by Carol A Park
A rapping on the door mid-morning drew Ivana’s attention away from brewing a pot of tea for herself and Sanca, her roommate, who would be just rousing herself after working the late shift at the inn.
Of course it would be Vaughn. Why in the abyss hadn’t she just sent him on his way with his damned book? It had caused her nothing but consternation and a night of little sleep.
But Danton was the one who had knocked; he wore an easy, slightly shy smile and was as boyish-looking as ever. “Hey, Ivana,” he said. “S’good to see you again.”
Her irritation melted a bit; it was hard to be annoyed at Danton. She ignored Vaughn, who stood behind him, and gave Danton a warm welcome. “Danton,” she said. “It’s good to see you too.”
They stepped inside, and she closed the door behind them. “Call me ‘Serina,’” she said quietly. “Please.”
Danton put a hand over his mouth. “Oh. You’re in hiding and all that, right?”
“In hiding” might not have been how she would have described it, but she didn’t correct him.
She retrieved the book and handed it to Vaughn. “Nothing more came to me.”
He took the book reluctantly. His eyes were dark. Frustrated.
She turned away from him and addressed Danton. “You headed out?”
“Soon,” Danton said. He looked at Vaughn, uncertainty in his eyes.
So Vaughn had discussed the developments with Danton. She liked Danton, but did Vaughn really think Danton would be able to convince her to go with him to Ferehar?
She wouldn’t give them the opportunity to find out. “Safe travels,” she said, moving toward the door to let them out. She wanted Vaughn and his memory-stirring book out of her hair as soon as possible.
Sanca chose that moment to enter the room. “I thought I heard voices.” She was smiling, even though her straight, fine hair hung limp and unbound around her shoulders and she still wore a rumpled dressing gown. “Serina, you should have told me we had guests,” she continued, her tone mild and not at all perturbed. She was not vain, and she liked people. It made Sanca’s situation all the harder for her, knowing what people would think of her if they knew what she was.
“Old acquaintances passing through,” Ivana said. “It wasn’t expected.”
“How lovely! Why are we all standing around?” Sanca gestured to the single couch and two armchairs in the room.
“Why, thank you,” Vaughn said, taking a seat on the couch, but not without tossing a grin at Ivana.
She suppressed a sigh and had to take a seat herself so she didn’t appear rude. She chose an armchair, and Danton sat next to Vaughn on the couch, while Sanca took the other armchair.
“So—old acquaintances?” asked Sanca, leaning forward eagerly. “Serina has always been a bit shy about her past. Where do you come from?”
Vaughn and Danton exchanged a look, and Vaughn opened his mouth to speak—but before he could, there was another knock on the door.
Ivana answered it. Livia, one of the older women from the town, stood on the doorstep wringing her hands in her apron.
“Da Serina,” Livia said immediately. “Oh, I’m so glad to find you home. I need a tonic for Thyn. That damned cough has come back, and I do worry.”
“Don’t, Da,” Ivana said. “I’ll have Sanca deliver the tonic in a few hours.”
“Thank you, dear.” Livia curtsied and left.
“Tonic?” both Vaughn and Danton said together.
“Sanca,” Ivana said, closing the door and ignoring their question, “do you remember the formula we devised for Dal Thyn?”
“Yes, of course.”
“His cough is back. Let’s make another batch later?”
Sanca smoothed her dressing gown, glanced toward Vaughn and Danton, and nodded. “Yes, of course,” she repeated.
“Wait,” Vaughn said. “Are you some sort of healer here?”
“Not exactly,” Ivana said. Sanca now perched at the edge of the armchair, as if ready to flee. It was best to get it out. “Sanca is the healer. I help her with some of the foci to make the most of her aether-infused tonics.”
Sanca gasped and shot out of her chair, her friendly air gone in a moment of terror. “Serina!”
Ivana held out her hand. “Steady, Sanca. Vaughn and Danton are Banebringers as well.”
Sanca still stood, trembling, as if hardly daring to believe what Ivana had said was true.
Vaughn and Danton, on the other hand, broke out into simultaneous grins. “Always good to meet one of our own,” Vaughn said. “You must be a bindblood.”
Sanca’s jugular went up and down. “I-I don’t know what that means. But I-I can heal.” She shifted from foot to foot. “Serina has been so kind to me. When she discovered what I was—after we moved in together—rather than turn me in, she set up a sort of tonic shop in our home. She sells tonics that she makes and that are the marvel of the town. I deliver them. But no one knows they’re so effective because I’m providing the aether to make them and activating the medicine when I give it to the patient.” She finger-combed her hair a few times. “Wh-What do you two do?”
At Sanca’s words, Vaughn’s eyes turned toward Ivana again. He studied her as if seeing her anew this morning, but there was also something speculative on his face.
Danton, on the other hand, was full of explanations. “I’m a lightblood,” he said eagerly. “And Vaughn is a moonblood.”
“I-I don’t—” started Sanca.
“Sorry. Sometimes I forget we made up those terms. Vaughn can turn invisible and do some stuff with water. I can manipulate light and, well, here…” He gave a demonstration, causing the armchair Sanca had been sitting on to appear to turn into a small pony, and then back again.
Her eyes widened. “I…had heard rumors…but I…” She swallowed. “I’ve never met another Banebringer,” she finished softly, almost a whisper.
“Gifted,” Danton said. “We, uh, we call ourselves ‘Gifted.’”
Danton loved to talk, and so did Sanca. Vaughn was watching the two of them, his eyes narrowed.
It seemed Ivana’s hopes for a brief visit weren’t to be realized. Fantastic. “Danton, would you like some tea? I was just making some.” At least it would gain her a few minutes of solitude.
“Sure, I’d love some,” Danton said.
Sanca always had a cup in the mornings, so she didn’t ask her, and Vaughn stood up when she did.
“I’ll help you,” he said.
So much for solitude.
But there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that made her wary. What was he up to?
He followed her from the front room through the door that connected it to their small kitchen.
She pressed her lips together and busied herself putting the kettle back on the stove, since the water had long since gone cold. I’m not going to Ferehar, she reminded herself. Absolutely not.
Vaughn leaned against the counter next to her. “You’re sheltering a Banebringer,” he said softly.
“So?”
“So, that’s…risky.”
She gave him a disparaging look and checked to be sure she had put tea leaves in the teapot earlier.
He squinted one eye. “All right. Nice of you?”
“I needed a way to establish myself in a new place. The opportunity fell into my lap. I’m not complaining.”
“Mmm,” he said. “Have it your way.” There was a long pause, and Ivana felt no need to fill the silence with idle conversation.
Vaughn, apparently, did. “So. Roommate?”
“Yes.”
Vaughn raised an eyebrow, and a sly grin quirked up one corner of his mouth. “Lover?”
Ivana took the kettle, which was starting to sing, off the stove. “Mmm. Done that. Not my thing.”
Vaughn’s elbow slipped off the counter. “You’ve…really? Are you trying to drive me crazy again?”
Ivana rolled her eyes and poured the hot water into the teapot.
The tea brewed in s
ilence. Ivana certainly had nothing left to say.
That was not, apparently, true of Vaughn. “I’ve never forgotten about you, Ivana,” he said quietly at last.
She snorted and poured the tea into four teacups. “I’m gratified to know my memory stains the many encounters you’ve no doubt had since we last saw each other.”
“You might be surprised.” He helped her put the teacups on a tray and then picked it up before she could. “I’m trying.” He shifted so he was in her direct line of sight. “You gave me a lot to think about.”
She took the tray back from him. “I don’t want to give you anything to think about. I want you to leave, as soon as seems polite. Are we understood?”
What had he been hoping for when he’d come here—other than a lead for his ridiculous plan? For her to embrace him with open arms? Rejoice at seeing him again?
She started toward the door, but he put a hand on her arm. “I thought we parted on cordial terms,” he said. “A year and a half ago, and…” He shrugged. “Even last night. I don’t understand why you seem to despise me so deeply again.”
The persistent questions that had bothered her all night long, keeping her awake and interrupting her dreams when she did sleep, rose back up again.
“I don’t despise you,” she said, and it was true. But he was a specter. “But I would like to serve this tea before it gets cold.”
His hand dropped, and she carried the tea tray out.
Sanca had joined Danton on the couch, and they were engaged in animated conversation.
Ivana set the tray down, selected a cup herself, and sat back down in the armchair.
Sanca turned to look at her and then ducked her head. “Serina,” she said, then hesitated.
Ivana raised an eyebrow at her. What was this?
“All right. I’ll just come out and say it. Danton has been telling me about the Ich—Ichtaca?” She glanced at Danton for confirmation, and he nodded. “And I…” She took a deep breath. “I think I’d like to join them.”
Ivana remained silent. Damn. It wasn’t that she minded Sanca leaving. She could do whatever she wanted, of course. It was that Sanca was the anchor to her life here. If she left, it would become quickly obvious that Ivana’s tonics weren’t what they used to be.
If Sanca left, Ivana would have to find somewhere else to start over. It felt like she had only just become settled again.
Ivana felt Vaughn’s eyes on her. He would understand what it would mean for her if Sanca left.
She cast him a sharp glance.
The corner of his mouth curled up, and she frowned at him.
And he had known this was likely to happen. That was why he had left Danton and Sanca alone to talk. Not going with you, she mouthed.
His smile just grew wider.
Sanca, on the other hand, knew nothing about Ivana’s past. But she did know Ivana couldn’t continue as she had before without her.
Hence, the guilt.
“Serina, you’ve been so kind to me,” Sanca said. “I…I feel so terrible, but this is—” She took a sharp breath, as if still unable to believe it herself. “This is an opportunity I never thought I would have. To be among my own kind.”
Going to Ferehar might be your only way of finding out more, a part of her whispered. And you want to know more, don’t you?
Vaughn had settled back down with his own cup, but he leaned forward now to regard Sanca critically. “Danton has explained to you that things aren’t what they used to be? Our old refuge—a manor in Weylyn—is no longer safe for us. We’ve split up, though we have ways of communicating, and we move around frequently.”
No. I do not want to know more, she told herself firmly.
Sanca nodded slowly. “I know. But the thought of being among people like me…” Her eyes glistened. “He said they can always use healers—bindbloods.”
But what in the abyss was she going to do now?
Vaughn nodded. “That’s certainly true.”
Should she pick up, find some other small town to settle down in, only to have the inevitable war Vaughn predicted catch up with her anyway?
Danton flopped back and smacked his hand to his forehead. “But she’ll need a sponsor, Vaughn. We can’t just give her the location where we’re bringing new recruits and send her off on her own.”
She could feel herself breaking. She no longer had an excuse to stay here. She would have to move again no matter what. Why not go with Vaughn, prove to him there was nothing to find, and then finally have him out of her hair?
Vaughn leaned back and spoke slowly. “Unfortunately, I have to go elsewhere. But why couldn’t you take her?”
Why not? Why not? She could think of a dozen reasons and a dozen outcomes, and none of them seemed promising.
Danton bit his lip, and he gave Vaughn a side-eye. “I’m not even supposed to be here. I was supposed to go to Marakyn, and I still haven’t been able to contact Yaotel to let him know why I’m not there yet—let alone to ask permission to go elsewhere.”
Sanca’s shoulders slumped.
Vaughn rolled his eyes. “I’m certain Yaotel can spare you for a while longer.”
Burning skies, why was Vaughn always messing up Ivana’s life?
“Excuse me,” she said suddenly, leaving them and their arguing behind.
Ivana retreated to her study and closed the door softly behind her. She stood there for a moment in the blessed silence, contemplating, and then did what she had come in here to do.
She opened the bottom drawer of her desk, pried up the false bottom, and lifted out the qixli.
It looked like a small, circular mirror, except upon closer inspection, one could see that the silvery part was viscous and trapped between two airtight panes of glass.
Vaughn didn’t know she had it—at least, he wasn’t supposed to know. The lightblood who had accompanied her girls back to the estate of Kayden, Caira’s now-husband, had insisted on making one for her and one for Caira before he had left. Ivana had relented—after making Caira swear she wouldn’t contact her unless it were an emergency.
A couple of months later, she had found the device glowing, and she had been surprised to find Aleena on the other side rather than Caira.
Aleena had apparently stopped by Kayden’s estate to visit Caira, and Caira had passed it on to her. Of course, not being a Banebringer, Aleena couldn’t use it without adding her own blood to the lightblood aether within the qixli—which meant she had managed to pry the thing open without breaking it, add her blood, and close it back up again, airtight. Ivana had been duly impressed.
She herself had only used it to contact Aleena since then once—to update her as to her new location in Fuilyn. That had been more than a year ago, and they hadn’t spoken since.
Ivana held the device firmly in two hands, willed it to find Aleena, and waited.
A few minutes went by—enough that she was about to give up—when the silver moved, and the vague impression of a face pressed up into it.
“Aleena,” she said quietly, by way of acknowledgment. “It’s me.”
“Ivana?” The voice was tinny and small, distorted by the device and the fact that neither of them were lightbloods—or Banebringers, for that matter. But the distortion couldn’t hide Aleena’s delight. “Burning skies! How are—what are you—wait. Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” Ivana said. “Well, mostly. I just had some questions for you.”
It was only then that Ivana realized how much she missed her old friend.
She wanted to chat. She wanted to know what Aleena had been doing. She wanted to fill her in on everything that had happened—or more accurately, hadn’t happened—since they had parted ways.
She might even have wanted to ask her advice, which was an odd feeling.
But using the qixli slowly used up the aether that made it work—especially for them—and it wouldn’t last forever. So she cut straight to the point. “Have you continued to stay in touch with Caira?”
/>
Aleena seemed surprised. “Well, yes, for the most part.”
“How is she?”
“She’s doing well. About a month ago she wrote to tell me they were expecting their second child.”
“How nice,” Ivana said, though the words felt—and sounded—hollow. She wasn’t used to sentiment.
And Aleena knew it. Her voice was amused as she went on. “Wynne is still there. She had a bit of a tumultuous relationship with a man, early on, who turned out to be a bit of an ass, but the last I knew, she’d taken charge of the estate’s horse breeding and was turning it a nice income.”
Wynne, one of Ivana’s girls, had stayed with Caira to work with their horses, but Ivana didn’t know much more than that.
“Good for her.”
So those two were well for now. Unless Fuilyn flipped. Kayden and Caira were nobles. She couldn’t imagine they would join the Conclave’s side.
“In any of your correspondence, has Caira said anything…political?”
“Political?”
“You know. About how sentiments are swaying in Fuilyn—given current events.”
“Oh. That kind of political.” Aleena paused. “Kayden isn’t happy with what’s happening in Weylyn. Caira says he’s been talking with a few of the other nobles in the area. There’s been some unrest. People, overall, don’t like what the Conclave’s been doing. They don’t like that they were lied to all these years. They want the Ri to do something about it.”
“Like?”
“I don’t know. I just know there’ve been meetings.”
That didn’t sound good. Vaughn was right. And this was Fuilyn, which was the least likely of the provinces to rebel without following the lead of one of the others.
With or without Sanca, her relatively peaceful existence here wouldn’t last.
“Ivana, did you really contact me only to ask about Caira?” asked Aleena.
Ivana glanced back toward the closed door of her study, the one that led back toward the three people socializing in her front room.
Once again, her life—façade that it had been—had been completely disrupted.
Thanks to Vaughn—though she could hardly blame him for the war.
Then again, he blamed himself, so maybe she could too. That would be a convenient excuse to stay annoyed with him.
