by K K Ness
“The Roldaerian king, ordering the slaughter of his own people.” Tresa shook her head. “It’s difficult to fathom.”
By instinct, Danil’s gaze slid to Viren, whose green eyes sparkled with amusement.
“It shows the depths King Liam will go to gain control of kiandrite crystals,” Hafryn pointed out. “What do you think he will do to our people, should his armies reach Amas?”
A flash of irritation showed on Tresa’s face. “That is a discussion for the High Council, Hafryn of Eyrie. We’re fortunate to have Emissary Arlyn to treat with. It’s my hope we can reach some sort of accord.”
Danil pushed down his dismay. The only accord the magi of Roldaer would ever agree to was complete ownership of the kiandrite they needed for their spells and curses. The magi would ravage the deadlands to get it, before turning their hunger on Amas.
Tresa seemed willing to ignore such a reality, her face a cool mask as she returned to her plate.
Danil felt little appetite for the remainder of the meal.
10
Late evening saw Danil and Hafryn make their way along a corridor lit by iridescent seams of kiandrite. A breeze drifted in from the high windows overhead, where a waxing moon and slow moving clouds were visible. Weariness settled in Danil’s bones. He was unused to the wordplay the Amasians seemed to enjoy.
“Is it always like that?” he asked, resisting the urge to fold his arms.
“High stakes? Yes,” Hafryn replied grimly. Faint shadows showed under his eyes.
They entered a new corridor where the floor was polished marble. Guards bearing the glyph of Corros on their breast stood at attention in the alcoves and the balcony that opened up to the valley below. Two more guarded a wide oak door.
Hafryn rapped his knuckles on the wood and then pushed his way inside.
Sonnen sat on a plush chair opposite a crackling fire. An aging woman perched on a couch beside him, her bare feet on the thick woven rug. Her white hair was a wild mess about her head, tamed back by a band of tooled leather. Her dark, heavily seamed face reminded Danil of the former healer of Farin, Vellum, who’d had a quick laugh and steady hands.
Beyond the sitting room, the space stretched out into a cavernous, vaulted room with multiple arched doorways, each framed with interwoven glyphs. The far side of the cavern was open to the night sky. The polished floor abruptly dropped away into the inky blackness, and Danil imagined Sonnen in dragon form perched on the ledge before taking flight.
Hafryn paused in front of Sonnen, his arms folded. “What game are you playing at, dragon?” he growled.
Startled, Danil only then noticed the tense line of his friend’s back and shoulders.
Sonnen sighed. “Please forgive their intrusion, Freyna,” he said to the elderly woman.
The woman, Freyna, looked amused as she tucked her bare feet under her on the couch. “No need,” she said, her voice a warm rasp. “It has been too long, my friend.”
Contrite, Hafryn bent to press a kiss to her cheek. “Apologies, honored one. It’s good to see you.”
“And you, little wolf. Sonnen warned you would burst in here like a wildling,” she chuckled as she patted his cheek fondly.
Hafryn threw Sonnen a flat look but smiled at Freyna. “May I present you Danil, custodian of the deadlands.”
She rose, her simple robes falling about her like water. Smiling, she extended both hands to Danil.
Startled by the gesture, Danil clasped her hands.
“I give you welcome, honored custodian,” she said, her dark eyes warm. “I am Freyna, custodian of Corros.”
“Oh,” Danil said. The crystal grew warm against his chest. “Blessings to your House, Custodian Freyna.”
“Such wonderful manners,” she chuckled. “But let’s not stand on airs. You are Danil, and I Freyna. We’re equals, no?”
He smiled. “An exaggeration, but I appreciate it, Freyna.”
“Oh, I suspect we shall get on well,” Freyna said. She squeezed his hands. “Did you know the deadlands were once called Kailon? A much better name, wouldn’t you say?”
“It is,” he managed, feeling a sudden sense of rightness in the name. The first crystal warmed on his chest in agreement.
She smiled before turning to Hafryn. “And you, my dear wolf. There is something else different about you. Courtesy of this young man, I suspect.”
Hafryn flushed, scrubbing the back of his head. “You always see too much.”
“But less than I should,” she said, with a momentary flare of regret in her eyes. She drew close and pressed her forehead against Hafryn’s for a moment before stepping away. “We shall talk at length, my friend. But another time.” Her mirthful eyes slid to Sonnen. “It appears Sonnen has been keeping secrets.”
The dragon prince twitched as if fighting the urge to fold his arms. Danil wondered if he’d ever seen him so discomfited before. Sonnen motioned for Danil and Hafryn to sit.
Hafryn remained on his feet. “You could have warned me the Eyrie would be here, Sonnen. With Viren, no less.”
Freyna sat back on the couch, curling her feet up under her once more. She leaned on one armrest, chin in her hand to watch the proceedings.
The firelight reflected in Sonnen’s golden eyes. “I could have warned you,” he agreed.
Hafryn threw up his hands in disgust. He paced the polished floor. “You know Viren will cause trouble.”
“It would not have altered your course, in any case,” Sonnen said.
“Who is Viren?” Danil asked. “He called Hafryn cousin.”
Hafryn folded his arms. “Viren was the one who ordered my exile.”
Mouth falling open, Danil said, “Your cousin exiled you?”
“Viren was head of the home guard in my village,” Hafryn explained, agitation evident in his voice. “The rules are strict. Anyone who reveals their Trueform is of no use to the House. The Eyrie love their secrets. I forced his hand.”
“You were a child,” Danil argued, appalled.
“Hence exile, and not death,” Hafryn pointed out.
Danil was entirely sure that Amasian ways would always remain strange to him.
His expression must have betrayed him, for Sonnen shook his head. “Our peoples are not so different, Danil. You were a child when your village first sent you into the deadlands—into Kailon,” he amended. “A place so dangerous that many before you have died.”
It was a fair point. Danil settled on the couch beside Freyna.
“It is the focus on our differences that has led us here,” Sonnen added. “We must look past them if we are to convince the High Council that Kailon is critical to our future.”
Hafryn scowled. “Speaking of. What game is Tresa playing at? She’s your representative, but she seemed to accuse Danil of not being a true custodian.”
Sonnen frowned. “She knows her task, but many in Corros are concerned by what it means to have a human custodian.” He turned to Freyna. “You might have some insight into this, Freyna, since you became the custodian of Corros when you belonged to another House.”
“It indeed took a time for your dam to forgive such a transgression,” Freyna said dryly. She gave Danil a measuring look. “But there are tricks we custodians can share.”
“I’m not really sure what I’m doing,” Danil admitted.
Freyna tilted her head. “You’ve been under the tutelage of Elania of Corros, have you not?”
“And Blutark,” Danil said, surprised at her knowledge.
“Then I’m sure you are further along than you realize. Elania is a most gifted enchanter. They both are.”
Danil nodded, though the tight ball in his belly failed to ease.
Freyna took his hand, turning it palm up to trace the glyph. “This says we’re of the same House, Danil. But that will not always be so.” She closed his hand into a fist. “You’re the first custodian of Kailon. There is no path laid out before you.”
“I have to make it myself,” Danil surmise
d. He swallowed against the lump in his throat.
Freyna smiled. “That doesn’t mean I can’t advise you.” Her gaze settled on the crystal on Danil’s chest. “Walking the leylines is part of who we are as custodians. We show them the safe places where kiandrite can grow, and herd them from places that can cause harm.”
Danil thought of the new trees and undergrowth running through Kailon. “The lodestones Kaul stole during the Great War—they come from forested lands, don’t they?”
“The Eyrie, mostly, and some from Altonas and Eliar before Kaul poisoned them,” Freyna agreed. “Eyrie lands are heavy with rivers and canyons. It’s hardly a surprise that their ancient leylines now thrive in Kailon and shape it to resemble their former homeland.”
Frowning, Danil asked, “I’d have thought the Eyrie would care what happens in Kailon, then.”
Freyna shook her head. “New leylines have grown in Eyrie, though they’re strange and at times unwelcoming. No doubt a relic of Kaul’s misdeeds. Most Houses carry burdens from the war.”
“You mean like what happened to Kailon?” Danil asked.
Sonnen said, “Kailon bore the physical brunt of the war, but many Houses lost glyphs unique to them.”
Danil’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘lost’?”
“They disappeared,” Hafryn said with a shrug. “All references faded from books and stones, and our enchanters could no longer remember how to create them—not even the commonly used glyphs.”
“Sounds like a magi curse,” Danil muttered.
“Kaul was half human,” Sonnen allowed. “But it is believed he intended neither the breaking of Kailon nor the destruction of our glyphs.”
“Really?” Danil asked dubiously. “He was an enemy to Amas. It would make sense he would seek to find a way to destroy your glyphs to ensure his success.”
“Quite. And yet the power required to do so would have surely destroyed him long before he was able to lay Kailon to waste. He simply did not have that power,” Sonnen said.
Danil nodded in thought. He turned to eye Hafryn. “And what about you? What’s this rite that Viren wants you to do?”
Hafryn gave a put-upon sigh. “It’s a cleansing. A ritual that Eyrie must partake in if they have been gone from our lands for a time.”
“But you’re exiled.”
“Aye, but I’m still of the House of Eyrie.” Hafryn tapped the glyph on the inside of his elbow. “This says I’m bound by certain customs and rituals. I can’t ignore Viren’s demands, not without gaining a contract on my head.”
Sonnen rubbed his chin. “It has been a long time since Viren took an interest in you. There are advantages to acceding to his demands, beyond avoiding your own death of course.”
Freyna tilted her head at Sonnen. “You expect Hafryn to find out who purchased the assassin’s contract.”
Danil raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were keeping that secret.”
“From the Roldaerians, yes,” Sonnen said. “Freyna is another matter. One does not easily hide such knowledge from his custodian.”
“Indeed not,” Freyna said with a small smile. She straightened. “Hafryn, is this rite an opportunity to discover Danil’s attacker?”
Hafryn shook his head. “Contracts are sworn to secrecy. It’s possible the only people who knew of the contact was the assassin, her Keeper and the one who paid for it.”
“Who is the Keeper in Corros?” Danil asked.
“As the member of the High Council, it’s Viren,” Hafryn said. “Although I can’t say who was Keeper before he arrived for the meetings. And obviously, we have no way of knowing who among the Eyrie are owl assassins.”
Danil bit his lip, debating whether to speak of what he’d seen in the dining hall.
Sonnen appeared unsatisfied. “I want you to begin your search for the one behind the assassin’s contract tomorrow, Hafryn. And be cautious should you come upon the Eyrie.”
“Aren’t I always?”
Sonnen gave him a flat look. “Danil, I’d like you to spend the day with me. I have assurances that there will be no council meetings—official or otherwise. It will serve us well should we happen to bump into councilors during a tour of the citadel. After the display Amaranth’s crystal put on this evening, I’m certain that we will have many curious eyes.”
“Corros intrigue at its finest,” Hafryn said dourly with a shake of his head.
Danil wasn’t confident he had the skill for such subtle work, but he nonetheless nodded gamely.
“Excellent. Let’s see if we can win ourselves some more votes,” Sonnen said.
11
“Emissary Arlyn invites you to breakfast with her, Custodian Danil,” a servant said as she stood in the reception room of Hafryn’s quarters.
Seated on the couch, Danil hesitated in pulling on his boots. “Oh, I—”
Hafryn strolled out from the bathing pool in a loose robe, toweling his damp hair. “Please inform the emissary that the custodian has other commitments this morning.” Hafryn threw himself down on the couch beside Danil, the move exposing his bare chest and belly. He gave the servant a playful wink.
Heat flooded Danil’s cheeks.
“Of course, sir. I shall express the sentiment,” the servant said, grinning as she bowed. The door closed behind her with a quiet snick.
Eyeing Hafryn’s casual dress, Danil said, “Really?”
Hafryn shrugged, grinning. “Anything that avoids the Roldaerians is to our benefit, no?”
“I didn’t think we need an excuse.”
Hafryn wrapped his finger about the loose lacings of Danil’s tunic. “Hmm, you’re right about that, fala.” His green eyes turned mischievous. “Alas, Sonnen has already claimed you for the day.” He lifted himself off the couch.
Sighing, Danil finished pulling on his boots. “Will you be joining us?”
“For a tour of Corros?” Hafryn wrinkled his nose. “There’s little new for me to see I’m afraid. Besides, there’s the matter of your would-be assassin. Whoever is behind it must be feeling nervous by now.”
“If they’re in Corros.”
Hafryn nodded. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone’s complaining about a missing servant or stablehand. We might at least discover who our assassin was pretending to be.”
“Be careful,” Danil said.
Grinning, Hafryn said, “Naturally.” He shucked off his robe, hopping on one foot as he pulled on his breeches. “And truly, fala, stay clear of the Roldaerians. It wasn’t happenstance that Arlyn was seated far from you last night. Sonnen doesn’t want anyone to associate you and Roldaer together.”
“We’re not together,” Danil growled.
Hafryn tied the lacings of his breeches closed. “I know that, but the High Council may not.”
Danil cursed softly under his breath.
“And avoid walking the halls alone, if you can. It would be mightily inconvenient if you came upon whoever sent that owl. If their pockets are deep, they may well send another.”
“Well, you can discount Viren as being an assassin,” Danil muttered, recalling how the councilor’s Trueform had seemed to strip him bare.
“What?” Hafryn gaped in astonishment.
Danil said, “Viren’s a wolf. Huge, though. Twice the size of your Trueform.”
“A Great Wolf,” he murmured, looking slightly nervous. “No less dangerous than an owl, but for other reasons.” He scrubbed his chin. “I have always wondered about that man.” Hafryn looked earnestly at Danil. “Speak of it to no one, Danil. If he has the slightest inkling, the consequences will be catastrophic.”
“I swear,” Danil said.
A knock on the door had Hafryn moving. Sonnen entered wearing plain grey robes cinched at the waist with a leather belt dotted with kiandrite crystals. The crystal about Danil’s neck sang in the back of his mind as if in greeting.
“Am I too early?” Sonnen asked. He eyed Hafryn in amusement as the wolf strode into their sleeping quarters in sear
ch of a tunic.
“You’re always welcome, Sonnen,” Hafryn called out. Pulling the tunic over his head, he added, “Danil and I were just discussing allies.”
Sonnen raised an eyebrow. “They aren’t always easy to see, especially when the High Council is at play,” he agreed. He smiled at Danil. “But you have an ally in the citadel itself, Danil.”
“I do?” Danil asked in surprise.
“It’s easier if I show you,” Sonnen said.
Hafryn finished lacing his tunic. “I’ll be down at the harbor if you’ve need of me.”
Sonnen nodded, then waited for Danil to join him.
Outside, they strode along a causeway that led them across the windy battlements and into a second tower. A stairwell took them up a few levels.
Giggling children drew Danil up short. The stairwell opened onto an exposed landing bereft of a roof or walls. Gleaming tiles of blue and gold covered the floor in a series of intricate circles. Groups of children, some hardly old enough to be out of swaddling cloths, sat in a ring surrounding large glyphs etched into the stone. A youngling stood in the center of each circle, flicking between human and woodland creatures like squirrels, badgers and even an elk. An older shifter, wearing robes of the Corros enchanters, watched over each group, offering advice and encouragement.
“What is this place?” Danil asked in quiet awe.
“Younglings who are new to transformation come here to practice,” Sonnen said, watching over the groups. “Transformation can be a difficult experience, especially if the youngling is frightened or unprepared. They can practice here without fear of being injured or hurting others.”
Danil watched a girl perhaps twelve summers old flit between human and badger. The children sitting around the circle applauded when she fluidly transformed back.
Sonnen took him on a winding path between the glyph circles. The air took on a low hum as they neared a stretch of floor heavily veined with kiandrite. Glyphs marked the ground here as well but were worn thin and almost invisible in places as if eroded with age.
Sonnen motioned for Danil to kneel beside a vein of kiandrite as thick as his forearm. It startled Danil a little that such wealth could be left unharvested. With a rush of understanding, he realized the Amasians valued kiandrite far more than merely as crystals that powered their enchantments.