by Rin Chupeco
Khalad swiftly unfurled the last parchment. “The Marquise of Thanh, one of the smaller city-states of Yadosha. The marquise was sixty-seven, though still in good health. He drifted off while giving a speech. None could be roused, their heartsglass a muted gray.”
“Different ages, all of noble blood. Physically healthy,” I said, scanning through the reports. “But they don’t seem to have anything else in common.”
“There is one attribute.” Khalad sounded grim. “Master said they were all descendants of the Five Great Heroes.”
“That’s…” I opened my mouth and closed it again, remembering. To you, seeking Blade that Soars’s path: take that which came from Five Great Heroes long past and distill into a heart of silver to shine anew.
“Mithra the Protector.” Fox ticked them off with his fingers. “Ashi the Swift. Anahita the Mighty. Rashnu the Just. And Sraosha the Obedient. But how can the Heartforger be so sure?”
“Because he can see their bloodlines in their heartsglass.” Khalad touched his. “So can I. It’s difficult but not impossible. Master had long suspected that someone was targeting their descendants, but he didn’t know why. The only Great Hero descendant left untouched by the sickness is Anahita the Mighty.” Khalad sighed. “My father, King Telemaine, isn’t a direct descendant however. Neither was Vanor or Lance, the Duke of Holsrath.”
“But Prince Kance is!” I burst out, remembering. “And so are you!”
Khalad blinked. “My master had reason to examine both Vanor’s and Telemaine’s heartsglass in the past. They—”
“Do not have your mother’s ancestry,” Fox broke in. “Remember when Tea accidentally resurrected King Randrall? Randrall claimed that the crown prince was not his son but the son of the commander of the Odalian army. Vanor’s and Telemaine’s lines did not spring from his, but your mother was also a descendant of Anahita.”
“I hadn’t thought about my mother’s line,” Khalad muttered, looking embarrassed. “But surely that would not have escaped my master’s notice.”
“Could it be that he said nothing to spare you the worry?” I asked.
“It’s possible. He was terribly secretive about his conclusions until I pestered him.” Khalad leaped to his feet and began stuffing papers and other equipment into a large sack. “But I have to be sure. I need to take a look at my brother’s heartsglass!”
“Can you cure him?”
Khalad shook his head, despairing. “Master talked about having tested one, but he gave few specifics.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“He’d gone to Daanoris to take another look at the sleeping princess. He found her death the most suspicious of the lot.”
“Why?”
“Daanorians don’t wear heartsglass. They’ve always been suspicious of magic, although their current emperor is quite keen on asha and has been infatuated with Inessa for years. Someone would have needed to draw Heartsrune for the Daanorian to fall sick in the same way the others had.”
“For now, let’s return to the castle to ensure Khalad’s safety as well,” Fox decided.
“Me?”
“Might I remind his Lordship,” Fox told him quietly, laying stress on the last word, “that though you have officially abdicated from the royal succession, you are still Kance’s brother, so you can still be reinstated. Should anything happen to the prince, I doubt that your father will allow you to remain the Heartforger’s apprentice for much longer.”
• • •
I was shocked to see the throne room full of soldiers as we entered. It felt like the whole Odalian army was waiting for us.
“Tea!” Kalen’s voice rang out. He was being restrained by some of the soldiers. “Get out of here!”
I took a step back but found my path barred by swords. Two men stepped forward to place their hands on my shoulders. Two more took hold of my wrists.
“What’s going on?” Fox asked, stunned. “Albie? Parviz? Why are you doing this?” I felt his anger, felt him struggling behind me. His eyes flicked to his commander. “General Lode?”
The older man shook his head. His heartsglass showed me his reluctance, his implacability. Good soldiers obeyed orders.
The Duke of Holsrath stepped forward. He was smiling, and his heartsglass glittered a bright, malicious red.
“We haven’t been properly introduced have we, Lady Tea?” He bowed to me. “King Telemaine has elected to remain by his son’s side. He left me in charge of the palace while Kance recuperates.”
“I don’t believe you!” It was inconceivable to think that the king would willingly turn over the reins of his kingdom to a brother he had imprisoned for conspiring to take it from him. “I demand to see him!”
“You are not in a position to demand anything, milady. Telemaine made the announcement in full view of the soldiers. Kalen himself witnessed it. Didn’t you, Kalen?”
The boy gritted his teeth. “Go to hell.”
The duke regarded his son carefully and then casually punched him.
I lunged forward, white-hot rage searing my vision. I felt Fox leap after me. Hands pulled us back, and I heard more swords being drawn from scabbards as the tip of one rested against my throat.
“You may hate me, Kalen,” the duke said coldly, “but I am still your father. I will not tolerate such disrespect.”
My fingers twitched, Compulsion already half-formed.
“Would you really do that, Lady Tea?” There was a slickness to the duke’s voice that repulsed me, like grease that clung to skin. “Would you compel all these soldiers, your brother’s own comrades? Will you force these soldiers to commit treason against their will, a crime punishable by death? How very little you must think of life, milady. After all, you have always dealt in death.”
Trembling and angry, I let the rune slip away.
“Tea Pahlavi, I hereby arrest you in the king’s name for the attempted murder of His Highness, Prince Kance. Fox Pahlavi, I arrest you in the king’s name for being complicit to the same crime.”
“Are you mad?” Kalen shouted. “They did no such thing!”
The duke lifted his hand, and I saw the pendant I had given Prince Kance dangling from his fingers.
“It is easy to conceal a malevolent spell inside this trinket, and there were witnesses who saw my nephew take sick shortly after receiving your gift. Lady Tea, you are to be confined until your trial. Do not worry. I am not so cruel as to keep you in the dungeons. Your prison will be a warded room at the farthest wing of the palace. Armed guards and Deathseekers will prevent further incidents.
“And as for the Heartforger’s apprentice.” The duke turned to Khalad, who was still pale. “While there are no charges to bring against the former prince, you are to be detained indefinitely for questioning. Your previous royal status will not exempt you, Khalad. You are a practitioner of the Dark arts and must therefore come under scrutiny. Assist us in our investigations and it will be easier on you. You may be my nephew, but that will not save you—I do the same to my own son.”
Behind my back, I sketched Compulsion again, this time directed toward the Duke of Holsrath’s mind. But what I encountered was a thick wall of resistance as strong as steel.
The duke laughed. His heartsglass glittered, and I noticed a lapel pin on his shirt, shining bright gold as the zivar repelled my attempt. “A good try, Lady Tea. But I have not come unarmed. Perhaps I should mention that Lady Mykaela has also been detained and charged.”
I leaped toward him again, heedless of the blade at my neck, my hands curled into claws that were prepared to do what my magic could not, but I was dragged back.
“She’s resting well, given the circumstances. However, her comfort, I think, shall be dependent on your actions. If you are innocent of the charges, as you claim, then you will be released as soon as that is established. Conversely, if you admit
your guilt, we can overlook other…unpleasantness necessary for interrogation. What is your answer, milady?”
“I did nothing to Prince Kance,” I snarled.
“As you wish.” The duke turned to the soldiers. “Kindly escort our dear asha to her quarters. Look at any of my men the wrong way, Lady Tea, and it will be Lady Mykaela who suffers the consequences. It’s getting late, and there are many other pressing duties to attend to before the morrow, including your cross-examination.”
The asha talked little that night. While the Heartforger bent over his task, shaping lumps of mud and clay on the strange potter’s wheel, and while the emperor remained unconscious, trussed and bound behind the throne, the girl stared out the window into the city. Her daeva, obedient to a fault, kept a watchful guard. Occasionally, one would draw close to the window and purr, seeking her attention. She would lay a distracted hand on their rough hides and smile, but she never once looked away from the horizon. I wondered what she could see that I could not.
Lord Kalen approached, and her hand sought his. Side by side, they watched the setting sun, and I wondered at their thoughts, at the bond they shared.
I marveled at the Heartforger’s concentration. For two hours, he worked on the dismal lump of clay. No breathtaking design came to life in his hands, no bowls or sculptures deserving of fire or of glaze. I have seen potters craft masterpieces in half the time.
“Name?”
It took me a while to realize he was talking to me.
“Tea never asked for your name.” The Heartforger did not look up from his work. “She wouldn’t.”
“She calls me ‘Bard,’” I said, surprised by how vinegary the words came out.
“Don’t take it personally. This is how she reminds you of your purpose. She has no need for friends—she has lost enough of those over the last year.” He selected a small tool from his collection. “It must be frustrating to see very little results in the time I have spent on this.”
“I have no knowledge of a Heartforger’s art,” I responded, immediately ashamed of myself. “I have had no opportunity to watch one at work before.”
“It’s not worth an audience, as you can see. Unfortunately, I cannot make a living conducting demonstrations in exchange for payment. I remember my own impatience as an apprentice, watching my old master spin for hours without result. I was hot tempered and headstrong, and those are not the best virtues to be found in a forger.” He smiled down at his work. “Patience is the long pause between action and its consequences. Lengthier silences open you up to introspection, and I’ve known a lot of solitude.”
There was no sound, no flaring of light that often accompanied the magic. The pathetic-looking chunk of clay hardened, cracked, and fell away. What remained was not a heartsglass but a strange sliver of a line, a frozen thunderbolt that sparkled like crystal.
“My master called it an urvan, from the old Avestan languages,” the Heartforger said, “one’s ‘soul,’ so to speak.”
“But whose soul is it?”
“Imagine an empty flask. I give it to you, and you fill it with water. I give another to Kalen, and perhaps he would fill it with wine. The flasks are simply vessels that hold the liquid you add to it. It is the same with urvan. It is nothing on its own until I add it to someone’s heartsglass. It serves as a vessel to recreate their souls. I remember every memory that comes through my hands. I can replicate a soul very easily with this.” He stopped for a minute. When he returned to his work, his hands were careful and gentle. “And I thank every god there is that only I know the secrets. There are far too many people who would kill for such an ability, and sometimes, I regret that my master taught me this skill. It makes me a target.”
“They are here,” Tea said abruptly, turning away from the window.
I looked out and saw at a distance, much to my horror, a mass of soldiers converging on the city.
“I see the blue flags of Kion,” Lord Kalen said, “and the greens of Arhen-Kosho, but none from Odalia.”
“But why?” It was a ridiculous question. The answer looked back at me, her smile grim, so I asked another. “How did news of Daanoris’s fall travel so fast? Surely a week is not enough to raise this army.”
“They have had weeks to plan. They must have known the very night I ended my exile.” She stared back out into the throng of soldiers, as if straining to seek out one particular face among them. “It would appear,” she mused, “that the bond I share with my brother is stronger than even I realized.”
12
The duke had done his research; I regretted telling Polaire about the weaknesses in Aenah’s wards, for they had been quick enough to strengthen them in mine. The asha association relied heavily on the Royal House of Odalia for unfettered access to their kingdom. They might not like the duke, but they wouldn’t go out of their way to offend him.
I paced the windowless room, past the one small cot they afforded me. I cast my mind out again but couldn’t detect Fox’s presence. Despite all his threats, Holsrath would most likely keep Mykaela and I unharmed. But my brother, though my familiar, may not fare as well. I was worried too for Khalad and Kalen.
I examined the walls and floor and gave the door a good kicking, with little result. “This is useless,” I growled.
I wouldn’t be too sure about that, child.
I gasped. Had Aenah escaped?
I am gratified by your faith in my abilities, Lady Tea. But you called for me, not the other way around.
An image came unbidden to my mind: Aenah sitting in her cell, still bound by her wards but in better spirits than I.
Who are you working with in Odalia, Aenah?
Me? Would I be sitting in this old dank dungeon if I had an accomplice working for me? I assure you, my dear, no one in the Odalian palace answers to me. In fact, it’s the exact opposite.
You gave me an offer. I’m taking it now. Tell me about shadowglass.
Threats are all well and good, but not even you and your pet azi can conjure enough runes to force me. But I will help you. I have my own grudges against Usij that need repaying…
Quick flashes of memory cross my mind—a burning town, the edges of it sweeping out to sea. A younger Aenah, her face tearstained and grieving, holding a still baby in her arms as she watches her world burn.
I’ll have that back, thank you. Just as swiftly, the image was gone and Aenah’s presence returned, angry and melancholy and cold. You have had practice to eavesdrop on my memories so easily.
I’m sure you can understand why.
I will tell you more about shadowglass. The book I gave you was deliberately vague on the matter. The Great Prince had many reasons to keep his secrets.
Are you saying Hollow Knife himself wrote this book?!
My book is a descendant of the original, which has since been lost to time. The shadowglass is his promise to us for immortality, but its ingredients come at a price.
The sleeping sickness? You’re dooming these people to death!
Death? They sleep, peaceful and happy, surrounded by memories of loved ones and better times until the end of their natural lives. I would call it a gift, Aenah said.
I drew on Compulsion without thinking, but nothing happened. Her throaty chuckle was proof of my failure.
Did I strike a nerve, Tea? Perhaps Prince Kance prefers endless sleep over the stress of ruling a kingdom. Who knows? Mayhap he dreams of you. I presume Usij has the pieces of their heartsglass. It has been a stalemate between us for the better part of ten years—we all strive for the same goal, but the shadowglass can only accommodate one, and we have always found it difficult to share among ourselves.
Get to the point.
It is a simple recipe. Blade that Soars and Hollow Knife were two halves of the Great Creator’s heart. When he formed the world, it was necessary for him to divide his heart to bring a balance o
f light and dark into it. That is why Hollow Knife needed to take Blade that Soars’s heartsglass for his own, to become truly immortal. To create a facsimile of Blade that Soars’s heart, we gather the Five Great Heroes from where his blood flows down and forge it anew into a pure heartsglass. But to achieve Hollow Knife’s heart, it is necessary to turn one’s own silver heartsglass black.
And how is that possible?
There are many paths that lead to a black heartsglass. Hollow Knife’s requires a corruption of self. I have found killing to be the easiest method. And not simple commonplace murder—one must delight in it.
Quick visions blurred through my mind: blood and desires, deaths and unholy rites. She laughed when I reeled back from her, my disgust clear. It gets better with every killing, I assure you.
You vile, disgusting—
That may be so. I make no pretense of sainthood. Unlike your fellow asha, I do not claim to be what I am not. It is a shame, really, that you fled Odalia so quickly that you had little time to conduct a thorough investigation of your own elders. Oh, the atrocities you can find there!
Tell me more about what they did.
But her thoughts were already fading. Try as I might, I was too weak to wrest them back.
Thwarted for now, I took stock of what I knew. If Aenah was right, then the sleeping sicknesses were Usij’s doing. The other Faceless leader either knew of Aenah’s book or had his own copy and sought to create the lightsglass spell himself. But was this endless sleep a permanent consequence? Nothing in the book talked of a cure.
But to create the lightsglass, Usij would also need a Heartforger. And only two came to mind. Kance wasn’t the only one in danger. Khalad and the old Forger were too.