by Jae Waller
Parr rested his arms on the solid stone railing. “My colleagues have offices in the pavilions. I prefer the view from here, particularly on the rare days that the mountains are visible.”
Beyond the high wall around the grounds, the Roannveldt sprawled hazy green with crops. The Stengar meandered across the plain until it was swallowed by mist. I leaned against the railing. “I can’t look east without thinking about what’s happening there.”
“A wise man keeps one eye on his enemies and one on his friends.” Parr glanced at me. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Miss Kateiko.”
“Why did you want to see me, sir?” I was uncomfortably aware how much of a mess I was. My hands were stained orange from the lichen, skirt smudged grey with ash, boots covered in mud, hair escaping its braid, and my cloak needed patching. My head ached from drinking brånnvin with Airedain the night before.
Parr deliberated over his words. “Are you still in contact with Tiernan Heilind?”
My hands tightened around the rough stone. “Sort of.”
“I have urgent matters to discuss with him, but Heilind is, shall we say . . . unreceptive to Council emissaries. I hope you might be able to persuade him to meet me.”
“I’m — not sure that’s a good idea.” I pressed my fingers to my lips. “He’s intent on not returning to Caladheå. He just got married, you know.”
Parr looked taken aback. “Did he? To whom?”
“Marijka Riekkanehl. Do you know her?”
“We have met. Well, best wishes to them. Nevertheless, that does not change the situation. I will visit Heilind if he does not wish to come here.”
I gazed at the lawn below. “I’m sorry, Councillor, but Tiernan and I aren’t on the best terms. I’m not sure he’d forgive me for bringing you to his home.”
“Kateiko.” His voice was heavy. “Do you remember saying you would find out what Suriel wants if you were in my position?”
“Yes. I remember.”
Parr took my hand. His skin was warm in the damp air, the gems on his rings lifeless in the dull light. “I have been in contact with Suriel. I know what he wants.”
My head jerked up. “You spoke with Suriel? How? When?”
“Within the last few days. A Corvittai approached me to negotiate. I requested to meet Suriel to hear his terms directly.”
“A Corvittai? Who?”
“I promised to keep this person’s identity secret. A condition of their trust.” His hand tightened on mine. “The important part is Heilind is the only person who might be able to help.”
The shoirdryge. It had to be that. I wasn’t surprised Tiernan told Rhonos about his work, but Parr was the last person I expected to know. “Tiernan thinks Suriel’s trying to get to another world,” I said hesitantly. “Is that right?”
“Along those lines. His goal is slightly different than Heilind’s, but he is willing to accept help. That is an opportunity we cannot let pass.”
“Isn’t there anyone else you can ask? Ingdanrad, or — or the Okorebai-Iyo—”
Parr laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Ingdanrad shut its gates long ago. As for the Iyo nation, that bridge has been burned until the river below flows thick with ash.”
Every drop falling from the overhang prickled at my senses. I heard the patter on the stone loggia, tasted rain in the air, felt it nudge at my mind. “What would it mean for us, sir? If Suriel got what he was after?”
“It may mean the end of this war.”
I’d asked Parr not to give up. And he hadn’t, even as he faced down the entire Council, as the troops he’d once captained fell to the Corvittai, as everyone else turned on each other. I owed him the same.
“Then I’ll take you to Tiernan.”
•
The soonest Parr could get away from his Council duties was three days later. He said it’d look odd if we left the city together, so I agreed to meet him on the road into North Iyun. I worried that Parr might recognize Anwea as a military horse — for I was sure she’d belonged to a Caladheå soldier once, along with the elk-sigil armour taken by the Corvittai — but Iannah told me soldiers used all sorts of breeds. Eremur was too remote to be picky.
Parr arrived on a brawny soot-black stallion. As we rode, he kept up polite conversation, telling me the history of landmarks in Caladheå, asking if I’d had this or that type of Ferish food — yes to papriconne broth, no to a bread I didn’t understand the name of. He steered us onto a new topic whenever I fell quiet. It was a nice distraction from what lay ahead.
I sensed the flow of the creek before I heard it. “Hold up a moment.” I slowed Anwea to a halt, pretending to adjust the reins while I searched for a glimmer in the air. My palm tingled as I disabled the warning runes. “Sorry. It’s just ahead.”
Tiernan had explained how the runes worked after I set off the blinding light on my first visit. Apparently I’d been immune to the ones at his cabin because I was inside the circle when he set them. He’d tweaked the ones around Marijka’s home so I could use water magic to temporarily disable them.
“Tiernan?” I called as our horses splashed through the creek.
He walked around the corner of the greenhouse, carrying a dirt-encrusted shovel over one shoulder. “Hello, Katei—” He bit down on my name. “What is he doing here?”
“Please don’t be mad.” I slid down from Anwea, pressing close to her warm body. “I brought Councillor Parr to speak with you.”
Tiernan drove the shovel into the ground. “I have no interest in what he has to say. Nor should you.”
“I would not do this if there was any other way, Heilind.” Parr dismounted with practiced ease. “This regards Suriel. Let us put the past behind us. You dwell on the edge of a battlefield and I would not see you or your wife suffer.”
Tiernan rounded on me. “You told him about Maika? What else does he know?”
“Nothing!” I said, my voice rising. “Tiernan, please hear him out. Please.”
He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Come inside.”
The kitchen looked almost the same as before. Among Marijka’s flowers and herbs, I recognized clay dishes from Tiernan’s cabin, his hunting knife by the fireplace, and the stone wolf makiri on the mantelpiece, sheltered by rubbery leaves. “Where’s Maika?” I asked as we settled on rough wooden chairs.
“At Crieknaast’s military hospital, cleaning up the most recent battle.” Tiernan cast a pointed look at Parr. “Now, what do you want?”
“Your expertise.” Parr laid his black riding gloves on the table. “Suriel has offered conditional peace. He wishes to access somewhere called the void. His air magic cannot break through all layers of the barrier around the world, so he requests the aid of a rift mage.”
Tiernan was silent. Then he rested his elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands. “Någvakt bøkkhem. That means nothing good for any of us.”
My brows drew together. “What’s the void?”
“The space between worlds. Like the tiniest gap between adjacent walls. No scholar has found a scrap of evidence it exists.”
“No scholar has studied rift magic as extensively as you,” Parr said. “The Corvittai have known about your work for some time, Heilind. They came to me because they know we are acquainted.”
Tiernan wasn’t listening. He paced the kitchen, weaving around the roots hanging from the ceiling. His face took on that distant look I’d seen so often. “Of course. The shrine fire. Suriel knew exactly what he was doing.”
I twisted in my chair. “What do you mean?”
“He only needed a force strong enough to tear open this side. The weak side. But why—” Tiernan snapped around to look at me. “When was the Toel Ginu shrine built?”
“Ai . . .” I chewed my lip. “Almost seven hundred years ago?”
He s
lammed a fist into his palm. “Bøkkai! I cannot believe I overlooked that.”
“Overlooked what?”
“I thought Suriel was searching for the shoirdryge that split off a decade ago. I did not begin finding his runes until after that. But another shoirdryge split off more than six hundred years ago. It has drifted so far away that no one sees it anymore.”
I stared at him. “Just how many of these do you know about?”
“Only those two.” Tiernan ran a hand through his hair. “The new world is too close to get in between. Maybe Suriel was using the shrine as a sort of . . . focal point for the space between the older world and ours. It is one of the few structures in Eremur that precedes the split. Gods know what he will destroy next.”
“That is a risk we will have to take.” Parr leaned forward and placed his folded hands on the table. “Suriel did not divulge why he wants to access the void, but he does not plan to return. He says other air spirits from surrounding regions will divide up his territory and manage the wind. Our only hope of being free from his shadow is for him to depart this world.”
Tiernan shook his head. “It cannot be done. You would have better luck throwing Suriel into the ocean and hoping the tides devour him.”
“Caladheå cannot help. Ingdanrad will not. You may be able to.”
“No,” Tiernan said with sudden vehemence. “Were my previous refusals not sufficient? I will have nothing to do with a dangerous spirit the Council has angered time and time again.”
“If that’s what Suriel wants though. . .” I hesitated. “Maybe he’d stop attacking everyone.”
“Until he becomes angered by my failure.” Heat rippled out, shimmering around Tiernan. “I have turned away from that path. I will not go back to it.”
Parr rose, his chair scraping. “Heilind. We could end this conflict once and for all.”
Tiernan faced him down. The room felt too small. I stood, acutely aware I was between two men with years of military experience and a good deal more physical strength, and placed myself so they had to look past me to see each other.
“The Council did not allow us to leave Dúnravn Pass to call for reinforcements,” Tiernan said. “They did not allow Crieknaast to abandon Dúnravn, or order Rutnaast to abandon the port. They did not make amends with Ingdanrad for letting mages be murdered in custody. All these chances, yet all I see is desperate men asking others to lay down their lives.”
“Do not fault me for the cowardice of ignorant men,” Parr said, his voice growing louder. “Montès is dead. He is no longer around to cloud their minds—”
“Montès was only the mouth of the political body. The inside had already gone to rot.”
“Do not punish Eremur for a government that cannot govern. You are a better man than that, Heilind.”
“My obligation is to my wife. You have no grounds on which to judge what kind of man I am.” The plants around Tiernan began to wilt. The kitchen crackled as if embers had spilled on the floor.
Parr’s hand slid under his coat hem toward his knife. After seeing him take down a rioter at Skaarnaht, I had no doubt he was still in practice from his combat days.
I stood still, faint from the heat, my skin damp with sweat. “Tiernan.”
He looked at me in silence. Slowly, the crackling faded.
Tiernan turned his attention back to Parr. “If I ever want to be the kind of man who drives away his own family, I know who to ask for advice. Now get out of my home.”
Parr’s mouth formed a thin line. He picked up his gloves and strode outside.
I dashed after him, blinking in the harsh sunshine. “Councillor, wait!”
“I am sorry for wasting your time,” he said as he crossed to the paddock. “I should have known better.”
“Sir, let me talk to Tiernan.” I reached out and caught his elbow.
Parr turned to me. “I can recognize a man who has made up his mind, Miss Kateiko. That said . . .” He reached into his breast pocket and handed me a small card. “This will grant you entry into the Colonnium. Please come see me if you ever need help.”
It was stiff white paper with the rearing elk sigil stamped in red ink. Parr’s name was written in bold strokes. I held it to my chest. “Thank you, sir.”
“I would be glad to see a kind face again.” Parr gave me a sad smile. His black hair shone in the midday light. “Farewell.”
I waited until he’d ridden across the creek and out of sight. A breeze stirred around me, carrying the sweet scent of flowers and sun-warmed grass. The leaves whispered an invitation. I pressed my fingers to my lips and went back inside.
24.
SAIL
“I don’t understand.” I leaned against the kitchen doorframe. A breeze floated through the window, cooling the room. “Suriel never stopped you before. Why now?”
Tiernan took down one of Marijka’s ceramic plates, painted with a chestnut horse pulling a sledge over snow. “I made a promise to Maika.”
“That you wouldn’t leave. Not that you wouldn’t help anyone else leave.”
“I also promised to take care of her. Nothing good can come from working with Suriel.”
“You’d condemn everyone else to death instead?”
Tiernan replaced the plate in the rack. “I gave those people ten years of my life, Kateiko. Ten years of war and loss and futility. Maika is all I have left.”
“What about me?” My voice cracked. “Suriel almost killed what’s left of my family. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Of course it does.” He touched my chin. “But he is seeking the impossible. There is nothing I can do.”
I slapped his hand away. “How do you know? You won’t even talk to Suriel!”
He took a step backward. “Kako—”
“Don’t call me that!” Hot tears stung my eyes. “Rhonos asked for your help, Parr asked — I thought if I asked maybe you’d agree, but you don’t care what happens to anyone else! Maika would care!”
Tiernan stilled. I saw his heart pounding through his tunic. “Do not bring Maika into this. If she learns what Suriel wants of me—”
“What are you afraid of?” I pushed him back, forcing him into the centre of the room. “She’s your wife! You’re supposed to trust each other!”
He placed strong hands on my shoulders. “I will not risk my marriage over this—”
“Does she know who she married? A man who’d let the rest of the world burn?” I struck my fists against his chest. He grabbed my arms, but I twisted free. “You’d let — all of us — die!”
Tiernan dodged. A flowerpot shattered on the floor. “Kateiko, stop!” He pinned my arms down and wrapped his arm around me.
I struggled in his grip. I couldn’t even move my head with my braid clamped to my back. All I could see was him, the scar across his nose, his tanned skin, the dark stubble along his jaw. I felt his warm breath on my cheek.
I slammed my knee into him. “I should tell Maika! I should tell her you don’t care if Suriel kills us all! Are you afraid she’d leave you?”
Tiernan’s grip tightened. “You will not speak to her about this. If you tell her anything, do not consider yourself welcome here again.”
I stared into his grey eyes, the heat making me dizzy. He released me and stepped back. His hair was damp, my hair was damp, and I didn’t know if it was sweat or humidity or just water rolling off me and colliding with the burning man I both loved and hated at once.
I strode outside, slamming the door, and spat on the grass until the taste of woodsmoke was gone.
•
Our words played in my head as I crouched in the forest, eyeing ridge ducks on a pond choked with green algae. Maybe I never knew Tiernan as well as I thought, but Marijka knew him better than anyone and still she married him. So why was he afraid of her finding out?
I kn
elt, searching for a good angle through the trees. Soft lichen squished under my hands. I slid into a cottonwood stand, the catkins bursting with white seed puffs. Ducks charged at each other, splashing up water. Feathered ridges on their heads flared.
Then it hit me. Maybe Tiernan wasn’t keeping Suriel from Marijka, but Marijka from Suriel.
Marijka studied at Ingdanrad. She was a mage. She knew Tiernan had been searching for a rift. More importantly, she was worried enough to refuse his marriage proposal. That meant she thought there was a chance he might succeed.
I readied my throwing dagger, Nurivel, its blade dappled with leaf shadows. It was muggy under the canopy, even so late in the evening. The solstice was only a few days away.
Every season had a day for uniting with others. The autumn equinox with other Rin after our summer travels, Yanben with aeldu, the spring equinox with other jouyen. For two hundred years, Jinben had been about uniting with itherans on the summer solstice.
A duck launched from the water. I threw my dagger. The duck tumbled from the air and splashed into the shallows, wings twitching. The others skittered away squawking.
I was sure about one thing. Marijka would care.
•
I went back the next day, slinking along the creek under cover of the overhanging trees. Tiernan was on a ladder cleaning leaves out of the gutter. The day after that a white dress hung from the laundry rope behind the house. Marijka’s broad-brimmed straw hat poked over the top of tomato plants.
“Hello, Maika,” I called.
She stood up and smiled, brushing dirt off her apron. Her hands were pink with sunburn. “Good morning, Kateiko. I’m afraid Tiernan’s out hunting.”
I stopped between the waist-high rows. Cottonwood fluff covered the soil like snow. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you alone.”
Marijka tucked her trowel under her arm. “What about?”
