A Glimmer on the Blade

by Rachel E. Baddorf

  Suddenly, she believed again, like she had believed in Mishi the Horse Goddess when she had been a child. She had seen the Moon Goddess in Anoni, heard her voice, and felt the tide rising as the Goddess settled with her as her Sybil. All the miracles in the parables now seemed possible. She found herself eager to do them. Not just for the spectacle or the attention. But because she had seen the Safiro Wilds, which was how all of the Empire had been. It had been cleansed by the Lady. Terastai was the Lady’s land. The people should know who it was that kept them guarded from hungry Ozuk and maniac devotees of Califf. Just as the appearance of Califf devotees in the marines was a signal that ‘the enemy,’ as Copelia saw it, had insinuated himself into the Empire. Deep in her soul she felt it was a call for the Lady to return also. All she wondered was why Alcyenne had never done any of the miracles for the people. Had she been afraid? Had she been waiting...?

  The doorknob was rusted solid. She attacked the door with her hammer. Finding the knob and lock were impossible to budge, she took a chisel and paid attention to the hinges. She wrestled the long iron pins out of the hinges and used the chisel to lever the door open. The smell and sound of falling water greeted her. Inside, it was a stone chamber about four feet wide and six feet deep. The ceiling angled sharply up toward the back wall. Water cascaded down the back wall and disappeared down an iron grate in the floor. She looked up, realizing the ceiling angled right up into a wide-open hole that allowed the water to pass through the chamber. Peering upward at the source of the water, she saw that the water’s conduit arched upward out of sight. It was arching away from the door, as if it were following the roof of a chamber on the other side.

  Thinking for a moment, she puzzled the architecture out. The conduit was a rain drain, funneling rain from the roof to the cisterns many floors below. This chamber was a maintenance hatch for the conduit, with the grating used to prevent debris and leaves from getting into the cistern. Copelia remembered the dome in the temple she had used in Lyceo, and suddenly she looked up with a sense of resignation. If the drain was arching, the ordeal chamber had to be below and the only place the rain water would be coming from was the light well itself. She would have to go up it and hope the conduit didn’t get any smaller than the four-by-two-foot space she could see from here. If it tapered anywhere, she would be stuck without a path to follow. The only other way to find the light well would be to break through into the Ordeal Chamber and go up the way the prince had.

  Looking at the ancient slimy stone, Copelia hesitated. She really didn’t want to try and climb it.

  Do I have to? she asked the Lady, trying not to whine.

  She felt for a moment the pressure of the nightlion’s mouth and teeth around her neck. It was just gentle pressure, the four points of the canine teeth getting sharper.

  All right, all right. She thought perhaps the Lady was getting tired of her. The next reminder might not have been so gentle. Resignedly, she searched her pack for tools but nothing she had would help her climb the clean mason stone.

  “What do I do?” she asked herself quietly. She could leave and try to find climbing equipment, then come back. But it would take time she didn’t have. “What should I do?” She sounded tired and on the verge of tears even to herself. Tired, frustrated, and apparently she had just wasted her time. Again she felt the press of fangs at her neck.

  “Lady, how can I? It’s not like I have claws to...oh,” she spoked quietly to herself. Her eyes fell on her casters. Speculatively she took off her shoes and socks. She had casters on her feet as well. She got out her pliers.

  “Our Lady of Peace, Our Lady of Mystery...” she whispered the opening prayer and then went on. “Grant me the aspects of your animal, the nightlioness, who stands for your strength and mystery. For I am the hunter, searching for your son, to guard and foster. Grant me your weapons, the lion’s claws and lion’s feet, so that I may follow this path.” She worked the holy metal with the pliers, pulling out sections to work as claws. With some added wire she had, it just might work.

  Copelia realized she could not take the torch with her and climb at the same time. She extinguished it and hefted her pack onto her shoulders. She approached the back wall reluctantly. She felt through the water to the wall and tentatively pressed with her palms. The claws at the edges of her palm hooked into the stone. They shifted a little, growing warm, a little help from the Goddess after all. Their glow was faint, but it was enough to get her moving slowly up the wall while the rain water poured down on her face and shoulders.

  After what seemed like hours of climbing, she saw sunlight above her. She wedged her feet and one hand against the wall so she could swing her other hand with the hammer. It bit into the brittle stone where it was mortared to the grate, once and then again. She started to slip and in desperation, punched out with the claws on her hand. The metal grate loosened and fell, missing her head by inches before continuing its clanging path back down the stone trough. With the last of her effort, she pulled herself up through the stream of water and onto the flat surface of the roof.

  Towers climbed around her into the bright gray sky as the rain fell. She took deep breaths and carefully stretched her aching arms and fingers. She was on her belly in several inches of rainwater, the old clay roof tiles hard beneath her. Thunder rolled out across the sky and the rain drenched her head and started dripping off her face into the puddle where she lay.

  A voice, cultured, uncertain, young, and strained, came from behind her.

  “Hello?”

  ***

  Cape Miliar

  Corin

  The causeway to the Isle of Asteri was a surprise. Corin had been expecting stone construction, like the Great Bridge they had crossed through the salt marsh, since they were both Old Tech from his ancestors. But it was not stone. As far as he could tell, it was rusted metal, some kind of Old Tech ramp with corrugated decking panels and tube frame. It sagged unevenly on the shore and almost dipped into the water just before reaching the island. It was a disappointment and a puzzle. His ancestors—this is where they had landed in their ship with the Goddess when they returned to Earth from the Moon. The island was small, less than a half mile across, and overgrown with trees. Some kind of wreckage rose through the leaves here and there, but there was no identifying it. The cape was a wide circle like the Goddess had pressed a holy thumb into the coastline, and then left the island at its center. He turned away from it. Finishing the quest was important but he didn’t have to worry about traveling to the Isle alone. He had more personal things to worry about.

  His eyes fell on Anoni as she did her sword exercises on the beach, her form flowing from one stance to the next, sword a smooth blur of light in the morning. She looked fine after her day and a half of sleep. Her coppery hair was let out this morning to trail in the breeze like a halo of fire. She was wearing blue breeches and a lighter blue shirt. It was tailored close to her body, showing her slimness and curves, while having complete range of movement. It was unadorned. She had even taken off her last moonpearls, left them behind somewhere. Yet she moved with confidence, getting used to fighting on the pebble beach.

  The problem was that he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He wanted to touch, to feel her smooth taut muscles against his skin. He wanted, in an almost painful throb, to undo the little silver buttons that closed the blue shirt, running from the high collar to the hem. His eyes followed the movement of her hands on her sword. The spell scars weren’t ugly and they didn’t frighten him like they might a superstitious man. It was just part of her. And he wondered what her scarred hands would feel like on his skin.

  But last night, with the discovery of her passenger, the situation had gotten so much more complicated. Not that it wasn’t complicated enough before, he thought. Now, if the Ozuk in her rises, I start to go numb. Dead. What had she done to the Ozuk on the fire? It sounded like it hurt him, and the Ozuk liked it. She had not talked about it with anyone. Not one of the Dragons had asked for the real details. S
he acted no differently, though the concentration on her face as she drew her dagger and began two-handed exercises might be a clue to her inner condition. It might not. She was acting like nothing had happened two nights ago.

  After confirming with Vansainté and Yupendra, she had declared they would rest this day and start for the island tomorrow. She had not liked the idea of so many days of rest, but the circumstances had given her no choice. Yupendra had rechecked the men and found them whole, only needing to rest. It was the turning point in the quest. If the ride went well, they would be back in Aquillion in two or three weeks. And he would be Corinado again. He would be the emperor. And the beautiful woman he cared for would hide herself again behind a male face. Thinking of their talks and the trust built up between them, Corin did not want it to end. It was almost like the friendship that he had had with her when they were young but deeper in ways that frightened him. He couldn’t lose her again.

  The more acute pain had come, not so much at the thought of Anoni dying, though that had been painful. It had come at the thought of her losing herself to the Ozuk. To not be Anoni anymore. He had been afraid to look in her eyes and find something else looking back.

  On the thought of life without Anoni, what was even worse was that she would be there always. Every room he walked into would have her in it, or one of her men. As Dragons, they would accompany the emperor, two per shift twenty-four hours a day.

  She would be there, three feet behind him locked in that black uniform.

  He toyed with the idea of telling her who he really was. He watched as she slashed downward in a combined attack with sword and dagger designed to rip out both sides of an opponent’s guts. No, he thought, swallowing hard, I won’t tell her. But what about in the palace? Could he stand to be in the same room with her all the time and not say anything? And he would be married...

  He cursed under his breath. He had not given his future bride any thought whatsoever. There was Delis. She was certainly beautiful enough to fill the position of empress. But he couldn’t remember one comment of hers that had ever touched on anything serious. His mind swerved away from the idea of her in his bed. Well I have two weeks to make a decision. And maybe in that time I can find a way around Anoni’s Ozuk problem. He smiled with satisfaction and went to join Anoni as she finished her workout and gathered Yupendra, Giovicci, and Vansainté to her. She was sweaty and tendrils of hair were sticking to her neck and face. He found an idiotic smile on his face as he came near her. She was more tempting covered in sweat than Delis was in her best gown.

  ***

  Cape Miliar

  Anoni

  Anoni nodded at Corin as he seated himself across the small circle from her, but before she could speak, her gaze fell on Wix standing on the outside of the camp. He was studying the blanket covered bundle that was his cousin. Waving at the men to stay seated, she went to Wix. She had used her tiredness as excuse long enough.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

  He looked up, grief etching his face with exhaustion. “He went out as a warrior.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring him back with the magic.”

  Wix snorted a bitter laugh. “I didn’t expect you to. There would have been no living with him after that.”

  “He’ll be honored in the palace.”

  He nodded. There was nothing more she could say that didn’t sound trite, nothing that could encompass the loss or lessen the pain. He had been one of her men. She would have died in his place if she could, but for all her traffic with gods and spirits, it was out of her grasp.

  She left him to his sorrow. They would have to bury him tomorrow and she didn’t want there to be any unfinished business between the cousins. Returning to the circle of men, she was glad Corin was there. His fear of Ozuk could so easily overwhelm their new friendship. She had been surprised to feel how much it hurt to see him back away from her. Nevertheless, he was almost as involved with what she wanted to talk about as she was.

  “Giovicci, Yupendra, you know the most about magic of anyone here,” she started. “I need to know what you know about the Ozuk. And what you think happened when I killed the Ozuk.”

  Giovicci took a deep breath and began. “I called you Godmaker, Anoni, because I think that’s what you are.”

  “But gods are not made. They’re just gods,” Anoni protested.

  “No, no, no,” Giovicci interrupted. “The scholar Nodeixi says when Califf scoured the world, his wrath created the spirits known as Ozukan. There were the ones who could affect the physical, and there were those who could not. Time passed, and the Ozuks began to break down. The weaker ones just wanted to feed on the lives of humans and animals. But a few, who still remembered what they were, banded together, made themselves one.”

  “But what does that have to do with Anoni?” asked Corin quietly.

  “The Goddess transmuted the powers of dangerous Ozuk as the Empire grew. Changing those angry spirits into a kind of ambient magic that was a part of herself,” Giovicci finished.

  “That’s why there are no Ozuk in the Empire. They all became part of the Goddess?” Anoni asked.

  “Or were frightened off. None dare attack within the domain of the Goddess,” explained Giovicci.

  “But how...?” Anoni was still confused. It made sense that the Goddess had come from somewhere. She shut up when she heard a voice inside her.

  You had so many spell fragments left in you, someone really didn’t know what they were doing when they taught you to use those relics. There’s damage in here. And you had been touched by the Goddess that when...Koseichiro hesitated. When Scalamindara tried to kill us, when his power was in us, I fell into a jumble of the spells. Some paths were burned into your hands and you channeled it out with blood and metal. You transmuted Scalamindara.

  Anoni forgot to speak in her mind. “So you aren’t gone after all. Awfully quiet this morning,” she teased. She had known that whatever had saved her from the rampaging Ozuk, it had come from her, but it had also come from him. “Of course, if he hadn’t been angry at you, he might have left us alone.”

  I know, he said stiffly. I didn’t expect that from my brother.

  The men were looking at her with puzzled suspicion. “It’s okay. I am just conversing with my passenger here. He says I transmuted Scalamindara because I was touched by the Goddess and had him in me.”

  “It’s amazing.” Giovicci looked so excited. “I've never heard of an Ozuk doing this before.”

  “They may have been discouraged from hitching a lift before now,” Anoni said as she began tying her hair back. “I only have one good side effect right now. And so far, the yelling in my head isn’t worth being able to kill the occasional angry Ozuk.” Are you in the dark in there? she asked, tentatively. It bothered her that she couldn’t see him, or feel much of his movement.

  Yes. I was asleep, resting. He sounded uncomfortable.

  Here. She gave him a box of candles in her mind. I thought you didn’t remember what happened to you? When Scalamindara asked, you rattled it off well enough.

  It comes in pieces. Some past, some present, he replied.

  He was quiet again. Had he been hurt by the transfer of power? Was he so docile today because he was afraid of it? Even more than he feared darkness? It still sort of tickled her that a spirit beast, raider of villages, destroyer of shrines, would be afraid of the dark. Then again, she thought, dark water was one of the only things I have ever been afraid of. And she had not spent hundreds of years locked in a cave underground.

  You are one of the most interesting mortals I have ever encountered, he said in a speculating tone.

  Why would you say that?

  The spell fragments are old, but I can tell what they did...And I found something to do here in the dark. That prince really dropped you. The last was a snide comment.

  You see my memories? You bastard...She clenched her hands in frustration. It was a violation that she had never thought possible. To have someone
poking about in her thoughts, her feelings. You stay out of there or I’ll conjure up a darkness so vast you’ll never see or feel another damn thing! She stared up at the sky, imagining a starry night. She could do it. Imagine the spaces between the stars.

  I don’t know if you have enough room in here for that. Not a very big mind to work with, he taunted.

  I have a friend who was just named Sybil of the Temple. She owes me one. I bet she could sweep you away with little effort and the Goddess would love to have part of such an infamous Ozuk to work with.

  Liar. You turned away from the Goddess, and she from you.

  I’m still the Scion. Find that memory if you don’t believe me. In the stories, the nightlions hunt down the unjust don’t they...She didn’t exactly feel him quaver at her threat, but he went quiet.

  Anoni blinked to clear her vision. The men were looking at her with speculative eyes. She gave them a muted shake of the head. She couldn’t explain this now. She couldn’t see them looking at her that way.

  “I’ll talk to you later, I need some time alone,” she said and moved off to walk the beach, toward the ocean and away from the camp.

  ***

  Imperial Palace

  Ildiko

  On the nights made cool by the rain, she had chanted the major prayers to the Goddess, alone in the moonlight. Always, she had chanted in a low voice in case some noble at their window might hear her by an errant echo off the stone. She slept long hours, tended her wound, and checked on the prince. She had made sure he had gotten the light he needed and the water. She was both glad and sad a thousand times that it rained four of the five nights. The water had kept her alive, but kept her cold. She had wondered what she had done to offend the Goddess that she was stuck here. The water could just be prolonging her agony. But she couldn’t bring herself to not drink.