by Kat Ross
Darius pulled on his boots. “You seem in good spirits this morning.”
“Compared to the bawling creature I was yesterday?” She said it lightly, but he detected a brittle edge. “I’ve had time to adjust. I won’t pretend I’m used to it, but I have no regrets. Please don’t think that.”
Darius cast her a surreptitious glance as he buckled his boots on. He should have expected the bonding would be hard on her. He wasn’t the same and such things couldn’t be concealed, not without a great deal of effort. When they’d been bonded before, Nazafareen learned to build walls against him, but that seemed to be another thing she’d forgotten. Now he could read her plainly. To his relief, she seemed genuinely happy, though it was tempered with concern—for him.
“I know you don’t want to speak about what happened at the temple,” she said evenly. “But can you at least tell me how long you were there?”
“I’m not sure. But Selene was a sliver when I arrived and full when I escaped.”
She let out a slow breath. He felt a surge of murderous rage roll through her.
“Why are humans so hateful?” she burst out.
“They’re not all.”
“Not all,” she snapped. “But the Pythia…. I will see her dead, I swear it.” She paused. “A Valkirin attacked me, just before we escaped through the fountain. I saw him through a window. I assumed they’d tracked me to Delphi, but do you think it could have been a captive daēva?”
“Very likely. I’m not sure how many she holds, but the priestess who took me boasted of breaking five others.”
“That’s the word she used? Breaking?” She stared at him. “What does it mean?”
Dark memories bubbled up. Darius stuffed them down.
“The collar can be used to cause pain,” he said shortly.
Nazafareen collapsed on the edge of the bed, looking ill. “Did they do that to you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said gently. “It’s over now. But we must return to Nocturne straightaway and tell Victor and Tethys. They’ll send a hundred daēvas to Delphi and the Oracle will find she's made a very bad mistake.”
Nazafareen nodded thoughtfully. He’d seen that expression before when they used to ride out hunting Druj on the Bactrian border. One, an undead wight, had killed her sister Ashraf years before and Nazafareen harbored a special hatred for them. On patrol, with her qarha wound tight around her face, she was death made flesh.
Suddenly Darius found himself bowled over backwards as Nazafareen flung herself into his arms. She kissed him soundly on the mouth. He cupped her face and kissed her more slowly, feeling every delicious sensation through the bond, until she pulled back and gave him a searching look.
"I missed you," she said.
His throat tightened. There was something else. He sensed it. "What is it, Nazafareen?"
She gently separated them and he sighed with regret.
“Have you ever heard of the Avas Vatras?”
Darius knew avas meant child of. Avas Danai translated as children of the forest. Val meant mountain, Mar sea, and so on. But he had never heard the word Vatra.
He frowned. “No.”
“I’ve learned other things since we parted, Darius.”
He listened in silence as Nazafareen related the story of the war among the daēvas, the Kiln and the Gale, and how the power came to be passed down through the generations, though so much time had gone by that no one knew who they were anymore, possibly not even the talismans themselves. It all seemed fantastic—except for the fact that he had heard hints of it before.
“Another daēva spoke of these talismans to me,” Darius said slowly. “Her name was Maria of House Suchy.”
“Was?”
“She died,” he said shortly.
Nazafareen gave him a long, considering look. He spoke before she could ask any more questions. “She said the Pythia sought the talismans. I didn’t take her seriously at the time. She was…not well. I thought she imagined it all.”
“It’s true enough. And the Maenads are tasked with their protection.” She paused. “You must meet Kallisto and tell her what you know, Darius. She can be trusted. Her husband is Herodotus, who is very sweet and learned. He knows about the Vatras.” She scowled. “The Pythia tried to burn him in the brazen bull.”
Darius thought back to the day of the executions. The excited murmuring of the crowd. He’d glimpsed a man in a blood-red cloak, and another, gaunt and bearded, who was kneeling and flanked by soldiers.
“I saw him through the window. But he wasn’t the one you saved from the bull.”
“That was Javid. The wind ship captain. He’s Persian.”
“And where is he now?” Darius asked in a neutral tone.
Nazafareen grinned. “He returned to the Merchants’ Guild. But he is…not what you think.” She seized his hand. “I’ll tell you everything, but first you must meet Kallisto.”
Darius splashed water on his face and followed Nazafareen downstairs. The hour was early yet and the common room was empty except for a group of four sleepy-looking young women who slumped at a table near the kitchens. The tallest one looked at Nazafareen, then at him, then back at Nazafareen, and seemed to wake up a bit. She elbowed her friends, who glanced at him blearily.
“I found Darius,” Nazafareen declared. “Or he found me. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Darius, I want you to meet Rhea, Cyrene, Charis and Megaera.”
They greeted him with waves and yawns.
“Where’s Kallisto?” she asked.
Darius hadn’t quite caught who was who, but a shapely one with almond-shaped eyes pointed to a door. “Breakfast,” she said, and rested her head on the table again as though just uttering the single word had exhausted her.
They entered a private dining room and found an older woman with a complex mound of braids piled atop her head, who was busy spreading goat’s cheese on a piece of bread. Next to her sat a man in his middle years with a bright, inquisitive gaze despite the fact that he had clearly been ill-used. One cheek bore fading bruises and his collarbone jutted from a painfully thin torso.
“Ah,” the woman said, eyeing Darius up and down. “Your young man.”
Nazafareen blushed and made introductions all around. Darius raised an eyebrow, secretly pleased she had mentioned him.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he said with a courtly bow.
“Indeed it is,” Kallisto replied. “Now sit down and eat something before you fall over.”
Darius took a seat opposite her, with Nazafareen to his right. Although far younger, Kallisto reminded him of his grandmother Tethys. A strong woman, and one accustomed to being obeyed without question.
Herodotus gave them both a beaming smile. “I’ve always wanted to meet a daēva from the Danai clan,” he said warmly. “I have seen examples of your craftsmanship and it is truly the finest of all the Houses.”
Darius inclined his head. “My own work is crude, but I will convey your compliments.”
“He’s such a liar,” Nazafareen said, making a grab across the table for the goat’s cheese. “He makes the most wonderful things. Like an astrolabe that shows all the moons.”
“You have an interest in astronomy?” Herodotus asked, pouring out cups of tea.
“Very much. In the world I come from, there’s only one moon. But I studied under a magus and learned much about the constellations.” Darius accepted the cup with a smile. “Many are the same, though not all.”
Herodotus fairly quivered with excitement. “You’ve seen charts? And they’re similar?” He slapped his thigh. “You see, Nabu-bal-idinna was right about many things. Mirror worlds! I wonder if—”
“Dearest husband,” Kallisto interrupted gently. “We leave within the hour,” she glanced toward the common room with a flat expression, “even if I have to tie those girls to their saddles. So perhaps we should ask Nazafareen and Darius what their plans are before the conversation wanders too far afield?”
“Of course,
” Herodotus murmured. He looked at Darius and burst out, “Though I do hope you are coming. I have so many questions!”
Nazafareen hesitated. He sensed regret and ambivalence. Of course, she had made other plans before he arrived. For a moment, Darius feared Nazafareen would say she wanted to go with them. But then she shook her head.
“I wish we could. But Darius must warn his people that the Pythia is holding daēvas at the temple and I won’t let him go alone.”
“What?” Herodotus demanded. The glint of good humor faded from his eyes and he suddenly seemed stern and imposing.
“It’s true,” Darius said. “I was imprisoned myself for a time. I’m not sure what she’s using them for, but she’s discovered a way to control elemental power.”
“That woman is dragging Delphi straight to Hades,” the scholar snapped. “I knew she was mercenary, but this is too much! It’s an outrage.” His brow furrowed. “I wonder what she’s after. It seems a terrible risk and I think she is a calculating creature. She manages the Archons and Polemarch like wayward children. No, there is a logic to her madness. And I’d wager it’s related to the Avas Vatras.”
Darius tried to remember those last moments with Maria. He’d hardly paid attention to her words except to worry she was talking too loud, and now he sorely regretted it.
Her and the one in the red cloak. Always whispering, whispering together.
Something had come just after. A name….
“One of the daēvas I met said the Pythia is seeking the three talismans as well. To use them—or kill them. She didn’t know which, but she heard the Oracle talking about it.”
Kallisto exchanged a look with Herodotus. “That is dire news indeed,” she said. “But it explains a great deal. She’s been obsessed with the Vatra Wars since she was first raised to the tripod. Perhaps she has foretold their return.”
They were all quiet for a moment.
Darius rubbed his forehead. “I must confess, I still have trouble fathoming it. Daēvas who worked fire? It’s hard to conceive of such a thing.”
“You have only to visit the Rock of Ariamazes to view the evidence with your own eyes,” Kallisto replied. “It was scorched black in the war. The stains have faded, but they are still visible for those who know what to look for.”
“The mortal histories are quite voluminous,” Herodotus added. “I’ve read many first- and second-hand accounts.” He shrugged. “But much time has passed. The Great Forest renewed itself. The Valkirins rebuilt, deeper into the mountains and with stone. The Marakai fled to their Isles and now they make land only to trade and return to the sea. We humans remember, but perhaps your people wished to forget such tragic events ever happened.”
Darius thought of the promise he made to Maria. He’d clutched the useless ring of keys in his hand, still hopeful he could get them both to freedom.
Oldest of the old.
She knows about the talismans. You must help her.
Swear it!
Maria’s eyes had blazed with the unnerving clarity of one who knows her own death is seconds away. Darius didn’t give oaths lightly, but he’d been unable to refuse her.
The name suddenly came to him, exotic and full of sharp edges.
“Sakhet-ra-katme. Maria believed she knew something, and that she needed help.” He paused. “She is a Marakai.”
“Sakhet-ra-katme is who we seek,” Kallisto replied without apparent surprise. “She is a friend, of sorts. We plan to take a ship from Susa. I’ve been to her home once before, though it is not easy to find, nor always in the same place.”
Darius drew a deep breath. He’d sworn it to Maria and now he was given the chance to fulfill that promise. But he couldn’t simply hare off when his cousins were shackled by the Oracle of Delphi….
A commotion in the common room made their heads turn. Darius exchanged a quick glance with Nazafareen. He opened himself to the Nexus and prepared to unleash a savage storm of power.
“The Shields of Apollo pursued me,” he said quickly. “I didn’t think they tracked me beyond the city walls, but it’s possible. They have some kind of crude magic. It took my sight and hearing.”
“Spell dust,” Nazafareen said grimly, pushing back from the table. “They won’t take you again, Darius, I swear it. The Maenads might be paying the price for their carousing last night, but they can still handle a few soldiers. And I’m happy to take the leftovers.”
Darius’s heart pounded as she crept to the door and cracked it. She turned back with a startled expression.
“Not Shields of Apollo,” she hissed. “Something even worse.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Your mother.”
As soon as she said it, Delilah must have caught sight of her, for Nazafareen stepped back hastily and the door swung wide. Delilah strode into the small room and froze. She stared at him for a long moment, her face tense and pale. Then her chest hitched as she drew a sharp, almost shuddering breath. Darius had seen her angry and he had seen her jealous, but never had he seen such raw vulnerability. It was there and gone in an instant.
“I found you,” she said, her face perfectly composed again.
The words were almost identical to the ones he had spoken to Nazafareen. Darius’s heart hardened.
“So you have,” he replied coolly.
“The wind pilot was reluctant to tell me where Nazafareen was staying, but I convinced him otherwise.” She gave a tentative smile and took a step forward. “Darius. I had nearly given up hope. The pilot said he hadn’t seen you, only her.”
Perhaps Darius imagined the slight tinge of dislike in the word her. Or perhaps he hadn’t. Either way, he wasn’t ready to forgive Delilah’s betrayal.
“I just arrived,” he said curtly.
Her smiled faded as she looked around the room. Herodotus had pulled a scroll from his pocket and examined it with intense interest. Kallisto’s staff sat across her knees—Darius felt certain it had been leaning against the wall a moment before—but she seemed engrossed in determining whether there was any tea left in the pot.
“May we speak privately?” Delilah asked softly.
Darius picked up his own cup and took a placid sip. “I have nothing to hide from Nazafareen, nor her friends.”
His mother’s sapphire eyes narrowed like a cat. She opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of whatever she’d been about to say and closed it again.
Nazafareen had elected to remain by the door. She watched them spar with a neutral expression, though Darius sensed she found it entertaining. He himself was not amused, but he wouldn’t allow his mother to drive him over the edge.
“We have things to tell you as well,” he said reluctantly.
His mother’s voice climbed up a notch. “Well, you will hear me out first. I have traveled nearly three hundred leagues on foot, part of it through the sawtooth daggers of ice the Valkirins call mountains, to warn you that chimera have been set on your trail. You may have managed to elude them thus far, but they’re elemental constructs that are immune to both iron and magic. And they won’t stop until you’re both dead.”
Darius frowned. “Chimera? I didn’t know what they were, but I did encounter the creatures you speak of. They caught me in the Umbra.” He thought of that miserable week without food, water or shade. “They cornered me atop a pillar of rock. Eventually, I smashed a hole through the earth to an underground river. It took me to Delphi.”
Delilah’s tensed, one hand dropping to her belt knife. “You were lucky. Very lucky. But they could catch up with you again at any moment. We must—”
“Actually,” Nazafareen interrupted, “I unmade them.”
Delilah’s chin jerked around. “You what?”
“I broke the spell that held them together.” She shuddered. “And a nasty piece of work it was.”
His mother arched an eyebrow. “Well, that’s a bit of good news.” She looked at Darius. “Your father has taken Val Moraine. Eirik Kafsnjór, the one who sent t
he chimera, is dead.”
“And Culach?” Nazafareen asked. “The man with the scar?”
“You hurt him badly. He’s blind. Victor spared him but he’s in one of the cells.”
Nazafareen seemed uncomfortable. Darius didn’t sense guilt from her, not exactly, but something akin to it. “I wasn’t trying to kill him,” she said. “But there was…an intelligence inside him. Something old. I think it lurked at the gate, just before he stepped through. A shadow, but with substance.”
Delilah gave her a hard look. “A wight?”
Nazafareen tried to remember what Darius had told her about the Empire. “You mean spirits that take possession of a human body? I don’t know. Perhaps. But his eyes weren’t dead black. I saw flames in them.”
“You were very ill yourself at the time, Nazafareen,” Darius pointed out gently.
She cast him a flat look. “I didn’t imagine it.” She turned to Delilah. “You say he’s blind?”
Delilah nodded. “But he didn’t seem odd to me. Just arrogant.”
“What will Victor do with him?”
“I don’t know, but the holdfast that sought vengeance against you is no more.” Delilah stuck her hands on her hips and surveyed Kallisto and Herodotus. “Since we speak of personal matters, will you at least extend the courtesy of introducing me to your friends?”
Kallisto gave her a bland smile. “I am a follower of Dionysius and this is my husband, Herodotus.” She set her teacup down. “Perhaps it’s better if we waited outside—”
“No.” Darius flung out a hand. Kallisto sighed and sank back into her chair. “We have no secrets here.”
Delilah heaved a long-suffering sigh. She eyed the chair next to Darius but remained standing when he failed to invite her to sit.
“You shouldn’t be angry with her,” Nazafareen said, disapproval in her voice. “I begged her not to stop me. She was kind and I owe her a debt. You were unconscious anyway. It’s not like anyone lied.”
Darius didn’t reply to this. He didn’t look forward to admitting he’d been captured, but it occurred to him that Delilah’s arrival could be turned to their advantage.