Phoenix in Shadow

by Ryk E. Spoor

“Everything pointed us here, Miri. Both of us, not just me. And this place, so filled with singing joy, with light and good echoing out of every bird, every beast, every stone . . . something of transcendent goodness had to have power here, had to have left its mark across hundreds of miles of territory even in the midst of the darkest corruption I have ever felt. What, then, could that mean except something of one of the brightest and greatest gods was here? Seven small cities and an eighth larger one, and the legends of Terian’s seven Stars and his Sun . . . what else could it be? Terian’s power had to be here.” She looked up at the tower, eyes shining. “I know what he has to be feeling. I felt it too, when Myrionar showed me that my faith had not been in vain, that I had not been deserted, that I, too, would be a Justiciar.”

  Miri nodded. “Of course. You’re right. You must be right.” She took a deep breath and released Phoenix’s hands. “I still need to straighten out my thinking, though. If you’ll please excuse me . . . ?”

  “Of course, Miri.” She stooped and picked up the fallen blades. “Don’t forget your new knives!”

  “Oh, no. Thank you.” Miri started away, almost at a run, then turned, waved, said “G-goodbye!” and then hurried away, nearly bumping into Tanvol, who was just entering the practice field.

  Inside her guts began to churn. I’m corrupt. I’m corrupt from both sides. My plans . . . I don’t know if I can carry them out anymore! I don’t want to, I think. But everything’s ready! That light . . . Tobimar is the key we sought, Wieran says that the circle’s analysis gave him nearly all the data he needed, all will be ready in a day, two, three at most!

  She reached her own apartments in a daze, not even remembering the exact route she had taken, and sank into a chair. The rolled-up scroll nearby taunted her with the knowledge that Viedraverion would be laughing if he knew about this.

  Kalshae . . . oh, Father, Kalshae! The other Demonlord and Miri had shared certain bonds and affection as well. What would Kalshae do if she learned . . . ?

  Be honest, you know exactly what she will do. The same thing you would have done to her if she did and thought and felt what you do: destroy the object of your affection, and possibly you as well. You’ve reached the final stage, the one that Yurugin and the others went down. You care about what happens to them. You don’t want to hurt Phoenix. You don’t want to hurt Tobimar, the key himself, who must be used to unlock the final seal.

  Kalshae would either kill her, or do her best to save her, to somehow bring her back to the proper Demonic point of view. They’d known the risks in what they were doing; the loss of three of the five major demons they had started with had emphasized that all too well.

  But now it had happened to her, and Ermirinovas did not know what to do. “I have to at least be able to kill Tobimar,” she muttered. “I have to. I have to. Hate him, hate him! I have to want to . . . want to . . .”

  She felt her face screwing up painfully, an unfamiliar sensation, as she imagined herself slashing the Skysand prince’s arm open, pouring its lifeblood out, and the pain in her chest felt as though she had driven the knife into herself, seeing the horror she knew would be on Phoenix’s face, the betrayal, and the hardening of that face into the avatar of Vengeance that she was sworn to become.

  My face is wet . . . I’m crying! Oh, Father . . . oh, Light, I’m crying.

  And not in rage or frustration or fear, no. Crying because it hurt, it hurt so very much to think that she would be hated and despised by the companions she had traveled with for those weeks. And most of all by Phoenix, so much like Kalshae, yet the opposite in the most important ways of all.

  A rap on the door startled her, and she looked up into semi-gloom. I’ve been here . . . how long? She controlled her panic, quickly wiped her face. “Who is it?” she answered, hoping that the slight hoarseness from her crying would not be audible. She grabbed up the shading stick. Must hide the traces!

  “Shae, dear. Can I come in?”

  Light, no! was her first thought, but that by itself would be a dead giveaway. She gestured quickly under her eyes, removing faint circles, then put the stick down as she said, “Of course.” Her other hand gestured, bringing the lighting up.

  Kalshae entered, wearing as usual the shape of “Lady Shae.” Her true form—like Miri’s—had once been something quite terrifying to behold for mortals (though still very beautiful from Miri’s point of view). Now it was still something clearly inhuman, but more like a somewhat-monstrous version of her human form than anything else. “I thought you were going to be with the Phoenix all day?”

  Instantly Miri thought of the only tactic she could take that might save her, at least for now. “I know, but by Father there is only so much of her self-satisfied innocence I can take. Especially since I’ve been playing the one being close to all of them and she’s taken a particular liking to me.”

  Was there a flicker of surprise on Kalshae’s face? She couldn’t tell for sure. “Well, I can very much understand that. You’ve done a wonderful job, though. They’re absolutely convinced that we’re all their friends.” Kalshae laughed, and Miri joined her, trying to make sure the laugh sounded natural. And will that just make it more forced? I have to stop overthinking this! It will get us all killed!

  And even that thought was dangerous, because the us in that thought was not her and Kalshae and Wieran and the rest, but her and Phoenix and Poplock and Tobimar and Hiriista. And Hiriista. Yes, he’s truly their friend, I think. He wasn’t a demon to begin with. If we test his loyalties I don’t think Kalshae will like the result.

  “So how was your long hike?” she asked, to focus on a topic that should be interesting and much less likely to get onto dangerous ground for now.

  “Perfect,” Kalshae said, her voice dropping throatily into an inhuman register—a sound that used to make Miri look forward to more private interactions, but right now sent a faint chill down her spine. I’m worse than I thought.

  Unaware—hopefully—of Miri’s conflicted state of mind, Kalshae went on. “He practically sprinted up the last sets of stairs, completely oblivious to our presence, and went right up to the Sun!” In private, of course, they were all quite aware of just what they were tampering with; no need for handwaving about “the Great Light.”

  “I saw the reaction from on the ground.”

  “Oh, practically everyone in Valatar saw it, at least to hear people tell it—even though a lot of them would have been indoors, or sleeping, or looking the other way. I’m going to announce that this was the reaction to one of our visitors. It will keep the people so very happy for the next day or so.” She smiled, and her teeth were fangs; she was several inches taller, and her nails extended, crimson claws. “And that’s all they’ll ever need or want.”

  Miri’s head snapped up. “That soon?” Expression! Keep it eager! Not horrified!

  “Yes, that soon! No more waiting, Ermiri! We’ll be ourselves again soon enough, once we have unsealed the Sun and taken its corrupted power into ourselves!” Kalshae laughed again, and she was a foot taller, skin with an unearthly sheen, and her eyes glowed red. “In a way, we were lucky the other three fell,” she mused.

  “How so?” asked Miri.

  “Well,” Kalshae said, and ran a finger slowly down Miri’s face, and hooking the talon in the V at the front of her blouse, “if they were here we’d have to share all that power with them, wouldn’t we?”

  Miri gave her best smile, forcing her own body to shift, to change shade and texture in the way that was so familiar—but it was hard, very hard—and gave the joyful laugh she knew Kalshae expected.

  And as Kalshae drew Miri to her, Miri knew she was about to have her acting ability tested beyond anything she had ever imagined.

  CHAPTER 41

  “Tonight’s party is going to be the big one,” Poplock said, looking out their window.

  “Well, they said it was going to be a big one,” Tobimar said. “What’s so surprising?”

  “Take a look.”


  Tobimar stepped to the window and looked down. A number of people were just approaching the gates in front of the Tower—people in very distinctive armor. Looking back, Tobimar could see more people in those armor designs in the distance. “Colors and Hues. Shades too.”

  “That must be why they were waiting before throwing this one. The dignitaries were all gathering; Lady Shae must’ve wanted as many to attend as possible. Leaving one or two for each city, there’s still going to be like eighty of them here. All the Lights, for certain, plus a lot of the others.”

  Kyri and Hiriista joined them. “I guess they’ll need a bigger dining room, then,” Kyri remarked.

  “They will need the Grand Dining Hall,” Hiriista agreed. “I saw that in use exactly once, ten years ago . . . it was, in fact, on the occasion of Zogen’s retirement. I do not think it has been used since, now that I think of it. Lady Shae and the others tend to throw smaller parties, when they have time for such things at all.”

  Poplock wrinkled his face. I don’t like this at all. “Phoenix, have you sensed any more of those flashes of bad things?”

  She frowned. “A few times. I’ve sensed that huge, resentful one thrice more; the cold-amused one twice. All of these times were either in the Tower’s lower floor or out on the peninsula, toward the lake.”

  “So it wasn’t a one-time thing. Something’s definitely here—at least two somethings we don’t want anything to do with.”

  “Then the question is who, and where,” Hiriista says. “Have we met our adversaries already, and if so, who are they?”

  “Wieran’s still my top pick,” Poplock answered firmly. “He’s the brains of this place. Shae’s not stupid, and Miri’s sharp as a tack, but that guy could make both of them and all of us put together look like idiots. I’m laying my bet on him being the cold, amused one.”

  Hiriista hissed a laugh. “I think you may underestimate yourself and perhaps myself as well . . . but your point is well taken. For myself, I would beg to disagree in your bet, though I would agree that he is definitely one of our adversaries.”

  Kyri raised an eyebrow. “Why do you disagree with Poplock’s judgment here? Cold certainly seems the most likely characteristic of Wieran; my gut feeling about him is that his smiles are almost all sham.”

  “There I would agree,” Hiriista said, absently feeling about in a pouch and producing his scent-pipe. “That is not the part that jars with me.”

  “Hrrm,” Poplock grunted. “You mean that you aren’t seeing amused as part of his mindset.”

  “Exactly. I know you noted the anomalies of his body language and conversation; would you disagree?”

  Poplock thought back over the few conversations they had had with the magical researcher. “No . . . no, I guess not. I don’t get much sense of humor from him. It’d be quick and sharp and end fast, I think. More resentment than anything else.”

  “Then maybe he’s the other one? Restrained by his position, and maybe something else, and resenting it.”

  Hiriista inhaled the scent, blew out, and nodded slowly. “Possible. But then the question is who is the other?”

  “The . . . obvious choice,” Phoenix said slowly, “is Lady Shae. I hate to say it, but she’s at the center of everything. She’s more focused and controlled than Miri; her big cheerful warrior-queen act could be just that, an act.”

  “What about Miri?” Poplock asked.

  “That’s ridiculous!” Kyri looked surprisingly outraged by the suggestion.

  “Not so ridiculous,” Tobimar said, looking at her curiously. “She’s Shae’s right-hand person, she goes everywhere, everyone trusts her; she could get away with literal murder without a chance of being caught.”

  Poplock noticed that Kyri’s face was suddenly a shade darker. “Well . . . if any of you mention this to anyone else I will kick you over the mountains. But Miri kissed me yesterday.”

  The interplay of incredulity, shock, and other emotions across Tobimar’s stunned face was so funny that Poplock began laughing uncontrollably.

  “She . . . er . . . what? I mean . . .” Tobimar paused. “You know, that makes so much sense of her behavior now.”

  Hiriista was also chuckling. “Indeed, I had thought there were some unusual elements in her body language in her interactions with you; I had not interpreted them correctly.”

  “So what did you do?”

  Kyri smiled wryly. “First I calmed her down when she realized what she was doing and panicked. Told her it was a compliment and I wasn’t mad at all, but that you and I were already a pair.”

  “Well, I’m glad that was resolved,” Tobimar said after a pause.

  “Not disappointed I didn’t ask about alternative possibilities?”

  As Tobimar’s face flushed visibly Poplock started laughing again.

  “No!” Tobimar said finally, then saw her grin. “You asked that just to—”

  “Of course I did,” she said, and yanked the smaller Prince to her for a quick kiss. “I know we’re both one-person people. And I also know there’s no way you didn’t think about the other possibility for at least a moment or two.”

  He coughed. “Um. Well, yes, I couldn’t very well help it.” Tobimar grinned up at her. “After all, she is very, very cute.”

  “Yes, she is. Not to mention smart, strong, and very talented.” Kyri looked pensive. “It wouldn’t be hard to fall in love with her.”

  “Still, how exactly does that tell us that she’s not our person,” Poplock said, returning to the original conversation. “Strikes me that this would be a great distraction tactic for her.”

  “Instinct,” Phoenix replied promptly. “Her reactions afterward sent so many signals and they were exactly what someone with real affection that they hadn’t noticed before would say and do. I didn’t get a single false note out of her. Plus . . . I never sensed any of these dark things until we got here. What’s the chance that I’d only sense her dark side now rather than anytime during the months it took to get here? She spent a lot of time around me and I never got even the slightest sense of something wrong.”

  “Adequate evidence for now,” conceded Hiriista. “We have often noted that you are extraordinarily good at sensing something ‘wrong’ in those contexts.”

  “Yeah,” said Poplock, glancing back out the window. “So let’s remember what we had our first group discussion on, eh?”

  Hiriista froze, then let out a long, slow hiss of understanding. “Of course. If we are right, most or all of the Unity Guard are under some form of compulsion—”

  “—by the bad guy, yeah. And here we’re going to have most of ’em in the same room with us, the lonely bunch in one corner.” Poplock shook his head. “If Shae and Miri aren’t in on it, that’s also the perfect time for them to eliminate the two as a problem, one way or another.”

  “What can we do about it?” Kyri asked after a moment. “We still haven’t got the evidence we need to accuse anyone—at least, none of you have mentioned any?”

  Tobimar and Hiriista shook their heads. Poplock hesitated, then moved side to side in his own equivalent of a headshake. “I haven’t been able to move around as freely as other places, since they all know I’m not just a dumb toad. All I’ve been able to find on my own has been that there’s at least one or two major underground installations we haven’t seen yet. That’s not exactly evidence. Sure, there’s probably something down there that would tell us about our enemies, but by itself? Nothing.”

  “Then what can we do?” Kyri repeated. “I suppose we could decide to just run for it; if this was supposed to be a trap, that’d force them to follow us and reveal themselves.”

  “And if it isn’t a trap?”

  “At worst we’ve insulted our hosts,” Poplock said after a minute. “But with all the goodwill we seem to have built up, I think we could get past that. We’d have to admit why we did it, and that might well force a confrontation—”

  “—but with us then in a far, far better tactical and
strategic position than simply walking into a room which may have four-score enemies waiting to capture or kill us, yes,” agreed Hiriista.

  “Then forget the party duds,” Poplock said, bouncing towards his little niche with all his possessions laid out in it. “Get dressed for action.”

  “We’re leaving now?” Kyri asked—though she was already in her room, the connecting door left open so they could hear her.

  “I only see two choices—we leave as soon as we can, or we wait until they’re all assembled in the room and then take a long hop.”

  “But in that case,” Tobimar said, stripping off his dress shirt and stuffing it in his neverfull pack, “they’ll all be assembled and ready to operate as a coordinated force, if they’re our enemies. Unless you’re planning on locking the doors?”

  “It’d be a temptation if that’s the route we’re taking. What do you guys think?”

  “Hsssss . . . both have their attractions, but I favor leaving as soon as possible.”

  “That’s my preference too,” Kyri said; they heard the flowing, chiming sound of the Phoenix Raiment enfolding her. “I hate running out on Miri and the others, but if we’re going, let’s go fast.”

  “I actually like the idea of getting them all in the one banquet hall and locking the doors behind them. Maybe sealing the doors somehow,” Tobimar said. “But . . . no, then one or more of us has to be right there to pull that off. Too close for comfort. Let’s get out of here immediately.” The Spiritsmith’s armor slid into place on Tobimar’s body, even as Hiriista shrugged into his own armored traveling cloak.

  “The next question is . . . how? We want to draw as little attention as possible.”

  “Well,” Poplock said, leaning out as far on the window ledge as he dared, “if you guys weren’t all really, really good I wouldn’t suggest it . . . but if we go out this window and can scramble up to that ornamental curve to the righthand side, we could just maybe get in jumping distance of that floating bridgeway, which would let us clear a good half of the city by running along it. We’d have to either go through the building at the other end or drop down somehow, but . . .”