by L. W. Jacobs
They went again, and this time she was more careful, running for Tai every time she caught hint of a revenant, dodging around them but cutting it close enough that the revenants would hopefully brush him as Nauro tried to herd them toward her.
It worked—the next round she got Tai out first, and eliminated Marea soon after. Then Nauro started to wise up to her tricks, and it seemed like as soon as he said start, the air would be a rush of blurry shapes coming at her from all sides.
She got touched first the next three rounds. On the bright side, she was really learning to see the things.
“Enough,” Nauro said at last, far too soon, when they were all out of breath and Marea was flat on her back in the snow after tripping over a log, and Feynrick was hoarse from laughing. He, of course, thought the pack of them running away from invisible monsters was hilarious.
Nauro siccing the revenants on her on purpose, to keep her from winning? Not as hilarious, but nothing she could do about it.
“Two nights without guyo duty,” Nauro mused, mouth twitching in a smile. “What will I even do with all my time?”
Ella stayed silent, having learned by now she only made herself look stupid when she spoke in anger. But she would get a revenant. She would learn shamanism. Maybe if there were other shamans at the waystone, she could convince one of them to give her a training revenant.
Without revealing their real identity, of course.
“So why,” Marea asked Nauro between pants, as Feynrick put together some leftovers for lunch, “isn’t your head a cloud of revenants? Surely you’ve got a bunch of them thralled.”
“Thralled, yes,” Nauro said. “But with me? No. What’s the point? Once a revenant is tied into your uai stream, there’s no need to be physically proximal to each other. Otherwise you’d have to keep all your thralls within walking distance, or risk losing the uai they’re feeding you.”
“So you just—left them somewhere?”
“Mine are nearby,” Nauro said. “I gave them instructions to fan out in the woods and look for hosts. I’d rather not tip any other shamans off to my uai stream, and I certainly don’t want to show up with a host of revenants about me, if there’s company at the waystone.”
That made sense. “But what about us?” Ella asked. “If we meet shamans, surely it will look strange to have five adults with only Tai attached to a revenant, and even then only for his lower resonance.”
“I’m glad you brought that up.” Nauro cleared his throat. “Unpleasant at it might sound, I’m afraid I’m going to have to attach revenants to all of you for the rest of the journey, so that we don’t stand out. A single revenant is fine, as in the north many people barely put off enough uai to feed one, but having none is unusual indeed.”
“Another ghost?” Feynrick bellowed. “On me?”
“No,” Marea snapped.
“Fine,” Ella said. “One on condition.”
Nauro raised an eyebrow, but he knew what she was going to ask for. He had to.
“Put a mosstongue spirit on me. Make me an initiate too.”
“I told you, I don’t have any that are fit for training.”
“But you agreed in the last exercise to put one on me if I won. Meaning you have one you can do it with.”
Nauro smiled. “I did agree to that. But not to when I would put it on you. Didn’t you say you were a calculor once, my dear? I’d expect more attention to detail.”
Ella clenched her fists and held her tongue. The man could be insufferable. “Then put one on that’s not fitting. We’ll work it out. I find it hard to believe that in all the revenants you captured in the forest, and all those you took from the last shaman, that there aren’t any mosstongue spirits.”
Nauro sighed. “This is why we train acolytes and initiates for years before giving them a revenant. You are smart, Ellumia, but you do not have all the information you need to draw conclusions in this matter. The revenants I have been gathering, that the other shamans are gathering, are mindseye revenants. Entirely. There is no point in taking on other revenants—they are still thralled to an archrevenant somewhere. In fact, it is highly dangerous to do so.”
“Why?” Ella asked, unable to stop sounding petulant.
“Because when you thrall a revenant, its uai goes to you rather than the archrevenant. And if that minor subtraction from their uai stream happens to draw their attention, your death will be sudden and swift. They do not tolerate shamans, because we are the only true danger to their power. This is why we train journeymen for years before teaching them to thrall. A single mistake could destroy an entire cell.”
Descending Gods—draw an archrevenant down? That was serious. And yet— “How then did you have a mosstongue spirit to put on Tai? Wouldn’t taking it also draw the ire of the gods?”
“No. Not so long as I didn’t try to thrall it, to take its uai. Which is why you can all feel very safe—I am not going to put mindseye revenants on you, so your uai will not be entering my stream. Instead you’ll be feeding the old gods just as surely as humankind has been since before the Prophet.”
Ella clenched her fists. “And these other revenants you are able to easily find, but not a mosstongue for me?”
Nauro’s mouth twitched—a sure sign he was irritated. Good. Maybe she would wear him down through sheer strength of will. “Again, you know enough to sound intelligent, but not enough to actually be that way. Not just any revenant will do. I will let you know when I find one that fits.”
“We already have one that does. Tai’s revenant. Surely it’s seated by now. Take it off and put it on me.”
“It has seated, but for whatever reason he hasn’t attracted a secondary revenant yet. I imagine a mind as—experienced as his does not look as attractive to a revenant seeking a stable host.”
Or because Nauro was keeping any secondary revenants away—but Ella didn’t say that. Enough. She would find another way. “Fine. Give me a brawler, if you can. I’ve always dreamed of having a brawler’s strength in slip.”
“Timeslip brawler slips are fearsome indeed,” Nauro said. “Very well. Prepare yourself.”
Ella did, but very little changed, just a slight tingle in her forehead. Marea, however, gasped.
“I can see it!” she cried, staring at Ella. “I can see your revenant!”
Tai stared at her a moment, then his eyes widened too. “I can too!”
“Yes,” Nauro said. “Revenants are more visible and most vulnerable the moment they attach. For many of them, it is like being woken from a deep sleep, and they do not have their wits about them enough to hide. Marea, Feynrick? Preferences on your ghosts?”
“Anything,” Marea said at once. “Everything. A slip. Make me a timeslip.” Her eyes cut at Ella.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any of those—they are quite rare. A wafter, maybe?”
“Fine. Yes.” She looked lit up, and Ella could understand it. Marea had worked for months in her school, helping other people come into their power, and knowing the whole time she was a blank. How exposed must she feel, how vulnerable, being out here without even a resonance?
If nothing else, even if Nauro abandoned them, they knew how to overcome revenants. In fact, if they timed it right, the power they offered on first overcoming might be very useful.
“Wafter for me too, then,” Feynrick said. “If ye have to.” He grunted as the revenant hit him—Ella could see it clearly as it attached, a drawn-out wavery form, like looking up at someone from beneath the surface of a murky lake.
“And for yourself?” Ella asked, eager to see it a third time.
“Oh, a mindseye, I suppose,” Nauro said. “I’ve actually kept my original revenant all these years. Comes on and off like an old coat.”
“How far are we from the stone, anyway?” Marea asked, after the novelty of the visible revenants had worn off. They didn’t seem to be doing anything but clinging to their host’s backs, sort of like a worn-out cape. Made of smoke.
“I’m ho
ping to reach it today,” Nauro said. “I recall a few low draws like this near the site.”
“Well, thank the Prophet. I for one am looking forward to not having to walk for a day or two.”
“Just do not get lazy because of it. Remember most of the world’s shamans will be thinking of visiting this place, and the archrevenants will be taking special interest too. Watch your tongue. You have still seen little, in terms of what these people are capable of.”
“I saw Semeca,” Marea said, but her voice had gone quiet, and they didn’t speak again until they saw the stone.
13
Tai almost missed it, blue starlight drawing long shadows over the snow-white valley ahead, as they crested a long saddle between two rocky hills. It looked like one big shadow—except for the tip of the stone, catching the star’s failing light.
Marea sucked in a breath. “Is that—”
“It is,” Nauro said. “The Yati Waystone, also known as the Wanderer, named by some the Sounding Stone, though reasons why are lost to history.”
What surprised Tai, though, was not the size of the stone—it did stand double the tallest tree’s height, but he had seen larger boulders on the way here. It was the snow.
There wasn’t any.
“It’s—warm?” Tai asked. “Where’s the snow?”
The stone stood in the center of a circular bowl perhaps two hundred paces across, free of snow. There was green grass, even.
Nauro shook his head. “It shouldn’t be warm. Unless—”
Tai met Ella’s eyes, a shock of excitement running through him. “Unless this was Semeca’s stone,” she said.
“Unless there’s uai pouring from it.”
“Too bad if so,” Feynrick said, axes clinking on his belt. “Because someone beat us to it.”
Tai focused on the miniature valley, still small in the distance. Yes, there were tents—fifteen, maybe twenty of them. Ella drew in a breath, and Nauro gave an uncharacteristic curse, though it was in no language Tai understood.
“What would you estimate,” Tai asked the Yati militiaman. “Thirty people? More?”
Feynrick grunted. “More like forty I’d say, judging by fire rings. A lot more than we can battle, is the short of it.”
Worry wormed its way up Tai’s spine. “If that’s the stone, we have to get down there. Get to it before they do.”
“Calm yourself,” Nauro said, sounding peaceful despite his earlier outburst. “If they knew how to get the stone open, they would have done so by now. There is no guarantee this party even knows of Semeca or the real purpose of the waystones.”
“Be a piss of a coincidence if not,” Feynrick said.
Tai nodded. “Maybe better if one of us goes down alone and feels it out.”
The Yatiman shook his head. “This main of a road, if they’ve got any kind of training they know we’re here. Might as well all go.”
“I’ll stay here,” Marea chimed in. “No need for us all to get killed, right?”
Tai glanced at her, not wanting to put the girl on the spot, and not needing more than a glance to read the fear in her eyes. No wonder. She was physically weak with a blank resonance—all the danger of the past few months would have been double for her. It was a wonder she’d made it through all the Broken attacks on Ayugen.
“You can stay if you want,” was all he said. “We’ll come back when it’s safe.”
Her chin shot up. “Oh, no. You’re not leaving me behind. I’ll be fine.”
Prophets, the girl was harder to read than Aelya drunk on dreamleaf. “Alright then. But let’s go slow, make lots of noise, be sure if they don’t know we’re here yet, they figure it out before we’re on top of them.”
Feynrick nodded and they made their way down, rattling the bells on the elk and Ella beginning to talk like he rarely heard her, in Yersh so thick with scholarly words he could hardly parse it, falling into her supposed role of researcher. Nauro joined in with Yersh just as thick, and Tai let the language wash over him, focusing instead on his other senses.
No fresh tracks in the snow—the other party had been here a while. No scouts, no visible ambushes—they were either very good, weren’t trying to keep people away, or didn’t know the true nature of the stone.
Nauro had said he would know if the stone was active, that it would feel different. Tai glanced at him. The man seemed unfazed—but then, he always seemed unfazed. Maybe it was a product of long life—he had gotten the impression little affected Semeca either, in those few eternal moments he’d spent in her mind.
Hard to imagine. Life had been nothing but surprises and danger as far back as he could recall.
The road had a small spur turning toward the bowl around the stone. They were nearly to the edge of the trees before someone called out. Feynrick held up a hand to halt them as a chorus of shouts rang through the other camp.
Tai felt inside for his resonance. No need to strike it yet, but he could feel the uai there, thick and heavy from all the wintergrass they’d been eating. Forty men. Forty fighters? Even with their abilities, that would be a hard battle to win.
And for what, Ydilwen asked inside. For the right to touch the stone? Is that all the justification you need to kill men like me? That we are in your way?
Tai shook his head. The revenant had to speak up now, when he most needed his concentration.
A pair of men detached themselves from the camp—not an orderly one of straight rows and uniform tents, like the camp they’d seen at Gendrys. Not military at least, then. With any luck, not overtly Councilate at all. Though they certainly weren’t a ring of guyos, like an Achuri party would make.
The hazy blue of starset made it difficult to make out the men’s features until they were close. One was lighthaired, the other dark with the fine strands of a Seinjialese, both dressed in ornate Councilate waistcoats with straps and buttons down each side. Tai shifted the heavy furs on his own shoulders, making sure they covered the scar on his neck. Aside from his height, that was his most recognizable feature.
And if Nauro was right, the last thing they wanted was these men recognizing him.
“Ho, travelers,” the darkhaired one called out in plain Yersh. Not of Worldsmouth, then, though his companion could be. “What brings you to the hinterlands?”
“Scholarship,” Ella replied. “We—that stone. Descending Gods, but they are so much more impressive in person, don’t you think?”
Her voice had gone breathless and a few degrees higher than her normal tone, playing the highborn lady.
The two men exchanged glances, appearing to take each other as equals despite the differences in hair color.
“They are,” the Seinjialese one said. “You are… scholars of the stone?”
“Of the waystones generally,” Nauro said, for his part sounding exactly like he always did. He held out a hand in the Councilate fashion. “Nauro Eddinsley, of the Landley-Hafyen Institute. We have traveled long and through many dangers to arrive here. It is good to see some friendly faces.”
“Likewise,” the Seinjial man said, though his companion didn’t look as friendly. “Ollen Firstblood, of Seingard. I see you haven’t brought much; are you not staying long?”
“Oh, I’d guess not,” Ella said in the same breathless tone. “The tribesmen are too fierce for that. Honestly, I’d feel much safer just knowing you and your men were nearby. Have you had any trouble with them?”
“We know how to handle them,” the lighthaired one said, in the slurred tones of a Worldsmouth native. At least he and Ella could bond on that. If this conversation didn’t go well, they would be hard-pressed to fight their way to the stone. And what then? Even if they did, it sounded like Nauro and Ella would need time to figure out how to open it.
“What’s the cause of your hurry?” the Worldsmouthian went on, looking far less welcoming and trusting than his partner. “I would think summer a more hospitable time to visit the stones.”
Tai’s shoulders knotted—here was
the crux of it. Why indeed would someone travel to a forgotten stone in the dead of winter, if they didn’t know about Semeca and the rest? He hated not being able to speak, to add his voice, but he had the wrong accent, and so far the men had barely glanced at him or Feynrick, which was all for the best.
“Scholarship,” Ella jumped in. “There are theories that the ancients placed the stones at cartographic and astrological points relating to the stellar orbit. According to Nauro’s mathematics, and I do think he’s correct, the only way to truly verify that is to be here during the solstice, which as you must know is rapidly approaching.”
“Is it,” the lighthaired one said flatly. Tai’s shoulders knotted again.
“Are we welcome here, friends?” Nauro asked, a little more bluntly than Tai would have done. “We don’t intend to interrupt whatever it is you are after. These sites, after all, are our shared heritage, and we believe all should have access, whether you are an academic or not.”
“We are petitioning for it, actually,” Ella piped up, before the men could respond. “In the chambers of the Councilate itself! Do you know that the Gyolla have certain sites protected as Historical Preserves, for anyone to visit? Don’t you think us terribly backward, for destroying such cultural relics as are still available here, among the less civilized races? I mean, imagine a few of these tribal hilltops made into heritage parks for others to come and examine! How much more so these stones, our last remaining inheritance from the Prophet himself!”
Ollen glanced between Ella and Nauro, eyes skipping the rest of them. “You two are… partners of some kind?”
“Oh yes!” Ella said. “Or, well, not—you see, I have always had a love of ancient history, and the stones in particular, but never had the freedom to study in an academic sense. My husband, you understand. But when he passed, well, Nauro’s been good enough to let me take some small hand in his research, and the least I could do was bring together an expedition to visit them all.”
The men’s eyes softened then, glancing again between Nauro and Ella. She was good at this—not only had she convinced them she was a harmless fool, but in tying Nauro to such a fool had made him seem like a second-rate scholar as well, and implied they could only afford a few retainers. Far from a threat. Brilliant.
