by Jae Waller
We rose up and up, passing the tree line, sailing over endless sheets of ice, craggy rock, pristine snow unblemished by humans. My arms were numb, but the thought of falling kept them locked. Then, beyond the tip of the inlet, I saw it.
A vast platform atop a precipice, marked at each corner by jagged pillars. The rock shelf sloped down to a basin of brilliant turquoise water that spilled over in misty waterfalls and plummeted into chasms. A dozen kinaru floated across the lake, wings folded close to their bodies. Fog swirled up and wreathed the precipice.
Our kinaru sailed forward and dropped. I had a sudden flash of fear we’d crash into the mountain — but the bird wheeled over the water and skimmed the surface back toward the pillared platform. It dipped its feet into the lake, sending up icy spray as it glided into shore.
I tumbled into the shallows and splashed up to dry ground. My legs were as stiff as wood. Parr inhaled as he stepped into the cold water. Sunlight barely penetrated the mist, and the wind bit my skin. I hugged my chest. Waterproof boots but no cloak. So I was only half an idiot.
Parr unbuttoned his coat and draped it over my shoulders, enveloping me in warmth. “I am sorry, Kateiko. I should have found you some warmer clothes.”
“Thank you,” I stammered through chattering teeth. I tried to dry his breeches and boots, but the water ignored my call. It clung to the fabric, blank and unyielding.
I turned in a circle. Nothing fed into the basin to replenish water flowing out at the falls. The lake should’ve been frozen. I sensed its weight on the stony lakebed, the stirring of fog, droplets rolling off the kinaru behind us, but none of it responded.
“Is something wrong?” Parr asked.
“Nei. It’s nothing.” I pulled his coat tight around my body.
He leaned close to speak into my ear. “Be brave.”
I tried to remember everything Fendul had told me about Suriel, something that’d tell me how to approach him. None of the ancient stories probably mattered. Suriel didn’t seem the same anymore. What was Imarein Rin like? Brave, yes, to climb this mountain in a blizzard. Reckless. And utterly devoted to tel-saidu, enough to leave home and our shrine to the aeldu, even after his whole family died in war. If Suriel wanted devotion, I could tell enough of the truth.
We climbed the slope, dripping onto the rock. The pillars seemed hewn straight from the mountain. I craned my neck to see their summits as I followed Parr onto the platform. He sank to one knee in the centre. I knelt next to him, not sure what I was looking for until the haze parted.
A translucent figure floated at the far end, twice the height of any human, surrounded by trails of mist. Its blurred silhouette shifted like smoke. The changing light made it look as if a hood covered where a face might be.
You have returned. The hollow voice flowed across the precipice, pressing in from every side, whispering along the fine hair on my skin.
“I have brought someone who may be able to help you, Suriel,” Parr said. I clung to his clear voice, my only comfort under a blue dome that weighed down on icy peaks. We were two shivering moths caught in a glacial wind.
I swallowed several times before my throat worked. I spoke in Aikoto, partly to appease Suriel, partly so that Parr wouldn’t understand. “Suriel. I’m honoured to enter your territory.” In my peripheral vision I saw Parr glance at me, but I pressed on. “I was born to the Rin-jouyen, the children of kinaru. When my companion here told me you want to reach the void, I wanted to help. To serve tel-saidu as we once did.”
Suriel replied in perfect Rin dialect. What do you offer?
“The rift mage you want, Tiernan Heilind, refuses to help. I know another mage who might — but before I bring this person to you, I have questions. If I may ask.”
Prove your worth first.
My whole life since the Storm Year had led to this point. No Rin was better suited than me.
“For seven years, I’ve been listening to the wind. My jouyen says I hear voices of the dead, but I always thought it was something greater. I left home, crossed the wasteland, and stood on the sky bridge, my people’s ancient shrine to tel-saidu. It moved me in a way nothing else has. I knew then why Imarein left the Rin. Last winter in Crieknaast, I witnessed your windstorms and realized the best way I could serve you was communicating your wishes to other humans.
“I convinced the townspeople of Crieknaast to leave Dúnravn Pass. I arranged for the Okoreni-Iyo to teach foreigners of your existence and your strength. In Toel Ginu, I told the Okorebai-Iyo to let you raze the shrine. You agreed to spare the Iyo’s lives, and I knew then you’re not just strong, but gracious, too. Today, I betrayed the man I love to come here to you.”
Suriel drifted closer, pulling clouds of vapour with him. He bent low. His misty hand forced my chin up. I stared into the faceless void, intensely aware he could feel everything — my breath, pulse, body heat. I felt Parr’s hand on my elbow, but couldn’t tear my gaze from the spirit.
The icy hand withdrew. Ask your questions.
I swallowed again. “Why do you want to reach the void?”
All I heard was the wind and rippling calls of kinaru. Then Suriel said, Swear not to repeat this.
“I swear. On the blood of kinaru.”
I am no longer welcome in this world.
“By humans?”
By saidu.
I inhaled sharply, choking on the cold air. Suriel had always been an outlier. Maybe he didn’t fight in the Storm Year because it was about him. No one knew how many saidu survived or what else they might do to get rid of him. “So . . . if you reach the void, that’s it. You won’t come back.”
Yes. My army will disband. Other tel-saidu will fight over my territory. Humans will survive the storms if they avoid these mountains.
It could fix everything — and I couldn’t tell anyone. But if Iannah was right that the Corvittai captain was Ferish, then an itheran had earned Suriel’s trust somehow. Maybe Marijka could, too. “Would you be willing to meet this other mage?”
Name a time and place.
Every day risked more deaths, but I didn’t know if Tiernan was home yet. Marijka wouldn’t go without telling him. “Noon, two days from now. At the valley of stumps along Tømmbrind Creek.”
Suriel circled us slowly. Bring the mage only. Not your companion here.
“So he told the truth? He’s not serving you?”
He is not.
Parr, kneeling next to me, watched Suriel in silence. He had no idea we were discussing him.
“I — have one request.” My hands clenched. This was the one part I hadn’t told Marijka. “Promise you won’t harm this mage. Or Tiernan Heilind. I’ll take any consequences for their actions.”
The wind picked up, spiralling through my hair. They are precious to you.
“Yes.” I struggled to stay steady as my body swayed with the gusts.
The foreign mage interfered when I razed the shrine.
“He did it to save my family. As soon as they were safe, he let it burn.”
I saw. I knew. Three thousand years I have watched humans. Children of kinaru only bring precious foreigners to their shrines. So I spared him.
“You . . . let him live . . . for me?”
For a Rin who has not forgotten. Long ago, the children of kinaru turned from my kind and built shrines to their human dead. You sacrificed one such shrine. For me. Mist curled around me, soaking through Parr’s coat and my dress to my kinaru tattoo. I agree to your request.
I bent low, letting my hair brush the rocky ground. Parr bowed to Suriel and got to his feet. I stumbled after him back to the lake. Fog blurred my vision. My mind felt disconnected from my body, drifting among the glaciers. I unfolded my hands to see blood where my nails dug in. I waded into the shallows and washed them in the freezing water.
Parr put two fingers to his mouth and whistled. The pi
ercing sound echoed off the crags. A kinaru glided across the lake toward us. Parr helped me onto its back and climbed up behind me. I slumped against him, too drained to care. The kinaru beat its vast wings, skidded across the surface with an upward rush of water, and launched into the air.
•
Dark clouds had gathered over the ocean, their underside glowing red and orange like coals burning under ash. The kinaru deposited us on the terrace at Parr Manor. I watched it vanish into the inky sky and didn’t notice Parr looking at me until he spoke.
“Did Suriel answer your questions?”
“Yes. But I’m not allowed to tell anyone.” I realized I was still wearing his coat. I held it out.
Parr draped it over his arm. “You did well, Kateiko.”
I kicked at the flagstone. “We’re still alive.”
He looked west. “You should get home before this storm strikes.”
“It won’t matter much,” I said without thinking.
“What do you mean?”
I floundered for an explanation, but nothing came to mind except the truth. “I . . . uh . . . live outdoors. My tent leaks.”
“Goodness. You will catch your death.” His voice was gentler than I expected. “You are welcome to spend the night here.”
My eyes widened. “Councillor, I couldn’t—”
“I insist. I could not rest knowing you are outside in a storm.” He kissed my hand, avoiding the raw cuts. “Please. It would be my honour.”
There was no reason to decline. Walking to Airedain’s wasn’t safe at the best of times, let alone when I hadn’t slept in two days. I gave him a shy smile. “Thank you, sir.”
•
Parr lit candles and excused himself to the kitchen. I wandered the room in awe of everything. A brocade couch and chairs by a marble fireplace, paintings of battle scenes and ships in roiling waves, dark carved wood panelling over pale sandstone walls. The windows were murky, but the last trace of sunlight glimmered on a cluster of crystals that spilled from the high ceiling like a fountain.
It all seemed too beautiful to be real. Even the floor was ornate, with a woven rug laid over glossy squares of reddish wood. I recognized the pattern from the southern Yula-jouyen, the best weavers in our confederacy. I’d wiped the mud off my boots before coming inside, but I was so dusty from flying I was scared to touch anything.
“I am afraid this is all I have,” Parr said when he returned with a wooden tray of bread rolls, fruit, and crumbling cheese. He set it on a low polished table by the fireplace. “How do you feel about wine with dinner?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t tried much. Just cranberry wine, and spiced wine once.” Airedain and I had spent an evening in the Knox Arms trying Ferish drinks we couldn’t pronounce, but brånnvin was cheaper and stronger, even if it was like swallowing a headache.
Parr took a bottle from a cabinet and poured two glasses of deep red liquid. “See what you think of this. It is from southern Eremur. Many people insist imported wine from Ferland is better, but,” he lowered his voice, “between you and me, my palate is not refined enough to tell the difference.”
I took a sip. It was sweet and tart, like it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. “It’s nice. Thank you, Councillor.”
“Please, no need for formality here. I sometimes forget I have a first name, but you may call me Antoch outside the Colonnium.”
“I’m not sure I can.” I twisted my fingers around the stem of my glass.
“Whatever you are comfortable with.” Parr settled at one end of the couch. He began slicing a melon with rough honey-coloured skin. A crisp scent like liquid summer burst from the orange flesh. “Sit wherever you like. I apologize for the dust. I spend far too much time at the Colonnium.”
I hesitantly sat on a chair, sinking into the padding. “If you don’t mind me asking . . . how did you know about Tiernan’s research? It sounds like you knew before a Corvittai came to you.”
“Heilind and I were good friends once. He took his first contract with the military the same year I became a captain. We fought the Rúonbattai together. I was grateful to have a mage, a way to use their power against them. It seems odd for a Sverbian national to fight his own kind, but he saw what their warmongering had done to us all.”
“You said once you were away fighting the Rúonbattai when your wife died.”
Parr nodded. “I was gone much of my son Nerio’s childhood too, quelling conflicts across the province. Heilind was a great help — he mentored Nerio when they were assigned to the same company. Anyway, soon after I was elected to the Council, the mage registry became a major political issue. Heilind was a vocal proponent of eradicating it. We spent many long evenings discussing his work on rift magic over the course of that trial.”
I pictured Tiernan in Council Hall, caught between rows of black-robed figures. It was a good thing marble didn’t burn. “What happened? I mean, he . . . really doesn’t like you now.”
“The Dúnravn inquiry. I . . . admittedly erred by not defending Heilind’s claim that Suriel was a spirit. It contradicted everything I was raised to believe. He took deep offence in the wake of his friend Jorumgard Tømasind’s death.” Parr realized he was cutting progressively smaller slices and set down the knife. “I fear what Heilind may have told you about me. Grief changes a man, twists his perceptions.”
“He hasn’t told me much. He never does.”
“I appreciate your trust more than you know, Kateiko.” Parr clinked our glasses. “I could not have persuaded the Council to defend our border from Suriel if you had not pushed for the Iyo nation to speak at the inquiry. Coaxing action from the government is like moving Council Hall one stone at a time.”
I picked up a roll, smiling behind my curtain of tangled brown hair. “I have a secret. On the first day of the inquiry, Iann — um, Pelennus and I watched from the archer ledges. I heard you tell the entire Council off. That’s why I came to you.”
“Is that so?” He studied me over the rim of his glass. “I would not expect someone your age to take interest in politics.”
“I did back home, but no one listened to me there.” I bit into the soft roll and clapped my hand to my mouth. “Oh!” It was filled with deep red berry jam.
Parr chuckled. “Pérossetto bread. I recalled you had not tried it.”
Grey sheets of rain began to fall as we talked, rattling the windowpanes. I winced the first time lightning shattered the darkness. Branches scraped the brick walls. Even in summer it felt like the aeldu were out there, shaking the willows and calling to me.
A draft chilled the room. Parr undid his collar and rolled up his sleeves to light a crackling fire. I stood next to him, soaking in heat from the flames. My body was exhausted, but my mind was wide awake, riding the stress of the last few days. I twisted a lock of matted hair behind my back. I looked awful. I was windswept and dusty, my dress grey from passing through Ashtown that morning. My hands shook. Maybe the lack of sleep was getting to me.
Parr looked just as bad. His hair was tangled below the ribbon tying it back. There were shadows under his eyes and dark stubble on his jaw. Up close, I could see his silk waistcoast had been mended with tiny stitches. He still had his slender knife on his belt. I felt a pang of familiarity — to live through war was to never feel safe.
“You don’t have to stay up with me,” I said. “I’m sure you must be busy tomorrow.”
He finished stoking the logs and set the poker in an iron rack. “It is rare I am blessed with company, particularly that of such a spirited young lady.”
I felt warm all of a sudden but didn’t step back from the fire. “It must be lonely living here. I see why you spend so much time at the Colonnium.”
“It must be lonely living outside.” Parr looked at me. His lips parted slightly, but he said nothing else.
Thunder rolled, a long, low peal t
hat resonated deep in my bones. “Antoch—” My tongue flicked through the unfamiliar sounds. I placed my hand on his chest, curling my fingers into his waistcoat, and pressed my lips to his.
He stiffened, not pushing me away, not returning the gesture.
I reeled back and clamped a hand to my mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have — I’m so sorry—”
“Kateiko.” He pulled my hand down, an odd look on his face.
Then he was kissing me hard. He cupped the back of my head and nestled his other hand against my spine. My back arched as he gripped my hair. I inhaled the warm scent of his cologne and hooked my fingers over his collar, feeling his pulse in his throat—
But he was the first to pull away. He caressed my jaw with his thumb. “Darling girl,” he murmured. “I cannot do this to you.”
I traced my fingertips over his collarbone. “I want this, Antoch.”
His expression twisted as if it hurt to touch me. “So do I. But not like this.”
“What’s wrong?” I blinked back sudden tears.
“You have been through so much today. You need rest.” Parr released me and took a step back. “I am sorry, Kateiko.”
•
I woke to blinding sunlight and a blanket tangled around my body. I was curled on the edge of a soft bed. I’d never been the type to forget where I was after waking, but it was disquieting to not remember falling asleep. After Parr showed me in here, everything faded into haze.
All the furniture in the white-painted room was made of glossy dark wood, from the bed to a chest of drawers to a table with a framed mirror, and everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. There was nothing to indicate who might’ve slept here before. Just a ceramic vase of dried flowers.
I sat up, twisting my bodice back into shape, and saw a paper on the carpet by the door. I scrambled out of bed and hurried across the room. A note with Parr’s signature. I chewed my lip as I sorted letters into words, words into sentences. Parr had left for the Colonnium. I could eat whatever I wanted, and to please lock the door. Hopefully the sentence I didn’t understand wasn’t important.