Deathcaster (Shattered Realms)

by Cinda Williams Chima

  “Ah,” Evan said, raising his cup. “My friends, we have finally succeeded in driving Celestine from the islands.”

  Some of them laughed.

  “If she’s hugging the wetland coast, it will make it risky to take prizes in the western Indio,” Sangway persisted. “That has been the one hunting ground still open to us. Couldn’t you send a gale their way and either capsize them or force them back toward home?” The shiplords had little understanding of Evan’s stormlord gift, and they were always looking to him to solve problems with it.

  “If I could do that, I would have no need of the rest of you,” Evan said. “The Indio is a large ocean—I cannot police all of it. Would you rather I relinquish our stronghold on the Desert Coast and find a port in the wetlands?”

  Two or three seemed to be seriously considering that idea.

  “Of course, that will plunge us into a land war with the kings and queens in the Realms.” He shook his head. “What about Southgate or Sand Harbor?”

  “Too many gunships and not enough prizes,” the Mongrel said.

  “It’s too windy in Invaders Bay, and there’s too many mosquitoes in the Southern Islands,” Jasmina said, rolling her eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” She freed her hair from its cloth wrapping and shook it down around her shoulders. “Do you expect the stormlord to do your fighting for you? The next thing we know, you’ll want him to wipe your lazy asses. He promised you a harbor. He did not promise to make the entire ocean safe for pirates.”

  This was not well received.

  “It’s easy for him,” Blazon said, gesturing toward Evan. “The empress’s ships steer clear of him because they know he can founder them with a wave of his hand. The rest of us have to fight.”

  “If the empress has taken her ships west, then perhaps we should pay a call there, or in the Northern Islands,” Jasmina said. “I’m tired of tiptoeing around Celestine.”

  Evan watched their faces. Jasmina was the only one who seemed genuinely on board. One or two grinned and nudged each other, imagining what it would be like to give Celestine a poke in the backside and spending the treasure they would share. Most shifted nervously on their pillows, looking down at their hands.

  Except for Jagger. Jagger was watching him like he was a ship about to hit a reef. The back of Evan’s neck prickled and gooseflesh rose on his arms.

  Besides, he was tired. His eyelids were heavy, and his arm tingled and throbbed where Jagger had gripped him. Despite the breeze from the gallery window, he’d broken into a sweat.

  I must be hungrier than I thought.

  “It’s growing late,” Evan said, “and we’re not going to settle anything tonight. Tomorrow, after the midday, I invite anyone interested in planning an attack on Deep Harbor to meet me in the library.” He levered to his feet, then nearly toppled over.

  Scummer.

  “My lord?” Helesa said. “Are you well?” She took his arm, supporting him, but he was watching the shiplords. Though by now, he was having trouble focusing his eyes, he thought he’d picked out the culprits.

  “Poison,” he said. “Jagger and Sangway, at least. It must have been under Jagger’s nails. Run. Get help.” He sagged to his knees, then slumped backward on the floor next to her feet. Helesa did not run. Instead, she sprang toward the shiplords, a blade in each hand.

  Why doesn’t anyone ever follow orders? Evan thought. Blood spattered Evan’s face and the floor around him. He lay on his back, helpless, though fully conscious, while the fighting went on around him. He was stepped on at least once. It seemed to go on for a very long time. Eventually, Helesa went down, taking the Mongrel with her, and the fighting stopped.

  Fair winds and following seas, Helesa, Evan thought. I’m sorry.

  That was when the shouting began. It seemed that not everyone had been in on the plan.

  “Are you crazy?” Blazon said. “With the Stormlord dead, what are you going to do when Celestine sails into the harbor?”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Sangway said, with the confidence of a co-conspirator.

  “Anyway, he’s not dead,” Jagger said, nudging Evan with his boot. “He’s just immobilized.”

  “What if Strangward calls up a wave and washes us all away?” Jasmina said. “Or founders our ships? What if—?”

  “That won’t happen,” Jagger said.

  Blazon spat on the floor. “How do you know? What do you know about stormlord magic?” The shiplord eyed Evan with apprehension. Evan did his best, but it’s hard to look threatening when you’re flat on your back on the floor.

  “What are you planning to do when it wears off?” Jasmina said. “Apologize?”

  “We’re going to make sure it doesn’t wear off,” Jagger said.

  “We are?” Blazon shook his head. “If you wanted our help, we should have been in on the plan from the beginning.”

  “I don’t care if you help or not,” Jagger said. Grinning down into Evan’s face, the shiplord ran his nails down Evan’s other arm, gouging through skin, leaving a deep scratch behind. Evan’s breath hissed out from the pain of it, but he couldn’t even flinch away.

  Now, Jagger drew on a pair of heavy leather gloves.

  Wouldn’t want to accidentally scratch your gutter-swiving self, Evan thought.

  “There’s no going back from this,” Blazon persisted. “When the stormborn find out what happened, they’ll tear us to pieces.”

  “We’re going to blame it on the wetlanders,” Jagger said. “Though if you keep on whining, I’ll blame it on you.”

  Blazon shrank back a little, glancing toward the archway that led to the rest of the palace.

  Evan wished he could somehow warn Ash and Talbot. That was your job, Helesa, he thought, regret sluicing through him. She still lay on the stone floor in a puddle of congealing blood.

  “Look,” Jagger said, “Strangward’s been gone for months, and now he says he’s leaving again. Meanwhile, we’re all hurting, because the empress is sucking up everything worth having. There’s less to go around than before. We need access to both coasts. We need the freedom to go wherever we like. We need to be on an equal footing with Celestine, but that’ll never happen as long as this boy’s in charge. If a port master isn’t doing his job, it’s our right to choose a new one. So. This is my harbor now. If you don’t like it, leave.”

  “So you think you can do better?” Blazon said. “What can you do that the boy can’t? You can’t make weather.”

  “I can give the empress what she wants.” He pointed at Evan. “Him.”

  Jasmina stared down at Evan, chewing her lower lip. Then looked up at Jagger. “You should have discussed this with us,” she said.

  “I didn’t have to,” Jagger said. “I’ve already discussed it with Celestine. In return for the stormlord and his two friends alive, she will give us control of the entire Desert Coast.”

  This was met by a stunned silence.

  “Why would she do that?” Jasmina said.

  “Celestine is shifting her focus to the wetlands,” Jagger said. “She’ll keep her capital in the Northern Islands, but she needs someone to manage her holdings in Carthis.” He planted a thumb in his chest. “That will be me.”

  I knew it would end this way, Evan thought. Like everyone else, Jagger thinks he can make a deal with the empress and come out ahead.

  If you believe that, you’re in for a rude awakening. That didn’t help much, because he knew that he would not be around to see it.

  18

  BLOOD IN THE WATER

  Ash slammed back into his body, acutely aware of his surroundings—the scent of the sea below the gallery, the sound of water lapping against the shore, the pain in his knees and spine informing him that he’d been lying in the same position for too long.

  And yet—if a person can be giddy with joy and flattened by grief and worry at the same time, Ash was there. Spending even an hour with his father reminded him of what they’d lost, and what they stood to lose.

>   And just when it seemed that they were making progress in solving the puzzle of Darian, the demon himself had launched an attack that ended with Darian trying to worm his way into Ash’s head. He’d nearly succeeded. What would have happened had his father not been there?

  Ash shuddered. Is this what had happened to Finn? If so, how did it happen, and when? Was he aware of what was going on? If so, how horrible would that be?

  Ash remembered what Finn had said on board Sea Wolf.

  It’s like I have these spells when I miss things. I just blank out.

  And then, moments later, that cold stranger’s voice.

  Do not presume to heal me, Adrian. I am not broken.

  Had Finn really tried to murder Lyss in the streets of Fellsmarch? The little sister who’d tagged after them on their boyhood adventures, gazing at Finn like he was a Solstice cake?

  Not Finn. Darian. It was oddly comforting to know that his childhood friend wasn’t himself when he tried to burn him and Talbot alive.

  Had Finn survived his own attack on the Sea Wolf? Was Darian back in control, and on his way back to court to finish what he’d started?

  The thought gutted him.

  At least the demon priest hadn’t succeeded in possessing Ash. And it seemed that he’d temporarily lost his connection to the living.

  Was he talking about Finn? Could an Aediion shade possess more than one person at a time?

  So many more questions he wanted to ask his father.

  Finn had been at court when his mother was poisoned. But it hadn’t been thirteen-year-old Finn who’d grabbed him on the streets the day his father was murdered. It hadn’t been Finn who’d murdered Hana. Then who? Even now, was someone else at court scheming against the Gray Wolf line?

  Ash needed to get word to his mother, to warn her.

  He was startled by a knock at the door.

  “Come!” he said, glad he was back in his body in time to answer.

  A bloodsworn servant entered, carrying clean clothes, linens, and bathing supplies. “Wetlander,” he said. “Come with me. Lord Strangward said to take you to the baths.”

  Ash shook his head. “Not now. I need to send a message to the wetlands. How can I do that?”

  The servant blinked at him. “Perhaps Lord Strangward can help you.”

  “Where’s Strangward now?” Ash demanded.

  “He’s meeting with his shiplords,” the servant said.

  “I need to speak with him.”

  “And you will. After you’ve been to the baths.”

  He led Ash down some steps and onto another gallery on the floor below. Most of the gallery floor was taken up by a large, steaming pool lined with rocks, so that it resembled a grotto or a desert oasis.

  Ash stared at it, trying to remember the last time he’d had a proper bath. “How— This is amazing,” he said.

  The servant nodded. “Lord Strangward called the water up from deep underneath the ground,” he said. “It’s constantly replenished, so it’s always clean. Just be careful. It’s quite hot.”

  Ash nodded, eyes fixed hungrily on the water, waiting until the servant left. Then stripped off his clothes and eased into the bath.

  Despite his worries, despite everything that had happened, it felt like heaven. If I die now, he thought, I can’t complain.

  Picking up a large, rough sponge, he scrubbed himself off and worked soap into his hair, lying back to rinse it. Just then, he heard a sound, a door opening and closing, two voices approaching. He swam to the edge of the pool, where he was partly hidden by the ledge above, and waited.

  It was another servant, with Talbot in tow.

  “I’ll be back to fetch you in about an hour, when the sun reaches the sea,” the servant was saying. Then he left.

  Talbot was beginning to strip down, and Ash knew he should alert her to his presence.

  “Talbot,” he said, and she nearly hit the gallery ceiling. “It’s all right. It’s me.”

  She glared at him, her robe clutched around her. “It is not all right,” she hissed. “The least you could’ve done is warn me.”

  “That is what this is,” Ash said. “The warning.”

  Talbot chewed her lower lip, looking longingly at the hot water. Then she sighed, droopy with disappointment. “No harm done. Maybe there’ll be time for me to come back after dinner.”

  “It’s all right,” Ash said again. “Come on in. I won’t look.”

  “What if I look at you?” she said. “Accidentally, I mean. It’s not right.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Worrying happens, Your Highness, whether you like it or not.”

  “I’m a healer. Not only did I get over nakedness a long time ago, I believe in the importance of bathing. Especially if we survive tonight and end up in a small boat together.” Ash sank into the water, then emerged again, flinging his wet hair out of his eyes. “Trust me, Talbot, you don’t want to miss out.”

  “Well . . .” Talbot said, wavering.

  “There’s one condition,” Ash said.

  “Condition?” Talbot took a quick step back, as if she’d known there was a catch.

  “Call me Ash. Not Your Highness. It will make things a whole lot easier.”

  She debated, shifting from one foot to the other. “But you’re a prince.”

  “I haven’t been a prince in so long, I’ve forgotten how. What do you call Lyss?”

  Talbot studied this for tricks. “Lyss.”

  “Not Your Highness?”

  “Well, there’s times I call her ‘Your Highness.’”

  “This is not one of those times. And, if it’s all right, I’d like to call you Sasha,” he said. “It’s safer, anyway, if we don’t use titles.”

  And so it was agreed.

  When they’d both scrubbed off thoroughly and had a few minutes to soak, Sasha said, “This thing about Finn,” she said. “I know you saw what you saw, and Strangward saw what he saw, but I still can’t believe it.”

  Well, Ash thought, here’s your chance to try out an explanation.

  “I mainly saw him on the battlefield, when I was looking after Lyss,” Sasha went on, “because, you know, I’m not—I don’t move in his circles. I never saw anything that would make me think that he’s capable of treason. And I know that Lyss would have trusted him with her life—and did, several times.”

  Ash leaned his arms on the side of the pool. “She had a bit of a crush on him when she was younger,” he said.

  Sasha slid a look at him. “She still did—sort of. Don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t like she was mooning over him all the time—it was just that nobody else had come along to nudge him out of the way. So when he announced his engagement to Princess Julianna, that came as a bit of a blow.” She flushed. “I don’t mean to be telling tales. I think she just felt kind of ambushed. You know how it is, with your first love and all that.”

  “I didn’t have crushes when I was little,” Ash said. “I was always in the library. Or the garden.” There had been girls at Oden’s Ford, but nothing serious. Lila Barrowhill, of all people, had gotten after him for his fickle ways.

  I was too busy hunting down King Gerard’s minions. It’s hard for an assassin to meet people.

  Jenna Bandelow had been his first love. Wild, fierce Jenna, who’d scented the wolf in healer’s clothes.

  The way things were going, she might be his last love, too.

  Wherever you are, Jenna, stay alive.

  Now Sasha broke into his thoughts again. “I think one reason Lyss liked Finn was that he reminded her of you. Serious. Thoughtful. Purposeful. Not full of sly talk and scummer like so many at court.”

  “I was surprised that he ended up with Julianna,” Ash said. “But a lot can happen in a few years.” That being the understatement of the year.

  “Especially in wartime. He’s different, since he was wounded. That’s when he decided that he would go into healing. I guess you could say he got more interested in religion.
”

  “Well, that doesn’t fit with blowing us to bits,” Ash said. Taking a quick breath, he plunged on. “Listen, I think we can recognize the fact that Finn tried to kill us without necessarily blaming him.”

  Sasha stared at him, eyes narrowed. “You mean . . . he wasn’t in his right mind?”

  “That’s a good way of putting it,” Ash said. “I think someone is using him, forcing him to do things.”

  “Like . . . blackmail?”

  “Like magic.”

  Sasha raised her eyebrows. “He’s under a spell?”

  Ash nodded. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. He still needs to be stopped, but maybe we can find a way to help him. And forgive him.”

  By now, the sun had dropped below the horizon, and still nobody had come to fetch them. Ash was beginning to get that prickly feeling between his shoulder blades that said that something was wrong. In his experience, it was always best to meet trouble fully clothed.

  “Let’s get dressed,” he said, reaching for his robe. “It’s getting late.”

  Sasha carried her clothes around to the other side of a sandstone outcropping. Ash hurriedly pulled on a linen shirt and loose trousers—the clothes his hosts had provided him with. He was strapping on his sandals when he heard the sound of running feet.

  He looked up to see a crowd of bloodsworn swarming toward him. “There he is,” they shouted. “He’s the one.”

  Ash reached for his amulet, then realized it was lying beside his old clothes. It lit up like Solstice, sending light and shadow swimming across the walls and ceiling of the bathing chamber. He dove for it, but was intercepted by the bloodsworn, who pitched him down on his back, punching and kicking him.

  “Stop that!” Sasha waded in, then, dragging them off Ash and getting in some punches and kicks of her own. But there were too many of them—fearless, and incredibly strong. Soon, both of them were fighting for their lives.

  I’m glad I got that bath in, Ash thought, before getting beaten to death by a mob.

  “Stop!” somebody called. “Lord Strangward wants them alive and unhurt.”

  The frenzy of punching and kicking stopped, and Ash and Sasha were hauled roughly to their feet, their arms pinioned. Ash sent flash racing through his hands and arms, but it seemed to have no effect on their bloodsworn captors.