Ajee had been right. She never should have come here. She’d brought danger to all of them.
The man was vaguely familiar to her, and after a moment, Alizhan recognized him: Boredom. So Mar had sent someone after them. Boredom wasn’t bored now.
He also wasn’t touching her. Mar had warned him. It was too dark to see what kind of weapon he was carrying, and his thoughts were all strategy. How could he get the girl and the book to Solor House with the least amount of damage? He didn’t want to wake anyone. Could he knock her unconscious and carry her away? If he did that, he might not find the book.
Alizhan had declined Obin’s suggestion of the crawlspace under the pantry floorboards. One of them creaked. It was too obvious. Instead, she’d buried the book at the bottom of a barrel of salt.
Boredom, whose real name was Zenav, noticed that Alizhan was awake. Should he incapacitate her? Or would she cooperate? He couldn’t go back to Mar without that book. Mar wouldn’t be angry, but he might never give Zenav anything interesting to do again.
So Zenav wanted Mar’s approval. Alizhan could work with that. He wasn’t planning to hurt or kill anyone. At least not yet.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she whispered.
He was surprised, but silent.
Alizhan jerked her head toward the door. She slipped from the bed as gently and silently as possible. Zenav followed her out of the bedroom. Once outside, she faced him. Sunlight glinted off the sword hilt at his side.
“You tell me what you know about Kasrik, promise not to hurt anyone here, and I’ll get the book and come with you,” she said, keeping her voice low.
“What?”
“Which one of us just got abruptly woken up? Pay attention, Zenav. I said I’ll make you a deal. This is the deal.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Does it matter? You can’t find that book without me. Do you agree to my terms or not?”
“Kasrik’s a common name.”
She sighed. He was stalling, and she was no good at describing people. “A boy. Not a little kid, though. Somewhere between the ages of eleven and sixteen, probably. Not done growing. Skinny. He has black hair. He would’ve been hanging around Solor House these past few triads.”
“Everyone has black hair,” Zenav protested, but the description was enough to bring a memory to the surface. Alizhan couldn’t be sure if he was picturing Kasrik or some other adolescent boy.
“Yes,” she said, taking a guess. “How recently did you see him?”
“He comes and goes,” Zenav said. He was still bewildered, but answering her questions implied an acceptance of her terms. For a man who’d been sent to kidnap her from her bed, he was fairly agreeable.
She was cooperating. He had a sword. Zenav had every reason to be agreeable. “It’s important. When?”
“Saw him last triad, I think. Honeycreeper shift,” he said, getting closer than she wanted him to. Mar had instructed Zenav not to touch her. Zenav wasn’t an attentive listener.
By Alizhan’s estimation, it was currently the Honeycreeper shift of the twenty-ninth triad of Pyer. Zenav had last seen Kasrik on the twenty-eighth.
Was that enough time for Vatik to find him and kill him?
“Do you know where he goes?” Even as Alizhan asked the question, she could tell that Zenav knew nothing more. He wasn’t sure why she cared so much about the boy. Mar had instructed the guards to let Kasrik into the house whenever he wished, but had said nothing else about him. Zenav assumed Kasrik was some kind of charity case, a kid from the Marsh looking for work or money.
“Somewhere in the city. Probably the Marsh. Maybe Breakneck Hill. Hell, maybe he robs houses in the Knuckles for kicks, what do I know? None of my business.”
Alizhan led them into the kitchen. Interrogating Zenav with spoken questions in addition to reading his mind had the benefit of proving to Alizhan that he was honest. Zenav wasn’t even lying by omission. He simply didn’t know enough to help her.
Maybe Itch would have been more useful.
“I know Mar told you to bring me back unharmed. He wants to talk to me,” Alizhan said. There, that was one truth. The trick with lying was to remember that no one else could see inside her. All she needed to do was keep cool on the outside. Everyone else lied all the time. And she wasn’t even really going to lie. She was just going to remark on a few, select, useful truths. “Mar and I, we’re… on the same side. Investigating the same problem. We just had a… minor disagreement. But I’ll go with you, and I’ll bring the book to him.”
Zenav tensed. He knew she was about to make more demands.
“Mar and I have a problem. We know there’s something important in this book, but we can’t tell what it is. We think there’s some kind of code.”
“Why tell me this?”
“Take me to the Temple of Doubt,” Alizhan said. It was close enough. Zenav would get her into the city, and then she could figure out how to ditch him and find Kasrik. She would go to Mar when she decided it was time, and not before. “Let me talk to a priest about the book.”
“You haven’t even proved that you have the book yet.”
Alizhan turned on her heel and went into the pantry. She pried the lid off the barrel and plunged her hands into the salt, digging. She hoped Neiran would forgive her for the mess cascading onto the floor. She was trying to save lives.
She hit something solid about halfway down. She pulled the book out, shook salt from its pages, then held it up to Zenav. She was keeping her promises so far.
“Yeah,” he said, in slow acknowledgement of what she was saying. “So why didn’t you go talk to the Doubters yourself? Why are you all the way out here? Why tell me?”
“There are some other people in Laalvur looking for me,” Alizhan said. She had Zenav’s interest now. Without suggestion from Alizhan, he was imagining bringing Mar not only the girl and the book, but also the cipher. “And for this book.”
“And if they find you…”
“I’d rather have you with me,” Alizhan said.
Zenav was flattered. So small, he was thinking, eyeing her collarbone, her shoulders, the width of her wrists. She can’t possibly defend herself. He’d already forgotten Mar’s warning not to touch Alizhan. Zenav probably didn’t believe in magic. But he did believe Alizhan, and that was all that mattered.
“Take me through the city gates as your prisoner.”
The feeling in the room changed, sharpening with anger, and it took Alizhan a moment to understand that it wasn’t Zenav who was upset, but someone else. Ev was standing on the opposite side of the kitchen from the pantry door, her anger so smoky and acrid that Alizhan swallowed to get the taste out of her mouth. It didn’t work.
Zenav hadn’t noticed Ev standing behind him, dressed but barefoot, leaning casually on her staff. How could he not know she was there? But he was only focused on Alizhan’s suggestion that he take her as a prisoner. He’d grabbed the rope he’d brought before Alizhan had even finished saying the words. He reached for Alizhan’s arms, and she yanked her hands away.
“You don’t want to do that,” Ev said from behind him, and surprise shot through him. “Not until she has gloves on.”
Her voice was so calm and even, at odds with how she felt. Why was Ev so angry? Alizhan wasn’t supposed to know that. Ev had asked her not to look inside her head. But it wasn’t really “looking inside.” The feelings were just there. Ev might as well have asked Alizhan to walk around with her eyes closed all the time.
Alizhan couldn’t do that. She peeked. And down at the bottom of the well of Ev’s emotions, she touched something cold. It slithered away fast, too fast for Alizhan to be sure of what it was. Fear?
There was no time to think about that. Zenav was waiting for her to say something, making discontented noises. Adding another person was not part of the plan. He didn’t yet trust Alizhan, but he felt as though he had the upper hand with her. Zenav didn’t know what to make of Ev.
“She’s r
ight,” Alizhan said. “Trust me.” How funny to speak the words trust me, when Alizhan never had to take anyone on faith.
Except for Iriyat, and look how that had turned out.
“You left these in my room,” Ev said, holding up a pair of gloves.
Alizhan crossed the room to take them from her, put them on, then walked back to Zenav and submitted herself to have her wrists bound. Zenav was wary. He worried more about Ev and her staff than he did about Alizhan. Still, he tied Alizhan’s wrists behind her back without making contact with her skin.
Ev was still fuming, but her anger was fusing with resolve. She wasn’t going to let them leave without her. She remained firm on this point, even though she also thought Alizhan’s plan was foolhardy.
So what does that make you? Alizhan wondered but didn’t say. Instead, she gave Zenav her most reassuring smile and said, “And you have to let my friend Ev come, too.”
9
Rosefinch shift, 20th Triad of Hirsha, 761
I SEE NOW THAT I should have married Rossin Tyrenx.
Certainly, it would have been briefly unpleasant. But it would also have kept my parents content and distant, and in time, I could have owned him. After that first triad, he could never have touched me again. I could have had his fortune and my own, with estates on either side of the ocean. I would have had to endure some separation from Arav, and some secrecy, but hardly more than what Arav’s work and my family already demanded of us. And then in the future, when Tyrenx’s memory had frayed to lace and the thread of his life had unraveled, I could have married Arav. I could have raised our children in all the comfort and security they deserved. Who could have stopped me?
Perhaps it would not have happened that way. Perhaps Tyrenx would have discovered my secret and had me killed. Perhaps Arav would have met some other girl as soon as I left. Perhaps our love would have faded, as young love does.
I cannot know any of this. All I know is what happened.
It was my idea. Arav resisted at first. He wanted to do it right, as he said: marriage first, then sex. I will never forget his expression when I told him he had to ruin me.
“Ruin you,” he repeated, staring. Those wide brown eyes. He had such a wonderful face. I will never be able to convey in words how emotive he was. How quick. How unguarded. There was something novel in every expression. Arav’s surprise, his outrage, his happiness, they never looked like anyone else’s. Every time he experienced an emotion, it was as if it was the first time; as if he had only just learned how his own face worked and he was trying out every possibility. Things passed in an instant: my suggestion offended him, but then he grinned wickedly, leaned in so close that his nose touched my cheek, and said into my ear, “I hope you’d enjoy it at least a little.”
“Arav.” I was trying to make a plan.
“I don’t want to ‘ruin’ you, Ya-ya.” He paused, and his tone turned sly. “There are other things we could do, you know. Things I’ve read about in… books. Things that aren’t so risky.”
“The risk is the point,” I said. “Rossin Tyrenx will break the betrothal if I am no longer a virgin. A pregnancy isn’t necessary, but it might be useful as proof.”
“A pregnancy.” No more wicked grins. He was upset again. “As ‘proof.’ That’s a baby you’re talking about. A child.”
“You don’t want one?”
“Of course I want one! I want a dozen! But right now we’re still sneaking around in alleys because you’re terrified of your parents finding out about me. I want to fix that problem first. And I want to get married. And I want you to talk about it like you want to be the mother of my children, instead of talking about whether it’s ‘useful’ or ‘proof.’”
“I do want that,” I said, more quietly. “I want to marry you—you—not some vile old monstrosity in Nalitzva. I want to have your children, not his. And in some other, better world, we could do those things in the order that you want. But that’s not the world we live in. My parents are going to ship me off to Nalitzva in less than a year. We have to do it this way to break my betrothal. My feelings aren’t going to solve this problem. Planning will.”
“Sometimes I miss that crying girl,” he said. “I knew what to do with her.”
I smiled. “I heard you know exactly what to do with me. I heard you’ve been reading books.”
He laughed. That was as close as we ever came to fighting. Everything was easy with Arav. Our next few times together were happy. I had never understood, until then, how uncomplicated love is. My family’s love—if it was that—had always come with contingencies and requirements. They would be happy if, they would be proud of me if… and so on. Attaining their love felt impossible. Meanwhile, Arav and I were in love, and that was simple, and everything else seemed simpler for it.
With all my planning, it took until the beginning of the new year to find an opportunity. For the weeks of the festival of the New Year, even the streets of the Marsh were strung with garlands of red, white, and yellow uzet and yezhem flowers. There was drumming and dancing in every open space and song and laughter in the air. Arav’s whole family went out of the house for hours. We always went with them at first, because Arav loved the festival and didn't want to miss it. He wanted to dance, to buy sweets drizzled with honey for his siblings, and to drape flower necklaces over my shoulders. But after a few hours, we would find some excuse to slip away. The first time, we went back to the house. I cherish the memory and can still describe every breath of that encounter, but I understand that you might rather not know the details of what we did. I will say that I am sure Arav had to pick crushed red petals out of his pallet for a week afterward.
“There’s something I should tell you,” he said as we lay together on the rumpled sheets. His head was resting on my chest and he was drawing his fingers through the loose strands of my hair. “I hate keeping secrets from you.”
I had not known that he was capable of keeping secrets.
“I tried to tell you once before,” he said. He lifted his head to look me in the eye. “But I couldn’t. I was worried about what you’d think of me. But this is serious now. I love you and I want you to know. And I hope… I hope this doesn’t change what’s between us.”
“It won’t,” I said, still convinced his secret must be some trivial, innocent thing.
“When I said a part of me died when I fought the medusa, you thought I was talking about my scars. But I was talking about my mind. I used to know things that I don't anymore.”
I could hardly breathe. I didn’t fully understand what he meant, but my thoughts were elsewhere. What did this mean for my own secret? Did I owe Arav the truth?
“Like what?”
“I used to know what people were feeling or thinking,” Arav said. “I know it sounds impossible. But it's true. Just by being around people, I could sense what they weren’t saying. And then after the fight, I couldn't anymore.”
Something about the medusa had changed him. Was it the trauma of the fight? Or was it the venom? If it was the venom, could it change me? Could it change my parents? These were all questions I couldn’t ask without revealing my own secret.
“I know you probably think I was Unbalanced,” Arav was saying. “And maybe I was.”
“Do you miss it?” I kept the question quiet, worried it would give away my thoughts.
“When my friends went into the water with that thing, when it devoured them, I felt every sting. I knew their last thoughts. I felt them die.”
The horror of that was unspeakable. I shivered and stroked his hair.
“At first I was glad to be rid of it. I never wanted to feel that way again, and I knew it was safer to be like everyone else. But after a while… it’s hard, not knowing what people are thinking. Maybe it’s wrong to miss it—to miss knowing things I had no right to know in the first place—but I do.”
“It’s not wrong. You were never wrong. You were just different,” I said, and kissed him. “This doesn’t change anything for
us.”
“Good,” he said. “Good. I’m so glad. It was killing me to keep that from you. I wish I’d had the courage to tell you before, but I didn’t.”
If I’d met Arav before his encounter with the medusa, he might have known my secret. I wouldn’t have had the choice of whether to tell him the truth. I could have told him right then, as he had chosen to tell me. But Arav wasn’t a Lacemaker. He didn’t take memories from people. His hands weren’t a danger.
His hands were already traveling down my body again. Then we were kissing instead of talking. The moment was gone. I hadn’t told him.
Next time, I thought to myself. Next time.
There were many next times.
In retrospect, his parents must have known what we were doing. Still, we worried about them returning home and finding us, so we soon switched to going out in Arav’s rowboat. He knew every little hidden cove in the coast, where the water was calm and the sand was soft. We carried on like that for weeks.
And then I came home one triad and my parents were waiting for me in the garden. The shift of the Honeycreeper had been called just as I left Breakneck Hill, so my parents should have been asleep. Yet I emerged from the bushes, brushing dead leaves from my hair, and there they were.
The first thing I noticed, even before their expressions, was that they were not wearing gloves. It was strange to see my own parents bare-handed.
It is possible for one Lacemaker to manipulate another, but it is extremely difficult. We have strong natural defenses against our own kind. Lacemakers often marry other Lacemakers, for many reasons, but one is that touch between us tends to be safe. It requires a great deal of power and control to create a hole in another Lacemaker’s memory. It does not happen by accident.
My parents had not said a word, but I recognized the threat.
To this moment, I do not know if a gardener betrayed me, or if my parents put the pieces together on their own. Perhaps it is one last remnant of childish optimism that I prefer to believe I was discovered, rather than betrayed.
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