Shards of Time

by Lynn Flewelling

  Standing among the dead horses again, she took stock of her situation. She had suffered nothing worse than a few bruises in the fall. She had her sword and dagger, and a full skin of water, together with a cloth-wrapped meat pasty and a couple of apples in her saddlebags. And something else.

  Reaching into her pouch, she found the painted message sticks Thero insisted she always carry. Taking one out, she snapped it in two and waited expectantly for the little sphere of light to appear. It didn’t. Wondering if the stick had been damaged somehow in the fall, she took out another one and broke it. Again, nothing happened. That left her with just two. After a moment’s consideration, she broke a third. Still nothing. Whatever had happened to the first one seemed to have happened to them all. Saving the last one just in case, she set about gathering what supplies she had.

  It took some effort to pull the saddlebags out from under Moonshine, but she managed it and gave her faithful mount a last pat on the neck. “You carried me through so much, my friend. I can’t believe Bilairy took you in such a horrible way.” Her vision suddenly blurred with stinging tears. She’d found Moonshine at the Cirna horse market the day she’d met Alec. The stallion had carried her through peace and war and peace again, never flinching.

  Wiping her eyes, she studied the sky, trying to guess east from west. There was no point in remaining here among the dead. Choosing what she hoped was the way back to camp, she set out across the dry, uneven plain. It was rough walking and before long she was tired and thirsty. She stopped to drink and eat an apple, then continued on.

  It was impossible to tell the hour here. She rested when she was tired, drank sparingly when she was thirsty, and ate small portions to make the food last. Night was falling when she came across a deeply rutted road fringed with dry grass. In the distance she thought she could hear the river, though it was getting too dark to see that far. With only the distant rushing sound to guide her, she set off along the road. She was thirsty and hungry again, but was down to her last apple and a bit of the pasty. Resisting the urge to finish them off, she sipped from her slack waterskin and kept going.

  She hadn’t gone far when she saw a tiny point of light ahead of her, bobbing like a firefly. Hurrying toward it, she soon made out that it was a lantern.

  “Hello?” she called out, breaking into a run. “Please, I need help!”

  The light stopped moving and Klia soon gained on it, at last making out the form of a woman carrying a basket under one arm, with her lantern swinging from a short link pole over her shoulder.

  “Who’s that?” the woman called out in heavily accented Plenimaran, raising her light.

  “I mean you no harm,” Klia called breathlessly in the same tongue, stopping a few yards away so as not to scare the woman. “I’m lost. Please, can you help me?”

  The woman put her basket down and raised the link pole in Klia’s direction so they could take stock of each other. She was of middling years, Klia guessed from the lines on the woman’s face, though her hair was covered by the long black shawl she wore over her head and shoulders. Her clothing showed her to be a prosperous peasant. Her skirt was clean and embroidered around the hem in a style Klia didn’t recognize. An islander, obviously. The woman was regarding Klia with some suspicion mixed with interest.

  “My name is Klia,” she told her. “My horse bolted and now I don’t know where I am.”

  “You’re not Island,” the woman said, coming no closer. “I can tell from your accent you’re not from here.”

  “I’m Skalan.” Klia paused, debating how much to reveal. “I’m a soldier. I was heading to Deep Harbor when my horse spooked.”

  “That’s a great, long sword you have there. I’m of a mind to be fearful of it.”

  “You have nothing to fear from me,” Klia said, holding up both hands. “All I want is somewhere to stay the night, and then directions back to Menosi.”

  “You came from Menosi?”

  “Yes, I was just there.”

  The woman took a step back, holding her light a little higher. “I knew there was something uncanny about you. Are you a spirit?”

  Klia laughed outright at that, though there was more weariness than humor behind it. “I’m as solid as you, I promise. Here, touch my hand.”

  The woman hesitated, then sidled closer and reached out to her. As their fingers brushed she gave Klia a relieved smile. “There, and just as you say. You’re mortal after all. Come along, then, my dear. You can stay at my house in Zikara tonight. It’s not far.”

  “Is that a town?”

  The woman nodded and continued on the way she’d been going.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” Klia said as they walked along.

  “Myna.” She reached into her basket and pulled out a bread roll. “You look hungry, soldier.”

  “Thank you.” It was fragrant with cardamom and tasted wonderful.

  The sound of the river grew louder as they went on, and the road soon dipped and ran along the bank. The clouds obscured the stars; the woman’s lantern was the only light, and it didn’t cast far.

  At last the lights of Zikara came into view. It was surrounded by a wooden palisade, but the guard knew Myna and let them through.

  Zikara was a poor, rustic place. A few grimy lanterns hung on hooks here and there, and even at this hour wild-looking black hogs wandered the streets. The largest structure was a squat, three-story tower that loomed over the town. Lights burned brightly in the windows, many of which were made of stained glass.

  Unfriendly faces peered at them from out of the shadows of alleys and doorways as Myna led her into a twisting warren of narrow streets. Klia shrugged her saddlebags higher on her shoulder and rested her left hand on the hilt of her sword, keeping a sharp eye out for trouble as they took one turning after another.

  “Is your house close by?” Klia asked at last. She was exhausted and felt like they were going in circles.

  “You must see the great lady first,” Myna told her. “All strangers must present themselves to her.”

  “Who is this great lady?” This hardly looked the sort of place a noblewoman would live.

  “She rules over all you see,” the woman replied and said no more.

  Klia’s grip tightened on her sword. Something wasn’t right. “You said nothing of her earlier. Can’t I sleep first and meet her tomorrow? Perhaps she’s asleep.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s not.”

  Around the next corner Klia found herself in a paved courtyard in front of the tower. Torches burned in brackets on either side of the huge, iron-bound doors, but there were no guards or watchmen. The hair on the back of Klia’s neck prickled as the doors swung out on creaking hinges, but she didn’t know where else to go in this cursed place. Inside was a huge, brightly lit receiving chamber. As soon as she stepped inside the doors closed with a hollow boom that echoed around the vaulted chamber, confirming her worst suspicions.

  A trap.

  Candles blazed in stands all around them, though there was not a stick of furniture to be seen. Or a servant. The only other way out of the room appeared to be a pair of tall oak doors framed by candle sconces at the far end opposite the main doors.

  “What is this place?” Klia demanded, stopping in the middle of the chamber.

  “The great lady’s house, of course,” Myna replied.

  “I’m not going another step until you explain to me why you’ve brought me to an empty tower.” Dropping her saddlebags, she drew her sword.

  Instead she found herself grasping a fat, hissing viper poised to strike at her face. Dropping the revolting thing, she sprang back from it and watched it slither away across the black stone floor. “What necromancy is this?”

  Myna smiled at her, then changed form completely into a stunningly beautiful woman in a red velvet gown stiff with gold embroidery. She had flowing black hair that fell nearly to her waist and eyes the blue of skyflowers. Her flawless fair face was touched with rose at the cheekbones.

&nbs
p; Klia drew her dagger—only to have the blade transform into a long black feather. “What do you want with me?”

  “Why in such a hurry to leave, Highness, when you’ve only just arrived?” the woman asked, her voice kind and melodious.

  A door behind the woman opened and Lady Zella stepped into the room to stand to the stranger’s left.

  “Traitor!” Klia gasped.

  “You mustn’t blame her, dear Princess. She’s not herself.” Her hostess seemed to glide as she came toward Klia, smiling warmly and holding out her hands. “Dearest Princess Klia, what a joy it is to meet you at last.”

  Klia backed away. “I suppose you are the ‘great lady’?”

  “I am indeed. I am Queen Rhazat Ikari. Welcome to my home.”

  That sounded like a Plenimaran name, Klia noted, though the woman had no accent to indicate it. “There are no queens on Kouros. This is a Skalan possession, and the only queen is Queen Elani of Rhíminee.”

  “We must agree to disagree on that point,” Rhazat said with a laugh. Everything about the woman was lovely, except her words.

  “Are you the necromancer who brought me here and killed my escort?”

  “Come, my dear, you must be famished. I’ve had the finest delicacies prepared just for you.”

  “First answer my question.”

  But Rhazat ignored this, too, and went out through the door Zella had come through, her hair a river of rippling obsidian down her back. Clenching her teeth in frustration, Klia followed her, keeping her distance from Zella.

  They passed down a bare corridor and into another large, brilliantly lit room. Hundreds of tapers burned in stands and sconces around the room, and more in holders on the round dining table at the center of the room. A sumptuous feast had been laid out, and the table was set with gaily glazed clay goblets, plates, and many covered dishes. It seemed like humble ware for a self-proclaimed queen.

  There were sideboards stocked with clay platters and plates and clay wine bottles. Though sparely furnished, the walls of the room were covered in painted designs nearly identical to those in the palace at Menosi.

  Rhazat glided to the table and seated herself. Zella took the chair to their hostess’s left and Rhazat motioned for Klia to take the seat of honor at her right.

  “Please, Highness, come and dine with me. I have so few visitors.”

  “Are they all coerced?”

  “I can make you, you know,” Rhazat said with a charming smile. “But I have no desire to harm you, or the wizard’s child you bear.”

  “I’m not—” Klia’s breath locked in her throat.

  “Of course you are, my dear. I can smell it, just as I can smell your noble and ancient lineage on you. It’s a girl child, barely two moons along. I see this comes as a tremendous surprise to you. However did you manage to fall pregnant by a human wizard?”

  How, indeed? Klia kept stubbornly silent, hating that it was this woman who had confirmed what she’d been keeping in her heart for weeks. She hadn’t told Thero yet because she hadn’t dared believe it, but she’d missed one moon flow and another was late. As for the how, she could only imagine it had to do with the dragon bite he’d suffered in Aurënen. It had been on the scrotum, after all, and the Bash’wai spirit had told him his kind would be made whole. He still bore the lissik-stained imprint of tiny dragon teeth. It was the only explanation she could think of.

  “Please, join me for dinner,” Rhazat said. “The child is no use to you before its time, is it?”

  The necromancer’s voice was still sweet but something in her bright blue eyes made Klia’s skin prickle and her gut tighten. Grudgingly, she took her place at the table. The forks and spoons were made of polished wood.

  “There now, that’s nice, three women together, sharing a meal,” said Rhazat. She picked up a small clay bell beside her plate and rang it.

  Klia glared across at Zella. “So all the while, you were a traitor.”

  “In fairness, you can’t really blame her,” said Rhazat, as an emaciated, hollow-eyed woman in an ill-fitting gown and apron entered carrying a roast suckling pig on a platter. Rhazat carved it with a long flint knife and placed the first crispy slice on Klia’s plate.

  Even as her mouth watered painfully and her stomach betrayed her with a growl, Klia noted that there were no other knives on the table. “How do you mean, Zella can’t help what she did?”

  “Do you really want to know, my dear?”

  From behind Rhazat’s chair, the servant caught Klia’s eye and gave her a frightened, warning look.

  “Yes, I do,” said Klia.

  “Very well.” Rhazat drew a complex sign on the air with her finger. It winked out of existence as quickly as it had appeared, and Zella began to retch out black mist that looked like what Klia had seen escaping from Moonshine’s nostrils when he died. It swirled into a column beside Zella’s chair, then materialized into the tall, oddly proportioned figure of what she could only guess was a dra’gorgos. It was just as Karis had described: a hideous figure shrouded in black, with deeper blackness inside its hood.

  The servant fell to her knees with a moan of fear as Zella—pale as chalk now—fell from her chair and scrambled backward, trying to get away from the horrid specter. She looked at Rhazat as if she’d never seen her before, then back at Klia. “Highness, what’s happening?”

  Klia gripped the edge of the table, resisting the urge to recoil from the dra’gorgos. “How long has Zella been like this?” she demanded.

  “Since the night Toneus died,” Rhazat replied. “Despite all that went wrong, I at least snared one useful little fly in my web.”

  “That’s not possible!” Zella gasped. “I’d have known if something so horrible was in me.”

  “Clearly you didn’t, or anyone else.” Rhazat raised a brow at Klia. “It was so kind of you to accept her as your secretary. I’ve learned quite a lot about you and your friends, watching through her eyes.”

  Zella shuddered and sank her face in her hands. “Forgive me, Highness! I didn’t know.”

  “Was it you I’ve been talking to all this time?” Klia asked Rhazat. She had ridden with Zella, talked, laughed, and eaten with her. The thought of someone else looking out of those eyes made her skin crawl.

  “Sometimes yes, sometimes no,” Rhazat replied with a twinkling smile. “Aren’t I clever? Even your wizard lover doesn’t know the difference.”

  “How is that possible?”

  Rhazat chuckled. “Oh, I have quite a few tricks up my sleeve that he wouldn’t catch. In case you haven’t guessed yet, I’m rather powerful. To me, he’s a mere child.”

  “I see. Yet you said something went wrong the night you killed Toneus.”

  “That wasn’t at all what I wanted. He’d have been ever so much more useful to me than Zella. You and your troublesome hunting hounds wouldn’t be here if not for that.”

  “Then why slaughter him?”

  “I’m telling you, I didn’t kill him or his woman. That’s where things went wrong, you see. When my dra’gorgos poke a little hole between your world and mine, sometimes nasty things appear from whatever space lies between.”

  “Demons.” Klia thought of Sedge.

  “That’s as good a name as any, I suppose. They can be quite troublesome, getting in my way as they did that night. It really was quite a complication, or so I thought until I began to get to know you, my dear. Really, you’re much more than I could have hoped for.”

  A nasty cold feeling swept over Klia. “What do you mean by that?”

  Rhazat gave her an arch smile. “That would be telling.”

  She waved another sigil on the air. As Klia watched in horror, the dra’gorgos turned to mist again and billowed toward Zella. The woman screamed and tried to get up to run but tripped over her skirts. The dra’gorgos was on her in an instant and as she screamed again it flowed into her nose and mouth. Zella blinked, then gracefully rose to her feet and curtsied to Klia. “Highness, I hope I haven’t alarmed y
ou too badly.”

  Rhazat beamed at Zella. “Isn’t she wonderful, Klia? The perfect puppet.”

  Klia shook her head in disbelief. “She seems so—herself.”

  “As I said, I’m very clever. You can’t possibly understand it, so don’t try. It’s bad for the digestion, and you must eat to keep up your strength.” She turned to the servant. “Phania, get up and serve my guests.”

  Phania? Klia caught the servant’s eye, and she gave Klia a barely perceptible nod. This was the lieutenant Captain Sedge had seen pulled into darkness, though it was hard to imagine that this starved wreck had ever been a soldier.

  One by one, Phania lifted the lids of the dishes on the table, serving Klia and the others a variety of roasted vegetables and meats. Among the latter were tiny stuffed songbirds. They had been a favorite of Klia’s since childhood, but she doubted she’d ever be able to stomach them again.

  “That will do,” Rhazat said to Phania. “Back to your kitchen.”

  With a last despairing look at Klia—or perhaps the food—Phania left the room.

  “Is she possessed, too?”

  “No, she’s just as you see her.”

  “Then why keep her alive if you’re only going to starve her to death?”

  “Because it amuses me,” Rhazat replied. “And I assure you, she has all she wants to eat. But time does take its toll here in my realm. Just look at poor Phania. I doubt she’ll last much longer. That’s why it’s so very important that you eat. If you don’t, you’ll waste away to nothing in no time, and your dear little girl with you.”

  “How quickly you’ve found a weapon to use against me!” Klia spat.

  “On the contrary, I’m trying to protect you both.”

  “By killing my escort, and throwing me from my horse?”

  “Who says your escort is dead? As for that handsome horse of yours, he was not meant to die, but to carry you to me. The poor creature must have had some defect. Don’t worry, though. He’ll serve me well here. Now do eat, for your daughter’s sake. And don’t worry about poison. You and she are worth far more to me alive than dead.”

  The emphasis sent another nasty shiver up Klia’s spine. She took a tentative mouthful of pork, chewed carefully, trying to detect any off flavor, then swallowed and waited for ill effects. None came on, so she picked away at the meal before her.