I’m so glad I remembered that just now. It makes me feel so much less awful about myself. It’s snowing heavily now, which makes everything feel quiet and distant, and I’m sure it’s insulating the tent, so even though the ground is cold, I think I’ll be able to sleep. Just as soon as I write all of this down.
Most of today was uneventful. More walking, more discussion, more me almost but not quite managing the see-inside pouvra. We passed a few more Balaenic villages (this is a Balaenic road, so that makes sense) and saw a Castaviran one in the distance. There’s a marked visual difference between the two that gives us a warning as to what kind of behavior we should exhibit.
One of the Balaenic towns sat astride the road, and the people there acted as if nothing were wrong, with kids waving at us and women chatting with their neighbors with barely a glance our way. It was unsettling. Jeddan and I tried to talk to their leaders, to warn them about the God-Empress’s oncoming army, but no one we spoke to took us seriously. They all had these expressions like they thought we were crazy, and not in a harmless, funny way. A couple of them put their hands on weapons, or things that could be weapons, while we were speaking. I was afraid to use magic to convince them, and Jeddan came to the same conclusion. We were both relieved to leave that town behind.
By the time the sun set, we’d entered another forest, not heavily overgrown, and with the trees mostly bare it didn’t feel confining at all. We found a place off the road to camp, a little natural clearing, and lit a fire and had something to eat. Jeddan talked about setting a few snares, so I said I would write while he did that. But after he left, I didn’t feel like getting my book out. Some of that was because I can see the pages diminishing, and there’s really no chance of me finding a new blank book out here. Some of it was just tiredness. So I sat next to the fire and let my mind go blank.
I don’t know when I realized the thrumming sound wasn’t the blood rushing through my ears, but something external—hooves, and a lot of them. I jumped up and put the fire between myself and the road, not thinking, then I woke out of my stupor and concealed myself. I knew whoever the approaching riders were, they’d already seen the fire, because the bare trees weren’t very good concealment, so there was no point trying to hide the camp. It was possible the riders wouldn’t want to harm me, but that wasn’t a chance I was willing to take. I hoped Jeddan, wherever he was, was safe.
The noise of the hooves grew louder, then stopped nearby. I heard people dismounting, the sound of harness jingling and the whiffle of a horse at rest. Then three men came into the clearing. They were roughly dressed, unshaven, with heavy coats and broad-brimmed hats, and their boots struck the frozen ground with loud clumping sounds. One of them approached the fire and kicked dirt at it, desultorily, not trying to put it out. Another ducked into our tent and started making noises like he was going through our things.
The third circled the little clearing, peering past it as if he were looking for someone. I had to move silently out of his way, praying he wouldn’t look in my direction, because he had the air of someone who didn’t miss much.
“They can’t have gone far,” the first man said.
The second man emerged from the tent carrying our rucksack of food. “They’ve got bugger-all worth taking,” he said.
“Gather it up,” the third man said. “Elssan and Nattas are searching the woods for them. Might have their goods on them.”
He turned to walk back the way he’d come. I took another step away, silently, I thought, and his eyes came around and met mine, and saw me. I tried to run, nearly fell into the fire, and his hand went around my wrist and jerked me back. “What’s this?” he said, and shook me so hard I lost my concentration. “A woman.” He said it as if there were something inherently wrong with being female.
“Let go,” I said, which was stupid, because why would he let me go just because I told him to? I almost used the walk-through-walls pouvra on him, but realized in time escaping his grip wouldn’t get me past the other two men, and I could only dodge them for so long before running out of breath. And I didn’t know where Jeddan was, and the only place he would know to look for me was by the fire. So I held still and examined my other options.
But to my complete surprise, he let me go! Before I could react, I was stunned again when a long, fat rope of fire rose up from nowhere and wrapped around me, close enough it started to singe my clothes, but not enough to actually burn me. I gaped at him, then said, “You’re a mage.”
“Don’t know that word,” he said. “My people always called it witchcraft. Or did before I burned the town to ash.”
That shut my mouth. I’d been about to say something excited, something about us having so much in common, but now it was clear we didn’t. Then he smiled, and it was a nasty, leering smile that made me feel cold and afraid. “Didn’t expect to find a woman traveling the roads,” he said. “Where’s your friend?”
“Who says I have a friend?” I retorted. The fire was starting to hurt. I wish I knew how to dismiss someone else’s fire pouvra, not that that would have made a difference.
“Two bedrolls says you have a friend,” the second man said.
“So where is he? Or are we twice blessed, and it’s a she?” the mage said.
“Gone where you won’t find him,” I said.
“Oh, I don’t think he’ll leave you to us,” the mage said. “Who knows what we might have in mind?”
That made me mad. Even if I hadn’t been nearly raped once, I’d still be furious at any man who thought he had a right to take what wasn’t willingly given. “How sweet,” I said, and lashed out with my own fire, turning him into a greasy pyre. He screamed, and the rope of fire disappeared, and that was when Jeddan burst out of the forest and bore the second man, the one with his hands full of our things, to the ground.
The mage shook like a dog, and fire flew off him like water. “Bitch,” he screamed, and fire wrapped me again. This time I went insubstantial and jumped away from it, which made his eyes and mouth go wide. He flung fire at me again, and again, and I let it pass through me, or dodged it when I had to breathe, and lashed out at him with my own fire, which he dodged in turn.
The other man, the one Jeddan wasn’t wrestling, turned and ran from the clearing, shouting to people I couldn’t see. I didn’t have much attention to spare either for him or for Jeddan, because I was trying to come up with a way to end the little dance I was having with the increasingly maddened mage. He didn’t seem to be tiring at all, but I was becoming light-headed, and at some point I would have to stop going insubstantial, and that would be it for me.
Maybe it was the light-headedness. Maybe it was the hours of practice finally coming together. But as I went insubstantial one final time, I could see the shape of the pouvra as if it were rods and curves spun from spider’s silk, as insubstantial as I was, and then it shifted and I saw a new shape that emerged from the old one. Without stopping to think, because I could never have done it if I analyzed it, I bent my will to the new shape.
It was as if—I’ve thought about this a lot since then, thought about it to avoid thinking about other things, and it was as if the world blinked, and when its eye opened, I could see everything differently. It was so strange I forgot I was fighting for my life. I was about five feet from the mage at that point, keeping my eyes on his chest because its movements told me where he was going to fling fire next, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to turn the pouvra on him.
Thinking back on it, I don’t know why the pouvra’s revealing his innards didn’t disgust me. I must have been more light-headed than I thought. Mostly I was fascinated by what I saw, heart and lungs pulsing, arteries and veins quivering as blood flowed through them.
I was too distracted, I suppose, because he was able to grab me in a moment of solidity and shake me so hard I couldn’t summon fire. “I am going to enjoy killing you, burning the skin from your body an inch at a time,” he snarled, and that woke me up. I tried going insubs
tantial, but I was too tired and breathless, and I couldn’t burn him without burning myself, and his innards were pulsing queasily inches from my face.
I could see his heart throbbing, rapidly because he’d exerted himself as much as I had. I remember thinking how strange it was that all the blood went in and out through those few slender vessels, and again in that dreamlike state I reached out with the mind-moving pouvra and crushed all of them until they twisted and broke.
Nothing happened for a moment. Then the mage released me and clutched at his chest. His expression was so surprised, so normal, it was hard to believe he’d been trying to kill me seconds before. I stepped away and watched him collapse. He didn’t move much, just twitched as his face went ashen. Then he was dead, and I stood over him, breathing quietly. It still didn’t seem real. Even the memory, as I look back on it now, seems unreal, like I’m remembering someone else’s life.
Jeddan must have said my name several times before I heard him, but what I remember next is him putting his arms around me and holding me close, his chin resting on the top of my head. “What did you do?” he whispered.
“I killed him,” I said. “It was easy.”
Jeddan didn’t push me away, or make sounds of fear or disgust. “He would have killed us both,” he said.
“I know,” I said. “But it was easy.”
Then he let go of me to hold me at arm’s length, and I was startled at the intensity of his gaze. “You’re not a killer,” he said. “I’ve never known anyone less callous about human life than you are.”
“Okay,” I said, which was so inadequate, but was there anything I could have said that would have made things better? Then I turned away and went rummaging through the mage’s clothes. I remember thinking if I was going to kill someone, it should at least be worthwhile, and if he had money on him, we could use that. Jeddan didn’t say anything else, and I was grateful more than ever that he has a gift for silence. I know he doesn’t understand how I feel, but I know he realizes talking about it now will only make me feel worse, and he won’t push. So grateful for such a friend.
The bandit had a little purse with fifteen crowns and a handful of smaller change, and a fire opal pendant that looked too feminine to be his, and wore a gold ring on his left hand. I left the jewelry, but Jeddan collected it, along with the other bandit’s purse; Jeddan hadn’t killed his man, but he wasn’t going to wake up any time soon.
Then we struck camp and moved on down the road, though it was so dark we almost couldn’t see to find another campsite, even with the see-in-dark pouvra. There weren’t any horses when we emerged onto the road, so I think the bandit who escaped probably warned the others the mage had referred to. I almost wish we’d been able to take a couple of horses, even if we can’t ride; how hard can it be to point a horse’s nose in the right direction and hang on to the saddle? But there’s no sense worrying about it now.
It started snowing as we put up the tent, then Jeddan guided me inside and told me, “Lie back to back,” so I did. I waited for him to fall asleep before I started writing, in case I was going to cry, but I don’t feel tearful. I don’t feel much of anything except overwhelmed.
I used a pouvra to kill a man—not by accident, the way I did when I worked the fire pouvra for the first time, but deliberately, consciously choosing that man’s death. It’s fitting, in a way. I’m already a thief, and it seems I’m now an assassin, because what else can you call that kind of pinpoint, fatally accurate attack? I know my mind-moving pouvra is never going to be as powerful as Cederic’s, but then he can’t manage the kind of delicate movements I can. The kind that can crush blood vessels and—true God help me, I can’t stop thinking of the possibilities now.
It scares me that I can so coldly consider ways I might turn this combination of pouvrin to my benefit. And the worst thing is I don’t dare swear never to do it again. What if using the pouvra that way meant saving someone I love? Meant bringing Balaen and Castavir together in peace? I wouldn’t even think twice about it.
I can’t write anymore, and I don’t think I can sleep. I’m glad Jeddan’s here. I wish he were Cederic.
4 or 5 Nevrine, don’t know
Dreamed again, dragged myself out of it before it was embarrassing. Finally cried.
5 Nevrine
Now that we have two pouvrin in common, it’s easier to find common points for discussion. We’re inventing a whole new vocabulary of “bends” and “flexion” and “beadery” and “star-rods” and other words meaningless except as they pertain to the pouvrin. After dark, I tried to give Jeddan the shape of the concealment pouvra, and while it didn’t work, he said he understands it and it’s just a matter of learning to bend his will. Based on what he’s said during all these conversations, I get the feeling bending his will is what Jeddan finds most difficult to do.
We should reach Hasskian tomorrow sometime. When we weren’t talking about pouvrin, we’ve been talking about how to warn the city. We certainly don’t look like anyone of importance, and least of all like Balaenic soldiers—too bad our uniforms are Castaviran, since that would get us attention of the wrong sort.
The last time I came through here, Falak Endolessar was Lord Governor of Hasskian, but that was several years ago, so it’s possible he’s been ousted. But I don’t think so. He’s a clever politician, good at keeping just enough of his promises to stay in power, and I think in a twisted way he really does care about Hasskian’s well-being, insomuch as that reflects well on him as their beneficent ruler.
Hasskian’s prosperous enough, and the nearby towns benefit from being part of its economy. I stayed here last time just long enough to pick up the trail of a book I needed, and I liked the city all right, though I wouldn’t want to live there—the walls are oppressive.
At any rate, I can’t think of anything we could do to draw Endolessar’s attention that wouldn’t also get us tossed in a cell. So my plan, if you can call it that, is to enter the city and see what happens. At least I’m confident they won’t arrest us just for walking through the gate.
6 Nevrine, late
Nothing went the way we expected. I was going to write about it all, but now that I’ve got pencil to paper I realize I’m too exhausted to think. Tomorrow.
Chapter Eight
7 Nevrine
We camped early tonight because we found a place where this river—more of a stream, I guess—runs through a copse of trees near the road, and we were so tired we decided it was better to stop here than to push on until nightfall and risk not finding anywhere good. The fire is so comfortable, and I’m full, and I wish all of that physical comfort meant emotional comfort too, but I’m still not sure we made the best choice last night, and that’s not a good feeling.
I wish I had Jeddan’s confidence. Once he’s made a decision and acted on it, he doesn’t keep revisiting it and worrying he did the wrong thing. When he frets, it’s about much more serious, life-altering things, like death. Me, I can’t stop thinking about possibilities—like, what would have happened if I’d chosen differently, or how can I analyze a situation to know whether this decision would be right in other circumstances. I have to live with the consequences of my actions, and I’m fine with that, but I’m always looking to a future in which I’ll have to choose again, and worrying I won’t learn from my mistakes. Especially when those mistakes hurt other people.
I keep getting ahead of myself. I think it’s because, by the time I get to writing, since all the events are in the past it’s hard for me not to look over them and draw conclusions and think about what it all means. And that’s interesting, but I wonder if it doesn’t color the “story” I’m telling in these pages.
So this begins early yesterday morning. We started before the sun had fully risen so we’d have plenty of time to explore Hasskian and work out a real plan that wasn’t “let’s see what happens,” which is my least favorite kind of plan. We passed a still-sleeping Balaenic village that lay right on the Royal Road, then made the tu
rn that leads to Hasskian, which is about ten miles off the main road.
There’s another town—small city, really—called Debressken near that junction, and we were nearing it when Jeddan said, “That’s a Castaviran town over there.” He pointed, and I saw the distinctive pointed roofs off to one side, maybe a mile away from Debressken to the south. It also looked quiet.
“I think we should visit them,” I said. “See how they’ve fared. I don’t like how close they are to these towns.”
Jeddan nodded, and we set off across the fields—not cultivated fields but the untamed lands between towns, full of tall, dry grass and small animal burrows. It was going to snow, which made everything dim even though there was a small bright spot to the east where the sun was peeking over the horizon, showing Hasskian, even at that distance, as a black blob low to the ground. Our footsteps swishing through the dead grass were the only noises anywhere.
“Don’t you think we should hear people waking up?” Jeddan said.
“Yes,” I said, and started walking more quickly. Jeddan sped up as well. We reached the first of the outbuildings, a barn, and looked inside. It was fully stocked with bales of hay, and fitted with the pails and other necessities of a dairy farm, but there were no cows, nothing living at all. It was eerie.
We turned around and went toward the farmhouse, where the back door hung ajar and swung slightly in the cold wind blowing a storm toward us. After exchanging glances, I pushed the door open and we went inside.
It had been ransacked. The kitchen we entered was strewn with pottery shards, drifts of flour and sugar lay across the floor, chairs were knocked over, and the tablecloth puddled on the floor beneath the table. The fear choking me subsided when I realized there were no bodies, but there were so many other rooms… Jeddan and I spread out and searched the house. Everything had been torn apart. There were no bodies, and no living creatures anywhere.
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