by A. K. Wilder
There’s a faint spark in the warrior’s eye, and I know defiance when I see it. Maybe he hears me, or maybe not, but vez venom be damned, I will hold my peace no longer. “Shame on you, De’ral. You are the warrior phantom of Marcus Adicio, Heir to the throne of Baiseen. Behave like it!”
In my mind, I see a flock of birds startle and take flight, shock reflected in De’ral’s eyes.
An answering shudder reverberates through me. I’m really communicating with Marcus’s phantom? I pull my shoulders back and arrow the thoughts straight at him. “You think this feels trapped? Let me educate you. Trapped will be if Marcus remains a green-robe, if he can’t take the throne, join the council, and have a voice at the Council Summit meetings. Do you know what will happen if his father calls war down upon us? If you and Marcus cannot help defend the realm?”
I receive the image of a horse slamming to a halt and turning to look back at me.
“De’ral, move it!”
The phantom jumps to his feet, sending a tremor through the ground that shakes from my sit bones all the way to the back of my skull. The other recorders glance up at once as the warrior takes off at a run toward Marcus.
Zarah smiles and cups her hands around her mouth to shout. “Finally, Baiseen.” She pumps her fist in the air. “Now keep up and stay in control.”
“Well done!” I send an image of a cheering crowd and he looks back, slamming his giant fist to his chest in salute before running on.
My hands shake and ink spatters off the end of the quill, leaving black speckles over the page. So…it was me?
“It was you,” my inner voice confirms.
I grip the sides of the writing board until my knuckles turn white. “It was me,” I whisper the words again.
“We’ve established that…”
True. But it’s a long time before I can settle back into my work.
45
Ash
“Shh.” Kaylin’s breath tickles my neck as he hushes me from a few inches away.
“Going as quietly as I can,” I whisper back.
The steps to the basement are dark as pitch, the library all but shut down for the night. A few students study in the main room of the first floor, noses in their books, not noticing us slip past. So far, everything’s going to plan.
I’ve even managed to stop shaking after what happened on the training field. Questions still swim in my head, but who would I ask? Marcus? I don’t think he would appreciate knowing it was me, not him, who got De’ral moving today.
I force myself to focus on the task at hand. Namely, not getting caught. I keep a hand on Kaylin’s shoulder as we work our way down toward the archives. If there are any references to the Retoren language, they should be in there, under lock and key. We hope. “First door on the left,” I say, even though Kaylin already knows.
He suppresses a chuckle. I can’t see his face in the dark, but I sense the mirth. He takes my hand as he feels his way along the wall. We’ve been doing a lot of this lately—not breaking into archived rooms—but spending time together, more than I anticipated, though I’m not complaining. When he’s not trying to convince me to come back to the cove, he helps me in the library, adding sketches to the journey records. They’re quite good, but some are comical, and I can’t allow them in. After dinner, he carves fishing lures while I work.
And then there was last night.
A shiver of happiness flits through me.
We share much of our personal philosophies about the heating realm wars, phantoms, the Bone Throwers, and the many paths to An’awntia. We pore over the notice from the docks at Capper Point, too. It doesn’t make sense without translating the symbols. All I can surmise is a dark sun, or in some translations, a second sun, is rising and those who want to survive best heed the warning, which is given, presumably, in the Retoren symbols we can’t read. I’m guessing Dark Sun might be the name of a Sierrak warlord, perhaps a mistranslation for Dark Son. Kaylin leans toward a more literal translation, as in an actual binary star. I’ve heard of them. The Sierraks note several stars by that name, plotting them with their giant distant viewers, but it’s so unlikely, isn’t it?
There’s been no talk, however, of “us” or the protocol we agreed to keep.
“Does it matter?” my inner voice asks. “Nothing changes whether you talk of it or not.”
True, I guess, but one thing’s sure. Being around Kaylin sends my mood to the heavens, and I think it’s the same for him when he’s around me. But whether it will be easier to spend time together or not after Aku, I don’t know. I wish we could just—
“Here’s the door,” Kaylin says, interrupting my thoughts. He lets go of my hand and I reach for the wall, leaning against the foundations of the library.
“Will it open?” I whisper as he slides the key into the lock.
There’s a soft snick.
“That it will, lass.”
The door has to be shoved hard, and it protests with creaks and groans. I glance behind, into the blackness, half expecting to see a light descending the stairwell, and shouts of “Who’s down there?” But it doesn’t happen, and Kaylin, with his catlike, see-in-the-dark senses, leads me into the storeroom. The door thuds closed behind us.
It’s stuffy in here and smells of musk, ink, and leather.
“Now, Ash, your light?”
I pull a small covered lantern out of my satchel. The flint strikes and flares, the wick catching. The little glass hood slides over the top, and the room comes alive with rows of high bookcases and long flickering shadows.
“No one gets down here too often.” Kaylin wipes a layer of dust off the top of a desk.
“Not with a rag and broom, anyway.” The corners of the room drip with cobwebs and the tables and shelves all could use a good wiping. It’s a big storage space with shelves only an arm’s span apart and double that overhead. Also cluttered around our feet are boxes, stacks of books, scrolls, and even some very old clay tablets that have yet to be filed away.
“How do we go about this?” Kaylin picks up a scroll off the main table stack and taps it into his palm.
I cough from the dust. “That might be a starting place.” I point to the scroll. “There must be a ledger at least.”
“Unless, as the girl said, he keeps it all in his head.”
“Let’s hope not.”
He unrolls the scroll and smiles. “A ledger it is.”
I lean in, reading, the text blurring for a moment as our arms touch. “It’s in Aturnian, which is odd. I thought Huewin was from Nonnova.”
“It’s in his hand, I take it?”
“I think so, but this is good, a list of shelving order.” I run my thumb down the scroll to the Rs, looking for Retoren. Nothing.
“They don’t seem to be listed by language,” Kaylin says.
“No surprise there. Huewin’s very guarded on that topic.”
We both look around and sigh. There are hundreds of books and we have only the night, unless we come back—not something I want to risk. “Start with the reference books?” I hold the lantern over the scroll. “Left wall, it looks like.” I’m about to go, but Kaylin’s still reading.
“There are categories.” He holds down the right-hand corner of the scroll. “Animal classifications, insects, plants, weather…”
“Any for planets and stars?”
“Here.” His finger stops on a row. “Planets, suns, and moons, right wall, shelf twenty.”
“Suns and moons, plural?”
“That’s what it says.”
“I’ll look. If that’s Retoren script in the planetary guide, there could be related texts in the same category.” The lantern flickers as I weave my way through the stacks to find shelf twenty.
Kaylin remains at the table, untroubled by the dim light. “What about this one? Amassia’s Second S
un.”
I gape at him. Surely it can’t be that easy. “Where?”
I feel his smile. “Shelf twenty-three, row five, number one thousand nine hundred and fifty-four. It even notes the authors. All Sierrak names.” Kaylin comes to join me. “How about I’ll start at this end, you at the other, and we’ll meet in the middle?”
We scan along the row, pulling each book out and checking the title. Most of the older texts don’t have names branded into the leather binding. It requires opening each one to the title page, which is slowgoing, but also fascinating.
Kaylin and I are a handspan apart when I find it. “Here.” I check the text, pulling the notice out of my pocket. Sure as old Bone Throwers, it’s a match.
“Does it mention a second sun?” he asks.
“No idea. I can’t translate it.” I turn to him. “Now, all we need is a dictionary.”
“And more light.”
As he tucks the book into my satchel, the wick sizzles and fades out. The darkness that follows is complete, and I see no different with my eyes open or closed. Suddenly I’m aware of how close Kaylin is standing. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the press of him along my side, his body turning to face me… “Kaylin?”
He cups my face in his big hands. “Damn the protocols to the Drop.”
I lift my chin, and it’s all the invitation he needs. He bends down until his lips brush mine. Fire flushes through me, and my mouth opens as if about to taste a sweet, ripe fruit.
“Ash,” he whispers against my lips and kisses me deeply.
I surrender, eyes floating closed, arms going around his neck, pulling him in to me.
“Someone’s coming.”
My inner voice startles me, and I jump back.
“Someone’s coming,” I repeat aloud.
Kaylin straightens as footsteps shuffle outside the door. A key goes into the lock. Kaylin silently pulls me toward the far wall. I bump my knee into a table leg and stifle a cry. The door opens and light floods the room. They must have a dozen lamps. But I hear only two people, chatting away, mid-conversation.
“…more than I thought.” There’s a pause. “Do you smell smoke?”
There’s a fair bit of sniffing and I am sure we are caught.
“No, but it’s musty down here. What a mess.”
I recognize Hali’s voice, the artist doing portraits of Marcus and Belair, their phantoms, and maps for our peculiar route to Aku. I like her work, so far, but don’t want to trust her with our unauthorized research.
“Are you going to complain or help me?” the other voice asks.
It sounds like Mia, the library attendant Kaylin charmed into telling us about this room, the girl with the possum phantom. Sweat prickles the small of my back. Every time I see that saucer-eyed creature, it turns toward me and chitters. Not tonight! I say to it directly.
“Secrets?” I hear a high-pitched voice and see a picture of apples stored in a dark cellar.
Mia’s phantom is talking to me? In my head?
Kaylin’s lips are against my ear again. “Try not to attract the phantom’s attention.”
“Little late for that.”
“I’m here to help,” Hali says to Mia. “Where do these go?”
They scuttle about while Mia’s phantom sniffs up and down rows. It finds us and stares. At me.
I stare back, my finger to my lips. “Do not tell Mia you see us.” But I’m not liking the chances it will obey me.
“Do not.” My inner voice repeats the command with a rumble of authority. To my amazement, the little phantom lowers its head and moves on.
Then Hali’s phantom, called a willy-wisp—an alter that glows like a tiny sun—hovers above the top shelves. That explains their illumination. I hope it’s not drawn to us as well.
“The dictionaries go on the back wall, shelf eighteen,” Mia says.
Kaylin nudges me, and I nod at the helpful information Mia unknowingly gave us, but we still have to avoid being caught.
“Put them in any order. Master Huewin said he’ll come sort them this week.” Mia makes a disgruntled sound. “Which means I will be the one doing the sorting, no doubt.”
I close my eyes, thinking of what to say when they catch us. We’re working on the journey map and I had a hunch, so we… What? Broke into the archives in the middle of the night? Maybe Kaylin will have a better excuse. He charmed her once before.
“Take these first and come back for more.” Mia is bossy with everyone, it seems.
Hali puts the books away while the girls’ conversation takes a new turn.
“I do agree. He is dreamy…” Hali sighs.
“And you get to sketch him, lucky!” Mia says. “But what about her?”
“She’s nothing. Non-savant.”
My shoulders tighten, and I feel Kaylin’s do the same.
“They must be involved in some way, obviously, or why would she be his recorder? Is she even any good?”
There is no confusion who they are talking about. I wish I could be anywhere but here, listening.
“She must be good at something.” Laughter rings like chimes.
I bristle, ready to lunge.
Kaylin holds me back with a touch of his hand and a shake of his head.
“It can’t be serious.” Hali clicks her tongue. “He must do better than a non-savant, Brogal’s ward or not. He’s the Heir of Baiseen.”
“Truth! He’s causing quite some stir with the High Savant.”
“How so?” Hali asks.
My stomach tightens, and I still myself to listen.
“Nothing’s been said to me directly.” Mia lowers her voice like it’s a conspiracy. “But I know for a fact five messengers were sent across the channel not an hour after his first meeting with her.”
“Five?” Hali nearly gasps. “One messenger is traditional.”
“They each sailed in a different direction,” Mia says.
“Are you sure?”
“Truth. And I overheard other things.”
“Tell me.” Hali’s eager, that’s for certain.
“Keep it to yourself, though. There’s lore in some ancient text. Everyone in Yuki’s inner circle is reading it.”
“What lore?”
“I didn’t quite follow, but they were talking to several Bone Throwers who mentioned a Crown of Bones.”
“Is it about King Er? That’s pretty ancient.”
“Maybe.” Mia’s footfalls head down another aisle. “So, have you talked much to her?”
She steered the conversation back to me? Great.
“No,” Hali huffs. “That lynx may be non-savant, but she’s got something to keep them both enthralled.”
“Both?”
“The sailor follows her around like a puppy.” She laughs. “Now there’s a catch.”
I can’t meet Kaylin’s eyes but feel him staring at me. I want to see his expression, or maybe just dissolve on the spot.
Hali and Mia’s conversation trails away as they finish their task and file out the door. It closes behind them and the room falls into darkness. We remain silent for a few moments, just to be sure they don’t return, and also because I don’t know how to break it.
Finally, Kaylin chuckles. “Apparently, I’m quite a catch.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” I bark a laugh as the embarrassment vanishes. “Let’s find the dictionary and go.”
With a fresh candle lit, we head for the back wall where the dictionaries patiently wait for us. It doesn’t take long to find the one we need. “Here!” I hand Kaylin the Retoren-to-Aturnian tome and he pops it into my satchel.
Once in the total darkness of the stairs, door locked behind us, I whisper, “That was worth it.”
“The kiss as well as the books,” Kaylin says.
I smile shyly. “I have to agree.”
“Agree with what, lass?” he asks.
That stops me mid-step. “Didn’t you just say…?”
“Hm?” I sense him turning around but can’t see more than an outline in the dark.
My thoughts spin. It’s late. I’m exhausted. I’m losing my mind.
“Or your hearing’s improved?” My inner voice acts like this is as normal as toast.
I can’t stop thinking about it, though. Going back in my mind, I call up moments from the escape from Mount Bladon, hiking through the sheep farm to Capper Point, our time at the cove… I have to know if it’s real. “Kaylin?” I say when we reach the top of the steps.
He holds his finger to his lips, shushing me.
“Can I ask you something?” I whisper.
“Here?”
“No, you’re right, not here.” Not where we might be caught, but as soon as we get back to our room. I take his hand and hurry through the entranceway and out the library doors.
46
Ash
Back in our room, I unpack the books we’ve borrowed from the library. The old leather feels rough in my hands and smells musty in a way I quite like. Now that we’re here, face-to-face in the golden firelight, uncertainty rises up to my chin and I’m not sure I can speak.
“You said there was something important to ask?”
“I did.” And now I wish I hadn’t.
“Something urgent.”
I bite my lower lip. “I’m not sure where to begin.”
“At the start?” Kaylin swings the kettle over the embers and adds a dry log beneath it. Sparks rise quickly and crackle. “Hot drink?”
“Please.” I fold my legs under me on the edge of the bed, losing my nerve. How to warm up to this? I mean, I might be completely wrong. “The phantoms here…”
He gives me a half smile for encouragement.
“They stare at me.”
He continues to prepare the tea. “I’ve noticed, but is it new?”
“No. They always do. In Baiseen, ever since I came to the Sanctuary to trial, they have a kind of curiosity toward me.”
