City of Wind (Steel and Fire Book 4)

by Jordan Rivet

  As if reading his thoughts, the Waterlord put another slice of sugar mushroom on Siv’s plate and said, “Now then, shall we discuss what we can do for each other? Especially in regards to a certain lost kingdom.”

  “I think it’s about that time.”

  Siv waited, hoping Khrillin would play his hand first. His father had taught him that the first person to speak in a negotiation always lost. He held Khrillin’s eyes too. That was something he’d picked up from Dara. It seemed to help in the pen. Why not here?

  Khrillin gazed back at him, apparently in no hurry. Before either of them could break the silence, the restaurant doors flew open with a bang. A sudden hush accompanied the gust of wind.

  Khrillin and Siv looked over at the newcomer at the same time. Siv reached for his sword. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been attacked while trying to enjoy a drink and a meal. But he didn’t know the man who crossed the restaurant toward them. He had a wide girth, with a bald head and bare arms marked with silvery tattoos not created by any ink Siv had ever seen. Despite his corpulent figure, he moved with the grace of a povvercat on a wire. His eyes glowed silver-white.

  Siv tightened his grip on his sword hilt, but Khrillin caught his eye and shook his head slightly.

  The mysterious Waterworker stalked across the restaurant, his heavy boots pounding on the wood floor. Every eye in the establishment turned to watch his progress. Judging by the furtive looks cast toward their own table, Siv understood that no one would have bothered to watch this man walk across the restaurant if Khrillin hadn’t been present.

  When the stranger was within five feet, he abruptly turned and sat at the table nearest theirs. Khrillin made a sound in his throat, somewhere between exasperation and scorn.

  “Just do it, you gutterfeeder,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ve had enough of this.”

  The newcomer folded his arms over his broad stomach, making the silver tattoos catch the light. He proceeded to stare directly at Khrillin while he worked his way through a full pitcher of wine and a meal equal to the one Khrillin and Siv had consumed together.

  The man’s presence made it impossible for them to continue discussing sensitive matters, and Khrillin grew visibly irritated. They resumed their conversation about food and foreign lands as they quickly finished their meal. As Siv popped the last piece of bell melon into his mouth, Khrillin stood and slammed some coins on the table. He strode over to the stranger’s table and slammed an identical pile of coins down there as well.

  “This is my favorite restaurant,” he said. “You won’t take it from me.”

  The stranger smiled, and Siv saw a bit of food clinging between his broad, white teeth.

  “You’re leaving first, aren’t you?”

  Khrillin stiffened, and for a moment, Siv thought he might hit the fellow. Instead, he waved a hand almost casually and strode toward the door. The stranger’s eyes began to bulge, and a web of molten silver leaked from his eyes. He gasped, scratching at his face with his fingernails as the silver threads spread outward, wrapping around his head, squeezing tighter. Siv recoiled in horror. People in the restaurant stood up to get a better look, eager to witness the torturous progress of the silver web. Siv turned on his heel and hurried after Khrillin. He didn’t need to see the rest.

  Khrillin was waiting for him on the porch outside the restaurant, breathing heavily. Siv considered making a break for it, but Khrillin clearly wasn’t in a mood to be toyed with right now. He waited.

  After a few minutes, Khrillin’s muscles relaxed.

  “It’s harder than it looks,” he said.

  “Sorry?”

  “Taking Watermight from another person and using it against them. I just wanted a nice meal and a chat with my new friend.” Khrillin scowled and glanced back inside the restaurant, where people clustered around the stranger. Some of Khrillin’s ostentatious charm was missing, and Siv wondered how much of it was an act.

  “That fellow thought he was safe because he had Watermight with him when he entered?” Siv asked.

  “Correct. He should have known I will not be intimidated.” Khrillin rolled his shoulders. “After all my time here, all my efforts to cultivate friendships, these upstarts still think they can challenge my position.” He fixed his eyes on Siv. “I wish to leave Pendark,” he said. “I’ve built up significant amounts of capital, and I am looking for an appropriate place to invest it where I can be assured a peaceful retirement.”

  “I see now,” Siv said. “You think Vertigon is the place.”

  “Vertigon as it was,” Khrillin said. “Ruled by the Amintelles. I understand you’ve had trouble there of late, but if you prove to be half the man your father was, I believe Vertigon can once more become a haven. If you guarantee I may live out my days with an appropriate degree of influence and comfort, perhaps with a nice greathouse overlooking the fabled Fissure and a place in your royal court, I will fund your campaign to retake it.”

  Siv studied the man. Had he truly tired of the endless turmoil in Pendark? Siv hadn’t thought Khrillin was particularly old, but he wondered if that had something to do with his Watermight abilities. If it could seal and heal wounds, could it smooth wrinkles? His luxurious black beard could very well be dyed. He could be old enough to seek a peaceful retirement in Vertigon. But did Siv believe Khrillin’s story?

  One thing he had said stood out.

  “You said if I’m half the man my father was. Did you know him?”

  Khrillin inclined his head. “I knew Sevren. Did he tell you of his travels here in his youth?” He gave a smile that could only be described as salacious.

  “I suspect it was a less colorful version of the truth,” Siv said. Pendark could be a raucous, debauched place for a young man of means.

  “Well said, my friend, well said.” Khrillin leaned against the porch rail, and his voice softened. “Actually, I considered Sevren a friend. He did me a good turn, me and another friend from my university days. I believe you know Zage Lorrid?”

  Siv missed a beat. “The Fire Warden.” He knew Khrillin was using these revelations for effect, but the memory of his old teacher was like a blow straight to the chest.

  “One and the same. We got on well, Sevren, Zage, and I. And then there was your father’s bodyguard. What was his name?”

  “Bandobar,” Siv whispered. He was finding it difficult to catch his breath.

  “Bandobar! That’s the one. Your father was in the habit of helping out unfortunate souls, no matter what danger he got Bandobar and himself into. He might be the only genuinely noble man I’ve met.”

  Siv stared at Khrillin, wanting desperately to believe it was true. He had admired his father more than anyone else in the world. Any other tests he could have administered to assess the Waterworker’s trustworthiness paled in comparison to this.

  A commotion came from within the restaurant as the rotund Waterworker thudded to the floor.

  “We’d best move on,” Khrillin said. “His friends won’t like this, no matter who started it. I don’t fancy being caught alone. I’ll have to lay low for the next few days anyway until they decide it isn’t worth jumping me and escalating things further.” Khrillin sighed deeply, as if to emphasize how tired he was of the Pendarkan Watermight squabbles. “What do you say to my proposal?”

  Siv held out a hand. If Khrillin had truly been his father’s friend, he couldn’t think of a better person to help him retake his throne. “I’d say we have a deal.”

  Khrillin smiled and extended his own hand. He had an honest handshake, firm and strong, like Siv’s father’s. And he didn’t try to bind him with a Watermight curse. That was a definite vote in his favor.

  Before they parted ways, Khrillin promised once more to look into Vex Rollendar’s plans. Siv would wait to see what came of Khrillin’s investigations before discussing Dara with him. He needed more evidence that the Waterlord would follow through on his promises before asking for aid with someone far more important than Vex Rolle
ndar.

  They said farewell at the docks, taking different paths to their respective districts. As Siv squeezed onto a boat bound for the Smokery District, he fought down the tide of emotions that rose at the thought of his father floating along these very waterways. He couldn’t allow the Waterworker to use his father’s memory to play him. Even so, he sincerely hoped Khrillin was telling the truth about their long-ago friendship.

  16.

  Sunset Lands

  SELIVIA chased the little purlendog through the dusty streets of Sunset City. Flashes of bright yellow flitted around the ankles of passersby. Selivia shouted apologies as she pushed past them, trying to catch up with the elusive creature. She already regretted naming the puppy Lightning Bug.

  “Come back, Lightning! Wait for me!”

  A strong wind blew through the streets, slowing her down. She had wrapped her scarf around her face to keep the sand out of her eyes, but the grit worked its way in anyway.

  The wind didn’t deter Lightning Bug at all. Selivia lost sight of him and skidded to a halt to try to get her bearings. She had turned a few times as she chased the little scamp through the streets. A riot of colorful curtains and awnings surrounded her, their patterns unfamiliar. Which way was the Tovenarov house?

  Sand collected at her feet as she spun in a slow circle, hunting for her pet. She was normally good with animals, but this one was certainly keeping her guessing.

  There! A tuft of bright-yellow fur stuck out from behind a tall rock at the intersection between two roads. Paintings covered the full length of the rock: fanciful creatures of red and orange. The last one had magenta flowers in a field of yellow, and the one before that had ladies in azure dresses. The one nearest Ananova’s house had a vivid green dragon leaping out of a pond. Selivia thought these rocks were mile markers to help with navigation through the city, but she hadn’t yet learned to interpret them.

  Selivia crept up to the standing stone, hoping Lightning Bug wouldn’t smell her too soon. She couldn’t figure out whether he thought they were playing a game or if he simply enjoyed tormenting her. All three tails wagged enthusiastically when he popped out from behind the stone.

  She snuck closer. A few more steps. Suddenly, a tall figure wearing a broad-brimmed hat appeared out of the gale and swept the purlendog into his arms.

  “Oh!” Selivia stumbled back in surprise. “Um, thank you. I was just looking for him.” She held out her arms for her pet.

  The stranger didn’t move. He had narrow shoulders and large, wrinkly hands. His hat shadowed his face, but she got a vague impression of craggy features and pale, piercing eyes. He stared down at her, holding Lightning Bug firmly around the middle.

  Selivia cleared her throat. “I can take him, sir.”

  The stranger continued to stare.

  “Sorry to be a bother,” she said nervously. “I—”

  “Take care where the Air leads, child.”

  “What?”

  “The Air will tell you,” he said. “Take heed when it speaks.” He handed her the puppy and loped away.

  Selivia frowned after him. She was starting to dislike the Far Plains Air Sensors. Why did they all have to be so cryptic? From her very first morning in the City of Wind, Air Sensors had been seeking her out. Zala’s warning to be wary of their riddles didn’t even begin to cover the convoluted hints and effervescent statements they made to her on a daily basis. Whenever she encountered a Sensor, recognizable by their dreamy demeanors and enigmatic words, they always warned her to listen to the Air’s leading. The only trouble was the Air hadn’t actually told her to do anything. She didn’t understand why they were singling her out. She had tried sitting in meditation with Ananova, but it was terribly dull, and she hadn’t heard anything resembling real instructions. If the Air wanted her to do something, it was going to have to speak a little louder.

  Selivia’s arrival wasn’t the only thing to cause a stir amongst the Air Sensors. The messages they were accustomed to receiving by listening to the wind had been garbled ever since their counterparts to the south used the Air to protect Kurn Pass and the Linden Mountains border. The disruptions had gotten worse since the Stronghold fell. It must be making the Sensors antsy.

  Selivia had been too busy exploring the Sunset City, training her new pet, and practicing the Far Plains tongue to worry too much about ethereal messages. It was a beautiful place, colorful and mysterious. She could live here for years without fully understanding it. She still wasn’t very good at finding her way through the windy streets, but she felt safe here.

  With Lightning Bug firmly in hand once more, she let the gale push her back the way she’d come. If she wandered in the right general direction for long enough, she’d come across a landmark or painted standing stone she recognized. Busy scanning nearby houses for familiar features, she didn’t notice when someone fell into step with her.

  “You’re late.”

  Selivia jumped. Ivran, Zala’s cousin, strolled along beside her as if he’d been there all afternoon.

  “Zala has been looking for you.”

  “I was lost.”

  “How can you get lost here?” He flipped his hair out of his eyes and looked down his long, straight nose at her. “You just follow the standing stones.”

  “Follow them where?”

  “Colors outward, symbols around. It’s easy.”

  “Huh?”

  Ivran gave her a longsuffering look. “The city is a wheel.” The patient condescension in his voice made Selivia’s skin crawl. “The colors on the stones go from sun-yellow in the center all the way to midnight-blue at the outskirts. The symbols are the same shooting out from the middle like spokes in a wheel. To walk to the boundary stones from the middle, you pick a symbol and follow it through all the colors of the sunset.”

  “That’s . . . kind of beautiful,” Selivia said.

  Ivran shrugged and jerked his head for her to follow him. He kicked up sand with every step as he led the way back toward his mother’s house. Selivia wondered if there was some way to break through his sullen exterior. Everyone else in the Far Plains had been very nice to her—well, when they weren’t confusing her like the Air Sensors.

  “It is a little unusual,” Selivia said. “The colors and symbols. They use the names of historical figures and famous racehorses in Rallion City, and in Fork—”

  “I don’t care what they do in Rallion City,” Ivran snapped.

  Selivia raised an eyebrow.

  “You Trurens always think you know the best way to do everything,” Ivran said.

  “I didn’t say it was best,” Selivia said. “Just different. Besides, you’re more Truren than . . . never mind.” Zala’s extended family didn’t know her identity. She was beginning to wonder if the Air Sensors did, though. Little good that did her when none of them would speak to her in straight sentences.

  “I’m no Truren,” Ivran spat. “It’s best you figure that out now.”

  “Okay, okay.” Selivia didn’t want to get into an argument. She wasn’t used to people not liking her—and she didn’t enjoy the feeling. She resolved to be extra nice to Ivran. She plastered on a smile. “Thank you for showing me the way home.”

  Ivran glanced down at her, and she smiled wider. She’d make him crack yet.

  “Whatever,” he muttered, some of the aggression dissipating from his voice.

  They walked in silence for a few minutes. A group of Air Sensors strolled by. One after another, they slowed to look her up and down. They continued on without speaking this time, heading toward the slopes of the Rock where they held their meditation sessions. She wished they would just tell her what they wanted.

  Suddenly Ivran stopped and whirled to face her.

  “I want to show you something.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll see. It’s better than a silly little purlendog.”

  Selivia clutched Lightning Bug tighter. “Where is it?”

  “In the desert beyond the boundary st
ones.”

  “There’s no way I’m going out there with you.” She may want to be nice, but there were limits.

  “You won’t regret it,” Ivran said. “Zala will never show you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about my cousin.” Ivran sighed dramatically. “I suppose she’s right not to tell you everything.”

  Selivia didn’t want to rise to his taunts, but she couldn’t help feeling curious. “What isn’t she telling me?”

  Ivran grinned, the expression somehow unpleasant on his fine features. “Do you want to see it or not?”

  Selivia hesitated. She was desperately curious. The truth was that Zala hadn’t told her much about what lay in the desert outside the city. She also refused to help her parse out the Air Sensors’ cryptic messages. Selivia felt as if she were being coddled like a premature kitten—when she wasn’t being ambushed by scary old Sensors in big hats.

  “Well?” Ivran prompted.

  Wind gusted in the street, blowing sand against her cheek. The Sensors had told her to follow the Air wherever it led. Was it possible Ivran could show her what the Air wanted her to know?

  Her curiosity got the better of her at last. “All right, then. Show me.”

  “We’ll leave after sunset. Excuse yourself to use the waterhouse when everyone goes in, and I’ll come meet you. Don’t tell anyone.” Ivran flashed a puzzling grin and hurried ahead.

  It was all Selivia could do to keep up with him. She tried to take note of the standing stones as they made their way back to the Tovenarov house. When they found one with a pale-green dragon, she figured they’d reached the correct street. Sure enough, Ivran turned and led her past two more leaping-dragon standing stones in successively darker shades of green before they arrived at the house at last.

  Lightning Bug scrambled out of her arms and darted to join his siblings. The other purlendogs yapped happily, still trying out their immature voices. Selivia could hardly wait until they were old enough to sing.