“Of course.” Perinon turned to face Sevoi. “But consider this: once he’s publicly working with our Naval Guard, it becomes doubly difficult for him to seek refuge with anyone, even outlaws. No one would trust him.”
Sevoi looked dubious. “I can’t see anything good coming of this, Sire, but—”
Perinon staggered and gasped. Someone was using the Kaskea, someone different, with Meran blood as strong as his. “The Phrenii. Get water…”
Sevoi jumped forward to guide him as he fell backward into his chair.
“Get him out,” Sevoi ordered, pointing to Rhobar. “Send for the secretary, tell him the King’s walking the Void.”
“Wait! Give me a chance!” Rhobar shouted at Perinon, who ignored him. Rhobar continued to struggle against the King’s Guard as they pulled him from the room.
Perinon held out his hand, looking at the ring that held the Kaskea. The shard glowed with a bright, golden light.
Someone familiar uses the Kaskea.She does not hide her identity. Inside his head, Mahri’s voice was cool and smooth. Perinon suddenly felt the moment, many years ago, when he’d been afraid to jump into a deep part of the canals. He felt his cousin Draius grab his hand with a firm grip as she laughed, pulling him to the edge. He felt the exhilaration of fear when he jumped, the splash of coldness, and the canal water closing above his head as he sunk deeper than he had ever been. Yet Draius kept her hold on his hand, helping him rise.
He opened his eyes and saw his secretary hurry in with a pail of water.
“Be ready.” Perinon clenched his ring hand into a fist and dove into the Blindness.
chapter Thirty-Two
The Void
They say when sorcerers learn to walk the Void, their apprentices stand by with pails of water, in case their clothes start to smolder. Now that our King learns to walk the Void, we hide his burned clothes from the populace as well as any other elemental effects of rapport with Jhari. Strangely, the Phrenii can transit to and from the Void without adverse effects—perhaps because they are portals, and made of the same life-light as the Void.
—Toimi, Historian to King Ruusu, T.Y. 523 (converted to New Calendar)
Lornis rubbed his stomach contentedly as he went through the barracks common area and headed for the officer rooms. For the first time in days, he felt he’d finally eaten his fill, although he’d devastated the Sea Serpent’s provisions.
As he opened the door to his suite, he heard a measured tread coming down the hall. There would be little reason for Ponteva to be in the officer quarters, but he waited patiently for the watchman to approach.
“Ser, there’s been strange developments,” Ponteva said quietly.
Ponteva’s tone made his skin prickle. They were standing in the hallway that connected to all the rooms for officers that held ranks less than commander. There was little privacy here. Lornis motioned for the watchman to follow him into his small sitting room, and closed the door.
He hadn’t heard the details surrounding Usko’s death, but he heard them now. It was strange enough for the Phrenii to show up, together, to speak with an officer of the City Guard, but Ponteva further questioned Draius’s behavior following her encounter with them. “The commander was distressed, ser, by what the Phrenii told her. She then sent me to arrest Purje-Kolme Wendell.”
Wendell? This could only be the same Wendell who worked for Berin, who was seemingly attached to his employer’s side. But if that wasn’t strange enough—
“Wendell is dead, ser. Had to break in, and we found him lying on his bed.”
“What?”
“Hung, according to Norsis. Said Wendell was placed on his bed after death. Having to process yet another body on Ringday ticked Norsis right off, so he gave me this message to deliver. Said he didn’t have the time.”
Ponteva handed Lornis a note. The seal was unbroken and the hastily scrawled words were in Draius’s hand: “Deliver to Officer Lornis on Markday morning.”
Lornis hesitated. “Should I open it early?”
“Not for me to decide, ser.” Ponteva’s voice became prim. “Commander Draius is usually precise. On the other hand, she seemed unnatural this afternoon.”
“Hmm, yes, there is that.”
A timid knock at the door made both men whirl around. The knock was singular, and wasn’t followed by another. Lornis stepped forward quickly and flung open the door.
Maricie had been turning away. “Ser?” She glanced at Ponteva, standing behind him.
Before the phrenic healing, Lornis often had propositions from women who hoped for children, a contract with a rich lineage, or just a night of pleasure. Maricie, however, was Sareenian and wasn’t raised to be as agressive as Tyrran women. Besides, she was quite young.
“It’s about Master Peri, ser,” Maricie said. “He’s gone missing.”
“Oh.” Lornis flushed, embarrassed by his assumptions. “Did Draius send you?”
“No, ser. Mistress Draius and the Lady had words. About the safety of Master Peri.” Maricie twisted the fabric of her apron. “Then Mistress Draius left and Lady Anja sent me to get Master Jan. Which I did, ser, some moments ago. He’s already left at the Lady’s direction.”
“Why call upon me?” Lornis asked. His curiosity fought with his sense of propriety; he should probably stay out of an internal Serasa-Kolme matter.
“Mistress Draius said something about the ‘murderers.’ If Lady Anja treats this as a lineal matter, those that murdered my father’s cousin may never be caught. As it says in the Book of Light, Justice is required for all souls to progress along the Way.” Maricie’s liquid brown eyes narrowed and glittered in the lamplight.
Lornis said nothing. He looked down at the note in his hand and broke the seal. The note read: “I am tendering my resignation as OIC of Investigation, as well as my commission with the City Guard. If I’m unavailable on Markday morning, you must look to the ancestral stars who have lost their followers.” Draius had signed it with her full lineal name.
Lornis grimaced. “Are you willing to interfere in matriarchal matters, Ponteva? I think Draius and her son are in trouble—far beyond the reach of matriarchal justice.”
“I’ll follow your decision, ser.” Ponteva’s voice was steady, like a rock. “And that’ll serve as my excuse, as well. You’re the one who could lose your career.”
“I wasn’t meant for politics anyway.” Lornis looked at Maricie. “Tell me everything you know.”
•••
Voices called, whispered, screamed. Draius was deafened.
“Rise, rise,” urged one voice.
She struggled to look around and was wrapped tightly by the blinding fog. She panicked. Where am I?
The same voice cut through the rest, a familiar voice. “Relax and float upward, like when we dove into the high canals.”
She tried to look around and was engulfed again by the sizzling and crackling noise of millions of thoughts and voices, the roaring whiteness. She clawed at her eyes and ears, trying to clear them. Didn’t they bind my hands?
Who are you? She tried to call, but every time she did, she was overwhelmed by the sounds.
“Don’t use your senses, cousin. You have no body here.”
Peri—Perinon? For a moment she panicked, and the roaring whiteness took her over. Then she relaxed and glimpsed white mountains, fading through fog. This gave her hope, so she forced the languor, remembering when she and her cousins jumped into the high canals on the north side of the city, where the water was clean, and they would let their bodies float lazily up to the surface and light. Before the Fevers forced them into adulthood…
The whiteness cleared, like stepping up through fog onto a crystal mountainside. She could spread her senses out and felt outlines take shape. The world lay below her: the two cities, the bay, the sea, and the mountains. All of Tyrra was an image made in white, with sharp lines. For a moment she felt peace, and saw a small pulsing golden light in the city halfway up the mountain. Focus
ing on that light, she felt a dizzying effect of magnification when she drilled through the fog, the walls, everything, to Perinon’s chair. But this was a world of white marble, with no man or woman or creature to be seen.
Cousin! When she tried to call to him, she disappeared back down into whiteness and noise. Fighting it exhausted her. But, when she rested, as if floating, the white vista came back to her. Was she mad?
“Madness comes from resistance. Don’t try to talk, cousin. You don’t hear my voice, but rather my thoughts and emotions.”
She could sense so much more about Perinon. There was inexperience and fear in him, as well as uncertainty. She could feel fleeting emotions and catch glimpses of his memories: his father dying during the Fevers, his elder brother Valos ruffling his hair before he left on the hunting trip that ended his life, his mother retiring from public life to die. He had suffered many of the same sorrows as she. Could he feel the same from her?
“Your mind is very open, a surprising contrast to your physical self.” Amusement faded to caution. “Only the portals may speak here. One will come for you and you must remain open to them, or your mind will break.”
The Phrenii? She’d forgotten this was their domain. She went tumbling down through whiteness and for a moment, she was back in the warehouse again, straining against the bonds while a small gray man held up a dripping knife. There was chanting and screaming. Was she screaming? Then she was smothered in roaring, sizzling whiteness again.
With effort, she tried to regain the peace she’d felt before. No moving, no speaking, just rest, just float, she repeated internally to herself. The calm surrounded her and took her memories.
•••
The vista was pure white, unsullied by color. She watched the cities, sharply outlined, sitting above the layer of fog. Through experimentation she drifted to places she knew, places she must have visited before she came here, but only represented here in light. She didn’t know how long she’d been in this place, and she didn’t care.
The creature approached her. She knew this one and its beauty. It represented water, and the life-light contained within that element.
“You are Draius. The ‘Little One,’“ Dahni said.
My name?
“You are an officer of the City Guard. This can happen to those who first drive through the Blindness and step into the Void; they must learn to remember. Remember your life, Draius.”
She struggled to remember, because this creature thought it important.
“You have a son named Peri. You are wielding the Kaskea and you must learn to control it, not have it control you.”
Memories came back in a rush, almost crushing her. The pain caused her vision to fog up and for a moment she was in the blinding, choking whiteness.
“Do not sink into the Blindness.” The clean, cool words caught her. She relaxed and when her vision cleared, Dahni was still there.
“Yes, you remember.” Dahni sounded sad. “And you remember that you are afraid of me.”
She cried now, not caring about the suffocating fog. She cried for the loneliness of her life, for all her mistakes, and for Peri. She cried for her father’s grief, and finally freed, she cried for her mother’s painful death. She felt sadness and pain coming from Dahni.
Why do I have to remember?
“You have responsibilities. I cannot allow you to forget them.”
She had thought the Phrenii incapable of understanding human feelings, but the emotion she now felt within this creature was astonishing. Every human soul encountered was remembered and catalogued; every soul lost was mourned for an eternity. There was more grief within this creature than Draius, the person she remembered, could ever contain.
“I am the element you are bound to. You will only see me when you enter the Void and, in the solid world, we are in rapport.”
She struggled with the words, the thoughts, the questions she wished to ask this creature. Where am I?
“We call this existence the Void and it shows the shape of the world,” the creature said. “The Void is also more than that, much more, but it will take time to teach you.”
She remembered Berin, Taalo, the others. Criminals use me as a channel to the Void. They threaten the life of my son and another child. She finally released her despair, her fears for Peri’s life, the unknown boy’s life, her sanity, and her hopeless situation.
She felt Dahni absorb all her fears, examining each. “You have carried others into the Blindness, the layer which separates the solid world from the Void. These others get glimpses of insight into the solid world. But they mistakenly think they have reached the Void.”
Can’t you stop them?
“I cannot. I am part of, and portal to the Void. I cannot travel in the Blindness. But you can stop them.” The creature dipped its horn to indicate a downward motion.
Draius tried to look where Dahni pointed and only succeeded in blinding herself. She dispersed the fog easily and tried again, this time extending her senses. By straining, she forced her senses downward and she now knew the layer under her was thick, but could be punched through to see into the solid world below. It was thick enough to have things, unnatural creatures, moving inside. Some circled and swam like sharks, others appeared to take linear paths.
“It is dangerous to wander in the Blindness, where there are hunters,” said Dahni. “The people who used you for entry can never ascend above the Blindness, unfortunately for them.”
Hunters? She concentrated on one of the large swimming things, but it kept sliding out of her grasp. Her mind shuddered.
“The predators, those that feed upon sleeping souls, are the hunters.”
She extended her senses further down into the foggy Blindness. Concentrating and finding a specific something, or someone, was like dredging for the last small piece of meat in a bowl of thick stew. She pulled her senses back.
What about my son? This black fear ate away at her.
“Perinon prepares the King’s Guard and they are coming to rescue you and your son. I will lead them to you.”
Panic came over her. No, they’ll hurt Peri if their ceremony is disrupted.I didn’t give you my location or my permission to do this.
“And what about the other child?”
She didn’t have an answer, suddenly ashamed, but still wanting to protect Peri.
“By rising to the Void you have showed your position.” Dahni gestured with its horn and suddenly they were in the sunken quay. Or rather, they were in the Void’s elemental representation of the place that she’d just left—with no living creature in it. There were outlines of the chair she sat in, but now there was only a pulsing green light where her body should be.
“I ask you once more, Draius. Who will save the other child?” Dahni dipped its horn again, so she extended her senses to the reality below. There was green light below the Blindness and by concentrating, she was suddenly there. She saw her body tied to the chair, her head lolling forward. The robed figures were seated and holding hands. In the center of their circle she saw the boy bleeding, lethargic from blood loss, but still alive. But for how long?
Sickened, she rose and dove again, this time to the small room at the side of the stone quay. She now saw Peri, lying on a bench in sleep. The woman, younger than Draius originally thought, still sat watching him. The woman’s head was nodding. She was falling asleep, although she’d periodically stir and look to the curtained opening. A knife and an empty glass lay on the bench beside her.
She rose back up to the Void, to find Dahni waiting.
Can’t you do something for my son?Use your magic?
She felt despair as Dahni shook its head in answer to her questions. “I must abide by the rules of time. I travel as fast as I can in the solid world. You must make a choice and take action. The men search the Blindness and I cannot reach them. You must find them yourself.”
If I disrupt their search, they promise to harm my son. What do you see?
“I cannot se
e all the consequences. But if they find the lodestone, Tyrra will fall.”
The finality of Dahni’s statement startled her. It seemed unlikely that her action, or inaction, could cause the collapse of Tyrra. Isn’t it enough to save Peri and the other child?
“We sit upon a pivot in time,” Dahni said patiently. “If these men find the lodestone tonight, war will take Tyrra by surprise. We need to delay this, because Lornis is not yet ready. In this, we are certain.”
Even though the idea sounded absurd, Dahni used the ritual phrase which meant the Phrenii were sure, absolutely sure. What the creature left unsaid disturbed Draius more.
War is coming, no matter what? she asked.
“Yes,” Dahni said. “It is only a matter of when. By your decision you can make it happen later.”
Still Draius hesitated. Wandering blind among all those creatures terrified her, but if she could find Berin or Taalo, she might be able to divert them. But what would happen to Peri? Could she even save the other boy? Of course, what would happen when Tyrra went to war, as the Phrenii predicted? How much death could result if they were unprepared? Uncertain, she teetered between all the possibilities.
Will you be there with me?
Dahni knew what she meant, replying with an intense regret that she’d never suspected the creatures could feel. “No. You will not sense me in the Blindness, but you will have an advantage. I can arm you with knowledge before you go in.”
Knowledge didn’t feel as useful as a cold blade, but it was the only weapon she had. She reluctantly made her decision. I’ll do what I can.
“You will have the element of surprise. The others think you are insane and can be no threat to them.”
She could only agree with that assessment: she was mad to try this.
“They do not realize you have independently used the Kaskea. They also do not realize you can move to and from the Void and the Blindness. Right now, they use necromantic charms to link themselves, in a chain, back to their bodies. Anyone cut off from that chain will be adrift.”
A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) Page 31
