“As I got older, it became clear that I was going to be a scholar. Maybe even a professor, like my father, and my grandfather. I got the highest marks in my classes. I spent every free minute in the library or helping my friends with their studies. And then, four years ago, everything changed.
“I was eleven. My eleventh birthday, actually. That’s the day the emperor was murdered in his bed, before dawn.” Neil was looking off toward the distant peaks, but not as though he really saw them. It was as if he were trying to look into the past, to see the murderer’s face. “I don’t know how he got in. The emperor’s chambers are protected. Guarded by his most loyal warriors, and every entrance is magicked. A bird couldn’t fly through his bedchamber window without the palace mages being alerted. But no one ... no one heard him. Or saw him. And they never found him. ”
Neil shook himself back into the present and continued. “They tried to keep it quiet at first. Only the advisors knew, and the emperor’s children. Four daughters, and Adil. My closest friend, and heir to the throne. He was only ten years old, and scared. So he came to us, looking for help. Advice. Anything. But by nightfall, the whole city knew. And while we watched from the palace walls, it began to tear itself apart.
“You have to understand,” said Neil, turning to look Fox square in the eyes, “Maradwell was an unstable city at the heart of an unstable nation. Adil’s father, Emperor Oazhe, was the only thing holding it together. He brought peace and prosperity back to our people, and he was a gifted and beloved leader. But there was always this ... this hunger in the land. Family grudges and property wars were pushed aside when Oazhe took the throne, but they didn’t die. If anything, they festered and grew during the peaceful days, and the emperor’s death seemed to be just what our people needed to fall back into their old ways. Everyone with a drop of royal blood seemed to think they had claim to the throne. Within two days, there were five separate assassination attempts made on Adil and his sisters. And while we increased security around the palace, we ... we failed. Two of Adil’s younger sisters were killed, another kidnapped. His older sister, who would have been first in line for the throne if Adil were to die, was taken into hiding at the temple of Phiira. That left just Adil to protect, and war was erupting all around us.”
Neil ran his fingers distractedly through his hair, staring into the dying embers of the morning fire. “Everyone always said me and Adil could have been brothers, we looked that much alike. And no one would notice the son of a scholar ... just a candle boy. I don’t remember whose idea it was, but we made the switch. Father took Adil away and hid him in our rooms at the university. And I, in turn, waited at the palace. Besides Father, only one other person knew: Thabet, Adil’s personal bodyguard. For a week he stayed by my side, distracting me from the war with books and stories. He knew how much I liked to read. We moved rooms every few hours, sneaking from place to place, using secret passageways and deserted hallways to avoid detection.
“Thabet explained to me that we couldn’t trust anyone. The palace guards had divided, loyalties split. Each fighting for their own cause now. And within that week, nine different emperors claimed the throne. The longest holding his place for just over a day, the shortest for only one hour.
“Finally, a man named Li-Kamen came forward. Through a combination of brute force and sorcery, he won the throne and named himself emperor. Fighting continued in the city, and civil war continued to sweep through the nation, but the palace remained untouched. It was the perfect time to make our escape.”
“How did you do it?” asked Fox.
“It wasn’t easy. Li-Kamen had men scouring the palace and the grounds, looking for Adil. Word was, he wouldn’t stop until the heir was dead. We didn’t want to risk him somehow discovering that Adil was still alive and safe, so we decided the best plan was to give him a dead heir. Or, at least, someone who looked like him.”
“You faked your death?” said Fox excitedly. One of Radda’s heros in the songs from last night had escaped from a wicked queen by pretending to be dead.
Neil smiled, apparently pleased by Fox’s interest in his story. “There was a spell I’d come across in one of my books. Dangerous, even for a skilled magician. Thabet only had the barest knowledge of his own Blessing, whereas I had no Blessings at all. But we decided it was worth the risk.” He rubbed his fingers together, as though his hands itched to be around the spell book as he tried to explain. “When used properly, this spell aids the deep sleep required for some of the more intense meditative arts. But in Thabet’s untrained hands, it knocked me out for a full two weeks. I looked dead to all the world, including Li-Kamen. And Thabet, claiming that he wanted to bury the emperor’s son in the proper way, was allowed to take my body from the palace without question. He then managed to sneak us aboard a merchant ship and buy the captain’s silence and cooperation.
“When I awoke, we were at sea. And by the time our journey ended, we had become very close with a group of traveling Shavid. Radda’s players. We were on the run, and had nowhere in particular to go, so we tagged along for awhile. Then awhile turned into a year, and then two. But Thabet was always looking for word on the war back home. Keeping up with news of LiKamen. Looking for a way to spirit Adil out of Maradwell, until he was old enough to fight and reclaim his throne. Last I heard, that was still Thabet’s plan.”
“Last you heard?” asked Fox.
“He left,” said Neil, shrugging as though it didn’t matter, but Fox could see that he was pained by the memory. “His first priority was always Adil. A little over a year ago, he returned to Maradwell, intent on gathering followers and building an army to reclaim the country, and the throne, for its rightful emperor. And I ... well, I’ve made my place here. Learning and living with the Shavid.”
Fox frowned, letting the information sink in. “But,” he said finally, “if the plan was to get you, or rather Adil, out ... why did you have to switch places at all? Now he’s left behind in the capital, in danger of people finding out who he really is. Isn’t that so much riskier?”
Neil seemed to have been prepared for this. He answered as readily as though it was an argument he had been having with himself for years. “Adil was raised to be strong. He was, and is, almost aggressively good. Even at ten, he refused to abandon his people. He believed, with a righteous conviction that bordered on dangerous, that his life belonged to Maradwell. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to run either. He wanted to stay close, and come of age quietly hidden in plain sight. Close to the people who might be able to rally around him one day as their emperor.”
“I can’t imagine he was too happy letting you run away in his place.”
Neil chuckled darkly. “He came very near ordering me to stay. But in the end, we convinced him it was for the best. Safest, if Adil insisted on remaining in Maradwell.”
“And your father?” said Fox. “What about him?”
Now, there was definite pain in Neil’s voice, though he tried hard to hide it behind a forced, lopsided smile. “Raised Adil like a son. From the few messages we’ve managed to pass on ... he seems to be doing just fine.” From the way he said it, it was clear to Fox that he was done talking about it. Whatever feelings he had toward his father and the boy who’d become his father’s son, he was keeping them to himself.
A light snow had begun to fall. After a moment’s silence, Fox said, “I liked your story.” Neil grunted in acknowledgment. “And I liked your song.”
For a moment they sat there in silence. Then, Neil stood again and offered a hand to Fox, pulling him down from the stage. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you around the place. You can help me with my chores if you’d like.”
Fox’s sheer joy and excitement must have shown on his face, because Neil began to laugh. A full, hearty laugh that Fox would not have believed possible from the same sullen young man who was so worried about the quality of his songs and his stories.
Chapter Five
The Contests
I
t seemed that Neil was rather eager to tell his stories, now that he had a captive audience. He answered Fox’s constant stream of questions with enthusiasm and a dramatic flair that showed him to be a player at heart, no matter his brooding exterior. As they went through a roster of early-morning chores, Neil chattered on about the incredible places he’d traveled with the Shavid.
“The Candlewood at Elvador, have you heard of it?” They were stationed at the river, setting out fishing traps and digging up edible roots.
Fox nodded. “Where lost souls are trapped on their way to the After Realms.”
“‘And the trees were alight with a thousand lonely spirits, whispering their secrets to the weary wanderer,’” said Neil, quoting an ancient poem. “I can’t begin to describe ... The lights, the flitting breezes that constantly play at the leaves ... it was beautiful and dark and treacherous all at once.”
“Where else?” said Fox, nearly breathless with fascination.
Neil shook his head, a wry smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “How can I even keep count anymore? We’ve fished in the Red Harbor and sailed the Gossamer Sea. We’ve passed through the Gates of Eldrock and taken dinner with the High King in Athilior. And the hanging gardens at Lamanti? What a sight to behold.”
“Wow,” breathed Fox. “And they just let you go anywhere with them?”
“I’ve been named an honorary Shavid. I have none of their talents or magical Blessings, but I’m welcome to the same privileges and sanctuaries that they might enjoy.”
For a moment, Fox let his imagination wander, dreaming about what it might be like to be welcomed in foreign courts and distant lands. Then he sighed and turned back to the cold, hard earth he was scraping away at. “Traveling with them must be incredible,” he said.
Neil tugged at one of the traps, adjusting its position in the river. “It does have its moments,” he said. “But this kind of life ... it wasn’t meant for folks like us.”
“What do you mean?”
For a moment Neil didn’t answer, focusing instead on his work. Then, he secured the trap into place with a rope anchored to a nearby stone. “I mean ... you say ‘traveling,’ but the Shavid don’t travel. They wander. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, at least none that we can tell. They hear things, or feel things in the air, and they just ... change course. And sometimes, two Shavid will hear very different things, even standing side-by-side.” He fiddled distractedly with the hem of his vest. “There used to be another in our group. A girl. She was like ... like someone out of one of Radda’s stories. A legend come to life, beautiful and passionate and kind ...”
“What happened to her?”
“She left. Heard a different call. The wind spoke to her, and she followed it to Rhin only knows where.” He stared up at the cloudy sky, almost as if he were trying to see her, wherever she was. “She left in the middle of the night. Packed her things, and vanished with only the quickest of goodbyes.” They sat in silence for a moment, until finally Neil cleared his throat and turned back to Fox. “We can’t hear the wind, you and I. And we’ll never truly understand the way the Shavid live. I may be a part of their group, but I am not one of them. Don’t confuse the two.”
Fox didn’t say anything as they finished up on the riverbank and headed back to the campsite. They might not understand the rambling lifestyle that the Shavid lived, but it was clear that Neil wanted to know. And so did Fox.
✽ ✽ ✽
By the time the boys returned to camp, the Shavid had begun trickling back to their tents and wagons, beginning their own morning routines. A handful of women settled themselves in front of one of the tents, sewing and laughing. Two men and a beautiful young woman were rehearsing on the stage. As they paused to watch, Fox distinctly heard the younger of the two men say, “But I don’t want to play a girl again! It’s your turn!”
Neil chuckled. “This is an almost daily argument. Poor Merrick, his voice just hasn’t dropped enough yet.” He gave a sharp whistle, and the girl turned. “For your mother,” he said, tossing her the bag of roots they’d gathered.
The girl caught them easily and sniffed at the bag. “Perfect! She’ll be thrilled.”
“Anything else?” asked Neil.
“I think Mindi needed some help. You might want to check in on her.”
They moved on, Fox craning his head to catch every little thing. To him, the day-to-day affairs of the Shavid were just as fascinating as their performances. He would have stopped just to watch Otter re-stringing his instrument if Neil hadn’t dragged him along, pointing ahead to the dancing pavilion he’d seen the night before.
Inside, a young girl was perched on top of what looked like a tribal drum. She was focusing intently on stringing tiny, shimmering beads onto a line. This, he supposed, was Mindi. She was a little scrap of a girl with a long, golden-red braid running down her back. She glanced up at their approach.
“Mary sent us,” said Neil. “What is it this time?”
Mindi turned back to her work, biting her lip in concentration. “I need scales.”
Neil raised an eyebrow. “Scales? From a fish?”
“For Daddy’s new play,” said Mindi, as though that answered everything. When Neil continued to stare, she sighed and turned to look at him. “For the Water Witch’s mask! You get them for me, I’ll worry about the rest.”
“But,” said Fox as the girl turned back to her beads, “you can’t do anything with fish skin, can you?”
“She can,” said Neil. “Delicate touch and all that, she can sew them into a leather mask without tearing them, no problem.”
“What about the smell?” said Fox. He was thinking of the baskets of fish heads and insides he so often took to throw out for the birds. If you left them inside too long, the whole house started to smell like the underside of a river rock.
“No problem,” said Mindi, finishing her beadwork and holding up the line to examine it. It shimmered gently, throwing off sparks of light where the sun hit it.
“Mindi’s the only one in our group who has any practical Blessing. She has a knack for the little things, like keeping the fires going and making light. And sometimes, some of the not-so-little things, like making someone forget she was there, or brewing up fog.”
And then, as Fox watched, Mindi released the beaded string in midair, and it floated, swaying gently like river grass in slow current. Then, Mindi gestured with one finger and the shimmering line darted off, dancing around the tent like an airborne snake. Fox dropped to the cold grass, startled and unsure what this strange little magic might do, and Mindi and Neil both laughed. Finally, Mindi raised her hand and the beads came to a stop, wrapping several times around her wrist and laying there innocently, just a bracelet.
Mindi leapt nimbly down from the drum as Fox stood, brushing dirt and grass from his knees. “She’s also a bit of a show-off,” said Neil, but Mindi ignored him. She was making her way toward Fox, staring at him with large, un-blinking, blue eyes. Somehow, this made him more nervous than the flying bracelet. When she reached him, she stretched out her hand.
He hesitated for a moment, then took it. “F - Fox,” he stammered, and she smiled at him.
“Mindi.”
“Yes ... yes, so he said.” Fox tried to let go, but Mindi held tight, continuing to smile at him.
“There you are!” said a female voice, and Mindi turned, dropping Fox’s hand at last.
It was Lai, breathless and pink-cheeked. She leaned briefly against one of the pavilion supports to catch her breath. “The games start soon, and the suitors from Hatcher Valley and Edgewood are arriving.”
“Oh!” said Fox. “Of course, I’ll be right there.”
“Suitors?” asked Mindi. Fox couldn’t help but notice that the smile had been replaced with a pouting glare the moment that Lai had entered the pavilion.
“For the Courter’s Contest,” said Lai. It happens every year at the end of Homecoming. Young men who’ve been courting young women prove themselves
with wrestling and mining games, all sorts of things. It’s always exciting!”
“Everyone’s welcome to come,” said Fox to the two Shavid.
Neil shrugged. “It’s worth a visit, I suppose.”
Lai grinned at him and darted forward, grabbing Fox’s hand and dragging him along. As they left, Neil tagging along behind them, Fox caught a glimpse of Mindi’s face. And he was quite sure that if, at that moment, the girl could have set Lai on fire, she would have.
✽ ✽ ✽
The Courter’s Contests were just as Lai had said: a yearly tradition dating back before anyone in the valley could remember. It was a series of contests and games that symbolized the end of the Homecoming and the start of a fresh new spring. Its key purpose was to solidify potential unions between courting youths. Men showed off their skills and fought for the hands of their chosen brides, and parents wagered on their children, swapping promises and dowries. It was a chance for a young man to prove that he had what it took to protect his wife through the brutal winter, and it was a tradition which Fox could never truly take part in.
Even as a child Fox had always known that he’d never be able to participate in most of the contests. It was meant for the miners and farmers, men built for hard labor. And Fox, though he may have grown slightly taller over the past winter, would never be strong enough to throw boulders and haul great wheelbarrows of ore. When his time came, he would have to limit his marketable skills to archery and the hope that he would be as successful a trapper as his father.
As they reached the center of town, they could see colored flags being raised in the distance, marking out racecourses and finish lines on the proving grounds. Just ahead, two goatdrawn carts were parked outside the Five Sides. The first was empty, with its goat tethered to a nearby stake. The second, by the looks of it, had just pulled up. A tall, burly young man was climbing down from it, dusting snow from his coat.
Windswept (The Mapweaver Chronicles Book 1) Page 6