Deviants of Giftborn (The Etherya Series Book 1)

by Amarcya, Zuri

  The High Priest spoke but she could not concentrate on anything he said while her skin burned.

  Then in a sweep, the pain evaporated.

  “I have don’t have the time or patience for your negotiation tactics,” the High Priest growled. “The only reason a Thaide isn’t dragging the information from your mind is because I want to give you the benefit of our working relationship and the chance to tell me the truth. I know you wouldn’t have jeopardized your business or your life by helping a Thaide killer into the Arc. I want to know about the girl now. Do you understand?”

  Clisantha gasped, gulping in air as the lingering vibrations on her skin faded. She dropped to her buttocks and looked up at him. “You agreed for me to extend my business to the Arc but you knew I wouldn’t succeed, not with the attitude that magiens have towards my father. You knew that I would ask you eventually.”

  “I’m not concerned about your business troubles. My concerns are about the Realms and Sovereign Law, and many other things that you couldn’t begin to comprehend. If you were having troubles you should have consulted the Thaide Priest.”

  “I did,” breathed Clisantha, rising from the floor. “But he didn’t act in time. I’ve only just discovered that my father was a traitor.”

  The High Priest stilled and the scribe glanced up.

  “You must know something about it.”

  The High Priest walked towards her and stepped through the wall panel. In an instant, he was in front of her and she stepped back, unsure of his advance. The scribe rose from her seat, astonished. The High Priest glanced at the wall and it returned to solidity. The room seemed to shrink with the High Priest before her.

  Fury blazed in his eyes. “What do you know? Who have you spoken to?”

  “I know that he was arrested for being a traitor,” Clisantha said. “And I know he was on the border the night he died.”

  “Who gave you that information? It’s a crime to talk of that incident.”

  “High Priest, I have lived my life proud of my father’s memory. The way that people speak about him in the Arc is confusing and hurtful. I wanted to know what type of man he really was and what happened to him. The Torak library stores some information, but not enough to know the full truth about his death.”

  The High Priest’s face looked like a dark cloud twisting before a storm. She stood her ground, arms by her side, feet planted wide, shoulders down, head up. But beneath the surface waves of fear, shame and doubt swayed within her.

  “He suffered the Sovereign’s Justice.”

  Tears stung at Clisantha’s eyes and a sob escaped her. Knowing that would be the answer did not make it any easier to hear. She closed her eyes, her knees weak. “There was no trial.”

  “He was a traitor. He deserved no trial. The only reason what he was is not public knowledge is because it would bring shame on the Arc and suspicion on every Thaide. The Sovereign prefers to deal with these matters privately, without public hysteria.”

  Clisantha staggered past him and sat on the bed, grateful she had not collapsed in front of him. “Why do magiens hate him?”

  “The Arc was told that he was a coward who gave up his Thaidehood to live in the Dyera Desert as a diplomat. Thaide that are true to their duties would rather die than live in such a way, so magiens consider him a disgrace to the Arc and the Thaide.”

  Clisantha sat on the bed looking down at her feet. All the memories she had of Father were tainted. All of that hiding and calculating… pointless. Her mind jumped to Riyen. He operated without the knowledge of the Arc. He had already shielded her factory and sent messages and threats to citizens and magiens through her. And he was willing to kill. She clenched her fists.

  “Now,” the High Priest said. “Tell me about the girl.”

  Twenty

  Nemma hovered high above the fourth quarter, watching and feeling for magiens and citizens. She had spread her platform back out into a flat square and Innogen sat silently with her head on her knees. The Thaide had not followed her from the Arc but she could feel a number of active magiens below in the city.

  They had been floating over the factory sector for a short while when Nemma found what she was looking for. She maneuvered the platform to the right position and lowered down into an alley between factories. When she dissipated her platform, the firmness of the ground sent relief through her muscles. Innogen looked up. “Thank the Sovereign,” she breathed, standing and almost stumbling over.

  “Shh.” Nemma looked about them, and called out, “I want to speak to Chesna.”

  Innogen glanced around. They stood alone in a long alley with high burgundy factory walls on both sides. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Me.”

  Nemma and Innogen turned to see a girl climbing down the side of a factory wall. She was slimmer than Nemma remembered, and her blonde hair was tied back and puffed out in a ball. She wore a brown tunic and rust-red half pants with flat slippers, all dirty. She almost blended into the factories around them.

  Innogen backed away, inching behind Nemma as Chesna approached them, a casual smile on her lips that did not reach her eyes.

  “How nice to see you again. And look at that, you’re a scholar now,” Chesna mocked. “Thanks for popping in.”

  “I need your help—” Nemma began.

  “Help?” Chesna interrupted. “You want help from me?” She walked around Nemma, looking at Innogen. “The last time we made an agreement you were dishonest. That necklace was almost worthless.”

  “What did you expect?” Nemma snapped. “You had me surrounded and your co-leader threatened me. She wasn’t trustworthy.” Nemma glanced around again. “Where is she?”

  Chesna stood still. She had lost the rosy roundness in her cheeks and the features of her face had become more pronounced. Her nose was more defined and she had pouted lips. The main feature Nemma recognized was the hard look in her eyes. “Pia and I no longer have an arrangement.”

  Nemma lifted an eyebrow. “Did you find her trustworthy?”

  Chesna’s smile faded. “What do you want?”

  “You mentioned before that there were ways to hide from magiens in the fourth quarter. Did you mean from Thaide?”

  Chesna eyed them both. “What have you done?”

  “I don’t have time for questions. Please. Can you hide us?”

  “Not without an explanation,” Chesna said. “If you’re running from the Thaide, I’ll suffer the Sovereign’s Justice for helping you. What have you done?”

  “I escaped the Arc.”

  Chesna’s eyes stretched in surprise. “Why? How? Where do you plan to go?”

  “I need to leave Hannaw.”

  Innogen grabbed Nemma’s arm in alarm. “Isa!”

  “How do you plan to do that?” Chesna asked.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Nemma admitted, placing a hand on Innogen’s. “I need somewhere to rest and think without worrying that the Thaide will find me.”

  “As it happens, I can provide that,” Chesna said, her smile returning. “As long as you take me with you when you leave Hannaw.”

  “No. I won’t be responsible for you.”

  “I’m not asking you to be,” Chesna said. “As soon as we arrive in Osrien we will separate. I’ll be on my own. That’s how I prefer it.”

  Nemma shook her head. “Trying to leave will be dangerous, I can’t promise to protect you.”

  Chesna placed a hand on her hip. “I have been protecting myself since I was five, I don’t need your protection. But I don’t want to be in this place.” She paused and said in a low voice. “I would rather die trying to get out.”

  Nemma could feel the vibration of active magiens some yards way behind them.

  “I can help you,” Chesna insisted. “It’s better if I’m with you.”

  Nemma sighed and nodded in agreement.

  Chesna lifted a hand, making a signal in the air, and suddenly the walls were filled with young girls climbing down to the path. Innogen
whimpered and shuffled closer to Nemma.

  “Get an update about what’s happening in the city and let me know,” Chesna called out, once they had surrounded her. There must have been nearly thirty girls, all in filthy tunics, pants and shoes. Young girls of six and seven were among the group with smudged faces and serious expressions. “I’ll be at the blind spot.”

  The girls darted off in different directions without a word, and once again they were alone on the path.

  “You increased your number,” Nemma said, surprised.

  “Come on,” Chesna beckoned. She led them through a number of pathways around a range of factories, heading south.

  Nemma placed an arm around Innogen’s waist to help her to keep up.

  “Are you truly planning to flee the country?” Innogen asked, her voice tired.

  “Please don’t worry, Innogen,” Nemma said. “I’ll make sure you stay safe. You don’t have to come with me.”

  “You needn’t go to such extremes,” Innogen rasped.

  “Focus on your breathing, Innogen. We can talk later.”

  After traveling for a short while, Chesna made a sharp turn into an opening along a brick wall that led to the back of a gray walled factory. It was almost invisible when looking along the alley. Chesna pushed at one side of the opening, shuffling something, and a door opened in the gray wall. Beckoning, Chesna led them down some steps and into a large, musky-smelling room. It was clear that Chesna and her circle had been living there. The frames of several merchant stalls were lined up against one side of the room with clothes hanging on them. The gray floor was moist and tiny puddles gathered in the uneven areas. Chairs and soft-seats of various shapes, sizes and colors dotted around the space, organized into little circles. Lumni figurines provided pockets of light in the dank space and makeshift beds had been made in various corners, some with clothes and blankets, others with cotton bedding. The space had been decorated with small worn objects and trinkets.

  Nemma led Innogen to a soft-seat and she dropped into it, sighing. She looked tired and flustered. Nemma felt sweaty and tired herself.

  “Do you have water or food?” Nemma asked Chesna.

  “You asked me to hide you,” Chesna said coldly. “Not entertain you.”

  Nemma’s mouth tightened. “We can’t make it out of Torak, across serf land and into Osrien if we are starved and parched before the journey even begins.”

  Chesna held her glare and then relented. She went to a box near the center of the room and pulled out a number of brown wrapped items and chipped cups. “There‘s a pump at the back,” she said, handing them the cups.

  Nemma led Innogen to the pump, grabbing a few items of clothes hanging on a stall frame. Soon they were washed and hydrated, sitting on soft-seats eating potato and onion pies, cheese biscuits and the squashed fruit Nemma retrieved from her carrysack. Chesna lifted a jug of cloudy water, which she poured into their cups.

  “I don’t recall eating this well when I was a foundling,” Nemma remarked. Although the pies were cold, they were well seasoned, and the crust crumbled and melted into her mouth.

  Innogen snorted, but took another bite.

  “You relied on the food at the foundhouse,” Chesna replied, ignoring Innogen. “It’s alright but there’s always better than that slop.”

  “Is it still running?” Nemma asked. “Calladene’s foundhouse?”

  “Yes, but it’s not as safe as it was. Others have found a way to enter, and sneak in at night. Boy foundlings, men from the shelters, other girls. All interested in what they can get. The security is pointless. There’s no place safe for foundlings now.”

  “Except here.”

  Chesna smiled.

  “You’re a foundling?” Innogen asked Nemma. “I thought you had family? You talked about your mother and your aunt and your father...”

  Chesna said, “Yes, I think it’s time for you to explain a bit about yourself. What’s your name?”

  “Nemma. My name is Nemma. I’m from the Ryim.”

  Innogen gasped and Chesna stopped chewing.

  Nemma explained everything that had happened since the day she ran away from home. She tried to justify her actions as much as she could but she could not hide the truth. Both Innogen and Chesna listened, captivated.

  Innogen put her pie down when Nemma finished. “You lied. You lied to me this whole time.”

  “What else could I have done, Innogen?”

  “Take responsibility for your actions,” Innogen said. “Explain to the Arc what you’ve done and deal with their decision. I can’t believe you pretended to be some poor unadjusted fourth quarter citizen. You pretended to be my friend.”

  “I didn’t pretend,” Nemma objected. “I am your friend.”

  “You’re a fugitive and a murderer. And you have dragged me into this,” Innogen stood up. “It makes sense now. I thought you just had some kind of irrational fear about the Thaide or that you just needed time to get to used the idea of being in the Arc." She walked around her chair. “I had no idea you committed crimes, Isa… your name’s not even Isa. How could you lie?”

  Guilt surged over Nemma with every word Innogen spoke. She was right. Nemma had deceived her and dragged her into a dangerous situation. Innogen had only been trying to help her.

  “Where are you from?” Chesna asked Innogen.

  “What?” Innogen squinted at her, bewildered by the change of subject.

  “She’s an aide in the Arc,” Nemma said, “but she comes from a serf family.”

  “So you have no idea what it’s like to live a life of fear,” Chesna said to Innogen. “Not knowing where your next meal or wash will come from. Being unable to trust anyone around you, having no true friends.” She stood and walked to Innogen. “Not knowing whether you will wake up with a man on top of you or stabbed for the items you hold. Having to fight every day so you can secure a place in a group of girls you can’t trust.” She stopped close to Innogen, who looked terrified. “That’s the life the Sovereign has made for foundlings, the most vulnerable children in Hannaw. I can’t even imagine what kind of existence beggars in the Ryim have.”

  “That doesn’t excuse her lying.”

  “Did she tell you she was a fourth quarter citizen? Or did you assume it?” Chesna asked. “Because it sounds to me that everyone assumed it.”

  Innogen stilled.

  “And even if you did know about her what would you have done? Reported her? Treated her differently? Of course she couldn’t tell you.”

  Innogen thought for a moment and moved back to her seat, glancing at Nemma.

  Back in their chairs, they continued with their meal, but the mood had changed. Nemma kept her head down, her emotions fluctuating between guilt and resignation. Innogen had been kind to her and looked out for her even when she did not have to. She was her first friend and their friendship had been built on a foundation of lies. How could she hope that Innogen would understand?

  “Bastards.” Chesna shook her head. “They kill your parents and then chase you as though you’re the murderer.”

  “No,” Innogen said. She looked at Nemma. “I’m sorry, Isa, but I don’t believe that those Thaide killed your parents. They are sworn to protect the residents of Hannaw. It could have been the other… people in the Ryim. I hear they can be… vicious.”

  “Did you hear the state she found her parents in?” Chesna said. “Nothing but the Gift could do that. The Thaide aren’t as innocent as you would like to belief.”

  “The Ryim is a terrible place, Innogen,” Nemma said. “But I’ve never seen anything like that. It was...” Tears threatened as the image of hut came back into her mind.

  “Oh Isa, I’m sure if you—”

  “Nemma, her name is Nemma,” Chesna corrected.

  “I’m sure you could explain what happened. The Arc would understand.” Innogen finished, ignoring her.

  Chesna looked at Innogen with disbelief. “Who is this girl?” she asked Nemma incredulously. She
turned to Innogen. “Do you live in the real world? I’ve never ever heard of one Thaide being disarmed with one blow. Least of all two of them at the same time. They won’t just let her go.”

  “She could explain what happened. It was self-defense,” Innogen reasoned. “They have to take that into account.”

  “Why would they believe her?” Chesna asked. “You don’t, and you’re supposed to be her friend.”

  Innogen flushed, the tips of her ears turning red.

  “Ryim beggars aren’t considered to be residents of Hannaw, they are seen as diseased tramps by everyone across the Realms,” Chesna continued. “Some of my circle make it a priority to listen to Thaide when they think they aren’t being heard—sometimes it gives us great information to trade with—and most of them hate the Ryim. Some of them think all of the beggars should be destroyed.” She bit into a biscuit. “And if they target the Ryim, it’s only a matter of time before the fourth quarter follows.”

  “No,” Innogen said. “How would it benefit the Arc to destroy the lower quarters? They pay taxes.”

  Chesna thought for a moment. “That’s true,” she admitted. “In any case, I want to be out of Hannaw. How do you plan to leave?”

  Before Nemma could answer, a scratching sound reached them from the stairs.

  Chesna jumped up and ran to the door, returning with a young girl who must have been about seven. She was filthy, with black matted hair swinging past her shoulders and a tunic two sizes too large swinging from her small frame.

  Chesna handed her a pie, which she bit into hungrily.

  “Restrictions are being put on the city,” she said, after a few bites.

  Nemma sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”

  The girl looked at Chesna, who nodded. “Everyone has to return to their residence and stay there. Thaide are on every corner and searching every home.”

  “Where are the rest of the girls?” Chesna asked.

  “Different places,” the girl said, after a few swallows. “Most are at Calladene’s and will be stuck there for at least tonight. Some went to the marketplace and others had been visiting people they knew for information. The Thaide are collecting anyone found on the road with nowhere to go.”