by Lucy Hounsom
‘Please.’ She moved away, clutching the shawl about her, and rose unsteadily to her feet. ‘I need to be alone.’
Nediah took a step towards her, his tunic still damp with her tears.
‘No,’ she said and backed away further, turning her head to one side. ‘Leave me, please. I should never have … I don’t want you here.’
He felt a hot swell in his eyes. ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘How dare you tell me what I do or don’t mean?’ she flared at him. Her face was blotched with crying and the mask she tried to pull over it kept splintering. ‘You are not my keeper!’
‘I never wanted to be,’ he said quietly.
‘Then go.’
Her glare drove Nediah to the door. He stared at her, chagrined, fighting the disappointment that dragged at him. ‘Can you allow yourself to love anyone, Brégenne?’
Like a statue, she stood there, silent and sad.
18
Kyndra lay awake, staring listlessly at the ceiling. She hadn’t caught much sleep. Her ribs tingled and itched and it took an enormous effort of will not to scratch them. She wished she could stay under the blanket indefinitely. Maybe if she closed her eyes again, she’d find herself back in The Nomos, where the only things she had to face were chores.
Kyndra let the daydream go. It was useless to lie here and wish. The test offered the only path out of Naris – she would die and escape that way, or she’d pass and be set free. She tried not to listen to a dark whisper that told her she’d become a different sort of prisoner if she lived: a novice.
There was a scratching at the door. She sat up sharply. It sounded like fingernails. Unsure whether to call out, Kyndra listened and caught stifled laughter. ‘Who’s there?’
More laughter. She threw off the blanket and crept closer. She heard a faint metallic scrape, as if something were being withdrawn. Abruptly realizing what it was, Kyndra banged on the door. ‘Put the key back!’
There was a snort of glee. ‘Throw it in the chasm, Shika,’ said Gareth’s voice. ‘No one will find it there.’
‘I said, put it back,’ Kyndra growled, clenching her fists.
‘Who’ll make me?’
‘I will,’ said a new voice. There was silence beyond the door. ‘Be good boys now and hand over the key, or Lord Loricus will hear of this.’
‘We meant nothing by it,’ Shika’s voice said. ‘Just a bit of fun.’
‘Don’t you have studies to attend?’
‘Yes, Master,’ Gareth replied sullenly.
‘Go on, then. And don’t let me catch you here again.’
Kyndra heard the key inserted into the lock and stepped hastily away from the door. When it opened, she saw Janus standing there, a tray of food in one hand. The young man gave her one of his radiant smiles, and – to her surprise – she found herself smiling back. Beyond his shoulder, Kyndra glimpsed the novices hurrying away, and was relieved to see that Irilin wasn’t with them.
‘Made friends, have you?’ Janus said, coming into the room and closing the door.
‘Not exactly.’
‘Don’t worry. They won’t bother you again.’
Kyndra wasn’t at all sure about that. She suspected Janus had made her situation ten times worse. She wasn’t going to tell him, though. She watched him set the tray down and slip the key into his robes. ‘I think I’d better hold on to this today,’ he said, his blue eyes sweeping over her. Kyndra realized she was only wearing a short tunic and felt herself blush furiously. She snatched her shirt, leather jerkin and trousers from the floor and turned to put them on.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked. She tugged her shirt down roughly and winced at the stabbing in her ribs. When she turned back, Janus was sitting on her bed. His golden robes suited him, coaxing a contrast from his eyes, and his hair was a different gold – paler, like cornsilk. She felt a passing urge to touch it.
‘I’ve brought you your breakfast,’ he said. ‘You’re in my care now.’
So Nediah had been right. ‘Have you come to help me with the test?’ Kyndra asked, unable to keep the suspicion from her voice. She wondered how long it would be before Janus started asking questions about Brégenne.
‘Correct,’ he answered briskly, ‘and I’ve been busy this morning on your behalf.’ He raised a sculpted eyebrow. ‘You have upset Master Hebrin. But I persuaded him to give you another chance.’
‘Another chance?’ Kyndra asked. ‘You mean I can go back to the archives?’ The idea appealed to her more than she wished to admit. There was something about the hanging galleries, their blue silence and the enigmatic Spine that sang to her.
‘Hebrin will allow you space to prepare for the test,’ the young man said. ‘And I will show you some books that’ll prove far more useful than the old thing Nediah gave you.’
Kyndra narrowed her eyes. ‘How do you know about that?’
‘Master Hebrin seemed quite offended when I asked if you could be allowed back in. He showed me proof of your unsuitability.’
‘I didn’t—’
‘It’s nothing to me, Kyndra. What matters is that you can visit the archives again.’
‘Thank you,’ she said after a moment. She liked the way Janus said her name, his accent shortening the y sound to an e. ‘But, just so you know, I didn’t wreck the book. It was those novices you chased off.’ She attempted a wry smile. ‘Master Hebrin said I mistook him for a fool.’
Janus laughed. ‘An easy mistake to make.’
Kyndra felt another blush on her cheeks and, horrified, tried to hide it behind a casual hand. Was Janus really a spy, she found herself wondering, perhaps Nediah was just jealous that the young man was Brégenne’s partner now?
Janus stood up, so that they were almost eye to eye and Kyndra hastily stepped back. But he merely scooped up a pastry from the tray and handed it to her with a flourish. ‘Let’s go, then,’ he said. ‘You can eat your breakfast on the way.’
Kyndra watched Janus in the perpetual twilight of the archives. His long hands looked delicate and soft-skinned. Markedly different to Jhren’s, she found herself thinking. As much as he longed to be otherwise, Jhren was a Valleys boy and his palms were calloused with labour.
‘Hold these for me a moment.’ Janus deposited a stack of books in her arms and Kyndra staggered slightly under their weight.
‘How am I going to get through all these in a week?’
The young man smiled knowingly. ‘I’m arranging some help. In fact –’ he glanced up the spiral path towards the second gate – ‘it’s time I fetched it. Why don’t you see if you can reach The Source? That fat book up there. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’ He winked at her. ‘Try not to wander off. If Hebrin sees you somewhere you shouldn’t be, even I won’t be able to talk him round again.’
Kyndra watched him go with a half-smile. Janus’ easy company was a welcome change to the horror of the last few days, and her morning among the books had been almost pleasant. Yesterday, she’d thought him rather arrogant – he is a little, she conceded – but perhaps she’d judged too hastily. He’d already given her lots of advice on the test. And he hadn’t asked anything about Brégenne or what had happened on their journey to Naris.
As they’d traded banter back and forth, Kyndra caught herself thinking of Jhren and the countless times she’d sat – dusty in the cellars of The Nomos, or on the roof of his parents’ stable – and chatted with him in just the same way. But then a cloud would block the sun of her memories and she’d remember the Relic, the day it broke and those last awful words she’d spoken to Jhren.
Kyndra shook herself. She put down her books, crossed to the shelf and stretched up on tip-toe. She tried to prise out the bulky volume that Janus had indicated, but it was wedged tightly into one end of the shelf. Kyndra cursed under her breath and reached for the book beside it, intending to free up some wiggle room. This one was slimmer and fell into her hands in a ruffle of pages.
Kyndra came down on her heels. The
book she held was called Tools of Power. Frowning slightly, she flipped it open to find a compendium of magical artefacts, each skilfully sketched above its own neat summary. About to close the book, Kyndra caught sight of a sub-heading: Defence. As she scanned the list of artefacts, words leapt out at her and she caught her breath: cosmosethic shield, protection, barrier, the test. Heart skipping, she reread the last sentence: Indeed, akans are powerful enough to produce a barrier identical to those created by successful potentials during the test.
Kyndra stood in the dry silence, her mind racing. What if this was her answer? Quickly, she took down The Source and hid Tools of Power beneath it. Then she picked up her stack of books.
Janus was as good as his word. Barely ten minutes had passed before Kyndra spotted him at the top of the slope. Balancing the books against her shoulder, she made her way up to him. ‘Let me take some of those,’ Janus said, smiling, and before she could stop him, he scooped some titles off the top of the stack. Kyndra gritted her teeth. Tools of Power was one of them. ‘Lead on,’ he said, and she started out uneasily. Walking in front of him, she couldn’t see whether he was looking at the books he carried.
Janus opened the gate and they made their way back up to the antechamber. ‘Over there,’ the young man said and gestured with his chin. Kyndra’s stomach contracted. Irilin, Shika and Gareth sat round a large table, watching her. Shika and Gareth looked murderous.
‘Hello, novices,’ Janus said brightly. ‘Thank you so much for helping. As you can see, Kyndra has a lot of books to read.’ He placed his stack on the table and Kyndra couldn’t tell whether he’d seen Tools of Power or not. Feeling a bit sick, she lowered her stack too and tried not to look at the novices. Why was Janus forcing her to sit with Gareth and Shika? He knew what they were like.
‘I’ll leave you four to get on with it,’ Janus said. He smiled disarmingly at the two young men. ‘Since your visit to Kyndra earlier was so much more important than your studies, I thought you wouldn’t mind giving over your afternoon.’ To Kyndra he said, ‘I’ll have a word with Hebrin. He’ll keep an eye on you all until I return.’
Great, Kyndra thought. How would she be able to read Tools of Power now? Perhaps she could stuff it down her shirt and sneak it back to her room for later.
‘Hi,’ Irilin said when Janus had left them alone.
‘Hi,’ Kyndra replied awkwardly. ‘Why did you come too?’
‘Because she’s an idiot,’ Shika said. ‘Doesn’t recognize a punishment when she sees one.’
‘Look, you can just leave me alone,’ Kyndra said. She paused, met Shika’s eyes. ‘This wasn’t my idea.’
‘I know,’ Shika said, surprising her. ‘Janus usually gets what he wants.’
‘He’s all right,’ Kyndra said defensively. ‘At least he’s trying to help me.’
‘How nice of him.’
She frowned. ‘It is, actually. He’s one of the only people here who doesn’t make me feel like a prisoner, but I haven’t done anything wrong. I just want to go home.’ Her last words sounded plaintive and childish and she wished she hadn’t said them.
‘Home?’ Irilin repeated. ‘But you’re a potential. That’s why Master Brégenne brought you here.’
‘Brégenne didn’t tell me that.’
Shika leaned back in his chair, evidently confused. ‘Then why would you come to Naris?’
‘I didn’t have a choice,’ Kyndra said. She looked down. ‘The Breaking destroyed my home.’
Into the sudden silence, Irilin whispered, ‘You never said. I’m so sorry, Kyndra.’
Even Shika and Gareth seemed taken aback. ‘The Breaking?’ Shika asked. ‘What was it like?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Kyndra said shortly.
Irilin glanced at Hebrin’s study. ‘But how does Master Brégenne come into this?’
Kyndra swallowed. Why shouldn’t they know? ‘A mob tried to kill me. Brégenne saved my life.’ Her voice sounded hollow.
Gareth folded beefy arms and finally met her eyes. ‘There’s a story here,’ he said grudgingly. ‘Let’s hear it.’
Kyndra almost told him it was none of his business. She hadn’t forgotten last night. But a part of her was sick of being almost entirely friendless, of being bullied and threatened and ordered about. So she took a deep breath and recounted the tale of her coming to Naris.
The novices listened silently. Kyndra told them about her disastrous Inheritance Ceremony, her departure from Brenwym and the journey to Sky Port East and Market Primus. She spoke uneasily of the potter, Mardon, and how the same thing might now have happened to Master Rush.
‘His mind disintegrated?’ Irilin asked, her pale eyes wide.
Kyndra nodded. ‘Nediah seemed genuinely scared – said it might be too dangerous to examine him.’
Shika pulled distractedly at his scarf. ‘Master Nediah doesn’t think it’s contagious?’
‘He said it might be.’
‘I talked to Master Rush the other day,’ Shika said in a strained voice. ‘Isn’t there a cure?’
‘Maybe, but Nediah didn’t know it, or he’d have helped Mardon.’ Kyndra paused. ‘Besides, I spent a couple of hours listening to Rush yesterday, so I’m in as much danger as you. Probably more,’ she added, remembering the vision that had prompted her to say those strange things during the class. What if she were going mad already?
‘The Wielders will get to the bottom of it,’ Gareth said confidently. ‘I’m not frightened.’
‘I am,’ Irilin said fervently. ‘But what happened after Market Primus, Kyndra?’
Kyndra looked at them all. Both Irilin and Shika were unashamedly hanging on her every word and even Gareth couldn’t conceal his interest. Her story of the Breaking seemed to have softened the two boys – at least they’d stopped regarding her with open hostility. Why should I tell them? she thought, the memory of last night’s humiliation fresh in her mind. Neither Gareth nor Shika had offered her an apology for the way they’d behaved, so why did they deserve her trust? But Irilin’s face was alight with concern and curiosity, and Kyndra hadn’t forgotten who had freed her from Gareth’s manacles.
Addressing her words to Irilin, Kyndra recalled the night she’d trespassed in Argat’s saloon. She told the tiny novice about the visions and the earth – about Brégenne taking it and Argat coming after them. ‘Brégenne thinks the earth is somehow linked to the visions I keep seeing,’ Kyndra concluded, ‘but it was stolen the day we arrived here. Someone went into her room and took it.’
‘What’s so important about a handful of dirt,’ Gareth said, ‘even if it is magical?’ His tone implied that he very much doubted the latter.
Before Kyndra could reply, Irilin asked the question she’d been dreading: ‘What did you see in the visions?’
Kyndra wondered what to say. How could she tell them she had looked out of someone else’s eyes? And not only looked. It was as if she’d been that man … the instrument of peace.
‘Kyndra?’ Irilin said, but the girl’s voice was distant. Images were tumbling through Kyndra’s mind: the red army marching on Solinaris’s walls, the airless gallery with its shielded book and that unknown magic he’d foolishly taken inside him … No, Kyndra thought, shocked back into herself. Her heart was thumping. That man is not me. She looked up to find Shika and Gareth eyeing her as if she really were mad.
‘I don’t hear reading,’ Hebrin called from his study, making them all jump.
Irilin sighed and looked at the pile of books. ‘We’d better get on with this.’ She picked a book up and opened it, and after a moment’s hesitation, Shika did the same. However, Gareth was staring at the table. Slowly he reached out and slid Tools of Power from beneath The Source. Kyndra tensed.
‘Where did you find this?’ the big novice asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He darted a look over his shoulder at Hebrin’s study.
Kyndra frowned. ‘I found it next to that.’ She pointed at The Source. ‘Why?’
; ‘Do you know what we could do with this?’ Gareth asked, eyes glinting. ‘The seventh level isn’t for books. It’s where they keep all the stuff left over from the war – powerful amulets, staffs, things like that. This’ – he tapped Tools of Power – ‘is the definitive guide. I bet it would tell you what they are and how to use them.’
Shika snorted and then promptly looked horrified at the sound. ‘Like we’d ever get down there to find out,’ he said, and his words visibly reined in Gareth’s excitement.
‘I know,’ the big novice agreed, continuing to hold the book in reverential hands. It was a strange sight to Kyndra, who vividly remembered him stamping on Laws of Energy.
‘I thought it might help me with the test,’ she admitted.
Shika looked at her sharply. ‘So you were planning to cheat?’
‘No, well—’
‘I like it.’ Shika’s smile was devious. ‘Shame it’s impossible – you’d have to get into the lower spirals.’
‘And no Wielder would help you,’ Gareth added. He looked at the book in his hands. ‘I’d give anything to go down there.’
Kyndra remembered what Nediah had told her about the lower spirals. That’s where they keep the worst kinds of writing and the worst kinds of power. ‘Nediah told me it was dangerous,’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ Gareth replied wistfully.
He still had a few minutes before the meeting. Janus stopped by his new quarters to run a comb through his hair and study his face in the mirror, summoning a flame for extra light. When he turned his head, its golden glow gilded the bones of his cheeks, leaving his eyes in shadow.
The mirror showed him a slice of the room. Discarded brown robes spilled out of the wardrobe and all three of his dresser drawers hung open, disgorging a mix of scrolls, pens, ink and a few shirts. Several paintings and a small tapestry adorned a couch instead of the wall, awaiting the coming of order.
Janus had earned the room along with his master status and – small though it was – he loved it. He’d always resented the lack of privacy that came with sharing a dorm. The days of squashing his possessions into a chest at the foot of a hard pallet bed were past. Now he could scatter them across a softer mattress without fear of rebuke. Turning from the mirror, he strode recklessly across the littered floor, silently exulting.
