Under the book, embedded into the top of the table, was a large metal device under glass—a disk made of what appeared to be copper, gold, silver, and precious stones. It was centered by a human figure, surrounded by five segments spoking out—copper, red, blue, silver, and gold. Each segment was inscribed with symbols. The emblems on the silver segment resembled wind and wave and cloud. The blue reminded him of a geometric puzzle knot. The copper was a rune like a many-headed beast.
“It matches our pendants. See?” Breon set his pendant on the tabletop. The gold segment of the disk in the table matched Breon’s fragment, down to the harp engraved on it.
Evan pulled his pendant from under his shirt and laid it beside Breon’s. The fragment he had matched the silver and blue segments, though the pendant wasn’t colored. It was plain, time-darkened silver.
Silver and blue, like the streaks in his hair.
Evan scooped up his pendant and opened the book.
One of the first pages was an engraving—a gathering of celebrants on an arching bridge over a river of flame. One of them, larger and more resplendent than the rest, seemed to be dangling a child over the railing.
It looks like some sort of ceremony, Evan thought, a sacrifice, maybe.
Breon leaned in. “Looks like it must be hot up there.”
Evan began leafing through time-yellowed pages written by many different hands. It appeared to be a genealogy of sorts, with one generation to a page. But with each generation, there was a reproduction of the disk in the table, with names inscribed in the segments and dates by the names. Some of the dates seemed to be so old that they came from a calendar he’d never seen.
In the first half of the book, all of the segments of the disks on each page were filled with names and dates. In later sections, most were blank.
Evan flipped to the back of the book, to the last page that was filled in.
Iona Nazari was written in script at the top of the page. Next to her name, the puzzle knot symbol.
Immediately below her name, Celestine Nazari, with the complete disk symbol next to her name. Two segments of the disk were filled in with names. Jak Strangward. Claire Slavesh. The other three segments were still blank.
Below Celestine’s name was a heavily illuminated family tree, with Iona at the top and names written across, underneath.
Harol Strangward and, next to his name, the stormcaster symbol.
Branching down from him, two names:
Jak Strangward, and a date, and the knot symbol.
Evan Strangward, the knot symbol, and the stormcaster symbol. There was no date.
Another name. Karf Bandelow. Next to his name, the many-headed beast. Branching down from him, Jenna Bandelow, also with the many-headed beast. No date.
Next, Jaheen Alfarsi, with a harplike symbol next to his name. Below, Breon Alfarsi, with the same symbol, and no date.
Omar Slavesh, with a lightning-bolt symbol. Below him, Claire Slavesh, with the same symbol, and a date. Two years ago.
“Breon Alfarsi,” Breon whispered. “Son of Jaheen Alfarsi.”
“Jak and Evan Strangward,” Evan said. “Sons of Harol Strangward. Jenna Bandelow, daughter of Karf Bandelow.”
“Celestine said she was my sister,” Breon said. “We have the same mother. Iona.”
“Iona was the empress before Celestine,” Evan said. “But we must be half brothers and sisters, since we have different fathers.” But Jak and I had the same father, he thought. Harol Strangward. Evan fingered his magemark, still warm, and vibrating with power. Did Jak have the same magemark as me?
“Look at my magemark, Ev,” Breon said abruptly. “I think some of these symbols are in it.” He leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees, so Evan could get a better view.
“Here’s the harp,” Evan said, tracing it with his fingers. “The same as Jaheen Alfarsi’s.”
Breon straightened. “Do you think the symbols represent the gifts we’ve inherited from our fathers?”
“Maybe.” The longer Evan looked at it, the more convinced he became it was true. Each father brought a different gift. A shape-shifter. A spellsinger. A blood mage. An elemental mage. Each child inherited at least one gift. Almost as if the fathers had been chosen specifically for that purpose—for the gifts they brought to the Line.
He studied the page. “Where’s Celestine’s father?” Evan muttered. “There’s nobody listed for her.”
There was something Evan should be remembering, but, try as he might, he couldn’t get his mind around it, or even conjure up much desire to solve it. It was distant, academic, as if someone had dumped a box of puzzle pieces on the table, and Evan’s reaction was, “Huh. A puzzle.”
He closed the book, thinking, “Maybe I’ll take a nap until it’s time to get dressed for dinner.”
He heard Breon fumbling with something, but he paid no attention until he felt cold metal on his neck and heard the soft click as the collar latched. He jerked away and landed hard on his tailbone on the library floor. Instantly, all of his aches and pains flooded back, along with a deep-seated, unreasoning terror.
Evan reached up and fingered the collar. “What the— Why did you do that?”
“I shouldn’t have taken both of the collars,” Breon said. “Silver is valuable, and this one belongs to you. So I gave it back.” He extended his hand to help Evan up, but Evan shook his head. He remained splayed on the floor like a starfish as fragments of memory surfaced from the fog of tranquil wonder that had immersed him since their arrival. Since his collar came off, anyway.
He recalled the day he’d first met Celestine Nazari while crewing aboard Latham Strangward’s ship. She’d claimed that Strangward’s brother, Harol, had caused a falling-out between her and her mother and they had imprisoned her on this island.
My mother loved me. Your thrice-damned brother turned her against me after Jak died.
After Jak died. Harol was Evan’s father—and Jak’s, too.
We were all born here, Celestine had said earlier that day. We lived here together until you were taken away from me. . . . They trapped me here and took you away. At midsummer, six years ago.
There was something else—when they’d met that day off Tarvos, Celestine had had Claire’s pendant. She said that Claire had given it to her. Something about the conversation left Evan thinking that Claire was dead, too.
And Jak and Claire were two pieces of Celestine’s puzzle disk that were filled in.
Captain Strangward had said, I have my faults, Celly, but at least I don’t make war on children.
The engraving of the ceremony on the bridge. The lake of fire below. Midsummer—when the Nazari magic comes closest to the surface.
Their magemarks were the emblems of the gifts they brought to the Nazari line, courtesy of their fathers. There was something about this place—and their magemarks—that rendered them docile, going like lambs to the slaughter. And prevented them from remembering the danger they were in.
But Celestine had miscalculated. She’d used the collars so that he and Breon couldn’t use their gifts against her. She hadn’t realized that the collars rendered the magemarks ineffective in other ways as well.
That’s when Evan knew, with startling clarity—his father had tried to save them. He’d tried to save them all.
Tonight is Midsummer’s Eve. Tonight we rise. And after tonight, Celestine would be stronger than before. A tsunami of danger was rushing at them, and they were pointing and saying, “Look! A wave.”
“Evan? Are you all right?”
Evan looked up to find Breon still peering down at him. The spellsinger extended his hand again, and this time, Evan took it. “I’m sorry,” Breon said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Just then, Evan heard boots on the tile in the corridor outside. “Don’t tell her I’m here,” Evan hissed. “If she sees me in the collar, she’ll know you took them.” He dove behind a cart stacked with books, layered in dust.
“What are you do
ing here?” Looking out through gaps in the stacks, Evan could see Celestine in the doorway, frozen midstep.
Evan prayed to all the gods he knew, and some he’d only heard of. Please. Help him pull this off.
“I like books,” Breon said, totally without guile. He waved a hand at the stacks. “There are lots of books here.” Then he added, almost defensively, “I read a little, though mostly I look at the pictures.”
Celestine smiled. “I like books, too,” she said. “I used to spend hours here in the library, reading about the old ways. I knew more than anyone, even my mother.” She walked to the round table, picked up Domus Nazari, cradling it in one arm.
“What’s that book?” Breon said.
Evan’s heart all but stopped.
The empress’s grip tightened, knuckles whitened. “Just a history of our family,” she said. “I need it to prepare for the ceremony. You’ll learn all about it tonight.”
“I can’t wait,” Breon said.
Celestine frowned, looked around. “Where’s your brother?”
Breon shrugged. “He was here a little while ago.”
“Why don’t you choose a book to read and take it back to your room,” Celestine said. Then she turned and walked out. Evan shivered as beads of cold sweat broke out all over him.
When he was sure she was gone, he stood, mopping his face with his sleeve.
“Let’s go back to your room. Hurry.”
69
DEMON’S WOUNDS
Several times during the flight over the Indio, Destin would awake in a panic, his head full of troubled dreams. How could he possibly fall asleep riding a dragon on his way to the fight of his life?
But the warmth of the dragon’s body seeped into him, and the rhythms of flight were soothing, and for long periods they were above the clouds, so there was little to see and no real sense of altitude. He couldn’t see the others who were spread out behind them, but he could “hear” fragments of conversation, mind-to-mind.
Destin and Splash, Jenna and Ash with Goat, and Sasha and Pricker. Destin still couldn’t quite believe that they’d all come to help him free Celestine’s captives.
Communication with dragons turned out to be easy and natural, once he’d broken through the initial barrier so that he could hear their voices. They were easier to hear than humans, in fact, when flying in formation.
The others were letting Destin and Splash take the lead, since Splash, at least, had an idea where they might be going.
Sleep now, Sad Destin, Splash said. See Spellsinger and Pirate soon maybe.
“Maybe.”
They’d seen no sign of the dragon called Splinter so far.
They were descending through clouds now. Destin’s ears seemed to pop several times. And then they were below the clouds. It was Solstice Eve, and they were far to the north, so the sun was still visible over the western horizon. He recognized the northernmost piece of Carthis, known as the head, from maps he’d seen in the past.
Splash turned north, following the coast up until the first of the Northern Islands came into view. This should be the island that Jenna had identified—the wounded island, where the blood of the earth broke through the surface.
But what if they were looking in the wrong place? he thought. What if Celestine had taken her prisoners to Deepwater Court, or Tarvos? What if they were already dead?
Spellsinger and Pirate not dead.
“Stop listening in my head.”
Stop shouting in my ear.
For a person used to keeping secrets, a friendship with a dragon was challenging.
They circled high over the island whose peaks were shrouded in cloud.
Destin squinted down at the matted clouds. “Do you see anything?” he said.
Go see. With that, the dragon folded his wings and plummeted toward the ground, through layers of damp cloud. As soon as they broke into the clear, he spread his wings and shot across the island. Destin had time to see a protected harbor empty of ships, a kind of lodge, lit from within, and long streaks of lava, like angry orange fingers stretching down the mountain. Then, wings beating strongly, Splash gained altitude again.
Did not see Spellsinger or Pirate.
“No,” Destin said, fingering his midsection to see where his stomach might have ended up, “but they might be inside that building. Let’s take another look over the rest of the island. Then land on the far side and figure out what to do.”
The far side of the island showed no signs of human activity. Splash found a relatively flat place on the side of the volcano to land. The other two dragons followed suit. But Pricker (with Sasha aboard) was carrying a struggling human in his talons. When he neared the ground, he released his hold, and the unwilling passenger dropped like a stone. He was immediately surrounded by three dragons and four armed humans.
Being bloodsworn, their prisoner got to his feet and tried to smash his way through the circle, but Pricker knocked him down and planted a foot over him to pin him in place.
“We picked him up in the harbor area,” Sasha said. “I thought we could interrogate him and find out what’s going on.”
Destin and Ash closed in on the horselord.
“Be my guest,” Ash said, “but I don’t think persuasion will work on him.”
Destin knelt next to the prisoner, but the man’s eyes were fixed on Jenna. “Princess,” he said. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
Jenna had removed her leather flying gloves and was fingering the back of her neck, a bewildered expression on her face.
“Yes,” she said. “I am here. Where are the others?”
“They are near where you found me,” the man said eagerly. “They have been in the temple, feasting with the empress, but by now they may be on their way to the bridge.”
“The bridge?” Jenna said. “Where’s that?”
“Near the temple. I can show you, but we must hurry. We don’t want to keep the empress waiting.”
“No,” Jenna said. “We don’t.” She ran lightly up Goat’s side and settled onto the dragon’s back. Then leaned down, extending a hand toward the horselord. “Come on. Fly with me.”
“Jenna,” Sasha said, gazing up at her, shifting from one foot to the other. “I don’t think you—”
“Follow us!” Jenna said with a brilliant smile. “We’ll all go.”
Goat leaned down, gripped the horselord’s coat in his teeth, and dropped him onto his back behind Jenna. Then launched himself from the mountain.
What just happened? Destin thought. And then, Scummer.
“Healer!” Destin shouted. “Ride with me. Hurry.” He and Ash ran up Splash’s wing and settled onto the dragon’s back. Splash took off after Jenna. Sasha followed on Pricker. But by the time they circled the shoulder of the mountain, Jenna and Goat were out of sight.
Back in Breon’s room, Evan carefully fastened the other collar around the spellsinger’s neck. As soon as it snapped shut, Breon’s eyes widened. “We’ve got to get out of here! She’s running a rig on us—I can smell it.”
“Don’t panic,” Evan said, gripping Breon’s shoulders. “Let’s think. The magic here seems to interact with our magemarks to keep us docile. The collars must interfere with that, the way they do with wetland magic. That puts us in a box, though. With the collars on, we can’t use our splinter magic to fight back. If we take them off, we won’t see any reason to fight.”
Breon raised an eyebrow. “And you’re saying we shouldn’t panic?”
“Right now the empress thinks we’re on her magical leash—that she can lead us to slaughter. If she sees the collars, though, she’ll know something’s up. Since we can’t use our gifts, surprise is our best weapon.” He fingered the beautiful coat Celestine had provided for the festivities. “These jackets have high collars. Let’s dress for the dinner, hiding the collars underneath, in case she sees us. We’ll walk down to the harbor, steal a boat, and row out to the Siren. Even with just the two of us, we ought to be able to ge
t out of the harbor and hopefully beyond the reach of the enchantment.”
“It couldn’t extend out too far,” Breon said. “It wasn’t like this at Celesgarde. The empress had to use leaf to keep me under control.”
“Maybe the spell is only strong enough at Solstice,” Evan said. “Either way, we’ll keep the collars on for a day or two, until we put some distance between us and her. Then we’ll sail for the mainland and the free cities.”
Hurriedly, they dressed in the finery Celestine had provided. Evan found that by settling the silver collar at the base of his neck, the fine linen shirt and the jacket hid it completely. When they were both ready, they walked casually along the seaside gallery, heading for the quay.
They stopped in their tracks. Siren was gone, along with the skiff they’d taken into shore.
“What now?” Breon murmured.
Evan considered alternatives. If whatever was going to happen had to happen today, maybe they could hide somewhere on the island until the critical period had passed. That, at least, would give them more time. But when they turned back toward shore, Celestine was striding toward them, elegantly dressed in an emerald-green jacket and divided skirt, a gossamer cowl studded with jewels covering her head.
“There you are,” she said. “I was afraid you’d gotten lost. It’s time for dinner.” She ushered them into the longhouse, then halfway down to a table next to the central hearth. It was set for three with elegant dinnerware emblazoned with N and heavy silver. Evan half-expected Breon to start sliding silver into his jacket pockets.
Servants filled their glasses and served the first course. Evan didn’t touch his wine and noticed that Breon didn’t either. He wasn’t sure what influence one blood mage could have on another, but he was taking no chances. Besides, they needed to keep their wits about them.
Celestine seemed to be in a festive mood, however, and refilled her own glass several times.
“Did you find a book?” she said, fixing on Breon.
“A book?” Breon blinked at her.
“In the library?”
“Oh. Yes. Lots of books. Lots and lots.”
Deathcaster (Shattered Realms) Page 51
