by Kat Ross
Nazafareen walked over to the body and regarded it for a long moment. She thought of Darius, the terrible crack of the sword striking his head. Sudden fury set her heart pounding. She kicked the corpse twice, savagely, then continued around the side of the house, placing each foot with care. Crystals burned in the oval windows, their crisp light casting geometric forms on the ground outside. Nazafareen heard voices and crept closer.
Whatever her other faults might be, Nazafareen wasn’t a complete fool. She didn’t risk a peek inside. From what she’d seen in her weeks there, daēvas picked up on the slightest sound or movement. So she sat cross-legged on the ground and quietly listened.
“…don’t like it.”
That was Victor.
“You never like anything,” Tethys replied tartly. “But Samarqand has always treated the daēvas fairly. They’re our largest market. Where do you think that blade you wear came from? And all the metal tools we use?”
“We trade with the Marakai. They trade with the mortals. That’s how it’s always been. So why is he here?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out. And I’ve kept the boy waiting long enough. You stay put—and try not to start a war with the mortals too. It wouldn’t kill you to practice a little diplomacy, Victor.”
Nazafareen heard rustling and the gentle closing of a door. A minute later, it opened again and light footsteps entered.
“The Lady Tethys of House Dessarian,” a new voice said. It was soft and respectful, with a musical accent.
“If you know my name, young man, I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”
“They call me Javid, Shahbanu.”
“I’m not a queen, let alone an empress.” Tethys sounded amused. “And stand up, boy. You needn’t prostrate yourself.”
“As you say.”
His voice sounded half-muffled and Nazafareen’s mouth twitched.
“The glowering giant in the corner is my son, Victor.”
“It is a most exquisite pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Victor of House Dessarian of the Avas Danai.”
Victor grunted.
Tethys and the emissary exchanged more empty pleasantries and Nazafareen silently willed them to get to the interesting part—why he was here at all. She knew almost nothing about the mortal lands that lay beyond the the twilit boundary between the light and dark sides. Only that the lands collectively called Solis were very hot and dry.
“I bring gifts for the adornment of your illustrious House.”
She heard what must be wooden crates cracking open, followed by other soft sounds she couldn’t identify. Nazafareen scanned the shadows. Shrubs concealed her to either side, but if anyone chanced to walk past, they couldn’t miss her.
“This is a fine figurine,” Tethys said politely. “Bronze?”
The emissary seemed scandalized. “Gold, Shahbanu! My masters would never insult you with one of the base metals.”
Tethys murmured something noncommittal.
More sounds involving the crates. Nazafareen tensed as she heard air whistle against the edge of a blade, but it was followed by a purr of approval from Victor.
“Nice sword,” he murmured.
“Forged by the masters in Tjanjin.”
Grudgingly: “It must be priceless.”
“As I said, Lord Victor, my masters are aware of your reputation. They would never insult you with an unworthy blade.”
“Wise of them.”
More whistling, and the sound of wood chips flying.
“Victor, would you please stop that?” Tethys interrupted dryly. “This is all very nice, but I somehow doubt you came all this way to watch my son reduce the table to kindling.”
“The Shahbanu is astute. My masters have a proposal for House Dessarian.”
“Indeed? Let’s hear it then.”
Her voice grew louder as she approached the window. Nazafareen held herself perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe.
“I shall be direct. The King’s taxes have grown more burdensome every year. The Guild barely ekes out a profit anymore, when we bear all the trouble. It is intolerable.”
“So?”
“My masters would offer House Dessarian a secret alliance. There are other routes into Samarqand besides the port of Susa.”
“Smuggling, you mean.”
“We could offer higher prices for the goods of the Avas Danai if the authorities weren’t taking such a large bite. Beneficial for all involved.”
“And if the King discovers we’ve gone behind his back?” Victor demanded.
“The Guild will bear all the risk. There would be no interruption of the normal trade routes. Consider it supplementary income. We could begin with a few small shipments to test the waters, so to speak. But the Guild is particularly interested in bonewood armor and swords.”
“Planning a war?”
“Merely preparing for every eventuality,” the emissary replied smoothly. “There are concerns about the new Oracle of Delphi.”
“Be specific,” Tethys said tartly.
“Her prophecies of late have been distinctly…belligerent. She has no love of daēvas either. Some in the Guild feel the Oracle has grown too powerful. By all accounts she holds the Archons in the palm of her hand. I’ll be frank, Shahbanu. My masters worry that our king is weak. He cares mainly for wine and boys and seems oblivious of the threat to the north.”
Nazafareen listened closely. So he wanted to cheat his own king. But who were the Archons? And how was the Oracle a threat to Samarqand? She waited for more details, but Victor gave an ostentatious yawn as though bored by mortal politics.
“Let’s cut to the heart of the matter. What incentive are you offering?” he asked.
“Twice the profits you’d normally receive.”
“How generous,” Tethys replied coldly. “But I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time. We don’t deal with mortals directly. We never have, as I’m sure you’re aware. All trade is conducted through the Marakai. Are you suggesting cutting them out? That would surely cause discord between our clans.”
“Not at all. We’ve already approached the Avas Marakai and they’re amenable to a bargain. The Oracle is taking a hard line on magic—and anyone who wields it. If she convinces the Archons to seal the port of Delphi, cargo from Samarqand will have go around the entire continent to reach Tjanjin.”
Tethys sounded surprised. “Is that truly a possibility?”
“The Guild fears so. It is time we begin to establish alternate routes. If nothing else, my masters wish to convey the clear message that Samarqand does not ally with Delphi. If anything, the Greeks are a common enemy. We will continue to trade with you as always, whatever you decide today.”
“Well, that’s good to know, I suppose. We need to discuss this further before I give my reply.”
“Of course. But by your leave, Shahbanu, I hope to depart when Hecate rises. The Guild is anxious for your response and the weather tonight is perfect for flying, clear skies with a light breeze. As much as I am humbled by your gracious hospitality and enchanted by the beauty of your lands, I fear the conditions could change quickly. The Umbra is a fickle place.”
“That gives us time to have a quick supper,” Tethys said. “I’ll admit, I’m intrigued by the offer, especially if the Marakai have already consented. We owe no loyalty to your king. And I want to know more about this Oracle. We pay little attention to mortal affairs, but perhaps that is a mistake.”
“You are most wise, Shahbanu.”
Nazafareen’s thoughts raced as she heard them leave the room. It was a chance that might never come again. A way to cross the Umbra and find the Marakai. This emissary said they were part of the deal. He’d know how to find them.
She briefly considered asking permission but decided against it. The emissary could too easily refuse her—especially if he discovered who her enemies were. But he was only one man and it was a large ship, thirty hands from bow to stern.
If she was sn
eaky, no one would know she was gone until it was too late.
7
Night Flight
Nazafareen ran back to her little house, cloak flying. Since the Valkirin assassin, she’d become more cautious. Now she paused outside the door and drew a deep, calming breath. It took her three tries before the lumen crystal caught, the light flickering weakly as she struggled to hold the flow. Sometimes it came effortlessly. More often than not, though, reaching for the elements was like cupping water with open fingers. They simply slid away. Darius said it was because she tried too hard; she was supposed to let the power enter her rather than grab for it like a child stealing candy.
Nazafareen peered through the window and made sure the house was empty before entering. Once inside, she found the bag that had held the astrolabe and started packing—not that she had many belongings. Two spare tunics and one pair of pants. A full water skin. A knife and whetstone. Some strips of dried fruit from the larder. She wasted precious minutes searching for the hairbrush Darius had made, but she must have misplaced it.
She took a final look around and buckled on her sword. It wasn’t bonewood but iron, forged by the smiths in Solis from ore mined in the mountains of the Valkirins. The pommel and grip were made of gold and engraved with strange animals, half-fish, half-snake. The blade itself was short but perfectly balanced, fitting her hand as though it had been made for her.
Nazafareen wished she could leave Darius a letter of explanation, but didn’t know how to read or write. It wasn’t a result of her amnesia. He said she’d always been illiterate. In the world they came from, only the magi and the very wealthy received an education.
Nazafareen was about to rush out the door when she turned back.
Should I leave it behind?
Part of her wanted to. But it was the only remnant of her former life as a soldier. The only thing the other Nazafareen had owned.
So she went back inside and found the snarling griffin bracelet. Darius had a matching one. Once, the cuffs had bonded them in some strange way she didn’t understand—and that Darius refused to explain. The bond had dissolved when they passed through the gate to Nocturne, but she remembered a faint echo of it.
She extinguished the lumen crystal and ran through the forest to his simple two-story house. Certain flowers only bloomed after Selene had risen and she smelled them now, a heady, cloying blend that make her think of the single time Darius had kissed her….
They’d moved him to his own bed once the worst danger had passed. As she’d hoped, he was alone. She sat on the edge of the bed and watched him. Her chest ached, but it was a different sort of pain than when she’d been in the grip of terror. Fear squeezed. Love hurt from the inside out.
A damp curl stuck to his forehead. Nazafareen smoothed it back.
His reticence was infuriating, but she knew he thought he was doing the right thing. Fool man. He wouldn’t tell her anything of importance, only little snippets, as if that might appease her. Like the fact that Nazafareen meant North Star in the language of the nomads. And that she was fond of figs—whatever those were.
He’d made the furniture in her house, beautiful pieces of ebony and white cherry cunningly combined. He said it was a reflection of the world they lived in now—half light, half dark.
She felt bold with him sleeping and no one around, bold enough to kiss his palm. Darius murmured something but didn’t wake. She studied the lines of his face, touched his wavy brown hair, his cheek. The heat of his skin almost burned her fingertips.
She thought about what Galen said about blood feuds. The Avas Valkirin wouldn’t stop, nor did they issue empty threats.
You die, or they all die.
“I’ll find you again someday,” she told his sleeping form. “But don’t try to follow. It won’t do either of us any good.”
Now that the moment had come, it was harder to leave than she’d anticipated.
If only he would wake up right now. I would tell him everything.
But he didn’t, and she could put it off no longer. Staying would only bring disaster to House Dessarian. The cold air stung her cheeks as she stepped outside into the moonlit evening. Nazafareen pulled her cloak tighter and made her way toward the clearing, the oilskin sack slung over her left shoulder. There was little chance of creeping away unseen, not with everyone on high alert. So she walked with her back straight, not too fast. She glimpsed shadowy shapes in the trees, but she was permitted to move freely within the settlement and none of the sentries challenged her.
A breeze swept through, rattling the leaves. Nazafareen tried to imagine what it would be like to sail through the sky, suspended by ropes from the sack of air keeping the ship aloft. She wasn’t afraid of heights, but the thought still sent a slight tingle through the soles of her feet.
Selene was already drifting toward the horizon and Hecate beginning her ascent across the heavens. Nazafareen quickened her pace. She’d spent too long in Darius’s room. What if the emissary left early? She’d never make it across the Umbra on foot.
The clearing wasn’t far, just a few minutes past the last line of houses and the deep craters Darius had torn in the earth. She darted around a bend just as a gaunt figure stepped directly into her path. Nazafareen dropped the bag and drew her sword, heart racing. Then the figure moved into the moonlight and she recognized Darius’s mother.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Delilah said, her cool gaze resting on the bag. “Going somewhere?”
Nazafareen sheathed the sword. “It’s not your concern.”
“You think not? I’d say it’s very much my concern.”
Nazafareen concocted and discarded a series of lies. “Oh, very well. Yes, I’m leaving. I don’t want to bring war to the clans. Surely you can understand that.”
“Tethys would give you sanctuary here.”
“I know. But Galen said the Valkirins won’t stop once they declare a blood feud. I don’t want to put Darius at risk. Or any of you.” She picked up the bag and slung it over her shoulder. “It’s my choice and I have the right.”
Delilah raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. You think you can go to Samarqand.”
Nazafareen glanced at the path, impatient to go. “If I travel by wind ship, I’ll leave no trail to follow.”
“You think this emissary will take you?”
“That’s my business.”
“You don’t plan to ask, do you?”
Nazafareen lifted her chin. “If I conceal myself, he’ll never know the difference.”
“And what will happen when you reach Solis and your magic returns?”
“I’ll worry about that when it happens,” she said stubbornly.
“You should worry about it now.” Delilah sighed. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to.”
Nazafareen had expected Delilah to be thrilled she was leaving. “I’m sure.”
Delilah studied her for a long moment, her face unreadable. “I don’t pretend to understand your power or where it comes from. But for the sake of my son, you should let go of your hatred. In the end, it will only poison you.”
“I have no hatred.”
Delilah laughed. “Liar. I can see it in your face. You hate the Valkirins.”
Nazafareen’s brows drew together in a frown. She opened her mouth to reply but Delilah cut her off.
“They tried to murder you. They’ve driven you away from Darius. Of course you hate them.” She leaned closer. “Just as I hated King Artaxeros for keeping me as his slave. Just as Victor hates the men who imprisoned him at Gorgon-e Gaz for two hundred years.” A shadow crossed her face. “Victor’s not the man he used to be. There’s a bitterness inside him. I fear war will come no matter what you do.”
Nazafareen wasn’t sure how to respond. Delilah had never spoken to her so frankly.
“If our enemies are willing to kill, then we must too,” she said at last. “I’m not afraid.”
Delilah gave her a level look. “That’s what worries
me.” She shook her head. “I’m not a soft woman. I’m merely warning you since no one else will. Victor told me about your temper. You’re reckless and impulsive. He thinks it’s wonderful, but I don’t. And from what I understand, your magic feeds on those traits.”
Nazafareen only remembered using it once—that day at the lake with Culach. Her time in the Dominion, just before, was a fragmented dream. A beautiful woman in white who’d called her daughter. Winged creatures with sharp talons. The sound of a monstrous bell tolling….
Nazafareen shook her head. “I’ll be fine,” she said tersely. “Just because the power exists doesn’t mean I have to use it. If I never touch it again, it can’t harm me.”
As she spoke the words, she knew they were true. No matter what happened, she wouldn’t resort to the breaking magic. She could still wield the other elements, to a point, and she had her sword. It would have to be enough.
“All right,” Delilah said, sounding unconvinced. “But we have another problem. It will be next to impossible to keep Darius from going after you once he wakes.”
Nazafareen felt a stab of guilt, but it was better she did this alone.
I draw danger like flies to a midden heap. And next time, Tethys won’t be there to heal him.
“You can tell him I plan to seek out the Marakai. There’s a chance they can restore my memories. Tell him…I’ll come back when I can.”
Delilah’s head jerked toward the settlement, though Nazafareen heard nothing except the monotonous chirrup of insects.
“They’re coming,” she hissed. “I won’t stop you, though Darius won’t thank me for it. Go, then! Quickly!”
