17
Runa
Leaving the Dragon Blessed Temple behind, Runa, Lyric, and Kell started walking east, away from the towering cliffs above the city towards the docks. Kell spied The Lady and Crab wedged between a glassmaker’s shop and a bookseller. He paused, and Runa caught a hungry look on his face as he stared at the bookseller’s papered windows before opening the inn’s door and ushering her and Lyric inside.
The Lady and Crab was crowded and dim, poorly lit by orb lanterns suspended from planks in the ceiling. The room seemed clean, but it was too dark for Runa to see much of the floor. Long tables stretched through the center of the room and booths hunched together against the walls.
A woman in a long, gray dress sat by the fire, her chair atop an elevated stage. She played a psaltery, cradled in her arms, and her haunting music hung in the air. The subdued attitude Runa witnessed in the streets outside was still present here indoors, and the ethereal sounds from the woman’s instrument fit the crowd’s heavy mood.
Kell elbowed a place for them at the bar and waved down a harried-looking man with a broad, rosy face, reddish hair and pale brown eyes.
“What can I do for you?” the man asked, looking them over quickly as he tucked a dishrag into his belt.
“We’re looking for someone,” Runa said, leaning forward.
“Yes?” The man looked away impatiently.
“Mistress Evie, the wise woman?”
The man grunted and pointed a finger over her head. Looking back, Runa had to stand on her tiptoes to see over the crowd. A woman was sitting alone in a dark booth against the wall with several empty mugs in front of her.
“Thank you,” Runa said. She edged around the tables and crossed the room to the booth.
Noticing Runa, the woman looked up and blinked owlishly. She was in her middle years with thick black hair and a diamond-shaped face. Her nose was long and sharp, and her eyes were a shade of brown so dark they looked black in her pale face. Adjusting her shawl, the woman glanced at Lyric and Kell, who’d stepped up beside Runa.
“What do you want?” the woman asked, a touch peevishly.
“Mistress Evie?” Runa asked.
“Who wants to know?”
“May we sit?” Runa slid onto the bench opposite the woman without waiting for permission and moved to the wall to make space for Lyric.
Kell perched awkwardly on the end of the bench, his long legs jutting out into the aisle beside the table.
“I’m busy,” Evie said. She held up her beer mug and looked around for a serving girl.
“We need your advice,” Runa said. She fished into the money pouch at her waist and palmed a silver coin, setting it on the table near the wise woman. “We’ll pay for your time.”
Eyes brightening, Evie snatched the coin so quickly she nearly grabbed Runa’s fingers. She shook her mug more vigorously in the air, beaming as a pretty girl in an apron came over with a pitcher. “Keep the drinks flowing!” Evie said as she handed the girl the silver.
Glancing at Runa, Lyric, and Kell, the serving girl gave Evie an apologetic smile. “This only covers your previous tab, Mistress. Last refill, I’m afraid.”
Evie sighed and watched as the girl refilled her cup. She thumped the mug on the table and leaned back, eyeing Runa with an unimpressed twist of her lips.
“Anything for you?” the girl asked the rest of them.
“A pot of tea, please?” Lyric asked.
“A cider for me,” Kell said.
The girl nodded and hurried away.
“You’ve earned the time it takes me to drink this beer,” Evie said, gulping the dark liquid.
“Our mother was injured on the Tainted Shore,” Runa said.
Evie raised her eyebrows, a flicker of interest in her dark eyes. “That’s not something you hear too often. She’s still alive, is she?”
“Something bit her, and she won’t wake,” Runa said. “We were told that only a Dragon Blessed can save her now.”
“A mage, is she?” Evie asked. “Used her magic?”
Runa nodded.
“She’s gonna die then.” Evie took an unconcerned sip from her mug and looked out over the crowd.
“You don’t know anything that can help?” Lyric asked. She leaned forward and flattened her hands on the table. “An herb perhaps like wake-thistle?”
Evie raised an eyebrow. “You’ve studied herbs, have you? Nothing like that grows here; don't have the weather for it. Helthorian root works much the same, but it won’t do you any good if there’s corruption in her blood.
“Sorry if you don’t want to hear it, but if anyone can help her, it’ll be a Dragon Blessed.” Evie sipped her beer. “But I wouldn’t hold your breath. They like to wave their hands around, claim they’re tapping into ‘energies’ leached from the Three, but they’re more priests than true healers. Anyone can pray and take credit for a miracle or dumb luck.”
Runa frowned and exchanged glances with Lyric. There had to be more to the Blessed than that. Maybe Evie didn’t understand or care how their power worked or had a personal grudge against them. It wasn’t unheard of for different healers to dislike each other and distrust alternative methods.
“What about the surgeons?” Kell asked. “Would they agree with you?”
Evie snorted and spat onto the floor, nearly missing Kell’s foot. “Bloodletters,” she said. “They’ll hasten her to the Veil.” She shrugged. “Perhaps that’d be a mercy.”
Runa glanced at Lyric, who was staring at Evie with a shocked expression.
“How can you be so heartless?” Lyric asked. “You’re speaking about our mother.”
The serving girl returned and set down a pot of tea, three small cups, and a tall glass of cider for Kell, then bustled off again, unaware of the tense mood at the table.
“You should know better,” Evie said, eyeing Lyric. “It’s hard to see sense when dealing with family, I admit. I suggest you hurry home. She’s probably not got much time left.” Lifting her mug, Evie drained the remaining beer and slammed it down on the table. “Thanks for the drink,” she said. Without another word, she slid off the bench, adjusted her shawl, and walked away, weaving somewhat as she worked her way to the door.
Kell stood up and shifted around to the opposite bench, scooting Evie’s collection of empty mugs out of the way. He reached across the table and grabbed Lyric’s hand. “She’s wrong,” he said, staring into Lyric’s face in a way that made Runa uncomfortable. It was a look she’d given Dalen Pell once, a look of devotion.
Lyric nodded and tangled her fingers in the ends of her braid, twisting the brown strands in an absentminded way.
Kell poured tea and pushed the filled cups to both of them. “So,” he said. “We continue to Rathgar’s Hold then, right?”
Runa reached for the teacup and curled her fingers around it, appreciating the warmth. “Yes,” she said. “If there was another Dragon Blessed in the city that boy should have heard of it. I can’t imagine one visiting and not going to the temple. We can ask the innkeeper to confirm.”
“Yes,” Lyric said, lifting her head. She raised her tea to her lips, breathing deeply. “If what Colden said is true, and it’s impossible to contact a Dragon Blessed during the Festival, we should go straight to Grandfather and seek an audience. Surely the Blessed wouldn’t turn down a request from their King.”
Runa nodded. “Sounds like a good plan,” she said.
The serving girl returned, eyeing them with a cheerful smile. “Would you like anything to eat?” she asked. “We have a pot of fish stew and fresh pepper biscuits, just out of the oven.”
“We should eat,” Runa said, looking at Lyric.
Lyric nodded.
“Three bowls,” Runa said. “How much?”
The girl told her and Runa handed her money. They were lucky Elaina had come for them with a full purse.
“How much for a room if we want to stay the night?” Lyric asked.
“Two silver per room,�
�� the girl said. “That includes your meal.” She held out the coppers Runa had given her.
“Here, let me,” Kell said, reaching into his robe and removing a handful of coins.
Runa took back the coppers and gave Kell a grudging nod. “Thank you,” she said.
He nodded and looked back at the serving girl. “The ship outside the harbor,” Kell asked before she turned away. “Is it Sireni?”
“Yes,” the girl said, her smile slipping. “It’s been sitting there for three days now. Won’t let any boats out or in. I think we’ll soon run out of fish in the harbor.”
“Will the King send anyone down?” Kell asked. “Try to clear them out?”
The girl shrugged. “Did you hear about the navy? My da says that our cavalry and foot soldiers are stronger than the Sireni, so even without our fleet, if they move against the capital, we’ll be ready.”
“We heard they burned some houses recently,” Lyric said. “Came onto the land.”
The girl nodded. “They haven’t tried that here yet.” She glanced nervously at the wall, as though seeing the harbor beyond. “But the city guard’s been on alert.”
“How far is the capital?” Runa asked.
“A day and a half on foot, Miss,” the girl said. “If you’ll excuse me?”
Runa nodded, and the girl scurried off, responding to a call for more beer from a gruff-looking man several tables over.
“Curious why they’d burn a house in Ivernn, but not here,” Runa mused.
“Maybe it’s because Ivernn doesn’t have any guards?” Lyric asked.
“But why burn down one house? Why not set the entire village on fire?”
Kell looked at Runa over the rim of his glass. “I don’t know why they’d attack the coast at all,” he said. “Usually they’ve only responded when provoked. They don’t typically act like raiders.”
“The people of Ivernn didn’t seem like fighters,” Lyric said. “I doubt they’ve attacked a Sireni ship or done anything that singled them out. As you said, Runa, Heldon’s Rock seems like it’d be a bigger blow to the capital.” Lyric looked at Kell and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Who decides whether or not the Sireni go to war? Do you know?”
“Well, they don’t have a king like Raendashar,” Kell said. “They rule by council. They’re divided into four clans, one for each direction that the wind blows, and the leaders of each clan sit on their council. It’s called the Gale. Generally, I believe they stay on separate ships, gathering only when they convene the council. I imagine that the Gale decides what action to take for the Sireni clans.”
“They live on their ships, don’t they?” Lyric asked.
Kell nodded. “They anchor different places depending on the season.”
“So if we wanted to stop the war, we’d have to speak with the Gale.”
Runa choked on her tea and glanced sideways at Lyric, eyes watering. “You want to walk onto a Sireni ship? You realize they’re trying to kidnap us, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Lyric said, “but if we hope to stop the war, we’ll have to communicate with them. If we can convince our grandfather …” She lowered her voice, looking around. “If we can convince him peace is in his best interest, for him and Raendashar, then at some point we’ll have to attempt contact with the Sireni.”
“I don’t like the idea of people dying any more than you do,” Runa said, “but I don’t see how you can convince someone like him to give up. He seems quite intent on the war.” Runa paused as the serving girl walked up with a tray of food and gave them three bowls and a basket of golden biscuits.
“Thank you,” Lyric said, smiling at her.
The girl nodded and walked away with the tray.
“I think it’s in his best interest,” Lyric said, reaching for a biscuit. “The fleet’s destroyed and trade’s being disrupted. The Sireni are attacking cities. At some point, the people will have had enough and demand change, won’t they? The war’s why their fishing boats are stuck in the harbor. They’re going to run out of food. What will they do then? What if the Sireni start killing people?” Lyric frowned. “Maybe they already have, and we just don’t know about it?”
“The war has been ongoing for generations,” Runa said. “This can’t be the only time the Sireni have attempted to disrupt trade or burned a few houses.” She reached for one of the bowls, examining the soup. Chunks of what she hoped was pale fish floated in the broth, and she saw green vegetables and pale orange roots as well. Taking a tentative bite, Runa was relieved it tasted good, albeit a touch spicy.
“I don’t believe they’ve ever before destroyed the Raendasharan fleet,” Kell said, gesturing with a biscuit.
Runa frowned. “I wonder how they managed that; burned the fleet. Sounds like something a Raendasharan Burner might do, not a Sireni mage.”
Lyric eyed her thoughtfully and made a noncommittal noise in her throat.
“What?” Runa asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Mama’s a Burner,” Lyric said softly, “and she’s been in contact with our uncle who’s Sireni.”
“Careful what you say aloud,” Kell said quietly. “What you’re suggesting is treason.”
Runa swallowed another bite of soup and considered Lyric’s theory. Had their mother left them to subvert her father, somehow destroying an entire fleet of ships? Surely that was impossible for one woman. You’d need a group of mages, wouldn’t you? Were there other Raendasharans working against the King?
Thoughtfully, she twirled her spoon. If magic relied on the use of runes, then as long as you had the appropriate knowledge and skill to call fire, being Sireni or Raendasharan shouldn’t matter. Anyone proficient enough, who knew the right words, should be able to replicate a Burner’s power.
“I have more questions for Mother,” Runa said absently.
“We can’t be mad at her for leaving, Ru,” Lyric said. “Our lives are insignificant compared to the hundreds who’ve died and will die because of this war.”
“We certainly can be upset that our mother abandoned us,” Runa said, feeling the old stirring of anger and hurt. “She didn’t have to cut us out of her life as she did.”
“Would you willingly take a child into danger?” Lyric asked.
“Would you willingly abandon your child?” Runa countered. “You seem to forget, Ly, that we nearly died more than once. Remember the winter you got sick?”
Lyric sighed and looked down at her soup, idly stirring with her spoon. “I wish you’d stop hating her.”
“I don’t hate her, Ly. I’m upset, and those feelings aren’t just going to go away because she’s hurt.”
Looking at the wall, Lyric brushed a hand against her eye. She sucked in a shuddering breath and kept her face turned away.
Runa sighed and put her arm around Lyric’s shoulders, tucking her sister’s head against her neck. They sat in silence for a long moment, listening to the jumble of conversation inside the inn and the sad voice of the psaltery.
I don’t hate her, Runa thought, though the words felt hollow.
18
Lyric
Lyric felt drained, her mind slow and disordered. She followed Runa and Kell as they purchased food and supplies for the road, working more on keeping her eyes open than contributing in any meaningful way. The bed in the inn had been reasonably comfortable, but Lyric slept poorly, wondering if she’d know if their mother died. Would she sense the loss? The disappearance of someone she loved from her life?
Unlike Runa, Lyric hadn’t been convinced their mother was truly gone when she’d disappeared. Had her certainty meant something, and she’d known on some level that Elaina was alive? Was that wishful thinking? What if she reached Rathgar’s Hold and returned to Ivernn with a Dragon Blessed, but their mother was already dead?
“Lyric?” Kell asked, pressing a bundle of dried fruit into her hands. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” Lyric said, smiling automatically. “Just tired.”
Despite her reassuranc
e, Kell looked so concerned that she was tempted to put her arms around him right then in the market, and calm her thoughts by pressing her ear to his chest and listening to his heartbeat. He turned away, and Lyric regretted her hesitation.
Leaving the fruit seller, they stopped at a clothier at Runa’s suggestion. “We can’t arrive on the king’s doorstep looking ragged,” Runa said. “Not with Mother’s pendant in our hands.”
Kell stayed outside, filling their waterskins at a fountain, while Runa and Lyric surveyed the available dresses. Not wanting to spend too much of Elaina’s money, they settled on one traveling dress each, the style fashionable enough for a lady of means but also suitable for walking along the road.
The shopkeeper, a woman with blond hair and calculating gray eyes, suggested a pale green dress for Runa and a creamy gold for Lyric. She attempted to talk them into replacing their cloaks, but Runa insisted they still performed their purpose.
Stepping back into the street, Lyric blushed as Kell’s face lit up when he saw her.
“You look beautiful,” Kell said, taking her hand and brushing his lips across the back of her knuckles.
“Hopefully they won’t turn us away at the gate now,” Lyric said, smiling.
Outfitted for the remainder of their journey, Lyric, Kell, and Runa left Heldon’s Rock and climbed back to the top of the cliff that overlooked the city. Lyric looked out at the ocean, searching for the Sireni ship. It was still there, blocking the harbor.
The sun was bright and warm, and if it wasn’t for the breeze coming off the Sea of Screams, Lyric was sure she’d have fallen asleep in the center of the road. A small wagon passed them, heading north, and Kell attempted to wave the driver down for a ride. Scowling suspiciously, the man nudged his skinny oxen faster, almost knocking Kell off the road.
Friendliness didn’t seem to be a concern that day. The other travelers they encountered either met Lyric’s greetings with hasty nods or by pretending they didn’t see her.
Daughters of Fire & Sea Page 22
