The GodSpill: Threadweavers, Book 2

by Todd Fahnestock

  She and Elekkena were so engrossed in the lessons that Mirolah was surprised when Medophae interrupted them.

  The lamp illuminated his handsome face in sharp relief. “We are nearly there,” he said.

  She and Elekkena rose, looking east. They could see the hulking shadow of mountains against the midnight-blue sky. Below that jagged horizon, pinpricks of light dotted the shore.

  Mirolah leaned against the rail. “That is Teni’sia?”

  “Yes,” Medophae said.

  “Where you came from, before you joined Orem’s quest.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry for what happened to Queen Tyndiria.”

  “Thank you.” He was quiet for a moment. “I did not think I would return,” he said. “Not in this lifetime. But now I find myself anxious to get there. If Zilok has taken up residence, the people of Teni’sia are in danger, and I made mistakes when I left. I should have stayed to see Tyndiria’s cousin, Prince Collus, safely installed on the throne, but I...just left.”

  “It will be all right,” she said.

  He pursed his lips doubtfully. “Well, I simply came to tell you we’ll be docking within the hour. Make certain everything is ready to take ashore. And be ready for what we discussed concerning Sniff, Stavark, and Elekkena. We can avoid a great many questions if they are not seen by the port authorities.” He pulled his golden hair back into a ponytail and tied it, then tied an old kerchief around his head.

  “That’s fetching,” she said.

  “I’m in disguise.” He returned to the helm, talked with the captain, pointed to the horizon.

  Elekkena went to tend to the horses, but Mirolah lingered. The boat’s lamplight streaked across the black water as though painting a path toward their destination.

  38

  Mirolah

  The lights of Teni’sia pleased Mirolah. From a distance, they were like quiet fireflies, winking shyly. But as the ship came closer, she found the view breathtaking. Dark minarets pierced the night sky, rising out of the craggy cliffs as though they had been carved from the rock. It was difficult to tell where the cliffs ended and the castle began.

  Mirolah remembered her first impression of Calsinac. She had never seen such mighty walls, such high towers. But though it was obvious that Teni’sia was barely a quarter the size of Calsinac, she found it more beautiful. Calsinac had died long ago. It was a hulking, beautiful husk, but Teni’sia teemed with life. It felt like safety, knowing that at least in this place, humanity had prevailed.

  The ship pulled into an empty berth, and Mirolah went to work. Sniff, Stavark, and Elekkena slipped quietly over the rail of the ship, and she levitated them gently to shore. She made certain they hovered low to the water where the casual observer would never look for them. Both Stavark and Elekkena wore their cloaks and kept a dark blanket over Sniff. They were practically invisible under the night sky. They alighted on a shadowed landing and disappeared into the space between two dockside shacks.

  No sooner had the ship’s crew thrown a rope over a barnacled pylon than three dock officials marched down the creaky pier to meet them. They waited impatiently as the captain and his men lowered the gangplank.

  “Something strange here,” the wizened captain murmured to Medophae. “I don’t see Slider.”

  “He is your usual port official?” Medophae asked.

  The captain gave a quick nod. “And I never seen three officials watchin’ the docks before. Two of them look like soldiers, or I’m a squid.”

  Medophae grunted agreement.

  The captain walked calmly down the gangplank to meet the officials. Mirolah could not hear their words, but as they discussed, the captain became more and more animated. Soon he was making gestures with his hands, as though on the edge of fury. He kept pointing at his ship. She caught a couple of phrases such as “just passengers...” and “tired and wish to eat and sleep...” and “don’t need to be bothered with such nonsense...”

  The official firmly shook his head, and the two soldiers came alert, ready for trouble. Finally, the captain bowed his head tersely. He started up the gangplank. As he was halfway up, he said over his shoulder, “You’ll cost me my bonus this day, I warrant.”

  The official remained stony-faced.

  When the captain returned, he spoke in a normal tone, but made apologetic gestures, like he was breaking the bad news to them.

  “It’s as I thought. Something’s amiss. They want to inspect you. They told me that they never get ships in this late, and that’s a bucket of chum. I come in under the stars often enough. Slider knew me well. I asked where he was, and they didn’t like that question one bit. I argued with ’em. Said you were paying customers, and that you wouldn’t like the idea of someone prodding your personal items. But they’re going to search you.” He paused, looking at Medophae. “I tell you, something in Teni’sia stinks like low tide. What would you like to do?”

  Medophae was thoughtful. “Let them aboard. Tell them we will submit to their inspection. We have nothing to hide.”

  Nothing that they will find, at any rate.

  The boat creaked softly in the sway of the water as they led their horses out of the hold and down the gangplank. The crew of the ship watched with interest as they lined the horses up in front of the dock official. His two guards stood a measured distance away, watching them with hawk eyes.

  The official looked them up and down. “And who are you, exactly?”

  Medophae stepped forward. “I am Gorlior from Corialis Port. This is my wife,” he indicated Mirolah.

  “Remove your hood,” he said to Mirolah. She did so. “You come from Corialis Port?”

  “Yes. We are recently married.”

  The official grunted. “And what is your business here in Teni’sia?” he asked Medophae.

  “A visit to my uncle,” Medophae said, then put on a curious face. “I must confess I have never had such trouble entering the city before. Has something happened?”

  “Nothing as concerns you,” the official said and turned away.

  He walked up to the saddlebags and Medophae went to help him. The two guards stepped forward, drawing their swords. Medophae stopped at the blades pointed at his neck. The official turned lazily, pursed his lips.

  “Exactly where are you going?” the official asked.

  Medophae’s eyes narrowed, but he did not move. “To help you go through the bags, of course.”

  “Were you now?” the official said. “I think I can inspect a few bags on my own.”

  “Of course.” Medophae stepped back. The official continued his search. He went through each bag thoroughly, dumping items on the dock as he dug to the bottom. He moved from bag to bag, throwing their belongings onto the wet wood. Something in Mirolah’s belongings gave him pause. He withdrew the Harleath Markin’s journal and thumbed through it. His eyes narrowed and he turned to Medophae again. “Who does this belong to?”

  “My wife.”

  “You read books?” he asked.

  “For the pictures, sir,” she said.

  “You can’t read it?”

  “Read? Of course not,” she said.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You get changed by The Wave?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “You do anything strange? Turn things other colors. Move things without touching ’em?”

  He studied her, and she tried to keep the anger from her face as his emotions floated to her. He was hunting for threadweavers, and she felt his greasy hope float over to her. There was some reward for this thing he was doing, for finding anyone with unusual abilities. Something bad happened to threadweavers in Teni’sia.

  She thought of the moment in Rith when she had become one of the GodSpill, had spread across the lands of Amarion and seen the sparks of new threadweavers like Elekkena. Mirolah had hidden her threadweaver abilities in Rith because of fearful men like this. It was men like this who had killed her brother. If Mirolah hadn’t been so afraid to use her powers, if
she’d begun learning in Rith like she had in Denema’s Valley, she could have saved Fillen from that darkling. She could have saved them all in Denema’s Valley, and Orem will still be with them.

  She was tempted to grab the man’s threads and fling him into the ocean, but Medophae had warned them to be careful. She glanced at him, then back at the official. “Move things?” she asked. “Without touching them?”

  The official stared at her. “There are many dangers after The Wave, and we have to keep an eye on them. We keep these people in a safe place, so they can’t hurt no one. They are dangerous to normal people.”

  “I see.”

  “Some can send a dagger flying ’cross the room without throwing it. I’ve seen it myself. One of them can light a piece of parchment on fire by pointing.”

  “I see.” She tried to sound afraid, but she wasn’t sure if that was coming across over her anger.

  Medophae put a calming hand on her shoulder.

  “You may enter the city,” the official said, sounding bored now. His disappointment floated from him. There would be no reward for him this day. He turned on his heel and walked back up the dock.

  The two guards waited a moment, then one of them turned and followed. The second remained, and his eyes opened a little wider. He turned and hurried to catch up with his fellows.

  Medophae watched his back until he disappeared into the darkness.

  “We should go now,” Medophae said.

  “That soldier—”

  “Either he knew me, or he recognized something about me. If he doesn’t already know who I am, it’ll come to him shortly. We’ll take rooms along the wharf tonight. I know a place.”

  They paid the captain and thanked him, then the three of them went to join Stavark, Elekkena, and Sniff. Medophae said he knew of an inn close to the docks where no one would recognize him. They would get some rest, then explore Teni’sia at first light.

  39

  Elekkena

  Elekkena rose quietly from the bed. She moved so softly that Stavark did not wake. He was a light sleeper, and she gave a brief smile for herself that she did not disturb him. Medophae had purchased two rooms for them in a run-down inn by the docks. She and Stavark slept in one while Medophae and Mirolah took the other.

  She crept across the floor, grabbing her pants and her boots, and paused before the window. Across the street, a man in ragged clothes staggered, finally stopped and leaned against the stained shop wall, slid down to a sitting position and uncorked a bottle.

  Elekkena found that nothing within herself had changed. She still loved them, every single one of them, from the poor and the drunken to haughty kings and queens. If she let herself, she could stop, just like this, and watch them for hours. She’d had to guard against that inclination while traveling with Medophae and his companions. She’d had to be careful not reveal too much of her true personality.

  The man on the street drank a few more swigs before he passed out. His hand fell and the bottle cracked on the cobblestones.

  She couldn’t linger here. She had business.

  She believed in destiny, not in coincidence. She’d lived long enough to see that strings of coincidences formed patterns. Of course, it was human nature to shrug and pass coincidence off as the unknowable, but that was only because they lived such short lives. One had to look beyond the seventy or so years of a human lifespan in order to see the patterns.

  In her time, she had watched coincidences like beads on a string, leading to the great cruxes of history. And here in Teni’sia, tonight, she felt the fate of Amarion balancing on a precipice. A queen had fallen and a new king had been installed. The GodSpill had returned. Medophae had come out of exile, and Zilok had followed him. And they were all in this place. History would pivot here.

  She murmured a few silent words and reached into the threads of the door latch. It opened as silent as still air. Once in the hall with the door closed behind her, she pulled her loose pants on, tied them and cinched the soft, braided rope belt with the thin wooden buckle favored by quicksilvers. She laced up her soft leather boots.

  She looked at the two doors; behind one was the sweet and dedicated Stavark, behind the other the most powerful young threadweaver she’d ever seen, and Medophae, of course. She had grown quite fond of Mirolah, and the young woman’s connection to the GodSpill was staggering. It was as though she bobbed on an endless wave of GodSpill. When Elekkena had healed her in the mist forest, the GodSpill had actually tried to wrench Mirolah’s soul away. That was the first time Elekkena had ever seen anything like that. Ever since, she had been keenly aware of how the lands paid heed to Mirolah as she walked by. The seagulls on the ocean. The skin dog. And it probably focused on her in other ways that Elekkena had not seen yet. Being so inexperienced a threadweaver, Mirolah simply assumed it was normal.

  It wasn’t.

  The GodSpill never chose sides. Or...it never had before. The human lands had come to the brink of total destruction during the GodSpill Wars because the GodSpill didn’t take sides. It was a resource, like water, occasionally deadly, but never benevolent or malicious. But the GodSpill fawned on Mirolah. It also made demands of her, as though they were in some kind of lover’s quarrel.

  The GodSpill had changed during its imprisonment in Daylan’s Fountain. Either that, or Mirolah had somehow changed it when she destroyed the Fountain. She had somehow given it a personality. The idea was frightening.

  She longed to ask Mirolah about it, to explore what had happened, but she certainly couldn’t tonight. If they survived this knot in history, perhaps afterward the two of them could sit down for a long month and talk about GodSpill and nothing else. Perhaps Elekkena could stop pretending that she was an ignorant novice, and the two of them could create wonders that humanity had never before seen.

  She bowed her head and looked at her boots.

  Yes, and perhaps the sun would rise in the west and set in the south. Perhaps the dragons would come and live peacefully among humans. Perhaps Calsinac would burst into life once more.

  Bitterness washed over her, and a desperate loneliness. So much had been taken from her, and it was sometimes hard to pretend otherwise. She drew an incautious breath that whispered in the hallway.

  She found herself stepping toward Medophae and Mirolah’s door. She even put her hand on the latch before she stopped herself.

  Don’t I deserve to see him once more before...?

  She cut herself off mid-thought. No. It wasn’t about what she deserved. It was about what she could give. It was about how she could help others. It was about how she could help them get what they deserved.

  Mirolah had sacrificed much for one so young. She deserved this brief moment of happiness before history pivoted on her shoulders.

  Slowly, Elekkena turned away from the door. With a scoop of one hand, she gathered her long, silver hair into a ponytail and bound it back. On silent feet, she descended the stairs and left the inn.

  The moment she was out in the night air, she felt better, and every step she took away from the ramshackle inn eased the tightness in her chest. Her goal was the correct one: protect them. Help them.

  She wound her way up the hill, through the streets and toward the palace like a shadow. Teni’sia was built on a slope, from the crest of the mighty castle towers down to the waters of the Inland Ocean.

  It had been a long time since Elekkena had walked these streets. Much had changed, but the layout was the same, and she headed ever uphill as the broad shore of Teni’sia narrowed into the canyon that led to the castle. Once she neared the castle, she recognized what she used to call “Royal Row.” She could not remember its actual name. It was probably changed by now anyway.

  The expensive wares of the wealthiest merchants lined the cliffs just outside the castle. The nobles never needed to go far for their shopping, certainly not down to The Barnacles where she had just come from.

  The road that wound up to the castle was a gully that had been lined on e
ither side with shops, cliffs rising sharply behind them. A wall had been built into the cliffs, blocking the road and dividing the outer city from the inner city. No one could approach that wall without being seen. The guards had the high ground and total visibility. It could be held by a half dozen guards against an army, and the only way to get around the wall was to scale the cliffs on either side, which had been smoothed and polished fifty feet up. Even a lizard couldn’t scale that.

  But she had talents a lizard did not.

  She paused in the deep shadows between two shops and contemplated the open gate. Two guards stood on either side, holding their long, steel spears straight up. Two more paced the wall above. They were all well protected with scale-mail shirts, greaves, and bracers. Short swords hung at each of their sides. The long nose guards of their helms hid their eyes in darkness and gave them a sinister, inhuman appearance.

  No one could sneak close enough to those guards to surprise them. And these men were alert. They did not stand like they had taken this boring shift every night for the past three years. They stood as though they expected something to happen tonight.

  For about twenty feet in front of the wall, there were no shops, just a clear cobblestone street with no place to hide. She crept along the buildings, pressing herself into the ever-decreasing shadows until she was as close as she dared.

  Murmuring a few words, she closed her eyes and visualized her desire, touching the threads of the air on the far side of the street. A crouching, darkened figure emerged from the shadows and made a run for the gate. A shout went up from a guard on the top of the wall, and he rushed over to that side with his crossbow. The two gate guards moved forward to intercept, just as the shadowy figure turned left and dashed away from them.

  While their attention was elsewhere, Elekkena jogged to the wall and laid her hand upon one of the huge blocks, murmuring. It shivered and crumbled as if made of dry sand. She shimmied her way into the newly made alcove, then did it again on the next block, then the next one, opening a hole through to the other side.