And likely grieves daily for what she’s done to them, I thought.
“I learned there are heavy storms striking the Outer Isles,” I said. “Be safe.”
The captain’s face grew serious with the news. Most likely, he understood what the storms meant. “You too, channeler. Don’t take any chances, okay?”
“No chances.”
With that, I stepped outside. As soon as he spotted me, Gaff hurried over, his crutch thumping against the deck. He gestured at one of the deckhands to prepare the dinghy.
Abruptly, I felt weak. Of the half-dozen people I called friends in this world, four were leaving, one was locked in the prison, and one was fighting for his life—and for the safety of all the world—on the night-soaked slopes of Ioene.
The Ulstats had turned on us and were ready to attack Stanik Island if we didn’t cave to their ridiculous demands.
What was next? A Waikert attack? I shuddered at the thought.
Climbing into the rowboat, I pasted on a brave face.
“Thanks, Gaff,” I said. “The captain is lucky to have such loyal people close.”
“See you soon,” he returned.
As the pulley squealed and the boat lowered toward the sea, Tyrak spoke in my thoughts.
We’ll solve this, Lilik. I know we will.
I hope so, I returned.
The boat hit the water with a splash.
Chapter Eleven
CROSSING INTO THE gutter slums, I felt the day’s first hunger pangs. When I was young, I’d become accustomed to them; we never had quite enough food, and certainly had never enjoyed the luxury of a midday meal. But on the voyage to Ioene, even when forced to forage for my own food, I’d forgotten what it felt like to go through day after day with an empty belly. My family had more than enough money to eat well now, but between my mother’s arrival and Raav’s arrest, I’d forgotten. Breakfast was long gone from my belly. I made a vow to pause and eat something once I returned home. Besides, it would give me time to think.
Most parts of the gutter slums hadn’t changed much in the years I’d been alive. Somewhere between untidy and downright filthy, each narrow alley and square had its own peculiar odor, depending on who lived nearby, what trash they left outside their buildings, and whether they had a particular trade. For instance, my family’s business had a reputation for filling the nearby streets with disgusting clouds of scent whenever a rotten egg was mistakenly cracked inside its carton.
On the edge of the slums nearest the quay, a different sort of scenery soured the mood. About fifteen years after the defense bargain was signed, a wide swath of the slums had been razed, the gutterborn evicted. In the place of the shanties and alleys, the traders had ordered stone-walled barracks built. The mercenary army had been lodged there since.
During my younger years, the soldiers kept to themselves. But as the time since the last Nocturnai had stretched through five, six, seven years, and the nightforged weapons were slowly lost to breakage, theft, or misplacement, soldiers took more injuries in skirmishes against the Waikert. Some died. The gutterborn weren’t to blame, but the soldiers took out their frustration on their gutter neighbors anyway. The area nearest the barracks was a dour place, its inhabitants surly and destitute. And the smell—rotting food, spilled liquor, fish skeletons cast into the alleys—matched the setting.
Though this neighborhood—we called it the barracks strip—was the most direct route home, I steered wide around it.
While I walked, I ran my thumb over Tyrak’s pommel.
I’m sorry if what the captain said upset you, he said after a while. About us . . . the confusion.
Me, too, Tyrak. But we’ll figure it out.
Would you like to train today?
My stomach tingled at the memory of his body behind mine.
I would, I said. After lunch?
How about now? A soldier is more than a set of battle reflexes and sword thrusts. To stay alive, you must be alert. Always.
And you think I’m not?
The alley we just passed. I see through your eyes, remember? There was a beggar sitting at the entrance. You noticed her, but you didn’t spot the knife at her belt.
I’m sure she carries it to protect herself. We aren’t far from the barracks strip.
You’re probably right. But a soldier would be wary. Anyone can pose as a beggar.
As if in response to his words, the hairs on my arms stood up, gooseflesh responding to my shiver. Did I really want to be the sort of person who suspected everyone I met? Did I want to see threats everywhere I looked?
It doesn’t mean being distrustful, he said, as if in response to my thoughts. Only aware.
Okay, I said. So I should watch everyone. Inspect them.
May I guide you? he asked.
When I nodded, the change was so swift my heart stuttered. Where moments before, I’d been alone with his voice, abruptly, Tyrak was within me. My body moved in time with his cues. Footfalls that had been careless, automatic, were now calculated. My sandals avoided gravel which might give away my presence with a crunch. By opening my ears to my surroundings, I noticed a rat snuffling through the pile of rags beside a blacksmith’s shop.
But more than that, I felt his spirit filling my heart. As if we were strings tuned to the same key, we existed in harmony. My heartbeat was his, and his mine.
As quickly as he’d entered me, Tyrak was gone. I coughed, stumbling.
I’m sorry, Lilik. That was too much, he said, his voice strained. I only meant to guide you gently, but once I touched your senses, I felt her there and I dove.
Lip trembling, I could only nod. In that moment, I wished more than anything that I’d never let Zyri go. Even if I had to share Tyrak with her, it would be better than never having him again.
Except I’d never had him. That was Zyri. The girl who lived hundreds of years ago.
Breath shaky, eyes hot, I turned onto the narrow aisle between buildings that would deposit me at my home. All I wanted right now was to lie down and clear my head.
After eating, I reminded myself.
Regardless of what I might imagine I felt for Tyrak, my living friends needed me, too. I had to get Raav out of prison. I needed to sail for Ioene and rescue Paono before Mieshk destroyed the island.
Before I stepped into the wider street near my home, a wave of exhaustion hit me. I covered my face with my hands and after a deep sigh, stood straight and strode into open air. I would get through this—after Ioene, lost in the dark and hunted by a madwoman, I could handle Istanik.
Reassured, I hurried around a bend to reach my doorstep.
And stopped short, my heart plummeting into my gut.
“We need to talk, Lilik. Alone.”
Mother.
Chapter Twelve
I MADE MY mother wait outside while I stomped into the house, retrieved some hard bread and a pot of jam from our small pantry cupboard, and sat at the table to eat. Taking my time, I ignored her peering through the window, brushing aside the admonishments Tyrak offered about my manners.
Sometimes, I just didn’t want to be polite.
Finally, after polishing off the bread and a tin cup of honeyed pear juice, I grabbed my padded jacket and stepped outside. The sun had fallen halfway to the horizon—as long as I was stuck talking to the woman who’d abandoned me twelve years ago, I’d neither be cold nor hungry.
We turned toward the edge of the slum where it bled into the itinerant tents. Speaking little, I allowed her to set the pace, hanging back behind her shoulder so that she had no illusions about my reluctance. At the edge of the camp, she turned, steering for the upper hills where the most decrepit of the gutterborn’s shanties clung to slopes too steep to support them. Many buildings dug heels into the slope behind, while balancing their toes on stilts driven into the clay soil of the hillside. In the shelter of the buildings’ floors, a few of the more desperate gutterborn slept out during the warmer months. The defense tax for those refusing to pay for th
e privilege of sleeping in their ancestral homes was lower, but abandoned rooms were often occupied by the time their former residents returned. Those gutterborn who resorted to sleeping out were often too poor to care.
“I’d forgotten about all this in the years I was away,” Mother said. “In the Outer Isles, villages come together to pay the taxes. If one person falls short, the whole settlement absorbs the cost.”
“Yeah, well, your village is gone now. No use explaining how much better off you were. It’s obvious anyway, seeing as you left us for it.”
A wave of deep sadness crossed her face. Maybe I was being too harsh. But then I remembered Da’s sobs. She’d hurt us all by leaving, but it was worst of all for Da. He’d done everything for her, and still it wasn’t good enough. I didn’t really care how harsh I sounded.
“So what’s this about?” I asked.
“I wanted a chance, however short, to get to know you, Lilik.”
“You had that chance,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. We’d stopped walking, and instead stood in the shadow of one of the stilt houses. Remembering that many of them collapsed every time the rains came, I edged toward the open area of packed earth that resembled a street in this area of the slums.
“Tell me about Ioene,” she pressed, ignoring my barb.
I shrugged. “It was dark. I killed two men.”
Her eyes widened ever so slightly, but she said nothing. I’d hoped to shock her into hating me—in truth, this would be a lot easier if she’d just go. But she persisted.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Not as sorry as they were, I bet.”
At that, she started walking again, placing her slippered feet carefully on the steepening trail. “Did you ever wonder why I left, Lilik?”
Only every day for the first ten years, I thought. “Not really. I assumed you just didn’t love us.”
My mother stiffened, and I knew I’d finally landed a blow. But instead of turning and defending herself, as I’d imagined she would, she continued up the hill. We were nearing the edge of the slums now, the edge of Istanik proper. Much higher, and we’d reach the steep slopes where a handful of terraces had been laboriously cut from the mountain. Those farmers who couldn’t afford any other land worked hard to scratch a living from the perilously perched strips of land.
“Someday you’ll have children of your own,” she said. “And then you’ll know that what you accuse me of is impossible. Even the worst mother in the world loves her children.”
“As a terrible mother, I guess you speak with authority,” I said.
She blinked slowly before continuing. “I don’t blame you for feeling that way. I should have told your da the truth. But I was ashamed. Afraid, too.”
“Afraid of what? Your infant son who wasn’t even weaned? Your five-year-old daughter who loved her mother more than anything?”
I kicked at a rock, stubbing my bare toe against it. Why had I admitted that to her?
When my mother spoke again, her voice shook. “In a way, yes. I was terribly afraid. I thought I was going mad, Lilik. It terrified me because I was worried I’d make a mistake. I didn’t think I could be trusted to care for you, and when I tried to express my fears to your father, he only smiled and reassured me.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I said. At this point, I had no interest in her excuses. My mother had been too weak to handle her responsibilities, and she’d run to the Outer Isles to escape them. End of story.
“I’m so sorry, Lilik. I fled to protect you. When I returned, I knew it would be hard to earn your forgiveness, but I hoped I would in time. Unfortunately, I don’t have that time. It’s only been a day since I got back to Istanik, and I already feel the madness returning. It’s something about the city . . .”
“Then leave,” I said, even as a tiny worm of curiosity squiggled into my mind.
She turned to face me, a tear tracking down her cheek. In her face, I saw the bone structure that we shared, the narrow, straight nose and the chin that I’d always felt was too pointy even though Paono had laughed at me for complaining about it. I hated that I looked like her.
“I am. Soon. But I’d hoped . . . Lilik, would you consider coming with me? My friends from the Outer Isles have decided to found a new settlement on one of the unpopulated islands. Somewhere small, in the lee of the Outer Isles, where the storms won’t break us again. They’d accept you willingly. Lovingly. And we’d finally have a chance to become acquainted, mother to daughter.”
I realized my mouth was hanging open, and shut it with an audible click of teeth. Was she serious? After everything, she expected me to leave with her?
“We’re strong,” she said. “For the last hundred years, the Outer Isles have defended ourselves—no matter what the traders say, their fleets are never around when the Waikert come. You say the Kiriilti are more vulnerable than ever. Come with us. Let me protect you where I failed before.”
Unable to speak, I just stared at her. From within a nearby shack, I heard the noise of someone cooking, utensils scraping against cheap pots. The unseen man hummed as he worked. Despite whatever hardship had forced him into the stilts, as this area was called, he’d found a measure of happiness.
Rather than speaking, I just shook my head at my mother. After a long moment, I turned and started down the hill.
“I know I hurt you, Lilik,” she called. “I’d stay in Istanik if I could. Forever if it would bring you back to me. But I wouldn’t be the same woman. The madness would take me. Just think about it, okay? You know where to find me—I’ll stay as long as I can.”
I couldn’t keep my footsteps slow. Heedless of the sharp stones that jutted from the path, the plunge I’d take if I tripped, I broke into a trot and then a full sprint. Away from my mother and her deranged ideas. Away from the tiny shard of my soul that still loved her, and had waited more than a decade for her to want me again.
Chapter Thirteen
I DIDN’T TELL Da or Jaret about my meeting with Mother. How could I? No matter what I said to reassure him, Da would be worried I’d accept her offer. And as for Jaret, the sooner he forgot her reappearance, the better.
All that evening, I sat with my family in our small home and talked of unimportant things. They seemed to sense my need to just relax and forget the situation for a while. I couldn’t remove the Ulstats from our harbor tonight—if ever. And I was just so tired.
Though the opportunity came up more than once, I didn’t tell them about Raav’s arrest. I didn’t want condolences or comfort. Tonight, I just wanted to escape.
As the fire crackled, the stew pot bubbling, Jaret confounded me by beating me four times in a row at storms and ships. Disgusted that he’d improved so much over the past months, I challenged him to sheep and wolves, a variant using the same stones but played with a different starting position and slightly different rules. Da laughed when Jaret humiliated me for the fifth time, and I pretended to be angry, swiping the board clean after my defeat.
Tucked into my bed that night, I listened to my brother and father’s breathing. The quiet sounds were my anchor, proof that I still had a place of comfort, even though they’d changed slightly while I was away—Jaret’s voice had started to drop, an early change for an Istaniker. His voice cracked sometimes and brought a dark flush to his face. I hoped that the months ahead would be easier on him than the beginning of adolescence had been for me. With no mother around, I’d been lost and afraid, and had finally turned to Nan for advice. If Da had known the turmoil I’d endured, I’m sure he’d have done his best to help me. Thankfully, those days were far in the past.
I drifted off, vaguely uneasy, but with the closeness of my family to make up for it. Tomorrow, I had more work to do. But tonight, I slept soundly. I’d had a mother once, and the woman she’d become now wanted back into my life. But the last thing I would do would be to let her—or anyone—hurt this perfect home.
Never ever.
It
was noon by the time I reached the doors of House Yiltak. The sun beat down mercilessly; days on Stanik Island were rarely oppressively hot nor intolerably cold, but the heat today was cruel.
Months ago, I’d felt like a cockroach as I lifted the heavy brass knocker and let it fall against the Yiltak’s door. Now I slammed the metal ring against the cast-iron plate beneath it. The sound reverberated through the building, vibrating the steps beneath me.
A small copper pane slid aside, showing Trader Yiltak behind the door. Unlike Frask Ovintak, the prime trader of House Yiltak had no need to impress with sentries and butlers. Just her confidence was enough to convey her power.
“I wondered how long it would be before you came knocking,” she said, unlatching the door.
Without waiting for a formal invitation, I stepped over the threshold. “Raav Ovintak had nothing to do with his brother’s betrayal,” I said.
“Oh, I know,” she responded. A curt nod to a nearby servant sent him scurrying down the long hallway. With a sweep of her hand, she directed me toward an adjoining antechamber. Within, a pair of chairs carved of cacao wood faced each other across a mirrored table. I stayed well clear of my reflection, not wanting the reminder of my mother.
“Then you’ll give him a fair trial? I doubt Praviili knew anything either. Frask is—”
“First of all, Lilik, if I hear you refer to a prime trader in the familiar again, I’ll have you put in prison alongside your darkling Raav,” she said with a look that invited no argument.
Though her words tempted me to retort, I clenched my jaw to contain the impulse. A familiar gutter saying was, “Never argue with a trader.” I wanted something from the woman, and I’d only make my job more difficult if I provoked her.
“Second of all,” she continued, “don’t presume to lecture me on the inner workings of a trader household. I know full well that Frask holds the power in his House. Most likely, he’s battered his mother into submission. I severely disapprove of the man, but it is not within my power—not even as the controlling voice in the Council—to change his behavior.”
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