Only Revel dared speak. “Luca is the Prime, as you say yourself,” he commented mildly. “Do you want a milksop for a ruler?”
“I’m through.” Calio turned on his heel and left.
Luca cleared his throat. Vasio looked appalled. Leyla was pale. “That leaves the two of you. I’m appointing you co-rulers in my absence.”
“Well, fuck me,” Vasio said cheerfully.
The color returned to Leyla’s cheeks. “Tell me more about your poor, lonely Farzian Princess,” she said. “It sounds like she needs a friend who understands her.”
Luca let a relieved chuckle escape. If all went well, these two would get the trade agreement with Farzia signed while he went on his quest. Maybe he’d even find that confounded Book of First Naming.
CHAPTER 21
Berona
I hadn’t taken out the book since the night I’d wrested it away from Georsi. I removed it from my carrying bag and took it over to the window bench, where golden rays from the setting sun shone.
My hands shook as I set it down. Rune speech decorated the cover.
Kea looked over my shoulder, his breath tickling my ear. There was nothing romantic about his nearness now. His lips were shaping words, as if he could read them.
“You know rune speech?” I asked, surprised.
“Some words. I pestered Shandon every time he visited. I’m going to be a great magician, you know.”
He was so confident. Yet I was the one the prophecy named. How would he feel if he knew?
Kea made a noise of satisfaction. “The title says it’s the Book of First Naming.”
“Doesn’t tell me much,” Moab said.
“We’ll find out what it’s for,” Kea promised.
I’d never heard of the Book of First Naming either, but it seemed like a portentous title that promised the challenges of old magic. That could be dangerous. Krossos’ recitation for calm came to mind, and I chanted it.
“My heart is here.” I concentrated on the sensation. “Be peaceful, be peaceful, my heart.” I rocked on my feet and then planted them firmly. “Be steady, my feet.” My hand went to my forehead, above my eyes. “Be clear, my thinking.” Then, though I didn’t believe in the goddess Amur anymore, I made the sign to ward off evil.
“Just open it,” Kea said, exasperated. “If there’s any danger, I can handle it.”
When I lifted the cover, it felt heavy, like pushing open a door. There were five different sections separated by stiff, colored sheets of parchment. Each page was filled with three words, arranged vertically. The alphabet was an antiquated form of Trade.
The first section began with a green flyleaf. The words were written in viridescent ink. Kea bit his lip. “I have no idea what this is supposed to mean. I’m getting a headache.” He blinked, and his mouth got a mean set to it that I’d never seen before.
The script flowed and quivered in front of my eyes, making it almost impossible to make out individual letters. A wind seemed to arise. There was power here, power we might not be able to control. I was in no hurry to keep going. I looked around the room, wondering if I would see some sign of magic.
The wooden floor glowed, a rich chestnut with red overtones. Where was the light coming from—not the setting sun, which shone only on the window bank. We had not lit the two bulrushes. I kept smelling hay and grass; the scent of clover tickled my nose.
The wooden frames of the beds shone in contrast to the wool blankets. I turned to my left. There was a polished tin mirror, with a glowing wooden frame. The mirror itself was dim, and shadows obscured the room it reflected.
“Wood,” I whispered to myself. “These words wake wood.” Moab sat on the bed, a wary distance from the book. Kea still leaned close, rubbing his eyes.
I reached over him and turned past the scarlet flyleaf which announced the next section. Now entrancement overcame my fear. The letters were written in orange. My nose stung from a scorched odor. I scanned the room to see if the wooden floor was still bright. It was not. A thin sheen of sweat broke out on my cheeks and chest. “Fire.” I felt so excited and happy. This was the element I was attuned to and it felt like coming home.
I soared on the wings of curiosity.
The words—did they give us mastery over an element? I studied the flowing script, blinking as the column of words on the page writhed and blurred. Kea was so close to me I could feel his breath tickle my cheek. My suspicions of him were forgotten. I felt warm all over, good and happy. Romance was such a wonderful thing, the antidote to boredom and fear and misery.
My arms swept up, like wings borne on an updraft, and I found myself embracing Kea. Heat on heat. I leaned over, let my mouth find his. We kissed, until Moab cleared his throat.
“It might be wise to close the Book when you’re distracted,” he said.
Kea let me go, smiling. “You’re passionate, like a flame that can’t be quenched.”
I blushed and looked down at the Book. I’d behaved like a wanton wench. I flipped to the next page and discovered the word I’d said before, when I’d pulled the Book from the fire.
Engalad. My tongue savored the contours of the vowels, though my hesitation kept me soundless.
“Your mouth is moving,” Kea pointed out. “What are you looking at?”
I gave voice to it. Engalad. The unlit bulrush tapers blazed into life. A fire appeared in our little hearth, though there were only a few sticks of wood.
The Book tumbled to the floor as I let go in shock. I swooned.
* * *
Cold water on my face woke me. I was lying on the bed, Kea and Moab sitting next to me. They looked worried.
“What happened?” I said.
“You made a spell.” Moab’s voice was colored with wonder.
“From whom did you learn that?” Kea accused. “Did Oberin show you?”
“Oberin?” It took me a moment to recall the tall Yellow Robe from the farm. “No. Of course not. I don’t know any spells. It was a word from the Book.”
“I didn’t see it.” He had the Book closed, cradled protectively in his arms.
“Do you have trouble getting the words to focus? I do…”
“You must have seen the last one well enough.” His tone was hostile.
I listened to the crackling of the rush torches, wondering if he was angry because I’d managed something that was beyond him. That didn’t bode well for our future. “All I did was get the torches to light. It must be some kind of spell to awaken fire.”
A rude knock on the door interrupted us. “Open up here. What’s been going on?” The innkeeper had brought a staff, and he raised it threateningly when he saw the fire in our hearth and the lit tapers.
“I was reading, and thought a bit of light would help,” I said. It certainly had gotten dark quickly, and colder too. I rose and shut the window.
I’d made an error in my choice of explanation, though. Most Trean women did not read or write, unless they were from a noble house.
“Reading? There’s no call for that.”
Kea intervened. “What brings you to our quarters with a staff, good sir? I paid you well for our room.”
“The fire in my hearth room started by itself. When it comes to sorcery, I know who to blame. Are you Mannites? Your wife has a wild look on her.”
That’s because I was frantically shoving my hair under the goodwife cap. Luckily, I was standing in shadow and could only hope the man hadn’t noticed my red hair, which identified me as the outlaw girl depicted on the wall of the marketplace.
“We had nothing to do with your fire,” Kea said.
The innkeeper clutched his staff harder. “Hmm. You didn’t answer my question about your manner of worship. There are Mannites about, you know. This afternoon I chased a pair of Robes away. The woman had the effrontery to wear breeches. And now my common room fire nearly burned the whiskers off my regulars, them that like to play dice every week.”
“Maybe the Mannites set a spell to plague you. Di
d they get what they wanted from you?” I asked.
“I served them the ale they wanted—thirsty buggers, they were. While they drank, they were watching everyone come and go.”
“Perhaps they didn’t like your ale,” Kea suggested.
“They liked it well enough, and I won’t have you questioning the quality of my brew.” He glared at the fire. “It’s not winter yet, and you didn’t pay for the fuel. Put that out and save the tapers for the trip to the water chamber at night.”
“Apologies. We’ll take care of it,” Kea said.
“Best be gone by first light tomorrow.” With that, the innkeeper left, slamming the door.
* * *
Moab tried to extinguish the taper with the snuffer, but when he removed it, the flame still shone merrily.
“That is uncanny,” I said. “Maybe we should just leave them on, though. Look at the sky outside.” It was smudged charcoal, clouds scudding, the wind whistling.
“Looks like quite a storm,” Moab said. “Sure came on suddenly.”
“You heard the innkeeper. We’re to put out the torches and the fire.” Kea took a basin of water and threw it on the hearth fire, which continued to chuckle and spit, unperturbed.
“It’s a magic fire,” I pointed out.
“Yes, and when the one in the innkeeper’s common room won’t mind either, he’ll be back. You need to handle this,” Kea snapped.
I shrugged. Was I responsible now? Kea was the one who demanded to look at the Book.
“Fine. I’ll do it, since you can’t.”
Now I was angry too. “It wasn’t my idea to look in that book tonight.”
“It’s a book about the different elements. Water puts out fire. So, I’ll look in that section.” Kea had the Book open again.
The Water Demon commanded water. “No, I wouldn’t. Please, Kea,” I said, my voice rising in alarm. A sudden downpour of rain outside drowned out my words. The flames in the room grew weaker, flickering.
Kea’s voice, triumphant. “I found a word. Uae.”
I rushed to his side. The Book vibrated, and in the distance, thunder rolled. It was definitely cold now, cold and clammy. Outside our window, fog rose, writhing in coils.
The Book was open to the last page. There was only one phrase I could read: The First Mother, risen from Sea—Uae. The rest was a foreign language, written in a different hand
I wrestled Kea for the Book, hoping to slam it shut. Then the tapping on the window started. Scritch, scritch.
CHAPTER 22
Luca
Luca spent the next two days searching through the Ancestral Treasure Room with Mak, Yuvio, and Vulla, the Minister of Magic. Aeran and Danilo rummaged through the Armory with a list. Revel spent his time at the dock with the Naval Commander, selecting the crew and ordering stores. Vasio calculated the costs of the voyage and allocated wages for Yuvio, Revel, and the twins, none of whom were members of the royal household.
Calio’s last act before withdrawing to his family compound west of the palace was to tell Vulla to stay away from his sister, or he would see her removed from the Ministry. As a result, Leyla was stymied in her study of magic and had to find other preoccupations. Luca’s spies said she’d hired a Farzian tutor and steeped herself in learning the language. She was never one for halfway measures. The halls seemed empty without Calio’s affable laughter and heavy tread.
The Ancestral Treasures were not the usual gaudy collection of gold and jewels. Those were kept in the Armory, in a chamber guarded by the Prime’s personal guard. The treasures consisted of inventions that the past Primes developed along with their Minister of Innovation.
As the ruler of a trading nation, the Prime had a responsibility not only to be charming but to be clever as well. And what could be more clever than inventing items other nations would covet? Knowledge was the ultimate wealth.
There was the practical and the peculiar. The practical: various systems of standardized weights and measurements, devised by the Eighth Prime, in conjunction with his Mercantile Advisor. The peculiar: the Twentieth Prime had been obsessed with musical instruments and discordant songs. When his children were disobedient, he punished them with a particular clashing composition, which he played on a small trumpet made from an elephant’s thighbone.
There was the beautiful and the repugnant: the Twenty-Seventh Prime, unlike most, had merely collected, not invented. He had glassware from all around the known world, which inspired the artisans of Vendrisi in creating their famed blue glass. The Twenty-Third Prime, put off by the garbage that accumulated and stank in town gutters during the hot summers, began an intensive study of slime molds that might, when sprinkled on waste, dissolve it quickly.
None of these items seemed to be good choices for combating life forms that fed on memories and drained their victims of essence, though Mak did advocate briefly for the bone trumpet, until Vulla laughed at him, and Yuvio lingered over the platters of molds, kept moist under cloth coverings.
After two days of looking, Luca had a pounding headache. Yuvio suggested a break and called for some passion fruit water flavored with brandy, lime, and sugar cane. Luca wedged himself up on a windowsill, leaving his helpers to find seats on the large sturdy wooden chests, packed full of scrolls and treasures.
The sun sparkled on the swelling waves. The tide was coming in. The rich smell of the ocean mixed with the aroma of nutmeg and sugar cane and oranges. Gulls rode the updrafts, screeching, as if immune to the pull of the earth.
The pull of the earth was an example of an invisible force.
It reminded Luca that they had to find something that would shatter the forces that let the soul snares link to their victims. The only invisible force that Luca’s forefathers mastered was the so-called force of the poles, which guided the needle of the compass.
Luca jumped off the windowsill, energized. “We must look through my grandfather’s treasures.” The Twenty-Eighth Prime had dabbled extensively in the forces of the poles, which drew things together or forced them apart.
* * *
It was late afternoon, and on the beaches salt farmers would be gently shaking their salt-collecting trays. Inside the palace, Luca’s servant adjusted the shutters to keep out the cool autumn wind. Luca rang for his body servant, who presented a tray of warm towelettes moistened with lavender water to the Prime, his newly assembled ministers, and the sorcerer Yuvio. Luca handed out glasses of ginger cordial before speaking.
“Mak and I have come up with a plan.”
He walked to the middle of the room and ceremoniously lifted the cloth from the two items Mak and he had culled from the Twenty-Eighth Prime’s extensive collection. One was a diving suit, complete with a metal screw-on headcover with bolts. It came with an attachable tank outfitted with hand bellows. The other item was a huge pearl, the size of a man’s fist.
Luca gestured theatrically. “Behold a diving suit and air tank. When the Mannite hero enters the Forest of Bones, he can use this suit to breathe purified air and remain unaffected.”
Several ministers nodded approvingly. Samu looked at the pearl. “And this? It must be worth a fortune. I take it you plan to gift it to the Lady Illenn?”
“No,” Luca said brusquely. He paused, savoring the Mercantile Advisor’s confusion and Vulla’s curiosity.
His grandfather had used the diving suit to study the pearl-producing Vendrisi oysters. The largest pearl his grandfather had harvested formed around a sizable piece of lava, taken from a volcano. That lava had also been used in the construction of lodestones, which meant the pearl would be susceptible to the pull of an iron bar, especially if that bar was forged in the shape of a horseshoe.
“Once our hero enters the Forest of Bones, he will be susceptible to the lure of his individual soul snare, even if he breathes purified air. He will lose his will. If he carries the pearl, the other Mannites can retrieve him by using a horseshoe-shaped piece of iron. The iron will pull on the lodestone in the pearl, creating an ene
rgetic force, which we hope will simultaneously disrupt the linked energy of the soul snares. Yuvio will be looking into that tonight while Mak works on the construction of an iron bar that we can transport on horseback.” Luca grinned as if they’d just invented the wheel. He thought their plan was risky and might well fail, but a leader had to appear resolute. It was time they sailed.
Yuvio sighed, set down his unfinished drink, and signaled the servant for some tea. Mak and Yuvio would likely be up all night with their research. Luca suspected they were enjoying their acquaintance personally as well as professionally. He’d chosen men without families to accompany him. Revel and the twins did not have the disposition to settle down. Mak did not desire women. Neither, it seemed, did Yuvio.
They would have each other for company, while his fighters joked and brawled among themselves.
But who would he have? His siblings, whose warmth and care always sheltered him, would be back in Vendrisi.
* * *
The day of their departure came, and the five followed Luca up the gangplank to the navy’s fastest ship. Leyla, Vasio, and Vulla waved, while two hefty sailors carried the men’s armor and baggage up behind them. Luca stood at the ship’s prow, waving back, pretending not to care that Calio hadn’t come to see him off. The captain called for the sails to be unfurled, and Luca let the soothing motion of the waves flow through his limbs. The water always roused him, but this voyage he had no woman to entertain him. He’d specifically told the captain to keep temptation away. The captain knew Luca’s type—a healthy wench with a ready laugh and long curly hair.
It wasn’t that Luca had lost his taste for a tumble. He just resented the complications. A brief image came to him. He’d seen a trapped dolphin once, caught in the fishermen’s net. By the time his order to free it was carried out, the creature was dead. Dolphins don’t survive snares long.
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