Age of War

by Michael J. Sullivan

  “And you think he’s hiding the raow?”

  “Not sure. Technically, we only know he’s lying. Well, that and he’s hiding someone. Raithe is going to talk to Malcolm because he used to live with Meryl. What did Persephone say?”

  “I don’t think she believed me. She thinks I just had a nightmare. But I did learn what those little rooms are. It’s called the duryngon, a prison. Persephone says the Galantians use the cells to study creatures, so maybe they had a raow.”

  “Oh, so you don’t believe me now, either?” Brin was getting more than frustrated with everyone not—

  “I didn’t say that. I believe you. I’m just wondering how someone could do that.”

  “Oh,” she said softly.

  “I mean, my mother described raow as monsters that slaughtered whole villages, making huge mounds with bones of the people they killed. For someone to be keeping one…well it’d be like a mouse keeping a cat, you know? Doesn’t make sense.”

  “During the conversation, I overheard the guy—or mouse if you will—mention an agreement.”

  “How does a mouse make an agreement with a cat—a hungry cat? Do you think he has a magic weapon or something? Maybe a necklace that allows him to control it?”

  Brin paused and stared at Tesh curiously, then shook her head. “How did you come up with—never mind. No, I don’t think there’s a magic medallion. But if the raow was in a prison, how did it get out? Perhaps it was let out. Maybe that’s when they made the agreement. You know, I do this for you, you do that for me?”

  “So, the mouse freed the cat on the promise that it wouldn’t eat him?”

  “Well, sure, but the mouse would want more than that. After all, leaving the cat in the duryngon would take care of that. The mouse would want something more.”

  “Like what?”

  “Something a raow would agree to. Something it would like to do anyway.”

  “Kill lots of mice?”

  “That night, when I heard them talking, one of them said something about waiting for spring. Nyphron thinks the Fhrey will attack in spring. That might not be a coincidence.”

  “It’s spring, right now,” Tesh told her. “You know that, right?”

  They continued walking down the steep sloping street of paving stones, past dozens of buildings with lit candles and closed drapes. Fhrey were inside, and Brin wondered if they were peeking out, watching them pass. What did they do in there? And how did they feel about all of the Rhunes running free on their streets?

  “You said Meryl lives on Yolanda Hill?”

  Tesh nodded.

  “So he’s a Fhrey, then?”

  “Actually, no, he’s human. Was a slave, like Malcolm. Seemed like he inherited the house when Shegon died.”

  “Oh,” Brin said, then sighed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, if Meryl was a Fhrey, then I could see him wanting to release a raow to devour all the humans right as the Elven army arrives. Great plan—horrible and unimaginably evil, sure—but still pretty smart. But a human slave wouldn’t want that. Meryl’s on our side.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Tesh said. “I think he liked being a slave. Malcolm said Meryl saw himself as one of them, and while a lot of the Fhrey loyalists—at least the non-Instarya ones—packed up and went back across the Nidwalden when we moved in, a human slave wouldn’t be able to do that no matter how much they wanted to be a Fhrey.”

  “Really?” Brin bit her lip. “Is it me, or is this starting to make sense?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m thinking that Meryl really could be planning on letting this raow loose. But how can I get Persephone to believe that?”

  “We need proof,” Tesh said. “I know where Meryl’s house is. I’ll go have a look. I’ll go right now.”

  “You mean, we’ll go.”

  Tesh gave her a serious look. “No, I mean I’ll go. If you’re right, Brin, this could be really dangerous.”

  She frowned, nodding. “I know that more than you, believe me. That’s why I can’t let you go alone.” She looked at the two swords on his hips and recalled the sparring bouts in the courtyard. “What do you think? Can you defeat a raow? Maybe we should—”

  Tesh straightened up and placed his hands on the pommels of his weapons. “With these, I’m better than anyone but Sebek. I can handle a single raow.”

  “So, what’s the problem, then?”

  Tesh conceded, “Okay, fine. Let’s go visit Mister Meryl and see if he really does have a guest.”

  * * *

  —

  Unfamiliar with that section of the city, Brin followed Tesh. She watched him stop and pivot around more than once. The streets in the city of Rhist were a haphazard maze, the houses packed close and set on tiers such that Tesh often looked down at a street he wanted to get to, but he saw no means to reach it. Brin was starting to worry that they wouldn’t be able to find the place when Tesh abruptly stopped.

  “That’s it,” Tesh said. He was pointing at a home with a sword and shield for a door knocker.

  “We walked by this twice,” she told him.

  “Yes, but from the other direction,” Tesh explained, but Brin didn’t think that explained anything.

  By then, all the other homes had lights burning. This made Meryl’s house stand out all the more. The place was dark.

  “Do you think it’s empty? Abandoned?” Brin asked.

  Tesh pointed at the flower boxes under the windows. “Nope. Someone has been taking care of those.”

  “Then why so dark?”

  “I think there are blankets over the windows,” Tesh said.

  “The Fhrey call those drapes,” Brin explained. “Have them in the place I live, too. They’re nice, but they don’t block out all the light. If lamps were lit, you could see it. Is it possible no one’s home?”

  “Could be, but I doubt Meryl takes it for walks. Probably just likes it dark. Do raow need light?”

  “I don’t think so. The one that grabbed me didn’t. I think it could see just fine in the dark.” She looked at his swords again. “Those might not be as useful when you’re blind.”

  Tesh grinned at her. “I think you’d be surprised.”

  This should have made her feel better, and it did, sort of, but Brin could still remember the feel of that hand on her face. Strong, cold, and damp, the long bony fingers squeezed her cheeks, and she had felt the sharp points on its fingertips.

  “Really? You’re that good?”

  “Good enough to only be concerned about you.”

  Another warm flush bloomed on her cheeks. She was glad it was dark.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Tesh asked.

  “How about we knock?”

  Tesh raised his brows. “Best advantage in battle is surprise.”

  “This isn’t a battle. I think we should start by speaking to this Meryl fellow. Challenging him. Even ask to search his house. If he refuses, or acts suspiciously, then we can go back and tell Persephone.”

  Tesh shrugged. “Okay, we’ll do it your way.” He knocked.

  There were a few faint, unseen voices speaking in Fhrey down the street. Funny, she thought, how sounds carried in the night in ways they didn’t during the day. Brin rarely saw, or even heard, the natives in whose homes they lived. The Fhrey were excellent at hiding. They came out at night after the streets were empty. For some time, Brin had been convinced the Fhrey could see better in the dark than humans. They were certainly faster and more agile. On occasion, she thought she saw one out of the corner of an eye, but when she turned, all she saw was a shadow. She thought of them as ghosts, spirits that she heard at night. She imagined they came to the Rhune District in the late hours and gathered to complain about how the Rhunes were ruining the place. The idea of them coming out at night ma
de her think all of them were a kind of raow.

  Standing in the street in the dark in a populated Fhrey section of the city, Brin knew this was a place she shouldn’t be.

  Am I insane? she thought. Maybe.

  Almost nine months had passed since she was taken, and she was still having nightmares. The raow hadn’t so much as bruised her, but it had left her broken. As a little girl, Brin used to be afraid of the dark, and her mother had let her fall asleep with the lamp burning—a costly custom to ease a child’s fear. Brin had forced herself to face it, to lie stiff in her bed shivering, listening to every creak or gust of wind, waiting for…she never knew exactly what. The next morning, she felt free. Brin was hoping something like that would happen with the raow. That she would grit her teeth, face it, and finally be free. Even so, Brin wouldn’t have gone to this house alone. I might be insane, but I’m not crazy. She had pretended ignorance when speaking to Tesh. She had spent all winter watching him train; she knew he was a superb warrior. Brin couldn’t have a better protector. And yet…

  The last time it took a dragon—no, she thought—a Gilarabrywn.

  No one answered the door. Tesh rapped again. Again they waited. Nothing.

  Brin sighed. “I guess we’ll have to come back at—”

  “You should wait here,” Tesh told her.

  “Wait? What do you mean wait?”

  “It will be safer.” Tesh lifted the latch, and, laying a hand on a sword, he pushed the door open.

  “You can’t go in!”

  “No one is home.”

  “I know. That’s why you can’t go in!”

  Tesh looked at her, puzzled. “It’s probably listening to you.”

  This shut her up, and Brin clamped both hands to her face.

  Raow love faces.

  Tesh disappeared over the threshold, leaving Brin on the doorstep, terrified.

  She stared after him into the darkness. It looked like a pit, a tunnel into some horrible void. Tesh was walking into a monster’s nest. She waited. And waited.

  Brin felt as if she’d stood there a month, maybe two, and in all that time she never moved, didn’t breathe, and would have bet the year’s wheat crop that her heart never beat once. She held herself rigid, staring into the dark hole of the house, listening. Tesh was quiet and as nimble as a Fhrey. Still, she heard some sounds. A faint rustle, then the creak of a board.

  More waiting.

  No more sounds.

  The quiet is good. I’d hear a struggle if he’s attacked…and yet…what if it grabbed him from behind? Raow are good at that. It could have him right now, that horrible hand on his mouth preventing him from making a sound.

  Her heart was beating after all. How could she not have noticed the pounding in her chest?

  I can’t just wait here.

  She took a step across the threshold but halted when a light appeared inside. It floated toward the door. An instant later, she saw Tesh holding a candle on a little copper plate with a finger ring.

  “Place is empty,” he said.

  “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “Did you…did you go upstairs?”

  He smirked. “Of course I went upstairs.”

  “Did you find anything—well—anything unusual?”

  He curled his finger for her to follow and led her inside.

  “If you didn’t find anything, that’s fine. I don’t need to see. I believe you.”

  “No, I think you should see for yourself. Trust me. There’s no danger. No one is here. Not Meryl, not a raow.”

  Brin’s surge of courage was quickly draining away now that Tesh wasn’t having his face eaten. She didn’t want to go in; everything about that house was screaming for her to keep out. They were intruding, it was dark, and…there was a smell. Brin had no idea what it was, but it wasn’t nice. “Not really necessary.”

  He was already halfway across the entryway, disappearing back into the dark, when she gave in and chased after him.

  The home was, in many ways, like the one Brin was living in, although not quite as nice. The place was masculine, with less lace and more boots. Five pairs of high-top leathers were set near the door. She found no stenciling, vases, or wall hangings. The place was sparse. No knick-knacks, no plants. One thing did catch her eye: A beautiful harp stood in the far corner across from the fireplace. Formed of lacquered wood that was curved and carved, the thing was as much a piece of art as an instrument.

  Tesh took her right to the stairs. Here the smell was stronger. The scent was rancid, like rotting meat. Tesh didn’t pull or coax. He merely waited, watching her with sympathetic eyes. He probably thought she was a terrible coward. He’d certainly had no trouble marching through the house. Why was she so terrified?

  What part of “they eat people’s faces” didn’t you hear?

  Tesh said the place was empty, but raow, like Fhrey, might just be very good at hiding.

  Brin clenched her fists, set her jaw, and followed Tesh up the steps. As they reached the second story, Tesh held the candle high so she could see.

  The whole upper floor was one big mound of bones.

  Long, short, thick, and thin, some were white, others yellowed. There were so many—a huge pile. Brin stepped away from the banister and moved into the loft, carefully placing her feet on bare patches of floor.

  This is it, she thought, spellbound. The pile.

  Brin stood in the midst of the mound, overwhelmed at the sight. Every bone had once been part of a person. She saw arm and leg bones, wide paddle-shaped pelvises, racks of ribs, and skulls. How many has it killed? How many like me did it grab? How many screamed as it ate their faces?

  Then she realized the bones weren’t just a pile. The arm bones were all together, each aligned in the same way. The same was true of the leg bones, and the feet and hands. Every part was carefully placed in some twisted design, right down to the ring of skulls with all the faces pointing out like watchmen.

  That’s its bed. Those skulls keep it safe while it sleeps.

  “Brin?” Tesh said.

  She barely heard him. She stood frozen.

  “Are you all right?”

  Brin honestly didn’t know. She was crying, sobbing, tears running down her cheeks.

  “I—” she started to say. Then she spotted the shawl.

  The discarded wad of cloth lay on the floor, revealed by Tesh’s little candle. The wool was the traditional Rhen pattern of green, black, and blue, and Brin had no trouble recognizing the weaving work of her mother. She picked it up. “This is Seph’s shawl.”

  Tesh picked up a shimmering blue-and-gold cloak. “This is Nyphron’s.”

  “Meryl stole them.”

  “Why?”

  Brin’s eyes went wide. “Meryl isn’t going to use the raow to kill a bunch of people. He’s targeting specific ones. C’mon. We need to go.” Brin was already moving down the stairs. “I know why it’s not here, and I know where it’s going to be.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Through a Narrow Window

  Most people like windows, but I think they look like eyes—soulless eyes that invite things a bolted door is meant to keep out. Yeah, it is probably just me…well, and Persephone.

  —THE BOOK OF BRIN

  Persephone sat in the quiet of her bedroom, rubbing the silver ring that hung from the chain around her neck—Reglan’s ring. She tried to remember who had given it back to her. Konniger had been wearing it when he died. Someone must have delivered it after burying him, but she couldn’t remember who. Tope maybe, or Wedon, or—no, it was Tressa. Persephone nodded to the stars outside the open window across from her bed.

  Yes, it was Tressa.

  She had dutifully delivered the chieftain’s ring.

  How could I have forgotten that?

  Te
ars had been in Tressa’s eyes, her cheeks worn riverbeds from facing the loss of a husband. Persephone knew what that felt like.

  Persephone had lied, telling everyone that Konniger died while hunting the bear. No need to speak ill of the dead or embarrass the living, but word had escaped. Word always got around in a dahl. Persephone had no idea how Tressa learned the truth, or who might have told her. Maybe Tressa herself couldn’t accept that her husband was a martyr, and had asked questions.

  Tressa knew the truth, and yet she still brought the ring. Tressa was a bitch, but she was no coward.

  The silver ring that had lived on Persephone’s husband’s hand for more than twenty years was all she had left. Some of that silver had been tarnished. Reglan had given Maeve a daughter, then ordered her taken away to die in the forest to hide his transgression. The man she’d loved unconditionally for twenty years, the man she’d trusted, had done more than just deceive her. He’d been a monster, killed a child—or thought he had. Such an idea was difficult to reconcile. Such tarnish was impossible to remove.

  She drew the ring off the chain and held it up in the flickering light of the candle that rested on the little table. It had been a year. The mourning was over.

  “I know you loved me,” she told the circle of silver. “And I still love you no matter what you did. Can’t stop that. Can’t make it not be. And…” She swallowed hard. “And I miss you. I miss you so very badly. Still remember how you smelled, you know that?”

  A tear slipped, rolling down her cheek. She let it fall.

  “We were a great team, you and I.” She bit her lip. “And it’s stupid the things I keep thinking of: the way you bounced your foot at meetings or the silly sound of your laugh. I sometimes think I hear it in a crowd. I look, but it’s never you.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “Things have changed.”

  Persephone was alone in her room, isolated high in the Kype, surrounded by several feet of Fhrey-quarried stone. There was only the one narrow window, and it faced away from the rest of the Rhist. The door to the bedroom was closed. No one could hear. Still, the words were hard to say. She needed to hear them, needed to say them out loud to make it real. And maybe Reglan was listening. She hoped so because she needed to explain. “Things are different now that you’re gone. You understand that, right? You were always so practical, and I’m the keenig now. Yeah, can you believe that? Me, keenig.” She let out a little miserable laugh. “I have responsibilities, things I have to do. You taught me that.”