Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set

by Carrie Summers

  I nodded, feeling him close.

  When he spoke again, his voice sounded pained. I think we should go on with the lesson.

  You’re right. We should. I gripped the hilt tighter, raised it before me.

  That’s good. You’re on guard. But keep your elbow and knees bent, ready to move. You are small and quick—that’s your advantage.

  Swallowing, I eased into a high crouch, right foot forward. Shuffling back and forth, I tested my ability to move in balance with my weapon arm ready to strike.

  Like this?

  Yes, your movements are graceful while disguising the ability to pounce. That’s good. Now, slice. Remember, without an enemy to absorb the blow, your muscles will need to stop your swing. Don’t put all your power behind it or you’ll strain something. This is about learning to move and building a true connection where we join.

  I slashed at the air, but the movement was awkward as if I were trying to deflect a flitting hummingbird. Adjusting my stance, I tried again, envisioning a sweeping arc that snagged on the woven-reed armor favored by the Waikert. Still, the attack lacked power.

  Lilik? May I show you?

  How?

  I can influence your movement—that’s how I’ve helped my wielders in the past. But I think with you, I can do more. If you open to me.

  In the same way that I open my thoughts?

  He hesitated. Not just your thoughts. Try offering more. Your spirit, I suppose.

  I nodded. Swallowing, I closed my eyes. Mist from the fountain wet my face, while from a rooftop somewhere behind, a pigeon cooed. Beneath my hand, the dagger grew warm.

  It’s not working. You told me you have the ability to put up walls. Try the opposite. Imagine them dropping further. Try to forget where you are.

  One by one, I focused on my senses. Where the cobbles were cold against the bottom of my feet, I imagined numbness. The chill damp that collected on my skin faded. Quiet splashing from the fountain pinched off into silence.

  Tyrak wrapped me. Abruptly, he was in the square behind me, his body warm against mine. His feet moved to press against the outsides of mine, and his hand encircled mine on the dagger’s hilt.

  I gasped.

  Yes, he said. Like that.

  I swallowed, falling deeper, letting him direct me. Hugging my waist with his other arm, he gave a signal with his fingertips, pads pressing into my ribs and urging me to shuffle back. Quick-stepping, we covered a few paces. With firm pressure on my weapon hand, he dropped the dagger into a low, defensive position. Then, tensing behind me, he prepared us to spring. Exploding from the cobblestones, I leapt forward and stabbed, following with an upward movement to parry an imaginary blade.

  Every motion, he guided me, leading as if in a dance. We sidestepped, slashed, moved to the pulse of the blood in my veins. Never clumsy to begin with, I danced across the makeshift arena. My eyes were open now, and the glittering droplets from the fountain gave the sense of a thousand candles shining around us. On the balls of our feet, we slid through the night, cutting down enemies.

  I lost myself in the sensations. I imagined his heart beating, inches higher than my own, the vibrations passing from his chest into my back. His hips shifted moments before his feet, telling me how to move.

  You’re doing great, Tyrak whispered in my ear.

  I leaped, dagger pointed down, ready to stab a phantom enemy.

  From the edge of the square, a loud, slow clapping of hands cracked the night, shattering the illusion and ruining my concentration. My toe turned under when I landed. I tumbled but managed to turn it into a roll. The dagger flipped from my hand and skittered across the courtyard.

  Coming out of the roll, my first thought was for my weapon. I sprinted to fetch it and returned to a ready stance before scanning the shadows for the source of the noise.

  “I’m sorry, Lilik. It was so beautiful—amazing really. I couldn’t help applauding. Are you okay?”

  Raav stepped from between a pair of buildings. Lit by the moon, his face was achingly handsome. For a moment, I felt the doubling of self that had been so difficult to handle on Ioene. I was Zyri, living in her time, in love with Tyrak. And I was Lilik, failed nightcaller, currently failing to gather support to return to Ioene.

  “How did you find me?” I asked, wincing at my sharp tone. I hadn’t meant for it to come out that way.

  “I asked. You’re a gutterborn hero, remember. You can’t just walk around the slums and expect not to be noticed. Not after the Nocturnai.”

  “Frask certainly noticed me,” I said. My free hand started to tremble. I shoved it in my pocket so he wouldn’t see.

  Ravv ran his hands through his hair then curled them into fists. When he lowered his arms, his whole body seemed to vibrate with anger.

  “So it’s true?” he asked. “He hit you?”

  I nodded, not trusting my words.

  Jaw clenched, Raav looked to the side. His nostrils flared as he inhaled. “He’ll regret it, Lilik. I swear to you.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “But don’t you see? I can’t just stand by. Not after that. Before we left Ioene, I promised myself I would be strong enough to deserve you. And this is my first test.”

  “But you don’t need to prove anything,” I said. “We survived Ioene together.”

  He stepped toward me but stopped short, his eyes abruptly anguished. “My brother hit you, Lilik. I can’t live under his roof after that. But you and I talked about making the return to Ioene more important than our relationship. And the only way I can influence the Council is through Frask. So what do I do?”

  Raav moved to the fountain. Sitting on its rim, he extended a hand, inviting me to join him. My emotions were a whirlpool, first the experience with Tyrak and now this. Raav’s brows drew together when I hesitated. I forced myself to step toward him, one foot after the other. We had enough to deal with without him learning how confused the dagger made me feel.

  “Every time I close my eyes, I see his hand smacking your face,” Raav said, his voice tight. “It’s killing me.”

  I touched my cheek at the memory, wincing at the tenderness. No doubt I’d have an ugly bruise. But he was right; we’d agreed that nothing was more important than retaking Ioene. We needed to keep perspective.

  After slipping the dagger into my satchel, I sat beside him and touched his knee. “I’m sorry I was distant this morning. I was worried you’d changed your mind about me.”

  Raav faced me. “No! Of course not.”

  “What happens if you leave your House?” I asked.

  “If I anger Frask, he’ll just work harder to undermine us.”

  “How much influence does he really have?”

  Raav shrugged. “Right now, Katrikki and I are your only allies among the traders. I guess he can’t change things that much, considering.”

  “Then you should leave,” I said “But do it quietly. You can confront your brother after we secure help from the Council.”

  Raav’s jaw worked, muscles knotting beneath his cheek, but eventually he nodded. “I won’t forget what he did to you. I’m just postponing some of my response.”

  As Raav scooted closer, I leaned into him. With the dagger hidden away, my memories of Tyrak faded. Raav was real. Actual blood flowed through his veins. Relieved, I exhaled. I was Lilik Boket. Zyri died centuries ago.

  “Have you talked to Katrikki?” I asked.

  “She’s still locked away. But I—” Raav snatched my hand. He squeezed, reassuring, before continuing. “—I spoke to Mareti. She’s hurt. I understand—so many people assumed our parents would negotiate a betrothal.”

  The mention of her name didn’t provoke the same jealousy I’d felt on Ioene. But I still wanted to avoid the subject. “If you leave your House, where will you go?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Whatever happens is temporary—we still have Ashkalan, right? We’ll rebuild it and live the way we want.” He reached up and cupped my face. I swayed, dizzied
by the fresh memory of Tyrak touching Zyri in that way. Noting my quick intake of breath, he brought his lips to mine before I could protest.

  All at once, I wanted him with my whole soul. I wanted him to be for me what I’d never have from Tyrak. But just as I fell into the kiss, I felt a cry of anguish.

  Zyri . . .

  Nearly choking on Tyrak’s heartache, I pulled away. Raav slowly opened his eyes, longing written on his face.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have asked permission.”

  “It’s not that,” I said. But how could I tell him that Tyrak was as confused as I? That feeling me kiss another, for him, was like watching Zyri forsake him.

  I couldn’t.

  “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

  Raav’s face hardened, and I knew he didn’t believe me. As he stood, I saw him don his armor. Invisible, but effective all the same.

  “I’ll find you after I’ve settled with Frask,” he said.

  “Raav?”

  His eyes flashed when he turned. “What?”

  “Just give me a little time, okay?”

  His lips thinned as he nodded. All gentleness had vanished from his face when he turned and stalked from the courtyard.

  Chapter Five

  INSIDE THE SMALL room I shared with my family, the crackling fire cast a warm glow on our humble collection of possessions. I wondered what Trader Yiltak would think of our home. The entry hall for House Yiltak was larger than our entire space. Shrugging, I grabbed the iron hook from beside the fireplace and used it to nudge the metal arm supporting the soup kettle into the fire. Flame licked the blackened bottom of the pot.

  Not knowing how long I’d wait before Trader Yiltak arrived, I pulled out a basket containing scraps of leather, an awl, waxed thread, a handful of precious grommets. After measuring and marking the leather to fit the blade of Tyrak’s dagger, I grabbed a pair of heavy snips and cut out pieces for a simple sheath. The distraction only worked for a short time. Soon enough, I was on my feet, pacing. I needed this meeting to go well.

  Outside the window, the narrow street was aglow with the green flame marking the gutter district. As had been the custom for more than a century, city light-bearers stood on street corners with colored lamps held aloft. Part sentry, part poet, they spoke to passersby and kept an eye on the street. But their most important role was warning the population of attacks. Ordinarily, the keepers of the harbor guardstones burned yellow fires in the small watchtowers capping the stones. But if a warship were spotted, the flame would flare red. Horns would sound, alerting the city, and even the outlying districts would know of the threat by the change in color of the street lamps.

  Red for blood. Red for fear.

  Though I had no love for the usual, sickly “gutterborn green,” it was much better than the alternative.

  A hooded figure swept past the window. I tensed when the rapping came at the door. Trader Yiltak had found me. I’d purposefully avoided telling her my address. Let her come to the gutterborn quarter and ask around. Maybe it would give her a better notion of how we were forced to live under the traders’ defense tax. It had been well over a century since the commoners signed the defense lien, forfeiting our right to own property in exchange for the traders paying for a mercenary army to save us from the Waikert. The defense tax was supposed to buy back our homes. It might have worked if the Trader Council had helped the Kiriilti people build their own army, or if the Waikert had been less vicious. But the traders had no real reason to change the arrangement. Not when the gutterborn kept paying the tax.

  I tucked Tyrak’s dagger into the satchel hanging on the back of my chair and I opened the door. Looming over me, Trader Yiltak regarded me with hard eyes. She wasn’t pleased with my demand, but I thought I saw new respect in her expression. She did not expect an easy negotiation. I thought back to our first meeting, before I sailed with the Nocturnai. On that night, Trader Yiltak had seemed as intimidating as a mythical beast. Now, I’d forced her to meet me on my terms. Ioene had changed me.

  “Come in,” I said, stepping aside.

  She ducked as she stepped over the threshold. After scanning the room, she stepped to Da’s kitchen chair, the largest in our home.

  “I’ve come to you, as requested. I’d like you to honor that by closing the curtain. It would be quite bad for Yiltak’s standing if I’m recognized here.”

  I considered for a moment, wondering if bending to her request would put me on weaker ground, but decided to save my arguments for the points that most mattered. Tugging the curtain to slide it along the rod, I shut out the scene beyond the wavy glass.

  Trader Yiltak pushed her hood back, showing her close-cropped hair, the customary style of a head trader. “So . . . this figurine? Frask Ovintak called it the Yiltak Effigy.”

  “I assume you’re aware of it.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Even if I were, I’d be foolish to admit it. Trader Ovintak spoke as if it were implicated in the Nocturnai’s failure.”

  “Seems strange, doesn’t it? How could a small statue affect the events on Ioene?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?” she said.

  She wasn’t going to give up information easily. I pivoted, taking a different direction of attack. “I assume you checked your home before you came here. The figurine is gone. The simplest explanation is that Moanet gave it to me, right?”

  Trader Yiltak’s nostrils flared. “Let’s assume I looked through our possessions and found it missing. Further, let’s assume I know the properties of this little statuette. Where would that leave us?”

  I’d remained standing, facing the woman. To gain time, I strode to the table and pulled out another chair.

  “I was considering that we might help one another,” I said as I sat.

  Her perfectly arched brows raised. “Go on.”

  I cocked my head, thinking. I had a small amount of leverage on her already—she didn’t realize that the existence of the figurine had been an open secret among the traders for decades. But I wanted more advantage before laying out my demands.

  “Is Moanet all right? I noticed she didn’t attend the meeting at the council hall.” Of course, I knew she’d eloped, but I wanted to hear what Trader Yiltak had been telling her peers.

  “She’s away on a trading mission. As you probably know, Moanet is my only heir. In the event that I die prematurely, she will have a large operation to manage. I thought it best that she begin taking on responsibility now.”

  “Oh, interesting. So she didn’t sail away with a husband you disapproved of? Perhaps she was just trying to mislead me.”

  Trader Yiltak’s eyes widened, and I knew I had her.

  “Seems you’re full of surprises, Nightcaller Boket.”

  “You know Moanet gave me the figurine. You must have drawn the conclusion that I have no nightcalling talent.”

  “Yet you claim to channel the nightstrands’ spirits. Again, I wonder why I should believe you.”

  “Well, you won’t take my word, nor that of the other traders. Katrikki Korpit saw the nightstrands swarming me for sanctuary. Raav Ovintak and Islilla Thuvet can confirm that I collapsed a tunnel simply by laying hands on it.”

  “The volcano was abnormally active. An earthquake could have destabilized the cavern.”

  I stared her in the eyes. “You’re grasping for any evidence that might refute my claim, while refusing to listen to the simple explanation.”

  Laying a hand casually on the table, Trader Yiltak leaned back in her chair. “That, of course, is the way that traders negotiate. Do you think I raised House Yiltak from middling to dominating by simply accepting the words offered by others?”

  In the fireplace, the soup kettle bubbled over, droplets sizzling when they fell upon the coals. “A moment,” I said. With the hook, I snagged the kettle holder and swung the stew out over the hearth. “Hungry?” I offered as I ladled myself a bowlful.

  Her mouth twisted, amused. “Plucky one, are
n’t you. I see why Moanet chose you for her plans.”

  Sauntering back to the table, I kicked out the chair leg and sat. I lifted a bite and blew across it. “I wasn’t the same person then. If I hadn’t been trapped by my own stupid lie, I never would have gone.”

  “And now?”

  Would I still choose to journey to Ioene after everything that happened? Most likely, Mieshk would have seized control of the Nocturnai with or without the Effigy. Without me and Paono, the strands would have had no defense against her. So yes, I supposed I’d join the expedition regardless.

  “I wouldn’t have a choice. Ioene would be doomed otherwise. Probably the Kiriilt Islands, too.”

  Trader Yiltak traced circles on the tabletop with a fingertip. “So . . . where does this leave us, Lilik Boket.”

  I swallowed a bite of stew—not bad. Either Da’s cooking had improved in my absence, or I was still enjoying the break from boiled jellyfish.

  “I know things you would rather keep from the other traders,” I said.

  “Perhaps.”

  “And I need an ally on the Council.”

  “Say I did believe you,” Trader Yiltak said. “Of course I’d support the ousting of Mieshk Ulstat. According to you, healing Ioene will give us access to magic much more powerful than nightcrafting. The trader Houses who take control of the restoration will benefit greatly.”

  I gritted my teeth. I hadn’t proposed we retake Ioene to give the traders more power. But without the support of the Council, I didn’t have the resources to defeat Mieshk. I’d have to find a way out of the dilemma. But right now, I needed to Trader Yiltak’s support.

  “Then you agree need to remove Mieshk? We don’t have much time if we want to get there and back before the storm season.”

  She raised a hand, cautioning. “I’m not saying that. You have a lot to learn about negotiation.”

  “Then what are you saying?” I asked.

  “No trader maintains a position of power by moving rashly. It’s true, you know things that could damage my reputation. And I have the means to erase your threat. But I’d rather not go that far.”