by Kat Ross
“Sakhet-ra-katme did.”
“Not in the Kiln.”
Nazafareen returned her level gaze. “We must pull this evil out by the roots or it will simply grow back. Gaius is a bane to the world. He warped his own daughter into a monster. And I’m certain the Viper has a hand in this somehow. He lingers in the Dominion. There is a place….” She remembered a house and a stone well, black as night. “I don’t pretend to understand it, but his soul never passed on. It clings to some kind of half-life.”
Kallisto forked her fingers against evil.
“Perhaps such a creature should be left alone,” she said mildly. “Not poked with a sharp stick.”
“And what would you do?” Nazafareen asked tightly.
“We have two of the talismans safe in our hands. The third is with her people and no longer defenseless.” Kallisto’s gaze softened. “We’ve done what we set out to do. The Pythia is dead. The Gale will stand another thousand years.”
“And what about Nicodemus?”
“He is not innocent, but his crimes are less. I could take him to the Temple of the Moria Tree. The Maenads would keep him out of trouble.” Her lips curled in the barest hint of a smile. “I think they would not object to the duty.”
“No.”
Kallisto leaned back. “Do you make decisions for all of us now?”
“I’m not asking for your blessing or aid.”
“How about my advice?”
“You’ve already given it.” Nazafareen met her onyx eyes with subdued defiance. “The girl I used to be is dead. I’ll never get my memories back and I’m done mourning them. Perhaps I have this negatory magic for a reason. Or perhaps it’s just a random accident. But I’m going to use it as I see fit.”
“To punish your enemies.”
“For the greater good. Darius will come with me. I can protect him from fire with the bond.”
“And if Nicodemus has managed to conceal something from us? He’s a clever one.”
“I will deal with him as I must. But we know he spoke truth about Gaius.”
Kallisto nodded wearily, as if she’d expected no less. “I would seek guidance from the god before you make a final decision. Will you grant me this?”
“Can you do it tonight?”
She nodded.
“Then, yes.”
A cask was found in the cellar. The wine was rough and Nazafareen stopped after a few sips, but the three Maenads drank it down to the last drop with relish, toasting Dionysius and singing a paean to the god. Then they went outside beneath the open sky, the Gale looming on the western horizon, and began to spin in giddy circles. Nazafareen didn’t join in this time, only watched from the sidelines, sober as a judge, and part of her regretted calling their god false (even if she hadn’t said it aloud) because she sensed an eerie power gathering.
The rain lashed down. The Maenads whirled and leapt in a frenzy, arms flung wide, mud streaking their faces. Kallisto suddenly stopped, her eyes rolling back in her head. When she spoke, the words came so fast they ran together.
“I see three towers standing in opposition, one grey, two black. I see a great fleet sailing north. I see a king with fire in his veins.” Spittle ran down her chin and Megaera ran forward to keep her from falling. “I see a shadow and a burning crown. I see a snake with jeweled eyes.” Her face grew taut with fear. “It sees me….” She collapsed in a faint.
They carried her inside and lay her on a sleeping pallet in one of the bedrooms. Rhea patted her forehead with a cool cloth and Kallisto’s eyes fluttered open. Nazafareen was relieved to see they were no longer that ghastly white.
“If you do not go to the Kiln, the world will burn,” she whispered hoarsely. “That is certain. If you do go….” She looked away with a haunted gaze. “The path is shadowed, with too many branchings to see the outcome for certain. But there is a chance.” She squeezed Nazafareen’s hand. “You will make the right choices. You must.”
Nazafareen nodded uncertainly. If only Kallisto weren’t so bloody cryptic. None of it seemed of much use. And she had the distinct feeling the woman knew more than she was telling.
“What are these towers?”
“I don’t know. I have never seen them before.”
“And the crown. Could it be the same the Viper forged for Gaius?”
Kallisto didn’t answer. Her eyes were already closing again.
Nazafareen sighed and turned to Darius.
“Let’s ask the Vatra.”
They returned to Nicodemus, who’d had a clear view of the yard out the kitchen window. He looked up lazily as they came in.
“Was that the Dance of the Maenads? I’ve heard about it, but never saw it before. Quite a spectacle.”
“Shut up. Does Gaius wear a crown?” she asked.
“I’m confused.” He frowned. “Am I still supposed to shut up?”
Nazafareen gritted her teeth and pushed Kallisto’s staff into his hand. “Just answer the question.”
Nicodemus sighed. “A crown? Not that I’ve ever seen.”
“Do you know anything about three towers?”
He shook his head. “There are no buildings in the Kiln. Not a one.” He gave her a grim smile. “Nothing to build with.”
Nazafareen thought about the cask of wine the Maenads had consumed. Perhaps it was better to focus on practical matters.
“How far would the journey be?” she asked. “Where do the Vatras live?”
“Our homes are spread out, but roughly two days’ walk. South and west, near the coast. Gaius has a camp there with his wives.” Lines of revulsion creased his mouth. “I know it well.”
“Why do you think I can kill him when others have failed?”
“He rules by fear and intimidation, but he has never faced a Breaker before. I doubt he has any idea you even exist.” A small, cold smile touched his lips. “It will come as quite a surprise.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. How is it he’s never succumbed to sickness or wounds in such a harsh place?”
Dark blue eyes stared at her. “I don’t know.”
Nazafareen crouched down. Something in her face made him shrink away.
“You’re holding back on me.”
“I don’t know, I swear it! He just…recovers somehow. Lucky, I guess.”
“Lucky,” she repeated. “Does he carry any talismans?”
The Vatra slowly shook his head. “They don’t work in the Kiln. Domitia had a Talisman of Folding. She used it to send Thena to Val Moraine. But it couldn’t penetrate the wards of the Kiln. Trust me, she tried. If it had, she wouldn’t have needed to bring down the Gale.”
“There’s another possibility,” Nazafareen said to the others. “That Farrumohr is protecting him.” She turned to the Vatra. “Did Gaius’s eyes ever seem strange?”
Nicodemus barked a harsh laugh. “Yeah. He’s insane.”
“I mean really strange.” She paused. “Have you ever seen flames in the iris?”
He frowned. “No. Nothing like that.”
She eyed the Vatra. He wasn’t a pretty sight, but nothing looked broken. “Are you fit to travel?”
“I can make it.”
“You won’t carry any weapons, let’s be clear on that right now.”
He shrugged and gave her an impudent grin. “I’ll have you to protect me, won’t I?”
Nazafareen ignored him. “How long have you been gone?”
“Two years.”
“Was Gaius waiting for your return?”
The Vatra shook his head. “It was Domitia’s idea. In truth, I think she wanted to get away from him. Gaius never thought we’d make it. By now, he must assume we died in the attempt.”
His head turned and Nazafareen followed his gaze to Kallisto, who stood in the kitchen doorway. Her face was wan and she propped one hand on the frame. Herodotus hurried over and ushered her to a stool.
“You shouldn’t be up, my dear,” he chastised.
Kallisto gave him a fo
nd look. “You worry too much. I’m fine now.” She looked at Nazafareen. “We will go to the Temple of the Moria Tree. The other Maenads must know what has happened. We must prepare for the worst.”
“Take the talismans with you,” Nazafareen replied. “We cannot risk them. If I fail—”
“I speak for myself,” Katrin interrupted hotly. “You will not have all the glory of killing Gaius. I will come with you into the Kiln.”
Nazafareen gave her a hard look. “Are you not afraid of fire?”
“I can smother it with air.”
Nazafareen sighed, though she didn’t mind having Katrin. The woman was formidable. But Kallisto shook her head.
“Katrin Aigirsdottir. I’d hoped you might have a modicum of sense.”
The scolding tone was the wrong approach. Katrin’s green eyes went cold.
“I do. And I say we kill the fucker.”
Kallisto rolled her eyes heavenward. “If the Valkirin talisman goes, then one of you must go with her,” she said to her Maenads.
“I will,” Rhea said quickly.
Megaera seemed to be suppressing a smile. “Don’t you think I should—”
“No,” Kallisto said firmly. “One of you is adequate.”
Megaera frowned and crossed her arms.
“Then it’s settled,” Darius said. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”
“There is one yet to decide,” Kallisto reminded him. “Galen.”
“He’s all yours,” Nazafareen said tartly.
“You may not like him, but he is a talisman. We will do the courtesy of asking him.”
Galen stood outside, watching the rain drip from the eaves. He turned as they approached.
“Come with me,” Kallisto said gently. “You’ll be safe at the Temple of the Moria Tree.”
He gazed at her with haunted eyes.
“Safe?”
“We are Maenads. Followers of Dionysius. For a thousand years, we have waited for the talismans to return. To protect them until they are needed.”
Galen scowled. “How do you know I’m one of these talismans?” he burst out. “That’s what the Pythia said. She wanted to use me.” His mouth twisted. “But I have no power.”
“You have a block,” Kallisto said. “It must be broken.”
Nazafareen stared at Galen. When he’d been collared, she’d managed to dredge up some pity for him. But now…. The thought of him wielding that much power was almost worse than Katrin.
“I’m not doing it unless I have no other choice,” she said.
“Do what?” Galen demanded.
Nazafareen ignored him. “You don’t know him like I do. He can’t be trusted,” she said to Kallisto. “He betrayed me to the Valkirins. He told them where I was and they sent an assassin to kill me. So forgive me if I won’t hand him an unimaginable amount of power.”
“And what if you don’t return from the Kiln?” the Maenad demanded.
Nazafareen’s jaw set. She wouldn’t be bullied. “It’s my decision. You’ll still have Meb.”
Kallisto muttered something under her breath.
“It’s true. Everything she said is true. I’m a selfish bastard,” he said dully, avoiding Nazafareen’s gaze. “I tried to trade her for my mother, Mina. Eirik was holding her hostage. It wasn’t personal.”
Wasn’t personal? She nearly laughed.
“Why did you save Darius?”
He looked into her eyes then. “I could say it was out of brotherly love, but that would be a lie. I did it so the assassin wouldn’t betray me to Tethys. But I regret everything. I can’t tell you how much.”
“That’s nice. I’m still not breaking your block.”
“I’m not asking you to.” He paused, his voice strained with emotion. “But if you’re going after the man who ordered the killing of the Danai, I beg you to let me come. I don’t have my bow, but I can still fight. I was there. I saw it happen. You can’t….” Galen trailed off, his throat working.
Nazafareen looked at Darius. He gave a slight, reluctant nod.
“You’ll do as I say,” she told Galen. “No questions or arguments.”
“You have my word.” His cheeks flamed. “For what it’s worth.”
Kallisto closed her eyes and turned away. Herodotus looked troubled, but kept his own counsel.
Nazafareen pointed to the abbadax, which sheltered beneath an elm tree.
“Can we take the mounts? They would shorten the journey.”
“Absolutely not,” Daníel snapped. “They would die. If you go, you go on foot.”
“You’re not coming?” Katrin asked in surprise.
“I came to kill the Pythia. She’s dead. My place is at Val Tourmaline.” He shook his head. “Why are you doing this? Talisman or not, Valkirins are not made for the Kiln.”
Katrin rested a hand on her sword, her expression fierce and proud. “Our ancestors fought the Vatras once. The time has come to face them again.” She lifted her chin. “I will not run away and hide.”
Daníel looked angry. “I’m not running, nor do I have a death wish. And we left our wounded on the twilight plain. I will not abandon them.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“You are sworn to Val Tourmaline, are you not?” he asked.
Katrin nodded tersely.
“And if I ordered you to return with me?”
Her cheeks flamed. “I… I would go. I swore on my honor to Halldóra.”
Daníel looked at Nazafareen. “Would you still attempt this without her?”
“We need her to get us through the Gale. But, yes. If she escorted us and then returned to you, I would still go.”
He looked away. “Runar will call me a fool. But I leave the choice to you, Katrin. I will not compel you.”
She squared her broad shoulders. “You know my mind.”
Daníel gave a rueful nod. “The clans will sing of you, but whether it will be a dirge or a heroic ballad, I cannot say.” He turned to Kallisto. “I’ll take you to this temple on the Cimmerian Sea on my way back to the mountains.”
Kallisto tilted her head in grateful assent.
Daníel strode over to the abbadax he called Wind from the North and reached up to pat her flank. As his coat fell open, Nazafareen saw the dull glint of metal around his neck. She’d forgotten, and he had never asked.
Wind from the North watched her approach with slitted yellow eyes.
“I should have done this before,” Nazafareen said quietly.
Daníel tensed as she reached for the collar, his eyes searching hers. The iron was warm from his skin. Anger flared and it crumbled to dust that was snatched away by the wind and rain.
“Thank you,” he said hoarsely.
“Thank you for coming this far. It gives me hope that the clans will set aside their differences. You have a kind heart.” She smiled. “For a Valkirin.”
“And you have courage,” Daníel replied. “For a mortal.”
His face was perfectly straight, but when he walked away, it was with a new lightness in his step.
They snatched a few hours sleep, watching Nicodemus in turns. After a hasty meal, the six who planned to enter the Gale got busy preparing for the journey ahead. They packed hard bread and cheese wrapped in oilcloth, and as many waterskins as they could carry. With the rain sweeping down and lakes of mud outside, thirst seemed an abstract problem. But Nicodemus assured them that the heavy rucksacks would lighten quickly once they reached the Kiln.
Kallisto stood apart while they carried out these tasks, her back stiff and demeanor distant. Nazafareen felt sure she knew more than she was admitting. It hurt that Kallisto didn’t seem to trust her. You must make the right choices. What did that mean? The choice to enter the Kiln had already been made. Would she face another choice? And if so, why couldn’t Kallisto give her guidance about it?
Herodotus spoke to his wife in a soft voice, though it seemed to have little effect. But Megaera readily helped them pack, sneaking glances
at Nazafareen. At last she sighed and dragged Nazafareen into a crushing embrace.
“You understand, don’t you? Someone must remain behind. To continue the fight, if….” Megaera looked desolate.
“If we fail. I know. And you are right.” She took Megaera’s hand, holding it tight. “Find out what’s happening in Samarqand. The wind ships. It could be important.”
Megaera nodded. “I will. And we will gather the Maenads. We will stand ready, Nazafareen.”
The others waited in a line—Galen and Nicodemus, Katrin, Rhea and Darius. Other than the first two, and possibly the third, Nazafareen thought she could not wish for better company.
Daníel stood with the abbadax as they gathered one last time, the rain sweeping down from heavy grey skies.
“Be well,” Kallisto said to Nazafareen, her gaze painfully intent. “You must be more than the huo mofa, or it will not serve you at the end. Do you understand?”
“I’m trying to,” Nazafareen replied tartly. “But you’re about as clear as mud.”
“Your magic will be strong in the Kiln. Don’t forget who the true enemy is.” She turned to Darius. “Keep the Fourth Talisman safe. Don’t let her do anything colossally stupid.”
“I would die for her,” he said, heat in his eyes.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” She climbed onto an abbadax and sat there in stony silence as Herodotus made his farewells. Nazafareen felt the weight of Kallisto’s doubts and wished it could be otherwise. But she could not order Katrin to stay, and Galen had earned the right to come, even if she had scant trust in him.
Daníel and Katrin gripped hands, and then the mounts soared away, dwindling to specks in the east. Those remaining set out for the Gale. When they got within a quarter league, forward progress became impossible due to the winds and swirling debris.
“Gather close,” Katrin shouted, beckoning the others forward.
They clustered around her, Nicodemus and Rhea to either side, then Nazafareen and Darius, and finally Galen, hanging back in the rear.
“Closer,” Katrin growled at him. Galen pressed forward until he was practically breathing down Nazafareen’s neck. She suppressed an urge to elbow him in the ribs.
“We move together,” Katrin said, her voice just audible over the tumult of the storm. “Match my pace. The shield will block the worst of it, but the ground is uneven so there might be some leakage around your feet.”
