The Tattered Lands

by Barbara Ann Wright

  “Wanted…wanted to kill me.”

  “No one will harm you. Not while I live.” She kissed Lilani’s temple. “You must tell the story from the beginning.”

  Lilani clung to her mother and sobbed, seeing the knife in the dark here, in the safest of all places. How would she ever be able to sleep again? She shifted as her mother moved them close to the wall, then a deep, hollow thrum filled the small space. She risked a look. Her mother had struck the gong that sat in an alcove to the side of the foyer. It had been installed to summon the Guard, but when had they ever needed it before?

  Lilani took a step back and wiped her eyes. She didn’t want the Guard to see her falling apart, but that accursed knife wouldn’t leave her memory. Was this because of her recent adventures? Maybe she should have never gotten involved with humans, never met Vandra, none of it.

  But she had to take the good with the bad. Hope for the best; prepare for the worst.

  No! That was with humans, not her own people.

  The door flew open, and five of the Guard burst in, all in their nightclothes with weapons ready. Lilani had known they took turns manning the nearby guardhouse, but it was for show. They laughed about it. Lucian often sat outside of it, feet propped up on the railing, ready in case his empress wanted him for more than guard duty.

  His face was tight with worry now, his eyes flicking to Lilani’s hands, and she only then remembered she’d cut herself. She’d left bloody handprints on her mother’s nightgown.

  “Search the house,” her mother said. “Detain anyone you find. Watch for shrouds.”

  The Guard fanned out, Lucian staying with Lilani and her mother. He guided Lilani to a chair and knelt to examine her hands. Her mother stood over them, rapier at the ready.

  “Empress?” Lucian asked, so formal when he had a job to do. But he gave Lilani a calm smile as he gently plucked a shard from her hand.

  Lilani’s mother rested a hand on her shoulder. “Tell him, my heart.”

  Stammering, focusing on the pain as Lucian tended her hands, Lilani told the story, trying to hurry through as if that would push it further into the past.

  The Guard finished the search, and one of them brought Lilani’s shredded pillow. Her lip quivered when she saw it. No one had ever wanted to harm her before. As much as she’d feared speaking to Vandra and her siblings, she’d never really believed they’d hurt her.

  She took a deep breath, then another. When Lucian finished with her hands, she clasped them together and tried to stop herself from trembling. She wasn’t really sitting there. None of this had happened to her. Instead, she imagined standing at the edge of this room, listening to someone else tell the story of a nighttime lurker. Lucian relayed the details to the Guard, and their faces grew even grimmer. They stood as still as statues, and for once, Lilani was grateful. If they’d hugged her or offered comforting words, she would have burst into tears again.

  When Faelyn stepped into the doorway, the Guard rounded on him, weapons up. He raised his hands. “What happened?”

  Lilani’s mother waved him in. Since he’d been sleeping beside her in the tree, he couldn’t be the person they were after.

  “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life,” her mother said with a voice like steel. She turned to Lucian. “Summon the rest of the Guard and find this person.”

  He nodded, told two guards to remain at the house, and asked Lilani’s mother to keep the door shut. It didn’t have a lock. Her mother moved to have a quiet word with him before he left, and Faelyn sat at Lilani’s side, looking at her wounded hands. Most of the cuts were shallow; they’d stopped bleeding. She rubbed her thumb over one that had already scabbed.

  “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

  No one else had really asked, not the way he meant it. “No, but I don’t want to…” Tears threatened again. She breathed and looked to the ceiling.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Breathe. Like that.”

  “What if… Faelyn, what…”

  “No, not right this moment. Now, all you have to do is breathe. Then there can be action. Right now, you’re just living.”

  She took his advice, doing nothing but listening to her own breath and her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

  * * *

  It had passed midday, and Vandra’s steps through the city were dragging. She wasn’t certain if the twins slowed in solidarity or if they were as tired as she was. Seeing the arched edifices of the university had her sighing in relief. At last, she could get to work. Even though the university was the site of all her recent failures, it was also a place she knew well, with instruments and chemicals she was familiar with. Given time, she could crack the mystery of the tattered metal. She was the expert on syndrium, no matter how many times she’d failed. Others had tried to duplicate her one success, and they’d failed, too. It brought some comfort to know it wasn’t just her.

  Vandra hurried through the halls, dodging students and faculty. Fieta visited the kitchen stores while Pietyr went to the equipment lab and gathered the tools Vandra needed. When they met in Vandra’s office, she saw that Fieta had also acquired three cots.

  “Where did you get those?” Vandra asked.

  Fieta only grinned. Vandra sighed and hoped she wouldn’t be hearing about three freshmen who’d suddenly found themselves without beds. Between the cots, Vandra’s desk, and her worktable, there wasn’t much room to maneuver, at least until Vandra lay down. Ariadne had told them to wait for dark, and the only way Vandra could think of to put off anyone who might come looking was to pretend no one was here. They all lay down and blew out the candle. Her office had no window, so the room plunged into blackness, and since afternoon classes were nearly done, the hallway stayed quiet. Vandra fell into a fitful sleep with visions of the seelie following her into her dreams.

  That night, Vandra lit every lamp in her office as the twins set the cots to the side. She rubbed her hands together before she took the tattered metal from its containers and set it on her worktable with a thump. She stared at the jagged edge before fetching a clamp and securing the metal to the table. She tried her shears again, and the same ringing feeling as before nearly vibrated the tool out of her hand.

  Fieta stuck her hands in her ears and frowned from near the door. “You already tried that!”

  “You can talk or you can stay. Not both.” Vandra made a note that the same experiment failed under controlled conditions.

  She tried acid next and noted that the metal seemed resistant, though she did get a hint of foam, but unlike the blue of syndrium, this was nearly black and foul smelling. She quickly dumped bicarbonate of soda over the acid then placed the metal under a glass dome. When they had to stand outside the open door and let the room air out, Fieta gave her another look.

  “Am I allowed to talk in the hallway?” Fieta asked.

  “No,” Pietyr said. She shoved his arm. Vandra hurried back inside to make another note, excited that something was finally happening.

  She succeeded in scraping the metal with a chisel edged in diamond, but it didn’t react with any other chemicals. She sprinkled a small amount of syndrium on top and stared in fascination as the syndrium faded from its normal silvery-blue to the gray of common slate.

  Vandra took a reading with her detector, but it ignored the metal, honing in on the syndrium scattered through the university, the city. The bit of metal didn’t seem to affect any other syndrium unless it was sitting right on top.

  So, it was part of something larger, an experiment or apparatus. She put it back in the lead box anyway and ran tests on the soil samples, finding traces of inert acid and lead as well as flecks of iron, and some other metal, the traces of which were too small to identify. Someone had been performing alchemical experiments in that field. To affect the pylon? She’d entertained the absurd idea that someone had dismantled the pylon and erected a new one made of stone without anyone noticing, but now that she’d found proof of alchemy, there was
more to this puzzle than brute strength. Someone had found a way to turn syndrium into stone.

  Like her formula in reverse.

  Vandra drummed her fingers on the table. She put the samples away and sought her books, reading until her eyes grew bleary. There were so few facts about the tattered lands, but there were plenty of stories. Anyone who ventured inside to run experiments risked being corrupted. She tried cross-referencing the tattered lands research with stories about the seelie but didn’t find much there, either, save that the seelie had innate magical powers. Vandra had seen that firsthand. And their magical fields read as syndrium. Maybe they had it running through their veins somehow? That could be a clue to their longevity.

  Vandra started writing that down then stopped, her hand hovering over the page. She’d never been in the position where her work might harm someone, but if she hinted that the seelie were made of syndrium, she’d be putting Lilani and her people in danger. Her alchemist heart wanted to write everything down, but if she became a source of pain to Lilani…

  Was that why no one had made this “discovery” before?

  “Van?” Pietyr asked. “Are you finished?”

  She shook her head and wished she had the knowledge humanity had lost when they’d fled the tattered lands. Were the books still out there somewhere, lingering in abandoned libraries? Or did the tattered lands corrupt inanimate objects as it did living ones, and in some ancient library, feral books roamed the hallways?

  It was getting too late.

  Pietyr was still watching her. She smiled. “Almost done.”

  Fieta leaned against the door in a chair, her eyes shut, arms crossed. Their nap seemed a long time in the past. Vandra stretched; maybe they should all sleep. She didn’t want to be groggy for the assembly.

  But one pylon was still dead, and whoever had done it might be trying to sabotage the others. Had Ariadne said she’d send guards or scouts to check? Now that Vandra had confirmed alchemy and not a natural phenomenon, Ariadne had to send guards without delay. And since sending a messenger across Parbeh with such secret information was out of the question…

  Fieta came awake with a start when Vandra touched her shoulder. “Is it…” She blinked around her. “Are we done?”

  “Nice guarding,” Pietyr said as he buckled on his sword.

  “At least I was blocking the door,” she said.

  “We have to run an errand,” Vandra said, “and then I promise, there will be sleep.” She put the lead-lined box into her pack and hoisted the entire thing over her shoulder, not wanting to leave any evidence lying around.

  For all their grumbling, the twins came alert more easily than she ever did, and soon the three of them hurried through the night. The twins knew the Watch patrol routes and easily avoided them, not wanting to answer any awkward questions. When they reached Ariadne’s house, Vandra paused outside the door. The servants had no doubt gone home for the night. Ariadne would be asleep. If they knocked hard enough to wake her, they might alert the neighbors and the Watch.

  She debated for a few moments, her tired brain trying to reach a decision before Pietyr said, “Come on,” and led them behind the row of houses to where an alley ran between the small garden walls. Pietyr scaled Ariadne’s wall with ease and unlatched the gate from the inside. Vandra was tempted to ask if he’d learned that from the Watch or his brief gang days.

  “I don’t want to break into her house,” Pietyr said. “Do you know which window is her bedroom?”

  Vandra shook her head. She’d never been here before, but she assumed it would be on the second floor. She hoped Ariadne lived alone, and they weren’t about to wake her and her lover. Vandra had no idea what she’d say then, picturing herself rushing to explain that she wasn’t some paramour.

  Well, not anymore.

  Fieta tossed pebbles at all the windows until Vandra was certain the neighbors would be stirring, but Ariadne remained asleep.

  “Maybe she’s not home,” Vandra whispered. “She might be sleeping in her office, working late.”

  Fieta struck a match and tried the back door. It opened easily. “Unlocked.” She and Pietyr tsked, their inner Watch officers peeking out.

  Vandra stepped inside the darkened house, her throat dry. It wasn’t like Ariadne to leave a door unlocked. They’d both grown up with lots of siblings and an exaggerated need for privacy. “Let me wake her,” Vandra said, hoping the door was just a tired slip on Ariadne’s part. “There’s less of a chance she’ll scream if it’s me.” She hoped Ariadne hadn’t learned any fighting moves since they’d been lovers. It wouldn’t do to be nursing a broken arm on top of everything else.

  The house remained eerily still. A ball of dread bloomed in Vandra’s stomach, growing by the second. She struck a match as they tromped upstairs. Only two rooms waited above, the first with a desk inside, and the other with a bed along one wall, a lump lying in the middle.

  “Ariadne?” Vandra whispered loudly, but even then, she knew she’d get no answer.

  The lump didn’t move. Too still. Vandra tried to swallow, but her mouth had turned to sand.

  “I smell blood,” Fieta said, not bothering to keep her voice down.

  “Careful, Van,” Pietyr said.

  Vandra’s wooden steps carried her toward the bed. The tangle of blankets didn’t stir, not even when Vandra held the match close. She couldn’t look past the foot of the bed. Only Pietyr’s gasp and Fieta’s murmur made her follow the pale coverlet upward.

  The blood covering Ariadne’s throat and chin glinted ruby red. Her wide, dark eyes stared at nothing, and her mouth hung slack. One hand had been flung across her body, the other lay on her breast, fingers curved toward her throat as if she’d been trying to hold in the lifeblood that had been stolen from her.

  Chapter Ten

  Pain flared in Vandra’s fingers as the match burned down to her skin. She dropped it, cursing, plunging the room into darkness.

  Somehow, not seeing Ariadne was so much worse. But when Fieta struck another match and lit a candle on the bedside table, Vandra turned away, but the image of Ariadne’s ruined throat followed her.

  “Van?” Pietyr’s voice. He guided her to a chair. She couldn’t thank him, couldn’t do anything. Memories kept resurfacing: Ariadne laughing back when the bickering of her colleagues amused rather than annoyed her, little noises she’d made during lovemaking, the sight of her dashing from a room while still pulling her clothes on. She lived on the cusp of being late.

  Had lived.

  Dimly, Vandra heard the twins moving around the room, investigating, discussing the crime in hushed, business-like tones. She wanted to tell them that whoever wanted to destroy the pylons had done this; they’d probably been following Ariadne all over the city. To her office, her home.

  To Vandra.

  She jumped out of her chair. “They know we’re back!”

  The twins gawked, but she was already moving. Why kill Ariadne unless the enemy knew Vandra had returned and that she’d discovered something?

  “We have to report this,” Fieta said as they rushed downstairs. “Van!”

  “Ariadne wanted to keep everything secret,” Vandra said.

  “Not her own murder!”

  “Fieta, we have to get home,” Vandra said. “Whoever killed her might be looking for us, too.” If the pylons failed, everyone would die, but that felt less important than making sure her family was safe. Vandra’s rational mind tried to tell her that didn’t make sense, but emotions ruled her at the moment. Even so, part of her found her behavior both fascinating and annoying.

  The tidy row of houses in their neighborhood stood dark and silent; the sight made Vandra’s chest constrict. Ariadne’s house had looked the same, but only horrors lay within. She rushed toward the short fence that protected the tiny front yard. The gate opened easily, the latch still broken after so many years. Why hadn’t her parents ever fixed it? It was one more barrier between them and…

  She paused. A dark shap
e lounged on the front steps. Bess, one of the many cats who’d frequented their property over the years, lay before the door, flicking her tail. If there were horrors, she wouldn’t be so calm, would she? The other cats would raise an alarm, too. She pictured sleek Ruffy, her little sister’s cat, removing the face of anyone who threatened his favorite person. He frightened large dogs.

  However.

  Vandra stepped over Bess and tried the door. Locked. The cat stood, gave each of them a sniff, then rubbed against their ankles.

  “For the gods’ sake, Van.” Fieta stepped past and used her key. Now that Vandra had given her sister the image of a dead family, it seemed she couldn’t rest until she’d made sure. The house was dark and quiet, but Fieta didn’t pause as she headed upstairs. Vandra went through the small sitting room and toward her parents’ bedroom.

  She heard them snoring as she reached the door. With a sigh, she rested her head against the doorjamb, relief coursing within her. It smashed against grief for Ariadne and turned to guilt for forgetting her. Why couldn’t emotions be managed as easily as alchemical formulas?

  A shout and a thump came from overhead, followed by a child’s cry. Vandra turned from her parents’ room and raced up the stairs. Two dark forms writhed in the hallway. The twins had caught someone in their little sister’s room. All of Vandra’s emotions darkened into anger. She leapt the wrestling forms and went into Sita’s room, fumbling for a match.

  Her sister blinked away from the sudden light, her cries ceasing as she recognized Vandra and launched forward. Vandra caught her and held the match out as she turned to the hallway.

  Fieta had forgotten about Ruffy, too. The cat’s front claws balled in her shirt, his teeth snapping toward her face. Pietyr was trying to pull him away, but Ruffy twisted and turned, scoring Pietyr’s arms with his back claws.

  Vandra barked a laugh as she lowered Sita to the bed. By the time she lit a candle, she was guffawing, and Sita joined in, both of them cackling like mad as Ruffy finally left off his attack and leapt nimbly off Fieta’s chest. He strolled to Sita’s bed and sat in the middle, licking himself.