Keeper of the Dawn

by Dianna Gunn

  Lai sank further into the tub until her chin touched the water, letting the heat ease her pain. Tara opened the door and swore at someone. Lai sat up a little and strained her ears but couldn’t make out the response, only the faint sounds of a male voice. A servant.

  Tara slammed the door and stomped back into the bathroom.

  “Amber wants to see you.”

  “In her office?” What could Amber possibly want with her now? There would be plenty of time for congratulations at the festival, and new Keepers of the Dawn got three days to recover from the final trial before they started duties.

  “Right away.” Tara held out a hand.

  Lai took Tara’s hand to steady herself as she climbed out of the bath tub, shivering as the air touched her. Tara wrapped a thick robe around her and led Lai to her new wardrobe. Their wardrobes were almost identical, but Lai’s was carved from lighter wood.

  She opened it and stared. Of her old clothing, only the fur coat and cloak remained. The rest had been replaced by Keeper of the Dawn uniforms and a single burgundy dress. A pair of burgundy boots sat at the bottom.

  Tara kissed her neck. “I can’t wait to see you in uniform.”

  Lai grinned and grabbed one of the uniforms. “You sound as excited as I am.”

  Tara laughed a husky, throaty laugh. “I might even be more excited.” She blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “I know. You’ve worked for this moment too.” She pulled the uniform on and gave Tara a quick kiss before hurrying away.

  Lai all but ran to Amber’s office, her mind racing faster than her legs the whole way. What could be too important to wait one day?

  She burst into Amber’s office without knocking. The scent of incense was faint today, as if Amber hadn’t bothered to light it this morning. Something’s wrong.

  “You wanted to see me?” The words fell out of Lai’s mouth in a jumble the way they used to when she first arrived. She winced at the sound.

  “Sit,” Amber said. “I hope you’ll accept a drink.”

  “I would be honored.”

  Amber filled both tankards almost to the rim. Lai took hers cautiously, wondering what awful news warranted a drink that large. She took a small sip and set her drink on the table. Amber drained hers in one gulp. Lai’s throat went dry. She had never seen the old woman drink so quickly.

  Amber set down her empty tankard and leaned back in her chair, avoiding eye contact with Lai.

  “I had a vision of you last night,” Amber said. “In a land I’ve never seen, fighting an unfamiliar merchant.”

  Lai’s throat constricted, the vision from her failed trial appearing in her mind. A merchant. “Wha—What kind of land?”

  “A desert. Around you I saw a circle of women in colorful robes. I believe they were your people.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t go back there.” She could face Miran now, but the rest? She didn’t want to know what foul things they said about the girl who ran away with stolen supplies from the holy city. “I really can’t.”

  “You swore to follow the path the goddesses chose for you. I am afraid it is leading you home.” Amber leaned back in her chair. “You should leave at dawn after the celebrations. I don’t want you to arrive too late.”

  “Haven’t I earned my right to stay?” Lai asked. She felt hollow, like it had all been for nothing.

  “You can take any one of our horses,” Amber said softly. “And return as soon as you’ve saved your people from the merchant.”

  She nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She wanted to curse Amber, curse the goddesses, curse herself for believing they would ever let her be happy. A smaller part of her wanted to beg, plead with Amber to stay here.

  But Ravina’s voice echoed in her head, asking her if she would be happy with the path they chose for her. And she knew this must be the path they wanted her to walk.

  The whole city came to celebrate the new Keepers of the Dawn, filling the temple’s main hall and three of the four other dining rooms. A row of musicians with various stringed instruments and golden flutes stood along one wall, playing cheerful tunes.

  Lai hated it all. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her old room and cry into her pillow, alone where even Tara wouldn’t find her.

  Instead she gorged herself on food, only pausing between plates to wash her morsels down with ale. Keeping her mouth full of food made avoiding conversation easier. She was already exhausted from saying thank you to everyone who congratulated her on completing the trial.

  “You’ll be too full to dance if you keep stuffing your face,” Tara said as the third course arrived.

  Lai shrugged. She had barely spoken to Tara since her visit to Amber’s office. She couldn’t bring herself to mention Amber’s vision, to tell Tara she had to leave, not after she had accomplished what they had worked for all this time.

  Tara sighed and returned to her own meal. Guilt twisted Lai’s chest painfully but she still didn’t say anything. What do I say? How do I tell her?

  “We should go dance,” Tara said as the servants cleared away dessert, grabbing Lai’s hand. “Everyone will want to see you.”

  Lai didn’t respond. She stared at the townspeople as they flooded out through the great doors towards the massive bonfire servants had spent all day building. Normally it would have entranced her, the way the flames danced, always reaching towards the sky. Tonight nothing could hold her attention.

  Tara tugged on her hand. “Come on. You deserve this celebration more than anyone else.”

  She forced herself to smile. If she couldn’t tell Tara she had to leave, she could at least make their last night together memorable. “All right.”

  The fire was magnificent, so tall Lai would have sworn its flames almost reached the stars. Rows of people formed three circles around it, each one further away from the fire than the last. Tara wrapped an arm around Lai’s waist and dragged her into the outermost circle.

  Lai rested her hands on Tara’s shoulders as they danced around the fire, trying to memorize Tara’s face. She didn’t want to forget a single detail.

  The music slowed and Tara tightened her embrace.

  “You look so serious,” Tara said, her brow creased with worry. “What’s wrong?”

  “I—” Lai’s throat dried up. She knew she should tell Tara everything, the vision Amber had, how it was so much like her own, how she must save her people. She should say good bye.

  She couldn’t bring herself to say any of it. “My stomach hurts,” she lied.

  Tara frowned and pulled her out of the circle, leading her to a table covered with row after row of full tankards. She pushed a tankard into Lai’s hands.

  “Drink,” she said. “It’ll make you feel better.”

  Lai shook her head. “I—think I should go lie down. You can stay and dance, I don’t mind.”

  Someone tapped her on the shoulder before Tara could respond. Lai spun around and Katharine pulled her into an embrace so tight it hurt her ribs.

  “First outsider to become Keeper of the Dawn in centuries! I bet one of our minstrels is already thinking up a song about you.” Katharine let her go and grinned.

  Lai blinked. Katharine had been friendly since Lai won the duel, but they hadn’t exactly become close.

  “Don’t you ever smile?” Katharine asked. “This is your celebration.”

  “She’s sick,” Tara said, looping one of her elbows around Lai’s right arm. “We were on our way to bed.”

  Katharine deflated. “Oh all right, we’ll just have to drink together another time.”

  “I’d like that,” Lai said absently.

  Tara smiled. “You two are going to be great friends. But first this sickling needs rest.”

  Lai didn’t object as Tara led her away from the crowd and the fire. She had been an outsi
der for many years now, but she had never felt as alone in a crowd as she did tonight, with everybody celebrating her accomplishments, not one of them aware of the horrible task Amber had given her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lai pretended to fall asleep quickly for Tara’s benefit, but her mind raced all night, running through every possible thing that could go wrong. What if her people executed her for stealing from the temple when she left? What if she returned to Taurim only to be exiled again?

  Eventually she gave up on sleep and gently pried herself free from Tara’s embrace. She lit a large candle and tucked a red journal Tara had given her under one arm, heading for Sunrise Hall’s small but beautiful library.

  Many Keepers of the Dawn kept journals, and when they died those journals came to the library in Sunrise Hall, their secrets too valuable to lose—or to share with the world. The shelves stretched all the way to the ceiling, though many of the lower shelves were empty, waiting for the journals of future generations.

  She would leave her journal with Tara. If she didn’t make it back, at least Tara would know what happened.

  Four redwood desks with matching red armchairs sat around the room, placed several feet apart to give readers privacy. Lai settled her candle on the closest one and rummaged around in the drawers until she found an inkpot and quill. The inkpot was almost empty, but it would be enough. It had to be enough.

  She took a deep, steadying breath and began to write:

  Dear Tara,

  Amber has sent me to Valasharn, the ancient homeland of my people. She believes they are in terrible danger, and I can save them. I don’t know if I believe her, but I must follow her orders.

  Please do not follow me. The journey is long and difficult, and if my people learned the nature of our relationship we would be exiled or executed. I am already returning a thief, I cannot give them another reason to distrust me.

  I promise to return as quickly as possible. I love you, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for saying good bye this way. I cannot bear seeing you in pain.

  With all of my love,

  Lai

  Lai read the letter several times in a row, unsure if she had said enough, but not sure what else she could say.

  Her eyes were blurry with exhaustion when she returned to her bedroom. She returned the journal to her bedside table and crawled back into bed, wrapping her arms around Tara. The love of her life smiled but didn’t wake.

  Lai hoped she would still be able to smile tomorrow.

  Tara shook her awake and leapt out of bed, a mischievous grin spread wide across her face.

  Lai groaned and rubbed her eyes. She felt like she hadn’t slept at all.

  “Is it morning already?”

  “The sun isn’t up, if that’s what you’re asking.” Tara drifted over to the bathing chamber as she spoke. “If we get up now, we could have quite the luxurious bath.”

  It sounded wonderful, but once she got out of bed, she had to face the truth. “I feel awful,” she lied. “I’m going to stay in bed.”

  “Should I get you some medicine?”

  “Don’t. I’m just going back to sleep.” Lai planned to eat in the kitchen. She needed supplies for her journey anyway.

  “If you’re sure.” Tara kissed her on the forehead and went to draw the bath.

  Lai rearranged the blankets and stared at the ceiling, wishing she really could go back to sleep. Her mind was already a jumble of thoughts about the journey ahead and how much she didn’t want to go..

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to send for medicine?” Tara asked, emerging from the bathing chamber.

  Lai shook her head. “All I need is rest.”

  “If you say so. I have blacksmithing duty after breakfast, but I’ll check on you in the afternoon,” Tara said, reaching into her wardrobe.

  I’ll be gone by then. But Lai made herself smile. “You’re wonderful, you know?”

  Tara laughed. “I know.”

  A few moments later she was dressed and on her way to breakfast. Lai leaned back and enjoyed the sweetness of their last kiss, for a brief moment feeling light as a feather.

  Then the reality of her task crashed back down on her shoulders, into her chest, making her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach.

  “Time to go,” she muttered, dragging herself out of bed.

  She threw on her uniform, wrapped her meager possessions up in a cloth bundle, and left her journal open on the bed.

  “Good bye,” she whispered, pulling the door shut.

  Lai chose the second largest mare in the stables and saddled her up. She would have to sell the horse in Alanum. She was far too furry to survive the desert.

  Someone cleared their throat behind her and Lai jumped, turning to see Rachael, a large cloth bundle in her hands.

  “Amber told me everything,” Rachael said. “This is for you.”

  She held up the bundle. Lai gently moved the folds to see reveal a pair of Dawnsinger Steel daggers, curved in the style of her own niro. The orange blades all but glowed. Lai’s throat constricted as she examined the runes carved along the dull edge of the blade. Runes to keep the blade strong and sharp and free of rust, to ensure that it would cut through any armor like a knife cuts through butter.

  The blades of a Keeper of the Dawn.

  “Thank you.” She barely managed to force the words out, and when she did her voice sounded small, as if she was suddenly a child again.

  “You earned them.”

  “Only because you gave me a chance,” Lai said. “Amber said I must hurry.”

  “And hurry back, too. You will be missed.” Rachael stepped out of her way.

  Lai mounted her horse and rode out of the stables. She rode slowly through town, memorizing the details the same way she had memorized Tara’s face. The way the buildings transformed from one style of architecture to another as they grew taller. The way the sunlight glinted off the windows. The pale flowers growing in rings around many of the houses.

  At the edge of the plateau she turned back to face Taurim one last time, staring down the long road to the temple.

  “I will be back,” she whispered, trying to blink away the tears in her eyes. “I will.”

  She took her new horse down onto the mountain path. Within a few steps Taurim had disappeared completely.

  The journey home took her through many towns. She spoke to nobody but innkeepers at the handful of places she stopped to sleep. Every step of the way she wanted to turn around, ride back to the mountain, but she knew Amber wouldn’t welcome her until she completed her task.

  Each night before Lai fell asleep she practiced what she would say to the people she left behind. She would apologize to Pa, to Ellanora, to Miran. She would show them her new daggers, tell them about the dreams that drove her north, about Taurim.

  She could only hope they would believe her, even if they couldn’t bring themselves to forgive her.

  It was a lot to hope.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lai stood atop a sandy hill, holding her new horse’s reins and watching the first hints of sunrise light up her tribe’s ancestral city. Not many people were actually moving around the city. People often celebrated late and slept late here.

  She saw no hints of the merchant or his people. It wouldn’t take long to convince Ellanora, not with these blades—at least, she hoped it wouldn’t. If Ellanora is even still high priestess.

  Shoving the grim thought out of her mind, Lai climbed back onto her horse and rode down the hill. A lone figure came to the edge of town and waited there, dressed in Ravina’s deep green robes. Lai recognized Miran from halfway down the hill. She sped up, excitement bubbling up inside her chest the way it did when they had first become roommates.

  Lai crossed the threshold of Valasharn and dismounted, offering her
a deep bow.

  “Hello, Miran. It has been a while,” Lai said.

  “Welcome home, Lai,” Miran said, a smile spreading across her face.

  Relief flooded Lai’s body. Her old friend didn’t sound angry at all. Maybe they hadn’t painted her as a thief of the worst kind, the way she always painted herself. Maybe she could have come home sooner after all.

  “I’d like to see Ellanora,” Lai said.

  Miran bit her lip. “She isn’t well.”

  “Then take me now.”

  Ellanora lay wrapped in several green blankets, her head propped up on a single green pillow. Her face was so gaunt, her smile so weak Lai could barely stand looking at her. Even from the door Lai could hear Ellanora’s lungs rattling.

  “You’ve become a beautiful woman,” Ellanora said, her voice crackling.

  “I came to warn you,” Lai said. The words held no trace of the emotions fighting for attention inside her. “Our people are in danger.”

  Ellanora pulled herself up into sitting position. “Here?”

  Lai told her about Taurim, about her training to become a Keeper of the Dawn, about Amber and her vision. She didn’t mention Tara.

  “I think it’s the one I saw during my second trial,” she said quietly. Saying the words stung, like ripping a massive scab off of her heart.

  “Nobody has come here from Alanum in a century,” Ellanora said. “Why now?”

  “Does it matter?” She took one of her grandmother’s hands. It felt strangely small and dry in her own hands, as if Ellanora had already died. “The people must be ready.”

  Ellanora gazed into Lai’s eyes for several moments, as if she was trying to see into the younger woman’s soul.

  “You trust this Amber completely?”

  “As much as I trust you,” Lai said.

  “I will tell the council. Veronica is in charge now.” Ellanora leaned back against her cushion and took a deep, rattling breath. “Your father isn’t here. He hasn’t come since you took the trials.”