Mistress of Winter

by Giles Carwyn

  She held it out to him. Hesitantly, he took it, holding it tight in his fist. “I never met my father,” he said.

  “Would you like to?”

  He glared at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Magic, Brophy.” She nodded at his fist. “His spirit lives on in that stone. It is alive with his essence.”

  He opened his hand, looked down at the glowing diamond. “How can he still be alive?”

  “He isn’t, but ani is never destroyed, even in death. It simply changes form. Sometimes when extraordinary people die with a task unfinished, they cling to this world. Your father was a very extraordinary man, and he left a great deal undone.”

  Brophy stared at the shard.

  “I can draw him out if you wish. I can free him, and he’ll be with you always.”

  He swallowed down a dry throat, looked up at her. “I can see him? Talk to him?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not the same as being alive. He can’t say anything to you, but you’ll know how he feels about you, about what you do. Just like Lewlem did for me.”

  Brophy squeezed the diamond shard. He could feel the warmth inside.

  “May I?” Arefaine asked, placing one slender hand on his chest. He flinched, tensing. She wrapped her other hand around the fist that held the crystal shard. Closing her eyes, she settled her breathing into slow, rhythmic cycles, and Brophy found himself breathing in time to it. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end, and he could feel her magic hovering around them like mist.

  He had a brief flash of the first time he made love with Shara in the tunnels below the Wet Cells. The sensations were similar, but Arefaine’s touch was much more subtle, much less affectionate.

  The stone in Brophy’s chest tingled, and the shard in his palm throbbed. Slowly, a tiny red glow slipped from between their fingers. Brophy gasped, and Arefaine opened her eyes with a smile. The light flew about the maze of boulders like a crimson firefly. It finally settled, hovering a foot in front of Brophy’s face. Moving much more slowly, it approached and came to rest on Brophy’s hand.

  He sank to his knees. A warm rush of emotion coursed through him. Love, strength, longing fulfilled. Clutching the light to his chest, Brophy began to sob as he heard the gentle whispers of his father.

  CHAPTER 29

  The Farad seamstress brought another dress from the back of her shop and held it up for Lawdon’s inspection.

  “No, no, no,” she said, waving the dress away.

  Lawdon hadn’t worn a dress in years and had never spent good money on one. The few she had were gifts, worn once to please the giver.

  “This is the last one that will fit you, dear,” the exasperated seamstress said. “You are so slender through the bust. If you were willing to pad a little, I could show you—”

  “No, no padding,” Lawdon insisted for the third time. “Just give me that green dress you showed me, and the white shirt.”

  “The blouse with those lovely ruffles on the sleeves?” the grandmotherly woman asked.

  “Yes,” she growled.

  “I’ll have to take the skirt in a bit, dear.”

  “Fine, just do it quickly.”

  Time was running out for Lawdon in every way. She felt like she was on a tiny island with the water slowly rising. In a very short while, she would have nowhere to turn.

  She hated being trapped in the city and couldn’t help feeling that a hundred eyes were watching her from all around. People in this place could slip their fingers into her mind, or any other part of her, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

  If she was lucky, no one had found Suvian’s body yet, but the way things had gone since Lawdon arrived in Ohndarien, she was not keen on trusting her luck.

  She had spent half the day in a dark corner of a tavern along the locks, gathering eyes and ears. Before long, she had a trio of waterbugs under her employ. She’d sent one to Cliff Town to check on Summer’s Heart. The Ohndariens still hadn’t found the missing Islander, and the city had been locked down. It wouldn’t have helped if the gates were open; the mother of all storms was rolling in from the Summer Seas. Right now it was bunched on the far side of the ridge, threatening to engulf the Arridian Mountains as it moved northwest. Even if she talked to Shara tonight, they still couldn’t leave until sometime tomorrow. Summer’s Heart couldn’t sail into the teeth of a storm like that even if she wanted to.

  Lawdon was determined to speak with Shara before she left. Things in Ohndarien were going badly. If Vinghelt had at least one Zelani under his thumb, Shara needed to know. Could his influence really reach so far?

  Ohndarien had once been Lawdon’s haven in a dangerously shifting world, but now she had committed murder. If Vinghelt had infiltrated the Zelani school, he could easily have done the same with the council or the Lightning Swords. Who knew how the crime would be viewed? Murderers were still stripped and stoned just outside the city walls. If they’d done it to Brophy, they’d do it to her. Only one murderer in a hundred escaped the stones. And Lawdon was no Brophy.

  Which led her to this place. If she was going to stay in the city, she needed a disguise. And what better disguise than to make herself look like a girl? Luckily, this seamstress was a recent immigrant from Faradan. Only a Farad would be callous enough to keep her shop open on a day of mourning.

  Lawdon picked up a small mirror, and she ran her fingers through her tangled mess of black hair, combing it, trying to make it look fuller. She’d sent one of the waterbugs looking for midnight plum juice and washed her hair in it. It made her smell like a dessert.

  The seamstress returned from the back of the shop with the dress and blouse.

  Stripping off her sailor’s tunic, Lawdon grabbed the flimsy shirt and pulled it over her head. After contorting her arms in an attempt to fasten the tiny buttons along her back, she gave up and let the other woman do it for her. What kind of insanity caused a person to make clothing that could not be put on without help?

  With a sigh, Lawdon unbuckled her belt and pulled off her breeches, then stepped into the skirt. She felt naked, her bare thighs open to the air, but after a glance in the mirror, she nodded in satisfaction. It produced the desired effect. She looked like a prude old spinster, not the captain of Summer’s Heart.

  “You look lovely dear, just lovely,” the woman said. “It must be terribly exciting sailing the Summer Seas, dancing at grand parties on the Floating Palace. When I was a girl, I always imagined being swept off my feet by a dashing duelist.”

  “I’d recommend staying on your feet when duelists are around.”

  “Oh, posh, dear,” the woman said. “Where is your sense of romance?”

  Lawdon was saved from further conversation by a tap at the shop door. She hurried to flip the latch and let one of her waterbugs inside.

  The young informant had a broken tooth and a cagey look about her.

  “Well?” Lawdon prodded her.

  “I hid on a rooftop across from the school. Lots of people coming and going, but no one seen me though.”

  “Is the Zelani mistress awake yet?”

  “Saw her through the tower window, heading down the stairs. She’s well enough to walk.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Don’t know. I left. You told me to come get you as soon as I saw her.”

  “Any other news?” Lawdon asked.

  “You mean ’sides the Lost Brother waking up, that Flower getting her head chopped off, and every soldier in town looking for the tattooed madman?”

  “No other deaths?” Lawdon pressed, remembering her woeful attempt to hide Suvian’s body in the leaves.

  The girl shook her head.

  “Stay close then. I may have more work for you later.” She slipped the girl a few coins and sent her back out into the street.

  The seamstress shook her head as Lawdon closed the door. “I don’t trust those wharf rats. There’s a reason they don’t work a proper trade. They’ll cheat you every
chance they get.”

  Lawdon ignored the woman and picked up her knife belt. She fastened it on, but shook her head. That would never do. What kind of maiden walked around with a captain’s dagger strapped to her waist?

  She tried to tuck the knife under the blouse, but it showed right through. After a moment’s contemplation, she raised her dress and wrapped the belt around her thigh twice and cinched it tight. The squeeze was uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as the thought of going into the city without a weapon. It made a slight bulge just below her hip, but under the flowing skirts it might not be noticed.

  “That’s a dangerous-looking knife to be carrying,” the seamstress said.

  Lawdon slapped some coins on the counter. “The extra is for forgetting you ever saw me.” She turned to go. “But don’t forget, my friends will be watching you for the next couple of days.”

  “No need to be nasty, dear. I just don’t see any reason for a woman to carry a knife like that.”

  “Well,” Lawdon said, her hand on the door’s latch, “I’ve already been half-raped once today. I have no intention of letting it happen a second time.”

  She left the seamstress gaping in shock and stepped into the street.

  Outside, a bell was ringing. Lawdon wrinkled her brow. This was not the slow, sad tones of the mourning bell, this sound was loud and urgent like a warning bell. The few people in the street hurried along their way as if they suddenly had someplace to be.

  Lawdon paused, looking at the orange sun, low in the sky. She went back into the seamstress shop. “What’s that? The bell?”

  The seamstress clutched a dress to her chest.

  “An attack,” she said in a low voice. The wrinkles around the woman’s face were tight with fear. “The corrupted are attacking again.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Shara slipped out of the thin silken robe and let it fall to the warm bathhouse floor. She unfastened her Zelani belt and gently set aside the hair comb with Brophy’s feather in it.

  She didn’t have time. After eighteen years of frustration, eighteen years of waiting, of yearning, she had no time at all.

  But she pushed back the urgency that screamed in the back of her mind and dipped her toe in the steaming bath. Caleb stood naked in the waist-deep water next to her. He reached out a hand and helped her into the steaming bath. With a deep breath and slow exhalation, she tried to calm her spinning thoughts. Caleb led her to the deeper water. He placed one hand against her back and another behind her thigh. She leaned back, allowing him to lift her up until she was floating. Shara smiled as the water enveloped her. The sensation brought her back to her childhood when she and Caleb had often bathed together, leading each other further and further into the mysteries of Zelani. The two of them had loved riding the razor’s edge, always pushing their arousal to the very brink of release, but never taking that final step. Shara hadn’t bathed with Caleb, or anyone else, since leaving to rescue Brophy from the Wet Cells.

  She let herself drift on the steamy torchlit pool, relaxing into Caleb’s expert touch. He matched his breath with hers and sent his magic to bolster her own. After the tumultuous storm of the last few days, Shara was so drained she could barely find her own compass.

  Brophy was awake, but he was, if anything, in more trouble than when he slept through the years. He needed stability, balance, a steady hand to help him. If she was going to help Brophy, she needed to find her own center; she needed to be strong enough for both of them. He needed someone to come to him with hope, with solutions, with a heart full of love. When he remembered himself, when he came to his senses, then she could cry on his shoulder and tell him how hard it had been without him for the last two decades.

  Shara let the heat from the water seep into her aching muscles. Caleb’s sure hands moved across her skin, coaxing the power back into her body.

  Clear the thoughts. Empty them like a cup of water poured into the ocean. There was always a way.

  She let out another long breath. Caleb’s fingers brushed her breasts, and magic hovered around her so quickly that she smiled. It shimmered like the air right before a lightning storm. Yes. This was what she needed.

  I will take care of you, she thought. We have come this far. We can finish the journey, and I will protect you until you can protect yourself.

  She let her mind drift out over the city of Ohndarien. A storm gathered in the southeast, headed toward them. Shara spread her awareness over the city like a blanket, soaking up the ani, the life force of the world around her.

  Slowly, a sense of calm descended, and her mind quieted enough to hear the voices of others. Shara went searching for Brophy, just checking to make sure he was all right, to make sure he was still where she had left him.

  Shara’s awareness drifted farther and farther away, seeking high ground, surrendering to the vast power of the magic. She brushed the boulder field with her thoughts, searching for Brophy’s familiar presence. She missed him at first and increased her concentration. Her relaxed overview became a quick, focused search. But he wasn’t there, he was nowhere amid the stones.

  Her first thought was the wall. Surely he had gone to the top of the wall. She scanned farther and farther out, but he was gone. The magic dissipated around her as her mind raced. Where was he?

  Caleb’s breathing faltered, and her concentration shimmered like a mirage. He lifted her out of the water and quickly brought her back to the present.

  “What’s wrong,” she asked, standing up, shaking the water out of her ears.

  “Warning bells. Another attack.”

  Shara’s heart sank. The corrupted had come again.

  Caleb pulled himself out of the bath and snatched his tight breeches, pulled them on quickly. “Shara, the bells,” he said.

  Shara felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. Again. “But—”

  “Shara, we have to go. With Faedellin and Astor in no shape to fight, they’ll need us at the wall more than ever.”

  She clenched her fist, then nodded. “All right. Let’s go.”

  Standing up, she sloshed to the edge of the pool and pulled herself out. Dripping wet, she hastily grabbed her feathered comb and robe, shoving her arms through the sleeves. She quickly fastened her Zelani chain around her waist and followed Caleb as he rushed up the stairs from the baths and into the foyer. Several Zelani had already arrived; they looked to Shara for orders.

  “Gather every Zelani you can find,” Caleb told them. “Even the students, anyone who has passed the Third Gate or higher. Get them to the wall, now!”

  Without a word, they rushed to follow his instructions. Caleb took Shara’s hand and ran with her toward the front gate. “You and the young ones stay back,” he insisted. “I only want you there as a reserve, Shara. You’re not ready for anything more.”

  Shara followed him through the gate and into the street. She could already feel her energy ebbing, but she spared a quick moment to search for Brophy again. Her attention flashed frantically through the streets, back toward the Zelani school.

  She found him.

  The bonfire of Brophy’s emotions was close, just a few blocks away, but he wasn’t alone. Arefaine was with him, her cold presence obvious because of the complete lack of emotions. The young sorceress’s formidable magical protections made her stand out like a flickering fire with a hollow space cut from the center. Shara felt her temper flare. She didn’t want Brophy anywhere near that child sorceress.

  Shara dug deeper into his turbulent thoughts. Her breathing faltered, and she stopped running.

  “He’s leaving…” she murmured.

  “What?” Caleb stopped as she let go of his hand.

  “He’s going to the docks. With her.”

  “Who?”

  “Brophy.”

  “Shara, we’re under attack. Brophy can wait. I need you to look after the young ones.”

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, backing down the hill, away from the wall. “He’s leaving, Caleb. I have
to…”

  Shara left him standing there as a group of Zelani ran up to join him. She barely turned the corner when she passed a black-haired woman in a green dress. The woman yelled at her to stop, called her name. Shara ignored her and used the Floani form to lend strength to her legs.

  She rushed through the gloomy streets. The sun was low in the sky, and the storm was almost upon them. The thin robe clung to her wet body. Her bare feet slapped the flagstones, and a stiff wind blew her hair into her face. She passed a pair of Lightning Swords rushing toward the wall. They turned and stared at her as she sped down the street.

  Shara rounded a corner and found her quarry walking slowly down a side street a few blocks from Donovan’s Bridge. Brophy, Arefaine, and four Carriers of the Opal Fire. Shara slowed as she approached. Two of the Carriers turned toward her, and the procession slowed. Arefaine spotted her and looked at her curiously. Brophy looked at her for a brief moment with such longing that her heart soared. But he turned away, his fists clenched.

  Shara tried to control her breathing, her heart aching. She looked down at herself, felt heat in her face. Her nipples pressed against the sheer, wet fabric of her robe. She swallowed hastily and tugged the front of the clinging robe.

  “Brophy…” she said, moving toward him. The two Carriers facing her stepped forward, blocking her way. Shara’s brows furrowed, and it was only with an effort of will that she didn’t fling them out of her way.

  No, she thought. Calm. He needs to see me calm. Needs me to be steady for him.

  “Shara-lani,” Arefaine said. “I am so happy to see you.”

  “What’s going on here?” Shara demanded, then realized how petulant she must sound. Breathing evenly, she said more quietly, “Where are you taking him?”

  Arefaine took a slow steady breath.

  “Brophy has decided to sail for Ohohhom with the Emperor.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Lawdon hurried up the crowded street toward the Zelani school. Frantic people were running all around her, civilians toward their homes, soldiers toward the wall. She felt disaster in the air, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Brophy waking, Baelandra’s death, Suvian’s rape, an assassin loose in the city, Ohndarien’s lockdown, the corrupted attacking the city at this moment; everything was aligning against her.