“Ruben!” The prim girl scowls and pokes the boy. “Don’t be disrespectful!”
“Rae.” The red-haired girl tugs Raefe’s other arm. “I need a cloak.”
“In my bag, Saesa.” Raefe leans toward her, still watching. “No, can’t see inside the carriage. The curtains are closed. They might open them when they get closer.”
“I want to see!” Ruben whines while Saesa rummages through Raefe’s shoulder bag.
“Here,” she pulls out a thick green wool cloak and hands it to me. I eye it, and her. “Don’t be so suspicious,” she says. “It used to be Raefe’s but it’s too small now. It’s still good, though. Nobody else wanted it. We all just got new ones, you see, so Nessa said find someone who could use it. It has a hood and everything.”
She nudges me with it. My teeth chatter, but I still don’t accept. A drink is one thing, but this cloak is expensive. A gift is a trick, my Nan would say. Don’t trust it. Anyone who gives freely just wants power over you. It’s true. I’ve seen it happen.
“Here they come,” cries Raefe over the gasp of the crowd. “The curtains are open, now, too!”
“Let me up, Rae-Rae,” the youngest girl whines. The ribbons on her hat bounce as she tugs him.
“Okay, but hold on tight, Emmie,” Raefe says as he hefts her to his shoulders. She squeals and waves to the carriage. I feel the cloak drape my shoulders and wrap snug around my arms.
“Don’t argue. You’re cold, I can tell,” Saesa smiles at me as she ties the laces closed. Then she ducks to peek through the mass of the crowd in front of us. I should protest, but I don’t. It’s warm. Nice.
“Stay with them.”
Yes, stay with them. The crowd around us cheers as the carriage moves past. Through the crowd I catch glimpses of gold and purple and burnished wood. Those before us bow, and so do I as it passes. But I’m one of the first to look up.
“Hail, Prince Eron! Hail Princess Amei!” the crowd calls out. Inside the carriage, the princess waves happily. She is wrapped in clouds of lavender. Her skin is very dark. Rich and brown. Beside her, the prince looks pale but strong. He smiles and nods to those who call his name. His eyes are distant, though. Troubled. I wonder if anyone else notices. The crowd throws favors. Beside me, Saesa gasps.
“Oh, there she is! There she is, Rae!” she bounces with excitement and points to a rider far back in the escort. “Azaeli!” she calls out.
The knight is shorter than the other riders around her, but different. Her armor is blue like midnight with dazzling flecks that glitter in the sunlight. Her white cloak is trimmed with gold. The flag she waves is blue and gold check. A great two-handed sword is strapped to her saddle. Her face is covered to her cheeks with her helm. She grins and waves at Saesa, who squeals with delight.
“Azaeli.”
Yes, Azaeli. I watch carefully. She’s important. I understand. The others in blue and gold who ride beside her are proud. Tall. Each one is more different than the next, but something about Azaeli is special. I’m not sure what, I just know she’s different from the others. I try to pick out their professions. Five warriors, one a giant of a man. An archer with painted cheeks and pointed ears. Two Mages. A lady bard with crimson hair, spiked to a point. Two healers, but one of them might not be part of the group. He’s not in their colors.
A score of royal guard follow those, and behind them trail a group of peasants who chase behind the carriage, dancing and cheering.
“Will they escort him all the way to Kordelya Castle?” Ruben, the younger boy, asks.
“Just to the crossroads,” Saesa answers. “Then Baron Stenneler’s Guard will take them the rest of the way. Oh, imagine it! They could meet any kind of adventure out there! Bandits and Wildwoods. Or trolls! I’ll bet Sir Azaeli could beat twenty trolls on her own.”
“Oh, honestly, Saesa!” the bossy girl chides. “Only you would dream of being the knight. Not me,” she sighs. “Imagine being the princess, whisked off to a romantic castle to be pampered and served while waiting for the royal heir to arrive. Strolling by Lake Kordelya with Prince Eron…” she gazes toward the street dreamily. “I heard it’s warmer there. Better for the baby.”
“What does a princess do but sit around all day? I’d rather have adventure! Azi is the first knight her age in decades! That’s way better than a princess!”
“I heard,” Ruben pipes up, “that the real reason is they’re sending the prince away—”
“Ruben!” Raefe warns. He shakes his head as the people in front of us turn curiously. He lowers Emmie to the street and stretches his neck from side to side. “Time to go home,” he says. “Take Lilen’s hand, Emmie.”
“Yes, don’t gossip in the streets like a louse, Ruben.” Lilen grabs Emmie’s hand and gives the boy a disapproving look. Beside her, Saesa rolls her eyes and turns to me.
“Do you have a place to go?” she asks. I shake my head. “Come on, then,” she closes her warm mittened hand around mine and pulls me along with them. I let her.
Ice. Ribbons fluttering. Red curls bouncing. Sweets. Running. Sliding. Laughter. Warmth.
“We’re home!” everyone calls out as we tumble through the door out of the cold. Inside is bright and grand. Rich. Like a palace. They all sit. Pull off their boots. Line them neatly on the side of the carpet. Fold their wrappings and stow them in the carved cupboard. I hang up my cloak but that’s all. My boots are new. My gloves are new. I won’t lose them.
“Stay here.”
Yes, stay here. A woman with a baby on her hip appears at the top of the twisting staircase. She smiles and presses a finger to her lips.
“Garsi just went down,” she says in a hushed voice. “Into the sitting room with you. Luncheon soon.” Her feet are light on the polished stone stairs even holding the baby. Her dress is fine. It shimmers in the light from the high windows. “Oh, and you’ve brought a friend.” Her smile is bright. Kind. I look down at the carpet.
“Yes, can he stay?” Saesa pleads. Lilen rolls her eyes. Raefe ushers the others to the sitting room. How strange, I think, to have a room just for sitting.
“Well, it isn’t my place to say, is it? You’ll have to ask Nessa. Go on, then. Take Errie with you,” she says as she gives the wiggling baby to Saesa and crosses to another door. When she opens it, the mouthwatering aroma of fresh baked bread and stew seeps out into the foyer. My stomach growls. Saesa shifts the baby. Tugs my arm.
“Come on,” she says. “Meet Nessa.”
She doesn’t tell me to take off my boots, so I don’t. I walk on the thick carpet with them. I wonder what it would feel like on my toes. Soft. Like sand, maybe. The sitting room is fine. Elegant. Lots of fancy furniture and thick draperies and baubles. Expensive things. Sparkling things. Things that serve no purpose but to be looked at and not touched. The lady on the sofa fits right in. Her skirts are all ruffles that take up most of the seat and spill to the floor. Bright green, like the cloak. Enough fabric to clothe all of the girls. But they are dressed prettily enough on their own.
Emmie runs to the sofa and climbs up, trampling the gown. The lady beams. Hugs her. Kisses her face, still sticky with sweets. Sets her book on the side table as she lovingly takes the baby from Saesa. Her eyes twinkle as the rest swarm to hug and kiss and pile together around her. She doesn’t shout at them or scold them for wrinkling her dress. Instead, she hugs each of them warmly.
“So, did you see the prince, then?” she asks. Her voice is soft and kind. Excited, too.
“Oh, yes, and the princess,” Emmie says. She kneels on her lap, facing her. Reaches to Nessa’s perfectly done hair. Twirls a lock around her finger. It’s black, not red like Saesa’s or blonde like Lilen’s.
“And Azaeli.” Saesa says with excitement.
“All of His Majesty’s Elite were there. And a score of the Royal Guard, just like you thought,” Raefe says as he leans against the grand hearth. I edge closer to its warmth, listening as the rest of them recount every detail of the procession. Details
I didn’t notice, but that seem to interest Nessa very much. The crackling fire reminds me of the towers. The flames. The smoke as it rose into the night sky. My task accomplished. My new life begun.
Stay here.
Yes, I’ll stay here. Here, where they’ll never suspect me. Here, where I’ll be safe.
Chapter Two: Collectors
Tib
They make me sit in a tub of hot water. I scrub myself like I did in the sea. Wash away the soot and grime. I soak until it’s cold and my fingers are puckered. Still red, though. The dye will be part of me forever, I think.
At luncheon I tell them my story. Not the true one, the made up one. The one I’m supposed to tell. How I was in a trade caravan, bringing dye to Zhaghen on the night it burned. I was separated from my crew by the gathering crowd. I fell into the ocean and nearly drowned. I was pulled out of the water by the navy scout ship and begged to be taken away from the fields, to start a new life. The rest of my tale is mostly the truth. Nessa is fascinated by my past. Sympathetic. She says I can stay if I want to. I do.
She asks me what ships I saw on my journey. She wonders if I saw her husband’s at Cresten. She shows me a model of it as the little ones cling to the ruffles of her skirt. He’s Admiral of a fleet, she says. Gone for months at a time. I shake my head. Tell her I slept in Cresten. She seems sad and picks up Garsi, who’s up from her nap now. She’s a fat little thing who toddles around, cooing and laughing. It’s unsettling to see such a happy baby. They’re uncommon in Sunteri.
Callers are announced, and when Nessa leaves to greet them Saesa fetches cloaks and takes me away to the upstairs. We pass the room where I had my bath and go up a narrow stairway to a third floor. Then up a ladder into a place that seems secret. Private. Tiny. Too enclosed. Too much like the tree. The roots. I stop. Back down. She takes my hand. I feel a little better.
“Come on, I want to show you.” She tugs me.
“I don’t like closed spaces,” I say.
“But it isn’t.” Saesa pushes at the bottom of a square and it swings open with a rush of cold air. “It’s the widow’s walk.”
She slips outside and I follow, onto a narrow balcony on the roof of the house. Manse. Lilen already corrected me twice. This is a manse. The city sprawls out beneath us, and beyond it the ocean. White specks of sails dot the gray in the distance. Six specks. Six ships.
“Those must be the prince’s ships. The ones you mentioned.” Saesa points into the distance. She shivers and ties her cloak on. Hands me my green one. Moves closer to me as the wind whips past, so her shoulder presses mine.
“There’s the castle,” she says and points northward.
It’s grand. White. Nonthreatening, but strong. We stay up here all afternoon. She shows me the whole city: The Mage Academy, the arena, the guard watch towers. It’s nothing like Zhaghen. Everything is bright and clean. No spires looming. No Sorcerers watching and threatening. I smile when I think of them, crumbled to ash and dust. Ruined now. Towers no more.
Saesa teaches me about the market places and the forges and taverns and dealers. She tells me about Nessa and the others. How they were all unwanted at some time, and Nessa took them in. Taught them to be collectors. Gatherers of information. Watchers. Listeners.
Tonight, she says, we’ll have a visitor. A friend of Maisie’s from the palace. Maisie is the woman on the stairs. The one with the baby on her hip. The baby is hers. His name is Errie. She worked in the palace once. She can’t anymore. She lives here now and takes care of the others with Nessa, so she can be with Errie. Her friends come to see her from time to time. Maids from the palace on their evenings off. They’ll talk about lots of things. If we sit quietly and don’t ask questions, we might get to hear all of it. We’ll learn about the prince, Saesa says. The one on the ship. I wonder if they’ll talk about the towers.
They do, some. While the ladies gossip, Saesa teaches me how to play a game of chips on the carpet in front of the hearth. They say the fires in Zhaghen could start a war. Sunteri is blaming Cerion. Saying it must have been their spies who lit them. Demanding things. Money. Mages. Zhaghen’s Master Sorcerers have disappeared. Nobody knows where they are, or if they’re even still alive. I know some of them aren’t. I know they were killed in some battle before the spires burned. I don’t say a word. They drink spirits and talk about Prince Vorance. Rumors say he’s in love with the princess. She’s smitten, too, so much so that they think it might be Sorcery. It’s wrong, they say, that he should come to woo her while his country is threatening war. How sad if all of it is true, and the two young lovers are simply caught in the midst of it.
The talk turns bawdy as the ladies drink more wine. Nessa sends us away. We have rooms of our own, but after everyone is settled in bed Saesa sneaks into mine. We talk until midnight about what we heard. I want to tell her things I shouldn’t, but the words don’t come. Tomorrow, she tells me, we’ll go out into the city. She’ll show me where she practices sword fighting. She’ll show me secret places. She goes out and closes the door.
The room is too clean and too closed up. The bed too soft and plush. I open the window, pull a blanket to the floor, and finally fall asleep.
Nightmares. This is why I don’t like sleep. My older sister sits in the field, a book balanced on her knee. She picks the red blooms idly while she reads, and tosses them to a basket beside her. A breeze fans her black hair. It glistens in the sun. I look away, across the vast field of deep red. I know what’s coming. The sound of the lash. My sister’s painful cries. When I look back, her golden skin is streaked with tears and blood. She fades away into the flowers, leaving nothing behind. Just me.
Later now. Years later, in our small house. It’s too hot, even at night. We sleep on mats, Nan, little Zhilee, and me. The door, which is little more than a board on a hinge, slams open. He looms and we scream. The Sorcerer with skin so covered in the curls of the Mark that it’s black and blue as night. He wears it as a badge. A wicked display of his power. I’ve seen him before. Long ago, when he came to lure my sister. Offered her knowledge. Travel. Adventure. An escape from the whip. She accepted. A gift is a trick.
I put myself between him and the others, but it’s no use. He binds us with spells. Forces us to stand and dress. To walk to a carriage and get in. Nan’s eyes are filled with terror. Zhilee weeps silently. I stare into her eyes to try to comfort her. It’s the only thing I can do. I’m paralyzed. Can’t move. Then, the roots come. They creep around us, crushing the carriage, binding us as the trees grow up into the sky. They press our faces to the hot desert floor. The sand is fine like powder. It coats my nose and mouth as I breathe it. I feel I’ll die from thirst. Then the roots drip their musty, earthy water. Not too often. Not too much. Just enough so I don’t die. I drink as much as they let me.
Creatures gather. White, dead-looking, tiny creatures with great eyes as black as sister’s hair. They torment us. Pick at us. Tease with food. Dance. Screech. Fight each other. Pinch Zhilee. Make her cry and plead. I scream at them. Scream and rage and fight to get out.
“Tib?” Saesa’s hand is on me. I kick and claw and thrash. She shakes me. “Wake up, it’s just a bad dream, Tib.”
My eyes fly open and look straight into hers. Green. Bright. Filled with life. I’m panting. My throat is raw from screaming. I sit up. Hug my knees. Try to calm myself.
“Did they hear?” I ask warily. My voice is hoarse. I rub my neck.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Saesa says comfortingly. She gets up and closes the window. Shuts out the sun and the open space. Looks at me and remembers, and opens it again. “I have them, too. Most of us do. Even Maisie. Even Nessa.”
I stare in a daze as she takes the blanket from me and puts it back on the bed. She straightens it perfectly and explains that if we make up our own rooms, the maid leaves a treat on the bed. She has clothes for me. Old clothes of Raefe’s. Long-sleeved red shirt. Clean, gray trousers. She goes out to wait for me to change. I stare at the red shirt for a long time
. It makes me frightened and angry, this color. I think of red powder in barrels. Blossoms. My sister. Saesa knocks and I finally put it on, and we go downstairs together.
I feel empty this morning as the dream fades. Unsure. Uneasy. At breakfast, Nessa is telling Saesa to bring me around the city. To the market. Teach me how to find things out. Stay here. The thought rings over and over in my mind. Nessa doesn’t notice my mood. She’s excited to have another collector. She wants us to learn more about the six ships. She wants information on Prince Vorance. She wants word on her husband’s ship.
When breakfast is done, everyone files into the hall. The children all start putting on boots and wraps. My heart races as Saesa chatters excitedly to me. I don’t hear her. I’m trying to hide my panic. Stay here. I can’t go. I don’t put on my cloak. I still have my boots on, though. I slept in them.
“Ready, Tib?” Saesa asks as she drapes my shoulders with the green cloak. She ties the ties and turns away. She crosses the threshold. I try to follow but I can’t. I pause with my toes on it. Stay here. Stay here. I will myself to take another step, but my foot won’t go. Saesa tugs my arm and I’m furious and scared. I can’t leave.
“Stop!” I shout and I shove her. She stumbles down the step.
“Hey!” she cries as she catches herself on the railing. “What’s the matter with you?”
Saesa frowns up at me as the wind whips past. She’s wounded. Her feelings are, I mean. I can’t answer, though. I don’t know what’s wrong, I just know I can’t leave and it scares me. Raefe spins in the street and eyes me. At his hip, the hilt of his rapier flashes in the sun. I back away feeling awful. I didn’t mean to be rough with her.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“It’s all right,” she says with a shrug. Everyone just stands there, watching me.
“Go with the girl.”
Yes, go with the girl. Relief floods through me as I lift my foot and step outside.
Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2) Page 2