by Claire Frank
Was Asher a part of this mountain-dwelling people? Why had his mother fled with her baby? What was it about him that made him a target for the most powerful man in the world? And how could Rhis use that to get the contract on her own head lifted?
Pressing her fingers into her forehead to stave off a headache, Rhis blew out a breath. She’d thought the Atheneum would have answers, but it only raised more questions.
“Do you have a copy of this map?” Rickson asked. “Something we could take with us?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Hector said as he patted the pockets of his apron. He pulled out a folded scrap of paper, a pointed quill and a small bottle of ink. “Here, allow me. This won’t be perfect, mind you, but it’s so old I can’t guarantee its accuracy anyway.” Spreading the paper flat on the table, he drew a rough shape, approximating the land, and filled it in with names and landmarks, his quill gliding across the paper with practiced accuracy.
Rhis leaned closer to Rickson and spoke in a low whisper. “This was a waste of time.”
“What do you mean? We have a location.”
Rhis shook her head. A location that was farther toward nowhere than Harmoth had been. She opened her mouth to answer when a muffled bang sounded from somewhere outside the room.
Hector looked up from his drawing. “I think that means it’s time for you to leave.”
“Why?” Rhis asked. “What was that?”
“It sounds like Paolo called the guards.”
TWENTY: QUESTIONS
Hector ushered them down a long hallway to another set of stairs, leading lower beneath the cavernous building. His small glowing stone cast a bobbing light as he led them to a decrepit door. Flakes of wood fell and dust drifted into the air. The Archivist fiddled with the latch, trying various keys he plucked out of his apron pockets.
“This is a younger man’s work,” he said, and muttered while he rattled another key in the lock. Dry air tickled Rhis’s nose as he got the door open and hurried them inside.
“Here,” he said, holding out the glowing stone. “Wait while I get rid of the guards.”
Rhis held up a hand and opened her mouth to protest, but Hector fled through the door and the latch closed with a soft click. Hector’s footsteps quickly disappeared, leaving them in shadows.
Raising the stone so they could see their surroundings, Rhis glanced around. The walls were hewn of rough stone, and their entrance had kicked up a cloud of dust, but the room appeared empty, the back wall almost lost in shadow.
“What do we do now?” Asher asked.
Rhis blew out a breath. “I guess we wait.”
She handed the stone to Rickson, then wandered to the door and tapped the side of the door frame seven times, letting the rhythm soothe her rising anxiety.
Turning, she pressed her back to the cold wall. Rickson held up the stone and inspected the corners of the large room while Asher wandered across to the other side and sat with his back against the opposite wall. The entire trip to the Atheneum had been a waste, as far as Rhis was concerned. Discovering that Asher’s stone was from a mysterious people who lived in faraway mountains was basically useless. She didn’t know why Rickson had bothered asking for a copy of the map. He was a smuggler, as tied to his ship as she was to her blades. It wasn’t as if they were going to trek to some long-forgotten land in snow-covered mountains.
“Once we get out of here, I think we should go to Senlas,” Rickson said, breaking the silence.
“Excuse me?” Rhis said.
Asher perked up. “Yes, we should.”
“No,” Rhis said, shaking her head. “There’s no reason to travel across the entire Empire. What more do you think we’ll find there?”
“That’s probably where he’s from,” Rickson said.
“And that helps us how?” Rhis asked.
“You said yourself, we need to know why there’s a price on his head.”
Asher winced and Rickson gave him an apologetic glance.
“I don’t think climbing some mountain is going to tell us anything more than we already learned here. It isn’t as if his family is there. His birth mother died in Harmoth.” Rhis paused. “This isn’t going to work. I need to send a message to my contact in Altia. I’ll arrange to meet him on neutral ground and see if we can work this out.”
Rickson stepped closer. “But you still don’t know why—”
“I don’t need to know why,” Rhis said, cutting him off. “Why never matters. What matters is what I can offer my contact in order to get the bounty canceled.”
“And what about Asher?” Rickson said.
“What about him?”
Rickson put a hand on her arm and led her to a corner of the room, lowering his voice. “You can’t bring that kid to Altia with you. We both know they’ll just kill him.”
“I need my life back.”
“How?” Rickson asked.
“There’s always a price,” Rhis said. “I’ll find out what it is and I’ll pay it.”
“Unless you’re as wealthy as the Emperor, I don’t see how you’re going to pay off everyone who wants you dead,” Rickson said.
“Don’t worry, you’ll still get your money.”
“Damn it, Rhis,” he said. “I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about Asher.”
“What about him?” Rhis said, struggling to keep her voice low.
“Have you looked at him closely?” Rickson said. “He’s not normal. There aren’t silver-eyed people walking around the streets of Varale, or Sunhold, or even Altia.”
“He looks like an Imaran,” she said in a whisper. Rickson raised his eyebrows, so she continued. “I was born in Thaya, and we sometimes see people there with silver eyes. They live in the Deep Forest, far south of my homeland, past Halthas. They’re traders, mostly. They come to Thaya a few times a year. They aren’t normal either; Thayans think of them as being special, almost divine. He looks like them.”
Rickson glanced over his shoulder at Asher. “I’ve heard of Imarans. But they don’t live here, do they?”
Rhis shrugged. “I’ve never seen them here, only across the sea.”
“Chances are, his mother didn’t come across an ocean to wind up in Harmoth with an infant,” Rickson said. “Whoever his people are, they’re probably in Senlas, like the Archivist said.”
“What does it matter?” Rhis asked.
“It matters because you can’t take him to Altia with you,” Rickson said. “If you think you can come up with some scheme to get that contract off your head, that’s fine, but that kid is not going to be how you do it.”
Rhis clenched her teeth. “Who are you to tell me what I’m going to do?”
Rickson put a hand on the wall next to her and leaned in close. “You don’t want his blood on your hands. That’s why you didn’t kill him in the first place. If he goes anywhere near Altia, you and I both know he’s dead. Probably you, too. Let’s be honest, the people who hire people like you probably don’t like to leave messes behind.”
Rhis turned away. She knew he was right. “Then what do you suggest?”
“We go to this Senlas place. Maybe we can find out why the Emperor wants him dead.” Rickson paused, rubbing his chin. “What if….” He trailed off.
“What if what?” Rhis asked.
Rickson shook his head. “I was just thinking. What if this kid is someone special? How long has the Emperor been in power? Hundreds of years? Thousands? I don’t think anyone knows anymore. For all we know, he is a god.” He cast another glance over his shoulder and lowered his voice back to a whisper. “What if Asher is some kind of chosen one? He might be destined to overthrow the Emperor. If the Emperor found out about it, he’d obviously want him dead. Maybe his mother died to bring him to Harmoth, so he could stay hidden?”
“What, like there’s some sort of prophecy?” Rhis asked.
“Exactly. You could be preserving his destiny.”
Rhis rolled her eyes. “A prophecy? Rickson, tha
t’s ludicrous. There’s no such thing as destiny, and Asher is just a kid whose mother died.”
“Then why was the Emperor willing to pay you three hundred thousand Imperials to kill him?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Rhis asked. “Attalon was built on conquest. A century ago, the Emperor marched his army into those mountains, to Senlas. I think he lost. The people there, whoever they are, must have held their own. He couldn’t conquer them. Imagine if word got out that a kingdom had resisted the Empire? Half the lands that have fallen have done so with hardly a fight because they knew it was pointless to resist. The Empire always prevails. This is probably the one place they didn’t subdue.”
“But what does that have to do with Asher?” Rickson asked.
“The Emperor didn’t conquer Senlas, but maybe they fought to a standstill. The Archivist said those people haven’t been seen in a century. I’m betting that’s why. The Emperor left them there, but they had to agree not to cross into his territory. It’s probably a century-old pact, and Asher’s mother violated it by coming into Attalon. If Senlas is the one place the Emperor couldn’t conquer, it would be a sore spot for him. That’s why he had the Atheneum purged; he doesn’t want people to know. And he kills any of the people from Senlas who come into his domain.”
“You think he’d pay three hundred thousand Imperials because some kid is on the wrong side of a hundred-year-old border?”
“He’s a man who calls himself a god,” Rhis said with a shrug. “A man like that must have an ego bigger than his Empire. Besides, he’s the wealthiest man alive. He probably has rooms full of Imperials. Three hundred thousand wouldn’t mean anything to him.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” Rickson said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you can’t use Asher to get what you want. We need to take him to Senlas.”
“Rickson, there’s a bounty on his head and mine. It’s only a matter of time before someone catches up to us.”
“I know, but if his people are in Senlas, it might be the only place in the world where he’d be safe. That century-old pact? It would go both ways, wouldn’t it? Once Asher’s back in his homeland, the Emperor can’t touch him anymore.”
Rhis crossed her arms, the cold of the wall seeping into her back. Rickson kept his arm on the wall next to her and leaned in. His closeness was distracting.
“There’s still the question of why he was brought to Attalon in the first place,” she said. “Why was his mother in Harmoth?”
“I bet we find that out in Senlas.”
Rhis sighed and looked away. If she took Asher to Senlas, she’d have nothing to bargain with. “If I leave him there, I’ll spend the rest of my life running. And, judging by the lengths they’re going to find me, I suspect that won’t be long.”
“What if there was a place you could go where the Empire would never find you?” Rickson asked.
“Are you suggesting I stay in Senlas? That’s a stretch. We don’t know what we’ll find there.” And she didn’t relish the idea of living on a snowy mountain. A shiver ran through her at the thought.
“No, there’s another place,” Rickson said.
Rhis pressed her lips together, thinking about the fortune she’d be leaving in Altia. She’d worked so hard for that gold. “Damn it, Rickson. I can’t walk away from my entire life.”
“Listen,” he said, moving his face close to her ear. Her skin tingled as his breath tickled her cheek. “If we go to the place where they made that stone, I’m betting they have more. If we can convince them to part with a few of them, we bring them back here and unload them. Those will bring in enough Imperials to set us up for life. Then you can pay off your people in Altia if you like. Or I can bring you somewhere else, outside their reach. Your choice. Either way, we all get what we want. Asher has a safe place to live, and he’s no longer your responsibility. You and I come out with enough gold to make the trip worth our time.”
A smile crept over Rhis’s lips. “And here I thought you were being altruistic.”
“I am what I am,” Rickson said. “As are you. But I think we should do right by the kid. None of this mess is his fault, and he deserves a chance to grow up without worrying about a knife in his back for the rest of his life.”
Rhis took a deep breath and looked past Rickson to Asher. He sat against the wall with his hands clasped around his knees and his eyes closed. Her back relaxed, as if she’d been keeping a tight grip on herself and it had suddenly released. Was that relief she felt? Somewhere along the way, she’d realized she couldn’t take Asher to Cormant. There was only one way that would end, and she couldn’t be responsible for Asher’s death.
Biting the inside of her lip, she turned away. She couldn’t let herself care about the kid too much. It was making her vulnerable. But Rickson had a point about the stones. If there were more, the two of them could make a fortune, enough to pay off Cormant and anyone else who might want to profit from her death.
“Okay, we’ll take him to Senlas. But you did see that map, didn’t you? I think it showed a river that flows down from the mountains, but I doubt we’ll be able to take your ship very far inland.”
“Don’t you worry yourself about that, sweetheart,” he said. “The Maiden may surprise you.”
Rickson winked, then moved away from the wall and paced across the floor. Rhis sank down, her back against the wall, and counted as she tapped her fingers against her knees. The circle of light from the glowing stone moved as Rickson walked, revealing sinking particles of dust. Asher appeared almost as if he were asleep, but he blinked his eyes open every so often as Rickson’s light passed across his face.
After she’d counted to twenty-eight seven times, Rhis rose to stretch her legs. The hallway had been silent since Hector left, with no sign that anyone was coming for them. “How long are we supposed to wait down here?” she asked.
Rickson stopped and stretched out his back. “Maybe we should go see what’s happening,” he said.
The door rattled and Asher jumped to his feet. Rhis pulled two daggers from her belt and positioned herself in front of the door.
Archivist Hector’s face poked through the opening. “Good, you’re still here. I can get you out the back, but you need to hurry.”
“Are the guards gone?” Rhis asked.
“For now,” he said. “I told them Archivist Paolo was prone to hysterics from a lack of sunlight and we’d be sure to encourage him to get outside and away from his work more often.”
Rhis followed Hector out the door, into the dark hallway. “Archivist Paolo must not be pleased about that.”
“No, but he’s young and brash,” Hector said. “A few decades among the stacks will temper his passion.”
The Archivist led them up the dark stairs and through a corridor to another door. Rhis blinked against the sunlight that streamed in as Hector pushed open the door and ushered them outside. Another set of stairs led up to a stone-tiled courtyard surrounded by tall trees.
“A seldom-used back entrance,” Hector said. “Through those trees you’ll find a street. Follow it a short distance and turn left. That will take you toward the harbor without crossing in front of the Atheneum. I can’t guarantee Archivist Paolo won’t still try to search for you, so I suggest you make your way out of Elbian as quickly as possible.”
Rickson produced a small coin purse and held it out to Hector. “Thank you.”
“I can’t accept your money,” Hector said.
“Nonsense,” Rickson said. “Consider it a donation, then.”
Hector gave a quick nod as he took the purse. “Very well. Now, go. I can’t talk my way out of things if I’m caught with you.”
Rhis followed Rickson up the stairs, Asher close behind. She was anxious to get back to Rickson’s ship.
“One last thing,” Hector called out to them when they’d reached the top of the steps. They paused to look back at him. “If you find Senlas, send word. Tell me what you find. I’ve always wanted to know.”
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“Consider it done, friend,” Rickson said and Hector put up his hand and nodded to them with a smile, his eyes crinkling in the bright sun.
TWENTY-ONE: BOUNTY HUNTER
Rickson grasped Rhis’s hand to help her onto the deck of the Maiden. Asher was already aboard, and Rhis was anxious to set off from Elbian. She reached back to tap the rail with her fingers; it wasn’t a doorway, but it was the best she could do. The ship creaked as gentle waves lapped against the sides and Rhis’s back prickled. Something wasn’t right.
“Asher, wait,” she said, glancing around the deck. Where was the crew?
Her hand darted to her belt and she clasped the hilt of one of her daggers. Rickson called out to his first mate and, from the corner of her eye, she saw him draw his own blade.
“Rhisia Sen,” said a voice she didn’t recognize. “We meet at last.”
A man stepped out from behind the main mast. His dark hair was pulled back, and he wore loose pants and a worn leather vest that left his arms bare. The muscles knotting his thick chest and right arm were considerable, but it was his left arm that made Rhis’s eyes widen and her mouth drop. From shoulder to fingertip, his arm appeared to be made of metal. Shining plates, almost like the scales of a snake, made up his limb. He raised it, bending it at the elbow and flexing the fingers.
“Shit,” Rickson said under his breath and re-sheathed his knife.
Rhis’s eyes darted to Asher, but the man seemed to ignore the boy. “Who are you?” she asked.
“I must apologize,” he said with an incline of his head. “I have heard so much about you, I feel as if we already know each other. I am Athon.”
Rhis flicked her gaze to Rickson. He stood as if frozen, a look of dismay on his face.
“And what can I do for you, Athon?” Rhis asked, edging her dagger out with her fingers.
