The Reaping Season

by Sarah Stirling

  *

  There was a tiny riftspawn in the corner of the room. It kept approaching her with tentative movements only to scatter as soon as she moved, alarm catching in the net of her senses as its signature flared into a nervous trill. Normally Rook would have attempted to reach out to it, to show she would do it no harm, but she was still worn out from the day’s events, hands shaking too severely to control them. Standing out in the harsh light of the plaza was a memory still embedded onto her eyelids. She shuddered as she remembered the cold dread of the firing squad. Somehow she only ever seemed to make enemies, no matter how much she aimed to help people.

  She moved to the window, staring out at the shining canal as a small water carriage sailed past. Tsellyr was a city she had once been so keen to visit and explore. It had been so different in her imagination; more vibrant, full of warmth and colour rather than the stark black and white lines before her. She had pictured an adventure of discovery, of training with experienced Riftkeepers to become a warden. Of exploring and growing and meeting new people. Gazing out at the place where she had nearly lost her life, the contrast between the dream and reality was as stark as black veins running through white stone.

  But at least there was The Rook. It hummed in the back of her mind, awoken by the energy pouring through the rift. The door was fully open now, allowing anything to pass through. She should have been more concerned, probably, but she was finding it difficult to rouse the concern. The Rook delighted in the freedom. It wanted the promised new world, where it would no longer need her. But even so, they had reached a tentative peace somewhere out in the chaos; a bond forged in the hottest of flames. They would look after one another because they were all they had, and because it was becoming less and less clear where the line between them truly lay.

  A throat clearing behind her caused her to start, whirling. At the sight of Sandson she suddenly felt defensive, as if she had been doing something she shouldn’t, when she had only sneaked into one of his other rooms for a moment of peace. She did not know the mayor at all, had only heard stories of a quick-witted man who had risen to power despite not hailing from the Myrliks, and she did not quite know how to act as he entered the room with a nod.

  “My apologies, Vinook-wei, if I startled you.”

  “Please,” she said, wincing as her voice cracked, “there’s no need for honorifics.”

  “As you wish.”

  Between just the two of them Sandson appeared less slippery, pulling back on the sharp grin and simply pottering around his cabinets without speaking, the jangle of keys and rattle of drawers sliding open giving just enough white noise to prevent a terse silence. She appreciated the space; that he did not ask what she was doing, or tease her for hiding out here. It occurred to her that perhaps that was exactly what made him so canny. For she had little use for sweet words, and was hardly adept with battles of the tongue like Kilai, but that he could read her well enough to know this told her enough about his perception.

  If he was luring her into speaking first, well, at least she was aware of the trap. “You seem remarkably calm about what’s happening to your city.”

  “Mm,” he hummed, rifling through a stack of papers. “Not much to be done about it at the moment. I won’t lie, I’ll feel better when you have all left and I’m no longer harbouring fugitives.” He licked his thumb to turn the page and glanced at her over his spectacles, “But I try not to worry about events beyond my control. There is little use in that, I find.”

  “I wish I knew how to do that,” she murmured, almost out of reflex.

  “Plan and prepare for what others are likely to do. But never assume. You must be ready to react to any given scenario and that means not mapping out a future in flux, but being aware of the many plausible directions that may come to be. Anything more than that is fruitless.”

  “And which book did you take that from?”

  He looked up at her properly then, a smirk on his lips. “It is knowledge I have gained in life.” Tilting his head, he moved to the book shelf high on the wall, finger skimming across spines before stopping upon a small green hardback which he pulled from the line. “Try this one. They speak about the art of, hm, there isn’t a word for it in your tongue. Some of it is a little lofty for my taste but you might find the concept of ‘motion-peace’ worthwhile.”

  Rook’s hand reached out to accept the book before her mind could catch up, confused as to why he was giving her it. She glanced down at the worn cover in her hand, fingers tracing over the emboss.

  “It never hurts to be open to new ideas. That is the problem with too many. They’re so rigid, stuck to what they know. Where they were raised, what their parents thought. The cycle always repeats unless you actively chose to break the wheel.”

  She looked up at him, trying to read the look in his eyes. Sunlight filtered through the window, burnishing them in gold. “What if no matter what you do you can’t break the wheel? What if it just keeps turning?”

  “Forgive my assumptions, but you do not seem a woman inclined to simply give up.” He broke her gaze to move to the window, light softening the lines of his profile. Standing with his back straight and his arms held behind him, he could have almost been a military man if not for the longer hair curling around his ears and the thoughtful tilt to his head. “Do you know why my crest is a cactus?”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t remember the last time a conversation had left her on such uneven footing.

  “I was born in a tiny desert village. So small it doesn’t really bear a true name. You certainly would not find it on a map.” He tapped his finger on the windowsill, a rhythm unfamiliar to her. “In this little village very little grew, and beyond its confines there was nothing but endless miles of red sand as far as the eye could see. We kept camels because cattle could not survive the constant drought in the dry season and water was rationed out from the one well we had. A terrible place to live, truly. I haven’t a clue why anyone would want to remain other than the fear of leaving what one knows. As if there could possibly be any worse.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

  “The only thing that remained resilient where all else withered was the cactus plant, which somehow survived the lack of rain, the harsh overbearing sun, and the overwhelming heat. Its spines prevented what fauna lived there from its destruction, a thing I have come to much admire about it. You only have to give a fox a spiky mouth once for it to learn its lesson well. When I was a boy I never understood how it managed to survive in the places where nothing else would dare to grow, almost as if it was determined to challenge the natural order of the world.”

  Rook ran her finger across the spine of the book. “Are you comparing me to a cactus?”

  Sandson looked at her over his shoulder with a huffed laugh. “Do you find it such an unfavourable comparison?” He shook his head, teeth flashing white against olive skin. “The point is that you have to set your sights on something if you really want it. Your heart may waver at times but through perseverance you will overcome. That is the only real truth I can give you.”

  How could he speak with such assurance when Rook felt so uncertain? “Did you dream of this? Back in your village, did you wish for where you stand now?”

  “Hm. I don’t believe things ever work out exactly how you imagine them to. That’s all right, too. Sometimes life’s currents will guide you to new and interesting places and I do not think that is a bad thing. This, here, was an opportunity grabbed at the right moment. Certainly not my original intention. But rigidity in the face of change will make you miserable. I’ve seen far too many soured by it.”

  Do not fight the wind, child. Let it guide you.

  The words struck a chord in her heart. Perhaps it was a sign it was time to go home. She had travelled this far to learn more about herself but each time something happened she seemed to circle back to the past like she was as doomed as Viktor to relive it again and again. Only when she confronted what came before could she move onto the future
with a hopeful heart and find a new path to becoming the guardian she wanted to be.

  “How did you know – how did you know you were doing the right thing? That you made the right decision?”

  Sandson fixed her with a look of amusement. “No one knows. No one can tell you what the right decision is. Only you can decide that.”

  Rook stared back at him, frustration flaring. “Why do you look so amused by that fact?”

  “Because it’s a beautiful thing. Consider: there is no right or wrong. No good or bad or indifferent. There is only what you decide. Such freedom is breathtaking, is it not?”

  She frowned, approaching him by the window. “There very much is a right and wrong. Maybe we don’t all agree on which is which but I think deep down you know when what you’re doing is wrong. It doesn’t feel right.” More boats bobbed along the canal, stained red with leaves from the trees. Once it might have been a pretty painting but now it looked to her like the water was dyed red with blood.

  “For you, perhaps. But who is to say whose right is right?”

  She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at him. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

  His smirk grew into a full grin. “On the contrary, I speak with conviction. Always say what you mean and mean what you say. With the conviction of your heart, there is truth in your actions, regardless of what common thought might be.”

  “I don’t agree. Would you rationalise heinous acts just because you thought them justified?”

  Sandson hummed. “It would seem to me that you know yourself better than you think.”

  “You really are teasing me.”

  “I did say, did I not, to keep an open mind? Only by considering all sides of an argument can you really understand your own position. And only then are you poised to win. You would be surprised at the tactical advantages of empathy.”

  She drummed her fingers on the window ledge, made of the same cherry hardwood that most of his furniture seemed to be. “You are not what I expected.”

  “Ah, that is what I aim for.”

  He gathered up his papers, rifling through them as if to check he had everything he had come in for. Only then did she remember he was not here to talk her through her problems. “If you will excuse me, I should probably see about damage control.” Striding past her, he stopped by the door. “Do let me know how it all works out for you.”

  Rook was left to the empty room, suddenly so much larger without his company. The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the room in a soft amber glow that transformed the atmosphere to something transient, almost wistful. With every movement she made the noise seemed to amplify in the space, the fabric of her clothes whispering in the silence. Settling against the window ledge, she flicked through the book with lethargic hands and skimmed the pages, not really seeing the words with her mind on the day’s events.

  She had truly become the shrakur ik korshi, the twilight walker, trapped between dawn and day, unable to settle in either. In the back of her mind The Rook hummed steadily, making its presence known. Although the rift had settled down, the door was gaping open, any creature from the beyond the veil easily able to pass through into this world. She could feel the tremble in the currents of energy, surging with a breath as powerful as the ocean’s tide. But she was not the right woman to be its guardian. There had to be someone else who could do a better job than she.

  The Rook hissed in protest, sharp enough to be painful.

  Fight, devour and take.

  “I thought we agreed that wasn’t going to be our motto.”

  She could feel its frustration with her and she found herself laughing despite herself, fluttering the pages to waft the comforting smell of old books. “You really want me to become a rift warden? I would be a gatekeeper. I would keep creatures like you out.”

  There was the sensation of flapping wings against her face and the tickle of feathers. Rook sneezed. “Do you like the idea of being in control of that? Do you want to go back home with me? Back to where we first met?”

  She did not quite know how but she could feel The Rook trill with agreement. Apparently in its time within her mind it had become invested in her life. In their life, more accurately. It was a strange feeling, one she was unsure she would get used to, but pleasant. With The Rook she felt a little less alone, a little more like there was someone who still believed in her, even when she herself could not.

  “I must admit, the thought of going home right now appeals to me. I wonder how Old Grey is doing?”

  With a growing sense of resolution and the fading sunlight cooling on her back, Rook shut the book over. She slipped it into her worn satchel, promising herself she would keep it for the journey ahead. Standing and stretching, Rook cricked her neck, wincing at the loud crunch of stiff bones in the silence of the room. Her wrists still flared with pain, tender from being bound. But she had escaped the shackles, and as long as she still lived, there was hope she could truly break free from the confines of the bonds on her mind.

  With a growing sense of resolution Rook closed one chapter of her life, ready to begin writing a new one.

  *

  “This doesn’t feel quite right, does it?”

  Kilai hesitated on the dock’s edge, unsure what to do with her hands. Rook still looked more lost than she had ever seen the woman but given all that had happened it was hardly surprising. It was strange, having been through this journey with her only to be saying farewell now, salt breeze whipping at their hair and the stench of fish in the air making it all too visceral. They had been through so much in such a short period of time that departing now was like leaving behind family.

  Janus lurked behind her like a sullen shadow, all sharp lines and too much black against a pastel peach sky. After everything he had done she wasn’t sure how she felt about him but nevertheless affection bubbled up over the mistrust, reluctantly warm. By his shoulder was an obvious gap where Viktor should have been. As much as he had been a brat, at times moody and reckless, she hated that he wasn’t there now. She didn’t know what would become of him without any of them there to protect and guide him. She didn’t know who Viktor Siklo would turn out to be, if he managed to struggle to the surface of Vallnor’s pool.

  But perhaps they hadn’t been very good at guiding him at all, for look at how things had turned out for them. Each of them looked worn, tired, drained. Dark circles, ashen skin. None of them had come to this point with the aim to get there and she didn’t really think that any of them truly knew where they were going now. If anyone was to show Viktor how to navigate his current predicament, maybe their ragtag crew were exactly the last ones to be showing him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” said Rook with the ghost of a smile.

  “I think it will be too cold for me.”

  Rook nodded. “Take care of yourself, then. It won’t be the same without you.” She held out her arm.

  Clasping it gently, Kilai mirrored her movement of raising her fingers to her temple. “And you, Rook-ka. Try not to do anything I would not do.”

  “Ah, no promises.”

  She snorted, turning to Janus. “You take care of yourself, too.”

  “No promises,” he echoed, a twinkle in his eye, and both she and Rook let out a surprised laugh. He did not hold out his arm but she did not expect him to. It was more of a Myrish gesture after all.

  “May we meet again.”

  “May we meet again,” said Rook, smile more genuine now. The rising sun illuminated the moisture in her eyes and Kilai had to look away to stop herself from giving into the emotions of the situation. She stood upon the docks, drinking in the last sights of the city, white buildings seashell pink in the warm glow of the dawn, sprawling out into a haze on a misty horizon. A strong breeze caught her unawares and she shivered, skin pimpling. She thought it was more out of anticipation than the cold, the promise of an open horizon as freeing as it was daunting. A new start was what she really needed.

  “Don
’t leave yet!” came a loud voice, carrying over the wind. The wooden slats of the dock rattled and groaned beneath the heavy footsteps of the boy running towards them, breathing hard. “Wait for me!”

  Kilai smiled as Samker skidded to a stop by Rook and Janus, folding over with his chest heaving. “I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

  Samker shook his head, blue eyes shining. “I’m coming with you.”

  She raised her brows. “What does Jenya think of that?”

  He bit his lip. “She will have to like it. I want to go. I want to travel and see the world.”

  “I’m joining the crew of a merchant vessel. It’s mostly heavy duty work. Not a lot of time for tourism.”

  “I don’t mind hard work. I’m willing to pitch in.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” she said, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “But I couldn’t in good conscience let you come with me when you have a rift to tend. After everything that has happened, do you really want to leave Jenya to deal with that by herself?”

  She felt a little guilty for quashing his enthusiasm, his head hanging low. With a weary sigh, he nodded. “You’re right. If something happened to her I’d never forgive myself.”

  Rook landed a hand on his shoulder. “We need you here, kid. Once we work out what’s happening with the Order and the rifts, then there will be plenty of time for adventure.”

  Kilai looked at her. “You seem more positive than before.”

  Rook nodded, raising her chin. “Things will work out.” White blonde locks blew across her face and she pulled them back behind her ear. “I think we all just need a little direction right now.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  The last few crates were being boarded on the ship moored to the dock, men moving past them with some that smelled heavily of fish and she wrinkled her nose. She would have to get used to the smell. Up on the deck the familiar face of Kallan nodded to her, a signal that they would be getting on their way. Turning back to her companions – her friends, after all they had been through together – she smiled one last time, a strange heaviness in her gut. Her hand found the turtle pinned to her jacket by reflex.