Phoenix in Shadow

by Ryk E. Spoor

“The so-called ‘key’ is a Tor master!” she snapped, feeling again the chill and shock that had nearly overcome her.

  “What?” The surprise on the face was genuine. A moment later, the smile returned, this one of chagrin. “Ah. Of course, I should have guessed, given his instructor.”

  She felt the blood leave her face and dizziness assailed her. Curse this human body! “Are . . . no, you cannot be saying that He has returned, is instructing—”

  “Oh, no, no, not him. I have not seen him, nor sign that he . . .” Viedraverion paused. “Or perhaps I have. I must think on this. But in your particular case, no. But that is little comfort, I think, because his instructor was Konstantin Khoros.”

  “Khoros!” She spat the name out like a curse—which, indeed, it was. “And you did not see fit to warn us?”

  The infuriating smile was back. “You asked for me to watch for certain things. I watched for them. I think you would still want your key even with this complication, yes?”

  Calm. Calm. It was hard, much harder with the turbulent confused emotions within her, but she forced herself to clarity and some measure of calm. “Yes. Yes, we would. So . . . enough of that. However, there is the matter of his companion.”

  “Oh?”

  “She is the channel of a god!” Anew she saw the towering golden Sword-Balance, blazing up and through the cabin, rising above the trees, and felt again that strange chill and warmth, the power of a deity manifest in the girl who was sacrificing part of her own soul, as well as those of others, to save two children she had never before met. “A full channel, not some random priest! I have never felt such a thing, not even from the Stars and Sun!”

  The blond-haired form leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Well, yes. You have dealt less with the gods and their powers than I, so you do not understand the difference. In the Stars and Sun of Terian, you have a vast power, yes, but they are, in the end analysis, merely containers for power, not the Light in the Darkness himself. That does not of course mean they are safe, as you well know, but they are not themselves the Will of the Deity made manifest.” He gazed into a distance she could not see. “Even if they were—say if Terian had been called forth to activate them—there would be a difference. Terian has immensely many shrines, temples, priests, worshipers—scattered across the entire continent, some even within your own valley. He is many places at once, always.

  “Myrionar, however . . . has only the Phoenix. Oh, there is one priest, but even he looks to her as the example and symbol. You felt the power of a focused, even desperate god providing what it could to its one remaining champion, and that, I have no doubt, was a magnificent sight indeed to one of our perceptions.”

  “Oh, it was magnificent!” She caught herself before she went any farther. This part I play is becoming too real. I must remember it is only a seeming, not an actuality . . . or it might become actuality. “But also dangerous.”

  Viedraverion shrugged. “If you make too many mistakes, yes. She is a very formidable young woman. But you have the power, you have the allies, you have the advantages. I trust you will be able to handle her and your key.”

  “As long as Khoros isn’t directly intervening.” She didn’t even want to think about that. Ermirinovas was powerful, yes, but she knew that going up against a Spirit Mage of Khoros’ age and power would be a foregone conclusion, and not one in her favor.

  “No, of that I can be sure. My . . . sources tell me that he has actually been seen serving as advisor to the new Sauran King as they prepare for the counterassault against our beloved father.”

  That was something of a relief. But . . . “Does Father know?”

  “I presume he does. He has his own spies.”

  She studied him. “You don’t seem concerned. I thought you had an interest in this Phoenix.”

  “I have an interest in how her journey ends—in victory or in failure. I won’t tell you you cannot deal with her in any fashion that suits your needs.”

  “Indeed?” He nodded. “Well . . . all right. Also, I did intercept your other visitor, Aran Condor, and sent him the other way around the Necklace. I’m arranging for sightings and rumors of the Phoenix along the way, so he’ll stick to the trail and never wonder about it all the way there.”

  “Really? Well done, little sister. I commend you. Exactly as I would have asked.” He looked off to the side. “I must be going; other responsibilities call, and I believe we have . . . cleared up our misunderstanding?”

  “Sufficiently. Farewell, Viedraverion.”

  “And you, Ermirinovas.”

  She put the scroll away, checked the seals and wards again. Not that she expected anyone to try to spy on her—the Phoenix certainly would never even think of such a thing and she doubted Tobimar would either, and none of the others in Jenten’s Mill would dare—but only a fool trusts unreservedly.

  Once she was sure that things were still secure, she removed the farcaller from her pouch and placed it on the table. “Lady Shae,” she said.

  The image of Kalshae’s human form materialized almost instantly; she was in her own chambers, so there was no need to delay. “Miri. What is it?”

  Now she had someone to really vent her tension on. “I would ask rather what is this?” She held up one of the itrichel corpses.

  Kalshae blinked in startlement. “Where did you—”

  “Jenten’s Mill. An infestation that came up out of the lake—how very surprising,” she let sarcasm fill the last words for a second or two before continuing, “and then when the townsfolk stopped depredations on their young livestock the thing took over one of the townsfolk and started abducting children!”

  “Well, that’s unfortunate, but—”

  “Unfortunate? You fool, Kalshae! You and Wieran play with all these clever little inventions but you never see the way the game has to be played, and you have too little respect for the danger! They sent for help and found our key and his party—and naturally they came right away.”

  Finally Kalshae was giving her undivided attention to Miri, and Miri began to feel—slightly—better. “Now it was bad enough that it was hurting the town; as long as we’re running a kingdom we need stability, not fear and uncertainty. But far worse was the fact that it was one of yours.”

  “How do you—”

  “How do I know? How do I know?” She leaned forward, glaring so fiercely that Kalshae actually stepped back a pace. “Because the Father-damned thing almost gave me away! The only thing that kept the whole situation from going straight to the Light was that the master itrichel got fancy and instead of just telling them what I was, hinted and looked at me in a way I couldn’t possibly mistake. I could tell it expected I would betray them at that point. I finished it instead.

  “Fortunately,” she continued, overriding Kalshae’s attempt to speak, “they thought that it was simply planning on mind-controlling us—it couldn’t affect Tobimar—and that was why we wouldn’t be able to be trusted. And while they had wanted to capture it and question it about its other nest, they understood my need to act.”

  “I see.” Kalshae gazed at her, then finally—unwillingly—bowed. “I . . . am sorry. It was thoughtless and incompetent of us to allow such a thing free, and I will make no such mistakes again.”

  “See that you don’t. You may have more raw power than I do, Kalshae—although not as much as you think—but never forget that I planned this entire thing. You will not ruin it for me.”

  “Understood, Miri. Understood.” Kalshae waited to see if Miri accepted her contrition, then, “Now . . . how many people were killed? The master-itrichel’s host, of course, but how many others?”

  “None, actually. I was careful with the Shardstorm.”

  “Wait, now. There is no way that you can cure a child ridden by an itrichel for longer than—”

  “Oh, yes there is. If you happen to be the chosen representative of a god. Phoenix’s story is one hundred percent true; she was able to pull enough power from her god to heal all
five children, including two with nearly full-grown mindworms.”

  Even as she said that, Miri regarded herself with confusion and disbelief. Tell Kalshae about the soul-tearing! About how Phoenix had to use her own soul and those of others to heal the children! That’s vital information! It tells us that Phoenix—and perhaps Tobimar and Hiriista!—will be weakened for some time! It also tells us about how far they will go to save others!

  Tell her!

  But somehow she found herself silent, adding no more details, and held her face so controlled that not a hint of additional information was shown on her face. Even as she let that moment pass, she felt that strangeness within her growing, as though the decision had strengthened it. With frozen panic she shoved that very awareness from her mind and focused on the woman before her.

  “By the Throne! That’s . . . frightening,” Kalshae said slowly. “Especially doing it here, where even we cannot pull in more than a fraction of the power that is normally ours. But there is no suspicion of us?”

  “None. Especially after our successful hunt. Though there are more itrichel out there to hunt, since not all the missing livestock from the first attacks have been found.”

  “Still, if they have not conferred with the master itrichel, they will know nothing.”

  “Let us hope so. But I will have to stay here and complete the hunt for all of the things to make sure. Do you understand how much time this will make me waste? If just one person hears the wrong thing and I’m not there to kill them or wipe their minds—”

  “Yes, yes, I do understand. My apologies, again.” She tilted her head. “Wait a moment. You said that the master itrichel could not affect Tobimar Silverun. Why?”

  Miri couldn’t restrain a nasty grin. “Because he is a Tor master.”

  The reaction was everything she could have hoped for. Kalshae shrank back in horror, her foot ran against some object fallen to the floor, and she stumbled. “Impossible! They were eradicated from—”

  “I saw him. Just as I remember seeing the Eternal King himself from the walls. I cannot mistake those moves, those stances. And Viedraverion tells me that our key was trained by Khoros.”

  Kalshae vented an obscenity that momentarily darkened the crystal. “Are we against Khoros? If so, we must simply abandon this plan entirely.”

  “I would not be so hasty . . . but no. Viedra says that the old mage is advising the Sauran King and will probably be on the front lines.”

  “Bad for Father, good for us. All right. Will the key be continuing on tomorrow?”

  “I think so. Perhaps the day after; the townspeople are very grateful. I will then catch up with them once the hunting of the other itrichel is finished.”

  “I think you should stick with them as much as possible . . . just to make sure they don’t see or learn anything . . . dangerous.”

  “I’ll do so as much as possible,” Miri said with a smile. Smile? Suddenly I feel so much . . . lighter! What in the world could be causing that?

  “All right. I’ll go deal with Wieran over this . . . unauthorized release.”

  “Better you than me. Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

  Miri put the crystal away and stood. It’s getting towards dinner time; Phoenix will be wondering where I am!

  She set out from her room, a bounce in her step again.

  CHAPTER 29

  “You will always be welcomed in Jenten’s Mill,” the Reflect said, bowing deeply to Kyri; the assembled crowd also bowed. Poplock could see the slight darkening of the already-dark cheeks that told him the Phoenix Justiciar was embarrassed. “And we shall not forget your teachings.”

  Kyri’s smile was still a trifle disbelieving, but very happy. “I cannot thank you enough—”

  “No,” Zogen Josan said, cutting her off emphatically. Nimelly and the five children echoed the word, and the rest of the crowd nodded. “It is we who cannot thank you enough. You cut through fear and illusion and mistrust; together you found the truth. But you, Phoenix, then drove forth the darkness and healed those who were beyond help, brought children from the grip of death back to us, at the risk of your own soul. Even as a Color I have never seen such power, or felt such . . . blessing as came from the power of Myrionar.” He held up the handwritten sheets that Kyri had spent the last day and a half writing. “These shall be studied and learned by heart, and know that the word of the the God of Justice and Vengeance shall never be forgotten here.”

  Kyri’s gray eyes were filled with tears; all she seemed capable of doing then was to bow almost to the ground and then clasp Zogen’s hands.

  The rest of the goodbyes took, as Poplock had expected, something close to an hour of repetition of goodbyes, good-lucks, thank-yous, and other expected sentiments. He glanced sideways to Hiriista, who gave an ironic shrug. But at last the houses of Jenten’s Mill had vanished to view and the quiet of the forest had once more fallen upon them.

  “Finally!” Poplock burst out. “Away, and alone for a while, so I can talk!”

  Tobimar looked at him sympathetically. “This hiding your existence isn’t easy, is it?”

  “Mud-sucking hard is what it is. But we’ve got to keep doing it, so I’m going to be doing a lot of talking until Miri catches up with us.”

  “Why stop then?” Kyri asked. “Miri’s really—”

  “—a Light of Kaizatenzei,” Hiriista said bluntly. “And after what we learned from Zogen, I feel even more strongly that we must be cautious about the Unity Guard.”

  “No two ways about that,” Poplock said. “In between other conversations, he mentioned recurring images that were really pretty darn creepy—dreams of lying down, unable to move, as though he were in some sort of coffin—but a coffin with a window, through which he saw what seemed rows of other coffins, ranks upon ranks of them.”

  “I’m not sure what it means.” Hiriista took out his scent-pipe and filled it. “But he says he occasionally had this dream or vision throughout his tenure as a Color, has never had it since retiring, and that he heard similar tales among others of the Guard. If Miri is unaffected, that may mean that she simply has not yet been targeted, or she has been fortunate . . . or that she is part of the problem.”

  Kyri sighed. “I know. You’re right, of course. Thornfalcon fooled everyone until he decided he no longer needed to trick them. I have to presume that this is even easier here in Kaizatenzei.”

  “Precisely,” Hiriista said. “Why do you think we questioned Zogen when Miri was elsewhere? She works far too closely with Lady Shae and Master Wieran for us to rule that possibility out.” The Toad could tell by the tension in the walk, the stiffer lashing of the tail, that thinking such terrible—probably treasonous—thoughts hurt his scaly friend badly.

  “I understand.”

  “You’ll have to be especially on your guard,” Poplock pointed out. “Once Miri gets back you’re going to have a hard time getting away.”

  Tobimar chuckled. “Yes, you’ve got quite an admirer in her now.”

  “Well, she is very nice, and we’ve got a lot to talk about. She’s an incredible fighter—I still am amazed by the way she finished off that master itrichel without killing Nimelly.”

  “Oh, yeah, about that—Hiriista, what does . . .” Poplock concentrated on trying to recall what he’d heard, “um, ‘Vomatenzei Borok—cho!’ mean?”

  “Ahhh, yes, you don’t speak the old tongue.”

  “Well, I know ‘Vomatenzei,’ that’s ‘Stormlight,’ right?”

  “Precisely. What you heard was an invocation of one of Miri’s particular powers—all the Guard have some of their own. That translates, roughly, to ‘Stormlight Hammer—strike.’”

  “Makes sense; that sent what looked like a ball of pure lightning down on the itrichel, left a crater fifteen feet across. I would’ve thought her powers would be more water-based.”

  “Storms are merely water and air, are they not?” Hiriista pointed out.

  Kyri smiled, the
n took a deep breath. “Mmm. That . . . lightness of the world is starting to become stronger, I think.”

  “Yes. As we progress closer to the Necklace it will return.” The mazakh looked down at Poplock. “Now, my apprentice, how are you doing in your studies?”

  “Kinda interrupted by having to pretend to be stupid all the time. But I was planning on practicing calling a defense, a sort of ice shield. At my size, defense is what I really need. I could always start practicing offense later.”

  “In a sense, yes, but remember, your attunement to a gem is dependent on a specific Calling. You cannot switch back and forth between different . . . modes of operation for a given gem. For example, if you invoke your Ocean’s Tear to provide the defense you have envisioned, that is all you can call upon that gem to do unless you reset its individual matrix, which will negate all of the work you have done to develop your connection to the gem. The Summoning Calls are somewhat different—it is difficult to impossible to somehow repurpose such a stone—but for most gemcalling, a stone’s path can be reset but the progress along that path will be lost.”

  “Does that mean I can’t switch in another gem without losing all the progress I made with the other?” That would really be annoying; he wasn’t big enough to wear the wide assortment of bangles, bracelets, and necklaces that Hiriista displayed.

  A hiss of amusement. “Oh, no, no. The gem and you retain your link even if the gem is not in a calling matrix. I apologize; the terminology is clear to an expert, but I admit it is confusing to a layman. A Calling Matrix is one of these particular pieces of equipment that has a setting for a calling gem. But each individual gem has its own internal matrix—for lack of a better word—which is established by its usage by an individual gemcaller.

  “This matrix exists simultaneously in both the gem and the gemcaller, and thus while the same gem could be used for different purposes by two different gemcallers, for the same gemcaller to use the gem for a different purpose involves erasing that prior relationship between the two; since the increasing connection over time makes a gemcall more powerful, easier, and faster to invoke, most gemcallers are very reluctant to, shall we say, repurpose a gem with which they have any significant experience.”