Gutterborn? Who? My da and brother were safe, Nyralit—if she still lived—had been born into a trader House even if she relinquished her name. Raav was prime to his House.
“We’ll know soon enough, at any rate,” Daonok said. “The trader’s in quite a hurry—everything should be constructed before midday.”
I shivered. I didn’t know what Trader Ulstat had planned, but I was certain I wouldn’t like it.
Chapter Seventeen
BACK IN THE storage room, Da was awake. While I’d been down in the cellar, the owner of the boarding house had brought out a bowl of hearty stew. Da slurped each bite, his face weary, but relieved. He watched without comment while Caffari and Daonok slipped out the door.
“Has Jaret eaten?” I asked.
He nodded. “A thin broth while you were asleep. Too much and he’ll get sick.”
“Da . . .”
“If you’re going to tell us it’s time to leave,” he said, “save your words. The truth is, Lilik, I’d like to be the father who could protect you from all this. Maybe with training and a good weapon, I could be. But you’ve shown you can take care of yourself, and I have your brother to think of. Caffari tells me she knows some families on the southern coast who will hide us. As soon as Jaret’s strong enough to travel, we’ll go.”
“I never meant any of this to happen,” I said
“Of course I know that, little bird. You’re like me, just trying to do your best for your family. For the gutterborn. And I’m proud to say you’re good at it.”
Despite myself, I blushed at the praise. “Thanks, Da.”
After that, I sat quietly beside him, enjoying his companionship. Half an hour or so later, the door opened, admitting sunlight turned orange by the smoke in the air and a gust of wind that smelled like ash. Caffari stepped through the gap, her face grim.
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know them,” she said. “I’m just disgusted at the lengths Trader Ulstat will go to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think you should see for yourself. No doubt he arranged this for you.”
What had the trader done? I felt sick to my stomach, realized I hadn’t eaten yet, but didn’t think I could get anything down.
Lips thinned, Caffari stalked to a stack of huge ale kegs. When she grabbed one in both arms and started to lift it down, I jumped to help her, sure she would be crushed by its weight. But as soon as she lowered the keg down to her head height, she let it drop. I cringed, ready for an explosion of ale and a soaking up to my ankles. But the keg just bounced lightly and settled on its end.
With a grin, Caffari slipped a crowbar off the shelf and wedged it between a couple of the staves. She pried the board free, but nothing spilled from the barrel. After working another stave loose, she turned the keg onto its side and rocked it back and forth. Clothing spilled out, shoes, cloaks and . . . wigs.
With a crooked smile, she picked up a wig of long auburn ringlets and handed it to me, followed by a cloak that would surely have dragged the ground if she hadn’t handed me a pair of boots with three-inch platforms
I raised a skeptical brow at the boots.
“Do you mean to tell me you’ve never worn heels?” She asked.
“Growing up, the only shoes we could afford were sandals I made myself,” I said.
“Well, get used to them quick. Don’t know how long Trader Ulstat plans to leave his prisoners in the stocks.
Five minutes later, teetering like a newborn foal and with someone else’s hair tickling my face, I followed Caffari out the door. We wound through crowded streets, past merchants selling fish that might have been fresh yesterday, peddlers of withered fruit and tailors offering mended clothing. Near the edge of the slums, we turned down a particularly narrow alley. Caffari drew her blade before advancing. I laid my hand on Tyrak’s hilt but stopped short of pulling him from the sheath. Showing nightforged steel in an Ilaraok alley would undo the work I’d done to disguise myself.
Be ready, Tyrak said.
I’m not quite as stupid as I used to be, Tyrak. When a ruffian won’t walk somewhere without her weapon drawn, I know it’s not exactly safe.
You’re right. Sorry, Lilik.
I felt eyes on my back as we made our way down the narrow passage, but we reached the end without being attacked. The alley opened near a stinking tannery. My nose wrinkled as we hurried past and into the city center.
The central square was paved with cobblestones, a rare break from the rutted packed earth. But the stones were laid unevenly, making travel almost as difficult. Ahead, a crowd gathered. Finished, the gallows rose to a height of three men, the platform up high enough to be visible from anywhere in the square. I searched for the prisoners, but the gathered onlookers hid them from view.
When we reached the rear of the crowd, Caffari stuck out an elbow and started pushing her way through. Onlookers grumbled, but at the sight of the woman’s armor and the hard lines of muscle on her arms, people moved aside. The sun beat down on the gathering, raising the stench of unwashed bodies and the smell of their sweat. One woman spotted my auburn hair—uncommon in the Kiriilt Islands—and reached out to touch it. I swatted her hand away and pulled the hood of my cloak farther forward.
Near the front of the crowd, Caffari had to threaten violence to make any more progress. A group of miners had claimed the best vantage, and unlike city folk, they weren’t intimidated by muscles alone. But the sharp point of Caffari’s blade convinced them. Clearing a space, she ushered me forward.
Jaw tight with worry, I stepped up to the front. At first, I couldn’t see the stocks in the shade of the gallows platform. The wooden boards that pinned the prisoners’ heads and wrists were so much smaller than I’d expected. Especially the one fashioned for a child.
The tongueless healer bore her imprisonment with a stoic expression. But in the child -sized stocks, eyes wide and face tear streaked, Geren was absolutely terrified.
“You recognize them,” Caffari said. “Figured you might.”
I couldn’t answer but rather stood frozen, horrorstruck. This was my fault. All my fault. I’d told the healer to go find Geren, and Ashhi had been listening in. How could I’ve been so stupid?
Desperate, I thinned my walls. If ever I had a Need, it was now. I couldn’t let Skink die for me. But in the aether beyond my barriers, I heard the howling, the wailing, and the anger of the Ulstat nightstrands.
And something else . . . Too far to touch, but close enough to sense, the tranquility of Leesa Ulstat’s domain teased. I could almost feel the struggle between her tribe and the madness of the Ulstats.
But I wasn’t close enough to bind with her and her kindred spirits. A duskweaving now would tear me to bits.
Bile rose in my throat as I staggered backward, eyes locked to the little boy who’d come so far to save me. As if in slow motion Caffari turned, her brows drawn together. Her eyes widened, in shock at my reaction. But instead of coming toward me to offer support, she tensed, her head whipping left and right before she bolted across the empty space in front of the gallows. I blinked. Why had she run?
And then, though the sun had been hanging high in the sky like a white-hot eye, it was abruptly gone. Full night crashed over Araok Island like a sudden tidal wave, plunging us into absolute darkness.
Near my ear, a woman screamed.
Chapter Eighteen
NO LONGER AFRAID of being seen, I yanked Tyrak from his sheath as I shouldered through the crowd. All around, people yelled, screamed, pushed, panicked. I ran for Geren, the gallows and stocks visible only as deeper shadows within the night. From the direction of the harbor, I heard the crash of waves against the seawalls that protected the waterfront.
Someone ran into me, a hard knock that sent me reeling. My toe caught on the uneven cobbles, and I slammed the ground, elbow cracking stone and air gusting out of my lungs with the impact. I’d managed to keep hold of Tyrak and pulled him close. Shoving and jostling in panicked
chaos, Ilaraok commoners ran past, jumped over, and collided with me. A booted foot landed on my lower leg. Someone kicked me in the head. I curled my knees to my chest to protect my gut.
Get up, Tyrak yelled into my thoughts. You’ll be trampled.
Zyri’s memories crashed back into the front of my mind, her last days when the darkness came and went, and the island broke apart in fire and ash and steam.
The cataclysm! It’s happening!
Lilik! Don’t make me take control!
But this is how she died. I can’t live through it again!
This isn’t the end, Tyrak yelled. The darkness came weeks before the fire. And there’s no smoldering volcano here. Death for Kiriilti will come when their crops fail from lack of light and storms wrack their shores. But if you don’t get up, this will be your last day alive.
He flooded me with his presence, pliable rather than controlling, infusing me with his confidence. I could do it. I could rise and fight. Rolling onto my knees and one hand, with the other clutching my dagger close to my breastbone, I scrambled for the shelter of the gallows. Someone’s knee slammed my ribs, knocking me back down.
Get up! Again!
This time I got all the way to my feet and staggered for the shadow of the gallows. Someone had kindled a single torch on the far side of the square, the light turning the hangman’s platform into an angular monster the color of blood. Panic still fluttered at the edges of my vision.
But when I spied Geren, all my terror fled. His face was frozen in a rictus of absolute, bone-deep dread. I ran to him and cupped his face. His pupils were pinpricks, unseeing.
“Geren!” I screamed. I kissed him on the forehead, stroked his cheek. Finally, his eyes swiveled to mine.
“Lilik?” He asked.
“Yes,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Yes, it’s me. I’m so sorry. I’ll get you out of this.”
Fumbling in the flickering light, I reached for the lock. Of heavy iron, the hasp as thick as my finger, I had no hopes of breaking it. No hacksaw. No sledgehammer. I slammed the heel of my hand against the wood of the stocks, but it wouldn’t budge. Geren whimpered.
My eyes flicked to the far side of the gallows. Shoving through the crowd, a group of elite Ulstat guards moved in strict formation toward the stocks.
“Geren, I have to go. I’ll get help. I promise.”
I ran, slipping behind the low wall surrounding a well in the center of the square. Huddled in its shelter, I yanked off the rotted high-heeled boots. Free of those tides-drowned excuses for footwear, I leaped up and dashed across the square. The crowd had thinned, and many of those remaining were on the ground, crouching and covering their heads against the unnatural night.
I found the narrow alley Caffari had guided me down before. With my dagger at the ready, I slipped along one of the walls, the deep shadows hiding me from would-be attackers. As I moved forward, I tried to collect myself. Get a grasp on the situation. Why had Caffari run? Had she seen the darkness coming? Something else?
From behind me, a handful of shouts broke the air. A woman wailed. Glass broke. Pressing deeper into the shadows, I peered. Fire erupted in the hills above town, the light chased by a roar of exploding powder. A mine? Had someone panicked and tried to light a torch too close to the blasting supplies?
What happened when the darkness came to Ioene? I asked, gripping Tyrak tight. You were used to the long-night. It shouldn’t have been as much of a shock.
Yes, but we were used to a natural cycle. Not this sudden thunderclap of darkness. We were used to magic—maybe that helped us. But in some ways, it was worse for us because we understood the danger. We might not have predicted the utter ruination that came, but we had an inkling of what Mavek’s Hands could do.
I nodded. Mavek’s Hands, the type of soul priestess we called nightcallers, were skilled in compulsion. They could force nightstrands to bond with objects through the process we called nightforging, could compel the souls of the dead to give up their life force to join either the fire or the aurora. In Tyrak’s time, the trait was uncommon, whereas channelers like me were the dominant type of soul priestess. Not so now.
I leaned my shoulder against the wall, closed my eyes and used the solidity of the stone to bolster my strength. After a deep breath, I continued on. Near the end of the alley, someone lit a lantern and held it out. The yellow glow made a halo in the haze. Cautious, I sidled forward, one hand out for balance, the other holding Tyrak at the ready. But before I reached the alley mouth, whoever it was had vanished. Probably more afraid of me than I’d been of them.
Scattered lights lent an eerie quality to the slum. The poorest of Ilaraok’s commoners were used to danger. People were organizing already, preparing for the worst by pulling down their laundry, filling water buckets, latching shutters to close out the darkness. Rats, bewildered by the midday night, squeaked and skittered in corners and among piles of trash.
At the entrance to the safe house, I tapped on the door in the pattern I’d heard the others use. I waited, knowing someone was peering through the crack to see who was outside. The door swung open, and a hand reached out, yanked me inside. Caffari all but shoved me behind her, sent me stumbling into the dark interior, and stuck her head out into the street. She looked left and right then slammed the door shut.
“Were you followed?” she hissed.
“What? No. I followed the same route back.”
Her stare pierced me. “That doesn’t matter. Tell me you looked over your shoulder. Tell me you weren’t so innocent as to lead them back here.”
“Them? What are you talking about? Why did you run?” I fixed her with a stare of my own. She’d abandoned me in the square with no word. So why did she presume to throw accusations my way?
Caffari held up a finger and pressed her ear to the door. After a moment’s listening, she exhaled. “I suspect the dark saved you. If they’d tracked you, I doubt they’d wait to break down this door.”
I yanked the wig out of the hood of my cloak. Throwing the hairpiece toward its storage barrel, I shrugged out of the too-big cloak. Da was awake, and Jaret’s eyelids were fluttering. A pair of thieves crouched along the far wall, one examining a blade and rubbing it against a whetstone. The smugglers tried to look calm, but the nervous bouncing of their knees, the way that one of the men kept rubbing a fold of his trousers between his knees told me they were just as scared of the darkness as everyone else in the city.
I crossed my arms over my chest and turned to Caffari. “I assume you’re talking about the Ulstats or their guards. But you still haven’t told me why you ran.”
“Actually, I was convinced they’d nabbed you. I’m surprised you’re still alive. You didn’t see them?”
“The guards? After it got dark, I saw them close in on the gallows.”
“You’re a competent fighter, I saw that much in the mine. I’m surprised you were so oblivious. There were four closing in on you. Probably more on the way. I didn’t think you had a chance, so I ran.”
I felt Tyrak’s irritation through our bond. The emotion echoed mine.
“I thought we discussed joining forces.”
Caffari rolled her eyes. “Unlike you, I know how to judge the odds. I don’t start fights I can’t win. If I’d have jumped to your rescue, they’d have captured us both. Who would’ve been left to organize a rescue?”
I didn’t entirely believe her. The woman was a thief and a scoundrel. But what good would it do to keep arguing? Brushing past her, I knelt beside Jaret’s cot and laid a hand on his lower legs. My brother’s eyes cracked open.
“Lilik...” His voice was just a whisper, but he was getting stronger. He would recover from this as long as he and Da managed to escape Ilaraok.
“I need a hacksaw,” I said, turning back to Caffari. “Or a set of good lock picks. I can’t leave the prisoners in the stocks.”
I glimpsed a hint of gentleness on her face before she forced it away. “It would be pure idiocy to go ou
t there now. It’s a trap. The whole reason they’ve locked that boy there is to lure you in.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving Geren there to die. I promised.”
Stop and think, Tyrak said. She makes good points.
Caffari sighed. “You’d risk everything for one child? After all your talk of getting to Ioene? After this . . .” She gestured toward the outer wall and the darkness beyond.
“He came to save me. I won’t let him be killed for it.”
“All alone, you against the Ulstat guard force . . .”
“If there’s no choice, yes.” I took a deep breath. “But we were just talking about how Trader Ulstat complicates our plans for Ioene. The way I see it, he made a major mistake in setting this trap. Because now we know where his attention will be focused.”
“On the square, yes. Which is why it’s a mistake to go there.”
“But what if we turn his plans against him?”
“Explain.”
“If we let him think I’m coming for Geren, he won’t be so likely to notice your people creeping into his house. There are only two Ulstats remaining. If your people can manage to capture them—” And save Raav in the process, I thought. “—House Ulstat falls apart completely. And you can help yourself to the leavings.”
Caffari’s lips twisted as she considered. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“Whatever you can take from House Ulstat is yours to keep. I ask for nothing. But in order for me to play the decoy, I need to be sure Geren and the healer will be saved.”
“Once we capture the Ulstats, you can take command of the guards and order them free,” she said.
I shook my head. “Not good enough. That plan relies too much on a successful takeover of the House. Even if you have to abort the attack, I need Geren safe. At least ten of your people need to move on the gallows while the rest attack the House grounds.”
Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set Page 64