by Brondos, Pam
“Wouldn’t he need the help of a Sister who knows how to make such orbs?” The idea that any Sister would help Mudug and the Chemist was anathema to what the Sisters stood for. Mudug had killed or driven away so many of them.
“Emilia trained with each House before becoming regent,” Rory cut in. “She apprenticed in my Warrior House and the other Houses as well. Because of her position as future regent, her training in each House was deep and extensive. It’s unlikely she learned how to create the core of an orb like a Head Sister, but it is possible. The Chemist may have used her to figure out how to make the orbs and then forced Emilia’s memories from her to imbue them.”
Nat thread her fingers through the loop attaching her dagger to her belt. Her stomach twisted and the muscles in her back tightened. “You think Emilia is helping the Chemist?”
“Not voluntarily, no.” An owl with a mouse dangling from its beak glided past and landed gracefully on a rocky ledge below their feet. It turned its moonlike eyes toward Nat, then efficiently swallowed the small rodent.
Rory looked in the direction of the sunrise. “If the Chemist used Emilia’s memories to imbue orbs, she won’t be the same person she was before. When the Sisters experimented with imbuing orbs that way, they discovered unpleasant side effects. It created memory holes. In some extreme cases, the Sisters became irrational and even delusional. Finding Emilia may be the easy part of your mission, Sister.” Rory’s expression was guarded as she watched Nat for some reaction. “Emilia may have no memory of the others traveling with you. She may act . . . violently. Do you understand how that may impact others who knew her personally?”
Nat nodded, imagining what it would be like if her parents, Marie Claire, or even Cal took her for a stranger. A few moments passed. The sounds below them ceased, and the owl flew away from the narrow ledge.
“Should I go to my post now?” Nat asked. Morning was burning away the night sky. She wanted time alone to think about what Rory had told her.
“Yes, but one more thing. When I met you, the only thing that kept me from killing you were the markings on your arm.”
Nat’s heartbeat quickened.
“It was clear you weren’t a Sister, despite your fringe claim and the borrowed orb.” She unfolded her legs and stood up. “Generations have come and gone since those markings covered a Sister’s forearm. Yours are the markings of the first Warrior Sisters, the first Sisters to purposely seek out and kill the Nala.” A smile crept over her lips. “Whoever drew those on you intended to send the Nala quite a message.”
“What message is that?” Nat’s voice quivered.
“That the Predictions of the First Sisters are true. The time for the annihilation of the Nala has finally arrived.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Questions played over and over in Nat’s mind. Why did Barba give me those markings? And what predictions? Barba had only said that my markings were from the first Warrior House. Nat remembered the Nalaide’s disbelief and enraged reaction when the creature had seen her markings. Why . . . ?
“Any closer and I’ll run you through,” Benedict threatened while waving one arm wildly at Annin and clasping his saddle horn with the other. His cape hung askew, revealing his thin leg, useless in controlling the skittish horse. Annin guided her horse in a zigzag pattern behind him, agitating Benedict’s horse with her presence.
“I’d like to see you try,” she mocked.
Benedict shifted from side to side in the saddle. He strained to pull himself upright. Annin urged her horse forward again. Benedict’s horse reared, kicking his hooves in the air, then slamming them into the ground. Benedict rolled from the saddle and landed in the knee-high grass. The horse reared again and streaked away. Annin’s horse pawed the ground a few inches from Benedict’s face.
“Annin! Stop it!” Nat cried out and slid off her saddle, afraid Annin’s horse would trample the Hermit. Dirt streaks covered Benedict’s red face. His fingers dug into the mud as he scrambled away from Annin’s horse.
“Don’t ever threaten me.” Annin pointed at him and her Nala eye seemed to grow in size. He pressed a hand into the mud and pushed himself into a sitting position. Nat ran in front of Benedict and grabbed the reins of Annin’s horse.
“If it wasn’t for Estos”—Benedict lifted his small frame as straight as he could—“I’d have your hide.”
“You missed your chance,” Annin spat back. Nat held firm to the reins, fighting Annin for control of the horse.
“I should have let that Nala rip you to shreds,” Benedict growled.
Nat dropped the reins and spun around to face him. “Don’t ever . . .”
A shadow passed above Nat. Annin landed on top of Benedict and the two rolled onto the ground.
“Get off him!” Andris spurred his horse toward the trio, holding Benedict’s runaway mount by the reins. His legs clamped hard against his horse, controlling the animal in Annin’s presence. Nat grasped Annin’s shoulder and wrenched her away from Benedict.
“I swear on the Rim, if you do that again, Annin, I’ll send you packing.” Andris cursed and tossed the reins to Nat.
“Send her now.” Benedict brushed dirt from his arms. “Vermin duozi will bring the Nala down on all of us. Mark my words, she’ll use her dream manipulation on us like she’s done to Estos. She’ll twist her way into our minds, make us weak, and then lead us to the monsters.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he ranted.
“Are you crazy?” Nat couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“That foul half-breed has no place among humans, no place among any of us.” Benedict made a wide arc with his arm and his hand froze in the air.
Soris was staring at him from atop his horse. A glimmer of anger passed over his face. When he blinked his faceted Nala eye and hazel-green eye, the emotion disappeared.
Oberfisk rode up behind Soris. His thick hands held tightly to the leather reins, easing the gelding’s nerves. “Everything all right here?” He glanced at Andris, whose face was so red he looked like a raspberry.
“Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” Andris said, ignoring Oberfisk. “Each of you will follow my orders.” He pressed his fist to his chest, his knuckles white. “You do what I say, nothing else. Your personal vendettas and prejudices mean nothing to me. But if they disrupt this mission, I promise to tie you to a tree in the middle of the eastern forest and call the Nala in myself. Any questions?” He whipped around, glaring at everyone. The horses stamped their hooves. No one said a word. “No?” His lips tightened as he stared down Annin and then Benedict. Annin tossed her head in the opposite direction and blew a bit of curly hair out of her face.
“Help him up,” Andris ordered Nat.
She clasped her hands to give Benedict a foothold to remount. He dug his heel into her hands as he clambered on top of his horse.
“Sends me with a bunch of misfits,” Andris muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Andris.” Oberfisk interrupted his cursing. “We found a spot about a half a mile from here. Abandoned farmhouse and barn. It’s on an open plain in the foothills, no chance of anyone sneaking up.”
“Soris, take Annin and the good Sister, scout out the farmhouse, and set up defenses. Oberfisk, Benedict, and I will check the foothills for any sign of Mudug’s guard. We’re too far from Nala territory to have any encounters with them. Focus your defenses on guards. That is, unless you have anything to share?” Andris directed his question at Annin.
“Ask your brother, he’s as good at sensing the Nala as I am.” Annin kicked her horse and rode away through the low scrub brush. Soris pulled his reins low and to the side. He ignored his brother and followed Annin’s trail. Nat shoved her boot into the stirrup and grasped the saddle horn. Andris reached out and grabbed her arm as she passed him. His fingers dug into her skin.
“We are here because of you, Natalie. I shouldn’t have to explain the enormity of the risk involved. These squabbles must cease.”
“I know.
Do you mind?” She looked at her arm.
Andris loosened his grip and let out a long breath. “Do what you can to keep Annin in line.”
“What about Benedict? He’s not making it easy for either of them.” Nat looked over her shoulder and watched as Oberfisk helped balance Benedict in the saddle with his meaty arms. The Hermit’s lips moved continuously. She could only guess the poison coming from him now that Andris was out of earshot.
“He has too much at stake to sabotage this mission, Natalie.” She raised an eyebrow and Andris gave her an irritated look. “History and oaths serve as mighty constraints.” He turned his horse, leaving her to wonder what oath could constrain Benedict’s hatred.
Jagged holes marred the curved roof of the barn. Weak light from the setting sun created a patchwork of light and dark on the floor. Nat kicked a clump of gray mortar where the bumpy rock wall met the earth. The place smelled of stale manure and moldy hay.
“The house isn’t much better.” Soris stepped through the broken doorframe. “The floor’s rotted and covered with glass.”
Nat walked through the rays of light toward Soris. An owl flew from the wooden rafters, sweeping past his head into the fading day. He looked up at the thick beams covered with owl droppings.
“Birds don’t like me much, but at least it means no bird droppings on us tonight.” He gave her a wry smile. “Think Benedict will thank me?”
“What do you think happened here?” she asked, diverting the subject away from Benedict.
Soris shrugged. “Dreams of impossible things.”
Nat joined him by the door, and the two of them took in the ruined expanse of the barn. Partitions leaned against each other in fragile support. The rungs of the ladder leading to the hayloft were broken in half.
“What do you mean by that?”
Soris stepped into the barn through a beam of light. Dust floated and swirled around him. “Someone believed in a future here.” His voice was caustic. “Why is it some people fail to see the futility of their actions?”
“Maybe they saw an opportunity, a chance to make something better,” Nat said, feeling defensive.
“Natalie.” He drew out her name when he spoke and stepped into the shadows. “Thin soil, scarce water. Why would anyone try to grow anything here?” he challenged.
“Because sometimes you have to take the risk.”
He moved to her side so quickly she let out a little gasp. “But you don’t. You don’t.” His breath fell upon her ear. “You don’t have to take the risk. You don’t have to be here.”
“It’s a risk worth taking.” She turned, steeling her voice.
Soris let out an exasperated breath. “No, it’s not, Natalie. It’s not.” He kicked a pile of rotted leather tack. “Even if we manage to pull off Estos’ plan, make it into Rustbrook, and find Emilia, do you really think the Chemist is going to let us walk out with her? This endeavor is night and day to what you and I had to accomplish.”
“If you think it’s so impossible, why’d you agree to come?”
“I have absolutely nothing to lose.” The shadows turned the blue tint of his skin gray.
“Really? Nothing?”
“You heard Benedict.” He held up his hands, silencing her. “Half-breeds have no place among humans. Trust me, Natalie, the utopian life of the duozi at the Healing House ends the moment you pass through its walls and away from the Meldon Plain. Estos can’t dictate tolerance, even if he regains the regency. I have no chance of a normal life.”
“Yes, you do,” she argued.
“Tell me how? To be a duozi in Fourline is like living with a curse.” He crossed his arms and leaned against a broken post.
“The Sisters may come up with something that purges the venom or cures whatever causes the transformation. There has to be some way to heal you.” She sounded unconvincing even to herself.
“There’ve been duozi since before the Rim Accord. Do you really think they’re going to find a magical cure? You’re dreaming of things that can never happen, Natalie.” He gestured to the decaying barn and looked at her sadly. “Here’s the result.”
She instantly brought her hand to his cheek to soothe the deep lines on his face. He clenched his jaw.
She drew her hand away. “Fine, be a fatalist,” she said, feeling the flush in her cheeks. “But know this: I left you in a lurch once, and it didn’t work out well for either of us. I try to learn from my mistakes. I’m not going back home until this is over and you’re back with the Sisters at the Healing House. There has to be more they can do to help you.”
“I’m not going to live a life behind walls, waiting for an impossible cure.”
“Then get used to me, because I am not going anywhere. Ever hear the expression ‘like flies on—’”
“You’re a stubborn fool, Natalie.” He dropped his arms, his pointed hand dangling at his side.
“Maybe, but a fool with something to lose.”
“What could you possibly have to lose by leaving Fourline?”
“Being your friend,” she said, knowing that might be the only thing he’d ever let her be.
His expression softened. “My friend?” He regarded her a moment, and she met his gaze, refusing to look away. The corner of his human eye turned up. He stepped close to her and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear with his fused fingers. She tilted her head toward his hand as he brushed her jawline. “Did you know being my friend comes with some conditions?” His Nala eye contracted.
“Defenses set?” Oberfisk’s voice boomed through the barn. Nat and Soris jumped apart. Oberfisk appeared, his great bald brow scrunched into half a dozen lines. “Haven’t done a thing, have you?” He tsk-tsked.
“We were just discussing our options.” Nat glanced at Soris. He rolled his human eye, but a small smile appeared on his lips. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Stop discussing and get the defenses up, unless you want to discuss it with Andris,” Oberfisk threatened.
Nat and Soris hastened toward the door. “If we’re going to be friends, then you have to drop the idea of me returning to the Healing House,” he whispered out of Oberfisk’s earshot.
“No, I don’t. Friends can always disagree,” she shot back. He groaned in response. Nat took two steps for every one of his as she followed him up the hill from the barn. “Just like I disagree with you about me leaving Fourline,” she added when she caught up with him. He handed her the blunt end of a spool of thin wire and stretched a length between the thick stems of two spiny bushes.
“You’re making me regret my decision to be your friend, Natalie,” he said as he clipped the wire. He glanced up and handed her a small stake. She shoved the stake into the soil, feeling a little triumphant that he was agreeing to be her friend.
“I never promised being my friend would be easy.”
“Understatement of the year, Natalie,” he muttered and busied himself with setting the snare. She watched him nimbly wind the wire with his good hand. Even though he faced the ground, she could see his smile broaden and matched it with one of her own.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Water fell from the holes in the roof of the barn, expanding the size of the puddles spreading across the floor. Nat shifted her position. She lifted her head from her satchel and listened to Benedict’s snores intermingle with the incessant dripping of the rain. How he could sleep was beyond her. Oberfisk rolled over and his arm flopped against her side like a baseball bat. Grimacing, she carefully scooted from underneath his thick arm, setting it gently against his sleeping form.
She sat up and searched the folds of her cloak for her orb. It emitted a gentle glow at her touch, casting soft shadows around the end of the barn. She pulled her knees to her chest and breathed in a long, deep breath. The smell of fresh horse manure overpowered the smell of the rain. She watched the sleeping horses’ breath puff out of their nostrils like little smoke signals.
The ground felt spongy under her feet as she stepped through the c
rooked opening of the barn. Water poured off the broken end of a narrow overhang, splashing against the side of a splintered barrel. Her eyes strained in the dark to find the outline of the dilapidated house where Annin slept. Soris and Andris were on second watch somewhere in this soggy weather.
She tucked the orb away and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The broken house came into focus against the foothills. She shifted carefully, settling onto the worn wooden top of the barrel. It creaked under her weight.
Even his brother is segregating them, she thought. Andris had given in to Benedict’s grousing and separated the group earlier in the evening. No one believed his pretext that the horses would sleep more soundly away from duozi or that it offered a defensive advantage. Soris had grabbed his satchel and strode off toward the house with Andris’ excuses trailing after him. At least Andris has the decency to join them in the house.
She closed her eyes for a moment and listened to the rain. As much as she hated to admit it, Soris was right about his options. Even if Estos removed Mudug from power, she wasn’t sure Soris’ life would be much better. Mudug had orchestrated such a successful campaign demonizing the duozi and the Sisters that it would take at least a generation to bring people around to accepting duozi into daily life. Nat remembered the story the old shepherd Greffen had shared with her about the villagers sending a young girl out into the woods after she was turned into a duozi. What would it take to erase such deep-seated prejudice?
Soris had said the duozi had been around since before the Rim Accord. If Benedict’s treatment of Annin as a child was any indication, it wasn’t like people had ever embraced the duozi. Unless a Sister found a cure or a way to reverse the transformation caused by the venom, maybe the Healing Houses were their only places of refuge.
She pushed her fingers against her temples, wishing for the hundredth time that she’d taken Soris straight to the membrane after he’d been bitten instead of waiting at Greffen’s. Ethet could have stopped the venom quickly, preventing the transformation or at least rendering him more like Annin so he could stay in my world. She thought of what Barba had said about Soris never being able to push through the membrane now. She wondered if Barba had any idea how deeply her words plagued Nat.