Rhys nodded. “It’s a beautiful city. You would love it.”
Her smile was sad. “Roch said it wasn’t so bad this time.” She gripped Roch’s hand like a lifeline. “Was he being honest or kind?”
“Honest,” Meera said. “It wasn’t so bad. Nothing broken.”
Sabine looked at Rhys. “I can always depend on Meera to be honest. She’s good at honesty. I hope you appreciate that.”
“I do,” Rhys said.
“You trying to say I lie to you?” Roch teased.
“No, but you’re too kind.” She squeezed his hand. “I saw the window. You should leave me. This isn’t any kind of life for you, taking care of me like this.”
He shook his head. “Only life I want.”
Sabine closed her eyes and shook her head tightly.
“Stop,” Roch said. “We’re not talking about this right now. I think Meera has some ideas about finding her.”
“Who?”
“The Wolf,” Roch said. “Rhys is helping her.”
Sabine frowned. “I thought he was coming to be her mate. Did I misunderstand what Patiala said?”
Rhys’s eyebrows went nearly halfway up his forehead, but he said nothing.
“I must have misheard.” Sabine laughed. “I’m sorry. This is awkward. My memory is so bad.”
“It’s fine,” Meera said. Dammit. Now she’d have questions to answer later. “But Rhys does have some questions about the Wolf.”
“She saved my life,” Sabine said. “Most of the time I’m grateful, but not always. After the Grigori attacked, I ran from the city, but none of the villages I knew had anyone left alive. I’m sure you know why. I took a boat out to the bayou.”
“What kind of boat?”
“A pirogue. What the fishermen use. I didn’t know much about the swamp—I was raised in New Orleans—but I’d heard the older people talking and knew that there were still Irin in the swamps. I thought maybe…” Sabine shrugged. “It was probably a foolish idea, but what else was I to do? No one was left. I didn’t fear death, I only feared being alone. If there were Irin anywhere, I was determined to find them.”
“But you didn’t,” Rhys said.
“I did. But I found someone else first.”
Meera offered, “The Wolf?”
“No.” Sabine shook her head. “There was someone else.”
Meera sat up straight. This was new information. “Who, Sabine?”
“Humans.” The word came in a painful whisper. “Men. They were human and they took me farther into the swamp. I lost track of where I was. They put a gag in my mouth and they…” Tears rolled down her face. “They didn’t know what I was. Eventually they took off the gag. The minute I could speak, I killed them, every one of them. I’m not sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Rhys said. “Don’t ever be sorry.”
“I’m not. But I was really lost then. I was in a shack in the bayou. A hunting shack, I think. Completely turned around. I knew the rivers a little, but nothing about the swamps. I took one of their boats and some supplies, but I wandered for days, singing out every night and hoping to hear something back. I think I went a little mad.”
And then it had only gotten worse. Meera’s heart hurt for Sabine, but other than the new information about abusive humans, there was no new information. Meera tried not to be frustrated, because it looked like this episode of clarity would pass with no new answers.
But then Meera hadn’t counted on Rhys.
Chapter Nine
“Give me your hand and close your eyes,” Rhys said. “I want you to imagine yourself back in the bayou.”
“When?”
“When you’d taken the boat and were searching. Just before the Wolf found you.”
He leaned in and took Sabine’s outstretched hand. This was a memory spell he could only use on other Irin. It didn’t work on humans, and it didn’t work on a reluctant subject, but Sabine was open to sharing. She’d shown no reluctance to answer their questions. He cradled her palm in his and spread her fingers, using his other hand to write a spell into her palm.
“Do you see yourself there?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He touched his own talesm prim, activating the spells he’d written over his life. He searched for those his father taught him and those his mother helped him with. Angharad the Sage was known for her empathy, but when the subject was willing, she could extend that ability to all her senses, not only feelings. Rhys carried her blood, and his mother had taught him how to access the same power through written spells instead of spoken ones.
“Picture it in your mind,” he said.
The memory that Rhys caught hints of wasn’t clear in any sense, but it gave him impressions. Scents, mainly. Water carrying a faint essence of rotting wood and salt. Cypress and pine trees. He could hear the swishing sound of a tail moving in the water and a woman humming an indistinguishable tune.
His hands hurt. He’d blistered them poling through the water, ducking under branches, and following narrow pathways through the flooded forest. He was hungry. Desperately hungry.
He could hear birds in the distance, calling through the trees. A distinct bugle that cut through the dense tapestry of insects in the early morning fog.
“Rhys.”
He blinked his eyes open, his finger still tracing the spell over Sabine’s palm. Meera had her hand on his shoulder.
“Was I speaking?” he asked.
Meera looked confused. “Yes, in the Old Language.”
“What did I say?”
“You were singing an Irina song. An old children’s rhyme.”
“Which one?” He tried to reorient himself from the vision. “It was likely what Sabine was singing or thinking in the memory just now.”
Meera said, “Anya niyah, mashak tamak.”
Rhys drummed his fingers on his knee. “The boat rocks, pull to shore. I know that rhyme.”
“We all do, don’t we? It makes sense if Sabine was singing that,” Meera said. “She was frightened and alone.”
Sabine smiled. “Why would I sing a children’s song?”
“You were a singer desperate for another one of your kind to find you,” Rhys said. “Just because it’s a nursery rhyme doesn’t mean it’s not powerful.”
Anya Niyah was a simple song most Irin children were taught when they were small. But like all nursery rhymes, it had a hidden meaning.
Anya niyah. The boat is rocking. Things are unstable in the world. It was a plea and a prayer directed by children to the Creator when life was uncertain or they felt fear.
Mashak tamak. Pull to shore. Go home. Seek the familiar. The Creator responds to his children by leading them home.
But Irin adults knew that mashak tamak had another meaning as well. When a child who was singing it truly felt fear and need, it was a song of attraction. A simple magic that would pull an adult to them. It was a pull Rhys had felt himself.
“The Wolf found you because you called her,” Rhys said, looking up. “You called out while you were going through the bayou.” He squeezed Sabine’s hand before he released it. “I have a sense of the place now. It’s not clear, but it’s more than I had before.” He looked at Meera. “I need an audio file of birdcalls. I’m not familiar with the birds here. There was one in particular that was very distinctive.”
She nodded. “I can’t promise you they’ll be helpful. There were birds around in the early nineteenth century that are probably extinct now.”
“We can try.”
Sabine and Roch stood and exchanged a look before Sabine spoke. “If you don’t need us for anything else,” she said, “I’d like to spend the rest of the day with Roch.”
“Of course.” Rhys stood with them. “You know… a simple mating ceremony doesn’t take long. I know I don’t know either of you well, but if you want to be together, this sickness shouldn’t hold you back. And there are healing spells only a mate can sing.”
Sabine gave him a sad
smile. “You don’t understand.”
Rhys looked at Roch. “You’re devoted to her and no one else. You are her other half whether she is in her right mind or not. If you could dream walk with her, it could center her, even when her mind is unwell.” He looked at Sabine. “He won’t leave you. Not ever. Whether you think you’re the best for him or not. If you were sick in body, you wouldn’t have these doubts. Being sick in the mind is no different.”
Roch looked like he wanted to add something, but he didn’t. Rhys saw him squeeze Sabine’s hand tight before he nodded and pulled her away.
“Anya niyah,” Meera whispered behind him. “Mashak tamak.”
“Yes.” When life was uncertain, as it was so often for the Irin, it was even more important to have people you could call your home. Rhys turned to her. “Will they listen to me?”
“I don’t know. I’ve told them similar things, but they know I care for them. You’re an objective observer. They might give more weight to your words.”
He was frustrated that he couldn’t do more. It was quite obvious to him that they were mates in every sense except formally.
Rhys held out his hand to Meera. “Will you show me Havre Hélène?”
She had the same look in her eye as she’d had when he’d asked her to dance. Desire and stubborn defiance. He didn’t know what the latter was about, but the former was starting to become clear.
Meera was maddening and brilliant and confusing and enticing. She was untouchable and irresistible. Both his mind and body were attracted to her, but Rhys was starting to grasp a deeper truth.
With a woman like Meera—heir of a magical legacy or not—he might just fall in love.
They walked for an hour around the farm, Meera pointing out the different technical aspects of growing and processing sugarcane while Rhys listened. She managed to make anything interesting, just by her own passion and intellect.
“Is it very different here?” he asked. “From where you grew up?”
“Yes, very different. The weather, the people, the food. The closeness of the community here.” She waved at two women walking to the house from the cane fields. “Everyone works together. There are fewer boundaries. Fewer set roles. And of course a lot fewer people. We have a cook and a healer and a forewoman for the farm. But if the cook is tired, then my father fills in. If Alosia wants to visit the city, another will tend to our wounds. It’s very different in that sense.”
“Udaipur was more formal.”
“It is much more formal.” She smiled. “I’ll have to go back eventually. This is… kind of a vacation for me.”
“A vacation to find a lost strain of Irina martial magic?”
She glanced at him sideways. “I want to find history. You’re the one looking for war.”
“I’m looking for knowledge, but only to share it with those who would bring balance.”
Something about his words softened the firm set of her mouth.
“Balance,” she said. “Yes, Vasu and I talk about balance.”
“Now would be a good time to explain him.”
Meera shrugged. “There is nothing to explain. He appeared to Anamitra when she was a child and followed her through her life. I wouldn’t call him a friend or an ally, but… he’s not an enemy either. He’s not anything like other Fallen.”
“That I can confirm.” He glanced down and watched the light play in her hair as they walked under dappled shade. “And you’ve known him since you were a child?”
“As soon as I was given to Anamitra, Vasu appeared for a visit.”
“Given to her?”
Meera raised her eyebrows. “Yes, of course. I was her heir.”
“But your parents—”
“They were there. They have always been there. They were part of Anamitra’s retinue and then became my retinue when Anamitra passed into the heavens.”
Rhys paused under a spreading dogwood tree. “So your parents didn’t raise you?”
“In a sense they did.” A frown creased her forehead. “But it was mostly Anamitra and her servants.”
Rhys didn’t know what to say to that, but a part of him ached for her. “Were there other children?”
She shook her head. “Not that I was allowed to play with. But I had pets. Anamitra kept birds, and the Tomir warriors breed a wonderful line of taji dogs in Udaipur. They were my favorite.”
Dogs and birds and a fortress of people guarding her.
“Don’t try to make my childhood tragic, Rhys.” Meera smiled at him. “It wasn’t. It was very rich and very privileged, even if it was isolated. I had a wonderful life and I was surrounded by family. But I was raised for more than myself. The heir of Anamitra must return to Udaipur at some point, and she must make herself available to counsel any petitioners or scholars in need. That is how it must be, especially now that singers have returned to the Elder Council. They will need the wisdom that I carry.”
“And you’re content with this?”
She looked at him. “What about you? I know who you are too. Are you saying the great library of Glast doesn’t call you?”
“No, it doesn’t. I would be there if I wanted to be, but the work I’m doing in Istanbul is important. I want a stable and secure world for everyone, not just scribes. Singers deserve equal status in our world, and right now that means finding ways for them to defend themselves.”
“Yes, defense. Not war.”
“Sometimes war is defense.”
“How?” Meera asked. “Why do we limit ourselves in this way? What use is language if we don’t use it to communicate?”
“With our enemies?”
“With anyone.” She paused. “Yes, our enemies. Yes, with free Grigori. Yes, with each other. I’m not just here looking for lost magic or dying languages. The Irin here found a peace that lasted for five hundred years. No other population of Irin on earth have matched that before or since. I’m looking for the Wolf, yes. But I’m also looking for peace.”
He was staring at her and he couldn’t look away. She wasn’t just an idealist, she was a visionary.
She’ll either change the world or get herself killed.
And there was no way in heaven or on earth that Rhys could walk away.
“Well, I don’t know about finding peace,” he said. “But I can help you find the Wolf. Istanbul can exist without me for a while.”
“What about Glast?”
“There are many other scribes of Gabriel’s line in Glast,” he said. “They don’t need me.”
“But they want you, don’t they?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Well, I have been told I’m very handsome.”
Meera laughed and walked past him. “I said handsome, not very handsome.”
“The very was in your voice.” He followed along the path behind her. “I could hear it. I’m very perceptive.”
She laughed louder. “And very humble.”
“Exceptionally humble, really. Very clever.”
“Do continue.” She waved her hand in royal fashion. “I need to know my new assistant’s qualifications.”
Assistant? Yes, he could be her assistant. Especially if he got to watch her walk ahead of him like this, her hips swaying beneath another bright summer dress. “I’m also very curious.”
“And very persistent?”
“Very persistent.” He caught up with her. “And very… attracted.”
She stopped walking, but she didn’t look at him.
“Meera,” he said softly. “Surely you feel—”
“It’s not a good idea, Rhys.”
“Why? Because you don’t have relationships with Irin men?”
“That’s one of the reasons.”
“So you’ve never experienced—”
“Don’t assume.” She turned and looked up at him. A hint of the mischievous woman he’d met in New Orleans had returned. “There are songs of sacred lovemaking that are taught only by the singers of Udaipur. Scrolls of magical congress preserve
d by the Tomir warriors.” Her gaze was direct. “I am well-educated in all aspects of Irina history.”
She walked away, leaving Rhys’s mind reeling.
Scrolls of magical congress? He thought he’d read everything, but he hadn’t read those. His mind was churning and his body was screaming for him to follow Meera.
Tell me more.
Show me more.
Heaven above, please show me more.
A loud bell rang at the main house, signaling the start of the midday meal.
Roch and Sabine hid themselves away for the rest of the day, but Roch found him the next morning before Rhys had found any tea.
“Yes?” He opened the door of the small guest cottage. “Oh, it’s you. Good morning. Where can I find some damned tea?”
Roch smiled. “Main house will have it. Patiala only drinks tea, so there’s always hot water on the stove.”
“Good.” Rhys scratched the stubble he been indulging for the past few days and squinted at the bright morning on the farm. Verdant lawn stretched to the cane fields, dotted by cottages and small garden plots. Smoke rose from the outdoor kitchen behind the house, and he could already hear hammers and saws going. The haven was a hive of activity.
“How many scribes live here?” he asked.
“A few.” Roch shrugged. “Most of us came with our mothers or our mates. I was born at a different haven just north of here. My parents left a few year ago after the elder singers took seats on the council again, but I stayed.”
“Because of Sabine.”
Roch nodded.
“How is she this morning?”
“The same.” Roch started walking away. “Come up to the library in the main house when you’ve found your tea. Patiala wants to meet you.”
“Lovely.” Rhys yawned and stretched his arms over his head, enjoying the soft morning breeze that rustled the cane in the distance. Birds sang from the oak trees, and he could hear laughter and music from different corners of the haven. He even caught a hint of Sabine’s gramophone and wondered what Roch meant by “the same.”
It wasn’t his business. He should keep his nose out of it.
Meera’s mother on the other hand…
“I thought he was coming to be her mate. Did I misunderstand what Patiala said?”
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