Inkmistress

by Audrey Coulthurst

  “That must have been hard,” I said, still not quite able to process what he was telling me.

  “Sometimes. But other times my siblings were there for me when no one else could be. I’m grateful for that. The wind’s children have their families with them wherever they go.”

  “You’re so lucky,” I said, afraid my voice might crack. Everything around me was unraveling, even the last thing I thought was true.

  “Except when I wish they’d shut up. One time, my sister Thendra spent a fortnight yelling at anyone with half an ear to the west because she was goosed off that the king of Mynaria had taken down some buildings with rooftops she relied on to get around his crown city. Never mind that there were twenty other ways to go—she just didn’t like them. Bitter old cow. Learned some of my best insults from her,” he said fondly.

  “What about the wind god—your father—has he ever spoken to you?” I asked.

  Hal looked at me like I was daft. “Of course not. The gods only speak to the king when he visits the Grand Temple, or to clerics who’ve sworn to a lifetime of service to them. You really must not get any information up in that mountain village of yours.”

  I frowned, remembering when the gods had spoken to me through Miriel and asked me to use my gift. Apparently that had been out of the ordinary, which made me think I’d best not tell him about it. Silence drew out between us as our boots padded over the spring-soft mulch beneath them.

  “Which god do you belong to?” Hal finally asked.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. I had no seed of truth from which to grow my own story. I never had. Miriel didn’t lie, which meant that the gods hadn’t told her the truth about my parentage. By proxy, they had lied to me. A surge of anger accompanied the realization, so strong it nearly felled me. I fought it down, not wanting Hal to see me fall apart. I gripped the strap of my satchel like it might hold me together. “I was told the wind god was my father. That he brought me to my mountain.”

  He looked at me with pity in his expression. “No chance of it. You would have heard us ages ago, and if anyone had ever caught wind of your voice before those glorious vespers, you would have had all of us begging you to sing us to sleep every night.”

  Tears stung the corners of my eyes. I stared at the ground. The worst part was that I had always longed for what he described—to know what it was like to be wanted like that.

  “Hey,” Hal said. “I’m sorry. I had no idea . . .”

  “It’s not your fault.” I sniffled. “Someone lied to me. I just wish I knew why.”

  “Well, I don’t have any answers, but I can offer you this if you need something to hang on to.” He held up his arm.

  I hesitated only a moment before taking it, and like a gentleman he walked with me toward the trees. I swiped at my tears with my free hand, choking back the rest of my emotions. At this point it barely mattered who I was or where I’d come from. I ought to wait until I stopped Ina to worry about it, but still, it nagged at me, an impossible question to ignore. How was I supposed to start over somewhere new when I didn’t even know who I was?

  Miriel had seen to my childhood needs for food and education, but sometimes at night when I woke from nightmares, I had cried, wishing for someone to stroke my hair and sing me back to sleep. Was it from my mother that I’d inherited the brooding tendencies for which Miriel had frequently scolded me? Did I look like my father? Which of them had been a god? Maybe my mother had been a healer, or another cleric of the earth god like Miriel—a person who might be responsible for my gifts with herbs or the deep connection I felt to the land. Perhaps my father had given me my dark hair or hazel eyes. Either way, it was unlikely I’d ever find any answers now. The thought gutted me. I belonged to no one.

  Hal tripped just as we entered the forest, startling me from my dark thoughts. I let go of him, and he stumbled a few paces away to brace himself on a large rock.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. Anxiety rose again.

  “I hoped it was just the darkness, but my vision is beginning to go. I must have overextended myself compelling those guardsmen.” His words tripped over one another.

  I cast nervous glances at him as we skirted the edge of the forest. I wanted to put more distance between us and Valenko before making camp. The dark color of his eyes and the dim moonlight made it hard to tell, but the deeper we got into the woods, the wider his pupils seemed to be.

  Then he stopped, and gripped my arm with a shaky hand. “We’re in trouble,” he said.

  “What? How?” I asked, looking around and seeing nothing but shifting branches cutting through shadows and moonbeams.

  “They’re coming,” he said, leaning against a tree. “I hear them.”

  Before I could ask him what he meant, he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

  CHAPTER 11

  I SANK TO MY KNEES BEHIND HAL AND SPOKE HIS NAME, but he didn’t stir. Some small nocturnal creature rustled in the bushes nearby. I extended my Sight but sensed only the forest around us and the city glowing with life in the distance.

  “Wake up,” I whispered fervently. I didn’t want to face whatever was coming alone. It had to be Tamers, or worse, city guards. Fighting wasn’t my area of expertise. All I had in my satchel that could be used as a weapon was my silver knife or a handful of nightshade powder.

  Then I remembered—if Hal had overextended his abilities, his collapse must be the result of a severe headache. I dug through my satchel, pulling out a vial of lavender oil and another of peppermint. I dabbed the lavender on his temples and held the peppermint under his nose. His head tipped to the side and a groan escaped his lips.

  “Hal? Are you awake?” I put my hand on his forehead.

  “Don’t talk,” he said. “Hurts.” His eyes stayed closed.

  I made a small noise of frustration. An unsympathetic part of me hissed in my ear, whispering at me to leave him. We didn’t owe each other anything, really. He could take care of himself, even in this situation, even in this strange place. This couldn’t be the first time overextending his gift had left him stranded. But the voice faded away as I looked at him lying there in pain. I couldn’t repay him for helping me escape the city guards by leaving him unconscious in the middle of the woods, and I had to admit it would be easier and safer to stay with him out here than to go back to the city before morning.

  My nerves jangled. I took off my cloak and laid it over Hal. The night air nipped at me like a familiar unkindness, the chill spreading gooseflesh up my arms. Prickles of fear followed close behind. At home on my mountain, my power had been the only thing I needed to be afraid of. Now, it seemed I might never know that kind of peace again. If a day lay ahead when I would once again feel as fearless as I had racing through the mountains in summer or as complete as I had lying with my head in Ina’s lap, I couldn’t see it ahead of me.

  In these dark and lonely moments, did she think of me as I thought of her? All I wanted was to lie in her arms and for things to be as simple as they once were. I wanted to know who I was and where I belonged. The ache of missing her grew with the force of a landslide. It seemed like both yesterday and a lifetime ago that I’d brushed my fingers over her bare hip and kissed her lips, sweet from brandied fruit.

  Hal whimpered, and I shook off the bittersweet memory.

  I closed my eyes and tried to listen for danger, wishing more than ever that the lies told to me about my origin had been truth. The gift of Farhearing would have served me well tonight. All I could hear was air whispering though the needles of the pines, and the bare branches of deciduous trees scraping together like skeletal hands that would forever be reaching.

  When my ears gave me no information, I stood up and fell into the Sight, looking for other signs of life in the forest. Nothing. Frustrated and cold, I began to pace, hoping it would clear my head and keep me warm.

  No more than three steps from Hal, a flame burst to life in front of me.

  Fear sank its teeth into my neck. I yelped and scurried
backward toward Hal as more torches lit all around. A dozen pairs of human eyes stared at us. The people surrounding us wore well-crafted clothing of leather from head to toe, the threat in their stances unmistakable.

  Behind them, creatures emerged from the forest. A red fox peered from behind the legs of a lean boy, and two mice peeked out of the hoods of twin girls who stood side by side. Several dogs joined the circle, larger and more muscled than the ones the people of Amalska had kept to guard their herds. The dogs bared their sharp teeth, their growls a rumble that intensified the fright burning up what little energy I had left. A raccoon chittered from a tree branch overhead, and an owl winged out of the darkness to land on the padded shoulder of the woman who had lit the first torch.

  She held up her hand and the animals went still. I swallowed hard. With their practical clothing and bonded animals by their sides, they had to be Tamers.

  Why hadn’t I been able to See them coming?

  “Outsiders are not welcome here,” the Tamer woman said, her eyes flashing in the torchlight. She flicked her wrist and a knife appeared in her hand.

  “I’m so sorry. My friend fell ill as we were passing through. We were going to leave as soon as possible, but he collapsed,” I said, deciding for now to omit the part where we’d been planning to spend the night in their forest to evade Valenko guardsmen.

  My words had no effect on her steely gaze. She stepped closer, bringing the blade of her knife to my throat. I froze in fear. I could bleed a lot longer than a mortal before I died. Who knew what horrors I might write in desperation to escape that fate?

  “Where are you from and what is your business in our lands?” the woman growled in my ear.

  “I’m from the mountains near Amalska,” I squeaked, fearful that the slightest movement would break the skin beneath her blade.

  “And your friend, too?” She tilted her head toward Hal, her knife still steady on my throat.

  “I don’t know where he’s from,” I said, the words pouring out in a rush. “We only met today. Actually, we got in a bit of trouble in town. A Valenko guard got killed and the other guards thought we did it—”

  “So you barely know him and you’ve been murdering people? Sounds like the start of a grand romance.” The woman smiled, her white teeth bright and sharp. Her owl stared at me, unblinking.

  I bit my lip. Everything I said was only getting us deeper into trouble. I wanted to explain that Hal was trustworthy, that he had saved my life, but she was right. I didn’t know Hal. Not really. And citing our questionable escape from the guards as evidence of his trustworthiness probably wasn’t going to win me any favors after I had all but incriminated us already. The Tamers notoriously despised people with manifests for upsetting the natural order, but I didn’t know how they felt about those like me and Hal.

  “Well, you’re certainly more interesting than the usual trash we turn up. Elder Mukira can decide what to do with you,” the huntress said.

  Before I could respond, a pair of strong hands grabbed me. The woman removed her blade from my throat, and with a twist of her fingers, the knife vanished back to the unknown location from which it had come. The lean boy stepped forward, shoving a wad of dry cloth into my mouth and securing it with a strip of leather. His fox barked at his heels as though to encourage him. Panic made my knees weak. I tried to fight the people holding me, but the futility of that became immediately evident.

  “Kaja, should we leave the boy?” a girl asked. Her dog sniffed around until he reached Hal’s feet, then sat and let out a low bark. She pulled a long dagger out of Hal’s boot and praised the dog.

  I recoiled, causing the Tamer holding me to tighten his grip. How long had Hal been hiding that from me? A hunting knife was one thing, but that was a weapon. Had he been telling the truth when he said he wasn’t a Nightswift? Maybe I couldn’t trust him after all.

  “Can’t risk him coming after her when he wakes up,” the leader said. “Samsha, Quari—you two carry the boy. I’ll send Firva ahead.” The owl launched from her shoulder and winged silently into the woods.

  “Yes, Kaja,” the twins said. Their mice vanished into their hoods, and they snatched up Hal with remarkable strength for their size.

  Another Tamer picked up my satchel, and the person holding me shoved me forward into the woods. I lumbered clumsily along while the others moved through the trees as silently as the fog, which slowly wound its way into the forest to smudge away the moon and stars.

  I studied them as we walked, trying to figure out the secret to their invisibility in my Sight. Only after minutes of careful observation could I sense the subtle ways they wound the magic of the forest around themselves like camouflage. They made it look as natural as breathing.

  In keeping with the Tamers’ subtlety, I had no idea we were upon their camp until the wind shifted to blow from the north, bringing with it the scent of roasting meat. One of the scouts ahead whistled the melancholy song of a night bird. In the distance, hidden voices echoed her, the message traveling from tree to tree.

  As we neared the cook fire, I coughed through the cloth in my mouth. Something was roasting over smoldering coals deep in a stone-lined pit—wild hog from the smell of it. Fat dripped from the meat, hissing as it struck the glowing embers. A few paces east of the pit, a sheer cliff jutted up abruptly. Moss and lichens clung to the gray rocks, barely visible in the light cast by the fire. The top of the bluff lay somewhere out of sight, obscured by the fog.

  The hunters distributed themselves around the pit, tossing Hal on the ground like a sack of grain.

  I looked around fearfully, my skittish gaze finally coming to rest on a short woman approaching us. She walked with a hitch in her step and an intricately carved cane in her right hand. A lynx slunk behind her, its spotted coat blending into the shadows. Firelight reflected in silver rings that adorned her ears from top to bottom. Though she stood short enough that I could easily see over her unruly thatch of white hair, she carried herself as though she was twice her height and half her age.

  She came to a stop in front of me, fixing me with a pointed gaze. The hunters shoved me to my knees before her. The lynx stared at me, the tip of its stubby tail twitching.

  “What did you drag in now, Kaja?” the woman asked, looking down at me with sharp humor in her green eyes.

  “Trespassers, Elder. She had this with her.” Kaja tossed my satchel at the woman’s feet.

  The elder bent down slowly and looked through my vials with interest. She held up one of the glass containers toward the light from the cooking pit. Luminous bits of fire flower glowed and sparkled as the liquid sloshed. Then she thumbed through my journal, eyebrows rising as she took in the careful script and detailed drawings in both my hand and Miriel’s, pages upon pages filled with recipes for tinctures—and enchantments made with my blood.

  “It’s not often one of your kind visits our forest,” Mukira said, tilting her head at me like a predator sizing up its kill.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I hoped she didn’t know I was a demigod. I could have stolen the satchel or its contents.

  She stepped forward and touched her staff to my shoulder. Magic coursed through me in a wave, and for a heartbeat I could feel the entire forest as though it were part of me. When she pulled it away, I gasped at the loss of connection.

  “The gift runs in your blood,” she said.

  A chill danced down my back. She knew. Her ability to touch the forest’s power must have let her sense my magic. I hoped she didn’t know the other gifts my blood carried. I hugged my arms around myself as if I could somehow shield my secrets from her view.

  “After decades of little more to do than hold off the human trash trying to cut down our forests to expand their cities, we seem to have a lot of trespassers this week. Interesting that two children of the gods should appear in our lands on the heels of a dragon.” She stared at me appraisingly. “Tell me why I should let you live.”

  A dragon.

  I surged
to my feet, eliciting growls from the two closest dogs. “Is it a white dragon? When did you last see her?”

  A surprised expression passed over the elder’s face like a swift cloud through the night sky. “How do you know about our hunt?”

  “I don’t know about any hunt, but I’m looking for her. My—I mean, the white dragon. Does she have a scar on her left cheek?” I asked. Whatever they wanted, I would give it for them to reunite me with Ina.

  Elder Mukira did not react, but the twin girls standing near Hal exchanged a knowing glance.

  My pulse quickened.

  It had to be Ina.

  “Supposing it is the same dragon, what are you going to do to help us kill her? If that dragon stays and hunts in this forest for even a few weeks, it will destroy the order we’ve worked for generations to protect. Our lands cannot accommodate a predator of that size. We have enough problems with the city people pressing into our lands.” Her eyes bored into me.

  “If you let me and Hal go, I’ll make sure she leaves your forest,” I said, growing bolder. I couldn’t let her kill Ina.

  “And how do you intend to do that?” Mukira asked.

  I didn’t answer. Miriel had taught me the rules of bargaining. She who speaks last loses. We stared at each other until the others began to shift their weight, waiting for one of us to make a move.

  “I suppose there’s more than one way to gut a hare,” Mukira finally mused. “I’m curious to see how you plan to reason with one of the wildest creatures alive, too dangerous even to Tame. So it shall be—but if you fail, both you and the boy die.”

  This was far more than I’d bargained for, and Mukira knew it, but I had no choice.

  “As you say,” I said, trying to ignore the way my stomach turned over with nerves.

  Mukira kissed the top of her staff and then touched it to my left shoulder. A tingle of power danced through me as she sealed our bargain.