Castle of Lies

by Kiersi Burkhart

  “If Melidia weren’t so preoccupied,” Morgaun snarls, “she’d strike you both down from the sky. How could you do it with that deformed thing, sister?” He laughs again. “Sick.”

  I’ve been called worse.

  “Is this true?” the Duke asks me.

  I inhale sharply and sit beside Thelia. “Yes, it’s true. I love her.”

  The rage drains out of Thelia’s eyes. My uncle sinks into his chair and drops his face in his hands. But Bayled puts his arm around both of us, and I feel him squeeze my shoulder.

  I’m not ashamed. After all the lies I’ve told, this is the one truth I’ll keep.

  We have split into three camps: Thelia, Bayled, and I at the window, playing pa-chi-chi. Duke Finegarden under his blankets, refusing to look at any of us. Corene and Morgaun at the table, whispering more feverishly than ever.

  It’s Bayled who speaks first, quietly enough that the others can’t overhear. “He’s pulled Corene into this plan of his, whatever it is.”

  Thelia’s mouth twists into a grimace. “No kidding.”

  “Let me try,” I say. I know one way to get anyone to open up.

  After rifling through my trunks for a while, I plop down across from Corene and Morgaun, a blanket draped over my shoulders. I set a freshly opened bottle of wine and three glasses on the table between us. “Truce?” I say, starting to pour. “I’ve been saving this.”

  Morgaun picks up a glass and sips. Corene doesn’t take hers.

  “Very good, Bellisare,” Morgaun says, licking his lips. Behind me, Thelia sits on the window seat, staring out the window. I know she’s listening.

  “We’re all a little—erm—tense right now,” I say lightly. “So we’ll all make mistakes while we cope.” Morgaun’s eyes narrow. “But of course I want to do whatever I can to get us out of here. Why don’t you tell me how I can help?”

  Morgaun gives me an appraising look. “You know, those long-eared monsters think they’re so much better than us. Treating us like cattle. But you’re proof that humans could use Magic just as well as they can, if Melidia permitted it.”

  It’s the closest Morgaun will ever come to complimenting me. “So what’s your plan?”

  Morgaun says nothing. I top off his glass of wine. I haven’t made a dent in mine but he hasn’t noticed. Corene, on the other hand, reaches past Morgaun for a book. He puts a hand on her wrist. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m telling him. We could use his help.” Corene opens the book to a page of diagrams that look like flames scattered among lines of rippling wind.

  “Forgren gave this to us,” she says, turning the book to face me. “Magic is flammable. That’s what we think happened in West Hall—the Magic in the room caught fire and exploded. And that’s why the long ears banned fires.” The page is written in an older script I can’t read, but I understand the depictions of fire. “It’s not flammable like paper, where it will catch fire and keep burning as long as there’s fuel.”

  “How is it different?” I ask. Morgaun looks at me suspiciously.

  “It consumes whatever Magic is immediately available in a space and detonates on the spot. It won’t spread.”

  Morgaun pulls something out of his lap and sets it on top of the book: it’s a small lump of a dark gray mineral I don’t recognize. “This is a conductor,” he says. “Forgren’s had it on his shelf for years. Whereas a fire will simply burn out the Magic nearest and then dissipate, this taps into the entire line of Magic.”

  “Line?” I ask.

  “I don’t completely understand it,” Corene says, pointing to the squiggly lines on the next page, some larger and fatter. They cross a map of Helyanda—the lines thicker and more numerous on the elves’ side of the Great Mountains, and thinner and sparser on our side. “But basically, Magic travels in interconnected threads all across the world.” She flips a few pages to show me more diagrams. “If we could get our hands on some fire and tap into a whole thread with this,” she holds up the lump of rock, “we could send an entire line into flames. It would hit the elves where it hurts, back home.”

  “How does that help us?”

  “It does Melidia’s bidding,” Morgaun says. “By destroying them. The long ears rely on Magic to survive—it’s why they can live forever, why they can’t be hurt. They are her enemies because they dare to use what isn’t theirs.” He glances up at the ceiling and shakes his head, like the Goddess has said something only to him. “Thanks to Melidia’s grace, we don’t need Magic, and we can continue along fine without it when it’s gone.”

  “Wouldn’t destroying them destroy us, too?” I ask. “We’re all in the castle together.”

  Morgaun just smiles as he drinks. “The ultimate sacrifice, yes. And Melidia will reward us greatly for it.”

  My eyes dart to Corene, to see if she finds this as nonsensical as I do. But she’s gazing upward, beyond the ceiling, beyond Four Halls, to some imaginary destination in the sky.

  Her final blind leap at happiness.

  It is late that night when I return from dumping our chamberpot out the window in the main suite.

  “Why are you working with Morgaun?” I hear Bayled whisper under the door. I stop and listen—I can’t help myself. “How could you do that to Thelia?”

  “You mean my cousin who left me to die?” snaps Corene.

  “We’ve all suffered and done regrettable things,” Bayled says. “But Morgaun . . . he’s a wretch, Corene. And he’s only going farther up the parapets. You heard him. The ultimate sacrifice? He wants us all dead, even you.”

  “Maybe I’m a wretch too,” she retorts. “Is that what you think? Is that what you’re saying?”

  There’s a long pause. Then the door opens and Bayled comes out, carrying a pillow and a blanket. He stops and stares when he sees me, and closes the door behind him.

  “I give up,” he whispers.

  I put down the chamberpot and touch his shoulder, just for a moment. Then he makes his bed on the floor and I leave him to sleep.

  In our room, I pull out the smokesticks and the fire starter. Only priestesses can send smoke messages—they have the focus needed to find their target, and just enough Magical prowess to carry the smoke to its destination. But I have a feeling . . .

  I rouse Thelia and tell her what I’ve overheard. “We can’t stop them on our own,” I say. “We have to tell Sapphire.”

  Sapphire

  I awake to the tang of smoke. Sitting up in bed, I expect to find a candle in the cool darkness, or maybe a fire. What I find are words written in the air with strands of thin smoke.

  Parsifal and Thelia here.

  Help.

  Morgaun has a plan to end all of us.

  Boom.

  I blink as the final words start to dissipate. I was right that Parsifal’s newfound ability to harness Magic would allow him to use the smokesticks. I did not expect to receive a message so soon, though.

  Boom?

  I am shivering as I descend to the rooms where we keep the priestesses. Even The People feel cold eventually. Today we begin transporting humans to the settlement in greater numbers. Previous groups have proven resistant, so the Commander has decided to send priestesses along to ensure their cooperation.

  I was worrying enough about Thelia and Parsifal even before their message. Even if I could get them cleaned and transported to the new settlement . . . what becomes of that settlement when Ellze gains command of the new fortress?

  Ilisa jumps up when I enter the room. The other priestesses barely rise from their sleep.

  “Come with me,” I whisper to her. My wisp glides up to settle on her shoulder.

  She glances back at her sisters. “What about them?”

  “Only you this time.” I gesture to the open door. She has no reason to trust me, but she follows me out anyway.

  We walk in silence for a while, the wisp riding along in her hair, until she finally asks, “Where are you taking me, Sapphire?”

  I glance d
own. “To be cleansed of Magic. If you were to leave the castle as you are, you might be a danger to yourself and others.” I look away from her. “I am sorry. This is the only way to ensure your safety.”

  “I get to leave?” she asks.

  I nod. “Do you remember what you said you wanted the first time we met?” I ask.

  “I wanted to keep my people safe.”

  “I do not know what will happen after our mission here is complete—but my brethren . . .” I lower my head. “They are corrupt. You may need to protect your own again soon.”

  I stop outside the cleaning room, a cellar reinforced with Magic. I hear the sound of screaming inside. It is in use. Ilisa has a horrified look on her face. “It’s going to be painful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I say. I try not to imagine Ilisa inside, the Magicker’s controlled flames burning off every last bit of Magic still attached to her body. It will be purged from the pores in her skin, between her teeth, the creases between her fingers. She will not emerge the same.

  “It will be over soon.”

  Her eyes search mine. They are not like Thelia or Parsifal’s—they are old and strange. “What will you do to stop this?” she asks me.

  Me? “There is little I can do,” I say. “But I want to free two humans I care about.”

  She leans close and whispers solemnly, “There are hidden tunnels for servants. I doubt your people have found them. Look near stairs.”

  I am surprised—and grateful. “Thank you.”

  The door opens and a Magicker steps out. “Healthy?” he asks me, pointing at the Priestess. “I cannot work on anyone who is ill.” I already know—the intensity of the procedure can be too much for the weak.

  “She shows no sign of sickness,” I say.

  He ushers Ilisa inside and closes the door. While my insides churn with apprehension for her, it gives me an idea.

  I must get my humans completely out of the Commander’s hands—and I know only one way.

  I rush down the stairs into the dungeon so quickly, I almost spill two bowls of food. The Baron rises from the floor where he has been sleeping.

  “I received a message last night,” I say as I slip him his dinner. “Thelia says they need assistance, now. Something about her brother . . . having a plan. A dangerous one.”

  Baron Durnhal scowls through the bars. “Morgaun. She was always so guarded with what she’d tell me about him. But I heard plenty of rumors.”

  “What would you do to help her escape?”

  He crosses his arms. “Not much I can do from here. I have soldiers waiting in the woods, but they won’t move if I can’t contact them.” He exchanges a look with the Captain. “Why do you ask?”

  The Baron loves Thelia—and he will ensure she reaches freedom safely, since I cannot. “I can get all of you out of here,” I say. “I will bring supplies. Meanwhile, you must act sick. When others come to check on you—and they will—lie on the floor. Look like you are dying.”

  The Captain’s eyebrows climb into her hair. “I see what you’re thinking.”

  “You brought it in with you.” I make a gagging sound. “Mysterious human illness. Very contagious. Spreading fast.”

  Chapter 18

  Sapphire

  News of the King’s death has traveled quickly through the castle. Desperation is spreading like a sickness. Two humans hung themselves, and one argument turned into a murder. Luckily, no explosions followed.

  The Commander ordered a stop to group meals in the banquet hall, “to contain the contagion.” What he does not understand is that humans are not animals, and what ails them is not a disease.

  We have done this to them by trapping them in rooms without any heat, without exercise or proper food or contact with others, and we expected them to survive. I could offer so many solutions, but Commander Valya would never listen. The People regard me from the sides of their eyes; never talking to my face, but around me and behind me. I grew too close to the humans. I allowed them to escape. I have developed unnatural affinities.

  In South Hall, the soldier guarding the door to Thelia and Parsifal’s suite eyes me. I do not know if she recognizes me. I have only one chance to do what needs to be done before word travels to Ellze and Commander Valya and I become a traitor.

  “The Commander sent me,” I say. “There have been signs of contagion in this room.”

  The soldier does not move, but she raises one eyebrow. “Yes, they are all depressed. They fight often, but nobody in here has died.”

  I shake my head. “No. Some of these prisoners came from the outside. They are potentially carrying an illness that is communicable to The People. I need to observe them for signs.”

  Her expression sinks. “That cannot be.”

  “I need proof of infection in order to get an evacuation approval to remove the diseased—before it spreads.” I wave her away. “I would leave here if I were you. To limit your exposure.”

  She starts retreating down the hall. “I will close up this room when I am finished. If they are ill, I will have to remove them, and you do not want to be here when I do.”

  Parsifal

  Thelia, Bayled, and I sit by the window, trying to soak up the sunlight, when the suite door opens. Sapphire enters with their gold mask pulled down over their face, eyes lost in deep crevices. The big black cloak billows up around their sharp frame, making seven feet of height feel more like eight.

  Morgaun stalks forward. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

  Sapphire ignores him, looking around the room like they’re searching for an escaped convict. Their gaze settles on me. “Yo-o-o-ou,” they say, forcing as much of that rolling, musical accent into it as possible. “The Commander wants to see yo-o-ou.” Then they point at Thelia. “You come, too.”

  We both jump up. “You can’t take them like this!” Morgaun shouts. Without even glancing at him, Sapphire ties our hands behind our backs and shoves us out the door.

  We follow their billowing cloak down the hall, toward the staircase. Right before the big pillar, Sapphire leans down and bangs the wall with one fist. A squat door I’ve never seen before pops open.

  The tunnel inside is dark and windowless. The air smells like it hasn’t been used since the invasion. When the door closes behind us, everything vanishes into darkness.

  This must be a special servants’ entrance. Derk was holding out on me.

  “Sapphire?” I ask, surprised by the nervousness in my own voice.

  “One moment.” The small pink wisp crawls out of Sapphire’s waist pouch, bathing us in mauve light. “Please forgive me for not coming sooner.” Sapphire unties our hands. “We must get you two out. Now.”

  I peer at them in the darkness. “What haven’t you told us?”

  “The Commander may make a decision I cannot stop.”

  “What kind of decision?” Thelia asks, her voice low.

  “There is too much Magic, more than we can siphon off. Unlike anything we have seen. It is volatile and the operation is taking too long. Commander Valya wants to end it now, without seeking the High Seer’s permission.”

  “End it?” I ask.

  “Give up on cleaning and evacuating everyone.” Sapphire exhales a shuddering breath. “We cannot reach the Magic well with the castle on it, and so we cannot contain it. The Commander wants to destroy the castle to begin building the new hold—and filter this powerful Magic into something he can use.”

  “Destroy it,” Thelia repeats, her face contorting. “With us inside.”

  Sapphire nods. “I will try to stop him, if I can. But I must make sure you are both safe first.”

  I snort. “So much for all that not wanting to hurt anyone stuff, huh?”

  Sapphire shakes their head and a ghost of a smile graces their lips. “Parsifal. This is merely one of the many reasons I enjoy you so much.”

  “Only one?” I ask, allowing myself a mischievous smirk in return. “What else?”

  Sapphire brin
gs my hand to their chest and the air changes. “You made me consider the meaning of days, when my life was a blur of years.” Their tone is grave. “You take every single moment and make something, whether it’s drinking wine or playing pa-chi-chi. And I promise—I will protect those moments. I will not let the castle fall without getting you out first.”

  We both startle when we hear Thelia hiccup. I turn to see her eyes bright with tears. “Theels?” I say. Sapphire and I both reach for her at the same moment, and our hands collide. Sapphire pulls their hand back, looking embarrassed. Thelia hiccups again and turns away.

  “Sorry. I just need a moment.” She rubs her face with her arm. “That was just really nice, Sapphire.”

  “It was.” I take Sapphire’s hand again just to feel their skin under mine, to reclaim the rush I get when we’re this close together. I want even more of it. “So what were you saying again, about how great I am?”

  Their laugh is like a wind chime. “You are so much more clever, more charming, more beautiful than I ever expected,” they whisper to me, dragging one hand up my arm, my neck, to my chin. Sapphire’s sunset eyes—icy blue at the top and golden brown at the bottom—peel away my layers, seeing past my strange face, my protruding eyes and flat nose. “You are always surprising me, Parsifal.”

  My name is a summons. I rise onto my toes and even then, my eyes barely reach Sapphire’s chin. Melidia be damned—too short. But they wrap a hand around the nape of my neck and lean down, their breath running across my upper lip. I always thought the long ears didn’t smell, probably because of that metal skin; but the scent of Sapphire’s breath is surprisingly human.

  Suddenly I remember that Thelia’s here with us. I stumble back, embarrassed for being swallowed by my lust. I search the dimness for Thelia’s face, for her betrayal.

  But she’s staring at me like I’m a total doorknob. “Why did you stop?”

  Why indeed? Whole mountains of complication—doors and walls and cell bars—lie between Sapphire and me. “Can I?” I ask no one in particular. The only thing I’ve ever wanted as much as this . . . is Thelia.