City of Wind (Steel and Fire Book 4)

by Jordan Rivet

  “What is it?”

  “It’s Wyla again. She wants me back.”

  “Now?” Siv said. “We just got here.”

  “It has been more than an hour.”

  “There’s no way time has gone by that quickly.”

  “I’d better head back to the manor,” Dara said, disentangling herself from Siv’s arms. “She must know where I am.”

  Siv caught her right hand in both of his and held it gently, as if he could draw Wyla’s power from it with his touch. Even his warmth did nothing to thaw the cold of the Watermight bond.

  “She can’t keep doing this to you,” he said.

  “It’ll be over in a few months.”

  “I’ll get you away from her.” He held her arm almost reverently. She’d noticed he did that sometimes, as if swearing a sacred vow on her flesh and bone. “Maybe another Waterworker—”

  “I can’t make her angry,” Dara said. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

  Siv released her arm at last. “I might stick around for a few minutes,” he said. “I want to find out why Khrillin invited me.”

  “It’s not safe to leave you alone,” Dara said. “I’d better stay to guard—”

  “Dara,” Siv said with a chuckle. “You’re not my guard anymore, remember? I can take care of myself.”

  “But—”

  “You can’t watch out for me all the time.” He glanced around the crowd of revelers. “Besides, I might make a friend or two here. A powerful friend.”

  Dara hesitated. “Vine always says that’s important.”

  “Vine is wise. I’ll see if I can find out more about Wyla from someone who isn’t in her camp too.”

  It was hard to get used to the idea that Siv didn’t need her protection—any more than she needed his, at any rate. They looked out for each other now, and she needed to trust him. “Just be careful,” she said. “You don’t want Khrillin to think you’re Wyla’s spy.”

  “I’ll be as stealthy as a marrkrat.” Siv escorted her toward the corridor, arm tight around her waist. “Unless you want me to walk you home?”

  “No, you’re right. You should learn what you can from Khrillin.”

  Siv leaned in and kissed her gently. “When can I see you again?”

  “I’ll send word through Vine or Rid. Don’t go climbing around the manor house anymore.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And maybe sometime you can come see me fight.”

  “I’d like that.” Dara stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “See you soon.”

  She hurried out of the manor house as another icy wave swept through her arm. Wyla didn’t like to be kept waiting.

  11.

  The Waterlord

  SIV watched Dara go, disappointment curling through him. He hated that she had to jump whenever Wyla threatened her with that arm-curse thing. And he hated that he was powerless to help her.

  He looked around the opulent ballroom, with its crystal candlesticks and finely dressed guests. He wondered if any of them would be willing to sponsor him somehow until he earned enough gold to free her. Vertigonian duelists always got patrons to support their training. Maybe it was time the practice caught on in the Steel Pentagons of Pendark.

  He meandered through the crowd, taking little notice of the colorful gowns swirling around him. None of these women could compare to Dara. He had nearly fainted when she strode up to him in that red dress, looking as ready for battle as ever. He had seen people staring at her, and he wasn’t sure she even realized it. He felt like the luckiest man alive to be the one who’d gotten to dance with her all night. Or at least for part of the night.

  The party didn’t feel nearly as lavish without her there. He had stayed behind hoping he could get Khrillin to do something about Wyla’s bond, but the man was no doubt busy entertaining his many quests. Maybe he should wait for a different opportunity to speak with him. There was still time to catch up with Dara before she boarded the canal boat.

  As he turned for the door, he spotted a familiar profile through the crowd. A man of around forty with sandy-blond hair was leaning against one of the tall tables. He wore a fine red coat, and he was scanning the crowd as if looking for someone. Vex Rollendar.

  Siv dove behind a nearby candelabrum. It was made of glass. That’s not helpful. Vex’s gaze swept his way. He retreated behind a group of somewhat inebriated women, who gathered in a circle toasting each other with crystal goblets. They turned to look at him, giggling madly.

  He needed to get out of here. Vex’s table was near the double doors. Could he sneak by in the crowd? He didn’t think Vex would try anything at someone else’s party. In fact, the man looked a little gray in the face. He had taken a nasty gut wound during the fight at headquarters. He must still be recovering. But he could have allies here, and Siv wasn’t interested in facing them alone.

  He darted through the crowd, dodging from group to group as inconspicuously as possible. He spotted Dellario across the room—too far away to be of any assistance. If anything, he might call attention to Siv’s presence.

  He eased closer to the doors and glanced back at the standing table. Vex was no longer there. Damn. The fellow was more slippery than a panviper. He broke into a jog, hand resting on his sword hilt. Almost there.

  He burst through the doors into the corridor and turned for the exit. A white-clad figure stepped into his path.

  “Ah, Siv the Slugger,” Khrillin said. “What happened to your pretty companion?”

  “She had to leave early,” Siv said, trying to look as though he weren’t running away.

  “Shame, shame,” Khrillin said. “I was about to retire to my study for a nip of my finest brandy. Care to join me?”

  Siv looked around furtively. There was no sign of that sandy-blond head in the corridor. Where was Vex? Had he seen Siv trying to leave? He could be waiting to pounce the moment he stepped outside.

  Khrillin cleared his throat impatiently. Siv started. It might be wise to lie low in the Waterlord’s study for a few minutes. At least he’d get some decent brandy out of it.

  “I’d love a drink,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Siv followed the Waterlord as he wove among the guests lingering in the corridor, stopping often to press hands and compliment outfits. He introduced Siv to a few people, praising his recent triumphs in the Steel Pentagon. The Waterlord reminded Siv of Lady Atria. She loved to collect influential people: lords and ladies, Fireworkers, tradesmen, even the occasional duelist. Khrillin must have identified Siv as a potential jewel to add to his glittering crown of friends. Still, he wished they’d move a little faster. Vex could still catch him.

  At last Khrillin led the way up a broad staircase at the back of the house to the second floor. A couple canoodling on the stairs shifted out of their way as they rounded a bend at the top. Siv wished Dara had been able to stay longer. He wouldn’t have minded finding a staircase on which to canoodle. That red dress . . .

  Wrapped up in thoughts of Dara, it didn’t occur to Siv that it might be a bad idea to enter a room alone with this stranger until the door clicked shut behind him. He reached for his sword hilt, but Khrillin simply strode over to a massive darkwood desk. He waved for Siv to sit and poured them each a glass of amber brandy from a decanter on the desk. He pushed one of the crystal glasses over to Siv and raised the other.

  “To our new friendship.”

  “Thanks for inviting me to your party.” Siv took a sip of the brandy, which was every bit as fine as Khrillin had promised.

  “My pleasure,” the Waterlord said. “Now, I am a frightfully curious soul. Do tell me what it was like to be the King of Vertigon.”

  Siv choked. The brandy burned like Fire as it came out of his nostrils.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spluttered.

  “Come now, there’s no need to play games.” Khrillin smiled. “We’re going to be great friends, you and I.”

  Siv’s hand went to his blade. The Waterlord shook his head
and made a tutting sound. “There’s no need for that. I have skilled fighters waiting to cut you down if you lift a finger against me. You’re a good fighter, but not that good, Your Highness. I suggest you don’t risk it.”

  “What do you want?” Siv didn’t let go of his sword hilt.

  “To be friends, of course.”

  “Friends.”

  “Indeed. Friends who help each other.” Khrillin sipped his brandy placidly. “I believe you and I can have a mutually beneficial relationship. If you are interested, that is.”

  “How did you find out about me?”

  “I have my sources.”

  Siv frowned, wondering if Vex Rollendar was to blame. Could he have ingratiated himself with one of the most powerful Waterworkers in the city that quickly? Siv was glad Dara had left when she did. But if Vex was involved, why wasn’t Siv already dead?

  “What do you say?” Khrillin prompted. “Shall we be friends?”

  “That depends.”

  “On?”

  “Whether we actually have mutually beneficial interests. That’s a requirement for friendship, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Indeed.” Khrillin raised his empty glass. “Another brandy?”

  Siv tossed back his remaining portion and held his glass out for another. The man clearly wanted something from him. He wouldn’t poison Siv now. Besides, it was good brandy.

  “Before we begin,” Khrillin said, “could you clarify whether you are trying to get yourself killed in the Steel Pentagon? Our friendship will be short if you die.”

  “Uh, I wasn’t planning on it,” Siv said.

  “Good, good.” The Waterlord sipped from his own brandy and put his white leather boots up on his desk. “And you intend to return to Vertigon to reclaim your throne?”

  Siv didn’t much care about his throne. He was tempted to extract Sora from Vertigon and leave the place in the Lantern Maker’s hands for good. But he had to make things right somehow—and he had a feeling this fellow was in it for the friendship of a once and future king.

  “I have to return to Vertigon.”

  A hungry gleam flickered in the Waterlord’s eyes. “Then I think our interests align. I’m still not certain why you are fighting in the pen, though, if it isn’t some dramatic suicide plan. Perhaps you can enlighten me.”

  “My interests,” Siv said, “require a fair bit of gold. This seemed like the best way to get it.”

  Khrillin burst out laughing. “You’re doing it for the money? Oh, I like you!”

  Siv cleared his throat. “Well, I would consider other means, if the exchange was fair.”

  The Waterlord looked pleased. “I believe research is in order before I officially back your endeavor, but consider me interested. As we get to know each other, we can discuss what form my aid might take.”

  “Fair enough,” Siv said. “I’d better do some research of my own.” He sipped his brandy, meeting Khrillin’s eyes steadily. He wouldn’t accept a copper from the Waterlord until he found out what it would cost him. Still, this felt like a fortuitous meeting. He kind of liked the man. Khrillin was about as trustworthy as a povvercat in a chicken coop, but he liked him.

  “Shall we return to the party?” Khrillin said. “I can introduce you to another lady or two now that your companion has departed.”

  “Actually, I have a big training day planned tomorrow. Thanks for the brandy.”

  “My pleasure. I’ll be in touch soon so we can discuss our future together in more detail. I look forward to our friendship.”

  “As do I.”

  Siv stood and strode for the door. His hand had just touched the knob when the Waterlord spoke again.

  “One more thing, Your Highness. I don’t want to hear that you’ve been seeking other alliances behind my back. I might have to let your little secret slip. Some of the other powers in this city would not be interested in friendship if they learned of your presence here.”

  “Understood,” Siv said. “Anonymity suits me for the moment.”

  “I thought it might. And be wary of the Waterworkers. All of them.”

  Siv looked back at Khrillin. He hadn’t moved from his desk, but beads of silver-white light had appeared at his fingertips.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The Waterlord smiled.

  Siv left the manor house as quickly as he could without running—and without accidently bumping into Vex Rollendar. He had been afraid the Waterlord would put some sort of bargain spell on him as Wyla had done to Dara. He’d have to be careful not to cross Khrillin. The next Waterworker who cornered him might not let him walk away so easily.

  12.

  Fire and Water

  DARA ran all the way back to the manor. Cold shot through her arm twice more on her journey, as if to prompt her to hurry. By the time she reached Wyla’s district, her arm felt as if it might freeze solid and break off.

  Siln was waiting for her at the manor door, a grim expression on his face.

  “She is in her study,” he said.

  “Is she mad?”

  Siln gave a dry laugh. “I would hurry if I were you.”

  Dara gritted her teeth and darted up the stairs, wishing she were wearing anything but a bloodred party dress. The door creaked as she entered Wyla’s study. Most of the Fire Lanterns had been covered up, and the room was cloaked in shadow. Dara didn’t see Wyla until she was halfway across the room.

  The Waterworker was waiting beside the window, staring into the inky night.

  “I’m here,” Dara said. “You never told me I couldn’t go out at night. If you’d given me clearer instructions, you wouldn’t have to—”

  “Silence!” Wyla whirled toward her, and Dara stopped dead. Wyla’s eyes were solid silver, as if Watermight had filled her up and coated them completely. Her olive skin seemed to boil with the power bubbling beneath it.

  “You were not simply out,” Wyla hissed. “You went to the home of Khrillin the Waterlord.”

  There was no point in denying it. Dara wasn’t sure if she had been followed or if Wyla could sense her exact location through her arm, but she knew better than to lie.

  “Khrillin is my greatest rival,” Wyla said. The anger in her voice was like a living thing, dark and solid. “Did you think you could take what you have learned of me and use it to buy favor with my enemies?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Dara said.

  “I’ve experienced treachery in my day,” Wyla said, “but I thought you were smarter than that. I never dreamed you would risk the use of your sword arm. I will show you what it means to betray me.”

  “Wait!” Dara stumbled backward as Wyla raised her hands and her fingertips began to glow. “It was just a party! My friend invited me to a party! I didn’t know—”

  Watermight erupted from Wyla’s fingertips and streaked toward Dara. The power flew like an arrow directly toward her heart.

  Dara didn’t have time to think. She sucked the Fire from the Firebulb in her belt pouch and flung it up in front of her, forming it into a rough shield. The Watermight streams struck the shield, and white light exploded outward, followed by a shockwave strong enough to knock Dara back a step.

  Wyla hissed in anger and sent a second volley of Watermight at her. Desperately, Dara threw up both hands to block it.

  The silvery substance struck Dara’s palms, stinging like needles. She gasped but kept her hands raised, trying to stop the needles from driving into her body. Both hands went cold and numb.

  But the chill didn’t progress any further than her palms. Sweat broke out on Dara’s forehead as she pushed against what felt like a mountain’s worth of pressure, sure her wrists would break.

  The Watermight attack ceased. Dara kept her hands up in case Wyla tried again. The numbness hadn’t abated, and she realized with a start that her fingernails were glowing silver-white.

  “How are you doing that?” Wyla demanded.

  “I don’t know. I needed you to listen. It was just a party
that I—”

  “I don’t care about the party.” Wyla stepped closer, the anger gone from her eyes as if it had never been there. “Pay attention to what you are feeling. Describe it to me.”

  “Uh, I feel numb. It’s only in my hands. I was trying to keep the needles of Watermight from entering my body.”

  “Needles? Interesting. Tell me more.”

  Dara answered automatically, feeling as if she were speaking through a fog. “I’m pushing against something, something as solid as a brick wall. It’s not like the Fire. The Fire flows into me. It moves underneath my skin. This is like my muscles have turned to ice.”

  “Hold onto that feeling as long as you can.” Wyla yanked the cover off the nearest Fire Lantern and bent down to scribble notes on a piece of parchment. “What were your emotions? You wanted to defend yourself?”

  “Yes, and it wasn’t fair. I didn’t go to that manor to see the Waterlord. I wanted to spend a little time with my friend. I wasn’t betraying you.”

  “And you felt my accusations were unjust?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fascinating.” Wyla scribbled gleefully. “Give me more.”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking that much. Wait, something’s happening.” The silver glow drained from Dara’s fingertips, and silvery droplets of Watermight fell from her hands and sprinkled onto the floorboards at her feet.

  “It’s normal for it to slip away like that when you are first learning,” Wyla said. “You just held Watermight, child. Do you know what this means?”

  “I’m not in trouble for going out?”

  Wyla barked a laugh. “I believe you didn’t intend to betray me. You wouldn’t have felt such righteous indignation otherwise. But you are lucky Khrillin did not know who you are. You were in danger in that house as one of my associates. I don’t want you to return, or to socialize with any of his people. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dara hesitated, wondering if Siv counted as one of the Waterlord’s people. “What about my friend?”