Sherwin stopped short. He hated to say exactly what he thought at these times.
“This is not always true,” Adelphia said. “Think about it.”
Sherwin looked desperately around the darkened front room, as if he could pull an answer from the shadows. The rickety chairs near the fire were faintly lit up each time the flames flickered. Tomes and other old volumes leaking pages were scattered around the scant furniture and on the floor, which was carpeted with animal skins reminiscent of all the carcasses the Lashki had made.
“I am thinkin’,” Sherwin said in frustration, “this has bothered me for years. I’ll tell yer what I am thinkin’ about – hangin’ myself.”
“No,” Adelphia said forcefully.
“I murdered yer husband.”
“You don’t understand,” Adelphia said, rising so suddenly that she nearly upset her cup of half-drunk soup. “You are searching your memories, but not looking at the right ones. If you were, you would understand Alakil was always incomplete and feeble without Nazt. The First Runi as he always should have been, the corresponding spirit among the Eleven, was at least nine tenths you. Alakil is a poor representation of you, and your spirit is so much stronger than his ever was.”
“Speak clearly, will yer?” Sherwin said loudly, rising too. “I don’ understand how—”
“Then listen,” Adelphia said. “Alakil and you were once one spirit, just as the worlds were once one. With the advent of Nazt, the worlds split, and your preexistent spirit felt the tension of the thought that was consuming everyone: whether to serve Nazt or whether to serve Zion. Then Zion surrendered to flames of his own creation, shedding his old abilities in order to empower the Eleven spirits that he had made to balance the world. He gave the Eleven flesh and much of the kesmal inherent in his previous body. When your spirit was given flesh, somehow two versions of you were embodied. My belief is that the split in your spirit occurred when Alakil chose to burn the phoenix feather. It was such a terrible act that it tore your soul asunder. You, Sherwin, are the truest embodiment of the spirit that was originally created as one of the Eleven. Alakil is not.”
Sherwin sank into his chair again, clutching his head. It made sense… There had been that eerie episode when Alakil had burned the feather and felt wildly drawn to Zion and yet wildly Nazt-driven. When his desires for the Phoenix had been torn from him, he had assumed he had won the battle. In reality, however, he had broken himself.
“I don’ understand. Why was Alakil given a body here, and why was I given a body in the other world, decades after he grew up? An’ why was he given the phoenix feather?”
“Understand, Sherwin,” Adelphia said, “that you and Alakil were one. I believe you were one right up until the moment he burned his phoenix feather. You did receive the feather. You were in the same body, at the same time, because you were the same person. Not anymore. The Alakil I remember had many of your characteristics. Then he accepted the rod from Thomas, and it dominated him. There are few, I believe, that can manage the rod. I’m afraid that if you received it now, Sherwin, you would desire to murder a Runi, as Alakil did. He killed Fritz. When he was driven away after that, he went into the Mountains to burn the feather Zion had given him. At that moment, something happened to his soul that destroyed him, yet resulted in you.”
“I want a phoenix feather,” Sherwin whispered. “If anyone could use a connection to Zion, it were me, I’m tellin’ yer.”
Adelphia moved over to stoke the fire at the hearth.
“Could yer explain somethin’ to me?” Sherwin said. “What in ’eck is a Runi?”
*
Rafen waited until morning to tell Sherwin. He woke early, remembering with sickening dread that this was Etana’s sixth day away. Sherwin, who had taken half the watch, was wandering around near the stone walls, looking like a tiger in captivity. His eyes kept flicking to a snuffling wolverine, higher up on the rocks.
“Yer look cold,” he said when he saw Rafen was awake.
Pulling off his glove, Rafen flicked his fingers in the direction of the feeble fire, which flared up instantly. Then he looked down at his hands. He had been clutching the parchment while he slept.
“Take a look at this,” he told Sherwin, rising to hand it to him.
Sherwin took it from him unthinkingly, expecting it was the map. There was a minute in which the only thing to disturb the silence was Francisco’s heavy breathing and Trinity’s restless puffing and blowing from where he stood to the right of the fire. Sherwin shook his head and looked at Rafen with something akin to pity.
“It isn’ any more than a foul trick,” he said. “Did yer really think it were Fritz?” He actually laughed as he dropped it and Rafen’s face darkened.
“I saw him,” he said.
Sherwin paled. “Raf, don’ tell me yer actually believed it. Look, we talked abou’ this yesterday! Yer know yeh’re not so good at… perceivin’ reality sometimes.”
He said this in an almost fatherly tone. Rafen’s blood was boiling.
“It wasn’t a trick,” he said deliberately. “I saw him. It wasn’t some other spirit either. There’s a huge difference between—”
“Raf,” Sherwin said, “why wouldn’t I ’ave seen him sometime then? Because I’m not as inspired as yer or somethin’? Look, we’re not goin’ through the Ravine.”
“I trust him over you, Sherwin,” Rafen said.
Lunging forward, Sherwin grabbed the front of Rafen’s shirt and shook him with a strength Rafen hadn’t been aware he possessed. “What’re yer thinkin’? Yeh’re insane. Insane!”
Rafen wrenched himself free and staggered back against the stone wall, his hand shooting to his sword hilt. Sherwin made a similar movement, his eyes flaming.
“STOP!” Francisco yelled shrilly, leaping between them. In his billowing cloak and shabby balaclava, he looked like some kind of bandit.
“’e’s plannin’ to lead us through the Ravine,” Sherwin said hotly.
“Why are you afraid of it?” Rafen shouted past Francisco, who looked wildly from one of them to the other. “What have you seen?”
“Nothin’,” Sherwin said, and to Rafen’s gratification, he looked completely disarmed. The remaining color drained from his face. “It’s none of yer business.”
“If the Ravine is so dangerous,” Rafen said, “I think Franny and I have a right to know why.”
He stepped past Sherwin, who recoiled watchfully, and retrieved Fritz’s message from the ground.
“I can’ tell yer,” Sherwin said in a defeated voice.
Rafen straightened. “Franny,” he said, without taking his eyes off Sherwin, “read this.”
Francisco took the parchment from him and read. He looked up at Sherwin with reproof in his gaze.
“We cannot ignore this,” he said. “The seal—”
“Someone’s found out Raf’s tryin’ to get Fritz back, and they’ve written this,” Sherwin said. “And Raf is obviously never wrong.”
A long whistle sounded in the distance, and they all froze. Rafen tore off his balaclava to listen better, sniffing the air. Beyond a doubt, their pursuers were not two hours from them. How they had proceeded this far through such a narrow passage was beyond him, unless they traveled the stone walls around the path.
“We have to go,” he said. “Now.”
Francisco didn’t even inquire about breakfast. Sherwin stamped out the fire while Rafen tightened the horse’s trappings, and they set off. Francisco rode Trinity once more, and Rafen urged the horse into a run. He himself transformed and took the lead. Muttering, Sherwin sprinted close behind.
They were half a day from the Ravine. Rafen told himself there was plenty of time to win Sherwin over. However, something told him his friend was quite inexorable on this subject. And there was no knowing why.
*
A rattling against her window made Etana sit up in her bed, her face still tear-streaked. She couldn’t stand being pregnant. She was constantly crying, bu
t she told herself firmly that she had plenty of reasons.
Richard had done exactly what he had threatened to do. Once he had returned to the palace, he had visited Etana with twelve male philosophers and forced her to give up her silver ring. While Etana would have fought to keep it once, now she was carrying a child, the risk seemed too great if it were not to save her life. When Richard had the ring in his hand, he and his little legion had escorted her to her wing.
“You will stay there until I see fit,” he had said coldly. “You are in disgrace, Etana. I will see you at our wedding in six days’ time.”
He had shoved her through the doorway. The door had slammed behind her, and the lock clicked in a way she identified with kesmal. She had stood in the middle of her chambers for some time, unable to believe this was actually happening. She hadn’t even seen her father since she had returned to the palace, and all she wanted to do was to tell him what had happened, get advice, and obtain the men for Rafen.
There was already some food on one of her small tables, indicating this was a premeditated imprisonment. She drank the soup bitterly before remembering her balcony and rushing over to the glass doors that led onto it. Rafen had once stood right there, a curious expression that was its own brand of joy on his face when he realized she could be his wife. Now she discovered two Sartian philosophers sitting on the benches outside, staring at the gardens in bored disillusionment.
This was the first time a man other than her servant Barnabas, or Sherwin or Rafen, had been on that balcony. It was a violation of her rights. She drew the curtains over the doors in disgust, and the men turned fractionally to see her do so. They looked at her with calculating expressions.
Then, as if she had never done a spark of kesmal in her life, she began barricading the glass doors with pieces of furniture – a settee, an ottoman, a dresser, a desk. After that, she had lain on her bed and stared at the roof of its canopy above her. She felt sweaty and nauseous at the thought of Rafen, surrounded in the Mountains. She wanted to scream in frustration at her inability to escape. Richard had to know she was married; if only he had given her a chance to speak! Even then, she knew he would kill Rafen if he found out. She laid a hand on her womb and prayed the child would not be fatherless.
The rattling against her window sent her stomach writhing in her throat. She slipped out of bed and moved slowly toward the glass doors, seizing a heavy book from a nearby chair as she did so. If those men wanted food, they could jump off the balcony and eat roots in the palace gardens.
The agitation at the glass doors grew more and more insistent. Etana lowered herself onto the writing desk positioned behind the other furniture she had heaved there.
A bang at the glass sounded. She clutched the book tighter and whispered, “Oh Zion.”
“I say,” someone said as loudly as they dared from outside, “Etana, can’t you open the door?”
It was Kasper.
Etana gave a little squeal of joy and started dragging furniture away from the glass doors. Her arms ached, and she still felt sick and tired, but Kasper’s voice had lent new energy to her movements. In a minute, the area before the doors was clear, and Etana tore back the crimson curtains to see Robert peering over the edge of the balcony anxiously and Kasper with his face pressed up against the glass. He stepped back, and Etana threw the doors open, letting a gust of sultry summer air into her wing.
“Quiet,” Robert muttered as he and Kasper pushed into her chamber.
“Nice place you’ve got here, old girl,” Kasper said while Robert shut the glass doors behind them all. “I’ve never seen it before. Much more spacious than my chambers, I daresay.”
“We’re not here to compare rooms, Kasper,” Robert said in a strained whisper, his narrow face white. “We offered to keep watch in place of those two gentlemen outside, and they climbed down the wall, being unable to get in through the doors. Etana, how many are there outside your internal door?”
“A dozen, I think,” Etana said, staring at her brother.
“They’ve no right to do this,” Robert said. “I can’t believe Richard did it.”
“Most outlandish behaviour for a Runi,” Kasper said, removing the heavy book from under Etana’s arm and opening it. A sheet of dust cascaded onto his velvet coat, and he restrained a sneeze.
“I think at least one of you knows that he is not the Runi,” Etana said quietly.
While Robert looked askance at her, Kasper said “Thank Zion” a deal too loudly. Robert clapped a hand over his brother’s mouth.
“What in Zion’s name do you mean?” he said softly, leaning forward. “Etana, I’m beginning to wonder if what he said about you is true.”
“About my being deranged?” Etana said, one eyebrow raised. “Robert, tell me honestly, did you take Grandfather’s phoenix feather to Richard?”
Robert looked a little strained.
“He asked for it. He said he wanted to check something,” he said rapidly. “I did not know what he intended.”
“You never heard that he had been privately challenged to reveal his feather?”
“Not on my life – Etana. Of all the most ridiculous things—”
“But he asked you not to tell Grandmother Adelphia.”
“I don’t distrust My Liege.”
“Surely you know by now he is not the Runi,” Etana snapped.
“I’m certain the feather he showed at the marketplace was not Grandfather’s,” Robert said. “I’m certain he only asked for Grandfather’s so that he could bring him back, as the Fourth Runi is meant to.”
Etana gave an exasperated sigh.
“This is all very interesting,” Kasper said avidly, breaking free of Robert. He ran a hand feverishly through his red-brown hair. “There’s one way of knowing if Richard’s faking, Robert. Go on, old girl, tell us who it is. I’ll believe you. Really, I will.”
“It is Rafen,” Etana said, leaning against one of the posts of her canopy bed.
Robert shook his head slowly, a look of pity entering his blue eyes. Yet Kasper’s face glowed.
“Well,” he said. “Well.”
“Etana, I know you don’t love Richard,” Robert said gently. “I’ve known it for a while.”
“I told Rafen not to see me anymore,” Etana said. “I’d given him up. I was prepared to marry Richard. And then Rafen came here the night of the ball.”
Robert’s eyes widened. He looked scandalized. Kasper rubbed his long, thin hands together in delight.
“He made me feel his phoenix feather. Sherwin had told him what it all meant. He had gone to Grandmother, who had given him a set of instructions, I believe. Rafen never knew before that.”
Etana took a deep, rapturous breath. She felt as if she were a child, playing with her brothers in the gardens again, and telling them the most fantastic stories.
“What happened then?” Robert asked.
“He left,” Etana said, settling for a partial truth. Her brothers could only take so many shocks in one day. “I knew I would never be the same again. You see, I was only ever betrothed to the Fourth Runi.”
“You lucky girl,” Kasper said. “If you love Rafen, he must be the Runi. I always used to feel rather sorry for you, but now I do believe things will come right.”
Robert looked at him as if he were out of his mind. “Jacob-Aneurin uncovered the facts. Rafen was involved with Sirius’ victory in Rusem not a year ago,” he told Etana, and Etana felt, for the first time, mildly uncertain. Rafen had never really told her what had happened in Rusem. “And Rafen tried to kill Richard and was protected by the Lashki. Lastly, of course, he is human.”
“You know Richard was lying,” Etana said sharply. “You know what happened that day Rafen left Fritz’s Hideout, and Richard turned that into a weapon against him. In the end, Robert, the choice of who is to be Runi is Zion’s, not yours.”
Robert shook his head. “Richard was not lying. He is in ignorance about that day because Rafen refuses to let others tal
k about it. Now I’m not saying I believe all you say, but we are going to get you out of here. If Rafen is in trouble in the Mountains, you must certainly go to him.”
“Will you come and help me?” Etana asked, seizing Robert’s hands.
Robert stared at her for a minute. Then he shook his head again. “I am afraid not,” he said. “Rafen and I do not always see things eye to eye. I would rather not be disloyal to My Liege.”
“You mean that you will not go because Richard would rather leave him to die.”
“If I disobey Richard, I disobey Zion,” Robert said.
Etana released his hands and stared at him coldly. “My hu—” She checked herself. “Rafen is the Runi,” she said, “and you disobey Zion by setting yourself up against him in this way.”
Robert flinched.
“Robert, why in the world are you acting like this?” Etana said pleadingly.
“Richard is the correct Runi,” Robert said, as if she were failing a very important lesson. “He is in the prophecies. He is of the correct bloodline, he has had the proper training and background, he has a clean record of—”
“You mean he is the Runi you want,” Etana said with finality. “You never could accept Rafen’s leadership, not even in Fritz’s Hideout.”
“You are not the girl I grew up with, Etana,” Robert said. “I can’t think what’s happened to you.”
Kasper stared at them both. Then he took Etana’s hand, opened it, and dropped her silver ring into her palm. She gasped, meeting his sparkling green eyes.
“I compared my rooms with Richard’s earlier in the day,” Kasper said, grinning broadly. “Etana, I’ll go with you.”
“You will not!” Robert hissed. He stared at the ring in Etana’s hand in shock, as if it were somehow illegal. Etana quickly replaced it on her finger.
“You can’t stop me, old fruit,” Kasper said. “I missed going with Rafen on his last adventure. I should very much like to try it this time.”
“This isn’t an adventure,” Etana said quietly. “This is an absolute nightmare.”
“Ah,” Kasper said, “so it’s still exciting then.”
The Fourth Runi (The Fledgling Account Book 4) Page 16