“What’s supposed to happen?” Luca’s shoulders felt tight, and his skin prickled. He couldn’t back out now, though.
Vulla, looking like some unwholesome bird of prey in her long black robes, brought him a silver chalice. “The Ally told us to prepare a potion for you. It will bring you to him.”
“On this Shadow Plain?”
“Yes. You must take great care, Prime. It is perilous to linger long. Besides the true essences of men, the Shadow Plain hosts many beings, some long dead, and some who never lived in the accepted sense of the word.”
Calio would have his hide if he ever got wind of this. Since Father had died in a pirate attack, his oldest brother was the only one allowed to scold him.
Luca took the cup and gulped it down before he changed his mind. It tasted like pond slime. His head swam, and he briefly wondered whether his sister hated him enough to poison him. But no. Deep down inside, she still loved him. The problem was just her wanting. He’d learned to control his. He wished she could control hers.
Leyla guided him to the couch, where he lay down. She spoke soothingly.
“Let yourself drift upward, like a balloon, untethered. All your cares melt away. Your body lies safe and sleeping beneath you.”
Yes, there. He saw himself. He was a handsome devil. Thank the Goddess Ilha. A Prime should never have to force a woman to couple.
“Concentrate on my voice. See the cord that binds you to your body. Allow it to unspool as you rise. Rise.”
There it was, a translucent rope that tethered him gently to his form. Luca hadn’t realized how tired he was. A pleasant sleepiness filled him.
* * *
When he opened his eyes, a blank indigo sky greeted him. He could not catch a scent—the familiar greeting of salt, his own sandalwood perfume, the fug of molten metals; all were lacking in the still air. If he possessed a body, it would be trembling. But all he had was a blurry outline that resembled him the way a child’s scribble resembled the mosaics in Ilha’s temple. The land stretched away on all sides, a monotony of rolling dunes interspersed with unexpected landscapes that flickered in and out—a mountain range jagged in the distance, a faraway blot that was either a body of water or a yawning pit.
He remembered Vulla’s warning. He did not have time to waste. I am here to see the Ally, he thought, since he could not speak. He was surprised by the speed with which a very large man appeared in front of him. The giant was dark, with glowering ruby eyes, and his form was outlined by a procession of small flames. Perhaps he could not speak either, but Luca had the impression of a booming voice.
“So you show your face at last, Vendrisi Merchant Prince. What have you done with the Book of First Naming?”
Experience had taught Luca that if you knew nothing of what was being discussed, it was best not to disclose that. “Tell me about the Demon,” he countered.
“The Heartland is in great danger. Your ancestors signed the agreement. The onus lies on you to take up their burden.”
“I don’t agree, but I will hear your argument,” Luca responded, though he secretly shared the Ally’s concern. It wouldn’t do to let the entity think he could push the Prime around.
A deep belly laugh. “You think it is enough only to listen? You must serve.”
Who or what was this Ally? There were the Elders, leggy forest dwellers with an aversion to metal. There were the cave dwellers, the little Kijari, not so gifted in magic. And of course, his kind—man.
The Ally was clearly none of these things. Luca decided on a neutral approach. “I serve no master, but I do honor agreements.”
“Then I urge you to come to me with all the speed you can muster.”
“I am Prime of Vendrisi. Surely you know my responsibilities are not so easily set aside.”
“You awaited news from the Mannites. Wait no more. I can tell you the Elementals are free.”
“Will they set upon the people of the Heartland?”
“Yes, but they do not enjoy dealing death. There are ways to control them, if you give me what is mine—the Book of First Naming. Fear the Elementals. But fear the Demon’s new weapon even more.”
“She has a special sword?” Luca guessed. Stories from the Heartland often featured magical swords.
“A sword is nothing,” the Ally scoffed. “The Demon sprinkled stardust over a battle graveyard. Trees sprouted from bones. A web of soul snares bloom from the branches, waiting for their prey.”
“That would have a simple solution. Avoid the place.”
The Ally’s flames flickered higher, and he sounded angry. “Don’t be facile, young prince. The Demon will lure those who matter. Leaders. Prophets. Warriors. Your allies, the Mannites.”
Luca considered. He knew the sensible perspective of his House was not widely shared. A cursed forest would provide an irresistible challenge to hasty young men, like his friends, the warriors Danilo and Aeran. An image stole into his mind. Danilo hanging lifeless from a tree of bone, sunken eyes staring into eternity.
The Ally pressed his point. “Who will you trade with if the Heartland is left empty, littered with the husks of lifeless men?”
“Tell me this. Who are you? Where do you live?”
“I am a friend to mankind. As to where I live, look for the woods of the Western Wilderness.”
“Allies have names,” Luca pointed out.
“Fine. You may call me King Gale. As a sign of goodwill, you must bring me the Book of First Naming.”
“And you will give me the spell of the trade winds in return?” Luca had no idea what that Book of First Naming was, or how to get it, but he’d never backed away from a good haggle.
“It should not take you more than a month if you leave today,” the Ally rumbled, without answering his question.
“You swear to give me the promised reward?” Luca asked again.
“In return for the Book of First Naming.”
“How do I know it’s in your power?”
“I will set the trade wind at the back of your princess’s ship, and you will see her lovely face tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”
First the Book of First Naming, and now talk of a princess’s visit. Luca wasn’t expecting anyone. He tamped down his puzzlement. You could never let anyone get the upper hand.
“I will be expecting you. You have amends to make,” the Ally said.
Luca started to argue, then stopped when he realized how badly he wanted to undertake the journey. “Do not continue to castigate me. I would work with you to stop the Demon, but not as your vassal. You must accept my House as a partner.”
There was a pause. “Your self-assurance is refreshing. Do you believe yourself capable of contributing a solution?”
That was it, exactly. Luca loved solving problems. “The Elders have deserted men, I hear. We can’t rely on their magic anymore. But my people, the descendants of scholars and artisans, are known for their innovation.”
A dry laugh. “I could arrange for a meeting with the Elders.”
No one had seen them for six hundred years. Luca wondered what the fabled immortals would be like. Probably arrogant and cold. “It would be a privilege to meet them, but a mistake to rely on their help.”
A panicky voice now, from faraway. Leyla. “Luca, you’ve got to come back. Please.”
“Could I visit again this time tomorrow?” Luca asked the Ally.
“I will make it so.”
“Then we’ll talk about the Demon. And a weapon, to replace the magic of the Elders.”
Another chuckle, full and round like thunder. “Till tomorrow.”
* * *
Luca blinked, feeling as soft and boneless as one of the sugared dough figures consumed during the Solstice feast. Leyla’s face swum over him, blue irises nearly overwhelmed by huge pupils. She was frightened.
He tried to get up and almost collapsed. “Wait,” Leyla begged. “You were there for hours. You need rest.”
“You’re actually concerned ab
out me?”
“Oh, Luca. I was the first one to hold you after you were born. I didn’t realize then what it meant.”
“What I would take away from you?” he croaked.
“Yes.” She held a cup of water for him to sip. “I won’t pretend I don’t resent that. It doesn’t mean I don’t admire you, though. It doesn’t mean I don’t care. Fate made us opponents, and yet you’re my own flesh, Luca. I pushed you too hard to meet with that spirit. You have no experience of the supernatural. I’m sorry.”
Suddenly he was angry again. “Don’t coddle me. I’ll need your help tomorrow. The Ally and I have more to discuss.”
CHAPTER 16
Berona
I had barely slept the night before, and my hands shook as I helped dye the five new Yellow Robes to send back to Yassin. I nearly upset the vat of dried calendula and marigolds when I added the alumroot powder. The weaver noticed. “Where’s your head at? Pay attention.”
“Sorry. It’s hot by the fire. Let me get a drink.”
I walked off toward the well in the yard, hoping the feel of the cool water would calm me. I heard the thunder of horses, and my hands dropped to my sides. Were the Mannites here already? What was wrong?
Moments later a Red and a Yellow galloped up. The Yellow Robe jumped off his horse. I had time to note his unusual eyes—blue, speckled with green—before he said, “Get your healer.”
I startled, surprised by his abrupt tone.
“Gessler’s dying. Hurry.”
The weaver was all we had. On hearing my news, she hurried off, leaving me to tend to the vat. By the time I turned down the fire, dissolved the alum powder, and raced back to the courtyard, it was all over. A bald man in a Yellow Robe was dabbing at his eyes, sniffling. The weaver’s shoulders were slumped in defeat, and a Red Robe nearby stood stiffly, face pale. I moved closer in time to witness the Yellow with the unusual eyes chanting the blessing used for the dead. A body mostly covered by a Red Robe lay by his feet, on the meadow grass. The men must have brought him over after he collapsed.
“A thousand hands lifting you, a thousand thanks to a comrade. A thousand paths, a thousand lights, to climb the spiral and touch the sun.”
The Red stood alert and nervous, wiping sweat off his brow. The twins tottered over in their Purple Robes, waving away the help of the bald Yellow Robe, who’d regained his composure. I moved even closer to the corpse, drawn by the need to understand what had happened. I’d never seen anyone dead, despite my alleged murder of the Intercessor. I caught a sickly-sweet whiff, as if lilacs had turned into something unspeakable. The man’s face was slack, his mouth open, and his tongue lolled out, fat and bluish. His eyes bulged. The weaver headed for the bushes to vomit. Some healer she was.
People drifted out into the courtyard, shocked and silent. Popyrin, a Yellow himself, made his way to face the Yellow Robe I’d met, who seemed to be in charge. “Greetings, Oberin. What happened?”
“The twins needed to stop. It was a long trip. While they rested, Gessler went for a walk. He didn’t come back when we were ready to depart, so Biruac here”—a motion toward the bald Yellow—“and I went looking for him.”
“But people don’t just die,” Popyrin said. He’d put a lot of effort into the festival, and he sounded personally insulted.
Oberin looked troubled. “We found him face down in the mud. No sign of wounds, though.”
“Could the funeral pyre and sacraments wait until tomorrow? We have a cooling cellar built by a spring. We could keep the body there.”
“I understand. I will ask the Purple Robes.”
Speaking of which. One twin had gone down on her hands and knees, and she was moaning as she sniffed the body, her fine Purple Robe getting muddy. Popyrin eyed her anxiously.
“It’s the cloying scent of the flowers,” I said, and everyone turned around to look at me.
Oberin smiled. “You must be Berona.” Then everyone started talking at once. The weaver came back, and someone guided away the moaning twin, who had begun to weep. The Red and the bald man hoisted up the body, and Popyrin pointed to the spring. Then he noticed me.
“Berona. Thank Krossos. You’re right here. A piglet for dinner would be just the thing. Could you ride down to the next farm and arrange matters?”
That meant I had to fetch gold coins, tell the cook of the newest plan, and prepare the cart horse and wagon. After all, I could hardly carry the piglet slung across my saddle.
I thought about refusing. Shandon was in danger. I started to make my way toward one of the twins, but Popyrin frowned. “Whatever you have to say can wait.”
* * *
I entered the great dining hall to the sound of buzzing conversation. Gessler’s body was out of sight, resting in our cooling house next to a wheel of ripening cheese, but the shock was still fresh. Everyone was talking about it.
The bald Yellow who’d ridden up with Oberin pointed toward the empty chair next to him. “Popyrin said you’d keep me company.”
I took my place. “Of course.”
“I’m Biruac. And you, you’re the famous killer of the Intercessor?” He chuckled. This must be the swordsman Popyrin had referred to.
“That was a misunderstanding.” I looked around at the merry faces, some already slack with wine. “I’m the girl Shandon wants to train as a warrior.”
“Well, you’d have to train long and hard to shine like Delphine.”
Shandon had told me the female commander of the Mannite fighting force was Kendall. I didn’t know a Delphine. “Is she Kendall’s second in command?” I guessed.
“No.” He chuckled again. “I think she must be the queen of thieves. At least, the thief of hearts. Shandon brought her to us last year. He got word of her abilities, but he had a devil of a time tracking her down in the city. She’s a sly one, that Delphine.” The way he said it conveyed an intimate knowledge.
“Speaking of Shandon. Something urgent has come up. I need to talk to him straight away.”
“We’re not leaving for three days now. Gessler’s sister’s been invited to come to the burial, and she has a bit of traveling to do. Damndest thing. Him dead like that.”
I gulped down some wine to give me the courage to challenge the stocky Yellow Robe. “This can’t wait. Can someone take me tomorrow morning?”
“Shandon wouldn’t be back yet anyway. He had to see to something.”
“Where did he go?”
“Ah now. I’d love to tell you, but you’re not even an acolyte yet. Once we reach Yassin, Kendall will have a sit down with you and talk over some things.”
“If I left tomorrow…”
“That’s enough. Let Gessler have a decent funeral feast. Scarce eighteen, and you’re a nag already.”
I shuddered, remembering the corpse’s open mouth, the lolling tongue, the protruding eyes. It was disturbing, especially since I’d just had that vision of the Water Demon and the threatening creatures in attendance. Those must have been Elementals.
Might she have had a hand in this? “I doubt Gessler would care about a feast,” I said. “I reckon he’d like us to find out what happened.”
Biruac gave me a puzzled glance and then tucked into his salad.
My words animated the wrinkled, hunched stranger on the other side of me. “Your suspicions are right. His death was no accident.” I’d seen him straggle in at the very end of the Council’s party. The old man’s Robe might have been green once, but that would have been many launderings ago.
Biruac put down his fork, the speared greens uneaten. “This is my uncle Georsi. Pay him no mind. He’s quite old. Not so clear these days.”
Georsi did not refute this. I studied him more closely. He was missing the aventurine ring of the Green rank, the mark of those with healing hands and herbal lore. His face was withered, and he was thin, almost emaciated. Dark, nearly black, eyes seemed fixed on some indescribable horizon. A smoky smell emanated from him; perhaps he had sat too close to the campfire the prev
ious nights.
When Biruac turned to chat with the weaver, seated on his left, about some linens that he wanted, I took the opportunity to talk with Georsi more.
“What do you think happened to Gessler? The weaver thought it was the sugar sickness.”
“She doesn’t deserve her Robe. Earth choked him.”
“You’re talking about the Elementals?”
He gave me a sidelong glance. “That’s right.”
I moved closer. “You know about them? And the Demon?” Could Shandon have confided in him? He looked like such a sad old man. But there was something dangerous about him too.
Biruac noticed us talking. “Don’t be filling the lass’s head with nonsense, Georsi.”
“Perhaps you wish I would withdraw to the sleeping chamber?”
Biruac shot him an evil look. “I can’t trust you unattended.” He pointedly returned to his conversation with the weaver about her new crop of calendula. Popyrin gave me the stink eye. Time to carry out the piglet.
“Please don’t go anywhere,” I begged Georsi. “I’ll be back.”
He nodded. But I could tell his thoughts were elsewhere.
* * *
I hoisted up the heavy serving tray, trying to walk with grace and pride, the way someone like the famous Master of the Horse, the man nicknamed the Sidewinder, might. This was my first official meeting with the exalted twins.
Okane piled meat on her plate and put an equally impressive portion on Olane's. “Girl, tell the Green here we will need mint tea,” she said and then belched. Her toothless mouth smacked in anticipation.
How to warn them about the vision I’d had of the Demon without giving away my role? “I had a terrible dream…”
Olane cut me off in mid-stutter. “Yes, yes, yes, yes. Tell the Weaveress. She’s the Green here. We must have…mint tea.”
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