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The River King

Page 26

by Kim Alexander


  “I knew two things beyond question—that just as a human hand struck me down and set me to wandering, so would a human hand restore me. And I knew my sisters knew the same thing. The widow Shoyujaa disappear into the desert, and old Mother Jaa came back to the Quarter. And I began to watch and to wait.” She smiled. “But how wonderful to be surprised. It was not one human hand that brought me back but two. Oh! I almost forgot.”

  Jaa reached into her deep sleeve and shook out a rolled-up piece of fabric. It looked rather like a dirty white flag. Lelet had seen similar fabric rectangles used as doors in the little homes outside the Arch.

  “Here,” said Jaa. “This is for my beautiful boy. He’ll need it.” She gave it another shake, and it changed.

  Lelet said, “Oh,” in a small voice, put her hand to her mouth, and then reached for the fabric. “I’ll see that he gets this. Thank you.” Then she looked down to fold it small and tuck it into her own sleeve. Then she looked up. “You said he brought you back. That means...”

  “It’s already begun.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Eriis

  “It’s already begun,” Mother Jaa said, and it appeared she was correct.

  The road to the Arch was no longer empty. People ran towards them, away from the palace, although when she reached to pull Mother Jaa out of the way, she found herself alone in the frightened mob. When she looked up, she could see why.

  Directly over the building they called the War Tower, a Door stood open. It was The Door that led to all others, and it was like looking into an infinity of mirrors. From somewhere near the palace, a fat beam of light strobed and pulsed and crawled towards it. This must have been the weapon the Zaal had promised, the unmaker of Doors.

  Pushing her way through the crowd, she headed for the source of the light. Then she rounded a corner and stopped.

  She was too late. All she could do was stand in the road and watch as Moth immolated himself. The light pouring from the tower room wrapped itself around him like a lover. As she watched, there was a new light, as bright as the first, but this came from Moth himself. A double star —one made of life and love and one of blood and pain. But which was which, she could no longer tell. The light coming from the tower grew brighter, much brighter, and she finally had to look away.

  A blinding flash and all the light in the sky went out. It was dark as any night on Eriis, with no moons and no stars.

  “What happened? Can you see the prince?” Lelet asked the townsman next to her, but when she turned, he had fled. They all had.

  And with good reason—there was a tremendous rumbling, and cracks appeared in the stone walls above her. The scene was at once choked with dust, but she could make out the air around the tower well enough. The Door above the War Tower, the blood weapon, and Moth were gone. At another heaving rumble, she almost lost her footing. A shower of grit and ash fell from what had been the Zaal’s tower room.

  “Someone, I need to find him,” she called. “I need help. The prince needs help.”

  No answer. Had everyone simply shimmered out of the city? Another shudder and another shower on her hair and face. But this time it wasn’t just rocks and dust. She stared up at the tower for a long moment and then stumbled towards the Arch and headed into the Quarter. Surely, someone would be there to help her find him. That there might be nothing left of him to find did not enter her mind.

  There were still plenty of people in the Quarter, judging by the scrims pulled aside and doors quickly shut, but these people were too afraid of the strange lights in the sky or the Zaal to come out. She passed Ilaan’s old alley and her own and Thayree’s little yard. She dragged her eyes forward.

  It took over an hour to find Moth, and she only did because she happened to look up and noticed a splash of bright blood against a dull stone wall and a long, trailing smear.

  And there he was, thirty feet below, huddled in an alley.

  Shit, shit, shit. She raced to his side but didn’t know what to do or how to help him. His eyes were closed, and he had blood on his face, his hands moving slowly in the dust. One wing stretched out onto the street, the beautiful feathers crisp and burnt. He leaned back against the wall, and the other wing shot straight up behind him, twisted completely around. The top foot or so simply dangled, almost snapped off. She reached over his head to—what? Try to straighten the shattered wing? But she found herself on her backside in the dirt on the other side of the alley. He had shoved her away.

  “What are you doing over there?” Rhuun looked dazed, but his eyes were clear. “I didn’t die this time, did I?” he asked. She knelt at his side. “Hold still.”

  He wiped the dust and mud off her face.

  “Not this time but excellent effort, sweetheart. You’ll have to tell me exactly what happened up there, because—well, let’s do this first. This wing is as broken as anything I’ve ever seen, but we’re going to get you fixed. And then come with me because there’s something you have to see.”

  She tore strip after strip of black silk off his partly burned tunic, carefully binding both wings tight against his body. They would heal straight and true. He gritted his teeth and let her work. As she pulled the silk of his tunic apart, she began to suspect. By the time she was done, his shirt was reduced to a handful of scraps, and she was certain.

  “Look,” she said, holding his arm out. She gently placed her hand on the center of his chest.

  Every scar was gone.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Eriis

  Lelet helped Moth to his feet, and he winced as his wings shifted inside their binding. “No wonder Niico never liked me.”

  She looked at him, shocked.

  “See, when we were boys, I broke his—never mind. Sorry. That doesn’t even qualify as a joke. Don’t listen to me. Where are we going? Where is everyone?” He brushed dust off his arms and bare chest, taking a long moment to examine the smooth and tender skin of his wrists. “I can’t walk around like this.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh, now I get it.” She pulled a folded cloth from her sleeve. “This is for you.”

  He took it and shook it out. “It’s beautiful. It looks like it’ll fit perfectly.”

  “Mother Jaa made it for you. I think she knew this was going to happen.” She knew and that’s why she held me back with that long story. She knew enough to drop me off just a little too late to stop this from taking place. Even if he died, he would have done the job he was born for and brought her back. Beautiful boy or not, she was willing to take that chance. She knew.

  “If she made it for me, that makes it officially my new house color.” He carefully slipped on the rich silk tunic, and she helped him fit it over his bound wings. “What is this color called?”

  “Everblue,” she said. “It’s called Everblue.”

  They walked hand in hand down the market street. People were streaming past them, this time heading back towards the Arch and the palace. Once they passed through the Arch, they stopped and simply stared.

  The courtyard, the play field, the old, darkened entrance to the Raasth, the sculpture garden in front of it, the wide promenade between the Arch, and the entrance to the palace were flooded. People had started to come back out to see, and there was no keeping the children from splashing and playing in the several inches of water that covered the stones and sand. The statues near the Raasth stood up to their carved feet in it, and Lelet thought they looked on with approval. There was a noise as well, a deep, loud rushing that no one on Eriis could have recognized. Rhuun and Lelet, hearing it, turned towards it and waded in that direction through the ankle-deep water. It was coming from a street around the corner from the palace gate. It was coming from Ilaan’s tower room.

  They stopped half a block away, close enough to see the upper floor. A great torrent gushed over the sill and dropped four stories onto the street, where it spread out and ran towards the Arch and the quarter. It was already taking on the appearance of a waterfall and a river. The air on
the street below was full of spray and considerably cooler.

  “The river,” said Rhuun. “That’s the last thing I remember. I wanted to see the river.”

  “Well,” said Lelet, “I guess you’re seeing it now.”

  “I wonder how long it will last,” he said. “If it’s a piece of the Gorda, it’ll be good to drink.”

  She nodded. “You did this. Shani, you brought back the rain.”

  “That’s not possible. How could I…” He turned to look at her through a haze of mist. She was staring at him, wide eyed. “Why are you... Lelet, I didn’t do this. How could I have?”

  “When you stopped the mage’s weapon, the water came through. Maybe you somehow opened a new Door? Like Ilaan talked about?”

  Lelet knew he wanted to tell her this was impossible, but he couldn’t.

  She continued. “If it keeps flowing like this, soon there’ll be enough water in the air to make real rain. All the stories are true. You opened The Door. You brought back the rain.” She smiled. “Just not in the way anyone would have expected.” She took a step back and pointed towards the new, shallow lake. “Look.”

  Scores of guards and workers exited the palace, their tan or black or grey tunics damp and clinging to their legs.

  “They’ll be wearing blue before the day’s over. They’re yours, now.” Is this where I begin to lose him? She remembered May’s words: This isn’t about you. Lelet laughed—nothing had ever been less about her. She might be a footnote in the story they’d tell here forever, the story of how the prince opened The Door and brought back the rain. It seemed like a fair deal. She’d had a small hand in saving both this world and her own. Maybe it was time to go home.

  People walked towards them now, a lot of people, calling to their prince. He’d been spotted. He gripped Lelet’s hand and said, “Do not leave me.” Then he put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Ever.”

  Or maybe not. I’ve been wrong before.

  She pushed his hair, now quite damp, out of his eyes. “Aya naya, sweetheart. I never will.” They kissed.

  Above their heads, the clouds parted to reveal a sliver of eggshell-colored sky.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Eriis

  Well, this is a pretty handful of rushta. The Zaal had frozen in shock when that great freak had opened his wings. And when had he gotten wings?

  But by the time he moved to pull him out of the air, it was too late. Blood called to blood, and the weapon he’d created had returned to its first home, becoming a new and different kind of weapon. The only good thing to come of this, thought the Zaal as he hurried back into the palace, was that the prince was one hundred percent, surely and unequivocally dead. He’d fried like an insect in a flame. There was no way he could have survived.

  And yet, how many other times had he survived when he should not have? No, it was too easy. He needed to see the burned, smoking body with his own eyes. Perhaps he hadn’t taken all his lovely blood with him. That would be something.

  Well, if he was actually dead or merely soon to be dead, the Seat remained vacant, and the people would need a steadying hand. He wondered if Hellne had made it back from Mistra. Surely she wouldn’t consider remaining in that filthy place. It had certainly been a surprise to see her on the other side of The Door and taking arms against his daeeve, no less. She was full of surprises. Still, with the much hoped for death of her son, she might need some intensive consoling before he dispatched her.

  Perhaps not everything was ruined. The Door still existed, but without the prince arguing for reconciliation, the Zaal would see about turning the minds of the people away from Mistra for good. First thing, get Calaa back in place to put on the face of the beloved and soon-to-be bereaved queen. The story of how the humans attacking again cost them the life of their prince was already coming together in his mind. And of course he’d have to think of a way to stop all that water from coming through. Everything from Mistra was filthy.

  He did have one more weapon, in case somehow the prince hadn’t been properly put down or if anyone else thought to make a play for the vacant Seat—Queen Thaali. She was sure to be hungry. In the chaos following the flight of the daeeve through The Door back to Mistra, he’d snatched up the gravely injured queen still in her attractive, albeit extremely leaky, demon form. She was too badly hurt to transform back into her own, real body, he was relieved to discover. He was helping her recover in the palace, in what had been her own room, hid her in a closet until the suite of rooms she’d shared with Araan had been searched, and then moved her in. She immediately crawled under the bed, which was fine with him. The prince had his guards looking for her—for both of them, not that they’d have any luck. He could change his face as easily as tossing a handful of sand. And no one suspected she’d still be in the palace. He heard they were looking mainly outside the Arch, which funnily enough was also his favorite hunting ground. After he discovered her gnawing on her own fingers and toes, he brought Thaali treats from that very quarter—little ones who wouldn’t be missed. It was laughably easy; all one had to do was spend a few moments in observation then copy the face of a parent and simply hold out one’s hand. The children went with him without a bit of concern or hesitation. And a trip to the palace, how exciting!

  Thaali was improving, but she still could use something more substantive. And now might be the perfect time to deploy her, as he’d once mentioned to Calaa. And speaking of, where was that girl? He hadn’t seen her since the disaster at the courtyard. If she’d abandoned or betrayed him, she might be the one on the menu.

  In any event, he’d find something nice for Thaali. She was in poor spirits. Her kind preferred a multitude. And if she acted up, well, perhaps she would burn up as easily as the prince.

  Wearing the face of a guard who didn’t exist, he strolled through the palace, nodding at this person or that, attracting no attention. They were all too caught up in the excitement of the flooding courtyard. He stopped at Thaali’s unguarded door and pushed it open.

  “Thaali? My dear? Something terrible has happened, and I need your help to set things right. Where are you? Are we playing a hiding game? I’m afraid there’s no time for that today. Come on out, now.”

  “Please help me,” Thaali whimpered. She crept from behind the bed, seemingly afraid to look up at him. The ghastly wound in her head had begun to heal, but she hadn’t allowed him to get close enough to clean the clotted blood out of her hair. There was a pronounced smell. “I can’t get up. Please, come and help me.”

  The Zaal, with a sniff of disgust, reached down and extended his hand to her. Her grip on his wrist was surprisingly strong for so few fingers, and when she looked up at him, she smiled. There were far too many teeth.

  Thaali licked the last of the blood off the floor. The Zaal had been mostly gristle, but she liked gristle. She was feeling much better, having slept and now eaten her fill. The cracks in her head still made her eyes cross, and fluid still ran down her neck in a most familiar, almost comforting way. But it didn’t matter that much to her anymore.

  She got up carefully. Her balance was poor, what with having eaten nearly all of her left foot along with all but two fingers on each hand. With what she had remaining, she wrapped one of those veils around herself, making certain to cover her head. The veil would become wet, of course, and show blood stains, but the demon creatures all seemed quite distracted by fluid of a different kind which made a horrid roaring noise and clung unpleasantly to her bare, gnawed feet as she hurried away from the palace and towards the Arch. No one paid her any attention or noticed her bloody, deformed footsteps.

  Soon she would be out of the city, and she could drop this awful, half-ruined form. She’d go back the way she came, for starters. After that? She’d heard tell of something called the Crosswinds. That seemed interesting. She liked the way the people looked at her when she wore that pretty crown. She wondered if the Crosswinds were in need of a queen.

  At the city gate, she looked bac
k once, wishing Araan was by her side. Wherever he was, he would devour whatever lay in his path. She vowed to do the same.

  She started out across the sand, leaving her body behind.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Eriis

  Six Months Later

  Lelet kissed her sister and Stelle goodbye and sent them on their way. They were nearly the last guests to leave, and although she’d miss them, she was so tired and out of sorts, she just wanted to lie down someplace in the shade. With all the water flowing through the city, it was certainly cooler but nothing like what you’d call ‘cool’, and despite the clouds breaking up sometimes for hours at a stretch, they remained heavy in the sky. It still had not rained, although the population, suddenly weather experts to a man, all assured each other it was bound to happen eventually.

  “We’ll visit them soon,” Moth said, helping her clear plates and cups. He didn’t have to, of course, but he insisted on living as if he were a normal person. She supposed she did, as well. “If they can get those trees to grow on the Edge, that would be something to see.”

  With their father’s cooperation—and some relief, although he was very kind about the whole thing—May and Stelle had decided take Moth up on his offer and retire to Eriis to see if they could coax the special trees, the ones the silkworms liked the best, to grow in the newly dampened soil outside the city. It was widely reported the women were pioneers and having an exciting adventure, but of course there was talk.

  There was talk everywhere, but on Eriis, they talked about different things. It was far more scandalous that the High Seat had granted a couple of humans a bit of land, but after all, there was plenty of land and really, what was the harm? And those two ladies were such excellent hosts. It would take the pair about a day to get to their new villa because the tributary of the Gorda that began to flow all those months ago had not ceased or slowed at all, and now there was a river—an actual river with real boats on it—that could take you from the Arch to the Edge faster even than most people could shimmer.

 

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