Heart of Mist

by Helen Scheuerer

  Athene held Henri’s hands tight to her chest, and Henri could feel Athene’s heart throbbing beneath them. But it wasn’t enough.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘it won’t.’

  Athene baulked.

  ‘Touch me again, Athene, and you’ll regret it.’

  ‘How can you say that?’

  ‘Easily.’

  ‘What … What happened to you, Henri?’

  Henri had had enough.

  ‘We’re done here.’ She took her weapons from the bench, sheathed and strapped them into place, and strode away from the training area, leaving Athene blinking back tears.

  Back in her apartments, Henri paced. It wasn’t as though having relations with other women was forbidden. The kindred were famously open-minded. And even though her stomach dipped whenever she thought about her snatched moments with Athene, Henri wasn’t sure what she wanted.

  Unable to sleep, Henri made her way back down to the forest floor and soon found herself at the entrance to the pits. The guards stepped aside for her without a word, and she followed the dark, narrow stairs down into the underground. She took a torch from the wall and walked past a row of empty cells. For the most part, she was against prisoners. They required care and maintenance, and they used up resources and supplies, all the while contributing nothing to the community. She also just hated the idea of people rotting away. But sometimes, exceptions were to be made. Even if they weren’t long-term solutions.

  ‘Henri!’ Bleak’s voice sounded from the end of the row, the bars of the iron cage rattling.

  Henri took her time reaching the end of the cells, and when she got to Bleak’s, she sat down on the bench opposite and unsheathed her katars, not even looking up.

  ‘Henri, please – can you let us out of here? We’ll be no trouble.’

  Henri let out a cold laugh. ‘You’ve been nothing but a pain in my side since we saved you.’

  ‘I haven’t meant to be,’ Bleak said.

  Henri busied herself by sharpening her katar on the guards’ whetstone. ‘Who is your friend?’ she asked, still not looking up.

  ‘His name is Bren Clayton. We worked the Heathton fishing route together.’

  ‘Pleased to meet ya,’ the man muttered.

  Henri looked up, spotting him resting his tanned face against the bars of the cell, watching her.

  ‘And what, exactly, is Bren Clayton doing in Valia Forest?’

  ‘I was looking for Bleak,’ he said. ‘The king’s men who took her, they didn’t seem like, uh … honourable sorts of fellows, ya see.’

  ‘And you planned on taking them out yourself?’

  ‘Hadn’t planned anything, to be honest. Just knew I couldn’t leave her out there with ’em.’

  ‘She wasn’t with them for long. You knew we had her.’

  ‘Well, I heard the commotion from halfway down the mountain, but by the time I got there, I guess ya could say I stumbled upon a pretty sad bunch.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘One of the guards recognised me from Angove. Told me the Valia kindred had taken Bleak.’

  ‘You followed us. How?’

  ‘I just did.’

  ‘I asked you how.’

  ‘Horseback, across the forest floor. I knew enough to head south-west, and I barely rested. Every now and then I’d hear something that let me know I was on the right track. I dunno, really.’

  ‘What did you hear?’ It was impossible to track Valian kindred through the forest. The thought of this bumbling fisherman finding them made Henri uneasy.

  Bren shrugged. ‘I thought I could hear Bleak. Every time I started to doubt where I was going, I could have sworn I heard her.’

  ‘What exactly?’

  ‘Snippets of conversation, nothing of note.’

  Henri clicked her tongue. What was going on? Even if it was possible that he’d heard them, which it wasn’t, he’d been days behind them.

  ‘You followed no map? No one led you here?’

  ‘No. Just me and the horse. We rode hard. I followed what I thought was Bleak’s voice.’

  ‘Why?’

  Bren looked at Bleak. ‘I’m all she’s got.’

  ‘I didn’t need you to rescue me,’ Bleak snapped. ‘Look where that’s got us.’

  Bren rested his face against the bars. ‘Did I say ya needed me?’

  Henri studied the man. Young. Definitely younger than her, but apparently patient.

  ‘You’ve got training with Allehra at dawn,’ Henri said to Bleak, getting to her feet.

  ‘You’re not going to let us out?’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because we haven’t done anything wrong?’ Bleak gripped the bars and was suddenly close enough that Henri could smell the stale wine on her breath.

  ‘You got between my orders and my kindred. That’s reason enough.’

  Henri held her katars to the torchlight and inspected their edges, testing them with her fingertip. Yes, they were definitely sharp enough.

  ‘Tomorrow, then,’ she said, and took the stairs out of the pits, back out into the moonlight.

  Chapter 14

  The muffled sounds of laughter and plates being scraped from above told Bleak it was morning. The pits had no windows and prevented prisoners from keeping track of time. The cells and passageways were as dim and dank as they had been the night before. Beside her, Bren was still sleeping soundly on his bed of straw. His shirt had risen up during the night, exposing the dark tattoo that ran down the length of his spine. Seven waves cresting, one for each of his brothers, two with additional markings signifying the passing of the two eldest, Willem and Tobias. Bren wore his grief with more grace than anyone she knew. She suppressed the urge to run her fingers down the markings, which all eight brothers had shared. A stab of pity jolted her. Bren … The third son had taken on so much after Willem and Tobias. Five younger boys to help feed and raise, and Bleak had only added to that burden. She watched him sleep and tried to keep her guilt at bay. Senior had always said guilt was a wasted emotion. She took her length of rope from her pocket and began her ritual of knots.

  It felt like an age since she’d been out at sea, and even longer still since she’d gone with Bren. He was the only Clayton who’d chosen the life of a fisherman; the rest preferred firm, dry land beneath their boots. Mrs Clayton preferred it that way, too. Bren shifted in his sleep, and Bleak returned to looping her rope between her fingers. He’d been good to her; he’d always been good to her.

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs forced Bleak to her feet, and she peered through the bars of their cell. Tilly and Petra strode towards her, with Tilly cheerfully swinging a set of keys in her hand.

  ‘You know, if you hated my apartment so much, you could have just said so,’ she teased, unlocking the door. It swung open with a loud screech. Bren didn’t move. Bleak hesitated.

  ‘You’ve got an appointment,’ Petra said, motioning Bleak forward.

  She paused in the cell’s doorway. ‘What about him?’ She nodded to Bren.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find something for him to do.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Lots of things. Target practice comes to mind,’ Petra said.

  ‘Stud service, too.’ Tilly winked.

  Bleak unpinned her cloak from around her shoulders and quickly draped it over her friend. He’d be asleep for a good while longer anyway, and so without arguing with the kindred, she walked out into the blinding daylight and the fresh dawn air.

  ‘How was your night in the pits?’ said Queen Allehra, waiting for her by the unlit campfire.

  ‘Fine. Athene was right – not as bad as it sounds.’

  ‘Athene would know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  The queen shook her head and began to walk the same damp path as the day before. Bleak didn’t press her. When they got to the clear pool, Luka was waiting for them. She bowed deeply to Queen Allehra and greeted Bleak with a grin.

  �
��I thought it would be best if Luka assisted us today,’ Allehra said.

  Bleak wondered what else Henri had said to Allehra yesterday, and what she was so afraid of Bleak discovering.

  ‘So,’ Luka said, unsheathing two daggers at her sides, ‘are we training?’

  Allehra laughed. ‘We had a different kind of training in mind.’

  Luka’s brows furrowed. ‘Oh.’

  Bleak held in a sigh of relief as the young warrior sheathed her daggers. There was no way in hell she’d do combat training, let alone with Luka.

  ‘We’re working on Bleak’s control of her Ashai powers,’ Allehra said.

  ‘Right. I heard a rumour you were an Ashai.’

  Bleak smiled grimly. Allehra took a step towards Luka and tugged a string tucked into the front of her leathers, revealing a small leather pouch at the end.

  ‘Your mother armed you well,’ Allehra said.

  ‘It’s hers. It’s just a loan. She insisted I take it today.’

  ‘A wise woman.’

  Luka shrugged. ‘She needs it more than me,’ she said, lifting the necklace over her head, ‘but I’m guessing you need me without this for the time being?’

  Allehra smiled and took it from her. ‘For the time being.’ She motioned for them to sit and clasped her hands together.

  Bleak and Luka sat opposite one another on the ground. Bleak could feel the damp seeping into the seat of her pants.

  ‘Bleak, can you tell us about how your ability works?’ said the Mother Matriarch.

  Bleak bit her lip. She’d only ever explained her powers to one other person: Bleaker Senior. That had been a long time ago.

  It’s a gift, Half-Pint, an absolute gift, he’d said.

  ‘Well,’ she started, looking to Allehra, who nodded encouragingly. ‘I hear people’s thoughts. Sometimes I hear everything, sometimes nothing, and sometimes it’s like I’m being crushed.’

  ‘Can you control it?’

  Bleak shrugged. ‘Sometimes I can concentrate on one person and hear what they’re thinking. But I can’t always block it out if I don’t want to hear it. It … It’s hard.’

  She thought of Bren, whose thoughts she heard more loudly than anyone’s, especially when he touched her, but she left this out. It was only with Bren, and none of Allehra’s business, she decided.

  ‘I’ve never trained someone quite as old as you, Bleak,’ Allehra said, ‘but I’ve trained a few Ashai in my time, and I think we’ll have to start with the very basics. Luka, I want you to think of an object, something simple. You’ll need to picture it clearly, try to really focus on it.’

  Luka nodded.

  ‘Thought of something?’

  Another nod.

  ‘Good. Now, Bleak, close your eyes and concentrate on Luka’s thoughts. Don’t panic, don’t let yourself be overwhelmed. You can do this. You proved that much yesterday. Try to find the item Luka’s picturing. When you do, tell us what it is. Okay?’

  ‘I’ll try,’ Bleak managed. She turned to face Luka fully, and took a deep breath. As soon as she closed her eyes, the buzzing began. A dozen or so of Luka’s thoughts flew at her. She could hear the girl berating herself for getting distracted. For the first time, Bleak realised that she could hear both conscious and subconscious thoughts, or even needs that the mind was processing.

  Focus, Bleak told herself, an object. I’m searching for an object.

  Allehra had told Luka to picture it, so Bleak stopped listening to the words around her and instead focused on the shapes she could now see. They were blurry, a mere outline that could be anything really.

  Don’t let yourself be overwhelmed. Bleak repeated Allehra’s words back to herself, and allowed the images to pull her towards them.

  ‘A knife,’ she said aloud, opening her eyes.

  Opposite her, Luka frowned and looked to Allehra.

  ‘Well?’

  Luka shook her head, and Bleak sighed, unable to contain her look of disappointment. She’d been certain.

  ‘Bleak, that was your first try – it’s going to take more than that. Luka, what were you picturing?’

  ‘An arrow, Majesty.’

  Allehra’s brows raised, surprised. ‘Now that’s interesting.’

  ‘Why?’

  The Mother Matriarch smiled. ‘You got the general shape right, and you got the type of object right – a weapon. If you’d mastered your patience, you may very well have succeeded the first time around. It’s also shown us your weakness – a tendency to rush, to make assumptions.’

  Bleak flushed. Did one exercise really reveal all that about her? She wanted to shrink away from them now. Being assessed so closely was no picnic.

  ‘Let’s try again,’ said Allehra. ‘Picture something else please, Luka.’

  Luka bowed her head, and this time, when Bleak closed her eyes, she paced herself – no assumptions. Luka’s thoughts rushed at her again, and Bleak heard each one before moving on to the next, trying not to dwell on how much this whole exercise breached Luka’s privacy. A shape appeared, black and white, large and bulky. Its edges were soft, almost indistinguishable.

  Take your time, Bleak chanted to herself as she studied the mass before her. Strangely, with a new calm settling over her, she found she could mentally step closer to the shape. She was now not just reading Luka’s mind, she was in it. She moved closer still, and the image began to sharpen – a thick, vertical structure that opened out into – branches and leaves.

  ‘A tree,’ she said, the sound of her own voice dizzying as it wrenched her from Luka’s mind and back to solid ground.

  Luka nodded slowly. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Could you sense her?’ Allehra asked.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Could you feel Bleak in your mind? Could you sense that something wasn’t normal?’

  Luka’s brow furrowed. ‘I don’t think so? I mean, I wasn’t really thinking about it.’

  Allehra looked puzzled.

  ‘Is that good or bad?’ Bleak asked, looking from one Valian to the other, anxiety suddenly rising to the surface.

  ‘It’s unusual,’ Allehra allowed. ‘I’ve not trained a mind whisperer before, but from what I’ve read, your kind of Ashai have to work very hard to keep their presence hidden from whoever’s mind they breach. And Luka – well, Luka was aware of what you were trying to do to begin with, so if anything, she should have been more alert to your presence.’

  ‘What does that mean? Is something wrong with me?’

  ‘No, child. I suspect that this skill is something you’ve honed without realising it since you were very young; a subconscious defence mechanism, perhaps.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Think about it. You’ve used your abilities to help yourself before, haven’t you?’

  ‘Help’ is definitely a delicate way of putting it, Bleak thought, as she recalled the numerous times she’d used overheard thoughts to her advantage as the Fingersmith of Angove.

  ‘Bleak?’

  ‘Oh, I guess so.’

  ‘And no one noticed then, correct?’

  Bleak nodded but didn’t elaborate. She didn’t really want to discuss her pickpocketing habits with the Mother Matriarch of Valia. Allehra raised an eyebrow, though she didn’t push the matter further.

  ‘Luka, let’s try some more complicated objects now. Be more specific,’ she instructed.

  It became easier, and for the first time, Bleak found herself enjoying her magic. For the first time, she wasn’t stumbling blindly through someone’s mind, nor were another’s thoughts intruding loudly upon her own. She had some semblance of control. Despite the simplicity of the exercises, Bleak could already feel the benefit: her mind felt stronger; her magic was alive within her, not muted beneath the surface. She moved from object to object in Luka’s mind, each time using less effort. Allehra beamed.

  ‘It’s like a muscle that needs exercise. You seem to be in good shape, you just need to practise the right techniques.’ />
  Next, they moved onto sentences, with Luka holding onto one particular phrase in her mind, and Bleak having to quieten the other thoughts, observations and memories swimming at the surface and locate it. This was more complicated. The images before had been easier to locate, but a string of words amidst all Luka’s other thoughts proved far more difficult. It was like trying to untangle a frayed ball of yarn, unable to decide which piece was the end and which was the beginning, all the while trying to undo the knots.

  Easy, she told herself. She wasn’t meant to be rushing, she could take her time. She focused, catching a repeat of a phrase. That must be it. Inside Luka’s mind, she followed it, as though she’d caught the end of the string, which now had a kite on the other end. She pulled it towards her … Angovians smell like fish.

  Bleak’s eyes flew open. Luka was smirking at her.

  ‘Fish? Really?’ she said.

  ‘Really.’

  ‘How many Angovians have you met, then?’

  ‘Just the one.’ Luka laughed.

  Bleak rolled her eyes.

  ‘I take it Bleak was successful?’ Allehra asked, waiting for the girls to fill her in.

  Luka wiped the grin off her face and bowed her head. ‘Yes, Majesty.’

  ‘Good. Again.’

  Bleak and Luka practised all afternoon, with Luka attempting to make her phrases as obscure as possible, sometimes using song lyrics in the old Valian tongue and laughing at Bleak’s pronunciations. Bleak was focusing so hard on catching the final phrase that she didn’t realise how drained she felt until she stopped. Her torso slumped forward, and a dull ache throbbed quietly behind her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the tension.

  ‘Are you feeling alright?’ Allehra asked, crouching down beside her and pressing the back of her hand to Bleak’s forehead. ‘You’re warm,’ she said.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘We should have —’

  ‘No, I’m fine.’ Bleak had been searching for a cure for so long now, and this was as close as she was going to get to one. She wasn’t about to give up when she was on the verge of discovery. This was the most hope she’d ever had. After all those journeys chasing after phantom healers in Heathton, the Valians had been the answer all along.