The melancholy heartache that filled her voice made my chest hurt. Can you . . . Is he there with you?
Pride joined Nyralit’s words. Vidyul is alive, Lilik! I’m certain of it. If Zyri’s Promise had sunk that night, his spirit would be here, tied to Araok Island. It gives me joy to know he beat Trader Ulstat. When you find him, tell him that for me.
Of course, if I ever reunited with Captain Altak and his crew, I’d have to tell them about Nyralit’s death. What would I say? The captain and Nyralit had been in love for so many years. I didn’t think I could give him the news.
But Nyralit’s words sent a shiver of hope through me. Zyri’s Promise was still afloat. My friends were still alive. Even if I didn’t get out of this, there was still a chance someone would manage to oust Mieshk.
I will, I said. I’ll tell him.
We tried to have a child, you know. We never succeeded, but I’d like to imagine she would’ve been someone like you.
I’d like to imagine I can live up to that compliment. You would’ve been a wonderful mother, Nyralit. In a way you’re a mother to every nightcaller who sailed.
She sent me a warm tendril of gratitude.
What’s it like? The aether.
Oh, Lilik. There’s madness all around. The Ulstat spirits and their loyal servants are full of hatred and anger, and a deep-abiding shame for the people they were.
I’m confused about one thing, I said. Leesa said that the aether here is split. She summons worthy souls to her domain. So why are you among the Ulstats?
I feel her. It’s like the sun calling me after days of rain, falling through the window in a golden beam. But I sense that I’d lose touch with you if I went now.
Leesa said it hurts to be within the Ulstat domain. Are you in pain?
I feel them attempting to tear at me. Not in a way that would harm me, but yes they want to cause pain. I concentrate and shove them away—though it’s wearying. Maybe it’s my skill in compulsion working even here.
Possibly. As a former nightcaller, she did have the ability to command nightstrands, even if it had weakened as she’d aged. From Tyrak’s hiding spot inside my bandage, I felt a tingle of interest.
I hadn’t learned whether spirits retain the soul priestess abilities they had in life, he said.
Is that Tyrak? Nyralit asked, delight coloring her thought.
It is, I said, smiling into the empty air. I wish there’d been another way for you to meet.
She exuded comfort and peaceful acceptance. As do I, Lilik. But this is my fate, and we must move on from here. She paused as if thinking. For now, I’m tired. I need to see to my defenses if I’m to remain close.
Of course, I said quickly. Do what you need.
I’ll rejoin you soon, she said, affection warming her thoughts.
I gritted my teeth as her sudden absence allowed the pain in my shoulders and ankle to surge forward.
I’m tired, too, I said.
In response, Tyrak surged through my body, lending his spirit. You can do this, he said. We’ll find a way to free you. We always do.
My head swam in the heat from the furnace while I tried to believe his words. Unfortunately, I just couldn’t match his confidence.
Chapter Twenty-Four
MY MIND WAS drifting when the refinery’s outer door opened. From the streets, I heard shouts. The roar of flame, breaking glass. Trader Ulstat strode through the door, tailed by a single guard.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
I narrowed my eyes at him and said nothing. Behind the man, the ore pot bubbled, molten rock splashing and fuming. He seemed indifferent to the danger.
“You know, I was content to just let you go free. I have Trader Ovintak’s allegiance now—he thinks you’re dead, by the way. Fortunately, my younger daughter has helped him through his grief.” The man paused to smirk. “In any case, with his resources, I’ll have little difficulty securing strong backs and arms for the fight on Ioene—you witnessed the ceremony, I assume.”
I stared at the ceiling as if bored. Trader Ulstat clucked his tongue. In the mule stalls, one of the animals kicked, setting the wood shivering. From outside, I heard more screams.
“By calling the most prominent gutterborn to witness, I made sure the city knows where they’ll find coin in the coming months. In just the last hour, close to a hundred men and women have come looking for work—it helps that the upper fringes of the city are burning. Lots of lost livelihoods.”
“Why are you bothering me with this?” I forced myself to keep the same casual tone he used.
“I’ve organized a fire brigade to defend the central district and House Ulstat,” he continued. “The line is holding . . . for now. Unfortunately, this building is difficult to defend.”
“I’m really getting tired of your voice. It grates.”
He showed his teeth. “On her deathbed, your friend Nyralit said she didn’t think my daughter, Mieshk, could be defeated without you. An exaggeration, I’m sure. But I’ll give you a chance to earn a quick death rather than a slow roasting. I need advice. Tell me how to win against my daughter, and I’ll give you the mercy of an arrow through the eye.”
I thinned my walls. Beyond my mental barriers, the battle for the aether still raged. I sensed Nyralit in the swirling midst of the Ulstat strands, a beacon of righteousness. I didn’t distract her; she needed to focus.
“Nothing you threaten will make me help you.”
After what I’d learned from Nyralit, I had no doubt in that conviction. Captain Altak was alive. He would return to Ioene with whatever help he could find. I had to believe he would succeed. There was no reason to support Trader Ulstat, no need to choose between leaving Ioene to Mieshk or handing it to her father. I just wished Raav had known for certain about Zyri’s Promise. Maybe it would have kept him from marrying that girl.
“Hmm. Well, I’ll give you some time to consider. Because I understand you, Lilik. You believe in kindness and charity and protecting the innocents. You haven’t asked what happened to Caffari’s friends after we disrupted their attack on my House. The answer is I let them go, sent them into the city and onto the coast road carrying my demands for loyalty. Gutterborn are fleeing Ilaraok along the coast and forming mobs in the hills. My message is simple. Stop, return to the city, and swear fealty at the gates to House Ulstat. Those who do will be given refuge.”
He paused as if eager for a question. Finally, I rolled my eyes. “Refuge from what?”
“From my cannon, of course. You may have heard I’ve had them moved closer to the city and coast road. A few hours from now, my guards will fire a hundred cannon balls upon the city outskirts and the departing caravans.”
I tried not to react, but I grimaced anyway. I envisioned pulling the lever to send Trader Ulstat plunging from the gallows, noose around his neck.
“Unless you help me, of course. I can be merciful, given proper motivation.”
Sneering, he turned on his heels and strode from the building.
My shoulders were pulling out of their sockets. Around my wrists, the iron manacles were rubbing my flesh raw. Sweat streamed down my face as heat seeped into the building. But I wasn’t worried about the fires outside. Thirty paces away, the ore pot that dangling above the white-hot flames in the furnace had a crack. Just a seam now, where molten ore oozed through, surging now again like red drool. Red-hot ore dribbled from the bottom of the cauldron, splattering on the furnace below, occasionally splashing just a body length from me. From the bubbling mass within, a blob of molten rock sprayed and landed in a tuft of straw dropped by a groomsman during the mules’ last feeding. The straw smoldered and smoked and went out. But every time I looked up, the crack in the ore pot grew. It could break wide at any moment. And as soon as it did, molten metal and rock as hot as Ioene’s lava would wash over me, a wave of death.
Again I yanked at the shackles. My shoulders popped and creaked, and the pain in my raw wrists was like rubbing sand in my eyeballs. But it kept
me awake. Alert.
I needed that pain because it was time to fight.
Nyralit, I called into the aether. I’m out of time. But I have an idea—I need you.
She rushed to me, her spirit anxious.
What is it? What can I do?
I want to bind my spirit with yours. A duskweaving of our souls.
Anything. Just tell me how.
Tyrak interrupted, furious. Are you mad? So resigned to dying that you’re just trying to do it on your own terms? The Ulstats will shred you.
Wait, I said. Listen. Nyralit is skilled in compulsion. She can defend me. With our joint strength, maybe my Need will help us to break the shackles and get out of here to stop the cannons.
That won’t work, he said. Not even close. The power in a spirit binding comes from using your vitality to bring hundreds, even thousands, of souls together. Otherwise, it’s like you and Nyralit trying to break an iron shackle with just your hands.
Okay, then we must bind more strands. Can you compel the Ulstats strands to bend their will to mine? I asked Nyralit.
It’s all I can do to keep them from turning my mind inside out. I can hold them at bay, but that’s where my strength ends.
Then we pull from Leesa’s domain, I said. You can feel her summons. I’ll bind my spirit to yours, and you can take me there.
Wait! Tyrak said. If you leave your body, you’ll die.
I won’t leave my body, I said. I only want Nyralit to help me build a bridge. The Silent Queen told me that the battle for the aether teeters in the balance. We might even tip it by joining our strength to theirs.
That’s all just guesses and hopes, Tyrak said. I felt his anger thrumming from his hiding spot against my lower leg. He projected his thoughts deep into the aether, practically shouting. Nyralit, do you remember that night in House Ulstat when Lilik was screaming, and you had to stay with her? That was the result of her last attempt at this, and she almost died. Actually, no. That’s not true. It would have been worse than death. There would have been nothing but tattered scraps left.
I felt Nyralit’s consternation. I assume he’s telling the truth, Lilik . . . she said.
He is, but this is different. Anyway, what other choice do we have? Another blob of rock oozed from the crack in the cauldron. The edges of the rent began to curl outward while the walls of the pot bulged, glowing as they thinned. My heart thudded against my ribs.
Will you guys just clap shut and listen to me? We don’t have much time.
But Tyrak kept on arguing. Caffari’s band. They could save you. Or Raav could come to his senses.
Raav thinks I’m dead, Tyrak. Darkness waits on all sides. Leesa saw it. But my Need chose this path. My duskwoven actions in the mine killed twenty men. If Nyralit and I had escaped during the battle rather than joining forces with Caffari, Nyralit might still be alive. There will always be other possibilities. There will always be the chance to ask “what if?” But this is my choice. My risk. And I believe I can do it.
I can’t lose you, he said.
You have to see reality, Tyrak. If this doesn’t work, you’ve lost me anyway. Hope won’t shield us from fire.
Tyrak withdrew into a sullen ball of irritation. But he was done arguing; I could sense it.
Will you help me try? I asked Nyralit.
My conscience screams against it, she said.
Your conscience, or your courage? I asked, more harshly than I intended. But time was too short for apologies. You don’t want to be responsible if something goes wrong. I know how you feel. And to tell the truth, Ashhi was the one who pointed out when I was doing the same. I didn’t want to be the one to choose my family’s deaths. I wanted to blame it on Trader Ulstat. But were both stronger than that, so please help me.
She sighed, and I remembered the expression that often crossed her face in these situations. A resigned, bemused acceptance.
All right, Lilik. Let’s begin.
I opened a gap in my barrier, reaching for the strandmistress who had been my mentor, my friend, and something like a mother to me. At first, our contact was no stronger than the bond I shared with Tyrak, but as I open wider, she accepted my spirit’s embrace. Beyond the shell she created to hold us, I felt the tormented nightstrands battering our bond. Trusting Nyralit, I fell deeper still, allowing my mind and spirit to open to the aether and the nightstrands. The Ulstats assaulted me, stretching my concentration to the limit. But I felt Nyralit digging in, throwing the maddened strands backward.
I sensed the Silent Queen’s domain ahead. Or maybe all around—as the nightstrands claimed, there was no real sense of distance or direction when it came to the aether. Nyralit had described a golden beam of sunshine, but for me, the call to Leesa’s realm felt like a glimpse of my years of friendship with Paono. Warm and comforting and constant. And so simple. With Leesa, I could be free of my worries. No longer crushed by my responsibilities.
I wanted to dash for that realm, to dive in and feel the warmth surrounding my spirit. But a dark sea separated me from that comfort.
Stay with me, Nyralit said. Let me build you a path.
Behind me, yet not behind—I had no words to describe the feeling—a silvery thread bound me to my body. Distantly, I heard the bubbling rock, the squealing mules, the roar of fire and wind in the city beyond. Tyrak’s smoldering frustration tugged on the thread, too.
Between the Silent Queen’s domain and me, a tunnel of stars unfurled, twinkling lights on all sides. I stepped forward and felt the crush of torment, the Ulstats pressing in. But Nyralit’s barriers held. Leesa’s domain swelled to greet me like a tranquil aquamarine pool. At the last minute, when I felt the torment and madness of the Ulstats leaking through the seams in Nyralit’s defense, I dove. Love and joy and kindness and peace swallowed me.
Moments later, I heard Tyrak’s panicked yell.
I felt for him with my spirit sense. What was wrong? From far away, his panic fluttered against the aether. But I couldn’t hear him. Not with my awareness so consumed by Leesa and the spirits in her congregation.
Around me, spirits conversed. Not into my thoughts, but as if talking inside a large room. Their voices filled my surroundings, neither near nor far, whispered nor yelled. I was part of the space, within the domain.
I hadn’t realized I could enter the aether in this way. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, worry stirred. Maybe this wasn’t supposed to happen.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“HELLO, LILIK,” a man said. I sensed him beside me. Or at least, I sensed his attention on me. I couldn’t see him precisely, but I had an image of how he looked in life. His brown eyes were warm, and hair the color of melted chocolate curled over his brow.
Hello,” I said, giving voice to my words. The sound came from my spirit, drifting across the aether.
As I widened my perception, more souls crowded around me, their images strong in my inner sight. Nyralit stood in her flowing silks, her hair long and shining. I didn’t need an introduction to recognize Leesa Ulstat. She wore the simple clothing of a servant. Her dark hair was pulled back and fastened at the nape of her neck, and a smile sat comfortably on her face.
She gestured at the man who’d spoken to me. “This is Eron,” she said.
It took me a moment to understand. “Your lover. He was imprisoned in the mine.” She nodded, inclining her head. So they were together after all, even if they’d never reunited in life.
The spirits stood upon the ground that wasn’t ground, and beyond, in the vast emptiness of the aether, points of light twinkled. I knew immediately that they were the souls of the living.
“Can I go to them?” I asked.
“The living draw us. Perhaps the better question is, can you resist?” Eron said. “When you arrived on Araok Island, many of us nearly lost our minds. The desire to bask in your light was so strong, but you were . . . with the others. The tormented ones.”
As he spoke, I felt that oily sense of the Ulstat domain. It lurked so clos
e, all around but unable to touch me. And behind it, as if shoring up the madness of the Ulstats, a great malevolence lurked.
I pried my perception away from the sensations, queasy just at the thought of entering their domain. A brief moment of confusion followed. Hadn’t I come through their part of the realm, though? How long ago was that? Time seemed so strange.
I pondered that until, all at once, a cluster of living souls flared red, then black.
A pained expression crossed Leesa’s face. Eron’s spirit moved and . . . blended with hers. But in the images that filled my mind, they were embracing, not intermingled. It was so confusing, yet I understood at the same time. This was simply how it was for the dead.
But I wasn’t dead. Once again the unease scratched at my thoughts.
“What happened to them? Why are they black?”
A young girl stood near Leesa. “They’re afraid,” she said solemnly. “It’s like that for so many Araokan.”
Leesa laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not just fear. It’s terror.”
“Of what?”
Eron vanished from the scene. I don’t know how much time passed, but eventually he was back. “Be ready to call them, Leesa,” he said. “Let me know if I can help.”
“Call them?” The memory tickled my mind. Leesa Ulstats summoned the newly dead to her realm.
I blinked, and two of the living sparks that had turned black with fear vanished. Leesa closed her eyes and folded her hands over her belly. She swayed slightly. Materializing from nothing and nowhere, a man and woman appeared in the aether beside us. Panicked, they shrieked and yelled, and Lisa’s congregation fell upon them, surrounding them with love.
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