The Stones of Resurrection

by Tameri Etherton

  Her sisters remained calm, but Tessa’s anxious glances and Eliahnna’s constant tugging of her dress gave them away. Three guards left, with Tessa and Eliahnna hurrying ahead of them. Rhoane motioned to another guard before rounding on Sabina. “Princess, please go to your rooms.”

  She nodded and then stopped herself. “No, I will stay with Taryn.”

  “Very well, but you must say nothing of what transpires.”

  “You have my word.” She kissed her thumb and put it to her heart. Sabina’s hand shook when she held Taryn’s hand in hers.

  Rhoane gave one last command to the remaining soldiers to search the market for Carga and bring Gris back to the palace. With that, the three of them hurried to Rhoane’s rooms. Several times, they had to slow to appear natural when courtiers or servants crossed their path. When they finally reached his suite, Taryn put her basket on a table and confronted Rhoane.

  “Why did that man attack me?”

  Rhoane paused in his warding. The look of fear in his eyes made her stumble backward.

  Sabina led her to a couch and said, “Because you are the Eirielle. That is why, Princess.”

  Rhoane finished his wards before kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in his with great care, as if she were a doll that might break. “We will find him, Taryn. I promise you.”

  A knock at the door made her jump. When Duke Anje and Hayden entered the room, her anxiety heightened. Faelara arrived, and a few minutes later, Myrddin joined them.

  “Lliandra cannot get away from her meeting. She has bidden me to inform her what is decided here,” Myrddin told the group.

  Baehlon slipped in and carefully closed the door behind him. “The palace is secure. The captain of His Grace’s guard has his men and women on alert.” Baehlon stood behind Taryn, his arms crossed.

  The rest of the group took their seats, and Rhoane addressed them. “An attempt was made on Taryn’s life today in the marketplace. I believe it is the same assassin I learned of when we were here previously.”

  “Assassin?” Taryn’s voice was raw.

  They all spoke at once, or so it seemed to Taryn. Hayden wanted to storm the city to find the man, while Myrddin cautioned for patience. Baehlon thought they should delay their travel, but Faelara was certain the empress would do no such thing. On and on it went. They connected the first sighting of the assassin in Paderau and spoke only of those two events, but it dawned on Taryn that he’d been following her far longer than any of them realized.

  He was the shadow that teased her sight all those times.

  Yet she had no proof. Nothing she could give them except a feeling. Later, when she had more to go on than just an intuition, she’d tell Rhoane.

  “Why attack now, in the middle of the day in a crowded city?” Myrddin asked, stroking his beard as if he might milk an answer from it.

  “He’s taunting us. He wants us to know he isn’t afraid. That he can get close to Taryn even while she’s being guarded.” Baehlon stood with his back to the window, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Taryn as if challenging her to say more. He didn’t know. Couldn’t know. And yet his look told her he at least suspected she was hiding something.

  Rhoane slammed his fist on a table, making everyone in the room jump. “We were never more than ten paces from her. Where did he come from?”

  “A Shadow Assassin,” Hayden offered.

  “What did you say?” Rhoane stared at him.

  “Shadow Assassins existed long ago. They were Kaldaar’s elite force and served only Dark Masters. All of them were thought to be wiped out in the Great War, but they are neither dead nor alive. He must be a Shadow Assassin. And only a very powerful sorcerer could conjure one.”

  Faelara reminded everyone of the need for discretion. “Everything said here must stay between us or more attempts will be made on Taryn’s life. Is this understood?”

  They agreed, swearing to Faelara. Sabina’s body trembled as numbness cloaked Taryn. Whether from shock, anger, or fear, she wasn’t sure.

  While they argued, Taryn carefully removed the assassin’s blade from the treplar, studying it. More a throwing knife than a dagger, with intricate designs etched into the handle and blade, similar to the scrollwork on the seal. The total length of the knife was no more than a few inches. Strangely, it felt light in her palm. She handed the weapon to Rhoane. “Maybe this can give us some clue to his identity.”

  Myrddin moved quickly to retrieve the blade. “I should take that. It might be poisoned or bespelled with Black ShantiMari.”

  Rhoane hesitated and then handed the knife to Myrddin. “Let us know what you discover, but be discreet.”

  “Of course.” Myrddin snorted, offended. He folded the dagger in a scrap of fabric and then tucked it in his robe. A thread of his ShantiMari glowed in his pocket and then dissipated. Patting his robe, he said, “We’ll find this assassin, don’t you worry, my dear.”

  Taryn didn’t share his optimism. “Not anytime soon, I fear. I think we need to be vigilant but not change a thing.”

  Hayden put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “And risk another attack? I saw his face—so did you, Baehlon. I say we go now and find this bastard.”

  “If you saw his face, then you know he’s not all there, Hayden,” Sabina argued. “His eyes were soulless. He wants Taryn, but he won’t hesitate if you get in the way.”

  Hayden started to argue with her, but Taryn interrupted. “Stop!” She looked directly at Baehlon. “You accused me of being too innocent; I understand now what you meant. I’ll not cower behind a wall of good men and women, waiting for him to strike. You’re both right—he wants me, but he’ll kill whoever gets in his way. We’ll find a solution but not while we’re this emotional. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a puppy that needs tending. Sabina, would you care to join me? Now?”

  Sabina looked to Hayden, who nodded, and then curtseyed to the group. “Lady Faelara, gentlemen.”

  Taryn all but ran with Sabina to her apartments, making it to the chamber pot just in time. Sabina held her hair back, saying soft words of comfort while Taryn threw up. When she finished, Sabina wiped her face with a wet cloth. When Mayla and Lorilee offered their assistance, Sabina sent them to the kitchens for some herbal tea and toast, blaming Taryn’s illness on something she ate at the market and saying it was nothing to worry about.

  Taryn gave Sabina a grateful look. “Thank you. Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

  Sabina shushed her while embracing her friend. “I was so frightened today. I don’t ever want to feel that helpless again.”

  “Neither do I.” Taryn had no tears to shed, only a hollow feeling that gnawed at her confidence.

  She stretched out on the floor of her sitting room, and they played with Kaida. Hayden arrived a short time later with her basket of fruit and several books that would help Taryn understand the Shadow Assassin.

  After he and Sabina left, Taryn went to the kitchens to find Carga. The woman was standing at a table chopping onions when Taryn pulled her into a hug. “Thank God you’re safe. Where is Gris?”

  Carga gave a quick shake of her head and then gestured to a seat before getting them grhom. “I was too late to help Gris.”

  Anger welled inside her, suffocating. She hadn’t known Gris, but the way the assassin had tossed him aside as if he were nothing enraged her. The boy had died defending her. He would be avenged. “I failed him today. Failed everyone.”

  “You did no such thing.”

  Taryn grabbed Carga’s hand. “I froze. All my training was gone. I could’ve done something, anything, but instead I stood there like an idiot. And now Gris is dead because of me.”

  “Stop, Taryn. Gris’s death was not your fault. He acted on his own conscience.”

  “Why would he do something so foolish?”

  “Gris bravely defended you. It was not foolish.” Carga lifted Taryn’s chin to look at her. “Gris believed in you, Taryn. That is why he attacked the man.”

 
“But, why? He didn’t know me.”

  “What? Because he did not sit at table with you? Or he never played one of your football games? Perhaps he was not a part of your daily life, but he knew enough about you to know you stood for something good. Something worth fighting for.”

  Taryn shook her head. They didn’t understand. She wasn’t who they thought she was. She had failed. Didn’t they see that? “How can I be this great protector if I can’t even defend myself?”

  “Taryn, are you not the same person who killed a vorlock single-handed and saved my brother’s life?” Carga’s words were soft but fierce.

  “That was different. Rhoane would’ve been killed if I didn’t do something.”

  “So, you think his life is of more value than your own?”

  “No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. Okay, yes, I do. His life is worth far more than my own.”

  Carga released a long-held breath and smiled. “At last.”

  “What?”

  “Look.”

  The runes on her hand shifted and then glowed with a soft iridescence. “What’s happening?”

  “It is time you stopped being a child, Taryn, and become what you are meant to be. Your path will not be easy. People will die, yes. There is no way you can avoid this. They will die for you or possibly because of you. It is a hard truth you must ingest and allow to become a part of your very marrow. Embrace this truth, but do not hide from it. If you do, it is you we will be mourning. And you are no good to my brother dead.” The chill in her voice sent a shudder through Taryn.

  “I’m frightened, Carga.”

  “It is good to be afraid, but do not let fear keep you from living. Put that feeling aside, but never forget it is there. You must learn to use your fear for great things.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, hiding here in the kitchens, afraid to be in the world.” Her words cut harsher than she’d meant, but she was tired of people telling her what to believe. She knew what had happened earlier that day. Knew she’d have to live with the consequences of her cowardice. Knew that Gris had died in vain because of her.

  “That is not fair, and you know it. I choose to work here for my own reasons.”

  “Rhoane was sheanna. You didn’t see him cowering behind an apron.”

  Carga stood and motioned to the door. “I think it is time you leave.”

  Taryn stood to her full height, matching Carga’s glare with her own. “And I think it’s time you’re honest with me. What made you sheanna?”

  Tension snapped at the air with the viciousness of an angry cobra. A kitchen cat hissed and darted off, his tail a bristle brush.

  Carga glanced around the kitchen with wariness in her eyes. “Since the first day you arrived here, I knew there would come a time when I would have to share this tale with you. You will not like the telling of it, though.” She took her seat, and Taryn followed.

  “Does it involve Rhoane?”

  “No and yes.” Carga took a deep breath and began. “There was a man, an Aelan, who used me to get information. I was besotted with him. He was incredibly beautiful. Tall and dark, with eyes the color of a wintertide’s sky.”

  “Zakael?” A flick of anger surged through Taryn. The air vibrated around them.

  “Yes, the heir to the Obsidian Throne,” Carga continued. “I was beyond the veils, on the moors. He said he was traveling the world, to gain experience in the ways of the East so when he took over the throne he could maintain the peace his father had worked for. He was very young.” Carga looked away in misty remembrance. “It has been nigh on twenty summers since he seduced me and since I have been to the Weirren.”

  “He knew you were Eleri. He must’ve known you’d be exiled.”

  “He knew all of that and more. I suppose he thought I had information that would lead him to you. His father believed you were with the Eleri during your absence.”

  Everything kept coming back to Zakael. Marissa was a distraction—it was Zakael and Valterys who controlled the events happening around her. Possibly even the Shadow Assassin. If Zakael had seduced Carga twenty summers earlier, that meant he—and Valterys—knew about Taryn, probably since her birth.

  “I’m sorry he did that to you. I’ll make him pay.”

  Carga placed a hand on Taryn’s wrist, her touch cool. “No. I will deal with Zakael once I am purified. Until then, you must stop reacting and face your fears. Before someone you love gets killed.”

  Of all her fears, losing another loved one ranked highest. Taryn left the kitchens more despondent than she’d been before seeking out Carga. She’d not been prepared for any of this. Perhaps if she’d been raised with the Eleri, she would know what to do, but as it was, she was fumbling in the dark without any hope of finding the light.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Two men moved through the backstreets and alleyways of the city’s poorest district with silent determination. Swords hung at their sides, fists clenched as they traveled swiftly toward the oldest building in Paderau. Its weathered walls leaned in on themselves, supported by a shingled roof that looked one storm away from collapse. At the back door, Rhoane held up a hand. He pressed himself to the wall, and Baehlon did the same. A lone figure stumbled out from the tavern into the alley, slurring a profane greeting.

  Rhoane stepped around the drunk into the cool darkness, and the rank smell of stale cider, piss, and vomit assaulted his heightened Eleri senses. The men and women seated around the room were an assortment of thieves, prostitutes, and mercenaries. Just the kind of crowd a Shadow Assassin could get lost in, but he wasn’t looking for the assassin. After a quick scan of the customers, he pulled a chair to one of the tables, indicating Baehlon sit across from him.

  A serving maid brought them tankards filled with sour-smelling ale. When she left, a slight figure slid into the empty chair beside Rhoane.

  “I believe the one you seek can be found at the Golden Feiche.” The little man looked longingly at Rhoane’s drink. When Rhoane pushed it toward him, he gulped the ale in several noisy slurps and then set the tankard down with a satisfying belch.

  Rhoane grimaced at his vulgarity. “What makes you so certain?”

  “I followed him from the square today.” The man’s dark eyes darted around the room.

  Without moving, Rhoane tightened his ShantiMari around his neck. “Why would you do something like that, Ebus? If you followed him, how are we to know he did not follow you?”

  Ebus sputtered and gasped, his hands gesticulating wildly as his face turned an ominous shade of red. Rhoane released his power, and Ebus massaged his throat, coughing dramatically. “Your Highness, I am offended. I was only trying to help.” He moved as if to stand. “When you remember to act in a civil manner, then we can proceed.”

  “Sit down, Ebus.” Baehlon’s quiet voice came from the shadows of his hood. “You’re making a scene.” He pushed the fabric back a fraction. “I believe the prince asked you a question.”

  Ebus paled to the color of spoiled milk. “What are you doing here?”

  Baehlon’s stare didn’t flicker. “Killing you, if you don’t answer the question. Did the assassin see you or not?”

  “Of course not. I’m the most skilled thief in all of Paderau. No one follows Ebus.”

  “Your ego is too large for your head, I think,” Rhoane whispered to the man. “Why were you following him today?”

  Ebus shrugged. “When I saw him trailing Princess Taryn, I thought perhaps he meant to rob her. Let him do the dirty work, I figured, and then I’d just take from him what he’d stolen from her. He looked like a safer bet than the princess with all her friends around.”

  “I was not aware of him until he attacked Taryn. How is it you saw him?” Rhoane asked.

  Ebus smiled, spreading his hands expansively. “It is my job to notice the unseen. Now,” he eyed Baehlon once more, “are we going to gossip all day, or would you like to catch your man?” He held out a grubby hand to Rhoane. “Fifty trins.”

  �
�You will get nothing until I see this demon for myself. If he is where you say he is, you will get a gold piece for your trouble.”

  Ebus’s eyes bulged, and he swallowed hard. The amount was triple what the thief had requested. “We must make haste before he departs.”

  They walked several blocks in the shadows of the glaring sun. The Golden Feiche was in a part of Paderau that faced south, overlooking the river, in a small port district that dealt mainly in goods coming and going to the various houses of ill repute.

  Rhoane stopped the group a half block away from the shabby inn. He glanced up and down the street, getting the lay of the surrounding area. Four windows on the second story and two on the floor above that faced the street. “What room is his?” Rhoane asked Ebus.

  He scratched at his dingy black hair, looking up at the windows, counting on his fingers. “I’d say the third from the left.”

  “There are only four windows, you dolt. Why didn’t you just say the second from the right?” Baehlon smacked Ebus on the back of his head.

  Ebus shrank away from the knight. “Because he didn’t come in from the front, now did he? Used the back door, so I’m figuring he went up the backstairs.”

  “Did you see him enter the room? How can you be sure it is the second from the right?” Rhoane asked in a strained voice.

  “I hid over there.” Ebus pointed to a recessed part of the wall. “When he got to his room, he closed the shutters. Are we just going to stand around all day?”

  “You stay here,” Rhoane commanded.

  He and Baehlon jogged across the street and went into the inn. The Golden Feiche wasn’t busy at that time of day, but Rhoane had to dodge several women who offered to keep him and his friend company. They silently made their way up the stairs, going to the second door and unsheathing their swords. He sent a thread of ShantiMari into the room. Sensing nothing untoward, he slowly opened the door and went inside.

  The room was tidy, with no personal belongings on the bed or floor. Little light filtered through the closed shutters, but a slight breeze managed to squeeze between the slats. As he turned back toward the door, a dark figure leapt out at him, sword drawn. Rhoane swung his own sword up to counter the attack. The assassin assaulted him with a blade black as pitch. A hard kick to Rhoane’s sternum sent him sprawling against the wall. The black sword shot out to impale him, but he threw a wave of power, knocking the demon against Baehlon, who took the opportunity to conk him on the head with the hilt of his sword.