Threats of Sky and Sea

by Jennifer Ellision

  Katerine disappears once she thinks we’re all asleep. I’m surprised she entrusts our guard to Tregle and Baunnid. She doesn’t strike me as the type to delegate well. Maybe she’s just afraid to show a vulnerable side. After all, it’s hard to look dangerous while adrift in a dreamworld.

  Da breathes out his ruminations like smoke filtering from the flames of his thoughts. “I just don’t understand how they found me.”

  I shrug, more to myself than anything. I don’t know either. Anything that the Elementals said before they’d discovered me eavesdropping in Abeline’s woods had been vague and unrevealing.

  “Sources,” I say aloud. “Lady Katerine said they had sources.”

  Da sits up as if a bolt of lightning’s licked down from the sky to light upon him. “When did she say that?”

  I realize I never told him about the woods. I quickly review the scene for him: how I followed their shouts; how I saw them “training” Tregle; how I was discovered, threatened, and told that Katerine could bring my words to her ear on a breeze—which is why I hadn’t immediately told him about it.

  Da pinches the bridge of his nose, words failing him. In the dim light of the moon, I can just see his deepened worry lines.

  “You doomed us.”

  For a moment, I think I heard him wrong. Surely he’s not trying to find a way to put the blame on my shoulders. But the weight of it settles there, nestling in as he continues.

  “How could you keep that to yourself? How could you fall for such an asinine idea? You know, most children don’t even believe those stories—that Riders can fly about on the clouds and hear anything they wish anywhere in the land. We have to at least know where to send the cursed breeze, Breena!”

  “Well, you’d know, wouldn’t you?!” I shoot back, my voice lancing through the darkness. “Having had so much experience with Elementals.” How dare he accuse me? As though he has any space to talk, as though he gave me any proper warning about Elementals? He could have dispelled the myths if he’d told me who he was.

  “And of course, you’re a Makers-blessed expert when it comes to keeping secrets, Da,” I spit out. “Ask yourself this: if you’d told me about this, any of this…would we be where we are now?”

  At some point during the course of our exchange, I’ve managed to push myself to my feet. The anger propels me to raise my voice, and I’m shouting down at him on the ground. For all of our teasing, I’ve never spoken to my father like this—never. My nails carve moon-shaped slivers into my palms. I’ve never felt so angry, so helplessly betrayed before in my life.

  A sleep-drenched voice answers me before Da can. Baunnid. “S’enough out of the pair of you.” He drags himself over. “On your feet, Your Grace.”

  Da’s expression is stone. He lurches to his feet and shuffles away at Baunnid’s prodding. The tidal wave of my anger ebbs, leaving me staring at his back in…not regret. Not exactly. But something close to it.

  Da and I are all the other has.

  I slump back to the ground. The thought lays a chill over me, and I barely suppress a whimper. All I want is for Da to comfort me, the way he did when I was little and I’d had a nightmare.

  Enough of that, I scold myself. I won’t do myself any favors by wallowing.

  The self-encouragement has the opposite of the desired effect, sending me into a spiral of misery. Since when am I someone who needs to be coddled? I can take care of myself.

  But I’m beginning to realize that maybe I can’t. Da’s world came and found us, and not even he can take care of me now.

  Eight

  “Do you mind?”

  Days later, and Tregle’s just trod on the back of my feet again. It’s a nasty habit of his when he’s trying to keep pace behind me. Can’t rein his long limbs in, I suppose.

  “Sorry.” He slows for a second before speeding up. There’s a certain alacrity to his step that wasn’t there yesterday. He looks almost…happy. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen the emotion on anyone’s face but Lady Katerine’s. Tregle actually looks eager to complete our journey.

  I survey the horizon. The trees and rain gave way to sand days ago. I can’t imagine anyone living out here; it’s dry and hot and heat ripples the air. I’d had to abandon Da’s coat several days ago when all traces of damp and cold fled.

  At first, I’d kept wearing it, sweat soaking my hair and beading down into my eyes. The coat was the only bit of Abeline I’d managed to bring with me. Da’d had it since I was little, and I’d loved burrowing into its fur in front of a fire on long winter nights when it seemed there was no end to the wind’s howl outside or the frost that nipped at my bones.

  It’s so strange that this place belongs to the same world as that one. I lick lips that beg me to quench my thirst.

  My last morning with the coat, I’d woken and been unable to imagine picking it back up, towing it around like some rich merchant’s baggage. I caught Da looking at me with sympathy while I contemplated it. My shoulders had stiffened, and I’d left the coat there like moss over a log. Like it had always belonged in the wilderness and never to Abeline, to Da, to me or my history.

  Off to my right, Baunnid and Katerine are also livelier. Katerine tugs at Da’s shackles in an attempt to move him along faster. He looks rather bemused by her, but he, too, stares ahead. Everyone knows what’s coming except me, though I have an idea.

  “We’re close?” Tregle looks at me, and I tilt my chin to indicate Katerine. “I’m just guessing.”

  “I’d say a day. Less, maybe, if your father decides to lift his feet when he walks.”

  “You’d drag your feet, too, in his boots.”

  He nods an agreement. We walk in near-companionable silence, the only sounds the shifting of the sand and my panting. It’s like even the moisture in the air is missing, but I’m the only one who seems to notice.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Tregle draws even with me, and his mouth quirks up. “You just did.” His golden-green eyes twinkle. After waiting a beat, he grants me permission for another question with a nod.

  “You said that you didn’t know you were an Elemental. So how…”

  “How did they know?” he finishes and shrugs. “It was just after I’d turned eighteen—”

  “I thought Reveals happened at seventeen.”

  He hums a disagreement. “No, that’s just the earliest they can occur. And my abilities aren’t as strong as some people’s. When my Reveal came, I didn’t realize what it was.

  “I was apprenticed to a baker in Orlan,” he says. I know the name. I recognize it from a few fishermen who’d passed through Abeline once. It’s a large port city in the east. “It was my mother’s idea—she thought that I’d meet a nice girl in the shops or something like that. She wanted grandchildren, you know? Only I wasn’t very good at my job. I had a tendency to burn loaves of bread, wandering away when I should have been minding the coals. My master was an old friend of my father’s, so he let it slide most of the time.”

  His voice cradles the memory, soft and tender. I can visualize a younger Tregle, covered in flour, long limbs falling all over themselves around delicate pastries, elbows clipping bowls as he went around corners.

  “On my birthday, my master celebrated by allowing me the ingredients for a cake. It had been months since I’d had sweets that weren’t a bite stolen here and there. I was thrilled.” He’s amused with the recollection, a small smile playing about his lips. Abruptly, his voice sours. “I tended the fire more carefully than I ever had that day, staring through the grate of the oven. I remember when things went wrong.”

  “Wrong how?” I cringe at myself. I’m an insensitive clod. I hadn’t meant to interrupt him.

  “The flames weren’t…acting right. They jumped onto the cake and reduced it to ash. I thought I was seeing things. I remember yanking the oven door open, and then they jumped out at me and then…nothing.” He shakes his head. “I woke up at home. The bakery burned down. They thought I’d forgo
tten what I was doing and left it unattended. I already thought that I’d been hallucinating, and to be honest, their version sounded more like me. My mother wouldn’t look me in the eye for a week, and my master… Let’s just say I was still searching for a new apprenticeship when they found me.”

  There’s a look in his eyes, like he’s lost within his own memory, but disgusted and ashamed of it. Like it’s a dirty thing.

  “Anyway, Lady Katerine and Baunnid came for me. She wasn’t thrilled with me. Like I said, my Torching isn’t some great thing, but you know the law of the land. Any Elementals must do as the king asks. There was nothing left for me in Orlan. I had no reason to try to hide.”

  “How long have you been with them?”

  He shrugs. “Nine or ten months maybe? I’m not exactly sure. I did a very brief tour with the king’s army. And then I was put back into Lady Katerine’s care to be ‘properly trained,’ and we were in the capital for a while before we were assigned a new truant.”

  It’s so different from my story. Not that it’s a happy one, not by any stretch, but in a way, Katerine gave Tregle a second chance when his future had looked bleak. Sort of the opposite of what would happen for me and Da.

  Still, his story doesn’t quite answer one question. “But how did they find you?”

  He sighs and tucked his thumbs into the sleeves of his tunic. “Me, they found easy. Rumors get spread around incidents like mine and one made it to someone important’s ears, so they set off for me. Others are harder, especially if they’re in hiding, but there are some Adepts who can…sense the direction of things. How things might go or, in the case of something they’re hunting for, where it might be. The king has a few those Adepts at his disposal.”

  “Can Katerine do that?”

  He scoffs. “Not hardly.”

  I suppose it makes sense in as much as any of this does. Except that I still don’t understand how they hadn’t found Da before now.

  Tregle slouches over. The memory’s still visibly eating at him, so I slide the question into the recesses of my mind, hoping I’ll live to see the day that I can ask it.

  Nine

  It feels like stealing, the way we finally slip into the city’s boundaries without anyone noticing us. Like the black sky’s leaked down to cover us from wandering eyes. Katerine leads us around bends and corners, through muddy alleys and concrete cooling after bearing the day’s heat. She moves swiftly, like the feline Da short-named her for.

  I hate that I have no choice but to follow, but every corner where I pause, Tregle nudges me on. Baunnid attempts to mimic Katerine’s fluid movements but mostly bumbles behind her next to Da, who refuses to play at stealth. He follows them, sure enough, but does so with his spine erect and footsteps plodding through the mud with an ordinary squelch.

  The city is quiet. It sprang up before us in the midst of a stretch of sand, but inexplicable trees dot the landscape. I can only assume Earth Shakers are responsible for their presence.

  My feet stutter to a halt when Katerine stops. I run my fingers along the rough stone of the closest structure, using its scrape against my palm to pretend I’m somewhere else. Clotheslines flutter overhead as breezes trapped between buildings fight to free themselves. My eyes travel up the worn gray walls, wondering at the citizens who live so close to the Egrian king’s stronghold. The open windows reveal simple shadows: a hint of a doorway, the mere suggestion of a dressing table. Do they sleep easily in their beds and pallets while their king schemes at his throne?

  “Lady Breena,” Tregle whispers.

  “Bree,” I correct him automatically, snapping out of my trance. It’s the first time anyone’s called me that, and the “lady” bit is discomfiting. I smile at him weakly. “Only Da calls me Breena.”

  Having regained my attention, Tregle lifts his chin to urge me forward. We stand behind Katerine at the edge of an alley. Being a Rider holds one advantage I hadn’t considered for the countess. She manages to stay cool. Of her trio, she’s the only one who still wears her cloak, though her hood’s fallen back to let the city shadows coil in her blue eyes.

  “There,” Katerine breathes.

  Hulking shadows dwarf the long, squat building before us. I can’t tell what they are in the darkness. The shorter building, though, comes into sharper focus as Katerine leads us closer. Bricks upon gray bricks. Bars over the window openings. A man in an official uniform patrols outside, and a heavy door blocks the way in—no. The way out.

  No wonder Katerine’s so pleased with herself. This isn’t just a building. It’s a prison.

  We’ve arrived. We stride forward, and I can’t help balking. Tregle takes my elbow in his hand.

  “Trust me,” he says.

  And despite myself, I sort of do. Tregle’s been—not necessarily kind to me, exactly, but he’s treated me like a fellow human being. It’s more than I can say for Katerine or Baunnid.

  “Running right now will only make things worse for you. We didn’t see them because Lady Katerine prefers her mystery, but the king’s men are many in number and all throughout the capital. They’d have you back in hand before you made it out of the city.”

  “They’re going to kill us anyway.” I hear the hitch of hysteria in my voice as Katerine and Baunnid confer with the guards. Impossibly, Da’s found it within himself to whistle. “So what’s the point?”

  Tregle looks at me, contemplative. His golden-green eyes glint as he cocks his head to the side. “The king wants something from your father, so, you know, I doubt that. I doubt that very much.”

  How could he know that? I’m not persuaded, but the iron door swings in on its hinge and we’re frog-marched down a dark, dank corridor to a small cell. I stumble as Baunnid rips me from Tregle’s arm to shove me inside after Da. The door clangs shut behind me. The lock clicks, and I wince.

  “Watch them,” Katerine barks from the other side of the bars. “I’m sure His Majesty is most eager to reunite with his dear old friend.”

  She spins on her heel, cloak billowing behind her as she retreats, Baunnid at her back like an overzealous puppy. Tregle grants me a sympathetic nod, but then he’s gone, too.

  The guards linger curiously after they leave, probably wanting a glimpse of the Duke of Secan and wondering what the king’s dear old friend is doing in their cells. Probably wondering who I am that I’m mixed up in it. I refuse to meet their eyes, and Da keeps whistling that increasingly irritating song, so they drift away.

  “Would you stop that?” I hiss when they’re gone. The melody’s imprinting itself on my mind, and sleep is going to be precious hard to find tonight as it is. I don’t know what awaits us in the morning, but I want to be ready for it.

  Da cuts off mid-whistle. “You don’t recognize the tune?”

  The heel of my hand goes to my head. “That’s hardly the point. I just don’t understand why you’re not taking this seriously.”

  Da sobers. “I’m taking it very seriously, Breena Rose. Remember when I told you that if a Rider wanted to catch my words, she needed to know where to send the breeze? A certain countess now knows exactly where to go looking for them.”

  Oh. The whistling’s to discourage any attempt to eavesdrop on us. Katerine can listen to our conversation from anywhere as easily as if she stood outside our cell. She’s surely tired of the song by now, though. Makers know, I’d been ready to plug my ears and start chanting like a child if it meant the noise would stop. If she’s not listening, maybe Da can let me in on his plan. He must have one. And if he can prepare me for tomorrow, tell me what to expect, I think maybe I can get some rest.

  “What do you think—”

  “I know you have questions,” he cuts in. “But I can’t answer them for you now. We have to choose our moments carefully.” He surveys me and sighs, laying down and turning to a wall.

  “Try to get some sleep.” His voice echoes around me, and I settle onto the hard ground.

  “Night, Da,” I say tiredly. But somehow, I think sleep
is unlikely.

  Ten

  The clanging of the cell door disrupts my restless sleep. I glance out the high window to gauge the time. The sky’s lightened to purple, and the stars barely peek through. Dawn can’t be far off.

  A shadow stumbles into our cell, pushed from behind. He surges up immediately, shooting toward the entrance, near where I’ve claimed my spot, but the bars have already swung shut on him. He grips the iron between his fists. My eyes adjust to the darkness. Curly brown hair the same shade of a woodchuck’s fur sits above pointed features. The boy has tanned skin that looks like someone’s tried to leech the color from it.

  “Come back here at once!” he shouts at the retreating guard. He rattles the bars emphatically, and his voice rings out with authority. “You can’t keep me in here!”

  “Don’t suppose you’d keep it down? We’re trying to get some rest.” My voice is sleep-muddled.

  His shoulders straighten beneath a cloak, and the stranger slowly turns to face me. Warily, he regards me through eyes that don’t quite meet mine. He must have thought he was alone in the cell. He studies me for a moment, probably taking in my muddy cheeks, my filthy clothes, and my position on the floor—which, I realize belatedly, I’m still sitting on.

  My knees scrape against it as I push myself up.

  I’m too close to him. We’re breaths apart, and I take a step back, uncomfortable. An odd sense of discomfort that has nothing to do with sleeping in a cell and everything to do with our close quarters prods me.

  “What’d they get you for?” I try to sound careless as I occupy myself with brushing dirt and dust from my hands. The boy’s too polished to be an ordinary market thief, and it’s odd that he’s been thrown in with us. Whatever he’s done, it must be big.

  His laugh is tinged with bitterness. He rubs his wrists where shackles would lay. “Political affiliations.”