The Stone Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 3)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  From myriad spots in the river, narrow streams of water arced far up in the air, then started falling on Zeisha and Kebi like a sudden rain shower. Kebi’s mouth dropped open in shock. Laughing, she stood and raised her arms.

  Zeisha removed her hands from the river and came to her feet, exulting in the cool relief from the day’s heat. Her wide-brimmed hat got soggy and heavy, and she threw it to the ground.

  After dropping her own hat, Kebi stepped closer to Zeisha, facing her. Zeisha lifted her gaze to her friend’s warm, brown eyes, then found her focus drifting to details of Kebi’s face she’d never noticed before. The angle of her narrow nose. A pale, crescent-shaped scar next to her left eye. The slight indentation at the center of her bottom lip, now host to a tiny drop of water. Zeisha fought off a sudden, inexplicable urge to rest her thumb in that little divot on Kebi’s lip.

  Kebi extended both hands. Zeisha’s eyes dropped, fixing on those smooth, pale palms. Something—an emotion, almost tangible and not quite identifiable—flickered between them. A soft smile stole over Zeisha’s lips as she placed her hands in Kebi’s.

  Kebi’s mouth widened into a sudden, mischievous grin. She tightened her hands on Zeisha’s, then leaned back and began spinning. Zeisha followed suit, shrieking with laughter as they spun faster. Her curls flung water into the air, and dizziness sent delicious lightness into her head. Apparently she wasn’t the only one feeling silly today.

  Kebi’s feet slipped on the slick grass. They both fell, laughing. Zeisha dipped a hand into the water and asked the Well to reduce its shower to a drizzle. Both women lay back on the wet grass. When Zeisha shifted, her fingers brushed against Kebi’s. Warmth filled her chest, and she was suddenly extra aware of herself and her surroundings. Cool clean river water on her tongue. The scent of wet grass. Heat from the sun in the pale-orange sky. The tingle of her finger where it had just touched Kebi’s.

  They lay in comfortable silence. Zeisha found herself musing about the recent changes in her life, each one an emotional landmark on her journey. She’d sensed a shift in her soul the moment she’d met the Anya in Cruine six weeks ago, then again two days later, when she’d sat with Krey on a bench and realized they needed to break up.

  And just now, when Kebi had extended her hands, Zeisha had felt it once more—the sense that her life was drifting suddenly and unexpectedly from the path she’d been on. She welcomed the shift and was willing to dwell peacefully in it . . . whatever it was. But she wasn’t quite ready to analyze it.

  A few minutes later, Zeisha returned to the river and again dipped her fingers in. She sent the Well her gratitude and asked it to go dormant. A rush of love and acceptance filled her, and the streams of water stopped.

  She sat next to Kebi, who’d risen to her knees and was wringing out the hem of her shirt. “Thanks for coming with me,” Zeisha said. “I’ve been spending time almost every day experimenting with the Well, and . . . it’s nice sharing that with someone. With you.”

  Kebi smiled. “I should thank you. I do not laugh so hard since before my wife dies a year ago.”

  Zeisha sobered. “Really? You haven’t been this happy in a whole year?”

  “Not until today. And Dera is happy when I am happy. I know she is.”

  A smile spread over Zeisha’s mouth again. She’d never dreamed she’d become close to a trog, but Kebi had welcomed her to Deroga from the first day they’d met. Because of her, the city had begun feeling like home.

  Kebi had begun feeling like home.

  When had that happened?

  At last, Zeisha spoke. “We need to go change. What’ll we say if someone asks what happened to us? Should we tell them we fell in the river?”

  Kebi stood and extended a hand to help Zeisha up. “The truth is, the river falls on us.”

  Zeisha took her hand and stood, laughing.

  Zeisha had just finished putting on dry clothes when someone knocked on the bunkhouse door. “Come in!” she called.

  The door opened, revealing a trog woman who assisted Eira, the Star Clan’s unofficial leader. Normally well groomed, she was currently red faced and sweaty. “There you are. I look for you on your rooftop, but it is empty.”

  “I’m sorry,” Zeisha said, wincing on the assistant’s behalf. Climbing to that rooftop was always difficult, and it was pure misery in the summer. “Kebi and I took our lunch break.” Her stomach growled, reminding her she still hadn’t eaten.

  “Eira sends me to fetch you,” the woman said. “Go to her office while I return home to change clothes. Hurry, an important guest waits for you.”

  Before Zeisha could ask any questions, the assistant rushed off.

  Zeisha stepped onto the street to find Kebi approaching the building. She gave her friend a quick explanation and promised to meet her on the roof afterward. Kebi offered to bring lunch for both of them, and Zeisha gratefully agreed.

  A couple of minutes later, Zeisha knocked on Eira’s office door, calling out a greeting. The door opened, revealing a short, bald man.

  Zeisha’s eyes widened. “Prime Minister Osk!”

  “Our Anya.” The leader of the nation of Cruine lowered his head.

  “Please don’t bow to me,” Zeisha said quietly.

  Osk met her gaze with a nod and stepped aside so she could enter. Eira was sitting at her desk, face flushed with heat despite the open shutters at every window.

  As Zeisha and Osk sat in front of the desk, she tried to hide her curiosity over his arrival. She hadn’t planned to tell him she was the new Anya. But when Eira had sent a Cruinite trade ship back home with news of the old Anya’s death, Osk had dispatched a messenger to ask if the Anya had perhaps passed his gift to Zeisha.

  When Zeisha read the letter, it boggled her mind. What had Osk seen in her during their brief time together that led him to guess she was the new Anya? Whatever it was, there was no sense hiding the truth. She’d given Eira permission to tell him he was right. Based on the timing of this visit, Zeisha was pretty sure Osk had hopped on a boat as soon as his messenger returned with the news.

  Osk turned to Zeisha. “I’ve come to invite you to Cruine.”

  “You want me to visit?”

  One of his brows rose. “I want you to live there as my honored guest. You may settle wherever you like, whether in a city or in solitude. I am the only one in Cruine who knows of your gift, and I will protect that knowledge. A portion of the prime minister’s budget has always been used to support the Anya. You will live in comfort, with all your needs met.”

  Letting the silence stretch, Zeisha listened to the voice within her. At last, she responded, “Thank you, but Cruine isn’t my home.”

  “The Anya has always lived in Cruine.” Osk’s Cruinite accent was refined, but a current of command ran through his words. This was a man who was used to being obeyed.

  Zeisha met Osk’s gaze without fear. “I know if I moved to Cruine, I’d be welcome there.”

  He nodded earnestly. “Indeed.”

  In the past, he would’ve intimidated Zeisha, but now, the peace that filled her was too thick to allow fear to enter. “Maybe someday I’ll realize I’m meant to move there. Right now, I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

  “I don’t think you understand.” He leaned toward her. “The Anya is part of Cruine’s heritage. When I was sworn into office, I learned that one of my most important duties is to protect the Anya and the knowledge of the Well. I can’t do that if you’re in Cellerin.”

  “I don’t think you understand,” Zeisha replied gently. “The Well doesn’t belong to one nation. Neither do I.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Eira smile.

  Osk pressed his lips together and sat back in his seat, watching Zeisha with what looked like grief. At last, he said, “You do realize the damage Anyas of the past did, do you not? You know how harmful the Well is when it’s misused? And when the power is given to those who shouldn’t have it?”

  “I do. The Anya told me to pass my gift to one person—m
y own child, or someone who’s like my child. That’s what I’ll do, and not until I know in my heart that it’s time.” Seeing the uncertainty in his gaze, she continued, “He also told me to listen. Prime Minister, I’ve heard a voice in my heart since I was a child. These days, I hear it clearer than ever. I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I—”

  He interrupted, “I have trusted you since I met you, Zeisha.”

  Her eyes widened. “Then trust me when I tell you, I’m not supposed to leave Deroga today.”

  Osk looked out one of the open windows. Zeisha waited, giving him a smile when he met her gaze again. He returned the smile, but his was resigned. “The leaders of Cruine have always respected the decisions of your predecessors. I must honor your choice to stay here, though it grieves me to lose our Anya.”

  Her smile brightened, though her voice was soft. “You haven’t lost me, Prime Minister. Like I said, the Well belongs to all of us. I’m pretty sure the one who speaks to me doesn’t care much about national borders. If I’m meant to be in your area, I’ll be there.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. If I need to contact you, where will I find you?”

  Zeisha hadn’t anticipated the question, but the answer came easily. “For now, Deroga is my home.” She stood, and Osk did the same. “It was good to see you again.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “Eira tells me you were with our Anya in his final moments. Thank you.”

  “He was a good man.”

  Osk took both her hands and locked his gaze with hers. “He chose a good heir.”

  The Stone Eater: 2

  “Come in,” Ulmin said.

  The tall army captain in charge of New Therro held both hands out and bowed his head, then entered. Ulmin tried to recall the man’s name, then decided it didn’t matter. He gestured to the other man in the room, who stood near the window. “You know General Etal.”

  The captain brought his fists together over his heart in a salute. “Yes, sir.” Slick sweat covered his face.

  “Take your jacket off,” Ulmin said. When the soldier had complied, Ulmin held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  The captain shook the king’s hand, and Ulmin took control of his mind. The muscles in the man’s face and shoulders slackened. Ulmin looked over his shoulder at General Etal. “Much better, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Let’s sit.” Ulmin gestured to an arrangement of several chairs across the room near a fireplace he couldn’t imagine needing anytime soon. When they were all settled, he asked the captain, “What do you think of my dome?”

  “It makes it hot in here. I’m not sure why you had to cover the whole place.” The captain’s blank expression didn’t change as he spoke the words.

  Fury flared in Ulmin’s chest, but he forced a laugh past it. “Well, don’t hold back.” Of course, the man wouldn’t. That was the beauty and the drawback of mind control: total honesty. “Give me an update on New Therro.”

  In a clear monotone, the captain replied, “The people are hungry but mostly docile. We punish crimes harshly, and the number of incidents decreases almost every week.”

  “What kinds of crimes?”

  “Stealing. Violence. Disobedience. Disloyalty in word or action.”

  Ulmin nodded. These were the same issues Etal had been telling him about. “How many did you arrest last week?”

  “Seven.”

  “Ages?”

  “Fourteen to sixty-two.”

  “How many were killed, rather than arrested? Ages too.”

  “Five. Sixteen to forty-seven.”

  “Troop deaths?”

  “None, Your Majesty.”

  “Much better than the week before,” General Etal said.

  “Agreed.” Ulmin sat back, threading his fingers together behind his head and crossing his right ankle over his left knee. “Tell them when they have a week with no arrests or executions, we’ll increase the food supply by twenty-five percent.”

  The captain acknowledged the order, but General Etal sat up straighter. “Sir, if we do so, we may not have enough food for the troops.”

  Ulmin’s right eye twitched in annoyance. He rarely controlled the general; the man was smart and performed better when his mind was free. But he had a nasty habit of questioning his monarch. Removing his hands from behind his head, Ulmin said, “We have plenty of food in Cellerin City.”

  “You want us to send it up to New Therro?”

  “No.” A slight smile made the corners of Ulmin’s mouth twitch. “I want all the peacekeepers who are currently living inside New Therro to stay there. Bring the rest of the army—those camped outside the city—to the capital.”

  The general tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair. “We had five thousand troops prior to the Derogan battle. We lost four hundred in the fighting. You then released our eighteen hundred New Therroan soldiers. Five hundred troops are currently peacekeepers.” His brows drew together. “That leaves twenty-three hundred.”

  “I can do math,” Ulmin spat, though he hadn’t bothered to calculate the numbers. That wasn’t his job. “Bring them to the city.”

  “Why?”

  That smile tugged at the king’s lips again. This time, he let it form. “New Therro is experiencing greater peace than ever before. Their loyalty to the crown is at last returning. Imagine how strong my kingdom will be when we bring the same unity to our capital.”

  General Etal’s jaw dropped. “Cellerin City is already unified. You have many supporters—”

  “And just as many who whisper their complaints to each other,” Ulmin said. “The path from murmurs to sedition is a short one.” He couldn’t be more sure of anything. If his own daughter could turn against him, citizens who didn’t know him personally would certainly do the same. A flash of dark, straight hair and laughing eyes filled his mind. Oh, Nora.

  The general wet his lips. “So you’ll . . . invade the capital?”

  “Not invade.” A chuckle escaped Ulmin’s chest. “Occupy. Inhabit, if you prefer that term. Our soldiers will bring peace. Many of them have families here. They will be welcomed.”

  The sweltering air seemed to amplify the sound of the general’s swallow. He stood and brought his fists to his heart. “It will be done, Your Majesty.”

  “Of course it will.” Finding he couldn’t tolerate these men any longer, Ulmin stood. Both officers quickly came to their feet. “Get him out of here,” Ulmin told General Etal. “On your way out, tell my receptionist I need a large glass of ice water. Have her send someone to fan me as well.”

  The general held his hands out in yet another bow. “Yes, Your Majes—”

  “Just go.”

  They did. Ulmin sank into the seat behind his desk and reached into the clay pot next to his pen. As soon as his stiff, scarred fingers touched the fuel within, his anxiety lessened. When he took a bite, all was well again.

  4

  I woke this morning, out of my mind with nerves. Tomorrow, I’ll meet the prince. To distract myself, I spent most of the day with my new friend Reymi, practicing magic.

  I softened the soil around some bushes Uncle Quin wants to pull out of his garden. Reymi let me loosen the ground under her until she fell in and was buried up to her waist. We both got a good laugh out of that.

  Then I watched Reymi fly. Yes—she’s a feather lyster, the first one I’ve seen in at least a year. All I could think was that flying must be so much more freeing than playing with dirt.

  I ended the day as nervous as I’d begun it. Tomorrow, I’ll meet Ulmin, and I’m afraid I’ll melt into a puddle of anxiety as soon as I lay eyes on him.

  -Letter from Ambrel Kaulder to Dani Kaulder

  Dated Centa 15, 180 PD

  Nora sat on the warm, dusty ground and leaned back against Osmius, who’d been resting comfortably for some time. She settled into the crook of his neck, feeling his body swell and compress with each breath.

  Maybe he’s not co
ming, Nora said.

  Shall we return to Deroga?

  Not yet. She’d been waiting for Hatlin for at least an hour. It wasn’t like him to not show up. She fixed her eyes on the flickering flame of the candle she’d stuck in the dirt. The wax was half gone. If it melted all the way to the ground, she’d mount Osmius and go home.

  Such a thought infuriated her. It had been nearly two weeks since the aerial tour of Cellerin. She still had no idea what their next step was in defeating her father. Last week, Hatlin had told her he had an idea, but he needed to look into it before he shared it with her. She’d been looking forward to this meeting, hoping he’d give her some direction.

  A sound reached her ears, barely audible, like someone was shouting from far away.

  Hatlin is calling your name, Osmius said.

  Are you sure?

  More than a bit of dragon ego infused his next words. Need you ask?

  He was right. Dragon hearing was as acute as dragon sight. Nora heard the shout again, a smidge louder. This time, Hatlin said a lot more than just her name, though she couldn’t decipher any of it.

  Get on my back! Osmius’s voice resonated urgently in Nora’s mind.

  She leapt to her feet and started climbing up without question. Halfway up, she said, I left the candle!

  Leave it!

  Nora draped her leg over Osmius’s back. He lifted into the air. She cried out; her hands and feet weren’t yet secure. She grasped his scales tightly, and he turned toward the voice they’d heard.

  When we reach Hatlin, tell him to mount! Osmius commanded.

  He hates riding on—