Apostate's Pilgrimage: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Empire of Resonance Book 3)

by L. W. Jacobs

  And can you blame him? After everything you’ve done?

  Tai shook his head, trying to remember the thing wasn’t real, that it was just taking whatever tack it thought would give it the most sway over him. And that the persona it’d taken had attacked him first.

  Only because you—

  Its reply was lost in the shock of recognizing a face in the crowd. It took Tai a moment but yes, he knew that face—a sandy-haired man with a pinched expression, walking down the far side of the street with a determined expression on his face. And scorch marks on his furs.

  Credelen. That was Credelen, Ollen’s second in command from the waystone.

  Tai ducked his head back, slouching to drop his height, striking up conversations in his head to hide him from mindsight. What was Credelen doing here?

  There could be only one answer. One reason he would abandon the stone and his wounded companions and take boat or waft here.

  Tai’s heart pounded. He was hunting them. Hunting him. And if Tai understood shamanism well enough, the man might have thralled some of Nauro’s revenants, meaning he’d be much stronger than he’d been. And Tai still didn’t know defenses against shamans, could barely even see revenants. If it came to a fight…

  Tai risked another look. The man had passed, was still striding down the street like he had no time to lose. Did he have some lead? Some way to find them? Nauro had had tricks no resonance was capable of, shielding conversations and seeing through walls and who knew what else. Did Credelen know some trick like that?

  Tai took a deep breath. No. The man couldn’t, or he would have attacked. Still, there was no doubt why he was here.

  Which meant they needed to leave.

  30

  I have seen the weighty vessels, swaying into port—

  Seen them leave with empty bellies, men hungry-eyed.

  How long will this city mouth the world

  Fore starving peasants rise on rulers fat and weak?

  —Etrimus the Houseless, Dirges for Adeline

  Ella took a deep breath, smelling sweat and river and roast goat. They were on the Yatiport docks, gulls wheeling and men calling in the crush around them. There was something about a city, any city, that made her feel alive, but Yatiport more than most. This had been her first real taste of another culture, her first experience outside Worldsmouth, when she’d taken passage on the Swallowtail Mistress. She smiled, watching barrel-chested Yatimen loading casks onto a wide barge, remembering her mix of fear and excitement at finally meeting the ‘wild beasts’ of Yatiland, and finding they were no more beastly than the Councilate. She’d come back many times on her trips up and down the Ein, gradually coming to know the brick-lined streets and open-air restaurants within walking distance of the port, savoring the city’s transition from strange to familiar.

  Strange to think that for all that had happened since her last boat trip up the Ein, it had still only been a few months since she’d been here. About the usual interval.

  It felt so much longer—though maybe that had to do with her resonance. How many life-years had she burned since meeting Tai?

  Avery cleared his throat, nodding to a pack of dockworkers leaning against a brick warehouse, heads a mix of red, black, and fyelocke. “I’ll try over there. You’re sure you’re okay with me doing this?”

  He had half their supply of yura on him, forty balls. Ella nodded. “But don’t take it if they’re scalping you on the rate.”

  He nodded and pushed off, growing more of a swagger as he approached the men. They needed to sell the yura if they were going to stop sticking out—no one had yura to barter outside Ayugen—and a lighthaired woman like her would get an awful rate. It was a slight risk letting Avery take that much of their money, but she didn’t think he’d run. The mixed-haired youth seemed committed both to their mission and to Marea.

  Ella glanced over at her—the girl was still scowling, had been all morning. “You okay?” she asked.

  “Fine,” Marea snapped.

  They hadn’t had much chance to talk since their argument over Avery, and Ella had no idea where they stood. Still, she was serious about wanting to be there for the girl. It would be hard to go through all this so young. Prophets, it was still hard.

  “You want to talk about being fine?” Ella asked, leaning against the solid stone railing that bordered the Ein, Councilate stonework pleasantly modern after weeks of tents and woods.

  “What’s there to talk about? When you’re fine, you’re fine.”

  If only she could see herself, scowling about being fine. Had Ella ever been like that? Probably. Probably worse—that was about the age she’d run away from home.

  Ella cleared her throat. “You’re worried Avery’s not going to go with you.”

  Marea blushed scarlet, glancing to where the bulky young man had blended into the crowd of workers, then scowled deeper. “Yeah, I am, okay? It’s all fine for you that you want to follow your boyfriend around fighting gods or whatever, but some of us might not want that.”

  Poor girl. It must feel awful, but the last thing Marea probably wanted was pity. “Maybe he wants that too. Have you talked to him about it?”

  “No, I haven’t talked to him about it, because there’s always a million people around listening to everything we say.”

  The inn had been crowded last night—Tai didn’t want to draw attention by bartering too much yura, so they’d traded for a single room and dinner, and ended up sharing beds. Thinking back, the girl wouldn’t have had a chance on the boat either, and obviously not before then.

  “Well, I plan to do some asking around today,” Ella said. “I’ll make sure to give you some space.”

  Marea only looked more miserable, an expression out of place on her elfin features, made more delicate from the long walk and poor food they’d had the last few weeks. She was obviously dreading the talk as much as she wanted it. “Thanks.”

  Ella wanted to reach out a hand to her, do something to make the girl feel better, but maybe there was no escape from the misery of youth. None that she could offer, anyway. In the awkward silence she noticed a high whine in her bones—the tone of a blank. “Are you using your resonance?”

  “My blankness? Yeah. It makes me feel better.” Marea glared at her as though daring her to tell her it was stupid or childish.

  Fortunately, Avery had left the crowd of men, and Ella nodded to him. “Here he comes.”

  The muscular youth walked up with pockets bulging, a grin playing on his lips. “Stuff is worth its weight in solium,” he said once he reached them. “Two hundred marks a ball, and I know they were all planning to turn around and make more than that.”

  Marea’s eyes bulged, and Ella worked to keep hers from doing the same. “So you’ve got… four thousand on you?”

  Avery nodded once, face getting a little more serious and glancing around. “I do, and most of those men know it. So maybe we wander on?”

  If it came to an attack they could probably handle it, but the attention that drew would be the last thing they needed. Especially if Tai was back by then. “A great idea. Give me half, then I’ll seek out the richer travelers, if you can make the rounds of more dockworkers.”

  She hesitated, because lighthaired Marea would obviously stand out in Avery’s crowd, but the girl wanted time with him, so—

  “Marea, walk with me a bit?” Avery asked, digging in his pockets. Smart man. He half-turned and passed Ella two wrapped rolls of coins, his palms surprisingly smooth for a day laborer.

  Ella nodded good day to them, silently wishing the girl luck, then made her way along the stone-and-plank boardwalk that lined the Yanu’s confluence with the Ein. Along the way she struck resonance just for a moment, seeing no better way to do it, and stuffed the coin rolls down her front. As the world slurred back to speed, she wondered how many minutes or hours she’d aged in that time. How many days?

  Curse Nauro for ever telling her about the cost. LeTwi was right: better to swim in unkno
wing than drown in truth.

  She spotted a well-dressed couple taking tea at one of the open-air restaurants built along the dock’s south side and made her way over.

  “Excuse my forwardness,” she said, “but I’ve been many days away from civilization and am dying for some proper conversation.”

  “By all means,” the man cried, jumping up. “We’ve ourselves been cooped up with the same passengers two months now, and would love a fresh ear.”

  They knew nothing, beyond the mundane scandals of the higher Houses and the usual discussion of how recent Council policy might affect trade. It sounded exactly like the conversations she’d heard every day about The Swallowtail Mistress, with different names and Houses swapped in.

  She hadn’t missed it a bit.

  The next couple was the same, as was a svelte gentleman she talked to in front of the lawkeeping station. Few had any mind for events outside Worldsmouth, though there was some talk of a poor sweetleaf harvest this year, and unsettled peasantry in Yershire. More interesting was the discussion of Semeca Fenril’s death and the withdrawal of the Councilate legion at Gendrys. Most people she met blamed Ayugen for her death, some going so far as to mention Tai by name, and very few had any idea what had actually happened.

  No surprise there, as Semeca had attacked only with Broken, a program not well-understood even within the Gendrys army camp. But it did not bode well that across the board they were frustrated at the Councilate for not taking more decisive action, and the slowdown in business as yura supply dwindled and costs skyrocketed.

  “Don’t understand why we don’t just smash them,” the svelte gentleman was saying, Aeson Jeltenets of the Jeltenets hides and tanning division. “Send more legions in than they can handle and take our moss back.”

  “The river is blocked, from what I understand,” Ella said.

  Aeson snorted. “A few stones. That’s going to stop us from the most lucrative trade in the history of the Councilate? Byaldsden and Deyenal just want the Houses materially involved to fund it. And I don’t disagree with them, but you have to consider—”

  And on and on. Ella was glad when Marea rejoined her, because the girl had a knack for keeping the people they talked to on topic, but after another few conversations Ella was beginning to doubt Semeca’s waystone was on their continent. Surely an entire stone lighting up with uai would make something worth talking about, especially to these people who had so little of value to say?

  Marea agreed, though her heart obviously wasn’t in the search.

  “How did your talk with Avery go?” Ella asked, after they escaped a portly grain trader with wandering eyes. They were near the south end of the docks, where the land rose in steep granite outcroppings, wind brisk off the wide river.

  “Awfully,” Marea said. “I mean, it was great, and he’s great, but—”

  “He doesn’t want to go,” Ella said. She’d suspected as much—all the ninespears she’d met seemed dedicated to their cause, and youthful or not she didn’t doubt Avery was any different. Besides, a man like him probably was used to pretty young women coming into and out of his life. None of which she could say, of course.

  “No,” Marea said, the word loaded with disappointment and confusion. “But he says he wants to be with me. And asked me if I would come with, wherever you end up going.”

  Ella took a moment to adjust her loops of braids. “And what did you say?”

  “I—don’t know. I said I don’t know what I want to do.”

  She said something more, but Ella only half-heard her. Was that—her old ship?

  “Ella?” Marea asked, when she’d missed the beat to respond. That was her—the Swallowtail Mistress.

  “Yes, sorry, I—come on. I may know someone we can get information from.”

  31

  Tai filled Feynrick in with low tones when the man emerged a few fingers later.

  Feynrick just grunted. “You sure what ye saw, milkweed? We would’ve seen Credelen on the river, like as not, if he’d taken it at the same time.”

  His breath stank of floral dreamtea. “He could have wafted,” Tai said. “Or come through the ground, I don’t know, shamans aren’t limited like we are. Or not in the same ways.” He rolled his shoulders, frustrated again that he didn’t know more. And now that he finally knew he could trust Nauro, the man was gone. And Avery didn’t seem to know nearly as much.

  “Well, the main thing is he didn’t come for you, and I doubt he’s after Avery or the girls if he doesn’t care about you. That or he’s got no way of finding us, and in that case Yatiport’s a big town. Come on.”

  Tai followed him, shouldering his way through swelling morning traffic. The sun hung rosy to the east, casting everything in the purple of a winter dawn. “You learn anything good back there?”

  “More of the same. People here are too pissing concerned with their own noses to see much of the outside world. Doesn’t help that I can’t talk about a waystone without them looking at me like I’m crazy. But some word of trouble on the plains, for what it’s worth.”

  The plains—that meant old Yersh country to the north, the Councilate’s first conquest after independence. Nauro had said there was a stone there, but the Yershire looked huge on maps he’d seen—it could be totally unconnected to the stone. Still.

  “It’s something at least,” Tai said. “You got more places to talk?”

  “One more,” Feynrick said. “Though if they feed me any more dreamleaf I’m like to turn into a shaman myself.”

  This time Feynrick went into one of the towers, a leaning five-story wood structure surrounded with a fence of sharpened stakes and armed with guards. Tai stayed well back, fading into the shadows and watching the street. Ella, Avery, and Marea were down by the docks, hoping to gather information and seek out ships traveling up or down the Ein once they’d made a plan. He didn’t like leaving Ella with someone he’d known as briefly as Avery, even though she was more than capable of protecting herself. And the man seemed trustworthy, if young.

  And if he hadn’t crossed the bowl to warn you that night, you’d have been just as happy murdering him. Right?

  Tai rolled his shoulders, watching the guards outside Feynrick’s tower share a steaming cup of dreamleaf. “I would not have been happy about murdering him,” he answered, despite knowing he should just ignore the voice. “But yes, if it meant protecting my friends? I would have done it.”

  What does protecting your friends mean when you’re fighting people who could be your friends? You would protect Avery now, wouldn’t you?

  He likely would. They needed the man to teach them shamanism, he was good for Marea, and they’d need all the help they could get when they found the right stone.

  Wouldn’t Ollen have been even better help?

  Tai shook his head, watching a pair of pickpockets work the crowd—young girl to draw their attention, older boy to check their pockets. They looked like siblings. “Ollen was never an option. He wasn’t willing to share his information, and attacked us without even knowing our intentions. He just wanted power. Like all you shamans, as far as I can see.”

  Did he?

  Images came up then, the fire and stark shadows that night at the stone, but as if seen through darkened glass, with Tai’s thoughts loud and on the inside of the glass, his determination and worry for Nauro.

  “What are you doing?” he muttered, resigning himself to looking totally mad. There were hermits on the streets sometimes, people too involved with their voices to really interact with others. It was as good a cover as any other.

  I’m helping you remember. You had a lot on your mind during that time, but I didn’t. I saw everything when you looked into Ollen’s mind. All the things you forgot, or couldn’t see in the moment.

  More images came up then, dreamlike against the darkened pane of the battle, Tai creeping closer to the stone as he sought the minds of the men on the other side. Ollen had stood out, his thoughts calm and focused.

 
Regret was the first thing that came up. He hadn’t wanted to kill Nauro, had understood by then what a rare and talented shaman he was.

  Unlike you, who seems to kill anyone standing in their way.

  “He was still trying to kill him,” Tai muttered, but the revenant was having an effect on him. He needed a distraction.

  What I say isn’t less true because I’m dead. You kill at the drop of a hat, which means that I have to do that with you now. So I want you to at least know who you’re killing.

  More images came up them, the mindsight he’d only glanced at as he crept around the side of the rock, sighted on Ollen, and pushed air against his throat to suffocate him. Images of Ollen’s tidy stone home in Seingard, the gray-haired wife he feared not coming home to, the plans he had for the power once he got into the stone.

  He wasn’t planning to come after you, or anyone. He wanted the power because he trusted himself to use it wisely. Sound familiar?

  A knot formed between Tai’s shoulder blades. That was his reason for pursuing Semeca’s stone, or close enough. To take the power before someone more dangerous did, to prevent it from hurting anyone.

  But who was to say he was better suited to it than Ollen? Ollen, who had been kind to them up to the end, who appeared in those brief moments of mindsight to be a decent person?

  Who might also have been Tai’s friend, in different circumstances?

  Tai shook his head, unable to tell for a moment which thoughts were his and which Ydilwen’s.

  “The revenant’s,” he muttered. “It’s not Ydilwen. It’s just a voice mecking with me.”

  Tell yourself what you want. You know that I am right.

  “And if you are?” Tai snapped. “What then? Do I just let the next person that threatens my friends hurt them? Do I give up and go home and let the greediest shaman take the spear and destroy my city to protect themselves? What difference does knowing all this make?”

  Silence, then a cleared throat behind him in the alley.