“What do you mean?”
Not him too. First Ren’s uncertainty, then Talon’s and Jomeini’s obvious disapproval during our discussion. Now the wizard is warning me against it. But I can’t abandon Gwynn.
He doesn’t answer, so I go on. “I haven’t seen the light of hope for my part in this. But I do see that light for her, Solomus.”
Solomus purses his lips, thinking it over. “I think if you were to apply your focus to the task of Jomeini’s cards and your purpose in all of this, that will far better serve your friend than choosing this course.”
I fight the tightness in my throat. “Even if I figured those cards out tonight, I don’t have the tears. What good will it do me to use the cards to try and break your spell without them? This is a way for me to get the tears back.”
His shoulders slump. “I suppose I can’t argue with that. But I have something else I’ve discovered that I think may help you, Miss Csille. It pertains to that book I’ve been studying. You see, I’ve been trying to find answers about why you—”
The knock on the door comes once more. “Ambry!” Ayso calls. “Now or never!”
Solomus blinks up at me through reticent, fathomless eyes.
“Thank you for your concern,” I tell him before turning the handle.
***
Two cots are set up in the small room, and the sight of Talon’s pack tells me who’s been sleeping in here. Ren sits on the cot pushed up nearest to the wall. Another rests beside it, along with an actual bed where Jomeini and Ayso are caught in muted conversation. Ayso holds a small beaker in her lap, displaying it to Jomeini. She pours it into a smaller glass, leaving the remainder in the beaker.
“Reveweed,” I hear her explain to the maiden wizard. She pours red liquid from the beaker into a smaller glass and sets it beside an orbital glass container displaying an exotic pink flower floating in water like a fish. “Extracted from the red spider lily and blended with quixotamine—” She pauses, her lips puckering out in an O while she squeezes drops of a yellow substance into the red liquid. “—to create the dreamlike stimulant. I also inject streams of powdered magic taken from my bloodstream to trigger the structural properties—”
“You powder your own blood?” Talon asks. “How is that even possible?”
Ayso breaks from her instruction to blink at Talon. “Works of genius all require some kind of sacrifice,” she says, crinkling her nose. “I have a store on hand.”
Powdered magical blood. I’ve never really considered exactly what kind of effort they put into creating these drugs. No wonder they charge so much for their wares.
“Anything we need to know before we do this?” I ask.
Ayso scoops out the spider lily blossom, with its thin, curling spines that spoke out along the edge of a cluster of vivid pink buds, and brushes it beneath her nose. She inhales and sighs. “Plum, raspberry, and grapefruit. It’s the blend,” she says. “It’s how you can tell it’s the reve.” She offers it to me.
I bow my head low enough to inhale. Hints of lemon, plum, and the bitter tang of grapefruit greet my nose, and a memory trickles forward along with them, of the night I inhaled something similar in the residual smoke from this very plant.
“Reveweed will draw you in,” Ayso says in a seductive tone, “plunge you back into your wildest and most vivid dreams. One inhale and its compound seeps into your brainstem, awakening the dream world our minds only have access to during sleep. One puff is enough to rouse even the briefest stint of emotion, it will make you—”
“We aren’t going to buy any from you,” Ren says, cutting her off with a smile. “We know what it does. What are the adverse affects?”
“Something you probably should have asked before now,” Talon grumbles. He hasn’t stopped pacing since Ayso began speaking.
“Insomnia,” says Ayso, shaking off Ren’s teasing. “Nausea, dry mouth, euphoria. Some even experience memory loss momentarily until the drug is finally out of their system.”
“But we can use it to enter someone else’s mind,” Ren clarifies.
Jomeini glances at her grandfather and lifts her chin. “We’ll find out,” the maiden wizard says. Her hands ball in her lap, her knuckles whitening. Likewise, her voice has an edge to it. I know she’s upset that we’re doing this, but it means a lot that’s she’s helping anyway.
Ayso continues. “I combined it with a plant that induces sleep and taps into the feedback circuit of your brain that controls sleep and dreaming. The drug will link your brain into the dream world and connect your mind to Ambry’s. This will be quite a strain on her mind, but I think it will work. You’ll find out your sister’s deepest fears and hopes and communicate with the very core of who she is.”
“The core of who she is,” Ren says, raising his brow.
“Only then will we know whether your presence in her mind will make any kind of difference aside from just being a regular dream she will be waking from.”
“You sure you still want to do this? I just might find out all your secrets,” Ren says, grinning devilishly at me.
Heat creeps to my cheeks, but still. “It’s the only way.” I need my tears. I need my best friend back.
“You’ll be entering the dream world,” Jomeini tells Ren. “We’ve used the pithstock petals to connect you.” She reaches for another vial, but her shaking hand misses its target and knocks the glass from the table. Even though it hits the rug and doesn’t break, Jomeini huffs in frustration, pressing her lids closed.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Talon’s brow pinches, and he exhales in frustration.
Ayso bends for the fallen glass. “Pithstock was Jomeini’s idea,” Ayso says, giving the maiden wizard a reassuring smile. “So of course it’s completely brilliant.”
Jomeini ducks her head as if to avoid the praise. She rubs her palms back and forth across her thighs, her body swaying slightly. “Pithstock is a stimulant. Blood bears use it to find other bears because once it’s ingested the drinker can read traces of the plant in other creatures who’ve eaten it. With our added magic, it will connect your minds. Once you drink this, it will guide you to Ambry’s dream.”
“And that’s how we’ll find Gwynn’s?” I ask. Ayso is trying to ignore Jomeini’s distress—that’s probably the best way to calm the girl’s upcoming outburst, so I go along with it. Ren’s eyebrow lifts. “Ren, I mean,” I clarify. “It’s how he will find her dreams too?”
“Presumably,” says Ayso, giving Jomeini another smile. “We’ll know after tonight.”
Despair latches on for the ride. If that’s the case we’ll never be close enough to administer anything like this to Gwynn while she’s sleeping.
“But how?” Ren asks.
The group of us glance at one another.
“I could do it,” Jomeini says, stilling her repetitive motions. “I can transey there—Grandfather taught me how.”
Solomus straightens. “We can figure all of that out later, can’t we?” he says.
Jomeini’s face drops. The agitated motions she’s been making all evening multiply. She rubs her thighs harder, rocks back and forth faster.
“Jomeini?” I ask.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she says. She lifts her eyes to mine. To her grandfather’s. To Ayso’s. “I tried to tell him—he was supposed to tell you. Don’t do this.”
“Jomeini, we talked about this—”
“You shouldn’t do it!” she screeches, rising to her feet.
Solomus gives her a consoling smile, a smile trying too hard to mask the concern in his eyes. “I did talk to her. But this is her decision. And she’s right, if this is the way to get the tears back, then it’s worth a try.”
“I know how you feel,” I add. “I’m scared too. But I’m sorry, Jo. I have to do this.”
Jomeini dips her head and backs away to stand in the corner. Chewing her lip, she stares at a single spot on the carpet.
I hate this hesitation. This doubt, at h
er words. Has she Seen something else? What could possibly have her this agitated?
“Transey?” I ask with a breath, going back to Jomeini’s suggestion that she use it to get to Gwynn. The wizard created a doorway from a window, and then again from nothing but that window’s broken glass. Is that what she was talking about?
That’s probably what sparked this outburst in her. None of us listened to her suggestion, and from the way she overreacted down in the basement, she probably went straight to a conclusion without thinking. I wish I could pull her aside, to find out what’s really bothering her. But there isn’t time. We’re doing this.
“For now,” Ayso says, pushing her glasses up, “you and Ambry will practice so when the time comes, Jomeini and I can go and drug Gwynn with the reveweed and pithstock as well. Your subconscious mind should be able to find her too.”
“Okay,” Ren says in an absolute kind of way. His eyes stray to the set of plants and bottles on the table and then to the corner where Jomeini stands. Jomeini gives him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Jo?”
Again, she dips her chin to her chest. And when she doesn’t argue the point a second time, the group of us exchanges looks.
“Okay, then,” I say. “Where do you want me?”
“You lay here.” Ayso gestures to the cot beside Ren. I amble over, settling myself in across from my brother.
“You won’t be smoking it this time,” says Ayso as she dumps powder into the glass. She reaches for another vial before Jomeini gets the chance to knock it from the table as well. Magic from her hand jolts into the cup, and a familiar jealousy rings through. My classmates learned how to do similar things in chemistry while I was unable to do the same without magical help.
“Here.” She hands me a small shotglass filled with the bright red liquid.
“This is it?” I ask, ignoring the concern on Jomeini’s face. It’s nothing. It’s okay.
“I mixed the drug in with a tonic. It’ll settle you into a nice, deep sleep so your brother can climb in there and meddle around.”
It will be okay. This will work. “Okay.”
The door opens and Talon slides in, closing it behind him. His stern face is gruff and set. With my nerves tighter than live wires, I didn’t realize he stepped out.
“I’ve had to increase the regular dosage,” says Ayso. “Most people smoke it, but you two will be ingesting it and entering the dream world fully. I’ve doubled the dosage.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Talon asks.
Ayso shrugs, and Jomeini trudges forward a single step, her arms crossed over her body. “It will probably increase the side effects at most,” she says. “The pressure on her mind will be enough that she could lose memories or brain function shortly after, but it won’t be lethal.”
“Lose brain function?” Talon’s voice mirrors my sudden skepticism. “Ambry, don’t do this.”
All of my reasons pour in—good and bad, right and wrong. But there’s no time to consider them. “It will be okay, Talon. We have to help Gwynn. To get the tears back.”
“I don’t care about her!” he says in a rage, driving hands through his hair.
I refuse to take my eyes from him. “I do,” I say. “And I go after the people I care for.”
Talon glowers. Pleading, worry, and frustration all blaze across his face.
Ayso places a hand on his arm and he jerks, surprised at her touch. “Maybe you should leave,” she says gently.
Talon glances in shock at the wizards sitting by the fire, at Ayso, Ren, and finally me.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says.
“We saw how well it worked to storm the Triad, Talon,” I say. “Tyrus will be expecting something like that. This way, Tyrus won’t even know what we’re doing until it’s too late. Until Gwynn wakes, turns her back on him, and joins us.”
“And how do we know we can trust her if she does?” Talon asks.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, I guess,” I say.
He steps to the cot, face bent in my direction. Before I can think twice about this—or before he can continuing trying to talk me out of it—I snatch the shotglass from Ayso’s hand and down the tangy, sharp liquid in one gulp.
Talon stares at Ambry’s closed eyes, her blonde hair piling beside her on the pillow. It took only moments for her lids to close; her body went limp and slumped back so fast he was barely able to catch her. He props her legs up to place her in a more comfortable-looking position and glances to Ayso.
“She’ll be okay, right?”
Ayso crinkles her nose, the empty glass in her other hand. “I guess only time will tell.”
“What if this doesn’t work?” Ren asks, cutting in.
“It’s a little late to back out,” says Talon. “She’s already deep-sleeping for you.” Though his voice is calm, he’s shouting inside. This is one thing he’s worked hard to master. Showing one’s temper only gives a person power over you. It’s best to stay in control. He slipped with Ambry. But that’s something he learned from Tyrus—no matter what happens, always keep the upper hand.
“It’s not like she won’t wake up,” Ren snaps. “I just have to be sure. This is my sister’s mind we’re meddling with.”
Fools, Talon thinks, stalking away toward the door. Using drugs is bad enough, but manipulating them like this—Talon cringes at the risks. Sure, Ren might be able to get into her mind. But what if he damages Ambry in some way? What if something goes wrong and they can’t get him back out again?
Talon can’t bring himself to leave. He’ll stay here beside her. He made himself a promise. And among all the other promises he’s made, this one he can’t allow himself to break.
The way Ambry looked at him after he shattered that glass door Solomus created. He thought she understood the truth about her brother. He was sure she knew Ren’s magic was taken. But that look, that utter disgust and sheer disappointment in him. Talon swore he’d never be the cause for her to look that way ever again.
“Is there anything I should know, now, before it’s too late?” Ren asks, taking his place on the cot across from his sister.
“Such as…?” Ayso asks, pushing her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose.
“I don’t know, will anything I do permanently hurt her mind or something?”
“And that would be a bad thing?”
It’s not Ayso’s sweet, high-pitched voice.
Talon rounds on Shasa standing in the doorway as the older wizard shuffles in behind her.
“What are you doing in here?” he demands, hating her pouty full lips, hating the bracelet on her wrist that matches the one in his pocket, all save for their lifeblood inside. That bracelet binds Shasa to him. She’s his kinswoman, his betrothed. His honor speaks first, speaks of obligation, of times he enjoyed Shasa’s friendship. How can he feel so many mixed things about a single person all at once?
Regardless, he can’t have her here right now. He’s worrying about enough without her breathing down his neck. He meant what he told Ambry in the hallway. He doesn’t feel right about this.
“Get out,” he orders the shorter girl.
“I was just—Jomeini sounded really upset a minute ago and I—”
Talon grips her elbow and frogmarches her to the hallway outside. Ambry is sleeping—dreaming for all he knows—and they can’t afford any distractions while Ren attempts this. And while Shasa has many talents, one thing she’s very good at is being a distraction.
“Talon Haraway, don’t you dare close that door on me—”
He slams it behind him.
He’ll pay for this later. He has so much to answer for later. And here he is in the same mess. If only Shasa would just leave. Except even if she left it wouldn’t free him of what he knows awaits once his people come. Once he returns home.
His father seemed so disappointed, so disgusted with him. Talon had to tell him the truth of what happened. He knows they’ll give him a trial, at the very least
. There has to be hope for him, in spite of his failings.
He locks the door behind him to find Ayso and the wizard coaching Ren.
Jomeini’s shoulders rise as her breathing speeds up. She hasn’t taken her eyes from that same spot on the carpet. Something is clearly troubling her, but he’s not sure what it is.
He blinks away his confusion and sits beside Ambry’s legs on the cot. Ambry doesn’t stir. She inhales a peaceful breath and continues her slumber, her hands placed leisurely on her chest.
Ren lies back on the cot beside Ambry’s, and the wizard stands over him. Solomus pours the powder into his hands. Flames alight his palms, but they’re green, tinged with glitter and imprints of leaves as he extends his arm over Ren and mutters words of incantation. Talon recognizes a few of them from studying ancient Liachle.
Sinresa hecorl e y’arna. Xavi el avna viern y’graundai. Something about sleeping restfully and allowing his mind to be overtaken. And, graundai, progressing quickly.
Talon knows that last word well. Graundai. He called Ambry that once. He remembers holding her in his arms during their training. Having her so near, having to touch her—he fought himself constantly, to push her away instead of fold her into him. No one he ever trained learned so fast; not even Tyrus’s already-trained soldiers picked up on things as quickly as Ambry did. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was Feihrian. But that’s impossible.
He wishes it were possible, though. He longs for her to have that lineage, a connection that could link her to him in all the ways he wishes he could. In all the ways that can never be.
Solomus finishes his incantation and, hand still blazing with green flames, sifts the powder like controlled steam over Ren. The steam floats above his body. It forms his exact shape, down to the space between Ren’s feet at the bottom of the cot and the spaces between his sides and his arms, the circular shape of his head, before settling over him and caving in, like a soul returning to a body it left too soon.
Tension roils the air. Ambry’s slumbering chest rises and falls, her lids twitching. Ren’s inhales become more labored, and then brother and sister breathe in unison, each shuddering every few seconds.
Such a Daring Endeavor Page 26
