Kefier had never imagined he would ever visit Dageis again. Even just hearing the name struck a painful chord in him. He tried not to let it show, but thinking about the trip sent his mind reeling. In any other situation, he would not have even considered it. For anything but Rosha, he would’ve run.
He found himself staring into space while Jarche went over the details of what they were about to do. Something about only being able to transport two people at a time, and only to a location known to her—in this case, a small hamlet north of the Hos Adens mountain range. It was the closest she could get them to the Dageian Plateau, and the furthest distance she was comfortable working with. She lost him a little after that.
Even more jarring than the idea of going to Dageis was the fact that she was going to have to transport them from Hartmur. He stared at Jarche as soon as the word fell from her lips, his insides recoiling at the mere sound of it.
“What for?” he gasped.
Jarche and Sume stared at him for a heartbeat.
“Because I need to get you as far north as I can,” she said. “Weren’t you listening?”
“What difference does a few miles make?”
“Enough to kill me and trap your souls in the agan stream, while propelling your body into wherever incomplete space it happens to be in—maybe wedged between the mountains or under a lake? Honestly, it’s like you weren’t listening at all.”
“But Hartmur…” he said.
He felt Sume’s hand graze his shoulder, which made him feel worse. That was where her brother had died. Was killed, he corrected himself. He felt like he was choking.
But he had no choice. Jarche continued with the plans, oblivious of his discomfort, and Sume set about to carrying them out, and then he found himself on the road a day later; the same road he had taken during Oji’s last days, heading for the country where they first met.
Because Dageis was the cesspool where it all began. Dageis—an empire teeming with culture, order, technology, mages, and slaves. It was there that he had found himself after his exile from his village, when they thought he had murdered his own brother. There, Oji had jeopardized an important contract—the last of the sort that he was ever awarded—using Boarshind resources to buy Kefier from a slave-trader in the market.
“What are you thinking?” Sume asked him.
Kefier turned to her. “You ask me that all the time,” he said. “Why?”
“A lot of reasons. You and I have not always seen eye-to-eye these past few years. Sometimes I wonder if we argue more than we talk.”
He smirked. “Wondering how much of that is your fault?”
“Perhaps.” Sume scratched the side of her face. “Sometimes, I am also trying to see the boy my brother used to tell me stories about, in his letters. You were quiet, he said, but never ill-humoured. He never met Dai, but I think having you around gave him an outlet and made it easier for him to deal with missing out on his son’s life.”
She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I know we haven’t talked much about Oji over these years. But seeing as to how we are going to Dageis…”
Kefier looked at her and wondered, for the first time, how much she knew. They didn’t talk much about those days; their life in Shirrokaru had boiled down to the everyday necessities, a dance of sorts that they had to do to keep Rosha and Dai (and Narani, too) sheltered and fed.
And Oji would have told her everything. He was the sort of man who, given the signal, held nothing back—not emotion, or his thoughts, or what sort of food he ate two days ago that gave him too much gas. That he had managed to keep his son a secret from the rest of the Boarshind was something that Kefier still couldn’t comprehend.
“I’m not too worried,” he said. “I think I can hide my scars well enough and the enchantments are gone. They won’t know what I was.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He realized she was trying to dig deeper, the damnable woman. Well, he wasn’t going to let her. But even as he rose to the defensive, he saw her turn away and hasten to catch up to Jarche. They started talking about one thing or another, and he realized he was alone with his thoughts again.
They set up camp a few hours before dark. The last time he had been here, it had been a lot warmer and they were able to sleep out in the open, under the stars. Now, they brought tents, which made it easier, and they didn’t have to camp at the same spot. He had thought he wouldn’t remember it after all these years, but when they passed by the clearing, he did. He also remembered that last talk with Oji. Something about love, and not really knowing anything about it, which was funny to think about because years later he still didn’t know anything about it at all. Sume rejected the spot outright, on grounds that it was too small for the tents.
Jarche disappeared soon after dinner, even though there was still enough light out. Sume approached Kefier, her tent tucked in a roll under her arm. He looked at her.
“I haven’t made my tent,” she said. “Do I need to?”
He looked into her eyes. “You tell me.”
She sat down beside him. She reached out for him and then stopped, her fingers curled over his arm. “I’m not sure what we’re doing. I don’t know where this is supposed to go.”
That made him angry, though he wasn’t sure why. Was he actually expecting something? Sume seemed to have sensed it, too, because she drew away from him. She knew him too well. He hated feeling like every part of him was exposed to her while he had absolutely no idea what was going on in her head, let alone her heart.
Sume started to get up. Kefier’s hand reached out to grab hers.
“It’ll be cold tonight,” he mumbled. He couldn’t look her in the eyes.
“Ah, Ke-if. We’re adults. If you want me to spend the night, just say so.”
“Spend the night,” he murmured.
“That’s all I can give you right now.”
“I don’t care.” Carefully—as if any sudden movement would startle her and make her flee from him forever—he pulled her towards him, his thumb tracing a line across her cheek as he kissed her. He pushed the rest of his thoughts away and focused on the now and this space between his arms where she could never leave him.
Sometime before dawn, Kefier woke up to a pair of almond-shaped eyes staring at him.
He screamed and kicked out; Sume, wrapped up in a blanket beside him, smashed her elbow into his face.
“What by all the gods’ was that supposed to be for?” she snapped.
“There was something here!” He struggled to put his clothes on and dragged himself out of the tent. The cold wind hit him. His eyes adjusted to the grey darkness, and he saw the creature again, crouching several feet from him. It looked up and flipped its cloak back, revealing short, grey ears.
After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “Xyl? Is that you?”
The kusyan pulled her lips back into a smile before scampering around him. As she did this, Kefier saw that Jarche was already up and stirring the embers.
“My, but you both have a lot to explain to Enosh,” she said in a wry voice.
He felt his ears grow hot. “I’d rather talk about Xyl. What’s she doing here?”
Jarche gestured at Xyl, who stopped long enough to wrap her furry arms around him.
“Jar’ said Kef needed help. So I come to help. Am glad to see you well.” She rubbed her whiskers against his cheek.
“I’m glad to see you too. I thought we lost you at Enji.” He glared at Jarche, who shrugged and sipped her coffee as if nothing was amiss.
“Jar’ saved me. She’s been teaching me.”
“You’ve been here all this time?”
“Somewhere here,” Jarche said. “The kusyani have many hidden places. I’m not at liberty to tell you. Why are you angry with me? I thought you’d appreciate having her here, considering.”
“Is she a prisoner, like Rosha?”
“Kirosha is not a prisoner,” she hissed. “And neither is Xyl. Prisoners do not get the privilege
of having a skilled teacher at their beck and call, nor have all the luxuries they could ever dream of at hand. Look at her, Kefier. Does she look neglected? Or well cared-for, better than when you last saw her?”
He couldn’t argue with that. Xyl was not as scruffy or thin as those times, and she was wearing well-cut robes instead of rags. She smiled at him, and he bent down to kiss the top of her head before joining Jarche by the fire. Breakfast was oat porridge and bacon.
“So this is Xyl,” Sume said as she joined them. “Dai had told me a lot about you. It’s good to finally meet you.”
Xyl goggled at her.
“I hope you had a restful night,” Jarche said without blinking.
Sume accepted a cup from Kefier before she replied, “I did. How about you?”
“Unfortunately, not as well as you.”
“Mmm. That’s too bad.”
“Maybe you should lend him to me for a night, see if that…”
“My God,” Kefier said around the rim of his bowl. “Just be quiet, the both of you. Please.”
“On a serious note,” Jarche said, not paying him any heed. “The reason I called on Xyl is to ensure you both reach Dageis safely. Her skills need a lot of refining, but her natural talent can allow me to tap the agan more easily. I was thinking we can start after breakfast.”
Sume nodded. “How long until Kefier’s men can join us?”
“They’re on their way to Ni’in right now. You can meet them at the port of Bardes when you’re ready to return. I don’t think you’ll need them, but Enosh can be…difficult. Not that you need me telling you that.” She smirked.
“I have no intention of forcing him. If he will not do it for his daughter, then…I don’t know.”
“He’ll do it for you, maybe. He loved you, I think.”
“Yes, well,” she said, with a huff. “Feelings change.”
Their destination was the same cabin where Kefier and Oji had delivered equipment a few years back. Jarche must’ve known about the whole incident, but if it ever crossed her mind, she remained silent about it. Sume, for her part, spoke little, though she looked pensive.
“Start with my brother’s death.”
“We were sent to Hartmur. Our last job. They didn’t want to release our money unless we finished it. It was a delivery to...the Sangut mines. Oji insisted on going with me. I should’ve stopped him. If I had stopped him he would still be alive.”
She at least remembered the half-truth he had offered her. Earlier, on the fork that led to the mines, she had stopped to look at the dilapidated sign before heading on. He had wondered if she was deliberating on making a detour. Her brother’s grave—if you could call it that—was up there.
Jarche opened the door to the cabin with her keys, took one look inside, and closed it again.
“There are rats in there,” she proclaimed. “Rats and Yohak knows what else. Is it too much to ask not to leave dirty plates when they lock up? Bloody surveyors.”
She dropped her equipment off to the side and glanced at the sky. “And it looks like it will rain. I was hoping I didn’t have to set up camp tonight but I won’t share my blankets with those creatures.”
“Can’t you use the agan to scare them off?” Kefier asked.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” She sighed. “We might as well get started. Come over here, Xyl.”
He watched them draw a circle in the middle of the field.
“They’re so sure of themselves,” Sume said, crouching beside him. She sounded wistful. “In a way, I’m relieved. Back home, when I noticed these things around Rosha, I wasn’t sure what to do. Magister Ichi was adamant we send her to Xiaro, like his parents had done to him. If the priestesses had noticed...”
“Wait. You knew?”
She glowered at him. “I’m her mother, Kefier. Not an idiot. It never occurred to you?”
“I guess I was in denial.” He saw Xyl laugh at something, and Jarche break out into a smile.
“I suppose you’re right,” he murmured. “Still. I don’t have to like it.”
Their talk was interrupted by a flash of purple light. Jarche ran up to them, a finger in one ear. “See that tunnel now?” she said, pointing at a small, glowing portal that had appeared above their handwriting on the ground. “Just go through. It’ll get larger as you pull yourselves through it. Keep pulling yourself until you come out the other side. Quickly.”
“Come, Kefier,” Sume said. “This was how we got to Kago. I think I know what to do.” She strode ahead.
Jarche tapped Kefier’s shoulder as he passed by.
“Talk to Enosh, please,” she said in a low voice. “Tell him to come home.”
“I don’t know if he’ll listen,” he murmured, before walking towards Sume. She held out her hand. He hesitated before taking it. Xyl called out a goodbye, and after one last wave at her, they went through.
Chapter Two
The port city of Bardes could be reached by airship. Enosh had read of the massive things before, knew they had only come into service the past thirty years or so, and that they ran on an intricate system of mechanics and spells that allowed them to float into the sky.
Jarche had found the whole thing repugnant. “My people did not study the agan just so the Dageians could bleed it dry and sell it for coin. Way back in the day…”
“And just exactly how old are you, Jarche?” he had asked. She had hit him.
He paid the appropriate amount of coin, which he had borrowed from Ceres, to board the ship from the bottom of the plateau, and couldn’t help but miss Jarche as he gazed out across the railing. He wondered if she was back in the library, dissecting another one of her books with a cup of coffee beside her. It used to bother him how content she was doing the same thing every day and that she didn’t like leaving her room, but after all that had happened to him, he thought he understood. He wondered if she had anything to do with Yn Garr’s orders to kill him. He wondered if she missed him back.
The ship rocked as it pushed against the docking tower before rising into the sky. He felt exhilaration at first, watching everything below grow smaller while the clouds seem to grow around him. It was followed by the familiar roiling of nausea, which made him go below deck and miss the rest of the flight. One of the perks of travelling alone, in any case; he didn’t feel the need to put up a face. Having Sapphire and those two soldiers as company over the past few months had been exhausting, and more unpleasant than he cared to admit.
A kind-faced old woman sat down beside him. “Your first time?”
Enosh smiled. “Is it that obvious?”
“You’ll get used to it. Don’t you worry,” she said.
He glanced through one of the portholes and watched the clouds go by. “How far is it to the Gorenten Headland?” he suddenly asked.
“You mean, the Orasmus Peninsula?” She continued to smile. “That’s what they call it now. You must have read that from an old history book.”
“That’s exactly what happened.”
“It’s—oh, maybe five days, if you take a regular ship from Bardes. It’s not yet connected to the airship routes; nothing but a few villages and farms there, and the city of Lon Basden, which is little more than a military outpost.”
He knew that last part, as it happened. He remembered being a boy and making elaborate plans with that little scholar, Ing Vahn; how he was going to take over the town, crush the Dageian military with his men. Lon Basden used to be called Gentigen and was the seat of the high king of Gorent. He and Ing Vahn had crowned each other with sticks, with Enosh casting one of the first spells he had ever learned on both of them—a glamour that made them both appear taller and older. Afterwards, they watched the glorious sunset on the beach, legs stretched out across the sands. At some point, their laughter died down, and Ing Vahn’s face became sombre.
One king to another, Enosh. How do you give your whole life knowing they will never know what you've done for them?
He wasn’t ha
ppy, but he smiled, knowing it was an aberration of character to do so in that state. The old woman, whom he had clearly forgotten at this point, seemed to take this as a sign that their conversation was over and stepped away.
The airship arrived at the docking towers in Bardes. Enosh, deep in thought, followed the hanging bridges to the station below. Once there, he found himself shuffled to a corner, wondering where to go and trying hard not to look stupid. This was the sort of situation he asked his men to prepare him in advance for, and it occurred to him that he had never really been alone before. Things had always been handed to him, or done for him by others. Even as far back as Gorent, there were always people taking care of the details for him.
After an awkward conversation with one of the station staff, he was directed to the closest bank. There, he was happy to learn that Kag accounts were recognized, and that they were set up to communicate with the central bank in Cael City to verify the state of his. While he waited, he shuffled his feet and wondered why Dageis had never conquered the Kag. They had tried before, but that war didn’t progress beyond the mass slaughter of several key figures and their families. Tilarthan, in Hafod, still stood, and the rest of the Kag remained untouched.
A woman returned and told him that he could access a portion of his funds after a week. That startled him. He had been convinced that Yn Garr, ever so prudent, would’ve drained all of it by now. Why hadn’t he? Did he just decide that it wasn’t worth the trouble, because if Enosh was dead, all that coin would just be transferred back to the company, anyway? But then why risk giving him a leg-up? It would be easier to kill him if he had no way of procuring resources for himself.
Nothing since Nebel had made sense. For the past few years, his grudge against Yn Garr had turned into full-blown resentment. He was still sure that the man had orchestrated the events to frame him for the murder of the Gasparian king. But why? Yn Garr was already hurting for people; why take away his greatest asset, his right arm?
It felt like a puzzle with too many pieces missing, and the only thing he could gather from it all was that he was somehow still alive. There he was, eating a flaked tomato and mushroom pastry in a restaurant, with hardly a scratch on him, remembering a boy he hadn’t thought of in years. Ing Vahn had claimed to want the Jin-Sayeng throne—to deserve it, were the words he’d used. Enosh’s dreams were almost as ridiculous, but he wondered for the first time what lengths Ing Vahn would be willing to take to accomplish them. This whole business with Naijwa and her beast—would he think it was ridiculous? One shouldn’t discount power just because it came in the form of one putrid eye.
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