The Black Star (Book 3)

by Edward W. Robertson

  "What the hell?" Dante said on the roof.

  "What?" Cee said.

  "Quiet. It's my turn to be mysterious."

  The woman shrank from sight a rung at a time. As soon as her head dropped beneath floor level, Dante sent the rat in after her. It clung tight to the ladder's side. The lantern bobbed on the woman's hip, shining onto a platform a few feet further down. She stepped onto it, reached for a rope looped around a pulley, and cranked the stone panel back into place above her head.

  A stone staircase descended from the platform. Dante let the woman get a head start, then sent the rat down after her. Sand gritted beneath its paws. The rat's perspective made it difficult to tell for sure, but after what felt like about three flights of stairs, the creature scampered out into a dim cavern. And not a natural one. The floor was paved with bricks. Sand lay thick in their cracks and seams. Buildings loomed in the darkness, looking terribly ancient yet well-preserved.

  But what drew his eye was the address posts in front of each one.

  He withdrew his sight from the rat and grinned at Cee. "I think you've found our missing building."

  20

  The first thing Blays did was yell at the fish. The second thing he did was wonder if fish had ears. The third thing he did was take a deep breath and swim as fast as he could toward the grinder and the snail it was busy harassing.

  The fish was so intent on its would-be meal that it didn't notice him until he was within three feet. It floated to the side, regarding him without fear. He reached for the snail, careful of its spines, and pulled. It stuck to the rock, then popped free.

  The grinder darted in for a bite. Blays swiped at it with his spear. It darted back, hovering out of reach, then turned its tail and flashed away.

  He kicked upward toward the waning light. Something brushed his hand. He jerked it back and the snail spun from his grip, wobbling toward the ocean floor. Blays shouted out, bubbles flowing past his face, and brought up his foot, catching the snail on the flat of his fin. He snatched it up and surfaced, holding it aloft.

  "Is this it?" he said. "Please, please tell me this is it."

  Minn's grin burst across her face. "You are currently holding a kellevurt."

  "I am? Now what do I do with it?"

  "Well, I would either kill it or bring it to shore before it stings you."

  At that, he almost dropped it again. For the moment, however, it had sucked itself into its shell. He paddled toward land, keeping both eyes pinned on it for any sign of fangs, stingers, or probosces. His fin kicked sand. He found his footing and slapped ashore, holding the kellevurt away from his body.

  "What's next?" he said. "Do some sort of blessing? An incantation? Or do we wait for Ro to come and cast the spell?"

  Minn eyed him. She reached into the oiled leather pouch she'd carried with her at all times and removed a hooked knife and a delicately curved spoon. She took the snail from him and jabbed it with the knife. A bit of fluid dribbled to the sand. She let a few moments pass, then jabbed the knife inside the shell and sawed in a circle. She removed the knife, inserted the spoon, and withdrew a slimy mass of snail and guts.

  She held it out to him. "Chow down."

  He tapped his thumbnail against his teeth. "Is this really necessary?"

  "This is what the People do."

  "Does it help connect you to the power of the shell?"

  "Could be. It will certainly help you remember this moment."

  He moved an inch closer to the damp tube of goo she was offering him. "What about its venom?"

  "Harmless when ingested. It's only dangerous when it stings you."

  He still couldn't tell if she was joking, but there was only one way to find out. He pinched the tail of the de-shelled snail, tipped back his head, and dropped it in his mouth. He'd intended to swallow it whole, but it was now obvious that would choke him to death. He chomped down, slashing his jaw back and forth to shear it in half. Saltwater and bitter juice filled his mouth. He chewed quickly, got half down, gagged, decided gagging was better than holding the rest of it in his mouth for any longer, and swallowed.

  "That'll freshen your breath," he said, eyes watering. "How about a celebratory kiss?"

  She looked disgusted, then decided this was hilarious. "Well done. Even if it took you until the very last moment we were here."

  "Yes, it was a true display of skills, paddling about in the ocean until I happened on one at random."

  "Finding a kellevurt might not be a skill," she admitted. "But persistence is."

  "Where do you come up with all these pearls of wisdom?"

  "By lazing around in the ocean all day, obviously."

  He thought there might be some ritual to finalize things or "seal" the shell to him or what have you, but Minn dried off, dressed, and headed toward the cabin. There, she cleaned out the shell and rubbed it with a cloth.

  While she did this, he built up a fire, then sat back from the flames. "Now what?"

  She fixed him with a look of great significance. "Now, you make dinner."

  He thought this was unfair, given that he was a victorious champion and all, but he was hungrier than the grinder had been. He cooked up some fish they'd caught at dawn.

  "I suppose you want to get right to it," Minn said once they'd finished their meal.

  "It had crossed my mind."

  "There's something to be said for anticipation."

  "Waiting only makes things stale and moldy." He moved to the table and picked up the empty shell. It was heavy, solid. His feelings toward it were the confused ambivalence he felt after slaying a worthy foe on the battlefield: elation for his triumph, but sadness that such a rare creature had been removed from the world. "I'm tired. We can wait until tomorrow. But can you at least tell me how it works?"

  She stood and moved beside him, considering the shell. "In many ways, I have no idea whatsoever. Here's what we do know about the kellevurt. It's a scavenger. One that prefers its dead fresh. So does the nether."

  "Wolves and buzzards eat carrion, too. But I've never heard of a sorcerer lusting after their bones. For that matter, I've spent long enough staring into tide pools to know that crabs eat dead junk all day, too."

  "But they eat mere flesh. The kellevurt seems to feed on not only the meat, but also on the nether drawn to it."

  "Why?" Blays drew back his head. "Don't tell me they're snails with sorcerous powers."

  "Not that I've seen," she said, amused. "I can't tell you why they do it. Or how they alone of all creatures—that we know about—do so. All I can tell you is they seem to store it in their shells. If you have one of those shells, you can draw on what they've collected."

  "Yeah, but the shadows are in everything, right? Why don't I just go pick up a rock and draw on its nether?"

  "You could. But it wouldn't give you much to work with. It's vastly more concentrated in the shells."

  "Makes sense. I guess." He turned the shell over in his hand. "So why does it work best for the person who found it?"

  "I have no idea, Blays. I'm not an expert on the supernatural qualities of aquatic snails."

  "Just trying to understand."

  "Wonderful. Meanwhile, in the practical realm, you lack the ability to generate power. This will provide a source of it for you. With any luck, by observing how it provides that power, you'll learn to draw on more of it for yourself."

  He tapped one of its spines. "Thank you for having the patience to field my endless questions."

  She smiled wryly. "Maybe I'm frustrated that I don't know all the answers. One of the others might know more. They're older than I am, you know."

  He shot up his eyebrows. "I hadn't noticed."

  She grabbed his collar and pulled his shirt over his face. He clutched the shell tight, careful not to drop it until the assault was over.

  Prowling the waters until the last of the light had taken a lot of out of him, and he slept later than intended, waking mid-morning. Minn served him breakfast. After, he h
elped clean out the house (for what good it would do; by the next time the People of the Pocket came here, weather and animals would have rendered it filthy again). Once this was done, they carried their few belongings down to the beach. Minn spotted the boat first, pointing out its sail.

  A couple hours later, the Outcast ground into the sand. Ro stood at its front, gazing down at him. Blays held up the shell.

  "You found one." She sent her focus winging into the shell's curls. "It's a good one."

  "Thanks." He glanced at Minn, expecting a ceremony to ensue. She passed her gear up to the ship and clambered aboard. He did the same.

  On the ride back to the cove, he did some mental poking around in the shell. It was indeed a storehouse of nether. The shadows came to him like eager puppies. He looked around for Minn, but she was off talking to Ro. He didn't want to get ahead of himself before she had the chance to show him how the kellevurt actually worked, so he limited his explorations. Yet by the time they'd landed on the sands of Pocket Cove, he'd already discovered how to integrate the shell's stored nether into the cycle of the Four Seasons.

  He hopped down, helped unload, then splashed over to Minn. "Ready to put me through my paces?"

  "How about tomorrow?"

  "What plans could be more important than me?"

  "Ro wants to see to my leg," she said.

  "Okay, you found the one thing more important." He couldn't help glancing down at it. Back on Ko-o, she'd claimed it no longer hurt, but she was still limping.

  She went inside the caves with Ro and the others. Blays wandered down to the tide pools to practice with his shell. After spending the last two weeks with her, usually separated by no more than a dozen yards, it felt strange to be alone again.

  But there were upsides, too. Like doing things you weren't supposed to.

  He sat down on the rocks and drew a sharpened shell down the back of his left arm. Blood welled from the scratch. Nether leapt from the tide pool. He shaped it into a ball, moved his focus to its center, then reached into the shell. The grape-sized ball of shadows expanded to an an apple, then a melon. Blays laughed. As the darkness neared his face, he flinched, expecting it to be as cold as the sea, but he felt nothing at all. His sight winked off, enveloped by total darkness.

  He fooled around with this until the sky was as dark as the shadowsphere, then went to the caves to eat and sleep. In the morning, he was eager to show Minn what he'd learned, but he didn't see her. Two days later, on his way back from hauling water from the falls, he spotted her walking along the sand.

  "Where'd your limp go?" he said. "Did Ro scare it away?"

  Minn's look was unreadable. "Don't patronize me. She did the best she could, but it will always be there."

  "It really does look much better. How do you feel?"

  "I'm perfectly fine." She frowned at him. "Do you feel guilty? I chose to take you to Ko-o."

  "Because I'm so crummy at this I needed the help of a magic snail."

  "Pocket Cove may be safe, but I'm happy to expose myself to the world—and its dangers—when I get the chance. I'm glad we went. The cost could have been far greater." A smile lifted the corner of her mouth. "Now show me what you've learned."

  Blays glanced downshore toward the pools. "Have you been spying on me?"

  "I don't need to spy to know you'd be too impatient to wait for me."

  "How dare you know me so well." He laughed, then put on a sly look. "I might have picked up a new trick or two. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

  "For the sake of your health, I hope you're referring to my leg."

  "Nope. I want to see you shadowalk."

  "I was wondering when you'd ask." She held her arms out from her sides. "Don't blink."

  She smiled and vanished. Blays not only blinked, he stumbled back a step, bonking his shoulder into something solid. He whirled and faced empty space. Something tapped his other shoulder. He spun around, but nothing was there either.

  Minn's laughter pealed from the air. She materialized in front of him. "Okay, now it's time for you to drop your pants. Metaphorically speaking."

  "Holy shit! How did you do that?"

  "How do you think?"

  "I know, I know," he said. "Years of practice. So can you walk through walls?"

  Minn shook her head. "Ro, maybe. I'm not sure. I think she gets a kick out of keeping her abilities so mysterious we're willing to believe she can do anything."

  "This is how you stay hidden, isn't it? If Moddegan launched an armada to come slaughter you, he wouldn't see a single soul. Meanwhile, you'd be fighting not to giggle."

  "More or less. Though he has sorcerers of his own. Harder to hide from them."

  "Right. Well, I'm going to need you to teach me this. Immediately."

  Before she could object, he opened his palm and expanded a pebble of nether until the sphere enveloped his whole body. He dropped his focus and the darkness snapped away.

  Minn was smiling. "So our weeks on the island weren't a waste."

  Now that he had a supply of nether and an idea of how to work it, they made good progress. Relatively speaking, anyway. It took multiple days of practice before he was able to create and manipulate shadowspheres at a distance from himself. It seemed pretty elementary—he wasn't doing anything more than making the nether's darkness visible to others (and blowing it into a big old ball). The physical world remained untouched.

  To test his abilities, she showed him two other things the nether did naturally: hurting and healing. Blays proved skilled at neither. Minn reminded him that he had already advanced further and faster than most people were capable of, and suggested he continue to practice both abilities. If nothing else, failing at them might help him understand how to do other things better.

  That night, he exhausted himself with practice. Yet before dawn, he found himself half awake. The animal side of his brain was listening to the rasp of feet out in the hallway. It was very quiet, but that just made his mind more alert to it. So did the fact the steps were slightly irregular. Now fully awake—at least, his eyes were open—his bladder began to compete for his attention. He pulled on his shoes and cloak and went outside.

  It was still dark out. Moonlight shined on the foam of the waves. Not far up the beach, a woman walked to the north. Her silhouette was familiar, but the slight limp confirmed it. He quickly went about his business, then moved to the cliffs and hugged the shadows. He was not surprised when Minn entered the enclosed stairwell up to the Fingers.

  In the tight rock walls, noise echoed explosively, and he had to wait until her footsteps placed her near the top before he dared follow her in. He jogged up lightly. At the exit, he poked up his head and peered into the fog sifting through the Fingers. No sign of her. He wandered east and soon heard her murmuring with a man.

  Like the previous encounter, he hung back. This time, when she wrapped up her conversation and started back toward the stairs, Blays popped out from behind a rocky column.

  "What the hell!" she yelled.

  "Let's get this out of the way: yes, I was spying on you."

  "And what the fuck makes you think you have the right to do that?"

  "Because you've been sneaking around and lying to me for months?" He stepped forward. "What's going on? Are you having forbidden relations, Minn?"

  Her mouth fell open. "That's my brother."

  "So 'forbidden' in several senses."

  "Are you jealous?"

  "I'm not a fan of being kept in the dark by people who are supposed to be my friends."

  "It's nothing you need to be worried about. I like to keep up with what's happening in our homeland, that's all." She glanced toward the beach below. "You can't tell Minn. We're not supposed to have contact with outsiders. And they're certainly not supposed to be coming up to the Fingers."

  "You've been seeing a lot of him," Blays said. "Is everything all right out there?"

  Her eyes skipped between his. "Hard to say."

  "I might not be
able to bend the nether if I had a crowbar, but when it comes to intrigue, I've got a lifetime of experience. Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

  She took a long breath and let out a longer sigh. "I grew up in Gallador. My brother still lives there. We don't hear much from the outside world at Pocket Cove, but even I know that in the last few years, Gallador has seen more than its share of turmoil."

  Blays quickly nodded for her to continue; he had been a significant source of that turmoil and did not want to feel tempted to divulge that.

  "They've managed to hang on," she said. "They're resourceful people who view setbacks as a new challenge. But over the last few months, things have been..."

  "If he's coming to you for help, it's got to be extraordinary circumstances."

  "Right." She shook her head sharply. "But there's nothing I could do about it even if I wanted."

  "Because you can't leave the Pocket? What will they do to you if you take an unauthorized vacation?"

  "At best, my lee would be left in tatters. It would take years of drudge-work before I was trusted enough to continue my own training. At worst, they would throw me out. Banish me."

  He scratched his cheek. "So why not tell Ro you're taking me outside for another lesson?"

  Her eye gleamed. "I couldn't lie to her. She'd know."

  "Gallador's not so far away. We get there in a couple days, check things out, then run back home."

  "Why would you offer? This doesn't concern you."

  "It concerns you. Therefore it concern me." He reached for her arm, but didn't touch it. "Minn, fixing odd problems is what I do. I'm something of an expert. You've put your life on hold to teach my bungling ass. The least I can do is help you solve whatever's bedeviling your family."

  She grimaced at the mist drifting between the pillars. "Maybe you're just restless."

  "Think what you like," he said. "But do think about it."

  He headed down the stairs. She didn't follow. He was wide awake, so he returned to his practice at the pools, throwing shadowspheres over befuddled crabs. When he tired of that, he tried to use the nether to hack mussels from the rocks, but the shadows bounced away harmlessly. It was like he couldn't draw them into the real world, or hone what he could sharp enough to leave a mark.