The Worlds of J D L Rosell

by J. D. L. Rosell

  “Of course, my dear,” Peralda said soothingly. “We don’t punish innocents here, surely.”

  “Second,” I continued, “that the glass smith Maesos of Port be protected from any retribution. He fears he might become framed for Agmon’s death, an event in which he had no part, as you now know.”

  “Is that all?” Hax wheezed.

  I spoke again before I lost my nerve, “Lastly, that my companions and I be granted amnesty for our activities as Finches. I don’t want to have to worry about getting a knife in the back for looking into the wrong thing. I don’t ask permission to pursue anything we wish — just that you give us a warning if we happen to cross paths.”

  Hax studied me for a moment, then gave a slight nod. “These terms are acceptable. Now, you have given us much to discuss. You will be told our decision on the morrow.” The Guildmaster made another small gesture. Talan touched my arm, and I understood our conversation was at an end.

  “Thank you for hearing us, Guildmasters,” I said, bowing to them before Talan escorted us out of the cavern.

  Our business with the Guildmasters concluded, Talan blindfolded us again and led us above ground. As soon as we emerged into the open air, I breathed it in hungrily. I’d never join the Underguild if only because they spent too much time in stale tunnels.

  After the Guilder removed our blinds, I touched his arm lightly. “Thank you. None of this could be happening had you not taken a wager on us.”

  Talan smiled ruefully. “This? It is so assured it is hardly a bet. I’d gamble the shirt off my back for less.”

  Nomusa stood at my shoulder. “Time to go. We’d best try and get some sleep with the little night left to us.”

  I nodded and looked at Xaron. He was strangely withdrawn, not even casting spiteful glances at Talan like he had the whole time we'd been with him. Kalindi's accusations must have really shaken him. I slid an arm around his waist, and he startled, so I kept the hug brief. “Let’s go,” I said. “I think we all need sleep.”

  Talan gave a sweeping bow. “Until tomorrow then, hanims.” The Guilder passed us and turned the corner. Before he was out of sight, he gave me one lingering look, then he was gone. As we set off on our own walk back to Canopy, I tried not to think about it. I had plenty of distractions already — my stomach was rumbling, having missed dinner from all our running about, and I was dragging with exhaustion. Good thing the walk was short.

  As we neared our tower, though, I grew more alert, and felt Nomusa and Xaron tense as well. By silent agreement, we went slowly up the stairs of the tower, glancing in at every circle to ensure there weren’t hidden assassins waiting for us. Finally, we reached our door, which looked thankfully undisturbed. Nomusa set to unlocking it while Xaron and I watched down the stairs, expecting at any moment to see the shadows of approaching enemies appear on the walls.

  Nomusa opened the door, and we quickly stepped inside, locking it behind. A collective sigh of relief rose from all three of us. Xaron slid down the door to sit, looking more exhausted than I’d seen him. He must have channeled much during his house-break.

  “You should get some rest,” I told him. “We’ll need you sharp tomorrow.”

  Xaron’s eyes flickered up. “I think he knows.”

  I shared a look with Nomusa. “Who?” I asked, though I thought I knew.

  His expression twisted into a sneer. “Talan Wraithsbane.”

  His contempt for the Guilder came from fear now, I could see. Crouching next to him, I said softly, “Xaron, what happened to Graz and your friends isn’t going to happen to you. Talan didn’t turn you in. Even if he does know, I don’t think he ever will.”

  Nomusa crouched on his other side, gently rubbing his back. “We’ll keep a close eye on him. If we see any signs that he’ll betray us—” Her jaw flexed. “We'll see that he won't.”

  Xaron straightened up, then slowly rose to his feet. His cheeks were flushed. “I appreciate you two trying to look after me,” he said softly. “But you don’t know what it’s like. Knowing that you could be hunted at any moment, at this very moment. Knowing that one little slip up could give someone the power of life or death over you.” He shook his head. “I need to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He went into his room, not even lingering for dinner. It was so unlike him to forgo any meal that I couldn’t help but feel worried for him. Nomusa and I looked at each other, but we said nothing. He was right; we didn’t know what his life was like. We weren’t hunted like he was.

  But I knew one thing. The dark depths of the ‘Thae would swallow us before I let Talan Wraithsbane harm him.

  I slept fitfully that night. Every moment, I expected the door to creak open, or perhaps splinter at a sudden blow, and cloaked figures to rush in with knives raised. A storm had started up, contributing to my unease. Licks of lightning crawled across the sky followed by window-rattling booms.

  I rose before the sun, too restless to pretend to sleep any longer. I checked on our finches for messages, then when nothing had come, I set to cleaning our loft. With our busy schedules, Canopy was in a persistent state of disarray. As I straightened up and wiped down, I thought of all that had happened and reviewed my own actions. I turned them this way and that, questioning my reasons, straining to discover the flaws. They weren't hard to find. In a game of whispers and murder, every move was precarious, and many of mine in this hunt had been downright reckless.

  Three sharp knocks rapped on the door, and I stiffened halfway through scrubbing a pot. I was dressed in just the tunic and trousers that I typically wore beneath my robes. No one else was awake, nor likely would be for another turn. I considered waking them, but decided to take a look through the greeting hole first to see who I was dealing with. No need to disturb them if it wasn't anything to worry about.

  Despite my forced nonchalance, my heart was pounding as I flipped open the cover to the greeting hole. I waited a moment before I put my eye to it; it wasn’t unheard of for assassins to blow poisoned darts into the hole, and I didn’t want to risk it. But when nothing happened for five breaths, I finally lowered my head to look through.

  Eazal’s dark eyes stared back from the other side. “Airene,” he said in a cracked voice.

  For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t honestly expected to see the apothecary again. “Eazal,” I greeted him. “What are you doing here?” I made no move to open the door. My mind whirled. How had he found us?

  “Airene, listen to me,” Eazal said, desperation clear in his voice. He sounded as if he’d been up since the night before. I wondered if he’d slept at all in the two days since his friend died. “What I am going to tell you might sound mad, but I need you to listen.”

  My breath came fast, but I whispered, “Tell me.”

  “I… I need you to come with me. Now. Alone.”

  I was shaking my head even before he’d finished. “You know I can’t do that. Now of all times I cannot do that.” It chilled me that he would even ask.

  “Please, Airene.” All the fragile pride the man had possessed before was broken. He leaned against the door, his eye pressed so close to the greeting hole he almost blocked out the light from the stairwell lamps. “She has my family. She says she’ll kill them if you don’t come with me.”

  Shivers ran up my skin. No need to ask who she was. “How do you know Iela is telling the truth? She could be bluffing.”

  A shake of his head. “Do you know what she is, what she can do? Do you know the resources she can access?” He broke off with a sob, and only continued a moment later. “I believe her. She’ll do it.”

  I chewed my lip. I still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t a bluff. But either way, it was obvious it was a trap. Iela must have heard that we were looking into her affairs. Perhaps Eazal himself had told her when she caught up to him, as she clearly had. Even with his family’s lives potentially under threat, I knew too little to heedlessly put my life in his hands.

  I shook my head. �
��I am sorry if that’s true, Eazal. But I cannot go with you.”

  He pressed his eye against the hole again so only a glimmer of his eye showed. “She thought you might say that,” he growled, his voice changed. “She said it wouldn’t be enough. And she has a solution for that, too.”

  “What solution?” I asked calmly.

  He began to laugh like a man before the gallows. “That she knows your family, Airene of Riverport. That she knows where they live. Tryphon. Melitta. Sophene. Linos.”

  As he named each of my family members, my blood ran cold. “No,” I breathed. In that moment, I believed it was true. How they had been discovered, I didn’t yet know. But somehow, this warden knew where my family was and could kill them at any moment.

  “Now,” Eazal said slowly. “Come with me. We must meet her within the turn.”

  For a moment, even though he told me what I needed to do, I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place. It was my greatest fear, my work endangering my family. I had always known it was a possibility. But I’d never believed it would actually come to pass.

  “Come,” the apothecary whispered.

  I backed away from the door, my body hardly feeling my own. Almost without thought, I began moving to the kitchen, to the bin of dishes and utensils I’d stacked after washing. From them, I drew out a sharp knife we’d used two days before to cut open fruit.

  My hands numb, I wrapped it in a cloth, then tucked it into the back of my trousers with my tunic bunched under it to keep it from falling. It stayed for the moment. It would have to do.

  I knew I could not hesitate any longer. Not if my family was going to survive.

  I went to the door and slowly opened it, then said to the phantom of a man before me, “Lead the way.”

  She waited for us in a nearby alley.

  As I approached the feral warden, a kitchen knife pressing into the small of my back, the blue light of pre-dawn only vaguely making anything visible, I knew I was likely walking to my death. It gave an unreal sense to everything, as if I hadn’t actually awoken, but was stuck in a dream, a dream in which everything I had feared and everything I had worked toward came crumbling down around me. Yet I knew it wasn’t so. This was the reality I had made. The sum of my mistakes.

  “Airene,” Iela greeted me. Even her voice made me grow cold. She looked much the same as she had when I’d seen her enter Feiyan’s estate the night before.

  “Iela,” I said through numb lips.

  “I suppose we are beyond introductions.” She smiled thinly. “We both know so much about each other already, and yet we’re only just meeting. Isn’t it odd?”

  I could think of no other response than the one question that had hounded me since Eazal had led me from Canopy’s door. “Why did you bring me here?”

  Her eyes widened in mock surprise. “Why? If you haven’t figured that much out, Airene, you are not the Finch I thought you were.”

  That struck a spark of anger back in me, a hint of warmth amidst the cold of fear. I grasped at it, trying to fan it into further flames. I had a feeling I would need it to survive this.

  “But I do have one more selfish purpose,” she continued in a soft voice. “You see, Airene, I do not like people who meddle in my affairs. Particularly when they bring the eye of the Underguild upon me.” She shook her head. “Perhaps I could have forgiven you if you had not reached that far. But this will cause many problems for me. It cannot stand.”

  I stared at her in sullen silence, trying to hold onto my anger. My hand itched to reach for the knife prodding my back, but I restrained myself. It was foolish to reach for it now when she could kill me with a flick of her hand. I had to wait for an opportunity, if one would ever come.

  “And so,” the silver-haired woman continued, “before I kill you, I want you to see how thoroughly you’ve failed your family.” Her smile grew wider. “I want you to know that the person responsible for your brother’s disappearance all those years ago is standing before you.”

  I stared at her, uncomprehending for a moment. The barrage of revelations in the situation — and her admission of her intentions for me — left me dazed and weak. “Thero?” I asked uncertainly.

  “Ah, how slowly you recall him,” she mocked. “Thero! Or do you not remember discovering him dead in the canal, horrible marks etched across his face?”

  I could not speak, but stared at her as the anger burned brighter.

  “He seemed so promising too,” Iela said with a mocking smile. “Full of potential, like tinder ready to ignite. But like so many before him, my master could not tap that power inside him. And so he…” She shrugged. “He fizzled out.”

  Quivering with the rage I held inside, it was all I could to do stay in place.

  She glanced at Eazal, who cowered against the wall, shrinking into himself as if the feral warden might forget he was there. “But now that I have the apothecary, I think our progress will come more swiftly. And my dream — and my master’s dream — will finally come to pass.”

  I took a step toward her. I knew it was foolish and utter idiocy to consider making a move against her when she was fully aware. Yet the hatred burning inside me was like nothing I’d felt before. In my work, I had always been cool and distant and maintained a level head. But she had told me that she and her master had killed Thero. He had been subject to their experiments. And I couldn’t help but picture myself pulling out the knife and stabbing it through her chest.

  Iela must have seen something of the rage in my eyes, for she smiled widely. “Ah, there it is. What I’ve been waiting for.” She raised her hand. “Now, I think I’ll get some satisfaction out of your death.”

  Not waiting for her to channel, I dashed forward and drew out the knife. Iela looked surprised for a moment, then the smile returned, and something emitted from her hand. A frigid gale hit me with a force that knocked the breath out of me, and though I had been running, I found my limbs wearying and slowing. I sank to my knees, shivering, the knife nearly falling from my nerveless grip. Never before had I been so cold. I could barely think through it.

  “Release the knife now, Airene,” Iela chided, continuing to channel a flurry of frozen air around me. “I have enjoyed your struggles, but it’s time to let it end.”

  In defiance of my screaming body, I looked up at her through frosted eyelashes. I would not die on my knees and bowing before her. If I had to die, I would be staring her in the eyes. It was this last spark of defiance that I clung to as my mind began to shut down.

  Something moved behind her. For a moment, I thought I had begun to hallucinate. Then I saw it again. From the rooftops above, a dark figure jumped down toward the feral warden, something blazing white-hot in its hand.

  As the figure leaped onto Iela and thrust its glowing hand at her, the cold surrounding me dissipated with a scream of the feral warden’s surprise. She fell and rolled with the other figure, writhing and screaming as they fought like alley cats. My joints stiff with cold and my muscles leaden with it, I forced myself to stand, the kitchen knife still somehow in my grip. My vision swam, but slowly I started to make out who it was that struggled against the feral warden with what looked like a stake in its hand. I blinked. Against all reason, I suddenly saw it was Talan.

  The thought stuck, as frozen in my mind as my body. That stake glowed with radiance. Which meant Talan was a warden.

  But I didn’t take time to consider it. Stumbling forward, I took an account of the fight. Talan and Iela were locked in a deadly embrace. His stake had pierced her gut, and a glow pulsed around it. But Iela, her face a mask of rage and pain, had her hands on his arms, and where her fingers touched, patches of ice blossomed over his clothes. From Talan’s pained expression, her channeling reached beyond the fabric.

  I moved my stiff legs closer as they continued to struggle on the ground, fire and ice battling for dominance. I limped up next to the struggling pair and stood over them, gripping the knife as hard as I could. Iela’s bloodshot eyes found me, goi
ng wide when she realized my intentions. She tried ripping one off of Talan’s arm, but she’d sealed her own fate — the ice locked her in for a moment too long.

  With a scream that came from somewhere deep inside me, I raised the knife and stabbed it down into her throat.

  The events afterward blurred together. I remember staring down at my hands still curled around the knife’s hilt, heat and cold still washing over me in feverish waves, while blood pooled around the blade in Iela’s neck. I watched until the life went out of the woman’s eyes. I remember kneeling there until Talan, shivering and blue-lipped, led me out of the alley, frost still tinging the ugly purple bruises on his arms.

  We walked from the alley as dawn began to light the day. The intense cold that had seized me faded, but another weakness still lingered. My hands were wet. I knew I shouldn’t look down as the Guilder led me away, but I couldn’t help it, and my gaze inexorably fell to them.

  Blood. I’d never had so much blood on me, had barely seen so much blood at once. Only once at the shipyard where my father worked, when a mast collapsed on a man and crushed his chest. But this blood I had spilled. Her blood. I’d killed her. And we’d left her body in the alley for someone else to discover, just as the city guards had discovered Thero.

  But no. That wasn’t the same. She had killed Thero for insane, incomprehensible reasons, while I had killed to save myself and Talan. I closed my eyes and wished I could believe it was so simple.

  Even though she would have killed me and my family, and likely Talan, Nomusa, and Xaron as well. Even though she had murdered Thero, and had likely murdered many more. It still broke some part of me that I had taken her life away. In my own eyes at least, it didn’t make me any less of a murderer.

  Talan bent his head close. “Breathe,” he told me. I tried to obey, gulping in long, deep breaths. But even as the guilt wracked me worse than the pain in my limbs, my hands shaking, my teeth chattering, I knew I would survive this. Perhaps it would take me a while to get over it, to stop seeing the red on my hands, but eventually, the color would wash away. Perhaps that was what scared me most, that forgetting that would inevitably come, and obscure my ugly deeds even from myself.