by Jae Waller
“Did you ever help Tiernan with his work? All that stuff about shoirdrygen?”
“A little. I helped him translate Coast Trader texts in the Ingdanrad library. That was before I knew what he was trying to do.”
“What about since then?”
Her eyebrows crinkled. “Has he been talking about this?”
“Not willingly.” I shuffled my feet. Once I told her, there was no going back.
She trailed her fingers over narrow leaves and unripe orange tomatoes as I recounted the meeting with Parr and my fight with Tiernan. “This was all supposed to be over,” she said when I was done.
“It could be. Once Suriel’s gone, we’d never have to think about other worlds again.”
“How can I—” She tilted her face toward the vibrant blue sky. “I left Tiernan alone for ten years because he wouldn’t give up his research. How can I ask him to go back to it?”
“Offer to help. Then he’d know you trust him to stay once the rift is open. If he still refuses . . . maybe you can open a rift yourself.”
Marijka set down the trowel and untangled the stems of two drooping plants. “I need to tie these up. I think I have twine in the greenhouse.”
I followed her into the glass building. Water rolled down the warped panes into pollen-choked puddles. Marijka hung her hat on a nail and rummaged through a bin of tools. She took out a ball of twine, then put it down and sighed.
“Tiernan rarely talked about his research. He knew I didn’t want to hear it. But . . .”
“What?” I came closer, ducking vines spilling from a hanging basket.
Marijka gazed out at the forest. Her pale hair was escaping its pins. “I went through Tiernan’s notes while you were both in Toel Ginu. I think he figured out how to open a rift. He just . . . didn’t.”
My skin suddenly felt cold even in the sweltering greenhouse.
She stretched out her hand to look at her etched wedding ring. “I don’t know if it was because of me, Suriel, or something else. Experimenting with magic is dangerous. Especially this kind.”
“Could you do it though?”
“Alone? No. Even Tiernan would’ve needed help, and my healing magic isn’t suited to this at all. If I went back to Ingdanrad and convinced other mages . . . maybe we could. It’s a very small maybe.”
I heard a nicker and turned to see Tiernan leading Gwmniwyr into the yard, their outlines distorted by moisture. I lowered my voice. “The war’s coming, Maika. I’ve seen fires in the east. Everyone’s in danger. Soldiers, civilians, people who’ve never seen magic or held a sword. This isn’t just about us anymore.”
Once she had reminded me of a still lake, but now something stirred deep in the water. “I swore as a medic to help people, but Tiernan’s my husband. I have to talk to him before agreeing to anything.”
I took a deep breath, imagining my life if I never saw Tiernan again. “He’s going to exile me for telling you.”
“He can’t. This is my house, and you’re my stjolvehl. Just let me talk to him first.” She paused. “Although you probably shouldn’t camp in the area tonight. Good chance of forest fires.”
I wasn’t going to argue. I headed for the creek while she went to the paddock where Tiernan was wiping sweat off Gwmniwyr’s silver coat. By the time Marijka’s yard was out of sight, the whisper of creek water blended with faint shouting.
•
I retrieved Anwea and rode west along the bay, as far as possible until the coast veered north. Iannah wouldn’t expect me for three days, and I’d told Airedain not to come looking for me. I stopped on a hill sloping toward the shore and fell asleep under my fir branch blanket and a roof of stars.
The tide was out when I woke, leaving shimmering pools on the sand. Anwea grazed behind me. I chewed a tough piece of dried marsh rat and watched waves come in. The hazy green smudge of an island rose on the horizon out west.
A cutter drifted past, faded red sails billowing in the wind. I wondered how far I could travel on a ship. If I could leave everything behind forever and find a new world across the ocean. If I could forgive myself for doing that.
Everything was so simple in my book of folk tales. The heroes slayed the monsters, saved the land, and fell in love. They always knew what they were supposed to do. There weren’t any stories where every option was terrible.
“All right there, young missy?” a scratchy voice interrupted. An old itheran limped down the hill, leading a massive horse.
“I’m fine.” My hand went toward my knives.
“No need for that.” He stopped several paces away. “You’re on my farmland, is all.”
“Oh!” I scrambled to my feet. “Sorry, I’ll leave right away—”
The man waved me back down. “Nonsense. Who am I to drive a soul from a good thinking place, eh? Just mind your horse doesn’t trample the crops back that way.”
Something genuine about him made me pause halfway through untangling Anwea’s bridle. He was unarmed. His clothes were worn and faded. His horse looked placid, almost sleepy, the thick tufts of white hair over its hooves spattered with mud.
“I come out here sometimes meself to watch the ships pass,” the old man said. “Makes all the other troubles in the world seem small.”
I set the bridle down and brushed grass off my legs. “They’re so beautiful. Drifting along like it’s effortless.”
“Ah, sailing only looks that way, missy.” He squinted at the ocean. “When you’ve got torn sails, snapped rigging, and a flooded deck, keeping a ship aright is the hardest thing you’ll ever do. If something ever seems easy, you’re too far away to see how complex it is.”
“Like flying.” When I was young, Dunehein spread out a waxwing carcass to show me how the feathers worked together to keep the bird aloft.
“Sailors and seagulls, we’re all just fighting the wind. Ah, well.” He patted his horse. “Ain’t nothing good in life that’s not worth fighting for.”
The old man bid me goodbye and headed back inland. The horse’s brown head bobbed as it plodded after him. I thought about his words as the ship faded into blue haze where sky and ocean met, and I knew what I had to do.
Kujinna kobairen. Today we fly.
•
I expected to have to sneak back into Marijka’s yard, but she was alone on her garden bench, a bowl of greens in her lap and a paring knife next to her. She was gazing at the trees. By the amount of cottonwood fluff the wind had blown around her feet, she’d been there awhile.
“Don’t worry,” Marijka called when she saw me. “Tiernan’s not home.”
I drew close, afraid to step wrong in case he left a rune to set me on fire. “Where is he?”
“Good question.” She gave me a weary smile. “He’ll be back. He left Gwmniwyr, and he’s loved that gelding longer than he’s loved me.”
My insides bunched together. “I’m so sorry, Maika—”
“Don’t blame yourself for my husband’s temper.” She stretched, seeming to remember she had arms. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s lived through far worse than a night outdoors.”
I eased onto the bench, sore from riding. “I worked out a plan. You’re not going to like it, but . . . at least you can stay here and wait for him.”
Marijka listened carefully. “You’re right,” she said afterward. “I don’t like it. Especially without running it by Tiernan.”
“I’m not sure how long this peace offer will last, especially if Suriel knows Tiernan refused. The least I can do is try to learn something useful. Maybe it’ll make Tiernan change his mind.”
A small sigh escaped her. “Do what you need to. But please be careful.”
•
The Antler at the Colonnium gates held Parr’s card up. He passed it to his partner. “That look authentic?”
“More likely than her being able to forge
it,” the other guard said.
“Doesn’t mean she didn’t steal it.”
“Councillor Parr gave it to me.” I failed to keep the edge from my voice.
The second guard looked me up and down, then pulled open the gate and pointed inside with his spear. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
I walked side by side with him across the lawn, holding my hands to my chest. A few people stared when we entered the lobby, but my attention was drawn to the marble staircase where three black-robed figures stood talking. Somehow the place felt cold even in summer.
“Where is Councillor Parr?” the guard called, and then everyone was staring.
One of the councillors opened the doors at the top of the stairs and spoke into the Hall. A moment later, Parr strode down the stairs, his robe sweeping behind him, its scarlet collar bright in the pale room. “What is it?”
The guard held out the card. “Did you issue an entry card to this viirelei?”
“Yes, as our esteemed Officer of the Viirelei does not have authority to grant entry to his own kind,” Parr said as if commenting on the weather. “Was there a problem at the gates?”
“Not at all, sir.” The guard bowed his head.
“Then I will gladly escort this young lady to Falwen’s office. Your diligence is noted.” Parr plucked the card from the guard’s grip and handed it to me. “Shall we, miss?”
In the south gallery with the statues, Parr glanced around before ushering me into his office. He closed the door behind us. “I apologize, Miss Kateiko. I did not expect them to give you so much trouble.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I stared at the richly woven rug, trying not to let my anger or humiliation show.
He kissed my hand. “What brings you here? Is something wrong?”
“Nei, sir — well, sort of.” I touched my skin where his lips had brushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.”
“The Council is on a recess. I do not have to return quite yet. Please, sit.” He settled on a padded bench and folded his hands.
I perched on the bench opposite him. “Councillor, I tried persuading Tiernan. He still refuses. But I know someone else who might be able to help.”
Parr leaned forward, eyes fixed on me. “Who?”
I gripped my hands together to hide their shaking. “Name your source — the Corvittai who approached you — and I’ll name mine.”
“I cannot. The deal would be off.”
“Then I want to talk to Suriel.”
Parr twisted one of his rings back and forth, silent.
“Nothing against you, sir. But he’s more likely to trust my people than yours. I need a guarantee this will end the war before I give him any names.”
“Suriel is dangerous to face in person.”
“I’ve met him before. I was in the Toel Ginu shrine when he burned it down. My family and I barely escaped.” I held Parr’s gaze. I could say that honestly without pretending to be Iyo. “I’ll face Suriel again if it means getting rid of him forever.”
“Then we share the same determination.” He drifted to the glass doors. I trailed after him, and we gazed at distant mountains rising against grey clouds. “It is strange, the things that bring us together.”
“Moths of all kinds flock toward the same light,” I murmured.
Parr touched my elbow. In the still air of his office, his cologne smelled warm and layered like spiced wine. “Are you sure you want to do this, Kateiko?”
“I’m sure.”
“Council will not be in session tomorrow. Meet me at dawn past the guardhouse on the southeast road out of Caladheå. We have a long journey ahead.”
25.
SE JI AINU
Airedain would’ve let me stay with him, but I couldn’t face his questions. I bought a wedge of flatbread in the docklands and watched the moon move through the sky. It was freeing to be in the dark with the city asleep behind me. I unbraided my hair and let the wind flow through it. Sailors and dockhands didn’t seem the type to care. They worked bare-chested, laughing and swearing, paying no attention to the viirelei girl on the shore.
I headed southeast when the sky turned orange. It was Jinben, I realized. The longest day of the year. I waited in an alder copse, hands under my arms, wishing I’d brought my cloak. It was too muggy to wear it during the day, but my thin dress offered little protection from the breeze.
Parr arrived as the sun rose over the mountains. He was smart enough to wear a coat, his hair tied with a black ribbon. Too late I realized I’d forgotten to rebraid my hair.
“Where are we going, sir?” I asked as we set off toward the plain. He’d said I wouldn’t need a horse, but I wondered how far we could get on foot.
“To my home first. I need to collect something.”
“You live out here?” I glanced back. “But you came from the city.”
“I did not go home last night,” he said. Only then did I notice how tired he looked.
We turned off the main road onto a winding, dusty lane framed by draping willows. It felt secluded after the open plain scattered with hillocks and copses. I stopped short when the lane widened into a half-moon courtyard. “That’s your home?”
A brick manor covered in trailing vines rose above the courtyard. I’d never seen anything like it. A square central tower, small rounded towers flanking the covered entrance, peaked green roofs across the wings. The brick might’ve been cream-coloured once, but time had weathered it grey. The garden beds held only damp soil and shrubs clinging to life.
“Parr Manor has been in my family for a century, even before Caladheå was built.” He plucked a wilted petal from the flagstone and brushed off the dew. “It has seen better days.”
“It’s still incredible.”
He gave a slight smile. “You are kind to say so.”
We looped along a weed-choked path into sprawling grounds bordered by a dense hedge. On a stone terrace, scaffolding suspended an iron brazier. The bright wood looked newly cut. Parr removed a tinderbox from his pocket, ignited damp kindling in the brazier, then took hold of a rope and pulled hand over hand. A creaking pulley lifted the brazier high overhead. It swung back and forth into stillness, dark smoke curling into the sky.
“What’s that for?”
“You will see soon enough.” Parr stepped back and gazed south. I stood on my toes but couldn’t see over the hedge. Then he pointed up. A pinprick floated above the horizon. As it drew nearer, I realized it was massive. Impossibly so.
A colossal bird glided toward us. The pale underside of its wings camouflaged it against the sky. It swooped low, beat its wings with a rush of air, and landed with a thump. It shuffled across the terrace on webbed feet and peered down at me. Its eyes were bright red, chest cotton-white, everywhere else black as soot except for white mottling on its long neck.
I clamped a hand to my mouth. There was no mistaking it. I’d grown up hearing stories and seeing carvings all over Aeti Ginu. I’d worn a shawl of it while trying to see into the parallel world. I had it tattooed on my left arm, hidden under my sleeve.
“Nei. But — kinaru are a myth,” I stuttered. Anyone who claimed to have seen one was assumed to have had too much alcohol or not enough sleep.
Parr stroked its feathers. The bird clacked its pointed bill. “Before seeing one, I would not have believed in them either.”
“They’re sacred to tel-saidu. Suriel trusts you with one?”
“My Corvittai source is too busy fighting this war to act as intermediary. This is the only way to reach Suriel at Se Ji Ainu.”
“The Pillared Mountain,” I translated, ignoring his stilted pronunciation. Se Ji Ainu was an Iyo name. I wondered who taught it to him. “That’s where we’re going?”
“Yes.” Parr placed a hand on the kinaru’s side. It hunkered down and he swung onto its s
loping back, settling between its wings and neck. He extended a hand to me.
Today we fly. I climbed up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. The kinaru ruffled its wings.
Parr bent close to the bird’s head. “Take us to Suriel.”
•
The kinaru soared over the Roannveldt, riding columns of warm air. Everything was tiny below us. Fields of pale blue flax grew among a hundred shades of green, packed together like fish scales and laced with creeks that flowed into the Stengar. When I turned to look for Caladheå, it was already lost in the fog.
I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the kinaru’s muscles flex and its feathers stir. I felt my heartbeat against Parr’s back. His hair gusted into me, but I soon gave up trying to avoid it. I relaxed into the sensation of my own hair streaming behind me, the graceful rise and fall of the bird, the beautiful abandon of being untethered to the earth.
The Corvittai had hit hard. Black fields speckled the plain where we landed to rest. I wandered through the ashes of a pasture, stretching my aching legs. Flies and the stench of death drew me to a muddy pit near a log farmhouse. Seven bodies had been dumped inside, five the size of children. When I stumbled back to Parr, he gripped my hand in sympathy.
“I still see the face of the first child I found dead in his mother’s arms,” he said. “That day, I resolved not to rest until the Sverbian Rúonbattai and their allies were gone for good.”
I felt too sick to eat but didn’t want to pass out while riding the kinaru. Parr shared a parcel of salt pork and dried fruit with me. In an unburnt strip along a creek, I found bushes laden with salmonberries and sour chokecherries, which he accepted with a wry smile.
Flying again, the flatlands gave way to forest. We curved northeast, cresting the mountains. Cold air forced into my lungs until I could barely breathe. The sun was high overhead when I spotted a thick band of glittering blue. With a jolt, I realized where we were. On Tiernan’s maps, Burren Inlet formed a cross in the mountains with Rutnaast on the west and Ingdanrad on the east. We were above Dúnravn Pass by the north beam of the inlet. Somewhere down there were the bodies of Tiernan’s comrades.