Phoenix in Shadow

by Ryk E. Spoor

  She flashed Tashriel a quick smile, then turned to Wieran with a sigh. He hasn’t the faintest trace of courtesy. I shudder every time I have to have him come up and interact with other people, for fear he’ll forget his instructions. “I wouldn’t do so without reason, and I think you’ll find this reason more than adequate.”

  She reached up to one of her armor’s shoulderpads and, with some effort, detached a section which had made the one a bit thicker than the other. Beneath the false surface could now be seen a multiplicity of runes and symbols, engraved in a way that strongly mirrored that of the ground below her.

  The blue eyes narrowed, and a hint of a smile appeared—a smile which was not, in any way, comforting. “The data gathering is complete?”

  “I spent several hours in the company of the target. That should be enough, right?”

  “If it is the correct target, yes.” Without request or preamble, long, spidery fingers snatched the former coverplate of her shoulderpad away from her; Wieran crossed with metronome-precise strides to a complicated piece of equipment a short distance away and fitted the thin plate into a holder.

  An entire portion of the array above and below suddenly hummed into life, and a blue-white fire burned for a moment above the plate, a fire whose light both excited and pained her. “Yes, yes, yes! That is the key we have sought!” Weiran said, with the most animation she had ever heard in his voice. “Have it brought here immediately!”

  The joy she felt at knowing victory was at last within their reach was tempered by the sudden demand. “Master Wieran,” she said carefully, “they are currently in Murnitenzei, and the key is not alone. We must take care not to alert any of the party to anything untoward, and really, we haven’t anything with a foolproof method to transport someone so far.”

  Wieran’s mouth tightened, but then he took a breath and relaxed. “Very well, Miri. I suppose I can take the time to finalize preparations for the unlocking in the meantime; it has not been a priority until now.”

  The ground beneath them suddenly quivered—a tiny amount, but more than enough for both Miri and Wieran to notice. Miri glanced involuntarily at the wall she knew lay to the West, and thus beneath Enneisolaten, the great lake. “Is . . . it . . . secure?”

  Weiran’s reply was matter-of-fact, holding none of her uncertainty or—to be perfectly frank with herself—fear of what lay beyond. “The Array holds him, yes. And once the key has arrived, that will no longer be a concern for any of us.”

  “You can keep it restrained for that long? When the cycle is turning in their favor?”

  A short, humorless laugh. “Your desperate bindings held it for millennia before I came; with the perfection of my designs? Not even the Dragon King himself could break free! But I understand your fear; if break free it does, I will not be the one it comes for first, but rather those who asked its aid and then betrayed it. Now,” Weiran turned away, “leave me, Miri. I have work to do and need none of your distractions.”

  “You’re welcome,” she muttered under her breath as she ran back up the stairs. Even his most polite behavior would get him killed in some places.

  But that was only a minor annoyance today. The singing, painful brilliance she had seen stayed with her and erased her resentment at Wieran’s arrogance. Once past the wards at the top, she concentrated and in a flash stepped straight to the hallway outside her own chambers.

  Inside, she quickly set up the mirror-scroll and invoked its power. For several minutes the gold-shining surface remained blank, showing only her own face, but then, without warning, it darkened, and a cheerful, blond-haired man—or rather, something that had the outward appearance of a man—looked out; his boyish grin widened further as he saw his caller. “Why, Miri! What a pleasure, as usual. How are you?”

  “Well enough, Viedra. I have called to thank you; the key we sought has indeed arrived. Master Wieran verified that this morning.”

  “You doubted me? I’m almost wounded, Ermirinovas.”

  “Say rather I was not going to celebrate until I was sure,” she responded with a smile of her own. “But now it is certain. In a month or two, once he has arrived, the entire work will be completed.”

  “A month? Oh, I imagine the old man is a bit put out by that.”

  “He’ll have to accept it. We need to understand both the key and his companion; we don’t want unexpected events undermining the final seal and release.”

  He nodded. “Oh, certainly not. His companion . . . yes, she is quite interesting. Please keep me informed—especially as to her ultimate fate. I’ve been following her myself for a project of my own.”

  Miri raised an eyebrow. “You did not say she was important to any of your projects! I thought we had full operative authority here!” Her jaw tightened. If he puts restrictions on how we can deal with them—!

  Instead, Viedra laughed. “Oh, but of course you do. Take whatever approach you require, just tell me of the outcome, yes?”

  Mollified, she nodded. “As you wish. Do you have any use for Wieran afterwards?”

  “After?” The smile was not quite human, the teeth suddenly a hair too sharp, too shiny. “Oh, I think by then Master Wieran will have outlived his usefulness. Don’t you agree?”

  She giggled, a sound a listener would have found distressingly incongruous with her thoughts. “Oh, I think both Kalshae and I would agree on that.” She smiled in anticipation. “The real question will be whether I get to kill him . . . or she does.”

  Viedra’s laugh was as human as his appearance usually was, big and cheerful and warm. She appreciated that incongruity herself. “Well, then, I wish you all the success possible, and that sounds like a wonderful thing to look forward to. I thank you for confirming things with me. Now, I must be going—” he broke off. “Oh, dear. Yes, there is one more thing.”

  There always is. “What?”

  “There’s another young man following that delightful Phoenix. It’s very important to me that he not catch up to her. Can you make sure of that?”

  “Do you want him killed?”

  Viedra shook his head. “Oh, no, no! I want him to keep following her, just not reaching her, until you are all done, that is. Preferably not even have much contact with those who have seen her. Can you arrange that for me?”

  She was relieved; this would be both simple and amusing. “Oh, I think so. I’ll lay a false trail for him in the opposite direction around the lake from the one they select and periodically check on him. Good enough?”

  “That will be splendid, Miri. Oh, yes—Phoenix doesn’t know she’s being followed, and she shouldn’t be allowed to know.”

  “Of course.”

  “Excellent. Then I will leave you to it—our Father has tasks for me today.”

  Miri waved and the scroll went blank. Glancing at the timecrystal, she bounced up and headed to the Valatar Throne.

  Lady Shae saw her come in and waved absently. Miri, seeing she was busy hearing the grievances of the people and making decisions, went to one side of the Throne and waited patiently. Even small details like this were crucial to the overall plan.

  Finally the last of the morning’s petitioners left and the doors shut behind. “Kerlamion’s breath,” Kalshae muttered venomously, “I grow so weary of this charade at times. Such petty issues they have. Hardly even a decent bout of hate or killing rage or spite.”

  Miri laughed. “Oh, if you take the border areas you can get a lot of that!”

  Shae looked at her askance. “You have the option to patrol; that’s rather limited for me.”

  “The price you pay as the Lady of Light.”

  “Ugh. I feel so contaminated.” Kalshae shuddered and for a moment her form wavered, becoming less human, darker.

  “Oh, I don’t mind; I can switch back and forth between the self I’m being for the game and who I am; it’s become almost its own reality.”

  Kalshae looked at her sharply. “Be careful, Ermirinovas! Dalurshinsu and Yurugin said similar things
before . . .”

  “I know perfectly well what they said. I also haven’t been playing around with the Stars and Sun directly like they were.”

  “Still, you should come down and sit next to our prisoner more often. His darkness is a welcome antidote to that agonizing light.”

  “I’ll try. But unlike you, I have a lot of places I have to travel to. You can always go downstairs in between duties.”

  “Just watch yourself. I’m not sure how either of us could handle all this by ourselves.”

  Miri nodded, but smiled confidently. “Oh, I will. But really, it’s only another few months.” The smile sharpened. “I’ve directed this plan for thousands of years; what could possibly break me now?”

  CHAPTER 21

  Kyri took a deep breath of the morning air, which once more brought that sparkling feeling into her, something beyond the freshness of an ordinary dawn. I wonder how I’ll manage to adapt to the ordinary world when we go back, she mused. Evanwyl will seem dull and grimy by comparison. Even Zarathanton may pall.

  The three of them stood at the eastern gate of Sha Murnitenzei, looking at the rolling hills that led off into the golden haze of dawn, Poplock sitting comfortably on Tobimar’s shoulder. Next to them, Hiriista was adjusting a large backpack, jeweled bracelets and necklaces chiming as he did so.

  Shade Danrall stood nearby, straight as a column; he was to escort them a short distance as he was going on patrol in that direction. Kyri gave him a narrow glance as he looked away. Something about him’s . . . different. She remembered their first encounter with the Shade; he had been stunned by their arrival, a bit nervous, instantly ordered away by Miri to run an errand. He’d shown up at the party, too, and been similarly nervous and diffident.

  He seemed the same today. Even now, he was being a bit wide-eyed and nervous about escorting them when they’d already shown how formidable they were. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that he’s not nervous at all. That he’s completely focused on the situation and not in any way affected by it.

  What was really maddening was that this whole situation rang a faint bell of memory and her brain was refusing to come up with the connection. Let it go. The connection will come in time, when you’re not trying to force it. And you may be imagining things.

  “You’re not coming with us, Miri?” she asked. “I thought—”

  “Yes, I’d planned on at least starting the journey with you, but last night, just as I was going to bed, I got a message that there’s something wrong near Sha Vomatenzei; sounds to me like something got over the wall and is skulking around the farms there.”

  “Yes,” Tobimar said thoughtfully, “I suppose that the wall can’t do much to stop things that fly or are really good at climbing or jumping from surrounding trees.”

  “Do not underestimate the Tenzei Kendron,” Hiriista said. “Powers are woven into it which prevent easy contact even by the denizens of the surrounding forest, and which discourage and confuse those which attempt to pass above or below it. It takes something of considerable power or skill, or both, to pass it.”

  “Which unfortunately means that if something does make it over—or under—the Wall, it’s very dangerous,” Miri said regretfully. “So I’m heading off in the opposite direction. I’ll catch up to you as I can.”

  They exchanged bows and Miri impulsively embraced them both. Kyri was startled but returned the hug; there was something inherently lovable about the little Light, and the strength in her arms reminded Kyri that she was no more delicate than Tobimar. “You be careful, Miri,” she said.

  Miri looked startled, then smiled brilliantly. “I’m not used to people worrying about me! But I guess if anyone’s got a right to worry about me, it’s the people who crossed the Pass of Night. Okay, I’ll be careful. You too, Phoenix! And Tobimar! I don’t want to have to explain to Lady Shae how we lost our special visitors.”

  “And a significant magewright,” Hiriista said dryly.

  “And a most significant and beloved magewright,” she agreed with a laugh. “Goodbye!”

  Miri skipped away, a casual-appearing gait that still somehow took her down the road back into town so quickly that it was only moments before she vanished from sight.

  Hiriista gave a sigh and rattled the feathery spines on his neck; the sound gave Kyri the impression of exasperated fondness. “And there she goes, bouncing like a hatchling. Sometimes I cannot grasp how she can manage her duties half as well as she does.”

  “Magewright Hiriista!” Danrall said, a shocked tone in his voice. Yet . . . it still seems a bit off to me. “How—”

  “Oh, pissh!” The mazakh dismissed the comment with a wave. “She’s hardly unaware of my opinion. Don’t worry yourself with the reputation of your superiors, they can well ward themselves.”

  “O-of course, sir.” He bowed to them. “Are you ready to begin?”

  “Lead on,” Kyri said.

  “So,” Tobimar said as they began walking east along the road, “when exactly are we parting ways?”

  “I would expect sometime after noon,” Danrall answered. “My patrol’s going to take me out to a particular crossroad that leads south to the Wall, then west along it to the Gate-Post where I’ll spend the night, then continue west about an equal distance until I turn north and join up with the road.

  “Shade Ammini,” he continued, mentioning one of the other Shades, a broad dark-skinned young woman Kyri remembered from the Party, “will be leaving about now and going in the opposite direction, but she’ll turn north, then after she reaches Nightshine Rock she’ll go east and spend the night at Rimestump, then patrol east to Sentry Hill and return to the road at about the point where I’ll be leaving it.”

  Kyri could envision the described paths easily in general terms—two rectangular loops, one to the south and one to the north of Murnitenzei. “So each patrol takes two days. You do this how often?”

  “Dual patrol’s done at least once a week and sometimes twice. The Hues roll dice to determine which day, and sometimes whether it’ll be night or day patrols. That keeps anything from being able to be sure of our patrol timing. And of course the timing shifts if we run into something.”

  “Does that happen often? Running into something inside the Wall?”

  Danrall spread his hands uncertainly. “Well, it happens. Not very often, but . . . maybe two or three times a year here. I’d guess it’s about that often in the other cities. Twice a year we send a big patrol—all three Hues and four Shades—along the Necklace—”

  “Necklace?”

  Hiriista laughed, a hissing sound like a boiling kettle. “Yes, you did not hear that name before? That is the name many people use for the main road that circles Kaizatenzei, through all the Seven and to the One, because it is like a necklace with jewels spaced along it.”

  Kyri smiled. “That does make sense. A nice image. So you send patrols along the Necklace twice a year—all the cities do this?”

  “Yes. That way there’s a force to clean up anything that’s gotten through and is hiding in the parts between cities, bothering outlying villages but not rooted out by the normal patrols, that kind of thing.”

  It sounded like they had a pretty good system in place to maintain the safety and peace. She presumed even the outlying villages had their own ordinary defenders, but the things outside the Wall would require something out of the ordinary. “That still seems like a fairly small force, having seen what lies outside your Wall—each city has one Color, three Hues, and seven Shades, right? So that would be for all seven—no, eight—cities, eighty-eight plus the seven Lights, ninety-five for the whole country?”

  “It may seem small, but given our training and abilities, it is enough,” Danrall said with some pride.

  “That must be impressive training,” Tobimar said.

  “Oh, it is. We are taught . . .” He shook his head as though catching himself. “But no, I can’t tell you. Secret, honestly. It is not safe, though.” He looked down, sadness clear o
n his face.

  “You lose candidates in the training?”

  Danrall hesitated, then nodded. “Over half . . . do not make it.”

  Myrionar’s Name! Half of their carefully selected candidates die from the training? “You lost a friend or two, I guess.”

  “Two. One of them was my best friend since I was three, so long that I couldn’t remember not being her friend. We were all so excited to be chosen, but I was scared too. Khasye kept my spirits up, gave me the confidence . . . and then . . .” He trailed off, and for a few moments they walked in silence.

  “I’m sorry,” she said finally.

  “Thank you. It was a couple of years ago . . . but it still hurts to remember it.”

  “I don’t know that it ever stops hurting,” she said honestly, thinking of her parents and her brother and feeling anew the stab of loss and anger, “but I can tell you it does get better as time goes on.”

  Danrall looked at her with new understanding. “You . . . ?”

  “My father, mother, and older brother. Yes.” And a lot of other people, not as close . . . but just as important.

  They walked in silence for a while, and when conversation resumed it was about more mundane things—the types of animals and plants found in this region of Kaizatenzei, what they could expect along the road ahead, and so on. Finally, shortly after lunch, Danrall bowed to them and began walking south along a less well-maintained, but still clear and reasonably level, path to the south.

  “Finally!” Poplock said as the Shade disappeared from sight.

  The rest of them laughed. “Ahh,” Hiriista said, rattling his crest in amusement, “it must truly be a challenge for you to be so silent at all times, Master Toad.”

  “Sure ain’t easy, I’ll say that.” He looked over at the mazakh. “So, are people going to think we’re one of these patrols?”

  Hiriista tilted his head quizzically. “In truth, I had not thought of that. But indeed they might; Tobimar and Phoenix are of a reasonable age to be Hues or Shades, and I have been known to accompany such patrols.”