Zair looks uncomfortable and casts a pleading glance at Alexsi, hoping he has a good answer.
“I ate in my room. I only went out at odd hours for walks. I just wanted to follow you here; I didn’t want you to notice me because I didn’t want you to kill me, Alinya. You know the reputation assassins have; we’re all raised not to get in your way. Your guild is called the Hand of the Gods because you carry out their will; even if you did go rogue, that’s even more reason for me not to make you suspicious. When I met you that day I didn’t know you, the pretty girl having a panic attack at the glass-bottom restaurant, was the fearsome assassin everyone was looking for and hiding from.”
“But then you were waiting for me in my room here?”
He shook his head. “When we got off the airship I finally saw Zair, and it all clicked. You didn’t kill him; he was on his way to hide out and of course I knew he’d come to the palace. Knowing Freyja, I figured she’d take you on the scenic route so I hurried here and hoped she’d put Zair in the family suite.”
I nod, slowly. I believe him. Either he’s been trained by my masters too or he is saying the truth as he believes it.
“Ok, one last question then. How do you know each other? How do you know Freyja?”
Alexsi relaxes. “I was fostered here in the Winter City. Freyja practically raised me. I met Zair dozens of times and always admired him, and then when I turned 15 we traveled to meet Zair’s family in Hinshalla. That’s when Zair and I realized we had something, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”
“If you were fostered here, and then came to Hinshalla at 15, where are you from?”
He looks puzzled for a second and then laughs. “I thought you’d be able to tell; everyone in Winter and Hinshalla knows right away. I’m from the Forest of Nevel.” A feeling goes through me, as if someone has struck a gong. Another place out of stories and myths.
Zair opens his mouth and I glare at him until he closes it. If he calls me peasant in front of Alexsi he’ll wake up with knives in places he’s never thought of.
Alexsi can tell he’s surprised me but he doesn’t say anything about it. I warm to him even more. “It’s my turn,” he says. “I want to know how you two met.”
“She tried to kill me,” Zair says. “Then she didn’t. Now we’re here.”
I roll my eyes and Alexsi laughs. “Zair always has had a flair for storytelling,” he teases.
I tell him what happened, starting from the assignment to the wizard’s transport spell to Zair controlling me, all the way up to getting on the ship. Zair interrupts a few times to embellish with heroics on his part that never actually happened but I don’t mind.
Alexsi looks thoughtful. “Ok, let’s go back. I don’t know anything about your guild; no one does. How do you get your assignments?”
I explain about the eldest Master; he gives me assignments exactly three days before the kill, so I could prepare. Every time.
“Nothing was different this time?”
“No - well, not really. It was my last trial so I didn’t find out who it was until that same day, which is normal. But he seemed odd, like it was the last time he was going to see me.” This is my first time saying it out loud; the first time even thinking it after I found Zair and then was marked for death myself. “I know how it sounds, but the Master wouldn’t set me up. There’s no point to it.” I can tell I’m not explaining it right but they don’t push me.
“Who gives assignments to the Masters?” Zair asks, curious now.
“Sometimes they take commissions, but for something like this...that could only come from the Priestess of the Sky herself.”
Zair’s head snaps up and his eyes focus on me. I look away quickly.
“The Priestess?” he asks.
“Of course. She is the voice of the gods. It’s like Alexsi said; we are the Hand of the Gods. She directs us. The Priestess keeps order, and we are one of her tools. We kill whomever the gods decide must die.”
Zair’s face is turning red. We’re about to have this argument again. “There are no gods, Alinya. Stop with that nonsense.” My eyes warn him not to say anything else and he stops there.
“I have something to show both of you.” I get up and head to my room and grab my travel-sack. I dump it out on my bed and then find what I’m looking for and carry it back to the sitting room.
“Look at this. Read it.”
I hand them the letter that I found on the ship. “This was in my bed on the airship when we got there. Just like Alexsi overheard someone saying what ship I was on before I was actually on it, someone put this letter there before we even knew what ship we were getting on, Zair. And that someone has to be The Joker, the god of assassins.”
CHAPTER 10
We walk into the dining room and I realize I wildly misunderstood Freyja earlier. This is clearly a formal setting, a vast dining hall that houses a long rectangular table at the head of the hall and many other large tables scattered throughout. Freyja sits at the center of the master table, a crown of ice and diamonds on her head and wearing a different gown. This one is covered in silver wire and crystals. The white and blue markings on her arms are the same but her skin shimmers now, like she’s covered in a layer of ice.
I’m glad Zair insisted we wear the formal clothes we found in our rooms. Somehow the wardrobe in his room had clothes for both him and Alexsi. They look handsome and happy, holding hands and fixing each other’s collars. I’m fine with my new clothes; they’re not as soft as my leathers but they are much more comfortable than I expected.
“Why is Freyja wearing a crown?” I whisper to Zair as we are announced to the hall by a steward.
“Because she’s the Queen of Winter,” he says, puzzled. “I told you she was the ruler here.”
I thought he meant she was a governor. I didn’t realize Winter City would have its own queen. I feel embarrassed and wonder if I should have been more formal earlier but I don’t have time to dwell on it because I immediately get another surprise when Alexsi’s title is announced.
“Prince of Nevel?!” I whisper, louder this time. “Why don’t you guys tell me these things?”
They both shrug helplessly. “Royals often foster children at each others’ courts,” Alexsi says. “I don’t really think of myself as the Prince of Nevel; I’ve not been back since they sent me here.”
This frustrates me for some reason. “But you are a prince, it’s part of who you are. You can’t just not mention it, like it doesn’t matter. Like we’re the same.”
Alexsi looks confused. “But it doesn’t matter; I’m still Alexsi, I’m still your friend.”
“You get to say it doesn’t matter because you still have everything that goes with being raised rich and other people know you’re royalty. But when you’re raised poor, when you live in the city below, it matters. It just matters.” I can’t explain it but for the first time in years I feel a pressure behind my eyes, tears of frustration threatening to spill over.
“Alinya, I’m so sorry,” he whispers as we walk up to Freyja’s table. “I wish I could understand but I don’t; I’m really sorry even though I don’t understand. I’ll try to be more mindful.”
It helps. He takes my hand and squeezes it as the three of us bow to Freyja. Her face is carved from ice and she waits a moment before she nods. I’m grateful that she ignores my shining eyes and puffy face. Two stewards come and show us where to sit; I’m seated to Freyja’s left and Alexsi and Zair are seated on her other side. She pulls Alexsi close and whispers in his ear. He blushes and she finally smiles and at last we are all seated.
Freyja makes small talk with us but I can’t make myself talk to her. She notices and leans over to me. “What’s wrong, Alinya? Is something not to your liking?”
“I am so sorry your majesty,” I whisper back. “I think I must have embarrassed myself earlier. I should have realized you are the queen. I apologize for my informality.”
She runs her hand gently down my back and
all the hairs on my body stand up. “Alinya, it’s absolutely fine. I came to get you as Zair’s cousin Freyja, not the queen. Sometimes, every once in a while, I can take something that’s just for me; I can be human at times too, and not always be only a queen.” Her hand feathers across the back of my neck and I blush for the first time in my life. She laughs, delighted, when she sees it. “You are amazing,” she says, and then claps her hands for food.
Platters of fatty red fish and crisp, shaved winter radishes are set in front of us, along with plates of mashed white tubers and a spicy white sauce and flutes of sparkling wine. Food just keeps coming, even more than what we had on the ship, whole roasted birds and platters of sliced meat. I load up on red meat and vegetables. While I’m reaching for a second helping of meat, spiced and rare, I see something and almost drop my food. Across the dining hall a large white bear in a helmet and chest armor walks in and stands in the back corner with his arms folded, watching everything.
Freyja sees me staring and she says, in a very different voice than earlier, “Ah, there they are, our watchmen.”
“Bears!” I exclaim, for there are more coming in to stand around the room. I try to get Zair’s attention. “The bears, Zair! They are real!” He looks around and sees them and his face lights up.
I can’t believe they’re real. “Freyja, Freyja, are snow cats real too?” She laughs and nods but she doesn’t take her eyes off the bears. She doesn’t look happy.
“Snow cats are real, but you might not see any in the palace. They tend to prefer the wild places.”
I want to go touch a bear but they don’t look like they’re here for that. “Why are they just standing there?”
Freyja’s mouth tightens. “They are watching us. They like to remind us we are only here on sufferance.”
I don’t know what she means but I can sense she doesn’t like talking about the bears. “This city, this palace, everything is so amazing and huge. Does the city really go all the way through the mountain?”
“Yes, the city is massive. I’ve had to ask people to avoid certain areas; we don’t know where all the paths lead and I worry that someone might get lost.”
“How did we build all this?”
She takes a drink of sparkling wine, a long drink, before she answers. “We didn’t. This city was here, everything exactly as you see it, when our ancestors arrived. We aren’t allowed to change anything. We aren’t allowed more than a certain number of people here, even though, as you can see, the city is huge and mostly empty.”
I can’t get past the first thing she said. “But if we didn’t build it, who did?”
Freyja drinks more wine. “No one knows. Well, I think the loremasters must know, but they certainly haven’t told me.”
“Are other places like this? Unchangeable?”
She nods and her lean, icy face looks drawn and tight. “All places on this world are like this. All places except for Hinshalla; our wizards ripped up an island and set it in the sky, and the gods allowed it for some reason, when they haven’t allowed anything else.”
I have so many more questions but I can tell she’s tiring of this conversation; she’s starting to look around the room and her face is flushing. I have one more. I lean closer to ask it. “Have you heard of The Undying?” She freezes for a fraction of a second but I see it.
Her face is carefully still as she speaks in a low voice, her lips barely moving. “Please do not mention that name again. I will take you to the loremasters after dinner.”
A small chime sounds and a woman walks into the hall; her skin is ebony, painted with generous gold swirls. She wears an inky black and gold flowing robe and carries her staff of office, a black ironwood twisting thing topped with a glowing blue orb of raw magic. The Priestess of the Sky.
Freyja sets her fork down gently and sighs. She’s barely eaten anything and now she’s pushing her chair back and standing. “I’ll be back before dessert,” she tells me, and walks smoothly across the hall to talk to the Priestess.
I look to my right to check on Zair. His eyes are fixed on the Priestess, the blood draining from his face. She hasn’t looked at him but I can’t imagine she hasn’t seen him. Alexsi leans across Zair and mouths to me that he needs to talk to me after dinner. I nod absently; I’m trying hard not to react to the Priestess’ presence. I think of all the ways I can get us out of here if she comes after Zair. I’ve gone to the quiet, still place in the mind that the masters taught us first before anything; the place of the assassin.
“How did she get here?” I whisper to Zair. He just shrugs and looks down at his plate. The amount of things I don’t know is starting to get to me. I’m in an entirely different world now. Part of me longs for the quiet predictability of the guild house and the rest of me wouldn’t go back for anything. I want to learn everything about the world, not pretend like it doesn’t exist. I want to learn why my people live in constant fear and deprivation and these people live in the clouds with more food than they can eat and more rooms than they can ever fill.
The stewards come and clear the table, followed by a second group of them who start depositing trays and trays of desserts. They carefully arrange all of them; tiny fruit covered tarts, more cakes similar to the ones on the ship but with different colors and unknown fruits on top, along with cookies and chocolates and tiers of light pastel macarons. They pour us chocolate coffee, and while I didn’t have any wine I can’t resist the hot rich drink. It’s bitter and sweet and it burns all the way down.
Freyja returns just as they finish setting out all the desserts. “I am done,” she announces. “I can take you on that tour of the palace now.” I know she means the loremasters. I look longingly at the desserts but after one last sip I stand and follow her out.
◆◆◆
The loremasters are deep in the heart of the mountain. The Palace hallways lead us in and down, passing more of the eerie bears standing and watching as we walk. The light is different, more somber, and the paths get quiet the further in we go. I know we’ve gone a great distance but it doesn’t take us long at all, maybe ten minutes, to get to the part where the Palace turns into mountain. I look at Freyja and she just shrugs. “Things work differently here.”
“Anyone can just walk and find the loremasters?” This strikes me as odd; clearly their knowledge isn’t widely known, which it should be if anyone can talk to them.
“Surprisingly, not many try,” she says, all cool tones and swinging silver hair. “The loremasters have a certain...reputation. Besides, the mountain has its own kind of security. Anyone that shouldn’t be here just doesn’t make it.”
I notice that the floor below us is moving, carrying us along with it. The walls are moving more quickly and I wonder how fast the floor is going, rippling ahead of us in an undulating wave. I wonder what happens to the people that try to come uninvited. My dinner clothes didn’t leave much room for knives and pouches but I did manage to hide one somewhere and I have a few other tricks as well. Just in case the mountain decides I shouldn’t be here.
We pass the rest of the journey in silence, my mind on what I want to ask the loremasters and hers on whatever it is queens think about. Soon enough we are there; the floor stops moving and the hallway widens into a circular room with many other hallways leading to it. The air is still but not stale and smells like nothing. I feel the pressure of millenia in here, as if I am in a room that carries the weight of time. There are three robed figures sitting around a smokeless fire in armchairs, reading oversized books that look very old. They set them down as we approach, their movements synchronized. All three turn to face us but I cannot see their faces.
“Alinya,” all three say together, their voice harmonious and strange. “We have questions for you.” The queen steps back and folds her hands. They do not acknowledge her.
“I have questions for you as well,” I say. I’m not sure what to do with my feeling of surprise. I can’t imagine why they would have questions for me.
“Yes,” they say. They nod at the queen and she inclines her head and steps back on the moving floor, which takes her back down the hallway. “We will answer one for one, one by one. When we are done we will stop and you will leave.” I nod and do not ask anything; I will hoard my questions carefully to make the most of however much time they give me.
“Why didn’t you kill him?” they ask. I want to ask if they mean the prince but of course they do; I’ll not waste my question.
“He used his control to command me not to.”
“And then? When his control wore off. You still didn’t kill him.”
I want to tell him about the threat but I suspect they’ll know if I lie.
“I didn’t want to kill him after that. I don’t know why, he’s a bit of an ass, but he’s my friend now.” My first friend.
“Interesting,” they say, their faceless faces watching me. Then they nod.
My first question. The one I’d been dying to ask since I met Zair and he started challenging everything I believed.
“Are the gods real?”
“Yes,” they say, the s sound drawn out into a sigh.
They wait.
I feel relief. So many things I thought I knew have been so very wrong; at least this one thing is true.
“Why is everything like this?” I mean so much by that question. I hope they understand.
“Your people were not born here, Alinya. You come from another place; one with a single sun and a single moon and not enough food to feed all of its people. The gods here were waiting. They knew you’d come, hungry and desperate. They built cities; they planted magic. They also had rules, rules they set to see what would happen, if you’d be able to live by them. The Five Families agreed to those rules, and those rules have guaranteed your survival for thousands of years.” They stop there. I’m bursting with this, all the hints coming together into this truth that blazes through me like a thousand suns.
Empire of Sky Page 6
