She looked past the men, trying to compose herself and not show them weakness. Across the lake, golden sand dunes under a bright blue sky abutted icy glaciers under a night sky full of stars. Over her head, the sky was a pink and gold sunset.
As settled as she could be, Myth tried to yank free, but his grip was too tight. Speaking with as much force as she could muster, she said, “Let go. Iqiohr will cut off your hand for touching me.”
He laughed and pulled her against him, his other hand on her waist pinned her in place. “Iqiohr won’t know what happens in Ashana, and you won’t say a word. The boy with the little witch is my nephew. If you don’t do what I say, everything I say, while we’re here, when we return I’ll teach Tizoc how to use his Esne, starting with what I’m going to do to you.”
Myth recoiled, and ice crawled through her veins. Fable was only four years old, and Tizoc twelve. Gajo couldn’t possibly mean to teach the boy to abuse her that way. She would do anything to keep Fable safe, but she was no fool. Even if she did everything Gajo said, there was no guarantee he would leave Fable alone. “You —”
“Welcome to Ashana,” a woman’s cheerful voice greeted them.
Gajo relaxed his fingers, and Myth wrenched her arm away from him, turning to face the voice.
Two women stood in front of them. They were both tall. One had long reddish-blonde hair done in braids and wore leathers with light silver armor. She had a sword in a scabbard on her back and daggers on her hips. Myth tried not to gape and couldn’t help wondering what her story was.
The other woman wore a dark grey knee-length tunic split on the sides, trousers that matched and black boots. She had eerie eyes, emerald green mixed with a golden amber and looked young, no older than Myth, but there was something scary and ancient in the weight of that gaze that made Myth feel like all her secrets had flown away and she’d been judged.
“Hello, I’m Eir,” the titan-haired woman said. “If you’ll show us your keys, we can make any adjustments you may need to your rooms.”
Myth extended the key.
Eir accepted it and turned her gaze on Gajo and Apan.
“We’re staying with her.” Gajo reached for Myth’s arm.
The woman with two-toned eyes moved so fast, she was just there, in between Myth and Gajo. She turned her back on the men and smiled at Myth. “Eir, will you escort our guest to Clio? I will see to these two... visitors.”
Eir crooked her elbow and drew Myth’s arm through, turning her from Iqiohr’s soldiers.
“There’s no need for more rooms. We’re fine staying with it — her.” Gajo spoke in his imperious tone. The one his underlings feared.
“You’re not.” The woman sounded amused.
“We can—”
“You can’t.” Something changed in the woman’s voice. Even though the words weren’t directed at Myth, a chill went through her.
“I thought everyone was welcome here.” Gajo crossed his arms, his tone haughty.
The woman winked at Myth and turned to the men. “Everyone is! You’re welcome to arrive. I’m welcome to kick you out. You’re welcome to try again. You see? We’re very welcoming here.”
Eir snorted.
Myth peered over her shoulder, anxiety swamping her as Eir tugged her away, bringing them into a forest. “We can’t leave her with them. They’re dangerous. She doesn’t have any weapons. You’re sure she’s okay?”
Eir laughed. “She’s not in any danger.”
A stranger was touching Myth’s arm. They’d separated her from the men Iqiohr sent to watch her. What if they contacted Iqiohr or Gajo’s nephew and told him to hurt Fable? “I have to stay with them. They’re supposed to watch me,” Myth whispered.
“Well, they won’t be reporting to anyone from here, I can tell you that much. You heard Zax call you a guest and them visitors, right? She knows they’re bad men and will make sure they don’t hurt you while you’re here. And I’d be surprised if she lets them contact anyone. You know how magic and technology are.”
Myth shook her head. She didn’t own any technology. “How are they?”
“Sometimes they just don’t play well together.”
“Those men... they’re monsters.”
“The thing about monsters is there’s always a bigger shark in the sea.” Eir squeezed Myth’s hand. “Well, almost always. I guess it’s different if you raised a boy who can make the sea. Or you regularly swim with a fish three days long. Or a kraken lives with you.”
Startled, Myth caught Eir’s gaze. “What? A fish three days long? She swims with Bahamut? And she has a kraken?” Who were these women?
“Zax is the monster that mother monsters warn their children about, and she’s on our side.” Eir guided Myth out of the forest and into a jungle. “It never hurts to have a monster on your side. I see the way you’re looking at me. You want to know what I am.”
Myth nodded.
“I’m a Valkyrie.”
“You select which of the slain will go to Valhalla.”
“In another lifetime, I did.” Eir gave her a small smile. “Maybe someday I will again. You know a lot about Other Worlders.”
“My mother told me stories all the time when I was a little girl.”
“Make sure you go to the bar while you’re here, then. There’s always someone with a story to tell in that place. Oh, and I’ll introduce you to Clio to get your room sorted. She used to be the Muse of History. She could tell you a story or two if her lists don’t get in the way.”
“Her lists?”
Eir rolled her eyes. “You’ll see.” She pushed some vines aside and opened a door to lead Myth into a long corridor, glowing a turquoise color through clear glass panes on all sides. It opened into a room that seemed bigger than Iqiohr’s entire palace.
People gathered on small groupings of furniture scattered throughout the lobby, pointing at the floor and ceiling where translucent expanses allowed guests to peer into an ocean. Schools of fish swam around a shipwreck beneath her feet, while overhead, sharks, whales and an octopus drifted by. The walls shimmered in shades of blue, like they were made of water.
Behind some ropes linked to short poles, one panel was open. Dolphins broke the surface and trilled as they accepted offerings of fish from kids holding buckets. A tentacle snaked out of the opening, slid over the floor to an unattended pail and snatched it, slithering underwater with the entire thing.
Myth laughed.
“That’s Aloysius, the kraken I was talking about. Doesn’t matter how many fish she gets, she always thinks the stolen ones are better.” Eir threaded her way through the crowd to a woman with dark blue skin and yellow eyes. She wore a tight black rubbery suit and leaned on a colorful coral reef that ran the length of the lobby. “This is Clio.”
Myth couldn’t help but stare at the woman. There was nothing in the fairy tales she knew about a woman like this.
“She’s going through a phase,” Eir said.
Blinking, Myth snapped out of her stare and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Clio shook her hand. “Aloha, bonjour —” Eir smacked Clio on the arm, earning a smirk. “Hey, I own my lists.” She held out her hand, palm up.
Eir placed Myth’s key into it. “Our friend here likes stories, and arrived with two visitors.”
“Well, if you like stories, this room won’t do for you at all. There’s no telling how many keys out there might open it.” Clio plucked a different key from a row hanging behind her. “This room will be much better for you. No one will know which room is yours unless you take them to it, or ask me for an additional key. You are safe from... visitors here.”
“Thank you.” Myth sucked in a breath and blood rushed to her head, making her dizzy as realization struck her. Part of the problem with her plans to escape Aztlan was she didn’t have a place to go. Now if she returned and found Fable, they had a key to a safe place where even Iqiohr couldn’t get to them. Maybe... maybe they could actually be free.
“And you’re here for auctions, bordellos —” Eir smacked Clio on the arm again.
“I’m here for an auction,” Myth replied.
“Do you need to put anything in the vault?” Clio touched her arm.
Myth shook her head. “It’s already placed there. I was told everything is prearranged for the payments.”
“Perfect. Any technology to sync?”
Myth shook her head. “No. I don’t have any technology.”
“Then Eir can show you your room and get you settled. The pre-auction is tomorrow at eight in the morning. After you’ve gotten your bearings, come back and see me. Maybe we can exchange a few stories. I bet I know one or two you don’t.”
MYTH STOOD STILL IN the entrance of her room. The key had opened a door that led into a place rivaling the size of Iqiohr’s chambers, but there wasn’t a single thing in white. There must have been a mistake. Clio seemed... distracted with her lists. She couldn’t mean for Myth to be here. She held up the key. This had to be the wrong one.
If this was all going to be taken away, though, she wanted to see how other people lived. It might be the only chance, and she needed to learn as much as possible before her return to Aztlan. She took a step, then stopped. If she was in the wrong place, she could be violating someone's privacy.
“It’s all right.” Eir's voice carried from behind her. “This is all yours. If you need anything, let Clio know. I'll see you later.” The door closed with a click.
The walls were made of tree trunks stacked and interlocked sideways and led to a thatched ceiling high overhead. A cheery fire in a large red brick fireplace invited her to curl up under one of the soft, purple and blue blankets on a couch and stay. This could be a witch’s cottage from one of the stories she told Fable, only bigger.
Silent footsteps carried her over the thick green grass that covered the floor as she crossed to an eating area that flowed into a kitchen where the floor turned to smooth stone and shiny metallic machines reflected her appearance in reds, silvers, and blacks. What did they all do?
Five closed doors, two on the right, two on the left, and one at the back, gave Myth pause. Was everything behind those doors hers, too? The single door opened onto a balcony overlooking the snowy glacier landscape. Inside, one door led to a small bathroom. Two opened into bedrooms.
The fifth door revealed a two-story library. A sparkling chandelier hung from the high ceiling, illuminating books lining rows of six-foot high shelves. Stairs led to the upper floor narrow walkway with its waist-high railing. An official-looking desk and stiff-backed chair stood in the middle of the room. A couch and some round blobs offer more comfortable seats in front of a red-brick fireplace.
Myth shut the door, waited a moment, and opened it again. The library was still there. She entered and reverently ran her fingers along the spines, the fleeting touch allowing a glimpse of the contents within the pages. Fairy tales. Biographies. Mysteries.
Encyclopedias.
She pulled one from the shelf and sat on one of the blobs, sinking into its center. Iqiohr gave her some things when they were children, but he’d always denied her the chance to learn to read. Knowing of her love for books, he’d forced her to come to him for stories. But she’d studied the words carefully as Iqiohr spoke. Maybe she would recognize enough to get the idea.
Holding the book on her lap, she drew a finger over the words on the cover.
“The Compendium,” a disembodied male voice said.
A scream caught in her throat, and Myth jerked her hand away. She flailed to extract herself from the blob trying to swallow her and landed in an ungraceful heap on the floor, swiveling her head to search the room.
They’d found her. She’d be punished for touching a book. They’d make her watch as they hurt Fable. What was she thinking? Tears blurred her vision. Her pulse pounded in her head. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe!
Alone.
Her heart calmed and her breathing evened out as she climbed to her feet, the book cradled in her arms. Safe. She was safe in Ashana and allowed to touch the books. But who had spoken?
“Hello?”
No one answered. Of course, no one answered.
She sat on the firmer couch, placed the book on her lap, and slid her fingertip over the cover again.
“The Compendium of A World.”
An unfamiliar laughter bubbled up and escaped from her lips. She didn’t have to read. The book could talk.
She basked in feeling alone and safe for a moment, but her stomach roiled. Fable was still in danger.
Myth opened the book, determined to learn as much as she could about the world in the time she had.
CHAPTER TWELVE
FABLE
WHEN THE BOAT STOPPED at the dock near the palace, Fable wasn’t crying anymore, and was ready to go to her cell. She didn’t want to see anyone, or have to be good, just be alone and watch the stories Nantli left for her.
But Tizoc didn’t take her to the palace. They walked off the dock, down the main street, to a big house made of tan bricks with a triangle roof.
What did that mean? She wasn’t going to live near Nantli anymore? Everything was bad today.
He led her through a room full of couches and chairs with bright rugs on the stone floor into a courtyard where green vines grew up the walls and pots held red, purple and yellow flowers that smelled like Nantli did sometimes.
A man with white eyes laughed when he saw them. “Get it dressed appropriately and lock it up. It’s property of your uncle’s house now. However long it lives, anyway.”
Fable shook so hard she tripped over her feet, but Tizoc caught her again. “This is still my father’s house.”
On the other side of the courtyard, he opened a door to another room with a small bed covered in a blue blanket, a table with two wooden chairs, colorful rugs on the floor, a fireplace, and a chest of drawers. A window with bright orange curtains let sunlight into the room. So many colors everywhere made her feel a little happy.
Tizoc released her hand. “This is where you can stay while you’re here. I’ll be right back.”
A pretty woman with smiling eyes and a long black braid came in and put a dress on the bed. A witch. Fable could feel the tingle of magic around her. Sometimes witches tricked her, too. The woman crouched down in front of Fable. “I know a lot of scary things are happening today, but everything’s going to be all right. Your Nantli will come back. Don’t worry about that. And Tizoc won’t hurt you. He’s a good boy.”
Someone banged on the door. “That’s long enough!”
The woman sighed, hugged Fable fast, and rose to her feet. “I’ll come see you again soon.”
The door closed and locked behind her. Fable squished herself into a corner on the far side of the bed, wrapped her arms around her legs and tried to be small. Sometimes, if she was small enough, the mean men didn't find her. Why was this happening? She rocked herself back and forth and tried to remember a story.
TIZOC CAME BACK, LOOKED at her and the dress still on the bed. He frowned. “Why aren’t you wearing your new clothes?” He didn’t sound mean, but Fable trembled. Nobody said to put it on. How was she supposed to be good when no one told her what to do?
“My mom made that for you when she knew you would come here. She sees things sometimes, and she knew you would need a pretty dress. It’s a present for you. Don’t you like it?”
He sat on the floor in front of her. “I’m sorry the Scorpion Mage sent your mom away. My uncle sent my dad somewhere, too.”
Nantli would come back. Fable just had to be good until her mom came back. She brushed away some tears on her sleeve. He reached for her arm, and she flinched.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Touching only her sleeve, Tizoc pushed the material up to her elbow. An ugly bruise in the shape of a hand covered her skin from elbow to wrist.
Tizoc’s eyes looked mean. “Who did this to you? Was it my uncle? The man who pushed your mother into the port
al?”
Fable tried to become smaller. What should she do? This might be a trick. If she said yes, that man might hurt her again. They didn’t like when she told.
“You can tell me. Look.” Tizoc stood up, pulled his shirt over his head and turned around to show her long red marks and blue bruises on his back.
Fable gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.
“My uncle likes to hurt people. I hate him. One day, when I’m bigger, I’m going to —” He stopped and took a big breath. “Once my uncle realized the Scorpion Mage picked me, he took my dad. Until we find out where he is and get him back, my mom and me have to do what my uncle says. I might have to say some things I don’t mean to the guards. I don’t want you to be afraid of me. When I don’t want you to believe what I say, I’ll cross my fingers like this.” He held up two fingers, so they made an x.
She nodded.
“As long as you’re here, I have to call you something. Can you write your name?”
Fable shook her head. Girls, especially witches, didn't need to know how to read or write.
“I have an idea. Wait here.” He closed and locked the door behind him.
Where was she going to go?
While he was gone, she put on the new dress. The material fell all the way to her feet and felt nice on her skin. Soft and shiny, where her normal clothes were scratchy and dull. And instead of white, the bright red and green colors made her feel like a parrot. It was like a present from a fairy godmother in one of Nantli’s stories. But as she twirled and laughed silently, her happy mood vanished. A parrot could talk and fly out of the window and she couldn’t do either of those things.
Tizoc returned carrying some things, but she only saw the book. A book! That meant a story. Her fingers itched to touch it. Fable held out her hand, but pulled it back when he held the book high above her head.
Myth's Legend: Norrix Page 7
