by Rin Chupeco
“Tell the commander that Garveth is to have time off until his wife gives birth,” I instructed one of the passing soldiers. “And I want all guards keeping watch over this cell, standing at least twenty feet away. No one but the Deathseeker who delivers her meals may approach.” I knew it would probably be ineffective, but I had to do something.
“What did she mean about an azi lodged in your mind?” Fox demanded as we left the prison. “You killed it two years ago, didn’t you? Has it been resurrected?”
I swallowed. “No. I never killed it.”
“This sounds like a private conversation between you two,” Khalad said nervously from behind us. “I should be going.”
“Stay, Khalad,” Fox commanded. “You’ve been taking memories from Tea all this time. Did you not know about this?”
The forger swallowed. “Well…”
Fox gaped at him. “You knew?”
“It’s part of our oath as Heartforgers—memories are no one else’s business but their owner’s.”
“It didn’t want to fight!” I protested. “The azi was under Aenah’s influence. It fought her as much as I did. But now I’m in its mind and it’s in mine, and I know it meant no harm.”
“Break your bond with it, Tea! It’s too dangerous!”
“I don’t know how even if I wanted to. But it knows I’m not the threat Aenah was. It’s made no move to attack since I took control.”
Slowly, Fox shook his head. “That doesn’t make it harmless.”
“Harmless or not, it hasn’t done anything to me. There’s something about this bond that makes us aware of each other’s presence. And…and it gives me control of it when I ask.”
“Tea!”
“What do you expect me to do, Fox? Tell the asha elders? Khalad, tell him what would happen if I did.”
Khalad swallowed. “You’d be locked up just like Aenah. You’d be considered a source of danger to everyone, and neither Mykaela nor even Altaecia has that much authority to protect you.”
“Tea, don’t you think Mykaela ought to know at least?” my brother persisted, though much of his irritation was gone, knowing Khalad had spoken the truth.
“She won’t know how to break the bond any more than I do. At this point, I know more about handling daeva than she does. And as for the others…” Telling Mykaela meant telling Polaire, and after my blowup at Polaire the other day, telling her would be tantamount to telling the association. “That I’m a bone witch makes it worse. There’ll be people crying for my head soon enough. King Telemaine and Prince Kance could even be accused of conspiring with me. I won’t let that happen.”
“I really should be going,” Khalad said nervously, backing away. “I really should put this memory in a safer place.”
“Khalad, come back here. I’m not done with—ah, hells. He’s gone.” Fox turned back to me. “I’m not ‘other people,’ Tea. I’m your brother. You should have told me.”
“I know about your dislike for daeva, Fox. I knew you wouldn’t approve.”
“Not approving doesn’t mean I’m not going to stick by you. Your problems are my own.” He paused. “At least that explains the disorienting sensations I get from you sometimes.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll try my best not to keep anything from you again,” I said, reaching out to squeeze his hand.
“I like how you say ‘try,’ like you would do it again if you thought it would spare me the trouble.” My brother sighed. “I guess we have no choice then.”
“No choice in what?”
“We have no choice but to find that blasted book that harpy’s been yapping about. If there is guarded magic in it that might break your bond, that warrants a look.”
“I remember that day,” the Heartforger said. “Your heartsglass shone so brightly, Tea. There was anger and frustration and sorrow, an unhealthy combination. I remembered Aenah’s too. She was afraid of you, no matter how she tried to hide that. She was adept enough at disguising it, but I could still see the flecks of blue.”
“I’m surprised how much you recall, considering how quickly you fled.”
The Heartforger actually laughed. He was everything she described and, at the same time, everything she had not. He was dark from his travels, and his eyes were a light gray, nearly as colorless as his hair, which hung long past his shoulders. He looked stronger than I expected—shoulders broad but hunched, arms heavily built. He narrowed his eyes as he focused on me, a habit I recognize, having poor sight myself. His heartsglass was a masterpiece—a dizzying crystal of fractured colors, of a finer cut than the best diamonds. “Who is he?” the Heartforger asked.
“My chronicler, of a sort.”
The Heartforger frowned, but his final impression was of sadness rather than of anger. “This is a dangerous thing you do, Tea.”
“No more dangerous than other choices you have made, Khalad. And you know as well as I that I am running out of options as quickly as Daanoris is emptying of people.”
“How did you know to find me here? You were still in exile when I left Ankyo.”
She smiled at him. “I didn’t. But I knew you wouldn’t stay in Kion for long. Ankyo and Odalia disgust you now as much as they disgust me. During my exile, I scried my way down the coast and followed the minds leading into Santiang. Imagine my surprise to find this man in charge.” She nodded at the emperor, who had made good on his promise not to move while we were gone. “I knew he would seek you out and that you would be in danger.”
“You were able to scry over that distance? Your powers are stronger than even before you were…” His eyes met hers, and she nodded. “I had little time to do much forging for him,” he continued. “I’ve barely been in prison two days. Is that why you came to Daanoris with all the daeva in your heartsglass?”
“Can you see them?”
“Their hearts are intertwined with yours, and only your death can pull them apart.” He looked troubled. “I am afraid, Tea.”
The asha knelt before him, her hands clasped around his. “Will you stop me then?” she whispered, and for a moment, she sounded very young. “Is there any other alternative, Khalad?”
“No,” the boy said heavily. “There isn’t. That is the problem.”
“Do you approve then?”
“No. But I understand why you do it.” He glanced at me again. “How much does he know?”
“As little as possible,” the asha replied.
“I found the princess, and the rest of the soldiers are tending to their wounded,” Lord Kalen said, entering the room.
The Heartforger’s jaw grew slack, and he rose to his feet as Lord Kalen approached.
He continued, “They surrendered swiftly, and I do not think they will cause more trouble, not with the daeva waiting outside. Hello, Khalad.”
Lord Khalad’s mouth worked uselessly, and tears of both shock and joy filled his eyes. His heartsglass wept, a shining star.
“I am glad to see that I can still hide things from you, Khalad,” the bone witch said, smiling.
“We saw you die,” the Heartforger finally croaked, clutching the other boy’s shoulders. “Tea tried to raise you. We couldn’t bring you back. We saw you die.”
“I got better,” Lord Kalen said. A strange smile played on his lips, and his heartsglass burned as brightly as the Heartforger’s.
7
Millicent Tread’s grave was a neglected tangle of grass and dandelions. The small headstone that marked her final repose was obscured by the tall weeds and heavy stones. It lay the farthest from the graveyard entrance, relegated to a plot near forgotten folk who had died in the last century and were, therefore, of little use to the current one. I could see why Aenah would plant secrets along its periphery; few people had reason to go this deep into the boneyard, and Millicent Tread was difficult to find unless you knew she was there to begin wit
h.
Despite the overabundance of vegetation, the earth around the tomb had been recently disturbed.
It had taken us nearly two hours of searching to locate poor Millicent, and by the time we unearthed her small, crumbling coffin, the sky had lightened into softer gradients of grays, the hours moving toward dawn. I hoped that some force would prevent Lady Mykaela from wandering out of bed again; it would be far more difficult to explain trespassing at this grave than at King Vanor’s tomb.
“If she lied, I’ll strangle her myself,” Fox grumbled. He did most of the digging, though I did the sweating for the two of us. My brother lowered himself gingerly into the hole he dug, clearing away the splinters of wood and prying off what was left of the coffin lid.
An unknown rune of intricate markings suddenly blazed forth in front of me, shining brightly. There was a strange yapping sound, then a withered hand shot out to grasp Fox by the sleeve. Fox’s blade swung, shining in the dim light, and took the skeletal hand off cleanly at the wrist. “I knew it,” he growled. “She set us up!”
Millicent Tread’s corpse was not the only body rising from the ground. Other gravestones shuddered and broke apart around us, their occupants struggling out of their graves, decayed jaws snapping.
Fox spun in a circle, taking two heads with one clean swipe. Yet even as the skulls dropped to the ground, their bodies lumbered forward. Every arm or leg Fox chopped off became an additional appendage to defend against, and my brother soon traded his blade for its hilt, driving the heavy, blunt end to crush their bones.
I drew Compulsion in the air and was immediately assaulted by a barrage of personalities. None of the corpses were intent on fighting off my control; if anything, they were eager to embrace me, to lay bare all that was left of their minds. The mishmash of thoughts made my head spin.
—my little boy Achmed, to take the time to lay flowers by my grave—
—good-for-nothing husband, always carousing till the break of dawn! Would a visit every so often kill him?—
—my daughter! Have you heard news of her? I’ve been waiting years and years—
The azi’s thoughts crept in amid the chaos. Instinctively, I latched on to it and embraced the familiar magic that flowed freely through our link.
“Return to your graves!” The Compulsion rune flared brighter than I had ever seen it, and the corpses froze. Like marionettes being jerked on invisible strings, they collapsed back into the holes they had clawed out of, moaning piteously all the while. Only after the last disappeared back into its soil did I let go of the azi, sinking down from the effort it had taken me.
Fox was by my side in moments, worried. “Was that the azi?”
I grinned weakly. “It…helped. I just need to catch my breath. As horrifying as the corpses were, they posed no real threat.”
“I inferred as much. I caught the tail end of their thoughts.” He glanced back at Millicent’s grave. “This one seems peaceful again too. But what did that Faceless woman hope to achieve from this if not to attack?”
“She was showing off—one of the many unknown runes her book holds, I think.”
“Why tell her secrets? She’d lose the advantage.”
“I’m not sure what her plan is. But if that book exists, then I’m going to find it. If there’s any means to better control the azi—”
But my brother shook his head. “Absolutely not. You swore you’d get rid of the daeva, remember?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, I know what I promised.”
“Good, because I’ll be holding you to that.” Fox returned to Millicent’s grave, his every movement laced with caution. He nudged away the rest of the debris with a foot, used the tip of his blade to prod the woman’s remains out of the way, and peered inside.
“So she can speak the truth after all!” he exclaimed, producing a small rectangular package carefully wrapped in twine and waxed paper. “I’m surprised it lasted this long, buried under all this dirt.”
I remembered the churned earth around the grave. “Unless it’s been buried recently.”
Fox frowned. “True. Though the idea that Aenah might have an ally running loose in Kion is worrying.”
He handed the package to me. I removed the twine holding it together.
It was a leather-bound book of some age but in good shape. An upside-down crown was embossed onto the leather, and my heart leaped to my throat. “This is the False Prince’s crest, Fox.”
I turned to a page at random and saw unfamiliar runes. The text was archaic, like the book was written in an era when speech required more formality. “This rune shows you how to control a hundred corpses at once.”
“Isn’t that impossible? Aren’t asha able to control only a dozen at most?”
“Unless you use a seeking stone, and using that will overwhelm you quickly with darkrot if you’re not strong enough.” I winced, remembering my first encounter with one. “I’ll need to see if the magic is as effective as this book claims.”
“No.”
I looked at him. “Fox, I have to. If any of these spells work, we can use them to our advantage. If we can’t tell the asha-ka association about the azi, then we definitely can’t tell them about this. The only people who could manage these spells are Mykaela and me, and she’s in no shape to handle these runes.”
“And once the association discovers your secret, you’re going to be hauled to prison for having this book in your possession—just as you would be for your bond with the daeva.” Fox rubbed the side of his head. “Can you not even share with Polaire or Altaecia?”
I hesitated. I remembered Polaire’s intimation that I was not relevant to the decisions the association makes, even when they involve me. “No,” I decided. “Polaire’s too close to the elder asha. I…seriously don’t know how Althy would react to this.”
Fox scowled. “Fine—for now. But you cannot experiment without me around.” And then, for the first time, he grudgingly addressed the shadow that had quietly been eavesdropping in my head. And the same goes for you too. Do you hear me, you overgrown snake?
That was so typically Fox that I had to smile, and the azi rumbled cheerfully in my head in response.
• • •
At Fox’s insistence, we started with the simplest of the book’s spells—Scrying. Its rune resembled a distorted tree branch climbing upward, limbs twisted and splayed. To commit it to memory required practice. Like all spells, I was to trace the rune, to let my will bleed into its shape, and then direct it into another’s mind and wrap the rune around its presence.
“This is not secretly an Exploding rune or something that will send a thousand dead people climbing in through the window, right?”
“At this point, I know as much about this as you do, Fox.” I took a deep breath. “Let’s do this. We can spend all day arguing until we’re blue in the face, but that won’t change anything.”
Fox’s hand strayed to the hilt of his sword, as if swinging a blade at a spell would make all the difference. “One decaying head popping up from anywhere and I’m sending it back to whatever hell it crawled out from.”
I studied the rune again, committing as much of it to memory as I was able. As I drew it in the air, I let my mind settle on its form until it felt as solid as I was, and then I guided it toward Fox. We already shared a bond, but finding another volunteer was not an option at this point.
I felt a spurt of dizziness, which quickly abated. I stared at Fox but had the oddest sensation of staring back at myself.
I squeezed my eyes shut and watched myself close my eyes at the same time.
“Fox, turn around.”
My perspective swiveled. I disappeared from view, replaced by the small dresser in my room and the small chair beside it.
“Is something wrong, Tea?” My bond with Fox was even stronger now, his worry and concern felt like the
y were my own. In the past, I could always sense his emotions without necessarily feeling them myself. Now I was experiencing the world through him.
Fox was puzzled; I felt puzzled. “I don’t feel any different. Is it working?”
“A little too well.” I dispelled the rune and felt Fox’s thoughts vanish, weariness taking its place. “This is the spell Aenah used.”
“That’s enough for one day.” Fox decided. “And don’t argue—I’m getting tired just sensing your exhaustion. Between this and the graveyard, it’s been a long day.”
I tried to protest, but it came out as a yawn.
Fox tucked me into bed, something he hadn’t done since we were kids. “Stop pushing yourself,” I heard him say affectionately before I fell asleep. “The world will turn even when you are not awake to busy yourself in it.”
• • •
I was fresh and rejuvenated when I opened my eyes again—exceptionally so. Marveling at my sudden energy, I sat up in bed and spotted the Faceless’s book, half-hidden underneath a dozen other volumes on my table. It would have been better if Fox had kept it with him and prevented me the mischief, but I remembered that the soldiers’ barracks had little privacy.
I promised Fox I wouldn’t experiment, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t look through the rest of the spells.
I climbed back into bed, taking the book with me.
The Puppet Rune, I read, requires great concentration. Wrap the spell around your victim to command as you may. The cadaver performs its last command unless dispelled or until its master’s death. Till then, it takes on the artifice of life, moving and acting independently of other forces. Sufficient strength can raise hundreds, even tens of thousands.
I stared at the symbol. With some imagination, it did resemble a marionette being jerked on its strings by a dark blob in the background. This must have been the spell Aenah used at the graveyard. But how? Didn’t Mykkie say I cannot control the dead if they aren’t willing? Already the book was breaking rules I’d always believed sancrosanct.