Flame's Shadow

by Anna Eluvae

  "I will not allow Nemm to torture you," said Lexari. "We will not kill you in cold blood. Yet you must understand that your time as our prisoner will be much more pleasant if you cooperate in all ways, not only those you find pleasing."

  "You suggest torture of a different sort," said Lothaire. "A dark cell with thin gruel."

  "How do we use it?" asked Lexari.

  "Ah, so you would use it," said Lothaire. "The Sunhawk reveals himself. In that case, I think I'll keep my silence."

  "Then you've outlived your usefulness," said Nemm.

  "No," said Lexari. "There is other information we must extract from him. Even if he doesn't know where his conspirators have gone, he knows names and descriptions."

  "I know much more than that," said Lothaire. "Were you aware that Nemm agreed to kill Wenaru?"

  "Lies," said Nemm. Her daggers were still held in front of her. She seemed ready to leap across the desk and kill the man. Dravus realized that he had begun to assume that the man was their helpless prisoner, but they had no real evidence that the man hadn't used the artifact to make himself an illustrati. Lexari had dismissed his spear of light, but Nemm was still as tense as she'd been the moment they'd entered the room.

  "It was part of her agreement with the Blood Bard," said Lothaire. He smiled at Wenaru. "She never liked you. You were politically inconvenient even before the trial that left you an exile of yet another country."

  "No," said Lexari. "I trust Nemm more than I trust you. Now, I'm afraid we're going to have to bind you."

  "Has Lexari told you about your father?" Lothaire asked Nemm.

  A tendril of flesh shot out from just beneath Wenaru's collarbone to strike Lothaire in the chest. He went limp instantly.

  "My father?" asked Nemm. She turned toward Lexari. She hadn't lowered her daggers, though she didn't quite go so far as to point them at him. "Everyone knows my father sold me for forty drams. Lexari, do you have any idea what he was talking about?"

  "If I knew anything about your father, I would have told you," said Lexari. "We're all a little upset right now. That's what he wanted. There are more important tasks than turning over his words. We need to know what there is to do with those pieces of information which are salient to the future of the Iron Kingdom."

  Nemm let her daggers soften until they slipped back into the glass of her armor. She removed her helmet as well, revealing hair that was damp with sweat. "We can't trust anything he said."

  "No, of course not," said Lexari. "The papers might let us know the truth though." He looked around the room, which was filled with bookshelves, interrupted occasionally by a large painting. Two doors led out to a small balcony. The old man still sat slumped in his chair, though he did seem to be breathing. "It is curious to me that he said nothing about Dravus."

  "How so?" asked Dravus. His heart leapt at the words.

  "He was attempting to drive wedges between us," said Lexari. "Obviously the man was present in Torland with us. I might even venture to say he was responsible for much of what happened there. He likely had spies or sympathizers. There are any number of ways he might have learned what he might use against us — what lies he might be able to tell in order to set our minds racing."

  "This isn't the time for this," said Nemm.

  "The time for what?" asked Dravus. He could feel the anxiety rising inside him.

  "When you spoke with Hartwain," said Lexari. "Following the attack on her home. What exactly did she say to you?"

  Dravus was silent. "I should have told you sooner," he finally said. All their eyes were on him. "I was approached by one of their number. It was a woman called Faye. She spoke with me once in Torland, then a second time yesterday."

  "What leverage does she have against you?" asked Nemm.

  "I — nothing," said Dravus. "She had the better of me both times. I don't believe I could have beaten her in single combat. All she wanted to do was talk."

  "Yet you didn't tell us until just now," said Nemm. "You didn't say anything after leaving Hartwain's. You lied to me." Her hands were clenched tight around her daggers. Dravus recalled his rescue from Korata; Nemm had been angry then, but most of what she said was for the crowd. Now there was no element of performance in the furrow of her brow and the redness of her cheeks.

  "This would be the third time you have lied to us," said Lexari. "The very first day we met you, you lied and said that you were not a thief. Nemm saved you from that. In Meriwall you conspired with the Blood Bard. Do you expect that after the third time I would be so kind as I was before? You may only abuse our trust and charity a limited number of times."

  "He didn't actually do anything," said Nemm. She softened slightly. "If he'd tried to stab us in the back that might have been one thing, but he took a shift on watch last night. That would have been the time for him to try something, if he was going to."

  "And how do we know he did not?" asked Lexari. "We have encountered resistance here, but less than I would have expected."

  Nemm had no reply to that.

  "There was never a right time to tell you," said Dravus.

  "They tried to kill the rest of us, yet let you live," said Lexari. "Your objections last night make a great deal more sense, as does your escape from the Ministry." He twitched his lips. "Wenaru, subdue young Lightscour. Leave him capable of speech."

  Wenaru hesitated, then threw one of his ropes of flesh forward. Dravus had a sword in his hand in an instant and sliced in front of him. His sword cut through the first tentacle but he didn't have the speed to stop the second. Wet flesh touched his armor for only a brief second. His muscles seized up and he pitched backward, landing painfully on the ground. Wenaru moved quickly, touching Dravus briefly in order to finish his work.

  "Please," said Dravus. His head was all he could seem to move. He could feel his arms and legs, but no longer move them. "I did nothing." He directed his attention to Wenaru. "I did nothing!"

  "You take your opportunities where you can find them," said Wenaru. "You pretended to defend me when all you were looking for was a scrap of glory. I'm sorry it's come to this, but … you brought it upon yourself."

  "We need to talk about this," said Nemm.

  "What's there to talk about?" asked Lexari. "You agree that Dravus has betrayed us. It's a fitting conclusion to his time as apprentice. A time-honored trope, is it not, the young and impetuous student trying to displace his master? His story ends here. We can send letters to the bards to keep them updated and eventually the story of young Lightscour will fade, as it was always supposed to."

  "You can't keep me as prisoner," said Dravus. "I haven't done anything to deserve that." He pulled at his useless muscles, trying to find some way that he could move. He still had his domain, but there was little that he could do with it. Darkness wouldn't allow him to move. He might project a blade from his armor in an attempt to cut Wenaru, but he had no illusions about being able to kill. Besides that, he would still be left motionless on the floor, with the only person capable of restoring him injured or dead. The more he fought, the worse this would go for him; they were three of the strongest illustrati in the world.

  "Perhaps nothing so severe as locking you away in a prison cell," said Lexari. He stood tall and imposing, looking down at Dravus with piercing eyes. He held his hands together behind his back. "However, you have a significant amount of raw power we can't have falling into the wrong hands, not in this new era when one man might steal standing from another." Wenaru had set the artifact on the ground before coming over to Dravus. Lexari picked it up and strode forward.

  "Even if you can find a way to take his power from him," said Nemm. She had moved to the balcony that projected off the room and opened the door to look out onto the valley. Dravus could see little but smoke and dust. "That doesn't serve the story. Lightscour as an over-eager apprentice willing to use you as a ladder to climb higher? That has the proper beats of a story. If necessity compels us to take his power, so be it, but it will read to others as cr
uel or callous. The betrayal will lack weight unless they believe there was some true bond between the two of you. If the bond were true, you wouldn't strip him of his power like that."

  "You said you would destroy the artifact," said Dravus. "You said it was too dangerous."

  "I said we should not let it fall into the wrong hands," said Lexari. He placed the artifact on Dravus's chest. "Let me know when you feel any different."

  Dravus didn't have any choice but to lay there, motionless, while Lexari set about trying to activate the artifact. Dravus was sweating, the only reaction he could muster. His brain kept scrambling for something he might say to Nemm or Wenaru, but nothing came to mind. He was closest to Nemm, but while she seemed unhappy with what was being done to him, she had stopped trying to speak in his defense. There was still a faint glow of anger about her. She stood at the balcony with the windows open, looking outward instead of watching what Lexari was doing.

  When Lexari slipped Dravus's hand inside the artifact, it sounded a single loud tone. Dravus's shadow armor disappeared in an instant, dropping him down so that his back was touching the cool stone floor. A feeling of sickness came slowly fading in. He remembered his first few days of fame, when it felt like he had been sick his whole life and only then, with the fame of a city behind him, known health. All the strength and vitality that had been contained within him for the past month emptied out like a cup with a hole in the bottom.

  "Fascinating," said Lexari. He held the artifact high, looking it over. There was no visible change in it. Without any seeming forethought, Lexari stuck his own hand in the mouth of the artifact. It emitted a tone again, this one lower and longer. When he pulled his hand out, he had a smile upon his face. "The character of it is different," he said. "Defined by absence. I had thought of them as opposites, even knowing that they were not quite that." Lexari held out his hand. A sword of shadow sprang to life in it, ornate and fully formed. He set the artifact upon the ground and conjured a spear of light in his other hand.

  "You have them both," said Nemm. She was staring at Lexari. "You went ahead and took it."

  "Spoils of war," said Lexari.

  "This was no war," replied Nemm. Her glass daggers were nowhere to be seen, but real anger was visible on her face.

  "Of course it was," said Lexari. His tone was firm and solid, nearly unquestionable. If there had been any wonder in Lexari's expression when he had used the artifact, now it was gone, replaced by conviction. "I was shocked when Dravus attacked me, aghast at not only the depth of his betrayal, but the ferocity with which he defended this secret master." He gestured toward the sleeping Lothaire. "We fought a pitched battle throughout the castle. I couldn't bring myself to hurt the boy that I had come to think of as the son I never had." He paused. "Isn't that how you remember it?" Lexari asked with honest curiosity. Dravus couldn't tell whether it was a masterful performance or whether Lexari had simply created his own version of events that he instantly believed. The world felt sick and wrong, twisted around itself in an unnatural way.

  "Of course," replied Nemm. She straightened her back and stood tall, with the bearing of a soldier. "I would have helped, but my relationship with Dravus was of a different nature. I'd grown too close to him. And Wenaru is a pacifist. He would never lay a hand on anyone." If Lexari spoke with such authority that it was difficult to question him, Nemm replied with pure cynicism and mockery.

  "Just so," replied Lexari, not seeming to hear her tone. "It is a shame that Dravus escaped. If I hadn't taught him my technique, if he hadn't used it so recklessly, then perhaps he wouldn't have ended up like he did. It was so utterly regrettable." Lexari held out his hand and formed a creature of shadow, similar to the ones that he had made in the theater. It was nearly as tall as Dravus; the more Dravus looked at it, the more he saw his own image there. The figure of shadow suddenly held a sword; he thrust it toward Lexari, who easily parried it away. "I fear I've created a shadow that will haunt me. Lightscour had become a villain like the one he was so famous for killing. Perhaps Dravus was infected with something of Zerstor, something black and foul. Now the ghost no longer has a physical form." Lexari swung his spear around, but the construct of shadow dodged to the side. They fought a mock battle, slowly at first but building in speed, a performance that was more beautiful than a true fight would be.

  Lexari waved a hand, dismissing the construct of shadow. All eyes were on him. He didn't so much as look at Dravus as he moved to stand over Dravus's prone body. Lexari held his spear up with the point down, positioning it over Dravus. Dravus flinched back, trying to move, but his muscles were still betraying him.

  "Wait," said Nemm. "Let me do it."

  "Do what?" asked Lexari, spear still positioned over Dravus's heart.

  "You know what Dravus was to me," said Nemm. "Give me a moment to grieve."

  "I'm afraid there is much to be done yet this day," said Lexari. He frowned slightly.

  "All the same," replied Nemm.

  "I'll be here to comfort you, should you need it," replied Lexari. "You may take a moment to do what you believe needs to be done."

  Dravus would have spoken, but his tongue had gone numb in his mouth. Wenaru still had his hand upon Dravus's shoulder, resting it there. Dravus couldn't speak unless Wenaru willed it. He could barely force air into his lungs. There was nothing that he could say in his defense, no way that he could stop whatever fate had been set in motion. Nemm leaned down and grabbed Dravus by his collar, pulling him to his feet until she had him held above her. He dangled in the air with his head lolled to the side.

  "I'm sorry" said Nemm. "I'm sorry I couldn't be the sort of person you'd be able to trust." She carried him with her, taking him to the balcony where she'd been looking out over the valley. "I wish that it wouldn't have come to this. I wish that we could have both been different." She sat him on the balustrades, still holding onto him by his collar with a single hand. Dravus watched her with tears streaming down his eyes. Beyond her, Lexari was looking away, pretending that he could not see or hear. Wenaru's face was impassive, free of any emotion.

  Nemm stabbed Dravus three times in the stomach then kicked him off the side of Castle Launtine.

  Chapter 19

  There were times when her father hit her. He wasn't a cruel man, just given to fits of anger. Ros didn't remember a time before her mother had passed, but she often imagined that her father had been different then. It was always the small things that would set him off. There was a floorboard in their cottage that squeaked whenever someone stepped on it. Ros' father would snarl at it momentarily every time that happened, like a dog with its hackles raised. He'd go back to whatever he'd been doing soon afterward, seeming to forget all about the squeaky floorboard. His fits of anger came quickly, but they faded just as fast. When he struck her, it was always in those moments of brightly burning rage. He had gripped her by the throat once, raising her up until she was kicking her feet at him. She'd been able to watch as he seemed to realize what he was doing. Her father had set her back down on the floor and locked himself in his bedroom. He hadn't apologized, but he made poached pears for her, which was her favorite. She pretended that it made up for the bruise that ringed her neck for a full week.

  It had been months since her father's last truly bad fit, that time brought on by the fact that Ros had burned chicken she'd been trying to roast. Things were better now. Ros kept telling herself that, while at the same time trying to avoid the small things she'd come to learn would bring his temper to a boil. She knew where to step so as not to make noise when she moved around the house. She knew when to ply her father with a bottle of cheap wine and when to slyly keep it from him. She could sense those times when he was more prone to anger and make herself scarce. She could bow her head and act meek when she had done something wrong, trying to make herself look small and vulnerable so that his anger wouldn't overtake his sense. At nine-and-a-half years old, Ros thought that she and her father were finally getting along.

  Her
father didn't trust her to go to the market on her own, but when they went together she was given a considerable amount of leeway. Her father would greet people with a warm smile, embracing them with open arms and engaging in long conversations on boring adult topics. As soon as he was occupied, Ros would go wandering the various stalls, taking in the colors of the fruits and vegetables, smelling freshly baked bread, and keeping an eye out for illustrati. There was an illustrati of birds who often swept through the markets. The woman had a dozen chickadees lining her shoulders, singing songs as she walked. Ros thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

  Ros found the woman, Aviare, in the first fifteen minutes. The illustrati was walking past the market stalls, as she usually did, occasionally stopping to ask a question of one of the vendors or touch a finely made piece of merchandise. Even at a young age, Ros understood this to be something that was expected of the local illustrati. Today was somewhat unusual in that Aviare was taking her walk with a tall man in fine white clothing. They were carrying on an animated conversation; naturally, Ros slipped closer to listen in.