North Star Guide Me Home

by Jo Spurrier

  Cam drew a sharp breath. ‘You turned to him?’

  Isidro couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes. He just shrugged. ‘There was no one else. He knows this power better than anyone alive. And he owed me.’

  Cam hadn’t known. Sierra had guessed, maybe, but she’d never spoken of it. Isidro had never let her close enough.

  Isidro turned away again. The scars on his back prickled and a phantom ache throbbed in the long-gone bones of his ruined arm. He pushed the sensation away, shoving it beneath the chill numbness wrapped around his spine. The cool touch of it felt like a refuge. ‘I’m sorry, Cam,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to go. I have work to do.’

  Rasten huddled on the straw pallet, clean now and dressed in shirt and trousers of much-mended cloth.

  She’d had the guards clear a tower room for him. Ardamon had wanted him shut away in the cellars, but Sierra wouldn’t have it. He’d spent too long underground, in airless stone rooms, as cold as the grave. She couldn’t do that to him.

  Of course, this chamber was little warmer. A stove had been brought in and a few braziers as well, but it would take time to drive the chill from the stone. Rasten didn’t seem to care. He looked around with hollow, haggard eyes still in shock. She shook out a blanket and draped it around his shoulders. ‘You’re half frozen,’ she said.

  The sound of heavy boots in the hall made him tense, and he flinched away from the door as Rhia entered, followed by Amaya and a pair of guardsmen carrying her medicine chest.

  ‘You know Rhia, don’t you?’ she said.

  He moved gingerly as he pulled the blanket tight, like a man who’d taken a mortal wound. Sierra had always thought him as strong as stone, but now he seemed wasted and reed-thin. His gaze shifted to Rhia, and he nodded.

  ‘She’ll see to your leg, and any other wounds you have.’ His left leg had not only been wrenched, but there was a long gash along his calf, and a mass of bruising. To her untrained eye, the wound did not look healthy.

  ‘Give me the herbs,’ he mumbled, ‘and I’ll do it myself.’

  ‘You’re in no shape for that.’

  Still hugging his knees to his chest, he gave Rhia such a cold and wary gaze that she hesitated, glancing at Sierra.

  ‘Rasten, you have to trust me. I know this isn’t what you wanted, but things will get better.’

  He turned to her with pleading eyes. ‘I just wanted it to be over.’

  ‘It is over. All the things you’re trying to leave behind … they’re dropping further away with every hour that passes, I promise.’

  He looked away from her, towards the window. The shutters were closed and covered with a plain hide, but they both knew what lay beyond it. The void and the sea far below seemed to have a song of its own.

  Sierra dropped to her knees beside his cot, and caught his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. ‘Don’t you dare,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t abandon me again. The Akharians are coming, I don’t know where and I don’t know when, but they’re coming and I … I don’t know if I can do this again, bound on the rack and waiting for the first cut. I can’t bear it. Don’t leave me to face them alone, Rasten. Please.’

  He met her gaze, and slowly curled one hand around the back of her neck. ‘You don’t need me. You have your family. What good is a broken beast like me?’

  ‘They don’t know what it’s like,’ she said. ‘They don’t know what we’ve faced.’

  He shook his head, pulling away. ‘Isidro —’

  ‘He doesn’t talk to me anymore. Not like before. And the others … they mean well, but they don’t know like you do. I try to tell them it’s going to be bad, we need to be ready, and they look at me like I’m mad. I’m afraid they’re right. You say you’re broken by what Kell did? I know I never had it as bad as you, but … you’re not the only one.’

  He turned to the window again, with a longing, hungry look, but then he bowed his head to her shoulder. ‘I’ll be here when you need me, Little Crow.’

  The workshop was full of people, and since Isidro had left it seemed that the space had been filled with hastily built frames shaped like freestanding doorways. It was crammed with people, fledgling mages wrapping wires and stones against the uprights.

  ‘Move aside there!’ a voice behind him growled. Isidro had stopped in the doorway, and he glanced back to see a worker weighed down with bundles of wire. When he realised who he’d spoken to, the man blanched and ducked his head. ‘Uh, my apologies sir —’

  Isidro cut him off with a gesture and moved out of the way. He’d thought to find some peace and quiet here, not a riot of activity.

  Across the chamber, Alameda’s honey-coloured head popped up and she trotted over. ‘We got it working, sir. It was simple in the end. I have the first two up and running, but it’d be faster if Lady Sierra brought us more power. Come along and I’ll show you.’

  A few hours ago, the screening devices had been nothing more than an idea and a hasty sketch on a waxed tablet, but Alameda had brought them to life. The stones lit up like a bonfire when a mage passed through, and flickered with colour and light when an enchantment came near, even something as simple as a lantern-stone.

  ‘And you’ve put this together in just a few hours?’ Isidro said.

  ‘It’s the same sort of thing the priests use to identify folk with the talent, sir,’ Alameda said. ‘The only problem is Lady Sierra corrupting the enchantments. I mean, even the lantern-stones in the royal quarters only last a day before we have to strip and re-craft them. The ones she passes through every day are going to need constant maintenance.’

  ‘We can deal with that. Good work, Alameda, but tell me, is Delphi around?’

  Alameda shook her head. ‘Once we got the prototype working she went to talk to Lady Mira about some sort of identity papers for our mages … and after the news from downstairs I thought she said she was going to talk to you, sir.’

  He’d been afraid of that. He didn’t want to talk about what had happened this morning, not when he couldn’t comprehend how he felt about it himself. The noise of this place was bothering him and his head still ached. ‘I’ve got some things to work on. Keep at this task, and don’t disturb me unless it’s important, alright?’

  ‘Yessir,’ she said with a bob of her head.

  With a sigh, Isidro retreated to the office he shared with Delphine, closing the door firmly against the bustle and noise of the workshop. They’d have their own workspaces eventually, but with books and other resources in such short supply, it made sense to work close together. There was so much to do that they were rarely in these chambers at the same time, anyway.

  Isidro flung himself down into his own chair, propping his head on one hand. He was starting to regret making his excuses to get away from Cam … but at the same time, the thought of venturing out into the noise and tumult of the workshops made him physically recoil.

  What in the Fires Below is wrong with me? Isidro thought. Cam would have stayed with him the rest of the day without a second thought, and there had been a time when he’d have wanted nothing more on a day like this. Often these days he wanted only to be alone, but once alone it was worse, with no distraction from the pressure in his head and the tainted power coursing through him.

  Isidro sat back in his chair, tipping his head to look up and think. He should have stayed with Cam and got drunk. Perhaps that would help, although not with trying to make sense of how he felt, but by making the question irrelevant. He cast around the chamber. Every room seemed to be stocked with at least one bottle or flask, and no evening passed without Cam having a cup near his hand. But it seemed that whoever provided the stuff hadn’t yet made it to his offices.

  There was a knock at the door, and Isidro straightened. Moments ago he’d been craving company, but in that instant he felt the sudden urge to bar the door. Instead, he stayed where he was, and growled under his breath. ‘Black Sun, Alameda, what did I say?’

  With no reply, the door eased open as a woma
n with long black hair peered through.

  At first glance Isidro thought it was Sierra, and his stomach clenched in sudden anxiety. He didn’t want to see her, though he couldn’t explain why, even to himself.

  But it wasn’t Sierra, it was Anoa, strikingly beautiful despite her mussed hair and the dark marks under her eyes that told of broken sleep. She slipped through the gap and then leant on the door to close it.

  He had no idea why she’d come, but he had half a mind to send her away — until he spied the bottle she clutched in one fist.

  For a moment she watched him steadily, then she came forward to set the bottle on his desk with a clunk. Then she dragged over a spare chair to sit across from him, putting her feet up on a corner of the desk as she took a swig. ‘Don’t try to tell me it’s too early,’ she said with a warning tone. ‘’Cause I simply don’t care.’

  He held his hand out for the bottle and she passed it to him. It was better than the stuff Cam had found. Smoother. He passed it back. ‘Are you alright, Anoa?’

  ‘That’s what I came to ask you. But on the way, I was thinking. People have been asking me that cursed question all morning. Do I truly look that bad?’

  ‘How drunk are you?’

  She held up one hand, her thumb and forefinger an inch or so apart. ‘Not nearly enough, but I’m pacing myself. There’s a long way to go yet. But you asked me first, so now I can repay the favour. Are you alright, Issey?’

  He shrugged. ‘What choice is there?’

  She took another pull from the bottle and watched him for a long moment. ‘I don’t know how you can stand to have him under the same roof,’ she said at last. ‘Just the idea that the cursed Slavers are already here has me wanting to hide like a scared rabbit. They are here, aren’t they? That’s what you all think. I had nightmares last night that the bastard who raped me might be inside these cursed walls already, watching me. He’ll be part of whatever they’ve planned against you, you can count on it. He hates you that much. If I found myself in the same room with him, like you were with Rasten … well, if I’d been in your place the Gods themselves couldn’t have kept me from putting a knife in the bastard’s back.’

  Isidro rocked back in his chair, suddenly remembering a night in deep winter when he’d stood on a frozen riverbank. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I did that once, come to think of it.’

  She watched him with bright, hungry eyes. ‘You did? How did it feel? Did it help?’

  He could still remember the bite of the blade, but he’d had such a short time to savour it. Only days later the Akharians had made him a slave and the man he’d tried to kill had saved his life instead. He hadn’t thought about it in an age. ‘It did,’ he said. ‘A bit. It felt cursed good, I’ll tell you that much.’

  ‘I’ll bet,’ she said, softly, and rubbed her weary eyes. ‘I thought I could handle it, last night after Hespero told us the wretched Slavers never left, but when we went to bed I couldn’t bear to close my eyes. I made Ardo barricade the door, and kept a knife in my hand all night long. Not that it’d do a cursed bit of good against a mage. He used to tell me that I’d never get away from him, that if I ever tried to escape he’d bring me back and make me pay.’

  Isidro leant forward, catching her eye. ‘We won’t let him hurt you again.’

  She narrowed her eyes in sudden fury and took another swig. ‘Don’t talk to me like a cursed child. We’re on the back foot here, I know it. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about. How do you do it, Isidro? How can you be under the same roof as him and not try to claw your way out of your own skin? I can’t go on like this. The fear is killing me.’

  With a sigh he reached for the bottle, and she let him have it. He took a long drink, feeling the burn of the liquor down his throat and into his belly. It felt very strange next to the chill of his power wrapped around his spine like armour. ‘It’s not the same,’ he said at last. ‘Your son of a bitch didn’t do it under orders, to save his own hide. He doesn’t regret the harm he’s done, and hasn’t tried to make amends. And even if he did, it doesn’t mean you have to forgive him. You can still spit in his face and curse him by the Twin Suns.’

  Anoa wrapped her arms around herself. ‘And is that what you’ve done? Forgiven him?’

  He hadn’t even realised what he’d said until she repeated the words. ‘That’s not what I said.’

  ‘I know. That’s alright, you don’t have to answer.’ She looked away, eyes full of tears. ‘Sirri has. But it was different for her, too. She made her choice, she knew what she was getting herself into … but does that really change anything? I can’t decide.’

  ‘You’ll drive yourself mad trying to compare them.’

  Anoa dropped her gaze. ‘I suppose so. I’m just so cursed tired of being afraid. And I’m not the only one. Have you spoken to any of the people out there? They’ve all heard the news, because those folk that cursed Hespero brought have talked of nothing else. They know the Akharians are still here, they know they’re going to make their move. That’s why so many of them turned out to plead for Rasten’s life. They call him the Chainbreaker, did you know that? They know what he’s done, but they don’t care, because he set them free. I can’t imagine how you feel, knowing that. I can’t imagine how I’d feel.’

  Isidro shrugged again, and took another long pull from the bottle. ‘It is what it is,’ he said. ‘He’s not the same man now. And he’s too cursed valuable to throw away.’

  Anoa nodded, slowly. ‘The people know something big is coming, and he saved them once, after all. They’re scared, Issey. I’m scared.’

  ‘I know, Ani,’ he said. ‘We all are. But we’ll find a way to fight them. We haven’t come this far to fail now.’

  She stood, more than a little unsteady on her feet. ‘I cursed well hope you’re right.’

  Once she left, Isidro was too fuzzy-headed to think clearly, or to do anything much, really. He must have laid his head down on his arm upon the desk and gone to sleep, for that was how he was when Delphine woke him, some hours later. ‘Issey?’

  He lifted his head with a groan, wincing at the brightness of the lamps. ‘What?’ he said. ‘Is there trouble?’

  ‘No, no … Ardamon’s here to see you, that’s all. How are you feeling?’

  He turned away, unable to bear the concern in her eyes. ‘Like I’ve had too much to drink.’

  ‘Ah. I heard you’d been talking to Anoa. I think Mira put her to bed in our quarters, poor girl. Here, I made you some coffee. It always helps.’

  She’d set a bowl by his elbow, and had another in her hand. Isidro studied it for a long moment before steeling himself to pick it up. He didn’t want it, but no more could he bring himself to spurn it. He’d been too cold to her, this woman who’d saved his life. She deserved better.

  The coffee was dark and bitter, well suited to his mood. He stood, shaking his head to clear it, and wrapped his hand around the bowl, feeling its warmth. As he raised his eyes to Delphine, he noted something odd … there was a spider web in her curly hair, and two halves of a broken fur-hunter’s arrow had been tucked through her sash. He frowned at the sight of it. ‘What have you been doing?’

  She followed his gaze, and set her bowl down to pull the broken arrow from her belt. Instead of a sharp metal point it was tipped with a block of wood, the size and shape of a water-skin stopper. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Some young lads shot it at me. Ardamon had men searching the cellars, and they found some strange chalk marks on the walls that weren’t there a few days ago. Someone thought they might be Akharian, so he asked me to take a look. They’re meaningless, as far as I know.’

  ‘But the arrow?’ he said.

  ‘Oh, some young lads were playing about, shooting these things at each other. What is it?’

  ‘It’s a bolt-headed arrow, for hunting small beasts for fur — it won’t damage a hide like a metal tip will. They’re also good for war games, if you’re a young lad playing about.’

  ‘Well, I caught the wret
ched thing on a shield, but the men escorting me got the fright of their lives. They drew steel, but then the lads came forward and let the guards roar tar out of them. The head man wanted the lads flogged, but I forbade it. They’re just boys! The eldest couldn’t be more than fourteen.’

  Isidro winced at that. Ardamon hadn’t been there, from the way she told it. Just as well, he wouldn’t have taken kindly to having her speak against his orders. ‘That’d sting more than any lash. If they took the shot without being sure of their target, they deserve the whipping.’ The coffee was helping already and seemed to have eased the pounding in his head and the churning in his gut. Perhaps there was some use for the stuff after all. ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘Where’s Ardamon?’

  ‘Just outside. I’ll send him in.’

  She left, taking her broken arrow with her, and a moment later Ardamon came through the doors, scowling.

  ‘Trouble?’ Isidro asked him.

  ‘Not truly, but it does look like we’ve got some rats within our walls. I’ve arranged a couple of hounds for the royal quarters, to guard the doors at night. We’ll have your checkpoints up by this evening. Alameda’s sworn she’ll keep the mages working until they’re all in place, and I’ve got workmen walling off the unused parts of the palace. There’re signs of activity in the cellars, and beyond the inhabited regions of the palace — nothing concrete, but enough to make me suspicious. Isidro, I want to know right away if you get one of your cursed hunches, alright?’

  Isidro nodded. ‘I’ll send word.’

  ‘Tell me, is it truly a good idea having that mad dog in our walls?’

  Isidro leant back with a sigh. ‘Hard to say. It’s better to have him where we can keep an eye on him, and when the Akharians do attack, he might prove useful. Is there anything else, Ardo?’

  Ardamon grimaced. ‘Yes, unfortunately. Hespero and his men are gone. They took their chance to slip away. It seems some idiots on the gate decided to abandon their post to come up here and gawk. I’ve ordered the deserters flogged. We can’t tolerate any man shirking his duty, not with this threat hanging over our heads.’