The Chasm Gate didn’t lead to Jaliss at all, but rather the Atal strongholds wedged deep in the Icethorn Mountains. Near the gate’s massive iron portcullis, we stopped and inspected the guards. By custom, neither of the gate sentries met our eyes. Fists to chests they stomped their feet to acknowledge our arrival.
Beside the gate, a narrow staircase climbed to the wall's top. I felt the effort in my thighs as I tramped up the steps. Behind me, Vaness didn’t even get winded. She’d always been the fittest among us, probably because she worked the hardest at it.
From the top of the wall, the view never failed to fill me with longing. From the Chasm Gate, an impossibly high bridge connected Steelhold to a narrow road that wound into the craggy peaks at its back. Vaness joined me at the rail overlooking the gorge between Steelhold’s perch and the mountains beyond. With a smirk, she hawked and spat.
“Charming,” I said, knowing she’d only done it to get a reaction.
She laughed, a rare sound. Something had put her in a good mood. Maybe it was the resounding defeat she’d handed Donevin while practicing with staves yesterday. I resisted the sudden urge to drop an affectionate arm over her shoulders. Most likely, she’d be horrified if I tried.
“Shall we?” she asked, blue eyes squinted against the sun.
“Duty calls.”
In truth, the patrol was ridiculous. Three dozen guards stood atop the wall, each pressing fists to chests as we passed. If an attack happened while we were up here, no doubt we’d be herded into the safety of the palace. And after Ascension, none of us would dare expose themselves up here. But seeing as I’d spent my whole life inside Steelhold, leaving only for an occasional tour of the city, these walks were the closest I came to freedom. I had no plans to mention how purposeless they were.
Along the front wall, we looked over the capital. Tens of thousands of people, Atal and Prov, lived in Jaliss. From our vantage, people and horses were nothing but insects. Pressed close to Steelhold’s cliffs, the massive homes of the elite-class families looked like toy blocks. At this height, it was easy to ignore the misery that most of the citizens of the Empire endured. Well, easier anyway.
From behind, I heard shouts and whirled to see two men shoving each other on the grounds below. Delivery carts stood abandoned, one with root vegetables and the other holding pottery. One of the men cocked a fist and slammed the other in the gut.
Moments later, metal clanged as a protector ran to the scene. Without hesitation, he backhanded the man who’d thrown the punch, iron-studded glove slicing the man’s face as his head snapped back. The Prov crumpled, boneless and bleeding, to the ground.
My gaze flicked to Vaness in time to see her wince. Pity? Or was she simply imagining the feeling of a metal glove smacking her face? Almost instantly, a snarl of disdain replaced her grimace.
“Even with the Decree of Functions to guide them, Provs still lack the self-control of a civilized race,” she said.
I flinched inwardly. She didn’t really think that, did she?
When I looked down on the scene again, I straightened in surprise. Twelve ministers served Emperor Tovmeil, dividing the work of implementing the Emperor’s edicts. The members of the Ministry were reclusive, but when they emerged from their hall, it often meant difficult times for the Scions. Perhaps because they’d endured twenty-one years as Scions themselves, they wished to pass on the misery. I’d been beaten as punishment more than once when I’d said something which displeased a minister.
The man standing below was the worst. According to rumors, even the other ministers found Brevt sadistic. As the fallen man bled on Steelhold’s granite, Minister Brevt stood over him, a feral smile contorting his face.
After a moment, he looked up and locked eyes with me, his grin widening. I contained a shudder and turned away.
“Let’s go,” I said, holding down the sickness that rose from my stomach. The Prov who’d been struck still hadn’t risen. Quite possibly, they’d have to wheel him out of the Hold in his own delivery cart, abandoning both at the bottom of the ascent trail for his widow to discover. Or maybe Minister Brevt would have the body dropped from the top of the walls. Of all the ministers, he chose such demonstrations most frequently, claiming they kept the Provs in line.
Vaness had already turned and continued on, indifferent to the scene or at least appearing that way. I hurried to catch up.
As we rounded the final corner of our walk, I slowed, reluctant to leave the wall and its fresh breezes. Plus, once I returned to my chambers, I’d have no choice but to contemplate my audience with the Emperor.
“Hey Vaness,” I said, knowing my tone was less casual than I hoped, “do you ever wonder who will Ascend?”
Her lips twisted in amusement. “What kind of question is that? Of course I wonder. Shouldn’t it be on all our minds?”
“I mean—of course we all want to be chosen. But you ever think about our differences? What kind of rulers we’d make?”
Her brows drew together as she peered at me, suspicious. “Why?”
I gritted my teeth. I shouldn’t have asked. “Nevermind. I guess I am just in a philosophical mood.”
Vaness snorted. “You? The man who demolished a training dummy in four slashes last week? I never figured you for a philosopher. But to answer your question, yes, I have thought about the kind of emperors we’d be. I’ll say this: if you Ascend, I feel sorry for any Provincials who dare defy your rule.”
Despite myself, I raised my eyebrows in shock. “Me? Why?”
“Do you really need to ask? Because you’re the most ruthless among us, of course. If anyone is capable of putting Provs and rebels in their place, it’s you.”
I felt as if ice water filled my chest. Me, ruthless? Sure, I strove to appear hard. We all did. But I thought that Vaness, at least, could see through me. After all, she had kissed me. But if she thought I was this merciless Scion yet had still found me attractive, what did that say about her? I’d always thought we had similar secrets regarding our views on the Empire.
Apparently not.
She nudged me in the shoulder. “I just gave you the biggest compliment a Scion can receive, and you’re standing there like a mule that’s been knocked in the head. Get over yourself, Kostan. Everyone knows you’re the best among us. We’re just hoping the brands don’t figure it out.”
I steeled my face into an expressionless mask. “Then I’ll have to hope our scars will agree with your assessment.”
Chapter Eight
Savra
Beside the coastal road, Cosmal Peninsula
“I HAVE TO get back!” I shoved Havialo as he tried to grab my shoulders.
“You can’t,” he said. “And you can’t help them now.”
Swaying on my feet, I stumbled across dusty ruts toward Numintown and the smoke plume. “My family is back there.”
“Savra… My men went to find your mother and sister. They’ll guide your family to a sanctuary.”
When I whirled to look at him, my heel caught. I fell hard, jarring my spine as I landed on my rear. Havialo looked down at me with a strange mix of frustration and pity. In the late afternoon light, I noticed that his eyes weren’t the gray color they’d appeared under candlelight, but rather a light sea green.
My chest ached with the helplessness. “A sanctuary where? What about everyone else?” I thought of the other townsfolk, families like mine who spent long days bent over the sluice boxes or pacing the tide lines in hopes of earning another month’s food. Careworn faces, bodies reduced to sinew and leathery skin. Not everyone in Numintown had been my friend, but they were still my community.
Stiffly, Havialo extended a hand. He grasped my wrist and lifted me from the road. “I’m sure most of them fled. There weren’t many protectors with the party. Their point made, the Registry delegation will move on quickly. But I must be honest. The survivors may wish they’d been killed outright. Once a town falls under rationing, starvation o
ften follows.”
It was too much to take in. I closed my eyes as my head spun.
“Why burn the town?” I asked. This had something to do with me, I knew it. Otherwise, why would the geognost send people to lead my family away?
“It’s pointless to try to understand the Empire’s motives.” The mage’s hand was surprisingly gentle on my shoulder as he nudged me forward.
Dust puffed from my feet as I shuffled. Edging through the break in the thicket, I pulled my clothing close to keep it from snagging. About thirty paces from the road, the horses snorted in a small clearing.
“I need a better answer,” I said, pulling together the remnants of my wits. “You know why they burned Numintown. You thought it might happen. I can’t just follow you without understanding why.”
Havialo exhaled. “What would you like me to say? Yes, I was concerned. The registrar was inexperienced. She’d likely never encountered… she’d likely never faced the situation you put her in.”
I balled my fists. “What situation? Why? I don’t understand.”
“And with good fortune, you won’t until the proper time. Listen to me, Savra. It’s difficult to accept, but you must simply move forward. Returning home will only endanger you and everyone you care about. Someday, you will have answers. But it won’t be today.”
“Then please take me to my family and this sanctuary.”
“Impossible. I’m sorry. These events are the very reason your father left. He worried this would happen someday. He never wanted to abandon you, Savra. Or your family.”
The mage’s words from earlier crashed back into my mind. “You know my father?”
Havialo nodded. “We can discuss this later. But yes, I know Evrain.”
The words were a cold breeze whipping me back to alertness. “Where is he? What’s happened to him? Please tell me!”
Master Havialo laid a hand on my shoulder before stepping to the horses. “As I said, later.” He ran his hand down my gelding’s neck. “For now, there are things I must prepare. The fires are evidence that the registrar’s inexperience didn’t mean she was completely inept. If Numintown is to avoid starvation—and if you are to avoid the gallows—I must take more drastic steps.”
***
Once in the clearing Havialo broke sticks from the brush behind the horses and hurried to weave them into the thicket separating us from the road. He paused briefly to judge his work before trotting back to gather more branches.
“Are we making camp?” I asked. I had little experience in the wilderness, even the hills near Numintown. But that was only because I’d had a warm bed in our small house. I could help the mage if he explained what I needed to do.
“Depends,” he responded as he grunted and twisted another of the tough branches. Finally, the green wood fibers parted with a pop.
“Depends on what? Is this part of your drastic plan?”
He brushed past me, dragging the branch behind him. The leaves rustled against dry grass. It had been a few weeks since the last big rain. “If you want to help, the horses could use care. After they’re brushed down, replace the saddles. We may need to leave quickly.”
“All right. But I wish you’d explain.”
He stabbed the severed branch into the thicket then fluffed the leaves to make it look natural. “The registrar’s party will come this way soon. We need to be ready.”
Maybe he meant for us to hide and let the registrar pass. Better that than fight. No one tangled with protectors, at least not if they wanted to wake up the next day.
The haze was finally evaporating from my thoughts. My fingers and toes began to tingle; I hadn’t realized they’d been numb. As my mind cleared, I fought despair. I’d left my home and I still didn’t know what the danger had been. But judging by Havialo’s rushed movements, this wasn’t the time to ask. With a wary glance at the road, I trotted to the horses and started working leather straps free from their buckles.
Havialo shaded his eyes and looked toward the descending sun. Licking a finger, he held it up as if sensing the breeze. “Are there usually thunderstorms in the afternoon?” he asked.
I glanced toward the coast. “During Chilltide. But not very often now. Why?”
“I noticed the clouds over the sea,” he said, pointing to the horizon line over the Maelstrom. “I hoped to use them. This close to the coast, the tidal force would usually be plenty for me to work with. But the currents here are tainted. I might as well eat rotten meat.”
As far as I understood, a geognost could gather energy from the natural world and channel it elsewhere, but only if the land had power to give. Back at the town hall, it seemed he’d found a pent-up fault in the earth and released it, channeling the power into the wind that had gusted against the building. Maybe he could gather energy from a storm, too, but as for this mention of a taint, I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Well, it hasn’t rained in weeks,” I said, “but we might get lucky.” Lucky. The word sounded hollow. If fortune had had a role in today’s events, I would rather not trust anything else to fate.
Havialo glared at the sky before stomping back across the clearing and tearing another stick free. “Well, we’ll have to hope. I don’t see another alternative.”
I tugged on a hunk of hair that had escaped my braid. “I’d be more help to you if I understood what’s going on. And…” I swallowed. “If you want my cooperation, I need to know why you rescued me. Even a short explanation.”
He raised a brow at me. “I seem to recall a large fire starting shortly after our departure. Would you have preferred to remain for that?”
“Of course not. But look at this from my perspective,” I said as I pulled the saddle from my mount and leaned back to balance its weight. “How do I know you weren’t involved with the fire?”
He sighed, then stuffed a hand into his pants pocket and produced a letter.
“From your father,” he said. “If you could move a few paces out of the way, it would help.”
The saddle thumped to the ground. Hands trembling, I grabbed the sheet of paper and unfolded it. I recognized my father’s shaky letters immediately. He’d never been strong with reading or writing, and I could only imagine what it must’ve taken him to pen this. When I was young, his face had reddened in embarrassment whenever he tried to read in front of us.
Havialo,
I understand that you no longer believe in our cause. But I did you a favor many years ago. You know of what I speak. After this, you’ll never need to hear from me again. But I need you to make one last trip. Numintown. My family. My daughter turned seventeen this year.
Signed,
Evrain Panmi
A tear slid down my cheek as I read my father’s words over again. It had been seven years since he left, and we’d heard nothing in all that time.
“May I keep it?” I said.
The mage waved his hand as if to dismiss the question as not worth asking. With extreme care not to further tatter the edges, I folded the note and tucked it into the inner pocket of my jacket. I could feel it crinkling there, pressing against my ribs through the light fabric of my tunic. My father was still alive, and more, he still cared about us. I pressed my forearm against the paper, holding it against my body while I searched the saddlebags for the curry comb.
With a last glance at the work he’d done on the brush, the mage shoved through the narrow passage leading to the road. I followed in time to see him scan the horizon back and forth. The clouds had built, surprising me after so many weeks. Still, I doubted they’d actually produce rain.
When the mage turned, he gestured at the sky. “Almost near enough to harness. I suspect it will be enough.”
I glanced to the south, thinking of Avill and Mother. Smoke still rose from Numintown, shearing toward the Maelstrom’s heart when it hit winds up high. Had the mage’s henchmen really led my family away? Would they find shelter if it stormed?
; “Enough for what?” I asked. “I need to know.”
Havialo glanced at me, his lips making a hard line. “I can’t let the registrar pass. Clearly, she wasn’t swayed by my… demands that she change the ledger and mark you as a scribe. It would have been easier that way.” As he spoke, he twisted a silver band that encircled his middle finger. After a moment, he pulled it off, curling his lip in disgust. “Argent magic is a foul art anyway. I only used it because I worried my powers alone wouldn’t intimidate her into obeying.”
I nodded slowly as he tucked the ring into his pocket. I knew the basics of metalogy. Argent mages, those who wore silver to channel their power, manipulated spirits. An argent could command someone, mind to mind. But I hadn’t known that earth mages could gain argent ranks.
“Savra,” he said, “if you are to successfully enter training in the capital, we’ll need to alter the ledger ourselves and bring it to the Hall of Registry in Jaliss.”
My fingertips went cold as I realized what he planned. Still, there was a chance I was wrong. “You mean to steal the ledger,” I said, hoping that was the explanation despite what I suspected. “That’s why we’re waiting here.”
The mage sighed. “No one from their party can return to the capital to dispute your Function assignment. Plain enough for you?”
“You’re going to kill them.”
“Unless you have a better idea.”
More auburn-red strands escaped my dissolving braid as I yanked. “There must be another option.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think so.”
“Why do I need to go to the capital, anyway? I was planning to turn fugitive if I had to leave Numintown. If I do, no one has to die, right?”
“Wouldn’t work.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated. Your father has specifically asked for the right to explain this stuff to you. I gave him my vow.”
Heart of the Empire (The Broken Lands Book 1) Page 5
