by C S Vass
Fiona looked into his off-grey eyes, crinkled with worry, and sighed. She sheathed the demon-pommel sword. “Do you really have to ask?”
“I suppose not,” Donyo said. “Well, how was it? Did you find the bastard?”
Fiona picked the wineskin up and took a long pull. It was sour and tasted of cranberry.
“I became very acquainted with countryside,” Fiona said. “But no, I did not find him.”
“A shame. I don’t suppose you’re here to settle down then?”
“No.”
He laughed and took the wineskin back. “Good, because this place you’ve found is a real shit-hole. Though it isn’t hard to imagine why you might prefer it to the luxuries of court.”
Fiona’s lips tightened, but after a moment a sharp barking laugh erupted from her. Donyo laughed merrily with her, and he passed her the wineskin.
The room was disgusting, even for Fiona’s standards. Just a flea-ridden pile of straw, a table and chairs which collectively had more broken legs than not, and cracked walls crawling with roaches.
“I’ll take this over Sun Circle any day,” she said as she sat down.
“Well now, don’t be too certain. I haven’t had the chance to persuade you to come back to court yet. But before we begin can we please start a fire? It’s fucking freezing in here.” Fiona had been cold for so long she had practically forgotten, but quickly got a blaze going in the small hearth that brought some semblance of cheer to the room.
“I know what’s waiting for me at court, Donyo. You of all people should know that I’m not going back there. Not ever.”
“Yes, yes,” Donyo said with a wave of his hand. “I understand. It’s nothing but rascals and sods.”
“I see you’re in good company.”
“I’ll ignore that.” He reached into his red tunic and pulled out a long wooden pipe with a serpent wrapped around the bowl.
“Since when do you smoke?” she asked.
“Ah yes, you wouldn’t know would you. It’s the latest craze. Sandra has seen fit to open diplomatic relations with the Laquathi. They recently sent us a great many barrels of this fine fire-cured dark-leaf. Would you care to try?”
“I’ll pass,” she said as she pushed the pipe aside. “One might think you’ve enough bad habits as it is already.”
Donyo blew a cloud of thick blue smoke into the center of the room and sighed contentedly. “Can’t have too many vices these days. If this is all that Geoff manages to accomplish while he’s over there then I’ll happily call his mission a splendid success.”
“Geoff Hightower? He’s left Sun Circle? But, he’s the Lord Defender.”
“Indeed. He’s also the only member of court who happens to be a native of Laquath. He was needed there. Things are not well, Fiona. Haygarden needs allies.”
She folded her arms. “It’s naught to me. But how is Sandra managing? Is she a capable Duchess? A good ruler?”
Donyo blew another cloud of smoke through which she saw his eyebrows furrow. “It’s hard to tell.”
“Hard to tell? That hardly inspires confidence.”
“I agree. That’s why I’m adding vices instead of managing the ones I have. At this rate by the end of the year I shall have taken up gambling, whoring, and rumpscuttle roulette.”
“Rumpscuttle roulette?”
“A rather complicated game. One needs four or five companions, a large sheet with a hole, I should think several jugs of wine—”
“I get the picture,” Fiona said quickly. “Tell me more about Sandra.”
A strained look came into the Master Architect’s face. “It’s complicated. She hasn’t much of a chance, truth be told. Autumn harvest was a travesty. The Empire is meddling in our affairs. Tellosian moneylenders are buying up every bit of Haygarden they can. They’re putting enormous pressure on Sandra and the court to enact policies favorable to the Empire. And if all that weren’t enough, now we have the nuisance of the Forgotten.”
“The Forgotten?” Fiona asked. She had not heard of the Forgotten.
“You truly have been away for a long time,” Donyo said. “Maybe things would have been better for you if you stayed gone. Gods know I’ve considered leaving myself. Let me put it this way. The Empire is outmuscling us in the open. The Forgotten are doing it in the shadows.”
“That sounds all too familiar,” Fiona said.
“You’re thinking of the Vaentysh Boys. It’s not the same. The Vaentysh Boys are fanatics. The Forgotten are much more…practical. They hold no lofty idealized versions of the past or visions of future utopia. In short, they’re thugs.”
“It never stops, does it?” Fiona said. “Pass the wine.”
“Well look at that. I don’t think I’ve ever broken into a second wineskin with you.”
“Good thing you’re the type to always keep two,” Fiona said as she grabbed the new wineskin from him and pulled. “It sounds like you have your hands quite full between the Empire and the Forgotten. Sun Circle sure picked a bad time to send Geoff away.”
“There’s little the Lord Defender can do about the Forgotten. It’s as I’ve said, they’re street thugs. They operate any low-level black markets in Haygarden. They tend to congregate at a filthy little tavern here in the Stone District—The Spotted Weasel. They’re simply an unfortunate product of the times. As soon as we fix our other problems things will get better.”
Fiona yawned and stretched. She had been up all night and her ordeal with Suomo left her completely exhausted. “Glad to hear you’ve got it all under control.”
“We’re in a bit of a wait and see moment. In any case, I’m sure I’ve bored you enough with talk of court for a night. Tell me about your travels. Where have you been? How has the world reacted to the Awakening? I know far too little of what goes on beyond Haygarden’s walls.”
“What can I say of it?” Fiona shrugged. “I don’t know what the outside world used to be like before the Awakening.”
“Don’t give me that now,” Donyo said. “Surely you’ve had some splendid adventures. I want to know of them.”
“Adventures.” She put her boots up on the table and took another pull from the wineskin. “Adventures are shit. I searched for him, alright? There’s not much to tell. I slept out of doors more often than not, chasing a shadow. I followed rumors that led me to cold uncomfortable places. There is magic in the world, though more imposters than not. I met nobody of note. I wasn’t battling werewolves and rusalkas every other night. Most of the mages I met were frauds.”
“You truly weave a captivating tale,” Donyo said. “Did you ever consider recording an epic ballad?”
“You’re the one who asked, jackass,” Fiona growled. She moved a little closer to the fire.
Donyo laughed. “Fair enough.”
“And what of you? What have you been up to these last two years?”
“More than I can talk about,” Donyo said. “I’m not often able to assist with matters of state these days. Sandra has me working on something that requires my constant attention.”
“Hm, constant attention. Is that why you’re drunk in the Stone District at sunrise?”
“‘I’ll have you know that I’m far from drunk,” Donyo said indignantly as he grabbed the wineskin from her.
They sat in silence together for a while. Fiona couldn’t bring herself to admit it, but it was actually quite nice to see a friendly face. She had wanted to remain ambiguous in Haygarden, but an early morning chat with an old friend had a positive effect on her. It was as if a fire inside her that had all but died was poked at and the flames found new life.
“Fiona?” The look Donyo gave her was beyond fatigue. “It truly is good to see you. You’ve been gone for so long. It might be nice to take a break. You know, put your boots up for a moment. It would be good to see you in court. You don’t have to commit to doing anything, or staying for any amount of time. I just think it would do us both well for you to stay here for a bit. What do you say?”
/> Fiona sighed. This was exactly why she didn’t want to see anybody. “I have to take care of this, Donyo,” she said. “I can’t rest. Not while he’s out there. He—”
She had to hold off the words as tears came unexpectedly to her eyes. She blinked them away. “He killed her. Right in front of me. After everything I did to try to find and save him he ended up betraying us all.”
“He did,” Donyo said. “But that’s no reason to let him continue to define your life, Fiona. You don’t have to be bound to him. You can choose to move on. The Vaentysh Boys were essentially vanquished here two years ago. We’ve had scouts scouring the land searching for any sign of them, and there’s been nothing. For all we know the lot of them are dead at the bottom of some canyon, or fled across the sea long ago.”
“He’s not!” Fiona didn’t mean to shout, but her feelings were on her now. She didn’t ask for Donyo to provoke her. “He’s not dead! He can’t be dead. Not until I find him. You don’t know him like I do, Donyo. He’s alive. He would never leave Tellos.”
Donyo sighed and took another drink. “Very well. I see you won’t be swayed. At least come for a visit. Not just for me, Fiona. You should really see Sasha.”
Fiona felt as though her chest had frozen solid. “I’m not worried about that.” Her voice was as hard as granite.
“Fiona, she’s not well. She misses you terribly. It would mean so much—”
“It’s time for you to go, Donyo.” She was on her feet, staring at the fat man angrily.
He closed his eyes and looked as though he were about to say something when he changed his mind and walked towards the door. As he opened it he looked back to her.
“You are not the only one who has suffered throughout these last two years. Good-bye, Fiona. I wish you well.”
* * *
Fiona spent the morning in an uneasy rest. Every time sleep encroached upon her there was some ruckus outside to disturb it: a fishmonger shouting at a thief, a lover’s quarrel, and in one instance a priest who began yelling outside of her window that Sandra Redfire was sent from hell to destroy the world until the city guard came and silenced him.
By midday she decided that she had rested enough and tried to experiment with the manjeko. Having been given no guidance she didn’t exactly know what to do. Of the few legitimate sorcerers and mages she had met after the Awakening most of them said their powers had come naturally, usually in a single explosive moment of realization. Almost none of them had anticipated it beforehand.
To make matters more confusing the soundmages were even less helpful. Of those she had spoken to most of them had actually lost a substantial amount of power since the Moonwood exploded its energies upon the world, though none could give an exact reason why. The only consolation was the possibility that Lawrence Downcastle was hiding in a hole somewhere, weak and powerless with no more magic to aid him.
So in her tiny room Fiona did what she could. She closed her eyes and meditated. She focused on Rodrick and tried to imagine him. She even prayed to a multitude of gods (something she had never done before) until at last feeling ridiculous and frustrated she gave up.
Suomo couldn’t have tricked her, could she? It had to be real. The entire process was so vivid. The magic orb, the howling, the vision. Her hands had still not completely recovered from the freezing burn they had gotten from gripping the swirling energy of the manjeko. But what if Suomo’s magic was something of a more deceptive nature?
In any case Fiona knew she wouldn’t be leaving Haygarden until it was clear if the manjeko worked and she had received the power of true sight. If Suomo had betrayed her then she would make certain to stop in and see the sorceress before departing the city.
Without much else to do and no new leads to follow Fiona drew her cloak around herself and went outside to take a walk while the sun was still up.
The cold was more bracing than biting when she went outside. She moved onto a main road and came upon Haygarden’s massive wall. It was strange, staying so close to the wall that separated Haygarden from the outside world. She had grown up very near to this very same wall, on the north side of the city with the Norjeg mountains looming off in the distance, their icy peaks forming a wall of their own that separated Tellos from whatever lay beyond their frozen slopes.
As she stared at the massive structure thoughts of Martin Lightwing crept into her head. She hadn’t asked Donyo about him. Like everyone else from Sun Circle, she had left him on bad terms. But perhaps even more than Sasha, the loss of his friendship stung bitterly. He was her oldest friend, after all.
It wasn’t right of Donyo to bring Sasha up, Fiona decided. He was just being manipulative, mentioning her old friend to try to maneuver her into court against her will. What did it even matter? It wasn’t like she had anything to offer them. Her last stay at court had been miserable, and what did she get in exchange for her service to the city? Betrayal, served nine different ways from the people she cared the most about.
A sudden sense of pride took Fiona as she moved along the street. She had gotten out, after all. She had always been told at Clearwater that Rodrick was the reason she had been lifted out of the poverty of her early childhood, but now she had made her own path. She could have settled down and been comfortable, not cared about Rodrick, maybe even taken Geoff Hightower’s offer to become leader of the Brightbows or some new organization. They had lain the traps so expertly, but she had seen through it with ease.
Sasha of course had been the most difficult. It was never easy for Fiona to say no to Sasha Rains in the best of times. When her best friend had insisted on how badly she needed Fiona by her side…memories came rushing back. It was cold that day too, with clouds that loomed dark and pregnant with rain, though none had fallen yet.
“Fiona, don’t go,” Sasha had said. “We need you here. You have to at least stay for the wedding!”
“There’s no time,” Fiona insisted. “Every day I wait could mean the difference between finding Rodrick or letting him slip away. Think about Reggie’s father. Don’t you want me to capture him?”
“I don’t care about Reggie’s father! I care about Reggie.” Her heart-shaped face had worry written across it several different ways. “I need you here Fiona. We all do.”
“If you don’t understand then I can’t make you,” Fiona said, before turning her back on Sasha.
“Just tell me one thing,” Sasha said as Fiona prepared to leave. “Why do you wear his sword on your back?”
Fiona had never answered that question.
She admitted to herself that on the way back to Haygarden she had toyed with the idea of going to see them: Sasha, Donyo, everybody. But Donyo had spoiled it. He snuck up on her, catching her like a thief in the night in her own city, and taken away that choice. Now her priority was to get the manjeko working as quickly as possible so that she could put Haygarden, and eventually Tellos, behind her forever.
As the day went on the sky continued to darken. A blanket of clouds from the north settled over the city and threatened a storm. Fiona found herself walking through a food market where the local traders packed up their fruits, meats, spices, and a plethora of other goods to get home before the rain.
“I like the way you move, Fiona.”
The unfamiliar voice made Fiona spin around ready to strike.
She faced a tall hooded figure. “What did you say?”
“You move like a warrior, with purpose. I like it.” He chuckled from underneath the hood that clouded his face. Fiona was certain she had never heard that voice before.
“Who the hell are you, and how do you know my name?”
He hooted loudly. “This cat has teeth. I expected as much. Calm yourself. I jest, and you’re attracting unwanted attention.”
She placed her hand on the hilt of the demon-pommel sword on her back. “I have a good mind to teach you a few things about not attracting unwanted attention,” she said.
“Please, you don’t have to introduce me to your
famous fiery attitude, I know all about it.”
The condescension made her furious, but she had learned how to bury her anger well these last two years. So instead of screaming or hitting him she simply said, “You looking to die, stranger?” The sword came completely out of its sheath. Several of the merchants around them hurried on with packing their things and moved away quickly.
“Enough already,” the man said. From the tone of his voice he clearly wasn’t worried. His voice was thick and phlegmy. “Put that away. I have a deal to make with you.”
“Why would I want anything to do with you?”
“Because we want the same thing.”
“Which is?”
“To see Rodrick Sacrosin’s head on a spike.”
At the mention of her brother’s name her face flushed with heat. Fiona had gone so long, two whole years, without anything that resembled a lead so much as this, and now that she was pursuing another way with the manjeko this mysterious person had found her.
“So what do you say?” he asked her. “Can I buy you a drink while we talk things over?”
“What’s your name?”
He chuckled, and flashed her a brilliant smile of golden teeth that reflected the last light of a disappearing sun.
“You can call me Smiley.”
Chapter Three
Five minutes later Fiona found herself sitting in a dingy hole-in-the-wall tavern across from a man with gold teeth, bronze skin, a weatherbeaten face, and lifeless blue eyes. The storm had rolled in just as they got inside and from the large glass window they could see freezing rain occasionally illuminated by forked lightning bolts decorate the sky.
“To a new relationship,” Smiley said as he raised a metal tankard of frothy beer.