by Levi Jacobs
Tai shook his head. “But why would they do that? Why would you do that?”
“Because they want the competition out,” Weiland said. “It’s why we can’t just focus on one. As soon as one’s gone, the other Houses will swallow their holdings and become that much stronger. We have to bring them all down at once.”
“So the yura I stole from Coldferth, was that—“
“Aye,” Ilrick nodded. “Galya gave us the intel, paid us to do it.”
Tai clenched his fists. “You lied to me.”
I told you they were trying to use you.
“You weren’t one of us then,” Karhail said, a note of warning in his voice. “There was no need for you to know.”
“Except that I was the one taking the risk.” Tai shook his head. “For a bunch of mercenaries?”
“We’re not mercenaries,” Karhail barked. “These are all hits we’d have done anyway, we just needed the money till we could make a major theft. But sinking Coldferth’s ship last week, the attack on the dockhouse last night, those are all us, and those are our future. With this yura,” he pounded his fist on one of the bales, “we won’t need their contracts any more. We can feed more people, buy more arms, send out more recruits—and use your yura trick to get an edge.”
Shouts echoed down the corridor, and another gust of wind. “Speaking of which,” Weiland said, standing, “sounds like we might need to check on—“
A blast of air took his words, carrying with it sand and rocks and loose clothes. Tai threw up an arm protectively.
“What in prophets?” “Shatters!” The men leapt to their feet, sound of Matle’s shouts louder now, desperate.
“See what’s going on,” Karhail called. “Beal, Weiland—“
“I’m not going in there!” Beal cried, another blast carrying with it sand and water, rolling rocks down the passage.
Tai ran for the tunnel Matle had taken. Weiland said the process wasn’t pleasant, but something was wrong here, something worse than unpleasant.
He paused at a branching, listening. The shouts echoed, almost like two voices, a scream and a roar, but he couldn’t tell from where. Wind blasted again, pebbles pelting Tai’s skin, and he ran that way, coming out into one of the storage chambers.
It was a disaster. Torches lay guttering on the floor, clothes and dried foods and weapons strewn everywhere, as though a thunderstorm had passed through the cave. The roars and screams echoed, closer, but he couldn’t see Matle. Tai strained for the words—
“—again. You shall be deposed! Justice be visited—“
The roar interrupted the scream—“You’ve kept me down long enough, Semeca—” a wind picked up in the cavern, “see how you fade even now, weakest of archrevenants—”
A crash sounded overhead. Tai looked up to see the recruit flop off a rock icicle, screaming and roaring, dropping for the floor. “Matle!” Tai struck his resonance and shot up, arcing to intersect him.
A mad wind smashed into him, driving him left, and he missed the young man, barely avoiding an icicle himself in the tight space. “Matle what are you doing? Stop!”
Karhail and Weiland appeared at the door. Tai shot down toward Matle, the boy roaring even as he lay, limbs twisted add odd angles. Weiland got to him first, but before Tai could get there the boy shot up again, Weiland a blur around him. Tai shot after, Karhail yelling something, a gale wind blowing down from the ceiling. Tai pushed through it, caught Matle, shoved down hard to take them away from the ceiling. Weiland snapped into regular time, clinging to Matle’s body. “Get us down, boy. He’s dead, or near so.”
“Not if he’s resonating like this!” Tai shouted over Matle, who’d gone back to the screaming.
With a lurch Matle added downward force to Tai’s, and Tai had to switch, pushing up to brake them from crashing into the floor.
They touched down, and Weiland blurred, bonds appearing on Matle a moment later, tying him to a rock pillar.
Not a moment too soon. The boy screamed more nonsense, skin straining against his bonds, and wind tore through the cavern. “What in Prophet’s name?” Karhail yelled, shielding himself from the winds, spears and swords flying with the cloth and dirt.
“His resonance!” Tai yelled. “He can’t control it! We’ve got to calm him—dreamleaf!”
A wall of air hit them, slamming all four into the wall, all discussion lost in the roar. Cloth and beans and shields and stones piled onto them, wind pressing them ever harder against the stone. Tai pushed the other direction, hard, straining off the wall—
Then the force was gone, and he shot outwards in a rain of falling debris. The shouting was gone too, the scream and roar. “Matle?”
The boy sagged against his bonds, skin sliced and raw, covered in blood. Tai scanned the ground for dreamleaf, honeywine, anything—
“He’s dead, boy.” Weiland appeared next to Matle, holding the boy’s chin in one hand. The green eyes were sightless. “Don’t know what happened but he’s done now.”
“Ancestors’ blood,” Tai panted, head spinning from the bends. Every bone in the Yati boy’s body looked like it was broken. “What was that?”
Karhail approached, favoring his arrow shot leg, bleeding from a gash on his neck. “Something went wrong.” His expression was stony. “Did this happen to you, Tai?”
“No.”
“Weiland?”
The slip was slower to answer. “Something might have happened like this. I fought a good long time before I got through the challenges. And there were some voices. Though I don’t think I was shouting.”
“You were, actually,” Tai said. “Though not like that.”
Weiland nodded. “Guess the boy wasn’t strong enough.”
Karhail began untying the bonds. Eyna and Ilrick appeared in the door. “The meck happened here?” Ilrick asked. Eyna’s eyes were wide.
“Matle didn’t make it,” Karhail said, still stony.
“Prophets,” Theron breathed. “What are we going to do?”
“We bury him and try again.”
“Try again?” Tai stared at the man. “After what just happened?”
“We take precautions,” Karhail said. “And I go next.”
“Sure you want to do that, Kar?” Ilrick asked. “I don’t know I want to fight you if you’re carrying on like Matle did.”
“We need this,” Karhail said, undoing the last of the bonds and easing the body down. “We need an edge if we’re going to beat the Houses, let alone the Councilate. Tai and Weiland succeeded, Beal survived, Matle died. Those are odds I’m willing to take.”
“Your funeral,” Ilrick muttered. “Just don’t ask me to do it.”
Karhail cracked his neck, unwinding the bonds. “You’re good enough at what you do, and mosstongues use so little uai anyway, I guess we can let you off the hook. But brawlers, wafters, slips, all the heavy abilities, we all do it, and all the recruits.” He looked around. “It’s that, or give up now. Are you with me?”
Most of the men nodded, but Tai met Karhail’s eyes, unblinking. He was asking them all to face death, but that was true in an attack too. Still he didn’t nod his head. He couldn’t. What had he taught them?
Karhail slung the body over his shoulder and turned away.
They buried Matle in a small chamber an hour’s walk away. Eyna spoke a few words in Yati, and each added something from their own beliefs, Aelya producing a purple mavenstym flower from somewhere and laying it on his cheek.
Karhail remained stony-faced, and insisted on taking his own yura as soon as they got back. They took precautions this time, reasoning that if a brawler lost control of their powers, they would become wildly strong and violent. They bound the tall Seinjial man to a rock pillar, wrapping him head to foot with rope, Ilrick tying thick sailor’s knots on the far side of the pillar.
“That should hold him,” he said, dusting off his hands. They’d set torches all around, and decided someone would keep watch with a decanter of dreamleaf, in
case things went wrong.
“Just give me the yura,” Karhail intoned, stone faced.
Ilrick fed him fifteen balls of yura. It was hard to watch, and some part of Tai was relieved when they choose Weiland to guard. The man had already found a stone to lounge on, and nodded to them as they passed, apparently unconcerned.
Tai left the chamber with the other men, heading for the small room where Aelya had been resting. She was asleep when he got there, empty herb packet beside her. Tai sat on the pallet across from hers, tired and restless. How long had it been since he slept? He laid back, but his mind kept working: Karhail and the others taking House funds, Matle hanging limp and dead from his bonds, Marrem’s lined face asking him if this was doing it better. Lumo. Hopefully the mountain man was alright.
He had shown Tai a breathing exercise, as part of the training to use his second level powers. “It is also good for relaxing,” the hulking man had said. “I practice sometimes, though I cannot make things waft.”
Tai found a scrap of yura and lay back, grinding the earthy leaves between his teeth.
Follow your breath. Notice its qualities.
His breathing was too fast for having lain awhile, his chest tight.
Feel it enter, feel it exit, like a living thing. Relax. When you are ready, push it out, touch something.
Tai chose a battered tin cup, on the rough floor by Aelya.
Breath in, touch. Breath out, move.
Tai breathed out, willing the cup to slide it. It didn’t.
The object is an extension of your breath. Tai could hear the Minchu’s deep rumble. Feel it as you feel your own wind.
Tai tried again, breathing out. The cup, two span away or more, slid on the stone.
He breathed again, cup drawing toward him, then breathed out, willing his breath to touch the bottom of the cup somehow.
The cup rose, wobbling, then fell. Tai grimaced at the clatter, began again. Follow your breath, notice its qualities. He breathed steadily, slowly, trying to feel the cup as an extension of himself. It rose, slowly, and he inhaled it closer, moving the air against it like he did his own body in flight. Like he’d done chasing a dying Matle through the cavern.
The cup clattered to the stone. Aelya shifted, mumbling. Tai grimaced. In, out. Touch, move. Feel the wind, feel the cup. It rose again, wobbling, and came over to him. A moan came from the cavern, and the cup dipped a moment. No distractions. Breathing out, he pushed a little more on the top of the cup, rolling it. A smooth pebble die fell out, and he caught it with air, breathed it upward.
Another moan from Karhail’s direction. Tai held his focus, held the cup and die with his breath. If Karhail dies, and the rebels turn against me—
The cup and die fell on him, tin cold on his skin. No distractions.
Tai growled, focusing, and tried again. In, out…
He had the cup in air above him, die orbiting a handsbreath outside it, when a zip sounded, and Weiland appeared in the door. “He’s alright now, I think, if you gents want to help me untie him.”
Tai lowered the die and cup, steady, then ran to see, grateful for the calm in his mind.
Karhail was better than alright, grinning from ear to ear as they untied him. “You sure you’re fine, Kar?” Ilrick asked.
“Never better,” the man grinned, a ferocity to him. “If I had known this years ago—” He shook his head.
“What in meck?” Weiland said, staring at the pillar as Karhail stepped away.
A mass of yura clung to the stone, forming a perfect outline of the Seinjial’s body. Ilrick whistled. “Looks like you grew some moss back there, Kar.”
“Hmph,” Karhail said, bemused. “I guess we can always use more.”
“We—the Achuri—believe our ancestors leave it as a gift,” Tai said, “when they depart. Did you—talk with your ancestors?”
Karhail sobered some. “Aye. The challenges. I heard them. But like they were asleep, or wounded. It’s hard to describe—but I saw the way through.”
Weiland nodded. “The yura makes them easier to fight.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t beat yourself to bits in the process,” Ilrick said, deftly plucking the clumps of yura.
“You’re next, Theron,” Karhail said.
“Hold,” Tai said, putting a hand on Theron’s arm. “We’ve all seen what happened to Matle. This should be a choice.” Eyna said nothing, but came to stand next to him.
Karhail met his gaze, glanced at her. “To be a soldier is to accept death. Theron of all people knows this.”
“I am willing to do it, Tai,” the bulky Seinjial said in a low tone. “I would be more than I am.”
Tai watched in silence as they took his weapons, fed him yura, and tied him to the stone.
Was this doing it better?
20
What is in light? Though the sun shines yellow and the star blue, still there seems to be something more than this, because winter foods wither with too much sunlight, and summer foods fail to grow under Gyolla’s blue glow. Is the light in fact the Prophet’s blessing to mankind? But that would indicate yura, too, is a blessing: for winterfoods do not much nourish the body, but readily fuel resonances, whilst summer crops keep a body hale but do little for the music of the bones.
--Eylan Ailes, Treatise on Natural Histories
The Sanga bridge was a long wooden arch spanning the milky-blue Sanga River, elaborately carved and stained a deep burgundy. Ella stood to one side of it, scanning both sides of the river for the street tough, Tai.
If that’s what he was. She’d first met him on the streets, but what had he been doing with a load of yura for Odril’s money-laundering house? That was the work of a House mercenary.
It shouldn’t matter—he’d been kind to her, given her yura when he had no reason to, and that was all that was important. But somehow, the thought of him fighting in one of Odril’s proxy wars made her think less of him.
It also made her feel less safe. A man like that, paid to kill people, might not flinch at hurting her, if it benefitted him. What if Odril had found out, had contacted Tai and paid him to take her back? She still had her resonance, yes, but she wasn’t invincible.
You’re not invincible, something said inside. You should get out of here.
Ella frowned. She’d been hearing things lately, little snippets like this, though this was the strongest yet. Was LeTwi coming back? And would that mean losing her resonance? The voice didn’t sound like LeTwi, though there was something familiar about it.
Ella shook her head, scanning the noon crowds on one side, the farmers and elk carts on the other. No sign of Tai. Her biggest worry was not that he was a mercenary, or even that she was in danger, but that she’d inadvertently given him the secret of yuraloading. And if he was a mercenary, that meant yuraloading would eventually get used for House ends, for further conquering and cultural erasing—for all the things she came here to stop.
“Ella?”
She started, striking her resonance in surprise. The world slowed, but she didn’t recognize him at first—then realized he was the Seinjialese man next to her in longshirt and pants, black hair pulled back in a silver band. She looked around, but didn’t see anyone else approaching, or even watching them. Crucially, no one was moving faster than a snail’s pace, which meant no other timeslips. So if it was a trap, it was a poor one.
She let go. “Tai! You—look different.”
He grimaced. “Trying to keep a low profile.”
“Me too.” She’d worn a Yersh peasant dress that day, and kept her hair in a simple bun. “Who are you hiding from?”
“Lawkeepers,” he said. “House Galya, Coldferth. Take your pick. ”
“Coldferth? Were you… behind the attack on the dockhouse?” It’d been all the talk since yesterday.
Tai looked around. “Walk with me?”
They crossed the bridge, and Tai steered them off the main road onto the rutted cart paths that divided the green fields. The air wa
s warm, and held the pleasant scent of fresh-turned earth. “I had you pegged for a street tough at first,” Ella said. “Then when you came with all that yura…”
“You assumed I was a mercenary.”
She looked at him, somehow older with his hair pulled back and decent clothes. “Are you a mercenary?”
“No,” he said, forcefully, then, “I’m not. I’m—I just want my kids back. The Councilate stole my kids, as part of a payback thing for a lawkeeper—the one that bothered us the first time we met? He took them to the prison camp.”
The flat way he said it told her there was a lot of emotion underneath. “I’m sorry. I tried to talk him down.”
“I know you did.” He shook his head. “Surprised me, that a lighthair would.”
“Is that all I am, just a lighthair?”
“It’s part of who you are. But you must be a strange one, to help me out, and then end up locked in some basement. Anyways that trouble wasn’t really about us or the yura you were trying to buy. The Houses are cracking down on the streets, trying to clean up the black market so they can make more money on yura.”
Ella stepped around a pile of leafy weeds, left to wilt in the sun. “Well I’m sorry either way. I probably shouldn’t have stood around grilling you about resonances.”
He shrugged. “People are usually a little faster about buying illegal goods off the street.”
It took her a second to realize he was joking. And a second more to realize she hadn’t been watching for an attack, for some kind of setup. He’d put her at ease. “So you’re not a mercenary? Then why the shipment to Odril? You know what he is, right?”
Tai grimaced. “I have some idea, anyway. It was a one time thing, something the rebels asked me to do to prove myself. They—said they used to take contracts, one House against another, but they’re done with that now.”
“The rebels? So you’re…“ It was somehow hard to say.
“Fighting the Councilate.”
Prophets. “To get your kids back?”
“Mostly.”
Ella pursed her lips. “You must be very committed to them, to not just run with that yura. It would make you a fortune in Worldsmouth.”