Serpent's Tears (Snakesblood Saga Book 2)

by Beth Alvarez

  “It's not as far off as you think, I promise you that. We've been desperate for a mage with the ways of healing for many years, though many gave up thinking we'd find one. Then again,” Minna said, and the caution in her voice made it clear she chose her words with care, “Lord Daemon promised us a mage, and he's the best leader our people have ever had. Not to speak ill of Queen Lumia, of course, but people stopped starving when Daemon became general.” She rinsed each cup and put them upside-down on a threadbare towel to dry. “But that's enough of that. Tobias will share my bed while you're staying with us. Tomorrow, we'll see about finding your own house space. For now, you just worry about getting settled, then we'll get supper started.”

  Firal's face fell.

  “What's wrong?” Minna perched on the edge of the hearth like a wary bird, ready to take flight.

  “I can't cook.”

  “You can't?” Minna cried. “What are they teaching you at that temple?”

  Firal's ears reddened, but before she could speak, the woman waved a hand.

  “Goodness me, I apologize. 'Tis not my place, and I'm certain your training takes a great deal of time.” Minna fluttered a hand as if in dismissal. “Don't worry, dear. I'll teach you everything else you need to know.”

  “Thank you,” Firal murmured. Her shoulders sagged with relief as Minna stood again and busied herself with preparing linens from a box beneath the beds.

  Yet in the moment of peace that came with Minna's quiet, cheerful humming, a creeping sense of dread pricked at the edge of Firal's senses. A single day after her world had capsized, there had been Daemon, ready to stabilize it again.

  She'd been offered shelter, food, a place to belong. But how could she trust the people who had destroyed her home?

  6

  Homemaking

  “I don't know how anyone can walk next to this,” Firal groaned. She pressed a hand to her uneasy stomach as she stepped into the hallway where Minna and Tobias waited.

  “Hurry up, now!” Minna called. She put a hand on the shoulder of the boy beside her to still his grumbling.

  Tobias was a pleasant boy, if quiet. He had dark hair and somber brown eyes, cheeks that should have been plumper, and a smile that was missing teeth. The child looked impatient now, but Firal couldn't fault him. She was slow. Their trip into the market had been one thing; the water in the river was shallow, and she had no difficulty walking along its rocky banks. But the chasm in the middle of that spiraling ramp... She shook her head and tried not to shudder.

  They hadn't made her carry anything, since she had such difficulty walking next to the railless pit, but Minna and her son both carried baskets filled with goods. It had been strange to see how similar this market was to the ones above-ground, though Firal supposed its location shouldn't make a difference. Markets were all the same.

  “You'll get used to it, don't worry.” Minna patted her arm sympathetically and started down the hall at a brisk pace. Firal recognized the symbol on Minna's door when they reached it, but they did not stop there. Instead, they continued down the corridor for some distance and shadow swallowed their small group. The daylight that filled the underground tower didn't spill far into the tunnels, and lamps were few and far between. Firal looked back now and then, stealing glimpses of the daylight behind them until they rounded a curve and it disappeared. The hallways sprawled like natural tunnels, and perhaps they were. The ground underfoot was obviously smoothed by hand, but it was possible the tunnels themselves had been shaped by branches of the river in ages past.

  They stopped at a door that bore no markings, though there was a place above the latch for a plaque. There was no lock on the door, but it still resisted when Minna pushed it. Rusted hinges groaned and dust stirred in the musty room as the door gave way and let them inside.

  “Who lived here?” Firal covered her face to ward off the dust, though it still made her cough.

  “Nobody I ever knew. It seems our numbers dwindle every year.” Minna waved the dust away and grinned when Tobias sneezed. The boy scampered into the room, his feet kicking up dirt.

  “Do they? There were a lot of children in the market,” Firal said as she peered inside. There were a few shadowy shapes she guessed were furniture, though it was too dark to be certain. She crouched beside the doorway and ran a hand over the floor in search of a pebble she could use to make a light.

  “Yes, but few families can support more than one child. Some years we do well. Others are more difficult. The labyrinth overhead isn't the best for growing food.” Minna watched as Firal took a stone in hand and blinked in surprise when it took on a warm glow. The mage-light intensified until it was uncomfortable to look at. Firal squinted and shifted her hand to block most of the light as she held it up and looked inside again.

  Roughly squared, the room was similar to the cavern-house Minna called home, though it was a little smaller. The hearth was nestled in one corner, a cobweb-covered chair beside it. There was a bed frame in the opposite corner, though it held no mattress. A thick coat of dust covered its plank bottom. Aside from the small bedside table, there was nothing else in the room.

  “There's not even a blanket,” Tobias said, bending over to look beneath the bed.

  “We'll find her one, silly,” Minna laughed as she put down her baskets and rolled up her sleeves. “Run back up the lane and get the broom for me.”

  “Yes, Mama.” The boy hurried past the two women, his bare feet slapping on the stone as he ran out the door.

  Firal couldn't help but sigh. She'd gone straight from cleaning the temple to cleaning here. “Where am I going to get a real bed?” She didn’t know how she would pay for it, but she didn't share that worry aloud. How she would get supplies for her planned expedition to Ilmenhith hadn't yet crossed her mind, either.

  Minna set her baskets on the hearth. “Well, you'll have to work for it. No one can spare it without something in exchange. We'll find some way to fill up your little house, but for blankets and such, I can help you get started.”

  Firal lifted the mage-light high into the air and held it still for a moment before she pulled her hand away. The light bobbed in midair, settling into its suspension. Levitation was something she'd never quite mastered. She had set the energy flow into a cycle it could sustain on its own until spent, but she was sure it would fall before long. She never knew how much energy to cycle. “I don't think there's much I can do that would be worth trading for.”

  Minna raised a brow and glanced toward the light floating in the air above them. “I'm sure there's something.”

  Tobias returned to the doorway breathless and with a broom in hand. He panted as he presented it to his mother. “Mama, Miss Firal can have my old blanket, if she needs it.”

  Firal chuckled. “I might borrow it from you, but I don't think I'll keep it.”

  “Step out, both of you. I need to sweep and you're in the way.” Minna shooed them toward the door with the broom. They both skittered into the hallway. The older woman started in the far corner and worked toward the middle, a cloud of dust dimming the light.

  Tobias leaned forward to peer at the mage-light through the haze. “Miss Firal, how did you hang the light up there? I don't see no strings or nothin'.”

  “I just told the air to hold it,” Firal said, unsure how to explain. The concept of the ebb and flow of energy was difficult to describe to someone who lacked the Gift.

  “Can you teach me to do that?” he asked, his dark eyes alight with excitement.

  She hesitated. It had only been a day since her arrival in the underground, but she hadn't sensed any other mages. If anyone else bearing magic had been present, she would have sensed them. The power of others always made a small warmth at the edge of her senses, like an ember. She'd felt nothing. “Not everyone can learn, Tobias.”

  “Why not?”

  “That's enough, now,” Minna called. “Miss Firal will have her hands full, being the only mage here in Core. If she finds anyone who can learn,
I'm sure she'll be right quick to pick them out.”

  Tobias looked at her again, anxious. “Can I learn, Miss Firal?”

  Firal opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again it when her conversation with Daemon drifted to mind. It seemed ridiculous to think someone who lacked the glimmer of the Gift could learn to wield such power. But until she'd met Daemon, she'd thought only the Eldani were Gifted. If he believed it possible others could bear magic, perhaps there was a reason. “I don't know,” she admitted. That, at least, was true. She felt nothing in the boy, but he was young. There was still time for power to manifest in him, though she was reasonably sure nothing would.

  “Save your questions for later, Tobias. We've lots to do.” Minna swept the dirt out the doorway and paused to clear dust from her throat with a cough. “We'll need water to scrub the hearth. Take the pail and fetch some, if you would?”

  “Yes, ma'am.” Tobias ducked his head and retrieved the empty bucket. He cast Firal one last wistful look before he ran for the river.

  Firal watched him go with a frown. “You really don't need to send him on every errand. I can get some things, if you need me to.”

  “Nonsense,” Minna said. “It's good for the boy to do some running. Goodness knows he doesn't get up to the gardens enough to stretch his legs properly.”

  Firal perked up. “There's a garden?”

  Minna nodded as she wiggled the cuffs of her sleeves up past her elbows. “Up above, there is. Right in the middle of the ruins. It's not much, but everyone does their part, and it gives us fresh produce. Not enough to feed the whole of Core, mind you, but it's nothing to sneeze at, either.”

  That was a relief. If there was hope for vegetables to grow, there would be somewhere to grow herbs. Gifted in healing as she was, Firal could make do without them, but she preferred to have them on hand. Even before the temple burned, she'd kept a small amount of the most useful herbal remedies in her room. Finding seeds would be the next challenge. Firal crept back into the house and checked the suspension of her mage-light. “I'd like to see it some time.”

  “There will be plenty of time for gardening.” Minna flashed her a grin as she put aside the broom and retrieved a stiff-bristled brush from the baskets on the floor. “Cleaning comes first. You'll earn a few callouses for your pretty hands before the day is done.” She pushed the brush into Firal's hands and found another for herself.

  It didn't take long for Tobias to return. Eager to show her capability, Firal set to scrubbing the fireplace, though her vigor waned fast. It was a more difficult task than she expected and before long, her hair clung to her forehead and temples, tickled the back of her neck and made her swipe a wrist across her sweaty forehead in irritation.

  Minna and the boy both worked hard, scouring away cobwebs and dust, though the dark room looked little cleaner for the effort.

  The lack of sunlight made it impossible to tell how long they worked, but by the time Minna deemed the cavern-house clean enough to live in, Firal's muscles screamed in protest at every hint of movement. She grimaced at the weight of the linens Minna piled in her arms, but bit her tongue to keep from fussing. Several trips back and forth from Minna's home filled the little room with mismatched dishes and spare cookware, blankets, and even an old down-filled pillow. Despite Firal's insistence she would repay their value, Minna waved her away with a huff.

  “You'll have more than enough work to do, don't be in such a rush. Besides, it's all old. Only taking up space in my house,” the Underling woman assured her, though the sparseness of her home's furnishings made it an obvious lie.

  Firal thought better than to argue and simply put her new things away. “Well then, don't hesitate to come to me if there's something I can do to help.” She turned around in a slow circle and inspected her new home with a wistful eye.

  Minna smiled and patted her arm. “Don't fret. I know it's different, but you'll get used to it soon enough. It's not such a bad place to live. We have everything here we need.” She caught Tobias by the shoulders and turned him toward the door. “It's been a hard day's work. I think we're all ready for a good night's rest. You know where to find me if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Minna. I appreciate everything you've done.” Firal touched her fingers to her heart as she escorted the two of them to the hall and saw them off with a small wave. That Minna's home was not far off was a blessing, and she was grateful, but Minna's home was exactly that—warm and welcoming, a true home. Firal shut the door and sighed at the drab emptiness of the new space she had to call her own.

  The cavern-house was even more forlorn with the door closed. She rattled a few plates together and was staring at their mismatched colors when a thud against the door made her jump. It swung open with a creak to reveal Daemon on the other side.

  “Oh, of course.” Firal crossed her arms over her chest. “Come right in, there's no need to knock.”

  “I don't want to hear it.” Daemon nudged the door open wider with one green-scaled foot. He had satchels slung over both shoulders, a canvas bag in one hand and a beheaded chicken in the other. He thrust the fowl into her hands and dropped the bag onto the table with a thump. One of the satchels slid down his shoulder and he swung it forward to leave it beside the bag.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” Firal glanced at the stump of the bird's neck. Her stomach gave an unpleasant flutter and she looked away. She extended her arm to hold the dead thing as far from her as she could manage.

  Daemon slid the second satchel to the table with more care. “You eat it. Unless you brought other food with you that I don't know about?”

  She bit her lip and looked toward the old stew pot Minna had hung above her empty hearth.

  “Let me guess. You can't cook.”

  “It's not something one generally needs to learn at the temple,” she said, a little more defensively than she intended.

  Rolling his eyes behind his mask, Daemon snatched the chicken from her hands and thumped it down on the table. “Helpless girl. And you're welcome, by the way. I'm sure you're glad you won't starve to death.”

  “I'd have found skills to trade for meals,” Firal muttered as she peeked inside one of his bags. It bulged with radishes and carrots, sweet potatoes and turnips. “Where did you get these?”

  “Oh, I don't know if you noticed it when we were coming in, but it seems there's a very large market down here.” His tone was as light and nonchalant as his words were needling. “It's by the river. As it happens, there are a number of merchants who offer food.”

  She glowered at him, but he didn't notice. He worked fast, piling feathers on the table. Even those couldn't be wasted, it seemed. Firal watched him for a minute before she abandoned the bag. “Did Minna tell you where to find me?”

  Daemon shook his head. “You're the talk of Core. I don't think there's a soul in the city who doesn't know where you live.”

  “Reassuring.” She moved to close the door.

  “Don't.”

  She frowned and peered into the empty hallway. “Why not?”

  “It would be extremely inappropriate for a woman to shut herself in her home with a man who is not her husband.” He gave her a shadowed look. “There are enough rumors about you flying around as it is. I'd rather not be part of one.”

  Firal shot him a glare.

  “Get a fire started,” Daemon ordered. “I've been out in the ruins all day. I wasn't planning on fixing your dinner as well as my own.”

  She did as he said, though she promised herself it wasn't because he'd told her to. Regardless of his wishes, she had to eat, and the stew pot was all she had. “No one is asking you to cook for me.” She emptied the only bucket of fresh water she had into the pot and piled firewood beneath it. A small basket of tinder sat beside the hearth and she frowned at it. There was tinder, but there were no matches.

  Hesitantly, she drew her fingers over the surface of the wood. There was no reason not to use her magic, but it was strange to thin
k she'd never seek a Master's permission again. She closed her eyes and flames leaped up to answer her call. The golden light that spilled across the room helped drive away the chill of bare stone. The wood crackled pleasantly and Firal held out her hands to the warmth.

  Daemon grew still behind her and she turned toward him. He watched the fire with a distant look in his eyes.

  A chill swept through her and for a moment, they sat in silence.

  “I didn't do it.” His words were soft, yet there was a hint of strength in his voice.

  Firal licked her lips. “I know.”

  He met her gaze and held it. There was an intensity in his stare she hadn't seen before. She shrank back an inch before she caught herself and steeled her resolve.

  “That is, I believed as much,” she said. “I... hoped as much.”

  “I was in Ilmenhith when the temple burned.” His eyes closed, and the slits in his mask went dark. It was as if a shadow fell over him, a deep, dark remorse that threatened to swallow him out of her room.

  “I remember,” she replied softly. His grace on the ballroom floor had haunted her dreams.

  “When Lumia set her sights on the temple, it was to obtain something the Archmage held. An artifact, one mostly useless to mages. I agreed to go along with it because it was something that could be useful to me, too. Then she did not want me present when she went to retrieve it. If I'd known—if I'd been there—”

  “You don't have to explain yourself,” Firal said. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

  “It does matter,” he insisted, meeting her eyes again. “It matters that I clear my conscience. If you're going to be here, I need to know there is no bad blood between us.”

  Her throat tightened. “I appreciate what you've done in bringing me here. You didn't have to, and I... I'm sure you're still angry with me.”

  From the way he straightened and the light of his eyes flickered, the admission had caught him off guard. “I'm angry at myself,” he said after a time. “The destruction of the temple set me back farther than I could have imagined. I did everything I could. I even warned the Eldani king, but it was too late. I hate the temple. And I hate the mages for what they've done to me. But I didn't want...” He trailed off and squeezed his eyes closed. When he reopened them again, their light was steady. “I made a promise to my people and it must be kept.”