Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set

by Carrie Summers

  I sidestepped to one of the cabinets and picked up the pair of goblets set out atop it. Pressing a palm against the glass, I lifted it and noticed the yellow hand print left behind. Islilla, Heiklet’s sentinel, had found the glasses while we searched Ashkalan for sailcloth.

  “I saw a trader leaving the ship while I was negotiating a fare out here.”

  “It’s a problem. The Council has been pressing me to hand over Zyri’s Promise.”

  I stared at him, aghast. “She’s yours!”

  Raising his brows, he nodded agreement. “I agree with you. But you know traders. They’re looking for a return on the investment they made in the Nocturnai.”

  “But they didn’t buy the Evaeni. You did.”

  “True. And I worked hard for the years between Nocturnais to make sure I had the funds to keep her afloat. The trader Houses contributed rations for the expedition and raw materials for the forges. That’s about it.”

  “Then it’s ridiculous for them to claim her.”

  He shrugged. “Have traders ever been concerned with fairness?”

  “I guess not,” I said, sighing. “So what will you do?”

  “In truth, they can’t take her from me easily. She’s swifter than their best warships, by ten-fold. In fact, with the blockade the Ulstats have set at the harbor mouth, Zyri’s Promise is the only vessel that can slip in and out unscathed. Cannons or not, they’ve no hope of maneuvering fast enough to damage her. But I can’t outright refuse the traders’ demands, not if we want any sway with the Council regarding the return voyage to Ioene.”

  “With the Ulstats blocking the harbor, I don’t see how we’ll manage that anyway,” I said.

  The captain’s chest expanded to fill his brass-buttoned coat. “No,” he said, exhaling. “It doesn’t seem likely.”

  “What’s next then?”

  Captain Altak regarded me with eyes that betrayed his lack of confidence. “That’s why I wanted to get a messenger to you. I’m planning to cast off tonight. We’ll sail just after dusk to better avoid the Ulstat fleet. I’ll head to the lesser Kiriilti ports and try to drum up support. Maybe with a pincer attack, bringing ships from behind and the harbor at once, we’ll be able to oust the Ulstats long enough to make for Ioene.”

  “What about Raav? I can’t get him out of the prison alone.”

  Sliding a paperweight back and forth across his desk, he eyed me from beneath bushy brows. “You’re going to have to, Lilik. I heard you had sway with Trader Yiltak. Use it. Go to Katrikki. The Korpits may help if given the right reasons.”

  At the thought of contacting Katrikki, my stomach turned. No matter how I tried, I still didn’t like her.

  “I’ll try,” I said.

  “There’s the older Korpit sister . . .” he said gently. “I think you’ll find her sympathetic.”

  At once, my face went hot. Even though Raav had broken off their relationship, their near-betrothal before the Nocturnai would still be strong in trader memory. And from what Raav had said about Mareti, she was kind. She’d speak for him, even after he’d told her he wouldn’t marry her.

  “Yes, you’re right,” I said.

  “Lilik,” he said, eyes serious.

  “Yes?”

  “I think we need to be honest about our chances here. You know that it doesn’t look good, right? For Raav or for Ioene.”

  Balling my fists, I nodded. “But I won’t give up on him. Or Paono.”

  “I’ll be back in two weeks at the latest. Do what you can to gather support here. And if you find any way to pry the Ulstats out of their blockade, by all means . . .”

  My next question leaped from my throat unexpectedly. “Did you know there are nightstrands on Stanik Island?”

  His brows reached high on his forehead. “I had no idea. Does Nyralit know?” Behind his eyes, I glimpsed a flicker of worry that his lover had kept something from him.

  “I don’t think so. I only sensed one just after a man died last night. I’m afraid to tell anyone, even if it might prove my story to the traders.”

  He nodded. “Rightly considered. If they knew, I can’t predict what they might do. I’ll tell Nyralit tonight, after we’re clear of Stanik Island’s waters. She might have ideas on how to use the information. You can trust her, of course. She believes everything you’ve told her about the strands.”

  And likely grieves daily for what she’s done to them, I thought.

  “I learned there are heavy storms striking the Outer Isles,” I said. “Be safe.”

  The captain’s face grew serious with the news. Most likely, he understood what the storms meant. “You too, channeler. Don’t take any chances, okay?”

  “No chances.”

  With that, I stepped outside. As soon as he spotted me, Gaff hurried over, his crutch thumping against the deck. He gestured at one of the deckhands to prepare the dinghy.

  Abruptly, I felt weak. Of the half-dozen people I called friends in this world, four were leaving, one was locked in the prison, and one was fighting for his life—and for the safety of all the world—on the night-soaked slopes of Ioene.

  The Ulstats had turned on us and were ready to attack Stanik Island if we didn’t cave to their ridiculous demands.

  What was next? A Waikert attack? I shuddered at the thought.

  Climbing into the rowboat, I pasted on a brave face.

  “Thanks, Gaff,” I said. “The captain is lucky to have such loyal people close.”

  “See you soon,” he returned.

  As the pulley squealed and the boat lowered toward the sea, Tyrak spoke in my thoughts.

  We’ll solve this, Lilik. I know we will.

  I hope so, I returned.

  The boat hit the water with a splash.

  Chapter Eleven

  CROSSING INTO THE gutter slums, I felt the day’s first hunger pangs. When I was young, I’d become accustomed to them; we never had quite enough food, and certainly had never enjoyed the luxury of a midday meal. But on the voyage to Ioene, even when forced to forage for my own food, I’d forgotten what it felt like to go through day after day with an empty belly. My family had more than enough money to eat well now, but between my mother’s arrival and Raav’s arrest, I’d forgotten. Breakfast was long gone from my belly. I made a vow to pause and eat something once I returned home. Besides, it would give me time to think.

  Most parts of the gutter slums hadn’t changed much in the years I’d been alive. Somewhere between untidy and downright filthy, each narrow alley and square had its own peculiar odor, depending on who lived nearby, what trash they left outside their buildings, and whether they had a particular trade. For instance, my family’s business had a reputation for filling the nearby streets with disgusting clouds of scent whenever a rotten egg was mistakenly cracked inside its carton.

  On the edge of the slums nearest the quay, a different sort of scenery soured the mood. About fifteen years after the defense bargain was signed, a wide swath of the slums had been razed, the gutterborn evicted. In the place of the shanties and alleys, the traders had ordered stone-walled barracks built. The mercenary army had been lodged there since.

  During my younger years, the soldiers kept to themselves. But as the time since the last Nocturnai had stretched through five, six, seven years, and the nightforged weapons were slowly lost to breakage, theft, or misplacement, soldiers took more injuries in skirmishes against the Waikert. Some died. The gutterborn weren’t to blame, but the soldiers took out their frustration on their gutter neighbors anyway. The area nearest the barracks was a dour place, its inhabitants surly and destitute. And the smell—rotting food, spilled liquor, fish skeletons cast into the alleys—matched the setting.

  Though this neighborhood—we called it the barracks strip—was the most direct route home, I steered wide around it.

  While I walked, I ran my thumb over Tyrak’s pommel.

  I’m sorry if what the captain said upset you, he said after a while. About us . . . the confusion.

/>   Me, too, Tyrak. But we’ll figure it out.

  Would you like to train today?

  My stomach tingled at the memory of his body behind mine.

  I would, I said. After lunch?

  How about now? A soldier is more than a set of battle reflexes and sword thrusts. To stay alive, you must be alert. Always.

  And you think I’m not?

  The alley we just passed. I see through your eyes, remember? There was a beggar sitting at the entrance. You noticed her, but you didn’t spot the knife at her belt.

  I’m sure she carries it to protect herself. We aren’t far from the barracks strip.

  You’re probably right. But a soldier would be wary. Anyone can pose as a beggar.

  As if in response to his words, the hairs on my arms stood up, gooseflesh responding to my shiver. Did I really want to be the sort of person who suspected everyone I met? Did I want to see threats everywhere I looked?

  It doesn’t mean being distrustful, he said, as if in response to my thoughts. Only aware.

  Okay, I said. So I should watch everyone. Inspect them.

  May I guide you? he asked.

  When I nodded, the change was so swift my heart stuttered. Where moments before, I’d been alone with his voice, abruptly, Tyrak was within me. My body moved in time with his cues. Footfalls that had been careless, automatic, were now calculated. My sandals avoided gravel which might give away my presence with a crunch. By opening my ears to my surroundings, I noticed a rat snuffling through the pile of rags beside a blacksmith’s shop.

  But more than that, I felt his spirit filling my heart. As if we were strings tuned to the same key, we existed in harmony. My heartbeat was his, and his mine.

  As quickly as he’d entered me, Tyrak was gone. I coughed, stumbling.

  I’m sorry, Lilik. That was too much, he said, his voice strained. I only meant to guide you gently, but once I touched your senses, I felt her there and I dove.

  Lip trembling, I could only nod. In that moment, I wished more than anything that I’d never let Zyri go. Even if I had to share Tyrak with her, it would be better than never having him again.

  Except I’d never had him. That was Zyri. The girl who lived hundreds of years ago.

  Breath shaky, eyes hot, I turned onto the narrow aisle between buildings that would deposit me at my home. All I wanted right now was to lie down and clear my head.

  After eating, I reminded myself.

  Regardless of what I might imagine I felt for Tyrak, my living friends needed me, too. I had to get Raav out of prison. I needed to sail for Ioene and rescue Paono before Mieshk destroyed the island.

  Before I stepped into the wider street near my home, a wave of exhaustion hit me. I covered my face with my hands and after a deep sigh, stood straight and strode into open air. I would get through this—after Ioene, lost in the dark and hunted by a madwoman, I could handle Istanik.

  Reassured, I hurried around a bend to reach my doorstep.

  And stopped short, my heart plummeting into my gut.

  “We need to talk, Lilik. Alone.”

  Mother.

  Chapter Twelve

  I MADE MY mother wait outside while I stomped into the house, retrieved some hard bread and a pot of jam from our small pantry cupboard, and sat at the table to eat. Taking my time, I ignored her peering through the window, brushing aside the admonishments Tyrak offered about my manners.

  Sometimes, I just didn’t want to be polite.

  Finally, after polishing off the bread and a tin cup of honeyed pear juice, I grabbed my padded jacket and stepped outside. The sun had fallen halfway to the horizon—as long as I was stuck talking to the woman who’d abandoned me twelve years ago, I’d neither be cold nor hungry.

  We turned toward the edge of the slum where it bled into the itinerant tents. Speaking little, I allowed her to set the pace, hanging back behind her shoulder so that she had no illusions about my reluctance. At the edge of the camp, she turned, steering for the upper hills where the most decrepit of the gutterborn’s shanties clung to slopes too steep to support them. Many buildings dug heels into the slope behind, while balancing their toes on stilts driven into the clay soil of the hillside. In the shelter of the buildings’ floors, a few of the more desperate gutterborn slept out during the warmer months. The defense tax for those refusing to pay for the privilege of sleeping in their ancestral homes was lower, but abandoned rooms were often occupied by the time their former residents returned. Those gutterborn who resorted to sleeping out were often too poor to care.

  “I’d forgotten about all this in the years I was away,” Mother said. “In the Outer Isles, villages come together to pay the taxes. If one person falls short, the whole settlement absorbs the cost.”

  “Yeah, well, your village is gone now. No use explaining how much better off you were. It’s obvious anyway, seeing as you left us for it.”

  A wave of deep sadness crossed her face. Maybe I was being too harsh. But then I remembered Da’s sobs. She’d hurt us all by leaving, but it was worst of all for Da. He’d done everything for her, and still it wasn’t good enough. I didn’t really care how harsh I sounded.

  “So what’s this about?” I asked.

  “I wanted a chance, however short, to get to know you, Lilik.”

  “You had that chance,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. We’d stopped walking, and instead stood in the shadow of one of the stilt houses. Remembering that many of them collapsed every time the rains came, I edged toward the open area of packed earth that resembled a street in this area of the slums.

  “Tell me about Ioene,” she pressed, ignoring my barb.

  I shrugged. “It was dark. I killed two men.”

  Her eyes widened ever so slightly, but she said nothing. I’d hoped to shock her into hating me—in truth, this would be a lot easier if she’d just go. But she persisted.

  “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  “Not as sorry as they were, I bet.”

  At that, she started walking again, placing her slippered feet carefully on the steepening trail. “Did you ever wonder why I left, Lilik?”

  Only every day for the first ten years, I thought. “Not really. I assumed you just didn’t love us.”

  My mother stiffened, and I knew I’d finally landed a blow. But instead of turning and defending herself, as I’d imagined she would, she continued up the hill. We were nearing the edge of the slums now, the edge of Istanik proper. Much higher, and we’d reach the steep slopes where a handful of terraces had been laboriously cut from the mountain. Those farmers who couldn’t afford any other land worked hard to scratch a living from the perilously perched strips of land.

  “Someday you’ll have children of your own,” she said. “And then you’ll know that what you accuse me of is impossible. Even the worst mother in the world loves her children.”

  “As a terrible mother, I guess you speak with authority,” I said.

  She blinked slowly before continuing. “I don’t blame you for feeling that way. I should have told your da the truth. But I was ashamed. Afraid, too.”

  “Afraid of what? Your infant son who wasn’t even weaned? Your five-year-old daughter who loved her mother more than anything?”

  I kicked at a rock, stubbing my bare toe against it. Why had I admitted that to her?

  When my mother spoke again, her voice shook. “In a way, yes. I was terribly afraid. I thought I was going mad, Lilik. It terrified me because I was worried I’d make a mistake. I didn’t think I could be trusted to care for you, and when I tried to express my fears to your father, he only smiled and reassured me.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” I said. At this point, I had no interest in her excuses. My mother had been too weak to handle her responsibilities, and she’d run to the Outer Isles to escape them. End of story.

  “I’m so sorry, Lilik. I fled to protect you. When I returned, I knew it would be hard to earn your forgiveness, but I hoped I would in tim
e. Unfortunately, I don’t have that time. It’s only been a day since I got back to Istanik, and I already feel the madness returning. It’s something about the city . . .”

  “Then leave,” I said, even as a tiny worm of curiosity squiggled into my mind.

  She turned to face me, a tear tracking down her cheek. In her face, I saw the bone structure that we shared, the narrow, straight nose and the chin that I’d always felt was too pointy even though Paono had laughed at me for complaining about it. I hated that I looked like her.

  “I am. Soon. But I’d hoped . . . Lilik, would you consider coming with me? My friends from the Outer Isles have decided to found a new settlement on one of the unpopulated islands. Somewhere small, in the lee of the Outer Isles, where the storms won’t break us again. They’d accept you willingly. Lovingly. And we’d finally have a chance to become acquainted, mother to daughter.”

  I realized my mouth was hanging open, and shut it with an audible click of teeth. Was she serious? After everything, she expected me to leave with her?

  “We’re strong,” she said. “For the last hundred years, the Outer Isles have defended ourselves—no matter what the traders say, their fleets are never around when the Waikert come. You say the Kiriilti are more vulnerable than ever. Come with us. Let me protect you where I failed before.”

  Unable to speak, I just stared at her. From within a nearby shack, I heard the noise of someone cooking, utensils scraping against cheap pots. The unseen man hummed as he worked. Despite whatever hardship had forced him into the stilts, as this area was called, he’d found a measure of happiness.

  Rather than speaking, I just shook my head at my mother. After a long moment, I turned and started down the hill.

  “I know I hurt you, Lilik,” she called. “I’d stay in Istanik if I could. Forever if it would bring you back to me. But I wouldn’t be the same woman. The madness would take me. Just think about it, okay? You know where to find me—I’ll stay as long as I can.”

  I couldn’t keep my footsteps slow. Heedless of the sharp stones that jutted from the path, the plunge I’d take if I tripped, I broke into a trot and then a full sprint. Away from my mother and her deranged ideas. Away from the tiny shard of my soul that still loved her, and had waited more than a decade for her to want me again.