Kingdom Blades (A Pattern of Shadow & Light 4)

by McPhail, Melissa

  He hadn’t reached out to Pelas since before he’d bound with Sinárr, but suddenly he really missed his bond-brother’s company and the connected calm he felt when they were together. Now that Tanis and Sinárr were equally bound, Tanis had full access to elae, so he closed his eyes and sought Pelas, casting his own thoughts across the interwoven conduit of their binding to give a polite rap on the door of Pelas’s mind.

  His bond-brother immediately opened his thoughts, warmly welcoming him, enveloping him with the affection he always flowed across their bond.

  Tanis…

  Tanis made an anchor of Pelas’s thoughts and wove shape around them.

  Dreamscape opened between them.

  A narrow strip of beach angled between cold, high cliffs, while in the deeper water, a reef broke the waves into tumbling surf. Tanis knew if he looked at a certain angle, he’d see glimpses of Pelas’s Hallovian mansion.

  Pelas came towards him from further down the windy beach. He lifted his gaze to survey the cliffs and then fixed a smile on Tanis. “This is elaborate.” He shifted his own clothing to resemble Tanis’s, so that as he reached the lad, he was wearing a dark sweater and pants, with his raven hair blowing long about his shoulders.

  Pelas smiled and touched a finger beneath Tanis’s chin. “I like this new you, effortlessly weaving us into Dreamscape.”

  Tanis hugged him. “I just wanted to see you.”

  “I am grateful that you did.” Releasing him, Pelas pushed hands in his pockets and smiled at him. “How are you, little spy?”

  Tanis exhaled a slow breath. “There’s a lot I should tell you.”

  “What, you have more surprises for me?” Pelas grinned. “Not another immortal waiting in the wings to bind with you, I hope.”

  “I think three is my limit.” It was the first time they’d spoken of his binding with Sinárr, and apparently all that needed to be said about it. Tanis reflected it was a wondrous experience to hold another’s trust so completely. He glanced to Pelas in invitation and started walking the shoreline. “Are you well?”

  Pelas eyed him humorously. “Do you mean since my bout with my brother’s revenants or since Ean val Lorian’s unworking?”

  “Both. Wait—” Tanis’s eyes widened, “did you say revenants?” His eyes grew wider, his voice slightly shriller. “Do you mean Prince Ean tried to unwork your life pattern?”

  Pelas winked. “No harm was done that your zanthyr couldn’t repair.”

  Tanis really gaped at him then. “Phaedor Healed you?”

  “In Adonnai—”

  “Okay, stop talking.” He held up a hand. There was no way he could keep up with that many momentous revelations at once. “I beg you, start at the beginning.”

  Pelas wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gave a low laugh. “I will tell you all, little spy.”

  The story he recounted for Tanis would’ve rivaled the best tales of even the Immortal Bard Drake di Matteo. Tanis listened raptly with a wonder that sharpened to apprehension, elevated to dismay and finally resolved into astonishment. As they walked and Pelas spoke, Tanis tossed lone pebbles into the waves, notching their progress down the timeline of their separation. Pelas ended his tale by explaining how he’d left his brothers to battle each other at the Sormitáge and had taken Nadia to safety.

  Tanis angled him a wondering look. “I hadn’t imagined that even you could get into so much trouble.”

  “Well, I have bound myself to your path, Tanis.” Pelas regarded him warmly. “But explain to me this feeling of imbalance that has you bobbing all about as in a stormy sea. Even I feel a bit queasy.”

  “That’s just it. I can’t explain it.” Tanis flung another pebble and watched it skip through the surf. “I’ve experienced something like this before. It usually heralds change.”

  “Change…” Pelas looked him over with dancing copper eyes, “which on your path precedes epic misadventure.”

  “Epic.” Tanis made a face. The word had an uncomfortable flavor with its naming—reminding of Quai games and exploding temples and perilous eternal bindings with immortal demigods.

  He flung another stone and frowned after it. “Surely there’s nothing wrong with being ordinary. Lord Fynnlar speaks at length on the merits of mediocrity.”

  “There must be a middle between the extremes,” Pelas said by way of amused agreement, “but I doubt we’ll find it on your path, little spy.”

  Tanis sighed and flung another stone.

  “When did it start, this feeling?”

  “This morning.”

  “Interesting.”

  Tanis eyed him sidelong. “What’s interesting?”

  Pelas looked him over. “I’m wondering how much of what you perceive colors my perception and how much of my perception colors yours. Ean and I just returned to the Sormitáge to investigate a thread in the tapestry that’s vibrating rather madly for attention.”

  Tanis considered his words. Then turned his gaze out across the white-capped waves. “I’m not sure this is my own feeling, but I thought…”

  Pelas arched a brow inquiringly. “You thought?”

  Tanis puffed an explosive exhale. “I thought I heard my father reaching out to my mother across their bond.” When Pelas said nothing to this, Tanis looked back to him. “But how could that be? If my father was calling my mother on their bond, why would I have heard him?”

  Pelas’s mind became suddenly quiet and his gaze serious. He looked out towards the breaking waves, letting the wind blow his hair into his eyes. “Whyever indeed?”

  Tanis knew well enough when his bond-brother was hiding important knowledge from him. He looked him up and down narrowly. “I’m not sure you spending time with Phaedor is such a grand idea.”

  Pelas chuckled. “One day when it’s safe to do so, I will show you the tapestry as Phaedor has opened it to me. It’s…vast, Tanis. You could waste away eternity studying it.” Suddenly his smile fell into sobriety, and he fastened his eyes intently on the lad. “But having seen it, the weight of responsibility becomes immense, for one such as me cannot look upon this fabric without also seeing how easily it might be manipulated.”

  Tanis held his gaze soberly in return. “My father could see the tapestry—I mean, at least some expression of it. He could see patterns of action and consequence and follow their course beyond the curve of time.” He scooped up another stone and flung it into the sea. “My mother says my father has Returned, and Phaedor says he’s not as I remember him.” He turned to Pelas. “Do you think my father is really out there somewhere?”

  Pelas returned his gaze softly. “Very much so, Tanis.”

  Tanis wondered what Pelas wasn’t telling him. “Do you think we’ll ever meet?”

  The faintest furrowing of his brow was the only indication that this question caused Pelas some concern. “I think…”

  “Never mind.” Tanis cast him a resigned look. “You don’t have to answer that.”

  Pelas exhaled a slow breath. “I would if I dared.”

  “Now you’re really sounding like Phaedor.” He blessed his bond-brother with a grin and laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

  Pelas arched brows. “For?”

  Tanis shrugged, smiled. “Walking my path with me?”

  Pelas held his gaze, but it was the resonance of feeling through their bond that gave his words their emphasis. “Until the end of time, Tanis.”

  Feeling calmer if not exactly reassured, Tanis dressed and went to find Sinárr. He might’ve appeared instantly wherever Sinárr was by merely thinking it—for in truth, Shadow possessed neither when nor where—but Tanis preferred to walk at least part of the way to give some sense of normalcy to his very unusual existence.

  There was something to be said for convincing yourself of your own illusions. Now that he could see the world as Sinárr saw it, Tanis had to consciously decide it was real in order to feel that same solidity and permanence he’d experienced upon first waking in Shadow. He was beginning
to understand Alorin’s lure.

  When he ran out of path, he shifted himself to Sinárr’s location by deciding he was wherever Sinárr was. Yes, it was as easy as that, yet it had taken Tanis an embarrassing number of tries before he’d realized that it really was that simple.

  Upon this decision, cloud forest became jungle. Tanis emerged out of the shade of palm fronds onto a sparkling pink-sand beach. Tropical mountains jutted around them, and more lush islands dotted the aqua sea.

  Sinárr had a meal set for them beneath a breezy tent. Sinárr being Sinárr, however, the peaked gold and violet tent might’ve belonged to a sultan, and the table was lavishly decorated in shimmering pearlescent cloth set with abalone dishware.

  Tanis found the Warlock seated at the table wearing a radiant white silk shirt that stood out brightly against his very black skin. His shirt cuffs showed gold where they were turned back, and his ruby cufflinks matched a large ring upon his finger.

  “Good morning, Tanis-mine.”

  “Good morning, Sinárr.” Tanis pulled out a chair. “How went your conversation with Mérethe last night?”

  “She’s still undecided, while I am equally uncertain of what is best for her.”

  “But you’ll return her to Alorin if she decides she wants to go?”

  “Yes, as I promised you. If she decides she wants to return. It is not so easy giving all this up in the end, as you may well find.”

  “Yes, I’m already seeing that.” The idea of never building worlds again posed such a potential loss that Tanis couldn’t even bear to consider it now. If he’d had any real idea what he stood to gain, he wouldn’t have hesitated to bind with Sinárr.

  Sinárr reached for a silver pot. “Tea, Tanis?”

  “Please.” Tanis sat back in his chair and watched the Warlock pouring for him. The silver shone as if newly polished, and the glasses and flatware were sparkling in the early morning sunlight. A breeze stirred the colorful fringe draping the curtains, and the jungle was humming with sounds of life. Sinárr had really outdone himself that morning. The question on Tanis’s mind was why.

  He turned an admiring look around. “This is elaborate.”

  The Warlock’s eyebrow twitched as he set down the pot. “You would prefer we ate somewhere else?” He handed Tanis his tea.

  “No, it’s quite beautiful, only…” Tanis settled him a look. “All of this wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that I reached out to Pelas this morning, would it?”

  Sinárr sat back and clasped hands in his lap. “You’re free to communicate as you choose, Tanis. I’ve never sought to compel your will.”

  Tanis smiled at him. “No…only my affinities.”

  Sinárr rested an elbow on his chair arm and ran a finger along his jaw, considering Tanis with an earnest but slightly injured gaze. “You and I are bound…but earlier when you needed reassurance, it was not my counsel you sought. How should I feel about that?”

  Tanis smothered a grin. “I just think it’s a little unnecessary…your being jealous of Pelas.”

  “I merely wonder that you did not think to come to me.”

  “Really?” Tanis grinned up at him beneath arched brows. “You wondered at that?”

  Sinárr’s expression fell into a fragile disappointment. “You agreed to our binding.”

  “You didn’t give me too many choices about it, Sinárr.”

  “But creating worlds brings you great joy. I’ve perceived this truth in your thoughts.”

  Tanis popped a grape into his mouth and grinned around it. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He served himself a piece of a duck and cherry tart and started in on it while mulling over the Warlock’s reaction. “It’s not just Pelas, is it?” Tanis made a swirling motion with his fork. “There’s something deeper here. I can sense it, but I can’t quite put my finger on what’s really bothering you.”

  Sinárr’s golden eyes studied the lad. “You inquire into something that sits at the heart of who we are, I think.”

  Tanis held his gaze gently. “So tell me, that I may understand you better.”

  Sinárr met this appeal with silence. Tanis felt a faint misgiving coming across the bond, as a wavering pitch in the resonance that continuously bounced between them.

  After a moment, Sinárr ran a gilded fingernail along his bottom lip. “Do you think this place is beautiful, Tanis?”

  “It’s lovely, Sinárr.”

  “I created it for you.”

  “Yes, I gathered that.”

  Sinárr leaned forward slightly. “But do you understand why I made this beautiful place, the glorious table, these fine foods, for you?”

  Tanis set down his fork and sat back in his chair. “I would imagine they’re gifts. You’re courting me, as Mérethe would say.”

  “Courtship is an essential aspect of our existence. We Warlocks are constantly courting one another with our creations—constantly.”

  “That’s…” Tanis paused to ponder this new idea, “unexpected.” He frowned slightly. “Why?”

  Sinárr sat back again. “I’ve told you that we’re not a collected society, but while there is rarely collaboration between Warlocks, there are…associations, games, and even a form of barter and trade.”

  Tanis tried to wrap his head around this idea. What could they possibly trade in when nothing in Shadow truly existed?

  Sinárr held a hand towards the world he’d created. “If I fashion this illusion for you, what do you imagine I hope to gain in return?”

  “You mean, other than binding me for all eternity?”

  Sinárr gave him a droll smile. “Yes, Tanis, other than this.”

  Tanis put honest thought to the question, for clearly it was important to Sinárr. He recalled that Sinárr hadn’t wanted to compel Mérethe into seeing his illusions. It had confused him at the time, but now Tanis thought he better understood. “When you make an illusion for me, I get the enjoyment of it, and you get…” he frowned slightly, “I don’t know—my appreciation, perhaps?”

  Sinárr merely watched him with his forefinger stroking his bottom lip, giving Tanis time to work out the truth for himself. That’s when the lad realized that Sinárr had already given him the answer, days ago. ‘…Creation holds a supreme joy unlike any other experience, yet there is reward too in sharing one’s creation with another, in gaining their admiration…’

  “It’s admiration, isn’t it?” Tanis could tell by the Warlock’s gaze that he had the right of it. “But why should that matter so much?”

  Sinárr lifted his chin from his hand. “Admiration, attention, these are our currencies, such as they exist.”

  “You trade in admiration.” Tanis drank his tea while he tried to process that revelation.

  “Admiration is one of the most powerful forces, Tanis. I will show you today why it is so important—that is, if you choose to continue our lessons.”

  “Sinárr,” Tanis angled a voluminous look at him, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

  Sinárr rested his chin on his hand again. “For the time being,” he remarked morosely. “I can sense the disturbance in your energies.”

  “Well, it doesn’t mean what you clearly think it means.”

  “I have no idea what it means. You haven’t shared your thoughts with me.”

  Tanis chuckled. “Will you stop pouting? We have a world to build together, remember?”

  “Yes, Tanis,” Sinárr fixed a suddenly ardent gaze upon him, “I remember.”

  Tanis finished his breakfast quickly. Downing the last of his tea, he pushed back from the table and grinned at Sinárr. “Shall we?”

  Sinárr came over and drew Tanis close against his own form—his preferred stance while they built worlds together, which the Warlock greatly enjoyed and Tanis rather stoically endured. The table fell away, the beach fell away, and the illusion surrounding them dissolved into darkness.

  Frame your starpoints, Sinárr spoke into Tanis’s mind.

  Tanis felt a j
olt of excitement upon this command. They’d built the beginnings of a world together already, but it had been inside Sinárr’s framed space. To build something in his own space would offer an altogether different thrill.

  Tanis put up a starpoint and instantly duplicated it. Then he made six more and shoved them all apart, framing a cube.

  Now impress within each starpoint that they will remain in this relationship. One frames space and time in the same thought.

  Remind me again why that is so?

  Right now you’re consciously holding your starpoints apart. When you move your attention to creating within the space you’ve framed, if you haven’t directed the starpoints to remain as they are, they will either collapse or vanish. You must direct them to endure, giving time to their property, and you must direct them to remain stationary and hold the same angular relationship.

  Tanis did both of these things.

  Sinárr radiated approval. Now, what will you put into the space you’ve framed?

  Tanis got the idea of a tower of stars. He fashioned it in his mind and willed it into being.

  The tower formed quickly, sculpted out of the stuff of Shadow, a shaft of sparkling brilliance derived from raw energy coalescing and combining. Tanis finished off the spire at the top and was mentally stepping back to admire his work, when—

  No! What happened? The lad cast a startled query to Sinárr—the equivalent of a look of dismay. Why did it disappear?

  You did not give your tower permanence.

  I willed that it would endure! Tanis protested.

  But then you admired it with the same energy, in the same time, seeing all that it is and was and could be—for you are its maker and know its composition intimately—and erased it by so doing. We call this phenomenon ‘effacement.’

  The idea of this so-called effacement seemed pretty farfetched to him. So because I admired it, it vanished?

  Sinárr duplicated Tanis’s starpoints so he could share the creative space with him.

  When you have an energy flow, such as sound, for example, flowing upon a specific wavelength—he pushed an undulating wave of blue-white energy through the empty space before them—and if you match this flow with the same kind of energy at the same wavelength in the exact opposite vector—he added another flow of energy coming towards the first—where the two meet, they will erase each other.