Starborn

by Lucy Hounsom

Janus came to sit on the bed. ‘Are you thinking about the test?’

  She was acutely aware of his nearness and of the late hour. What was he doing here, anyway? Had he been coming to see her every night – after she’d gone to sleep? Kyndra looked quickly away from him, but her traitorous heart had already begun to beat faster. Belatedly remembering his question, she nodded.

  ‘Everything will be all right,’Janus told her. ‘You know what to do now.’

  She glanced back at him. ‘I do?’

  He smiled gently and Kyndra felt her blush race euphorically down through her body. It settled in her belly, a blaze that fluttered and coaxed. Ask him why he was upset earlier, it urged her, and Kyndra drew breath to speak. But then she thought of Kait and what the woman had said about Nediah being her lover, and Kyndra recalled the unwelcome realization that she knew next to nothing about Nediah – and she knew even less about Janus. What if Kyndra was no more than a task to him, a task that could be dispensed with as soon as the test was done?

  Unaware of her silent struggle, Janus stood up and her chance to ask him was gone. ‘You need to rest,’ he told her. ‘You’ve a big day tomorrow.’

  Feeling both reprieve and regret, she watched him open the door, step out and close it behind him. When his footsteps had faded, Kyndra plunged her hand into her pocket, seeking the akan. Its corpse-pallor was almost soothing and she let the child’s spidery presence destroy the last of her blushes.

  It was a few moments before she realized that Janus had distracted her from something she ought to have noticed straight away. Kyndra jumped up, her hand going to the back of her trousers. But whether she’d dropped it when Kait pushed her, or she’d lost it in her flight from the archives, her book, Tools of Power, was gone.

  20

  In an attempt to escape his own muddled thoughts, Nediah applied himself to what the higher masters had called, for the sake of convenience, the Madness. He hadn’t forgotten his promise to investigate Brégenne’s stolen bag of earth, but this malady of the mind was a far greater issue. Although the others cared only about Master Rush, as far as Nediah was concerned, Rush was the Madness’s second victim. There was still the puzzle of Jim Mardon.

  It isn’t spread through contact. The only people who had been directly exposed to the Madness were himself, Hebrin, Myris and Alandred. And, as far as he knew, they were all well. So how did it strike? Was there a pattern he couldn’t yet see?

  Nediah wandered through the sixth level of the archives. It was quiet here and he found the dim, bluish light soothing. As a healer, there was nothing that irked him more than an illness he didn’t understand. If only he could find a link between the cases. Rush and Mardon, he thought, idly trailing his fingers along the shelves. The Madness must have manifested in them both for a reason. What linked these two utterly disparate men? Why had Mardon collapsed so suddenly in the marketplace? According to Kyndra, the potter had been fine just moments before.

  Nediah ground his teeth, sensing the ghost of an answer, but unable to grasp it. In all his time as a healer, he had never come across a disease that behaved remotely like this one. Perhaps because it’s not a disease. But then, what was it?

  Sick with questions, Nediah stopped walking. Kyndra’s test was tonight. He ought to seek her out and offer what reassurance he could. He hadn’t given an awful lot of consideration to her visions, or to Kait’s claim that Kyndra had somehow managed to reach the ninth spiral of the archives. He raked a hand through his hair. Kyndra was as much of a mystery as the Madness.

  Nediah turned to leave and a flash of white caught his eye. He spun in time to glimpse the flared hem of a cloak – and its wearer had vanished down the tunnel that led to the seventh gallery.

  Before he knew it, Nediah was following, throwing himself into the tunnel’s tightening spiral. He was rewarded with more glimpses and sped up, but so too did his quarry, remaining one tantalizing step ahead.

  He knew he was near the seventh gate when the pressure built in his ears. Nediah cursed. He wouldn’t be able to pass it. When he reached the tall metal portal, he jerked to a halt, staring. It was closed and there was no sign of the person in white. But they couldn’t have opened the gate, not with him right on their heels. He breathed the still, close air of the archives and felt intensely alone. Only one path ran the length of the galleries, only one, apart from …

  Nediah turned slowly on the spot, probing the rugged walls and remembering the words Kait had spoken on the night she’d found Kyndra outside the ninth gate. If south seventh didn’t run so close to that spiral, I’d never have heard her. If passages did exist behind the unyielding stone, he couldn’t begin to guess how to find them. Could that white cloak have belonged to a member of the Nerian? Although it was the only answer that made sense, Nediah didn’t like it. What was so important that they’d risk being caught in Naris proper?

  He turned away from the gate, feeling foolish. It was a long walk back to the antechamber.

  Kyndra wasn’t there and neither were the novices who usually sat with her. On his way to the door, Nediah caught a snatch of hushed conversation. A group of Initiated sat around a table discussing the object of his search.

  ‘It’s going to be tonight,’ a boy said. ‘Do you think she’ll pass?’

  ‘No,’ said another flatly.

  ‘Don’t be mean.’ This came from a young girl with brown eyes too big for her face. ‘I think she will. She’s had the same time to prepare as we did.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Nediah said politely, and the novices jumped in their seats. ‘You’re talking about Kyndra Vale.’

  The boy stared at Nediah, obviously appalled that the Wielder had overheard their conversation. None of them spoke. ‘Do you know where she is?’ Nediah tried. He kept his voice light and friendly, but an anxious fist squeezed his insides.

  ‘No, Master,’ the girl answered.

  Nediah left the antechamber in a whirl of cloth. Where would Kyndra be at this time of day if not in the archives? He set off down the corridor, snapping sparks from his fingers. When he realized what he was doing, he stopped abruptly. It was an old habit he hadn’t indulged for years.

  Nediah headed down the short slope that led to Kyndra’s room. Here the black walls bore signs of tunnelling, shaped by man rather than nature, and the low ceiling dampened echoes, which was why he only heard the footsteps coming up behind just before they reached him.

  Nediah turned. Though a hooded cloak shrouded his pursuer, he knew who it was by the way she moved. She brought her hands up and pushed the cowl back from her face.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Nediah asked, striving to keep his tone neutral. It was the first time he’d seen Brégenne since the night in her quarters.

  ‘Likely for the same reason you are,’ she replied, one hand on the uneven wall. ‘I’m worried. Janus has been suppressing the bond every day this week. There’s something he doesn’t want me to know.’

  Nediah folded his arms. ‘And why should this concern me?’

  ‘Because it might have something to do with Kyndra’s test.’

  ‘What?’ Nediah let his arms drop. ‘Why would you think that?’

  Brégenne shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said distractedly. ‘But this isn’t like Janus. The night we were first attuned, he didn’t stop trying to talk to me. Now this long silence. I don’t like it.’

  ‘I warned Kyndra not to trust him.’

  Brégenne looked stricken, without a hint of her usual calm. ‘Perhaps I’m imagining things. There’s nothing he could really do to affect the test, is there?’

  The anxiety that clutched at Nediah’s insides gave one sharp squeeze. ‘I hope not.’

  ‘What can we do?’ Brégenne looked small against the dark stone, her white eyes dim and unseeing. ‘This is my fault. I insisted on bringing Kyndra here. If she dies tonight, the blame will be mine.’

  ‘No. It will be the Council’s.’

  Brégenne’s shoulders sank miserably and all he w
anted to do was to take her in his arms again and hold her. The echo of her lips upon his, the remembered feel of her skin, was a torment. Weighed down with regret, Nediah said, ‘Let’s check the room. She might not be with Janus.’

  Brégenne nodded and they walked together to Kyndra’s room. The door was unlocked and when they stepped inside, Kyndra wasn’t there.

  Kyndra stood in the hall they called the atrium, her gaze lost amidst its floating lights. Groups of novices and masters hovered nearby. Most appeared engrossed in conversation, but she caught several covert glances. They were here for her.

  News of tonight’s test had broken through the citadel on a wave of whispers, and now a kind of awful fame clung to her. Kyndra could sense its presence in the hushed voices and the startled, intrigued looks.

  The end of the day was almost upon her. The four Wielders chosen to perform the test and the two customary guards stood just out of earshot, conversing in soft voices. Of the main four, two were women, two men. Alandred was not among them.

  Janus hadn’t come for her until almost midday. She’d spent the morning in her room, knees up to her chin, back to the wall. She held the child-like figurine balanced on her kneecaps, staring at its alabaster skin, and tried not to think about what had happened to Tools of Power. With a sinking feeling, she remembered that she’d folded the corner of the page down on akans. What if someone found it and put two and two together?

  ‘Kyndra!’

  Her name yanked her back to the present and she turned. Nediah hurried across the shining floor, Brégenne in his wake. Though both their faces were twisted anxiously, Kyndra smiled, pleased to see them. She hadn’t found much time for either of them over the past week. Perhaps that was for the best, she thought grimly. If anything went wrong tonight, she didn’t want them implicated.

  Nediah gave her a wan smile. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘We searched all over for you.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I was with Janus this afternoon.’

  Brégenne looked as if her worst fears had been confirmed. ‘What were you doing?’ she asked.

  ‘He was teaching me how to clear my mind,’ Kyndra answered truthfully. ‘He said it would help.’

  Brégenne narrowed her faintly glowing eyes. ‘You’re not planning on doing anything foolish?’

  ‘No,’ Kyndra said, thinking of the white akan in her pocket. And then suddenly she lost her grip on her fear. It crawled up her throat, drying her tongue. Afraid her face would betray her, she looked away.

  Brégenne reached out and turned Kyndra’s chin back towards her. ‘Look inside yourself,’ the Wielder said. ‘You must believe, though it may seem impossible. I know I am not wrong.’

  Surprised at her gentleness, Kyndra stared at Brégenne. She seemed somehow different, though she looked the same as ever, clad in velvety silver, pale hair gathered at the nape of her neck. But the difference was not in her appearance – it resided in the tense angle of her chin, the slight tremor in her voice. Unwilling to crush her faith, Kyndra said, ‘I’m ready,’ feeling anything but.

  As if the Wielders had heard, they stopped talking and formed up around her in the same way as last time. The hall went quiet and people turned to watch. Kyndra spotted someone waving: Irilin. Shika and Gareth stood beside her and Kyndra felt a warm rush of relief. They surely wouldn’t be here, smiling, had they been caught last night. She couldn’t do more than give them the thumbs up, for the Wielders began a slow procession towards the distant dark archway Kyndra had come to fear.

  It seemed as if it took them hours to cross the hall. The vast floor rolled away from her and, despite the presence of the four Wielders in front of her and the two behind, Kyndra felt hopelessly alone. She slipped a hand into her pocket, seeking the akan. When her fingers brushed against the smooth, white child, a sense of horror seized her and she snatched her hand back again.

  Akans provide a simple and effective defence against cosmosethic attack. Kyndra had memorized the short section from Tools of Power and now recited it to herself, hoping to find some reassurance in the litany. Unlike their sibling objects, urkans, an akan’s power may freely be summoned by anyone. A clear mind and a clear intent are the only prerequisites. It was that sentence in particular which had convinced Kyndra. When she’d shown it to Gareth, the novice had nodded sagely and said, ‘I’ve heard of artefacts like that. If you can get your hands on one, you’ll be laughing.’

  Despite their plan’s success, Kyndra didn’t feel at all like laughing. All manner of things could go wrong.

  The procession had almost reached the arch when a tumult broke out in the hall. The Wielders paused. Hearing cries of shock and anger, Kyndra turned to look.

  Kait was upon her before she realized it. The tall woman dashed the last few yards and seized her collar. Kyndra gaped at her. What was she doing out in the open? Behind her, the hall erupted. Wielders yelled and a few novices spat in Kait’s direction. She ignored them all, nose to nose with Kyndra. Kyndra tried to lean away, but Kait’s grip only tightened.

  ‘Where is it?’ she hissed.

  ‘I don’t know what—’

  ‘You mustn’t use it, do you understand?’ Though Kait’s voice was low, almost too low to hear, the violence in it shocked Kyndra. ‘No time to explain,’ Kait said. Over her shoulder, Kyndra saw a group of Wielders coming towards them. Their expressions were thunderous.

  ‘I have to,’ she hissed back, wondering how Kait knew about the akan. ‘It’s my only chance.’

  ‘Then you will die,’ Kait snarled. Kyndra flinched at the saliva that hit her cheek. Again she tried to wrench out of her grasp, but Kait’s thin fingers held on with unearthly strength.

  The contingent of Wielders arrived. Hands reached for Kait, but stopped just short of touching her, as if she carried some contagion. The Nerian woman let go of Kyndra’s collar and pushed her roughly away. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

  Kait’s long coat wrapped her as she spun around. ‘Don’t touch me!’ she spat at the Wielders. Then she strode off without a backward glance, accompanied by jeers and angry shouts. Other Wielders formed up at her back, as if to ensure that she returned to the Deep without argument. No one asked why Kait had grabbed her. Perhaps they saw it as the senseless act of a madwoman, the act of one of the Nerian.

  The line began moving again and, unsure what to feel, Kyndra followed them through the archway and up into the winding tunnel. Her last glimpse of the hall showed her a white-faced Janus, his expression obscured by distance. He stood by a marble pillar, clutching one of the carved gargoyles that gnawed at the stone.

  Kyndra rubbed her neck, as Kait’s grip had pulled her collar tight against her skin. The incident had happened so quickly that she didn’t know what to think. Why would Kait risk coming up here unless she really believed the akan was dangerous? A sudden and dreadful certainty seized Kyndra: Kait must have found Tools of Power. But there was nothing in the book to say that akans did anything other than defend their user.

  They were nearing the summit of the climb when Kyndra’s hand again strayed to her pocket. When she couldn’t find the akan, she simply put her hand in her other pocket, fingers already flinching away from the alabaster child.

  Both pockets were empty. The white akan was gone. Kyndra’s heart pounded against her ribcage, its frenzied beating almost painful. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stay calm, but all she felt was the ridged flesh of a scar through her shirt.

  Two Wielders took up positions just inside the tunnel’s mouth, their backs to the platform. Kyndra’s footsteps dragged as she made herself follow the four in front. Last time she’d stood up here, pulled from her bed by Alandred whilst the sun still slept, she had been wholly ignorant of the horror that awaited her. Now she was wide awake and terrified. The ledge overwhelmed her with memories of the agony she had suffered, and great jagged spikes reared ominously around its edge.

  Almost perfectly balanced between day and night, the sky was deceptively tranquil
. Early summer softened the breeze, bringing to Kyndra the rustle of new leaves. She took deep gulps, wishing that the mild, aimless wind could carry her away. Heedless, it blew on across the chasm, taking its borrowed scents to town.

  Only one person could have stolen the akan, someone with thin, light fingers – someone who believed Kyndra would use it, despite her warning. Kyndra felt numb at Kait’s betrayal. Last night the woman had asked for her trust … and now this. Why had she done it? Without the akan, Kyndra had nothing. The dregs of her hope drained away.

  Already the Wielders stood prepared. One of the women came to take her arm and Kyndra let herself be guided into place at the apex of the semi-circle, near to the cliff edge. For one wild moment, she considered squeezing between the spikes and flinging herself over the side. It was a black, awful fall, but at least it would be over quickly.

  Precipice at her back, Kyndra faced the Wielders. I can do this, she tried to convince herself, Brégenne never makes a mistake. The woman let go of Kyndra’s arm and took up her position. Her eyes were kind and Kyndra saw sympathy there. The gentle emotion sparked something in the pit of her stomach, heating fear to anger. She clenched her fists. These people would use their power against her, power enough to rip her body apart, for no other reason than that the Council wished it. Did they do so willingly, or had they been forced into it?

  Kyndra fed those thoughts to the rage, trying to drive out her horror. The Wielders’ hands began to glow.

  ‘Don’t.’

  Her voice emerged as a croak, half plea, half command. One of the Wielders, a Solar, glanced worriedly at the sky. Only the sun’s rim stood above the horizon. Soon it would dip beneath the world, taking the Solar power with it. The man looked to his fellow Wielder. They exchanged a nod and their expressions turned inward.

  ‘I have no power!’ Kyndra screamed at them, throwing out her arms. Both hands met a silvery barrier, much like the one Brégenne had used against her in Brenwym. She pushed at it and, just as before, it gave a little. A youngish man on Kyndra’s right drew in his breath sharply and frowned. The barrier strengthened, forcing Kyndra’s arms back.