“What’s going on?” I ask.
Then Kell arrives. He hands me the bag of beads I gave to the King, and which the King rejected and threw on the floor. I put them in my travelsack and take out my kit.
“Let’s go,” Kell says. “Let’s go change the world.”
CHAPTER 25
We use the anywhere transport spells to go back to the Winter City. I expect Freyja to be waiting for us at the transport platform but she’s not; the Joker got us as far as the City under the Sea and gave us the way out but we are on our own now. Our architect has finished his part of the plan and it is up to us to do the rest. We hurry; the air is cold and the heating magic hasn’t taken effect yet on Kjiersten and Kell. I get my fur coat out of my pack and wrap it around Kjiersten.
Alexsi guides us to the Palace while Kell and Kjiersten peer about, much as Zair and I did on our first visit. After going to the Forest and the Sea, the Winter City seems even more empty now, so empty and vast.
We find Freyja sitting alone in her throne room, alone and robed in white with a crystal tiara around her brow. Her eyes are closed and her hands grip the arms of the throne. I look up, thinking about the ice dragon dancing in front of the moons.
“Now what?” Kell asks, looking around.
“We wake her up,” I answer. “We need her with us.”
“Be careful,” Kjiersten tells me, an odd look on her face, “she’s dangerous.”
I walk up to Freyja, her lovely face carved from ice. I take the marble steps up and up and I lean over and kiss her frozen lips, just once, giving her some of my heat. Her eyes open and her hand reaches for me and her nails rake across my stomach.
“It’s me, Freyja,” I whisper against her ear as the blood runs down my body. “I’m back. Freyja, wake up.”
She throws her arms around me and sobs. I hear a hiss behind me. It’s Kjiersten; she has drawn her bow with a black-tipped arrow, aimed at Freyja’s eye. “Let her go, Queen of Winter,” she says in her Archer voice.
“I’m fine, Kjiersten, I’m fine, Freyja was just startled,” I explain. Freyja doesn’t say anything but in her eyes I see an unfamiliar hostility as she looks down at Kjiersten.
“She sliced you open, Alinya, you are not fine,” Kjiersten calls up. “You’re bleeding. A lot. Alexsi, please go get her.”
Alexsi wraps my arm around his shoulder and helps me down the steps. I’m losing more blood than I thought and I feel dizzy. Freyja’s eyes are wild and she still hasn’t said anything.
“My kit,” I say, and Zair brings me my pack and gets my box out for me. I find the ointment and the spider silk and I wrap my stomach, putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding. My pants are soaked with blood; if they hadn’t already been ruined from the salt water of the ocean, they certainly are now. I notice a heavy trail of blood has followed me down the steps.
“What’s wrong with her?” I ask Alexsi, who has spent the most time with Freyja, who grew up with her. “Why isn’t she speaking to us?”
“I think she’s been in the dragon for too long,” he says, his eyes on his friend. “We shouldn’t have left her alone. She doesn’t do well when she’s by herself so she goes into the dragon and she dances with the moons.” He clears his throat and wipes his cheeks. “One day she won’t come back.”
◆◆◆
They put me in my old guest room to heal and Alexsi stays with Freyja. I know because I keep asking. My wound gets hot and I sleep fitfully, tossing and sweating. Kjiersten comes and cleans it but something has gotten into the wound. In my fevered state I decide it’s guilt; we never should have left Freyja. I should have insisted she get on the Night Train with us. I should have come back earlier. I should have known how very lonely she was; the whole time we stayed here last time I never saw her speak to anyone else.
Now she’s not speaking at all and I think I might be dying in the guest bedroom. I dream that the Joker comes to visit me. He has a snow cat with him and it licks my wounds. The Joker is juggling worlds and something about him reminds me of Freyja. I wonder why he’s always visiting us. The Flaming Man shows up and his hands are dripping fire into the cuts on my stomach and they’re burning, burning. It feels like the twin suns and all the fires in the world are burning through me. The snow cat purrs and the Joker starts putting the tiny planets into his pockets. He leans over my bed and stares into my very human and suddenly frail body. “You’re running out of time, my daughter,” he says, and picks up his staff.
I wake up and my fever has broken. I grab my fur coat and my pack and I run to Freyja’s room where Alexsi is dozing in a chair near her bed. “We’re running out of time, Alexsi,” I say, and then I crawl into bed with Freyja and cover us with my fur coat like a blanket. I wrap myself around her and hold her tight; I put my face next to hers and whisper in her ear, “we’re here Freyja, we’re here, please come back to us, please. We won’t leave you alone again.”
I hold her like that all night and into the cold morning, until the Winter Queen finally unclenches and she cries, and shakes, and she comes back to us. I keep whispering to her that we’re here and we won’t leave her again but she has to stay with us.
The Winter Palace can be a lonely place without friends.
CHAPTER 26
The next morning I help Freyja in the bath and she winces at the sight of the cuts on my stomach. “Did I do those?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, “they’re healing now.” I brush her hair away from her face.
She puts her face on her knees. “Don’t tell anyone,” she asks me softly.
I know what she means. “I won’t, Freyja. You’re my friend; I’ll make sure everyone still sees you as the Ice Queen.”
“Queen of Winter, thank you,” she says crisply, and we laugh even though neither of us is funny.
“We need to leave this morning, Freyja. They’re coming for us. The Joker visited me last night; it’s not safe here.”
She hands me a sponge and I soap her back, stroking the sponge down her beautiful blue and silver swirls. She’s lost weight since the last time we were here; her silvery skin stretches over bone and barely any muscle. I try to be gentle with her; she’s all clavicle and ribs and hipbones.
“I haven’t left the City except once, to visit Hinshalla,” she tells me. “This won’t be easy.”
I use the sponge to drip water on her, rinsing the soap. “We’ll all be together. We will get through it. We have to.”
I help her out of the bath and she sends me to the guest suite so I can clean up and change. I’m worried about leaving her alone even for a few minutes but she tells me firmly to go, so I do.
My wounds won’t let me take a bath but my room has a shower, once that I mostly ignored on the last visit. I do a quick rinse and a hair wash and then re-dress my wounds. I don’t know what I’m going to wear; my clothes are ruined, bloody and bleached by the sea water. I still have my assassin’s clothes but I won’t be wearing those again.
The robe is as soft and sweet-smelling as I remember as I pad into my bedroom to see if there are extra clothes in the wardrobe. There aren’t, but on the bed there’s a present. It’s a box wrapped in a red silk bow and no note. Frankly I’m relieved there is no note; I’m tired of being directed, managed, handled by cryptic little missives.
The box contains exactly what I need. I pull out black leather pants that lace up the front so I can get the perfect fit. They aren’t the matte black of assassin’s clothes; they are a shiny black that will reflect moonlight and sunlight alike. I leave the laces a little loose to accommodate my bandages and it’s nice, it’s so thoughtful, that I feel a little hitch in my chest. Under that is an undershirt, the kind that helps keep everything up top in place. It’s soft and white and it leaves my arms bare. Under that is a blouse, loose and flowing so I can hide things under it if I need to. I put that on too and it’s soft and comfortable. And then, on the bottom, a belt.
The belt goes around my hips so it won’t rub against m
y stomach. I spend a little time stashing things in and on my belt; I may not be an assassin anymore but I’m not a fool. We’re walking into danger and I need to be able to protect my friends.
The three princes and Kjiersten are in the sitting room when I come out. Food is laid out on every surface and everyone is eating and talking; Alexsi has clearly passed on my message because they are packed and ready to go. Kjiersten pauses for the briefest of moments when she sees me and then she continues eating.
I grab a plate and pile it with everything I see; after fighting infection for the last three days I need all the food. Except for the fish; there is fish there for Kell and I can’t even look at it. Kjiersten finishes eating and she comes and sits behind me.
“Your hair is still wet,” she says, and brushes it out for me. She rummages around in my pack and finds the glass beads. She gives me two small braids in the back of my hair, one on the left and one on the right. She weaves the beads into the braids. Her fingers feel good on my scalp, running through my hair. My mother used to do my hair for me, singing while she worked the difficult strands into something manageable. Kjiersten braiding my hair feels like family; it feels like home.
I feel like a new person this morning, the day we will set out for the last part of our journey. I carry a piece of each of my new friends with me; they are part of me now, and I them, I realize, and look at Zair and Alexsi and Kell, and lean back against Kjiersten, no longer full of hate and rage. We’ve all changed.
Freyja walks in and sees me leaning back against Kjiersten; for a moment she looks like she’ll run but she doesn’t, she stands her ground. She’s lovely, in her blue-white robes and her hair wound around her head like a crown. I stand and introduce her to Kjiersten and Kell and she nods graciously, every inch the queen.
Stewards come in behind her and they hand out food packs and hooded cloaks and boots. My boots fit perfectly and match my new pants. My cloak is black and the hood is long and peaked; it has a scarf inside. Everyone gets one, although the colors vary slightly.
“We’ll be going into the desert. You’ll need to be able to protect every inch of skin from the suns and from the sand. If a sandstorm comes, you’ll want to wet the scarf and wrap it around your face.” Everyone tries on their cloaks and boots, even Kell. He’s wearing pants and I wonder if he also had a clothing delivery to his room.
“Where exactly are we going?” Zair asks, fondling his new cloak and leaning against Alexsi.
Freyja sits and I make her a plate, filling it with cheese and sweet breads and ice melon, things I know she’ll eat. The dream about my mother and frybread; sometimes, in families, food is love. I love my friends and right now that feels like everything.
“The Arid Lands,” she answers, as she picks at her food.
“You told us not to go there,” he protests. “You told us it isn’t safe.”
“To be fair, I said it wouldn’t be safe at that time,” she reminds him. “But no, the Arid Lands are not safe.” She sighs and eats for a moment. Her appetite is picking up. “It wasn’t safe for us then, but we didn’t know. We didn’t know what we were getting into.”
Alexsi and I share a quizzical look.
“We didn’t know that these gods here were the real deal; not just hopped up gene-modded aliens, which is what we assumed at first.”
“You were here then?” I ask, surprised, although why anything in this world can still surprise me is itself a puzzle.
“I was the communications officer; my job, should we encounter alien life, would be to learn how to speak with them, how to negotiate. I thought I was prepared. We were so tired of being on that ship; we were so ready to find a home.
“All of this is my fault, you see. I misread the Gods; I told them the wrong things; and I totally underestimated the greed and ambition of the captain. It’s my fault that we are here. I want to help fix it. The worst part is what we did to the colonists.”
“What did you do to the colonists?” Do I want to know?
Freyja looks at me and I finally understand what I’ve been seeing in her eyes. It’s regret, and guilt, and shame.
She opens her mouth and we hear a chime.
Freyja stands up and sends the stewards out of the room.
“We need to leave.” She claps her hands and we all put on our cloaks and shoulder our packs. “Follow me.”
She leads us through hallways and walkways and portals and for once I’m grateful that this entire palace is a labyrinth. “I’ve asked the wizards to delay them as much as possible. The bears and snowcats might help as well, although you never know with them.”
“Who is it?” Zair asks. “Who is coming for us?”
“Everyone,” Freyja says. “The Priestess, assassins loyal to her, probably even the Flaming Man.”
“I killed the Flaming Man,” I tell her as we run through marble hallways. “Back in the Forest.”
“You cannot kill the Flaming Man, Alinya. He’s more immortal than I am; more than the Undying. You can only put him out for a while.”
We run in silence after that, our boots pounding the marble and our breath whistling. Kjiersten falls back to the rear and she has her bow ready. Kell is having a hard time with the running; everything about the City, the air, running on solid ground, it’s all different for him. Alexsi runs like he was born for it, hair streaming out behind him. Zair is running like a City Prince who spends most of his time drinking and I love him for it even as I wish we could go faster. My feet are itching to fly across rooftops, to climb, to leap, to run until I am one with the wind.
Freyja looks as serene as if she were strolling through an ice garden. “Alinya, one thing I must tell you. When we meet with the Gods, be careful what you desire in your secret heart; be wary of the unspoken wish. The Gods will read you like they did with us, and I don’t want you to spend millenia regretting what happens.”
I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I will; I’ll be careful.”
“The unexamined heart lies to us all.”
The path we are on leads to a tunnel and the marble finally turns to stone, which means we’ve left the palace and are in the mountain itself. Freyja leads us through a maze of tunnels, switching from one to another, hoping to confuse our trail. I don’t hear anyone behind us but we are still running.
“Why are the Arid Lands dangerous?”
“Our ship is still there. We should have asked the Gods to move it; strange things are growing around it. Also the Arid Lands are a complete desert; there is very little water and far too much of the suns. There are poisonous creatures, heat stroke, dehydration, possibly radiation poisoning, and if we make it to the end, the Unseen Realm, where the Gods live and watch us and toy with us like puppets.”
The tunnels start sloping down. Freyja takes us portal hopping, running through one shimmering portal after another. Something occurs to me.
“Won’t they know we are trying to get to the Arid lands?”
“Yes,” she says, “But this is the direct route. There’s no way for them to cut us off, no way for them to go around us.”
Something about her answer worries me but it’s hard to think when we’re running all out like this. “Do you see anyone back there, Kjiersten?” I call back to her.
“No one.”
We don’t go down as far as the Night Train. We’re just trying to get to the surface, the place where the mountain touches the Arid Lands, not go underground. We get to another shimmering portal and just as I’m stepping through Kjiersten shouts. “Alinya no!” but it’s too late. I’m already there.
CHAPTER 27
The heat hits me first. It is, as they say, a dry heat. I wonder how big the mountain is that most of it lives in Winter but you step out one portal and you’re in the desert. The suns are climbing in the sky and there, where the path we’re on leaves the dirt of the mountain and turns into the sand of the Arid Lands, they’re waiting for us.
The Priestess has a cold grin and she grips her staff like sh
e might break it. The Flaming Man’s face is still hidden. The Old Master is the one who gives me pause; his face is hard and dispassionate, an assassin on the job. Any warmth he’s shown me as his student is gone. Only the killer is left.
The rest of our group comes out of the portal and nearly knock over Freyja and me, for we’ve barely moved since we stepped out. Kjiersten comes through with her bow pointed straight ahead, a black tipped arrow notched and pointed at the Old Master.
“Don’t look in her eyes,” I remind everyone. The Priestess regards me coolly but doesn’t say anything.
“Let us pass,” Freyja tells the Priestess. “You cannot love this existence any more than I do; you have so many reasons to love it less. Let us pass, old friend. It’s time to fix what we broke so long ago.”
I try to imagine Freyja and the original Priestess, whose name no one has spoken, traveling together on the colony ship for so long. I can’t. They are so very much who they are now; whoever they were then is gone.
The Priestess’ face betrays no emotion. “I cannot. I am bound to that agreement. I am bound to this - this cycle - forever, Freyja. Remember, I was not there when you made the pact with the Gods. I was on the ship, convincing the other crew that you and the others knew what you were doing, that you would take care of everyone, that you would do your duty.” The Priestess steps forward and removes her hood, baring her scalp and the scars on the back of her head.
“Look at me, Freyja, old friend. Look at what your weakness bought. I was part of the bargain so you and the others could live out your fantasies on this new world. We paid the price, me, the colonists, not you. Not you. I have no choice now, just as I didn’t then. You sold us to them, you and the Captain and the others. When the Captain ripped the island from the ocean, I was the example the Gods chose to make, and now I live in servitude every day while you play with dragons in your ice castle.”
Empire of Sky Page 17
