Liandari took a deep breath, her face growing hard. “Why are you connected to this dragon, Marielle? Did you open the Bridge of Legends? Are you the one we seek?” She stepped forward, aggression in her movements and rose-tinted obsession in her scent. “Answer me!”
“I – I didn’t open anything,” Marielle stammered. She’d made the wrong choice coming here. It would have been safer on the streets or defying Allegra.
“Then why does the dragon sing to you? Why do you channel echoes of his magic?” Liandari smelled of violence.
Marielle stood up from her chair, clutching the shell like it could shield her somehow. “Echoes?”
“It’s what the shells are for,” Anglarok said simply. “They magnify magic, echo it, take what is already there and make it greater. We searched all night for the dragon. And we searched all night for the one who opened the Bridge, but we found neither.”
Liandari strode forward, quivering with emotion. Garnet and pitch poured off of her in waves and Marielle flinched back.
“You are connected to this dragon somehow,” she said. “That level of resonance is no mistake.”
“We’ve shaved days off of our time to find him,” Anglarok protested. He smelled like he was trying to defend Marielle. Instinctively, she drew back as he spoke. “We can use the girl to track the dragon down. It will save us time, and we will be honored when we return to the ships of the Retribution.”
Liandari paused, the scent of strawberries rippling from her suggested she was thinking hard. “I still want an answer.”
“I was meant to be sacrificed to the dragon, but at the last moment, someone ripped me away from the ceremony,” Marielle said.
“’To be sacrificed’” Liandari quoted her. “’Was ripped.’ Are you only a pawn in the hands of others or do you make your own choices? I thought you said you were not nameless. The nameless do as they are told, go where they are sent, are silent in the presence of the named. The named take their own initiative. They find, they seek, they choose, they do. Are you named?”
“Yes,” Marielle said, her cheeks hot.
“Prove it. Make a decision.”
Marielle swallowed. Liandari was right about her. She’d been pushed in a corner by Allegra, pushed into another one by Etienne. She’d been saved and set on this course by Tamerlan, but where was the last time that she’d made her own choice about something other than the Wind Rose? If she really cared about writing wrongs and setting the course of the world back on track, should she really be hiding in these rooms or should she be headed out to fight a dragon?
“I’ll need the clothing of a warrior, and a better weapon, supplies for a week of travel, a solid boat, and this shell,” Marielle said as boldly as she could. Was she really doing this?
“And?” Anglarok prompted.
“And the help of someone who knows how to follow this resonance.”
Liandari smiled. “Good. The Ki’Tempest will be pleased. We will locate this dragon before the end of Dawnspell and bring him the head of the creature on a pole.”
Marielle looked around the room and swallowed. Seven of them to one dragon. What could go wrong?
Liandari snapped her finger and three of the nameless gathered their cloaks and belt pouches and left.
“We’ll set out when the supplies are ready,” Liandari said. “Work with her, Anglarok. See if she can find the one who opened the Bridge of Legends, also. Perhaps we will be shown double favor.”
Marielle swallowed. What had she gotten herself into? She was no Legend swinging a sword and slaying dragons, but it seemed like she might need to be just to survive. She didn’t think that Liandari took the word “no” very easily.
18: Rope and Riots
Tamerlan
Tamerlan scrambled along the canal toward the Temple District. He’d run out of coin to hire a gondola and the rope was heavy, but this was still the most direct route back to the bridge. Besides, the edges of the canals were still relatively safe – not like the streets. He clamped down on the anxiety that filled him at the thought of the streets. Etienne had not been wrong about riots.
By the time Tamerlan had made it to the Trade District to find rope, there was enough smoke in the streets to make anyone worry. On top of that, bands of men and women surged through the choking smoke, weapons in hand and grim looks on their faces. He’d watched a group of them grab a pair of Xin City Watch Officers. They were tying them in rope by the time he left, and he didn’t want to know what they’d do after that. He itched to stop them, but how did you stop half of a city?
It had taken long minutes and more coin than he would have liked to convince the shop owner to sell him rope. Every shop in the District was barring the doors and windows when he went by. Those who could go indoors were inside. The streets felt eerily familiar. They felt like they had on Summernight in Jingen. He swallowed down the memory.
“Where’s the Eye?” he’d heard the mob asking the Watch Officers. As if they had some hidden clue. “Tell us!”
What would he and Etienne do if they found it? If they kept it hidden, this would only get worse. If they revealed it, they’d be torn apart for it.
The citizenry weren’t the only ones who had gone crazy. He’d narrowly dodged a pair of men in military garb only to see another man grabbed by them and hastily tied to a long chain of other men.
“Recruiting for the Xin City Army!” one of the men in uniform called as he tied his victim to the chain. “If volunteers cannot be found, recruits will be culled from the populace to fill our quota! Join the army here!”
He shuddered at the memory of that. Only Lila’s sneaky suggestions had coached him out of the thick of things with his skin intact and still out of uniform.
“Tamerlan!”
He spun at the sound of his name, sagging with relief at the sight of Jhinn rowing along the canal.
“Jhinn!”
“Hop in the boat, boy. What are you doing with all that rope?”
Tamerlan leapt from the side into the little boat, rocking side to side as he regained the balance he’d lost as he landed.
“I ... I couldn’t find you before, Jhinn,” he stammered. “I don’t know how to thank you. You saved my life!”
“I might have just saved it again. This city is in bad shape,” Jhinn said, pointing to where the Trade District was going up in plumes of smoke. “Setting fire to boats. Theft of property. Dumping waste into the canals. It’s disgusting. We should move on. Find a different city.”
Tamerlan laughed. If only he could. But he sobered up quickly. Just because he needed to atone for his sins didn’t mean that Jhinn did.
“You should go, Jhinn. Pick anywhere but here. You should go somewhere safe. You don’t owe me anything.” He paused, feeling guilty. “I owe you everything, but I can’t pay you back. Not yet, at least.”
“None of us is promised anything in this life, Tamerlan. Nothing but adventure. And I’ve had a few. But now that you are real again, you should come with me. Leave this horrible place and find a better one.”
Tamerlan scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I can’t leave – not yet. I have to find an amulet and use it to stop the dragon. I owe the world that. All the destruction that dragon caused – it’s all my fault.”
Jhinn shrugged. “You didn’t make the dragon. You didn’t build a city on him.”
Tamerlan sighed. “If only it was that simple.”
“And the rope?”
“We’re looking for the amulet in the Dragon Collar Bridge.”
“I don’t think there’s any treasure hidden in that bridge,” Jhinn said critically. They were in the lock now, working slowly upward toward where the bridge spanned the canal. It soared high above them, a marvel of modern engineering. Tamerlan swallowed. He couldn’t see the variances in the bricks from here and he was starting to doubt that the amulet would be there.
Because it’s not. Lila Cherrylock’s voice rang loud in his mind. Behind her voice were echoes of Ra
m – always close to the surface.
Dragon. Dragon. Dragon.
“You should smoke that stuff. I have all your herbs hidden and I bet that those spirits could help you find the amulet,” Jhinn said quietly.
He wasn’t going to smoke it. Not ever again.
We’ll see.
“They seem to think you’re wasting your time with the bridge,” Jhinn said with a shrug.
“You can hear them, too?” Tamerlan asked wide-eyed.
“Sure. Can’t you?”
“I thought I was the only one!”
Jhinn shrugged again like it wasn’t important. “They’re dead people talking. So what? Dead people talk all the time. They call to me from the shore. Sometimes they offer coins even before they become real.”
How strange would it be to live life thinking everything on dry land was not real? That it was owned by the Satan?
“Just smoke the stuff,” Jhinn said. “Stop wasting your time.”
“I can’t do that,” Tamerlan said with trembling hands, examining the bridge piers as he spoke. “Last time I chose to do that, I did terrible things.”
“Because you did it in the world of the Satan. Do it in my boat. I’ll row you out into the sea. What harm can you do out there?”
“I could hurt you,” Tamerlan said reluctantly.
“Those spirits aren’t going to hurt me,” Jhinn huffed. “The red-haired one just winked at me.”
Tamerlan put a hand over his eyes. How embarrassing.
But Jhinn’s plan was solid. What could it hurt to try it out on a boat far from people? Maybe he would get added insight that way.
Do it!
Was that all four legends speaking at once? Tamerlan shivered at the thought.
“Okay, but we’ll have to sneak out of the city into the river or out to sea,” he said nervously.
Jhinn grinned as he rowed the gondola out of the lock and to the side of the canal where a small jetty allowed gondolas to offload passengers.
“Good. I want to fish. There isn’t a scrap of food in this Mer-forsaken city! Do you know the message tree near where I dropped you and Marielle off?”
“I can find it.”
“Go there tonight and I’ll be waiting. And if you find any food, bring it. I’m hungry.”
“Thanks, Jhinn,” Tamerlan said, leaping from the gondola with his coils of rope. Whatever Lord Mythos had done had healed him completely. He hadn’t felt this good in a long time.
The thought of trying the smoke again with Jhinn out on the ocean filled him with relief. He did want the knowledge and power that only the Legends could give him, but he didn’t want to hurt anyone. This was the perfect solution. What could possibly go wrong?
19: Sins of the Father
Tamerlan
The winding steps up to the top of the bridge gave Tamerlan a long time to think. With his health restored, sneaking away tonight wouldn’t be too difficult. It would be the best course, really. A contained experiment. He’d have to make plans to keep Jhinn safe. Maybe if the boy held Tamerlan’s sword – yeah, that might work.
There were few people on the steps – and no wonder. Tamerlan’s feet were dragging before he reached the top. Fish sounded like a good idea right about now. Maybe Jhinn was right that they should spend a little time fishing.
The bells began to sound the next hour, clanging and tinkling, pounding and pealing. They were so familiar. He’d been hearing them his whole life on every Dawnfast since he could walk.
He used to like Dawnfast – not the actual fasting of course, and not the part where he was constantly nagged for daydreaming when he was supposed to be cleaning, but he loved the purification of it. He loved the sense of being washed from the inside out and made new to face another year. He loved imagining Grandfather Timeless marching forward with the world balanced in his panniers. What must that look like?
He was almost at the top of the stairs – his eyes drifting over the city below, rolling out from this high point of the city, district on district, his mind floating on visions of Grandfather Timeless – when his gaze caught on Etienne. The young man – dressed head to toe in black like a brooding raven – motioned to Tamerlan to join him and as he waved to him, the other men talking to Etienne turned to look a Tamerlan.
That wasn’t –?
No.
It couldn’t be,
Tamerlan froze midstride as a familiar pair of blue eyes caught his. A cruelly familiar face – handsome and chiseled – but cloaking a malevolence most people never saw – smiled slightly at the sight of him. It wasn’t a smile of welcome on the face of that tall, broad-shouldered man. It wasn’t a smile of fatherly affection. It was the smile of a chess player happy to see one of his pawns returned to the board.
Tamerlan shook himself and forced his steps forward. It was too late to run. Too late to hide. He’d have to face this like a man. He lifted his chin with determination, clenching his jaw until he was close enough to speak.
“Decebal,” he said. There would be no “father” from his lips. His father lost that privilege when he sold Tamerlan to the Alchemists.
“You nearly killed me, son,” his voice was cool. An icy sheath over a sharp sword. “I didn’t think you were half that skilled or I would have sold you to the army for a much better price.”
“You lived,” Tamerlan said, shocked by how hard his voice sounded. “How?”
“I took your sister through the secret passages below the Seven Suns Palace. They lead out under the walls of the city – a short path to the land beyond Jingen. Most of the Landholds with any sense went that way. Next time you plan to destroy a city and everything in it, you should plug up the ratholes if you don’t want the rats to escape.”
“That was never my intention,” Tamerlan said, angry at himself for the heat he felt forming in his cheeks. He wasn’t a child anymore. He owed this man nothing. Why did he feel like he needed to explain that this wasn’t his fault?
Etienne cleared his throat and Tamerlan almost felt grateful when the other man raised a narrow eyebrow, though he had some explaining to do. That was not the account he had given of how Tamerlan’s father escaped the city.
“You know Decebal Zi’fen, and of course you must know Renli Di’Sham of Yan, soon to be his son in law and Renli’s brother Han Di’Sham,” Etienne’s voice was calm. “We owe Yan a great debt for their generosity in taking in the refugees of Jingen.”
“We aren’t here for introductions,” Decebal growled. “We’re here to make sure that you understand our terms. You will renounce your role as the Lord Mythos of Jingen, fold Jingen and her Landholds into the governance of Yan as we ask.”
“And if I do not?” Etienne asked calmly.
“You are a Myth-Keeper without a Myth. A lord without a city. A man without a home. You are nothing but an empty name.”
“Then why does it matter to you that I renounce it?” Etienne asked, leaning against the bridge railing and looking out across the city to the horizon where Jingen still smoked in the distance. By moving there, he had turned his back on the men speaking to him.
Tamerlan shifted awkwardly. Their words were daggers and if Etienne wasn’t careful, he’d be getting a real dagger in the back. If they were asking this, then they had plans for the title of ‘Lord Mythos.’ Tamerlan glanced quickly at his father. Was it possible that Decebal wanted the title for himself? Could he be thinking of restoring Jingen with Yan’s help now that the chaos surrounding the city had ripped power from every other hand? It sounded like something he would plan.
“Why keep a name that only mocks you every day with what you lost?” Decebal asked.
“Is my sister well?” Tamerlan interrupted.
Decebel looked shocked at the interruption, but it was Renli who answered. “She’s safe and well, though shaken by her brush with death.”
The look he gave Tamerlan made it clear whose fault he thought that was. And he was right, of course. Amaryllis’ terror, this political maneu
vering, the smoke in the distance, the riots springing up across Xin – none of these things would have happened if Tamerlan hadn’t smoked and become Ram the Hunter.
So, why did it feel so urgent that he try it again?
Yes! A voice echoed in his head. Try again!
But Tamerlan’s father had already moved on. He leaned in close to Etienne so that Tamerlan could barely catch his words as he hissed.
“Your power is gone. Your authority has ebbed away like a receding tide. Even Lady Saga did not listen to your request not to make this year’s Dawnspell Hunt about the amulet.”
Lord Mythos met him look for look. “And how is that working out for the City of Xin?”
Decebal spat, his next words loud enough for all of them to hear. “And now here you are, a weak fool, still clutching to the trappings of a life you lost. By next week, no one will remember your name.”
Decebel left them – lackeys at his heels – with a flurry of shaken capes and rattled swords.
“Like birds, strutting for attention,” Etienne said with a single raised eyebrow before nodding to Tamerlan. “Not going to change sides now, are you?”
“To serve the Satan?” Tamerlan asked, watching his father leave. “I think not.”
“He’s no Satan. Just a petty man with petty wishes. He wants power, but power is not a thing you can hold. It’s a lion on a chain. You have to make sure it is always feeding on something else, or else it turns around and feeds on you.”
Tamerlan shivered, dropping the heavy rope to the ground. “Where do you want to tie to?”
It turned out Lord Mythos was fussy about knots – a good thing considering that he’d decided Tamerlan would be the one to go down the rope.
“You need someone up here to make sure no one dislodges the rope while you climb. Someone with authority,” he said by way of explanation.
Tamerlan didn’t bother rolling his eyes. Why expect anything else? Etienne was just as addicted to power as anyone else. As long as there was someone to command, he’d be commanding them.
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