“I’m not broken.”
“Ah, but you are, and in oh-so-many ways. Luckily, you have hundreds of years to make up for lost time.”
“And you’re going to teach me?”
Jerydd smiled. “You think learning from me will be boring—a bunch of dull exercises like those they drill into you at school, eh? What do you say we start our first lesson right now?”
Mawyndulë sensed a vague threat in that suggestion. First lesson: I’ll throw you over that railing, and you can learn to fly!
“Sorry, my father says we’re marching this morning. He’s in a hurry to kill some people, and I get to watch.”
Jerydd nodded, that smile stretching wider on his old shriveled lips. “How would you like to do more than watch? Your father tells me you hated your old teacher. She stopped you from exacting justice after Gryndal’s death. You want to punish her for that, don’t you?”
“She’s a traitor. She should die. That’s the law.”
“Yes, yes, the law, of course. But how would you like to be the one to enforce it? To be the one to execute her?”
Mawyndulë stared at the withered old man. The wind wafting in updrafts flapped his pale cloak and blew several strands of white hair against the grain.
“What are you saying?”
“You were right last night. I failed to kill her as your father ordered. I won’t make the same mistake twice, but I’m a little too old for extended travel.” He gestured up at the tower rising behind them. “As you can feel, this is an extremely powerful source. From here, I can launch an attack on Alon Rhist if I wish.”
“That didn’t work on Arion before.”
“No, it didn’t. There are limitations. Avempartha allows me to see and hear and direct the Art over vast distances—just not all at the same time. I was able to find her; then I had to disengage and swing blindly. Locating her was difficult after she knew what was happening. If I had someone on the ground, someone right there in the thick of it who could send me updates and direct my attacks, combating Arion would be a simple matter. I just need someone I can work through…someone like you.”
“How could I do that?”
“That’s where the lesson comes in—that awful teaching part.”
“I don’t have time to learn—”
“Just as Gryndal knew how to see long distances, I know how to speak across leagues. I can show you right now how to hear me and then continue your education as you travel on toward Alon Rhist. By the time you arrive, you’ll be able to help me target Arion. Through you, I’ll be able to erase my mistake, and you’ll have your revenge. Then when you return, I’ll show you other things the next fane ought to know, things that will make you invincible in the Carfreign Arena.”
Mawyndulë found himself nodding.
“Beautiful sunrise, isn’t it?” Jerydd said.
Despite himself, Mawyndulë couldn’t disagree.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
House of Bones
Strange how life often delivers the worst with the best, the highs with the lows, happiness with sorrow, and joy with screams that haunt a person forever, making it impossible to sleep in a room with a window. Then again, that might just be me.
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
Despite the beautiful spring afternoon, Brin continued to glance nervously over her shoulder as she crossed the corbel bridge that connected the Verenthenon to the Kype. Memories of that damp hand clamping over her mouth continued to send chills through her.
Relax. Don’t struggle.
Brin had to tell someone.
She would have gone to her mother if that had been possible. Hearing her say that everything would be fine, while giving Brin a tight hug, was what she needed. Her mother was always good at that. But her mother was dead.
I have you now.
Brin banged on the door to the Kype, and the little window in the door slid back.
“I need to see Persephone,” Brin said.
The door opened. They knew her. She was the Keeper of Ways and had the run of the place by order of the keenig.
“She’s up on the high floor,” Elysan told her, jerking his thumb at the ceiling. The Fhrey closed and bolted the bronze door behind her, sealing out the sun.
Brin should have felt safer behind that heavily secured door. She didn’t.
Just need to get you back to the pile.
“Brin!” Persephone was all smiles when Brin poked her head into the meeting room. The keenig sat at one of four tables filled with chieftains and Fhrey, each wearing serious faces. This wasn’t a council meeting. They were held in the Verenthenon. But Persephone looked just as frustrated. Before Brin could say anything, the keenig was up and walking toward her.
“I don’t want to interrupt, I just—”
Persephone raised a hand, stopping her. Looking back at those in the room, the keenig said, “I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me a moment. Lipit, continue and I’ll be back in a few minutes.” With that, Persephone grabbed Brin by the hand and hauled her into the corridor.
She closed the door, threw her back against the wall, gritted her teeth, and began to bang her head against the stone.
“Seph!” Brin said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
Again, she held up a hand. “It’s not you. Trust me—I could kiss you for getting me out of there. I hate it when they bicker. The Gula think I’m trying to enslave their clans through a dependence on Rhulyn food; the Rhulyn chieftains are terrified because I’m making them farm while the Gula-Rhunes train. Our people are convinced the Gula will turn on us. And every day there are more reports of incidents, insults, and conflicts between Fhrey and Rhunes.”
Brin smiled. “I’m glad I missed it. Lately, all your meetings have been the same. Not really worth writing about. Even the council meetings have been pretty repetitive.”
Persephone took a deep centering breath. “Raithe was right for turning down the job.” She pushed herself off the wall. “Do you ever see him? Raithe, I mean?”
Brin looked puzzled. “Isn’t he in there right now?”
“No, this is primarily a discussion about clan grievances, and he doesn’t have much of either. He doesn’t even come to many of the council meetings anymore. But that’s not what I meant. I was referring to a more informal setting. One not based on official matters. Do the two of you talk?”
“Sometimes.”
“Does he seem all right?”
“I suppose.”
“What’s he been doing?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Mostly, I guess he’s been teaching the young men in the courtyard. That’s where I usually see him. He and Suri also go on a lot of walks. Neither one of them likes being in the city much. Why don’t you ask him what he’s been doing?”
“I was just curious.” Persephone smiled. “Never mind. Did you want something, or were you just coming to save me from going crazy?”
Brin hesitated, biting her lip.
Persephone’s eyes grew concerned. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I think we have a raow.”
* * *
—
“A raow?” Raithe asked. “In Alon Rhist?”
Tesh nodded.
They stood between the great towers on the parapet above the main gate that afforded an unrivaled view of the Grandford Bridge and beyond it the plateau of Dureya. Tesh knew he’d find Raithe there. The parapet was one of the few places to look at their home without having to climb a few hundred steps to see over the walls. And he knew Raithe liked watching the sunset from there. Perhaps looking out at his old home had a way of reminding his chieftain of how far he’d come, which when measured in physical distances wasn’t far at all. Raithe had his sword out, rubbing the blade with an oily rag. Roan had told everyone to do that once in a while. Said otherwise
the metal might go bad, like it was meat or something. Raithe was always oiling his. He took care of it like a woman with a newborn.
Unlike the rest of them, Raithe’s blade wasn’t made by Roan or one of her army of workers. The sword he cleaned was dwarven, the one Persephone had brought back from Neith. Not only was it an excellent weapon, it possessed a remarkable legend. Many believed its markings were magical because the sword was reputed to have destroyed a mountain, made Persephone the keenig, and slain a dragon.
“Raow don’t live in cities and certainly not fortresses,” Raithe explained.
“Brin is convinced it’s a raow,” Tesh said. “She ought to know. She says she heard it one night, and I saw a clawed footprint near her house, then another one when we were down in that maze of corridors and rooms under the Verenthenon.”
“Wait. What? You and Brin? What in Mari’s name were you two doing down there?”
Tesh shifted uneasily. He wasn’t trying to avoid the question so much as trying to find the right way to answer. He didn’t want to admit it hadn’t been his idea, that Brin had led him down there.
Raithe scowled. “Tesh, the girl’s only fourteen!”
“Fourteen? She is not! She’s sixteen…her birthday was months ago.”
“And what about you?”
“I’m sixteen, too.”
Raithe rolled his eyes. “I know how old you are, but where’s your house? Where’s your livestock, your crops, your furs, your fields, your traps? How are you going to take care of her? How are you going to take care of a child?”
“A child? That happens from kissing?”
Raithe smiled. “Never mind. Now, what’s all this about a raow?”
Tesh watched as his chieftain carefully slid the magic blade into a scabbard that was decidedly less impressive.
“We think someone is hiding it. Taking care of it.”
“Like a pet?”
“I guess.”
“No one keeps a raow. Why would they?”
* * *
—
“Outside my window, I heard two people talking,” Brin said. “One was a man, the other a raow—I’m sure of it now. I could tell by the voices.” She looked at the keenig until she was certain she understood. This was another reason Brin had wanted to talk to her; Persephone didn’t need her to explain. “I’ve been thinking about it. I remember that the man said something about an agreement they had.”
“Agreement?”
Brin nodded. “I think the man was hiding it, feeding it somehow. He mentioned someone by the name of Jada. I think he might have lured Jada to the raow.”
Persephone was shaking her head. “Why would anyone keep such a thing? How could they?”
“Under the Verenthenon are all these little rooms. I saw a footprint in one of them—a raow footprint.”
“It’s called the duryngon,” Persephone said. “A prison. I don’t think there are any people down there anymore, but Nyphron mentioned they used it for studying creatures. You shouldn’t be going down there.”
“Well, trust me, I won’t anymore. But what if there had been a raow there and someone let it out?”
Persephone rested the back of her head against the wall while her tongue slipped back and forth across the front of her teeth. “Who would do such a thing? And why?”
“I don’t know, but I think it was a Rhune.”
“How would a Rhune get access to a raow from the duryngon? It’d have to be a Fhrey. They are the only ones who know about that place and have access to it.”
Brin shook her head. “I found the duryngon. Maybe someone else did, too. The night I heard voices under my window they were speaking Rhunic.”
“Nyphron speaks Rhunic—a lot of Fhrey do.”
“But not when they are by themselves. And it’s possible raow only speak Rhunic. The one that grabbed me did. It’s just that he—the one talking to the raow—didn’t sound like a Fhrey. He sounded like a man.”
Persephone frowned with a skeptical look. “You’re still having the nightmares, aren’t you?”
“It’s not that. I know this sounds like—”
“Brin, it hasn’t been that long. I still wake up covered in sweat, and I wasn’t taken by that thing.”
“It’s real.”
“Okay, let’s say you’re right. How would a Rhune learn about a raow trapped under the Verenthenon? And why would he be willing to hide it?”
* * *
—
“Do you remember that house in the city the first day we arrived?” Raithe asked, making the switchback turn near the rain barrel as they headed down the stairs. “The one Malcolm used to live in?”
“The one where he got in the fight with that fussy fellow?” Tesh replied.
Raithe nodded and came around the third switchback. The two were practically dancing down the staircase, but because of their worn boots, the only sound came from the slap of scabbards. They had left the parapet and begun walking back toward the open-air kitchen, which had been set up in the training yard. No discussion, no comment. They both just started walking the moment they caught the smell of smoky roasting meat wafting from that outdoor spit. Mealtime had a way of pulling people that way.
“Yeah, Meryl said he was living there alone, but I saw someone in the upstairs window.”
“I think I remember you saying something about that, but I didn’t see anyone.” Tesh’s stomach rumbled. He was starving. He went for hours working the rings, running the obstacle course, or sparring, and then he’d smell food and start salivating.
“There was definitely a pair of eyes up there. Drew away the moment I spotted them.”
“What? Are you thinking that was the raow?”
Raithe shrugged. “Why did Meryl say he lived alone?”
“Maybe it was a woman? Maybe a Fhrey woman?”
“I thought of that, but why would he hide such a thing? Why would he care what we thought? Didn’t Malcolm mention something about him lying? That’s bothered me ever since. Why would he lie?”
* * *
—
By the time Brin left Persephone, it was obvious the keenig didn’t believe her. Otherwise, Persephone would have done something. Instead, she insisted that Brin stay and eat, proving by her lack of urgency that Persephone thought she’d only had a bad dream.
As frustrating as it was to be ignored, Brin conceded that she needed to eat. During the meal, Persephone made a point of asking numerous questions on random, unimportant subjects, none of which had anything to do with raows, dangers, or sleepless nights. They talked about how Roan was killing herself at the forge while trying to create the perfect metal. How the dwarfs had become Roan’s devoted slaves. They also discussed a quilt Padera was making with squares that depicted scenes from the last year, including one showing their fight with Balgargarath. The story squares had been Brin’s idea, but she thought it too arrogant to say so.
And they also talked at length about The Book of Brin. Brin had thirty pages written that covered the origin of the gods, how Ferrol, Drome, and Mari had created the Fhrey, dwarfs, and men, and how the Evil One, called Uberlin, was born, and this somehow made the children of Erebus turn against their father and attack him. That whole area was murky. Some of the words were ambiguous enough to be confusing, and at times reading the Ancient One’s markings wasn’t easy. This history of the gods was the first officially completed portion of The Book of Brin—aside from the metal formula that she did especially for Roan—that she had set aside within an envelope of sheep’s skin and placed in a drawer for safekeeping. She explained to Persephone how she thought she would do the whole book that way, section by section, putting the completed parts away in separate places to avoid the disaster of her life’s work all being destroyed by some awful accident. At some point—after the whole work was completed—she wo
uld create copies and bind them all together into one great volume.
By the end of the meal, she had nearly forgotten about the raow, which she guessed was the whole reason Persephone had asked her to stay. If it had been just a dream, the meal and carefree conversation would have made her feel better. But it hadn’t. The raow was real, and the fact that the sun was casting long shadows by the time Brin left the Kype brought the worry back.
I won’t get home before dark.
She had just reached the steps down to the city when she heard him. “Hey! Brin!”
She spun to find Tesh leaping down the steps from the fortress, taking three and four at a time to reach her. She stopped and waited, clutching her satchel to her chest and gritting her teeth in a war with her lips in an effort to keep from smiling. He likes me!
“Let me walk you home, okay?” He was puffing from the run, his chest rising and falling. He raked back the hair from his eyes and wiped the sweat from his brow. The evening sun splashed across Tesh’s face, highlighting the wisps of beard coming in unevenly on his chin, cheeks, and upper lip.
By Mari, you’re beautiful.
“Afraid something might happen to me?”
“Kinda, yeah.”
Brin had been joking, flirting. She didn’t expect him to say yes. He wasn’t there to charm her; Tesh had come to protect her. While his concern was thoughtful, it scared her. “Really? What did Raithe say?”
“He doesn’t think we’re crazy. More importantly, he reminded me about someone named Meryl who lives in the city on Yolanda Hill. He says he lives alone, but Raithe remembers seeing someone looking out through this guy’s window.”
Age of War Page 18