Stone of Inheritance

by Melissa McShane

  “You should take a nap,” Dianthe said, giving her a little push toward one of the beds. “I plan to.” She handed the emerald falcon, now wrapped in Alaric’s spare shirt, to Sienne and sank down on the other bed.

  “But what if they find us, and we’re sleeping?”

  “No one’s going to find us this afternoon. Sleep. We can plan when we’re alert.”

  Sienne tucked the emerald falcon under her bed and lay down. She was asleep in seconds.

  She woke slowly out of pleasant dreams of fields of wildflowers, drifting to consciousness like coming out of a deep pool. She felt rested and perfectly relaxed. The healing had taken care of her sore muscles as well as her burns and the puncture wounds. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, which was painted eggshell blue. She’d never seen an egg that color, but it was what her mother always called it.

  Someone knocked on the door, and Dianthe came awake abruptly, jerking upright. “Who is it?”

  “Perrin. Supper is ready, if you’d care to join us?”

  “Is it that late?” Dianthe sat on the edge of her bed and touched her hair, which was a frizzy mess coming unbound from her customary braid. “Give us a minute.”

  Sienne sat up and ran her fingers through her own hair. “I’ll conceal the artifact, but it might not matter.”

  “Why not?” Dianthe freed her hair from its braid and dug through her pack for a hairbrush.

  “If one of the men who escaped got a good look at it, a priest could…it’s not exactly reading his mind, more like perceiving his memory. Anyway, a priest who got a good enough image of it could scry for it. And knowing where it is would defeat camouflage.” Sienne knelt by the bed and read off the spell anyway.

  “I really do think we’re safe for tonight, but we’ll take extra precautions.” Dianthe laid the brush down and pulled on her boots. Sienne did the same, then ran her fingers over her left forearm. She could still feel the artifact’s grip, the weight of it bearing down on her arm. She shuddered and followed Dianthe down the stairs to the dining room.

  The meal was good, but they all ate too quickly to really enjoy it. Sienne couldn’t help feeling aware of the artifact hidden under her bed. She watched everyone who left the dining room by the inner door that led to the inn’s rooms for let, assessing their potential as agents of their unknown enemy. Finally, unable to stomach one more bite, she pushed back her chair and said, “I’ll be right back. I can’t stand leaving it unguarded in my room.” Nobody argued with her.

  22

  It was nearly six o’clock in the evening when they left the inn for the chapel. Sienne found herself once more surrounded by her friends, clasping the artifact to her chest. Nobody paid them any attention, so likely they didn’t look as strange as Sienne felt. The air was chilly and damp, but the storm had blown past and the skies were clear. Everyone they passed was bundled up as if it were still winter, though Sienne felt comfortable in her heavy cloak over her relatively thin shirt. They ought to buy a length of fabric to wrap the artifact in; Alaric’s shirt was large, but Sienne had to keep tugging it over the wings to keep them concealed. They’d already been through so much, and the journey wasn’t over. She resented the stupid falcon and the unknown enemy who was willing to kill to get it.

  The chapel’s door was open this time, and warm light glowed beyond it. Alaric led them through the chapel’s entry chamber, which was small enough to be crowded when all five of them stood inside, and into the nave. Eight backless stone pews with kneelers lined both sides of the aisle, occupied by a few people sitting rapt in their own thoughts. Lanterns as tall as Sienne hung from the peaked roof, their glass frosted with invulnerability magic. They cast a yellow glow over the chapel that made it feel warmer than it was.

  Sienne was used to her mother’s chapel to Kitane, which had an altar at the head of the nave and a statue of Kitane as warrior behind it. This chapel, dedicated to Lisiel, had no altar, just a series of paired doors with grilles at head height lining the rounded wall of what in a Kitane chapel would be the apse. No priests or divines were in evidence.

  Alaric came to a halt in the center of the round space and looked around. “I don’t know what to do next.”

  One of the doors opened. A man wearing a hooded cape drawn far over his face emerged and brushed past them, letting the door swing almost shut. The room beyond was a mere cubicle, meant to fit only one person at a time, and Sienne, who wasn’t claustrophobic, shuddered at the thought of having to sit inside.

  The door next to it opened as well, and a middle-aged woman poked her head out. She had coppery brown hair cut short to frame her face, which bore a scar along the jawline. One of her eyes was blue; the other was a greenish color. She examined each of them in turn. Sienne managed not to squirm under her regard, though it was like facing down a teacher when you didn’t know the answer to a basic question.

  “Well?” the woman said. Her voice was high and sharp, almost a shrill sound.

  “We’re looking for Kaethe,” Alaric said. “Dorcas sent us.”

  The woman rose from her seat and stepped out of the cubicle, unfolding like a stick insect. She was tall, nearly as tall as Alaric, and though her white robe, full length and full-sleeved, concealed her arms and legs, her hands were bony and her neck was thin. Sienne’s own neck ached looking at her, and she wondered how the woman held her head up. She looked as if someone had warmed her over a fire and then stretched her out like softened wax.

  “I’m Kaethe,” the woman said. “Dorcas sent you? I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  “We didn’t plan to stop here,” Alaric said. “We’re sorry if it’s inconvenient.”

  “Lisiel expects the unexpected. Convenience isn’t important. What do you hold there, young lady?”

  The direct inquiry startled Sienne. “Ah… it’s personal.”

  “Not a dedication, then?” Kaethe strode forward and took hold of the fabric wrapping the falcon before Sienne could step away or stop her. She twitched it aside. Her eyes grew wide. “Lady of Darkness,” she breathed. “Are you sure you don’t want to dedicate it?”

  “Could we discuss this in private?” Alaric said. Sienne gave him an imploring look. Discussing the artifact was not something she wanted to do. Alaric shrugged, a somewhat helpless gesture.

  “All right,” Kaethe said. She waved at a larger door to the left of the cubicles. “Back there.”

  The door led to a room about the same size as the entry, but made more crowded by a desk and a couple of chairs. “Make yourselves comfortable, if that’s possible,” Kaethe said, taking a seat behind the desk. “Now. Tell me what you want to know. I can put a value to that thing, if you mean to sell it.”

  “It’s not why we came. We just need a restoration blessing,” Sienne said, tucking the artifact close to her chest.

  “Restoration for what? None of you look injured.”

  Sienne swallowed. “For… for my horse. She lost an eye.”

  Kaethe laughed. Her laugh, unlike her speech, was deep and resonant, and it went on long enough that Sienne grew first uncomfortable, then angry. “A horse’s eye,” Kaethe finally said. “That’s a new one.”

  “If it’s too much for you—”

  “Don’t get upset with someone you’re asking a favor of, young lady, it’s rude.” Kaethe straightened. “Tell me about the emerald, and we’ll see about the restoration.”

  Sienne shot another glance at Alaric. Lying to a divine was probably a bad idea, not to mention sinful, even if she didn’t worship this woman’s avatar. Alaric gave her the tiniest nod. She set the falcon on the desk and unwrapped it, prompting a gasp from Kaethe. “It’s an artifact,” she said. “A weapon. We’re taking it where it can’t hurt anyone.”

  “A weapon?” Kaethe had been reaching out to touch it, but pulled her hand back as Sienne spoke. “What kind of weapon?”

  “An ancient spell. One that’s been lost for centuries.” Sienne didn’t want to go into detail, and hoped Kaethe wouldn�
��t press her.

  “It looks like a damned big emerald to me. Are you a wizard?”

  Sienne nodded.

  “Then I’ll take your word for it. Did you steal it?”

  “Of course not!”

  “There’s no ‘of course’ when it comes to artifacts. Besides, Lisiel would look favorably upon you if you had.” Kaethe scratched her head. “It can’t be destroyed. Where will you take it?”

  “Begging your pardon, but we can’t tell you that,” Alaric said. “The fewer people who know about this thing, the better.”

  “I see.” The divine leaned back in her chair and propped one elbow on the armrest, resting her chin in her hand. “Then why did you bring it to me?”

  “We didn’t,” Sienne said. “We just don’t like leaving it unattended.”

  “That’s what you think.” She stood, unfolding again as if all her joints moved independently of one another, and removed a riffle of blessing papers thicker than Perrin’s usual one from her sleeve. They were grubby and looked as if they’d been handled frequently, and there were tattered edges where individual blessings had been torn out. Kaethe flipped through the bundle until she found one she liked. “Lady of Darkness, guide my eye,” she intoned, her voice suddenly deep.

  Pale blue light shimmered over her fingers clutching the blessing, which went up in a lick of blue flame. Kaethe’s blue eye radiated the same light, covering it from white to pupil so it was one solid color. She let out a long sigh like the hiss of a tea kettle just before it whistles.

  “Pursuit draws ever near,” she said, her voice still unnaturally low. “The seeker wishes to call evil good, and good evil, but she knows not what she desires. Free the captives and your quest will be rewarded, but not with money or power.

  Sienne gaped at her. Carefully, she picked up the falcon and wrapped it up again. Kaethe shuddered, then let out another sigh, this one silent. She blinked. Her eye was back to normal. “What did I say?”

  “Ah… should we have remembered it?” Perrin said. He was trying too hard to sound casual.

  “Pursuit draws near, the seeker calls good evil and evil good, free the captives, our reward is not money or power,” Alaric recited. “What does it mean?”

  “I have no idea,” Kaethe said. “It’s not given to me to interpret prophecy, only to relay it. Lisiel must be in a less capricious mood than usual to have granted such a relatively straightforward prophecy.”

  “But… why a prophecy at all?” Dianthe said. “It wasn’t what we asked for.”

  “I don’t know that either. I just know when Lisiel has a message for someone.” Kaethe resumed her seat. “As to the other thing…give me answers, and we’ll see.”

  “What answers?” Alaric said.

  Kaethe raised her eyebrows. “What do you fear, big man?”

  Alaric’s brow furrowed. “I don’t—”

  “True answers, or you get nothing.”

  Alaric nodded. “I fear losing myself.”

  Kaethe nodded in return. “Wizard,” she said, and Sienne quickly thought over her fears. But Kaethe said, “Why won’t you forgive your young man?”

  Kaethe didn’t say Rance’s name, but Sienne knew who she meant as surely as if she had. “He’s not my young man,” she said, unable to stop herself flashing a glance at Alaric. “But—he made me feel worthless, and if I forgive him, it’s like I agree with that.”

  “Intelligent words. You—why don’t you go home?” Kaethe directed the question at Dianthe, who blanched. Sienne was sure she’d refuse to answer the question, though she herself was dying to know the answer.

  “I… don’t want to face my punishment,” Dianthe finally said. Her face had gone from bone white to dull red, and she stared at the divine as if she wanted to grab her and throttle answers out of her.

  “Not quite true, but I think you don’t know the answer yourself yet,” Kaethe said. “Why are you a hypocrite?” she asked Kalanath.

  Kalanath shot a puzzled look at Perrin. “She means your actions are at odds with your beliefs or words,” Perrin murmured. Kalanath’s eyes went wide.

  “I am not,” he began, stopped, and visibly gathered himself. “I live as I was taught,” he said, “and if that is wrong, there is nowhere else for me to go. I still believe I will know truth someday.”

  “Brave words.” Kaethe turned her gaze on Perrin. “You, priest whose avatar has abandoned you.”

  “I have not been abandoned,” Perrin said.

  “You lack your avatar’s blessing. What would you call it?”

  Perrin drew in a deep breath. “I have faith,” he said, “that I may yet hear my Lord’s voice again. His chastisement will give me greater strength, and I will be restored to him someday.”

  Kaethe’s gaze never wavered. “And if you’re wrong?”

  “Then at least I will be a better man for having strived to live worthily.”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. “I believe that day will come sooner than you think.” She fixed each of them with her gaze once more, then tore off another blessing from the riffle of papers and stood. “Come with me.”

  They passed through the chapel, where Kaethe gave a “wait here” gesture to a woman standing near the doors with grilles holding a large burlap sack, and out a door on the other side of the apse. It led outside, where darkness had fallen during the time they’d spoken to her. Beyond a small yard, bare of growth at this season, lay a stone cottage with dark windows and a lamp glowing beside the door. Kaethe made another gesture indicating that they should wait and disappeared into the cottage. After a moment, light bloomed behind the windows.

  Sienne tucked the artifact under her arm and pulled her cloak close against the rising wind. She both wanted to talk about Kaethe’s questioning and hoped no one would ask her to elaborate on what she’d answered. It had been just enough information to make her curious, and aside from what Perrin had said, she didn’t know what to make of the answers. She looked at Alaric, who had his eyes focused on the door. Did he fear losing himself the way that carver wizard had taken his will, or was it something else?

  The interior light went out, and Kaethe returned. Instead of the blessing paper, she held a somewhat withered carrot. “Feed this to the horse, and its eye will be restored,” she said, handing the carrot to Sienne.

  “What can I pay you?” Sienne asked.

  “You’ve already paid our Lady who sees in darkness with answers. But if you dedicate your next find to the temple of Lisiel in Fioretti, that will be enough.” Kaethe suddenly looked very tired. “Off with you. And try not to get killed.”

  “Our thanks,” Alaric said.

  They walked around the chapel to the street and back to the inn. Sienne clutched the carrot in her right hand. Such a small thing, bought at such a small price. She looked at Dianthe, who still looked pale even in the light of the lanterns lining the street, and at Kalanath, whose expression was remote and withdrawn. Maybe she was wrong about how small a price it was.

  23

  Spark took the carrot happily, scattering small chunks of it everywhere in her enthusiasm. Sienne watched her sunken eyelid. Would the eye just manifest spontaneously, or would it grow? She hoped it wouldn’t hurt poor Spark further.

  “We should have asked how long it would take,” Dianthe said from behind her.

  “Surely not long,” Perrin said.

  “Look!” Sienne pointed. Spark lifted her head, shifting to nose the chilly wind that blew in from the stable yard. She shook her head again as if chasing away a fly. Rich green light outlined her damaged eye, and between one blink and the next, the eye was restored. It showed no sign that it had ever been gone. Spark turned her head from one side to the other, then bumped her nose against Sienne’s arm. Sienne laughed and stroked her soft face. “All better,” she whispered.

  “That’s a relief,” Alaric said. “And now we need to make a plan. Back inside, everyone.”

  Perrin and Kalanath were sharing the largest of the three r
ooms, one on the corner with two windows instead of one. With all of them inside, it was comfortably cozy rather than cramped. Sienne sat next to Dianthe on one of the beds and watched Alaric pace, three steps in one direction, then three steps back the other way. All right, maybe it was a little cramped.

  “Some of our attackers escaped,” he said, “so we have to assume our enemy knows we survived and, more importantly, that we can activate the artifact. It’s barely possible this will dissuade him from coming after us again, but it’s more likely this will just make him more eager. Regardless, we have to act as if we expect another attack.”

  “Only this time, we have no idea where it will come from, or when,” Dianthe said.

  “Are we agreed that our goal is to drop the artifact in the deep sea?” Alaric asked. Sienne nodded with the rest of them. “We’ll be back in Fioretti in three days, assuming nothing goes wrong and our enemy waits to attack us until then. Longer if we have to fight off another attack. We can get passage on a ship easily—there are always ships leaving Fioretti even at this time of year—and it will take another day or so to reach a place where we can get rid of the artifact. Five days, barring incidents, and it will all be over.”

  “But then we have to think of something to convince Tonia to give us the knife,” Sienne said. “If we don’t have the artifact to show her—”

  “Even if we do, it’s unlikely it will matter to her,” Alaric said. “But that’s not as important right now as keeping away from our enemy and ridding ourselves of the artifact. We’ll think of something.”

  Sienne thought that was overly optimistic, but held her tongue. “We’ll stay out in the open, surrounded by people,” Alaric continued. “Assuming our enemy still wants to keep his involvement a secret, it will be harder for him to attack us if there are witnesses. We travel in company if we can, stay at large inns, and take precautions in our sleeping arrangements. We stand watches as if we’re in the wilderness, too.”