“He’s as much from Keyall as he is from anywhere else now.”
“That is probably true,” Carth said. “But I trust him. And despite Peter’s dislike of me, I trust him to do what is lawful and right.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I think we have always needed to counter the threat of Ai’thol, we just didn’t know it.”
The wind shifted, and Alayna reacted, directing the ship more northerly. She swore softly under her breath and quickly jerked on the wheel, which brought them closer toward the shore. Carth resisted the temptation to help, knowing that Alayna would be more suited to doing this.
“With just our one ship? I know that you’ve slowed the Ai’thol, but that was when you weren’t sure what they were after. Do you mean to sink them now?”
That might have been easier, and now that she had allowed them to survive, maybe that had been a mistake. Then again, her mistake had always been caring. That had been her weakness.
Could she make it into a strength, as Alayna suggested?
There had to be some way for her to do that, though Carth wasn’t entirely sure how.
It couldn’t be about destroying them. That had never been what she was after. The only time she had destroyed an enemy completely had been when she had dealt with the blood priests, and with them she had shown no mercy because they had shown none to others they had faced.
“Not sink them. If I attack the Ai’thol, I run the risk of their fleet continuing to attack others, including our ships. What I need to do, and what I’m trying to do, is neutralize them. Much like we neutralized the Hjan.”
“With the Hjan you had others who were able to help. You forged the accords.”
“I did. Why can’t we do something similar this time?”
“Because this is a different type of situation, Carth. You know that as well as I do. If you leave Linsay alive, she won’t stop until she’s destroyed you. The Ai’thol will chase you the same way they chased her if you try to rescue either Talia or Linsay.”
“And then there’s the priests of Keyall.”
“The what?”
“That’s the other factor that we have to deal with. They would just as well prefer that Linsay be destroyed, but they also don’t care for those of Ai’thol. Anything that we do puts all of those forces into a strange sort of balance.”
“As I said before, I don’t like this,” Alayna said. She steered them back away from the shore and clenched her jaw. What did she See?
“The sailing, or the rest of it?”
“All of it.”
Carth patted Alayna on the shoulder. “Keep her safe.”
“The ship or the others?”
“All of them.”
“I will do my best.”
“That’s all I can ask of you.”
With that, Carth pushed off with an explosion of shadows and flame, jumping from the deck of the ship.
26
The jump carried her farther than she expected, and as she neared the shore, she felt a pressure against her, a resistance. She recognized the resistance, knowing that it was Ras and his influence, his control over the power of S’al, that pushed against her.
Carth collided with the barrier and released her connection to the shadows, wrapping herself in S’al as she slid through the barrier.
She landed on the shore.
Carth stood and immediately reached for the shadows, finding them more difficult to reach here. That had always been the case, and she had always assumed that it was Ras and his influence, but now that she had heard the stories of the Elder Stones, and had even seen the effects of them, she wondered if maybe there was something more to it, something that would only be explained by his connection to S’al.
As Carth connected with her magic, she felt it burning within her, a power that surged more brightly than it otherwise did, and she recognized how easy it was for her to reach while in this place. Had she noticed it when she had been here before?
It wasn’t that she couldn’t reach for the shadows. They were there, as was her connection to them, but it didn’t come to her quite as naturally as it did even on board the ship.
But the flame… her connection to that was much stronger than it was otherwise. She could reach that without difficulty, and pressed her power through it, surging.
As she did, she felt as if she practically glowed.
Carth made her way along the shore, using her connection to the flame to detect where to find Ras. His home was hidden, concealed by his magic, and it would disappear even from her. That more than anything else should have told her that Ras was more powerful than she had allowed herself to believe. And she had known him to be powerful. It wasn’t as if he had concealed that from her. He had cut her off from her connection to her magic, preventing her from reaching it, using little more than his connection to S’al to banish her access to both of her sides of power.
The air was familiar here. There was a floral scent from some distant garden, and even the grasses had a bright aroma that reached her nose. It mixed with the smells from the sea, that of the wet rock and the salt in the air, a combination of odors that she found pleasing. The landscape sloped away, heading toward Odian in one direction and rolling hills that led deeper into the island.
That was where she had to go.
Doing so meant that she would abandon Alayna and Jenna, but she hoped the help she had called for would reach them in time. If not, she trusted Alayna and her navigation, and her ability to use the rocks to conceal herself.
Carth didn’t want to take too long here. Doing that would risk something happening while she was gone. While she trusted Alayna’s ability to navigate, she didn’t want to be absent for too long.
She let her connection to the S’al drag her along. It was something that burned within her, almost a part of her blood, and in this place, so close to where Ras called home, it burned even more brightly than it did in other places. In this place, Carth felt a connection to it that she didn’t feel in other places.
As she crested a hill, she saw a shimmering appearance, as if shafts of sunlight burned down on the field before her. Here were the flowers that she had smelled, a mixture of daisies and roses and lilies, all of them growing together in a garden that created the rich fragrance that filled her nostrils. It was pleasing, and it was little more than a distraction.
Carth ignored it, moving on, making her way toward the shimmering light that shifted behind the garden.
She stopped there and gathered all of the strength of the S’al that she could muster, pushing it outward. It wasn’t an explosion, not the same way that she used a combination of shadows and flame, but more of an effort to displace the strange shimmering that she saw. It was an illusion, and she needed to disrupt it.
It flickered.
It happened briefly, but it lingered long enough that she recognized the building beneath it.
“I see your home, Ras.”
She called out his name, using a hint of her connection to the flame as she did, letting the words sizzle in the air. They didn’t seem to carry any farther, but they were imbued with energy, and with Ras’s connection to the S’al, he would detect her presence. Carth added a hint of shadows, pulsing them briefly. It was difficult here, difficult with bright light radiating around her, attempting to burn away the shadows, but she pushed through that also. That was a signal, a message to Ras that she was here.
Then she waited.
How long would she have to wait?
She had her answer when there was a bright flickering, and a figure appeared as if out of nowhere.
Ras was old. She had known that from the moment she had met him; even then, he had seemed impossibly old. Now, seeing him like this, she wondered exactly how old he was. Could he really be as ancient as he appeared? He wore a cloak with a hood draped around his shoulders, and he smiled as he approached.
“Carthenne Rel. I had not expected you to return to Odian.”
“You’ve practically summoned me here,” Carth said.
“Have I?”
Carth looked around, and the garden remained, as did the shaft of light, but there was even more brightness around them. It seemed to come from everywhere, surging from the ground. That wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t that it surged from the ground, not the same way that the water in Keyall was imbued with power. This was reflected from above. This came from the sun, burning brightly on this part of the island. It almost seemed as if the storm clouds that surrounded Odian focused the light more brightly here.
“Are you going to force me to talk to you here, or are you going to invite me in?”
“Invite you into what?” he asked.
Carth shook her head. “Don’t push this. Don’t push me.”
Ras studied her for a moment before nodding. With a wave of his hand, the light faded, and his home appeared. It was simple, little more than a cluster of buildings that blended into the hillside, and without the brightness flashing all around it, Carth could see how the connection to the S’al would draw even more strength here. He motioned to a doorway and led Carth inside.
It was the game room. Carth had been here several times, and each time, she had played Ras at Tsatsun. He had a board set out, and each piece was intricately carved. At the center of the board was the Stone, the pivotal piece from playing Tsatsun. It appeared as if he were in the middle of a game, but it was no sort of game that she had ever played with him.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Ras asked.
Carth pulled her gaze away from the board, and it skimmed across the bookshelves. She could almost imagine Ras sitting here and documenting their gaming sessions, a document that would eventually become the books that Linsay possessed—and that had allowed her to defeat Carth time and again.
“Do we have time for tea?”
Ras grinned. “There is always time for tea.”
“Even with several navies gathering on your shores?”
“Even then, Carthenne.”
He hurried off, disappearing behind a door. His absence gave her a chance to survey his room once more. She stared at the game board for a while, trying to make out the intent of the pieces. As she did, she couldn’t find any strategy involved. There wasn’t one side that was meant to dominate over another, no side that would be victorious, not as it would need to be in order to push the Stone across the board. Unless…
Carth crouched in from the board, staring at it. She thought of Choslt, the game that Alistan favored, one that she had thought was more a game of chance that of skill. It had four sides to it. Each side was required to make a particular move, and that impacted the others. Carth could almost imagine that were she to superimpose that board onto this, there would be some similarities.
“If you’re worried about the navies, then you wouldn’t have time for a game,” Ras said as he returned carrying a tray with two mugs of steaming tea.
The heady scent of the mint tea that he carried to her, and Carth remembered the last mug of tea that she had shared with Ras, and the strange way that she had felt afterward.
“What is this game?” she asked.
“I think you know quite well how to play Tsatsun,” Ras said.
“This isn’t Tsatsun. I don’t know what it is, but this is no game like I’ve ever played.”
Ras set the tray down and handed a cup of tea to her. She took it, noting that he had heated it to just the right temperature. She imagined him using his connection to the S’al in order to do so, heating the tea with magic rather than any traditional fire.
She lifted the cup to her nose and breathed deeply, enjoying the smell of the mint. When she took a sip, it soothed her as she had known that it would. There was something quite healing, and calming, about tea like this. It reminded her of what her mother had once made, and she suspected that was intentional.
“This is Tsatsun, though perhaps the pieces are arranged in a way that you aren’t quite as familiar with.”
“This isn’t only two people playing,” she said.
Ras smiled. “You have always been quite bright, especially when it came to Tsatsun. No. This is not only two players.”
“Are you playing with others?”
“With others or as others?”
“This is your game, then.”
Ras brought the mug to his nose, and he inhaled deeply of it, much as Carth had done. “This is my game.”
Carth tried to imagine what it must be like to maneuver multiple pieces into place, trying to anticipate three other players. Could she do it? She thought she could, but it required a very different skill set than simply focusing on one other person.
“Take a seat.”
Carth shook her head. “I don’t think that I have time for sitting.”
“No? And yet, you have come here to visit, when you fear that you don’t have the necessary time.” He smiled. “I think you have more time than you realize.”
“Did you document our games?”
Ras took a sip of his tea and then set it on the tray. “Is that your real question?”
“It’s my first question,” she said.
Ras studied her for a moment. “I documented our games.”
“And you included documentation of the games I played with myself. You were watching me.”
“When you were here, I observed as much as I could. You were a unique individual, Carthenne Rel.”
Carth squeezed the mug of tea and had to unclench her hand, not wanting to shatter the cup. “You used that documentation to train others.”
“No.”
“No? I have found your work.”
“It has taken you long enough.”
Carth snorted. She hadn’t been certain, not before, but there it was. “You wanted me to find it. Which meant you wanted Linsay to engage the Ai’thol.”
“She was a skilled player when she was here, but she was not creative enough, not like you were. Still, she had her uses.”
“I have begun to suspect that I wasn’t nearly as creative as you wanted me to believe,” Carth said.
“Why would you say that?”
“You didn’t want me to believe that I was more skilled than I am?”
“What would the purpose of such belief be, Carthenne? If you believed yourself more skilled than you actually were, the only one that would end up getting hurt would be yourself. I have taken great pains to ensure that you received the training that you needed.”
“Great pains? You would have me believe that you have influenced my training beyond the time that I was here?”
“More than you can ever imagine.”
What was Ras getting at? What game was this?
“You sent her after Fahr.” It made a certain sort of sense, but at the same time, it didn’t. “You used Linsay, knowing what kind of person her to be. You wanted her to go after the Ai’thol.” And he had sent her in search of books that would teach Carth’s strategy. “You allowed Linsay to reach your books so that she would understand how to play me. Did you know that she would defeat me?”
“And how have you taken such defeat?” Ras asked. He picked up a piece on his board and shifted it. With that one change, every other position on the board changed. Ras studied the board for a moment, and when he seemed satisfied with what he saw, he picked up his cup and took a drink. “Have you allowed your defeat to define you?”
“I’ve lost many games of Tsatsun.”
“But none recently.”
Carth frowned. “Was that your intention? You wanted to remind me what it was like to lose?”
“I have some experience with understanding what it can be like to win too often. It can make it so that you believe you must win, or that victory is certain. Sometimes there is an element of luck when you play, and in order to find victory, you need to account for luck, especially the luck of others.”
Maybe there were more similarities between the way that Ras was playing this game and the game
that Alistan favored. Could it be that Ras was playing a variant, one where he was doing something much like the game Choslt?
“How long have you been playing against me?” she asked.
She looked down at the board, trying to piece together everything that she saw. Which moves had Ras made? Which had he anticipated that others would have made? And which moves were hers?
“Why would I play against you, Carthenne Rel? Have you not claimed the C’than as your own?”
Was that it? Did it anger Ras that she had claimed the C’than? Why should that bother him? Other than the fact that he was a part of them.
Unless… maybe it didn’t anger Ras.
There was another explanation, and as she stared at the board, she thought that she could make out how that would work. If she took Ras at his word—and she wasn’t entirely certain that she should—he would have viewed himself as assisting in her training. If that were true, then he would want for her to have experiences that would allow her to develop greater insight into how to play—and, possibly, how to win.
“I brought the C’than under my protection so the Hjan would not attack them.”
“I am well aware of what you have done.”
“Did you disagree with my decision?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You had a choice in allowing Linsay to take your books that recorded our games.”
“Did I?”
Carth shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You trained her. You might have trained her better than you anticipated. She has become powerful.”
“The same could be said about you, Carthenne Rel.”
“And yet, I have used my power to help others.”
“And the same could be said about her.”
Carth smiled and took a deliberate sip of her tea. She pulsed a hint of her connection to the S’al through herself, burning off any poisons that Ras might have attempted to place in the tea. She doubted that he would, but then again, she also had thought that she had been done playing him long ago. That no longer seemed to be the case.
“And the Ai’thol?” Carth studied him for a moment, noting his lack of response. She looked down at the board, scanning the pieces. “Which of these is the Ai’thol, is it?”
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