“They won’t find me.”
“That’s the trouble with hiding. If you need help—”
She rounded on him, hands curled into fists. She wanted to scream. The entire Court would be appalled by such a display, but she wanted to tear down the walls with her bare hands. And since she couldn’t do that…
“Come with me.” She grabbed his arm. “If I need help, you’ll know what to do. Please, Faelyn, you’re the only one I trust, you and Mother.”
He put an arm around her. “All right. We’ll tell a guard, then we’ll sneak away.” He had a quick word with Lucian, who frowned but nodded. Faelyn held tight to Lilani as they slipped into the shadows of the orchard again. “Shroud.”
Lilani let her emotions free; her magic washed over her. Faelyn vanished, but she could still see a shimmer when they passed a lantern. He didn’t let go of her hand and didn’t speak until they left the orchard and climbed out of the Court, heading up the trail along the Highpeak.
When they were high up, both of them panting, Faelyn called a halt behind a boulder that shielded them from the trail. They sat and watched the sun rise in the east. In the face of the beautiful view, Lilani rested her head against Faelyn’s shoulder and wept. He put an arm around her and murmured soothing nonsense.
As the light grew, she noticed a figure in the shadows above them along the trail. She leapt to her feet, but when the figure didn’t move, she exhaled slowly, realizing it was one of the elders sitting inside a shallow crack. Even in shadow, Lilani could make out the elder’s striking features, her high cheekbones, and her long dark lashes resting closed. She sat still as a statue, hands in her lap. Her dark hair fell loose about her shoulders, barely moving as her magic focused inside instead of out, keeping her alive.
Lilani plucked a bit of cobweb from the elder’s hair. She’d seen this one before, had been struck by her beauty. Lilani often volunteered to range up and down the Highpeak, making sure the elders stayed free of dirt and grime. Someone had laid flowers at this one’s feet. Deeper in the shadow behind the elder, another pile of flowers was strewn upon the ground, but whoever they were for had shrouded, fading from life almost entirely. Lilani was tempted to reach out to see if the elder was still there or if they’d somehow managed to vanish from reality.
She turned away, too saddened by the thought to see if it was true. “Well, I wanted our people to change, Faelyn. I got my wish.”
“Not what you were hoping for, I know.”
She nodded toward the elders. “At least the murderer felt something, unlike…” She didn’t finish the thought, angry as well as frightened and tired. “All this because I want to help the humans?”
“Are you certain that’s the reason?”
“What else could it be?” she asked. “Why such an extreme reaction? If they’d wanted to frighten me, why not a…strongly worded letter?”
Faelyn snorted, but it had no humor in it. That was fine; she didn’t feel like laughing either. She paced, unable to banish the thought that if she’d been in that bed, she’d be dead. But she couldn’t let herself be stopped.
Someone called from around the corner, Lucian’s voice. When Faelyn answered, Lucian blinked into view at a bend in the trail.
Before he could speak, Lilani rushed forward. “You caught them?”
“No.” His gaze was sorry but steady. “Most have alibis, and those that don’t say they were asleep.”
So, she could rule out those with alibis. Unless her would-be murderer was part of a cabal. Lilani took another deep breath. She couldn’t let herself get paranoid. One erratic seelie did not equal a cabal. “Was anyone loudly anti-human?”
He grimaced. “Loud enough to scream, ‘I’d murder for this’? No. As for being anti-human, that’s almost everyone. I can’t say I approve of consorting with humans, either. I just don’t see any other choice right now.”
“I bet it’s a youngster,” Faelyn said. “Under two hundred. I can’t see anyone older acting this impulsively.”
“The lack of shrouding ability could point to someone younger,” Lucian said. “But that’s still a big pool of suspects.”
“And almost all of the youngsters are my friends.” Laughing with her one moment and wanting to stab her in the face the next? Lilani wanted to throw up just thinking about it.
Lucian had her list her friends anyway. She thought back to the evening before, trying to recall anyone who’d seemed panicked or unreasonably angry. Several had been anxious, but one or two had even been excited, wanting to go with her. The recitations of old wrongs had come from the older seelie. She cursed herself, wishing she’d paid more attention to who said what, but the warnings had all blended together. That was why she’d hidden, overwhelmed. Now she tried to separate the complaints. She thought of three in particular, not friends but people she knew, but as the youngest, she knew everyone. They’d watched her grow up. How could they ever want to kill her?
Before she could think too hard about it, Lilani told Lucian what she remembered. He listened intently, his stare so serious, she thought it might burn a hole through her skull.
“But don’t…” She stopped, not knowing what to say. Don’t bother them? Don’t hurt them? He wouldn’t do either without cause. She pictured their faces as he accused them. If they were innocent, she’d be breaking a bond with them forever. And if they weren’t…
It was already broken.
“We should return to the Court,” he said. “Your mother decided that your delegation to the human city should leave immediately. That should get you out of harm’s way. I’ll be one of your Guard, and while I’m gone, one of the others will look into the names you’ve given me.”
Well, at least she wouldn’t have to watch. She could have hugged him. Instead, she held her head high and followed him back. Her mother met them on their doorstep. Her face was grim, and the Guard surrounded her.
“We’re questioning everyone,” her mother said. She didn’t seem happy at the thought, but she didn’t seem angry at Lilani either. She stared into the street as if the very world offended her.
“Lucian told me. People are angry?”
“Some are worried, both about the attempted murder and the fact that we seem to be focused on those who are anti-human. They worry that expressing their opinions will be enough to make suspicion fall on them.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” Lilani felt an odd sort of guilt, as if she’d brought this unrest. Maybe she had.
Her mother took her shoulders. “It’s not your fault.”
Lilani fought the urge to weep again. As if reading her thoughts and taking pity on them, her mother walked her into the house and stood over her as she packed. The Guard went to assemble their own baggage, then everyone met in front of the house again.
Lilani felt hollow. She’d wanted change, but this felt too fast. As she donned her pack, her mother hugged her, and Lilani realized they were going now. Her mother wouldn’t have a last cup with her; their final words would be rushed.
“This is only good-bye for now,” her mother whispered as they embraced. “You will return to me soon, and I will make certain your home is safe.” Her lips pressed to Lilani’s cheek, then she stepped back, misty-eyed.
It was almost enough to undo Lilani. She had to whisper a farewell and turn to the others. Lucian, Faelyn, and five other guards were all she had. Part of her had imagined a huge march on the human city with banners and finery, not this little, fast-traveling company. She didn’t doubt they’d be safe, but they weren’t exactly intimidating. As long as they could shroud, though, she supposed they wouldn’t have to be.
As they left the Court and ventured into the forest, Faelyn tugged on Lilani’s arm. “As far as the humans know, I’m your advisor,” he said. “And once we get close to Parbeh, two of the Guard will shed their armor and act as your personal attendants.”
Lilani couldn’t help a chuckle. “That should surprise anyone who thinks they’ll make easy targets.
”
“That’s the idea.” He winked, and even with all the heaviness surrounding them, he seemed cheerful. Maybe it was only for her benefit. The Guard seemed serious, but they always were. Lilani wondered why Lucian had chosen these few, if they were curious about humans rather than frightened or angry. Whichever, they’d been doing their jobs for a very long time, and Lucian trusted them, so she could, too.
Lilani forced herself not to look back.
* * *
The assembly room seemed smaller than Vandra remembered. That was probably because she’d seen it empty when Ariadne had once given her a tour. Now it was full and stifling. The room was shaped like a half-moon with three tiers of curved benches loaded with people, and the tables in front of them sagging under paperwork. The straight edge of the room was open, with only a small, heavy table and a raised platform with a podium in the center. A group of chairs sat off to the side for visitors like Vandra and her siblings.
The shuffling and murmuring as people took their seats and spoke to their fellows put Vandra in mind of a stream muttering through the countryside. But a stream had never stared at her curiously or suspiciously. Everyone seemed to know why she’d come. Word had spread like plague. She expected that was why there were so many people in attendance. Even major bills might not see this many, but everyone wanted to hear from the alchemist who said one of the pylons had gone out.
If the spirit of Ariadne still lingered, Vandra hoped it was with her now.
An attendant strode toward them and leaned close to Vandra’s ear. “Nata Rahvi is the head assemblyperson,” he said, gesturing to a woman sitting at the small table. She was surrounded by a herd of aides. “She’ll open the session and make a few remarks, then she’ll call on you to come forward.” He pointed to the circular dais and podium. It had a half-rail around it, making it seem like an ineffectual cage.
“You’ll be given a few minutes to speak,” the attendant said, “then the assembly will have questions.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “They’ll all start talking at once, but don’t worry. Rahvi will bring them back to order.”
Vandra nodded. It sounded like it worked well, but Ariadne’s numerous complaints rang in her ears. The room often descended into chaos. Sometimes it had to be cleared. Vandra supposed that if things got out of hand, the twins could carry her away, but she wanted everyone to hear what she had to say. Their future depended on it.
Nata Rahvi called the assembly to order. Like her fellows, she wore a red sash that cut across her clothing, but she had a cap that sat far back on her head, pinned to her hair. Some of the others wore the same sort of hat, but she had the only gold tassel, and she wore a heavy gold chain around her shoulders, a marker of how long she’d been in office. No other chain was nearly as impressive. Rahvi’s hair had gone white in service to Parbeh. The lines around her eyes gave her a permanent squint that Ariadne had said made many a first-year assemblyperson squirm in their seat, but the wrinkles around her mouth said she laughed a lot, too. Maybe her fellows didn’t get to see that as often as the squint.
She wasn’t smiling as she brought a heavy stone cube down on the table, sending an echo through the room. The thing sounded as if it might crack the wood in half, and Vandra could see a dent in the table where it had been struck many times.
When the hall fell silent, Rahvi placed the cube in a shallow dish. She stood and looked around the entire hall. Ariadne had told her the assembly called this, “Taming With the Gaze,” but Ariadne suspected Rahvi did it in order to have time to line up her remarks in her head.
“We gather today to hear grave news,” she said, her voice tinged with age but still clear and powerful. “The murder of one of our own and a possible threat to our very survival.”
Murmurs erupted, but Rahvi didn’t take her gaze from her fellows, letting the swell die. Vandra expected her to elaborate, to say more about Ariadne, about the pylons, but her eyes rested on Vandra.
“Professor Vandra Singh,” she said, holding out a hand.
Vandra tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t work. Panic bubbled inside her as time seemed to stretch out. She wet her lips with a tongue dry as dust and tried again. This time, one of the twins gave her a little push. She’d never been so tired and so wide-awake all at once.
She walked quickly to the dais, wishing it had a chair. The rail helped her to the podium, which she clutched so tightly her fingers went white. As soon as Vandra was in place, Rahvi sat, trusting her, Vandra supposed, to make her own case better than anyone else.
But looking at all those expectant faces, silent now except for a note of fidgeting and a stray cough or two, Vandra couldn’t remember anything she was supposed to say. She was Vandra Singh; that much she knew. And she was there to talk about…
Pylons. Yes. She took another moment to breathe, picturing herself in her office, delivering a lecture to a handful of students and fellow alchemists. She shifted her gaze to a point on the wall where the bottom of one tier was held by a metal brace. Perfect. She would speak to that brace and pretend no one else existed.
“Recently,” she told it, “I received a visit from Assemblyperson Ariadne Bahn.” With no more room for secrets, the whole story came bubbling out in fits and starts until it morphed into a real tale. She used her memory like a lifeline, skipping over parts that seemed unimportant, keeping to the pylons and her discovery of the tattered metal, letting the alchemy be the star.
She pulled out the piece of metal and heard the chairs creak as people leaned forward to get a better look. Even Rahvi came half out of her chair. Vandra left the metal in sight as she continued, letting its tainted miasma fill the hall and reinforce what she was saying.
Then she came to the seelie. She didn’t mention that Lilani was the daughter of the empress, just that the seelie claimed they were also worried about the pylons and that they’d helped construct the magical barriers in the first place. Mutters and murmurs followed until Rahvi banged the cube again. Vandra said that Ariadne had been told about the pylons by a seelie and that the seelie were sending a delegation to Parbeh.
After a slow breath, she told them about finding Ariadne’s body. Sadness threatened to overwhelm her, but she couldn’t let it, had to be as unemotional as the metal brace. She could pretend this wasn’t her story—only a tale from a book—and when she walked away from the podium, everything and everyone would be all right.
At last, there was nothing left to say. When she fell silent, the hall stayed quiet, too. Vandra took a chance and glanced at the stunned assembly. No one had questions? That was fine; she was more than happy to leave early.
When Vandra reached to put the piece of metal away, the room erupted in shouts. Vandra nearly jumped out of her skin. The cube pounded down once, twice, a third time, Rahvi shouting for order with the last bang. People were still talking, but softer now, to those sitting beside them. Vandra tried to skate over all the eyes, looking for the brace she’d addressed before.
Rahvi called on one assemblyperson, and the questions began. What methods did she use to test the pylons? How did she know for certain the pylon had ceased functioning? Why did she only check two? Did she send someone to check the others? They kept wanting to know about things she had no knowledge of or authority over. She answered as best she could, trying not to get angry at every question that sounded like an accusation, including one demanding to know why she didn’t simply fix the problem, as if she possessed a fountain of syndrium.
At last, one smirking man stood near the back, and Vandra knew what was coming. He addressed his opening remarks to the assembly rather than her, always a bad sign. “Honored brethren,” he said, “let us not panic about the words of one failed alchemist.”
Vandra clenched her jaw.
“Is this not the same Vandra Singh who started out with such promise then produced one failure after another? If we are truly worried, let us send another team of carefully selected, well-respected alchemists, who can study this problem and give us
a satisfying solution.”
So many retorts flew through Vandra’s head, but she kept them down. After all, she was a failure. She’d let down a lot of people. But by the gods, Ariadne had chosen her for a reason, and it was more than just their past. Ariadne had died for that choice, and Vandra couldn’t let her be shamed in her grave.
“Send them,” Vandra said. “If you’re a fan of wasting time. They’ll tell you the same thing, and they’ll be no closer to offering a solution. My latest projects might not have gone as planned, but my one success, my ‘promise,’ as you called it, was with syndrium. Ask any alchemist you like, and they’ll tell you that no one knows more about syndrium than I do. I wrote a book about it, the only book people use now.”
She let that sink in. She glanced at the twins to see them smiling. Rahvi had a faint smile, too. The grumpy assemblyperson frowned down at Vandra, still standing, maybe waiting for her to slink off and let him have the day.
“I suggest you send everyone you can think of to the pylons,” Vandra said. “Especially soldiers. Someone is doing this, and I don’t know why, nor do I know where this piece of metal came from. More people should study it. But the pylon is still dead, and the seelie may be our only way to reignite it.”
“You had no right to invite them!” the grumpy assemblyperson shouted.
Another stood. “One person always has the right to speak to another,” he said smoothly. “Besides, it sounds as if they offered to come.”
“And any one of us would have agreed to an initial meeting,” another assemblyperson said as she stood. “Now it is in our hands and in the hands of the five monarchs. Professor Singh did what any envoy might have done, make an initial plan then put the issue in the hands of leaders.”
Rahvi banged the cube again, and everyone sat.
Another assemblyperson leaned forward, and Rahvi indicated him with a nod. “Professor, why did Ariadne not send you directly to her seelie contact in the first place?”
The Tattered Lands Page 14
