by Emma Fenton
Now that her pulse felt normal and she could hear past the sounds of her ragged breath, Ria noticed how quiet the library was, how still. Not that it wasn’t always blissfully void of annoying court chatter, but this was different. It was like time itself had stopped. Even the air felt immovable, heavy with a bitter, burnt smell that lodged itself in her nostrils. Ria scrunched her nose and tried to dispel the unease in her gut, tried to ignore the way her every sense screamed that there was something wrong.
“Master Ameer?” she called, glancing around. The Elder Scholar was usually waiting by the door to reprimand her for being late, but the library seemed as empty as ever.
A pained howl came from the other end of the library, raising the hairs on Ria’s arms. She jumped at the sound, stomach roiling. Could the Elder Scholar have been attacked? Were there thieves in the library? she wondered. Or worse, assassins? Pesh mercenaries? Unbidden, a memory rose to the forefront of her mind. She had been twelve, standing in the town square, watching a man’s head roll off the platform, the rest of his body still twitching. He’d tried to kill Jaya. She remembered wishing he hadn’t been caught.
Despite her fears, her feet moved towards the sound. Logically, she knew it was reckless; she was unarmed and walking into an unknown situation. A part of her also knew she might be overreacting. Maybe it was nothing dangerous at all, and the Elder Scholar had simply fallen off a ladder. But still, her mind kept returning to the image of the assassin in the town square. He managed to infiltrate the palace, Ria thought. So could someone else.
Ria knew she was getting close when she heard a string of muttered curses coming from the next aisle over. She tried to remember something, anything, from her combat training, but even though she could recall strategic techniques and the proper way to throw a punch, she wasn’t sure her muscles would remember how to move. Three years was a long time to go without any physical training, and she hadn’t ever been a stellar fighter to begin with. She looked around, eyes scanning the shelves until she found a hefty tome twice the size of her head. She picked it up, heavy though it was, and held it at the ready in case some villain really was lurking around the corner.
She peered around the corner of the shelf, holding her breath. There, in the middle of the aisle, a narrow figure cloaked in black knelt, head bowed. An old fear clawed its way up Ria’s throat: a demon spirit. She dismissed the thought immediately. Demon spirits were the monsters of bedtime stories, crafted by old nursemaids to scare children into behaving. Still, Ria remembered the stillness in the library when she first entered, the unpleasant scent that triggered a jolt of fear, and some small voice in the back of her mind whispered, magic. She raised the book in her hands as if she might strike down a mythical being with nothing more than leather-bound paper.
“Wax,” the cloaked figure exclaimed in despair, raising a book of his own skyward like an offering to the gods. “Wax on a four-hundred-year-old book! Have they no respect?”
Ria lowered the painfully heavy tome in her hands, nearly groaning at the relief in her arm muscles, and silently chastised herself for being so jumpy. No thieves, or murderers, or demons. Just the Elder Scholar. I should’ve known. The older man had always been a bit of a kook. She’d been studying under him for three years now, and while the man was undoubtedly brilliant, Ria sometimes wondered what really went on in his head.
She must have made some sound because the cloaked figure suddenly bolted upright and turned to glare at Ria. His eyes often unsettled her: one so dark it was almost black, the other covered in a white film. He was completely bald—even though he couldn’t have been much older than her own father—and currently giving her his most unimpressed look.
“Were you going to strike me with that book?” he asked. He snatched it from her hands as if it weighed nothing. He caressed the spine of it for a moment before glaring back up at her. “You’re late.”
“I was on time,” she argued automatically. He raised a brow, but she didn’t back down. “You’re the one who wasn’t ready to start lessons.”
He hummed noncommittally, eyes glassing over for a moment. Ria suppressed a sigh. The Elder Scholar had a habit of losing focus from time to time, and Ria had learned that when he got like this, there was nothing she could do to snap him out of it. Initially, it had been frustrating that her lessons were periodically disturbed by his absentmindedness, but she’d grown used to it after a time.
“I think I’m in need of a bit of fresh air,” Master Ameer said suddenly, eyes snapping back into focus.
“Fresh air,” Ria repeated incredulously. This, coming from the man who sometimes wouldn’t even leave the library to eat. She could count the times the Elder Scholar had held lessons outside of the library on one hand.
“Some things must be seen in person,” he said cryptically.
And with that, he turned on his heel, striding towards the library doors without waiting to see if Ria would follow. She hurried to catch up. It was no use trying to wring an explanation from the man; he subscribed to the irritating belief that knowledge gained by oneself was far more useful than merely being told the answer. She would have to wait and see for herself.
***
“What do you know about trade ships?” The Elder Scholar’s voice was low, conversational, as they walked side by side. The hoods of their cloaks were drawn low over their faces, and not just to protect from the wind. They were walking through the docks unescorted. The less conspicuous they were, the better.
“They ferry goods between nations and are used to help support international alliances,” Ria said. She wasn’t sure why they were at the docks, strolling and having what seemed to be an impromptu lesson without the benefit of the royal guard. If the Elder Scholar thought Ria could protect them from any of the thugs that loitered in this part of town, he clearly hadn’t been paying attention.
The older man sighed, impatient. “I didn’t ask for a recitation of your texts. I know you can read. I want to know if you can think. What are the implications?”
She was growing frustrated. How could he expect her to have the answer he was looking for if he wasn’t even being clear with his questions?
“They’re some of the most heavily armed ships, second only to naval vessels, due to frequent pirate attacks,” she said, though the Elder Scholar’s unchanged expression told her that she still wasn’t getting it right. She hurried on, “And I know they’re subject to random searches to avoid importation of illegal products.”
“Yes, the imports are subject to random searches.” There was a trace of a smile on the Elder Scholar’s face, but it was gone the next moment. “And where do these trade ships go? Who sails them?”
She frowned. “Etheri and Anor, primarily, though we do some trade with Moruna, and occasionally Rüm Bokai.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “I don’t know who sails them.”
The Elder Scholar hummed in response.
Ria was tired of his cryptic silence. “I’m afraid I don’t understand the implications, as you say. What am I supposed to be learning?”
For a few seconds, it seemed he wouldn’t bother answering.
“Things in Helhath are…shifting,” he said as he stared at the sea ahead of them, deep in thought. Ria often wondered how it was the Elder Scholar knew the things he did.
Suddenly, he clasped her hand, eyes going wide and distant. She tried to pull away, but his grip was immovable. “Death rises with the full moon,” he said, his voice taking on a rhythmic quality. “Beware the usurper with nothing to lose. Beware the usurper with everything to gain. Beware the price that must be paid.”
Ria tore her hand from his iron grasp, backing away. Fear gripped her, heavy and metallic on her tongue, tight in her chest. She watched the older man warily. He’s insane, she thought, but the air smelled singed just as it had been in the library, and her nose ached from it. Magic, a small voice in her head provided, but she squashed it. Magic belonged in bedtime stories and old wives’ tales. She thought of Mikhae
l, her pillar of reason, and how he scoffed at the idea of magic as anything more than primitive hogwash.
“Really, Ria? Magical trees?” he’d said when she’d first told him about the sacred Whitewood. He’d laughed at her. “What’s next? The sun is a god, and stars are actually fairies?”
She hadn’t tried to explain to him that the sun was a symbol of one of her people’s gods. There were no gods in Anor; he wouldn’t have understood. At the time, she’d felt silly, stupid even. Now, she used the memory as reassurance. There was no such thing as magic.
The Elder Scholar shook off whatever stupor he had been in, frowning in thought. “You’ll have to forgive an old man, Ria. I’ve forgotten what we were talking about.”
She swallowed back her fear. “Trade ships.” She looked around at the boats, the bustle of the docks. No one else seemed to have noticed the Elder Scholar’s outburst. “Why did we come to the harbor?”
Master Ameer let out a deep sigh. “I’d rather hoped you would take an interest in sailing.”
***
They walked for nearly two hours, back and forth and back again along the docks until, by some unknown sign, the Elder Scholar changed their path and took them down a side alley.
“I think we ought to get a drink now,” he said as they approached a rather shoddily put together tavern. The sign hanging above the door was crooked and the greenish-blue paint was peeling, but Ria could still make out the words, The Sunken Reef. It looked like the place you’d go if you wanted to get murdered.
“But—”
He silenced her with a look. “Don’t speak while we’re here. It’ll only take a few moments.”
She frowned but nodded. You’ve been studying under him for three years, she told herself. He’s not going to lead you to your death now. Probably.
The inside of the tavern looked even worse than the outside, although how that was possible, Ria didn’t know. The whole place reeked of ale, smoke, and sweat, and if she wasn’t mistaken, one of the patrons was taking a piss in the corner. She wrinkled her nose. Classy.
The Elder Scholar, however, was entirely unfazed by the stench and the fact that nothing looked like it had been properly cleaned in a good half a century. And is that a bloodstain, Ria wondered as she caught a glimpse of a large dark brown splotch on the wood floorboards. She followed the older man as he weaved through the crowded tables without giving any of the patrons a second look. No, the Elder Scholar was solely focused on one table at the far side of the tavern.
There were five figures at the table, all cloaked, all with their faces hidden except one. The man was…well there was no better word for him than spirited. He was a blur of motion, even sitting in his chair. In his hands, he shuffled a deck of cards so fast that Ria almost thought they weren’t moving. It was a round table, but somehow, he seemed at the center of it, with the other four patrons almost subconsciously leaning towards him.
She could understand why, of course. Even without his bizarre magnetism, he was astoundingly pretty with artful waves of chestnut hair and brown eyes that were so light they could’ve been called golden. They were framed by dark lashes and rimmed in black kohl which almost made him look a little feminine despite the scruff of week-old stubble on his face. His shirt was pristine white—a sharp contrast to the grimy environment—and loose enough that she could see a flash of his darkly tanned chest. He couldn’t have been more than thirty, his face unlined except for the white slash of an old scar that ran from temple to chin on his left side.
He spotted them a moment later, lips curving into a smile as he stood, waving away the guests at his table. They moved without hesitation, and Ria wondered who this man could be if he commanded that much respect in a dump like this.
“Ameer,” the man said in greeting, clasping the Elder Scholar in a firm hug. He pulled back and his eyes settled on Ria. “And who is this?”
“My niece Ebele,” the Elder Scholar supplied without missing a beat. The other man looked between Ria and Master Ameer before raising a disbelieving brow.
“You never mentioned a niece.”
Ria watched him warily. The man shifted into a subtle fighting stance, one she had seen on Jaya many times. Usually right before she tossed me in the dirt, Ria remembered with a grimace.
The Elder Scholar met the other man’s gaze, unimpressed. “I’m sure there are a great many things I’ve never mentioned to you, Siraj.”
Siraj’s smile only sharpened. “And yet I’m sure you said this meeting was private.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t.” Siraj’s eyes snapped back to Ria. “Not with her here.”
Ria narrowed her eyes at him. Whatever business the Elder Scholar was conducting with this man couldn’t possibly be legal if this Siraj character was so paranoid. But what could Master Ameer need from a criminal? He had the palace’s resources at his disposal; he could, theoretically, get anything he wanted—illegal or not—without repercussions. Unless…unless he doesn’t want anyone to know, she realized. But why hide it? Ria couldn’t think of a reason for the Elder Scholar to sneak around unless he was up to something that would threaten either the Council or the crown.
Don’t be stupid. If it was treason, he wouldn’t have invited you along, you twit. So not treason, then, but what?
“I’ll remind you that it’s my life and reputation on the line here, Siraj, not yours.” The Elder Scholar took a seat at the table and motioned for the other man to do the same. “You have nothing to fear from my niece. Or me, for that matter.”
Siraj grumbled, but sat across from Master Ameer anyway, easily relaxing back into the position he’d been in when they first entered the tavern. Ria wasn’t sure if she should sit too, or if that would make things worse. The last thing she wanted was to set the other man off again.
It didn’t seem to matter. Both men had forgotten her, lost in their transaction. Ria watched as the Elder Scholar pulled a small leather pouch from his robes along with a sealed letter. He slid them across the table.
“Before you ask, yes, your cut is in there too,” the Elder Scholar said. Siraj looked down at the seal on the letter and let out a low whistle.
“You said easy. This is not easy.”
“For a man of your talents, I expect you’ll manage.” Master Ameer reached out and grabbed the other man by the wrist. “By the end of the month. Maybe sooner.”
Siraj, for the first time since they’d walked into the tavern, actually looked serious. “You’ve seen something.” He looked back down at the letter and shook his head. “It’ll be tight. Very tight. I assume you need the works?”
“Everything. And someone you trust personally. For the transport. I won’t take any risks on this.”
Siraj snorted. “This whole thing is a risk.”
“But you’ll do it?”
“Not my life on the line, my ass,” he grumbled, mostly to himself. He held the letter up and Ria could see the vague imprint of the royal seal. “I could get killed just for having this.”
“Then you’d better not let anyone see.” The Elder Scholar stood and brushed dirt from his cloak. “Until next time, Siraj.”
Master Ameer laid a heavy arm across Ria’s shoulders and began guiding her out of the tavern.
“I haven’t taken the job yet,” Siraj called.
The Elder Scholar looked over his shoulder at the other man, a small smile on his lips. “Yes, you have.”
Only when they were back out by the harbor and halfway back to the palace did Ria feel safe in talking again.
“Who was that man?” she asked. “What did you give him? Why did you take me with you? Why did you pretend I was your niece?”
The Elder Scholar didn’t falter, just kept walking forward.
“Siraj is…more trusting of people he’s met before. I needed to introduce you, just in case.”
Ria frowned. Just in case of what, she wanted to ask, but somehow, she knew he wouldn’t give her a straight answer. Whatever it was,
it couldn’t be good, not with the Elder Scholar sneaking about and dealing with tavern trash. If he didn’t want anyone in the palace to know about it, it must be serious, and if he thought Ria would need this Siraj’s help…well, that didn’t bode well.
“What did he mean when he said you saw something?” she asked, though she was sure she already knew. His words on the docks from earlier rang in her head. Magic. Almost like a prophecy.
“I have been wrong before, Ria. It’s best not to worry about futures that may not happen. Our business today was a safety measure. Nothing more.”
Chapter Two
The first of the bad news came the next morning at breakfast.
Ria hadn’t slept well the night before, plagued by dreams of ships tossing on stormy seas and moons dripping red with blood. She’d woken in a sweat several times throughout the night until she had given up on sleep entirely. She had been the first down to breakfast, but now she was slouched over her porridge, barely able to maintain consciousness. Across the table, Jaya curled her lip in disgust.
The doors to the private dining hall opened with a whoosh, and the three councilmen strode in, their blue-gray sea-silk robes billowing out behind them imperiously. With their penchant for grand entrances, Ria thought, they ought to have been actors instead of royal advisors. Vili stood in the center, no doubt using his clout as the eldest to take a leadership position.
“In light of their majesties’ illness, the Council has found it prudent to suspend the celebration of the Thaw until further notice,” Vili said, voice creaking like old floorboards.
Ria frowned. The Day of the Thaw was tradition, a celebration of life and the goddess Ellura at the end of every long winter. It was Helhath’s biggest religious holiday and had been for all of recorded history. To Ria’s knowledge, it had never once been cancelled. And what does the council mean? What illness?
