The Sky Weaver

by Kristen Ciccarelli

  “Where are we?” she said, glancing around them.

  “Across” was all Eris said.

  From here Safire could see the color of the threads: sunrise red and creamy beige and sea blue. It was nearly finished, making Safire wonder how long she’d been at this.

  “What are you making?” Safire asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  When Safire looked closer, she saw things were woven among the threads: beach grass, seaweed, and a small white stone with a hole worn through it, looped with yarn and tied in.

  “Who taught you how to do this?” Safire asked, studying the weaving.

  “The weavers at the scrin,” Eris said softly. “It was their job to preserve things. Stories, mainly. They kept the stories of Skyweaver alive by weaving them into tapestries.”

  “Tapestries that burned with the scrin,” murmured Safire.

  Eris nodded. “They say Skyweaver walks among us, here on the islands.”

  Safire listened, mesmerized by the movement of her hands.

  “The black tower that looms over Axis? It’s her tower. They say she spends all night up there, spinning souls into stars and weaving them into the sky.”

  Safire could hear the bitterness in Eris’s tone as she said this. It reminded her of Dagan’s words: I have no use for a god who does nothing while her servants are slaughtered.

  They both fell silent. Eris weaving; Safire watching.

  “Why would she burn it?” Safire asked suddenly. “What threat could a temple full of craftsmen possibly pose to an empress?”

  The loom fell silent as Eris’s hands fell still. “It’s a question I ask myself every day.”

  Safire thought of what Dagan said—how he wasn’t allowed to speak of the child who’d been given sanctuary by the scrin. None of the weavers were. As if she was some kind of dangerous secret.

  Safire looked from Eris’s hands to her face. The line of her jaw was hard, her teeth clenched, and her eyes were strangely blank.

  What if, thought Safire, you’re the threat?

  But what damage could Eris possibly do to the empress?

  It didn’t make any sense.

  One thing was certain in Safire’s mind: she needed to return to the citadel and tell Dax everything. He needed to know who exactly he was allying himself with. But then what? Dax and Roa needed the seeds the empress had offered them.

  Maybe the only thing to do was wait. Soon their visit would be over and the seeds would be loaded aboard their ship. Once that happened, Dax and Roa and Safire could go collect Asha and Torwin, and together they could all return home, putting the empress and her islands behind them.

  Before she rose to her feet, Safire said, “I think you should come with us.”

  Whatever dark thoughts Eris was lost in, Safire’s voice shattered them. She glanced up. “What?”

  “To Firgaard, I mean. I can protect you there.” Speaking the words aloud strengthened the conviction inside Safire, until it was hard and strong as steel. “No one will touch you. Not the empress. Not Jemsin. Not anyone.”

  Eris set down the shuttle, keeping her gaze away from Safire.

  “Jemsin’s summoner will come,” she whispered, staring at the loose threads before her. “It always does.”

  Safire didn’t know who Jemsin’s summoner was, but it didn’t matter. “Then I’ll be ready for it.”

  “Even if you could . . .” Eris shook her head and looked up, her gaze cutting into Safire. “You’ll harbor the criminal who stole a jewel from your king’s treasury? A criminal who’s done far worse things than that?” Eris’s pale brows pinched together as she tilted her head. “You’re the commander of the king’s army, Safire. How do you think that will go?”

  Safire, who’d forgotten all about the jewel Eris stole, suddenly realized exactly how that would go. If she brought the Death Dancer to Firgaard, she’d have to imprison her for her crimes.

  “I’ll tell Dax everything,” Safire continued on, determined. “That the empress burned the scrin. That Jemsin forces you to steal for him.”

  “He doesn’t always force me,” Eris looked back to the loom. “But none of that matters. Your king hates me.” Eris said the next part so softly, it was as if she didn’t want to hear herself speak the words. “I’m the girl who plans to hunt down his Namsara and exchange her for my freedom, remember?”

  Safire grew suddenly cold. After everything that had happened between them, after this morning on the beach . . .

  Things had changed.

  Hadn’t they?

  “Surely you’re not still planning to uphold your bargain with Jemsin.” Safire shook her head. “I don’t believe you’d put an innocent person in the hands of a monster.”

  “Believe what you want.” Eris moved to stand up.

  Safire grabbed her wrist, keeping her down. Her heart beat hard and fast as she held that piercing gaze, feeling like she was about to lose something she’d only just found. “You won’t endanger the life of someone I love. That’s not who you are.”

  Eris scowled. Twisting free, she staggered to her feet. “And what about my life? You’ll do anything to keep your cousin safe. Of course you will. I understand it, and I admire you for it. Even though I know that when it comes down to it—and it will come down to it, Safire—you’ll choose her over me. Her life over mine.”

  “What are you talking about?” Safire rose to her feet. “I just told you I’ll protect you. From the empress. From Jemsin. From anyone who ever tries to harm you. I swear it.”

  Eris shook her head, almost mournfully. “This was a mistake,” she said, backing away now, her eyes strangely hollow in the candlelight. “You have no idea what it’s like. How could you?”

  Turning, she stepped into the stained-glass maze, as if desperate to escape.

  “You live in a different world than I do.”

  Thirty-Five

  Eris’s thoughts were wild and out of control as she moved swiftly through the labyrinth. She could feel the cold shadow of the ghost beyond the twisting stained glass walls, hiding just out of sight. It suddenly felt too small and cramped here. Like a prison.

  Eris needed air and sea and open sky.

  Fool. Fool.

  She’d made a mistake, bringing Safire here. Taking her to that beach. She never should have kissed her. Never should have laid her down in the sand. The smell of her was everywhere now—like sunrises and juniper berries. The taste of her, too.

  Safire tasted like the sea. Like someone Eris wanted to kiss every day. First thing in the morning. Last thing before bed.

  Which was why she needed to leave. To finish this job and get as far away as she could from the girl standing before her loom. A girl who came from a different world. One she could never belong to.

  Eris was so focused on getting to a door—any door—and stepping through it that she didn’t see what was before her until she almost walked into his feathered chest.

  Eris stumbled back.

  The summoner stood in front of her, its red eyes peering into hers.

  “Jemsin wants you.”

  A dark dread crept over her.

  “I nearly have her,” said Eris, about to shoulder around the creature. “Tell Jemsin I just need one more day.”

  “It’s not about the job,” said the summoner, blocking her way.

  Eris’s stomach twisted at those words. She was about to double back, to head for a different door.

  “It’s about the girl.”

  The words stopped her feet. “W-what?” she whispered. “What . . . girl?”

  “The one I can smell all over you.”

  Eris felt suddenly small and exposed.

  “No . . . ,” said the summoner, looking up, over her shoulder. “I can smell her here.”

  Like the sea spirit on the dock who’d transformed into a bloodthirsty monster at the sight of Safire, the summoner shifted, shedding its black feathers to reveal a sickly-looking creature with fanged jaws.

  In
that moment, Eris knew what it would do. She’d seen it do it a hundred times before—tear a person limb from limb. On Jemsin’s command.

  Unlike the sea spirit, there was nothing Eris could do. The summoner was something far older and more lethal. She’d seen it break men like twigs. Seen it pull out their livers and gorge on their hearts.

  “You’re wrong,” she said, blocking his way. “She isn’t here.”

  But just as she said it, Safire stepped into view, drawn to the sound of Eris’s panicked voice. Eris could see the reflection of her in those bloodred eyes.

  The summoner’s black lips pulled away from its teeth.

  “No!” Eris screamed.

  It shoved her against the glass. Eris heard a crack before she felt the bloom of pain in the back of her head. She tried to get up. If she didn’t, Safire was as good as dead.

  But before it could devour Safire, before it even reached her . . . something stepped between.

  Eris’s vision blurred, but she recognized that icy chill seeping through the air. Knew the presence that came with it. When her vision cleared, it wasn’t a shadow that stood between Safire and the summoner, but a man. Raven haired and gray eyed. Handsome and stiff jawed.

  Crow. The ghost in the labyrinth.

  The summoner reared back in surprise, snapping its sharp jaws and shaking its head.

  “Kadenze,” said Crow’s melodic voice. “Pirate’s pet now, are you?”

  The summoner’s claws clenched and unclenched. It looked from Crow to the labyrinth around him, sneering through its teeth. “So this is where she caged you.”

  Crow’s eyes flashed silver at those words. “Leave,” he told the summoner, the look on his face inhuman. “Or when I’m free, I’ll hunt you down and rip you into as many pieces as there are drops in the sea.”

  “You’ll never be free,” Kadenze hissed. But it stepped back. As if it wasn’t quite sure of the words it spoke. And then, looking over its shoulder, it said to Eris, “You have two days to bring Jemsin what he wants. You know what happens if you fail.”

  “I’ve never failed him before,” said Eris.

  Gathering its cloak of feathers around it, the summoner’s monstrous shape dissolved into the form of a blue-black raven. Eris ducked as it soared past her, its wings shuffling air, and disappeared into the darkness beyond.

  Crow, too, was losing his form. No longer a man but a hunching shadow.

  So this is where she caged you.

  What did that mean?

  “Wait!” Eris rose to her feet, her head throbbing.

  But the ghost in the labyrinth was already gone, leaving Safire and Eris alone.

  Safire gripped her throwing knife in her hand. “What was that?” Her voice shook as she stared into the empty space where two ancient creatures stood mere heartbeats before.

  “That was Jemsin’s summoner.” Eris got to her feet and moved quickly past her. The other creature, though—the ghost called Crow? She didn’t know. Back at the scrin, Day used to tell her a story every night before bed. His favorite was the Skyweaver’s defeat of the Shadow God. She thought of it now as she returned to the loom, her hands moving quickly as she cut the new tapestry from the wooden frame, half afraid the summoner would return.

  Skyweaver spun a web made of starlight to catch him. She bound him up tight in her threads. . . .

  She knew the story by heart. Everyone in the Star Isles knew it. Skyweaver kills the Shadow God and in doing so, saves the islands from his reign of terror. But as Eris rolled up the tapestry, she remembered her conversation with the sea spirit.

  The Shadow God grows stronger, it said. Once he’s free, he’ll come for her.

  Eris paused, thinking of the night the scrin burned. Of the god of souls who never came down from her tower.

  We thought you’d want to know.

  “But why would I want to know?” she whispered, unable to make sense of it.

  “Know what?”

  Eris spun to face Safire, who was watching her from the doorway, her arms crossed against her chest.

  Eris needed to get her out of here. The sooner she did, the sooner she could find the Namsara.

  They’re just stories, she told herself. And you have a bargain to uphold.

  Tucking the tapestry beneath her arm, she grabbed Safire’s arm and pulled her through the twisting maze and toward a purple door. One that led to Firgaard.

  Halting before it, her hands worked quickly, taking the pins from the hinges and pulling off the door that led to Safire’s home. Safire sucked in a breath as it transformed back into a tapestry, one tied with items Eris had stolen from the palace so she could return, again and again: a piece of the queen’s curtains, a key to one of the king’s rooms, a sliver of painted wood chipped from the chair in Safire’s office.

  Eris set it aside and lifted the new tapestry into the frame, where it, too, shifted and changed—this time into a door the color of last night’s sunset. Grabbing hold of Safire’s hand, she reached for the crystal doorknob, opened the new door, and stepped through, dragging the commandant with her.

  They stepped out onto that same creamy sand beach. The sun was setting over the boreal forest at their backs, and from the long shadows it cast, Eris knew it was late afternoon. That skittish white dragon was waiting. At their sudden appearance, he rose up from the sand, black eyes on them, his spiked tail thrashing warily. Eris let go of Safire’s hand and drew out her spindle.

  Disoriented, Safire turned. “No, wait. . . .” She reached for Eris. But Eris had already drawn a silver line in the sand. Was already stepping through the mist and back across.

  She didn’t want to know what Safire had to say. She couldn’t let whatever was between them get in the way of the job. Because succeed or fail, it would be her last job, and she only had two more days.

  Eris left Safire on the sand and didn’t look back.

  Thirty-Six

  I’ve never failed him before.

  Eris’s words rang through Safire’s mind as she and Sorrow flew through the cloudless sky.

  She’d been naïve to think the Death Dancer would give up her hunt for Asha. Jemsin had made Eris a deal, and Safire now knew what would happen if Eris didn’t come through on it. She’d thought she could protect Eris. But in the face of that creature, his bloodred eyes and snapping jaws, she suddenly realized what Eris was up against.

  She should have returned to the citadel and reported to Dax. Instead she and Sorrow flew straight to the cove where Asha was hidden.

  Dagan lives in the yellow house on the point, Asha had told her. You can find us there.

  But when she walked through the door of the house, it wasn’t Asha who stood within it. It was the king.

  He stood at the window facing the sea with his hands linked behind his back.

  “Dax . . .” She shut the door behind her. “I’m so glad you’re here. Where’s—”

  “You were seen,” he said without looking at her.

  Safire’s footsteps paused, heart skipping. “What?”

  “This morning,” he said. “On the beach.”

  Safire frowned, confused. The beach?

  Finally, Dax turned to her. It was then that she knew something was wrong. Her cousin was staring at her as if she were a stranger. “The empress had soldiers watching the scrin. In case the Death Dancer returned.” His normally warm brown eyes were full of anguish. “They saw you with her on the beach.”

  Safire swallowed, realizing what he was saying.

  “The empress has postponed the warrant for your arrest.” He looked away from her, as if it were difficult to get the words out. Like it wasn’t Dax, her cousin and her friend, who was speaking them. But someone else entirely. Someone who needed to distance himself from her.

  “I’ve asked her for leniency,” he said. “If I can convince you to hand over the fugitive”—Why was he calling Eris that? He knew her name—“Leandra will overlook this transgression.”

  Safire stared at him. Th
is was the king she helped put on the throne. The friend she sought first when she needed advice. Dax was the person in her life whose good opinion mattered most. And he hadn’t even asked her why. He didn’t trust her enough to have a good reason for being on that beach. Because he thought she was being manipulated. That she was too weak to see Eris for what she really was.

  She forced the words out: “And if I refuse you?”

  Dax jerked his gaze back to her. “Are you considering such a thing?”

  Safire said nothing, waiting for his answer.

  “You’ll be arrested, Safire. The empress will consider it a breach of our alliance.” He turned fully toward her, his voice pleading. “If you don’t turn the fugitive in, Leandra won’t give us the seeds she promised us. Scrublanders will die. Roa’s family will starve to death. Don’t you understand?”

  Safire’s heart squeezed inside her chest. The seeds. She understood perfectly.

  “Either I deliver Eris to a death she doesn’t deserve,” she said, “or I deny the scrublands the seeds they need to keep from starving. That’s the choice you’re giving me.”

  “It’s a choice you’ve given yourself,” he said, eyes dark.

  Safire stepped toward him, defiant. “Eris might be a thief, but she’s not a murderer. She was only a child when the scrin burned. The people inside those walls were protecting her. It’s the empress who killed them all.”

  “Is that what she told you?” said Dax, keeping his distance. Seeing the answer in her eyes, his fists clenched. “It doesn’t make any sense, Saf. Why would the empress want to burn down a temple full of weavers?”

  “I don’t know,” said Safire. But she intended to find out.

  “Can’t you see what’s happening here? You’re in league with a criminal. She’s using you.”

  Safire studied her king, standing at the window, illuminated by the afternoon sunlight. He has to believe her, she realized. The scrubland’s salvation was in those seeds. If Dax didn’t believe Leandra, he would fail the scrublands. He would let the blight push Roa’s people into further starvation and poverty and death.