The Godstone

by Violette Malan

  The panes of glass Metenari wanted were in their own cupboard on the far side of the room from the window, so he had to turn his back on the boy. Which would show him how much he was trusted. It was with these gentle touches that apprentices were rewarded, keeping their spirits and morale high. The panes of glass rested in the third cupboard from the left, each on its own shallow shelf, the wood cut with finger space so the edge of the glass could be easily gripped. He stopped with the doors open, his hand hovering inches away from the top piece as an idea occurred to him.

  He had his own way of organizing his materials; most practitioners did. He used the same kind of organization with practically everything he owned. Surely Xandra Albainil had been the same? And surely, since his vault was almost a copy of his workroom, a highly skilled practitioner should be able to deduce the most logical hiding place for the Godstone from a close examination and comparison of both rooms.

  “Practitioner?” Noxyn’s voice brought Metenari back to the present moment.

  “Yes, of course, Noxyn, forgive me. I had a thought that may help us later.” He pulled out one of the larger panes of glass. They couldn’t be sure of the size of the opened parchment without touching it directly and assessing thickness and weight, but experience gave Metenari a fairly good idea. “Ready?”

  Even though he was wearing the gloves, Noxyn touched the parchment as tenderly as possible, using only the tips of his fingers, on the very edges of the document. It wasn’t so much necessary from the point of view of personal protection, but to interfere as little as possible, even by light touching, with the forran they believed the parchment held. Once Noxyn had the document spread out as much as he could on the tabletop, Metenari held the glass over it, letting his apprentice take one side so they could lay it down directly, and with great gentleness.

  A common forran had been used on the glass itself to keep it clean, and to encourage clarity of vision to anyone looking through it. Metenari rested his hands on the edge of the table, glanced up at Noxyn, and smiled. Whatever could be done to help them read and understand this forran had been done.

  “Tell me what you see,” he instructed.

  Noxyn cleared his throat, but didn’t answer right away. He’d stepped back once the glass was down, showing proper respect for his mentor. It didn’t matter that Noxyn had found the item; if his mentor wanted to look at it first, it was his right. Now, encouraged, he took a step closer to the table and did what he’d wanted to do from the first moment he’d been sure what he had. Now was his chance to actually examine a forran created by one of the legendary practitioners of old. To decipher it, to participate in its reconstruction.

  First he examined it from above, taking a general view of the whole. Handwritten, of course, the writing quaintly old-fashioned and ornate.

  “There are more symbols than one would normally see in a more modern specimen,” he began.

  “Are you sure? Look again.”

  Ears hot, Noxyn leaned over the document, his hands clasped behind his back, and scrutinized the line of symbols he thought he could see across the bottom of the page and turning to go up the side. “Ah,” he said finally. “Some of these symbols, at least, are actually letters, some grouped, and others standing alone.”

  “Exactly,” his mentor said. “Well done. We’ll consider the significance of that in a moment. Continue.”

  Leaning forward again, this time letting his fingertips rest on the edge of the glass, Noxyn cleared his throat. “There are symbols, however,” he said. “Here is the symbol for pattern, here is another for size and . . .” Noxyn’s voice dried in his throat.

  “What is it, my boy?”

  Noxyn hadn’t been this reluctant to answer since his first week as Practitioner Metenari’s apprentice, when he’d been sure then that one wrong answer would result in his expulsion. Now that he knew how rare practitioners actually were, he knew his talent wouldn’t have been wasted. But he also understood that to continue as the apprentice of someone as advanced as Metenari—and therefore keep his own advancement at top speed—he needed to keep his wrong answers to the minimum.

  “I believe this parchment may have been re-used.” The look on his mentor’s face made Noxyn wish he’d been more ambivalent. He would have lost marks for lack of confidence, but that face told him he was in danger of losing more than that.

  “Explain.”

  Noxyn swallowed. He might as well continue, better wrong than a coward. “If you look right here,” he pointed at the third row down, on the side of the page to his own right, “there’s a rough area on the surface, as if the parchment has been used before, scraped clean, and then used again.”

  His mentor squinted, bent until he was looking at the parchment from an angle. “I see what you mean,” he said. Noxyn felt a glow of pride. “But I would have said such a thing was impossible. For a forran of this significance, to use anything other than a fresh piece of parchment would be unheard of.”

  “Um.”

  “Go ahead, Noxyn, tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “What if the new forran was essentially the same?” Noxyn leaned over the glass in his eagerness to explain. “Say this opens the dimensional gate, but then Xandra Albainil wanted to change something about it, like, maybe, how long it stayed open, or the size. Would he make a whole new forran, or would he just alter the one he had?”

  “He was remarkably skilled for such primitive times, that’s true.” Metenari walked slowly around the parchment, scrutinizing it from all angles, at one point brushing a speck of dust Noxyn couldn’t see from the surface of the glass. Finally his mentor straightened, still focused on the forran. “I believe you’re right, Noxyn. Well done. The forran was indeed altered. If I’m not mistaken, the alteration imposed a one-time-only factor to each gateway.”

  “You mean the gate in the vault could only be used once?”

  “Exactly, but there could be a wider significance. It might be that while no one could use the same gateway to follow you, you yourself could not use that same gateway to return. There never would be another gateway in that precise spot again.”

  “But how would you get back, then? How are we going to get them back?”

  “Obviously we can’t do anything until we determine whether making a new gateway in a different spot would enable us to return. Someone would have to volunteer to try it, taking the forran with him, and hope to make it back again. Unfortunately, it would take someone of advanced study and power . . .” Metenari pulled himself upright and studied Noxyn with his head to one side.

  Noxyn pulled his shoulders back, and tried to look eager rather than frightened. He would settle for determined, he thought. “I could go, Practitioner. I’ll try it.” Or I’ll find some way to trick Predax into going.

  Metenari smiled at this, and gave Noxyn a sharp, approving nod. “I expected nothing less of you, my boy. However . . .” He took his chin in his hand and tapped his cheek with his index finger. “No.” He waved his hand over the parchment, casting shadows on the glass. “I’ll need you with me. Let this be our last resort, if we find we need the carpenter after all. Intriguing as it is, I’ll set Predax on it. Perhaps it’s more straightforward than it appears.”

  Noxyn tried hard not to show his relief.

  Six

  Arlyn

  I LAY THERE A long time with my eyes closed before I knew for sure I wasn’t going to fall asleep. My mind spun. Anger. Guilt. Worry. Anger again. I told myself we had done everything we could. Fenra’s locket would work. I could stop worrying, sleep. Anger again. Trees seemed unnaturally silent. I wondered if Fenra had asked them to let us rest. Fenra slept the sleep of the innocent, the exhausted. I wished I’d been able to do this without her.

  Elva rolled over. Was that why I couldn’t sleep? Yes, I’d left him here, but I hadn’t abandoned him, it wasn’t on purpose. I had been protecting him, keeping him safe. An
d it hadn’t been my fault that I couldn’t come back for him. And he wouldn’t let me explain. Most of the time he acted as though he and Fenra were alone.

  I sighed and sat up. This was ridiculous. I pushed myself to my feet. Needed to clear my head. Looking up, I saw unfamiliar stars. If we had to stay here, what would we do? How would we live? I’d be able to make furniture, but could Fenra still work as a healer? Even if the people here were past the time of belief, like in the City, she’d probably be able to manage. You didn’t have to believe in the practice for a cure to work.

  “Ow!” I’d walked right into Fenra’s ward. I thought it was supposed to keep things out, not close us in. A shadow rose up to my right, and I jumped.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Checking what set off the wards, what do you think?”

  Maybe the first thing Elva had said directly to me, though he was looking toward where Fenra lay sleeping. Between the stars and the waxing moon there was enough light for me to see his face. I’d seen that look before. I unclenched my jaw with an effort. “She has more in common with me than she’ll ever have with you,” I told him. For the first time he looked straight at me.

  “I’m not here to romance her, you idiot. I’m here to make sure that your latest stupid, dangerous scheme doesn’t kill her—or strand her in some other dimension.” Elva pressed his lips together, as if he was sorry he’d spoken. “Besides, if you think you’ve got more in common with her than I do, you really are an idiot. She’s still a human being.”

  “Elva, you have to forgive me.” I spoke through clenched teeth. This animosity wasn’t helping us.

  “No, actually, I don’t.” His ever-so-reasonable tone only made me angrier.

  “Listen, I did what was needed, what I had to do—” I began. He talked over me.

  “What you thought you had to do,” he said. “It turns out you were wrong, and I was right.”

  “I acted to save the world!” I glanced at where Fenra lay asleep and lowered my voice. “As soon as I knew what was really going on, I acted.”

  “If you had listened to me in the first place—”

  “Not helpful. Listen, Elva, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” I’d make the supreme gesture, one of us had to. “I meant to keep you safe, I made a mistake, afterward I couldn’t undo it. I couldn’t get you back. I couldn’t . . .” My throat clogged, and tears came to my eyes.

  “Xandra, stop,” he said. “You think I can believe anything you say? You can’t leave well enough alone, you never could. You put it in your vault, didn’t you? No one can even find your workroom by himself, so no one could have found your vault. All you had to do was stay home, and the world wouldn’t be in danger again. But you couldn’t, could you? You have to solve everything yourself, because no one else is smart enough.” He sighed. “Your apology doesn’t change anything. You haven’t changed. I’ll help you now, but you’ll have to accept that help without forgiveness.”

  “Both of you shut up and go to sleep.”

  * * *

  Fenra

  “Are you ready, gentlemen?” They had been considerably subdued since we woke up, and I wondered if I would ever know what had happened between them in the night. I pulled the locket out from under my shirt by the chain, and closed my left hand on it. Gold, lapis lazuli, never living, but part of the natural world. Would it be enough?

  Arlyn tucked his left hand under my right elbow, facing in the same direction I did. Elvanyn tucked his left hand into my left elbow, facing backward. It would help that we were all using our practitioner’s hand, even though neither of them were, at least at the moment, practitioners.

  “This is a very strategic stance,” Elva said. “Where did you learn it?”

  “Don’t distract her,” Arlyn said. “If we live through this, one of us will tell you.”

  I did not need this reminder that the locket might not work at all. Perhaps nothing would happen. Perhaps we would be moved into an unknown dimension, or set down smack in the middle of the Patio of Horses in the White Court—whatever, we had to be prepared for danger. I could not protect us and open the way at the same time. Elvanyn looked at me, drew the gun from under his left arm, and nodded.

  The locket felt cool on my forehead, as if it hadn’t been all this time inside my shirt, against my skin. I opened it . . . and we were surrounded by a fog so dense I could not even see my companions, though I could still feel their hands gripping my arms.

  “Fenra.” Arlyn sounded as though he knew something he feared to tell me.

  “Calm. Stay calm.” The steadiness of my voice surprised me.

  The temperature plunged, and suddenly I could smell the sea again. A dark shadow came toward us in the fog, something alive. I could feel it. No matter how much I blinked and strained, I could see nothing, but the sensation of size and danger hung just inches out of my sight. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Suddenly the grip on my arms tightened and I knew I had been about to fall.

  “It’s the Maker,” Arlyn whispered. I knew he was still beside me, but his voice echoed with distance.

  “No,” I said. Did it have me by the arms, or did those hands still belong to Arlyn and Elvanyn? A dark shadow and a light shadow, moving closer and then farther again. I concentrated, telling myself I was not terrified.

  * * *

  Arlyn

  There was a floor under me, not dirt. When I heard Elva gasp I tightened my grip on Fenra’s arm. If we hadn’t been holding her, she’d have fallen. Her eyelids fluttered, her breathing shallow.

  “I do not know whether I am exhausted or relieved,” she said, as she braced her feet, stood swaying very slightly. I didn’t let go, and neither did Elva. “Are we here?”

  I’d known we weren’t in the New Zone any longer, but it wasn’t until I saw the empty shelves, the wood-paneled walls, dust-free tables and carved chests, that I knew for certain we’d made it to Medlyn Tierell’s vault. I felt a thickness in my throat that I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I had known she was more powerful than others suspected. I hadn’t known she was more powerful than I suspected. This was the work of a first-class practitioner. For the first time I felt real hope.

  “You need to sit down,” Elva was saying. “Can you make it to that bench? I can carry you.”

  Fenra shifted her hand so she had hold of my arm instead of the other way around. “I will sit, yes. Thank you.” She walked on her own, but kept her grip on us until she reached the bench. She released Elva’s arm, but still didn’t let go of me. “Give me your other hand,” she said.

  When I realized what she had in mind, I pulled out of her grip before she could stop me, put both hands behind my back like a child caught with contraband cookies. “No,” I said. “We need you fresh. You can level me later, if you think I need it.”

  Elva looked from her to me and back, his left eyebrow raised in that annoying way I’d almost forgotten. Fenra lifted her hand to him, fingers slightly spread. He relaxed, nodding. I clenched my teeth. He trusted her.

  “You will have to be more careful, then,” she said to me. “Relax as much as you can. Resist your anger. Above all, remember you will not always feel the way you feel in the moment.”

  I knew she was right, tried to follow her advice, took a couple of deep breaths, looked at a particularly pretty burl in the grain of the wood panel closest to me. Walnut. Walnut? No, zebrawood. I still felt resentful, but I also knew it wasn’t real. At least in a manner of speaking.

  Elva took a step back from her. “And now?”

  Fenra turned to me. “Now we find out whether this space has a strong enough connection to our world for the locket to move us there. Or whether it will only return us to our starting point in the New Zone.” She shut her eyes and rubbed at her forehead, as though she had a headache.

  Elvanyn checked his sword and the lay of his pistols
in a sequence I’d seen him do a thousand times. “Whenever you’re ready, Fenra.” She smiled without opening her eyes.

  “In theory,” I said, “the connection with Medlyn’s work or home space should be stronger than any other connection. The path between here and there should be the most used, therefore the easiest to access. Since we’ve been in his office most recently, that one should be the easiest of the two.”

  “There’s a few too many ‘shoulds’ and ‘in theories’ in all you’re saying,” Elva said. He turned slowly, looking around the room. His brow furrowed, his hand on the hilt of his sword—as if he could sense a danger he couldn’t see.

  “Take your time,” I said to Fenra, meaning every word. “Be sure you’re ready. We only have to save the world.”

  “Thank you, Arlyn.” More sarcasm than patience. I smiled. She held out her left hand. At first I held back. Then I realized what she meant, took her hand in mine. Once again the room came to life around me. The books, the tapestries, the manuscripts. Even the tarnished silver lamps hanging from the ceiling, filled with bright gas.

  “What would the old guy store here?” I wondered aloud. “Is there anything we might use?” Fenra picked up a skull from a nearby shelf. She shook her head, a wistful smile on her face. “Medlyn used to keep this on his desk, until one day it was gone. He never told me what it was. I can tell it’s not an animal, but it’s too squat to be human. It looks as though it’s melted somehow. Pulled out of shape.”

  “It’s human,” I said. “But very old. Older almost than the world. It came from the outermost Mode, when the City and even the White Court was just a collection of mud walls and reed roofs between the rivers.”

  “Before your time?” Fenra asked. Elva looked away, but not before I saw the corner of his mouth curling into a smile. Elva looked from Fenra to me and back again. He couldn’t see the skull. I was glad.