Onyx & Ivory

by Mindee Arnett

  The magists began to haul the boy away. For a second, Corwin thought the woman would collapse. Andrean guardsmen in orange and black had stepped in to hold her back, but instead they seemed to be holding her up. Then without warning, she wrenched free of them and raised her hand at the nearest one, a look of rage transforming her features. Corwin’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the guardsman stiffen as if some force held him in its grip. A red haze appeared around his body. No, it was coming out of his body. Blood. The woman was a wilder, too—a hydrist, with command over water.

  The skin on the guard’s face began to draw in on itself, like an apple left to dry in the sun. Then his whole body began to do the same until there was nothing left of him but skin dried to leather and the bones beneath nothing but dust. It was over in the space of a breath, stunning in speed and destruction. Utterly terrifying.

  A second later, the crowd began to scream and scatter in panic. Even the guards were retreating. The magists turned toward the woman, maces raised with the magestones in them aglow. Water burst forth from the hydrist’s hands, but it vanished before reaching the magists. Refusing to give up, the woman tried again, the water flowing harder this time, as if she meant to drown them beneath it. But again it was beaten back by the wardstones.

  She screamed her outrage, oblivious of the danger coming at her from behind. One of the guards had conquered his fear, drawing his sword. He plunged it into the woman’s back, ramming her all the way through to the other side. The water magic vanished as the woman’s face slackened into shock. Then the guard yanked the sword free, and the woman fell. Her son, so silent and still before, began to shriek and struggle. But whatever his power, the collar rendered him harmless.

  The magists hauled the boy away, bound for the gold house and the Purging. They picked up his dead mother—for burial. A terrible mixture of pity and fear swirled inside Corwin as he watched them depart, knowing that soon the child would be laid in the ground beside her.

  13

  Kate

  THE MOMENT THEY ARRIVED IN Andreas, Kate was ready to leave. She despised this city, crammed full of people both day and night. The two days they ended up spending there were nearly unbearable, even though she understood the need for it. The attack on the Gregors unnerved her, especially learning for certain that wilders were indeed behind it. With the violence escalating all around, she could almost feel the collar around her neck. Even if she never used her magic again, the magists had ways of knowing what she was. And death by the golds’ hands wouldn’t be quick, but long and torturous. The Purging.

  At least Corwin had quickly identified the miner involved, although he’d needed another day to track down his family—only to discover Ralph Marcel had left behind no kin.

  “But he did seem to have some gift with animals,” Signe reported back to Kate and Bonner the night before their departure. Signe had accompanied Corwin and Dal on every visit they made, insisting she be included.

  She could insist the sun not set, and it would probably listen, Kate thought, bemused at the idea of her best friend spending so much time with Corwin.

  “That’s what got him into trouble,” Signe continued. “We found the man who reported him to the golds, and he told us how Marcel could always predict when one of the canaries they use down in the mines was soon to die.”

  Bonner’s brow furrowed. He was leaning near the window of the room Signe and Kate were sharing, a far larger one than they’d rented back in the Crook and Cup. Even still, he seemed too big for it, his head lurking near the ceiling. “And the man told on him for that?”

  “It makes no sense,” Signe said. “I thought when those birds die, it means the air is poisoned. They should’ve been grateful for the warning.”

  Kate shook her head, wishing the room were a mess so that she could put it right again, just to relax. Instead she sat on the bed, legs tucked to her chin. Occupying the bed across from hers, Signe had already pulled out her knife to juggle, her own relaxation exercise. Maybe I should get her to teach me how, Kate thought.

  Aloud she said, “People are raised to fear wilders, no matter how harmless or useful. It’s always been so.”

  “Yes, well, I suppose they might have a little reason to fear us, after the attack on the Gregors. Not to mention what that woman did outside the Boarbelly,” Bonner said, running a hand through his long hair, still wet and hanging loose after his bath. Neither he nor Kate had been there to see the hydrist use her magic, but everyone in the city was discussing it, in all its gruesome detail.

  Fear us. The implication in Bonner’s words didn’t sit well with Kate, the idea that she and Bonner were like that woman in the square. As if being a wilder was the extent of who they were instead of one aspect of themselves. Other than Bonner and her father, she’d known no other wilders, and certainly none who had used their power to kill. She certainly couldn’t kill someone directly with her magic, and she’d never been tempted to compel some animal to do it for her.

  Signe fixed a scowl at them both. “They were taking her son to be executed. If I were her, I would have fought back with whatever weapons were at hand.”

  Her hands were the weapon—that’s the problem, Kate thought. A sword could be taken away. Magic is a part of us. But neither Bonner nor Kate bothered to argue. Not when Signe had that look in her eyes, the one that spoke of how her understanding of the world was the only right one. Kate envied her the ability to see things in such clear shades of black and white. For her, there was always so much gray.

  “This Ralph Marcel might’ve been like you, Kate,” Bonner said, bringing the conversation back to its point.

  “Yes, a wilder who can control animals,” Signe said with a bob of her head. “Corwin thinks the Rising might be controlling the daydrakes. That this is what Marcel was doing.” She turned a questioning look on Kate. “Is that possible? Could you control a drake with your power, like you do horses?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. I’ve never thought of trying.” Kate rolled the idea through her mind, both intrigued and alarmed at the possibility. Could she have stopped those daydrakes attacking that day with her magic? If so, then Corwin would never have seen the revolver, and they wouldn’t be here now. Still, the idea of touching the mind of something so foul made her cringe. “It might be possible, though. I used to use my magic on all sorts of animals when I was little. Before my father made me swear to only use it on horses and only when necessary.”

  “So Corwin may be right.” Signe caught the knife and returned it to its sheath. “I wish we could tell him.”

  Kate sucked in a breath. “Are you mad? He would hand me over to the golds before you could blink.”

  Signe wrinkled her nose. “I don’t believe Corwin would do such a thing. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. All the time.”

  Heat filled Kate’s cheeks. For a second she wanted to ask for more, to ply Signe with questions about those looks as if she were some silly girl in a romantic tale. But no, this was Corwin. “He doesn’t feel that way about me. Not anymore.”

  Bonner made a noise of dissent, but didn’t comment after Kate threatened him with a glare.

  She turned back to Signe. “You can never tell Corwin or anyone else about me and Bonner, Sig. You understand that, right? You must promise not to.”

  Signe managed a haughty scowl, the sort of look only she could pull off. “Of course I won’t. But if you ask my opinion, you should.”

  “No,” Kate said, “what we should do is turn around and head straight back to Farhold before we all end up collared.”

  “Why would they collar me?” Signe asked, cocking her head.

  “For being insane,” Kate replied.

  But joking or not, there was no going back, and they all knew it. We might be as good as caught already.

  The closer they drew to Norgard, the tenser Kate became. The days were long and tedious as they journeyed from Andreas to Thace, where they met up with the soldiers and wagon, then headed on to
Carden. They spent only a single night in each city, barely long enough to appreciate the unique flavor of each.

  In Thace, a city built on a marsh where many of the streets were water instead of road, Signe and Dal sacrificed an entire night’s rest to roam the city in a rented boat. They’d come back wet and exhausted, but full of adventurous tales involving a capsized boat, a daring underwater escape from the city guardsmen, and a run-in with either a mermaid, a seafairy, or some other such mythical creature. Kate knew not to believe the half of it, although she found it amusing that Dal was so willing to play Signe’s tall-tale game.

  In Carden, a city renowned across Rime for its distilleries, Corwin and Dal overindulged so badly that neither could sit a horse the next day.

  “We didn’t know there was bourbon in the chocolates and whiskey in the apple pie,” Dal insisted.

  “Oh, you knew,” Signe replied, smirking. “You just thought yourselves strong enough to take it.”

  Kate felt sorry for them, even if their suffering was self-inflicted. Corwin always did have a sweet tooth.

  Still, despite the pace, every minute felt more like ten, the miles endless. If only she could ride at a Relay pace; then she could outrun these nerves plaguing her at every step. She almost wished for a daydrake sighting, just to distract her. But there’d been no sign or rumor of them since they left Andreas.

  When they finally entered Jade Forest, some several weeks after their journey began, her anxiety grew to a fever pitch. The forest bordered Norgard from the west, close enough that its thick, towering trees were visible from the city itself. Kate supposed even more than the worry about Bonner being discovered, it was this sense of homecoming that bothered her so much. Her heart ached at the sights and smells, at once so familiar and yet so long forgotten. The three years she’d been away felt like both an eternity and no time at all. She feared Norgard. Feared the past even as she hoped to uncover it, and she feared the present, too. In Norgard, she would be Traitor Kate to everyone, the wound of her father’s crime so much deeper here.

  When they stopped for the night more than halfway through the forest, Kate busied herself making camp as best she could. But the activity didn’t last long. They had reached one of the caravan campsites, the kind with permanent shelters carved into the bases of the massive trees that formed Jade Forest. There were even wardstone barriers carved into trees as well. This was the same site she’d stayed in the first night after her voluntary exile from Norgard. The straw covering the ground inside the trees made for comfortable bedding, but she doubted she would be able to sleep much, any more than she had that night long ago.

  Kate looked up from unrolling her bedroll, her eyes finding Corwin easily. She always seemed to know where he was. He’d selected the tree across the way from hers, his bedroll already spread out inside it. As if he sensed her gaze, he glanced up, and for a moment their eyes met before they both looked away. Kate’s heart skipped inside her chest. For just a second, he’d looked like the Corwin she used to know, the boy who could make her pulse race at just a glance, his eyes full of mischief and his mouth curved into a sensual promise.

  Her reaction unnerved her, and she scrambled to her feet. “I’m going for a walk,” she said to Signe, who’d just come in, carrying her own bedroll. “I’ll be back before dark.” There was enough light still in the forest to see by, and she had her revolver holstered to one hip if there was trouble.

  Signe waved her away. “Go off and make yourself tired so you finally sleep still tonight.”

  Kate sighed, wishing it were that simple. “You could always sleep somewhere else, you know. Then I won’t keep you up with my restlessness.”

  Signe flashed a suggestive grin. “I would if only you would do the same. That moonbelt is going to waste.”

  Kate didn’t dignify the comment with a response, but slipped out the back side of the tree and into the forest. The magists had already set the barrier around the camp, but she wasn’t worried about nightdrakes just yet. There’d been a rumor of daydrakes spotted not far from Marared, but no official word of an attack. Kate doubted the creatures had migrated so far as Norgard. Unless Corwin is right and the Rising are controlling them. She prayed it wasn’t so. If only the other wilders were more like her and Bonner—careful in using their magic and never doing harm—then maybe the League would stop hunting them, the people stop fearing.

  She followed a narrow path through the trees. They grew so tall here that little brush survived, making it easy for her to move without making noise. It was a game she used to play as a child—trying to be as silent as a wild animal. The existence of such creatures had always been a wonder to her—that they could live and thrive outside the city walls despite the threat of drakes. She’d asked her father why the drakes didn’t kill all the deer and other woodland creatures, and he’d told her that the drakes hungered for human flesh.

  “Then why do we bring our horses and cattle inside the city at night?” she’d asked him.

  “Because the drakes are drawn to the human scent we leave on our domesticated animals. They will always hunt those touched by humans first. Anything else does not satisfy their hunger.”

  “But why?”

  “That is their nature, Katie girl. It is mankind’s punishment from the gods.”

  What they’d supposedly done to deserve it, she’d never asked.

  The farther Kate walked from the campsite, the more she wanted to reach out with her magic and touch the minds of the animals she sensed around her. She’d barely used her gift at all these last few weeks, not daring to with Master Raith and his blue robes always about. The abstinence was getting to her. It was like not being able to take a full breath for hours on end. Still, she resisted the temptation, as much for Bonner as for herself. If she were ever caught, it would risk exposing him—just because he would doubtless fight to protect her, like that woman in Andreas. She wondered how many of these Rising attacks were actually that—a loved one defending another.

  The path ended in a wide clearing dotted with everweeps and wildflowers. She walked several steps into it, then stopped and breathed in, savoring the sweet smell. She chose a seat in front of a log on the edge of the clearing. Dozens of white daisies grew there, and before she knew it, she had picked a handful and begin weaving them together in a garland. This too was a game she hadn’t played since childhood. It took her several tries before she remembered the trick of threading the stems together. As she worked, the wind began to pick up, the storm that had been threatening all day finally drawing close. But Kate liked the song it played through the trees, the leaves rustling, and the creak and murmur of shifting branches.

  She became so engrossed that she failed to realize when she was no longer alone.

  “I didn’t know you could still do that.”

  Giving a start, she dropped the garland and looked up to see Corwin standing at the head of the same path she had followed. She sucked in a breath, willing her heart to settle.

  “I’m sorely out of practice.”

  “Doesn’t look that way to me.” He stepped toward her, then stooped to pick up the garland. He held it out to her. “Will you wear it like you used to?”

  “No,” Kate said at once, and Corwin flinched at her harsh tone. His reaction made her soften, and she took the garland from his hands, adding in a gentler voice, “I would feel too foolish.”

  Corwin stared down at her, unspeaking.

  “Is there something wrong at camp?” Kate said into his silence.

  “No, I’ve just come to fetch you back. It’s getting dark and a storm is coming.”

  “Right.” Kate moved to get up, but stopped when Corwin sat down on the log next to her.

  “But it’s not night yet, and this place is lovely.”

  Uncomfortable with sitting beneath him, Kate joined him on top of the log, brushing the petals and twigs from her breeches.

  Corwin stared up at the sky, swollen with gray clouds. “Do you remember that time when
we convinced the master of that traveling circus that we were orphans needing work?”

  Kate blinked, taken by surprise. “Of course,” she said, tentative toward the subject as she was toward all things from the past. She would never forget it. That night was the first time they’d fantasized about running away together, both of them knowing that the life they dreamed of could never be. He was the high prince, destined to marry someone politically advantageous for Rime—the choice wasn’t any more his than hers. And I was so in love with you, she thought, the admission more painful than she could’ve imagined after so long.

  She cleared her throat. “He hired us on the spot. You to lunge the horses and me to perform the acrobatics. I always thought he’d gotten that backward.”

  Corwin smiled. “Me too. You were the best with the horses.”

  “Yes, and you would’ve looked better in those tight outfits the acrobats wore.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” His gaze slid down the outline of her legs visible in the breeches. After much badgering from Signe, she’d stopped wearing the overskirt outside of the cities. A blush crept up Kate’s neck, and she focused her gaze on the garland, turning it over in her hands.

  Corwin sighed and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “I sometimes wish we’d gone through with it. Our lives would be very different now.”

  “Yes, I suppose they would,” Kate said, but without any conviction. It wouldn’t have lasted even if they had been brave enough to run away. Look at us now. Barely able to talk to one another.

  “Signe would be good in a circus,” Corwin added, breaking the sudden tension with a grin.

  Kate returned it. “I think she was part of one. At least for a little while. But you never know with her. She tells so many stories, then contradicts them by turns.”

  “She might be the most interesting person I’ve ever met. Though to tell the truth, her never-ending questions can be a bit tiresome. That’s half the reason I came out here, just to get away from them.”