His movements led me to think of a young man, or an older boy who was still growing into his body. I tried to get a glimpse of his face, to better measure his age and threat level, but his hat was pulled down low and tight, pushing bunches of tawny hair out from under the edges to hide his features
Coming closer than I wanted, he undid the latch on one of the stalls and slipped inside. There were horse noises, then a voice, small and quiet. Listening close, I heard munching and the faint, distinct, rhythm of bristles moving over a horse’s body.
I thought about getting up and sneaking out. The stall door was closed. I could make it past undetected. But to where? Not knowing my current location limited my options. Confronting the stable boy would get me answers. But if he called for help, things could spiral in the wrong direction real fast. Waiting him out wasn’t thrilling me either, though. The tickling, jabbing straw was getting unpleasant, and my legs had long since gone stiff. If he planned on tending all the horses so long, I was going to grow old before he finished.
I didn’t get what was taking so long. Why would he begin his daily duties in the middle of the barn, instead of starting at one end and working down?
Unless, I thought, that particular horse is special to him.
Finally, I heard the scraping of the stool as it moved. The stall door opened, and the stable boy came out. Taking off his coat, he flung it over the open door and rolled up his sleeves. His arms were youthful. They were on the slender side, but showed noticeable muscle tone, as if he engaged in a daily regimen of hard work or training.
He disappeared back inside the stall and exited again with the horse in tow. She was a beautiful mare, tall and strong. Her coat was a sleek, walnut brown.
As he led her toward the exit, at first, she seemed obedient. Then, as if getting a whiff of something, her head snapped up. She whipped it furiously to the side. Her body tried to follow, and the stable boy tugged on the ropes.
He let out a yelp of surprise when she didn’t listen.
The mare was insistent on turning around. As if she sensed something behind her.
As if she sensed me.
I pushed some of the straw out of the way. I looked at the animal more closely. There were tufts of white around her front ankles and a splash on her neck.
No…
It can’t be. It’s not possible.
Fighting him, the mare reared up. She yanked the rope right out of the boy’s hand and veered in my direction. Her nostrils opened and closed. She made a wary sound.
Her head tossed.
I knew the gesture well.
I sat up and whistled. The mare’s ears twitched. I stood, making my presence known, and she trotted back down the aisle. She halted about two feet away and eyed me curiously. I put my hand out to let her sniff it. “Sorry, girl,” I laughed, as she nuzzled my palm, looking for something to eat. “No apples. Soon, though. I promise.” Snorting in reply, she bumped me with her nose. “Kya.” I put my arm around her warm neck. My throat tightened as she snuggled against me. “I missed you too.”
Hearing footsteps, I composed myself. I couldn’t imagine how I looked, covered in gods knows what, half dressed, and nearly crying over the sight of a horse. I had a lot of explaining to do.
Then, I didn’t.
He came closer, took off his hat, and I wasn’t looking at some unknown, stable boy. It was looking at a scrawny, former Kaelish page with a mess of untidy curls that had somehow grown into a sturdy young man since I’d last seen him.
“Liel?” I shook my head. “How…?”
Stopping short, he squinted at me. A hefty amount of uncertainty settled on the boy’s face, like he didn’t quite recognize me. “Ian? Gods, is that you?”
“It’s me.” I stepped toward him. His blue eyes widened—and not in a good way. “Where am I?”
“You, um…” Liel took a single, nervous step back. “You’re in Kabri.”
“Kabri?” Kya nudged me. I put an unconscious hand on her. “I was in Kael. How did I get here?”
Twisting his hat in his hands, Liel glanced at the door. I wasn’t sure why, but I was making him uncomfortable. I tried to put him at ease. “Your voice got deep. You stretched out. Found yourself some muscle. You look good, kid.”
I smiled, but he didn’t return it. I gestured at Kya. “How did you find her?”
Liel glanced at the door again. “A trader brought her over on the ferry. She wandered into his village. He said she broke a few bones before he got a rope on her.”
I patted Kya’s neck. “That’s my girl.”
“She was bound for auction when I saw her in the market. Prince Malaq gave me the money to buy her. I’ve been keeping her safe for you.”
“You’ve done a great job. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“It was my honor to look after Kya for you. She’s good company.”
“Yes, she is.” I looked him over again. I wanted to say more, to ask how he’d been. Dressed like a farmer, Liel wasn’t bowing or greeting me with a title I didn’t deserve. It made me think he’d moved on from being a page. There was one question, though, that I was burning to ask more than any other: why wasn’t he happy about our reunion? “It is good to see you, Liel. We have a lot to talk about. But I could use a bath and some clothes.”
His face, much leaner than I remembered, tensed. “What happened in Kael?”
“I know. I’m a mess.”
“But… what happened?”
I shrugged. “Guidon came home early.”
“Yes, I know that,” Liel nodded impatiently. “Lirih took Queen Jillyan to the camp. She said your magic had come back. That you planned to use it to escape Guidon. But…” Swallowing, his anxious eyes ran over me. “You didn’t have the Crown of Stones?”
“No, I didn’t have the crown. I don’t even know where it is.”
Liel backed up at my sharp tone. “I don’t understand.”
Neither did I. I especially didn’t understand the blatant horror in his eyes as he stared at me. “Liel, what’s going on? Why the hell are you looking at me like that?”
TWENTY ONE
Malaq climbed up the ladder to the gallery. He walked across the slender balcony, spread out his cloak behind him and sat down on the floor beside me. Mimicking my position, he dangled his long legs out through the bars of the railing. “Couldn’t you have found a place to sit that actually has chairs?” he said, wiping his hands together. “Or less dust?”
“I like it here,” I replied; staring down at the open room below. Completely unfurnished, the training room floor was divided into four, separate sparring areas. The empty weapons racks on the walls were old and full of cobwebs and stories. “Besides,” I said. “People are in the castle.”
“Yes, my friend. There usually are.”
My jaw hardening, I slid him a glance. “I’m trying to keep out of sight.”
“Which is why I put you here; in one of the unrepaired sections. I didn’t want you to scare anyone.”
“Thanks, Malaq. That’s real nice.”
“I was referring to your state of mind,” he said, with a barely perceptible frown. “Since you showed up here in Kabri yesterday, your mood has been as pitch black as those new scars on your face.”
I fell quiet. I didn’t appreciate his casual dismissal of my sudden transformation. Or the fact that, at his mention of it, I was itching to reach up and touch the fouled skin. Resisting the urge was difficult. Accepting the fact that magic had left its imprint on me once again—in strange, curved black lines that ran out of my hair, down the left side of my face, over my jawline and halfway down my neck—was nearly impossible.
“So,” he said, starting slow. “Do you have a theory?”
“As to why even normal stones are turning me into a freak, now? Not really.”
“There has to be a reason. Shinree don’t just change like this.”
I leaned my head forward against the railing. “My father did.”
“
I’ve told you before. You are not Jem Reth.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen me in Kael.”
“Personally, Ian,” he said, in a voice that told me a lecture was coming, “I’m not at all happy with the amount of attention you caused there. Toppling an entire castle and subsequently burning a quarter of the city was not the covert mission I had in mind. Our only concession is you left few survivors to identify you. But, the situation you were in was extreme. Kael’s court adamantly supported Draken as High King. And Guidon, the stupid bastard, should have known better than to provoke you. It’s like poking a stick at a wild dog and not even thinking it might bite. And don’t make a face,” he said, seeing me scowl. “It’s not an insult. It’s a comparison. With what he’d done to you, and after not casting for so long, it’s only reasonable you would lose control.”
“That’s not what happened.” I sat up. “I didn’t lose control. It wasn’t an accident. There was an amazing amount of magic in those columns, far more than there should have been. And I took it. I took all of it, and I unleashed it like a fucking storm. I wanted to kill, to destroy.” My hands gripped the bar of the railing; squeezing as I remembered. “You have no idea how incredible it felt.”
“You’re addicted to magic, Ian. Of course it felt incredible.”
Malaq was oversimplifying. He was also defending my actions too readily for my taste. But he was trying to help. “You came up here for a reason. So let’s hear it.”
“Liel asked me to give you something.”
I remembered his reaction in the barn. “I frightened him.”
“Worried, is a more accurate word.” Malaq shifted slightly. He reached inside his cloak. “Apparently, the man that sold him Kya wanted to offload more than your horse. He’d already sold most of what she carried, but he held onto these, thinking they might fetch a higher price in the city.” Pulling a small, cloth bundle from his pocket, Malaq sat it down on the gallery floor between us. He opened the layers. Resting inside them were a jade archer’s ring and a Shinree ceremonial dagger.
I picked up the ring. “This was Draken’s proof he’d captured Jarryd. He gave it to me that day, when I rode into his camp, thinking like a fool that I could actually negotiate with him.” I tried the ring on my fingers until it fit one. “And this is what did it.” Picking up the dagger, the stones in the handle warmed and pulsed at my touch. The steel gleamed like it was recently polished, showing off the etched runes that matched the ones on the palm of my hand. “This is what bound Jarryd and I together.”
“It’s a beautiful weapon.”
“My mother used to say the creation of the first Nor’taali pre-dates the empire. This one isn’t quite that old, but the binding ritual it was made for is ancient.”
“I’m glad you didn’t lose it then.” He smiled, but only for an instant. “Liel also asked me to mention something about a vow. He was rather cagey about it, actually.”
“What did he say?”
“That he’d been taking care of something else. And would you like it back.”
I put a hand to the hollow of my throat. The spot was bare now. But for ten years a small shard of obsidian, a piece of the Crown of Stones, had rested there, hanging from a leather cord around my neck. My father nearly drove me mad with a dream spell to get his hands on it. Draken and his lackeys nearly killed me for the same reason. “The shard,” I said, dropping my hand. “I left it with Liel.”
“The shard? You mean the shard? You left a piece of the crown with that boy?” Malaq’s annoyance turned to confusion as the particulars settled in. “You couldn’t have. Draken said you surrendered it to him.”
“I surrendered a shard. Before I left Kabri, Liel helped me craft a replica. However it might go down with Draken, I knew I couldn’t let him have the real thing.”
Malaq was nodding. “That was a good move.”
“It was the only one I made. The rest were thoughtless and stupid.”
“Stupid? No. Irrational? Unquestionably. But at least you were thinking clear enough to keep something dangerous out of enemy hands. I just can’t believe Liel had that black rock for over two years without telling me. Sneaky little bastard.”
“He can keep it.”
“He most definitely cannot. You’ll need stones now that you’re casting again.”
“Not that one. Most of my scarring from the crown came from obsidian. And now those columns,” I flung an indignant hand at the markings on my face, “look what they did to me. So far, the scars are only on the outside, but if I keep going like this, if I keep casting like I did in Kael…” I remembered it so clearly. How effortless it all was. How beautiful. “Something tells me my soul isn’t far behind.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Ask Guidon Roarke if I’m being ridiculous.”
Malaq’s sigh slid into a groan of surrender. “Okay, you win. Liel can hold onto the shard for now. Make a list, and I’ll have a set of stones gathered for you. You’ll need some decent weapons, too.” He looked me over in disapproval. “And some new clothes.”
“That would be great, thanks. Maybe something warm for Langor.”
Malaq sat quietly for a full minute. I knew what was coming. “I’m not sure going there is a good idea right now.”
Staring down at the archers ring, I turned it around my finger a few times. “You’re right. Jarryd’s only been locked up for two years in the most notorious prison in Langor. What’s the rush?”
Malaq’s jaw stiffened. “It is amazing how quickly you reverted to being an ass.”
“You know what I find amazing? That you thought I would get my memory back and still take your commands.”
“I’m not commanding you, damn it. I’m trying to keep you alive. Or are you that blind to how selfish this guilt-ridden, suicidal crusade to rescue Jarryd really is?”
“I’m getting him out of there, Malaq. I wouldn’t recommend you try to stop me.”
“Wouldn’t even think about it. I’ve seen where that road leads. But aside from Draken finding out too soon that you’re alive, and all we’ve worked for going straight to hell, you should come to terms with what you’ve been through before adding Jarryd’s ordeal to the mix—or yours to his. Swapping memories, after what you’ve both endured these last few years….that won’t do either of you any favors.”
It was a reasonable argument. But I wasn’t in the mood for reason. “I won’t leave Jarryd in that hole to rot.”
“You mean, like I did?” I didn’t disagree and a sound came out of him. I couldn’t tell if it was anger or surprise. “You think I abandoned him? That I turned my back? I thought about Jarryd every goddamn day, Ian. I thought about you. I also thought about how many more would suffer if I didn’t stay the course, ascend that throne, and put a stop to it.”
“I’m not disputing the importance of what you’re doing. Overthrowing Draken, healing the damage he’s done to the realms. They’re noble goals, Malaq. I truly hope you’ll see them done. But we both know if it was you in that cell, Jarryd would have tunneled into Darkhorne with his bare hands to get you out a long time ago.” I slid back from the railing and stood up.
“Wait.” Malaq took a resigned breath. “Take Krillos with you. You can’t go into Langor alone.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“So, we’re back to, ‘having a Langorian at your back in a fight doesn’t sit well’, are we?”
I had to grin. “Are you quoting me?”
“There were many fine lines spewing out of your mouth that night at the Muddy Fowl, my friend.”
“Wounded Owl,” I corrected him. “It’s the…” Knowing it pointless, I shook my head. “It’s just better if I go alone. I don’t need a watchdog.”
“I disagree. A watchdog is exactly what you need. Besides, Krillos knows Darkhorne. He knows Langor. And the quickest route out of Draken’s reach will be by boat. He knows those too.”
“Okay,” I said, and a tiny dent formed i
n Malaq’s forehead, like my quick surrender had startled him. “I suppose you have an idea for the way in?”
“Lirih can open a door for you. But with no solid connection to the other side, an anchor, so to speak, she’ll have to use a place from Krillos’ memory.”
“Jarryd and I are plenty connected. Can’t she use him as an anchor?”
“Lirih’s magic touches both sides of the door. If she tries to open one in the bowels of the keep, all that hornblende in the mountain walls will affect her spell. To be safe she’ll have to drop you out past the plateau. That will mean some traveling. Could be a couple of hours. A day, perhaps.”
“What about a door out? It’s a lot faster than a ship.”
“And far more noticeable. It’s bad enough we’ll be taking the risk once to get you in. I’d rather not do it twice. In fact, you need to promise me you’ll do this quickly and quietly. I’ve managed to spread word that a quake struck Kael, and not you. So if you don’t mind, I’d rather avoid any more grand displays of magic for a while.”
“A ship it is then.”
“You’re not heading to Langor half-cocked and unprepared, either. Go to camp first and work up a plan with Krillos. Make sure you have the proper supplies.”
I grimaced at the delay. “After I get back from Langor, I’d like to work with Lirih. Evidently, it was my clumsy, half-conscious attempt at making a door that got me out of Kael. I should learn to do it right before I end up some place worse than a hay pile.”
“You could ask Sienn. You’re going to have to talk to her sooner or later.”
“I did talk to her. That’s why I’m asking for Lirih.”
“Lirih is a solitary creature, Ian. She prefers to work alone.”
“I respect that. But she seems fine working with you. And Krillos. And Liel.”
“Don’t take it personal, my friend, just because one woman doesn’t fall at your feet.”
I made a face. “All I want is a little instruction.”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Scars Page 17