“That's written in Rahkish.”
“Can you read it?”
“No. I only recognize it because of this symbol. I don't know of anyone alive who could read it without using Tessen's enchanted spectacles or some other lightbinder translator.”
Tessen paused at the edge of the last bookshelf. Maybe he wouldn't need to speak with Ragan tonight if Kemi was keeping him occupied.
Ragan cleared his throat, then spoke again. “I read a couple languages. None of the dead ones. South Isle Orcan, Satlan Elvish, Dwarvish, Kindala. That last one's tricky, lots of nuance in the flourishes. Can't speak a word of it, but I read it fine. Jade black market was using it in their code for a while so I had to learn it to run intercepts.”
Silence, then the slow scrape of wood against stone. Three bounding footsteps, and then Kemi was around the corner and looking up at Tessen. The slight elf's dragonlike blue eyes narrowed as she pushed her short black hair behind her pointed ears, revealing a galaxy of freckles across her pale cheeks and temples. She grinned, then said, “Good. I know you've been standing there long enough to hear what we need you for. Come translate.”
“I wasn't eavesdropping,” Tessen said. He took a step backward, but she caught his wrist and yanked him forward. She was stronger than her petite form suggested. Tessen was three hands taller than her, yet she often bested him in a fair fight. She was the only one who could anymore.
“You were. I heard you before you even made it into the library. You're loud on the stairs.” Kemi reached up to touch Tessen's neck. She withdrew her hand and held it up. Blood dotted her fingertips. “Why are you bleeding?”
Tessen pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his blood from Kemi's fingers. “Iefyr caught me.”
“You must be having one of your slow days. Next time remind him to heat his blade so any wounds are cauterized, or have him cauterize it after he cuts you. I know heat makes him nervous, but he needs to learn how to use his skills for more than lighting candles. He's a much stronger witch than he wants anyone to know, but that aptitude is useless if he refuses to explore it.” Kemi yanked on his wrist again. “Come on. It's getting late.”
Tessen followed Kemi into the study area, where they had to navigate a jumble of stacked scrolls and books to reach the desks. The mess must have been Ragan's doing. The few other people who used the library would have had the courtesy to clean up after themselves.
“You need to keep your mayhem under control, Ragan,” Tessen said as he eased himself into the wooden chair opposite Ragan.
The tawny-haired half-Faeline set down a heavy tome and looked up at him, his bright blue eyes wide and his triangular ears perked. His long, plush tail swished through the back rails of his chair. His freckled nose twitched as he nodded toward Kemi. “Not my mess. Kemi, I told you if you get it out, put it away.”
“I can't. I'll forget where things are and won't be able to cross-reference. I have a system here. It only looks disorganized.” The young elf slouched into a third chair and shook her fingers through her hair. She touched it more often than necessary, but Tessen knew she was uncomfortable without the long hair that was a cultural tradition for elves, especially highborn elves.
Ragan's tail knocked over a pyramid of scrolls. He grimaced as they rolled across the floor and collected at the frayed edge of a runner rug. “It's a gods-damned hazard. Figure your shit out, Princess, or I swear I'm gonna put all of this away where it belongs.”
“You wouldn't.”
“I would and I will. I know you've been working as hard on this as I have, but I can't tiptoe through the stacks like little mouse you can.”
Tessen rested his elbows on the desk and his chin in his hands. “Mayhem also applies to home, Ragan. You're stressing out Iefyr.”
“Not my fault he's fussy about housecleaning.” Ragan stretched his arms to the sides, narrowly avoiding a stack of books. “He can't stand anything being out of place, but his idea of where things belong isn't the same as mine.”
“You should move into your own house. We have plenty of them,” Kemi said.
Ragan shrugged. “I don't like living alone, and neither does he. We get along fine other than his need to be tidy.”
“Squeak!” A small pair of white legs appeared at Ragan's right. Tessen shifted sideways so he could see tiny Cadriel. The dragon was nine months old, but he was still small enough to sit on Ragan's palm. Cadriel would never grow bigger than a goat. Useless, Kemi called him, and she often reminded everyone that the High King only bound people to pixie dragons if he was intent on insulting them. Ragan reminded her in return that he had grown fond of the little beast and wouldn't stand for anyone reducing him to a joke.
Cadriel yawned and stretched his legs and pink-membraned wings. He nuzzled Ragan's hand as he circled the small amount of clear space on the desk, then curled up around a small silver disk. He yawned again before closing his eyes and returning to sleep.
“What's his treasure today?” Tessen asked.
Ragan smirked. “Silver mark from the Azure Realm. I guess if we ever get to Auberline we're all set for a couple days of luxury, but it's only worth the materials anywhere else. He dug it up in the potato field the other day and won't let it out of his sight.”
“You should have Iefyr make him a little pouch like the ones he made Serida and Auna. Then he can carry it with him easily.”
Ragan stroked Cadriel's pale flank. “He doesn't have opposable thumbs like those girls have. Still, I think he'd appreciate having both the coin and use of his front feet. He clutches that damned coin with the same ferocity as Yana with her spellbooks. Won't even let me touch it. Holding pouch is worth a shot, though.”
To Tessen's left, Kemi shoved a book pile against the nearest shelf, then straightened it.
“What did you need me to translate?” Tessen asked.
“Oh yeah, that. Got distracted.” Ragan flipped a book open, then shoved it across the desk. “Don't read it aloud, just give me a summary.”
Kemi leaned over Tessen's shoulder while he studied the page. A triangular spiral was bordered on each edge by a block of text. He slowly rotated the book to read each section.
“Well, can you read it?” Ragan asked, an eyebrow raised.
Tessen glanced up at Ragan, then adjusted his spectacles and looked back down. “What exactly are you researching here?”
Kemi's hand settled on the back of Tessen's neck. Her fingers were cold and dry. “Don't worry about it. Can you read it?”
“I can.” Tessen swallowed and turned the book so the open edge of the triangle faced Ragan. “This language uses a lot of symbols to communicate so little. Anyway, I think it's part of a ritual. It says there are need to be three . . . three somethings. This word doesn't translate into anything that makes sense. Tephromancy curators? That's as close as I can get but it doesn't mean anything to me. Anyway, there need to be three of them for this ritual—preferably a mage, a warlock, and a witch. Light manifestation, shadow manipulation, nature domination. They're infused with blood, ash, and knowledge. Individually they are the apex of their magical realms, but together they are . . . well, this section is blacked out so I have no idea what they are. Someone scrawled in this language's equivalent of 'a massive festering anus'.” Tessen turned the page, squinted, then flipped back to the page preceding the triangle. “The rest of this appears to be a cookbook. Want to know how to make smoked rock lizard casserole? I might give this barley bread recipe a try. If we have anything to spare, it's barley.”
“Damn it all and sard the barley.” Ragan leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “Sorry, Tes. Wasn't anything new, was hoping it was. We already knew about the triad.”
“Triad?” Tessen flipped through the pages. Nothing but recipes. “Seriously? Dragon egg omelet? That's grotesque. Who are these people?”
“Rahki,” Kemi said. She pressed her fingertips into his neck and a knot released. “They were kind of like goblins but they lived in burrows
instead of caves. They're gone now, have been for centuries.”
A diagram of a seven-pointed star caught Tessen's attention. It sat opposite a recipe for mushroom pottage. He ran his fingertips across the points. “I've seen something like this before. Seven stars. Warlock spell. These words at the points are just . . . just colors paired with random things. Violet: shadow. Red: fire. Green: nature. Blue: creation. Silver: infusion. White: restoration. Orange or gold: ?. Just a question mark for that one, no word. I know what these are. Aura colors, magic colors. Shan told me about them. He can see them.”
Ragan closed his eyes and touched his fingers to his lips. “More warlock shit. Dunno why it's stuck in a cookbook. Leaf through there, see if there's anything else.”
The pages rippled under his fingers as he avoided their brittle edges. “Instructions for how to use vinegar to get blood out of upholstery. Spider fritters with cricket marmalade. Yana might like that one. Some hand-written vulgarity in the margin here. Aphrodisiac chowder...”
Ragan stood, startling both Cadriel and Kemi. He yawned as he scooped up Cadriel and tucked both dragon and coin in his satchel. “I'm too tired to keep up with this tonight. Why don't you take it home with you and see if you can find anything else hidden there. Kembriana, I swear to you if you don't straighten up this mess before I come back in here tomorrow, I'm gonna put all of this away where it belongs.”
“Leave her alone and go clean up your own mess, Ragan,” Tessen said. He closed the book and tucked it under his arm. The air rippled with unease.
Ragan stepped over a pile of papers on his way into the shelf maze. “Not in the mood, Tessen. Tell Yana to stay out of my garden. I know she's the one who's been stealing my rutabagas.”
“Tell her yourself.”
Ragan shook his head and disappeared into the library.
Kemi waited until his footsteps faded into silence before slipping into the unoccupied chair. Her weary eyes regarded Tessen with interest. “Does your neck feel better?”
Tessen stretched his neck to the left, then the right. “Much. How do you always know when I have a spasm there? I didn't feel it myself until you released it.”
Kemi shrugged and rubbed the side of her nose. “You hold your head at a slight angle. Are you all right?”
“I'm just tired. Why?”
“Don't know. You seem tense.”
“I'm only reflecting everyone else's tension.”
“Hmm.” She drummed her fingers on the desk, then sat fully upright and leaned forward. “I'm trying to help you learn to shut that off.” She gestured toward three stacked books on the edge of the desk. “Everything I've found so far about empaths is in that pile. It isn't much.”
“I don't think the Nightshadows believed in empathy, and I don't think I want to shut it off.” Tessen's arms felt numb. He needed to go home and get into bed before he could no longer safely navigate the stairs. “It's me, just me. I've always been this way and now suddenly everyone is uncomfortable. Maybe it's because your mother gave it a name. Maybe it's because I'm now aware that it's not considered normal to feel this so I'm noticing every little shimmer and vibration that I was able to ignore before. Either way, I don't want to shut it off any more than I want to shut off my vision or hearing. It's the same sort of thing. Just another sense that helps me navigate the world. It's who I am. Please don't try to change me to fit your idea of what's normal and acceptable.”
“I don't want to change you.” Kemi's voice was barely a whisper. “I only want to relieve you of some of your anxiety.”
Tessen shrugged as he stood from the chair. His right knee wobbled and he caught himself on the desk. “That I'll let you try, especially if you can cure me of those damned phobias. I feel like the anxiety might be part of who I am too, though. I've always had it and I don't know who I am without it. I need to go to bed now. We'll talk again tomorrow.”
She waited until he was out of sight to whisper, “Yeah, tomorrow. Always tomorrow.”
Her disappointment followed Tessen out of the library and down the stairs. He'd have to make time for her tomorrow. Tonight was a lost cause.
5
Shan
The red and silver flags of Anthora fluttered in the breeze. The windows faced the wrong direction for Shan to feel if it was a cold wind or a warm one that swept down from the Mordova Mountains to dance upon the vast network of bridges below. The Halls of Anthora sat high above Bacra's capital city, a looming presence cut into the prominence of Graywing Peak. Within The Halls were level upon level of stairways and bridges, and rooms cataloging thousands of years of elven history. Libraries were tucked into rounded corners and residence suites were so scattered that one could spend a day knocking on doors and not find a single room occupied by another inhabitant. High King Nylian Lightborn's families were tucked away somewhere within those thousand rooms. He had three of them: young Astrea and her pair of red-haired toddlers, Gwenela and her six children under the age of fifteen, and five of Nylian's seven surviving children with Queen Consort Lyssandra. The six and seventh, Kendrian and Kembriana, no longer resided in Anthora, and it was clear from the way Nylian spoke of them that he didn't expect them to return.
The wind shifted, rattling the flagpoles. Silver dragons on red fields turned to face The Halls, their flapping wings and gaping jaws desperate to escape the flags that entrapped them so they could fly into the looming mountains. Shan held his hand out the window. Nothing, just warm and stagnant air in a deceptively blue sky. A burning tingle swept from the base of his skull into his left temple. A storm was coming.
The door opened and closed behind him. He didn't turn around. If it was Nylian or one of his younger sons, Shan didn't want to greet them. If it was Marita, he didn't need to.
A slender arm embraced him from behind. Shan glanced down to see lines of runic tattooing on freckled olive skin. “Hi. Sorry I didn't turn around. I was afraid it was him again.”
“You don't need to turn around for anyone.” Marita said. She squeezed him, then let him go. “I brought you more books. And fruit from the market. I have no idea what it is, some sort of alpine berry. Delicious. How . . . why are you all tangled up in yarn?”
Shan held up his left arm, pulling with it a knotted spiderweb of blue yarn. It looped around both of his legs and trailed of under the bed. “I have no idea. Lumin, probably. Wasn't paying attention.” He sputtered his lips as he exhaled. Outside, the dragon flags became agitated. The burning tingle spread into his forehead and behind his eye as sparks ignited the floating ash in his peripheral vision. The real pain would start soon, as it did every time a weather change blew into the mountains. “I want to go outside.”
“I know you do. I'm trying to get us moved to a suite with a balcony garden. He seemed open to the suggestion when I asked.” She pressed a smooth oblong capsule into Shan's palm before retrieving a pair scissors to cut away the tangled yarn. “Take that willow bark. I bought a whole pouch of it. There's a storm coming from the west, but I'm sure you're already feeling it.”
“I am. Is it a storm-storm or a Fae-storm? I'm assuming we're still at war with the Fae?” Shan placed the capsule between his teeth. He allowed his saliva to collect before swallowing it.
“If Nylian has his way, we'll be at war until not a single living Fae remains.”
“He's ridiculous. He should fly over there and take on the Fae King himself instead of killing more innocents. Most of those people had nothing to do with his son's death, but he's slaughtering them anyway. They have plenty of magic-skilled, but they have no chance against this onslaught of battle dragons Nylian has unleashed.”
“He wanted a war and King Mirabreln was happy to gift him one. They sit on their thrones while their people suffer.” Marita pulled the last of the yarn off Shan. She balled it up, then tossed it in a wastebasket. “Let's not talk about this right now. You're as bad as your brother when it comes to blaming yourself for things you had nothing to do with, and you're worse about it when you've got
a headache coming on.”
Shan spun Marita into an embrace, then eased her into a kiss. She tasted of strawberries and mint, and smelled as wonderful as her lips tasted. She relaxed against his chest and caressed the back of his neck. His tattooed skin no longer hurt and he wasn't sure how long it had been since it healed. Time perception was a sense reserved for those not held captive with no hope of release.
A dark green mist enveloped them. It was cool and fragrant, somewhat reminiscent of a snowy pine forest. Shan's perception tilted to the left and he sank to his knees. Marita sank along with him, her hands in his hair and her lips still searching for his. The burning in his head transitioned to effervescence.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
She kissed him, gently at first, then more forcefully, more longingly, as if until now he had been lost to her for ages. When she released him, he sank further, slumping onto her lap like a dropped ragdoll. Her loose hair tickled his neck as she leaned over him to kiss his temple. Her fingers walked across his forehead, his collarbone, the still-unfamiliar curl of his numb fingers.
“I have a fir sprig in my pocket. It's from a tree fed by the glaciers of Aerie Peak, the most concentrated source of green magic in the Diamond Realm. I'm using its energy to soothe you. I left a potted seedling from the same tree by the door. We'll need to move it near the window later so it gets enough light.” Her touch was a gentle breeze, her voice no louder than the rippling flags. “I'm sorry I surprised you, but you don't like it when I work my magic on you. I can help your headaches and insomnia, but you refuse to let me. I'll never use it to hurt you, so please trust me.”
Shan's limbs were heavy. He could move them, but he didn't want to. The headache might return if he sat upright, so he stayed on her lap and gazed through the residual sparkles at the undulating green.
Marita's fingertips returned to his temple. “I didn't want to do this without your consent, but you're too stubborn to admit my magic can help you. I needed to show you that it can. There is no reason for you to suffer this particular pain.”
Spellkeeper Page 5
