by Aaron Crash
Ymirry dearie. He’d had other fairies refer to him like that. It was probably just the rhyme. Probably.
Ymir recounted his battles with the merfolk, and the boy listened closely. Telling stories of battle was commonplace in the northern clans, and Ymir felt free to embellish the facts. He didn’t mention his interactions with the fairies and how they had stolen the Fractal Clock from the Illuminates Spire.
The other two heirs drifted over.
Erwin, the oldest, with the biggest nose, smirked. “The merfolk have cold blood and are harmless. Who could take the fish people seriously? And the Gruul are in disarray because they are savage. They would never be a threat. When I rule, I will keep my vast armies on the southern border. I don’t trust the Swamp Coast witches. They fuck demons.”
Fannen, the middle boy, furrowed his brow. “Stop, Erwin. We can’t curse in polite company. The barbarian doesn’t want to hear your swear words.”
Ymir didn’t respond. He drank his beer and watched the interplay between the would-be vempors. There seemed to be no animosity.
Ymir was sorry the two other boys had joined them. He liked Jayke. Erwin would be a bastard of a vempor, but that seemed to be the case with rulers in general. As for Fannen, he’d be a weak leader. It wouldn’t matter much, given the current political situation in Four Roads. Hell, even the university there did more for the city than the imperial family.
Erwin leaned in close to Ymir. “Want to hear a rumor?”
Ymir was tired of this big-nosed boy’s arrogance. “A rumor about who murdered your father? That I would like to know.”
Fannen let out a gasp.
Jayke’s eyes flew open. As did his mouth. The fairy waggled a finger at Ymir. “Such a shock, shock, shock, bad old barbarian, to speak of such a thing is shockingly shocking. The boys don’t know. No one knows. The vempor was killed in a stout castle, and no one knows how, and no one knows why. His body lay on a bed burned to ash. The body wasn’t burned, the bed was ash, and there was the sweet smell of poison perfuming the air. It was a Sunfire sorcerer, of course, of course, it was a Sunfire sorcerer who knew his poisons, of course.”
“Or a dragon,” Ymir said.
The fairy rolled her eyes. “The only dragons are in old stories, mythic legends, or legendary myths. Or maybe, baby, woven into tapestries, and tapped into pastries, and wouldn’t we like to eat a dragon pastry or two? I would. Would you?”
Ymir found this fairy’s Winkle Tongue lacking. “Perhaps I’d rather eat a demon pastry from the southern continent.”
Erwin honked laughter. “We don’t have to worry about King Shapta for a long, long time. He and his armies would have to get through the Swamp Coast queendoms first. Another reason to put my armies on the border. No, I think it’s an orc wizard, or perhaps Glagga the Blade hired a Silent Scream assassin. The palace citadel was locked. No one got in and no one could escape. But a Silent Scream assassin could do that. There is a rumor that there is a Silent Scream assassin at this school. Some even say it’s...” The big-nosed bastard shrugged. “Someone important here.”
“I’ve killed assassins here. And we ended the Midnight Guild. I’m keen to keep this school safe, no matter how bloody.” Ymir found himself enjoying this particular conversation, and he knew Tori was listening even as she put new canapes down on an ornate silver plate on the table. There was a creamy fish cheese on a thick cracker that looked tempting.
Jayke shook his head. “I don’t think we’ll ever know who killed our father. We’ve had the best sorcerers from the Sun, Moon, & Stars Guild come to divine who could’ve done it. To think, my room was down the hall. The murderer could’ve come for me.” The kid shivered.
Anny Prettytoad caressed the boy’s hair. “It’s fine, Jayke, you are fine. Fear not. You are like a fine wine to me, and I would never let anyone harm you, not your hair, not your hide, and certainly not your very special heart.”
The pair were close, which had Ymir wondering if the boy just might have the advantage—to have a friend in the most powerful guild on the continent might mean Erwin would wind up with nothing but his bravado. Fannen could keep his manners. And Jayke would be given the empire.
Jayke was of age, new to his manhood but still man enough. Were he and the green-haired Fayee doing more than just talking? Ymir didn’t know, and in the end, he didn’t care.
He was slightly curious about who Erwin might’ve named as a Silent Scream assassin, but he didn’t ask. And none of the boys asked about the Midnight Guild. It seemed that the organization was no more, not that it ever officially existed anyway.
There was a mystery to this assassination, and he and Della would have much to discuss.
Ymir listened as the boys talked more, each showing their character.
He saw Della talking with Yannc Winslo, the investigator from the Alumni Consortium that had plagued the Princept since the murder of Siteev Ckins.
Ymir didn’t much like two of the three heirs, but he would keep them safe. For Della to lose a potential vempor on her watch would hurt her, and Ymir wanted to save his Princept from any kind of suffering. He cared far more about her than about the troubled continent of Thera.
Ymir also had his business to consider. He had to get more xoca beans.
Whatever happened with the Applefords and the Holy Theranus Empire just didn’t matter.
The royal family had been at the Majestrial a week when Ymir finally found the time to make the journey down to Slag’s Reef. Ribby said that was where Salt Love and Sambal would be, and they might know more about the current situation on Reytah. Ziziva, though, had the better lead. Queen Deedee herself said there were xoca beans on Slag’s Reef, though they might be pricey.
The only good thing about the royals visiting was that Della didn’t ask for the almanac, so Ymir had plenty of time to study it. Not that it helped.
The book seemed just about farming and udders and thunderstorms two thousand years ago, and not much else.
Chapter Twenty-Two
VISITING RIBBY HAD given Ymir a lot of practice rowing his boat. Combined with a little Flow magic, he was moving faster than a horse cart, leaving a wake behind him.
The sun crept down the western horizon as he oared his craft toward Slag’s Reef. Ymir couldn’t help but think of his journey across the Frozen Sea when he’d first been exiled. Now, however, he had company. Ribby swam next to him, racing alongside the boat. Ziziva was in her Winkle Self, in a weatherproof cloak that covered both her wings and her hair. She didn’t have much on underneath, however, just a little white dress, no shoes. She could handle the cold and wet far better than a human. Why was that?
Ribby’s fast-moving shadow swam out ahead. She then poked her head up. The setting sun caught her scales. The plan was to travel down to Slag’s Reef at dusk, find the xoca beans, and then row back to the lighthouse island in the dark. It was about three hours of rowing, and Ymir enjoyed the physical work.
He was about to ask Ziziva how she could handle the cold so well when the fairy frowned. “Gatha hates me with the passion of a thousand fiery hells. If hate were darkness, she’d be a moonless cloudy midnight every night.” The fairy sighed. She then closed one eye in a wince. “Was that too much poetry? It wasn’t Verum Tongue, and it wasn’t Winkle. Maybe something in-between?”
Ymir nodded. “It was fine. And of course Gatha hates you. We all hate you.”
“This does not help me, Ymirry dearie,” the fairy said, brow furrowed.
That reminded the barbarian of the green-haired Fayee connected to the royal family. “What do you know of Anny Prettytoad?”
Ziziva squeezed her eyes shut.
“And why the sour look?” Ymir asked.
Ziziva opened her eyes but still looked pained. “When you get used to keeping secrets, truth becomes a commodity. The more you share, the cheaper it becomes, and so you wonder the value of the truth. What is honey and what is comb? What is dirt and what is merely sand? There, that’s poetry. If you ha
te me so much, why should I tell you anything?”
Ymir took a fresh grip on the oars and pulled. “Because you’re fighting to win our hearts. We have the power. And you spat in my kaif that one time. If you tell what you know, I will consider us even...at least about that.”
“Fine.” Ziziva rolled her eyes. “If you no longer talk of that unfortunate moment, then I will tell you.”
“And you’ll tell me what games the fairies are playing with me and Della,” Ymir said with some force.
“Yes, yes, yes!” The Fayee raised a hand. “I will tell all! But first things first, business partner! Who knew the candy business could be so bitter? But then, it’s not just the candy, it’s what you can do for the Undergem Guild. And while its business is money, money isn’t necessarily its business.”
“Don’t try my patience. Speak plainly!” Ymir grunted and drove the boat forward.
“Yes, fine, yes!” Ziziva called out. “Up until a few months ago, Prettytoad was simply the auditor for the Holy Theranus Empire. And then she requested to work with the family directly, claiming to be a spy, for there was word that the grand vempor was making secret deals with hidden forces. To possibly take advantage of the instability in the region—not the elves. The Ohlyrra don’t have sex, but they do war, and war well. No, it was the Steppes, the Swamp Coast, even possibly the Sorrow Coast Kingdom. Possibly, possibly, it was a possibility.” She laughed. “Even though I am not bound by the Winkle, I like to Winkle still.”
“And Winkle you will,” Ymir finished the rhyme. “And so, the liaison is new to the position, or is the position new?”
“A new position upon her request. Last I heard, Anny Prettytoad hasn’t come forward with much information. Either there were no secret deals or secret alliances, or there are other forces at work to keep her quiet about such a situation.” Ziziva’s cloak had fallen open to reveal her white dress and one hard nipple.
“So, if you could break free of your Fayee oaths, then so could she.” Ymir couldn’t help but wonder if the Vempor Arcadius hadn’t sought a deal with the demon conqueror of the southern continent. He voiced his concerns out loud. “Would Prettytoad or any of the other fairies have ties to Reytah and King Shapta?”
“The Fayee would not, for we are only of Thera, and the choice was made to only exist here. Unlike some of the Ohlyrra, who broke free from land to ride the tides, we of the Divine Verum Spark embraced our home continent. On the lakes, the rivers, the streams, the coasts, the wet places of Thera, that is where the Fayee make their home districts. I would know if Queenie Deedee was making deals with the southern demon. I would know.” From the tone of Ziziva’s voice, it was clear she was telling the truth.
Ymir smiled. “So you don’t claim kingdoms for yourselves, but you rule through these districts, which all pay homage to the Undergem Guild. The fairies are involved in the commerce of the world, for most trade must travel. And much of that is done by boats. And so, you are there, to run your businesses and to collect your taxes.”
“Tariffs for the Undergem Guild, usury, and other such things are what interest us, or put another way, it is the interest that interests us.” Ziziva laughed merrily. For a moment, she sounded so free and happy. “What fun this language is, the Winkle, the Verum, our way of twisting the Pidgin words to mean so many things. I hope you don’t find such jokes taxing.”
Ymir smiled at the pun, then turned serious. “So what game were you trying to play with me, Ziziva Honeygood? Yes, we were in the same business—you had The Paradise Tree, and I was selling xocalati through Tori. And yet, you came to me in the shower with Jennybelle. You thought you could play with us, and we wouldn’t remember. But I did.”
“You did.” Ziziva’s eyes went far away as she delved into the memories. “And the first time was on purpose. The second time was by accident. The fairies were interested in you from the beginning, like the Midnight Guild, which we knew about. Of course we did, though we were unsure of the leadership, except for the hungry one, a name I don’t like to speak. The hungry one served the Midnight Guild when he wasn’t leading Silent Scream assassins. Very few people know about hungry...” She paused. “Unger.”
“Did hungry Unger serve the Midnight Guild? Or was he behind it?” Ymir asked.
“A fair question, and we don’t know the answer,” Ziziva replied. “But for you, Ymir, Ymir, for you we wanted to get close, but not too close. We wanted to seduce, evaluate, and know your intentions. The sex was my idea, however. I was curious. I wanted to play. I wanted to see...if you were...if you were who I thought you were.”
“And was I?” he asked.
“Yes, and more,” Ziziva said. “Queen Deedee knew that I was too close to you, or wanted to get too close, and so she told me to send you conflicting messages, to have you always guessing, and I was happy to do it, for I didn’t trust myself, and so I trusted my queen, but it was a mistake, such a mistake, so many mistakes made. And I was angry that you beat me at business. And if you hated me, I hated you and your women more. Until the loneliness ate me up. And desires, secret desires, that have nothing to do with the Fayee. That only have to do with me.”
“And what are your secret desires?” Ymir asked.
“For you to know me, to know me to my depths, to give me the gift that is you, so I might know a new life.” Sudden tears filled the fairy’s eyes. But she didn’t cry them. Instead, she fluttered her tiny wings and gave them warm dust that glowed across the water in the gloom of the sunset.
Ymir could only imagine what it might look like from a distance. A boat surrounded by a cloud of sparkles.
Ymir didn’t ask more. He would let Ziziva keep at least a few things to herself. “And so, your queen has done well to lead such a hidden empire. To be so profitable and to have such loyal people. And what do the Fayee know of me?”
Ziziva answered immediately. “You are powerful, and you are simple. You want to protect your women and your home, which is the school for now. You cannot be seduced against your will. And you cannot be bought. If we held someone you loved hostage, you would destroy the world to rescue them.”
“Do they know about my interest in forbidden magic?” he asked.
Ziziva gave him a long look. “They assume you won’t simply follow the rules of the school. Why would you? You shine too brightly to be caught in academia’s darkness.”
“More poetry.” Ymir half-chuckled. It was ironic that this strange woman would tell him her people’s secrets and spout poetry doing it. “And so, if there are no fairy men, are there baby fairies? Or are you all simply eternal?”
“Not eternal, no, no.” Ziziva gulped. “I will tell you, Ymir. I will tell you this, but no questions, and no lies, and no books, and no telling others. No one must know. No one, not one of your wives, not the Princept, no one. For I would be killed, and I fear already that death takes a step closer to me with every word I say. Ribby knows, and Ribby will keep my secret, for the mermaid is like me—severed from her own kind by what she wants, and forced away from the family she longs to know by the cruel waves of her cruel fate.”
Ymir was surprised that Ribby had won secrets from Ziziva. And that this fairy would choose to walk away from her people. Or was this a trick?
Was she using these supposed truths to win him over? Was she playing a game? He had to assume she was, and so he wouldn’t tell her of the Akkiric Rings. And he’d try his best to confirm these secrets she was spilling.
Ymir stopped oaring.
The current was pushing them to the beach as they rode the swells of the gray sea. Strange clouds filled the sky. The two moons raced across the heavens as the sun inched closer to the horizon.
This seascape was so foreign to him. For a moment, Ymir felt far from home. He would never see the Ax Tundra again, and there was a moment of sadness, for what he had lost, for the finality of his exile. There were always moments of grief before he fell into the thrill of his new life. His many women. The vastness of the world. The drama of t
he age ending.
Ziziva studied him. “What do you say, Ymir? Will you swear upon the Axman to keep my secrets?”
Ymir laughed a little. “We do not swear solemn oaths on the Axman, for the Axman doesn’t care what we do. We say idioms like, ‘by the Axman’s sweaty balls,’ because it amuses us, and it amuses him. The Axman is beyond caring. He hews our path and watches us walk it, probably doubting us the entire time. No, we swear upon the Shieldmaiden, for to lose her patronage is to be drowned in the Wolf’s piss. The Shieldmaiden protects us, guides us, cherishes us as only a mother can. For the Shieldmaiden is our mother. She is the world’s mother. The Axman is the world’s father. That is what the Black Wolf Clan believes. Other clans think the Axman created the world, that he hewed off the Tree of Life from an even larger tree and gave it to the people. He then drinks himself silly every night while the Shieldmaiden acts as the garden. While the Wolf shits and pisses to keep the soil fertile.” He chuckled at himself. “Now I am lecturing you.”
“You are. But I’ll wait.” A mischievous smile spread across the Fayee’s face. For a second, he was as she’d seemed to him, a pixyish little thing, given to silliness and laughter. How wrong he’d been. How wily and complicated this tiny woman was.
“I swear to you, upon the Shieldmaiden’s love for us all, that I will not tell anyone the secrets of Fayee fertility. And before I tell my women anything, I will ask you first. Or better yet, if you want to be our friend, then you must act like a friend and tell them what you’ve told me. That way, you control your destiny. You will walk your own path.”
Ziziva buzzed off the seat and flew around him, again lighting up the air. They were at least an hour away from Slag’s Reef, and so it was of no consequence who saw them. Besides, Ribby said there were all manner of strange lights on the sea. Strange magic in this ocean world. Anyone seeing the sparkles might think any number of things.
