Inkmistress

by Audrey Coulthurst

  I made my offerings to the gods by chanting vespers. With my eyes closed, I made monophonic songs of the most sorrowful melodies given to me by all that surrounded me on those lonely nights—the wind rushing through the trees, the lilt of water over rocks, the distant calls of night birds waking. The music allowed me to sink into my Sight, widening its reach, and I used it to search for any sign of Ina. All I sensed was a soft tug to the north, and when I opened my eyes, it was only ever to the same solitude and grief.

  I crossed beneath the stone arch into the city of Valenko at midday almost half a moon after my departure from the mountain, feeling like a wild animal caged for the first time. Guardsmen stood sentry on either side of the road, wearing brown jerkins bound with wide triple-buckled belts of red leather. They had their weapons sheathed and bored expressions on their faces, but passing by them still made my skin crawl. I didn’t like that violence might be required to keep order in this place.

  As I wandered deeper into it, the city tore away the last threads of my connection to home. I had never seen so many people crowded so close together. Their skin ranged in tone from milky pale to dark brown and every shade in between. They lived stacked atop one another in stone buildings and shouted to their friends and neighbors across the cobbled streets. None of their business was quiet. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get to where they were going, knocking me out of the way if I didn’t keep up speed. The warring smells of roasting meat, baking bread, and the dirty sludge trickling through the gutter alongside the road assaulted my nose. Every touch and sound felt like flames on my raw nerves.

  I had no idea where to begin searching for Ina. I had never dreamed Valenko could be this big. In spite of Miriel’s warnings to stay away from mortals in case they noticed I was something else, I felt more invisible than ever now that I was among them. I ducked down a narrow alley, trying to find a quieter street, only to be buffeted by the churning wings of an entire murder of manifested crows that burst out of nowhere. Every space in the city seemed to belong to someone or something, and territory was not something to be shared. I gave in to the flow of the crowd until the street opened up into a cobbled square. A communal fountain adorned the center, water spouting from the mouths of stone animals all along its length. I swallowed, my throat dry.

  I wound my way through the crowd, some human, some animal, and a few mortals traveling stealthily in manifest form. Many of them were hungry, cold, or otherwise suffering, lean from a hard winter. The pressure of their woes made me feel as though I could barely breathe. Amalska had been so peaceful and the people’s lives so easy by comparison—at least until the winter fever. Why wasn’t it like that here? Had the king refused to help these people, too?

  My hands shook as I hastily scrubbed off the dirt before cupping them to drink from the horse-shaped spout above me. After slaking my thirst, I traced the symbol of the water god beneath the surface of the fountain, hoping they might share some news of home, but I had traveled too far for the city aqueduct to have a direct connection to the lakes or streams of my mountain. Before I could open myself to the Sight to reach farther, a boy shoved me aside so that his pony could drink.

  I fled from the square, nerves jangling even after the crowds grew thinner in the more residential part of town I’d entered. I needed to find somewhere quiet to think. Eager to escape the crush of people, I followed my Sight to a silent oasis amidst the bustle of the town. I stepped through a stone archway into what appeared to be a small park. Wooden buildings towered on three sides, faded shutters tightly closed.

  A large tree with barren branches stood at the center of the area. I slumped beneath it and let my heart rate slow, grateful for the silence, then puzzled by it. Polished stone plaques lay on the ground all around me, and it dawned on me that it was not a park, but a place of rest for the dead. Miriel had mentioned that in cities sometimes the deceased were not given to fire, especially war heroes or the wealthy—those whom the crown chose to commemorate or who could pay for the privilege of being remembered. Amalskans scoffed at such ideas and told superstitious stories of the dead rising from their graves to pull bad children under the earth. Perhaps I should have been afraid, but after the chaos of the streets, the graveyard was a welcome haven. These people had been laid to rest in peace, unlike those who haunted me.

  I closed my eyes and thought of home, of summer, of Ina. Of all the beauty in my world that I might never know again. The Sight came to me softly, bathing the graveyard in a gentle glow. There wasn’t much to see in this peaceful place, just the barest hint of grass preparing to unfurl from beneath the earth.

  Then I sensed a glimmer of familiar magic, like the flickering white of a dragon wing in my peripheral vision. Hope made me rise to my feet. I drew more heavily on the magic of the earth and that which existed inside me, widening the reach of my Sight. She had to be here somewhere. I sent out tendrils of my own power to seek anything that felt familiar or strong. Ina’s magical gift and formidable manifest would make her stand out anywhere.

  The magic led me to a narrow building several blocks north of the town square. The lintel bore no mark over the door, and the shutters were tightly latched. Someone inside glowed with energy, far more brightly than those with normal manifests. My pulse quickened. I crept around the side of the building into an alley hardly wider than the distance of my arms outstretched to either side, hoping to find a window with open shutters. I’d only gone a few steps when fists began to slam on the front entrance of the building.

  “In the name of the king, open this door!” a commanding voice shouted.

  I spooked like a frightened horse. The only place to go was farther into the alley, which dead-ended against a retaining wall. I scurried in and ducked behind a short flight of stone steps that led up to the recessed back entrance to the building.

  I had barely settled into my hiding placce when the door above me burst open. Three hooded people sprinted into the alley to flee the building, knives appearing in their hands gracefully as if the weapons had been conjured by magic. I surged to my feet, hoping one of them was Ina, crushed with disappointment when I immediately knew from their gaits that they weren’t. Before the three reached the end of the alley, they transformed into birds and parted ways over the roof.

  I gathered my courage. If Ina was still in there, I had to know. No sooner had I taken one step onto the stairs than someone fell backward down them. He hit me hard, slamming us into the cobblestones and knocking the wind out of my lungs. Blood poured from his slashed throat, soaking through my cloak.

  As soon as I caught my breath, I screamed.

  He was definitely dead.

  CHAPTER 9

  I WRITHED OUT FROM UNDERNEATH THE BODY, Backing away in horror to cower behind the stairs again. Two thin silver blades were buried in his chest, one below the left collarbone and the other just beneath where his throat had been cut. He wore the same jerkin and red belts I’d seen on the city guardsmen at the city gate.

  “They sure don’t train guards like they used to,” a woman said from the doorway. A simple brown hood like the other three had worn obscured her face. Somehow she didn’t see me as she strode down the stairs. With one fluid motion, she removed the blades from the guardsman’s corpse. A boy followed behind her, his hood pulled up, but his hands bare. His skin was the rich dark brown of the cattails that grew on the banks of the lake in summer. He stood considerably taller than me, his jerkin hugging his broad shoulders and well fitted down to his narrow waist.

  The boy caught a glimpse of me and surprise flashed in his dark brown eyes. “Who’re you?”

  “Get them!” someone shouted, and three city guardsmen sprinted into the alley.

  Without a word, the woman shifted into a bird of prey and swooped out of sight. One of the guardsmen changed into a crow and winged after her, though I doubted he had any chance of catching up.

  The boy cursed under his breath. I expected him to manifest or fight, but instead he put up his hands.
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br />   “Help!” I finally managed to say, scrambling away until my back was pressed against the crumbling stone of the retaining wall. I clutched my satchel to my chest like a shield.

  Unfortunately, help was not what the guards were there to offer.

  A guard with hawkish features grabbed the boy. The other snatched me, twisting my arms painfully behind my back and fastening manacles around my wrists.

  “You’re under arrest for the slaughter of a city guardsman,” he said.

  “Please let go,” I said, struggling against him in a way that only served to tighten his grip. “I didn’t do anything—that guard fell on me. Someone else killed him!”

  “Sure.” The sharp-nosed man holding the boy sneered, eyeing the bloodstain on the front of my cloak. “The day a Nightswift isn’t responsible for the closest dead body is the day I’ll eat my boots for dinner. Finding a nest of you vipers on the heels of that double massacre in the mountains is about as surprising as snow in winter.”

  My fear doubled. News had traveled much faster than I had on foot. They knew about what had happened in Amalska and the slaughter of the bandits, but not who was responsible. How could they be blaming someone else already?

  “What’s a Nightswift?” I asked.

  “Don’t play stupid. We’ll be the ones asking questions.” His breath smelled like rotting garlic. The guard shoved me alongside their other captive. They yanked off the boy’s hood to reveal an expression of inexplicable amusement. I couldn’t help but admire his chiseled jawline and rounded nose, both held high in spite of our situation. His hair was cropped close on the back and sides and styled into spiraling twists on the top.

  I shot a pleading look at the boy as the two men shoved us toward the exit from the alley. He knew it hadn’t been me. Was he really going to let me take the fall for this?

  The boy caught my eye and, when neither guard was looking, winked. A flush rose into my cheeks. Unless his good looks could somehow get us out of this situation, I couldn’t afford to be impressed by him. The two guards dragged us down the street, people parting to let us pass.

  “There’s been a mistake,” I tried again as we rounded a corner, heading right for a building with heavy iron bars on the windows. “I’m not from here. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, just looking for my friend—”

  “Quit flapping your maw, or I’ll stuff a gag in it.” My captor jerked the chain attached to my manacles, making my wrists smart.

  “Makes ya wish we could hang ’em first and ask questions later, eh?” said the other.

  “You two really should have gone after the other Swifts,” the boy said, making eye contact with the guard holding me. “You would have caught them by now and come back with all the glory.”

  I braced myself, waiting for him to receive the same threats delivered to me. To my shock, the man stopped moving. The boy then twisted around to meet the eyes of his own captor.

  “They have a secret meeting location. I can show you where it is,” the boy continued. His voice sounded sweet as summer honey, almost cloying, but strangely seductive.

  The hawkish guardsman looked at him, confused. Then his gaze unfocused.

  “Maybe that’s a good idea,” the guard said.

  I looked back and forth between them in shock. What was the boy doing?

  “If you catch them all, you’ll surely be the most decorated guardsmen in the city,” the boy said.

  “Yes,” the man holding me agreed. “The king has put a high price on the heads of the Nightswifts.”

  “That’s right. And the price will go up if it turns out they’re responsible for the massacres, too. Anyone who uncovers who was behind that will surely be rewarded. Maybe a break from the tithe? Or even some additional lands? Free my hands, and I’ll lead you to their meeting place.” He smiled warmly, as though talking to friends rather than guards who had him in shackles.

  To my astonishment, the guard removed his manacles. The boy massaged his wrists briefly, then grinned at me, revealing a dimple in one cheek. I stared at him, too shocked by what he’d done to offer up any kind of response.

  “This way, fellows.” His full lips remained in a smug grin. He walked ahead with a bounce in his step, as though we were simply going for a walk to the local alehouse. As it turned out, we were.

  “The Nightswifts will reconvene here in an hour or so,” the boy said. “Why don’t you two sit and have a drink while you wait?”

  The guardsmen behaved as though his suggestion was entirely reasonable. They started out complaining about their upcoming tithes to the crown, but three drinks later the two of them were guffawing over a joke about cows that didn’t even make sense. I stayed quiet, hoping that there would be a way out at the end of this. We weren’t close enough to an exit for me to bolt, and even if I did, the manacles would prove problematic. I also needed my satchel, which they’d shoved beneath the table. With my hands bound behind my back, there was no way I could reach it.

  “When did you say the Swifts would be here?” Hawk-face slurred as the barmaid brought the guards their fifth round of brandy.

  “Any minute. She and I should go out and meet them so they don’t suspect you two are here,” the boy said.

  “Good idea!” The other guard slapped him on the back. They still both had that glassy look in their eyes that spoke of something more than intoxication.

  Before I knew it, the guard beside me unlocked my manacles. “Go on then,” he said. “Bring us the Swifts. You do the work and we’ll take the glory.”

  The guardsmen raised their glasses in a sloppy toast. While they weren’t paying attention, I pulled a tube of purple powder out of my shirt.

  “Do you want to taste something special?” I asked.

  Their gazes sharpened, and they both frowned. I glanced at the boy, alarmed. My words didn’t work like his.

  The boy jumped in to rescue me. “If you take off those red belts and have the special drink, the Nightswifts will mistake you two for the ones they’re supposed to meet. The drink is the signal for them to approach.”

  I held my breath, terrified I’d broken the boy’s sway over them.

  “Oh!” Hawk-face said, his grin returning. “Of course.”

  He could have told them to walk off a bridge and it seemed as though they’d do it.

  “You should remove your boots, too,” the boy added. “That’s customary procedure for a meeting with the Swifts.”

  “But where will we put them?” The guard set down his glass and squinted in confusion.

  “There’s an open window right behind you,” the boy pointed out.

  I bit my lip to hold in a laugh.

  The two guardsmen giggled like naughty children, gleefully tossing their belts and boots out the open window as I added a pinch of purple powder to each of their drinks. Motes of light danced in their brandy, then faded, giving the liquid a faint pinkish hue. Someone yelled outside, apparently on the receiving end of a flying boot. I winced in sympathy, tucking the narrow vial back into its hiding place.

  “We’ll be right back. You two should have another round. On me.” Out of nowhere, the boy produced a few coins and set them on the table.

  The guards clinked glasses again and put back the last of their brandies, one raising his hand to flag down a server.

  The boy glanced my way with another wink, and the dimple in his cheek appeared again. This time I couldn’t help my slight smile back. Freedom was so close I could almost grasp it, and though I didn’t know if I could trust this handsome person or his silver tongue, I was grateful he’d helped me instead of charming his own way out of the mess and leaving me to take the blame. He’d even made room for me to help him as soon as he knew I had something to offer.

  “Let’s go,” the boy said, grabbing one of the guardsmen’s cloaks and slinging it over his arm as he walked away from the table. He ambled toward the door as though he hadn’t a worry in the world. I snatched my satchel and hurried after him, casting nervous
glances behind me. The guards had already moved on to tunelessly slurring a song about their own greatness, much to the distress of the minstrel who was supposed to be the afternoon’s entertainment.

  “How did you do that?” I asked. I’d never encountered magic like his before.

  “I’m very persuasive,” he said with a smile. “What did you put in their drinks? I hope it wasn’t poison. Believe it or not based on the company I keep, I’m not fond of killing people.”

  “Of course it’s not poison. Let’s just say they’re going to get sleepy and then they’re going to become very forgetful,” I said. His warm eyes with their long, curling lashes made me want to trust him, but the guardsmen had, and that wasn’t going to work out very well for them. I needed to stay wary.

  “How forgetful?” he asked with barely contained glee.

  “They won’t remember anything.” The purple fire-flower powder was potent stuff. They’d be lucky to recall their own names when they first woke up.

  “Delightful!” He chortled and offered me the guardsman’s cloak. “Here, I took this for you so you can dump the bloody one.”

  I accepted it, grateful for the gesture of kindness. “So why did you make them take off their boots?”

  “I just thought it would be funny,” he said, breaking into another grin.

  An unexpected laugh burst out of me. After what had happened in Amalska, I thought I might never laugh again.

  “Besides, it’ll make it harder for them to come after us,” he said, though it was clearly an afterthought.

  We stepped out of the alehouse into the crisp afternoon air. The overcast sky was already beginning to fade—there couldn’t be more than a few hours until sunset. Part of me wanted to latch onto him, to stay close to anyone who could make me forget my woes even for a second. But good feelings always begged to be chased. With Ina, love was the feeling I’d raced after with my whole heart, and love was what had led me into darkness. That love was the reason I’d tried to help her, and the cause of everything that had come after. Now I had to confess and atone to stop her from murdering the king. I had a job to do, and even if I hadn’t, spending time laughing with a handsome boy was the last reprieve I deserved.