Stars of Ice and Shadow

by C S Vass

“Certainly you must wish to see the temple? Come inside. It is quite breath-taking.”

  “Yes, come on,” Paetrick urged.

  She hesitated. “I don’t know. Are the gods of ice and shadow really known for their hospitality? It might be that they’d sooner be left in peace. Ice and shadow don’t exactly scream welcoming to me.”

  Rather than rebuking her, or at the very least accepting her desire to part ways as she had expected, the monk took a step towards her. “It is only the darkness between the stars that allows them to shine so bright. Only because of the frozen ice of the Chillway that the sun’s warming rays are so welcome. Ice and shadow may not be what you would consider welcoming, but it is important to embrace them all the same.”

  Faela was in no mood to banter with the man. “Is that why the city has so many poor?” she asked angrily. “So the rich who live in this very neighborhood might shine all the brighter by comparison?”

  Again, Faela was surprised. Rather than rebuke her the monk simply laughed. “You are a wonderfully intelligent woman,” he replied. He looked deep into her silver eyes. “And a powerful one too, I suspect. I’m certain you will be a great asset to the city. But please understand, this is not Tallium. I fear you are mistaking the stars for the shadows that surround them.”

  Faela did not know what to say to that.

  The monk bowed low. “My name is Gjaiden. I would be honored if you would join us in the temple.”

  “Please, Faela,” Paetrick said.

  She swallowed.

  “No. I’m sorry. Thank you for the offer. But it’s better to rip the bandages off at once. I have been summoned by the King, and that is where I will go.”

  Paetrick looked ready to argue but Monk Gjaiden spoke first. “I hope you find it a lovely experience. The palace sits on a high hill overlooking Ice Bay. When the sun sparkles on the water from that view…magnificent. I wish you well, Faela.”

  “I guess this is goodbye then,” Paetrick sniffled. Faela had to struggle not to roll her eyes. “I’ll see you soon. Don’t leave the city without letting me know.” She hugged him. “Especially not to go to Valencia,” she whispered into his ear. “Be on your guard, young monk. These men do not have your best interest at heart. The same is true for me where I’m going. We must look out for each other. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Promise me you won’t leave Iryllium without telling me first.”

  “I promise.”

  “That’s enough,” one of the old monks coughed. “A goodbye is one thing. We don’t want to linger and border on the inappropriate.”

  “Of course not,” Faela sneered. “You’ll understand then why I keep my goodbyes to the rest of you brief.”

  She turned her heel and walked away before any of them had the chance to insult her further. She would miss Paetrick, annoying as he might have been, but to be rid of those old men made her feel like a bird taking flight after days of storms.

  Now came the challenge. The palace of Iryllium loomed ahead.

  As did her destiny.

  Chapter Seven

  “You have reached the end of your life, my unfortunate friend. Do you understand? I will allow you a few moments more to feel the sun on your face. Then, it is over.”

  The rabbit looked glumly at Torin. He gathered that its large droopy eyes had seen many years. Swiftly, he cracked the creature’s neck with his powerful hands and deftly began skinning it with a hunting knife.

  A pleasant breeze flooded through the area. It was sunny and warm in this little section of the Chillway. An island of grass speckled with wild flowers. Torin’s own private escape.

  “If only I had Godwin’s knack for potions,” he said to himself as he finished handling the rabbit and tossed it into the pot. “I’d put something else in there to take the ache out of my bones. Knowing me, I’d use the wrong herbs and end up poisoning myself.”

  “Do you always speak to your food in such a manner?”

  The voice cut through like a biting winter chill.

  Torin didn’t bother to raise his eyes. “Spoken like a man who’s about to talk himself out of a free meal.”

  “There are no free meals in this life as you well know,” the voice replied. It was a meticulous voice, low and masculine. It spoke slowly as if to weigh each word a moment in the mouth before releasing.

  Torin finally raised his eyes. Next to an oak tree stood a figure cloaked in black robes. The face was disguised by an unusual white mask in the form of a cat. It was covered in runes.

  “You’re early,” Torin said. He turned his eyes back to the pot.

  “No doubt you hoped to be done your meal before my arrival. Fear not. You needn’t weigh your love of courtesy against your empty stomach. I shan’t stay long.”

  “You sound like an arse,” Torin said. “Sit down and take off all those layers. You must be sweating like a cat in the dog house. Have a bowl. Fresh rabbit and barley. Have you any wine or ale?”

  “I shan’t stay long,” the figure in black repeated. “I find this heat unnatural.”

  Torin sighed. “Very well then. I suppose I’m in for another lonely meal.”

  He raised his eyes to the cloaked man. “The guardians say that we’re due to see the Wolf soon.”

  “Is that right? A dangerous time to be out of doors.”

  “I’ll manage. Shigata always do. That’s why they pay us after all.”

  “Tell me, Torin,” the figure said. His voice changed abruptly. His tone became much more urgent. “Can the Shigata be saved?”

  Torin answered immediately. “Of course the Shigata can be saved,” he said. “What exactly do you think I’ve been doing?”

  “Besides playing with your dinner, I’m not too certain.”

  Torin snorted. “You speak like a fool. You know fully well what I’m capable of.”

  “I wonder,” the figure said.

  “I tire of not having a proper name to call you by,” Torin said. “Give me something, anything. For the sake of conversation.”

  “Messenger. That should suffice.”

  “Messenger,” Torin said. The taste of the name felt very wrong to him. It reeked of secrecy and conspiracy. Not a decent name at all.

  “Listen, Torin. My comrades fear that you are too idle. The times are changing slowly. Soon they will change fast. We need to be ready for that inevitability.”

  “Speak plainly,” Torin said. He stewed the pot and tasted the broth. No flavor at all.

  “I thought I had. Do you not comprehend? We are heading towards troubled times. Turbulent times. We will need you to do more than what you are asked, Torin. We need you to anticipate problems before they happen. To think creatively. Are you capable of that? Or are the Shigata nothing more than a group of muttonheads who know nothing other than the drawing of blades.”

  Torin eyed the Messenger angrily. He rose to his feet. Another gust of wind blew through the area. The Messenger remained motionless as Torin approached him. They stood eye to eye.

  Torin took a deep breath. “I would be honored if you were to join me for a meal.”

  “Your attempts to get me to lift the mask are as feeble as they are obvious. I expected better of you, Torin.”

  Torin laughed angrily. Maybe it was better if the Messenger did leave quickly. No manners at all.

  He returned to his pot. A small stream flowed nearby. He took his boots off and placed his feet in the river. The Messenger watched silently.

  “Everything will go exactly as your masters wish,” Torin said. “I know you would counsel haste now. I understand why, but it would be a mistake. The Sages can be won over. They are wise after all. They cannot ignore the moving of the stars. They can’t ignore the impending terror.”

  “It would seem to me they can,” the Messenger said. “Why else are they sending so many Shigata to Valencia? If they were truly wise, they would consolidate their strength.”

  “Valencia is not so far from Unduyo,” T
orin said. “They’re right to make some coin while they still have the opportunity.”

  “And what percentage of the Shigata sent to Valencia will live?”

  “Why, all of them of course.”

  The Messenger laughed.

  Torin smiled. “The ones who won’t survive will be of little consequence. Trust me. Our focus now should be elsewhere. You stay the hands of your masters, and I’ll ensure that Kanjo is killed.”

  The Messenger was silent. He turned to face the white landscape in the distance.

  “How do you do it?” The Messenger asked after a time. “You are incompetent at best with plant life. How have you created this hidden paradise in the Chillway?”

  Torin laughed heartily. The water felt cool and refreshing on his feet. “It’s nothing,” he said. “A trifle. During the Bloodwater Wars I saved a frost elf’s life. He bestowed upon me some magic seeds as a gift. I thought his seeds were worth less than their weight in shit.”

  “Apparently not. Carving out a little slice of sun in the Chillway is no small feat. You were rewarded well for your efforts, Torin. Still, I prefer the real thing. This little patch strikes me as artificial and unnatural.”

  “A foolish thought,” Torin said. “How do you know the whole world wasn’t once like the Chillway, before someone came to plant their unnatural seeds?”

  The Messenger held his silence. Torin returned to his pot and tasted it again. Better, but still too watery.

  “The last thing I need to speak of is Godwin,” the Messenger said. “His contract is of the highest importance.”

  “Indeed,” Torin said. “I chose our man carefully.”

  “Our friends would like to know more about him,” the Messenger said. “If he’s suitable for the task you’ve set him to, then he may be suitable for other things. But we need to be certain. We need to obtain information relating to his past.”

  Torin shrugged. “I can’t tell you much. He served in Bloodwater as I did, but I never knew him. He was young. Barely a man. Became Shigata young too. He was seventeen if I remember correctly.”

  “This is helpful. What else?”

  “Not much that I know. He’s a skilled potion-maker. He also declined a traditional thrygta.” As Torin said the word his fingers instinctively fell on the dragon-in-chains medallion that hung around his neck. “Had the silver tattooed right into his body.”

  “Interesting. Why would he do that?”

  Torin scoffed. “Because he was seventeen. He probably thought it would make him look like a badass and give him a better chance with the ladies. Might be he’s right, too.”

  “Very good. What else can you tell me?”

  “Nothing. Not that I see why it matters. The Shigata’s pasts are as grains of sand blown into the desert. They are lost forever. Irrelevant.”

  “I have friends who would disagree,” the Messenger said. He looked skyward. “The sun is getting low. I must leave soon. You, Torin, have done well. But you have a new assignment.”

  “It never ends, does it?”

  The Messenger ignored the question. “It seems I know something about Godwin that you don’t. Before his time fighting in the Bloodwater Wars, Godwin learned to fight from an extraordinary man. A master by the name of Reinko Assini. You are to go to Reinko and learn what you can about Godwin’s past.”

  Torin stood up, grumbling. “You can’t be serious,” he complained.

  The Messenger’s silence was all the answer Torin needed.

  “Surely someone else could pursue this. You truly think the best use of my talents it to hunt down some old man and ask him about a boy he trained more than a decade ago? Ah, hell I know there’re no negotiations to be had with you. Fine. Where can I find this Reinko Assini?”

  “Assini has been known to move around quite a bit. Fortunately for you, we know where he is. He’s currently staying in an inn in Hart. The Hummingbird. You’ll recognize him by his long blond hair and green eyes, a unique combination for the region.”

  “Hell, and all I wanted to do was spend a few days here and rest my back.”

  “Plenty of time for that later, Torin.”

  “I know. I know. When we’re dead.”

  “Your goal is to find out whatever you can about Godwin’s past,” the Messenger went on. “But there is something specific we need to know.”

  “Oh? And what might that be?”

  “We need to know how Godwin broke his Seal of Love.”

  Torin’s face reddened. “You…you ask too much, I think,” he stammered. “I doubt his master would know that. The Shigata never—”

  “To become Shigata, one must break the Seal,” the Messenger said calmly. “It is an ancient custom. One that has great importance.”

  “I would never reveal to you how I broke mine,” Torin said. “Never!”

  “Then count yourself fortunate that I don’t require that information from you. Elsewise you’d be hanging from that tree, and I’d be searching for a new agent.”

  Torin sighed. He knew there would be no fighting this. But to find out such a horrific detail in a man’s past. It wasn’t right.

  “I look forward to hearing of your discoveries, Torin,” the Messenger replied.

  “To hell with you then!” Torin shouted. “I’ll get you your damn information. But we’re crossing a line that should never be crossed. If the Sages find out…”

  His voice trailed off into nothingness.

  The Messenger was gone.

  * * *

  “Hart. What a terrible name for a place.”

  Reeja cackled with agreement. Torin had found the old man in the slums of the city covered in shit and half an inch from death. He got the fellow up, helped him into the Hummingbird, and immediately paid for the elder to be fed and washed.

  “When I was a boy,” Reeja said. “Lord Reymund’s father ruled here. Now that was a lord!”

  “Was,” Torin agreed. “Until bloodlung wiped him out. Along with half his family.”

  “Vampires, you mean,” Reeja said seriously. The old man sniffed at his beer. “That’s what really did them in. These new age healers come up with all sorts of terms, but vampires is really what killed the family.”

  Torin chewed on a piece of beef. He suspected he just found the fear that caused Reeja to reek overwhelmingly of at least three different kinds of garlic. “Really?” he said with his mouth full. “I had no idea.”

  “Back then, we ain’t have no vagrancy problem.” Reeja’s face turned the color of a ripe tomato. “We ain’t have bums. Bums like me were vampire food!”

  “What makes you think that the Djaro’s were killed by vampires?” Torin asked. He really didn’t want an answer, but suspected that he might want to keep the old man around a little longer.

  “Vampires wanted the Empire to win the war,” Reeja said confidently. “They knew Reymund Djaro’s father was too strong. He had beaten back the Tarsurians after all. His first-born son was also deemed a threat. And the second. All the way down, a father and five sons, until they got to Reymund and realized he had gotten the message by then.”

  Torin took in all the news with a smile. “It only took a father and five brothers to get the point across. Though I question the timing. It seems these vampires acted rather late. Lord Djaro’s father had succeeded in beating back the Empire by the time he died.”

  “Ack!” Reeja spat. “You have King Boldfrost to thank for that, and don’t you forget it. But aye, you’re right. These demons wanted to plant the seeds for future victories. The Empire in the East is a ruthless group of scoundrels. They can wait ten thousand turns of the moon as if it were nothing but the single beating of a moth’s wings should it further their goals of dom—”

  “You really must try some of this,” Torin interrupted. The Hummingbird made an exquisite beef stroganoff, and it was all the better if he could use it to fill Reeja’s mouth for a moment.

  “What? Yes, yes,” Reeja said while he took a bite.

  It
was time to change the subject. Torin did not recruit Reeja’s company to hear conspiracy theories (at least not ones devoid of evidence). He recruited him to be a prop.

  It was understandable, Torin thought, that the old man would have vampires on the mind. Such demons, uncommon though they were, tended to make meals of those living in isolation on the lonely streets of Gaellean cities. The stereotype of vampires as large powerful beasts in the thickest forests of the Blood Wood was one that the demons themselves had helped create. As a Shigata, Torin was well aware that they were actually much more comfortable in the presence of humans.

  Shrieking laughter from the far corner of the room tore Torin from his thoughts. Looking over he saw a group of youths playing some twisted version of pin the pig’s tail. Rather than the blindfolded person attempting to pin the tail to a picture, everyone was blindfolded, and they were trying to pin the tail on each other.

  “I’m growing tired, Master Torin,” Reeja said. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but you did promise me lodging for the night.”

  Torin sighed. Since they had entered the Hummingbird, there was no sign of Reinko Assini. He supposed it made no difference. The Messenger made sure that he had more than enough gold to achieve whatever ends he saw fit. Paying for one man’s lodging for the night would be no problem. Still, it was a shame. Even worse was the possibility that the Messenger’s information had expired and Reinko was long gone.

  “You’ll have your room as promised,” Torin assured him. “But are you sure you don’t want to have another drink first?”

  Torin saw the old man begin to protest and opening his silver eyes wide stared straight at Reeja. “It would be an honor.”

  “I would be honored, Master Torin,” Reeja said, sleepily.

  “Excellent,” Torin grinned.

  Reeja blinked and looked around the room slowly. “What? Yes, yes. One more drink. Certainly. What’s the harm in another drink? Beer, please.”

  Torin obliged the man and ordered two rounds of a black beer so thick that he could practically chew it. “Tell me, Reeja,” he said as he fingered the thrygta that was carefully concealed under his shirt. “Have you ever heard of the Seal of Love?”