Catching Pathways

by Danielle Berggren

  She would not.

  They traveled away from where the markets were held, moving to the outlying districts where the buildings grew smaller and more ramshackle in nature. Here, stone and glass were replaced with rammed earth and something like stucco, the dwellings rounded in shape and sunk into the ground. Curtains covered the holes in the walls, which served as windows. Steps went down to the entrances, the homes settled into the cooler earth to assuage the heat of the desert suns.

  People, still present yet fewer in number, were more worn around the edges—their clothes threadbare in spots or full of holes. The luxurious long shawls and wraps of the upper classes were replaced by practical, loose trousers and tunics, dyed in colors that matched the sand and soil around them. Wearing black and gold again, Maeve and Rodan stood out like sore thumbs, not because of the color of their clothes but the fine cut of the cloth.

  But for as often as they witnessed adults scurrying from place to place or peering out from the darkened shadows of their hovels, they never laid eyes a single child. No shrieking laughter. No cries. No babbling voices raised in questions.

  It was like being in a forest with no birdsong.

  Maeve began making eye contact with the people they passed by. Most looked away, but eventually a young woman not much older than twenty took her gaze and held it. Maeve broke from Rodan’s side and approached her, giving a shy smile. “Hello,” she said. “My name is Maeve. What’s yours?”

  The girl scanned her up and down, and held out a hand, palm up. She didn’t say a word.

  Understanding dawning, Maeve reached into one of the pouches at her belt and pulled out a small gold coin, pressing it into the woman’s palm. “We have some questions.”

  The girl nodded and tucked the coin away in a flash of movement so quick Maeve barely caught it. “I’m Sitara,” she said, her hazel eyes piercing. “What do you want to know?”

  “Where are the children?” Rodan asked, standing behind Maeve’s shoulder.

  Sitara glanced up at Rodan, her expression impassive. “They’re gone. They’ve been gone for some time.”

  “But, where have they gone?” Maeve pressed. “What happened here?”

  Sitara held out her hand again, an eyebrow raised in expectation.

  Maeve sighed and clinked two more gold coins into her palm, “Please,” she said. “We want to help.”

  The girl shook her head, eyes closed for a moment, her face a brief mask of pain. “There is nothing that can be done. The children are taken. Either by shadow or soldier. I’m not sure which is worse.”

  The shadows, Maeve thought, definitely the shadows. Thinking of it brought back a flash of memory, of those putty-like coils wrapped around her body and a hissing voice in the darkness insisting she would join it. We are inevitable. She shook herself. “Can you tell us more?”

  Sitara nodded and gestured behind her at the cool, dark interior of one of the small hovels. “Come inside. It’s not safe to speak in the streets. It’s not safe to speak of this anywhere, but at least my walls can protect us from prying eyes and the many ears of the Sultan.”

  Maeve and Rodan ducked inside, following the woman as she tightened her shawl around her shoulders. It took Maeve a moment to adjust to the dim light of the interior of the home, but once she did, she recognized the signs of poverty. Crockery with chips and cracks hung on a small shelf above a hearth made out of the same stucco as the exterior of the house. A narrow bed pressed against one wall, sagging a little in the middle and covered with a thin blanket. There was no pillow.

  No rug covered the earthen floor, and there appeared not much to sit on except a single stool. Sitara took the seat. Looking around for a moment, Maeve sank down on the floor, sitting cross-legged with her hands folded in front of her. Rodan hesitated, then followed her example, his long legs stretching out until they almost touched their host’s chair.

  Sitara launched into her story without preamble, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “Some six months ago, the shadows started coming at night and stealing away the children. It was an absurd rumor at first. The ravings of parents mad with grief when their children died in the night. That’s what we all thought, anyway. By the time the pattern emerged, it was too late—the shadows came each night and took more and more with them as they did.

  “Those who tried to fight them were often killed. The soldiers started to patrol with greater frequency. At first, we were thankful. The soldiers killed some creatures, whose bodies burned away to ash as the glorious light of Rizor and Tegal fell across them. The soldiers started taking away the children of the ‘unfit’ parents. The ones who drank or beat their kids. This was okay, as well, because we thought the children would be better off with other people. Better people.”

  Sitara took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “We should have seen what was happening, but before we knew it, it was too late. Soldiers started taking all the remaining children—and we had already lost so many. The babies, mostly, at first, and then the rest of them. I—” She took another breath, and her words trembled. “My son,” she whispered. “They took my son.”

  Maeve reached forward and put her hand on Sitara’s. “I’m so sorry.”

  The woman pulled away, tears tracking down her beautiful young face. “My husband did not stand the loss. He joined the soldiers. He said it was so he could find our boy, but I have not heard from him in weeks. I—I do not know how I will manage any longer.”

  Rodan shifted, and Maeve glanced at him. His expression was hard, but his eyes softened as he gazed at the young woman. “What is your husband’s name?”

  “Arthur,” she said. “He has red hair and green eyes,” she smiled, a little wistful.

  “Your son?” Maeve pressed. “What is his name?”

  “Tevore,” she whispered. “He’s a year old, some four days past.”

  Maeve felt her chest constrict. She glanced at Rodan again and back to Sitara. “Do you know what the soldiers do with all the children? Do they take them someplace to guard them, or…?”

  The girl shook her head, her dark hair coming loose a little from her braid. “I cannot be sure.” She shuddered and clutched herself. “I think they go to the rich. Or to the palace. That’s the rumor. They say the Sultan has a thousand of our children, that he keeps them in a grand golden cage. They say he’s keeping them safe.”

  Maeve put a hand on Rodan’s knee. “Thank you for telling us. We needed to know. We’re going to help you.”

  They rose, Sitara moving slowly as though she was a much older woman. Her eyes grew large and she took a step toward them. “You’ll look out for them? For my husband and my son?”

  Maeve nodded before she stopped herself. “We’ll keep an eye out for them. Arthur and Trevore.” She clasped the woman’s hands. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

  “Not just me,” the woman said, clutching Maeve’s fingers. “So many more than me. Help us.”

  Maeve promised, and something locked between the two of them that had not been there a moment before. Sitara reached into her robes and pulled out the three gold coins, offering them back. Maeve shook her head. “You need it more than I do.”

  Sitara’s fingers closed over the round metal discs, and her eyes watered, “Please. I need them so much more than gold.”

  Maeve nodded, not sure what else she might say. She pulled away from the woman’s grasp and turned to Rodan. He stepped over to the woman’s bed and started to change things. Rich, soft fabrics, goose down, gleaming copper pots and a small table overburdened with food were left in his wake. Carpets lay thick on the dirt floor. By the time he came back to Sitara’s side—the woman looking as though she might keel over at any moment—he held a small money pouch in hand. He gave it to her, with a murmured, “You deserve this and so much more. When I regain my throne, journey to Realmsgate and whatever you wish for will be yours.”

  Sitara took the purse with trembling fingers, “Then it’s true. You are King Rodan, ret
urned to us? I have heard stories, but—”

  “Yes,” Maeve said. “He’s going to regain the high seat, and put all this madness in the past.”

  Sitara’s eyes watered and she bowed to them both, “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”

  They left the little house and its stories behind them, traveling back out in the dusty light of mid-day.

  They walked without Maeve registering where they were going. Her head down, thoughts swirling, she tried to think about how it might feel to have her child and husband stolen from her without a word. The husband left willingly enough, of course, but he remained swept up in the same chaos as the rest of it. Who knew if he were allowed to leave his company and return to his wife? What if it had been discovered he’d only joined the army because he hoped to steal back his child? What would the other soldiers do to him?

  Rodan stopped, and Maeve stopped beside him. She glanced up, noting the homes they stood near were much nicer, several stories high and with great windows of glass blinking in the light of the twin stars. Then she heard it.

  The sound of laughing children.

  They stared at each other. “We found them.”

  They spent the rest of the day wandering the more opulent neighborhood, talking to the citizens they found there and finding out about their children. Some of them had too-large broods, with two or more children only months apart in age. Yet they all insisted these were ‘theirs,’ that the dissimilarity in looks were ‘quirks.’ They shunted their stolen families away with fear in their eyes.

  Here, Rodan was well recognized, and Maeve began to develop the suspicion they knew. These richer, more affluent families knew Rodan would not stand for this behavior, so they lied to his face. To their faces. Insisted everything was fine, as cries and weeping reached their ears from open windows. The cries of children, aching for their true mothers or fathers.

  It made Maeve sick.

  Stomach heavy and tight, they stood witness as the darkness swept through the city streets and the children disappeared, armed guards appearing at doorways and inside windows. Quite the little cottage industry sprung up out of these ‘night guardians.’

  Maeve felt a wash of fear and a sensation of hands sliding up her back as a shadow moved where it should not. The Nyx flitted from shadowed doorway to doorway, before being attacked by one of the waiting soldiers.

  Not the roiling numbers they dealt with at Karst, but as Maeve and Rodan walked back to the inn, they saw several more attempts from the Nyx to slip into a home with a waiting child. The guardians struck out, quiet and deadly, dispatching one after the other.

  Once inside the inn, Maeve felt some tension ease from between her shoulder blades. This time, the Nyx had not spoken to her. Had not offered her the assurance that joining them would be inevitable.

  She had wondered if they would face the Nyx again, but she did not think it would be this soon.

  Now there was another problem to face right on top of it.

  Bairam.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Rodan

  THEY SPENT THE NIGHT IN RODAN’S ROOMS AGAIN. Now, not because he feared for another assassin, but because he feared one of the shadow creatures taking her away in the night. They had already kidnapped her once, they might do so again, at any time and for any reason. The Nyx tasted her power and desired it. They thought they might possess her. Possess her abilities.

  He would not let that happen.

  They woke late, the light of Rizor and Tegal showing that they had slept until well past mid-morning. Pike, banging the pommel of his dagger against the wooden door, woke them at long last.

  Rodan was not entirely sure, but he suspected Maeve experienced the same fatigue he did. A battle lay not far ahead, and they needed their strength. Whether they would face off against the Nyx or against the Basu family and their forces remained to be seen, but something would happen, and soon.

  Maeve brushed her hair, sitting cross-legged on a floor pillow, while she told Pike all they discovered over the last day and a half. Rodan summoned up a meal for them and joined his party on the floor, sitting near enough to Maeve that the line of their bodies touched. She smiled at him as she finished with her hair, flicking it over her shoulder so it fell in waves to mid-back. He reached out and caressed those waves, wondering what it would be like on bare fingers.

  “What are you going to say to Bairam?” Pike asked. “We know now the Nyx are here. Because of them, the rich are taking the children of the poor. He may take the most of anyone. What are we going to do about it?”

  “I’m not sure which threat is the quest we need to conquer,” Maeve put in. “Are we supposed to rescue the children and give them back to their rightful parents, or are we going to go after the Nyx again, like back in Karst? Which of these problems is the real peril the city of Visantium faces?”

  “I need him to admit what he’s doing, and what is being done in his name,” Rodan said. “I need it from his own lips.”

  Maeve tilted her head to the side. “Why?”

  “Because...” Rodan glanced away, his hair covering half his face. “For all he’s done, he’s my friend. Was my friend.”

  Pike scowled, and Maeve frowned. She opened her mouth, shut it, and frowned harder. After a moment’s silence, she asked, “What will you do once you hear his confession?”

  He shook his head. “Among the Fae, I would know exactly what to do, how to proceed. But Bairam is a human. His punishment should fit—”

  “No,” Maeve interjected. “What would you do if he were Fae? What are the laws from where you come from?”

  “The Fae laws are what you based the laws of the Realms around, are they not?” Pike asked.

  Rodan cast his eyes between the two of them. “Among the Fae, children are few and far between. They are precious things. A Fae can be in a relationship for hundreds of years without offspring. It is not unheard of. So, when there are children, it is the gravest of offenses to harm them in any way.

  “The only time a child may be taken from their parent is if the parent is deemed unfit. My father was deemed unfit, for a multitude of reasons, and this played a part in his banishment. If he did not have me, his punishment might have been far less.”

  “So, if we’re talking about someone who stole dozens, if not hundreds, of children, what would be the punishment?” Maeve asked.

  Rodan pursed his lips and shook his head. “Death. An agonizing death.” He gazed out the window. “I once saw Queen Titania unleash her powers on one such a person - a woman who tried to drown her infant. I was still young myself at the time, only nineteen. What happened has been burned into my memories.

  “Queen Titania asked the woman how she wished to die. She gave her the choice of drowning or fire. The woman chose to drown. Queen Titania burned her instead.” He ran a hand over his face and murmured, “I can still recall her screams. It was a magic fire. It burned slow. She lingered for days.”

  “Days?” Maeve croaked, and Pike visibly paled. “Are you—are you serious?”

  “For someone such as Bairam, who deprived countless parents of their offspring, he would be lucky to receive the same punishment.” He thought of Sitara and her little boy, of her missing husband. That was one family. How many might there be? His heart hardened. That laughing, smiling face Bairam affected was a mask. A way to hide the atrocities he was capable of. “I still need to hear his confession,” Rodan said, his voice soft. “If I am to act, I must know his confession.”

  Maeve narrowed her eyes. “What good does that do?”

  “It would allow me to use my magic freely. Fae magic is a wild thing, but it has rules. The guilty shall admit their guilt. Otherwise, the magic will slide off him like water off a duck’s feather.” He looked over at her. “It is how I know that those you witnessed me execute when you were younger were, indeed, villainous. A Fae can do a great many terrible things to an innocent life, but they cannot kill an innocent. The magic stops them.”

 
Pike growled. “Would you do the same thing if you still sat the high seat? Would you use your own personal magic against him?”

  Rodan hesitated a moment before responding. “I don’t know. I have known Bairam and his family for a long time. I met him as an infant, as a child, as a young man. To take his life is no small thing. Where would it end? Who else is complicit in his crimes? Who among his family must I also look to? No.” He shook his head. “If I remained on the high seat, I would send an inquiry. I may have carried out the sentence myself, out of respect if little else, but I would send someone else to ensure his guilt or innocence.”

  Maeve reached out and grasped his hand. “I’m here to help, at least. And Pike. Pike can look places we can’t. You and I are conspicuous, but Pike blends in. He can ask around the back corridors of the palace and find out what the servants say.”

  Rodan wrinkled his nose. “It always bothered me Bairam had servants. His family started out small. Another merchant family. They accumulated power and wealth by degrees, slow and steady. Now? Now, they are almost unrecognizable from their origins.” Those damn towers are a testament to how far Visantium and the Basu family have come.

  “I’ll be able to do that for ye,” Pike said, nodding toward the window. “I already spent some time in the kitchens and the stables. I was friendly with the lads and the ladies. They’ll not be questioning my presence if I return.” He thumbed one of his daggers on the hilt. “If anyone knows how to talk, it’s the cooks. I’ll get your information.”

  Rodan breathed out a sigh. “Thank you, Pike.”

  Pike nodded.

  Maeve grabbed a peach slice from one of the bowls on the table but stopped with it halfway to her mouth. “Pike? What did you do with the body?”

  Pike’s lips drew into a thin line. “Found an abandoned hovel. Dug out the floor. Buried him.”

  Maeve paled, and Rodan waited to for more, but Pike was not forthcoming. “Did anyone see you?” he prompted.