The Sky Warden and the Sun

by Sean Williams

  Sal concluded by outlining their escape across the Divide and their travels through the Interior. Shilly didn’t have much to say from that point; she was beginning to realise that her role in the story had mostly ended after they had left Fundelry.

  So much for together, she thought, feeling the old, protective silence creep over her.

  “Very interesting,” said Mage Van Haasteren when Sal had finished. “The bridge across the Divide will not allow acts of hostility against those who cross it. That’s why it rose up against Shom Behenna when he tried to use the Change to stop you from escaping. It’s a very old artefact—so old that its makers are unknown to us. I’ve not heard of it awakening for quite some time. There are those who mistrust a thing about which we know so little, but the truth is that it serves both sides of the Divide very well. Without it, crossing at that point would be difficult.”

  “I’ve always wondered why there are just two bridges,” said Sal. “Why doesn’t someone build another?”

  “To do that would require crossing the valley floor. Things live there that make golems look pleasant.”

  “What sort of things?”

  Van Haasteren waved the question away. “I think you were wise to run here from Warden Behenna. Even if his motives were pure, he was wrong to attempt to take you by force, on the bridge or anywhere. If he is hotheaded enough to make the attempt, it is better that you remain with us for the time being—at least until he cools down. Has there been no communication since?”

  “No,” Sal said, shaking his head. “I haven’t sensed him once. Wouldn’t he have given up trying to catch us, that night on the bridge?”

  “I would imagine so. Sky Wardens rarely venture any distance into the Interior, for any reason. It is alien to them. That’s not to say, of course, that your great-aunt, the Syndic, could not have sent ordinary spies or bounty hunters to find you, if she was keen enough. Do you think it likely?”

  “I doubt I’ll ever feel safe again,” Sal said with disconcerting honesty. “I don’t trust any of the Wardens, and I wouldn’t put anything past them.”

  “What about your real father, though? Aren’t you interested in meeting him, one day?”

  “No. I don’t think I’d like him very much.”

  How could you possibly know that? Shilly wanted to ask him. Sal knew very little about his real father. Only that he had been an ambitious Sky Warden who had married Sal’s mother in the hope that it might better his career; that he had hunted for her and her journeyman lover all across the Strand; that he was still alive in the Haunted City. That wasn’t much on which to base an impression.

  Her patience with the story had run its course. She was weary of everything: the endless journey, the discomfort and pain, not knowing what waited for her at the end of it, being lied to…

  “What now, then?” she asked. “I’m tired. You must have heard enough of our story to make some sort of decision. Did we waste our time coming to you? Are you going to help us or not?”

  “Many things are indeed clear,” said the Mage, placing his hands before him on the table. “Shilly, you are an Irregular, a latent talent. You come from a remote part of the Strand, far away from the Haunted City where any potential you might once have had would have been better understood. Lodo took you in, Shilly, to see if your talent would develop into anything. It didn’t, ultimately, and that is to be regretted, but Lodo did manage to teach you the fundamentals that all people must know if they are to practice our art, at first or second hand. All you lack, apart from the Change itself, are the details.”

  Van Haasteren turned to Sal. “You, Sal, are another thing entirely. We know your heritage; where your ability comes from. Yet you are untrained even in the basics. You know a few tricks—that is all—and if your talent wasn’t so substantial, you wouldn’t be able to master even those. You impose your will upon the world like a poor blacksmith wields a hammer: with unnecessary force, and at great risk to those around you. Luckily, people like you are rare; they only occur when there is a crossing of great Lines or Clans—which is a rare occurrence, as you can imagine—and their development is monitored from birth. Those who spring up by chance, without any known heritage, are usually found young and brought into the fold where their abilities can be focused. Of the remainder, most destroy themselves before they know what they are doing. The awakening of their talent opens a floodgate they cannot control, and they are torn apart, erased. Only very infrequently does one such as yourself arise: caught just in time to avoid self-immolation, yet still powerful and raw, and wilful because of it. These we call wild talents, and they have the potential to teach us as much as we can teach them.”

  “What can I teach you?” asked Sal, frowning.

  “Wild talents punch a hole through the fabric of routine and expose the inspiration that lies beneath. They can be a broom, sweeping out the cobwebs and exposing new corners to explore that we didn’t know were there. They illuminate the depths of our knowledge and show us what we have forgotten. They open our eyes, and force us to see again.” The mage steepled his fingers before them, and studied Sal closely. “They can also destroy. Their light can be so bright that it burns, blinds all who look at it. It is not always good to see into the dark places; some things are forgotten for good reason. I’m not saying that they do this deliberately, out of evil intent. Motivation is never simple to decipher out at the edge of things, beyond what is considered normal. Some say, for instance, that a wild talent created the Divide. Who are we, now, to say whether that was to the benefit of good or evil? Power in any form is ambiguous, and those who desire it ignore that truth at their peril.”

  Van Haasteren reached across the table, past the smoke-grey globe, and patted Sal’s hand. “This sounds incredible to you, I imagine. Not so long ago, you didn’t even suspect that you had the Change. And now this. Well, that is the way of it, I’m afraid. I’m not guaranteeing that you will be a wild talent in the senses I have described. You are powerful, yes, and you are new to the knowledge, but you may go no further than that. You might not be a broom of any kind. But you do need training to ensure that you do not use your talent incorrectly. You must be polished to see what sort of gem you are. The conjunction of your two minds must be explored.”

  “Both of us?” asked Shilly, unable to keep the urgency out of her voice.

  “You are a wild talent and a latent talent, working in concert. Do you have any idea, Shilly, how unlikely this is? Did Lodo never tell you? An Irregular such as yourself might be born, somewhere, once every year or so, and most of them make no use of their ability. Wild talents are rarer—perhaps one a century—and few of those survive at all. To see both in one place is almost inconceivable. I myself have never heard of it, in all the literature.”

  “So?”

  “So, Shilly, I will give you what you want. I will help you find your feet. I will give you shelter from those who pursue you. I will Test you to see how best your talents might be utilised.”

  “And you’ll teach us,” she asked, “like you taught Lodo?”

  “Alas,” said the mage, his face stiffening, “I cannot do that.”

  Her stomach fell. “But—”

  “Wait. Let me finish. I cannot teach you in the same fashion Lodo was taught, because I did not teach Lodo. That was my father, the eighth in a long line of Skender Van Haasterens like my son and me. He was a teacher, too, and I have inherited some of his ways—but I can only teach you the way I would teach you. Not him. Will you accept that?”

  Shilly felt like she was riding a wild river of emotions. This latest revelation barely had the capacity to surprise her. “So that’s why you’re so young. I thought something was wrong. Did you know Lodo? Did you learn with him when he was young?”

  “Yes, I knew him well.” Again, a dark emotion clouded the mind behind the mage’s eyes. “But that is of no concern, now. His story is irrelevant to yours, and you have told me once already that you are tired. It would be ungracious of me to delay
your rest any longer.”

  He stood and held his hand out to Shilly. She took it awkwardly, leaning on the table to keep the weight off her leg. “We’ll find you a room and give you a meal. Tomorrow we’ll look at your situation more closely, and see to that leg, too. You two have a done a good job under the circumstances, but we can do it better. There is a wealth of medical experience recorded here. We’ll have you up and about in no time.” He handed her the crutches and she gingerly put her armpits over them.

  “Wait,” said Sal. He too stood, facing the mage across the table. “There’s just one other thing I have to ask you.”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  Sal’s expression betrayed his uncertainty. “It’s about my mother’s family.”

  “The Mierlos?”

  “Yes. I know what people think of them here, but they’re the only link I have left to my mother. I owe it to her to find them, I think.”

  “I thought you might want that.” The mage nodded slowly. “I can make enquiries for you. A meeting might be arranged, if they’re interested.”

  Sal nodded slowly. “Thank you. Please.” Then he moved away from the table to help Shilly with her pack. She clutched it in her left hand and managed to use her crutches while carrying it. It was awkward, but worth the effort. Rebuffed, he put the globe back into his own pack, and Van Haasteren led them away.

  They were given a room high in the cliff town, accessible by tunnels through the rock rather than by ladder or external stairway. It was dusty and hadn’t been slept in for a while, but it had a stone balcony granting a perfect view of the mountains to the south. The sun had set by the time they arrived and the air coming in the window was already cold. Bethe appeared in the doorway, hot on their heels, with some cold meat, salad and cheeses, and turned back the rugs on the beds.

  “It’s not much,” she said. “If you need them, there are extra rugs in here. Everyone complains about the weather when they first arrive.” She showed them a small cupboard by the door.

  “It’s much better than we’re used to.” Sal smiled at her and helped himself to the food. Shilly ignored both of them and stood silently in the middle of the room.

  “I’ll leave you now,” said Van Haasteren when Bethe had gone. “There’s a bell at the end of the hall. Ring it once—just once—if you need assistance. Otherwise we’ll come for you shortly after dawn. The Keep wakes early, you’ll find.”

  “Thank you,” said Sal. Shilly found his gratitude grating, although it seemed genuine. He was more at ease than he had been since she had known him, and that only made her more annoyed than ever.

  The mage hesitated a moment before leaving, filling the room with his sombre presence, then he wished them a good night and left.

  The moment the door was closed behind him, Shilly took the crutch out from under her left arm and threw it at Sal. It struck him hard on the shoulder—not as hard as she would have liked—and fell to the floor with a clatter.

  “Hey!” He backed away from her, rubbing his arm. “What was that for?”

  “You don’t know?” His words echoed through her mind: Lodo gave me a globe to keep…Shom Behenna helped me…

  “No! How could I?”

  “It was for lying to me.”

  “I didn’t lie to you.”

  “For keeping secrets, then. It’s the same thing!”

  “It’s not the same thing.” He shook his head in hurt puzzlement. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the globe before, Shilly, only I didn’t know how to. I was confused, and Lodo made me promise.”

  “What about Behenna?”

  “You were hurt, and then we were in the Broken Lands and there just wasn’t time. By the time there was time, it just didn’t seem important any more.” His eyes pleaded with her to understand. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want you to know. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

  She turned away from him, blinking back tears. It didn’t really matter what he had to say in his defence. If she was honest with herself, she knew that the betrayal of her trust was only part of the problem. She just wanted to hurt him the same way she was hurting.

  Lodo took you in, Shilly, to see if your talent would develop into anything. It didn’t, ultimately…

  The thing she wanted most in all the world was the one thing she could never truly have.

  “Shilly? Sal? Hello?”

  The voice came from the window, and both of them turned in surprise. A pale face peered back at them over the balcony.

  “Skender?”

  “Give me a hand up, Sal. I’d rather not make a mistake at this point.”

  Sal hurried to the balcony and grabbed the boy’s hand. With a couple of good heaves, he was standing before them, dusting himself off.

  “Thanks,” Skender said, his eyes bright. “Climbing around here is easy once you get the hang of it—and safer than the hallways if you don’t want to be seen—but it can be messy at night. Especially if you fall.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to find out what happened.” He studied them expectantly, oblivious to the tension in the air. “What did Dad say? Are you staying? Tell me you’re staying, please.”

  “It looks like we’re staying,” Shilly said, and winced at the ragged edge to her voice. This was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?

  “Well, good!” Skender rubbed his hands together. “It’ll be great to have you guys around. You’re my age, or nearly, and that’ll be something.”

  Why? Shilly wanted to ask. Why will it be something just because we’re around your age?

  “I doubt we’ll be in the same classes,” said Sal, sitting nervously on the edge of the bed, his eyes avoiding Shilly.

  “Don’t be so sure. We tend to learn together, helping each other along—but you’ll see that when we start. Are you going to be Tested tomorrow?”

  “He didn’t say anything about that.”

  “No? Oh, well. You’ll find out in the morning.” Skender practically bounced up and down with excitement. “This is going to be so much fun.”

  Shilly couldn’t deal with his energy. Throwing her remaining crutch to the floor, she collapsed backwards onto the bed, not caring about jarring her leg. The pain cut through her distress and gave her something concrete to focus on. She put a hand over her eyes and was surprised to find moisture there.

  “Listen, Skender, I’m sorry,” Sal stammered. “It’s late, and we need to sleep. Do you want a hand out the window?”

  “I’ll leave by the door, thanks. The lights go out soon.” As though on cue, the glowing stones on two of the walls decreased in brightness. “There you go. I’ll be off. See you tomorrow, fellow students.”

  With that, he slipped through the door and away, leaving the two of them together in the gathering darkness. Shilly rolled over deliberately to turn her back on him. She felt him staring at her for a long moment. Neither of them said a word as he eventually turned away to prepare for bed.

  Darkness fell. Shilly shivered and rolled herself into the musty rugs. The air coming through the window was cold and thin and would no doubt get colder as the night progressed. Sal’s breathing slowed and deepened almost immediately, but she couldn’t sleep so easily. The trials of the day—a very long day, when she considered how much they had done—weighed heavily upon her mind.

  Sal. Everything always came back to him. Lodo had given him one of the precious globes that she’d never been allowed to touch, demonstrating that he was favoured over her. Shom Behenna had helped him save her life, most likely to bend him to the Sky Wardens’ cause. Belilanca Brokate had brought them to Ulum because she had liked exchanging stories with him. And now the Mage Van Haasteren had accepted them into the Keep because of his potential, not hers.

  It had been her idea to come here, she thought angrily to herself. Yet would she even have got through the guards without Sal? Would she have been accepted on her own merits? Wasn’t she worth anything?

  Nothing had go
ne as she’d hoped it would. There was no grand welcome, no sense of togetherness: there was only bitterness, old hurts and lies. Still, she drifted off to sleep with the phrase fellow students ringing in her ears—the only thought that comforted her. No matter how she had got here, and no matter how overshadowed she was, she was still here. She had achieved her goal. She had met the Mage Van Haasteren and had probably been accepted into the Keep. The ends justified using the means.

  Maybe it needed time for everything to settle down, she told herself. The last two weeks had certainly been the most painful of her life. Maybe in another week or two everything would be better…

  When she dreamed, she dreamed of Lodo. He held a bright light in his hands. She reached out for it, but he withdrew it from her. Shaking his head, he pitched one arm back and threw the light into a mighty crack in the earth, where it vanished and went out. She looked back and he was gone, swallowed by the darkness.

  Chapter 10

  The Light-Keeper

  Sal woke shivering, and opened his eyes to find a lizard clinging to the wall in front of his face. The vision had an unreal edge to it, at first, as though he might still be dreaming. The lizard’s skin was a vivid yellow colour, almost glowing in the near darkness, and its eyes seemed to be looking right back at him. Time froze for a moment as they contemplated each other—then it blinked once, lightning fast, and Sal jumped back in fright.

  He almost fell out of bed. That was when he truly accepted that he was awake. The lizard watched his sleepy over-reaction without surprise, then crawled slowly across the wall to the corner, and up to the ceiling. From that new vantage point it watched Sal as he shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair, and got up.

  The air was icy. He took a rug with him and walked to the balcony, where he watched the grey dregs of night evaporate into the new day. The sunlight rolled in sluggish waves across the jagged, barren mountaintops before him. It wouldn’t strike the Keep directly for some time yet, since the small town was partially sheltered behind a jagged tongue of stone sticking out of the cliff like a ship’s keel. He wondered what the Keep would be like during the winter months, when the nights were longer. Very cold, he imagined, tightening the rug around him. He didn’t envy Skender and the other students those mornings.