The Aether of Night

by Brandon Sanderson

  D’Naa ground her teeth. She knew it was irrational, but more of her anger was directed toward the Mahallen harlot than Hern. She knew he was behind it, she knew he was just playing with them all, but… .

  How dare she try and tip his hand! D’Naa thought. She stood and commanded her Verdant forward. Only a week had passed, but the Emperor’s glass doors had already been replaced. Well, Hern had better hope there are a couple more of them in storage.

  #

  “Look, Nahan,” Raeth said firmly, pushing the Mahallen girl away once again. “If you don’t put your dress back on, I’m going to call my guards. That would be embarrassing for both of us.”

  Nahan thrust her chest forward, spreading out her arms and closing her eyes. “Do it, then!” she said. “If you send me away, the shame will just kill me anyway.”

  Twins, she’s persistent! Raeth thought, averting his eyes. Persistent, and distracting. Clenching his jaw, he prepared to do what he’d just said. Hopefully, he could rely on his guards to keep the incident quiet. He shuddered to think what the political implications of his rejection might be… .

  Raeth opened his mouth.

  Suddenly, the glass at the far end of his room exploded inward. Raeth jumped, turning with alarm to see a small, dark form standing on his balcony. Even as he reacted, a fist-sized ball of Verdant shot through the air. Raeth cringed in anticipation as he dodged to the side, but it didn’t hit him.

  The Verdant slammed into Nahan, its vines springing outward to wrap her unclothed body in green. Raeth caught one glimpse of her shocked face before vines covered it, then Nahan tipped to the side and collapsed to the ground in her cocoon of vines.

  Raeth blinked in shock, then opened his mouth. “Guards!” he screamed and dodged to the side. He was too late, he noticed, another ball of green streaking through the air.

  This one wasn’t aimed at him either. Raeth hit the ground in a roll, confused. The Verdant blast had missed completely, slamming into the wall a short distance from him. Only then did he realize where on the wall it had hit—right beside the door. The vines crept across the wall and the doorway, spreading onto the door itself, sealing it closed. Raeth could see it begin to shake as the guards tried to get in, but Verdant vines were incredibly strong.

  Clever, Raeth thought, scurrying across the floor to duck behind a large couch. Where were the balcony guards? Subdued? No, they had probably left when Nahan entered, assuming that he would want privacy… .

  The black-clothed woman stepped into the room. Raeth frowned slightly. There was something familiar about her—the way she walked… .

  A Verdant ball exploded against his couch. Raeth dodged backward as the vines reached for him, careful to stay far enough away from the assassin that she had to continue using the balls. If he got within reach of the vines on her arms, he’d be captured for certain.

  Raeth leapt over a chair, dodging another ball. The leap left him near the balcony, but what good did that do him? His was the only balcony on the seventh floor. Did he dare jump and try and hit one of the ones below? Even if he did survive, the assassin was Verdant. Jumps and heights meant nothing to them.

  Raeth swore quietly, ducking around a corner and crouching by the wall. Behind him was the small room Hern had used to store various works of art and knickknacks—a dead end.

  I just have to survive until the guards break through the door, Raeth thought. He could already hear axes pounding against it. He just had to survive a little long—

  Verdant exploded against the corner, and Raeth moved too slowly. As he ducked to the side, a vine whipped out and grabbed his shoulder. His dodge ended in a sudden snap as several more vines whipped out, wrapping his arm and shoulder completely in Verdant.

  Raeth struggled in desperation. The assassin would round the corner in just a moment, and then he would certainly find himself completely wrapped in vines. He had to escape.

  Amberite crackled from his palm, forming a sword. However, his upper arm and shoulder were what was trapped—he could feel vines tickling at his cheek. His lower arm was free, but he couldn’t move it at an angle to touch the Verdant.

  Twins curse my Bond! Raeth thought with anger, yanking his arm again. He was too weak. Another Bond, even those of most regular Aedin, would be able to grow their Amberite all the way up their arm to touch it against the Verdant. The reaction between the two would be painful, but eventually he would be able to free himself.

  Raeth looked down at his hand and its simple Amberite sword. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated, focusing on his Aether as he had been taught as a child. He exerted himself, straining the invisible muscles that formed the Bond, trying to force his Aether to grow. The Aether crackled a few times, and a bit of Amberite grew down from his hand, creeping along his lower arm.

  Raeth began to sweat, his teeth clenched against the difficulty. Each inch of movement was more difficult than the one before—it felt like the early days, when he’d been training himself to grow a sword for the first time, something that Hern had been able to do without so much as a passing thought. His Amberite moved lethargically, coating most of his lower arm. But, like always, it stopped just before his elbow. That was as far as he could go. In almost a decade and a half of practicing, he’d never been able to push it further. He just wasn’t strong enough.

  Sweat dripped down his brow. Raeth strained, but nothing happened. His Aether responded with feelings of confusion and exhaustion.

  The assassin stepped carefully around the corner, standing in a nervous crouch. When she saw him, however, her masked face cocked to the side in an expression of surprise. She obviously hadn’t expected to find him captured.

  Where are you? Raeth thought, searching for the voice in his mind. You saved me before. Do it again.

  There was no response.

  Please! Raeth thought. I’ll tell you why, what, and anything else you want to know!

  I wish to be you, the voice said, almost amused. But you wish to be me. But you are me.

  What do you want? Raeth asked as the assassin raised her hand.

  I don’t know, the voice said with frustration. I have forgotten. I need not save you. You save you.

  Vines poured from the assassins proffered arm. They wrapped him, constricting around his legs and other arm.

  You save you. The words didn’t do him any good. Yet, something they carried with them did—a sense. A sense he vaguely recognized. He probably wouldn’t have noticed it if his Amberite strainings a moment before hadn’t reminded him of his youth, of his first experimentations with his Bond.

  There was something inside of him. Something familiar, yet new. He reached within himself, barely noticing as the assassin knelt beside him and pulled out her knife.

  It was there. A second Aether. Not certain what it would do, Raeth poured his will into it, commanding it to grow like he had his Amberite a moment before.

  Amberite crackled. He looked down with surprise to see motion from his sword, still hanging uselessly from his hand. A dark, smoke-like wave bled through it, like ink being poured into water. The resulting Amberite was still rosy, but it was a darker shade, almost more of a translucent maroon. The darkness bled up his forearm, coloring his Amberite. And then, the Amberite began to grow.

  It shot up his arm, growing at an incredible speed, crackling as it went. Verdant hissed and exploded backward where it touched the dark Amberite, and pain shot up Raeth’s arm. Gritting his teeth, he continued on, forcing the Amberite to grow despite the pain.

  The assassin yelped girlishly in surprise, jumping back. Raeth’s Amberite flooded across his chest, pushing back Verdant. It continued to grow, coating his torso and then his other arm. With a yank, he ripped himself free from the vines and stumbled forward. The Amberite continued to grow at his command, coating his waist and legs. It hit the ground and kept growing, spreading out across the floor like a crystalline wave, coating everything it touched.

  The assassin backed away with care, watching him wit
h cautious eyes. Raeth just stared down in amazement. Could it really be? Finally, after all the years of pain and insecurity… . But, how?

  Raeth smiled, looking up. For the moment, at least, it didn’t matter. He moved to take a confident step forward.

  His leg didn’t budge. He frowned, looking down with surprise. His leg was frozen to the ground, coated in Amberite. He struggled, grunting slightly.

  Joints. I didn’t build joints into the armor. Having the power and knowing how to use it were two different things.

  The assassin cocked her head to the side, looking at him with obviously confused eyes.

  I probably look like an idiot, Raeth realized. Well, that’s nothing new. With a sigh, he released the Amberite. He’d have to practice making armor at another time.

  The Amberite shattered when he next moved, falling to pieces around his body. Yet, instead of crumbling to dust, the pieces began to evaporate into dark smoke trails. Raeth watched the process with apprehension. It wasn’t Amberite, not completely. It was something else. Suddenly, he remembered the bit of blackness from the pool that had touched his cheek. That had become part of him.

  What is this power I’ve been given? He wondered with a measure of fear. What is it I’ve become?

  Verdant whipped forward—the assassin wasn’t going to give him time for soul-searching. Raeth reached out, commanding his new Amberite to grow around his forearm. This time he made a joint at the elbow, and had the Amberite grow all the way up his shoulder. It moved quickly, like Hern’s Amberite once had, coating his entire arm before the vines reached him.

  Raeth caught the lead vine as the others wrapped him. The pain began immediately, stabbing his arm. The assassin cried out in shock—it must have hurt her too, their opposite Aethers seething as they touched.

  Before his Aether could destroy the vine, Raeth yanked, tugging the off-balance assassin forward. She stumbled, and he pulled her toward him, against his body. He’d hoped the vines might capture her too, but apparently Verdant didn’t work that way. It continued to wrap around him as the girl stumbled against it. Using his free arm, Raeth reached up, and ripped free the cloth that covered her face.

  The Kavir girl, D’Naa, looked up at him, her eyes widening with shock. Her surprise was so great she lost control of her Verdant, dropping the vines to the ground, leaving the two of them standing closely together.

  “You… .” Raeth whispered, equally surprised. “You’re Laene’s assassin?”

  “Assassin?” D’Naa asked with confusion.

  “But,” Raeth said, “you’re not Aedin. How… ?”

  The door on the other side of the room shook, splinters flying into the room. It was almost open. D’Naa looked toward the door with fear, then spun from his grip and dashed toward the balcony.

  Raeth reached out and caught her arm and yanked her back toward him. Then, impulsively, he leaned down and met her lips with his own. She froze in his arms, then relaxed slightly. The kiss lasted for an extended moment, a moment in which the pounding door, the broken room, and even their Aethers had no meaning. Then, Raeth pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes.

  The door burst inward, and he turned with a quick movement. D’Naa was out the balcony and over the side before the first guard entered the room.

  Raeth let his arms fall limply to his sides. What in the name of the Twins was that! He thought, shocked at his own actions. She just tried to kill you, and so you kiss her? Yet, his heart raced with excitement, and he could feel the fleeting touch of her lips against his own.

  “My Lord!” Faen, the guard captain, said with alarm as he regarded the broken room.

  Raeth raised a hand. “Don’t worry, Faen, I am unharmed.”

  “The palace is already on alert, sir,” Faen said. “We’ll catch them this time.”

  Raeth turned, stepping around a fallen chair, the Verdant covering it growing brown and hard as D’Naa left. D’Naa, supposedly from Kavir. Something was very wrong.

  A muffled groan brought him out of his thoughts. “Nahan!” he remembered, turning. The unfortunate woman was still wrapped in Verdant, laying face-down on the rug. Raeth rushed to her side, commanding his Amberite from his hand and using it to destroy her bonds. When he revealed her face, the Mahallen woman’s eyes were wide with fear and shock.

  “What… ?” she asked.

  “An assassin,” Raeth said. “Don’t worry, no one was harmed.” He raised his arm. “Soldier,” he said, “please fetch lady Nahan’s dress. It…got ripped free in the struggle.”

  The soldier flushed. “Um, yes sir,” he said, grabbing the garment off the floor and bringing it to Raeth.

  “You should probably go,” Raeth said to Nahan as he burned away the rest of her Verdant bonds. “This place is about to become very busy.”

  Nahan nodded, slipping the dress over her head, her tan skin flushing. Then, without another word, she stood and practically dashed from the room.

  “Captain Faen,” Raeth said, standing with a sigh. “Lady Nahan was never here tonight. Do you understand that?”

  “Certainly, sir,” the captain said with a nod. “I’m…sorry she got in, sir. The guards at your door were young men. I told them not to let anyone one in, but… .”

  Raeth raised a hand. “It’s all right. Just make certain your men know to keep their mouths shut.”

  Faen nodded sharply. “Understood, sir. No one will say a word. Besides, we all saw that she still had her hoops on when she left.”

  “Thank you, captain,” Raeth said. He walked over as guards began to inspect the room—poking around as if to find other assassins hiding in the shadows—and picked up the fallen Kaennis Sha from the ground. He barely remembered letting it slip through his fingers, stunned, when he’d seen Nahan disrobe. It’s secrets would have to wait for a time, however. This night had already given him too much to think about.

  #

  Shaad frowned to herself as she worked, folding Hlin’s clothing. She’d consented to allow someone else to wash them, but she insisted that they let her do the folding. If she didn’t have something to do, she knew she’d likely go mad—especially on a night like this one.

  “Ala’D is a fool,” Shaad snapped, sitting in her chair. She was so worried that she didn’t even notice its plush comfort.

  Hlin sat, rocking slightly as he smoked in his own chair. “Be nice, dear,” he said. “The boy’s done a fine job as King.”

  “The ‘boy’ is a man now, you old sheep,” Shaad informed. “He should have known better than to put our D’Naa in such danger.”

  “‘Our D’Naa’ is an adult herself, Shaad,” Hlin said. “Ala’D knows she can take care of herself.”

  Shaad fidgeted as she folded Hlin’s shirts. Hlin spoke calmly, but that in itself was an indication of trouble. After over forty years of marriage, Shaad knew Hlin’s mannerisms better than he knew himself. When nothing was wrong, he was hyper and excitable. When he was worried, however, he grew calm. And when he was very worried, he smoked his pipe.

  “What is taking her so long?” Shaad asked, trying to force herself to be calm. A few moments earlier, they had received a knock at their door asking if everything was all right. She’d been forced to tell the guard D’Naa was feeling ill to keep him from checking in her room for assassins. What if he’d insisted on going in? What would they have done then? Ala’D’s overeager plan could cost Kavir immeasurably.

  A sudden noise made both her and Hlin jump, and a second later D’Naa dropped to the balcony. The girl’s face was flushed with excitement and from the cold, and Shaad immediately noticed what was wrong. She could see D’Naa’s face.

  “What happened to your face cloth?” Shaad asked, standing.

  D’Naa ignored her, slipping into the room. She had an odd look on her face. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. She walked into the room and sat down in a plush chair.

  “D’Naa?” Hlin asked, his voice twinged with concern.

  D’Naa just remained quiet, her fa
ce utterly baffled.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Hlin asked worriedly. “Did she get knocked on the head?”

  “No,” D’Naa answered for herself. “I’m fine, grandfather. It’s just that… .”

  “What?” Shaad asked with concern.

  “Emperor Hern is a very confusing man,” D’Naa said quietly.

  Chapter Eleven

  As cold as it was growing in the south, the northern border was far worse. Raeth stepped off of the open-aired Sending platform with a shiver, glad he had chosen to wear his thicker cloak. He frowned as he did so.

  The Sending had hurt this time. It didn’t just make him woozy, it had caused him physical pain. That had ended the moment the Sending stopped, but it had been there—just like the last time, when he had been Sent away from Saeris Va.

  Darro grunted behind him, reorienting himself after the Sending, then hopped off the platform to land beside Raeth. “Remember,” Darro whispered. “You spent a great deal of time up here over the last four years. You’re supposed to know your way around. If there’s a problem, I’ll try and find a way to show you what to do.”

  Raeth nodded, turning his mind away from the strange Sending pain. “Thank you.”

  Darro shrugged. “It’s not like I’m good for anything else.”

  Raeth rolled his eyes. “You’re not still worried about that?”

  Darro flushed as the two began to walk through the border camp. “My brother the Emperor gets attacked by assassins and where was I? In a tavern, drinking myself witless.”

  “Darro,” Raeth said, “there was nothing you could have done. Besides, I survived, didn’t I?”

  Darro just shook his head. “I should have been there,” he mumbled.”

  “It isn’t your duty to protect me, Darro.”

  Darro shook his head. “Yes it is,” he answered quietly, looking up into Raeth’s eyes. “I got you into this. You’re doing what should be my duty. I at least intend to help where I can.”