Castle of Lies

by Kiersi Burkhart

  I pass her four clean rags and she grabs them like I might attempt to take them back. She turns to the other captive, the flat-faced boy, and her body shudders. A sound comes out that tells me she’s sobbing. The boy hugs her.

  Some cloth meant this much? They must be in misery. I have to leave before I say or do something I regret.

  I step back from the cell, and the door swings wide open.

  The two humans disentangle themselves, guilt written all over them. Somehow, they opened a locked iron door—and then pretended it was closed again. My Magic heart goes cold.

  “He did it!” a prisoner in a different cell screeches. “I saw him. Then he tried to talk with sex voice to the dungeon door.” He falls back in a tangle of limbs and howls with laughter. “Didn’t work!”

  The realization sets in more slowly than it should. The one named Parsifal used Magic to open this door, though not well enough to do it again. My own Magical ability has grown noticeably the longer we stay here, so it should not come as a revelation to me that humans have begun to wield it, too. But if the Commander finds out, the boy is dead. Without question.

  His brown eyes look into mine. Hopeful and hopeless, at the same time. Unwitting. He did not mean to do this—he did not cut the earth open and cause Magic to come spilling out. I cannot allow him to be punished for it.

  As I enter the Commander’s headquarters in the temple, he rises from his desk. He has been drawing something, and I snatch a look as I pass. It is a rough sketch of a settlement, with numbered squares and circles for buildings.

  “Mahove, friend Sapphire. Please, sit.” He gestures at a chair. “What brings you before me today? Have the captives given up the Princess?”

  I sit down, endeavoring not to let the tension I feel show on the surface of me. “The humans still claim not to know her whereabouts. Keeping them in the dungeon is not working. It is misery.”

  The Commander snorts. “The Princess is here somewhere, hiding. And I am certain they know where.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Squeeze her location out of them—however you see fit.”

  I do not let my surprise show. I think of Commander Valya prodding the King with the red-hot tip of his finger, and I dislike the image of him prodding my two humans that way.

  “They will not talk where they are now,” I say. “But if we show them kindness, they may reciprocate.” In any case, I have to get them somewhere more secure before they find a way out on their own. “Move them somewhere comfortable,” I suggest. “Show them we are capable of mercy if they help us. I fear torturing them further will yield the same result we have gotten from the King.”

  “Hmm.” I wait while the Commander riffles through papers on his desk. “Let us see if your hunch is correct, Sapphire. Move them. Earn their trust. Get what I need.”

  Bayled

  Back at camp, the men are sitting around the fire looking morose when we emerge from the trees. They leap to their feet as Harged drops Nul se Lan’s bodyguard to the ground. She howls in pain.

  “Sir? General? You’re alive!” The men of Stone Company descend on us with embraces and claps on the back.

  Harged shoves them off. “Watch out. We were ambushed by the cratertooth’s peons, and the General is injured.”

  “Thanks for the warm welcome,” I say, clutching my side. “But we need to move out. Now.”

  “Where are we headed, boss?” one asks.

  “Back to the Crossing.” If it had been anyone but Stone Company, they would’ve complained about their sore joints after riding all day and how much more they’ll hurt after riding all night. But after one of the men ties a tourniquet around my middle, nobody says a word.

  The keg is gone, so we strap our prisoner to the donkey. Soon we’re mounted up and off the way we came.

  The Baron is at the bottom of my list of worries now. Even worse than a deserter is a traitor. Maybe I could have stopped Nul se Lan, had I remained behind; maybe he would have simply found a different way to end my life. But I will bring him to account for what he’s done.

  All night we trek through the trees. My entire body aches, especially my side. By the time we spot the three and a half towers of the Crossing on the horizon, the sun is rising, turning the sky pink-gray. In the shadow of the crumbling fourth tower, I fish a candle out of my saddlebag and light it. I wave it back and forth until another candle answers from one of the dark windows.

  “She’s still here.” I hobble to the foot of the tower, and Sasel meets me at the door. Her face is drawn, dark bags hanging under her eyes. She crumples against the stone wall.

  “Are you all right?” I ask. I have some of the men bring her wine and food, and she consumes both eagerly—but only with one trembling hand. Her other arm hangs limp at her side.

  “I received a smoke message from Forgren, back at Four Halls,” she says. “The King is dead.”

  Everyone gasps. No. That means . . . My question comes out a whisper. “The long ears?”

  She covers her face. It’s all the confirmation I need. “Nul se Lan’s personal wizard received the same message. Then they came back for me.” She trails off and sinks further down to the ground, cradling her broken arm. “I needed to go with the army, they said, now that Nul se Lan is King. It was my duty to return with him to the Klissen, the new seat of power. But I had promised you I’d remain here—and that’s when he told me you weren’t coming back.”

  Her face, washed out and sickly, tips up to stare at me. “I ran from them to the broken tower. The old, rotten stairs collapsed under me, and this fragile bone of mine snapped.” She looks down at the arm. “Only with Melidia’s protection did I make it to the top, where they couldn’t come after me.”

  I sit down next to her, numb. Nul se Lan must have known this news was coming when he tried to have me killed, so there would be no doubt as to who would wear the crown. “I’m sorry, Sasel.”

  “There’s nothing you could have done.” I look into her calm, wise eyes. “I watched them go, General. They are not taking the Low Road. Lan is taking the army far to the west, through the woods.”

  I glance at the bodyguard we captured. She stares back with grim satisfaction. “Fighting long ears is death,” she says. “You knew, and sent soldiers anyway. But we save lives.”

  No, it was the King who sent them to death. But here I am, bearing the consequences. The Kingdom has fallen. Nul se Lan—the new King, as filthy as those words sound—has stolen the army.

  There’s nothing left for us.

  Chapter 11

  Thelia

  The light’s fading in our two tiny windows when the dungeon door opens again. I jump up and peer through the bars. Fourth time today.

  Sapphire trots down the steps carrying rope, and my heart sinks into my feet. We’ve been sentenced to die by hanging, all because Parsifal used Magic. It’s like I always told Bayled when he first arrived here. Maybe Magic can clean your floors and empty the ashes from your fireplaces, but what do you have when it turns on you?

  “Hold out yo-o-o-our hands,” the elf says. They no longer sound like their mouth’s completely full of mothballs. We do as we’re told. What choice do we have left? When our hands are tied, Sapphire pulls on our ropes. “Come.”

  Only a few prisoners can get up on their knees and stick their arms through the bars as we pass. The rest stay down, dead or dying. I don’t breathe through my nose until we reach the stairs. At least we’re leaving this horrid place.

  The dungeon door opens. Bright evening light assaults us—real light. Everywhere, reddish sunset filters through the windows, and I have to shut my eyes. I’ve forgotten what it’s like.

  Instead of taking us to the courtyard, the elf leads us deeper into the castle. Parsifal and I look at each other, daring the other to guess where we’re headed. When the halls get dark, a tiny pink light appears.

  A stone sticks in my throat. “What’s that?” I hiss, grabbing Parsifal’s sleeve. A small bauble of light bobs out of a pouch at Sapphire’
s waist, floating up in the air in front of us.

  “A wisp,” Sapphire says. “Old, old friends. They go wherever Magic is.”

  Parsifal watches in curiosity as it circles us. “It’s cute.”

  “If the critter likes Magic,” I growl, “it’s obviously evil.”

  Sapphire sighs. “Magic is not evil. Only those who use it.”

  Easy enough for them to say from where they’re standing. But I know better.

  We end up on the second floor of North Hall, the wisp leading the way. Is Corene still here hiding in the walls? Or are we being released because they’ve finally found her? Sapphire stops at a familiar door—the room that was ours before this nightmare began. They open up a pouch on their belt and usher the little glow ball in, then snap the top closed.

  Inside the room, everything is upside-down, emptied out, and scattered across the floor. “You’re staying here for now,” Sapphire says.

  “Here?” Parsifal cranes his head to look at the elf, who towers over us. “Why?”

  Sapphire looks at him like he’s defective. “Are you not grateful?”

  Cold fear fills my bones.

  “No, no,” Parsifal says, giving an awkward smile. “We’re very grateful to not be in that shithole anymore.”

  Sapphire makes a face and nods. Guilt. I’m sure that’s what it was. Sapphire didn’t want to keep us in that dungeon. I grip this new piece of information close like a dagger to use later.

  Returning to the doorway, Sapphire holds up their hands, palms out. At first nothing happens, and they look intently focused. After a moment, a colorful shimmer rises from the base of the doorframe, rippling like oil on the surface of water. It flows upward, past Sapphire’s hands, all the way to the top. In a moment, the doorframe around the door is filled with a nearly-invisible, shining something.

  “Do not try to leave,” Sapphire says. “It will stop you.” They fiddle for a moment with the ropes binding our hands. Then we’re free.

  I massage the spots where the rope bit into my flesh. Parsifal and I have tracked filth all over the clean floor. It reminds me that once upon a time, I was also clean, and didn’t reek of body odor and shit. I wonder how far I can push our luck today.

  Pressing my mouth into a smile, I gaze up at Sapphire. “How should I get water up for a bath?”

  Parsifal covers his mouth, like he’s embarassed to be seen with me. But what’s the worst the elf can do after our stint in the dungeon?

  Sapphire heads for the fireplace, leans down toward the charred remains of the last logs, and breathes onto them. The logs burst into flame. I gasp and recoil, while Parsifal leans in.

  “Fascinating,” he says. I glare at him.

  Then Sapphire flicks a hand. The bedroom door flies open and a bucket sails in, unimpeded by the shimmering wall. I hold in a shriek. The bucket hangs itself from the hook over the fire, wobbling back and forth until the water inside is steaming.

  Parsifal’s entranced. “This must be how they go about things in the Northern Republic,” he murmurs. “No wonder Bayled thought us all complete asses. Much less work.”

  Unhooking itself, the bucket flies into the washing room and dumps the boiling water into Corene’s huge wooden washtub, only to depart again for more. Again and again, the bucket performs these tasks until the tub’s full, and the water’s still steaming. By this time it’s usually tepid.

  “Get in,” Sapphire says, pointing to the tub. I don’t need to be told twice. I barely realize Sapphire’s watching as I strip. I probably look like a dirty, disgusting dog to them. I climb into the bathtub and grab the soap. Sapphire’s still staring, so I slide down into the tub until my breasts vanish under the surface of the water. Squeaking and clanging echoes in the other room as Parsifal rights his furniture and returns his belongings to their proper places. I ignore it, focusing on this small moment: the scent of soap. The gentle lather and foamy bubbles. The evidence of my imprisonment sliding off me, vanishing into the hot water until my smooth, oaky skin reveals its perfect self.

  I don’t get out until the water’s completely cold. I’m new. I’m alive. And I will never again let them make me into that weak, hopeless thing I was in the dungeon.

  Parsifal

  Once Thelia’s finished, I get to indulge myself in a bath. As I scrub the dirt and shit from every wrinkle in my skin, I promise Melidia—and the demons, while I’m at it—that I’ll never again take cleanliness for granted.

  The sun has almost set by the time I’m dressed in fresh clothes. Sapphire’s still here, watching us.

  Standing under an oil lamp, I go to strike a fire starter, but the wick bursts into flame on its own. One at a time, poof, poof, poof, every oil lamp ignites. “That wasn’t me,” I say to Sapphire, holding up my hands to show I’m blameless.

  “I asked the lamps to do the lighting,” they say, with the faintest smile. That’s what I did too. I asked the cell door to open, and it did. It just wanted me to be polite. Is that how Magic works?

  A shimmer outside the window grabs my eye. Something’s there, in the sky beyond the walls of the castle. I walk to the sill and peer out.

  A glowing blue barrier surrounds Four Halls. It only becomes visible at choice moments, like when it reflects a flicker of moonlight, and the whole outer layer sparkles for a second before vanishing. Before I can ask about it, the oil-sheen barrier in the doorway dissipates with a sound like wind blowing through, and the bedroom door flies open. Thelia and I both jump in surprise as a little service cart wheels itself in, unhindered. It’s covered in plates of food, probably enough to feed four people. Thelia and I advance on it, so hungry we can’t restrain ourselves. I’m about to take a plate when I realize that I don’t even recognize what’s on it.

  Sapphire anticipates my question. “Everything in the kitchens ran out. We have not been able to copy exa-a-a-actly what was here when we arrived, but I am doing my best.” I take note of the way Sapphire says it, like we’re going to give them a poor progress report later.

  Thelia takes a bite of a misshapen, cake-like object, topped with a blackened vegetable. It looks awful. “Not bad,” she says encouragingly. Sapphire’s lips tweak, but they don’t smile. Thelia looks even less pleased with the next cake, but once I have food moving into my mouth—as unfortunate as the collision of flavors might be—I can’t stop. The texture is wrong and it tastes like someone mixed dirt with salt, but Thelia and I keep going until we can’t eat any more. Feeling full for the first time in a week, I collapse into a chair in front of the fire.

  The cart rolls itself back out and the door closes, the Magic barrier filling the doorframe once again. I return to my room, only to find that the broom and dustpan I’d been using to clean up broken glass are now shuffling about, completely on their own. The broom sweeps debris into the pan, then skips on to the main room, where Thelia sleeps.

  “Watch out,” I call through the door. “Broom incoming.”

  “You don’t need to clean my room for me, P—oh, for Melidia’s sake!” Thelia holds her chest, gasping, as the broom works past her. “Everything has a mind of its own all of the sudden.”

  We both look Sapphire. “This is why we-e-e are here,” is all they say, not meeting our eyes.

  Thelia frowns. “Because the brooms have suddenly learned self-determination?”

  “It is spillage.”

  I repeat it. “Spillage?”

  “Too much Magic. Dangerous.” Sapphire gestures at the shimmering wall outside the window. “We built that to keep all the Magic in.”

  I’m lost. “Where’s it coming from? Did you bring it with you?”

  Sapphire laughs—a rare sound, like wind chimes. “You think The People bring Magic here? You understand no-o-o-othing.” They flick their hand across their nose and say derisively, “Humans.”

  “The Magic was already here?”

  “U-u-underground, yes.” Sapphire spreads their arms wide. “Magic’s heart lives deep in Helyanda. Beneath us all. From ti
me to time, the surface cracks. It bubbles over.”

  “That doesn’t explain you being here.”

  Sapphire lets out an impatient breath. “This much Magic is dangerous. In the wro-o-o-ong hands.”

  I know they mean human hands. “So what does keeping us all prisoner accomplish?” I ask tartly.

  “We will fix,” Sapphire says.

  “How?”

  “You would not understa-a-a-and.”

  “Try us.” Thelia says it like a dare.

  Sapphire crosses their arms. “No more. Time for sleeping.” Something about the authoritative way they say it makes me wonder what other delicious things they might demand in that tone.

  Sleeping on my couch instead of a hard stone floor is the most precious thing in the world. I sink into its cushions and run my face along the fur trim of my blanket. In the main room, Sapphire lies down on the floor in front of my door. I can’t go by, and neither can Thelia, without stepping over them. They plan to stay and keep watch—probably to make sure I don’t do more Magic. Not that I actually can on request.

  The lamps all go out at once, but I’m too tired to get my trews in a twist. I’m asleep the moment I close my eyes.

  Bayled

  Where do I go from here? The castle, the kingdom—gone. The army—stolen. Corene—imprisoned at best, dead at worst. I can still smell her hair in my hands, taste her lips on mine, feel what she felt like—

  “What about the Baron?” asks Harged.

  I’m so tired from trying to heal after Sasel used her good hand to stitch me up that I answer dryly, “What about him?”

  “He’s still out there in the Crimson Woods thinking he got away with deserting.”

  I shake my head. “We go after Nul se Lan. Fight back.”

  “How?” Harged presses. “We’re more than two days behind them, and they’re off wandering through the forest far from the Low Road. How would we find ’em?”

  Sasel nods. “And the men with him are loyal to him now—not you.”