The Crown of Stones: Magic-Scars

by C. L. Schneider

  I tried not to get my back up at Malaq’s cold, factual description of Lirih’s conception. Instead, I turned my attention to my kinsmen. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “Neela gave me the keys to this place the day she left Kabri and I became Regent. At that time, they were all on Kayn’l. I had them weaned off. They were taught to cook and sew and given a simple education. We let them cast minor spells to stave off the cravings. I wanted them to learn how to take care of themselves.”

  “You wanted their magic,” I said, my temper stirring. “You were going to take them to the camp and add them to your resistance.”

  He squinted at me. “They would have been free there.”

  “Free to risk their lives for you.” Like Lirih.

  He stared a moment, as if deciding whether to argue, then went on. “I tried like hell to coax them out. But this was all they knew. They were afraid to leave. Lirih was the only one who wanted out. It was almost like she had a reason, a purpose.” Malaq moved back into the hall and opened the door to one of the rooms. “The first time I saw her she was sitting on that bed,” he gestured, “braiding another girl’s hair. I had no idea she was blind. She was so poised and graceful. So beautiful.”

  “And young,” I threw in.

  “She’s of age, Ian,” Malaq replied, not liking my insinuation. “If Lirih were Rellan, her family would have married her off years ago. But she’s Shinree.”

  “What the hell does that matter?”

  “Lirih has no one to speak for her. She has no family.”

  My outburst was sudden. “She has me!” I hadn’t meant to say it. Now that I had, I held Malaq’s bewildered stare and came clean. “Lirih is my daughter.”

  “Your…?” Dumbfounded, he stepped back. “Are you sure?”

  “Check the records. I was one of the Shinree selected to ‘broaden the pool’.”

  Malaq was too stunned to notice I’d taken offense. “How long have you known?”

  “Not long. Though, Lirih’s been aware for some time.”

  Insult contorted his noble features. “Why didn’t she tell me?” Anger came next. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  The familiarity of the moment had started a hole in the pit of my stomach. We’d already done this—five years from now. Right before I killed him. “We thought the less people knew the better, particularly with my father out there.”

  “Gods, that’s right. Jem Reth is her grandfather.” As Malaq worked through all the connotations that came with that, his swarthy coloring faded to a sickening hue. “Does Jem know who she is? Is that why he took her?”

  “I don’t know. Lirih’s mother was an oracle, so she isn’t pure erudite.”

  “That doesn’t mean he won’t try to breed her like he did Sienn.”

  I really hated this conversation. “It doesn’t mean he will either. Lirih is smart. She’ll keep her door-maker mask in place. She’ll make herself useful.”

  “That won’t keep her safe, Ian. I’ve seen what that man did to his own son.”

  Malaq was looking increasingly unwell. I motioned at the fifty or so Shinree milling about and tried to move on. “How long have they been like this?”

  “I’m… not sure.” His mind on Lirih, it took Malaq a moment to gather his thoughts. “When I first learned of them I came to visit every day. I told them about their history and our fight. I told them about you. But for the last few weeks there’s been no time. Yesterday, I brought Sienn down, and we found them like this. They seem to look after themselves and their young. They talk when necessary. They exist. But nothing interests them. Nothing stirs them. They’re completely docile. It’s like something pulled the drive and emotions right out of them.”

  Or someone.

  Jarryd perceived a change in my mood. “You have an idea?”

  “Good,” Malaq cut in. “Because I don’t. I don’t even know where to start.”

  “With my father,” I said confidently. “And Emperor Tam’s journal.”

  Malaq frowned at me. “You think Jem Reth did this?”

  “I think what he did to Sienn was a warm-up.”

  “If you’re right,” Jarryd said, “and this is your father’s doing, then why leave them behind? He’s been freeing and claiming Shinree since he came to Kabri to steal the crown. So why not empty this place out? Why not use them like he has all the rest?”

  “He was born here,” I said. “Maybe he felt some latent kinship.”

  Malaq gave me raised brows. “You’re joking, right?”

  “My father is prone to nostalgia. I’ve seen it in him. But it’s just as likely he had a plan and wanted to keep his test subjects all in one place.”

  “So we have an idea what happened,” Malaq said. “What do we do about it?”

  “Not sure yet,” I admitted. “But I need that journal. Sienn lost it somewhere here, in Kabri, the night Neela’s troops fought to take the city back. I have my doubts a tracking spell will work or my father would have tried it.”

  “Check the library,” Malaq suggested.

  “The library?” Nothing good had ever happened in that room. “Why there?”

  “The repository in this castle had one of the largest assortments of tomes in all of Mirra’kelan. The curator spent over twenty years amassing his collection. My brother all but wiped out the man’s life’s work when his army invaded. If an ancient book was found in the clean-up, the first place anyone would think it belonged was the library.” Malaq’s queasy look came rushing back. “Do you think Jem has done this to Lirih? That he’s made her empty like them?”

  I despised having to keep saying it. “I don’t know.”

  “This is my fault.” Malaq rubbed his temple with both hands. “I should have never sent Lirih to that cave. Never put her anywhere near Jem Reth.”

  “We’ll find her, Malaq,” I promised. “We’ll get her back.”

  “What about Elayna?” Jarryd said then.

  Malaq’s eyes shot to his. “I wondered when she would come up.”

  “Do you plan to divorce her?” he asked.

  Malaq sighed. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. “No. It’s safer for Elayna and the child to remain under my protection.”

  Jarryd’s reply was quick and even. “I agree.”

  Malaq blinked at him. “You do?”

  “Elayna and I shared something, Malaq. She kept me going in prison. But the dream of coming home, of returning to her people and her kingdom—that’s what kept her going. And you gave it to her. You got her out. You brought Elayna home and made her Queen. You gave her what I couldn’t.”

  “Bullshit,” Malaq grunted. “If Elayna wanted you—”

  “If Elayna wanted me,” Jarryd cut in, “and even if I wanted her, I can’t take care of her. I have no home, no position. No coin to my name. Until these work again,” he lifted his gnarled hands, “I can’t even hold my son without fear of dropping him.” Jarryd had laid it all out in his usual, straightforward manner. I just wasn’t sure it was the truth. There was too much trauma tied to his thoughts of Elayna for me to separate affection from anguish. “I haven’t sought her out,” he went on. “And I won’t. It’s better if I cast no doubt on the strength of your marriage or your ownership of the boy. I only ask that someday, when he’s older, you tell him of me.”

  The circles seemed to grow heavier under Malaq’s troubled gray eyes as he stared at Jarryd. “Elayna is my wife. I will honor and protect her. I will care for her son as my own. But…” his teeth clamped tight, “I love Lirih.”

  “Then you have to turn that love into something you can live with—right now,” Jarryd said with force, and I knew he was thinking of Neela and the affection he once had for her. “You aren’t some overlooked, exiled prince anymore, Malaq. You’re a King. And I’m sorry,” Jarryd threw me a brief, grim look, “but the Shinree are not free equals. If you divorce a Rellan Princess to take a Shinree slave for a wife you will lose your throne and any power you have
to help the realms. You know I’m right.”

  “Of course you’re right,” Malaq barked. “But I don’t fucking have to like it.”

  I gave them a minute. Then I stepped in between. “With Draken dead, we have to assume my father has the Crown of Stones. I impaired his abilities by pulling the auras out by force, but he’s discovered a way to use the magic of other Shinree to temporarily revive his own.”

  “That’s why he did this?” Malaq gestured in outrage at the menagerie. “He drained these people—his own people—to repair himself?”

  I hesitated going on. After losing Lirih, Kit, Neela, and most of the resistance he’d spent the last two years building, Malaq was on edge more than I’d ever seen him. Still, he had to know. “Jem is looking for a way to make the crown stronger, to ultimately make our entire race stronger. If he does that…I’m not sure even I can stop him.”

  Malaq made a sound of disgust and turned away, and I wondered: Is this it? Is this the beginning of the defeat I saw on him in the future?

  “You have the crown’s magic, Ian,” he said, turning back. “Which, I’m still pissed I had to hear about from Sienn, who learned about it from Jarryd, who only told her this morning because he didn’t want her healing you and not knowing.” Malaq paused to scowl. The lines on his face were deep. “How can Jem Reth power the Crown of Stones if its nine auras are in you?”

  “I told you. The crown isn’t a weapon. It’s a vessel. It was built to hold Shinree magic and the energy of the auras, and augment it. In theory, Jem wouldn’t need to use the auras I’m holding to power the crown. If he learns the original ritual that bound the stones together, it’s possible he could use any auras and any Shinree to get it working.”

  Malaq’s expression worsened. “How do you know this?”

  “When I was in the empire, Jem was searching for a set of tablets written by a group of ancient Shinree called the First Ones. They created the Crown of Stones and used it to alter the development of our entire race. Everything revolves around those tablets and whatever is in Tam’s journal. They’re the only leads I have to undoing what’s been done to me, to my father, to all of us.”

  Malaq sat down hard on the edge of the fountain. “My brother’s army is the largest in the realms, but it can’t last against magic, and if Jem uses the crown…” dread swallowed the rest of his words. “If we lose Langor, we lose all of Mirra’kelan.”

  “We have time before the crown is ready to be used. And he might not resort to magic,” I said, my thoughts turning again to our conversation in the future. “Jem’s troops are already spelled. Conquering Langor by conventional combat may take longer, but I guarantee you my father sees his men as far more disposable than his magic. He’ll turn them loose to wear down Draken’s forces, so he can concentrate on increasing his own power and building his empire.”

  “Then you think Langor should expect an attack soon?”

  “I think you need to get word to whoever is in control there now.”

  “I’ve tried. No one’s answering that spelled fountain contraption. I sent a messenger bird yesterday morning, but in the meantime, I’ll have Krillos ready my ship. We can sail out in the morning.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea?” Jarryd put in. “I thought you weren’t popular in Langor, anymore.”

  “We have no choice,” Malaq replied. “We’re isolated here on the island. And none of you can go. You all have bounties on your head. Draken’s counsel might not like me, but they won’t arrest me.”

  “Malaq’s right,” I said. “We need to know what’s going on. But sailing into Langor will take too long. Is there another, functioning door-maker on the island?”

  Malaq shook his head. “And taking Sienn isn’t an option. It’s not safe for either of us to be seen together.”

  “You don’t have to take her,” I said. “If Jem can make a door to fit an army, Sienn can make one to accommodate your ship. She can at least get you into Langorian waters. You’ll have to travel by horseback to the keep, but it’ll shave off a decent amount of time. We can use the font here to check in with Krillos for your door back.”

  “I like it,” Malaq said. “Speak to her.” His mind busy with strategy now, his usual blank face returned. “We need to discuss the refugees. I can absorb those of Rellan descent into my staff. Take some of their men on as guards.” Just like last time, I thought. “But I need to get the bulk of the survivors out of the castle, especially you, Ian. If your father finds out I’m harboring you here, it’ll put a lot of people in jeopardy.”

  “What about the caves,” Jarryd said, “on the back of the island? They won’t be as comfortable as the camp, but it will keep us close.”

  “I suppose that’ll do,” Malaq said. “We’ll need a more permanent arrangement once we start re-growing our numbers.”

  “And then what?” Jarryd demanded. “Arm more refugees? Put a sword in the hand of every laundress and bread-maker between here and Darkhorne? You tried that already, Malaq, and what have we gained? Some well-placed spies? A few Langorian pirates and their one-armed captain? I say we concentrate on getting the power out of Ian. Then we turn it on Langor and anyone else who follows Jem Reth.”

  “Peace,” I said, and they both looked at me. “You wanted to know what we gained. Hell may have been going on everywhere else, but we had peace in that camp. Peace with Langorians, Jarryd. Race, fear, magic… none of it mattered. Those people came together despite every reason they shouldn’t.”

  “That’s definitely something we didn’t have before,” Malaq offered. “Ian Troy wanting to make nice with Langor.”

  Jarryd shook his head. “I have your memories, Ian. I know that place and those people inspired you. Probably more than you realize. You had no past. You didn’t know who you were. The sense of community and camaraderie was compelling. But I’m sorry. I can’t share in what you found there. There’s too much history, too much hostility in Mirra’kelan and in me, to accept peace that quickly.” Jarryd’s words were sincere. He wasn’t ready for amity between Rella and Langor. But deep down, a small part of him wanted it. I sensed the longing in him as he said, “It doesn’t matter. It’s over anyway.”

  “For now,” I conceded. “But I’m going to bring it back.”

  Staring at the magic-scars on my face, his blue eyes were full of challenge and concern. “At what cost?”

  Malaq was watching us. He had no idea. But Jarryd knew exactly what price I would pay if I kept casting with the crown in me. “I’ll go easy,” I told him. “I’ll use just enough magic to keep me going.” I offered Jarryd a smile. “Relax. I quit once, remember? I can limp along for a while.”

  “Deprivation isn’t a fix,” Jarryd argued. “It’s a bandage.”

  “It’s all I’ve got.” Jarryd frowned at that, and I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Nef’taali, you aren’t going to lose me again. I’m not surrendering. Not to the crown’s power. Not to what these scars are doing to me. And certainly not to my father. But I’m not shying away from what I am anymore. Or what I might become. I’ve watched too many people I care about die. I’ve made too many promises I couldn’t keep. Whatever I have to do, however long it takes. There will be no public executions. No Emperor. No eldring armies abducting my people. No more slavery. And no more goddam wars with Langor. I won’t let my father have this or any other land.”

  “And if you’re wrong,” Jarryd said, “and Langor won’t bend to peace?”

  “I’m a Reth,” I grinned. “I’ll shove it down their fucking throats.”

  EPILOGUE

  The door to the chamber was open. As I stepped across the threshold, the boards creaked, and the young Rellan maid changing the linens on the bed, jumped. She cried out in surprise. The pillows in her hands went flying.

  “My Lord,” she gasped. “Forgive me. I didn’t know you were there.” Lifting the hem of her aproned dress, her petite frame dipped into a curtsy. Holding the position, she asked, “Is there somethi
ng I can help you with?”

  I stepped closer. “I asked downstairs. They told me you’d be up here.”

  Raising her eyes, a vibrant chestnut color that sat over a slender, upturned nose, the maid gave me an uncertain smile. It plummeted as she caught sight of the markings on my face. “Is something wrong with your room, My Lord? Does it need cleaning?”

  “No. My room is fine.” Gathering the pillows up off the floor, I set them on the bed. “You’re Bethanee, right?”

  “Yes, My Lord.” Rising, she nodded (a bit too eagerly), and a chunk of light brown curl escaped the cap on her head. As it flopped over her face, I laughed, prompting a streak of color to erupt across her cheeks. Bethanee brushed the lock behind her ear with a self-conscious hand. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, nothing. I’m sorry. For a moment you reminded me of someone. Can we sit?”

  Bethanee glanced nervously at the unmade bed. “I’m flattered, My Lord,” she said, though her tone suggested otherwise. “And I don’t wish to offend, but…”

  “Gods, girl,” I laughed again. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Oh.” Bethanee’s rosy cheeks turned rosier. “My apologies. Forgive me if I insulted you. I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s only that…well…you…” Biting her lip, Bethanee stopped herself from rambling. The cap nearly slid off as she shook her head and offered a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry, My Lord. Why did you seek me out?”

  I smiled. She was cute. “Relax. I came to talk. I have a message for you.” I put a hand on Bethanee’s arm, and we sat down on the edge of the bed. “It’s from a friend of mine. I think you knew him. His name was Liel.”