Flummoxed, he only stared at her before he shook his head. “I don’t know. Never really thought about it. Beacon can read and write in Aredian,” he added quickly. “Though he’s from a third tier family. He learned as a lad.”
“Has he ever offered to teach you how?”
“No.” Stonewall frowned as he considered. “Back when I was an initiate, before I’d taken my first Burn, there was a fourth tier girl in my squad who knew how to read and write. She started to teach some of the others, but stopped one day.”
“Why?”
“She wouldn’t say. But I heard rumors that the commander had told her not to.”
“Why?”
“You and your curious nature,” he said, forcing levity in his voice as he shot her a smile. But she only looked at him and he sighed. “I don’t know. Drake told me later that he heard one of the older boys say the commander had orders from the head priest at the nearest temple, but I always thought that was silly. Why would the Circle care if a bunch of kids learned to read or not?”
Kali studied him. “I find myself wondering the same thing.”
Heat crept up Stonewall’s neck and cheeks, though he could not have said why he was embarrassed. To distract himself, he glanced around the clutter in Kali’s room. “Where’s that charcoal? I should practice writing again, while we have some time left.”
She fetched the stick of charcoal and a few sheets of parchment she’d gathered for their lessons. As before, she wrote a few sentences first, which he then tried to copy. The going was slow; the charcoal smudged easily and his writing looked more like scratches from a drunken hen then proper words. The worst was his own sodding name.
“Why’d I ever pick this silly name?” he grumbled as he struggled to form the ‘s.’ “Drake was right.”
Kali’s gaze on him was fond. “You’re doing really well. Look, you’ve got the ‘e’ just right.”
“The ‘s’ is backwards.” He frowned and tilted his head at the page. “Isn’t it?”
She held out her hand for the charcoal. “Let’s try something easier.” In her neat script, she wrote, ELAN.
Stonewall stared at the letters, sounding them out in his head before looking at her in amazement. “It’s… it’s me.”
“It is.”
“I’ve never seen it written before.” He studied the letters again before trying to mimic the script. His own hand was clumsy and awkward next to hers, but soon he had written the name his mother gave him for the first time in his life. “Elan,” he said, staring at the word. “Thank Tor it’s short.”
Kali laughed aloud. “‘Stonewall’ will come in time, but you really are doing well.”
He all but shoved the charcoal in her hand. “Show me yours.”
“Thought I already did,” she replied, winking at him.
He grinned. “You know what I mean.”
Smiling, she accepted the charcoal and wrote, KALI. “Unless you want my full name,” she said as she handed back the stick.
“No, this works for now.” Her name was easier; he liked making the swooping ‘k.’ Soon KALI and ELAN stood together on the parchment. In his concentration, he’d accidentally smeared some of the letters, but the names were legible. Stonewall regarded his handiwork with a flush of pleasure and glanced up at her. “It’s a little strange, seeing them written.”
“Next thing you know, you’ll be writing stories of your own,” she replied.
He chuckled. “Doubtful. At the rate I’m going, it’ll take more time than I have left to learn how.”
She was silent again, all humor gone from her face as she traced his name, further smudging the charcoal and staining her fingertip a dark, shining gray.
Stonewall grimaced, but there was no point in hiding from this truth. “I spoke truly before,” he said quietly. “Back at the Jessamin. I don’t have much to give you – especially time.” He placed a hand on her cheek, drawing her gaze. “But what I do have… Kali, it’s yours.”
To his chagrin, her eyes were wet. “Is it worth it?” she whispered.
“What?”
“Hematite.” When he did not answer, she blinked hard and shook her head. “Never mind.”
He dropped his hand. “It used to be,” he said slowly. “But now…” When she looked at him, hope shining in her dark eyes, his heart sank. Idiot, he told himself. You should have broken your promise. You’re only going to hurt her. If not now, then one day. But he could find no reply within himself other than the truth – harsh, though it may have been. “Now, I’m not certain.”
“But it’s already too late,” she said, sniffing once. “The damage is already done. Isn’t it?”
He hesitated, but nodded. “As far as I know. But then, I don’t know of any sentinels who’ve stopped taking hematite and lived much long after.”
To his surprise, anger darkened her expression; the set of her jaw and drawn eyebrows looked out of place on her usually merry face. “Life is a gift, Stonewall. From the One god, if you truly believe in such a thing, or simply a gift on its own. I’ll never understand why anyone would willingly throw that gift away. Especially when…” Her voice broke and a few tears slipped down her cheeks. “When they’ll leave so much behind. It isn’t fair.”
Understanding pierced his heart. Ignoring the parchment and letting the charcoal roll to the floor, Stonewall pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms as she wept. “No,” he murmured into her ear. “It’s not fair to those left behind. But we all must make our own choices; we all must find our own balance. And for what it’s worth, I’m sure your father would have made a different choice, had he been able.”
She hiccupped. “I’m not.”
Stonewall made a quick mental calculation. “He must have been about my age when you were born. If he’d taken his first Burn at eighteen summers… that’s six years of hematite. That’s too long to ever give it up and survive. Maybe he felt he had no other choice.”
She nodded into his chest. “It’s still unfair.”
The gods must have had a plan for him. The words came to Stonewall’s lips but he held them back; they would offer her no comfort. So he said only, “I’m sorry, Kali.”
She looked up at him, swiping at her eyes. “It comes in waves. Grief, I mean.”
“I know.” He kissed her cheek. “Has it gotten any better?”
“Yes. No.” She sighed again. “I don’t sodding know. Maybe a little. Mostly, I try not to think about him.” She glanced down between them and muttered a curse. Carefully, she pulled out the parchment from under their bodies, but the writing was streaked and almost impossible to read. Kali made a noise of disappointment. “It’s ruined.”
“Let me see.” He took the parchment when she offered it, pretended to study the messy script, then sent it fluttering to the floor. “Aye, you’re right. Too bad. We’ll have to find another way to pass the time.”
She laughed, all trace of sorrow gone – as he’d hoped. He kissed her again. She returned the kiss with eagerness. When they parted, she said, breathlessly, “We really should try to finish your lesson.…”
“Later,” he replied, nuzzling her neck.
She trembled against him, pressing herself closer and making those little sighs of pleasure that drove him to madness. She tasted sweet, all of her; he'd savor her for days if given the chance. Sometimes he thought the time he spent with her was just a dream. Other times, he wondered if she was the only thing that was real, especially when nothing else in his life could compare to the joy in these stolen moments. He smoothed his hand across the dark tangle of her hair, down her back and lower, trying to distract himself now, for it was past time for him to leave. His squad awaited and duty called.
But he idled. Kali seemed to glow beneath the pale, predawn light that slipped through the curtained window by her bed. He inhaled deeply and held her closer in an effort to hold onto that sense of peace brought by her presence.
Perhap
s it was sentiment from the story they’d read that made him say, “It might sound silly to you, but I think there must be a reason we were brought together.”
She did not reply and he regretted the words. Then she said, softly, but with a trace of wry humor, “Maybe our souls met in a past life and got along so well, we carried over to this one.”
He managed to conceal his surprise with a chuckle. “Do you believe in past lives and soul-bonds, then? I'd imagine all of that would fall in line with belief in the gods.”
Kali's dark eyes went distant as she considered her answer. Her words came slowly at first; their tempo quickened as her thoughts gained strength. “Magic lets me see how the world works. It lets me see the particles that make up all things. Particles never vanish, you see, they simply…” She fluttered her fingers. “Move on. I think we do have souls, so it stands to reason that, after our bodies die, our souls have to move on as well.
“I suppose… I like the idea that just because something is not here,” she gestured to the room around them, “that doesn't mean it's not anywhere. It's… comforting, in a way, to think that there's some sense behind the cycle of life and death. How peculiar,” she added, frowning.
“What is?”
She leaned her head into his chest again, casually, like such a thing was second nature, and he thought his foolish heart would burst with happiness. “I never knew I felt that way,” she said. “I suppose I never thought about soul-bonds before...”
She trailed off. Stonewall waited until he was certain she wasn't going to finish the thought, though he hoped she would. When she said nothing more, he hugged her closer. “I feel the same way. I just assumed you didn't believe in such things.”
Kali leaned up and lifted her brow at him. “There are too many unknowns to assume anything, Serla Sentinel.”
“Noted, Mage Halcyon,” he replied in his most formal voice, and grinned when she shot him a mock-glare. The expression changed, however, when her eyes widened and she pulled away from him, easing off of her sleeping pallet to rummage through the clutter beside her bed. She dug through unraveled scrolls and what he hoped were clean clothes, until she withdrew another book, this one little more than sheets of parchment sewn together on one side. A look of satisfaction on her face, she nestled back against him and began flipping through the pages, muttering to herself.
“I swear, I saw it in here....”
“Saw what?” Stonewall peered over her shoulder, but all he could make out were pictures of children and forest creatures; she turned the pages too quickly for him to read the words.
Kali didn't reply until she reached a certain page, which she skimmed, then pointed to in triumph. “I knew it. Here.”
With effort, Stonewall read the largest words on the parchment. “Alem's Wish.”
“It's a story about the Fata,” Kali said. “This book is full of them. I picked it out for you to read.”
“A book of children's tales?”
“Don't be offended. You're still learning.”
“I'm not offended,” he replied, and she turned to look at him. “Well… maybe a little. But why bother with it right now?” He squeezed her hip.
“Just listen.” Kali began to read, moving her finger along with the words as she'd done with the Heartfire tale. “Angry with his mother and father, Alem stormed out of his house and ran through the forest until he could run no more. As night fell, he stopped to rest at a river's edge. It was no river he had ever seen; too wide to see the other shore, dark with the reflection of the night sky.” She skimmed ahead. “Ah, here. The girl appeared at his side as if she'd stepped from the empty air. When Alem looked up, he saw how her eyes sparkled like stars. So dazzled, when she asked him if he'd like to travel with her to the other side of the river, he said yes. And so they went.”
Kali set the book down and looked at Stonewall. “The story goes on to say that the girl's a Fata,” she explained, pointing to the page. “She takes this boy—Alem—all the way across the world in the blink of an eye, but when he returns home, so much time has passed that his family is dead and his house has rotted away.”
“This is a story for children?”
“Aye, it's grim,” Kali replied. “Most of these glimmer stories are. But–”
“Why's it called Alem's Wish?”
“Something about Alem wishing his parents were dead – I don’t think he wanted to do some chore or another. But forget about that, Stonewall. The girl's eyes. Sparkling like stars. What does that remind you of?”
A sense of dread swept through him, making him sit up to gape at her. “Thralls.”
Kali nodded.
Gods above, he could barely wrap his mind around the possibility. “Are you saying that the thralls are… connected, somehow, to the Fata? How can that be? The Fata aren't even real.”
Her mouth opened and snapped shut; he thought she might have been about to make a comment about the gods, but she said only, “I’m not saying anything. Just pointing out a potential connection.”
Surely it was madness, but now that the idea was in his head, he couldn’t ignore it. His thoughts returned to the Aredian captain he and his squad had encountered weeks ago. “Does that book have any stories about the Fata not being able to touch metal?”
“I think so.…” She flipped through the pages. “Why?” As she searched, he related the story of his squad’s encounter with the thralls near the township of Torin. Kali’s brows knitted as she skimmed the words, then she nodded slowly. “Aye, here’s something: ‘it was not the blade that killed her—some Fata queen, I think—but the hilt that struck her cheek.’ And I’ve spotted several other similar bits throughout.”
“I’ve heard some of those stories,” Stonewall replied, knots of unease forming in his belly. “And… if I think back to our trip here, I remember those thralls had cloth wrapped around their weapons at the hilt.”
“A barrier between themselves and the metal?” Kali mused.
Stonewall shivered. “Maybe.”
They looked at each other; Stonewall’s anxiety was mirrored in her face. Kali tapped her fingers on the open page, which bore an illustration of a stately human-like woman with antlers, gaping at a sword in the hand of a woman in armor. “This is all very strange,” she murmured. “If only we knew more about these thralls.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “More understanding might make people stop thinking the thralls are mages’ doing.”
Kali’s eyes widened. “Our doing? Do people really believe that?”
“Unfortunately. And I can’t entirely blame them.” When her expression darkened, he hastened to clarify. “Most people haven’t met any mages, Kali. They only see your people as strange, maybe even threatening.”
“Mages save people’s lives.”
“I know. And I know others would agree with you. But you must understand… to most of the world, your kind are a mystery.”
“And people will always fear the unknown,” she replied, expression thoughtful once more. “I suppose you’re right. You certainly get out of the bastion more than I do,” she added wryly. “But it’s still troubling to think folks might believe we’re responsible for these horrors.”
“But if not mages,” he said. “Then whom? The Fata?”
Kali exhaled, her face pensive. “I wish I knew.”
She turned to look out the window, where dawn was fast approaching. She looked back at him and he read the reality in her gaze. “Not quite yet,” he said, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“Didn't you say you had a patrol in the city this morning?”
He sighed. “Aye. The damn solstice celebration has the entire city in a tangle, and the guards apparently need our help. It's not like this at any of the other garrisons,” he could not help but add in a grumble.
Kali tensed at the word “celebration” but said nothing. Strange. Stonewall sat up and touched her chin lightly. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said, smiling up at him.
The smile did not reach her eyes.
A faint thrill of warning shot through him—instinct honed through years of experience—and he could not help but glance around her room again, assessing it for any potential threat. A silly thing to do, as he'd spent many hours here over the last month or so, but the habit was too deeply ingrained to ignore.
Of course, there was no danger; only piles of her clothes, scrolls and books, and his gear stacked in the corner. The silver strings of her viol gleamed brightly in the growing light, but the feeling of unease lingered.
“Are you certain?” he asked her.
She hesitated, then sat up and pulled the blanket over her shoulders, wrapping it like a shawl. She did not look at him as she spoke. “I’d rather you and your squad patrol the city than be out fighting thralls.”
“Me too.”
Kali seemed to consider something, then glanced up at him hopefully. “Have you ever thought about bringing a mage along?”
“When we fight thralls?” She nodded and he frowned. “No. Why would we?”
She gave a laugh that only held some amusement. “Because of… magic? Don’t you remember what I did to Neff?”
“Too well. Are you so eager to relive that experience?”
Her eyes widened and she flushed. “No, of course not. But perhaps if I could get close to a thrall again, to study it, I might be able to learn more.”
“I've been plenty close to them, Kali, and I have to say...it's not something I’d advise. More than likely, you'd be too busy trying to survive to do much else.”
“I've been close to them, too,” she said. “And you're not wrong, but learning about them might hold the key to stopping the sodding things.”
Catalyst Moon: Breach (Catalyst Moon Saga Book 2) Page 23
