Realm of Ashes

by J. D. L. Rosell

  None of it was an excuse. Though I was tired and sore, I couldn’t rest. Not until I’d done all I could. Groaning, I rose and went to seek Nomusa. Surely she would have some Finch task for me.

  But the cook didn’t know where she was, though she did point with exasperation to the feast she’d made for just me and Nomusa that lay untouched on the foyer tables. I relented and gorged myself on the fine foods. Guilty or not, I still needed to eat.

  Full and sleepy, I wandered out of the Aviary, but stopped in indecision at the stoop. Nomusa could be at the Conclave. Or perhaps she was up at the Laurel Palace meeting another mysterious figure she would not tell me about. Or a dozen other places that she now frequented but I didn’t know about. I rubbed my aching forehead. Hunting her down would be nigh impossible. She and I would have to start consulting each other if we were to coordinate as First Verifiers.

  My headache reminded me of another person I ought to seek out. Rising with a groan, I set off for the Laurel Palace. If I ran into Nomusa along the way, all the better.

  I made the long trip back up the hill atop which the Laurel Palace sprawled, then asked the first honor I passed where Hilarion’s quarters lay. At her directions, my eyebrows rose. Xaron had not jested when he said Hilarion was afforded fine rooms.

  But joy for my friend was hard in coming as I mounted yet another spiral staircase to ascend Hilarion’s tower. My legs burned and air wheezed in my lungs as I mounted the last of them to reach the door at the top. Too tired even to knock, I was startled as the door swung open to reveal my friend’s grinning face framed by a black cloud of unkempt hair.

  “How did you know?” I said between pants.

  “How could I not? I heard your huffing and puffing the whole way up!” He treated me to another teasing grin as he motioned me inside.

  I gratefully sank into a chair and accepted the glass of wine he poured me, then examined the rooms he’d been afforded. Hilarion’s quarters were composed of multiple rooms, for the one we sat in had no bed, and two other doors led off to either side. It was a waiting room like no other I’d seen. The implements of decades of Hilarions decorated the walls and tables, awaiting their next opportunity to entertain. Marionettes hung from hooks. A strange wheel contraption leaned in one corner. What looked to be an unactivated magnetic pyr lamp was tucked against the doorframe. Silk streamers in every different color flowed down another wall. All was situated to remind the guest that the person who occupied these chambers was a fool, and all he possessed was for enjoyment alone.

  Xaron settled himself into the chair next to me, sipping on a glass of wine as well, though he’d poured from a different bottle than mine. I discovered why as I sipped my own. A smoky port — Xaron preferred lighter wines with tones of fruit, not the strong stuff I preferred. I smiled in satisfaction.

  “The decorations are a bit tawdry, but they’ll do for now,” Xaron said amicably. “Glad you were able to make it up here.”

  I gave him a wry grin. “If I hadn’t already ascended another tower today, perhaps it wouldn’t have been so difficult.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Not many towers around here. Which one did you go up?”

  I told him of my visit to the Archmaster. Xaron’s brow furrowed further with each sentence.

  “Then he seemed to send her a message,” I continued, “though he did nothing but lie in his bed. I think he channeled. After he said I wouldn’t need his seal of approval, I felt… something. In my mind.”

  Xaron stared at me, a wild look in his eyes, before composing himself. “Right,” he muttered. “I almost forgot you were a warden now.”

  A flush of pride warmed my chest. I tried to ignore it as I pressed, “But what was it? Was it channeling? And if so, what kind? All I know are the three energetic elements — radiance, kinesis, and magnesis. But are there more?”

  Xaron hesitated. “Possibly. My mother has a way of channeling completely different from anything I know. Had,” he corrected himself with a sour expression. “I suppose she doesn’t use her gifts anymore.”

  “What way of channeling?”

  “She was an apothecary, if you remember. But she wouldn’t just combine alchemical solutions and concoct phylacteries. She studied their reactions, then mimicked them. She discovered how to channel the energy from those reactions, something she called ‘catalysm.’”

  He ran a hand through his loose hair. “I was so young when she had her accident, it’s hard to piece together what I saw. You know how when you combine two opposing solutions, they might have a reaction? Like… like yeast with honey. If you leave them in warm water, they foam, or when combined with flour, cause bread to rise.”

  “Of course.”

  “That reaction has an energy of its own. Yeast doesn’t have a strong one, but there are plenty stronger. And my mother discovered all of them.” He grimaced. “Hence, her accident.”

  I still wasn’t sure I understood. “So catalysm might be a fourth energetic element. But even if it is, it doesn’t explain what Kyros did to pass that message to the Master Librarian. I doubt it had to do with rising bread.”

  Xaron grinned. “Humor me a little longer. As I was getting to, the energetic elements are thought to all be found in our bodies.”

  I frowned. “Radiance and kinesis I can understand. But magnesis?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to think lightning flows through our veins? But think for a moment. Did you ever rub your clothes against a rug when you were young, then touch something metal, or another person?”

  “Of course. I used to tickle Linos on Mother’s carpets, then force him to touch the faux silver vase in the foyer. He’d yelp like a hurt puppy.” I smiled sadly at the memory.

  Xaron smiled sympathetically. “And when he touched the metal, you saw the spark that formed? Or have you ever felt the shock that goes through you? Well, that feeling is not far from the buzzing feeling of magnesis when you channel it.”

  “Alright. Say I buy all that. What are you getting at?”

  “If it’s true, if all the elements are present within us, then perhaps the mind has an energy as well. The soul, or spirit — or quintessence, as oracles would call it.”

  “An energy of the mind?” The thought didn’t perplex me as much as it once had. With both Kyros and Linos, there had been another presence touching my mind. And I’d interacted with them using my own mind. But that didn’t mean it was an energy. Did it?

  “You’ve got me questioning everything I thought I knew,” I confessed.

  He shook his head. “You’re telling me. Eltris says I don’t know half of what wardens are capable of. And seeing what Vusu could do — traveling into the Pyrthae, summoning Famine — I know it must be true.”

  “And there’s always more to learn.”

  My thoughts having turned to it, I told him of my visit to the Acadium library. Xaron wrinkled his nose. “I don’t suppose you’ve met the Master Librarian yet.”

  “No, I haven’t.” I squinted at him. “Why?”

  “Oh, I’ll just let you wait and see.”

  I let it slide and told him of Linos and our encounter.

  “You’re proving quintessence exists in one day.” Xaron looked impressed. “But I’m sorry to hear of your brother.”

  “It’s nothing more than I expected,” I said dully. I wondered how I’d break the news to my family, whenever I saw them next. I rubbed my eyes. A problem for another time.

  Another thought came to me. “Oh, I forgot to mention. I ran into Kyros’ Acadian battle warden on his tower stairs. A woman named Isidora.”

  Xaron spasmed and spilled his wine. “Did you?” he commented, his causal manner ruined as he jumped up and fetched a rag to mop up the wine.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Are you hiding something?”

  For a moment, he pretended to be absorbed in his cleaning. Then he sighed, threw aside the stained rag, and settled back in his chair. “Not exactly. Just that the group of Acadians who have been learning battle ma
gic… We’ve been training under Isi.”

  Isi. So he was familiar with her enough to call her by her shortname. Just as he called me by mine. “I see.”

  He looked ready to say more when the door burst open. I rose with fists clenched, but it was Nomusa standing in the doorway. She looked as ready to attack someone as I.

  “There you are!” She strode up to us with a scowl on her face. “Good thing you asked an honor for directions or I never would have found you. Had you heard?”

  I took a breath to loosen my chest. “‘Thae above, Nomusa. Don’t barge in like that.”

  “Had you heard?” she demanded again. “Either of you. Do you know who’s coming here?”

  “Just tell us already,” Xaron said, his bewilderment matching my own.

  “Charatta Yorandu Komo.” She spoke the name like a curse.

  Only one part of it had any meaning to me. “Yorandu. They’re from your ishaka.”

  “Not just from my ishaka. Komo is that usurper’s son.” Nomusa spat on the floor, heedless that it now belonged to Xaron. “The Shaka’s son.”

  The significance finally dawned on me. “Nomusa, I hadn’t heard anything. I’d have told you if I had.”

  But Xaron had flushed pink. “I… may have heard of this. One of Komo’s emissaries arrived a couple days ago telling us he was coming.”

  I winced as Nomusa rounded on him. “You heard,” she said in a low voice, “that the son of the man who killed my parents was coming here, and didn’t think to tell me?”

  “I was barely paying attention!” Xaron protested, but Nomusa just hissed, stalked over to his bed, and slumped down.

  Willing my sore legs into motion, I walked over and sat next to her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. She was shaking with emotion — rage, no doubt, but I suspected grief as well. Nomusa had never really gotten over losing her homeland and family in one stroke, even a decade later.

  “Tell me about his coming,” I implored her softly. I hoped a report might draw her from her misery.

  She drew in a shuddering breath. “He’s to arrive here four days from now, come at the behest of the Despoina. Apparently Oedija and Yorandu have been in communication since well before the Night of the Three Horns. The urgency of Oedija’s situation has accelerated the schedule for their plans.”

  “Which are?”

  A bitter smile curled her lips. “What else can we offer that false prince but the Despoina’s hand?”

  I considered this. I’d never heard Nomusa plotting to take back her ishaka, but such significant ties to Oedija would certainly complicate ever making such a plan. By joining our royal family with their rulers, we obligated ourselves to come to their aid in war, just as they did for us.

  I was torn. I knew what I should say to Nomusa as a friend. But Oedija needed every ally we could get. Unable to deny one over the other, I held my tongue.

  Nomusa turned her gaze on me, eyes glistening. “Don’t think for a moment that I don’t know we need allies. I’ve been attending the Council meetings. I know just how ill-prepared we are to face the threats before us. The Stratechons might be gathering the taxoi, but did you know they still have no definitive plans for dealing with the Manifest or Avvad?” She shook her head. “We need warriors. I just… Why did it have to be them?”

  “I know.” There was nothing else I could say. I intertwined my arm with hers and leaned into her side.

  Xaron settled down on her other side and silently wrapped his arm around her, his hand resting on my shoulder. For a moment, it was almost as if we were all three back in Canopy, scraping by as unconfirmed Finches. Aching nostalgia filled me to my bones.

  But a thought turned the feeling cold. If I could return things back to the way they were, would I? It would take away all the pain and death and uncertainty closing in on us. But with it would go the achievements and dreams of a lifetime. Becoming a Verifier. Becoming a warden.

  I was glad I didn’t have to make that choice.

  Nomusa straightened and gently pried us off. “You never mentioned what you had to tell me before,” she said to me. “It seemed important.”

  I shared a look with Xaron.

  Nomusa wasn’t oblivious. “What? Does he already know?”

  “I told him as soon as I awoke,” I confessed. “But you’ll understand why.”

  The telling came easier now that I was more certain. When I finished, Nomusa didn’t seem shocked or fearful, but studied me with a narrowed gaze. “You’re sure?” she asked softly. “Your fingerprints shift?”

  “Fairly sure. Encounters today make me more so. And no shifts have appeared yet, but as Xaron explained to me, they may take some time to show.”

  “A span, a season.” Xaron shrugged. “If Airene channeled, she must be a warden.”

  But Nomusa didn’t look convinced. “You went into the Pyrthae. Maybe what you experienced was a strange result from it. Like an afterimage from looking too closely at the sun.”

  “Channeling isn’t the same thing as staring at the sun,” I noted drily. “But I have other reasons to believe it’s not just in my head.” I recounted for her the instance in Kyros’ bedchambers.

  When I finished, Nomusa observed, “So you’re not sure it was channeling, what you felt?”

  My tongue was growing harder to restrain. “No. I’m not sure.”

  She looked as if she wanted to say more, but shook her head and rose. “Keep an eye on matters, I suppose. The last thing we need is for you to catch fire. In the meantime, I have plenty to keep you busy. Speaking of which…”

  I rose, trying to master myself. Now was not the time to be bickering among ourselves. Even if Nomusa was being obstinate and skeptical. Masking my annoyance, I wrapped Xaron in a hug and murmured in his ear, “Maybe we can both pay Isi a visit soon.”

  The shrug he gave could have been agreement or refusal. I let it slide, and after Nomusa had said her own goodbyes, I followed her out the door.

  As we walked down the Laurel grounds and across the bridge back to the Aviary, I kept the conversation far from Komo by prying information from Nomusa. Speaking in hushed tones and keeping a watchful eye out for those who drew too near, I tried to catch up on everything she knew of the Manifest, Avvad, and the Valemish.

  Of Vusu and the Manifest, little deviated from the hasty summary she’d given me before. The Seekers continued to reinforce their compound, and maintained a steady flow of food for their followers. Shadows had been seen flitting about rooftops at night in the northern inner demes. Seeker wardens, Nomusa guessed, and not very skilled ones for so many to be seen — unless they wished to be seen. Still, it was another danger to fear at night. If only shutters could keep out assassins, I thought drily.

  Of Avvad, she had even less to say. They marshaled their forces from the provinces and gathered their supplies into wagons. All seemed on schedule for six spans, as before. One additional thing had been noted, however: they’d sent birds to the Bali ishakas, reportedly to request aid. Nomusa and I both knew Kahin-Shah Baruk’s real message: stand with Avvad, or be the next to fall. We’d see if the ploy worked.

  The Valemish were said to have largely been contained within their temples. Posting the city guard before them was a bigger concession than had been expected of the Council, yet it did little to impede the flow of people in and out of the temples.

  The worst of the news concerned food. The public granaries had been giving out the little grain they’d managed to properly store, but the estimates Nomusa had heard at Council meetings were that there was only enough for two spans more, three if the food was rationed severely. But even those estimates were generous, as they assumed that the foodstuff the Underguild held hostage would somehow be negotiated back.

  “A poor time for a drought,” I noted sourly over the wind billowing over the bridge.

  “You think it is coincidental timing?” Nomusa shook her head. “I don’t believe everything that augur Eltris says. But I do think she might have a point
about the disasters throughout our history. Perhaps… perhaps the Serpent God is behind this as well.”

  I was surprised I hadn’t seen it, and even more so that Nomusa had. “I wasn’t sure you believed me. About Famine, and his return.”

  “I didn’t want to. And I don’t like thinking about it.” She shook her head. “What can we do against a god? It seems futile to even think about it. We have enough problems without daemons and legends coming to life.”

  I thought of Linos at that. I hadn’t told Xaron or Nomusa about the incident during my visit. I suspected I didn’t want to admit it had actually happened, or face what it might mean.

  “Airene?”

  I sighed. “I know what you mean. But I saw him. Maybe that’s why I can’t help but worry about him and little else.”

  “Maybe.”

  We fell into silence, listening to the sea crashing against the cliffs below us, and the wind whistling in our ears. The evening was gloomy and blue, fitting for our somber mood.

  Only as we stepped off the bridge did Nomusa speak again. “I suppose we should discuss your responsibilities.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean our responsibilities?”

  “I’m already established in certain arenas. The Council knows and trusts me far more than you. You have the Preservists and Feiyan against you. If you try interceding in their politics, they might vote against what you support just out of spite.”

  It wasn’t a responsibility I envied, yet I couldn’t help but feel put off. After all, no matter how quarrelsome the Low Consuls might be, it was within the Council chamber that nearly every important decision for the realm was made. To be excluded was a sore blow.

  “I’m also growing more familiar with the Conclave every day,” Nomusa continued. “It would be best if I head up that arena as well.”

  “Considering our responsibilities are to rout out corruption in the demotism, that seems to leave little for me to do.”

  She smiled thinly. “Not by a long stretch. What I was thinking is that you’d be responsible for calling at patrician homes. After all, corruption takes many forms, and we’ve scarcely begun to consider them all. Financial backing is what I’m wondering about now. The Seekers are getting significant money reserves from somewhere. Who’s giving it to them, and why? We’ve barely even considered the question until now.”