Cursebreaker

by Carol A Park

  “He was a fool,” Bherg said, “thinking to manipulate us to his own ends. You can rest assured your traitor is now safely Sedated, as he ought to be.”

  Yaotel looked as though someone had socked him in the gut. He recovered quickly, but the pain Bherg’s statement had caused was evidenced in that split second.

  Tanuac’s tone, which had, up until now, been warmer than would have been called for, went cold. “Sedated or kept somewhere so you can drain his blood for your own purposes?”

  Bherg took the accusation without comment. Calm. But Driskell doubted that it would matter, at this point, how calm Bherg was. It would end the same way.

  “Is it not true, Holiness, that you and your Conclave have betrayed your own teachings, using Banebringer magic yourselves? Is it not true that you experiment on bloodbane, seeking to create abominations that allow you to control them for your own purposes? Is it not true that the vise-like grip of your hand even now slides around the throat of Setana, seeking to squeeze anything left of it that the Empire has not already taken?”

  Oh, dear.

  Bherg drew a long syringe out from under his robes—calmly. “Perhaps we should test this on your new advisor, and see what happens?”

  He made to move toward Yaotel, but Tanuac blocked his way. “You will not touch him.”

  Bherg made a motion with his hand, and his five priests began chanting.

  After a rather elaborate-sounding recitation and some waving of hands…

  Nothing happened.

  Bherg frowned. He whirled around to face his priests. They, to a man, looked mystified.

  Bherg whirled back. “You did this,” he stated.

  “Did what, Bherg?” Tanuac asked, dropping the priestly honorific.

  Feeling rather desperate, Driskell threw out a suggestion. What if you’re mistaken?

  Bherg hesitated. His brow wrinkled. And then it smoothed. “I bring a message from the seat of the Empire in Weylyn City.” He began to recite. “Donia is now considered in violation of the terms of the agreement reached with the Empire’s duly appointed representative—myself. Ri Tanuac will surrender his title and position and allow the Empire to appoint a replacement—or face the consequences.”

  There was a stillness in the room as those there collectively held their breath.

  His suggestion falling flat, Driskell expanded his bubble of calm as far as he could. Ri Tanuac is a good man. The Conclave is evil, he inserted for good measure.

  Other than Bherg and his companions, Driskell doubted a single person there believed anything otherwise. It wouldn’t hurt to reinforce it, would it? His gut twisted, all the same.

  “Over my dead body,” Tanuac said. Calmly. Almost pleasantly. “Guards, please see Bherg and his party out of Marakyn. General Gyano, please have your soldiers round up every Conclave priest in the city and eject them—without harassment, please. As of this moment, I reject Conclave rule of the Empire, and therefore I’m afraid I must as a result declare Donia a sovereign state once again.”

  “Very well,” Bherg said. “Consequences it will be.” He shook off the hand of one of the guards. “That won’t be necessary, Dal. I can see myself out.”

  He turned on his heel and strode out of the audience chamber, the priests on his heels.

  Gyano jerked his head and half a dozen guards peeled off to follow them.

  The audience chamber door slammed shut with a resounding thud.

  When the echoes had stopped ringing off the walls, Tanuac turned to face those remaining in the hall.

  Driskell scanned the faces. Some were shocked, some fiercely proud, some resigned. Only a few looked disgusted or angry—Gan Dillion being one of them.

  Driskell let go of his aether.

  Cheers broke out. No more calm.

  Driskell swallowed. Would they still be cheering when they were staring down an army set on tearing down Marakyn’s walls?

  He doubted it.

  Driskell decided he would visit Tania that night. He wanted her and her family to hear the news of what had happened that afternoon before the special newssheet had been run and distributed—or rumors reached their ears.

  As it turned out, they were all gathered at her house by the time he had a moment to spare—her mother, father, siblings, cousins, aunt, uncle, and of course, grandmama.

  And when he stepped into the room, it fell silent.

  His gut coiled. Apparently, the news had run ahead of him.

  He sought Tania’s eyes first. He couldn’t bear the penetrating gaze of her father, the red eyes of her mother, the curious expressions of her younger siblings, and worst of all, the accusatory look from her uncle.

  In response, Tania rose from where she had been sitting, a little apart from the others, went to his side, and took his hand. “Let’s walk,” she said. “We’ll be back in an hour,” she added to the room in general before pulling Driskell back out into the night.

  They walked hand-in-hand down the empty street, lit by the moon and stars and light from windows. She didn’t say anything for a long while, and neither did Driskell.

  When she broke the silence, her voice was soft and her words to the point. “You’ve known this was going to happen for a while, haven’t you?”

  Driskell bit his lip. What was the point in lying about it now? But would she be angry? Disappointed? “Yes,” he said.

  She slid her arm through his own and drew him close to her. “I’m sorry.”

  He blinked and craned his neck to look at her. “You’re sorry? For what?”

  “That you’ve had to bear this burden alone.” She laid her head against his shoulder. “I…wish I could have helped.”

  “I wish I could have told you,” he said truthfully. “You’re not angry?”

  “Angry? Driskell. Surely you know me well enough by now…”

  He did. He should have. But he still couldn’t help worrying, mostly because she still didn’t know all of it.

  “Your uncle looked disgruntled,” Driskell said.

  “He’s irritated that you didn’t say anything. Give them some warning. I told them all you couldn’t, how that wasn’t fair. I think my father gets it, but my mother is…”

  She drew up short and turned to face him. “How bad is it, Driskell? Mother is worried sick. She’s certain the Conclave is going to do to Donia what they did to Venetia.”

  Driskell took a while to think about that question. How bad was it? Tanuac was confident that, having disabled their battle priests and with the help of the Ichtaca, they could stave this army off. Marakyn’s fortifications were second to none in Setana. But there were other cities, less prepared, less defensible. How long would it take for the Conclave to threaten them? How far did Donia’s resources stretch alone?

  In the end, Donia could not win against the might of Setana by herself. With Venetia and Fuilyn fully in, they might have a chance, but it would be a long and costly war—in lives as well as resources. What they needed to guarantee their victory and ultimate sovereignty was Xambria—and Ferehar. And Ferehar was now in the hands of Dal Vaughn, who was on his way there at this moment. “Ri Tanuac wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t think we could win,” Driskell said.

  “You’re being diplomatic,” Tania said, her eyes searching his own. “What do you think?”

  Driskell bit his lip. “I think the army currently threatening Marakyn will be handled,” he said. “I don’t know beyond that.” He spread open one hand. “But is there ever any certainty in situations like these? Tanuac saw a chance, and he took it. It’s been in the hearts of most Donians for centuries, Tania. But we’ve always been too afraid to do anything about it.”

  A tiny smile curled her lips up. “Listen to you. You’ll be a Gan before you know it.”

  He didn’t even know if that was a realistic goal anymore. Nahua didn’t seem to care, but what of everyone else? Would an entire quarter of Donia follow the lead of a Banebringer one day?

  “But…surely, there’s no tr
uth to the rumors about the Ri working with Banebringers, is there?” Tania asked.

  He drew her against his chest so he didn’t have to look into her eyes when he lied.

  The city was quiet as Driskell made his way back from his walk with Tania; he hadn’t bothered returning to her house.

  Tanuac had ordered a citywide curfew, which would go into effect at midnight each night. From then, citizens were to stay inside until daybreak.

  Driskell took a detour to the retaining wall on the seventh tier before entering the gates to the civic quarter.

  The wall here was chest-high. Driskell leaned on it, looking out over the plains.

  His heart dropped into his stomach. The Conclave army had, in the time Bherg had left, already encamped around Marakyn.

  Tanuac expected an attempt at a siege rather than an outright attack upon the walls—which would have been foolish. But though the Conclave apparently knew they had Banebringer help, and though Bherg now knew his supply of aether was fake, Bherg didn’t know that Tanuac had been preparing for this for months. The city was well-stocked with supplies, and it had its own underground water supply, as well as a back way out for escape—or in for more supplies—through the tunnels, which cut all the way through the mountain, parallel to the aboveground pass, and emerged in Ferehar. Indeed, Vaughn had been apprised of this closely kept secret, and his own team had been instructed to take the tunnels to avoid being hampered by bloodbane on the way across the pass.

  They could hold here for months. Tanuac hoped they wouldn’t need to.

  Even so, the sight of the Conclave camp spread out across the plain, surrounding the city, was daunting. The sky glowed faintly red from the collective light of their lanterns and torches and cookfires, and in the distance, Driskell could see the long, snaking line of the army’s supply train, stretching to the horizon.

  He doubted he would be able to sleep tonight. He had no responsibilities by way of the army itself—he was no soldier. He would perform as he always had: at Tanuac and Nahua’s side, taking dutiful notes for later study—and possibly posterity.

  Tanuac had praised his exceptional ability to keep everyone at the meeting that day unnaturally calm—and in the event of riots or protests, he would be deployed to deescalate the worst of them.

  Why, then, did he feel so on edge? He scanned the horizon again, but nothing had changed.

  He turned to look to the northwest, toward the mountains, toward Ferehar. If he knew what gods to believe in anymore, he would pray.

  He supposed he’d just have to live with good, old-fashioned hope.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Not at all Suspect

  The gardens on the grounds of the palace in Cohoxta, the capital of Ferehar, were a pretty bit of land, and though they were well-maintained, Ivana had the impression that they also didn’t see much use.

  Other than by, apparently, Vaughn’s mother.

  Askata sat on a stone bench that was nestled against three flowering trees; she faced Ivana across a small pond, but Ivana was hidden in the shadows of another small copse of trees and shrubbery.

  Askata was also preoccupied. She faced an easel set in front of her. While Ivana couldn’t see the subject of her painting, by the trajectory of Askata’s eyes, she guessed it was the mother duck with her four babies that were presently swimming placidly around the pond.

  Ivana stepped out of the trees, pulled down her hood, and waited.

  Askata was so absorbed in her work, it took a minute for her to notice Ivana.

  When she did, she did a double-take, then gently set her paintbrush down on the ledge of the easel, below her canvas, folded her hands in her lap, and waited.

  Ivana skirted the edge of the pond and sat down next to her. “Askata,” she said, nodding to the woman.

  Askata didn’t even favor her with the tiniest of fake smiles. “Your presence here cannot be a good omen,” she said, then she picked up her paintbrush again. “What do you want?”

  Askata was a practical, down-to-earth woman who didn’t mince words.

  Ivana was beginning to like her. “I’d like you to come with me and have a chat with some of my friends—who would be more than happy to tell you all about what they want.”

  Askata looked at her askance. “That doesn’t sound at all suspect.”

  A rare genuine smile tugged at the corners of Ivana’s lips. “It does,” she admitted. “But in this case, I’m perfectly serious. More importantly, whether you like what they have to say or not, you may return home unharmed and unthreatened.

  Askata studied Ivana. “Where is my guard?”

  Askata’s “guard,” Ivana had learned from Aleena, was there not to protect Askata, but to keep an eye on her. A gift from Airell after their little incident a couple of months ago. “He became ill and is currently confined to his quarters.” She let her eyes drift out over the pond, feigning indifference to Askata’s response.

  Askata put the finishing touches on the fourth duckling. “Is…he with you?” she asked quietly.

  Ivana didn’t need to ask whom she was referring to; it wasn’t the guard. “Yes.”

  There was a visible tremor in Askata’s hand as she set down her pencil and sketchbook on the bench. Then she stood. “Then let’s make this quick. Airell left our estate in Qichio shortly after I did, along with his…” Her upper lip curled. “‘Advisors.’ I’ve been back at the palace for several days, so he should be arriving any day.”

  “I know.” Ivana stood as well. “But, to be on the safe side, we can leave without anyone seeing us.” She held out her hand. “You’ll have to trust me because I don’t have time to explain.”

  Askata pressed her lips together, nodded, and took Ivana’s hand.

  The ease with which even someone like Askata decided to trust her—even if it was because Ivana held the promise of seeing her son—was astounding. What must it be like to be able to trust so easily?

  Ivana slid her hand into her pocket and burned Vaughn’s aether, cloaking them both from sight. She had to admit it was nice that she was able to use Banebringer aether now without having to subvert the system by mixing it with her own blood.

  “Don’t let go of my hand,” Ivana said.

  Vaughn paced in the room they’d rented at The Ancient Drum, a clean, tasteful inn in a quiet part of the city. Aleena, Thrax, and Danton were with him, but they seemed far more at ease than he felt.

  Of course, they were just accessories to this plan. None of them was going to challenge Airell’s claim to the position of Ri. None of them had to explain to their own mother why she should turn on one of her own sons to help another.

  The door opened, and Vaughn turned to face it.

  It closed a moment later of its own accord, and then Ivana and his mother flickered into view.

  He breathed out. So, she had come. That was a start.

  Askata’s eyes flicked around the room at the other faces, then rested on Vaughn. “Teyrnon,” she said. “You’re back.” Her eyes roved over him from head to toe.

  Vaughn clasped his hands behind his back, bearing her scrutiny. He looked different from the last time she had seen him, when he had been a bloody, filthy mess.

  “You look well,” she said.

  “Well enough,” he said.

  There was a silence in the room that quickly turned awkward until Aleena thankfully cleared her throat and stepped forward. She inclined her head. “Askata,” she said. “A pleasure to meet you at last.”

  Askata’s brow furrowed, but she made no reply. Instead, she turned back to Ivana. “I’ve come with you in good faith,” she said. “Now will you tell me what you want?”

  Vaughn took a deep breath. If his mother decided not to help, he still didn’t know what he would do. Prudence would dictate that they detain her until after Airell was dealt with. But imprison his own mother?

  He didn’t know if he had that in him. “I intend to challenge Airell for the title of Ri,” he said. “And I need your help
to succeed.”

  Askata’s eyes widened.

  It felt as though everyone in the room had simultaneously drawn in their breaths and were holding them, waiting for Askata’s response.

  She looked down at her arm and pushed up the sleeve. There were yellowing bruises in the shape of fingers.

  Vaughn gritted his teeth to keep the swell of anger in check.

  Askata stared at her arm. “Will you hurt him?” she asked quietly.

  Vaughn shifted. He had to be honest. “He’ll be imprisoned. But if all goes according to plan, I imagine he’ll ultimately be executed for treason.”

  There was another long silence. Then she shook her sleeve down and looked up, her eyes now hard. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

  Two hours later, Vaughn and Danton left to accompany Askata back to the palace and Thrax went to find food. That left Ivana with Aleena in the room.

  Ivana hadn’t had a chance to talk with Aleena alone yet—so she was grateful until Aleena strode across the room and startled her by enveloping her in an enormous hug.

  “I’m surprised you came,” Aleena said—pulling back before Ivana could push her back—and gripping her arms instead.

  Ivana returned the grasp. That was much more comfortable. “If I had stayed in Marakyn, I’d have just ended up being an object of fascination for the Ichtacan researchers.” She let go and turned away to feign picking through her bag.

  There was a pause. “Why would that be?”

  She looked back over her shoulder. “Vaughn didn’t tell you about our trip to the abyss?”

  “He mentioned it briefly, but I only talked to him through the qixli once alone,” Aleena said.

  For some reason, Ivana had assumed Vaughn would have told Aleena. “Since I was the only available option, Zily picked me to be his first and only Banebringer.” Ivana pulled out her new ciuhan, stood, and turned to face Aleena again.

  Aleena’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s unexpected.”

  She snorted. “Tell me about it.”