Starborn

by Lucy Hounsom

  ‘All right. But why did she steal it from Argat? No wonder he came after us.’

  ‘Brégenne thinks the earth and your visions might be linked.’

  Kyndra studied the palms of her hands. ‘She never mentioned the earth. She was more interested in the headaches.’

  ‘Yes,’ Nediah said, and he began to pace as much as the tiny room allowed. ‘That was because she suspected you were a potential. Those headaches are the result of trying to tap power that’s not fully awakened.’

  Kyndra said nothing. The idea that she could be a Wielder hadn’t shocked her as much as it ought to have done, possibly because it was ludicrous. When she took their test, they’d discover that for themselves.

  What will they do to you then? She tried to ignore the question that had crawled from one of the darker corners of her mind. You’ve seen their city and learned their secrets. They’d be foolish to let you go.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I don’t think I’m a Wielder,’ she said slowly. ‘What happens to people who fail the test?’

  ‘You won’t fail,’ Nediah said and came to sit next to her. ‘Brégenne never makes a mistake. Some say she has a sixth sense when it comes to finding potentials.’

  ‘I think she’s made a mistake with me,’ Kyndra insisted. ‘I can’t sense any of this Solar or Lunar energy you talk about. I don’t even know what I’m looking for.’

  ‘You’ve shown an aptitude for it twice already.’

  She frowned. ‘I have?’

  ‘Remember in Brenwym?’ Nediah asked and Kyndra nodded. ‘You fought against Brégenne’s binding when she tried to stop you running away. And,’ he added significantly when she looked doubtful, ‘you stopped that arrow today.’

  Kyndra shook her head. ‘That was the earthquake.’

  ‘Earthquakes don’t burst arrows in mid-flight.’ Nediah gave her a penetrating look. ‘And who’s to say it was an earthquake?’

  She let out an exasperated breath. ‘How can I use a power I can’t even feel? And it doesn’t make sense,’ she added. ‘When Brégenne put that binding on me, it was night. The stuff with the arrow happened this afternoon. I thought you said Wielders are either Solar or Lunar.’

  For a moment, Nediah looked uncertain, but then his face firmed. ‘Cosmosethic energy first manifests itself as a force of will,’ he said. ‘Have faith in yourself. No one fails the test.’ He looked away, but not before Kyndra snatched a glimpse of something he wasn’t saying.

  ‘You wanted to know about the earth,’ she said to change the subject.

  ‘Yes.’ Nediah turned back to her. ‘Can you tell me as much as you remember about it? I’m going to check the archives. And what did the bag look like?’

  ‘I’ll write it down, if you want,’ Kyndra said. ‘Is Brégenne absolutely sure it’s gone? I mean, she might have missed—’ She stopped at the glare on Nediah’s face.

  ‘She didn’t miss anything,’ the Wielder snapped and rose from the bed.

  ‘Sorry.’

  The apology didn’t seem to touch Nediah. ‘I’ll be back with paper,’ he said shortly and stalked out, shutting the door with more force than was necessary. Kyndra winced and decided it might not be wise to gainsay Brégenne in front of Nediah again.

  The Wielder’s exit had let in a burst of cold air. The lamp’s flame guttered wildly over the stone, a dancer from a primitive time when the world was larger, and everything was possible. Kyndra looked away from the flickering wall. It was in those shadows that she’d seen the besieged citadel and she had no wish to return there. Instead she curled her feet up, rested her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands. Her palms prickled, as they always did when she thought about the earth. She closed her eyes, but the prickling followed her into the dark. Images came with it: a pennant snapping against the sky, a ridged wing, and always, always the glass citadel, flaming in the sun.

  ‘Kyndra? Not another one so soon?’

  Kyndra lifted her head too quickly and the room spun. When it righted itself, she saw Nediah standing in front her, clutching a sheaf of vellum, ink and an enamelled pen.

  ‘No,’ she said, waving away Nediah’s concern. ‘I was just trying to picture the earth.’

  ‘I see.’ Nediah seemed pleased. He dropped the items on the bed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, a gesture that didn’t suit the stately robe. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Would you like some dinner?’

  Kyndra’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food and Nediah grinned. ‘I’ll bring you some.’

  When the door had closed, Kyndra took the vellum and – in the absence of a desk – laid it on her knees. It was flawless, creamy and smooth, wholly unlike the parchment at home. The pen was beautiful too. It was blue and gold and held the ink neatly behind its shining nib.

  Writing about the earth was oddly difficult. The rush of images it carried tried their best to manifest in the black letters Kyndra printed. Twice she scratched out lines she’d written, seeing the citadel there instead of the red soil. When she put down the pen and blew on the ink to dry it, she read:

  Bag made of dark brown leather with drawstring. No other markings.

  Earth – the empire has taken the valley, slopes running with fire, fingers sunk in the soil, wet like blood … it is their tears, hundreds in the city who resisted. But one came with the stars and he held a world in his fist – is red, coloured like blood. Dry and sandy, as if from a desert.

  Kyndra turned cold. She stared at the lines written in her own hand, having no memory of anything between the thick black dashes. The citadel had crept in there, despite her best efforts. And it had not come alone. The whole paragraph was a jumble, incoherent and rambling. She couldn’t show this to Nediah.

  There was a knock on the door. Kyndra cursed and hid the pages under the bed’s thin pillow. ‘Just a moment!’ She racked her brain for an excuse, but none came to mind. She just couldn’t show Nediah that nonsense.

  Kyndra opened the door, so busy wondering how to buy more time that the stranger in the corridor coughed nervously and took an uncertain step back. Kyndra blinked. ‘Who are you?’ she blurted.

  The girl outside glanced over her shoulder and hissed, ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘All right,’ Kyndra replied, eyeing the girl’s brown robes and silver-threaded belt. She stepped aside.

  The girl darted in. ‘Please shut the door!’

  Kyndra closed the door with a snap. As soon as the rectangle of wood obscured the corridor, her visitor relaxed and laughed a bit sheepishly. ‘Sorry,’ she said, her voice lighter now. ‘I’m not supposed to be here.’

  Kyndra stared at her. ‘Why? What would happen if they found you?’

  The girl’s eyes were pale, almost colourless, and laughter lines dimpled the corners of her mouth. ‘I’d rather not find out.’ She smiled and the lines deepened.

  Kyndra smiled too. ‘So why risk coming?’

  ‘Irilin,’ the girl said, raising her hand, palm out. ‘Iri for short. I wanted to be the first to meet you.’ She flashed Kyndra some white, slightly crooked teeth.

  ‘But how did you know I was here?’ Kyndra asked. There was something immediately likable about Irilin. Her small features were set fairly wide apart, lending her face an appealing openness. She was shorter than Kyndra and seemed very young.

  ‘Everyone knows. Potentials aren’t found often. You’re one of Master Brégenne’s, aren’t you?’ Irilin asked and Kyndra nodded. ‘Master Brégenne’ sounded strange.

  ‘You’ll have to get used to calling her that,’ the girl said firmly. ‘Men and women are master alike and Wielders are mindful of status. Once you’re into the habit, it comes naturally.’

  ‘How old are you?’ Kyndra asked curiously.

  Irilin grinned. ‘Getting used to that too? I’m twenty-one.’

  ‘You don’t look it.’

  ‘I know,’ Irilin sighed. ‘Gareth says I’ll look about ten years old forever.’

  Kyndra laugh
ed. ‘My name’s Kyndra, by the way.’ She paused. ‘Kyn for short.’

  ‘Thought you’d forgotten to say,’ Irilin said, her dimpled cheeks making her look even younger. ‘Writing a letter home, are you?’

  Kyndra froze and then remembered she’d pushed the offending paper under her pillow. The pen still lay on the bed, however, slowly oozing ink into the blanket. Before she could reply, Irilin said, ‘I wouldn’t bother. They won’t let you send it.’

  A whisker of cold stirred in Kyndra’s blood. ‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘I need to let my family know I’m safe. Can’t letters reach here?’

  The smile had slipped from the girl’s face. She folded her arms and leaned back against the rough stone of the wall. ‘Maybe, but nobody receives any. And it’s too risky to send letters out. They could be opened and read. Naris is our home now. You’ll learn that soon enough.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to learn it?’ Kyndra said fiercely. No one was going to stop her contacting Reena and Jarand. She’d find a way.

  Irilin gave a short laugh. ‘I can see it’s going to be fun with you here,’ she said, though her smile wasn’t quite as bright as before. ‘Have you had any dinner?’

  ‘Nediah’s bringing it.’

  ‘Master Nediah.’

  ‘I can’t imagine calling Nediah that. He’s a friend.’

  Irilin raised pale eyebrows. ‘Is he? Well, I suppose he wouldn’t mind if you didn’t. He’s only just a master.’

  ‘I know. He said he was having problems with Alandred.’

  Irilin made a face. ‘No one likes Master Alandred. And of course he’s been chasing after Master Brégenne for years,’ she added offhandedly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s an open secret.’ The girl’s eyes twinkled. ‘Everyone knows Master Brégenne wouldn’t give him the time of day.’ She grinned as if she had made a joke.

  Kyndra realized her mouth was open. ‘Brégenne? She’s so … cold. It’s just hard to imagine her—’

  ‘That doesn’t stop some people.’

  Kyndra shook her head. ‘So who likes who is a topic of conversation among the novices?’

  ‘One of them,’ Irilin said. ‘Nothing escapes us.’ She eyed Kyndra’s outfit. ‘Your trousers are too long, by the way.’

  ‘Thanks, I know.’ Kyndra hoisted them up. ‘Can you tell me what the test is all about?’

  ‘Have they scheduled it yet?’

  Kyndra shook her head.

  ‘The sooner the better, in my opinion.’ Irilin cast the room a disparaging glance. ‘Then you can move to a dormitory and—’

  ‘Irilin Straa, what are you doing here?’

  Irilin jumped. Nediah stood in the doorway, holding a tray. The smell of roast meat curled up from it enticingly.

  Irilin scuffed a foot on the stone floor. ‘I just came to say hello to the new potential.’

  ‘Did you?’ Nediah looked at Kyndra. ‘I hope you found Irilin’s visit educational because she’s destined for the pinnacle this evening.’

  The girl’s face paled. ‘No, not the pinnacle,’ she whispered. ‘Master Nediah, I was only up there last week.’

  ‘I didn’t realize you enjoyed it so much,’ Nediah said, his eyes glittering. ‘I’ll have to arrange a few more excursions.’

  ‘No, no more, I’ll be good. Send me to the kitchens or down to the tombs, anything but the pinnacle.’

  A grin flitted across Nediah’s face. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Irilin opened her screwed-up eyes to look at Nediah. The difference in their heights was faintly absurd, Kyndra saw. With her long hair and delicate limbs, Irilin looked barely half her real age.

  ‘You’d better hurry up or you’ll miss dinner,’ Nediah said pointedly.

  ‘Oh! Yes, I’ll go. Thank you, Master.’ Irilin flashed Kyndra a smile and darted deer-like out of the room.

  ‘What did she mean about the tombs?’ Kyndra watched Nediah set the tray down on the bed. The accompanying cup of liquid teetered and she snatched it up before it added to the ink stain on the blanket.

  ‘Exactly what it sounds like,’ Nediah replied. ‘We might live three or four human lifetimes, but we’re not immortal. Where else do you think we’d bury our dead?’

  ‘Oh.’ Hundreds of decaying people right beneath her feet wasn’t exactly a comforting thought. If visiting them was a punishment, Kyndra resolved to behave herself, at least until she managed to get out of here.

  ‘So, do you have that description for me?’ Nediah stood with arms folded.

  Kyndra studied her potatoes. ‘Not yet. That girl interrupted me almost as soon as you left.’

  She felt more than saw Nediah’s impatience. ‘Could you see to it after you’ve eaten, please? It’s important, Kyndra. I’d appreciate it if you took it seriously.’

  Kyndra stared at her plate and nodded. ‘I will, Nediah.’

  ‘I’ll make sure you’re not troubled by other visitors,’ the tall Wielder said, his hand on the door latch. After a pause he added, ‘I’d eat that beef before it goes cold. Try the beans too. They’re good.’

  When Nediah had gone, Kyndra cut her meat into pieces just as she did at home, and pierced a little of everything on her fork before lifting it to her mouth. She ate slowly, despite her earlier hunger. The illusion of purpose she’d maintained during her days on the airship was starting to fade, its wide vistas narrowing to the four walls of this room.

  She had found herself in Naris because it was Brégenne and Nediah’s destination. Only now – sitting on the hairy blanket with a lump of meat poised on her fork – did Kyndra realize that Naris was her destination too, that Brégenne had intended it as such from the start.

  She sank her teeth into the beef and wondered what Brégenne would say when she realized she was wrong.

  Brégenne said nothing. She stared at Alandred, the midnight moon gilding each hair on his shaggy, grey beard. They were about the same age, she thought, though the years had been cruel to the Master of Novices. Except for those around her eyes, she knew her skin bore few lines, while the unforgiving moon gave Alandred a mountain’s face, heavy with crags and shaded defiles.

  ‘I thought perhaps you’d changed your mind.’

  ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ Brégenne said dismissively. Alandred didn’t respond and she sighed, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders.

  ‘It’s late, Alandred. I want to sleep.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ he said and Brégenne opened her mouth in protest. ‘Everyone knows you don’t,’ Alandred cut her off. ‘I came because I knew you wouldn’t be asleep. This is the only time I can talk to you privately since you’re determined to keep that sycophantic hound at your side.’

  ‘Leave him alone,’ Brégenne snapped. A lock of hair fell out of its knot and she tucked it behind an ear. ‘I don’t see why you have any right to disturb me in the middle of the night, whatever habits I have.’

  Alandred took a step closer and she dug her toes into the carpet, refusing to give an inch though instinct urged her back. She was acutely aware of her thin nightdress. Although it fell to her feet, the bodice was low, too low for comfort. She knew he was looking and cursed herself for not throwing the frivolous thing away. To make it worse, Alandred was only wearing a nightshirt over loose trousers and slippers. She needed to get rid of him.

  Alandred made a sudden lurch towards her and she barely got a hand up before his arms enclosed her. Her body went rigid. His nearness disgusted her and she felt her heart flickering sickly in her chest.

  ‘Perhaps this is what you want,’ he breathed near her ear and she shuddered, turning her face away. She thought of the hand pressed against his chest and reached desperately for the moon that shone above Naris. Her fingers glowed.

  With a crack like thunder, Alandred flew back and hit the door, denting the soft wood. He was on his feet immediately, silver bursting out of his skin, but she was too quick. A blazing rope snapped across the distance separati
ng them, wrapped itself around his wrist and returned to her hand. The glow around Alandred vanished.

  ‘A dirty trick,’ he snarled. ‘You won’t be able to cut me off for long.’

  ‘True,’ Brégenne said coldly, drawing deep breaths. ‘It would take a Solar to hold you properly. But we both know they are useless at night.’

  Something in her words must have pleased him, for Alandred chuckled nastily. ‘You’ll come to my way of thinking, Brégenne. I can wait.’

  Brégenne didn’t reply. Against her better judgement, she let the Lunar block fade and Alandred opened the door. ‘But I won’t wait forever,’ he said and left the room. With some degree of satisfaction, she watched him grope his way along the corridor, knowing that to him it was utterly dark.

  She closed the door, added a second, more potent binding and retreated to her bed. The binding would unravel as soon as the sun rose, she knew, unless she strengthened it. A few moments passed and then her limbs started to tremble. She scowled at them, but they refused to respond. He could have come at her in the day, she found herself thinking, and what would she have done then?

  Brégenne clenched her fists and forced her mind to quieten. It was more than she could stand. She would take this matter higher, as high as it took to stop Alandred in this foolish business. It had gone on far too long.

  There was a knock at the door. The sound turned her cold before she pulled herself together and called, ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Nediah,’ he said and, a moment later, she knew it was him. They were still paired through the Attunement, the rite that linked a Solar and Lunar Wielder together before they were permitted to leave the citadel. It allowed her to sense his presence when she concentrated. The muscles in her body uncurled and her breath left her lungs in one relieved rush. She lifted the binding from the door.

  Nediah stood there, fully dressed. Lunar light limned the smooth crease of robe at his elbow and waist. She knew it was gold; only a master was permitted to wear silk. Seeing him in it still gave her a little shock, after so many years of coarse-woven brown. He stood over a head taller than her and his hair was an untidy mess, as if he’d run his hands through it several times tonight.