A guard stood in the doorway, gripping both sides of the frame and blinking at the others as they thumped around, knocking on walls for false doors (or just to spread their misery to the guests in the neighboring rooms). Sooner or later, one of them was going to bump into Blays. He wasn't certain if that would do anything, but based on the fact Minn couldn't walk through walls or the like, he didn't want to find out. He edged toward the door, careful not to let his soles scuff. Though the floor didn't quite feel as hard as normal. And if he was bumbling about in the nether, he didn't know if it was possible for his shoes to scuff (or why they, like his clothes and swords, had followed him into it). He sheathed his swords, clamped his arms against his sides, and stood as straight as possible, minimizing his physical presence.
"You're sure they were here?" one of the men said.
"This was where he told them to meet," another replied. "The boys in the street confirmed they came inside. Haven't seen shit since."
The soldier was still blocking the door. Blays picked up an unlit candle from the shelf and flung it across the room. A couple of troops cried out. The one in the doorway gasped, drew his sword, and advanced inside.
Blays didn't waste a moment. On his way out, he nearly crashed into another man who'd stayed back to watch the hall. Blays stopped himself short and edged around the soldier. Though the hallway had very little light—it was after dark, there was one lone window in the far wall, and a mere two candles burned from the sconces—Blays could see perfectly fine. Minn followed him out.
She grabbed his hand. Her skin was as cool as the underside of a stone. She took him down the stairs and through the common room, where men stared at the ceiling, murmuring to each other about the arrests upstairs. Reflexively, Blays glanced up, too. His foot banged into a chair. The world flickered between normal and the land of quicksilver. An old man stared straight at him, blinked, then tipped his mug and squinted at its contents.
Minn pulled Blays outside. Even the air felt different. Less cold than it ought to be, as if he had a blanket draped over his shoulders. Minn seemed to glide down the street, dragging him behind. She ducked into a crooked alley. They'd no sooner gotten off the street than the boring ol' normal world hauled Blays back into it.
He turned in a circle. "What just happened?"
Minn popped into view. "Well, I'm no expert, but I'd say you just shadowalked."
"But how? I didn't do anything!"
"First things first. We were just betrayed, right? Was it by the servant? Or her friend who was supposed to meet us?"
"Doesn't matter," Blays said. "Whoever it was alerted the authorities. They'll warn everyone in the Pillars what will happen to them if they're found sharing secrets. From here on out, no one's going to talk to us."
"So what do we do?"
"First, we get the hell off the streets."
He headed down the alley, keeping his eyes peeled for more of the king's men. They cut a wide circle around the ambushed inn, then walked quickly to their apartment. He couldn't be certain it was safe, but they hadn't revealed their address to anyone in Setteven, and unless someone had been following them—he would've noticed that, he liked to think—they ought to be able to sit tight and work things out.
Upstairs, he locked the door and lit a single candle. "Before we try anything crazy at the Pillars, I'm going to pay a visit to my friend. She's well connected. Might be able to put us back on course."
Minn cocked her head. "If you have this resource at hand, why did we spend all this time trying to scare up a servant?"
"I didn't want to get her involved. Now how did I do the thing I just did?"
"You must have been ready."
"Much like someday I'll roll out of bed and be ready to sing an aria? I'm getting the idea that no one bothers to learn the nether because it's a bunch of hooey."
"It's not like it came out of nowhere," Minn said, an edge in her voice. "You've been training for months."
"Even so. It's like training to box, then discovering I've become an expert archer."
"These things are hard to explain because they're hard to understand. What happened in the inn was like Betweening. It was life and death. Your mind was shocked back to the primal state when it's easiest to access."
He mulled this over. "The first time Dante did anything was when we were in the middle of a fight."
"So you've already witnessed such things happen."
"This is true. Okay, I don't understand it, but I believe it. Guess the only thing that's left is to see whether I can do it again." He moved to the middle of the room and closed his eyes. The nether flowed to him. Thoughtlessly, he let it go, then pursued its retraction into the non-spaces of its existence. He opened his eyes and looked on the dreamy world of charcoal and moonlight. "That was easier than expected."
Minn clapped. "Oh, how many times I've wished I could make you disappear."
Blays snorted. "So should I be slashing myself up and things? I thought you could hardly make the nether light a candle without dousing it in blood."
"It helps. You'll last longer and be able to do more with it."
"Are we still talking about the nether?"
"The only way to learn what I mean is to try it for yourself."
"I will in time," he said. "But we've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Could be a long week. Come to think of it, the only thing in our future that's apt to be brief is our lives."
He blew out the candle and went to the window to crack the shutters, as if the dingy alley might give him a look at what was coming down the road of his future. He was suddenly very tired. He thought about leaving, that night, grabbing a berth on a barge to Yallen and sailing into the open ocean, away from Gask and Mallon, to anywhere: that was the point, you always had that choice.
It was a choice most people didn't take seriously. They understood that, theoretically speaking, other parts of the world existed, and that they could, in another universe, move to that place and begin a new life away from their present troubles. Everyone got that. But people thought about this the same way they thought about a surprise inheritance from the wealthy, bachelor uncle they never knew that had. Could it happen? Of course. Would it happen to them? No, no, of course not; the idea was a fantasy, nothing to be taken seriously, let alone to plan around.
From a stoop in the alley, a man coughed, a grinding, deep-down bark that translated clearly to "I will not live the winter." It was odd that he wouldn't considering helping the man—he might toss the vagabond a few coins, but he'd never take him in and nurse him back to health, nor find him a home and a job—yet he couldn't stop himself from foiling Moddegan's wrongdoing.
He couldn't leave for a quiet homestead or a sunny island. That voice deep down inside him was telling him that his duty was here. More broadly, that he was and always would be the kind of person who needed that duty. Amid the bustle of daily life, that inner voice was often too soft to hear, but obeying its requests was the only way to be happy about who you were.
It was time to stop fighting it. To get done what needed to be done. By whatever means necessary.
At the moment, what most needed doing was sleep. He took care of that, then went round to the stables for the horses. Snug beneath their cloaks and hoods, he and Minn rode into the countryside. A dirt path snaked through the hills. It took some doing to find the farmhouse (though that was the point). It stood alone in stubbly fields that wouldn't be plowed under for weeks yet. Blays rode up slowly, both to let himself be seen, and to allow him space to bolt if someone else had gotten to Taya first. He stopped a bowshot from the house.
After a couple minutes, she walked out onto the packed dirt outside the doorway. She was as ropy as ever and a sword hung from her hand. She'd let her brown hair grow out, wearing it in a warrior's knot behind her head. Blays lowered his hood and hopped from his horse.
Taya didn't smile. "Who's she?"
"Trustworthy."
"Then tell me you met her prior to your recent
leave."
"Hey now, the quality of the time is more important than the quantity, isn't it?" He smiled. "Anyway, without her, we're pretty much doomed."
Taya looked straight at Minn for the first time. "By what, exactly?"
Minn gave Blays a look. "You're sure you can trust her with this?"
"With zero doubt," he said. "Before the unpleasantness at the palace, she was helping me take down Moddegan. You both trust me, right? Ergo you can trust each other."
"I make my own decisions," Taya said.
"And that's why we love you." Blays pinched the tip of his nose. "How about you listen to what I've got to say, then decide?"
He laid out the events of the last few weeks, starting with their travels to Gallador, abbreviating anything related to Minn's association with the People of the Pocket. It took a few minutes to get through. During, Taya didn't invite them inside.
"You find this credible?" she said after.
"Moddegan does," Blays said. "Enough to risk stirring unrest in Gallador. Within the Endless Pillars, even the servants know about it."
"I wouldn't call that proof."
"Minn knew about Cellen before any of this—but not that it was on its way back. Don't ask how. All I can say is that her source is beyond reproach."
Taya moved her fist to her chin. "I'm not used to taking so much on faith. Even from you."
"I'm from Pocket Cove," Minn said.
Taya's eyebrows did something they weren't inclined to do: they lifted. "Which your people never leave."
"It was time."
"There's more to this, isn't there?" Taya waited for them to go on. After a long moment, she folded her arms. "I don't know anything about Cellen or anyone in the Endless Pillars. But I know someone who might."
Blays grinned. "I knew it."
"Lady Carraday of Rollen."
"Oh," he said. "You mean the same Lady Carraday of Rollen I tried to destroy?"
"She's furious that the king snatched up the bossen from her."
"Isn't she equally furious with me for accepting the deal? Or how about the fact the deal was intended to wipe the buyer out?"
"She's aware that when Moddegan makes an offer, you smile and shake hands." Taya tipped her head forward; Blays had learned this meant she thought he was missing something bleedingly obvious. "And the fact you were attempting to bring him down will only endear you to her."
"Really? Because it sounds like she'd view me as a tool to beat him with. One she would gladly break in half over his head."
"Then it's your job to avoid getting broken."
Blays laughed. "Just when I thought I'd missed you."
Taya smiled. She made arrangements to contact Carraday and told Blays how to find one of her agents in Setteven, a man he and the Lady of Rollen could use to ferry messages without exposing themselves.
That was the extent of her aid. But it was more than Blays had expected. After his disastrous departure, he wouldn't have been surprised if the only thing Taya felt like offering him was the business end of her sword.
He and Minn rode back to their apartment in Setteven to wait out the tedious process of exchanging covert messages with a person as busy and important as Carraday. Yet it only took three notes from both sides and a day and a half of running the messenger ragged before Blays and Carraday had arranged a meet. Apparently, she was eager to ruin someone—either the king, or Blays.
He wasn't too worried about himself, however. He'd been practicing his shadowalking. And confirmed he could do it at will.
It turned out that Carraday had moved into Setteven for the winter, but she didn't want Blays to be seen at her residence any more than he wanted to jump on his own testicles. The rendezvous was arranged to take place at Sorren, a half-ruined amphitheater set in a hill on the southeast side of town. In days of yore, the site had served as a slow-motion battlefield between citizens who used the grounds for extra gardens and the transients who used it as a home. Several years ago, Moddegan had cleaned the place up to prepare it for restoration. The expense of the war had put a stop to that, yet the redshirts still patrolled it often enough to ensure it remained abandoned.
After a minor squabble, Minn accompanied him through the city, then hid herself in the remains of a stone house on the edge of the meadow. Blays crossed the dark field alone. His swords hung from his hips. A small cut dribbled blood on his right arm, waiting to feed the nether. Limestone arches ringed the theater. Some had crumbled, but most of the outer wall was intact, and he spotted three men lurking atop it, doing their best to conceal themselves behind the stonework.
He passed beneath them. Semicircular terraces led to the sunken center that had once served as the stage. Carraday waited there, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"Hello, 'Pendelles,'" she said. "How did you know I wouldn't kill you?"
"You can call me by my real name. Which you know. And that's how you know we're on the same side and thus would have no interest in killing me." He gazed up at the pale walls. "Anyway, if you wanted to do away with me, you'd have invited me to your house. There's no reason to fear being seen with a traitor when you intend to hang him from your rooftop."
"Fair warning: I'd already thought of that, and assumed you would have, too."
"Then I guess I'm just that eager to fuck over the king."
She chortled. "Blays Buckler. He'd pay a fortune for you. Maybe I should turn you in and retire somewhere sunny and carefree."
"I was having similar thoughts the other day," he said. "But I can't deny who I am."
"It's exhausting knowing yourself so well, isn't it?" She shook her head, smiling wryly. "In exchange for what I'm about to tell you, I'd settle for a slice of your luck."
"Just tell me how to extract it."
"I have people at the Pillars. Moddegan runs it the same way he runs his stables. His beasts are taken care of, but the only time they're let out is to be fitted with saddles and reins."
Blays clasped his hands. "Please tell me there's dissent within the ranks."
"These are sorcerers. They command the powers of the gods. Do you think they like being treated like trick ponies?"
"Then why would they help me stop the king from grabbing Cellen? Why not just use it to depose him? Or at least negotiate for more autonomy?"
She waved one hand. "Think, Sir Buckler."
He narrowed his eyes. "Because the fellows at the top have no intention of rocking the boat. If they are made to fail in their task, however, Moddegan will treat them the way you treat any horse that's outlived its use: feed them to the dogs."
"I see you've got more on your side than dumb luck." She sat on an eroded stone bench. "One of those who wants change knows how to achieve it. But they can't be directly involved."
"So you'll happily pass that danger to me. What do you want in return?"
"For you to get it done."
Blays grinned crookedly. "Deal. What do I have to do?"
"Steal a stone."
"Goodness, I can see why you had to call on a man of my talents."
"It's vital to the process of locating the object in question," she said. "Don't ask me how. I doubt my source knows."
"It's guarded, isn't it? Locked up at the top of the Pillars, behind a phalanx of the court's most terrible nethermancers."
"Would that be a problem? Then be glad you're wrong. It hasn't yet been found. They're homing in on it in the Norren Territories right now."
"The Territories?" Blays glanced around and lowered his voice. "Lady Carraday, you're positive of this?"
"You're friends with them, aren't you? Maybe you'll have a chance after all. Your target is a man named Kinnevan. If you don't recognize the name, be glad. Many consider him the most powerful member of the Endless Pillars."
"What else?"
"He won't be alone. I don't think they're traveling at the head of a legion of men, however. Moddegan's afraid of riling up the norren again." She chuckled. "My source says they're scheduled to leave Dolle
ndun this morning. The rest is up to you."
"I might be able to pull this off." He extended his hand. "If I do, you'll understand if I don't come running to tell you about it."
She shook his hand. "The anguished screams of the king will have to serve as my herald."
He jogged up the amphitheater steps. As he left the ruins, he thought he ought to feel some reverence for the landmark, but at that moment, it was just a bunch of old rocks. Interesting? Maybe. But he had a mission.
He collected Minn from the ruined house and led the way back into the city.
"Well?" Minn said. "You look like you just fell in love."
"After what she told me, maybe I have. Listen to this: we're about to desert enemy territory and head to my home turf. We're headed to the Norren Territories."
"That's your home turf? If you're seven feet tall, you hide it well."
"Shave three times a day, too." He stumbled on a root and scowled over his shoulder. "I worked with the norren during the war. Unless I've been thrown out for non-attendance, I'm a member of one of their clans. We'll be hunting a group of sorcerers, and—"
"Sorcerers?"
"—I'll have the whole countryside to call upon for help finding them," Blays finished. "Hey, we know a few tricks ourselves. We'll have surprise on our side, too. Not to mention my unfathomable brilliance."
She watched him from the corner of her eye. "You're in a good mood."
"Glad to be getting out of here."
It was late—it felt like his entire life these days operated during the times a wise person was tucked beneath the covers—but he knew he wouldn't feel safe until they were outside Setteven. He jogged to the stables, glad he was back in a civilized place where a man could pick up his horse whenever he damned pleased, and paid his dues. They mounted up and struck southeast on the road to Dollendun.
"Even been to the Territories?" he asked once they were beyond the city gates.
"Never. My father made it clear they weren't the sort of place good people went."
"Well, try not to be insulted."
"By what?"
The Black Star (Book 3) Page 45
