“It matters not. Our treaties with the other nations—”
“Make no mention of us.”
The man shook in frustration. “Will you not even hear me out on this?”
Vashodia giggled. “No. We’ve traveled such a long way and have become quite attached to this little plot of soil. Relocation will not happen.” She sipped her tea, as if the matter was settled.
Jasside knew that it already was. She wondered if the man had figured that out yet.
The emissary cleared his throat before continuing. “Our second demand is this: You shall not travel within our borders, for any reason, without a writ of passage signed by an ambassadorial authority, and without an escort from our border patrol of no less than double the number of your party.”
“Agreed,” Vashodia said.
The man’s eyes flashed wide. “No challenge?”
Vashodia shrugged. “They are perfectly reasonable terms. Don’t get snippy and make me reconsider. Next.”
“I see. Then our last demand is that you put an end to all hostile activity along our southeastern trade routes.”
Jasside tilted her head, furrowing her brow. “Hostile activity?”
The man sneered at her. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know. Our caravans and tradesmen began disappearing from that region eight months ago. About the time your people began marching across the foothills on our eastern border. Denying the connection is a waste of both of our times.”
Jasside opened her mouth to refute the man but shut her lips when Vashodia raised a single finger.
“Done,” Vashodia said.
Angla turned a furious gaze at her daughter. “What do you mean? You know very well we have noth—”
“I know what I am doing, Mother.” She turned to the emissary. “Are we agreed then?”
He pursed his lips. “As long as you abide by the latter two terms, I will bring the matter of your refusal to relocate to King Reimos for consideration. I would not suggest testing the bounds of our newfound peace if I were you, though.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Vashodia stood. Jasside followed suit, as did both Angla and the emissary. “Now then, I expect your escort to be ready in two days’ time. Fifty soldiers should be sufficient to cover our party.”
The man jerked his head back. “Wh-what are you talking about?”
“Just abiding by our new terms,” Vashodia said.
“I don’t understand.”
Jasside didn’t either. She glanced to her grandmother, but Angla merely shrugged, looking just as confused as the emissary.
“By your own words,” Vashodia began, “you wish us to ‘put an end to all hostile activity’ in the forests to the south. How are we to do that without going there in force?”
“In force?”
Vashodia laughed again. “You were right to say there was no use denying the connection. Now, we’re not at fault, so to speak, but a connection exists nonetheless. If we’re to correct this atrocity, we must take an armed force into your land and put an end to this nasty business.
“And, as you’ve stipulated, all parties traveling in your borders require an escort. Two to one you said, right? Fifty should do. Two days. Now, as I’m not fond of repeating myself, I suggest you get out of my sight before my quota of civility for the day runs out.”
The man was out the door before Jasside could blink. She turned to Vashodia. “You know, very little of that was actually necessary.”
“Perhaps not,” Vashodia said, giggling. “But it sure was fun!”
Arivana smiled into the wind, letting it whip around her unbound hair as she leaned over the railing of the skyship. The palace docks retreated below her as the magical artifices built into her yacht lifted them higher and higher. The Hundred Towers of Panisahldron filled her view.
Round or square, bulbous or lithe, the buildings pierced the sky in a circle around the center of the city, growing higher like stairs as they drew nearer the palace. They all glowed by the light of a hundred thousand sorcerous globes, festooned in and around each tower in twinkling arrays. Atop them all, like crowns, sat crystal statues carved in the likeness of the families who owned them.
Arivana thought they were all beautiful, but none could compare to the seven at Panisahldron’s focal point.
There was one for each of the six great houses: Pashams, Baudone, Trelent, Merune, Vandulisar, and Faer. Each of them soared twice as high as even the tallest of the lesser houses, but were as perfectly equal to each other as could be. Arivana thought that the original builders must have been so thoroughly satisfied at outdoing the surrounding towers that they felt no need to try to top their peers.
But the tower at the center managed to outshine them anyway. Her tower. Equal in height to the others but for the great phoenix statue at its apex, which seemed to writhe and burn as sunlight bounced around inside it. The seat of House Celandaris, who had ruled for five thousand unbroken years.
Arivana shivered when she realized just how thin the line had truly become. Five millennia of tradition and rule all resting on my shoulders. She began leaning farther over the edge of the railing. Look how easily it could all be washed away.
A hand clamped down on her shoulder, pulling her back. “My lady!” cried Flumere. “You mustn’t lean so precariously. You might fall!”
Arivana sighed, letting herself be manhandled by her handmaiden. “Relax, Flumere. My dance instructors say I have very good balance. Besides, the wardnets would catch me even if I do fall.”
“But it would be most improper for the queen to be seen in such a manner.”
Arivana raised her arms and twirled around. “Who’s there to see? It’s just us and the pilot.”
“Don’t forget me,” Claris said, marching up from belowdecks.
“I could never do that!” Arivana rushed over and grabbed her aunt’s hand, pulling her towards the bow. “I’m so glad you could make it. Come on, the best view is up here.”
Claris laughed airily. “I’m sure the best view is wherever you’re looking, Arivana.”
Arivana smiled. “That’s so kind of you to say. And so true. Look!”
She pointed off in the distance. As the city faded behind them to the north, the land rose before them, forming an immense plateau. A river wound its way from the mountains and across the flat terrain, cascading down the plateau’s edge in a waterfall a thousand paces wide. The water raged onwards, carving a lush valley on its long journey out to the Endless Sea.
“Do you remember?” Arivana asked.
“Yes. It will be good to see this place again. It has been too long since we came here.” Claris turned. “But perhaps we should give your handmaiden some assistance.”
Arivana looked behind her and saw Flumere struggling up the stairs with three enormous baskets laden with their goods for this outing. She and her aunt shuffled over to the woman.
“Nonsense, my ladies,” Flumere said, huffing. “I cannot in good conscience let you carry a thing.”
Claris laughed. “Oh, nothing so scandalous as that.” She raised a hand and, after a moment, formed a magical sheet of light. She gestured at it, and Flumere set the baskets on top. Claris pulled out a bit of string and fastened it to two corners of the hovering sheet with little rings of light, fashioning a makeshift handle. The handmaiden tugged on it, now able to tow her cargo with ease.
Flumere bowed and gave Claris a smile. “Thank you, my lady.”
The pilot maneuvered the skyship into a private moorage halfway up the cliff next to the waterfall. The three of them stepped off and began treading through a tunnel carved into the plateau. Softly glowing lightglobes, despite having lain dormant for over a year, came awake to guide their steps.
A few marks later, they came to the cave. Arivana couldn’t hold in her excitement any longer. She let loose a high-pitch
ed squeal and sprinted towards the pool. Abyss, I’ve been needing this! More lightglobes sprang to life to illuminate the chamber, setting the natural crystal formations around the walls and roof to sparkling. The crystals in the pool itself, appearing like clusters of colored bubbles trapped forever on the water’s floor, had been rounded off ages ago to prevent cuts on any swimmers.
As Flumere fussed over readying the picnic, Claris joined Arivana by the pool. They kicked off their shoes and tugged off their dresses to reveal the swimming attire they had both put on underneath.
“Ready?” Claris asked.
Arivana dipped a toe in, then shrieked and yanked it back. “It’s a little cold.”
“Is it?” Claris bent down and reached for the water with her hand.
Arivana pushed her in.
She giggled uncontrollably as her aunt came splashing back to the surface, a look of pure indignation plastered on her wet face. “How dare you, young lady! Such behavior is not fit for a queen.”
“Well, I wasn’t queen last time I came here. How was I supposed to know the rules have changed?”
Claris smirked. “I guess I’ll just have to teach you.” She lifted a hand out of the water.
Arivana felt strands of sorcery wrap around her body. She became weightless, floating to the center of the pool. Claris dropped her hand. The strands holding Arivana vanished.
She tucked her legs beneath her as she plunged into the water.
Arivana splashed and laughed, dove deep to try counting the crystals, floated on her back, and tried to see how long she could hold her breath. Claris entertained her with a water dance, climbing at times onto a surface hardened by her magic and kicking up great sprays of water like a choreographed fountain.
After a toll, they both became tired. They dried off, then lay on a blanket and began nibbling on the lunch Flumere had prepared. As they relaxed, Arivana felt like something was missing. She’d been feeling it since she first stepped foot inside this place. It took a while, though, to realize what it was.
It’s too quiet.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Father and Mother, Beckara, Lisabet, and Tomil . . . why aren’t you here? Why did you have to leave me?
Though she tried her best to stifle it, a little sniffle escaped from her throat, and a tear leaked from the corner of her eye.
Flumere knelt at her side in an instant. “What is the matter, my queen?”
“It’s nothing.” Arivana turned away, trying to hide her face. But she only succeeded in facing her aunt.
And the woman had always been able to read her like a book.
“You miss them,” Claris stated.
Arivana nodded.
Her aunt scooted over and pulled Arivana against her breast, stroking her hair and sighing. “So do I, my love. So do I.”
“You speak of your . . . family?” Flumere asked, intruding on the moment.
Claris tried to shush the handmaiden, but Arivana pushed away gently and turned to Flumere. If I’m to be queen, I need to stop acting like a child all the time. She took a deep breath, composing herself, and gazed up at her handmaiden. “My family used to come here all the time, but that was before you came to be in my service. Before they were . . .” Arivana gulped, “ . . . murdered.”
Flumere nodded. “And that is why we make war.”
Claris scoffed. “So they say.”
“Everyone’s told me that it was very clear what happened,” Arivana said. “Do you know something different?”
Claris shrugged. “Oh, I’m sure it happened the way everyone claims.”
“But I thought you were there?”
“I was.”
“Then . . . what?” Arivana rubbed her eyes in confusion. “Didn’t you see it happen? Where were you?”
Claris stood suddenly, tense like someone preparing for combat. Flumere edged in close and put her hands on Arivana’s shoulders, as if to protect her. Arivana hadn’t ever thought she’d need someone to guard her against her own aunt, but right now she’s wasn’t so sure.
“Who put you up to this?” Claris said. “Was it Tior? It was, wasn’t it?”
Arivana crossed her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you dare defend him!”
“Why wouldn’t I? He’s been looking after me since my family died. Where have you been?”
“Off fighting a pointless war. Or do you actually imagine it’s justified?”
Arivana gasped, lowering her eyes. I can’t even look at you right now! “Tior warned me about this. About dissenters. It always seemed like you and my mother were as close as sisters. I never thought you’d spit on her memory so easily.”
Claris let out a breath that seemed to go on forever, releasing her tension. It was replaced by something else, though. Something that didn’t make Arivana feel any better.
Resignation.
“You’re a simple girl, Arivana, and you still see the world in simple terms. But the world is complex. Messy. Truths and lies, hopes and fears . . . the line between them often blurs.” Claris snatched up her clothes and began dressing. “You’ve much growing up to do before you’ll be ready to comprehend it.”
Without another glance, her aunt stormed out of the cave.
What did I say?
Arivana winced, grunting in pain. Her handmaiden’s hands had tightened into a death grip. She stared up at the woman. “Please let go.”
Flumere started, releasing her immediately. “Apologies, my queen.”
They packed up together and returned to the royal yacht. Claris remained belowdecks for the entire trip home.
Tassariel hung inverted from her meditation bar, hands pressed together in repose, when the chimes sounded outside her door.
“Coming,” she called.
She grasped the bar, released her legs, and flipped over backwards, landing like feathers on the balls of her feet. She padded across her one-room home, naked toes gripping the faux-grass carpet.
Tassariel came to a halt by her door. “Open,” she said. The silverstone panels slid apart at the command.
Sunlight beamed down on the narrow path outside, which wound like a brook through this section of Halumyr Domicile. Eluhar stood beneath the shadow of her awning. Though she was delighted to see him, as always, it was the package tucked under his arm that drew her smile.
“Praise Elos, it came!” She snatched the rectangular object from him and twirled away, already ripping into the paper pouch.
“Ummm . . . you’re welcome?” Eluhar said, stepping inside.
“What? Oh, yes. Thank you.” She finished destroying the wrapper, then held her prize up in triumph. “Finally!” She nestled down into one of the two chairs she owned and flipped open the book.
Eluhar plopped down opposite her. “I was just at the post picking up some bolts of silk for my father’s loomery when I saw you had a new delivery in. They were kind enough to let me bring it to you.”
“Of course they were. You’re practically a brother to me.”
She noticed him wince over the rim of the book. Probably not what he wants to hear, but at least it’s not a lie. He picked up the shipping note from among the debris she had left on the floor. “Sender is listed as a Lerathus. Point of origin is Panisahldron. Is he from the consulate there?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Is he a . . . friend?”
Tassariel nodded. “He’s one of their archivists. Been helping me track down rare books for decades. I’m sure I’ve told you about him before.”
Eluhar shook his head, running a hand through his short blond hair. “What’s this one?”
“The rarest yet.” She held up the front cover towards him: An Interactive Primer on Yusanese Martial Techniques, 10th Level.
“Interactive?”
She shuffled until she found an appropriate page. “Here, watch this.”
A series of diagrams were drawn on the paper showing a pair of people in the midst of various fighting moves. Tassariel pressed a finger to one them, and said, “Show me.”
The diagram instantly started glowing, then sprang off the page to hover in midair. The flat image popped, becoming rounded from all angles. Then the figures started to move.
Tassariel watched with fascination as the figures weaved through the demonstration. She tapped on another and watched that, too. Then, soon after, all the rest.
“This is impressive,” Eluhar said. “But I don’t understand. I thought you were finished with your first Calling. Why are you still studying it?”
“Why?” She laughed, standing, then pointed to the fourth corner of her home—an area set aside specifically to practice her Calling. “Let me show you why.”
He sighed. “Will I need healing afterward?”
“Not if I do it right. The artists from Yusan specialize in disarming and subduing techniques. I promise there won’t be a repeat of when I was studying the Fasheshish schools.”
“Fine. At least let me dress for the occasion, as you already are.” He tilted his head towards her.
She looked down at her black breeches and shift, both tight yet flexible, like a second skin. Practical attire for what she had in mind. Eluhar stood and removed his ornate outer robe, revealing the white tunic and trousers he wore beneath.
“Did your father make that one?” she asked, pointing at the robe as he laid it over a chair.
“No, actually.” Eluhar blushed. “I made it.”
“You? Only ninety-seven, and you’re already starting on your second Calling. Did you grow bored with astronomy so quickly?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know if forty-seven years can be called ‘quick,’ but yes, I think I may have. Few other valynkar maintain any interest in it, and there’s not much going on up in the void that we can make sense of. I’d rather turn my focus to more practical matters. You know, keep my feet planted on the ground.”
Tassariel pointed towards her square practice mat. “Well, you can start by planting them there.”
Shadow of the Void Page 5
