Cezon grudgingly paid a toll fee at a gatehouse before they headed across a soaring bridge, ascending toward a stone gate. Two armed Imperial Guards stood before it. Roxanne’s hands instinctively curled into fists as she readied herself for the possibility of a fight.
“State your name and business in Noryk,” said the taller guard.
“Andran Vierwind of Alakite, wishing to do trade in the marketplace,” Cezon lied easily, halting Winni and hopping off the wagon.
“Sign your names in the ledger and mark the day, month, and year of your visit,” the guard instructed, pointing to a thick book sitting atop a nearby stand.
Cezon motioned for the Aerians to follow. They did so, slinking past the guards’ stern gazes. He raised a tool—a stylus, Roxanne thought it was called—and made a series of marks on a page.
“We can’t sign in,” Keriya whispered to Cezon when he offered her the stylus. “We don’t use those runes.”
“Oh, bloody bones of a—!”
“Is there a problem?” asked the second guard.
“No problem,” Cezon said quickly. “My cousins are sore from the ride, so I’ll have to write for them. That’s fine, isn’t it?”
“Are their hands sore?” the first guard drawled. “What, were they sitting on them?” His companion snickered.
Cezon threw the Aerians a withering glare as he scribbled three lines of strange runes in the book.
“We’ll need to check your wagon,” the second guard stated in a bored voice, implying that he didn’t particularly want to waste the energy doing so. Cezon picked up on this and brightened at once.
“Certainly, my good fellow. Will you have to look through each individual bag of fertilizer?”
“Fertilizer?”
“The finest and most nutrient-filled combination of dung and mulch you’ll ever come across, sir!” Cezon strode to the back of the wagon and hefted out a burlap sack that Roxanne knew was filled with nothing more than dirty linens.
“Oh,” said the tall one. “Dung. And mulch. That seems in order.”
“Would you gentlemen be interested in buying some? I’d give you a discount.”
“No, thank you,” the guard replied hastily. “You’re free to proceed.”
A line of light burst through the gates as they swung inward on well-oiled hinges, seemingly of their own accord. Cezon shooed the Aerians onto the wagon and clucked to Winni, urging her forward.
“Welcome to Noryk,” he said, a touch of something like pride in his voice. “Greatest city in the world!”
Roxanne’s heart swelled as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. The cobblestone street stretching before them was broad enough for two lanes of traffic, separated by a raised strip of land from which sprouted exotic plants. People swarmed in bizarre and vibrant styles of dress. It was a far cry from Aeria, where everyone had been forced to cover their arms, legs, and midriffs in plain garments.
They passed beneath a golden archway carved with arcane designs. Roxanne’s heart gave a strange lurch when she saw a sentence written in Aerian runes at the peak of the arch.
“Keas seules endrat keas omnes,” she murmured, reading the unfamiliar words aloud.
Keriya turned sharply to her. “What did you say?”
“It’s the city’s slogan,” said Cezon, who was in better spirits than Roxanne had ever seen him. “Means ‘the light of one is the light of all.’”
He glanced at the Aerians to find they were staring at him. “Or some such similar nonsense,” he finished gruffly, clearing his throat and twitching Winni’s reins.
A mountain-range of buildings lined the thoroughfare, all built from white material that glistened in the sunlight. Flags emblazoned with bright designs swirled in the breeze, strung between spectacular gold and crystal turrets.
“Just up there,” said Cezon, “is the Imperial Palace.”
A granite arch straddled the street, blocking their view of the palace. The road that ran beneath the archway was bristling with on-duty Imperial Guards. Fortunately, the soldiers gave them no trouble. They emerged into a wide courtyard, and there, rising toward the heavens, was the palace.
Wide steps led to four entryways guarded by statues of magnificent creatures. Elaborate tracery, set between stained glass windows, embroidered the marble walls. Smaller statues clung to the corners of ramparts, spouting trails of water that thinned to a mist before ever reaching the ground. Towers topped by golden onion domes strafed the underside of the clouds.
“We’re going to The Black Willow,” Cezon said as Winni plodded along the edge of the courtyard, following the road. “Innkeeper’s a friend of mine. Actually I can’t stand him, but he owes me and he’ll give me a room for cheap. Come to think of it, you can work to earn your keep. Yeah, that’ll be good.”
Roxanne ignored Cezon. She had better things to listen to, like the music of street performers or the songs of the birds that flew overhead. It was strange how quickly she’d grown to love Allentria—a land she knew nothing about, but which somehow felt like home.
True to his word, Cezon arranged with Grov, the innkeeper of The Black Willow, to let the Aerians stay for free if they worked for him. Thus Keriya, Fletcher, and Roxanne had spent most of their time in Noryk sequestered in a cramped, steamy kitchen, washing dishes.
Keriya hated it. She wanted to be out there, becoming the hero Shivnath had promised she would be. Instead she was stuck at the inn, hoping their papers would go through so they wouldn’t get deported. Cezon had filed numerous forms on their behalf and their information was being processed, so all they could do was wait. And wash dishes.
The girls had retired to their quarters in the attic after a long morning of work. Keriya was about to nod off when the door to their room banged open.
“Up!” said Cezon, flapping his arms. “Your papers are ready. And make yourselves presentable, right? You look like a couple of bleedin’ shifters.”
“I thought that’s what we were,” Keriya muttered as he ducked out of the room. They had learned that ‘shifter’ was a derogatory term for people who moved around, shifting alliances to different cities or states.
They collected Fletcher, bid Grov a lukewarm farewell, and left the inn. Keriya smiled as the sun warmed her skin. Soon she would be free to continue her quest.
Cezon was waiting on the street. He’d disguised himself with a large feather hat and a bulky cloak, despite the fact it that was the height of the second season, what the Allentrians called ‘summer.’
Cezon whisked them through the city, herding them along like sheep. When they reached a bustling square, he ushered them into an alley beside a stately building. Keriya cast a suspicious scowl on the muddy puddles and waste bins that riddled the dingy passageway.
A man popped out from a recessed door in the shadows. He had a rat-like face, scraggly black hair, and a stringy, unkempt beard. He also wore a gray tunic, the uniform of the Imperial Guard.
“This is Officer Iako Blackwater,” said Cezon. “He’s arranged everything for us.”
“That’s right. I’m an old pal of Cez—er, I mean . . . what name you usin’ this time, Cezon?”
Cezon growled in frustration. “Just get us inside and keep your bleedin’ mouth shut.”
Blackwater nodded and waved them through the door. They entered a servants’ hallway and ascended a rickety wooden staircase frosted with cobwebs.
“Took you long enough to get everything in order,” Cezon grumbled.
“I got held up,” said Blackwater.
“By what? What could possibly be more important than this?!”
“I been busy with the Guards. Got me a side job from Tanthflame himself—it’ll be good money when it’s done, Cezon. Real good—”
“Shh!” Cezon hissed as they reached a door at the top of the steps. “I don’t care about that. Just tell me
you fixed the paperwork.”
“Course I did! That’s why we’re here, en’t it?” Blackwater kicked open the door, revealing a bright marble atrium. He puffed out his scrawny chest and marched across the room toward a stone desk. Cezon glanced around furtively before shoving the Aerians after him.
“We’re here to meet the Manager of Homeland Affairs,” Blackwater announced, hailing one of the desk workers.
“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked without looking up from the paperwork strewn before her.
“Course I got an appointment. You think I’m stupid?”
“This’ll explain things,” Cezon said hastily, shoving a thick envelope under her nose. She broke the seal and scanned the notes within. Her cerulean eyes widened.
“Applicants sixteen-seventy-four, five, and six. Non-hostile, requiring immediate escort,” she said to no one in particular. Moments later, a disembodied voice replied to her words:
“Admit them.”
The woman pointed to a hallway. “Right this way, Officer.”
“Ha!” Fletcher poked Roxanne in the shoulder as they followed Blackwater past the desk and down the short corridor. “There are other kinds of magic.”
“I knew that all the way back in Senteir,” she retorted in a lofty voice, brushing his hand aside.
They entered a smaller room lined with benches and potted plants. In the center of the chamber stood a silver-bearded man, who had to be the Manager of Homeland Affairs. His wintry blue gaze swept over Keriya’s dirty clothes and unwashed hair and landed on her eyes. Something in his expression made her stomach twist, and she fought the urge to cover her face.
“You are under arrest,” he announced. Doors on either side of the room burst open and several Imperial Guards streamed in.
“What?!” A group of voices chorused a protest, Keriya’s loudest of all. Cezon was supposed to have prevented this.
“Cezon?” Fletcher said in a shaky tone. He was looking at the Allentrian with a haunted expression. “What’s happening?” He cringed away from the Imperials as they marched forward, but they passed the Aerians and went straight for Cezon and Blackwater.
“You can’t do this to me,” cried Cezon, kicking and flailing as the guardsmen latched onto him. “I’m an Allentrian citizen! I have rights! They’re the migrants, they’re the ones you want. Iako, you half-witted trog, what the blood did you do?”
“I en’t done nothin’!” Blackwater insisted. “I’m a member of the Imperial Guard, I am!”
“If you don’t comply peaceably, we’ll have to subdue you,” one guard threatened.
Blackwater went limp, forcing the men to drag him from the room. His pathetic whimpers and Cezon’s furious shrieks faded as they were hauled off.
Keriya, Fletcher, and Roxanne stood, dumbfounded, in front of the Manager of Homeland Affairs. Anxiety simmered in Keriya’s chest as he turned his attention to her.
“You are Keriya Soulstar?”
He knew her real name. That couldn’t be good.
“No, my name is, uh . . .” But she’d forgotten the fake name Cezon had bestowed on her.
“According to your letters of intent, you fled Moorfain after their recent skirmishes with Jidaeln and are seeking refuge in our country,” he continued.
Keriya made a noncommittal noise in her throat, mentally cursing Cezon for dragging her into this mess.
“The Allentrian Empire is willing to accommodate you, but I’m afraid that the circumstances of your arrival are not traditional. Not legal, in fact. You crossed the Waters of Chardon on a ship captained by one Tarius Altian, is that correct?”
“I guess?”
“You guess,” the man repeated, clearly unimpressed with her communication skills. “Were you aware that Master Altian’s real name is Cezon Skyriver?”
“Oh, Cezon. Yes, we know him.”
“Mm,” the man said in a darker tone. “We have quite a record on Skyriver. We’re taking you into protective custody to—”
“What? Why?” Keriya demanded as more guards arrived to surround her. She had a brief flash of her final moments in Aeria, of the villagers closing in.
“Because,” said the man, “the Empress of Allentria wishes to meet you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“There is no such thing as coincidence.”
~ Jidaelni Proverb
Flanked by five guardsmen, Keriya, Fletcher, and Roxanne followed a liveried servant through the halls of the Imperial Palace.
Keriya’s nerves were shot. Fletcher and Roxanne had been taught proper manners—how to curtsey and bow, how to address the Elders—but she had never learned such rubbish. Erasmus had taught her about the animals in the Felwood and the medicinal properties of aloeferns, but nothing of how to act in high society. He hadn’t bothered, Keriya suspected, because he’d known how unlikely it was that she’d ever truly become part of Aerian society.
They came to a corridor lined with reflective glass on either wall. Keriya gazed at her endlessly repeating image and saw that she was a shameful mess. Her hair was frizzy and her dress still bore the grime of her journey across the Smarlands. She unsuccessfully tried to tidy herself.
A set of polished doors stood open ahead. The guards fanned out, taking stations on either side of the entrance, and the servant led the Aerians into the chamber.
Keriya had seen unimaginable splendor since coming to Allentria, but this room topped it all. Stained glass windows rested between carved pillars, each pane scattering rainbow light across the ivory floor. Before them, curved steps led to a semicircular dais where gauzy curtains framed a golden throne. Behind the ornate chair hung a tapestry depicting four creatures, one of whom was unmistakably meant to be Shivnath.
“Now announcing our sovereign majesty, her Imperial Highness, Premier of the Union of the States, Head of the Council of Nine, Protector of the Threads, Leader of the First Free Nation, Empress Aldelphia Alderwood.”
Keriya tore her gaze from Shivnath’s embroidered eyes, not even half as dark as they should be, and watched as the empress stepped onto the dais. Gray, arrow-straight hair reached halfway down her back, but she wasn’t old. Her skin was silken brown and her patrician face was smooth, replete with a slim nose and long lashes framing eyes that were clouded and white.
Though Empress Aldelphia was blind, she walked unaided. Every step she took was full of easy, graceful confidence. The servant sank to one knee. Fletcher and Roxanne bowed. Keriya bent awkwardly, unable to look away from the woman. She wondered what it was like to be the most powerful person in the world, stunning and self-assured, and felt a pang of envy.
“Welcome,” the empress said as she settled onto her throne. Her voice was soft and unassuming, yet it held the weight of a thousand winters. She nodded to the servant. A diamond circlet glinted on her brow, catching a wild ray of light. “That will be all, Tevyn.”
Tevyn bowed himself out of the room. The doors swung shut behind him with a thud that echoed in the silence.
“Keriya Soulstar.” The ruler of Allentria looked at Keriya. “I’ve heard many things about you. Cezon Skyriver convinced several of my employees that you were run-off Moorfainian royalty. Allentria is closed to trade and immigration is illegal, yet he maintained he had undeniable evidence. Since you stand before me now, at least one of his claims held true.” Her expression hardened. “He said that you have purple eyes.”
Keriya nodded before she remembered the empress couldn’t actually see. “I do.”
“The color proves you possess an ancient, arcane power,” said Aldelphia. “A power no human has harnessed in ten ages.”
Keriya squirmed, thinking of the power Shivnath had woven into her soul. Should she tell the empress what had happened? That story hadn’t gone over well in Aeria.
“The power is dangerous, and in the wrong hands, deadly,” the empres
s continued. “I want to know how you attained it.”
“Um,” Keriya said in a small voice, fiddling with the fraying ends of her sleeves. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“I know the only way to become a rheenar is by bonding with a dragon. Allentria’s most powerful oracle recently had a foresight, a vision of a dragon escaping the Etherworld. So I don’t need to know your story; I only need to know where that dragon is now.”
Aldelphia seemed to think Keriya had inside information about the dragon who’d escaped imprisonment. She wasn’t wrong, but all Keriya knew was that Necrovar intended to kill it.
And the Allentrians intend to use it as a weapon, she reminded herself. Unease bubbled in her gut. She feared she knew where this conversation was heading.
“I don’t know where the dragon is,” she replied truthfully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a rheenar—whatever that is—and I’m not sure what you mean by ‘bonding.’”
“Dragons do not have emotions,” Aldelphia explained, “but they may form bonds with mortals wherein the two share thoughts, feelings, sometimes even magic. It is through this bond that you gain power over them, for your power allows you to communicate with and control dragons.”
Keriya thought about attempting to control a creature like Shivnath and stifled the impulse to laugh. The idea was ridiculous.
“So I ask you again: where is the dragon?”
“And I tell you again, I don’t know,” said Keriya. Her words came out sounding much ruder than she had intended, and she hastily amended herself: “What I mean is that I didn’t bond with anyone. I received this power directly from Shivnath.”
The empress showed no hint of shock at the pronouncement. She steepled her fingers in thought. “I presume Shivnath gave you these powers for a reason?”
“Yes,” Keriya admitted, struggling to hold the empress’s piercing, blind gaze.
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