She looked away. “There must be something – something we can do.”
“Why do you think I sought him out?” At the look on her face Sandson said, “What, you’re surprised that I care? Think of what this means. If they are to be reborn – think of the implications for all of us.”
She opened her mouth to say she didn’t care – that Viktor was more important to her – when she considered. A trail of bodies and a brutal narrative written in ink was the legacy of the Siklo reign upon the Myrliks. To return to that would mean a step backwards for all of them, even with Sonlin pressing down upon their freedom from every corner. And with the power she had seen Viktor wield so far, young and inexperienced as he was, they could be setting themselves up for a bloody and brutal war.
“Yes, you see it now, don’t you?” Sandson tilted his head, observing her. “The problems this boy could bring.”
“So what?” she looked between the two of them, these men with bloated egos who thought they could pull fate’s hand on puppet strings. Her anger flared. “You want to kill him now?” She stared Janus down. “Will you murder an innocent man just because he might be a problem in the future? Don’t you care at all?”
“If I was going to kill him, would have done so.”
“You seem terribly indignant, Lady Shaikuro, but if I told you that it was a stranger who could bring us into a darker period than history has ever seen, would you not do what you deem necessary to save the innocent lives around you? Would you not determine the greater good in this scenario and hence seek to bring it forth? I would say that is the lesser evil here, would you not?”
The fact that his words resonated as truth was merely tinder for the flame. She seethed; at his callousness, at his cruelty. But more so that she could not argue against him. That she could easily see herself in his place, back in her office in Nirket, weighing judgements upon the people there as if she had any right to decide the worth of men’s lives at her whim and mercy. Sheltered as she had been, she had believed it easily, if only for the circumstances of her birth. Now, after the nature of the world had become opaque to her, distorted from the clear-cut clarity she had naively assumed, she found herself less certain than she had ever been.
“You cannot know for sure what is to happen. I will not consent to needless murder,” she spat, wresting control of her temper. “Surely you did not expect I would agree.”
“No, and yet I find it interesting you have come alone, without the boy. It belies your trust in his ability to speak for his own interests, I think. Perhaps you already know he is a liability and that his temper cannot be controlled. Tell me, am I wrong?”
“I am not going to agree with you.” Images of a warship in flames plagued her mind but she pushed them aside. “And I will stand in your way if you pursue this course.”
Sandson shrugged. Shrugged, as if matters of life and death were of little consequence to him. Kilai pictured plucking his eyeballs out with her bare hands and found it sated her anger, just a little. “I did not expect it. I am merely presenting you with my arguments, so you may understand why I pushed for the course I did. Truly, it was not my intention to kill the boy anyway, for whatever you may think of me I am no murderer. Yet I fear I may come to regret this decision, in time.”
Crossing her arms to stop her hands from shaking, she narrowed her eyes at him. “So what do you plan to do with him if you get your hands on him?”
“You do make me sound quite abhorrent.” At her look he sighed and removed his glasses, wiping them with a small piece of cloth. “My intention was to assess the nature of his power and the extent to which he had succumbed to the bond between he and his guardian. I needed to know how much of a threat he was going to be.”
“If he had turned out to be a threat?”
“Well, I heard the news. General Nevi tried to suppress it of course but it’s very hard to hide an entire warship going up in flames. Not to mention another Sonlin ship that never made it to its destination here, all records conveniently wiped. It turns out I had been right to fear. Think what you may, Lady Shaikuro, but he is a threat.”
She knew that. Of course she knew that. But it was one thing for her to have experienced the heat from the fire, the unnatural silence of the green fingers of flame as they grasped for the sky, and another completely for him to condemn Viktor from his grandiose office overlooking Tsellyr’s central plaza.
“How did you know? It’s been, what? Two hundred years or so since the Siklos were in power. Why now?”
Sandson hummed, drumming his fingers on the surface of his desk. “The signs are all around us, if you know where to look. Not many care for talk of rifts but we’ve all seen the strange beings that haunt the periphery of this world. They grow stronger every day, always increasing in number, and affecting the world a little more each time.”
She cocked her head. “You mean to say you care about all this spirit superstitious nonsense? Pardon me if I do not buy it.”
He shrugged. “Then perhaps you will believe me if I say there is very little that goes on in these islands that I do not know about.”
He had certainly known who she was, walking in the door. A fact that still raised the hairs on the back of her neck. How he had known, she could only guess, but if he sat at the centre of his own intricate network of spies, then perhaps it was possible for him to be aware of a potential prince reborn, hidden somewhere no one was likely to ever find him lest he ever start to show his power. It didn’t change the question of why now? After all this time why was it now that the rebirth had been triggered? Why was it now that the rifts were rupturing, after such a lengthy period of stability?
“It seems then we have reached a stalemate. You will not agree to bringing me the boy and I will not let him go free when I know him to be dangerous.”
Kilai tensed, reading the threat in the omissions.
“It seems we have,” she agreed.
*
“Are you sure this is the right way?”
Rook turned the map in her hands and tilted her head, holding it up so she could compare the street ahead of her to inked lines on worn parchment. She had acquired the map from the inn – when Viktor had simply plucked it from the front desk without a second thought and she’d been forced to usher him out the door before they could get caught – and was trying to keep it in a good condition so it could be returned in one piece, preferably before the owner noticed. An ominously dark sky threatened rain, the air damp and heady with it, and she kept glancing upwards to make sure she could squirrel it away before the first drops fell.
“Isn’t this the right way? Look, that’s us here, isn’t it?”
Viktor leant over her shoulder, frowning as hazel eyes flickered between paper and plaza. They had arrived at the Onyx Plaza, the centremost part of town. It was comprised of a great circular expanse of mosaic stone tiles lined by sprawling government offices and a grand luxury hotel built in a magnificent layered structure, painted a pale pink that stood out against so many white and black buildings. Red leaves from the huge tree in the centre drifted along the canals and waterways that threaded through the city like veins, water shimmering everywhere she looked. People milled all around the open space, a group of young children feeding birds from a crusty piece of bread, looking like characters from an old nursery rhyme with a horde of small hopping birds chasing after them. The city had an atmosphere. She loved it.
“So we have to go that way,” Viktor said, pointing to one corner where the street wound alongside the canal.
Rook squinted at the page. “I’m pretty sure it’s up there.”
After a heated debate that involved wrestling for the map and ripping it at the bottom, they took her suggestion that took them past the tree and into a quieter part of town, following a winding path that sloped up a hill, lined by terraced buildings with tiles of the same vibrant blue as the city’s most distinctive buildings, but made of a much darker, charcoal grey stone.
“What do you think they’ll say?”
When she turned to ask for clarification, Rook noticed Viktor was looking down at his feet. Her gaze softened. “They aren’t going to judge you for things that are beyond your control. They’ll help you to figure out what’s going on.”
“So you don’t think they won’t try to lock me up or something?”
“It’s not as if you’re running around causing harm to people, is it?” She did not dare mention what had happened in Korrikbai. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Viktor. I won’t.”
“But you don’t know how they’ll react. You don’t know what they’ll think, especially when I – when I – you know.” He froze, eyes widening. His hands moved wildly as his voice began to tremble. “You’ve seen what I can do. If you didn’t know me – would you still be as lenient? I’ve killed people, Rook. People I’ve never even met. I don’t think I can apologise for it, either.”
Rook approached him slowly. “And you’ve seen what I can do. I...” she paused for a beat, biting her lip, “I have killed before too. None of us are perfect. We make mistakes. When you aren’t in control, you can’t be held accountable for what you didn’t intend to do. But what matters – what really matters – is what you do in the meantime. The fact that you’re taking responsibility now and looking to get help is what’s most important. You have to learn how to get this creature within you under control. It’s not easy, but it can be done if you’re willing to fight for it.”
The rain began as a soft patter against the stone, cool enough to make her shiver. Rook looked into Viktor’s eyes and said, “Will you try to fight it?”
“I don’t want to be – not me. It’s scary, not feeling like myself, but at the same time it feels right? I can’t explain it. But I don’t want to live like this, not knowing when it’ll take over.”
She nodded. The rain was building into a torrent, thundering upon the roofs and running in rivers down awnings. “We should hurry.”
The downpour only worsened as they ran up the hill, pounding off the streets and spraying them with icy cold water. By the time Rook had reached the top her hair was matted to her face and she had to squint through the rain to see the familiar sign. It bore the same symbol as was tattooed upon her wrist – the symbol of the Order of the Riftkeepers. The building was crouched on the corner of a small garden of vibrant green grass, surrounded by an iron fence and dotted with park benches. A pond in the centre trembled beneath the sheer force of the torrent, puddles collecting in dips and rivets on the ground.
Rook dashed for the shelter of the overhanging roof, pausing beneath to catch her breath. As Viktor ducked in beside her, they both shared a glance and turned outwards, mesmerised by the way the rain distorted the view of the streets beyond.
“The high season is well and truly over,” she murmured.
Next to her she felt the shiver run through Viktor. He shook out his hair like a dog. “Let’s get this over with.”
Rook rapped on the door and then rubbed her numb fingers together. After a few beats of nothing but the murmuring rain, she glanced at Viktor and knocked again, louder this time. Nothing. Frowning, she called out, “Hello? Anyone there?” punctuated by more knocks.
“Of course,” said Viktor. “They’re not even here.”
“But – this is – they have to be.” She kept knocking until Viktor yanked her arm back, her knuckles red and cracked. “This is the headquarters of the Order of the Riftkeepers. There has to be someone here.”
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s answering.”
Rook huffed. “I can see that. It just doesn’t make any sense! Why is there no one here?”
“Clearly you’ve underestimated your pathetic little organisation.” He placed a hand atop her head. She tried to look up but he pushed down on her skull to keep her still and then plucked a clip from her hair that had been given to her by Kilai, nipping at her scalp. “I say we break in. See what the deal is.”
“Couldn’t you just have asked?” she said, rubbing at her head.
“I could have,” he said as he jammed the pin into the keyhole, squatting into a crouch so he could get a better look as he wrangled it around inside.
She kept an eye out for signs of anyone who could be watching them – the last thing they needed was to be thrown in jail with every soldier on the island looking for Viktor – but it appeared that the rain had driven everyone indoors. It lashed against the ground, a wind picking up that blew water into their narrow shelter beneath the roof of the building. Retreating back against the wall, she wiped raindrops from her cheeks and urged Viktor to hurry. Beneath her damp clothes her skin prickled with gooseflesh and she didn’t want to take ill.
“Hold on. Hold on,” he muttered, still wrestling with the lock. He swiped back his wet hair so that it ruffled up and then gave it a final twist, a satisfying click echoing inside the mechanism of the door. “Got it!” He stood up and threw her a triumphant smirk. “See, I told you. You didn’t believe I could do it, did you?”
She rolled her eyes fondly. “No, I thought you were going to break the damned thing in the lock.” At his sour expression she laughed and clapped him over the shoulder. “Let’s get inside.” She kept her expression pleasant despite the way her gut tightened. An uneasy feeling was creeping over her like the saturated rain clouds above.
The door creaked as it opened, revealing a dimly lit hallway with a tiled floor. One small window threw a pillar of light down upon the centre of the room, dust shimmering in its radius. It wasn’t the only thing there. As soon as she stepped inside Rook could feel the pulsing presence of unnatural energy, strong enough to stop her short. Circling inside that span of daylight was a small golden coloured riftspawn that flapped wing-like protrusions, similar to a butterfly but with the head of a drake. It’s signature sang a sweet, high melody, the scent fragrant and flowery. But beneath such a pleasant feeling lurked a deeper, darker rhythm; a throbbing bass that vibrated through her, stealing her breath.
“What is that?” gasped Viktor, clutching his head. “It’s horrible.”
“I think – no, it can’t – but it feels like –”
“Like?”
“Like a rift?”
He swivelled towards her then, trapped in the beam of light. Under its pale glow his eyes shone a brilliant green, as if lit with his personal flame from within. The phoenix flame. A symbol of such power and violence, that paired with his pained scowl made him look so unrecognisable from the man she had come to know. It was startling. Flashes of the night mere days ago struck her cold, dripping form shuddering forcefully.
Then he stepped from the light and he was back to being Viktor again. Headstrong, stubborn, young and impressionable. A young man seeking direction. Purpose. Destiny. They were alike in more ways than one. Both searching for an answer, for some way to reconcile the person they were with who they wanted to be. Rook didn’t know how to be the one who led; the responsibility felt like too much. But more than ever Viktor needed guidance. A gentle hand to nurture him to his full potential.
“You never said there was a rift here,” Viktor said finally, still rubbing at his temple.
“I didn’t think there was. I mean, I still don’t know if there is but –”
At the muffled sound of footsteps she froze, eyes widening. She gestured to a door on their right and he nodded, the two of them darting over on light feet to hide in the dark room, peering out from the thin crack of the door left ajar. She hoped whoever was there wouldn’t notice.
“Why are we hiding?” Viktor whispered in her ear. “I thought these were your people.”
“Shh!” she hissed, batting at him in the darkness.
Voices rose in volume until she could make out a soft voice speaking in Sonlin, punctuated by noises of acknowledgement by a second speaker. The light disappeared, blocked by the indigo coat of one soldier, still talking. Rook was familiar with conversational Sonlin and could follow the gist of the conversation but some of the dialect escaped her grasp.
�
��I will come back with the others and wipe the place clean,” the soldier said to her companion. More followed, spoken too gently to be picked up even with her ear to the door. “Make sure she does not leave. We must keep this as quiet as possible.”
A grunt of affirmation. “Babysitting. I’ve got it.”
“Be careful how you address me, soldier. Remember you’re already under watch.”
“Forgive me,” said the gravelly voice, not sounding sorry at all. “I am yours to command.”
Her voice turned hushed, threatening. Rook pressed closer to try and hear but a hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her back. At her questioning look Viktor pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head. Tension seeping from her, she nodded and pointed towards the staircase she could just faintly make out using the thin ribbon of light from the door. As much as she wanted to know what they were saying – to know what was going on – she couldn’t risk either of them being caught. Especially not Viktor, when he was the most wanted criminal on the Myrlik Isles.
Wincing when the stairs creaked beneath her feet, Rook paused for long enough to see that no one was coming through the door and followed Viktor to the upper landing. The building they were in appeared to be a former residence that had once been luxurious, now fallen into disrepair. The stairs took them to a long, narrow hallway lined with doors, the gloomy space striped with muted strips of light from a series of windows. Lavishly styled wallpaper now peeled from the walls at the corner, patchy and brown with damp. The floorboards were scratched and worn, sagging in the middle where people were most likely to tread. The rift still pulsed through her head but the feeling wasn’t any stronger here. It seemed that it lay somewhere below.
“You made it sound a lot grander than this.”
Rook tested the first door, revealing a sparse bedroom with little more than a cot and a tiny desk in the corner. “There would have been many Riftkeepers living here. Wardens and keepers of knowledge and others in training. There should be.” She shook her head. “I just don’t understand.”
The Reaping Season Page 14