Kaybree Versus the Angels

by Harrison Paul

CHAPTER THREE

  A Voice from the Dust

  I ran my hand along the serpent key as I returned to find Mira. I found her just leaving Jans's history classroom. "Where did you go?" she asked. "You're soaked."

  Melted snow dripped from my coat, and I brushed off some of the slush. I hadn't noticed the snow coming down on me when I was talking with the borderman messenger. "Outside. I tried to go visit my mother, but she's locked herself in her tower. And it's got the Knights of Valir coming here to check up on her."

  "Really?" Mira asked. "They must be worried. The sages usually let Lady Staalvoss do what she wants, as long as she keeps to herself."

  We started walking to class, passing through the vaulted great hall. Our footfalls and the voices of the other students echoed from its rafters. "What do the sages say about my mother?" I asked. "I mean, they still teach that the Angels are agents of the Almighty, and she still heads the group that fights them."

  Mira shrugged. "They don't say much. There are rumors of course, about how your mother does it, but none of the sages will condemn her for it. I guess it's because the Angels haven't attacked. I don't think I was old enough to remember the last time one happened. It's pretty scary when one of the beasts from the forest comes into the city. That's when Vormund comes in and stops them."

  When we arrived at the relic classroom, the one that they'd reassigned after the recent debacle, a sage was waiting for me.

  "Miss Andresdatter," he said, motioning me off to the side. It was Father Kraus, the relics teacher. He had gray hair and stubby fingers, with a large nose turned ruddy in the cold. Mira gave me an encouraging smile and walked inside as I headed down the hallway with Father Kraus.

  "Yes, Father?" I asked, trying to sound innocent.

  He frowned. "I thought you knew. You've been banned from the relic classroom."

  "Banned?" I asked, my heart sinking. "But that—it was an accident! And Danelle—"

  He waved a hand. "I know all about that," he said. "She's been reprimanded for her role in this. We weren't aware that you had never used relics before."

  I swallowed. "Then . . . I can come back?" I relished the thought of getting a chance to practice with the relics.

  He sighed and motioned me closer. "Child, you nearly burned down a classroom. We cannot afford to have those kinds of accidents happen with such fragile materials. The secret to forging the relics has been lost for centuries."

  "But I'll be more careful next time," I said. "I'll keep whatever rules you want me to. I can—"

  Father Kraus waved a hand. "Enough. You seem to have considerable talent, and I'd hate for that to be wasted because of one careless beginning. But until I can be certain that you have learned proper handling of the relics, I cannot let you back in. Come back in a few weeks, and perhaps we can draw up some terms."

  I broke into a smile. "Of course, Father." My spirits lifted. Knowing the politics of the sagekeep, I realized this was the most generous offer I could have hoped for: a few weeks' banishment to serve as a firm reprimand, but an ultimate allowance back into the class. "I won't let you down."

  "Until then, spend this portion of your day studying," he said, turning back. "Perhaps you can research the relics to better prepare yourself."

  "Research?" I asked. "Where would I go?"

  "Ask one of the sages," he said, turning back to his classroom. "They can show you the way."

  He shut the door, leaving me alone in the hallway. I walked back the way I had come, watching for the next sage to ask him where I could find the sagekeep's library. The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed that my mother would forbid me from taking relics classes and then throw me into this one completely unprepared. How could I have known that Danelle would set me up for trouble? Maybe this was one of my mother's life lessons, meant to teach me by bitter experience the perils of rushing in without properly planning.

  Servants passed me in the hallway, but no sages. I reached the entrance chamber without seeing any of the robed figures. Only the liveried servants in the blue and gray of the Baron of Kant Vakt, the official vassal lord to the king. They weren't instructors like the sages, but they should also know the sagekeep. I waved to a young woman in a blue and gray dress. "I'm sorry, but do you know where the library is?"

  She gave me a quizzical look. "Library?"

  "Somewhere to find a book on relics. I've been looking for a sage, but I can't seem to find one."

  She smiled. "Oh, you must mean the keep archives. If the sages wanted you to find something, it would be there." She pointed down the hall where I had just come. "Go past the classrooms and into the west tower, and it's the first door on your right. Normally, you might find more books on relics in your mother's archives. She has one at the base of Vormund tower."

  I sighed. "Does everyone hear when someone new comes into town? I just got here yesterday."

  The servant blushed. "Forgive me. We heard Lady Staalvoss's daughter had come, and you look just like her."

  "You've seen more of her than I have," I said. "Does she come out of her tower very often?"

  "All the time. She holds council with the baron and the other stewards almost every day. That's why it's so strange that no one has seen her in three weeks."

  "Three weeks?" That had been around the time she'd sent me the letter calling me here. What would keep her locked away for three weeks? Was she even still alive?

  "The baron is worried. The Knights of Valir are here to investigate too. I think that's why you can't find any sages; they're all out greeting Father Traum. You can come see his carriage too, young Lady Staalvoss. It's quite impressive."

  I'd already seen the carriage, and from what I'd heard of Father Traum, he didn't seem like the sort who I'd want to see. "I'd better to get to my reading. I wouldn't want to bother them welcoming Father Traum into the sagekeep."

  I headed down the hallway toward the keep archives, hoping that Traum would be too busy on the day of his arrival to bother looking for a book. I entered the west tower beneath the arched doorway leading into its main chamber. A stained-glass window looked out on the world outside, where figures on rangir rode at the head of a carriage. They passed by without looking through the window, which I was glad for. The window showed a simple design of double sunbursts shining on a cottage, creating a shaft of light against the dense forest around.

  The first door opened into the vaulted keep archives. Bookshelves covered the walls, filled with more books than I'd seen in my life. I walked across the stone floor, looking from one shelf to another and trying to make sense of it. With thousands of books, how would I ever find a book on relics? The lamps were out, and no sages seemed to be around. Right, they must have all gone to greet Traum.

  The only light came through another stained-glass window that took up most of the far wall. This window showed a white-robed man with a shining face and a pair of huge eagle's wings, his hands outstretched as if to embrace us. The light reflected on a shelf beside the wall, highlighting a strange carving in the wood. It was a serpent's head. Exactly like the one in the key I'd been given.

  I took out the key and searched the side of the bookshelf, but found no keyhole. When the key touched the stone, it began to glow. A grinding sound came from the stone, and I jumped back in alarm. The serpent's head on the bookshelf was glowing as well. Are these . . . relics? The grinding stopped, and an alcove had opened up in the wall. It contained a small pile of books on a stone platform. A sheaf of papers covered them, parchment with scribbled notations and diagrams.

  In contrast to the deliberate, regal script of my mother's scribe, these notes had doodles and drawings all over them, with random marks and folds in the paper. A small, leather-bound journal among the sheaves of paper also bore the snake mark that I'd seen on the keyhole. I opened it and started reading.

  "First day in Kant Vakt. It's a beautiful city, with beautiful people. That must come from living so close to the Angels. Rumor has it that a hundred years ago, on
e in ten people in the city had seen a vision. It's a city of visionaries, no doubt, from the magnificent architecture to the masterful construction of the ships in the harbor to the talk of investments and inventors. The sagekeep towers are like majestic spires in the night. Who knows what wonders await us here? With the forest close by, I'm certain we'll find out soon enough."

  I flipped back to the inside cover to find a name, its ink faded with time, but still distinct, in the same rugged style as the journal: Maxwell Jonsson. My father. I turned the journal over in my hands in sheer awe. I could barely breathe as I ran my fingers down the leather cover. Excitement quickened my heartbeat as I thought of learning about my father, the mysterious figure my mother rarely spoke of.

  From the dates indicated, this journal must have chronicled his first coming to Kant Vakt. I had never known what drew him to the city in the first place, and how he'd become involved in that fateful first battle with the Angels. It had been the fight that took his life.

  I tucked the journal into my bag and stepped away from the alcove. The grinding sound started again, returning the space to a wall. The key stopped glowing. How had the mysterious messenger found this key? It must have belonged to my mother. I had come looking for books on relics, but a feeling that I would learn more from this one. I couldn't take it out unless I was sure no one was around, though. I didn't want to risk someone like Traum finding me with it. It would have to wait until I was safely back in my room after classes.

  I decided to spend the rest of relics class at the healers' wing. I hadn't had a proper blood draw in weeks, and was starting to feel nervous about it. I had a blood condition that required them to take two cups of blood every week, to keep it from thickening too much. I owed the treatments to my mother, who had discovered the exact amount to draw and even designed a small tube to catch it.

  The healers wore black robes, and were a different group from the teachers, so they were all in the chamber when I arrived. The chamber had the distinct smell of burning herbs, a pungent scent that didn't quite cover the odors of dead flesh that pervaded the place. Not only were they healers, but also the ones who disposed of dead beasts and buried the bodies of men and women.

  "What are you here for, child?" a black-robed man asked. He had a large forehead, thinning hair, and a long nose, and held a knife in one hand and a sack in the other. I didn't want to know what kind of dead thing was in it.

  "My blood draw. I'm Lady Staalvoss's daughter. Has she told you?"

  "Of course," the healer said, beckoning another one over. "See to her."

  "Does Andreya even know she's here?" the younger healer said.

  "She could emerge at any time. We have our orders, directly from the Steel Fox, and I would not wish her ire turned on us."

  The younger healer shrugged. "There will be plenty of places to spread ire, if the sages really open an investigation." He glanced over at me, seeming to realize I was still here, and cleared his throat. "This way, young Lady Staalvoss."

  He had me lie down on a couch while he made a neat little incision on my inner arm. The spike of pain was unpleasant, but it kept me healthy, so I didn't complain. I'd followed my mother's advice on what to eat, when to sleep, and when to have blood taken, and I'd never caught the flensu or been sick at all my entire life. So I kept taking her advice. One of the tubes caught the blood as it oozed out, while I stared at the ceiling and wrinkled my nose against the rotting carrion smell.

  The healer wrapped my arm in a bandage, even though I knew it would heal fast, and sent me on my way. The bandage made my movements awkward, but I was able to cover it with the sleeves of my coat.

  I joined Mira again for class, and we ate together in the mead hall. I hardly focused on our conversation, watching the doors whenever someone new walked in and trying to keep my bag with the journal as far under the table as possible. I bid Mira good night and returned early to my room, where I locked the door, lit the lamp on my nightstand, and sat cross-legged on my bed.

  I took out the journal and turned to the next page. The pages were filled with writing, some lines crammed so close together that I couldn't even read them. I flipped until I found a page that was less crowded, one that had a diagram of a longsword and shield with numerous lines drawn to notations on the side. The title of the page was "Relics." Some of the notes on the shield read, "resists fire" and "steel does not scratch its surface," while the notes on the sword read, "glows when near a point of Resonance" and "conducts the essence of its wielder."

  Was my father researching the relics when he came to Kant Vakt? Had that been his and my mother's key discovery, the one that had defeated the Angels? I turned to the next page and looked at the drawing he'd created. Candlelight flickered over a sketch of a faceless creature rising out of the sea, its body covered with eyes and arms sprouting clawed tentacles.

  I shut the journal and dropped it to the ground. What was that drawing? I thought of accounts of the first Angel attack. Monsters had risen from the sea and the depths of the forest to strike at us. Could this be one of them?

  I put the journal on my bookshelf and settled in for an uneasy sleep. Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw two images: the Angel that had appeared to me in the forest, and the monster my father had drawn in his journal. If the Angels were returning, were there monsters returning as well?