But though the sun had fallen and light faded from the sky, sleep eluded me. In its place whirled thoughts my exhaustion had kept at bay. Slowly, tentatively, I focused on my navel, on the spot where I’d felt the Pyrthae’s power flow into me, and imagined it opening. First as a flower; then a fountain spilling forth; then a shaft of light through a window in a dusty room. Nothing worked. I remained as closed off to the Pyrthae as if I’d never become a warden.
If I even was one now.
For the first time since waking from my long slumber, I wondered how I’d have become attuned. I thought I’d channeled when Eazal attacked me. But it was said a god had to open you to the Pyrthae, and I’d have remembered if one had come calling. Could this fluke have resulted from my journey into the Pyrthae, a parody of the theory I’d suggested to Jaxas? I didn’t want to consider it, but the possibility suddenly seemed likely. No one traveled through the realm of spirits that I knew of — no one save Vusu and Eltris. But they were both wardens, and I — I was not.
I breathed out heavily. That was all this had been, the rare effect of a strange experience. I wasn’t a warden after all.
Something scuffled across the room. I sat bolt upright and stared at the dark corner. Likely it was a rat, or perhaps an escaped finch from the tower. But after what I’d done to Vusu, it was as likely knives in the dark sent to finish the job Eazal had started. Unarmed and exhausted, I stood little chance against them.
A patch of faintly glowing blue emerged from the darkness.
The whisper finch had perched on the foot of my bed. I stared mutely at it, my fading terror having driven all thoughts from mind.
“They will come for him,” it said, the familiar, boyish voice strangely contrasting the avian body. “You must warn him before they do. They fear the knowledge he’ll bring to Oedija.”
Cold struck through me. “Who?” I asked urgently. “Who comes for whom? Why do you speak in riddles? If you mean to help me, speak plainly.”
“I cannot,” the whisper finch murmured. “They hear all that passes through these tongues.”
“Who hears?” I demanded. “Vusu? Famine? How can you help if I don’t know what you mean?”
The bird fluttered into the air to land on the nightstand, its small body limned in the faint light of the pyrkin pot. With an incline of its head, it seemed to beckon me closer. Apprehensive, I set my ear next to it. The whisper was so soft I could barely detect it.
“They will come for him the night he arrives.”
The whisper finch suddenly moved, and I jerked back. But rather than lunging forward, it had toppled backward from the night table and hit the floor with a soft thud.
I stared at it for a long moment, unmoving, as the blue patch of light slowly began to fade. As the shock of the moment faded, I slowly brought my will to bear and reached out toward it. A finger brushed the soft feathers that made up the blue spot on its breast. It didn’t move, and I felt no stirring of life. Slowly, I withdrew my hand.
Questions rose in my mind, driving away all hope for sleep. Why had it died? At the very least, it confirmed a suspicion I’d long held: that this bird was a messenger for someone else, not the speaker itself. But who was behind it? I’d had too much assistance from the boy who spoke through the birds to believe he meant me ill, even if his counsel had always been shrouded in enigma. But what form did my helper take? A patrician boy with far too much knowledge? A pyr? A god?
I sighed and leaned my head back against the wall. Of his message, I could divine little more. They will come for him the night he arrives. It was too little information to know whom he meant. At a guess, ‘they’ could be the Manifest, Avvad, or the Underguild. But who would they come for? The Underguild might come for Talan. Or perhaps it meant Shepherds coming for Xaron. But those were both more important to me than some random boy. More likely it meant someone more public — Myron perhaps, or Jaxas. There were too many players for me to know for certain.
They fear the knowledge he brings to Oedija. What knowledge could be feared? And who feared it? Who could bring such knowledge? At the very least, they sounded like someone not of Oedija. Was it someone coming from Avvad that was feared? Or perhaps an immigrant from the Bali or Qao Fu?
Some of his words at least seemed clear. The last “they” it had spoken of, the one who heard what came from whisper finch tongues — it had to be Vusu and Famine; such a power was beyond anyone else. I pulled the worn blankets tighter about me. How much could the daemon god and his follower hear? Just what whisper finches spoke? I suspected it was far more.
So deep was I in my thoughts that I only noticed the scraping outside my window a moment before a figure peered in. I shouted and grabbed the pot of pyrkin from my night table, holding it aloft. The intruder’s face was shadowed in the fading light, but I recognized the chuckle as he folded the rest of the way in.
“You ought to shutter your windows. Vagrants could climb in at all turns of the night.” The man glanced around the room, then down, quickly finding the fading glow of the dead whisper finch. “Or valuable birds can die.”
“Talan.” I set down the pot and rose from the bed to wrap him in a hug.
Talan pulled me close and rested his chin on my head. He smelled of smoke and sour wine, but also the earthy smell that was solely his own. “Hello, little Finch,” he murmured in my hair. “You might wish to bathe.”
I pushed him away, unable to keep my scandalized expression completely hidden. It only provoked another laugh.
I couldn’t help smiling back. “Speak for yourself. Where have you been?”
“Busy,” he said with his usual half-smirk. “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit you more often, but Kalindi is tightening his grip. His spies are everywhere around the Conclave and palace. I had to—” He cut off abruptly. “But never mind that. How are you? Are you feeling better? And what of this dead whisper finch at my feet?”
“I’m alive — it’s about all I can ask for. As for the bird, I’ll tell you in a bit. If you wouldn’t mind us sitting…”
He immediately settled me onto the bed and sat next to me. We leaned against the wall and, at my insistence, he pulled the blankets over both of us. I was distinctly aware of his warmth nestled against me.
“I have something to tell you.”
He cast a quizzical look at me. “I think you have a great many things to tell me. Like why Corin has been allowed to remain by your side after she betrayed you.”
My stomach sank. “How’d you figure that out?”
“It wasn’t difficult to reason. She summoned you in a rush, lured you from the palace to an undisclosed location on an excuse that proved to be false, where you were almost murdered.”
His eyes flashed with such anger I had to stop myself from flinching.
“She betrayed me,” I admitted. “But she had very good reason to.”
“What? Her sister being held by the Valemish?”
I shook my head. “It’s unsettling how much you know.”
“It’s my job to know, and your job to act on that knowledge. So. What will you do about her?”
“I don’t know. But that’s not what I wanted to tell you about.”
His eyebrows shot up. “No? You have my attention now.”
“There’s one thing you can’t have already guessed.” I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “When Eazal attacked me, I… I channeled.”
He stiffened. “Is this a jape?” he asked quietly.
“I’m serious, Talan. I channeled. I felt myself open, then fire and pure force came out from my feet and hands—”
“You weren’t touched by one of the Buyujinn,” he interrupted. “You weren’t a warden before. How can you be now?”
“I don’t know!” I was starting to grow annoyed. “But I know what I experienced. Do you believe me?”
For a moment, he looked away and said nothing. Nearly a minute passed before he sighed. “Yes. I believe you. Though I don’t understand.”
&n
bsp; Considering all we’d encountered, I marveled that this was what baffled him. “I’m not the first to have become a warden late in life.”
“No,” he agreed. “There are two of us in this room that have had that pleasure.”
I’d almost forgotten his own origins as a warden. He’d been able to channel all the three years I’d known him, so I’d never thought of Talan as anything other than a warden. “A Buyujinn, isn’t that what you called her? The one who opened you to the Pyrthae?”
He nodded. “She was one of the many faces of the Lost Mother. I distinctly remember what it was like when she opened me.” He looked askance at me. “Did you feel a presence when you channeled? Did anyone speak to you?”
“No one but the apothecary.”
Talan was silent again. “Perhaps there are more ways of becoming a warden than I knew.”
I didn’t want to say my next words, but I was tired of doubting. “What if… what if it was a fluke? From visiting the Pyrthae?”
He slowly met my eyes, but I turned my gaze aside. I didn’t want him to see the depth of my longing.
“I don’t know. It’s possible. I know much, but of the plane of pyr and gods, I’m as ignorant as a child.”
It had been too much to hope that he’d know more. “What of Pyrthaen-blessed birds?”
He cocked his head. “I suppose you’re referring to the dead whisper finch on your floor.”
“It passed me a message, one I can’t understand. Someone is coming for a man the night that he arrives in Oedija, someone who fears some knowledge the man has. And I’m supposed to warn him.”
Talan studied me for a moment. His eyes were hooded from the way the thin light hit his face. When he spoke, his tone was measured, but I could feel something pressing behind the words. “You don’t know who sent the bird?”
I hesitated. “It was a boy’s voice, as it has been before.”
“Before?”
I told him of the two occasions the whisper finch had visited me in my room in the Laurel Palace, and how they had seemed more like conversations than messages, though that wasn’t supposed to be possible through whisper finches.
“I don’t know who the boy is,” I confessed. “But he’s been helpful.”
“Riddles aren’t of much help,” Talan noted drily. “And that seems to be all he gives you. Airene, this is a dangerous game to play — as a gambler, I’d know. Whisper finches deliver messages from other people. They repeat what they’ve been told. They can’t carry on conversations. That someone knows where to find you is bad enough. But if they can waste whisper finches on a whim, killing them after their message… They must possess a fortune.” His hooded eyes found mine. “If you dwell on this boy’s message, you’re playing his game. And I should think you’ve had enough of playing other people’s games.”
That stung. Guilt and humiliation flooded me as I remembered how thoroughly Vusu had duped me. I turned my head aside. “You’re right. It’s foolish to put stock into the words of a bird, even a whisper finch. I’ll forget what it said.”
He placed a hand on my arm. Despite the hurt his words had dealt me, his touch was warm and comforting. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Don’t. You don’t need to apologize for being right.”
I glanced back at him. Though he wore his usual half-smile, behind the teasing mockery, something more bubbled to the surface. Warmth spread through my chest in anticipation. I turned toward him, my own hand reaching out and touching his side. I found myself almost trembling as I tilted my head up toward his.
Abruptly, he pulled the covers off his legs and rose. The chill of the room siphoned away the warmth in an instant.
“I have much to do tonight still,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “What I did to enter here will soon be discovered.”
“Fine. I know you’re busy.”
He seemed not to notice my change in tone, but turned to the window. As he mounted a foot to the sill, he paused. “Don’t try channeling, Airene. It can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“You didn’t have a tutor when you learned.”
“I was lucky. I don’t want your safety to rely on luck.”
“None of us are safe, lucky or not.”
We stared at each other through the gloom.
“I’m only abiding by the rule set for us,” he muttered. “I didn’t stop because… Well. You know how I feel for you.”
His words shook me from my annoyance. All I could think to say was, “Oh.”
He turned away. “I’ll return as often as I can.”
I gathered my wits again. Best to pretend nothing had happened. “Where are you staying?”
“I can’t say. Don’t visit my old hiding holes though — they’re all compromised now that Kalindi’s in power. I’ll find you.”
Without another word, he disappeared through the window.
I listened to him scramble down and watched the empty space he’d left behind. When all had gone silent outside again but for the steady ebb of the waves against the cliffs below, I settled down with a sigh. Feelings tangled in my stomach so that I was almost relieved he was gone, but for the loneliness that crept in.
I expected the night’s encounters to keep me awake. But soon, my thoughts slowed in their spiral and dragged me down into another dreamless slumber.
4
The Acadium
For eleven seasons, the lands of Telae knew bounty like had never been known before. The harvests were abundant; the wells and springs were full of clean water; the plagues and wars that had pestered the lands retreated into memory. All was well, and the people thanked the Lord of All for it, praying that it would continue for another eleven seasons to come.
Tyurn Sky-Sea looked down upon his people and listened to their praise and was satisfied. Here he had wrought something truly worthy of his name.
In the turning of the seasons, the Seed had taken root in his ear and sprouted a single tendril trailing down his back like a snake from the trunk of a tree. Again, it implored, ‘More. You want more.’
And Tyurn Sky-Sea, Ruler of All Realms, found that he did.
- The Seeds of Famine, a translation from the Lighted-tongue; by Oracle Kalene of deme Hull; 881 SLP
When I awoke the next morning, I felt almost myself again. Though it was an overcast day, an omen for the coming storms, my mood remained buoyant. Finally, I could move without feeling as if my bones were made of iron and my stomach an empty pit I couldn’t fill.
I’d neglected to take off my chiton the night before, but lacking any other clothes, I smoothed it out as best I could. With any luck, I’d be able to send Hyrol over to the Laurel Palace and retrieve the clothes that had been in there, though I wasn’t sure they were mine to claim. Perhaps he could find me some trousers and tunics as well. It felt strange going so long without them underneath my robes.
Going downstairs to the atrium, I found a surprise waiting for me. Corin stood as I entered. Despite myself, I couldn’t help uneasiness rising in me. Talan’s words stirred in my mind, as did Xaron’s reprimand. Ignoring them, I approached my old loftmate.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you where I was yesterday. Everything’s been a blur.”
The large woman shook her head. “I knew where you’d go.”
“Where are you sleeping now? Did they keep you up at the Laurel Palace last night?”
Another shake of her head. “Here,” she said simply.
I wondered what Nomusa thought about that. “We’ll get you a proper room tonight. As soon as I find Hyrol, that is.” I glanced around the room. “Has anything come for breakfast?”
“No.”
I sighed and went back into the kitchens. As Nomusa had said, they’d been scrubbed and looked well-kept. Our cook, Sizani, was a Bali woman from a different ishaka than Nomusa. She reminded me of Zipho with her brisk, business-like manner, though she had a warmer smile than the cafe owner. We chatted ab
out small things as she served hot flatbread and with some fruit and cheese from the dark pantry. Corin and I ate in silence in the kitchens while she worked, then left.
“What will you be doing today?” I asked Corin as we exited the Aviary. There was a spring in my step. It felt good to have strength in my legs again.
Corin shrugged, not looking at me. “I don’t know.”
Suddenly, I remembered her mission. “Gods, Corin. I can’t believe I haven’t asked. Have you heard anything more about your sister?”
Misery softened her stony countenance. “No.”
“We’ll find where she is. Then we’ll get her back.” Baseless promises, but I couldn’t help uttering them. I doubted I’d have time to find her sister. I hadn’t even visited Linos yet. Though that, at least, would be mended soon.
When Corin didn’t answer, I continued. “I’m going to the Acadium today. You’re welcome to join me, but I understand if you have other things to do.”
“I’ll come with,” she said at once. “It’s not safe to wander alone.”
I frowned. “Is it so bad out there?”
Her dark look told me all I needed to know.
As we approached the Conclave gates, a noise like stormy waves crashing against cliffs rose louder and louder. We left another of the many groves spread throughout the Conclave grounds, and it suddenly crashed upon us, stunning me for a moment. A mass of humanity crowded against the walls and gates, shouting and protesting and screaming. Dirty faces, ragged clothes, haunted expressions — to a one, they looked every bit as much of a rabble as Orhan claimed they were. Yet I knew what drove them. Fear and hunger, the blights of civilization, had seized hold of Oedija.
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