“I won’t forget.”
“Maybe not. But you’ll be back anyways. She’s too beautiful to abandon forever.”
I blinked as the view and the ferryman faded. I couldn’t feel the warm breeze on my face anymore. The memory had ended and I was back on the ship with Malaq. “It was beautiful,” I said.
“Kabri? Yes, it was,” Malaq nodded. “Do you remember what happened there?”
“War,” I said in disgust. “I was a soldier. I fought on a great battlefield.” Seeing it in my mind, I hissed. “Damn. Are all Langorians so big?”
Malaq smiled slightly. “That was a long time ago. That’s where you found an artifact, a weapon called the Crown of Stones.”
“It’s not a weapon.”
Malaq’s head cocked. “It isn’t?”
I shrugged. “I must have heard that somewhere.”
“Weapon or not, you used it as such. And it took Langor a long time to come back from your spell. But come back they did, with a vengeance.”
“They? You talk like you aren’t one of them.”
“I bear Langorian blood. My brother, Draken, is High King over all the lands of Mirra’kelan. But we have…differing views.”
“Then you aren’t aligned?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Not really. Do you fight with him, or against him?”
“Actually, I tried to stop the two of you from fighting. It was for your own good. You had something Draken wanted. He had something of yours. I think you knew bartering with him wouldn’t work, that it was a trap. But you went anyway.”
“Was I always so stupid?”
“You had your moments.” Malaq’s stare sobered. “I know it took a while, but I did all I could to get you out. I swear.”
“You put yourself at risk is what you did,” Krillos jumped in. “And if the King ever finds out—”
“Leave it, Captain,” Malaq barked. “Making Ian feel guilty won’t help.”
“Guilt is what he’s comfortable with,” Krillos argued. “It’s familiar— more familiar than you. I’m sorry, Prince. But friendship and compassion aren’t going to mean shit to him right now.”
“You’re wrong,” I said. “They mean everything.” I lowered the fork and took my hands off Krillos.
Shoving me away, Krillos recovered his sword and went to Malaq. “We need to run silent, Prince. Unnecessary commotion like this will draw attention we can’t afford.”
“I’m well aware, Captain,” Malaq replied.
Krillos blew out an aggravated breath. “Then may I speak plainly?”
“Now you ask for permission?” Malaq raised a brow. “Go on.”
“Do something with him.” Krillos’ level gaze came back to me. “It’s nothing personal, Troy. But the Prince is my responsibility. If harboring you jeopardizes him in any way, I’ll kill you myself and save Draken the trouble.”
With a nod to Malaq, Krillos left. He slammed the door behind him and I hated the silence that followed. It crawled on me and made the room seem close and the air thin. It made my mind desperate to patch together the random thoughts and images, to grab hold of some shred of who I was. But there was no cohesion, no structure.
I jumped as Malaq moved. Pretending not to notice, he skirted around me to the desk and started opening drawers. Pulling out a leather-wrapped jug and two mugs, he filled one and held it out. “Join me?”
I stared at the drink. As the boat rocked, wine sloshed over the rim. Dripping dark and red, it looked a little too much like blood as it trickled over his fingers. “No thanks.” I lifted my eyes. “Krillos said you were running silent. Who are you hiding from?”
“Basically, anyone who isn’t on this ship.” Malaq put the other mug and the bottle back in the drawer. “Many in the realms are loyal to Draken. Some are actually loyal by choice. He has a strong ally to the east in Kael, a King named Guidon Roarke. He’s a perverse, unpleasant little bootlicker, but easy enough to fool. My brother has support from Arulla as well. Their government has a civil war on their hands, so for now their assistance is limited. Jem Reth is the real problem. He’s a persuasive man, and by all respects, downright despicable.” Malaq paused. “He’s also your father.”
“My father collaborates with the man who put me in prison?”
“Your father helped put you in prison.”
“He’s a magic user, like me?”
“Jem is Shinree. But he’s not like you. He’s a butcher. An animal. He has no regard for life—he took two years of yours. And he would have taken a hell of a lot more if we hadn’t gotten you out.”
An image ran through my mind; a web of intersecting, rocky passageways and shafts. “Tunnels,” I said. “It was dark. Dusty. The walls sparkled.”
“You’re remembering the mines. Go on.”
“We worked in shifts. The guards would sit in the corner playing dice.” The scene changed to a sparse, dimly-lit room. Confused, I glance at him. “There were buildings underground?”
Malaq shook his head. “The prison sits up top, on a bluff above the mine. You were held there a while before you were sent to work below. Tell me more.”
“There was a man. No,” closing my eyes, I thought harder, “two men. They came separately but asked the same questions. They asked every day. They asked over and over. They wouldn’t stop. They just kept asking,” I said, my words getting louder and faster as their overlapping voices buzzed in my head. “I didn’t know the answer. I didn’t understand what they wanted. I said that. I told them. But they wouldn’t listen. They wouldn’t fucking listen. They said I lied. They tried to force me to tell them the truth, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know the truth, and…” I grimaced in anger. “They cut me.” My eyes shot open. I looked at Malaq. “Draken was one of them.”
“Yes,” Malaq said grimly, “he was.”
“Why? Why would he do that to me? What did he want? I—” suddenly my air was gone; stolen by a rope around my neck. The fibers cut in as it tightened. Pressure built in my chest. Wheezing, I reached up to free myself, but I couldn’t find the rope.
It wasn’t there.
I was on my way to the floor when Malaq caught me.
“This is my fault,” he said, helping me up. “You had the chance to kill Draken and I begged you not to. I thought my way would save lives. I suppose, Neela did too.”
Neela…
Malaq deposited me in a chair. He hovered a moment. “I’m sorry, Ian.”
His apology sounded heartfelt. But I was still thinking about her. “Neela and I were lovers. But she’s dead now, isn’t she? I can hear her screams.”
“She’s not dead. And you weren’t lovers.” Backing up, Malaq sat down on the edge of the desk. Firm and serious, like an order, he said, “Neela was Rella’s Queen. Now, she is Draken’s wife. Most of the memories you have of her are false; the good and the bad. Your father conjured them with a spell. He used your dreams of her as a cruel, but effective, way of manipulating you.”
“You’re lying. Neela loved me.”
“Neela deceived you.”
“I remember…”
“Dreams, Ian. They were dreams.”
My gaze wandered. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You have to. It may not feel like it, but what you’re going through now is a sign of improvement. I know it’s slow, but it is steady. The return of your magic, however, will be more abrupt, which is why it’s safer if you remain in our custody.”
“I can take care of myself,” I blustered.
“Perhaps. But if you run, not only do you risk exposing us, when your magic comes back there could be unintended casualties.” Annoyingly matter-of-fact, he said, “Your recovery won’t be easy, Ian. I’m not arguing that. But you’re strong, resilient, and irritatingly pigheaded. If you set your mind to it, you’ll be fine.”
“Set my mind to it? My mind is a fucking disaster. Nothing makes sense. Nothing feels right. This place, these clothes,” I tugged at them, “ME.�
� Running both hands through my hair, I leaned forward and clasped my fingers together. I was sweating and shivering at the same time. But if I was cold, or hot, I wouldn’t know. There was just the jumping. Like every nerve I owned was twitching at the same time. It was a fluttery, unsettled sensation. An agitation that was most acute deep in the center of me. From there it spread, flitting and skipping about faster and faster.
Recognizing it makes it worse, I realized, as my stomach began to twist. It sunk then, like a great cavern had opened up inside me. Pain tunneled through, sending a pounding into my head and bile into my throat. The cavern widened, tearing into my gut, burrowing until I was suddenly incredibly hungry. I was famished. Starving, I thought, as the nausea worsened and the pain curled in tighter. Trembling and weak, my body was crying out to be fed, screaming for nourishment.
It needed…
Something.
I couldn’t name it. But it didn’t have a damn thing to do with food.
The sensations ebbed and I sat up. “I’m a goddamn mess, Malaq. You should have left me where I was.”
Malaq’s noble face held no expression as he stroked his goatee and nodded. I knew he wasn’t actually agreeing with me. The gesture was more of a private affirmation, or grim acceptance. As if he were having trouble coming to grips with my reaction. And if he stared long enough, he could will me to be normal.
Tossing his drink back in one long, eager swallow, Malaq slammed his mug down and stood up. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk again later.”
“I’d rather talk now. I’ve been asleep for two years.”
“I’m sure it seems that way. But you still need rest. The last few weeks have taken a toll. And it isn’t over. So whatever you need…”
I stared down at my ill-fitting trousers and shirt, at the greasy, tangled hair hanging far past my shoulders, and I suddenly felt dirty everywhere. “A bath,” I said, squinting at my hands. They looked stained in the dim light. “It feels like forever since I was clean.”
“You got it, my friend. I’ll have a cask brought into the hold. But,” Malaq paused. “Ian, there are things on you that water won’t wash away. You know that, don’t you?”
I dropped my hands and stood up. “I do now.”
FOUR
Malaq shifted in his chair. It was at least the fourth time. Moving again, he refilled his cup for the third time. Without doubt the man had sipped and fidgeted more than he’d spoken in the last half hour as he sat behind Krillos’ desk, offering up scraps of my past like my head might explode if he filled it too quickly.
Hell, I thought, maybe it would.
Even after washing, changing, braiding my hair, and donning clothes that actually fit, when I looked at my own reflection I still didn’t recognize the man staring back at me. Malaq didn’t either. At my first step into the cabin he’d done an obvious double-take. Followed by a well-practiced brush off when I called him on it. It felt like there was far less he was telling me, and more he wasn’t.
“This is taking too long,” I said.
“It will take as long as it needs to,” Malaq replied.
“I love how that rolls off your tongue.”
“Actually, it doesn’t. I would like very much to have my friend back.”
“What if he isn’t coming back? Have you thought of that? I sure have.”
“You had a life before the Kayn’l. It will return. You need to be patient.”
“Patient? How am I supposed to do that when I couldn’t taste the meal I just ate? Do I even like lamb and apples? Who knows? Do I like my bathwater steaming or warm? Or doesn’t it matter since I couldn’t feel a goddamn thing?” I threw an agitated hand at my coarse tunic. “Did I used to dress like this? I don’t have a fucking clue.”
“Well.” Malaq cleared his throat. “The braid is new.”
“Yeah? Something tells me I didn’t wear a lot of gray and red either.”
“All right.” Sighing, he rubbed his eyes. “Let’s try something else. When you look at me, what comes to mind?”
“A couple of hours ago I would have said entitled. Shady, even.”
“Shady?” Malaq gave a perturbed shake of his head.
“Now…” I made an effort to shelve my attitude. “I’m thinking about trusting you. That’s what my gut says. But I can’t remember why I should.”
“What about Draken? Any gut feelings on him?”
I winced as the entire room suddenly flared bright. It went dark again as the black-haired men leaned over me, throwing everything into shadow.
“Hello again,” he said. “Remember me?” Looking down his sharp nose, Draken flashed a perturbed frown. “Of course not. Just as you have no idea how goddamn tedious this has become.” A blade in his hand, he stabbed it in my shoulder. “What did you do to the Crown of Stones? Where is its magic?” His gloved knuckles struck my jaw. I heard something crack. Blood welled in my mouth but the pain was distant. “You took the crown’s power. Where is it? Tell me now, Troy, because your father is becoming a useless pain in the ass without it.”
With an angry grunt I shook off the memory. “Thinking about Draken makes me want to put my fist through the hull.”
“I’d rather you not,” Malaq advised politely.
“I keep seeing this woman. Her eyes are white. Her hair is…” I smiled, “like frozen rain.” The expression fell as I got that urgent feeling again to flee. The impulse was brief. But for a moment, I thought ignoring it might burst me into flames. “There’s someone else. Someone important.” I ran a frustrated hand over my face. “I don’t know.”
“You will. Let’s talk about magic. Different lines of Shinree cast different types of spells. Do you know what line you are? What types of spells you own?”
“My father was a soldier. I want to say I inherited his magic. But then I’d only be capable of wielding battle spells. And I can do more. I feel it.”
“Good. Trust your instincts.”
“Since you aren’t going to tell me?”
“It’s better if I don’t.”
“Did your shiftiness bother me before, or is my intolerance a new thing?”
Ever so slightly, the lines around Malaq’s eyes tightened. “Not two minutes ago you said you trusted me.”
“I said I was thinking about it.”
“For god’s sake…”
“You share blood with the man who tortured me for two years, Malaq.”
“You think I’m in league with him? That this is all some sort of ruse?”
“If it is, how would I know?”
“Prove it then. Prove to me that I’m like him. Or, prove to yourself I’m not.” Malaq crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Who am I?”
I felt like we’d done this before. Still, I closed my eyes and thought about Malaq and what he’d revealed so far. I thought about the tavern where he said I saved his life, and I tried to pull some sliver of what happened there out of my head.
Remarkably, it worked. “Your mother was kidnapped by Draken’s father. She died the night she escaped, giving birth to you in the mountains of Langor.”
“I told you that story the night we met.”
I opened my eyes. “I didn’t believe you. I’m sorry.”
Malaq raised a brow. “You might trust me and you’re sorry…both in one day?”
“Ouch,” I winced. “Was I that much of an ass?”
“As I said, you had your moments.”
“Good thing I can’t remember them.” He grinned wider so I pushed my luck. “Any chance you can tell me where we are and where we’re headed?”
“Our heading is due east across the Northern Sea towards the realm of Kael. But we’ll drop land before that. I don’t want you getting so close to King Guidon’s reach.”
“Why? What did I do to him?”
“Personally?” Malaq shrugged. “I have no idea. But for a number of years you hunted bounties for his father. The old man favored you publically. Guidon’s jealousy and hatred for y
ou was just as public.”
“He hates me because I’m a witch?”
“That is a term most use.” Tactfully, Malaq added, “It’s not a compliment.”
“Come on,” I said. “This isn’t necessary.”
Prince Guidon Roarke threw off his cloak. It barely touched the grass before a servant bent down and picked it up. “Oh, it’s necessary,” Guidon said, rolling up his sleeves. “You insulted me. I demand satisfaction.”
“It wasn’t an insult, Prince. It was the truth.”
“You called me a fop!”
I tried not to laugh. So did the people crowding around us. “Yes, but I’m not interested in fighting you over it.”
“Why?” Guidon’s fleshy lips curled in a sneer. “Afraid?”
I smiled. “I work for your father, Prince. I have too much respect for him to beat the shit out of you.”
“My father shouldn’t expect anything less from a filthy witch.” Guidon spat on the ground in front of me. “Besides… he’s an old, doddering fool. He has no idea half the things I do in this city.”
I looked past Guidon to where King Sarin stood at the edge of the crowd. “Are you sure about that?”
“So where are we going then?” I said.
“Some place safe.”
I chuckled under my breath. “I like you, Malaq. But you’re slippery as a goddamn eel. That I don’t like. And while we’re at it, I don’t much like your crew. Or the snakes on their faces.”
“I have a snake on my face. Yet,” he smiled, “you like me.”
I had to struggle not to hit him. “Are they in service to Draken? Are you?”
“When I have to be. Now,” he said with purpose, “I’m afraid I have to cut this short. I’m expected elsewhere. But you’re welcome to take your questions to Krillos.”
“The man whose hand I cut off? I don’t see that going well.”
“You two have more in common than you think. Krillos spent a good part of his life locked up in Darkhorne, the dungeon beneath my brother’s keep.”
“So you rescued him too? Is that what you do? Sail around on your ship, pissing off your brother by freeing his favorite inmates behind his back?”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Scars Page 4