by Ken Scholes
She smiled. “Ask me to save him,” she said again, “and I will.”
Then, she turned and unstopped the phial she’d shaken. This near, Jin could see the black fluid that beaded in the bottom of the phial. “You cannot save him,” Jin said again.
Using the needle again, Winteria bat Mardic drew out a single drop from the phial. She shook the needle over Petronus, and the drop fell upon the wound in his neck. Jin Li Tam gasped at the smell of ozone that filled the room and felt the fine hair on her arms and neck lift up as the wound in Petronus’s neck began to knit itself together. His body began to drum upon the floor as his legs kicked and his hands pounded. The Machtvolk Queen sighed and stepped over him to avoid his flailing.
But even as he flailed, Jin Li Tam watched his eyes as they rolled in his head and watched the pallor of his skin flush with new blood. He sat up gasping, his eyes wild, still covered in his own blood, and reached trembling hands up to the ragged scar upon his throat, the careful mark upon his heart.
The woman turned to Jin Li Tam, holding up the phial. “Behold the grace and mercy of House Y’Zir,” she said, extending the phial toward her. Her eyes narrowed. “Ask me to save him and I will, Great Mother.”
And in that moment, nothing else mattered to her. The eyes of the Named Lands were upon her and she did not know them. She saw only her son and the miracle now offered. All her life, she’d watched her father use his children to shape the world. She’d stood by the graves of many of them, expendable arrows shot with intent into the heart of the Named Lands. And though some part of her cried out against the abomination she now faced, a louder part clamored life for her son at any cost.
I am not my father’s daughter after all.
She felt the hands relax upon her, and she knew what must follow.
Do not look to the room, she told herself. She knew what she would see there. A mixture of wrath and fear and wonder. Instead, she forced herself to her knees before the Machtvolk Queen and took the woman’s feet in her hands.
“Save my son,” she said, weeping. “Please. If you can, save him.”
Nodding, the woman turned and dipped the needle once again, taking the last drop of that dark fluid upon it. While Ezra the Prophet cradled him close, the Machtvolk Queen shook the needle over his tiny mouth. The black bead fell upon his lower lip and Jakob, firstborn of Rudolfo, ceased his crying.
And when the Machtvolk Queen Winteria bat Mardic took him and passed him to his mother, Jin Li Tam already saw the gray fading from his face and hands, replaced by a healthy pink. His eyes, clear and wide and brown, were open and focused upon her and he smiled.
In that moment, she heard a voice cry out from the entrance to the tent and looked up to lock eyes with Rudolfo.
Weeping with joy and shame, she clutched her son to her breast and wondered what price she’d paid for this miracle.
Chapter 24
Rudolfo
Rudolfo felt his legs turn to water and staggered back against the Gypsy Scout behind him. The man caught his king and steadied him upon his feet.
What he’d seen staggered him.
They’d landed where Windwir’s docks had once been, and the Kinshark had no difficulty finding a deep-enough berth close in to shore. The iron vessels-those that had not left with Charles for the Churning Wastes and Sanctorum Lux-had turned back leagues ago when their deeper keels threatened to run aground on a river that the Androfrancines no longer dredged.
From the beach, he’d run to the tent, an invisible wall parting before him as he did. He would have walked, his feet unsteady from weeks at sea, but seeing the Ninefold Forest flag turned for distress hastened him.
And now, he stood slack-jawed. He’d reached the entrance to the tent as Petronus fell and kicked his last. And he’d stood to the side, transfixed, as the woman-the one called Ria-first brought back that dead Pope and then restored Rudolfo’s son.
“I don’t know the cure,” Rae Li Tam had told him during one of her more lucid moments as the blood magicks consumed her. She’d spent her last days going over her small library and writing notes. She’d created lists for Charles of which books to find when he reached Santorum Lux. But even then, Rudolfo had known the chances for a cure must indeed be slight. To travel so far with so little result only to have it handed to him felt unfair. And to have it given in such a way. He knew it was blood magick-it had to be. Only deep bargaining in the Beneath Places could bring about that kind of power. Somehow, and for some purpose he could not quite fathom, this woman had healed his son, had saved his life.
But at what cost? He remembered the blood pipes. He remembered the smell of death and the screams beneath the knife.
Now, watching his wife as she huddled on the floor and held their son, the magnitude of the afternoon’s events settled upon him and he wanted badly to sit down, but he resisted gravity. He opened his mouth to speak, but the woman spoke first.
“Lord Rudolfo,” she said, inclining her head, “bear witness to this, for a time shall come when you are asked to give an accounting of this day.”
He blinked at her and said nothing.
She pointed to Petronus, who sat to the side, rubbing his throat in wonder with a lost look upon his face. “The last son has been forgiven the sins of his father and shall be released into exile. Look to me, Petronus.” When he looked up, she smiled at him. “Leave the Named Lands. Go east into the Churning Wastes from whence you Ash-Men came to steal our Home. Stay there. Life is your gift. Return at your peril.”
Rudolfo’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you to command him?”
She smiled and swept the room with her hand. “I am one who has proven that her Blood Scouts can strike when and where she chooses.” She paused to look to Meirov, and Rudolfo followed her. The Queen of Pylos shook with rage. “I am one who has proven that age and station do not give me pause from the course I am called to.”
“You are a murderer and an abomination to our people,” another voice said, and Rudolfo first noticed Winters, who stood now and brandished her Firstfall axe of office.
Ria laughed. “And you are a child, Winters, playing at queen with your dreams and your books and your white-haired Androfrancine boy. Bring the axe and come with me, little sister. Climb the spire and stand with me while I proclaim myself. Join me and we will take back our Home and make it what Lord Y’Zir promised us it would be in his Gospel. Take the mark upon you and find joy in servanthood and in Home.”
Rudolfo watched the anger upon Winters’s face and recoiled from it. Hanric’s loss had twisted deep in her, and the dark look she now gave Ria spoke of buried violence within her such as Rudolfo would not wish to face in a foe. “This is not the dream of our people,” Winters said. “This is not my dream.”
“Dreams change.” Ria’s eyes narrowed as she continued. “And so do the hearts of men and women. How long do you think your friends, your family, met in secret and worshiped in secret, preparing for this day? Quiet evangelists teaching and preaching what was to come to pass. The silent prayer of decades, awaiting the column of fire in the sky that would mark the advent of the Age of the Crimson Empress and an end to the home-thieves’ hold upon our land.”
Windwir. Could they have somehow had a hand in it? Brought about the fulfillment of their own prophecy? House Li Tam was certainly involved-Mal Li Tam obviously in league and in bed with this woman. Rudolfo found himself caught up in Ria’s voice and forced his eyes away from her and back to the girl. Winters stepped forward, and he saw her white knuckles upon the handle of the axe.
“I am the Marsh Queen, Winteria bat Mardic,” she said in a low and even voice. “I do not know who you are, but I am my father’s only daughter.”
Ria laughed. “Ask Seamus if that is so, Little Sister.”
Rudolfo watched Winters take another step and saw the rage growing upon her face along with her resolve. When she lunged forward to swing the Firstfall axe, Rudolfo knew it could not connect. Her feet were not well planted, and the weapon w
as too heavy and awkward for her to lift it with any speed.
Invisible hands seized the girl, knocking the axe from her hands. Lifting her up, the Blood Scouts held her as she shrieked and kicked at them.
Ria stepped closer, stooped and lifted the axe easily with one hand. Within its reflection, Rudolfo saw the Marshers that held the girl and measured the distance himself.
He stopped when Ria leaned in and kissed Winters upon the forehead. “Come with me, Sister. Take your place beside my wicker throne.”
The girl found her composure. “I will not come with you,” Winters said in a low and even voice.
Ria’s shrugged. “You are my sister. I will not force you.” She smiled. “The truth will call you unto itself in its own time. Come to me when you are ready, Winters, and I will show you a new dream.” Then she turned and took in the entire room. “Hear this and know it well: These lands were given to the Machtvolk for their service on the night of Xhum Y’Zir’s death. The lands from Windwir’s Rest and northward are mine, and I will watch my borders very well.” She looked to Rudolfo. “The kin-healing of House Li Tam binds us to your wife and child. And though the Machtvolk stand above these matters of kin-clave, kinship is another matter altogether. Our peoples were the first in this New World and the only that were granted deed and title by the Wizard Kings who kept it set apart. Will you live in peace with us and let us mind our own?”
Rudolfo looked around the room, saw that the wonder had passed now and only fear and hatred and surprise remained upon the faces of those gathered. As if they weren’t sure what to do with the information they now held. As he watched them, he avoided his wife’s eyes. He knew that he could not look into them and face Ria’s question. He looked back to the Machtvolk Queen where she waited for a response.
Rudolfo took a deep breath.
What do I say? Which way now to turn in this Whymer Maze he’d fallen into? Suddenly, his right path was not so very clear. And I cannot choose a war that I cannot yet win, he realized. An uneasiness grew within him, and he felt expectation on the chill air as she repeated her question.
“Will you live in peace with us and let us mind our own?”
For now, he thought. But my words must be careful.
“It is my desire,” Rudolfo finally said, “to live in peace with all people.” Especially now, he realized, standing upon the grave of Windwir. But he knew even as he said it that his desire for peace would ever be in conflict with his need to create a safe world for his son, a world that held to the light and eschewed the dark.
Ria nodded. “It is enough for now. The truth will come to you in time, as well, Rudolfo, and you will bare your heart to the mark of the Crimson Empress with joy.” She looked to her sister, then to Jin Li Tam and Jakob.
And then Winteria bat Mardic, Machtvolk Queen, turned and left with her escort of Blood Scouts.
Only then did Rudolfo look to his wife. She held Jakob close to herself, and the baby laughed and squealed, his face pink and animated with expression. He followed the line of her forearm, around the curve of her wrist, to the slender fingers that stroked the thin dark hair of Jakob’s tiny head. His eyes traveled the line of her neck and jaw, then settled upon her face. And when their eyes met, he saw despair and relief commingled there with surprise and with tears, and he knew in that moment that he loved the forty-second daughter of Vlad Li Tam and would spend his life on her behalf. That she truly was formidable and fierce and fair and that the child they had made would be the same, despite the price they had paid or the consequences that might follow after.
Weeping, Rudolfo raced to his family and gathered them into his trembling arms.
Neb
Neb looked across the canyon to the small cluster of tents and slowed to a walk. They were scout tents in the rainbow colors of the Ninefold Forest Houses, and there were horses tethered in a copse of stunted scrub-trees. But there were also other tents-a second, smaller camp erected in the midst of the forest tents. Spitting the last of the root onto the ground, he tugged his waterskin loose and took a long drink.
Every part of him felt alive, and it had since that first night he’d listened to the canticle within that ring of glass mountains. After locking and leaving Sanctorum Lux, he’d spent his first night alone in the Churning Wastes with his ear pressed to the iron cap that sealed away the source of the metal man’s dream. He’d awakened the next morning refreshed, found a small and hidden spring to refill his waterskin and bathe. Then, he’d set out at a run for D’Anjite’s Bridge and found the strength to run straight through.
Wind whipped up at the foot of the bridge when he approached it, and he felt the movement of magicked scouts around him. A small brown bird emerged from an invisible belt cage and shot across the chasm to the watch captain’s net before anyone spoke.
“Captain Aedric will want to see you,” a Gypsy Scout said.
Neb nodded. “I need to speak with him.” He watched the camp stir to life once the message was read, and he thought at one point he saw Aedric. “Are Renard and Isaak well?”
“They are. Our medico splinted the Waste Guide and he’s up on a crutch now. The Androfrancine is tending to Isaak’s leg.”
The Androfrancine? He wondered at this but did not ask.
A white bird shot out from the camp, swallowed into a sack that Neb could not see. But he remembered this part of his training very well. How to catch the bird and read the knots tied into its thread.
“Let’s go then,” the voice said, moving onto the bridge. “You scouts mind your post. I’ll bring him in.”
Neb followed. They crossed the bridge at a jog, and the guards at the other end, unmagicked, moved aside for them. Within the camp, Neb saw Gypsy Scouts intermingled with a handful of men and women dressed in the silk clothing of the Emerald Coast.
The Gypsy Scout must have read his face. “House Li Tam,” he said. “They brought Charles to us by sea at General Rudolfo’s request.”
Neb blinked. “Father Charles is here?” It made sense that he would be the Androfrancine fixing Isaak’s leg. He’d seen the old Arch-Engineer in the Great Library tinkering among his mechanical recreations, and he’d even heard the old man speak once on the nature of the light in regards to mechanical science.
“He came after the metal man and Sanctorum Lux,” another voice said. Neb looked up and saw Aedric approaching. “We happened upon them on our way to find you and Isaak.”
He put his arms around Neb and squeezed him. “Are you well, lad? Where’s your metal friend?”
Better than well. He heard the song again behind him and over his shoulder. “He’s. ” He searched for the word. Could a mechanical be dead? “He destroyed himself. I left him at Sanctorum Lux.”
Aedric’s eyes widened, and now Neb became aware of others gathering around them. He saw Charles approaching and behind him, Renard limping along upon a crutch. “You’ve found it then?”
He nodded and swallowed. He watched the light of hope spark in Aedric’s eyes and then gutter at the despair he no doubt saw upon Neb’s face. “It’s gone. They burned it all.”
Aedric flinched. “Who burned it all?”
Neb looked to Father Charles. “The mechoservitors did.”
The Androfrancine’s brow furrowed. “That’s not possible. It is completely outside of their scripting.”
Neb thought about the song and the dream it birthed. Should I tell them? If he told them, it would not stop there. He said nothing, though a part of him grieved at the lie of omission. He glanced up and saw Aedric’s eyes upon him. The First Captain nodded slightly as their eyes met and he frowned. “We’ll find out soon enough,” Aedric said. “We ride for Sanctorum Lux at dawn.”
He knows I’m not telling everything. Neb looked away, his cheeks hot.
It requires a response. A response given in secret to confound the enemies of the light-those who wished to snuff it out. Those who brought down Windwir. Those whose eyes and ears were upon the Named Lands now, though Neb was
not certain how he knew it. He simply felt it and trusted that feeling.
This place has changed me.
And Neb suddenly knew that he would not be going with Aedric-that his time among the Gypsies was over as quickly as it had begun. Instead, he would return to the iron cap and learn the cipher and take the source of the dream to himself. He would learn the ways of the Waste from Renard and follow the dream until it took him Home. Nothing else mattered. Not Winters, not his adopted home among the Gypsies or his future as an officer of the Forest Library. He felt it in his feet where they stood upon this desolate landscape.
He lost himself within the calling and only brought himself up from it when the others began moving away, leaving him with Aedric and Renard. It was Aedric’s hand on his shoulder that finally jarred him into the present.
“Rest up,” the First Captain said. “There’s hot food in the Tam camp, and you can find a fresh uniform among the men. Tomorrow will be a long ride.”
Neb shook his head. “I can’t go with you.”
Aedric’s eyes narrowed. “You are an officer of the Gypsy Scouts, Lieutenant Nebios, and you will be riding with us tomorrow as such.”
I am Nebios ben Hebda, the Homeseeker, he thought. He shook his head again. “Tell Rudolfo that I’m sorry,” he said, “and that I’m grateful for all he’s done.” He let his eyes meet Aedric’s then, and this time he did not look away at the anger he saw there. “I’m grateful to you as well.”
With careful fingers, Neb reached beneath his arm and untied the tattered scarf of rank that hung there and extended it to Aedric.
The First Captain took it. “You are making a mistake, lad.”
“It would be a mistake for me to stay,” Neb said, and even he could hear the strength in his voice as he said it.
Aedric regarded him thoughtfully and finally nodded. “I will bear your message to the general personally.” His hard eyes softened. “And have you thought about the girl, your young queen?”
