by JA Andrews
“What else?” she asked.
“You’re angry,” he continued, keeping his eyes shut so he didn’t have to look in her face. “It’s down below everything else. Like it’s fundamental to everything you are.”
He waited, with his eyes closed, listening and feeling for a reaction to his words.
Her silence filled the room, and there was no change in her emotions.
He was just about to crack an eye open to see if she was glowering at him when he noticed a thread of something else. Something…
“Happy.”
He focused on the tiny bright feeling that was intertwined with the worry and the curiosity that floated above all the anger. It was definitely happiness.
He snapped his eyes open. “What are you happy about?”
She looked at him and laughed.
An odd thought struck him. “Are you happy to see me?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Or are you happy to see me captured.”
She rolled her eyes and stood up.
“Or are you happy that you were right about me all along?”
She ignored his questions. “Killien’s not a patient man, Will. Figure out a way to get him what he wants.” She picked up the small cloth and draped it over the glimmer moss bowl, dropping the room into darkness. Her feet crunched softly on the hard floor as she left.
He peered into the blackness after her from the doorway. He couldn’t see a thing, but he cast out toward her and felt her vitalle moving slowly down the path.
“What are you happy about?” he whispered after her.
Nothing but a little ripple of laughter came back to him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Morning sunlight barely dribbled over the edge of the rift, leaving it a dim honey color. Will’s back felt like it had hardened over night. Lying on the hard clay was even worse than the wagon.
He pushed himself to his feet and splashed some of yesterday’s water onto his face. He tried a sip, but it tasted like clay. Outside, nothing had changed. Aside from the two guards at the top of the rift, it was empty. He sighed, sat down at the table and pulled Kachig’s book towards him, his palm stinging slightly.
He cast out and felt the vitalle pressing against the inside of his palms, working to grow new skin. It would take more energy than he could possibly find to heal them. It had always seemed stupid that Keepers couldn’t heal burned palms, when it was one injury they were almost guaranteed.
Will picked up the last page he’d translated. It was a list of gems with notes as to which held more souls, which damaged them, which tainted them.
Topaz, apparently, was what you wanted when trying to suck someone’s soul into a stone.
He dropped the paper. He couldn’t give this information to Killien, but before he could decide what he should do with it, footsteps sounded outside his door. He snapped his attention to the door, but it was only Sini, followed by a guard.
“I told Killien that you might work better with some saso.” The girl held up a clay pitcher and a cup.
“You’re amazing.” Will shoved his work aside so she could set it down.
She pulled another stack of paper from a bag slung around her shoulders. “In case you need more.”
He poured himself a steaming drink and the smell of dark roasted caramel filled the room.
“I told Killien I had faith in you.” She picked up a page of split-up runes, holding it upside down and frowning. “You are figuring it out, aren’t you?”
Will held the saso in front of his face for a long moment, breathing in the scent. Nothing good could come from this book. Even though Killien had no way to perform this level of magic, Will couldn’t translate it for him. But he couldn’t risk what Killien would do to Ilsa if he didn’t.
“I thought I was on to something,” Will said, taking the paper back from her and tossing it onto the others. “But it turned out to be nothing.”
Sini brow creased. “Killien will be back this afternoon. I’ve never seen him so angry.”
“People keep saying that.”
The girl hesitated, fidgeting with the papers. “That’s because it’s true.”
She didn’t continue, and Will took another drink. “I thought Lukas said prisoners don’t get saso. Does this mean I’m not a prisoner anymore?”
Sini gave him a small smile. “It means that Lukas hates you.”
Will sat back. “Yes. As subtle as he’s been about it, I’d picked up on that. What I don’t know is why.”
“He doesn’t hate you personally, he hates what you represent.”
“The Keepers?”
She shrugged. “All of Queensland. He feels like the entire country betrayed him because it let Vahe take him.” She looked down at her own hands. “It’s easier than blaming his family.”
The thought sank into Will, thick and bitter.
“Lukas’s not as bad as you think. His hip hurts him a lot, but he still tries to be nice—to everyone but you. I was only twelve when I came to the Morrow, and he took care of me. He spent weeks letting me trail after him, introducing me to the nicest of the Morrow, helping me learn the skills that would make me useful to the Torch.” She stared unseeing at the table. “He and Rett are like brothers. Lukas created a place for me here until it began to feel like home.” She flickered a glance up to Will. “Not a home like my real home, maybe, but still a home.”
Will set the saso down. “How long have you been here?”
“This is my third summer.”
“I’m sorry…” He stopped, not knowing how to possibly say everything that needed saying.
She tapped the papers into a neater stack, not raising her eyes. “It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be. The Torch treats us well. And there’s always enough food. My family lived outside Queenstown, in a shed behind an inn. I used to slip into the city and steal food for us, but I had five younger brothers. There was never enough.”
Queenstown. She’d been surrounded by so many people who should have protected her.
“When Vahe came to take me, we hadn’t eaten in two days. My father barely put up a fight.”
“Vahe?” Was he the only wayfarer who ever took children? Or was he the only one who delivered them to Killien?
She nodded, but a mischievous grin spread across her face. “He had three money bags, so, while my father tried to stop him, I tore one off and tossed it to my mother. They should have had food for a while.”
Will grinned at her. “Too bad you couldn’t get all three.”
The guard cleared his throat loudly and Sini flinched. Will shot him a scowl which was utterly ineffective.
“Good luck, Will.” The girl turned and hurried out of the hut.
Will stared at the empty doorway. Sini, Lukas, and Ilsa, all brought here by the Vahe? Why them? And how many others had he brought?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Will pulled out a new piece of paper and separated out a new page of runes, translating two more pages. “Translating” was too strong of a word. There were too many runes he wasn’t sure about. The more runes he deciphered, the more chilled he felt. The human soul was nothing more than a commodity in this book. Something to be taken, stored, and used.
He couldn’t give this information to Killien.
He needed to get it back to the Stronghold. The Keepers could study it, understand how Roven stonesteeps used stones for magic.
What he wanted to do was set this book on fire. He set his finger against the corner of the book and began to gather in vitalle. It felt deeply right to destroy something this evil.
Except he couldn’t.
As evil as it was, there were things here the Keepers didn’t understand. There must be more copies of this book. Destroying this one wouldn’t keep the world from having the knowledge, just the Keepers. He let the energy dissipate, not entirely happy with his decision.
Still, he couldn’t give this to Killien. He picked up the pages with the real translations
and grabbed his own books out of his pack. He tucked his translations into empty spaces among his other writings. Thankfully his books were eclectic enough that phrases scattered about didn’t seem too out of place.
When he finished he wadded the pages into balls and set them around the pitcher. It would be nice to have some warm saso. There weren’t enough to surround it, so he grabbed two more blank sheets from the pages Sini had brought.
Writing on one caught his eye.
We’re not random.
The letters were round and smooth. Was this from Sini?
He thought back over their conversations. He’d mentioned something being random…What was it?
His hand tightened on the paper. It had been with Lukas. Will had said no one knew that wayfarers were still taking random children.
Were Lukas and Sini not random? Had they been taken for a reason? Did that mean Ilsa had been too?
He crumpled the paper and tucked it next to the others, mulling over the idea. Gathering some vitalle, he set them on fire. Flames licked up the side of the pitcher, the paper turned to ash, and he still didn’t know what Sini meant.
With a warm cup of saso, he set to creating useless pages for Killien, runes turned this way and that way, his best guesses at their meaning scribbled, scratched out, and rewritten.
He had fifteen pages “translated” when Killien showed up.
Killien walked in with a slight smile on his face, and for the briefest moment, he looked like the friendly, interesting man Will had talked to so often.
The three guards took up their positions around the room. Killien walked over to the table and picked up a few pages, he raised an eyebrow at Will’s work and thumbed through the other pages, then looked around the room. When he saw the ring of ashes around the saso, his hands curled into fists, crushing the paper. He pressed his eyes shut, and loosened his hands, letting out a small laugh.
He set the papers down and sat in the chair across from Will. His voice was unnaturally light. “It doesn’t convince me of your friendship if you start destroying the work I want to see.”
Will’s chair felt hard beneath him and he tried not to shift his weight. Around him the guards were attentive, but relaxed and Killien leaned back in his chair like an old friend come to visit. “Sini saw your work this morning. None of us had realized the runes were stacked.”
Will’s hand tightened on the quill. She’d both spied for Killien, and left Will that note? “I hadn’t thought Sini was that sneaky.”
“The translation should move along quickly, now. I considered taking the book and doing it myself. Lukas and Sini could help. They’ve spent a good deal of time learning to read runes. Sini, in particular has a knack for them. She’s only been learning them for a short while, but she’s picking it up quickly. Still, we wouldn’t be as fast as you, Will.”
The book sat heavily between them. Will almost opened up toward the Torch, but he decided he didn’t want to have to face what the man was feeling.
“What do you want this book for, Killien? There isn’t enough death and fighting with normal means? You need to add in more?”
“There is too much death.” Killien tapped his finger on the book. “Which is why we need this. People respond to nothing but power. If the violence is going to end, it has to be crushed by something stronger.”
“This—” Will stabbed a finger at the book. “—is not the answer. It speaks of dark things, Killien—things worse than killing people. Are you going to do this to Roven? Suck the life out of them and trap it in a stone? What happened to wanting to unify them?”
“I’m not going to actually use it.” Killien’s face was so intense Will pulled back. “You don’t have to use such force against people, Will. What’s important”—his voice dropped to a whisper—“is the threat of power.”
For the first time since he’d been captured, Will actually looked at the man. There was no lightness, no fairness or interest in his face. The Torch’s eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, his face strained. He looked driven, haggard. Angry. Like there was so much anger in him, it might rip him apart.
Something about Killien had come unhinged. Will searched the Torch’s face, as though he’d find the answer to why written across it.
“The threat of power doesn’t work,” Will said, “unless you’re willing—and able—to use it. If you had to hire someone to make heatstones for your clan, you can’t have anyone skillful enough to do this.”
Killien brushed off the words. “Your concern for my success is heartwarming. I’ll worry about what to do with the translation, you just focus on giving it to me. You’re off to an excellent start, and I think that’s worth celebrating.” He motioned to the guard in the doorway.
The guard moved and Ilsa walked in, carrying wine, some cups, and a plate of cheese.
Will’s hands clenched. Part of him wanted to open up toward her, but too much of him was terrified of what he’d feel. He forced his hands to relax and dragged his gaze back to Killien, funneling as much hatred as he could into it. “Last time you offered me wine, it didn’t go well.”
Killien laughed, and it sounded slightly crazed. “There’s nothing in this. I promise. He poured dark red wine into each cup and slid one close to Will. “To our…” He raised his glass and gave Will a complicated smile. “Partnership.”
Will left his cup sitting on the table. “That isn’t what this is.”
“Relationship, then.” Killien shrugged, taking a long drink of the wine. He stretched over, picked up Will’s cup, and took a sip.
“See? It’s just wine. Very good wine, actually. One of three bottles I bought from a Baylonian merchant last summer. Cost a fortune.”
Will thought about refusing, about tossing the wine at Killien’s face and hurling the bottle across the room. But the saso was cold and stale and his water had run out earlier. When he picked up the cup, Killien’s smile turned almost genuine.
“I have only shared this wine with one other person. And that was the stonesteep from the Sunn clan who was kind enough to tell me the location of Kachig the Bloodless’s book.”
Will lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip. It was delicious. Rich and simple and effortless.
“Best wine you’ve ever tasted?” Killien watched Will with a curiosity that was both eager and guarded.
Will set the cup down slowly. He stared at Killien’s face, wondering how he’d missed the ruthlessness there for so long. “It’s almost as good as what’s served at Queen Saren’s table.”
The flash of ire in Killien’s face was utterly satisfying.
The Torch took another drink, and when he set his cup down, his face was a mask, as cold and inhuman as the clay walls. Will’s gaze flicked to Ilsa where she waited against the wall, her arms wrapped around her stomach, her eyes fixed the the floor as always.
“I think Will’s done with the wine, Ilsa.” Killien’s eyes bored into Will.
She started slightly at his attention, then moved quickly across the room to gather his cup off the table.
“Thank you.” Killien’s voice was kind but his eyes never left Will’s face. “Ilsa’s served my wife for years, but only recently have I realized how valuable she is.”
Ilsa smiled, timid and pleased. Both parts of it gouged at Will’s heart. He opened up to her and her gratitude toward Killien bloomed in his chest, cutting into him like knives.
The Torch fixed Will with a smug look. “I keep finding more and more reasons to keep her near me.” A streak of viciousness from Killien cut into Will.
A shiver of unease wriggled through Ilsa’s pleasure and her hand tightened on the wine. A silence, taut and rigid, filled the room. Ilsa stood still, her breath shallow and quick, her apprehension growing the longer the silence stretched.
“I’ve done what you asked for.” Will kept his eyes fixed on Killien.
“You burned what I asked for,” Killien corrected him.
If Killien knew how to decode the runes, there wa
s no point in keeping it from him any longer. Will’s hands tightened into fists. “I’ll write it out for you again. You’ll have what you want.”
“And you think you deserve a reward for doing such fine work?”
Will didn’t look at Ilsa. “I’m the only one you have anything against.”
Killien cocked his head to the side, he gave Will an easy smile that was stabbed in the back by the savagery in his eyes. “What exactly are you asking for?”
Will’s own anger drowned out Ilsa’s shrinking pleasure and Killien’s cruelty.
“Leave her out of it,” he whispered.
Ilsa glanced at them, her brow drawn in confusion.
“Ilsa,” Killien began, leaning back in his chair, “Will has developed a bit of a…fascination with you.”
Will felt a dart of fear worm its way through Ilsa’s emotions and she stiffened.
“No—” he started to deny it, turning to look her full in the face.
She shrank back away from him.
“Don’t speak, Will,” Killien interrupted. The guard behind Ilsa shifted closer to her, unsheathing his knife.
Will dragged his gaze back to Killien, fury and impotence threatening to explode out of him.
“It’s understandable,” Killien said, a glint of viciousness in his eyes. “Ilsa is a lovely young woman, and you’ve been lonely a long time.”
“That’s not—”
Killien raised a hand sharply to stop him. The guard loomed grimly behind Ilsa, who held her arms close to her side. Will kept his eyes fixed on Killien’s face, he pressed his fists down into the table.
“I’m sorry, Ilsa.” Killien nodded to her. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Thank you for your help. You may return to your other duties.”
With the tiniest glance at Killien, filled with gratitude, she bowed to the Torch and hurried from the hut.
Will turned back to Killien, furious. The sound of Ilsa’s footsteps drew farther away, tearing a part of Will out with them. He slammed himself closed.
“You see, Will, you’re not the only one capable of making people like you.”