Deviants of Giftborn (The Etherya Series Book 1)

by Amarcya, Zuri

  The short-haired girl almost replied, but decided against it. She nodded to the circle and they stilled.

  Chesna opened her hands out to Nemma in a gesture of welcome and leaned back against the wall.

  Nemma looked between her and the scowling girl. Which one was the leader? “So you expect me to hand over my property without a fight?”

  Pia clenched her fists and readied her stance but a look from Chesna stilled her.

  “No need to fight, tell us what you want,” Chesna said, her voice light and friendly. “What do we have to trade with you to get that item?”

  “There’s nothing you can give me that I want,” Nemma replied.

  “Really?” Chesna said, pushing back off the wall again and walking towards her. “Because you are now banned from all foundhouses, and every single foundling is on the lookout for you. Word is, you have stolen a prized item from Madam Calladene and I’m sure you know the price for that? The fact that you tricked her makes it worse for you.”

  Nemma glanced at the girls around her. They watched her every move.

  “Someone in your position must be in need of something?” Chesna continued. “Where will you sleep? How will you eat? How will you earn? Our circles know people and places that can help you. We can make sure you never go hungry, that you always have something to trade, that you are never found by magiens even if Calladene reports you… but only if you help us first.”

  Nemma noticed she did not mention protection. “Help you? By giving you what I promised Calladene?”

  “Yes. If we bring the item to Calladene, we can board with her for free,” she gestured to the other girl, “and she’ll make us her security in her foundhouse, which means guaranteed food and beds for our girls.”

  “Security? From what?”

  “Thieving foundlings like you for example.” Chesna walked around Nemma. “And the increasing number of unruly circles in the Ryim. Some of them have overrun the other foundhouses. Calladene knows she’s at risk even though her house is the strongest.”

  “What about her staff?”

  Chesna laughed. “Those old women? They’re for show. It’s only a matter of time. Once we’re in position, we can force the other circles to join us. You may consider joining us too.”

  “Calladene wouldn’t let me back into her foundhouse.”

  “Calladene isn’t stupid. You’re one of the best fighters. She can’t argue about having you as part of her security.”

  “And that will prevent me from starting my own circle,” Nemma said, smiling. “Is that right?”

  Chesna’s face dropped and her jaw clenched, but she did not reply. The black-haired girl clenched her fists, muttering under her breath. It was obvious that girls from most of the other circles would flock to Nemma if she started her own circle and they both knew it—she had never lost a fight.

  “And if I don’t help you?” Nemma asked.

  Chesna shrugged, “We’ll go back to our lives. We may have to fight other circles in order to be placed as Calladene’s security... but you? You may find the Thaide tracking you down. And that never ends happily. You know what they’re like about any breakage of the Law.”

  Nemma took in her relaxed smile and stance, but her eyes were hard and emotionless.

  “Who’s the leader here?” Nemma asked.

  “We are both leaders,” said Chesna.

  “Why are you working together?”

  The girl paused as she thought, eyes flicking over Nemma. “It made sense for us to combine our circles for this purpose.”

  “And nine of you make up both circles?”

  “No. My circle of eight is stationed around us, hidden.”

  “Chesna,” Pia exclaimed.

  Nemma glanced around. They were caught in a junction between three factories. High burgundy brick walls stood at all sides and every passage turned into another. No one else apart from the ten of them was visible.

  Chesna put her hand up, keeping her eyes on Nemma. “Don’t worry, Pia. I’m just being honest with her. She isn’t foolish.”

  Pia crossed her arms, watching both Nemma and Chesna. Nemma glanced between the two of them. She did not trust that the short-haired one would keep her word, but Chesna might. Clearly Pia’s circle were fighters and got their way by brute force, but Chesna’s circle seemed more furtive, using stealth and bargaining to get what they wanted. It was a good match—but there could only be one true leader in any effective group.

  “So tell me, did you make the sale? Do you have the money? Or were you lying?”

  “I wasn’t lying,” Nemma lied. “But the merchant wasn’t there. I have been searching all day in the market for him.”

  “Why not come back to be assessed and then go back to find him?” Chesna asked. “You could have explained things to Calladene.”

  “I thought I could find him by mid-morning.”

  “But the product is good enough to get that amount?”

  Nemma nodded. “Or more.”

  “Let me see it.”

  “No,” Nemma said. “I wanted to know what you will give me for it.”

  “We have to see it first,” demanded Pia.

  Chesna grinned at Nemma. “I have to agree with my co-leader. We have to see the item first.”

  “Only if you tell them to move away,” Nemma said, gesturing to the girls that were still surrounding her.

  “Do it,” called Chesna, eyes not leaving Nemma.

  Pia nodded to the girls and they all crept back until they were at least five paces away.

  Nemma eased her carrysack from her shoulders and pulled out the necklace, raising it high in the air. Clear-rocks and black-rocks made up the entire design with green duith jewels and soft pink jiji gems dotted throughout. A perfectly round crystal rock dangled from it, engraved with an intricate pattern.

  Although it looked impressive the actual jewels were not worth much. Anyone who would buy the piece would pay for the craftsmanship rather than the quality or uniqueness of the stones, but it could be sold to an inexperienced merchant for a fair amount. The girls became very quiet and Nemma noticed a glance between the two leaders.

  “Put it away,” muttered Chesna.

  Nemma returned the necklace to her sack. “If you think this won’t make you one hundred and ninety lorel, you’re more of a fool than I thought.”

  “You’re the fool for messing about with market merchants,” said Pia, a sneer on her face. “I reckon I could sell that to a proper first quarter jewelery merchant for over two hundred and fifty lorel.”

  “Pia.” Chesna shot Pia a warning look before turning to Nemma. “What do you want?”

  “Information. I want to know about a certain Thaide and how to contact him.”

  “Impossible,” Chesna said at once. “Information about the Thaide isn’t published… you know this. Everyone knows this.”

  “I need to find out where he is stationed,” Nemma said. “I heard something about a library?”

  Chesna nodded. “The library on the Red Road, yes. It holds some information about the Arc, including records about guarding duties, but the information can be unreliable and incomplete. It’s mainly used as storage.” She paused. “You can read?”

  “What about his family?” Nemma asked, ignoring her question.

  “Unless his family are important, like high-ranking magiens, it’s doubtful they will be noted in the library.”

  “So how do you suggest I find out more about him?” Nemma shot at her. “I find it hard to believe you have so many contacts in the city if you can’t tell me that much.”

  Chesna glared at her. “Our expertise lies within every inch of Torak city except the Arc. The Arc is self-contained. It’s not like anyone from Torak goes in to visit, why would we have information about the magiens that live there? Especially the Thaide? Be realistic.”

  Nemma swiveled on her heel and walked back towards the market. Pia and her circle darted around her, surrounding her before she had taken
three steps.

  ”We had a deal, didn’t we?” called Chesna, who had not moved.

  Nemma turned to face her. “Do you really believe the information you’ve given me is worth the necklace?”

  “That wasn’t our agreement,” Chesna replied, her voice becoming clipped. “I gave you the best information anyone could give about that subject. Now hand over the necklace.”

  Nemma paused for a moment, then reached into her carrysack and pulled out the necklace.

  “Where is the Red Road?” she asked.

  “In the first quarter. Just keep heading south and you’ll find it,” Chesna replied. “Look for the section that stores magien reports.”

  Nemma handed the necklace to Pia, who could not take her eyes from it. She dipped her head in thanks to Chesna who inclined her head in response.

  The rest of the girls moved out of Nemma’s path as she walked away.

  Ten

  Clisantha lowered herself into the oval bath cut into the marble floor of the private treatment room, relishing the intense burn. She submerged her head into the swaying hot water and shivered, a tickle scattering over her body, before gently breaking back to the surface, pushing her black hair away from her flushed face.

  “How can you endure such heat,” exclaimed Ketzia, watching from a flat-chair a few feet away. “I couldn’t suffer it.”

  “I have the blood of the Dyerans,” Clisantha teased, fixing her hair behind her ears. The dark-haired Dyerans, who lived in Dyera Desert, were rumored to have resilient skin that could survive all conditions. They also retained youthful looks throughout their adult life and had longer lives than citizens of the other countries in the Realms.

  Ketzia, who had always been fair-haired, stuck her tongue out. “Then you should look eighteen.”

  Clisantha grinned. “Don’t worry. When you look too old to be my friend, I’ll still visit you—discretely.”

  Ketzia’s giggle petered out to a blissful hum as the young girl standing beside her smoothed thick lemon oil over her back.

  Clisantha lay back on the diagonal slope fixed inside the bath, allowing the citrus-oiled water to buoy her arms. Melodic twangs from the stringed instruments being played outside the slatted door echoed on the marble walls of the room and sunlight streamed in through glass panes near the high ceiling.

  “We should have more rest days,” Ketzia said. “Once a month is not enough.”

  “Why?” Clisantha asked. “We would still come here on a working day.”

  The girl picked up a wide, long piece of bark with a thin edge and began scraping the oil from Ketzia’s back in long, pressured strokes. Ketzia sighed. “Yes I suppose. But somehow it feels better.”

  Clisantha swayed in the water, trying to drown the unease nestling in her stomach. Since the day of her meeting with the High Priest, an uncomfortable feeling had settled over her. She had tried relaxing with everything she could think of to drive away the anxiety but even the baths could not soothe it.

  She slid down further into the water until it lapped at her chin. The meeting with the High Priest had gone as well as she could have hoped. She could not have expected him to take her opinions easily but at least he had listened, even if he had been difficult to read.

  When he had asked her if she’d been assessed and requested her to stand, her heart had nearly jumped out of her chest. At that moment she realized the precarious situation was putting herself in to become a lord. If the High Priest had discovered her Gift that day… it did not bear thinking about. The Elementyth was the only one who knew that she was Giftborn, and the only one offering advice. His treatment for the mind infection had worked, after all. Perhaps she could make an agreement with him to run errands for him in return for him giving her Gift training. But the thought of giving up her pursuit of lordship sparked an overwhelming surge of disappointment tinged with anger. All that time and effort wasted.

  “… in case he gets summoned to the Arc. Anyway he is to meet us after our appointment here so you can let me know what you think of him.” Ketzia had started speaking at some point and Clisantha guessed she was talking about her latest pursuit.

  “You only met him a half-week ago, Ketzia,” Clisantha said, in disbelief. “You mean to say you have him at your beck and call already?”

  Ketzia tittered. “Not at all. He planned to visit some of the factories near the core so it made sense to arrange to meet.”

  Clisantha shook her head, a smile on her face as she watched the young bath aide smooth oil onto Ketzia’s legs. “Entertaining men in the middle of the morning? You never fail to amaze me, Ketzia.”

  Ketzia snorted. “We’re not meeting for that, Clisantha. We haven’t even made it to bed yet. That’s why I like him. He has restraint. You should consider finding someone to marry too. You will be the only unmarried in our little group soon.”

  Clisantha rolled her eyes. Whenever Ketzia met a new man she became excited over every aspect of his life and talked about him at every opportunity, boring Clisantha more than usual and making assumptions that never came to pass. “He hasn’t asked you to marry yet. You should hold your tongue less you curse the idea.”

  The slatted door slid open, allowing a burst of melody into the room, and another bath aide entered. She padded towards Clisantha carrying a woven basket and knelt by her head. “Where did you meet him?” Clisantha asked.

  Ketzia turned onto her back to allow her aide to apply oil to her front. “I told you already. At the Glass Hearth one night.”

  “Ah,” Clisantha said, as the girl beside her lathered her hair and scratched her scalp with rosemary infused soap.

  “Just be sure you’re nice to him. You never know what it could mean for you. I’m sure he has suitable friends.”

  Within a few hours, they collected their robes from the front doors. Raucous chatter ballooned up from the shared baths on the lower ground, which were popular on rest days and Ketzia looked at Clisantha feigning a look of horror at the idea.

  They strolled out into the core, their skins shimmering in the weak sun, emitting lingering scents of orange, lemon and rosemary. The core buzzed with excited chatter and laughter from knots of citizens waiting for prayer hour and the Sovereign’s Justice Ceremony. Young children ran and laughed with each other around their parents’ legs. The tall bronze and silver buildings facing the core gleamed as they threw off sun’s rays, lighting up the entire area. Many had dressed in light, loose garments. It was easy to tell who lived in which quarter by the quality of their clothing, but most dressed decently and conversed in groups within their own status, sipping cups of fenyac. Many of the peerage greeted Clisantha, complementing both women as they made their way to the Glass Hearth tavern.

  The only hint of cloud lay with the Thaide that dotted the area. Standing like stern-faced statues, they watched every movement, running their eyes over citizens as if searching for something hidden within. The increase of the Thaide in Torak had intrigued Clisantha. It was most unusual. They had positioned themselves everywhere; inside the merchant factories, at the markets, outside work buildings, taverns, and libraries, even stationed on resident roads. No one knew why there had been a sudden increase in guarding duties, and since her acquaintance with Telmar hung on a fine thread she did not care to ask him about it.

  Telmar had been furious that she had not sought his permission to discuss the topics she had brought up in the presence of the High Priest and had demanded an explanation, which she refused to give. She found it difficult to be civil with him since everything now lay with the High Priest. Telmar had become irrelevant.

  Few candles had been dotted around the tavern but the Gifted windows allowed rays of bright, warm sunlight to pierce through, skimming the large wooden tables and turning the gray smoke from the cinnamon lamps burning at each corner a pearl white. Only a handful of people sat around the tables but it would be busy later when the rest-day festivities of over-indulgence began. Clisantha turned to Ketzia, and realized that she
had disappeared. Glancing around she saw her flirting with a man who was sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the bar facing the windows. Typical of Ketzia to hone in on the only sole male as soon as she arrived. So much for her new lover.

  She sat on one of the stools at the bar and ordered a drink, thinking how she would convince the Elementyth to train her.

  “Clisantha, dear,” Ketzia said, approaching from behind. “This is my dearest friend, Riyen, who has been taking up my time of late. Riyen, Clisantha Saraethien.”

  Clisantha turned.

  “Greetings, Mss Saraethien.”

  Horror erupted in Clisantha’s nerves and she struggled to keep her smile frozen in place as she stared into his sky blue eyes. It was the Elementyth. Her Elementyth.

  “Greetings, Elementyth Riyen,” she said as naturally as she could, rising from the stool and dipping her head.

  “Ketzia tells me you are a notable merchant,” he said smiling. “What is your business?”

  A flush ran over Clisantha’s body. How dare he spring this on her. “I run a merchant-to-merchant trade business.”

  He raised an eyebrow, his face a picture of bemusement. “You run it? So you have workers?”

  Clisantha nodded. She generally avoided talking about how she earned her money. To some it was not the kind of business a woman should run, but no one could deny she ran it well.

  “That’s very ambitious. How does it work?”

  “I trade and sell items between merchants, offering supplies they need and taking unwanted stock.”

  “Can’t they do that themselves?”

  “Yes. And some do. But I can usually get them better prices and most are lazy.”

  The Elementyth laughed, his eyes running over her. Gesturing to the table, he said, “Will you join us?”

  Ketzia glanced at him.

  Clisantha inclined her head. “Unfortunately I have work to do.”

  “Ah.” Taking her hand, he squeezed it gently. “Maybe another time,” he murmured.