by Jordan Rivet
Siv had decided he was rather enjoying the chaos of the scene when Lord Rollendar stood up and told his contemporaries to be quiet.
Lord Samanar rounded on him. “But Von—”
“I said that’s enough, Lord Samanar,” Lord Von said. “We have important business to discuss today.”
“Very well. You’re right, Von.”
Lord Morrven scoffed. “Sure, do what he says, you toad-faced—”
Lady Tull laid a hand on the rotund nobleman’s arm, silencing him immediately.
“I agree with Lord Rollendar. I’m sure the king would like our full attention.”
“Of course, my lady.” Morrven took a seat, still glaring at Lord Samanar, who had gone to sit beside Lord Von.
“Right,” Siv said. He cleared his throat and rearranged the sheaf of papers in front of him. “Thank you, Lady Tull. Today I’d like to discuss Lord Roven’s proposal for a mining . . .”
Siv trailed off as a messenger burst into the council chamber. Instead of approaching the king, he hurried directly to Lord Rollendar and handed over a weathered parchment. Von read it and glanced at Siv. Then he stood. The council members fell silent immediately.
“Soole has invaded Cindral Forest.”
“What?”
“When?”
The noblemen barely glanced at Siv, directing their questions to Von.
“Their army is moving?”
“How many men are there?”
“What do they want with that backward place?”
Siv wished he had time to consider an appropriate response. Why hadn’t the messenger given the news to the king first? He tried to get the nobles to quiet down so he could speak. He felt nervous. Not about Soole. They wouldn’t dare attack the mountain. But he was afraid he would take the wrong steps, and his people would suffer. He pushed at the crown on his head, which felt as heavy as a sack of stones.
“I propose that we increase the size of the army in light of this news,” Lord Von said. “We must be prepared for an attack on our allies.”
“You want to fight Soole?” Lord Nanning said, folding and unfolding his hands nervously. “They buy our Works for export across the two seas. We can’t move against them.”
“If they’re in a conquering mood, they won’t stop with a few woodsmen in that blasted forest,” Lord Farrow grunted.
“Cindral Forest has always been peaceful,” Lady Nanning said, laying a hand on her husband’s arm to still his fidgeting. “What provoked this attack?”
“Vertigon is supposed to be peaceful too,” Lord Roven said. “Let’s not get involved.”
Lord Samanar stood and pounded a fist on the table. “Von is right. We need a bigger army.”
“The mountain is unassailable,” Lord Morrven shot back at him. “More soldiers won’t make it any safer than it already is.”
“We could never match Soole anyway.”
“How long before they move again?”
“What does Trure say?”
“And Pendark?”
“We need more information.”
“We need more men, I say!”
“Get Pavorran in here.”
“It has nothing to do with us. Let us stay out of it!”
Siv was well aware he needed to say something before the conversation got out of hand. The lords and ladies talked over each other, declaring what should be done about the crisis. Soole and Cindral Forest were located far away from Vertigon Mountain. The invasion shouldn’t affect them directly. But if Soole was sending armies beyond its boundaries, what would stop it from going after Trure next? Vertigon would have to respond if their closest ally was attacked. Siv curled his fingers around his papers, missing his father with a sudden, surprising ferocity. He stood, but the nobles didn’t even notice.
“My lords,” Lady Tull said. Her delicate voice somehow carried over the bluster of the others, and they fell silent to listen. “I wish to hear what our king has to say about all this.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Siv said. “We have to gather more information before we act.”
“We need a bigger army,” Lord Samanar repeated.
“General Pavorran has already proposed an expansion of the army,” Siv said. “But we don’t want to become a military state just yet.”
“Hear! Hear!” said Lord Morrven.
“Why not?” asked Lord Samanar.
“Firelord take Soole all the way to his burning realm,” Lord Farrow grumbled.
Siv raised a hand, but the nobles paid little heed. They broke into half a dozen smaller arguments around the table.
Lady Tull leaned toward Siv. “I believe it would be wise,” she said, “to at least consider recruiting a few more soldiers, if only because it will reassure the people.”
A few of the others heard her and murmured words of assent. Lady Tull smiled reassuringly. Siv took a deep breath. Maybe a few more soldiers wouldn’t hurt anything. He’d keep a close eye on them, though.
“Very well, my lady,” Siv said. “I will defer to your good judgment.” He raised his voice, trying to imbue it with a regal quality. “I’ll give Pavorran permission to expand the army, but we will not consider any troop movements until after the winter. No one will dare threaten Vertigon before then.” He looked around the table at each of the nobles in turn, finally drawing their full attention. “Let’s remember what makes Vertigon strong: the position of our city high above the concerns of the world. This mountain is unassailable. We must reassure the people that their protection is our highest priority, but remind them they are safe on the mountain.”
“Right you are, Your Majesty.”
“Agreed! Vertigon will remain strong.”
The nobles voiced their approval one by one. It was very like a consensus. Siv had had a damn hard time achieving such uniform approval often enough. He grinned at Lady Tull.
“I’m glad you agree, my lords,” Siv said. “In the meantime, we’ll gather news from Soole and Cindral Forest and our allies in Trure. Let’s avoid making any rash decisions.”
“My brothers are on their way to Soole,” Lord Von said suddenly. “The Rollendars can provide the information we need.”
“Very good, Lord Von,” Siv said, not missing a beat. “Thank you for your forethought.”
Dara had already warned him about the Rollendar brothers’ departure, but it irked him that House Rollendar was once again better positioned than he was. He still couldn’t figure out Von’s end game. He had sent a message to Hirram, the serving man at House Zurren, asking him to keep an ear open for any news, hoping for hints about the disappearance of the mysterious duelists. It was time he started cultivating some informants of his own.
The nobles talked animatedly as they left the council chambers. Several of them surrounded Lord Von, seeking more information from his mysterious sources. Siv was about to call him back for a private chat, when Lady Tull approached him.
“Your Highness, I hope you don’t mind me speaking up in council meetings,” she said.
“Of course not, my lady,” Siv said. “I value your opinion. And you are to be queen. We ought to work together on matters of state.”
“I will do what I can to help.” Lady Tull smiled demurely.
“The noblemen listen to you, my lady. You shouldn’t underestimate how valuable that is.”
“I won’t.” She dropped into an elegant curtsy. “Until next time, Your Highness.”
“My lady.”
Siv watched her go, the last of the council members departing close on her heels. The more Lady Tull turned her support his way, the stronger his positioning amongst the nobles became. Perhaps their marriage really would be the right thing for Vertigon.
As the doors to the council chamber closed behind the nobles, Siv ran a hand over the polished wood of the large table. It had come all the way from Cindral Forest. Known for woodworkers and papermakers, it was supposed to be a serene land with a few small villages scattered within the forest’s boundaries. It did
n’t amount to a proper kingdom. Cindral Forest was no threat to Soole. However, it would provide a secure staging ground for actions against Trure, the country where his mother and sister were now staying. If Soole threw the Lands Below into further turmoil, Siv hoped he could prevail upon them to return to the safety of the mountain. Vertigon was far out of harm’s way, especially with the expansion of the army. Siv frowned. He hoped he wouldn’t regret that decision. He’d have to make sure the army stayed close to the barracks on the far side of Square Peak. Their presence would reassure the people, but he couldn’t have them teaming up with the mysterious missing duelists.
Siv pulled off his crown and dropped it on the table with a thunk. Then he poked his head outside the door and told Pool to summon General Pavorran.
24.
The Phoenix Leaf
AT her next Fireworking lesson, Dara told Zage about what she had seen in the cavern, including the growing well of Fire and the two men they had seen leaving the cave.
Zage considered the news in silence for a few minutes, his pale forehead furrowing, and then he said, “Your father and Daz Stoneburner were there. Did they mention any other Fireworkers?”
“Stoneburner said something about the Square Workers,” Dara said. “That makes it sound like there are a fair number of them involved, doesn’t it?”
“There would have to be to accumulate that much Fire.” Zage gazed out over the Well, the light flickering in his eyes like twin flames. “They must be redirecting the flow of Fire from their shops, giving up some of their own share to build up the lake of Fire you describe.”
“They couldn’t tap into the system before it reaches the shops?”
“I’d sense such an attempt,” Zage said. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment. “No, the Fire is flowing to the shops as it should. The disbursal system is carefully controlled.”
“What happens if you lose control?” Dara asked.
Zage looked up, his glittering eyes meeting hers.
“Lose control in what way?”
“Like the Surge,” Dara said. She swallowed hard, her resolve strengthening. She’d have to ask about it eventually. “Will you tell me about the Surge, Fire Warden?”
Zage sighed heavily, but he didn’t look surprised. He stretched an egg-white hand over the Well and drew a stream of Fire up toward it. He poured the Fire back and forth between his palms, letting the raw power pool and spiral in ever more complicated designs. Dara had never seen him do anything beautiful before. His Work was always functional, with a dry precision that belied his true strength. But now he let the flows of Fire morph and curl like Fireblossoms.
“I did not design the containment system,” Zage said. “Sovar Amintelle, the First Good King, created it when it became clear his son could not Work. He didn’t want the mountain to descend into chaos after his death. He had to stretch out with his considerable will to reach the channels where the Fire flowed naturally and redirect them so the power wouldn’t seep through the mountain at random.”
Zage continued to twirl the Fire above his hands, sometimes kneading it with his fingertips, sometimes forming it through will alone. The movement of the Fire was mesmerizing. Dara could sense Zage’s power, almost like a physical force, as he twirled the Fire into ever more complicated designs.
“You know the Fire is liquid until a Worker completes the solidifying process that holds it in place,” Zage said, “whether it be in a Fire Lantern or in the core of a Fire Blade. Sovar’s Work solidified the channels of Fire to create the system as we use it today. It is strong, but malleable enough to be modified. When I need to change it, I concentrate on the channels, slowly undoing the Work to allow the flows to split further, and then solidifying the holds on the power anew.”
Zage formed the Fire into the shape of the three peaks of Vertigon, sitting on his palm like a statue, then allowed the shape to melt again.
“Sovar’s original Work was strong, and it requires a tremendous amount of power to change it. When I first became Warden, I used to put the channels back in place a bit weaker than they started so they’d be easier to unravel for future modifications. The number of people with the Firespark was increasing as the Workers had children, you see. I wanted all Workers to have the opportunity to develop their craft and build a business around a Fireshare.”
Zage created a lantern of pure Fire. It glowed between him and Dara like the Orange Star. She looked away from it. Zage’s voice was as dry as burning parchment.
“I also knew it would be better to allow the Fire to spread to keep large quantities out of the most powerful hands, as we have discussed. There were enough new Workers that I had to constantly redo the system. I didn’t want to make each new channel so strong that I wouldn’t be able to open it up and split it without a great deal of trouble. Unfortunately, this continued for long enough that the overall system weakened.”
The burning shape of the Fire Lantern melted, and Zage formed the Fire into coils of chain.
“I should have made it as strong as possible, never mind the extra effort to expand it. I shouldn’t have allowed even a hint of weakness into the design. Unfortunately, I miscalculated. I thought myself stronger than I was.”
Zage’s voice took on a bitter note. He didn’t meet Dara’s eyes.
“I was arrogant, thrilled with my own cleverness and my own strength. I was aware of the weaknesses in the system, but I was too proud. I was convinced I’d catch it in time if anything slipped. I was wrong.” He took a shuddering breath, like a gust of summer wind. “The day of the Surge, I was splitting one of the biggest channels, an original artery put in place by Sovar himself. It took extra effort for me to break through. I grew frustrated and forced through the channel too quickly. The Fire surged and burst through every one of those weaker and more malleable bonds I had put in place for my own convenience. Before I could regain control, the Fire had surged through every access point on the mountain.”
“Including the one my sister was using,” Dara said quietly.
“Yes.” Zage finally met her eyes, his gaze unwavering but full of regret. “I bear her death on my conscience every day. She was so young . . .” Zage’s face twisted with pain. “You see, it wasn’t the concept of disbursal and containment that killed your sister. It was my arrogance. My foolhardiness. My laziness. I thought I could keep track of the system as it got ever more complicated, and I took shortcuts. I failed, and a child paid the price.”
“But you didn’t pay anything,” Dara said. She stretched out a hand and pulled on the Fire Zage had been twirling in front of him. It shot to her hands like an arrow from a bow. “You kept your position. You still control the Well.”
“I begged on my knees for King Sevren to remove me from my post,” Zage said. “I questioned whether I deserved to live, much less continue in the task at which I had failed. But Sevren was a man of mercy. He believed in second chances. Sevren saw my remorse, and he decided the mountain would be safer in my hands than if he passed the job to someone who hadn’t suffered so deeply from their mistakes.”
Zage reached out and drew the Fire back from Dara, slowly so as not to hurt her. She let him take it. He twisted the Fire until it formed an ornate leaf. Dara recognized the shape. It was the same as the silver pin Zage wore at his throat to hold his cloak.
“I have never told another soul before today, but I wear this pin in memory of your sister,” Zage said. “It is the leaf of a phoenix tree.”
“What’s that?”
“A tree that grows only in the Burnt Mountains. Legend says that when the true dragons wake and spread their fire over the mountains, the phoenix tree is the first to bloom again. It grows back stronger and more beautiful than ever after each burning. I wear it as a symbol of my penitence and my dedication to making Vertigon a safer place for its children through the Fire, even though a child’s death had to teach me that lesson.”
Dara swallowed a lump in her throat, thinking of the necklace of misshape
n steel beads that her sister had given her, made with her own hands. Renna had been so proud of it.
“Do my parents know that?” she asked.
“Your parents will never forgive me for their daughter’s death, Dara, and I do not believe they should. They are correct that I deserved to be removed from my post. But I will work to make the mountain better in their daughter’s memory, even though I have no right to invoke her name.”
Zage let the phoenix leaf melt away and returned the Fire to the Well. Dara watched it drip down to rejoin the seething lake of Fire beneath their feet. She realized this was the first time Zage had ever used her first name in all the time they had been working together. She wondered if his remorse over her sister was part of why he had agreed to help Dara learn to Work.
She wanted to hate Zage for what had happened to her sister, but she was all too aware of the sins of her own father. Zage suffered the way she had suffered over her father’s responsibility for King Sevren’s death, probably more so. She should have been more attentive to her father’s schemes instead of staying selfishly wrapped up in her pursuit of dueling glory. She could have warned King Sevren if she’d paid heed sooner. For that, she would be forever culpable in his death. She didn’t know if Siv would ever forgive her. But what if she could forgive Zage? He too was trying to atone for something. She only hoped Siv would find it in his heart to be as merciful to her as his father had been to Zage when she finally told him the truth.
Dara looked up at the Fire Warden. He appeared small and thin without his cloak, and telling the story seemed to have drained him further. She could hardly believe that this shriveled, sorrowful man had drawn her parents’ ire for the past decade. The Ruminors had grown strong and bitter over the years. She hoped somehow they’d find solace and justice before they burned the mountain down around them.