Others nodded, muttering agreement or speculation. A few more glared in the direction of the bastion, and a very few reached for their sword hilts. Even Cobalt tensed beside her, but Talon considered the question before she answered.
“They cannot sense anything of the kind. Besides, if we do not give them cause, they will have no reason to suspect anything is amiss. However, if you suspect a mage has any inkling of the situation, bring them to a cell and alert Captain Cobalt or me at once. Be assured, I will not rest until we are resupplied.”
What tension there had been among the sentinels seemed to dissipate; shoulders sank, eyes turned forward, hands fell from weapons. The very air seemed clearer, brighter, and easier to breathe. Talon smiled inwardly and ensured that her last few words would sweep over those assembled like a gentle wind.
“I know this is a hardship, but I believe—with my whole being—it is one we can surmount.” She smiled warmly and saluted those assembled. “You are the pride of the province and the gods are with you. Take heart in that truth. Dismissed.”
***
What are you waiting for?
Drake rolled the little vials between his palms. The chips of hematite within glinted in the pale morning light, beckoning. The presence of hematite was not quite a pull toward, not quite a push away, but a strange aggregate of both. It was a promise of pain as much as pleasure. For one moment it held him in its thrall, riveted in place despite the warning in his heart.
The glass vials were cool against his skin, but he remembered the burn, the rush of energy and strength. So much courage locked within the purified ore; his for the taking.
It would be so easy to go back.
He'd smoked his last biri yesterday, after he'd unlocked the sentinels' trunk, so he had to make do until he could get more to dull his yearning. A deep breath, and another, and another still, helped him hone his focus, helped him remember who he was: no longer a sentinel, not quite a mage. Just a man.
A narrow creek rushed before him, down a rocky embankment near the campsite where the Sufani had agreed to meet with Drake and his allies. He couldn't see the source, high in the mountains, nor could he see the creek's destination: the White River. Though the city of Oreion wasn't far, this section of the creek was uninhabited, so he was free to stand at the river's edge and brood.
The sound of footsteps behind him made him turn. Ben approached, a curious look on his face. “We're assembled and ready to begin,” Ben said by way of greeting.
“Thanks. I'll be right there.”
Ben gave a fleeting frown as he studied the river and the evergreen trees on the opposite bank. “Do you need a few more moments?”
He was older than Drake by a few years, with a neatly trimmed auburn beard and a hard-won strength that Drake had come to recognize in those from the lower tiers. In many ways, Ben was Drake's opposite: lean where Drake was muscular; fair where Drake was dark. Ben exuded calm while Drake, long since rid of hematite's burn, still battled a restless anxiety that no amount of sparring ever seemed to banish.
Drake sighed. “No.”
He tossed the vials in the river, and then reached into the crate for another handful. One-by-one, those met the same fate, until only six were left. Drake scooped them up, but something stayed his hand.
Ben cleared his throat. “Our understanding with the Sufani is tenuous at best. I fear if we keep them waiting, they'll pull out altogether. Or,” he added wryly, “slit all our throats and end the dilemma.”
Drake hardly heard. The hematite beckoned, singing familiar promises. The little vials fit so neatly in his palm, their weight an old comfort. How easy it would be. How good it would feel.
No. He needed to put those days behind him – and keep them there. What he did now was for the greater good; his own desires were trivial.
Besides, maybe, somehow, he could make Elan's life a little better – someday. A foolish hope, perhaps. Probably. But it was one of the few Drake allowed himself to hold. He shoved the six vials in one of the pouches at his belt. “Right. I'm ready.”
As they headed back to the main body of the camp, Ben's pale eyes flickered from Drake's belt to his face, but the other man's voice was impassive. “I thought you wanted to destroy all of it.”
“I do.”
“Then...?”
Drake was not so skilled at keeping his thoughts to himself. Within his belt pouch, the vials clinked softly against one another, so he moderated his steps to be smooth. “Even now, it holds me prisoner.”
Ben paused and placed a hand on Drake's forearm. “It's been three years. Do you still… desire hematite?”
“Aye,” Drake said. “But that part of my life is over.” He rested his hand over Ben's and met the other man's blue eyes. “I'm looking to the future, now.”
“With hematite?” Ben's voice was skeptical.
This was skating close to uncomfortable territory, so Drake shrugged and lifted his hand. “You're right; we shouldn't keep them waiting.”
But Ben did not fall for the ploy. “You’ve been… sullen, ever since you and the others returned from your mission. I know you say you’re fine, but I spoke to Brice anyway.”
Drake’s heart seized, though he tried to quell his instinctive panic. Surely, if Ben knew of Drake’s magic, he would have said something sooner. “What did Brice tell you?”
“That you fought bravely. That you took great pains to see no one harmed more than necessary.” Ben squeezed Drake’s arm, adding a faint but warm smile. “I only wish I had been there to see you in action.”
Drake managed a smile of his own in return, though fear still beat through his veins. Hematite would solve the problem of his magic, too; it had before. Hematite burned everything bad away. “If you want action,” he began, lifting a brow. “I know where you can find some.”
Ben chuckled and warmth spread through Drake’s body at the sound.
So it was no hardship to ensure his smile was genuine as they approached the Sufani family who had gathered at the center of the Assembly's makeshift camp. The Assembly folks, a mixture of tiers, stood in clumps, unarmed, but their eyes warily marked the Sufani. By contrast, the nomads waited in neat lines behind three figures that Drake assumed were the leaders or chieftains; all wore jewel-toned coverings from head to toe, with only their eyes visible.
“Good morning,” he said as he approached the three figures waiting at the forefront. Covered, they might've been, but he could still see one was a man and the other two were women. However, it would be an insult to them to acknowledge such an observation, so he merely added, “Thank you for allowing us to meet with you. I hope we can resolve any of the troubles me and my friends have caused by taking on some of your customs.”
For good measure, he added a bow, but none of the Sufani returned the common gesture.
The man stepped forward. “You are the leaders of this Assembly I've heard so much about?” he asked in a lilting accent.
“Guilty as charged. I'm Drake and this is Bennard Galen. And you are…?”
The Sufani man only regarded him curiously. “Just 'Drake?' No family name?”
Drake forced his smile to remain polite. “Just Drake, ser.'”
“Do not 'ser' me, boy,” the Sufani man said. “There are no tiers among my people, either. And even if there were, no one should address me so formally.”
Throat tight, Drake nodded and offered another warrior's salute. “Some habits are difficult to break. However, I don't know your name.”
The Sufani paused, took a deep breath, and drew back his hood, revealing a fair-skinned man perhaps in his late fifties, though his hair and beard were as black as pitch. Soft words of surprise ran through the Assembly folk but none of the Sufani seemed to so much as breathe.
“The cooking-fires welcome you until the road takes you again.” The leader bowed once, quickly, and straightened. His eyes were bright green and bracketed with smile lines, but he was not smili
ng now. “You may call me Aderey.”
Six
Kali's nose tickled.
She tried to ignore it. After last night's festivities and her own magical endeavors, she was in no hurry to wake. Eyes squeezed shut, she groaned and turned her head, trying to avoid the sensation, but the tickling persisted. It flickered against the sides of her nose, then, when she let out a noise of irritation, it slipped up her left nostril.
“Shit! What the–” Kali's eyes flew open to see Eris seated on the edge of her bed, dangling a few small feathers from her slender fingers. A closer look showed that the feathers were actually a part of her friend's fingers, like they'd sprung up naturally from Eris' skin. They were glossy black, glinting in the faint light filtering through the window.
Eris flashed a smile. “Good morning.”
“Maybe for you. What time is it?”
“Half-past you-should-already-be-awake.”
“But still far too early to have feathers shoved up my nostrils.” Rubbing her nose to dispel the tickling feeling, Kali sat up and gave her friend's feathered hand an appraising look. “Do you do this sort of thing often, nowadays? I remember shifting used to be difficult for you.”
Eris sat up as well, pulling her hand back and skimming the feather tips across her folded knee. Her wool dress was a simple cut that revealed her bare throat, and she had pushed the long sleeves back around her elbows. Eris had an elegant way about her that made the humble garment look dignified.
“Shifting comes easier than it used to. I can completely change into a crow now.” Eris grinned broadly, dispelling all elegance. “I've even flown.”
This startled away most vestiges of sleepiness. Kali goggled at her friend. “You've actually flown?”
“Only for a few minutes.” Eris flexed her hand and the feathers receded, leaving her pale skin unblemished. “It's difficult to get the wings quite right, and I don't get many chances to practice outside,” she added as she pulled her sleeves back down. “For some reason, hemies dislike the notion of a mage changing form and flying over the bastion walls.”
Kali's breath caught. “So, the collar...?”
“Was because they caught me in crow form. Well,” Eris amended, eyes narrowing, “they didn't catch me as a crow, but they saw enough cause to throw me behind bars.”
“And Gideon?” Kali asked. “Can he change, too?”
“No.” Eris' mouth thinned. “Gideon used magic upon the city guards, who took great offense and ran sniveling to the hemies.”
Kali frowned, trying to collect her thoughts. Although she had slept for a long time, she still felt tired. “Was it when you tried to escape? What happened, exactly? I've heard bits and pieces, but not the whole story.”
Eris nearly said something, but rose instead and began to pace around Kali's small room, stepping over the piles of clothes, books, and scrolls that Kali had accumulated. “Do you like it here?”
The change of subject threw Kali off-balance. “Like it?”
“Aye.”
“Well, the water tastes a bit strange and the gates could use a good polish–”
Eris sighed audibly.
“It's not quite what I expected,” Kali added with a shrug. “But it's not so bad. The library is better than the one at Starwatch.” She chuckled. “I swear, there were only about three books in the entire place! There's more here than I could read in a year.” She smiled at Eris, but her friend only studied her with a serious expression. Kali’s smile died. “What’s going on?”
Eris’ pacing slowed. “It must be difficult being stuck behind bastion walls after you were so close to freedom a fortnight ago. If I'd been in your shoes, I'm not sure I would have come along so willingly.”
A knot of anxiety began to form in Kali's belly. She tried to conceal her unease by rising to grab the nearest tunic she could find; thank the stars, it smelled clean enough to wear. “We discussed this last night. Must I repeat myself?”
“Cai and Gid together can be a bit… intense,” Eris said with a shrug. “I don't blame you for not wanting to be forthright with either of them when they've been in their cups. Though you always worry too much about what other people think. Have you spoken to the others at all, or just kept your nose in your books the entire time?”
“Sadira and I have become friends.”
Eris pulled a face. “Sadira is… Well, she's not like us. I believe she actually likes it here.”
“There are worse things than being happy where you are,” Kali replied. “I’ve heard that Silverwood Bastion more strict than Whitewater, though that's hard to imagine given the number of patrols I’ve seen since I arrived. And I'm sure Sadira has her reasons for...” Kali made a gesture to indicate the hematite torc that the Zhee mage wore. “Look, I've tried to talk to the others, but until you and Gid showed up last night, most of them didn't want anything to do with me.”
Eris did not reply, so Kali turned her back to her friend and quickly changed her old tunic for the fresh one. They were alone here, but Eris' voice was quiet. “How long have you been able to do magic on hematite?”
Kali had been reaching for a clean set of underclothes and leggings; she froze at the question and fought to keep her heartbeat steady. “I don't know. I don't even know why I tried it last night. I suppose... I mean, if I did magic when Stone was so close to me, before, then why wouldn't it work on your collar?”
“Stone?”
Cheeks burning, Kali turned away again to slip into her fresh clothes. “Stonewall, I mean.”
“The sentinel who brought you here. The one who,” Eris paused, “did not think it necessary to cuff you.”
Rather than reply, Kali straightened and smoothed out her hair. Without a mirror, there was no telling what state it was in, but it probably needed a good comb. She raked her fingers through the dark strands to hopefully bring some semblance of order.
Calm down, Kali told herself. She's not here to interrogate you. She's just curious about why you're acting so oddly. Even so, she could not think of something innocuous to say. Metal-licker, they'd called the First Mage, whose position demanded cooperation with sentinels. What would they call her if they knew what had passed between her and Stonewall?
After a moment, Eris exhaled. “We have options, Kali. It may not seem like it, but we do have a choice.”
“I know. And I chose to come here.”
“But do you think we should all be forced to stay?”
They studied each other and Kali got the impression that she was being measured. No wonder, after her stunt on the collar last night. If Eris had the notion to permanently leave the bastion, she would certainly want a mage who could manipulate hematite to come along. But could Kali go with her friend? Could she leave behind the life she’d always known? And Stonewall…
“No one should be forced to do anything they don't want to,” Kali said at last. “And there are parts of our lives here that could be better. Maybe if just a few things changed—perhaps if we were allowed to come and go as we pleased—it would be a good start.”
Eris began to pace again, though her steps were heavy and she looked older than her twenty-four summers. “That would be a good start, but I wouldn’t expect humanity from the hemies – or those in league with them.”
Hemie-lover. Of course Eris would feel this way. Of course she wouldn't have even a trace of sympathy for the sentinels.
Nor would she understand Kali's predicament.
Kali began to twist her hair into its customary single plait.“You never know. They might surprise you.”
Eris made a noise of disbelief, but her next words were sympathetic. “Breaking the collar took a lot out of you last night, didn't it?”
“It was… draining. I should have known better.”
“Why?” Eris frowned. “Because something similar happened on your journey here, right? When you were with the sentinel?”
“Aye. He said I looked dreadful right
after, and it took me some time to get back to rights. Though…”
Kali trailed off, lost in thought. On that journey, she'd done several feats of great magic, more than she had ever managed before, but the consequences for her had not always been the same. Yes, she'd twice exerted herself to the point of exhaustion—the initial escape and healing an injured farmer—but there had been a third magical event, when she'd actually gained strength and vitality.
It had happened when she had defended herself against a thrall who had attacked her, the Aredian man who'd fought alongside the Canderi-turned-thralls. While the rest of her thoughts were still hazy with sleep, this memory surfaced with shrieking clarity: her attacker’s sword crumbling into rust; his cheeks shrinking to mere hollows as she stole his life; the way he looked at her, so confused, just before he collapsed, dead.
Then raw, unfettered power had coursed through her veins, like starlight in her blood. Even weeks later, the memory aroused a chill of sweet longing.
But I took a life, she reminded herself firmly. A man is dead because of me – and my magic. Yes, Neff had been a thrall and would have killed her without hesitation. She’d had no choice but to defend herself. But even so...she had never taken a life before, with or without her magic. She had definitely not anticipated that she'd enjoy the end result – that wild rush of energy.
Did that make her a monster?
What about other mages? If Kali was capable of something so violent, so dangerous, other mages must be too.
Perhaps the sentinels are right to lock us all behind hematite.
Thank the stars Eris couldn’t read her thoughts.
A deep breath helped Kali shake off some of her anxiety. She could not change the past; she could only shape the future. With some effort, she pushed her misgiving aside and tried to think logically. This new sort of magic was intriguing, and while potentially dangerous, it could also be incredibly useful. Perhaps she should investigate this further – carefully, and on something non-human.
Catalyst Moon: Breach (Catalyst Moon Saga Book 2) Page 8
