Daughter of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 4)

by Daniel Arenson

  "Wherever you are, Madori," she whispered as soldiers laughed and sang around her, "I love you, and I pray that you're safe."

  After the meal ended, Koyee climbed the castle's coiling staircase. Still holding her goblet of wine, she stepped out onto the roof, climbed the tiled slope, and stood beneath the bronze dragon and the moon above. A soft smile touched her lips. She thought back to her youth, an urchin living barefoot and wild on the streets of Pahmey. She had often climbed roofs then.

  "I was not much older than Madori," she whispered, "when I sat upon some shop's roof in that distant city, watching the floating lanterns and fireworks during the Moon of Xen Qae." She sighed. "May you have a better youth than mine, Madori. May you never know fear, hunger, and cold like I did."

  She gazed downhill. South of the castle nestled the village of Oshy, its clay huts embracing the Inaro River, its boats swaying at the docks. When Koyee turned her head westward, she saw the dusk. The scar stretched across the land, gleaming orange, yellow, and gold. From up here, Koyee could just glimpse the green forests beyond—Timandra, the land of daylight.

  You're there, Madori, she thought. Somewhere in that light. Be safe.

  She whispered into the wind, speaking to her invisible friend, the shoulder spirit Eelani. "I built this castle and brought these soldiers here, praying their watch is silent, praying this castle forever remains only a thing of beauty, never of warfare." She gestured down at the river where boats were sailing in and out of dusk. "Look at them, Eelani. Merchants. They deliver our silk, mushrooms, and fireworks into the lands of daylight. They return with wine, fruits, vegetables, the fare we cannot grow in the darkness. Perhaps that is how we will prevent war. Trade. Merchants will defend us more than any fortress or wall. Where ships of trade sail, ships of war are less likely to fire their cannons."

  She felt warmth caress her cheek, a hint of her invisible friend upon her shoulder. If you truly believed these words, a voice seemed to speak inside her, you would be sailing upon one of those ships, not standing here above an army.

  Koyee raised her sword in one hand, her goblet of wine in another. "This will be Eloria—lifting the bounties of trade and peace in one hand, a sword in the other. Thus perhaps we will survive."

  She left the castle.

  She walked along the river, heading toward the light.

  Rocky, lifeless hills rolled before her, but soon moss grew upon them, slippery under her boots. As she approached the light, thin grass rustled, then bushes, and finally trees. The sun emerged above the horizon, and Koyee pulled her hood over her head. She walked into the light. Trees grew taller with every step, their leaves dark and thin at first, then lush and sweetly-scented.

  The shadows vanished behind her, and she emerged into the eternal daylight of Timandra.

  The village of Fairwool-by-Night awaited her. Thirty-odd cottages rose around a pebbly square, their roofs made of straw, their walls formed of wattle-and-daub. An ancient maple tree grew from the square, and a stone library rose behind it, the place Madori would spend so many hours lost in. Past the buildings swayed fields of wheat and rye, and beyond them rolled green pastures dotted with sheep.

  "Fairwool-by-Night," she said into the warm breeze. "My second home."

  As Madori was torn between day and night, perhaps Koyee was too, spending half her time in the darkness, haunted by dreams of the war, and half her time here in daylight, being a wife, being a mother, seeking solace in the sun.

  She walked into the village and approached her home. A garden bloomed outside the cottage, its sunflowers rising nearly as tall as the thatch roof, its peonies filling Koyee's nostrils with their sweet scent. She allowed herself a soft smile. This home would feel empty without Madori, but soon Torin would return to her. And in a few years, Madori would too, and perhaps someday—even if it's many years down the line—Koyee herself would feel at home here, would forget the memories, would find the peace she sought.

  A scroll stuck out from Koyee's new mailbox, a little hollowed-out log perched upon a post. Soon after her accession to the throne, Queen Linee had founded the Sern Postal Company—two cogs that sailed along the Sern River every month, delivering mail between the capital and the riverside settlements. Koyee walked across the clover and pulled the parchment free. It was probably another letter from Linee; the queen enjoyed sending her letters full of poems, drawings, and tales from the capital. Holding the scroll and still smiling, Koyee stepped toward her front door.

  She gasped.

  The scroll fell from her hand.

  Shock, then fear, then finally rage filled her.

  With red paint—no, it was blood, its scent coppery—somebody had drawn a symbol onto the door. It looked like the sun eclipsing the moon. Below it appeared the words: "Elorian pigs go home."

  A pig's head, a paintbrush still stuck inside it, lay upon the doorstep.

  A slow whisper—more of a hiss—fled Koyee's lips. "Who did this?"

  She spun around, her fist crushing the scroll. She stared across the village, seeking somebody who might be laughing, pointing, hiding. She saw nobody.

  "Who did this?" she shouted.

  Birds fled the old maple tree and a dog barked. Nobody answered. The villagers were all working in the fields, shepherding their sheep, or hiding in their homes.

  The scroll crinkled in her fist, and she stared at it. The seal was blank; this letter had not come from Queen Linee. Fingers trembling, Koyee unrolled the scroll and instantly recognized her husband's handwriting; he had written in Qaelish, the language of the night which few in daylight could read. She read and reread the letter.

  "Koyee, my love,

  Billygoat has passed the Teel Trials and enrolled at the university. She is well but the world is not. A new movement—the Radians—are preaching hatred across the lands of sunlight. Sailith has died and they are its reincarnation. Tam Shepherd has enrolled at Teel too, and he'll look after Billygoat. She is safe. I've met Cam here and am returning with him to Kingswall; he needs my help fighting this new threat. Koyee, be careful. Stay in Oshy until this blows over. Stay in your new fortress, surround yourself with soldiers, and be safe. I'll come for you when I can.

  I miss you and love you always.

  Your husband,

  Torin"

  Koyee closed her eyes, the old war pounding back into her. Cruel leaders preaching hatred. Soldiers pouring into the night with torches, lanterns, swords, and arrows. Blood and death across the night.

  Her daughter was halfway across the world. Her husband was traveling into danger.

  "And you leave me here?" she whispered.

  She turned back toward her door, stared at the symbol drawn in blood, and again she saw the blood of the war—it washed over her in a wave of memory.

  She grabbed a rag. She dipped it in water. She began to clean the door, her eyes dry but her heart trembling.

  CHAPTER TEN:

  THE PEWTER DRAGON

  Madori sat at a table with her quartet, ready to learn magic.

  Many other tables filled the room, each seating four students. Scrolls, vials full of bubbling potions, monkey skulls, and mummified reptile claws crowded the tabletops, the shelves lining the walls, and the great desk at the back of the room. Before that desk stood little Professor Fen, bald of head, white of mustache—one of the professors who had quizzed Madori at the trials. He rolled up his flowing sleeves and cleared his throat.

  "Class!" he said. "Welcome to Basic Magical Principles. This turn I shall teach you, well . . . basic magical principles."

  Madori opened her notebook and dipped her quill in ink. It was an ancient notebook, probably even older than Fen—the parchment pages had been used several times, scratched clean of ink after every use. When she squinted, she could still glimpse bits of the old layers of writing and even a few dirty drawings. Her father had bought her several notebooks before leaving, and even the used ones had cost a full silver coin each—a small fortune.

  When she glance
d aside, she saw that Jitomi had unrolled a parchment of rich Elorian vellum, its edges tasseled; Madori's mother would hang similar scrolls in their home, each illustrated with birds, dragons, and Qaelish runes. Neekeya, still wearing her necklace of crocodile teeth, had a notebook that looked even shabbier than Madori's; the pages were tattered, burnt at the edges, and already covered with Daenorian letters, leaving only the margins available. Only Tam had a shiny new notebook, its cover blue leather engraved with landscape scenes, its parchment pages fresh.

  "You can share my notebook if you like," the undercover prince said to Neekeya, moving the book closer to her.

  The swamp dweller smiled. "It's all right. My notebook is magical. Like my sword." She patted the pages. "You see the writing that's already here? I just need to tap my quill against the letters, and they'll reorganize themselves into whatever words I like."

  Tam seemed unconvinced and Madori sighed. Neekeya had spent the past turn claiming that everything she owned was imbued with ancient magic: that her sword glowed around goblins, her necklace of crocodile teeth could bite dragons, her shoes could walk on lava, and even her meals—dried frog legs—gave her magical health and longevity. So far, Madori hadn't seen anything magical about the girl.

  Beside them, Lari and her quartet sat at another table.

  "Look at those creatures," Lari said to her friends, pointing at Madori's Motley. The girl snorted. "Their books must be made from rat hides."

  Lari's friends laughed—the twin girls and the tall, golden-haired boy. The four had named themselves Sunlit Purity, and all four wore Radian brooches pinned to their pricey green robes. Madori's robes were shabby and second-hand, the hems worn and the elbows patched, but the Sunlit Purity quartet wore fitted robes of lush, embroidered cotton with golden hems, tailored to look as fine as gowns.

  "Rat hide?" Madori asked, waving her notebook at Lari. "Do you recognize a relative?"

  A few students snickered. Lari's face reddened, but before a fight could break out, Professor Fen raised his voice again.

  "Students! Please. Pay attention. You can chat with your friends after class. Right now listen to your old professor."

  Giving Madori a sneer, her eyes promising retaliation, Lari turned toward the professor.

  "Is your book really made out of rats?" Neekeya whispered to Madori.

  Madori shushed her. "Of course not. Now let's listen."

  Professor Fen, barely taller than Madori's own humble height, paced before his desk.

  "The Basic Principles of Magic!" he announced. "Three simple principles form the basis of every spell you will ever cast. The chasm of puzzles you walked through. The magic of mending broken bones . . . or shattering them. Magic to see to the stars and under the ocean. All come from a remarkably simple foundation woven in incredibly complex ways. Once you learn the foundation, you will have the building blocks to create structures to dazzle the world. The principles are . . ." He paused dramatically, then raised three fingers. He tapped each in turn. "Choosing, Claiming, and Changing."

  Students wrote furiously into their notebooks. When Madori glanced aside, she saw Neekeya tapping the existing words in her "magical notebook," then grunting as they refused to change shape. With a groan, the swamp girl scribbled her notes into a margin.

  Professor Fen continued speaking. "These are the three steps to any magic. First you choose your material. Then you must claim your material. Finally, you will change your material. Choose, claim, change." He coughed into his sleeve. "Allow me to demonstrate. Say I wish to lift this vial off my table." He pointed as a glass vessel full of bubbling purple liquid. "How would I apply the three steps? Anyone?"

  Lari's hand shot up. The young noblewoman smiled prettily, the proper and prim student.

  "Yes, young Lady Serin," said Professor Fen.

  Lari spoke as if reciting. "First you would choose your material—the air around the vial. Then you would claim the material—seizing control of the air. Finally you would change the material—changing the air pressure to levitate the vial." She shot a smug glance at Madori, then back at the professor. "My father taught me. I've been lifting objects at home since I was a toddler."

  Professor Fen slapped his hands together. "Very nice, Lari! And very correct. Would you like to demonstrate for the class?"

  "I'd love to." She looked again at Madori and spoke with just the hint of scorn. "Obviously, not all students are as knowledgeable."

  Lari rose to her feet, smoothed her fine robes, and strutted toward the head of the class. She held her hands out toward the vial.

  "First I choose the air as my material," Lari said. "The air will compress around the vial, eventually lifting it. Now I must claim that air. That is the hard part . . . hard for some, at least." Another look at Madori. "But I've been practicing claiming materials for many years. I will imagine the air—its little particles, the different gases floating within it, and claim control of it."

  "The only gas here is the hot air leaving her mouth," Madori muttered to Tam.

  Lari continued as if she hadn't heard. "I've now claimed the air and can change it." She raised her hand slowly. Two feet away, the vial began to levitate. "I am not magicking the vial itself; I am manipulating the air beneath and around it." She lowered her hand and the vial descended back onto the table. "Choose, claim, change."

  She gave a little curtsy, then returned to her seat.

  "Fantastic!" said Professor Fen, clapping enthusiastically. Several other students clapped too. "It's wonderful to see such a bright student. I'd have also accepted changing the glass itself to become lighter than air, but that would have been far less elegant, and would often cause the glass to shatter. Well done, Lady Serin."

  Lari beamed and shot Madori a triumphant look.

  Madori raised two fingers, knuckles facing Lari, a gesture so rude her mother—were she here to see—would have beaten Madori with a belt. Lari—raised in a palace where the rudest gesture was probably lifting the wrong dessert spoon—blanched and looked away, lips scrunching together.

  "Don't goad her," Tam said.

  Madori grumbled. "Just me being at Teel goads her. I might as well have some fun with it."

  "Now!" said Professor Fen from across the room. "You will each find an assortment of items on your table. Choose one and levitate it. I will be moving between the desks to guide you."

  Across the classroom, students began to mumble, squint, and thrust out their tongues, concentrating at lifting items off the tables. Conchs, animal skulls, chalices, and bubbling vials rattled across tables. Only Lari was successfully levitating an item: her Radian pin.

  Madori stared at a pewter dragon statuette that stood on her table. She sucked in her breath, trying to claim the air. How did one claim air? When she glanced aside, she saw that Neekeya was staring at a wooden toy knight, her tongue thrust out in concentration; the figure was rattling. Jitomi was having some success levitating a Venus flytrap, but the pot kept falling back down after rising only an inch. Tam seemed as lost as Madori; the mouse skull he was staring at simply stared back.

  Madori returned her eyes to the dragon statuette. It stood still upon the table, clutching a crystal.

  Go on, Madori thought, rise!

  "Having trouble, mongrel?" Lari came to stand beside her. She leaned against Madori's desk and smiled. "You don't seem to be doing too well."

  "Get back to your desk, dear cousin, or I'm going to slam this dragon against your pretty face."

  Lari pouted. "Oh, tsk tsk, such a temper on the little half-breed. Must be your savage nightcrawler blood." She crossed her arms. "Go on, let's see your magic."

  Madori growled and returned her eyes to the figurine. She sucked in air through her nose, trying to detect its texture, the icy coolness, the smells of the bubbling potions.

  Feel the air, she told herself. Claim it. Make it yours.

  She let the air flow through her, moving down her throat to her lungs, then spreading throughout the rest of her, tingling
her toes and fingertips. With every breath, she let that air flow through every part of her, tingling the hair on her head and wrapping around her bones.

  Now change that air. Wrap it around the dragon and lift.

  Upon the tabletop, the figurine began to rise.

  Madori gasped.

  "You're doing it, Madori!" Neekeya said.

  Focus. Focus!

  Madori tried to ignore everyone else, to direct all her attention toward the figurine. She raised it another inch, then another, until it hovered at eye level. A smile stretched across her lips.

  With a whoosh, the dragon figurine shot forward and slammed into Madori's face.

  She cried out and blood spurted from her nose.

  The statuette clattered to the floor.

  "Stupid mongrel," Lari said, smiling crookedly. "You didn't think it was you lifting it, did you?" She clucked her tongue. "Looks like the one with a face full of dragon is you."

  Madori leaped to her feet and lunged toward Lari, fists swinging. Arms wrapped around her, tugging her back.

  "No, Billygoat!" Tam said, pinning her arms to her sides. "You're only giving her what she wants."

  Lari's eyes widened and she laughed. "Billygoat? Does the mongrel have a nickname?" She sighed. "She does smell like a goat."

  Professor Fen rushed toward them, mustache bristling. "What is the meaning of this?" His eyes widened to see Madori's bashed nose. "What happened here?"

  Suddenly Lari's face changed from cruel to distressed, and tears budded in her eyes. Her voice rose an octave, taking on a childlike quality. "Oh, Professor Fen! I was just trying to help her. She accidentally magicked the figurine onto her face, and when I went to check on her, she suddenly attacked me."

  "I did not!" Madori shouted. "I— I mean— She hit me and—"

  Lari covered her eyes. "Oh, Professor Fen! She frightens me. Can you punish her?"