed her nose. It led her to the back corner, where six familiar-looking baskets stood next to each other. Pulling off the tops, Vi affirmed they were the same the woman had in the market.
“Then… where’s the rest of your things?” Vi mumbled. She began pulling back all of the tarps in the area, looking for something—anything that seemed like it would belong to that woman.
“Any luck?” Jayme called back. “We should move soon, the patrol up on the wall will be crossing shortly.”
“Do you really think they’d notice?” Vi had only just begun sifting through everything. She’d barely made a dent. If she had more time in the North, she could come back and slowly sort through methodically. But this would be her only shot.
“Trust me, they’ll notice,” Jayme said gravely. “Sehra’s training for the warriors is second to none and you saw how big that lock was. The Mother herself sees it from the sky.”
Vi cursed under her breath. There was nothing she could do but continue looking and hope she’d be lucky. With far less care, she opened up trunks of textiles, more spices, tools of a leather worker. But nothing that even remotely resembled a key.
“I think I see them coming.”
“Mother—” Vi’s tirade was cut short. A small piece of fabric, nearly completely hidden by the others she’d been sorting through, caught her eye. Stepping over two baskets and sitting on a trunk, Vi hastily opened a small box.
She recognized the dress as the same the woman had worn in the market that day. There were other clothes, simple and finely spun. Beneath them was a bag of jewelry Vi pulled into her lap. If she was going to hide a precious heirloom key, she would do it with her other valuables. But there was nothing beyond bangles and gold.
“Vi—”
“Just one more minute.”
“That’s all you have,” Jayme said firmly.
Vi pulled out the blanket underneath the jewelry. Some other personal effects. And then a series of book spines were at the bottom. All of them had markings in the language of old Mhashan—words Vi couldn’t read without putting in some careful thought first—but it was the blank one that caught her eye.
It’s hidden with the rest. Back of the tome, the records I kept. The woman’s delirious words echoed in her mind. Perhaps she’d been answering Vi’s question after all.
Sliding out the tome, Vi opened it, flipping right to the back. It was more writing in the old language. For a brief second, Vi thought about taking the whole thing with her. Were they just records of sales? Or something more?
Her debate was cut short when the pages stopped flipping, revealing a section in the back that had been glued together and was hollowed out in the center. All sorts of markings were on the pages around it, made in dark red ink. But Vi focused on the iron key nestled in the secret compartment, a rose carved into one end, and skeleton teeth on the other.
“Vi!”
“I found it!” Vi grabbed the key and quickly snapped the book shut. It was only as she was halfway to filling back up the woman’s trunk that she realized she’d even thought about taking the tome with her to translate later. Vi paused, staring. Did she dig it up again? Did she care if the warriors knew someone had been shifting through the goods?
“Vi, we have to—”
“I’m coming.” Vi sprinted over, key in hand. On her way she threw a few of the tarps back into place, trying to make it look less like someone had been nibbing through things. By the time anyone found out, she’d be long gone.
Jayme opened the door, quickly locking it behind them. They stepped out of the lantern’s orb of light and into the shadow of darkness behind the tree trunk right as the warrior was rounding the wall. The two young women crouched down, holding their breath and waiting before slipping into the night the second the coast was clear.
Chapter Nine
After a good night’s sleep, relatively speaking, she should feel much better. But a rock had taken up residence where Vi’s stomach used to be, her eyes burned, and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She occupied them with the key she’d retrieved the night before, turning it over time and again as she sat on the windowsill of her bedroom for what would be the last time.
The linens had been stripped that morning, still warm from the night’s sleep. Every worldly pos
session she owned—and some she didn’t even remember she owned—had been packed into several trunks, now loaded into a cart far beneath her. If Vi strained, she could barely see it. But she didn’t look down; she looked out across the treetops that had been the only home she’d ever known.
Vi closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to try to settle her stomach, and then, “Narro hath hoolo.”
Taavin appeared at her side. Vi barely looked at him, her eyes still turned outward. He sat slowly on the opposite side of the window sill from her—she more sensed the movement than saw it. Vi slowly brought her eyes to him and he held her with his thoughtful stare.
“Is today the day?” he asked, finally. All she could do was nod. He turned, looking out over the trees, and Vi did the same. The early morning wind picked up, tousling her hair and leaving his untouched. “How do you feel?”
“I don’t know. Much the same, I suppose,” she said. “Though today it’s far more real. This room… it’s been all I’ve ever known.” She looked at the gnarled ceiling, polished wood, the heavy scent of sap that always clung to the air like a persistent child at his mother’s leg. “It’s odd to think I’ll never be here again.”
“And when you leave, you’ll be on the long road to Meru.”
The mention of her forthcoming journey returned Vi’s attention to the key in her hands. She held it up in her palm, showing him. Taavin leaned forward, inspecting it.
“Does it mean anything to you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I haven’t seen any keys in my dreams. But that doesn’t mean it’s not significant.”
“It is… I’m sure of it,” Vi insisted. Perhaps it was just hopeful thinking that her efforts hadn’t been for naught.
“We will find out.” Taavin placed his hands on either side of hers. The motion drew her attention back to his face. Without either of them realizing it, they had leaned forward, the distance between them shrunken to almost nothing. “I admire what you’re doing and wish I could do the same. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve met.”
“You’re just saying that.” Even if he was, it made the rock that was her stomach soften some, the weight within her lessen. If he could believe she was brave, then maybe she could trust him enough to believe it herself.
“I’m not. I’ve never said anything to you I don’t mean.” His voice was soft and soothing. The warmth of his hands was melting into her, soothing her trembles. In moments like this, Vi forgot his corporeal form was halfway across the world.
“Don’t abandon me on this journey,” Vi whispered. “If I’m to walk out that door today and put on my bravest of faces, it will be because I know you will be with me.” Was that true? Vi hardly had time to think before the words were out. She certainly hadn’t planned on saying anything of the like.
“I will be with you until the end of time.” The words illuminated her brighter than the glyph slowly rotating around her wrist. They were said in the common tongue, but they were three times as powerful as any of the words of Yargen.
“Do you mean it?” she breathed.
“So much it frightens me…” The sentence trailed off. Vi could feel that there was more unsaid. More that he thought but couldn’t bring himself to say.
Or perhaps she was merely imposing her own feelings onto him.
“Taavin, I—”
There was a knock on the door. She looked to it, and then back to him. There was a brief, pained expression on his face. She didn't want to let him go yet. There was more to say. But she didn’t quite know what, yet. And that meant it couldn’t be said now.
His expression softened and, as if reading her mind, Taavin gave a small nod.
“Come in,” Vi called, pocketing the key and releasing the glyph that brought Taavin into her world.
The door opened and Ellene poked her nose in. Her eyes were already red and shining. Vi swallowed hard, forcing her own not to match.
“How weird…” Ellene murmured, looking at the empty bed. Her eyes swept across the room. “I always thought you didn’t have very much by way of personal items… but now I realize there was a lot more than I ever noticed because it feels so empty in here now.”
Vi couldn’t argue. She felt it too. Her presence had already been scrubbed from these chambers.
“Sit with me?” Vi directed the young woman’s attention to where Taavin had just been.
Ellene wasted no time. In one fluid movement she crossed the room, sat on the other edge of the ledge, and scooped up Vi’s hands in a bone-crushing grip—a grip Vi was certain she returned. “I will come to you the first moment I can. Even if it’s in winter.”
Vi was forced to look away. Her gut twisted. There would be no chance to visit, in winter or otherwise, and Ellene would find out that fact through the words of someone else. Her secrecy would betray their friendship and all the trust Ellene had ever placed in her.
Yet a secret her plans must remain. She couldn’t risk it. So, instead, when words weren’t enough, actions would shine far brighter.
She pulled Ellene’s hands toward her, and with them the girl herself. Vi loosened her grip in time to catch her before they both tumbled out the window. Ellene’s arms were around her waist, Vi’s around her shoulders. Her dark corkscrew hair tickled Vi’s nose.
“I will miss you more than you know,” Vi whispered.
“And I you.” Ellene’s words were muffled, spoken into Vi’s chest. “Mother told me that I must be strong. She told me not to be sad, because your fate is far greater than even ours.”
Vi squeezed her tighter, closing her eyes. Despite everything she had just said to Taavin, despite her resolve, despite her lifelong dream to be reunited with her family… some small part of her wished to stay. What would her life have been like if she could run the jungles with Ellene for the rest of her days? She could settle with a kind and handsome man like Darrus, and they would live comfortably.
There was happiness she could stumble on, here.
Slowly, Vi’s eyes opened, turning toward the brutal dawn. The statement brought another brief wondering. How much did Sehra know? How much of her fate had the mysterious traveler revealed? Had she always somehow known Vi was the Champion?
It didn’t matter much now, she supposed.
“We will write our own fate,” she whispered. That was why she must leave—to stop the White Death and do what she could to prevent the end of the world she’d witnessed. Her visions were still malleable. “In a few years’ time, Ellene… your mother will teach you about the magic of Yargen.”
“Yargen’s magic?” Ellene straightened, rubbing her eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s hard to explain now.” Vi gave her a tired smile. “But when that time comes, ask your mother about people who could read them.”
“Read… them?”
“Yes. It’ll make sense to both you and her then, I promise.” Vi rested a hand on her friend’s shoulder.
“I don’t understand.”
“I know.”
“Can’t you tell me?” she pleaded, and Vi nearly gave in.
“No, not yet. Eventually though.”
“Swear to me.”
“I swear.” Go to Meru. Put an end to the White Death. Find her father. Reunite her family. And then tell Ellene everything. It was a long list of things that had to come first, but Vi would do them all. She had no other choice.
Another soft knock stole their attention. Jax stood in the halfway open doorway. His expression was closed and difficult to read.
“It’s time,” he said, and Vi didn’t know where his solemn tone came from. What did he feel? Joy, surely? This had never been his home. He must be far more eager to be liberated of it.
Ellene gripped Vi’s hand again, as though she could stop her from leaving.
“I’ll give you two a moment to finish up.” Jax stepped out of the room.
“Vi… please don’t go.” Ellene’s voice cracked. “What am I to do without you?
”
“The same things you do with me.” Vi forced a smile. Crown princesses did not fall apart outwardly. Any crumbling would be hidden from the world. For Ellene’s sake, right now, if nothing else. “You will get into trouble. You will race noru, and go on hunts, and learn how to be a good and just chieftain from your mother. And at—” Her throat went thick, choking on her lie. “—at the first possible opportunity before the roads close in winter, you’ll come visit and I’ll hear all about what trouble you’re making.”
Ellene nodded, once, twice, several times. As though she could convince herself if she jostled Vi’s words around in her mind enough. Her fingers squeezed once around Vi’s, so hard her knuckles popped. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and closed it once more when no words came.
Slowly, the girl lifted her hands, releasing Vi’s. She undid the clasp on the bracelet she always wore during ceremonial events—a simple leather wrap with a single wooden bead carved from the bark of the Mother Tree.
“I want you to have this.”
“Ellene, I cannot.” But even as Vi spoke her objection, the girl was tying her treasure around Vi’s outstretched wrist. “This is—”
“I will live under the shade of the Mother Tree for the rest of my days. I don’t need its bark protecting me. You need this more than I do.” Her dark fingers wrapped around the bracelet, holding it against Vi’s skin. It was a comfortable warmth, like a security blanket. “If nothing else, it will be something for you to remember me by.”
All objections dropped with her stomach. A sorrow unlike anything Vi had ever felt before flooded in, filling the space, rising through her chest and pouring from her eyes and onto her cheeks before she even had a chance to stop it. She pulled her wrist from Ellene’s grasp and threw her arms around the girl, her friend—her sister of another’s blood. Vi tightened her grip and Ellene held her just as fiercely. Crushed against each other, they could each feel the quivering breaths, the shaking shoulders of the other that meant the tears finally won.