by S Kaeth
The white walls of the palace loomed above them, its wooden doors yawning open, ready to consume them. Kaemada shivered.
Aleis laughed. “Welcome home!”
Pretend calm. Scared is prey.
Clinging to the advice she knew Tannevar would have given, Kaemada strove to emulate Taunos. “Oh, no. There must be others more worthy than I for such a home.”
Again the merry laugh rang out, and the hair on the back of her neck rose. “It’s not an invitation. This honor’s given only on merit that the king sees. This’s your home—I suggest you do what you can for keeping it that way. It’s much better for living here than out among the Lowlies.”
How could she have so much joy in this place? Or were the people of the City wrong in their fear? Aleis’s accent, and that of the guard next to her, was much lighter, and part of her reached for sense of belonging with these people who hid fewer of their words. They couldn't be so bad, could they? Surely the stories were exaggerated. And yet, her skin prickled with danger, something within her screaming not to go in.
Eian trembled, his arms tightening further. Kaemada squeezed him back, but the reassurance was hollow.
They wound through a maze of corridors, up and down staircases and through so many twists and turns that Kaemada wondered if Aleis was deliberately trying to confuse her sense of direction such that she wouldn’t be able to find her way out. It wasn’t necessary—all the hallways looked the same to her. It was all so far from the pulsing life of the forest or the buzzing of the prairie. It was all a trap.
Finally, Aleis stopped before two enormous doors and pushed them inward to reveal a large room. Polished stone, scrubbed until it glistened, made up the floor. Paintings and woven tapestries hung on the walls, mostly depicting hunting scenes and men with yellow rings around their heads. Chairs of polished wood with colorful embroidered cushions on the seats furnished the room. Kaemada had never seen such workmanship before, not even in her brief time under the mountain.
Aleis laughed and flashed her dimpled smile again. “These are your rooms to now.”
“For now?” Kaemada corrected in a whisper.
“Yes, until the king meets with you for seeing if you’re desirable.”
“Desirable?”
Aleis laughed again. “Yes, for becoming part of the family! Now. There’s a washroom on the left, and the right’s a sleeping chamber.”
Thinking of Elisabei, Reinan, and the others was easier than focusing on the danger she and Eian were in. The overwhelming, muscle-freezing tension turned to rage. “All these things could go a long way toward making life more bearable for the people out there.”
“You don’t give fine things for rodents.” Aleis turned to leave.
“They have nothing!”
With another merry laugh, Aleis left, closing the doors behind her. Kaemada turned a slow circle in the room, her heart sinking. Multiple rooms in the same house? Multiple houses in the same building? It was too much. In the sleeping chamber, a wooden platform raised the bed above the ground, and the feather-filled mattress was covered with linens while over top, a thick, embroidered blanket spread. Seeing it only made Kaemada long for her familiar sleeping mats and simple hut. There were windows, but whatever filled them was so strong it did not break even when she threw a chair at it.
Everything here was a trap.
She looked gravely at Eian as he tested the cushions on the seats. “We take only what we need.”
Wide-eyed, he nodded. She gathered him close, holding him until shadows stretched long through the room, and kissed his forehead. “I was so worried about you.”
“I love you, too.”
“You were on your own for several days. How did you…?”
“I wasn’t alone.”
She frowned at him, but his expression was so solemn. He looked toward the mountains. “People underground fed me, but I missed the sky. And then I was here, and I hid. But then I heard you calling for me. I’m sorry I did not come right away. I was scared. But then I looked for you, but the guards found me first. They said they would bring me to you.”
She didn’t understand, but she didn’t need to. Finally, something had gone right, and Eian was in her arms. That’s all that mattered.
Except for the looming sense of doom.
“We’re in danger here, Eian.” She made her tone as gentle as possible. It was no use to deny it—denying hunger to avoid hunting never brought meat. Her denial of the horrors of this place had gained her nothing. Instead, she needed to protect them, and that meant safeguarding certain truths. A passing thought from Eian could alert their captors to her gifts.
She drew in a deep breath and looked at him seriously. “We need to build our mental walls. These people cannot find out I’m a psion.”
Everyone could form mental walls, psion or not, but all psions were taught the process as children. Normally, she projected a telepathic image into their mind so they could learn to block it out. But she didn’t know if her abilities had returned—she would only find out if she tried to use them—and the use of her telepathy would alert any psion nearby to her talent.
She forced a smile. They’d have to do this the hard way. “Acha’iyih, think of yourself, but think in a whisper. Just a whisper of yourself. Pull it back into the very core of you. Keep pulling.”
As she spoke, she retreated into herself, too, building up her walls. The higher and deeper the walls, the safer she would be. If Eian could build his walls sufficiently, the psions wouldn’t be able to scan him in passing, unless he thought in a shout.
“Why do you not just take us out of here?” Eian asked.
Her concentration shattered. “My abilities were broken, and it’s too dangerous to test them here. Even if they have returned, I cannot simply whisk us away. Please, acha’iyih, concentrate.”
Eian scowled. “I want to go home.”
“I know. I know, acha’iyih.”
“Please?” He turned those big, brown eyes on her, and her heart broke.
She reached to embrace him. “Soon, Eian. Soon.” She hoped.
He clenched his fists and curled up tight into himself and then flung himself at her, burrowing his face into her stomach as he clung to her. “I’m scared.”
Lights flashed as fresh pain stabbed through her from her wounded side. She nearly fell over, catching herself with one hand, the other wrapped around Eian. “I know, acha’iyih. I know. That’s why we have to build your mental walls.” She rubbed his back. “I will hold you—you tell me when you’re ready.”
Finally, he pulled away and nodded, and she forced another smile.
“Pull back into the core of you. Imagine a wall. Build it branch by branch, stone by stone. Build it high. Build it deep.”
“Can you fight the psions?”
Kaemada’s eyes snapped open. “Eian, this is important. You must concentrate.”
“I cannot do it!” Eian scowled, his little hands curling into fists.
“You must concentrate.”
“No! Use telekinesis.”
Kaemada’s smile faltered. “Acha’iyih, even if I could, I do not see how that would help.”
“Break down the wall and let us out!”
“I wouldn’t be strong enough—no single psion would be. Telekinesis does not add that much to my natural strength, and it only allows a push.”
“Be right next to the wall. To add strength.”
“It’s not unlimited. To push down a wall, many psions would need to link to each other, but we have no way to know who would be safe to ask for help.”
“If you fought the psions, we could leave.”
Her heart ached with longing for that to be an option. She was failing her son, and yet, she couldn’t see a way out. Perhaps one would appear with a little time or help would arrive. She held her ragged composure together with breath and prayers, for if she came undone, her son would be lost.
“I know it’s scary, Eian. I would love to take you away f
rom here. But there are too many psions—all the psions in the city are here, they said. And with the guards, too… Better to hide and wait for a chance to escape.”
Eian sulked at her. “Taunos wouldn’t wait. He would fight his way out.”
A sigh gusted out of her, and she gathered Eian in her arms again. It hurt that he was right. The odds never seemed to affect Taunos—he could talk or fight his way out of anything. But what could she do? How long would she be able to keep them both alive? How long could she hold him next to her heart? She didn’t have Ra’ael’s confidence to lean on, nor Takiyah’s resourcefulness. She didn’t have her brother. All she had was herself, and she felt woefully inadequate.
Over the next two days, Kaemada huddled against the window, as far from the door as she could get, and worked with Eian to build his mental walls. It was frustrating, nail-biting work, for Eian’s mind continually wandered, and he either couldn’t or wouldn’t maintain the focus needed to build his protection. It became clear there was only one last option.
Hunched beside the window, Kaemada held Eian close, resting her head on his, to build his mental walls for him. She couldn’t tell if it was working, and she fully expected to be found out. Every time she used her abilities, she would be like a flare of light for any psion close enough and looking. Distance decreased telepathic strength, but she couldn’t count on the distance being enough to hide her.
She tried to choose times when, she hoped, they’d be least likely to be discovered, but every time the door opened, she froze, certain the guards waiting outside would seize her and drag her away. But each time it was only the servants delivering food and wood for the fire, taking away dishes, or emptying the chamber pot. The servants and guards were silent, and terrified she might somehow betray her secret, Kaemada avoided them.
On the third night, the stars began to fall. Kaemada knelt by the window with Eian, pointing out the streaks of light in the black. Quietly, she sang the starsong, though tears clogged her throat. There were none of the festivities that should go along with the display. No music, dance, or games lifted spirits here, neither inside the palace nor outside its walls so far as they could see through the window. Kaemada sent her prayers flowing upward, for the spirits were closer when the stars fell, and she strained to hear their tune and harmonize her song with them. But caged inside the stone walls of the palace, she couldn’t hear or feel that song.
They were alone, cut off even from the spirits. Cut off from Eloí. She forced herself to breathe through the terror making knots in her stomach. She couldn’t give in to it. It couldn’t be true.
On the morning of the fourth day, the door opened to admit Aleis. Her eyes flashed with a strange, unfriendly light as she smiled that dangerous smile. “Hurry, darlings. The king’s waiting, and that’s something he intensely dislikes.”
“The king?”
“Yes, and you’re planning for going looking like that?” Aleis raised her eyebrows.
They had no other clothes. Kaemada drew in a breath slowly, clinging to calm. “Yes.”
Aleis’s teeth flashed at them, and Kaemada turned her back to shut out the sight, crouching in front of Eian.
“Eian, listen to me. I love you. I will always come for you, and I will always find you. I promise.”
Eian launched himself into her arms. “I’m scared, too.”
Aleis laughed. “Come, come. You want for making a good impression, yes?”
Giving Eian one last squeeze, she stood and took his hand. Aleis flounced out of the room, and Kaemada followed with Eian, glaring at the girl’s back and trying to ignore the guards behind them. Once again, she led them by a roundabout path. Though Kaemada tried to remember the ways they had gone, the complexity of their route and the strangeness of the surroundings quickly overwhelmed her. Her palms were slick with sweat, but chills filled her core, and her heart seemed weighted to her stomach.
Finally, they came to two tall, intricately carved doors which together made an arch. Beyond them stretched a grandly decorated hall with intricate stonework and wood carvings. Flowering plants filled the room with their fragrance. A long, narrow woven rug on the floor led to a wide chair covered in cushions, upon which lounged a middle-aged man with light brown hair and brown eyes, a neatly trimmed beard, and an enormous, multicolored cloak wrapped around his form. He regarded them intently and Kaemada quailed under the scrutiny, avoiding his gaze. Two figures stood like statues halfway down the hall, dressed in robes head to toe. Psions. Kaemada’s heart pounded in her ears. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. They would discover her.
Aleis dragged them about a third of the way down the hall, then knelt, yanking Kaemada down until her forehead nearly brushed the floor. Kaemada stumbled, then recovered her balance, gripping Eian’s hand tightly.
“Bow!” Aleis hissed, her gaze fierce.
Eian looked up at Kaemada with wide, terrified eyes and dropped into a low bow, whispering, “Or die!”
A shudder gripped her at her son’s words. This place endangered her son. There would be no placating them.
How would her brother get out of this situation? He once told her that he always found his way home by remembering who he was. Kaemada shifted to a ready stance.
Who was she? She was a Rinaryn, and Rinaryn do not kneel.
She was of Torkae, they who struggle to maintain the original vision.
She was a student of Galod’s, trained to be a fighter and a psion.
She was a friend of Takiyah and Ra’ael. She was Taunos’s sister. What would they do? Taunos taunted the guards when they were captured. A show of confidence, then—but not too much, lest they take it out on Eian. Just enough to find a way for harmony.
The man rose to his full height, staring down at them. “Bow before your king!”
Show no weakness to a bully of a leader. A lump formed in her throat as she thought of dear Tannevar. She would never see him again.
She straightened and returned the man’s gaze, striving to mimic Ra’ael’s confidence. “Rinaryn are forbidden to kneel to any other Rinaryn.”
“Or to demand the bent knee of another,” Eian finished in a whisper.
The king laughed, and Kaemada fought to suppress shivers, holding to Eian’s hand as if by maintaining a hold on him she could keep them safe. Except they weren’t safe.
“I do like spirit.” The king smiled, seating himself again with a whirl of his cloak. “You’re in my City, where my reign is indisputable, and you will bow.”
“I’m only a traveller. My duty is to the laws of Rinara, and so I’m forbidden to do this.” Kaemada struggled for Taunos’s easy charisma.
“Why do you care to Rinaryn laws? You’re here, never for going home. The sooner you cease fighting, the easier it’ll be. I’m the king, and you would do well for simply accepting that fact.” The king spread his arms as if to indicate his domain.
“I must first test for truth.” Her voice did not sound nearly as confident as Takiyah’s would have.
The king scoffed. “We’ll see how long you test. That your boy, then?”
Her face heated. Kaemada drew Eian close and raised her chin.
“Funny, he looks nothing like you. Except maybe the hair.”
Wrath broke through, easier to accept than the terror beneath the surface. "Who decided that you should sit comfortably in here, toying with people, while others are denied even clean water and food?”
“You know, I have decided. I’m keeping you. Both of you,” he said lightly.
“You cannot own someone.”
“You’ll do as I please, and believe me, you will please me.”
Kaemada’s heart raced, and she shifted Eian behind her, prying his fingers from her clothes. Would she be able to fight if it came to it? The weakness was no longer apparent, but she could still feel it inside of her. No, there must be a way to reconcile with these people. If only she could find it!
The king stood again and strode down the carpet toward her. Kae
mada concentrated on breathing evenly. Her heart felt like it would burst, her head light, somehow distant.
“Aleis, my bird, take the boy.”
Aleis leapt forward, seizing Eian with a knife to his throat. Kaemada held tight to his arm as he cried out.
“Let him go or his blood coats the floor!” Aleis hissed. Eian’s brown eyes were huge and Kaemada hesitated.
“Shareil, Eian, shareil. It will all be well.” She couldn’t keep the quaver from her voice, and her fingers trembled as she let him go. Swallowing hard, she watched as Aleis dragged him to the side of the room, one arm wrapped around him, the other holding the cruel blade close to the tender flesh of his neck.
The king had stopped about halfway down the hall, between the two shrouded psions. “Tell me your name.”
“Please, let him go! I’m Kaemada.” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Eian, from the blade against his skin.
“Look at me.”
The words took a long time to process. She hesitated. Would Aleis hurt him when she wasn’t looking? Her thoughts raced too quickly to be held onto.
“If you don’t obey, the boy doesn’t live.” His tone was light, almost pleasant.
Her gaze darted to his face. “No! Please, let him go!”
With a smile, the king held out his hand. “Kiss my ring.”
She glanced at Eian, still as death, and at Aleis’s bright eyes. She moved forward as if wading against a strong current. This was a nightmare. She had to be sleeping. She would wake up and find none of this had happened, and Talaera would scold her for something, and Galod would berate her for not being better, and everything would go back to normal.
Except she didn’t wake up. Tears stung her eyes, and her nose began to run. She blinked back the threatening tears as she stepped toward the king, searching his face for any glimmer of compassion. He was like stone, with no life in him. As if someone else was moving her body, she bent, touching her lips to the large green stone on his ring. Trembling, she retreated, glancing behind her at Eian. Still alive.
