The Theft of Sunlight

by Intisar Khanani

  “You realize how very strange all this is,” Stonemane says.

  “We . . . have known it to be a danger for decades.”

  “It is not a danger I’ve heard of before, in my various travels.”

  I’m beginning to think that it is one Menaiya alone faces. “Please.” I gesture toward the cup. “That’s why I need you to look at these.”

  For a long moment he hesitates, and then he sighs and sets the opal aside, focusing on the cup instead. When the Speaker used it, I’d barely registered it as more than a simple silver cup, without stem or base. As Stonemane studies it, I see that even the design upon it is simple: an embossed pattern of interwoven lines, at their center an inset stone—a topaz, semiprecious, and filled with the faint gleam and glitter of stored magic. The topaz must hold the fount of magic needed to power the spell embedded in the pattern around it. Without it, the cup would run out of magic after only a few uses.

  Ever so carefully, Stonemane sets the cup down between us. “Where do these cups come from?”

  “There’s something very serious about them, isn’t there?”

  “Kelari.”

  “The Circle of Mages,” I admit. “They’re provided to the Speakers by the Circle.”

  “Ah. Then it is possible I have said too much already.”

  “You haven’t said anything,” I complain. “And you are the royal family’s guest. If someone is preying on their people, it would be a service to share what you can tell. Maybe even a duty.” I eye him hopefully, well aware that I have no argument whatsoever, but that he spoke so seriously of the duties of a guest when he stayed with us.

  He lets out a soft, almost pained laugh. “Oh, very well, kelari. I want you to be careful with what I’m telling you. As a delegate of my people, it is not my purpose here to create trouble. What I tell you must not be traced back to me, or this conversation.”

  I meet his gaze. It contains the liquid ripple of the ocean, deep and unknowable, and so very much not human. “I give you my word.”

  He touches a finger to the engravings. “This is an enchantment. Whatever liquid is put in this cup will take on its properties: to destroy the uppermost memories in the person who swallows it, and to wipe out of the blood any remaining trace of the marker placed in the victim—the marker that would identify them to your so-called Darkness.”

  “You mean that those two things are separate—that the memories don’t need to be lost?”

  “Don’t they?”

  Of course they do; as Bren noted, if the memories aren’t lost, how much easier would it be to hunt down the snatchers? I take a steadying breath. “The goblets prove the mages are removing our rescued children’s memories, then.”

  “That, and nothing more.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s not a particularly nice thing to do, but it doesn’t prove a wider involvement, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

  I nod. The mages could even argue that their intention had been one of mercy at the outset, to reduce the impact of the trauma of slavery upon those who escaped. And it would be my argument against theirs, what the truth is. I need more proof—either to exonerate the Circle or condemn them. But this, what I have now? It’s not enough to do either.

  Stonemane pushes himself up from the bench. “And now I really have said enough.”

  “Wait.” I reach out a hand. “Can you tell how the children might be marked?”

  “Because the method to mark them must also have a magical source?” Stonemane queries, one brow arching eloquently. “An excellent avenue of inquiry, kelari, but in this case I cannot tell you anything. The marker must be there. From the cup, I can tell only that the marker would be wiped out.”

  “But you’re sure it’s in their blood? How would it get there?”

  Stonemane frowns. He’s ready to leave, but still he answers. “I am certain. Possibly, as with the Blessing, the marker for the Darkness is ingested. I cannot say from what you have shown me.”

  “Is there anything else?” I ask.

  “Only this: I cannot be a witness for you, and I do not recommend taking on the Circle of Mages without careful consideration. And irrefutable evidence. You are working with the princess, are you not?”

  I nod.

  “Make sure that the prince and king are aware as well.

  “I understand.”

  Stonemane sighs. “I should not be surprised that, within a week or two of your arrival, you have set about trying to save someone. Be careful, kelari. The opposition you are up against in this is a great deal more dangerous than anything you would meet in your own town.”

  “I’m aware of that,” I say, resting my wounded arm on my lap. I’ve already crossed a thief lord. I have no interest in inciting the fury of a mage. “I’ll be careful.”

  Stonemane purses his lips and says, warily, “I have also discharged my obligations, kelari.”

  I grin up at him, well aware that I’ll call on him again if I have no other option. “I thank you for your help today, verayn.”

  His lips twitch as if he cannot help being amused—but then he catches himself, his features sliding into a cool mask, and, with a slight bow, he departs.

  Chapter

  36

  I remain on my bench for another hour, just sitting and thinking. The sun creeps over the edge of the roof and warms the courtyard, and a few pages hurry by, and, once, a young noblewoman passes through with her toddler in her arms. I watch them go by in silence, grateful that this child, born to a wealthy family, will likely never be snatched.

  But mostly I am considering what I know: that the mages have enchanted the cups in unnecessary ways—suggesting the wish to hide something; that the Darkness is a magical attack, and something that the Circle might want to hide; and that they would not be involved with the snatchers if there were not some gain for them. People do not destroy others for no reason at all.

  There is also the consideration that the Darkness doesn’t take those children who are snatched—otherwise, they would be useless as slaves. So the snatchers must have a ward that keeps the children safe unless they venture past its boundaries. A ward that the Circle would never admit exists, that I wouldn’t have believed could exist either, if it weren’t for Niya’s own wards, constructed following her own intuition to achieve the same end. It’s not impossible, just different.

  The snatchers are not politically powerful—at least, not openly so. So the gain must be something else. The simplest, most obvious answer is gold. I’ve seen what the Black Scholar would do to protect his territory, his power, and thus also his wealth. It should therefore come as no surprise that the mages, elite and educated as they are, would be equally ruthless in amassing and protecting their own sources of wealth.

  But all I have is conjecture, and the belief that the Circle is directly involved with the snatchers.

  With a sigh, I gather up my things and return to my room. I have just enough time to dress before attending Alyrra to lunch. In the brief moment before we depart, I mention I have news for her and Kestrin.

  “I’ll ask him to join us after the meal,” she assures me.

  Lunch is a quiet affair, with only a select few noble families in attendance—including Melly and Filadon, whom I am delighted to see—and no sign of the foreign prince. He has clearly been excluded from the royal family’s inner circle.

  Kestrin and Garrin return with us to the royal wing after the meal. I would have preferred only Kestrin, but I remember Alyrra saying that the prince trusts this cousin of his implicitly. I fetch the bag with the cup and opal, and return to the princess’s suite just as a servant sets out tea. Kestrin has already dismissed his attendants, and Alyrra gives Jasmine leave to go.

  Once we are alone, Alyrra turns her attention to the men. “Verayn, you will remember that when I appointed Kelari Amraeya, it was with the specific hope of having her look into some questions I had regarding the disappearance of children in the city.”
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br />   Garrin frowns, glancing toward Kestrin, who nods soberly.

  “I expected it would take some time to learn anything of substance, but Kelari Amraeya has been exceptionally effective.” She turns to me. “Will you tell us what you learned from your visit to the brickyard, and the children?”

  It’s a hard story to tell without implicating anyone—specifically, Bren. I name him only as a contact who took me first to the brickyard, and who then managed to help the children escape. I relay their stories of being transported by water, all but the one, who was sold into slavery upon arrival in the city.

  “After they were blessed, I was given the items used in the Blessing. I have had someone with magical abilities assess them.”

  “Who would that be?” Garrin asks. He sits forward, elbows on his knees, listening intently.

  “I cannot say, verin. I promised to keep their identity hidden.”

  “And we are to believe someone whose name we don’t know?”

  “There is no concern there,” Kestrin says, touching Garrin’s shoulder. “I’m sure we can have them assessed again by someone we trust. What did you learn, kelari?”

  “That the cup serves two functions, separately. To remove the marker in the blood that draws the Darkness to it, and to wash away those memories brought forward by the opal.”

  “One does not entail the other, then,” Alyrra surmises.

  “No,” I agree.

  Kestrin shakes his head. “What did you mean by ‘a marker that draws the Darkness to it’? What I have heard is this Darkness is already within the children. Or”—he shrugs—“that it isn’t even real.”

  “It’s real. And it’s sent. It seeks out the marker in their blood.”

  Kestrin rocks back, his expression shuttering.

  Beside him, Garrin remains perfectly still, eyes narrowed. “You are suggesting that it is a magical attack?”

  “That is what the evidence suggests, yes.” I take the opal and cup from the bag and offer them to Alyrra. “It would be best to have someone you trust look at these to confirm what I’ve learned.”

  Kestrin rubs a hand across his mouth. “Let us assume, for a moment, that this is true. That there is a magical attack, which the common people have come to call the Darkness, that obliterates the minds of children who escape the slavers.”

  Garrin shakes his head. “You are effectively arguing that there’s a kingdom-wide conspiracy to rid the streets of unwanted children. That seems unlikely at best, and very dangerous ground if you attempt to then implicate the Circle.”

  “I’m aware it’s dangerous ground,” Kestrin says. “But if the Circle is involved with slavers—”

  “Cousin, the Circle just tried to have a spare heir declared after myself, not even a month ago, when you were absent for a few days. They could try to have you and your wife declared unfit if this gets out, on the grounds that you are attempting to undermine them. They could succeed.”

  “But if they are involved with the slavers, wouldn’t that undermine them?” Alyrra demands, echoing my confusion. She holds the cup loosely in her hand, forgotten.

  Garrin smiles derisively. “No. You haven’t any mages in Adania, have you?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Your country is too small for such a rare talent to arise, and even if one did, such a child would leave to study beneath a trained master. But we have the Circle.”

  Kestrin sighs. “What my cousin is trying to say, veriana, is that the Circle is strong here.”

  “How strong?” Alyrra demands.

  Kestrin exchanges a glance with Garrin. Then he says, “Imagine the power of a single mage, veriana. Grant him a pair of amulets within which to store his power, and he becomes a formidable force. We’ve all heard of lands taken over and ruled by a sorcerer until their power—their amulets—could be broken. The Circle is nearly forty mages strong. What could my father do if the Circle turned upon him? What could he do if they decided to name themselves rulers in his stead?”

  Nothing. That’s what. I swallow hard. I had never thought of it from this perspective. The Circle swears loyalty to the crown, they’ve upheld the true king for generations . . . but I see now it’s a choice. One they can change at any time. And with forty mages united, the violence they could do Menaiya if they so choose would be devastating.

  “You mean,” Alyrra hazards, “that your family are essentially prisoners to the Circle?”

  Kestrin winces. “We do what is necessary to pacify the Circle. Grant them what lands and avenues of income they require. Ensure their access to the gems they need to create amulets. Ignore whatever kickbacks they might receive from those to whom they grant their favor. In return, they help secure our borders, perform services to the crown, and . . .”

  “And allow us to continue to rule,” Garrin says. “However much that rule may be worth.”

  I never imagined the royal family’s position or power to be so precarious. It’s stunning.

  “Why don’t they take the throne for themselves?” Alyrra asks.

  “They don’t need to,” Kestrin says darkly. “They hold the power of coercion over my family, and gain legitimacy by paying us lip service. But it’s no small threat that they are lining up their own choice of heirs after Garrin. Until this past month, we had every expectation that the Circle’s heir would eventually reach the throne.”

  And now he doesn’t believe so? I glance between the royals but don’t dare interrupt. Alyrra nods, as if this makes perfect sense. Something happened during those days that Kestrin was absent, when Alyrra gave up her post as goose girl and returned to the palace. Something that has changed the balance of power even just a little, in favor of the royal family.

  “So, there’s hope our line might yet persist,” Garrin says dryly. “But only if we do not upset the Circle. Whether you truly believe the Circle is involved with these slavers or not, you cannot pursue this angle. Anything that could be construed as a direct attack on the Circle will destroy us.”

  Alyrra glances from the men to me, as if I might have some idea what to do, when it never even occurred to me the Circle might be the true power behind the throne.

  “It doesn’t mean you have to give up this work,” Kestrin offers. “It just means that we aren’t in a position to challenge the Circle yet. We will get there.”

  Garrin snorts. “So you hope, cousin. Allow me to point out that none of the kings that have come before have managed to bring the Circle to heel.”

  “Even so, if the slavers are, in fact, stealing children from across our land, then we can work to stop them. But we must focus on them directly, and leave out the Circle.”

  “You can’t leave out the Circle,” Garrin observes. “You said yourself that we ignore kickbacks the Circles receive for services rendered. They’re not going to be pleased when you declare war on the people who—if the Darkness is what you say, kelari—have been lining their pockets for decades.”

  “We are hardly fit rulers if we sell our people’s children for our own security,” Alyrra says. “If the Circle requires some replacement in income to satisfy them, then perhaps we can look to that in a way that doesn’t risk our people.”

  Kestrin smiles. “Well said, veriana.”

  Garrin considers his cousin and then turns his gaze to Alyrra. “I am not convinced the problem of these snatchers is as wide as you believe, veria, but if you are both set on this, then let me serve as your shield. You are new here, and if you begin your tenure by undermining the alliances the Circle has established, they will do their best to remove you and Kestrin from power.”

  “What do you propose?” Alyrra asks.

  “That I take on this effort. Your attendant can still report to you, but let me be the one to order any initiative against the slavers.”

  “Cousin, you are as vulnerable as we are,” Kestrin argues. “Possibly more so.”

  Garrin shrugs, a gesture both rueful and resigned. “Exactly. So preserve yourselves, and let me wor
ry about myself.”

  The conversation has shifted, and I know Garrin is speaking about something else now. Whatever danger the family faced, Garrin hasn’t cleared it. I remember Zaria’s words about a curse, and about the Fae mage being here to offer his aid. Even if a curse can’t last generations by definition, there’s some trouble here, and I would bet our horse farm there’s magic at its root.

  Garrin turns to me. “If you have another way to identify your slavers, kelari, another way to stop them, then we can take that approach.”

  I glance at Alyrra, and she dips her head, her expression grim. So I nod once to Garrin.

  When I began this work, the snatchers seemed a ruthless and dangerous enemy. I’ve a feeling there’s a great deal worse I have no idea about, and the Circle is just the tip of it.

  Chapter

  37

  When I return to my room, I find a letter waiting from Ani: her first. It is short, slightly disjointed, and utterly heartbreaking.

  I hope you are well, dear friend, she writes. I hope you are finding out the things you intended to learn, though I realize now that there is little hope. Not for us, at least. Each day that passes, I feel like I lose a little more of my sister. I want to hold on to every memory of her. I don’t remember what the last thing was that I said to Seri. I forgot what we did together the night before she disappeared, but Mama reminded me, and I’m holding on to that, but, Rae, she’s fading. I’m afraid one day I’ll forget what Seri looks like. I’m terrified I’ll wake up one morning and won’t think of her, won’t miss her, because that’s all I have left. I am trying to hold on to her, and it hurts so much, and I do not know what you are doing, but please, whatever it is you can do there, do it.

  I love you, my friend. Come home when you’ve done what you can. I know you can’t fix or solve everything. I know you’ll try for what you can do. I wish I could be there with you, doing something. Be safe and know I miss you.

  I sit at my desk, the letter before me, and wish I could hug my friend, just sit with her and hold her through her grief. I know she has other friends, and loving parents, but I want to be there as well.