by J. A. Comley
She shook her head slightly, wondering where such total confidence had been born, and took his offered hands.
Mukori gave a huge smile and walked backwards, pulling her with him, and stepped through another irregular triangular opening into the middle of the Tree.
She heard him chuckle and was vaguely aware of several people looking their way, but none of that mattered. She dropped his hands and spun in a slow circle.
They were in a huge chamber, with a high, vaulted ceiling. The metalwork was so delicate it almost looked like silver lace. Glowing white vines curved around and through the structures, creating a brilliant work of art high above her head and providing light akin to that of a full moon. The room looked far too large for the Tree, enormous as it was. Letting her eyes follow the artfully snaking vines, she looked down from the beautiful ceiling and took in the rest of the room. There were several people gaping at her, but she let her eyes pass over them. The room was perfectly round, with eight archways carved into the walls, nine if you included the irregular entrance she came in through. The frame of each arch was as intricately designed as the ceiling.
Mukori's hand brushed her bare shoulder. “Welcome to my home. Our home.”
She looked away from the delicate metal traceries to meet his sure gaze. She smiled, allowing him the pleasure of knowing that he had surprised her.
“It is amazing. How big is it?”
Mukori shrugged, sweeping his fingers lightly over the back of her neck. “We have never measured it, but it is comfortably housing a little over three hundred people at the moment. The largest number we have ever had here at one time was eight hundred, and there was still space.” He shrugged again.
Valana laughed at his nonchalance and stared at the various archways. It took her a moment to realise what she was trying to do. Her laugh turned into a sigh of frustration. She had been trying to hear the people moving about the Tree, or to gain some more information from the scents in the air.
Mukori rubbed her back, murmuring a few consolations. She took a deep breath and pushed aside the feeling of being sensorily deprived and half-turned to face him.
“Do all those tunnels lead to rooms as big as this one?”
He smiled at the determination in her voice. “No. Only the library is as big as this. The eating hall is even larger,” he winked.
She chuckled, shaking her head. “Will you give me a tour?”
“I—”
“Ah, my Lord. I am so glad that you are back safely.”
Valana and Mukori both turned to the woman who now bowed to Mukori.
Her hair was a soft pink, shaven on one side, and had the Cyrali Crest etched into it. Her pale-honey eyes swept right over Valana without seeing her and landed on Mukori. Valana took in the dark bruises along the woman’s jaw and cheekbone as well as her splintered and slung left arm. She looked like she had been trampled by an elpion.
“Thank you, Nimori.” Mukori said, taking Valana's elbow as his eyes raked over the woman’s injuries, too. “May I introduce our latest addition, pure-blood Nightstalker, daughter of the Kazori, Champion of Moon Lake and, now, Protector of the Unseen Hand, the lovely Valana.”
Valana tried to jab him in the ribs with the elbow he held but he neatly stepped sideways, as if allowing Nimori a better view and absorbing her thrust in the same movement.
Nimori's eyes widened briefly, and she nodded respectfully to Valana then winced as the movement pulled at some hidden injury. “A pleasure.”
“Valana, this is Nimori, daughter of the Cyrali and my Head of division here on Aurelia,” Mukori continued, as Valana nodded in return. “I have another Kazori guest I'd like you to meet. Bakoro was—”
“Oh, the young Nightstalker girl? I already met her,”
Valana's eyes narrowed at the expression on Nimori’s face and looked the woman over again, paying less attention to the injuries and more to her stance and eyes.
Mukori tilted his head to the side, “Are you not willing to be her Mentor?” His voice betrayed a hint of annoyance, perhaps because of the interruption.
Nimori's eyes flashed up at his tone of voice and she bowed her head. “I have no problem in following your orders,”
“My request, Nimori. It was not an order. You know I—”
“Of course,” Nimori glanced up again, “I would be happy to have a new student. However, I am not sure she wants me.”
Valana felt as if there were more to the woman's words and couldn’t stop herself from joining the conversation.
“Karicha was very excited to be meeting you. I don't understand what you mean,” she said, trying to keep any suspicion from her voice. She wished they were outside so that she could hear the woman's heart and breath for any small changes.
Nimori glanced at Mukori and then opened her mouth, but Mukori spoke first.
“Listen to Nimori's voice, Valana. Can you think of nothing that might unsettle Karicha?” His tone was gentle and soft, as if he were trying to talk only to her, despite the fact that Nimori's proximity made that impossible.
She looked into his eyes and watched the gold flecks dance as it hit her. Nimori had the same accent as Mukori, Hipotarali tinged with Cyrali.
“She's afraid of you.”
Nimori's eyes shot to hers, and she took an involuntary step backwards, as if fearing Valana's wrath.
Mukori chuckled. “Peace, Nimori. Valana is our Protector, you have nothing to fear from her.”
Nimori swallowed hard and then stepped closer again.
“I am sure that in time Karicha will come around. She was wary of me, too, at first.”
Nimori nodded. “Yes, Lord Mukori, I am sure you are right.”
Valana twitched, not liking the hesitancy in the woman's voice. Either there was more to her tale or she did not wish to be Mentor to Karicha. Probably the latter.
“Where is Karicha now?”
“Well, Lerimo was there when I frightened her. I thought it best to leave them for a bit.”
Mukori smiled. “Excellent, yes, Lerimo will get it all straightened out. He Healed little Durio. Karicha will trust him.”
Both Nimori and Valana sighed in relief. Valana gave the woman a sardonic half-smile. Did she really not want to disappoint Mukori that much?
“Very good, now I will—”
“You found him? Truly wondrous. Time is slipping from us and this Demilain-cursed Tree is breaking my mind.”
Mukori's lips twitched, whether in annoyance at once again being interrupted or at the stranger's odd speech and hand gestures, Valana couldn't guess. All she knew for certain was that the man who now joined them was not Aurelian. Judging by the pointed ears on the sides of his head, dark skin complexion and slit pupils, he was most likely Cosmaltian. She was also fairly confident that he was a magic wielder from the way he kept rubbing his head and grimacing.
Nimori gave the man an almost bow. “Of course, Your Eminence.” She turned back to Mukori. “May I introduce to you His Eminence, Master Sajoor, leader of the Guild of Brosneian metalsmiths of Cosmaltia.”
Ah, so he's a Brosney. She didn't know much about the Cosmaltian metal wielders, but what she did know intrigued her greatly. Perhaps if some joined Mukori's cause, she'd get to see the mysterious Brosneian monks in action.
Mukori's eyebrows shot up, but he hid it well behind a graceful bow. “I am truly honoured, Your Eminence. I trust you have not been waiting long?”
Sajoor grimaced, but waved any offence away. “Your Hand, Sorika, did a good job of convincing me to come and meet you.”
Mukori nodded, accepting the complement on Sorika's behalf. “I cannot thank you enough for making the trip. Shall we retire to my study and discuss matters further?”
Sajoor smiled, exposing a dazzling smile of false, silver teeth. “Lead the way, Lord Mukori.”
“Ah, Nimori, please will you show our new recruit here around?”
“Of course, my Lord.”
Valana watched Mukori leave and l
aughed at herself. She saw now too well why his followers had thought he needed a foreign nobleman's title. Surely someone as self-important as Sajoor would never have come all this way to speak to anyone without a title.
She glanced at Nimori, who was tugging unconsciously at a strand of white Cyrali beads, on her left wrist rather than her right. A symbol of the fact that she had willingly left her people.
She looked up at Valana and smiled, almost managing to look calm and relaxed.
“You have nothing to fear from me, Hand Nimori.”
Valana turned her body fully to Nimori and held her hands at her waist, palms up.
Nimori's smile faltered, and then she chuckled. “Thank you, Nightstalker Valana. You do not need to use my title. After all, we are all Mukori's Hands, really.”
“You're right. You needn't use mine, either.”
Nimori's smile became more relaxed.
“Okay, well. A tour.”
Nimori pointed behind Valana with her good arm, in the direction Mukori had left. “Through that arch lies the library, meeting rooms and Lord Mukori's study.” She turned clockwise onto the next archway. “The baths and toilets are through there, men to the left, women to the right and the dormitories are through that one.” She glanced up at Valana, who nodded, and then carried on. “The dining chamber is through there, although we also use the space for meetings that require everyone's attendance. Next is the kitchens as well as the most fantastic room of the Tree.”
“Fantastic how?” Valana asked when Nimori looked ready to simply plough on.
“It is filled with light, night or day. Like a moonbeam was somehow trapped there. It is where we grow all our food.”
“I'd like to see that.”
Nimori grinned and gestured for Valana to follow.
“I don't suppose you remember me.”
Valana cocked her head to one side, surprised. “Should I?”
The other woman shrugged, making herself wince again. “I was just a little brat when I met you, only five. I was at Moon Lake with my family. That was the year you were crowned Champion. The only Victor since Felantha to remain undefeated until her Unbinding.” She shook her head at the memory. “I sneaked into your tent that night, dying to meet you and found you, er, otherwise occupied.” A sudden deep blush spread across the woman's neck and cheeks visible in the gaps between the bruises.
Valana laughed out loud. “I remember you now!”
That night, Okano had come to help celebrate her victory in the Games with a reward in the bed. They'd been interrupted by a tiny girl, with eyes like saucers, who hadn't seemed to know whether she should apologise or flee. In the end, she'd fallen to her knees, buried her face in her hands and said very calmly, “I would like to talk to you, Champion Valana, if you would please put some clothes on.”
Nimori laughed with her. “I always thought you and Okano would be married,”
Valana's laugh cut off. “No, our tribes would have fought over who would get to claim the pure-blood Nightstalker lineage. Any children we may have had that were Nightstalkers would have been fuel to the feud.”
Nimori turned wide eyes on Valana. “So you broke up to stop any warring between your Tribes? That's so romantic!”
Valana shook her head at the other woman's squeal. She was comfortable around warriors, not gossipers. It seemed Nimori had perhaps spent a little too much time in Hipotarali.
“How did you get injured?” Valana asked when Nimori winced again.
Nimori stumbled a step and looked sideways at Valana. “I made an error in judgement.”
Valana nodded and let it drop, hearing the shame in the woman's voice. Nimori would have been raised as a warrior among her people as all able-bodied Aurelians are. She would not like a mistake in battle to be pried into.
The tunnel began to widen and filled with various delicious aromas that Valana had no trouble detecting, even with the Tree's magic wrapped around her mind, dulling her senses. It led into a wide space, filled with worktops and stoves, all lit by the same curling vines as the entrance room. A little, unadorned arch stood to the left, and she followed Nimori through it.
The light room really was fantastic, although it was more of a garden than a room. Valana remembered once, as a little girl, she had gone with her mother to the Ever-Spring on the night of the super-moon. The light had been so bright up there, with nothing to obscure it or fires to diminish it. This room was like that, filled with a pure, untainted light that fell across a lush garden that would rival any in Hipotarali’s greenhouses. In the huge space, row upon row of vegetable patches, fruit trees, and herbs grew, their mingled scents tickling Valana’s nose. She noticed that many of the species growing in this room of light were not native to Aurelia and wished that she had access to her powers so that she could see and smell them in the detail only a pure-blood could gain. The ground here was different, too. Tiny, multi-hued stones spread across the floor in a pattern that swirled around the beds and curled back in on itself, glittering in the bright light.
Valana chuckled. “So, the Lightless Tree has a heart of pure light.”
Nimori chuckled, too. “I see Lord Mukori didn't choose you just because of your fighting skills, or pure blood. You'll make him a good partner.”
Valana sighed, eyes flashing to the other woman. Had Mukori really been that obvious? “I haven't made any decisions in regards to that.”
Nimori sighed, too. “Ah, but he has. I have been with him for over a century, now, and I have never seen him look at anyone the way he was looking at you when you entered the Tree together. Surely you've seen his determination. He always gets what he sets his mind to having.”
Valana raised an eyebrow, instant rebellion building in her chest at the insinuation. Nimori laughed out right.
“Oh, don't mistake me. I believe you to be at least as wilful as him, and if you wanted to refuse him, I imagine you would.” She leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But why would you ever want to. He's intelligent, kind, a fine warrior, and gorgeous. Honestly, I don't think there are many women here that wouldn't bed him if he showed even the slightest inclination. Some of the men, too, for that matter.”
Valana laughed, too. Nimori was right. Mukori was all those things. “But he is also our leader, our Lord. Complicating that… what we do here is worth too much to risk over those kinds of desires.”
Nimori's smile became knowing. “You sound just like him. Yet, he seems, for the first time ever, to be willing to risk it.”
Valana nodded but turned away, running her fingers gently over a tray of lofri spice herbs growing in the garden. She was intrigued by Mukori, and she desired him, too. But was it really worth all the complications that came with that?
“Come on. The cooks will be wanting to get in here to prepare supper. We'd best get out of their way.
Valana stepped into the entrance room with Nimori, who was telling her about her manor house in Hipotarali and all the luxurious furnishings she had acquired for it from all over Trianon. People flowed in and out of the open space, carrying all sorts. Books, paper, pots and boxes, even a man with a freshly shorn umera.
A bunch of eager-looking children around Karicha's age trailed a young man who was walking through to one of the doors Nimori hadn’t discussed yet.
“Where are they going?” Valana asked, indicating the group as they passed through the arch next to the one that led to the kitchens.
“To the training rooms. All the warriors who live in the Tree take it in turns to train the children who want to learn. The stables are also down there. Next to that is the smithy, armoury and general workman's area as well as extra storage.”
Valana smiled as the children's excited voices faded from hearing. This place was not at all what she had expected. She had envisioned a small camp in the shadow of a cursed Tree, where well-seasoned warriors like Bakoro kept guard and informants like Tanoril gathered in Mukori's tent to bring down the people spreading chaos and find ways of co
nvincing Trianon’s leaders to stand as one.
Instead, she found a huge operation, in a much more genteel setting. The Tree housed not only those fighting for peace, but their families too.
“And through there?” Valana asked, pointing out the last arch.
A woman stood in the shadows, stick-thin, and she bared her teeth as Valana looked her way. Even without her enhanced eyesight, the black Nightstalker rings around the woman's bright green eyes were easily visible. The woman smirked then slunk away back down the passage.
Nimori shuddered delicately and passed her good hand subconsciously over her broken arm. “That is the way to the dungeons and the questioning rooms. I wouldn't go down there uninvited. That is the domain of Nightstalker Zetira, and she doesn't care for unexpected visitors unless they are in chains.”
So that was Zetira? She certainly looks less fierce than I'd imagined.
Valana turned to the woman and quirked an eyebrow. “You are afraid of her.”
Nimori quickly shook her head, denying the statement. “More unsettled than afraid, really. But we need her and those rooms. Some people actively try to stop us. They won't be reasoned with. It is Zetira's job to ensure that any information they have becomes ours.”
Valana's mind stilled.
“She tortures them?”
“Enjoying your tour?” a new voice came from behind her.
Valana jumped and cursed the Tree she had until recently been admiring. Her dulled senses meant that Mukori's approach had not been heralded by his footsteps or heartbeat.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, her silver eyes like daggers, daring him to laugh. “Nimori has been very informative.”
Nimori winced, and Valana wished she had chosen a different word. It wasn't the young woman's fault her pride had been hurt. “Really, you've been fantastic, Nimori. I hope you and I can spend more time together.”