She could not help a wry, “We’d be happy?”
A flush crept to his pale cheeks, but he grinned. “Aye. The whole lot of us. Cai, especially. But he’s too shy to tell you.”
Marcen added a wink that actually made her chuckle for the first time since Stonewall had... Her stomach clenched, so she shook away the thought and studied Marcen in earnest. He was lean and wiry, with eyes the clear blue of a morning sky. His blond hair, usually mussed, was freshly combed and his expression was earnest. She remembered his skill with his dulcimer and his kindness to her that first night after Eris and Gideon had returned. Marcen was, she thought, a good man. He was a fellow mage. He was exactly the sort of companion she should want by her side, and not only because he wanted to be there.
But he wasn't Stonewall.
Kali's heart shrank a little more behind her ribs. “Thanks again for this, Mar,” she said at last, nodding to the biscuits. “And… for your kindness.”
His face fell when she said nothing else, but he took a breath and nodded once, briskly, then rose. “I'll see you around?”
Tears burned behind her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks, but Kali tried to smile again. “I hope so.”
Thank the stars, he left quickly, and no one else came near enough to see her cry.
***
Foley sipped his tea and watched Mage Halcyon from across the common area. She had been seated by one of the hearths all morning, gaze fixed on the book in her lap with an intensity that brooked no interruption. Had she actually turned more than two pages, he might have believed she was reading. But, as he had noticed when Marcen Selle had tried to speak to her nearly two hours ago, there was no spark of interest in her face. At some point she’d set down the plate of biscuits, untouched. And she’d been crying. Even now, she surreptitiously swiped at her eyes before staring back at the book.
Breakfast had ended hours ago. Now the common area was empty, save for Foley and Kalinda, so he decided it was time. Best to get this task over with soon, with as little fuss as possible. He took his mug and went to her hearth, where the embers had burned down to almost nothing. No matter. A moment of concentration later, and small flames snapped merrily at the remaining logs. When Foley glanced over at her, he was a little startled to see she did not seem to notice his presence, for she still stared at the book in her lap, though her gaze was distant.
So he settled down on the chair beside her, where Marcen had made an attempt to bring the dark-haired young woman out of her trance. When Kalinda did not react, Foley said her name. Twice.
Nothing.
He drained the last of his tea, set the mug down, and touched her shoulder. “Kalinda?”
Dark brown eyes blinked rapidly before their gazes met, and at last he saw true awareness in her expression as she looked at him, then around the empty room. “Mage Clementa.”
“Are you well?” he could not help but ask. “I’ve been trying to get your attention.”
“I’m fine.”
The lack of inflection in her words suggested otherwise, as did the shadows under her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. His heart sank a little at the sorrow on her face; he knew what likely troubled her, though he wished it weren’t so. He regretted his own role in her sorrow, too, even though his actions had been for the greater good.
Foley ensured his next words were gentler. “If I may say so, you don’t look fine.”
She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “It’s nothing that won’t pass.”
Oh, child. If only that were true. But he ignored the pang of longing in his heart to focus on his task, for her sake as much as his own. “I’ve been remiss,” he began, and she tilted her head in curiosity. “I’ve meant to speak with you, to learn how you’ve settled in. But I’ve been lax in my duty.”
“It’s all right.”
“It most certainly is not,” he replied, offering a faint smile. “But I’m here now. If you’re not busy, I’d like to talk.”
Color rose in her cheeks and she patted the open book. “Actually, I have a bit of reading I’m trying to get done.”
“Ah, of course.” He peered at the text and recognized one of the mythology books his wife had always enjoyed:
Amaranthea found Tor lying at the gates of the Laughing God's fortress. She thought him dead at first, until she marked the rise and fall of his chest; he was broken, bleeding. But alive. Amaranthea knelt beside Tor and tried to revive him, though she was certain the Laughing God would arrive at any moment and she was not strong enough to fight.
“Tor,” she pleaded, touching his face. “Please wake up. We must leave.”
After some time, he opened his eyes and regarded her with wonder. “What are you doing here?”
“I came after you,” was all she could say before a dark, echoing laughter filled the shadows around them, pressing dread upon Amaranthea's heart. “Get up,” she urged Tor. “We have to leave at once.”
“I have failed to protect you,” Tor said with great sorrow. “You must leave this place, alone.”
But the bright goddess grew angry at these words. “Enough of that,” she said, helping him to his feet. “You are mine and I am yours. We leave together, or not at all.”
“A fitting tale, on this day,” Foley said. “You enjoy mythology?”
“Sometimes.” She traced the outline of Tor’s name. “But I enjoy history more.”
“Ah, well have you read Atera Arvad’s journals?” he asked, meeting the young woman’s gaze. “Extraordinary doesn’t do them justice.”
“You’ve read the journals of the first recorded mage? I’ve never been able to track down a copy.”
“I have one in my room.”
She sat up, eyes wide. “How in the stars did you manage that? I imagine even a copy is quite valuable.”
“Being First Mage has its advantages, sometimes,” he replied, adding a wry smile at the eagerness in her face.
The corner of her mouth lifted but the look was short-lived as she toyed with the edge of the book. “I’d like to read it. Thank you.”
“You have only ever lived here and Starwatch Bastion, is that right?” he asked. She nodded. “Lasath is a beautiful city,” he went on. “And the bastion there has a fine library. I was sad to leave it behind.”
As he’d hoped, her curiosity took over. “Why did you leave?”
Foley never relished sharing this story, so he tried to keep its telling brief. He held up his right arm, revealing the metal hook that covered his stump, and her face went pale. “I was much younger and braver, but much stupider, too. I tried to escape.”
Her breath caught. “You… weren’t successful, I take it?”
“No, dear.” He set his hook back in his lap and covered it with his sleeve. “But the price was far worse than this.” It always took him a moment to collect himself enough to keep going. “My wife, Isra, paid for our attempt with her life. And our daughter was… taken away.”
Kalinda’s eyes were huge. “Where?”
“I don’t know,” he lied. “I have not seen her since that night. But I have never forgotten the lesson.” Kalinda’s gaze was locked onto his, pinned by horror and pity. How he hated that look on her face; how often he had seen others turn it his way. “The sentinels will always win,” he said at last, softly. “Always. It is the way of the world. We mages have power in our own right, but we must pay a price for that power. We all must keep the balance.
“You seem like an intelligent young woman,” he went on. “Therefore I think I can trust you to listen when I tell you this: the price for your magic—for all of our magic—is hematite. The price of power is the distance we must keep between ourselves and the rest of the world, for we cannot be trusted. Even the most well-meaning of us has the ability for great harm. You have struck up a friendship with Sadira, I think?”
She nodded, eyes shining again with tears.
Foley hardened himself against the despair on her f
ace. “She knows better than anyone, even me, the price that we must pay for magic. And she would agree with me. Has she spoken of her past to you?”
“Not really,” Kalinda said. “A little bit, here and there, but nothing… substantial.”
“Then I will not share her secrets,” he replied. “But suffice it to say that she paid a high price for her magic…but it was nothing compared to the price her loved ones paid. It will always be that way, Kalinda. The ones closest to us will always suffer the most.”
To his surprise, anger flared in her eyes. “You make magic sound like a curse.”
“To some, it is.”
“Tell that to anyone who’s ever been healed by a mage.”
Bitterness caught in his throat and added an edge to his words. “Magic can do good – I’ll not dispute that fact. But without the sentinels, it could overrun the world.”
Her anger faded at the word ‘sentinels,’ and she looked away from him, blinking rapidly. “I’ve never thought of them as our captors,” she murmured. “Is that foolish of me?”
“Not foolish, no.” He watched as she swiped away another tear, then added, softly, “But you must never forget Stonewall’s role in the One’s world. Even if he does.”
As Foley had hoped, the mention of Kalinda’s sentinel lover stunned her into silence – and hopefully would prompt her to truly heed his warnings. But he was not prepared for the utter sorrow that twisted her mouth and sent more tears down her already wet cheeks. In his eyes, she was no longer a grown woman, but a frightened, heartbroken child. She ducked her head, covered her face with her hand and wept while he sat beside her, numb with his own shock. Did she truly love the sentinel? He’d hoped whatever was between them was lust, or an attraction to the forbidden; such feelings were not uncommon. But she seemed truly heartsick.
Kalinda was not his child, of course, but he could not suppress his instinct to soothe the poor thing. And a small, bitter part of him thought, I can help someone’s daughter, if not my own.
“Oh, child,” he whispered, placing his only hand on her shaking shoulder. “My dear, sweet girl. I’m so sorry.” She tensed, and then leaned into him and his heart ached in sympathy. How many tears had he shed over a sentinel that was well out of his reach?
“It’s not fair,” she managed to choke out.
“I know,” he replied. “But it is our reality. One that we must come to terms with – no matter how much it hurts.”
Now she looked up at him again, sniffling. Even in this state, her gaze was curious. “What do you know of...sentinels?”
He gave what he knew was a sad smile. “Enough, child.”
A frown came to her face. The answer did not seem to satisfy her, but she let it go, brushing back a lock of hair that had come undone from her braid. “What do you know of him?”
“Enough,” Foley answered again, adding, “As does his commander.”
She sniffled again, rubbed her eyes with her sleeve, and shook her head. “We weren’t hurting anyone.”
“Not yet,” he said, though his throat was tight. “But the pain you feel now is a shadow of what would have come to pass. You’re both better off.”
Kalinda looked away from him, out the window, where they could just make out the bastion wall. “I don’t believe that.”
When she said nothing else, he sighed and patted her shoulder. “It’s true whether you believe it or not,” he said as he rose from his seat. His back and knees were stiff from being seated so long, but getting up wasn’t as easy as it used to be. He was not a young man any longer, but he would still outlive his daughter. This in mind, he glanced back at the young woman before he turned to leave. “I promise you, Kalinda, this is for the best.”
Twenty-Three
When Eris’ eyes opened on the morning of the solstice, she smiled.
“Tonight,” she murmured, turning to the man in bed beside her.
But Gid was still snoring peacefully, which was not unusual. He could sleep through anything, and would, too, if she let him. Once they left this bed they would not return. She had no way of knowing how long it would be before they found peace like this again, so rather than wake her husband, Eris shifted so that she was nestled against his side, and kissed him gently.
Together. There was much to do, but the future could wait a little while longer while she savored this time with the man she loved. She kissed the side of his mouth, his chin, his cheek.
When his dark eyes opened and met hers, he gave her a lazy smile. “I was just dreaming about you.”
Eris kissed the tip of his nose. “Was it a good dream?”
“You are always good.”
“I’ll remember you said that the next time you’re cross with me.”
In response, Gideon's strong arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her hips flush against his so she could feel all of him. She made a quiet sound of amusement even as desire raced through her veins, and when he caught her lips with his, all other thoughts fell away. They lingered in each other's arms for some time.
Later, as they dressed, they went over the final plans for the night's escape.
“What's our final count?” Gideon asked as he pulled on his socks.
Eris drew a brush through her hair and considered. “Besides you and me, there's Cai, Marcen, Adrie, Sirvat, Tassi, Gow, Auda, Davet, Gaspar and Lyn.”
Gideon laced his boots slowly, his gaze distant as he considered. “I would have liked to bring a few more if we could, but I can't trust anyone else to keep their mouth shut. Except maybe Sadira–”
“She won't go,” Eris interjected. “You know that as well as I do.”
“A pity. We could use her talents. What about Kali? Her brace is ready. I'd hoped to give it to her before we leave.”
A swell of anger and revulsion swept through Eris, but she kept her voice calm. “She wasn’t certain she wanted to come.”
“What’s there to be uncertain about?”
“I suppose she has her reasons.” Eris turned turning away from Gid to hide her sour expression while she searched for her own socks. Taking a sentinel to her bed, she thought. What is wrong with her?
But Gideon knew his wife too well. She heard him rise from the bed and approach her, and felt his hand at the small of her back. “Is something wrong?”
Her mouth opened, the words coming to the tip of her tongue: Kali's fucking a sentinel. But she could not bring herself to speak ill of her friend to Gid, so she bit the harsh words back. “I don’t understand her hesitation, either.”
He sighed. “It’s difficult for some mages to imagine a life outside of captivity. If your friend has only ever known a bastion, the thought of leaving might be too frightening for her to stomach.”
“Maybe.”
“Here.” Gideon fetched a metal and leather contraption from the corner of their room and presented it to Eris. “The brace should fit just fine, and if not, I can make a few last-minute adjustments. Maybe…” He hesitated. “I want to check on our tunnel before the next sentinel patrol. Perhaps you can bring this to Kali…and talk to her again, while you’re at it.” He gave Eris one of his dazzling smiles. “You can talk anyone into anything. I should know.”
As always, she couldn’t be unhappy in his presence for too long. She smiled back. “You’re always a willing accomplice.”
He winked. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, love.”
She set the brace with her cloak and began to lace her own boots. “The patrol schedules haven't been as consistent of late; I think something's amiss with the hemies.”
Gid’s smile was razor- sharp. “Hopefully, they’re missing their hematite something fierce.”
“Aye,” she agreed. “But even so, be careful.”
“I'm always careful.”
Eris sighed but said nothing else. Gideon drew her close in an embrace. “After tonight,” he kissed her forehead, “we'll be free. Can you believe it?”
&
nbsp; She inhaled his scent; she breathed him in. The thought crossed her mind that she could live anywhere, do anything, as long as this man was by her side.
But she could not dwell in sentiment. “We're not free yet.”
Gideon's answering chuckle rippled through her body. “Not yet,” he said. “But soon.”
***
The day was overcast and cold, which Eris hoped boded well for the mages’ Heartfire plans, especially once night fell. She found Kali in the garden, upon a blanket spread in a patch of open ground. The dark-haired mage lay on her side, curled around one of the huge, leather-bound books she loved so dearly. A rucksack stuffed with books and a mug of tea rested within arm’s reach, but Kali seemed engrossed in the book before her, so much so that she did not look up when Eris cleared her throat.
Well, that could be remedied. Eris plopped down beside her friend, setting the knee brace in Kali’s line of sight. “What in the void are you reading that's so interesting?”
Kali started, but gave Eris a wry look. “No. You’ll laugh at me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Kali rolled her eyes, but tapped the cover. “It’s a collection of glimmer stories.”
Eris could not help but wrinkle her nose. “Aye, children’s books are always riveting.”
“These are,” Kali replied, sitting upright and carefully marking her place with a worn ribbon before closing the book. “The stories all indicate that the Fata have their own sort of magic. Not like ours, but still extraordinary. Do you have any idea what ‘walking between worlds’ means? In this context, it refers to the glimmers ‘parting with their souls,’ and from what I can tell, it seems like the glimmers aren’t quite…corporeal, though I have no clue exactly–”
“Kali, the Fata aren’t real,” Eris interrupted, lifting a brow at her friend. Seren’s light, Kali could prattle like no one else. “You know that, right?”
Kali didn't answer, only held up the brace. “Is this from Gid?”
Eris nodded. Carefully, Kali began to fit the brace over her knee. After a moment, Eris helped her with the buckles, as Gid had shown her how to fasten the thing. Once the brace was situated, Kali flexed her knee a few times and beamed at Eris. “It does fit.”
Catalyst Moon: Breach (Catalyst Moon Saga Book 2) Page 28
