by Aaron Crash
She was surprised to see Linnylynn Albatross come around the corner. The woman stomped up to Della. Linny’s storm cloak streamed water. The woman was frowning. “Princept, I’d like to discuss a delicate matter with you.”
Della could feel what it was even before the Scatter Islands woman said a word. “Yes, Professor. What would you like talk about?”
Linny sighed, looked her right in the eye, and spoke in an even voice. “If sleeping with you is required to become a Studia Dux, then I would like you to know I’m not opposed to the idea.”
Della wanted to laugh in this woman’s face. Instead, she stood with her arms crossed, a serious look on her face. Smoke drifted up from the kharo stick held casually in her fingers. “I’m not sleeping with Hayleesia Heenn. And Ibeliah Ironcoat is taken. The Morbuskor do insist on their monogamy. So, Ms. Albatross, what are you suggesting?”
“I know you’re attracted to Haylee. And she talks of you often. Perhaps I’m out of order here. I simply want this position.” Linny’s voice trembled. She was trying to be as strong as she was awkward.
To the Princept’s own surprise, she felt calm “There is nothing going on between us. You don’t have to worry because I have not made my decision yet. You still have as much chance as anyone. If anything, my attraction to Haylee makes hiring her problematic.”
The first part of what the Princept said was absolutely true. Della couldn’t hire Haylee. The latter? That was a lie. Della had already decided upon Ibeliah. She’d keep on all the professors until the end of the year, have them finish out the classes, and then tell them.
As for Della’s attraction to Haylee? The Princept would simply wait out the year. On the last day of the year, in June, she would fuck Haylee until both couldn’t see straight.
It was a good plan, but so was trying to only smoke five kharo sticks a day. She’d failed at that. In her heart, Della knew she’d fail with the half-elf from Panseloca as well. It was only a matter of time.
She glanced down. That ash mark was still on the back of her hand. Smoking was such a dirty habit. However, it was strange that it appeared in the same place each time.
Chapter Twenty-Five
YMIR STOOD IN THE ENTRYWAY of the Moons Tower, standing in his storm cloak with the cowl pulled up and over his head. He watched Linnylynn Albatross gather her courage and march after the Princept.
The clansman had cast one of Obanathy’s unveil spells on Della, and he wasn’t sure what he saw. One thing was clear: the Honored Princept was compromised. There was a shadow clinging to her. An akkor? One of the orishas that Linny Albatross had studied along with her competitor Hayleesia Heenn? He couldn’t discount the idea.
Growing up on the Ax Tundra, there had been many stories of spirits, animals, people, gods, devils, and things that simply didn’t have a name. Ymir knew there was a darkness in the world. He’d been cursed by such a fiend. The Lonely Man hadn’t been birthed from a woman, and if he had, he’d made some extremely bad decisions to wind up alone in a cavern, twisted into something that was both darkness and fire. The thing probably shat magic.
Yet, Ymir was skeptical about most things until he could see their reality for himself. He’d loved his Grandmother Rabbit, but she believed every stone had a spirit, and every blade of grass had a story, and there were any number of divinities controlling their fate.
That was why Ymir liked the idea of the Axman. That god didn’t care about him or any of the mortals on Raxid. Yes, the Axman hewed a man’s path through the world, but it was up to the man to walk. And wasn’t that luck much of the time? Call it a god, call it chance—in the end, it felt the same.
The Axman didn’t care. The Shieldmaiden did. And for Ymir, she was harder to understand. As for the Wolf? He was chaos. He was the animal inside, like the Gruul idea of their rahgaht. Ymir understood that like nothing else.
He took off into the rain. The Princept was ensorcelled. He wasn’t sure what to do with the idea. He had to warn someone. At the same time, he was so close to gathering everything they needed for the Veil Tear Ring.
As for Linnylynn, Ymir thought it was most likely that the Scatter Islands woman was the culprit. The week before, he and Jenny met with Linny and Haylee in the Librarium to talk about orishas and their research. Jenny truly didn’t believe in that swamp hoodoo that said someone could use ghosts and demons to power magic that lay outside of the Studiae Magica. The Josentown princess didn’t mention the demon that had attacked them. They were still trying to understand that.
Linny, however, was certain that summoning demons was possible, and from how she talked, it was clear that she liked the idea. She wanted to teach at Old Ironbound because it was a nexus of some kind. Ymir wondered if Linny hadn’t been casting dark magic and practicing forbidden rituals. She talked with the excitement of someone wanting to push the boundaries. At the time, Ymir hadn’t quite understood how to cast the Obanathy unveiling magic.
Haylee looked on, quiet and, like before, embarrassed by the passion in her friend. The half-elf was beautiful, and Ymir had trouble keeping his eyes from lingering. He had to laugh at himself. Sleeping with two professors his first year might be pushing things. He’d simply have to settle for one professor a year. There were many wise sayings in the Sacred Mysteries of the Ax about moderation.
Ymir hurried out of the rain to walk down the covered path that ran alongside the feasting hall. It was later afternoon, Monday, and the Artist Moon would be full later that week, on Sunday night, alone in the sky without the Warrior. Actually for Ymir, it was the Shieldmaiden moon they needed, not this artist nonsense. He liked the idea of the Shieldmaiden giving him protection so he could tear through the veil of reality and see the truth.
They still had a few things to gather. He walked into the feasting hall, poured himself some kaif, and wondered what kind of magic drew him to the hot drink day after day. He’d even found himself liking the bitter bite. With how rainy and cold it had been for months on end, drinking something hot was nice. Better was the burst of energy and focus it gave him.
He wandered into the Librarium. Gatha scowled at him. “Excuse me, scholar. There is no food or drink in the library. The lightning could arc and electrocute you. And we can’t have stains on our books and scrolls.”
Ymir had a lot to think about, and he was in no mood to deal with the she-orc librarian and her madness. He finished off the kaif and set it on her table. He walked away without saying a word. If she wanted to pretend they were strangers, he’d indulge in her games. She bitched at him to take the cup back to the feasting hall. He ignored her.
He’d found her hate for him amusing. He found her apathy simply annoying and not worth his time. Maybe the she-orc librarian had found a big-breasted woman to play with. He didn’t think so. She had her books, and that seemed like enough for her.
Walking up the steps to the second floor, he found Jenny sitting at their table. Her face was white. She was staring off in the distance, holding a crumpled piece of paper. Someone must’ve told her about her sand letter.
When he sat down, she closed her eyes, like she knew Ymir wasn’t going to let her weasel her way out of talking about what was troubling her. After the cool reception from Gatha, he’d be damned if he let the swamp woman spend another night plagued by her foul dreams.
“I don’t want to talk about the elkshit in that letter. It’s bad news. Good. We can use it for our spell. Fucking magic. No, Jennybelle, today, right now, you’re going to tell me about your nightmares. You’re going to tell me what’s bothering you. Or I will not spend another night in your bed. My cell is still full of packaging for the Amora Xoca, but there is always Lillee’s cell.”
The Josentown princess grimaced. “You can’t give me an ultimatum like that. And you won’t stay away. My oheesy is too sweet, and Lillee ain’t got enough titties to satisfy you. Don’t make me call your bluff.” Jenny’s face had gained some color, but her blue eyes were still sunken into her skull.
Ymir sn
apped his fingers. “Tell me. Now. And I’ll tell you what has me worried. I learned something that has saddened me.”
“You fucking think you can make me curious and I’ll break?” Jenny laughed. At the same time, she wiped tears away in hopes she was quick enough he wouldn’t see them. She wasn’t.
“Tell me. Now. I won’t ask again.” He was serious. He wasn’t bluffing. This wasn’t a river deck game of Seven Devils, and he didn’t have shitty cards. He’d been kind and patient, and that hadn’t worked. It was time to give her a hard edge.
“You want to be the big man? The big tough man? Ha!” Her laughter was ragged, bordering on hysterical. “I’ll be the poor weak woman. I’ve had people killed before. I’ve mixed poison, and I knew who it was for, and I didn’t care a bit. You know us Swamp Coast women. We murdered the Tree-damned men who thought to put us in their harems. No, fuck that. We had the harems. Us.”
He shrugged. “It’s a fair introduction, but I don’t want a history lesson. I want to hear about the wound in your heart. It’s been bleeding for weeks and it’s fouled the air around you. I’m tired of its fucking stink.”
Her eyes darted across his face, her lips trembled, and she was blinking fiercely, trying hard to find a way around him. But he’d set the edge. “All right, all right, I dream, most every night, that we’re back on that island. And most every night, I feel myself stab Siteev, right in her back. I feel the blade going in, sliding between bone, the blood splashing me, and even how she smelled. I can still smell her.” She was breathing hard. Then she was pleading with him. “Don’t make me say it, Ymir. Don’t make me. Please.”
“You’re already over the worst of it. Let me guess. You stab her, and she won’t stay dead.” He remembered his first kill with his own hands. He remembered the dreams afterwards. Of course, he talked with his battle brothers about it, and they’d eased his concerns. That White Wolf clansman would’ve killed Ymir. It was war. It was bloody. It was a hard world, and men were forced into the bloodletting.
“Those dreams aren’t so bad.” Jenny swallowed. She choked on a sob, and more tears fell. “It’s the dreams when she pleads with me not to kill her. Or worse, she’s dead, I know she’s dead, and she’s asking for mercy. But it’s too late. Don’t you understand? I took her life, and I’m glad, but she’s haunting me. Maybe there are ghosts and orishas and all that shit.”
“Akkor,” Ymir said softly. “But I don’t think that Siteev is some ghost come back to haunt you. I think this is your first kill, face to face, and you feel bad.”
“But I told you. I’ve killed before. There was this one bitch, rising up in a county, and she was gathering support. She’d already hired a killer from the Silent Scream to take out my mother. We got her first. I mixed the bloodcross mushroom poison that killed the assassin and the bitch who hired her.” Jenny’s words were grim, but they were strong.
He gazed into her eyes. “Sure. But sending someone to take a life is different than taking that life yourself. You feel bad for the murder. I understand. When I was young, I felt bad for things.”
“But I shouldn’t,” Jenny hissed. “I’m weak.”
“You didn’t let your fear stop you from killing her. That would’ve been weak. You didn’t tell us, right away, about your nightmares. That was weak. If you want to be strong, you’ll tell us about your nightmares. You’ll be honest.”
Jenny sat, jaw muscles straining, shaking her head and crying. “She wanted to kill us. She would’ve killed us. It’s good she’s dead. Why do I feel bad for that?”
“The Axman strikes us down, good and bad, when it’s our time. The Shieldmaiden protects us, good and bad, when she probably shouldn’t. But the Wolf? The Wolf howls and bites and fucks and runs across the world pissing in temples and shitting in soup pots. The Wolf can’t be explained. What you’re feeling can’t be explained. It is what it is. And I don’t think you’re weak. You still have my heart, Jennybelle Josen. You still have my life. You and I are going to build an empire together. That will require blood. It’s good you feel bad for killing. We shouldn’t do it lightly.”
Jenny stood, pushed the table aside, and curled up in his lap. He held her. She didn’t cry. She just let him hold her as she started to heal the wound in her heart. She even smelled better.
“What’s in the letter?” he asked.
“It’s from Arribelle. She says she hates me for stealing you away. Nelly has told her all about how smart you are, how handsome, and how powerful. Arri says she’s never going to speak to me again, and that once Mama dies, she’s gonna cut me off from the money. I won’t be welcome home. She don’t say anything about Auntie Jia. She just says she hates me.” Jenny sighed. “And I hate her. I don’t mind stupid much. Stupid and cruel? That I won’t tolerate. And that’s what Arri is. So fuck her right in her prissy butthole.”
Ymir held her, breathed in the scent of her hair, and kissed her head. “My own people cast me out. I understand, Jenny, like few can. I never cared much for my father, but his single tear, when he sent me away, haunts me. I told Lillee about it. I told you. We will be the family we need, Jennybelle. We will be the family we need.”
Jenny laughed. “We have the piece of paper bearing bad news. The hatred of a sister.”
Lillee walked over, kissed Ymir, and kissed Jenny before sitting down. She looked at Ymir for a long time without saying anything.
“What is that look for?” he asked.
The elf girl smiled wistfully. “I want to memorize you both. I want that memory, always, of seeing you together.” Her voice failed. She had to clear her throat. “Jenny told you what’s bothering her, didn’t she?”
“She did. Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, Lillee?” he asked.
“Not yet. But soon. Soon.” Lillee frowned. “Gatha pretended to not know me. It’s sad for her to be so alone.”
“She has her books,” he growled.
Tori was the last to arrive. She sat down.
With Jenny on his lap, there was still an open chair at the table. If Gatha had any sense, she could’ve joined them. It was a damn shame.
Tori climbed up onto her chair and set a silver bowl in the middle of the table. “And that’s a bowl consecrated by the heartbroken. I got a feather from Brodor Bootblack. As the Form Studia Dux, he has all matter of interesting items lying around. I followed the ritual. I even cried a bit.”
“You? Heartbroken?” Jenny asked. “Not sure I see it, T.”
Tori laughed, sitting back. “I hide it well. You don’t want to hear about my sad story. It’s not that sad, or shouldn’t be. Gosh me underground, I have friends like you. And I have a dozen roommates, in this big old Moons apartment, with views, and the whole thing. And I have a great life, working, going to school—it’s a lot of fun. I’d like it if Ribrib snored less. That Ribrib.”
Jenny lifted her head off Ymir’s chest. “Like I said, you don’t sound heartbroken.”
“But she is,” Lillee whispered. “I’ve seen it.”
The dwab gave the elf girl an uneasy look. “See? Lillee knows. And Ymir knows a little. And let’s just leave it at that.” Her chuckle was wrong, all wrong, like a wounded animal. Yet, she smiled right through it, which was her way.
Tori cleared her throat. “So Francy, my boss—you know Francy—well, bless my stone bits, she knows a blind woman, the wife of a farmer. I went there, and we talked, and I told her the sad story of Sinaj Pjolin, the Wingkin who couldn’t fly but who could cook. It worked. Got her crying. I got the tears. And we have the blood of a virgin. That would be my own blood.”
Again, Jenny coughed. “Uh, I heard a little bit about you and Lillee. That doesn’t sound so innocent.”
“I’ve not known a man,” Tori said. “Which is to say, I’ve not been devirginized. And besides, the Inconvenience isn’t my fault. It just happens. I’m saying I’m heartbroken, and I’m saying I’m innocent.”
“I think that’s right,” Lillee agreed. “It feels right. A
nd this spell is more about feelings than about logic, I think. Flow magic, the flow of life, requires us to use all parts of our minds, our intuition, our feelings, and our thoughts.”
Ymir couldn’t believe Tori. She’d been working tirelessly for them. And she wasn’t done yet. He did agree with both of his princesses—she seemed far more innocent than she was heartbroken, and maybe she was both, and maybe she was neither. They’d try this spell, and if it failed, they’d try again.
However, from the little he could glean from the references to the Akkiric Rings, they couldn’t be created over and over. They could only exist one at a time. Some sorcerers disagreed. Ymir did wonder what had happened to the original Akkiric Rings. What was their story? He knew the answer to that lay in the Illuminates Spire, which he didn’t have access to. Yet.
The fire-headed dwab rattled off the rest of the components that she’d gathered herself. “The cobwebs were easy. I got some from an old room in the Moons Tower. Francy came through on the bay leaves from the kitchen. Ethra mint is rarer, but wouldn’t you know it? One of my roommates knew a sailor who was in StormCry who had some. It seems the sea elves over there like to chew it. Finally, I went to Professor Leel for the vision salt and the high john root. You people, I thought Issa Leel was stern, yes, a little humorless, okay, but all in all, I thought she was lovely. I think she’s mean because you don’t give her a chance.”
Ymir didn’t hide his disgust. Lillee sighed.
Tori saw their faces and grinned. “That leaves you three doing the spit part. If you need me, though, I’m not such the delicate flower that I won’t spit in a bowl for your magic.”
Ymir and the princesses were speechless for a moment, clearly reduced to silence by all the work Tori had done on top of her work in the kitchens and her studies.
The clansman was the first one to laugh. “Toriah Welldeep, you have shamed us.”