by Ken Scholes
The rest of the details spun away as the reality settled in. I am Abomination.
Yes. The woman’s voice was in her head. They were someplace else now. The top of the tower where Ria thought maybe they had met in deeper dreams. Above in the sky, a world hung, whole and beautiful, blue and green. There are truths that find us sometimes and undo all of the truth we thought we had before. The world shifted, blurred, and when it came back into focus it was scarred and barren.
And then the scarred world became a ball of light that expanded and expanded until it shattered, sending streaks of light out and away from it.
And then even those truths are ultimately swallowed until nothing remains.
“What is the truth?” Ria asked.
She saw the children again, still held by the branches of the tree, looks of fear upon the mothers’ faces. The truth is that they are also Abomination. The objects of your faith—the very purpose of your faith—were born in service to the same Continuity Engine that the first Y’Zir sought to stop when he stole the Firsthome Temple from my People—from your People. Millennia of careful breeding by the Y’Zirites has brought about a Restoration in these children, giving them back a heritage cast aside long ago. How can they be both Abomination and the heart of Ahm Y’Zir’s truth?
She saw the inconsistencies and asked the same question a second time. “What is truth?”
“You are who you are in spite of what you believe,” Amylé said. “Accept the truth and come take the mantle of your birthright.” Her eyes grew hard and cold, and she held up the axe. “Then use that birthright to end all of the lying, and silence the Continuity Engine once and for all.”
They were back in the cave with the hatch now, and Ria nodded slowly. It was so much to absorb. But at the core, she knew this woman who loved her, who had come for her, was right. The lying needed to stop.
“What do I do?” she asked.
“Follow me,” Amylé said. And then she opened the hatch and climbed down. Ria followed her. She’d been into the Beneath Places before briefly, both at Windwir’s excavation and up in the north. But she’d never spent much time in them. She’d heard tales and had read some of the magisters’ reports.
They descended for what seemed far longer than it probably was. And then set out down a long corridor sloping gently down. They took several twists and turns along the way before they came to a larger room. A silver pond shimmered in the center, and Amylé stepped toward it. “Come with me, Cousin,” she whispered. A smile pulled at her lips, and something wide and open in her eyes pulled Ria closer.
She’d never seen it, but she knew that contact with the blood of the earth—without taking proper precautions—was deadly. They lost countless men and women in the distilleries where they blended the blood shed during Y’Zirite cutting rituals with the blood of the earth. She opened her mouth to warn Amylé as her bare foot came down toward the surface of the pond. But when she kept walking, straight out to the center of the pond, standing tall upon the surface, Ria closed her mouth.
Come with me. I will show you how to swim the light.
Ria took a step and then another. She felt the heat of the pond upon the sole of her foot as it supported her weight. Then she fixed her eyes upon Amylé and took another step. And then two more. “I’m—”
She looked down, and as she did, the surface of the pond did more than just collapse beneath her: It sucked her in and pulled her under. She stretched out a hand toward Amylé and opened her mouth to scream only to have it filled with the hot, bittersweet fluid. It flooded her mouth, forcing its way down her throat as the blood of the earth bore her to the bottom of the pond and held her there.
You are of the People, and this world is made for you. The voice was ancient, and it was as if the fluid itself carried the words even farther into her. And with the words, she felt power and she felt understanding, though it was all too much and too fast.
Lift me. It responded, carrying her to the surface.
Amylé smiled when Ria stood up on the pond beside her. “Swim the light with me, Cousin,” she said. “I will show you how.”
And when Amylé stretched out her hand, Ria took it and laughed at how everything she’d lost had not been anything worth keeping. Then she swam the light in the veins of the world and felt a wholeness she’d never known before.
Chapter
22
Winters
The sun had dropped below the skyline, leaving the sky a bruised and ominous purple when they finished laying Orius to rest. Winters watched from the side with Endrys Thrall and the others as the Androfrancines buried their general and Rudolfo presided over the services. She smiled as he used the opportunity to secure his position as the inheritor of the Order.
“The closest thing you have to a father within your Order has died in service to the light,” he said from the edge of Orius’s grave, “and now, if you will honor the wisdom of your last Pope, it falls to me to be a father to you.”
Because he collects orphans. She watched as he continued.
“And if your fealty to the light will extend to me and to the Ninefold Forest that Pope Petronus chose as Protector of the Light—and to the library that we build—then my grace will be upon you. You may serve as the Gray Guard of the Forest Library. Or you may, at the conclusion of this present conflict, choose to retire and find suitable lives for yourselves within my forests.”
He vanished quickly after turning the service over to the new commanding officer—an older captain who had worked closely with Orius. Winters saw the top of his turban vanish into the gray crowd.
Endrys Thrall touched her shoulder. “Neb and Isaak and the others have arrived in New Espira,” he said, “and a ship has been dispatched to reach us. My orders are to see you directly to the moon as soon as possible, Lady Winteria.”
There was danger in the tone of his voice, and even Hebda picked up on it, shooting her a quick glance. “Has something happened that I should know about, Captain?”
“Amylé D’Anjite is a grave threat to the fulfillment of Frederico’s Bargain,” he said. “Combined with Vlad Li Tam’s course of action in Y’Zir, she not only threatens my people’s work, but threatens our very existence. The council has voted for full intervention at whatever cost to assure that the Time of Sowing moves forward.”
The tree, white with seed, was behind her eyes now, and she nodded. So much had been spent to reach this time—so many lives lost along the way—and they still really knew so little about what it meant. She’d heard Petronus had accessed the library somehow, and she hoped there would be something there that would eventually tell them what they were to do.
And how and why. She pushed her thoughts away to focus on the captain’s words. “The ship had been grounded in the Churning Wastes. It’s not far away. We will fly top speed for the Seaway as soon as it arrives,” he said. “You should identify who you intend to bring with us.”
When he said it, he glanced at Tertius and Hebda. Renard must’ve said something to him about my issues with these two. She followed his gaze and met Hebda’s eyes for a moment before the man looked away. But not before she saw shame behind them.
Winters sighed. She’d just urged clemency for her sister, a woman complicit in the fall of Windwir. In a way, these men were complicit as well. Tertius had pretended to hide among her people in order to get close to her and the Book of Dreaming Kings that he studied. Hebda had deceived Neb—even had him convinced he was a ghost back from the dead—and had known the boy would think he’d been buried at Windwir. These men certainly had earned her ire.
But they had also fled Orius with her, and Charles had trusted them. Renard, too. Even now, the Waste guide stood near Hebda, the backs of their hands touching.
She took them in. “There is a place on the moon for you all if you wish it,” she said. She’d not asked Neb, and part of her wondered if she should. After all, it was a courtesy to the man she loved.
But she could not move beyond he
r newest dream—one people upon the plain, vast and standing within the shadow of that even vaster tree white with the promise of life. And if Neb disagreed with her decision, it did not make her decision any less the right path.
The thought of right paths brought Rudolfo to mind again, and she looked around for him. She didn’t see him, but she saw Lysias walking in from the forest.
“Hebda, will you work with Captain Thrall identifying any others among the Androfrancine remnant who should accompany us?”
He nodded. She saw something like relief on his face. “I will. Thank you, Lady Winteria.”
She inclined her head but didn’t wait for him to return the gesture. Instead, she moved toward Lysias.
“Is he out there?”
He nodded. “He is. But I suspect he wants to be left alone now.”
That was his way. And only a few had earned the right to interrupt that solitude he sought at times. I am likely not one of them.
Still, she swallowed that fear and moved past Lysias onto the trail.
She made no attempt to move quietly, announcing her approach clearly.
His voice to her left surprised her, and she jumped. “I would expect better of the True Queen of the Marsh. You sound like a herd of elk.”
“I didn’t want to surprise you.”
He chuckled. But when he stepped from the shadows into the fading light of day, his face and beard were wet with tears. “I’m not certain you could.”
But she had surprised him that day they’d met on the plains not so long ago. And she remembered the anger on his face when he’d learned that she had let his wife and child leave and had kept that information from him at Jin Li Tam’s request until it was too late for him to stop that. And until recently, he’d thought his son had died in his mother’s care because of it.
“I needed to see you before I go,” she said. “A ship is coming for us.”
Rudolfo smiled. “You have your new home,” he said. “And young Nebios, too.”
“I do,” she said. “And you have your family.” But as Winters said it, she wondered what of Jin Li Tam he truly had and what shape their marriage would take in time of peace. She had high hope for her friends. But the dark look on his face gave her pause.
“Aye,” he said. “I have them. But for how long?” Their eyes met. “And where do we go? Jakob cannot stay in the Named Lands with the pathogen here.”
“But he’s alive, and those problems can be addressed,” she said. “Perhaps the pathogen can be neutralized somehow despite what the Androfrancines say. Or perhaps water can be brought in somehow.” Winters paused. “And it didn’t kill everyone who’d been exposed to blood magicks. It spared my sister and me.” She stretched out a tentative hand and touched the Gypsy King’s arm. “Despite it all, we’ve come this far, and I think we’ll go farther yet. I have to believe that based on what I’ve seen.”
He nodded. “I concur.” Then he chuckled. “I suppose it was too much to hope that we might have less complex problems to solve other than how to port water into the Ninefold Forest from beyond the Named Lands.…”
She chuckled with him. “I think we’ll have plenty of problems ahead. Two of them just flew off together.” But, she realized, they would also have help. They had the New Espirans and what they knew along with the Firsthome Temple and everything contained with the Library of Elder Days.
Once we’re finished. She felt the weight of the work behind and the work ahead. Soon she’d be boarding an airship, and in a matter of days she’d be on the moon. Winters looked at the forest around her and wondered when she’d see it again. “I should head back,” she said. “But I wanted to say goodbye. I will be taking much that I learned from you with me. I want to thank you for that.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Other than better taste in fine wine and perhaps military strategy, whatever could you have learned from me, Marsh Queen?”
“How to take the right path,” she said, “and how to care for the orphaned.” She felt a lump in her own throat now. “How to build rather than destroy. They are all things I’m going to need to know how to do.”
Rudolfo inclined his head. “I’m honored to have been an aid in our kin-clave. You are a formidable woman, Winteria bat Mardic, and you will rule your people very well indeed.”
She smiled. “I thank you, Lord Rudolfo, but I will not rule them. Change is the path life takes. I will be implementing some of Esarov the Democrat’s notions, I suspect, as we find the next right path.”
Rudolfo snorted. “You will find your way, whatever way it is. I can’t imagine my people ever wanting that when they can have me.”
Now she laughed. “We will find our way.” There was a moment of silence. “Thank you for your kin-clave and your friendship, Rudolfo.”
He inclined his head, and she inclined hers. “And thank you for yours, Winteria.” His eyes became sober for a moment. “And I would ask a favor of you.”
She felt her eyebrow rise. “Yes?”
Winters sensed his discomfort, and when he spoke, he broke eye contact momentarily. “My scouts tell me that Kember and Ilyna and the others boarded a vessel out of Caldus Bay for the Seaway. They should have arrived by now.” He dug a note from his pouch. It was fresh white paper and sealed with his signet. “Would you bear this to them for me?”
She blinked in surprise, remembering that day when he’d banished them. There had been so much ice in his voice, so much steel in his eyes. And now, his eyes were full of tears.
“I fear I do not like the man these times have made of me,” he said in a low voice. “They did not make me in the same fashion as they made Vlad Li Tam or Orius, but still I’ve chosen the wrong paths in the midst of this, and it has cost my soul something I didn’t know could be excised from me.”
Winters’s hand moved to his arm again before she could stop herself. “But these times have also made you a collector of orphans and builder of libraries, Rudolfo. And they have made you a father and a husband and a hero who is sung about in taverns.”
He laughed and wiped his tears away. “Aye, they have. And they have made some of my orphans into collectors of orphans themselves.” He sighed. “And they have made you wise. Or maybe your dreams did. You will do well, Winteria.” He smiled. “And this sounds too much like a goodbye. With the Seaway open, I expect I’ll have to sail for the moon myself one day just to say I’ve done so at least once in my life.”
Winters laughed with him, and when they embraced, it was not like the other times. They were on equal footing and shared something between them that they hadn’t before.
“Yes,” she said. “You must all come visit us upon the moon.” Having said it, suddenly all of the darkness was less dark as the silliness of it settled in.
And so Winteria bat Mardic found herself laughing and snorting with a Gypsy King in the forest at the edge of Windwir’s grave where all of this had started what seemed so long ago.
Vlad Li Tam
The waters of Caldus Bay were calm in the early-morning hours as Vlad Li Tam watched Petros and his father prep the nets. He’d been with them just a few weeks now, and already he’d taken a liking to the serious-minded boy and his somewhat simple family. He could see the wisdom of his father’s choice to send him here.
But how much choice was it, my love? And whose choice? The voice was in his head, but it was also behind him and he twisted in the boat to look for her.
Where are you? He strained, leaning out and peering down into the dark and cold water.
There. A spark of blue and green that slowly built as she moved closer.
I am always here for you, my love.
But when he plunged overboard into those icy waters and kicked his way down toward the tendrils of light, swimming into the sound of her song within the water, Vlad Li Tam found nothing and woke up with a sob in his throat.
“False god, stealer of grown-up toys, ruiner of dreams,” the gasping and wet voice muttered through its mechanical box. “Murder
er of children and desecrater of the holy.”
The hold was lit dimly, and he still remained in the chair he’d been tied to. His arm—the one that wasn’t there anymore—ached along with the rest of him. And Ahm Y’Zir crouched there over him, the deformed remains of his flesh sealed away in a crystal orb filled with a greenish mist and resting atop a mechanical eight-legged chassis. It clicked two of its metal legs against the hull of the ship near Vlad’s feet.
With two others, it lifted the staff. “What have you done to the staff?”
Vlad smiled. “I believe I might have broken it.” He was certain of that. Once he’d been given access to the library it had been easy enough to know exactly how to do that if it became necessary.
“And the ring?”
“The girl took it,” he lied.
A third leg joined the tapping. “Naughty, naughty Vlad Li Tam.”
The doors opened and two Blood Guard admitted Eliz Xhum. “Lord Y’Zir,” he said, “we’ve a raven from Sister Elsbet and the lunar colony.”
Lunar colony? He’d expected the regent and Y’Zir to secure the staff and make for the Seaway, but he hadn’t anticipated a Y’Zirite colony. But Vlad’s life was a long game of changing the course of rivers over time. Erosion and pressure in such a way to feel natural. Because as P’Andro Whym indicated, change was the path life took. But it was P’Andro’s brother, T’Erys, who’d showed up far later in the Order’s apocryphal origins to note that those changes could be forced and controlled with time and pressure. It was no coincidence that it was under T’Erys’s papacy that the secret kin-clave with House Li Tam, the banking and shipbuilding concern of the Named Lands, began to flourish.
So it was expected that things would go wrong. And that there would be plans within plans to deal with the unexpected, unanticipated and uncontrollable.
Like me. But even now, Vlad knew he’d gone beyond his father’s plans. And Vlad could stop with what he’d already done and it would be enough to protect the new dream. Petronus and the others on the moon would have to stand or fall on their own soon enough. But protecting the new dream was not enough. Since their cutting tables and Ria’s careful ministrations over him with her knives, he’d needed to do a kin-healing of his own, and Vlad knew that though he could stop, he would not until he was dead or until there were no more Y’Zirites.
