by Rin Chupeco
The beasts slept outside the cave, black, misshapen outlines against the heavy twilight. There was no sound save that of waves lapping at the shore, the rush of tides as they ebbed and flowed back into the black, unforgiving sea. I was terrified at first, fearful that one may wake without the influence of their mistress, but I wrapped what bravery I had left into my soul and walked on, making no sound as I made my way through the sand, away from the Dark asha and her creatures.
She found me a mile away from where I began. She sat beside the grave, its polished stone bright despite the dim. Fear gripped me and I stood stock-still, waiting, certain she would kill me for my betrayal.
“You misjudge me,” she said before I could say a word. “I compelled you to come here, with the blue moon as your guide. I admit to that.” She carried something under her arm; it was the sapphire-hued bezoar of the indar, the bezoar that discerned truth from lies. “But I swear on this grave that you were never under any obligation to remain. You only needed to ask, and I would have granted you safe passage anywhere you desired.”
The three-headed dragon on her hua gleamed at me, their bright eyes remonstrating. The blue bezoar shone radiant and true as she spoke.
The girl pointed toward the east. “When you reach the end of the beach, you will find a path leading out into the plains. Follow the road you see there, and it will take you to the borders of Tresea twenty leagues out. Or take the road on the left, and several days will find you in Santiang, though I would advise you not to linger.”
“How do I know that this is not a trick?” I dared to ask. “What proof do I have that what I choose to do is not from your Compulsion?”
“This is how you know.”
The strange blue moon blazed to life above us, as bright and as magnificent as the day. At the same time, I felt my feet move through no desire of my own, forcing me back to where the girl sat staring out onto the sea.
“Stop.”
I stopped.
The girl drew out a small pin from her hair and pressed it into my hand. It gleamed like ivory, plain save for its strange silver sheen. The peculiar pressure in my head eased, and the blue moon faded from view.
“One of the strongest spells is woven into this hairpin. It will prevent anyone else from directing your thoughts. Keep it close by you at all times and not even I can command your actions. If you still wish to leave, then you are free to do so. If you wish to stay, then I will tell you more. Look at this bezoar I carry and see that I do not speak false.” And she held out that blue stone, which continued to glitter like gems, proving the truth to her words.
“Thank you for the company,” she said gently.
The girl walked back in the direction of her cave, leaving me to make my decision alone.
The daeva woke before the sun rose again the next morning. I watched them frolic among the waters like children at play. The girl sat atop the taurvi and smiled at me when I approached, wearing her pin on my shirt.
“I am glad,” she said.
27
The loss of twenty Deathseekers came as a blow. We learned of this two weeks later, long before the royal messengers came trickling into Ankyo, armed with grief. We learned of it when the silk merchants arrived, pale and trembling, speaking of the heavy, black smoke that moved across the Odalian landscape like an angry storm. We learned of it when the wagons returned from Kneave, from refugees fleeing the carnage that ravaged the small towns littering the borders of Kion.
We learned of it when the Heartforger and Khalad returned to the Snow Pyre cha-khana, both grim and sober. “It caught them unawares,” the old man said. “Went through the troop like butter—they died before they knew what was happening to them, a blessing if you can call such a death by that word. Looks to me like you’ve been made asha at the right time, Tea. If there is no more fortunate time to draw in the Dark, it is now.”
I remembered it again when an old woman came through the doors of the Valerian and begged me to raise her son from the dead.
“He’s barely twenty, milady,” she wept. “Fresh off his training, only to be sent off to die. You can raise him from the dead, can’t you, milady? That is what they say. I have no other sons for my old age. I beg you!”
I could only stand there, numb, as she was gently guided away, still sobbing, by two of the many soldiers that took to roaming the city for a sense of security that no one believed, with the whole of Ankyo tensed in expectation of a war they did not know for sure would ever come. Not for the first time, I plumbed the depths of my mind, seeking for answers in the strange presence curling up at the furthest corners. I had sensed nothing wrong until the horrible news had come, and I was desperate, wondering if I should have investigated further. But the azi’s mind slipped easily away from me, and all I could find was darkness.
I looked at Fox, and we did not need our bond to know what he was feeling or for him to know what I was feeling.
I found Polaire waiting for me among the ruins of the graveyard sometime later, where twenty new headstones now stood out among the older tombs with their pathetic shininess. “No,” she said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“But I know what you plan. When Lady Mykaela was as young as you were, she thought to do the same thing. It will kill you, child. Raising twenty men at once is not the same as raising one brother. You do not have a seeking stone this time to amplify your powers.”
“But I do!” My hand went to the small stone I still wore around my neck, beside my heartsglass. I was grief-stricken. I was angry.
“The Forger shaped it to protect you, no longer to draw strength from. And even if you could, you will draw in too much and take in the darkrot, and we will have to put you down all the same. The seeking stone is gone—it is too dangerous in anyone’s possession. Mykkie has done all she could to save your life. Do not repay her by dying for the sake of twenty men.”
Later that, day a new contingent of Deathseekers, Kalen among them, left Kion to join their surviving brethren in Odalia.
• • •
“You have barely served your three months as an official asha, and now you seek to know better?” Mistress Parmina was in full fighting form, less about my safety and more about my inability to take in money if I were to take a leave of absence. “Asha who have been at it far longer than you are frequently denied leave. What makes you think you would be any different?”
“I know where the azi is.”
I said it quietly, but the effect was immediate. Mistress Parmina sat up straighter among the cushions and Lady Mykaela, recuperating in bed, opened her eyes.
“Are you sure about this, Tea?” my sister asked me gravely.
I chose my words carefully, for my heartsglass could have betrayed me. “When I first confronted that dragon during the darashi oyun, I saw into its mind. I could sense how it felt, and all it knew was a desire to go home. And home for it was a boundless lake of black salt.”
“That’s a good description of Lake Strypnyk,” Polaire conceded from her perch beside Lady Mykaela. “But you could be mistaken.”
“The Forger confirms it.” The old man had permitted me to inform the mistress of the Valerian of his assistance, but I thought both Althy and Polaire counted as honorary members, if nothing else. “His sources also report that it hides inside Lake Strypnyk.”
“Even if he is right,” Lady Mykaela pointed out, “and he often is—what makes you think you would fare better than a squad of Deathseekers?”
“Because Dark runes are weak against it. Because I have a better chance at taking it down than twenty Deathseekers. Remember the darashi oyun. Nearly all the asha in Ankyo present, and still it escaped us. You’re throwing away a lot of lives when you don’t need to, when all it would take is one of me.”
Lady Mykaela took a deep breath. “That is dangerous thinking, Tea. We are the only two Dark asha in Kion
. I can—”
“The azi took too much out of you,” I interrupted her. “Please, Lady Mykaela. I love you like a sister. I really do. But you brought me here to help you, to send daeva back to their graves. And I was scared at first, even resentful. But now I see how important we are. I’m ready. I’m willing. I survived one daeva. I have more experience dealing with the Dark now than all the other asha combined, except you. Everyone has trained me for this. Let me show you what I’ve learned.”
“You still have a duty to your patrons,” Mistress Parmina said. “You cannot abandon your responsibilities, not when you have been booked months in advance—”
“Asha ask to be excused from entertaining patrons for official duties all the time,” I pointed out. “I’m sure most of them will understand.” I’d come prepared, placing a stack of papers in front of Mistress Parmina. “I asked Ula for an accounting of my record. As I have been working at least six hours every night for almost three months without taking an evening off, I’ve earned three times what an average asha might make in a year. Despite the substantial debt I owe the Valerian, I have almost repaid it. All I ask is some time off to hunt the azi, and as soon as I return, I will work another three months. Please think of this as a small investment in my future, Mother.”
I could practically see Mistress Parmina’s mind calculating the amount of money she could make, the fame I could bring. The price I command for entertaining guests, already exorbitant, would shoot up. Behind her, I could see Lady Mykaela smiling at my ingenuity, though not without reluctance.
“Very well,” the old woman said, “I will give you a month’s leave. No more, no less. But if the azi is not at Lake Strypnyk as you claim it is, then you are to return immediately, and you shall no longer waste my time with any more of these foolish wild-goose chases.”
“That was smooth,” Polaire murmured to me after the old woman had left the room, still clutching at the papers. “You struck her where it would hurt the most—at her purse strings.”
“This is too dangerous,” Lady Mykaela objected. “I should go with you. If something goes wrong, it would be good to have another Dark asha with you.”
“Absolutely not,” Polaire returned. “You’re still too weak to travel. You need another year’s worth of rest, and the only sure thing to come out of traveling with us is that it will take longer for you to recuperate. I don’t think your presence will help us in any way, not in the condition you’re in.”
“Us?” I echoed.
“Naturally I’ll be coming with you, little idiot. I’m at the peak of health, and I could use a leave of absence from all those parties myself. Althy would come if she could, but Princess Inessa is fond of her, and her role as her protector isn’t as easy to take a leave of. Shall we get to packing?”
• • •
Polaire had spoken too soon; the asha-ka association had approved our request for an audience, but it was the only thing they were willing to grant.
“Absolutely not,” one of the old women thundered—Mistress Hestia of House Imperial. Her heartsglass glimmered burgundy and teal, Mistress Parmina’s slight regarding the Falling Leaf cha-khana still rankling her. “We deny your request to leave for Odalia. The Deathseekers have agreed to assume this responsibility, and it is no longer our concern.”
“There are twenty of them dead in Odalia,” Polaire said, who had volunteered to speak on my behalf. Councilor Ludvig was with me, and I had hoped his presence would help sway them to our cause. We stood on the very same stage which I had danced and sang for them on, the same stage where I had refused to burrow into their minds to take a silver hoop off a piece of string above my head. “And there will be countless more if we don’t act. This is not a common daeva, Mistresses. This is an azi, the most powerful of the darkspawn. Not even the Five Great Heroes have ever defeated it, and its lair remains unknown to this day. It is a reclusive beast that goes out of its way to avoid humans, but its sudden appearance at the darashi oyun indicates some new evil at work. It must be neutralized as soon as possible—that will require the talents of a Dark asha, not a Deathseeker.”
“Deathseekers are aware of the risks they take whether they face off against an azi or a tiger cub, a monster or a human. All the rulers of the Eight Kingdoms have agreed that this must be left up to the men. They are prepared to sacrifice their lives; we are not prepared for you to do the same.”
“But why? Isn’t that what I’m here for?” My bitterness echoed through the large chamber.
“Yes, but at a time of our choosing. You are still too young and too inexperienced to handle a daeva of this magnitude, and to send you to the azi is tantamount to suicide. We have not invested this much in you to send you off according to some foolish whim. Perhaps when Lady Mykaela is well enough—”
That was the last thing I wanted. “But I have faced it down before, and I can do it again! I understand that there are risks, but you must agree that even places like the Willows can be attacked. If I am safer here than I would be anywhere else, it would not be by any large margin. If there’s a chance we can find the daeva, then it’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
“Foolish girl!” The words rang out in the deserted hall. “Do you now know better than us just because you wear an asha’s hua? You are fifteen years old, still a child. We have been here far longer than you have been alive, little girl. We have survived worse years than you could dream of, and we will continue to flourish. Return to the Valerian, and rid your head of such idiocy. And you too, Polaire! I am surprised that you would allow this waif to convince you so easily! What idiot put such thoughts into your heads?”
“This ‘idiot’ did,” Councilor Ludvig said with unnatural calm, “and I wager I speak with more experience than the lot of you put together. The longer we delay this hunt, the more casualties we will incur, and it will not bode well for the rest of the kingdoms. Our enemies are crafty and find solace in subterfuge. They will not be intimidated by this show of strength, which will give us nothing but a foolish waste of the Deathseekers at our disposal. They believe the news will leave us in disarray. We must take advantage of their presumption to strike when they least expect it. The faster we take down the daeva, the faster we seize back the advantage.”
“We are aware of your reputation, Councilor Ludvig” was the cold reply. “However, you have no say in Ankyon affairs and even less within the Willows. Isteran politics is not our politics, and you must allow us to handle all Ankyon interests in our own way.”
“Sometimes I just want to throttle them,” Polaire fumed as we exited the building. Fox waited for us by the entrance. Judging by the look on his face, he had already gleaned the associations’ decision from my mind. “They care for nothing outside of Kion; all they want is to save their asha-ka and their reputations and not necessarily in that order.”
I was despondent. I had thought for sure that I could sway them to the urgency of our request.
“I presume they rejected your offer.”
Zoya was still garbed in black, still in mourning for her friend, Brijette. She was paler than usual and for once wore none of her acerbity for all to see.
“And what does that have to do with you?” Polaire asked, wary.
Zoya shrugged. “I’m not stupid. I can make a guess at what happened inside. I could have told you that they would refuse your request and spared you the energy and the time. I also know that you all are not the type to give up so easily. Whatever you’re planning, I want to be a part of it. It’s better than staying here, with little else to do but wait.”
“What do you think?” Fox asked Polaire.
“We do need all the help we can get,” she admitted reluctantly.
“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one.” The old man dug at his right ear with a finger. “I’ve had dealings with those crones before, and quite frankly, I’m not surprised. They’re not ones to admit when
they’re wrong, even when they are.”
“What do we do now?” I asked him.
“You have two choices the way I see it. You can abide by their decision, retire to your asha-ka, wait for word of any other battles, and hope they find that daeva without incurring further casualties. Or you can sod off whatever they think and leave anyway.”
Polaire, Fox, and I looked at each other. We didn’t need to voice our thoughts aloud to know what we had decided.
“You’re not being honest with them,” Fox murmured as we returned to the Valerian. “You’re not doing this just out of the goodness of your heart.”
“I’m not doing this because I want to risk my life. I’m doing this for Likh, and I’m doing this for Lady Mykaela. If I—when I—defeat the azi, they’ll make much of me. And I can build my influence, enough to use the elders as leverage. I can force them to accept Likh into the Willows and to have some control over Dark asha affairs in the Willows. Soon I could be in a position where they can no longer refuse me.”
Fox only shook his head. “I don’t think they’ll change their minds even then, Tea.”
“I’ll make them change their minds if I have to.”
My brother looked quickly at me, and I softened my tone.
“Not that way, of course. But I’ll find some other means.”
He nodded. He said nothing more, but I wonder if he had sensed that if only for a few seconds, I had truly meant it.
• • •
“Please reconsider,” Prince Kance said as Khalad carefully extracted a memory from my heartsglass. “Surely there are other alternatives to choose from?”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. But I’m the only one who can do this.”
“I thought I told you to call me Kance.” He smiled, but his heartsglass thrummed with worry.
—his eyes were still the same bright emeralds, and his face still maintained that solemn bearing even as he stood, smiling, to greet us—