The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six)

by Rathbone, Brian

  Anger crept out from behind her other emotions, and she wondered once again what her father had been thinking. Coming here had been a mistake, and Allette had known it from the start. She'd begged her father not to make the trip. The cost of the dragon flight alone had required a lien on the Maker's Mark. She stood to lose everything: her father, their ship, their crew, everything. The Maker's Mark was more than just a ship to Allette; it was her home, her friend, her safe place. Nothing could harm her on the deck of that ship; at least that was what she had always told herself. If only she could get back to Maiden Harbor, then she would find a way to repay the debt. Part of her wanted to think her father would reappear at any time to tell her everything would be all right, but that hope dwindled more every day in his absence.

  Getting home seemed impossible. Dragon flights were no cheaper here than they were from the Midlands. Allette was no more accustomed to spending time in the Mids. She'd sailed the waters around the peninsula, but the open seas were her home. The people of the Mids were hearty, rugged people who pulled their livings from an unforgiving land. Here in the Heights, though, there was no soil, only stone. Allette had seen gardens and groves, but those were filled with rich black soil that brought a fortune at market here. Since those in the Heights believed that the soil from the Cloud Forest was cursed, Midland soil was among the most prized and expensive imports. It was one of the primary reasons for trade between the Heights and the Mids. It was heavy and cumbersome, and a dragon loaded with soil rarely carried anything else. Crossing over the Jaga took time, and every trip involved risk. Increased demand had put a strain on the limited number of dragon flights. Rumors said the dragons were being overloaded, and it was only a matter of time until some were lost to the Jaga. The place was wild, unruly, and crawling with darkness. No one with the use of their senses would venture anywhere near that deadly place.

  Allette's own flight had been terrifying enough that she suppressed the memory, knowing her only route home was a return flight. She might as well be on the other side of Godsland.

  With the morning came the foot traffic and pull carts; the latter seemed one way that Allette might earn her way home, but the thought of how long that might take kept her looking for other options. The fact that all the pull carts were operated by lithe, blond, young men made her wonder if she would ever get these people to accept her. When they had arrived, the looks she'd received had ranged from suspicious to downright hostile. The women here dressed in long robes or flowing skirts. Allette couldn't imagine what she would look like dressed in such frills, and she blushed at the thought. Looking down at her sturdy work clothes, which had been the only kind of clothes she'd ever worn, she thought for an instant of stealing a disguise.

  Her father would not like it, but he wasn't there.

  Allette wasn't sure what it said about her that almost all of the possible solutions she'd come up with involved stealing something. She was no thief, and she'd worked hard for everything she'd ever had, but here she had nothing. Her father had taken care of their costs, and she had only a single silver coin in her pocket. The problem was that she couldn't even spend that without raising suspicion. She'd tried once, but her clothes and lack of a consort had the merchant asking questions that Allette did not want to answer. Part of her had feared the woman would have the guards out looking for her after she'd run away, but the men on watch continued to look as bored as ever.

  Her thoughts turning in circles, Allette came back to the idea of finding the men who had taken her father and spying on them. Perhaps she could steal back whatever it was her father had been selling. The fact that she didn't know what that was bothered her deeply, and had from the start. While others funded dragon flights with voluminous cargo, her father had boarded with no cargo at all. Whatever it was he intended to sell in the Heights, it was small enough to be carried on his person. To that day, Allette could not figure out what it could be. She could imagine nothing so small that could be worth risking everything for, nothing that could be worth her father's life . . . and hers.

  Not for the first time, she wished her father had stuck with honest trade. She had no evidence that what he did here was illegal, but his silence on the matter spoke volumes. Most times he gave her more information about their endeavors than she wanted for the sake of her education; she was, after all, supposed to inherit the ship from him in his twilight years. The thought that the Maker's Mark might already be hers battered her will, and the fact that she might immediately lose the ship through her inability to repay the debt shamed her. How had she studied all her life and yet somehow remained ignorant? How could she have trained for so long and have no employable skill? These thoughts were not new, but she was coming to realize that it was not a lack of skill or willingness which drove her to stealing; it was prejudice and fear on the part of those within the Heights. They would give her no choice but to become what she very much did not want to be.

  Once back aboard the Maker's Mark she would make things right.

  The grumbling of her stomach reminded her that she'd not eaten in the past day. Hunger was not unfamiliar to her; she knew how to work through it, but there was food aplenty. Had food been scarce, she would not have been so tempted, but all the people here were wealthy. Even those who acted as servants ate better than any ship's captain Allette had ever known. Almost no food grew in this place, and yet it was everywhere. Well-dressed merchants sold every variety of food and spice imaginable. Allette knew what only some of them were. Aboard the Maker's Mark, there was little more than salted fish and bitter citrus, things Allette had always loved.

  That was when she saw them, stacked to one side and drawing little attention: bitter citrus. Her mouth watering, Allette fingered the silver coin in her pocket. It was of Midland mint, but it should be accepted here, even if under slight protest. Those in the Heights literally looked down on the Mids in almost every way. They were a taller people who lived at higher elevation, and they could fly. The fact still amazed and terrified Allette, and she tried not to think about the very thing she strived for: a flight back to the Midlands. The silver in her pocket wasn't enough to even see a dragon, let alone fly aboard one across the Jaga. The place had been mostly beautiful from above, not that Allette had been able to look down for long. Parts of the place had terrified her, and she had little desire to see it again. Flying, in itself, seemed a completely unnatural thing, but what other choice did she have?

  Her mind made up, Allette pulled her hair back, tied it, and tucked it within her shirt. This was something she'd always done when working, knowing that ropes and pulleys were known for grabbing long hair. She also knew that it made her look like a boy. Medrin had always teased her about it. The thought brought a flush to her cheeks, but she shrugged it off and stepped from the shadows, trying to look as if she belonged there.

  "Walk as if you know exactly where you are going," her father had always said.

  Allette walked with purpose, her eyes thrust downward, hoping to avoid eye contact. Anyone who didn't look at her long enough might just mistake her for a servant boy. The fruit merchant, however, looked her up and down as she approached, no matter how inconspicuous she tried to be. The woman was older and had a hard look about her, but that didn't scare Allette off. She'd known her share of hard women, and most were kind and warm to those who treated them well.

  "These are the sweetest," the woman said, gesturing to a pointy orange fruit that looked like the head on Mord's mace.

  At least the woman was speaking to her, Allette thought. Pointing to the red and orange citrus, she spoke in a soft voice, deeper than her usual tone, "Six of these, please."

  "Those are as bitter as can be," the woman said. "Are you certain those are what you want?"

  "Yes," Allette said.

  "Suit yourself," the woman said. Her tone was polite enough, but her words had caught the attention of a nearby guard. The man was armed with a studded pike, as all the guards in the Heights were. Such a thing would never have
been allowed in the Midlands, where people claimed to be free. Allette knew the truth: only sailors were truly free. The scrutiny of the guard reminded Allette just how tenuous her current situation really was. When she handed the woman the Midland silver, Allette couldn't keep the flush from her face.

  "You're a long way from home," the woman said, her voice thick and strange. Allette wasn't certain if the woman was trying the get the guard to keep an eye on her, but the result would be the same. Allette was tempted to flee now since it was obvious the man was taking more than just a passing interest in her presence there. "Here you go. I gave you one of the sweet ones too, just so you can try it."

  "Thank you," Allette said, trying to avoid eye contact with the merchant and the guard. The merchant wrapped the fruit in a square of burlap. Pulling up each of the four corners, she tied them into a secure package and handed it to Allette.

  Knowing she could not move directly back into the shadows since she was being watched, Allette also didn't want to move any closer to the guard. If he intended to accost her, she wanted as much of a head start as she could get. The longer he watched her, the more convinced she became that he would make his move. That only left moving toward the upper keep, a place where she stuck out even worse. The people in the upper keep made the well-dressed merchants look beggared. Despite those dangers, Allette decided the upper keep was better than almost certain confrontation with the guard.

  Trying to look unconcerned, Allette removed one of the bitter citrus from the burlap. Her hands trembled, threatening to give away her anxiety, and she nearly dropped the rest of her fruit while trying to retie the knot. The merchant gave her a dubious look, as if expecting her to complain as soon as she tasted the fruit. Not wanting the attention, Allette walked upward, hugging the inside of the spiral, avoiding the other pedestrians and pull carts.

  The first taste she had of the citrus was like being home. It came to her in a refreshing rush, even the bite bringing sweet memory and tears to her eyes. She didn't fight them this time; it was too real and poignant. Somehow she knew her father was gone, the Maker's Mark was gone. Her crewmates were lost to her. She was alone.

  "It is against the law to discard refuse in the streets," a deep, authoritative voice said from behind her.

  Allette turned to find the guard watching. How he had managed to sneak up on her was something of a mystery since she was usually very aware of the space around her, but she supposed distraction had left an opportunity open. Looking down at the sculptured street, she saw a bit of peel.

  "I didn't know I dropped it," Allette said, keeping her voice low and deep.

  The man just grunted and looked at her as if she were a squirming bug under his thumb.

  Allette wasn't going to give him the chance to squash her. Throwing the rest of the fruit at the man, she turned and ran. It gave her a only few steps' advantage over the man; he recovered quickly and used his long legs to outpace her. Only Allette's lithe movements, sudden and seemingly at random, kept the man's hands from closing around some part of her.

  People stood shocked and gaping as the two approached, but as the shock wore off, a wide avenue cleared before them.

  "Stop her!" the guard behind her yelled. No one stepped in front of Allette, and she put her head down, trying to gain speed while he shouted. At the sound of his feet pounding on the carven stone street, Allette knew she was in trouble, and she turned hard to the right, nearly stopping her forward momentum. To her left was an archway, and despite not knowing where it led, she dashed inside and never looked back. The man's cursing told her all she needed to know: she had achieved a minor advantage.

  When she burst into an enormous open area, the first thing Allette saw were men in leather suits, some with long braids in their hair and others with braided beards, all beneath hand-crafted leather helmets and goggles. Allette recognized them as dragon riders and grooms. By then it was already too late. Still at a full run, she could not stop herself when the biggest head she'd ever seen dropped down in front of her. The towering nostril was nearly large enough to sail the Maker's Mark through. Still, Allette's momentum carried her forward; that was until the massive dragon snorted. The change in direction was complete and instantaneous. Allette could do nothing but windmill her arms as she flew backward. When her feet touched stone, she was cast onto her backside and her head slammed into the unforgiving stone.

  She would have stood and run, but she could not; the leather sole of the guard's boot pressed her face into the cold stone.

  Chapter 2

  Beware the advice of fools and the mercy of tyrants.

  --The Lady Lissa Kyte of Ravenhold

  * * *

  The shadow of a horse and rider entered the covered entrance to Wolfhold, and the silhouette revealed a long bundle strapped to his back. Sinjin Volker swallowed hard. He knew what the rider bore, and it was all the proof anyone would require that his mother was dead. If she had been alive, she would never have allowed anyone else to get their hands on her staff and Koe, but that was exactly the burden this man bore. Clearly aware of the weight of this parcel, the soldier's shoulders were sagged from fatigue and perhaps something more.

  Kendra pressed a little closer to Sinjin without appearing to mean to. Her touch momentarily caused his thoughts to stray, but then he was again reminded of how powerless he was. Two of the most powerful objects in all the lands were about to be delivered to him, and he could do nothing with them. In the hands of his mother, they had been implements of might; in his hands, they were but a walking staff and a carving of a cat, however well crafted they might be, however much potential they might hold. Only to the gifted were the ancient relic and his mother's carving truly useful. Only in their hands could the power be harnessed, focused, and delivered. He was better suited to wielding the belt knife that hung at his waist--a gift from his uncle.

  Jharmin stood beside Sinjin, and at his nod, the rider approached Sinjin with the bundle he unstrapped from his back. Going to his knee, albeit slowly and with a groan, the man presented the long bundle to Sinjin. Wrapped in coarse cloth woven of dried reeds, the length and weight of the package gave no question as to the contents. The weight of it surprised Sinjin when he took it from the man.

  "Thank you," was all he could say before his voice cracked.

  Kendra stepped closer and squeezed his arm. It was odd just how much that gesture helped to keep Sinjin calm. Somehow the contact with her grounded him and allowed the excess energy to flow out from him.

  The man stood slowly and, at Jharmin's nod, departed.

  "I'm sorry," Jharmin said. "If Lady Lissa were not on her way here, I'd surely go with you. Are you certain you don't wish to wait until she arrives so that we can all go together?"

  Sinjin nodded and Kendra squeezed his arm again. For some reason he would never be able to understand, the gesture annoyed him that time. Everything between Kendra and him was complicated, and he never quite knew how to interpret her actions. At times he wanted to think she was there only to support him, but he also knew she had strong opinions about what he should do next, and he couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't some subtle coercion there as well.

  "You know you can trust Hand," Jharmin said, "and he'll get you safely to the Dragon's Wing."

  Again, Sinjin nodded.

  "Are you certain you don't want the blanket to conceal you?"

  "I'm certain," Sinjin said. "I'm no longer very valuable to the ferals, and they have no way of knowing I have the staff and Koe. I don't think I could stand another journey under that blanket."

  "Know that you are always welcome here," Jharmin said, despite all of them knowing that statement was only half true. Jharmin might welcome them, but Sinjin doubted Lady Lissa ever would.

  Even as he spoke, the weight in Sinjin's hands became oppressive, weighing down on his soul. Something gnawed at him, demanding he remove the rough cloth and hold the Staff of Life and Koe in his hands, despite knowing the pain it would bring. Somehow he felt
he deserved the pain. Why else would he have so much of it? His hands moved without conscious thought, and the cloth of reeds fell away.

  Kendra bent down to pick it up. "Maybe you should leave those wrapped up," she said, but then she saw the look on Sinjin's face as he held the staff and Koe, tears streaking down his cheeks, falling to the cold stone, which seemed somehow appropriate. She placed the crude cloth onto the growing stack of items they would take with them. Perhaps Jharmin was normally a generous man, or perhaps he was so in this case out of guilt, but the result was more gifts than they could practically carry.

  Sinjin had promised that they would leave Wolfhold as soon as the soldier arrived with the staff and Koe, but he felt reluctant to go. Deep inside, he knew that parting from this place, the last place he'd seen his mother alive, he would be facing a world without her in it. He knew it was ridiculous to think that staying here somehow changed the fact that she was gone, but he also knew that memory would fade, and stepping away from this place was a step farther from that most recent memory.

  Men--"good men," Hand had told them--gathered around and stood waiting for the command. Hand looked to Sinjin, who turned his gaze to Kendra; she stood with her arms crossed over her chest and one eyebrow raised. "Could you please help us load the carriage?" Sinjin finally asked, hoping his reluctance wasn't overly obvious. The fact that Kendra rolled her eyes didn't bode well, as few things ever did with her, Sinjin thought. Either way, the men loaded up the gifts of clothing, food, and coin into the waiting carriage. The horse seemed irritated at having been harnessed for so long without going anywhere. It swatted the air with its tail and made sharp clapping sounds when it stomped on stone.

  "Thank you, Uncle Jharmin," Sinjin said. "You have been kind to me."