Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set

by Carrie Summers

  She laughed. “My mother was, but as for my father, I couldn’t say. Never knew him.”

  “Did he die when you were too young to remember?”

  She shook her head. “My mother wasn’t the type to marry. He'd vanished by the time I was born.”

  “What drew her to the . . . trade?” I asked.

  Caffari’s eyes grew distant as she stared into the tunnel ahead. “She was an Outer Islander by birth. Lived in one of those little scrappy villages until she was eighteen. She worked the docks, helping bring in the catch, and one day a foreign captain tied up. Villages in the Outer Isles could rarely support a tavern or boarding house, so when foreigners or traders wished to stay the night, village families put them up for a price. This man stayed with my mother’s family. After her parents were abed, he came to her room and told her stories. Tales of faraway places like the Eshkinesh Reef, the Jalakyrisi Spicelands. He’d even anchored in the Waikert Archipelago. The next morning, she packed her bags and sailed with him.”

  “And he was a smuggler?” I asked.

  Caffari smirked. “No, just a scoundrel. When she refused his romantic advances, he left her in a port on the east coast of Reknarish. She worked her way along the coast, from port to port, mending fishing nets and working decks on those ships that would have her. And then she met Captain Sulek. An old woman even then, but she offered my mother a permanent place among her crew. The ship’s name was the Sunset. I was born aboard her . . .” A flash of sorrow crossed Caffari’s face. “And my mother died aboard her, too. A storm. She took a knock to the head, never woke again.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  Caffari nodded her thanks. “At any rate, when Captain Sulek finally retired—she must’ve been ninety if you can imagine—she gave me the ship. I was sixteen.”

  “You still sail her?” I asked.

  She nodded. “She’s among my fleet, but I’ve renamed her. Wanted to build my own reputation, not rely on my captain’s.”

  “What name did you choose?” I asked.

  She smirked. “I could tell you, but then I could never let you leave this mine,” she said with a wink. “Last thing I need is a bunch of do-gooders on the lookout for my vessel.”

  Tyrak chuckled inside my mind.

  Ahead, the corridor emptied into the larger cavern which I recognized from our first scuffle.

  Caffari gestured with her chin. “Up there is where we part ways,” she said. “I’m sending a dozen of my best with you. I wish you luck, Lilik Boket. I don’t imagine we’ll meet again.”

  I sighed in relief when I pressed my face to the barred window and saw night’s darkness outside the mine. We weren’t too late. Yet. Behind me, the dozen smugglers Caffari had chosen moved on silent feet, coming to a halt in a small huddle a few paces from the door. Nyralit glided up beside me and leaned close to my ear.

  “I was worried we’d find another surprise from Ashhi. Fortunately, the Ulstats are arrogant even by trader status.”

  “I hope they’re arrogant enough to let Caffari’s friend through the front gate in the middle of the night,” I said.

  “The woman might be a smuggler, but she has her own particular notion of integrity. I doubt she’d risk your family if she didn’t think this plan would work.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  I swallowed and turned to the band of smugglers. Daonok stepped forward. “Good?”

  “So far. How long before Caffari’s friend arrives with your man?”

  “Depends whether the friend was asleep or drunk or both. If she’d been in the whiskey, Caffari will have to pour water down her throat. Probably drag her to the beach, let the waves slap her around a bit, too.” He paused and glanced toward the window. “Don’t worry, though. Caffari knows you don’t have long, and frankly, none of us is fond of working in daylight.”

  Plus, the longer it took, the more Ulstat soldiers filtered into Ilaraok, arriving from the remote strongholds in answer to Trader Ulstat’s summons. I leaned against the wall and sank to a seat, closing my eyes. With Tyrak’s help, my spirit felt nearly renewed, but the fatigue of a long, sleepless night pulled at me, too. I let my mind wander as we waited, not to the plans ahead, but to Ioene. Was Paono still safe? Had he found friends, or was he still alone in the dark, the only thing standing between Mieshk and cataclysm?

  I must’ve drifted off because the sound of rattling metal dragged me from my doze. I jumped up and dashed to the window. Upon the stairs beyond, a woman dressed in the livery of an Ulstat maidservant stood at the shoulder of one of Caffari’s smugglers. Tongue stuck in the corner of his mouth, the thief’s eyes closed in concentration as he jiggled his lock picks in the innards of the door.

  Some of the tension left my shoulders; the first part of the plan had worked. Noticing my attention on her face, the maidservant looked over her shoulder. She had good reason to be nervous. If Trader Ulstat discovered that one of his servants had ties to a smugglers’ ring, and worse, that she’d helped one of Caffari’s thieves sneak past the gate guards, I doubted the maid would get a trial. Where there was one hidden cellar, surely there were more.

  With a loud click, the lock disengaged. The heavy door swung open on rusty hinges, the squeal making me cringe. But my hour of screaming hadn’t brought help, so I didn’t think the noise would wake the household.

  As we exited the passage, Daonok followed Nyralit and me while the other thieves split off to take positions near the perimeter of the grounds. For now, they would hide. As soon as Daonok signaled that we’d freed my family, collected Raav, and retreated to the mine, they’d be free to creep about the manor and grounds and pilfer whatever goods they could easily snatch and carry. Of course, they also served as a final line of defense. If things went wrong, they’d close in over our retreat, meeting any counter-attack by the Ulstat guards.

  As we crept through the grounds, the chirring of a few night insects louder than our careful footsteps, I spied the shadows of thieves melting into the greater darkness at the edge of the grounds.

  “All right, we’re close enough for voices to carry. No talking from here forward,” Daonok whispered.

  Fortunately, the hinges on the back doors to House Ulstat were well oiled. The doors swung open without a sound. A draft of mild air, scented with a hint of perfumed lamp oil warmed my face. The inside of the house was unlit, the shadows heavy. Though my barriers felt like steel between my mind and the aether, I couldn’t help thinking of the madness surrounding me.

  Swallowing, I stepped into House Ulstat, Nyralit on my heels. My companions moved so soundlessly that if not for the quiet hiss of their breathing, I would think I was alone.

  All was silent until we reached the kitchens. A few paces away from the doorway, I smelled the morning’s bread baking. As we drew nearer, the baker’s tuneless humming drifted into the hall. Warm glow spilled from the archway.

  I stopped short; we hadn’t expected someone to be working this early. What now? I looked at my companions, conveying my question with my eyes.

  Daonok shrugged. It wasn’t as if we could just stop now. He gestured toward the door, indicating that we should proceed as planned. We’d agreed to avoid violence when possible, even against the guards. Surely an innocent servant wouldn’t force us to hurt her.

  Nodding, Nyralit placed her back against the wall. As planned, she would stand guard. If someone appeared in the hallway, she'd start up a conversation about insomnia and Araokan cures, speaking loudly to warn us. Provided nothing like that went awry, we’d finish in the cellar and head to the mine with da and Jaret, while Nyralit hurried to Raav’s room to collect him.

  With Tyrak clasped tight in my hand, I slipped into the short corridor separating the hallway from the kitchen. Daonok followed, keeping a few paces distance between us. With luck, the guards protecting the cellar would be startled by my appearance. I just needed to distract them for a moment. Daonok claimed he had many techniques for rendering someone unconscious—I’d seen
too much blood tonight already.

  At the end of the corridor, I stood straight and sauntered into the kitchen. “Something smells delicious. Is it ready? I haven’t had fresh bread in days.”

  Rolling pin in hand, the baker stared at me. She glanced at the guards bracketing the pantry door. Their hands fell to their swords, fierce expressions landing on their faces. Over the last hour, I’d had doubts about the cellar’s location. I’d seen guards beside the pantry door before, but I’d started to worry they’d been planted to help Ashhi perfect her trap. The aggressive response of the guards washed away my concern. My family was here.

  “No breakfast until sunup,” the baker mumbled, her stare traveling to my drawn weapon.

  Also noticing my blade, a guard burst into action. His sword sang as the long steel blade exited the sheath. Like a black raptor streaking down on its prey, Daonok sprang from the corridor, leaped onto the flour-covered counter and launched through the air to land on the man’s chest. With the butt end of his rapier, the smuggler knocked the guard on the temple. Trader Ulstat’s man crumpled, boneless, to the kitchen floor. Before the man finished falling, Daonok was airborne again, launching a kick for the remaining guard’s solar plexus. The air left the other man’s lungs in a wheezing gust before Daonok got an arm wrapped around his throat. Squeezing, he kept the guard from drawing breath.

  The rolling pin hit the counter with a clatter, and the baker retreated a few paces. Daonok stared pointedly at her, and I realized I’d been standing there like a fool.

  The woman was about to scream. I sprinted over and clamped my hand over her mouth.

  “We won’t hurt you, but you have to be quiet,” I whispered.

  At the edge of my vision, I spotted Nyralit peering into the kitchen. I nodded to let her know we were okay. Though I hated to do it, I pressed the point of my dagger against the woman’s belly. “Just to be sure you don’t yell.”

  I pivoted for a better view of the room. Daonok had downed the second guard, and as I nudged the baker forward, I removed my small knapsack and pulled out a ball of silken rope. Daonok accepted it and fastened the guards’ wrists together. Next, he scurried to a shelf, snatched a pair of tea towels, and shoved them between the guards’ lips. Quick knots secured the gags.

  Daonok squeezed the latch for the pantry. The door opened silently, and the square of light falling from the kitchen exposed the hatch protecting the cellar.

  “Check the guards' pockets for keys,” I whispered. “I’m sure they’re still chained.” I had one of Caffari’s hacksaws in my knapsack, but it would be slow work to cut through the iron links imprisoning my family.

  The baker raised her hands. “Keyring is hanging on a hook behind the flour cask. Please don’t hurt me. I needed work. Got a little girl at home and no way to pay the defense tax otherwise.”

  I backed my dagger a short distance from her belly. “You’ll join us while we escape—can’t have you calling the guards—but after that, I’ll release you unharmed.”

  “Trader Ulstat will have my head for letting you take the prisoners,” she said.

  I hadn’t thought about that. But she didn’t need to worry. “Soon, House Ulstat won’t be punishing anyone. And you won’t need to pay the defense tax either.”

  She pressed her lips together, skepticism clear on her face. But she said nothing else.

  Daonok had fetched the keyring from its hiding spot. Nodding at me, he threw the hatch open, revealing darkness beneath.

  “Da,” I whispered. “I’m coming.”

  I handed the woman over to Daonok who laid his rapier against her neck. I winced; after he’d chosen to disable the guards, I didn’t think he’d hurt the baker. I still didn’t like the sight of his bared steel.

  Losing time, Lilik, Tyrak said.

  Right. I grabbed a lantern from a wall hook outside the pantry door and probed with my foot until I found the first step of the cellar’s ladder. As I climbed down, the air grew damper, mustier, smelling of the packed-earth floor of the room. Heart thumping, I jumped down the last couple steps and held the lantern high.

  The sight of my family stole my breath. Huddled miserably in the corner of the cellar, they leaned against each other for warmth. My father and brother looked up at me with dull eyes. Da tried to raise his shackled hands, but the weight of the cuffs and chains pulled them back to his lap.

  “Lilik . . .” he rasped.

  I sprinted forward with the keyring, flipped through until I found a key that fit. It clicked as it rattled against the lock, finally slipping into the keyhole. Da groaned when I twisted the key, and the cuffs fell away. I turned my attention to Jaret, who sat with eyes half-lidded and face pale. I grabbed his chin and lifted it, and still he scarcely reacted.

  “Did they feed you Da? Give you water?”

  My father shook his head, a movement so small it was almost imperceptible. At the thought of my family locked in a dark basement, starving and weak with thirst, anger flooded my body. All night, I’d struggled to stay calm and clear-headed. Now I yearned to rush into Trader Ulstat’s bedchamber and plunge Tyrak into his heart.

  Jaw clenched, I unfastened the shackles on their ankles and tried to rub some life into their lower legs. My father groaned while Jaret lifted his hand for an instant before letting it fall. Sometime in the last couple of days, the sling that had supported his broken arm had disappeared. Gently, I felt along the length of the limb. Nothing felt crooked, but I was no healer.

  “You have to get up. We're escaping.”

  Da swallowed, his head lolling on his neck. “Can’t . . .”

  “You don’t have a choice, Da. It’s this or we die.”

  With an agonizing slowness that shredded my heart, my father planted his hands on the wall behind him and shoved up to stand. Jaw set, he staggered for the ladder.

  “Jaret?” I laid my hand against his cheek, staring into his eyes. My brother didn’t respond.

  Five years ago, I would have slung him over my shoulder. But now Jaret weighed as much as me. I focused my awareness on the barrier between my mind and the aether, probing for a friendly presence on the opposite side. Only madness and anger lurked beyond. After extending beyond my physical boundaries once tonight, I didn’t think I could withstand another attempt. At least not with malevolent spirits waiting for me. And Tyrak had spent his reserves propping me up.

  Gritting my teeth, I wrapped an arm behind Jaret’s back and another beneath the crooks of his knees. With a grunt, I managed to pick him up, nearly falling in the process. Planting one foot before the other, I tramped toward the ladder.

  “Daonok. We have to carry him,” I hissed up at the opening.

  The thief leaned over the ladder and nodded. “Your Da can watch our friend up here. Gonna take two of us to lift him up the ladder.”

  “You two are skinnier than pieces of cooking twine,” the baker said as she shouldered Daonok aside. “I’ll carry that young man up in one arm.”

  As if unconcerned about Daonok’s rapier or my dagger, the woman stomped down the ladder, huffing as she came and unfazed by the steep drop. True to her word, she wrapped Jaret in one arm, rather more gently than I expected, and carried him up into the pantry. Daonok caught my eye and shrugged.

  I hurried up the ladder and kicked the hatch shut, wincing at the bang. Daonok rolled his eyes. The baker had laid Jaret on the floor against the wall. My brother’s eyes swiveled to track me, but otherwise, he didn’t move.

  “He’s your brother, isn’t he?” the baker asked, “I see the resemblance now. No wonder you’re so determined. We’ll slide the guards into the pantry—that will gain us time.”

  My da shuffled from the pantry and leaned heavily on a counter. He probably didn’t want to sit for fear he wouldn't be able to get back up. As Daonok and the baker dragged the guards out of sight, I laid my hand over his.

  “Never doubted you, little bird,” he said quietly.

  I pressed my lips together. If only he knew what a
fool I’d been to trust Ashhi.

  The baker cleared her throat, drawing attention to the fact that she and Daonok were ready to go. Jaret clung to her back while Daonok walked behind ready to catch my brother if he fell. Nodding, I crept forward and entered the short entrance corridor, alert to noise from the rest of the house. When I glanced out into the main hall, I saw only Nyralit, whose shoulders sagged in relief. Nodding at her, I sidled out into the hallway, ears perked.

  Moments later, the others joined me, and we turned toward the back of the house. Daonok would lead us to the other exit, and then we’d part ways. After covering about ten paces, a gasp from behind brought me up straight. A shiver traveled my spine, and I whirled. Nyralit stood frozen with a knife at her throat. Behind her, Ashhi grinned, and moments later three guardsmen stomped in from the foyer. Steel rang. Men yelled.

  “Run!” Daonok bellowed in a voice louder than I thought his small form could produce.

  I ran.

  Nyralit’s scream sent ice into my bones. As I crossed into the back room of the Ulstat home, I stopped and turned. One of the guards carried a lantern, and in the spill of light, I watched Nyralit attempt to fight the three men at once. With just her slender arms, her teeth, and her slipper-shod feet, she was a whirl of silk and long dark hair. Blow after blow landed on her attackers, none with enough power to damage, but keeping their blades at bay.

  “Nyralit,” I whispered.

  Her eyes met mine. “Go!” she yelled.

  The break in her concentration was long enough that a guard slipped past her flurry of kicks. Nyralit’s silks offered no resistance to his blade, which slid into her belly like a diver into the sea. She doubled over, clutching at the weapon’s hilt. Blood spread from the wound, black in the low light.

  Behind me, the outer doors banged against the walls as they flew open. “Fall back,” Daonok yelled into the quiet of the grounds. “Cover the retreat!”

  I couldn’t move. One hundred paces away, Nyralit stumbled from the circle of guards, smacked the wall with her shoulder, and spun down to the floor. She landed in a heap, her silks looking like a pile of rags abandoned behind a cloth-seller’s. I couldn’t tell if she was still breathing.