by Davis Ashura
Later on he’d told Travail what he had seen and felt, and while the troll had read similar accounts from other asrasins, as far as he knew no one had a proper understanding of what such a happening meant. But having experienced that perfect peace once, William longed for it again.
This morning, though, wouldn’t be one of those days. Not with Serena’s presence. She’d come to Travail’s home, wanting to test William’s and Jake’s progress. Of course, Fiona had decided to join her. The old raha’asra often showed up unannounced, helping with their instruction whether they wanted her there or not.
“I am the second set of eyes that the Servitor requires to properly determine your growth,” Fiona had explained to them once.
When she had been the one charged with their instruction, she had been horrible to them, but ever since Travail had taken over their teaching, she’d been different. Pleasant and kind. William didn’t know what had stirred the change in Fiona’s behavior, but he was grateful.
Nevertheless, hard feelings died slowly.
“How well can they source their Spirits?” Serena asked Travail.
“They are progressing nicely,” Travail answered. He had his face turned up to the morning sun.
William, Jake, and the two women waited for Travail to explain himself, but he said no more.
“What does that mean?” Serena asked. A breeze, warm and carrying the scent of the nearby pine forest, stirred her hair.
“It means what I said. I am satisfied with their progress, and so, too, should the Servitor.”
“They’re learning far faster than I did,” Fiona said, with what on anyone else would have been a fond smile.
Travail nodded gravely. “Very true.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything,” Serena replied, her tone irritated.
“They can source their Spirits with little effort,” Travail said. “A few more weeks of practice and it should become as simple for them as taking a deep breath. Does that suffice?” Irritation suffused his voice as well.
“No, that doesn’t suffice,” Serena snapped. “When are you going to teach them to separate their Spirit into the other Elements?”
From behind her back, William rolled his eyes. Always complaints with her. Move faster. Work harder. He flipped her the bird when only Jake could see, and Jake coughed in his hand, hiding a smile.
“I won’t teach them to do that for many more months to come,” Travail answered. “What you mahavans do in the training of your shills is a farce. You push them too quickly, throwing them into deep waters when their minds and lorethasra are unready. It is why so many of them fail to advance as bishans.” He narrowed his eyes. “I imagine Selene with her kind disposition will struggle in that regard as well.”
Fleeting dismay flashed across Serena’s face, brief and easily missed, but William had seen it.
Fiona had as well, and the old raha’asra eyed Serena with a face pinched in speculation. “Your sister has yet to undergo her Tempering, and you fear for her.”
Serena had quickly regained her composure. “I fear nothing for a drone’s future, and she only becomes my sister if she passes her Tempering.”
She lied. William knew it. He’d seen the affection Serena had for Selene. The love. While Serena was a consummate liar, that kind of emotion couldn’t be affected. Her love for Selene was real.
Fiona must have thought the same. “You raised her when her mother died. Don’t tell me you don’t care for her. A true mother always does.”
“What would you know of a mother’s love?” Serena asked, sounding contemptuous. “A mother’s love is a weakness. You should know this better than most. After all, weren’t you a broodmare to several children, all of them taken from you?”
Fiona sourced her lorethasra and a faint rose fragrance wafted. She gestured, and Serena’s eyes widened. The world grew quiet, and William shared a look of confusion with Jake. Even Travail seemed to have no idea what was going on.
“The world without cannot hear us,” Fiona said. “My braid will silence our words. We can speak freely with no Walkers to overhear.”
William turned to Travail.
“I’ll explain later,” the troll murmured.
“How did you do that?” Serena demanded of Fiona.
“I remember being loved by my mother,” Fiona said, not answering Serena’s question. “Before I came here. I remember her laughter and taking long walks with her through the park. I also remember my father holding me when thunder shook our house and how he kept me safe and loved me. My brothers and sisters, my family, I remember them all. I’ve never forgotten.”
“How very touching,” Serena said, “but none of that is important. Neither is Selene.” She wore a sardonic smile, but a fleeting expression of longing seemed to wash across her features.
“You lie,” Fiona whispered.
“And you’re afraid.”
“Of course I am,” Fiona admitted.
“Afraid of what?” William ventured. “What’s going on?”
Both women shot him scowls of annoyance.
“She’s braided a block around all of us so no one can hear what we say,” Serena explained before turning back to Fiona. “I thought only Walkers could do that.”
“Or a skilled raha’asra.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to be all that skilled,” Jake said, hesitantly.
“So everyone was meant to believe,” Travail replied.
“I’m missing something,” William said.
Serena seemed puzzled, too. “I think we all are.”
Travail peered into Fiona’s eyes and whispered, “She needs to know.”
“When I came to Sinskrill,” Fiona said, “I poured every effort into finding a way off the island. “I even had a plan, one quite similar to yours: a boat.”
William’s head snapped to Fiona. How did she know? And if she knew about the dhow, what else did she know?
Even Serena couldn’t entirely contain her shock.
“You have nothing to fear from me, child,” Fiona said. “None of you do. When I failed in my attempt to escape, I was recaptured, and the Servitor of the time—your father’s aunt—gave me to a drone with whom I was to breed. With him I had two daughters and a son. All three were stolen from me and given to others. But I knew them,” she continued. “I watched them. I loved them whenever I could, and for that sin, the Servitor stripped my oldest child for some minor infraction when she was seven and ensured that my middle child failed her Tempering.
“When that punishment wasn’t enough to ensure my fealty, the Servitor lashed me, a private punishment that ironically took her life a few months later.” Fiona smiled in satisfaction.
Serena scowled. “Who are you?”
“Your mother’s mother,” Fiona answered. “Your true mother. Cinnamon, the one who taught you to garden.”
William could have been struck by a flying pig and he wouldn’t have been more stunned.
“You look very little like her, but thankfully not like your father either,” Fiona continued. “But Selene does. She looks like Cinnamon, my daughter, the girl who I loved above all else.”
Serena wore a stricken expression. Her mouth briefly opened and closed.
“I’ve always loved you as well, Serena,” Fiona said, “but I could never show you my affection. After what happened to my children, I feared for you. I stayed away, but your mother had no such fears. Even as a child, Cinnamon had more courage than I. A bright light and a wondrous woman. She loved you as a mother should, without reservation. It was her love that helped you grow into a good, decent person.”
William made a sound of scorn.
Fiona addressed him. “She isn’t perfect, but she did what she had to for the one person she loves in this world: Selene.” She returned to Serena. “While you’re a decent person, Selene has a chance to be a good one, like Cinnamon. Selene must be treasured and saved from this place.”
“And you’ll help us?” Serena asked with
a smirk, but William could see suppressed hope in her eyes as well.
“I will do whatever is needed to save both of you from this island,” Fiona vowed.
“She speaks true,” Travail said.
Serena stared Fiona in the eyes, and she must have seen something she believed because she nodded acceptance. “We have much to discuss,” she said, still apparently studying the old raha’asra.
“A conversation we should have had long ago.” Fiona gestured again, and the noises of the world resumed.
“You’ve done well,” Serena said to Travail. “I will let the Servitor know that the new raha’asras are progressing well, but they really should be taught to separate their Spirits. It could prove useful.”
“I’ll consider it,” Travail said.
“I’ll let the Servitor know of their progress as well,” Fiona added.
With that, the two women left.
“What just happened?” Jake asked, echoing William’s own thoughts.
“I have no idea,” William replied. He watched the two women make their way down the trail back to Village White Sun. It felt like a storm had passed overhead.
“Do you believe them?” Jake asked.
William shook his head. At the end of the day, they were both liars, no different from everyone else on the island.
“Fiona spoke the truth,” Travail said. “Every word. I know. I trained her.”
“I don’t trust them,” William replied.
“Same here,” Jake said.
“But maybe we won’t have to,” William said. Walkers could hear everything, but they couldn’t listen in on what they never saw. On a bare patch of ground, William bent down and wrote, ‘Dream last night. Mr. Zeus coming on a boat.’
Jake smiled.
Hours afterward, Serena still couldn’t get the conversation with Fiona out of her mind.
Fiona was her grandmother?
Serena had never known it. Never suspected, and Cinnamon had never told her.
“What happened to my grandfather?” Serena had asked as they walked away from Travail’s home. Once again, they spoke in the safety of a block. “The father of your children.”
“He died,” Fiona answered, her voice curt. “As soon as I was able, I no longer allowed him to use me.”
She had briefly wondered whether Fiona was lying about their relationship, but Travail had vouched for her, so it seemed unlikely. As a justice, the troll’s honesty was above reproach, which meant that as hard as it was to believe, Fiona spoke true.
During their walk along the curves and steep hills descending from Travail’s field to Village White Sun, Serena had studied the old woman’s face, seeking out the tell-tale resemblances in their features. She had found only one startling similarity. They shared the same eyes, the same hue and shape. How had she never noticed it before?
With those disturbing thoughts on her mind, she went to report to the Servitor. He waited for her in Lord Shet’s Hall and sat in silence upon his Chair while she spoke.
“Travail believes they’ll master sourcing their Spirits in a few more weeks,” Serena said. “Soon, he plans on teaching them to separate it into their component Elements.” She finished her account and hoped her distracted thoughts hadn’t been too obvious.
The Servitor asked a few more questions before he eventually nodded approval. “Very good. Thank you, daughter. If what you say is true, then matters are moving as smoothly as I require.” His gaze grew sharp. “I will shortly take Fiona’s account as well. I trust there will be no discrepancies.”
Serena shrugged. “I couldn’t say. Her account is her own, but if you’re asking if she will contradict what I told you, I find it unlikely.”
“As you say,” the Servitor said. He settled back in his Chair and waved Serena off in dismissal. “Send Fiona in.”
“Yes, my liege,” Serena said, her face remaining untroubled. She and Fiona had already planned what to tell the Servitor, making their accounts different enough that he shouldn’t suspect they’d been rehearsed.
Serena bowed and made her way out of the Hall. As she did so, her eyes went to the stained-glass windows, and for some reason she remembered the church in Cincinnati she and William had visited all those months ago. Unfortunately, the images here weren’t of a loving Christ or a saving God, but of Lord Shet and his bloody battles. The scenes, violent and savage, never brought Serena any comfort, and her lips curled in disgust.
As her gaze returned to the doors leading into the Hall, a trick of the light made a mirror of one of the iridescent columns lining the room, and Serena saw a distorted reflection of the Servitor on his Chair.
She almost stumbled when she beheld his visage. His mouth had elongated, and tufts of fur covered arms bulging with ropes of muscle. The Servitor had the appearance of a bear. Serena gave her head a slight shake, trying to disperse what she saw. It had to be a trick of the light or the mirror.
But the image persisted, and Serena barely held in a gasp as understanding came to her. The Servitor was an unformed.
Serena called upon every ounce of her training to keep her pace steady and smooth, her gait loose and unhurried, though she wanted to sprint out of the Hall. But all the way to the end, she maintained an eyes-forward posture, looking neither left nor right, and certainly not glancing back at the Servitor.
She finally reached the far doors and pulled them open. Until she exited the Hall, she didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath, and she finally exhaled. A guard glanced at her and yawned.
“He wants you,” Serena told Fiona, who stood waiting outside.
The old raha’asra must have seen something on her face. She quirked a questioning brow, and Serena shook her head, flicking her eyes toward the guard.
Later, her manner was meant to convey.
Fiona nodded imperceptibly and swept past as she entered Lord Shet’s Hall.
Serena walked on, maintaining her steady, unhurried pace and forcing her face to the bland disinterest common to drones and mahavans alike.
An unformed sat upon the Servitor’s Chair.
Serena’s heart pounded, thudded loudly in her ears, and it surprised her that no one she passed in the hallways heard it or recognized her terror.
She made it to her quarters, and once there, she carefully shut the door, leaning against it before sliding to the ground. She closed her eyes while her heartbeat slowly recovered to normal.
Although not normally a religious person—she had absolutely no use for Shet—Serena certainly believed he existed. But how could he allow an unformed to fill the Servitor’s Chair? Sacrilege.
Serena covered her face as a worse realization occurred to her.
Selene was around that monster every day. The girl was in constant jeopardy, and somehow, Serena would have to accept it and maintain the fiction that she didn’t know the truth about the Servitor.
SCHEMES PUT INTO PLAY
June 1987—Arylyn
* * *
Jason checked the straps of his pack one final time before lugging it onto his back. “Ready,” he said to Mr. Zeus.
“Good. Let’s get moving,” his grandfather replied.
Mr. Zeus gestured, and Jason and the other volunteers—Daniel, Julius, Rukh, and Jessira—fell in behind him. His grandfather had chosen all of them for the mission to Sinskrill, thinking they possessed the necessary talents and skills to carry out their raid on the mahavans’ home.
Julius O’Brien—a dreadlocked immigrant from Jamaica—and Daniel were Adepts in Water, a useful talent since they’d be sailing a boat to Sinskrill. Jason had skills in both Air and Fire, also useful abilities on a boat, while Mr. Zeus was the best Spiritualist on Arylyn. He was also good with Air and Earth.
As for Rukh and Jessira, although they couldn’t do much more than source their Spirit, they already far outstripped Jason when it came to the sword or bow. Those skills might also come in handy on Sinskrill.
Of course, others had volunteered, but the Villag
e Council had refused their petitions. These five were the only ones who’d been given permission to make the attempt.
When they reached Linchpin Knoll, the hill upon which all of Arylyn’s anchor lines were fastened, the morning sun had yet to burn off the overnight dew. A fog, chilly and unusual for Arylyn, held the world in stillness. No birdsong or insects marred the hush.
“Gather close,” Mr. Zeus ordered. “Let’s go over the plan one more time.”
This would be the twentieth time, and Jason tried not to roll his eyes.
Hawk-eyed Mr. Zeus noticed. “I see what you’re pretending not to do,” he said to Jason. “Pay attention anyway. I don’t care if you think I’m being overly cautious. We’re going over the plan again.”
“With all due respect, I think we know what to do,” Julius said. “We get to the Faroe Islands, figure out exactly where Sinskrill is located, and find out if William and Jake are still alive.”
“They’re alive,” Mr. Zeus said. “Last night I dreamed to William. I don’t think he realized it, but he answered. Jake is with him, and so is a troll, which is odd. I thought their kind had died out a long time ago.”
“They’re both alive? You’re sure?” Jason demanded, a surge of excitement racing through him.
“I’m sure,” Mr. Zeus replied. “Now, once we reach the Faroes, we need to proceed very carefully. We’ll have to mask our lorethasras the entire time. For Rukh and Jessira, they’ll both need an additional nomasra to do that. We can’t alert anyone of our presence, and the mahavans might have someone posted at the Faroes to prevent exactly what we’re trying to do.”
“Do we have enough nomasras for William and Jake?” Julius asked. “Last week you weren’t sure.”
“We have plenty,” Mr. Zeus answered. “We got the last two yesterday. But remember, once we’re on Sinskrill, nomasras or not, the mahavans will be far more powerful than we are. They’ll be braiding directly from their island, a lorasra they know quite well. We’ll be at their mercy if we run into any of them.”