Sword

by Amy Bai

"It didn't appear that any survived, Majesty," Annan offered, still eyeing Kyali with that gimlet gaze, as though she were a particularly interesting book.

  "None did," she shot back, not bothering to grace Annan with a glower this time. "But there was an officer among them, and he was carrying orders. I've a report for you later, my lady."

  "Oh, give it now, we're all friends here," Taireasa said, her shoulders stiffening just a little as she turned to beckon a servant over for more wine.

  Kyali hesitated a moment, then nodded, locking her hands behind her back, a soldier at attention. "Tuan has apparently succeeded his father," she said; Taireasa's head came up and her emerald eyes narrowed. "Unless he's commanding the Western battalions in Faestan without having taken the throne, but that seems unlikely. The officer had orders to seek out a means of entering this castle unnoticed, to cut off our route to Maurynim, and to halt the flow of supplies and refugees."

  "Rather a lot to ask of one officer," Beagan murmured.

  "Chances are he was in command of a far larger force that separated to circle the castle," Kyali replied. "I've sent out men to find them. What scant word I've had of doings in the lowlands suggests Master Tuan would very much like Her Majesty captured and brought to Faestan before the snow flies on this mountain."

  "Small chance of that," Devin said angrily. Kyali's eyes flickered over and past him, and she pursed her lips in tacit agreement.

  Taireasa, watching Kyali closely, took a sip of wine and then folded her arms. "There's something more that you're not saying, though, isn’t there? What?"

  "Mmm," Kyali muttered, then shrugged a second time before meeting Taireasa's eyes. "Nothing significant, Majesty."

  "Ky."

  "The orders also offered lands and title to any man who could bring back my head."

  Devin inhaled a bit of wine and coughed into an appalled silence.

  Curran gave a low, slow whistle. "Well," he said. "That's… extravagant."

  Taireasa and Kyali were now locked in some sort of staring contest. Or perhaps they were both pretending to be rocks. Mortally tired of the way the air fogged with secrets when these two met gazes lately, Devin set his glass down and pushed himself into the cold space between them.

  "Have you done something in particular to provoke the man, Lady Captain, or is this merely the usual response to your famous charm?" he asked, and felt every eye in the room turn to him.

  Every eye but the two in Kyali's hard, stubborn head, that is.

  "I killed his father," she said with soft venom. Devin felt his pulse leap in pure stunned horror. It became fury when Kyali finally turned and pinned that icy gaze on him deliberately. "Apparently he didn't take it well."

  "Some people don't, sister, when their fathers are killed. Imagine that."

  "Enough, you two!" Taireasa snapped, temper finally breaking through her self-possession. Before she got between them, he had the satisfaction of seeing his little sister suck in a quick breath, as though taking a blow to the stomach. "We've enough to fight without bickering among ourselves."

  When she set hands on each of them to push them apart, there was a sudden shudder that seemed to come from both the floor and the air—that seemed, nonsensically, to be as much inside his bones as it was under his feet. Devin staggered, putting a hand out for balance, and caught Kyali's wrist as her arm flailed outward. Something bleak and hurt flashed through him, something lightless and searing and intolerable. Taireasa made a strange whimpering noise, and then something else echoed it, and another thing—and all around them grew a high, dissonant hum.

  Kyali tore herself out of the circle they had inadvertently made with a faint grunt that sounded like pain.

  Devin shook his head, trying to clear it of the odd humming. Taireasa pressed a hand to her breast, her face gone blank and startled. The shimmer was back, thick and blurry, pulling on his guts like a fishhook.

  "Dear gods," Devin wheezed. "What was that?"

  Curran, Beagan, Loessa, and Annan had all backed away, but Kinsey was leaning in, his sharp eyes taking in every twitch and gasp. He met Taireasa's eyes, flushed, and spun immediately to pluck up Devin's abandoned wineglass and examine it. The humming echoed from the bowl of it.

  "Hm," the prince said, tapping the rim with a fingertip. "Something in the air that makes it—no. Oh! Perhaps." He glared at the glass, oblivious to the roomful of people watching (Annan had taken on a faint air of long-suffering amusement), and pressed his palm to it until it was silent.

  Then he dipped a finger into the wine and ran it nimbly around the rim. Even as the sound began to fade from elsewhere in the room, it swelled from the glass in his hand.

  "What does that mean?" Loessa came near, peering curiously at the glass.

  "I haven't the slightest idea," Kinsey said happily.

  "Oh," Loessa murmured.

  "It must have something to do with the way the air warps when the three of them do magi—ah, sorry, Majesty, there I go again. I'm afraid I get a bit carried away sometimes—"

  "All the time," Annan murmured.

  "—when I have a puzzle in front of me," Kinsey finished, casting a sharp and rueful look at his lieutenant. "But this… I think I'd better make haste to get the library in order. There might be books that deal with this. I know nothing of magic."

  "Evidently, neither do we," Taireasa said wryly, giving herself a small shake. "I'll have servants sent in there tomorrow morning. Anything you need, just ask."

  "You do," Devin said, looking at his sister, who was several cautious feet away, as though she was afraid one of them would reach out and grab her again. She'd gone a bit pale.

  Kyali gave him a cool stare. "I what?"

  "You know about magic. At least I hope you do, after two years of studying it. Be a bit sad if you managed to learn nothing in all that time, Lady Captain."

  Kyali's chin came up, which told him he was about to get a real reaction from her, possibly for the first time since the uprising. "Sort of like being shipped off to Orin to be tutored by court wizards and coming back empty-headed, would you say? That sort of sad?"

  She might have changed, but the edge on her tongue hadn't dulled any. Beagan snickered, trying vainly to turn the noise into a cough. Curran didn't bother to try to hide his grin.

  "Gods," Taireasa sighed. "Keeping you two from fighting is like trying to empty a lake with a bucket. Ky, I trust the Fraonir did teach you something more than the structure of the world?"

  "They did," Kyali replied, folding her arms and looking uncomfortable. "Nothing that's going to help, I fear. Certainly nothing about—what just happened."

  Taireasa's shoulders sagged. "They never once mentioned it?"

  "Never," Kyali said flatly. "I'd say they went out of their way to avoid mentioning it, in fact."

  "Yes," Devin murmured, thinking of a terrible night, an old woman's words, the tears on her lined face. "I got the impression they were holding back rather a lot, actually."

  "Interesting," Kinsey said, toying absently with the wineglass. "They teach the Lady Captain, yet tell her nothing; they draw Devin into the mountains to find me, which indicates they have some idea of what path this prophecy will take—"

  "Or just an excellent system of spies in Cassdall," Annan threw in.

  "No, I don't think so. We were climbing their mountain, Annan; I'm sure we were fairly visible. I'm also beginning to suspect they were expecting us."

  "They know more than they say," Curran mused. "But why? Why won't they say, then?"

  "Perhaps they can't," Kinsey murmured, more to himself than to Curran or anyone else, and got a surprised, considering look on his face.

  "That sounds right," Kyali said quietly. She was rubbing her fingers over her thumb in slow, ceaseless circles, a habit she'd always had when worried or upset and trying to hide it. Devin bit the inside of his cheek, seeing that—it was a sharp reminder of the girl he'd grown up with.

  "So what did they teach you, then, little sister? You knocked
a chair over the day you came home, but I've seen no evidence other than that."

  "You did?" Taireasa said, startled. "I didn't know. What else can you do?"

  Kyali hunched a shoulder in a sullen shrug, looking down at her hands. She scowled, eyed the fire in the hearth balefully, and shut her eyes. Her breathing went odd, measured. Then Beagan yelped, stumbling back, as two thin skeins of flame wandered past the grate, into the air.

  Loessa put both hands to her mouth.

  "Dear gods," Curran said, and laughed, a little hysterically.

  The fire wove past them, past Kinsey, who watched it like a man entranced; past Taireasa, who reached out to take Devin's hand in a tight, clammy grip. Devin could only stare. Flashes of cold darkness and fire far less tame than the flame sliding past him now were intruding on his thoughts. He had no idea where the impressions were coming from, but whatever they were, they nearly undid him: they hurt. They made him want to kill something. They made him feel every inch of the distance Kyali had put between herself and him, and every inch of the distance between where he stood and the home he'd watched burn to the ground.

  He must have made a sound, because Taireasa reached for him and he could suddenly feel her shock and worry as strongly as though it were his—and then something shut off the darkness. He all but fell over at the relief of it.

  The fire curled into Kyali's hands like a sleepy cat, then vanished as she clenched her fists.

  "Well," Kinsey murmured. "Well."

  Kyali heaved a short, tense sigh and went to stand by the one of the high windows, looking out at the night with her shoulders knotted and her hands still clenched.

  "Can you do anything else?" Annan asked her, and she shot an irritated look over her shoulder at him.

  "I seem to be able to heal," she said. Her voice had gone rough and next to him, Devin felt Taireasa stiffen. "From wounds that… might otherwise be mortal. It wasn't something the Fraonir had any experience dealing with."

  "That's useful," Annan said, sounding, for once, a little bewildered. Probably at the notion that magic could be in any way practical.

  "Isn't it." Kyali was doing that thing with her fingers again.

  Wounds that might otherwise be mortal? How in hells had Kyali discovered that?

  "Perhaps if we ask, the Clan Leaders will send someone who can teach us," Taireasa said, high and hurried. She rubbed at one arm, then,pulled a wayward strand of pale hair out of her eyes. "I had a message this morning that Arlen and Measail were on their way here with a handful of Clansfolk. They might even be planning to offer such a thing. One can hope."

  "Yes," Devin said vaguely, still staring at his sister. "One can. Arlen gave me the harp, after all. I assume he meant for me to use it. Do you suppose they'll teach me to play the stones down around our ears?"

  "It seems a short step from breaking glass," Beagan gibed.

  Kinsey uttered a short laugh. "Could you really do that, Devin? Break glass?"

  "I spent most of my childhood doing exactly that," Devin answered. "It didn't seem to matter what I played: something always broke. Sometimes I didn't even have to play anything. Until last year, actually. I started to get control of it then."

  "Well enough to stun to silence the gathered high lords of the kingdom," Curran said.

  "Not well enough to stop them," Devin snapped. He sighed into the hush that fell after that too-blunt reply and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry. Illusion, glass-breaking, and a light breeze— these are all I can offer. Not much use. Fire and healing seem more helpful in a war."

  "My father needed no stopping," Curran retorted, folding his arms across his chest.

  "I know, Curran. Forgive me. Your father's no small part of why we survive up here."

  "Fire was little enough use when the war started," Kyali muttered. Everyone looked at her, but she kept her eyes on the windows. It wasn't much of a peace offering, but it served to remind him he wasn't the only one suffering.

  Devin took a sip of his wine and grimaced. Kinsey took the glass from him, flicked the bowl with his finger, and scowled thoughtfully.

  "Does the harp…"

  "Not really. No more than anything else, anyway."

  "Maybe you should try to break something with it," Kinsey said.

  "Inside the walls?"

  "A point," the Cassdall prince admitted, but his expression said he was still trying to find some way to make it happen. "It would certainly make for a lively evening."

  "Oh, gods," Annan muttered. "I'm not letting you two near the ale."

  Kinsey looked much less like an owl rousted into daylight when he grinned like that. Devin couldn't help grinning back, and he felt Taireasa's faint envy coming through the bond they shared. "Good luck with that," he said to Annan, and then, taking the cue Taireasa silently sent him, bowed to her, and to the company in general. "I ought to find my own bed, begging your pardons—if glass-breaking seems like a good idea, it's probably time for sleep."

  "Wisely said," Beagan agreed, and clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to speed his steps toward the door. Curran echoed the movement on his other side, more gently: a silent acceptance of his apology, Devin hoped.

  As they all began to file out the door, Devin glanced back. Kyali was still hunched by the window, avoiding the group, avoiding him, avoiding Taireasa. Taireasa had lost her distracted smile: she looked as unhappy as Devin felt most of the time.

  For a painful second, the breach between them was perfectly visible on her face.

  There was nothing he could do about it, nothing to fix it. And he couldn't stand to watch it happen.

  CHAPTER 17

  She came across the first entrance to the secret passageways purely by accident, while trying to dodge her brother. The edge of stone under her hands as she pressed against the wall told her there was something more than ancient brickwork there: the memory of Faestan's hidden doors and passages was bright and sharp in her mind as she followed the seam. It was almost enough to drive her off—but she would be a fool to ignore such a thing, if it existed. Someone else would find it if she didn't. After three hard shoves, she fell into a darkness so clogged with dust that she thought she might put an end to the hopeless farce her life had become by choking to death.

  That almost seemed preferable to speaking to Devin.

  But if neither a Western army nor a cousin trained all his life for combat could manage to kill her, she supposed succumbing to dust in an abandoned passageway was a fairly pathetic and unlikely way to leave the world.

  Shameful, hiding from her own brother like this.

  But it was so much easier than seeing his face when she squashed yet another of his attempts to draw her out. She gave him nothing to hold on to—terrified, she had to admit, that one slip would be all it took to kick open the door of ice in her heart that kept him out. He pulled at her constantly, and his seeking heart held memories of the girl she had been once—before— memories she refused to acknowledge, memories that made her ache all over with longing and helpless fury. It was impossible to concentrate when he was in the room.

  Taireasa let her be, amazingly, and wrapped her pain quietly around herself. Kyali was grateful beyond words for that.

  Now if she could only find a way not to care how much she hurt them.

  Ice.

  The passageway wasn't meant for a tall person. With a fold of her sleeve stretched over her face to keep from breathing in dust by the bucketful, Kyali followed it anyway, feeling her way with one hand on the rough wall.

  It branched out several times before landing her in one of the upper corridors, where she startled a Cassdall guard badly while shoving her way through the door in the wall. He watched her with wide eyes as she pulled herself out of the doorway and heaved it shut. When she began brushing herself off, trying not to make a face in pure disgust (no wonder she'd scared the man: she was so dust-covered she must look like a haunt), he got up the courage to ask her if he could help her find the guardroom.

&nbs
p; Guardroom? On this floor?

  "Please," Kyali said smoothly, and was led down a series of increasingly small corridors, each one less imposing than the last. At the end of one was a cul-de-sac with a shut door, the sound of laughter and good-natured shouts coming from behind it. The Cassdall guard, whose name she supposed she ought to learn, flung her a nervous sideways glance. In the sunlight from a narrow window, his face was the lovely color of new copper, and it was carefully free of expression, as though he knew before he even spoke what her reply would be.

  "Begging your pardon, Captain Corwynall, but perhaps I ought to…"

  "Thank you, I think I can handle it," Kyali said, so dry the dust might have been in her voice as well as all over her face. The soldier looked so uncomfortable she almost relented, but by then it was too late: he knocked in a complicated pattern she didn't bother to memorize, knowing it would probably change tomorrow, and the door swung wide. The laughter inside ceased and several strange faces peered out at her. They were no more alike than were the Fraonir, or her own people, but they were all quite plainly Cassdall. That fact was as evident in their features as it was in their dress: their light armor was different, making more use of mail, and their swords were shorter and broader than she was used to. They looked to be in the middle of some hilarious discussion, for smiles faded slowly from their faces but there was still merriment in their eyes as they gawked at her.

  "Cap'n," one man said—it was one of Annan's officers, yet another name she should probably know—and stood. He looked at the glass of ale in his hand in dismay. The rest of them stood, too, like she was a great lady arriving to a dinner table, which was either bleakly comical or infuriating. She couldn't decide which.

  "Lady Captain," Annan said, coming to his feet from behind the main bench, where he had apparently been stretching his legs out near a small hearth. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

  Amazing, how he could make the most basic courtesies sound like the opposite. And his Lady Captain always seemed to have the faintest edge of sarcasm.

  "Coincidence," Kyali said, without bothering to add anything like politeness.