Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

Syther? Syther Lais? Joel’s original roommate and first love? Gib’s stomach went sour even as he caught sight of the librarian. Now I remember why I try to avoid coming to the library.

  Syther and Joel had parted ways—rather unpleasantly—the season before Gib came to Silver, but Gib knew who the other man was, and the two of them had met several times over the past few years—their encounters never seeming to grow any less awkward.

  Gib was greeted with an acidic scowl as the slight man slipped up behind the counter. He must have had a stool of some sort back there because, in reality, Syther was no taller than Gib. Yet from behind the counter, Syther loomed above them. His critical eyes swept up and then down, probably taking in every detail and noting any hair out of place or smudge on Gib’s tunic. As cold and lofty as ever, Syther finally sighed and spoke through his nose. “What do you want?”

  Fumbling closer, Gib kept his voice low. “I’m looking for a book titled Annals of the Unknown Peoples. Do you know where I’d find it?”

  Syther knit his brow in apparent confusion, and even Zandi seemed to hesitate as he scribbled. Gib felt his breath catch. It wasn’t a restricted book, was it? Surely Diddy would have known if it was.

  The librarian recovered an instant later and pointed toward the right wing. “In the back, on the north wall. You’ll have to climb the ladder.”

  Gib tried not to wince. “It’s up high?”

  “Alphabetically arranged.” Syther smiled, but it felt more like a sneer, reminding Gib of the former Instructions Master and recordkeeper on the council, Diedrick Lyle.

  Gib nodded and took a step back. He opened his mouth to offer a word of thanks, but Zandi cleared his throat then and pushed the quill and parchment toward Syther. “All right, the mage orbs along the front wall are fixed. There was a flow problem, but I’ve straightened it out now.”

  Syther took the paper. “Thanks. It was manageable without the orbs functioning during the day, but night is fast approaching. The students would have been crying if they couldn’t read their texts.”

  A moment’s hesitation gave way to quiet laughter. Zandi and Syther seemed to be privy to some joke Gib wasn’t aware of. Zandi took a step back and waved to the librarian. “I’ll see you around sometime.” Syther smiled, and as far as Gib could tell, the gesture seemed to be genuine. A moment later, Syther had promptly turned his back, ignoring Gib entirely.

  Gib nearly snorted aloud. Well, it’s nice to know some things will never change.

  “I’ll show you where it is,” Zandi offered in a quiet voice.

  Gib blinked up at him. “Pardon?”

  A smile broke across Zandi’s face as though Gib had said something funny. “The book. I know where it is. I suppose I could even give you a leg up onto the ladder if you need it.”

  A short laugh burst from Gib’s throat before he could stop it. Zandi was joking with him? Was all forgiven then, despite Gib being so foul upon their last meeting? Some of the tension left his shoulders as he grinned back at the mage. “Or you could just reach up and grab it for me, no ladders needed.”

  Zandi’s smile flicked a little higher onto his cheeks. “From the top shelf? Even I may need a step stool for that.” He laughed and swept off toward the north side of the library.

  Gib raced to keep up, fully appreciating how tall Zandi was now that it took two of Gib’s strides to match one of the other man’s. As they approached the bookcase, Gib peered up. It still boggled his mind to think about how many books had to be crammed into this room. Hundreds, at least. Many even thousands.

  Without hesitation, Zandi pulled a ladder over and braced it against the shelf. “I already see it up there. I remember the golden binding from when I was in my third year of Academy.” He paused long enough to steal a glance back at Gib and blushed when he was caught. “What sort of independent study are you doing anyway?”

  Gib’s mind grounded to a halt while he fished for something to say. This secret-keeping nonsense was already proving to be a chore. “I’m not sure yet. A friend suggested the book.” He offered his best smile in hopes it would deter further investigation. “I don’t even know what it’s about yet.”

  Zandi pulled the text from among the other books and made his way back down. His cheeks were rosy as he handed the book to Gib. “Really? Interesting read for a politician.”

  “Is that so?” Gib glanced down. The image of a dragon wrapped around a gathering of different fantastical characters was etched into the cover with gold powder. Interesting. What could this possibly have to do with the royal family’s birthing records?

  Zandi cleared his throat. “I would think you’d be more interested in histories and law studies. Do you plan to travel one day?”

  Flipping open to the index, Gib shrugged and trotted over to a table near the window. “Not particularly. Why?” He ran his finger down the neat print and found a page number for section four. The Demharlin.

  Zandi sat across from Gib, folding long arms over the table. “Well, Folk studies tend to be reserved for those who either intend to explore the wilds or trek to foreign lands. Or, on rare occasion, for those who mean to actually interact with the different peoples.”

  Gib could feel the heavy stare but didn’t look up or respond. He couldn’t think of anything to say without possibly revealing too much.

  Taking in an audible gulp of air, Zandi plunged on. “When I was still young and naïve, I entertained the idea of such adventures. I find Otherfolk interesting and think humanity should seek to preserve the other species who share our world.”

  Gib’s eyebrow quirked on its own accord. “Most people I know aren’t interested in sharing the world.”

  “You’ll make an odd politician. You don’t seem at all the type to wipe out entire races of people and then ask questions later.”

  Though he was trying to read, Gib felt compelled to engage with the man who had so kindly offered to help him. “Well, being a politician was never my goal. I mean, really, I never had any intention to even leave my farm. If I hadn’t been drafted, I’d still be in Willowdale.”

  Zandi smiled, but his eyes were wistful. “What was it like out there? Away from the city?”

  “Quiet,” Gib chuckled. “My neighbor once had a chicken lay an egg that hatched two chicks. That was big news for a year.”

  “That sounds wonderful. Here there’s always talk of new laws and old laws. You never know what may be acceptable today but not tomorrow. And if you’re caught in the wrong? You can be hauled away in shackles.”

  “Willowdale sounds quaint at first, but it’s not perfect. Nothing ever happens out there. It’s like a stagnant pond.” He glanced around to make sure they were alone. “Change doesn’t happen in the outreaches. If I were still on the farm, I’d be married now and probably already have fathered a baby or two—not because it would be what I wanted, but because it’s what’s expected.”

  “Then perhaps Willowdale isn’t so different from Silver. If my father had his way, I’d be married as well.” The tremble on Zandi’s delicate jaw gave away his carefully disguised melancholy. “I don’t—I don’t wish to upset you as I did when last we met, but I have to tell you what an inspiration you are. Even if you and Joel Adelwijn aren’t lovers anymore, the fact that the two of you stood united and unashamed still gives hope to so many of us who wouldn’t dare.”

  Gib had to take a deep breath to calm his nerves. It still hurt to hear talk of him and Joel being done, but he was starting to be able to keep his head cool. When he’d collected himself, Gib let out a long sigh and replied, “We never meant to draw attention. We weren’t trying to set an example. We’re just people, like anyone else.”

  “I know. That’s what made you both so perfect.” Zandi wiped an eye with the back of his sleeve. “I won’t press you any more. I know it must be hard to speak about such things. Just know you have supporters. There are people who still root for you.”

  Gib shook his head, face feeling warm. “I didn’t mean to be so foul
to you before, at the Rose Bouquet.” He winced. “Well, I mean, I did. But only because I was already hurt and in no mood to hear what anyone had to say. It wasn’t your fault—it was mine.”

  “I know. Kezra has said too many good things about you for me to ever suspect any different. She’s not one to sugar-coat anything, so I know you’re a good person.”

  “Not perfect though, and not a hero by any stretch of the word. I just want you to know that. If you’re going to have an opinion of me, I’d have it be a fair one. I’m sorry to kill your hero, but I’m not him. I’m only me. A humble farmer. Gib from Willowdale.”

  Zandi smiled, still sad, but no longer looking forlorn. “Gibben Nemesio from Willowdale—a good man and a fool.” He chuckled. “Kezra’s right about you.”

  Gib laughed at what Zandi had to say for the second time today. “Fool? I suppose that sounds exactly like something she’d say about me.”

  “You should hear what she says about me. ‘Fool’ is nothing—a badge of honor even!”

  Smiles were shared as they lapsed into comfortable silence. Gib refocused on the text before him, trying to make sense of why Diddy had suggested it in the first place. His confusion must have been apparent for, after a short time, Zandi took pity on him and leaned across the table. “Which Folk are you basing your ‘independent study’ on?”

  “Uh... Demharlins?” Gib flipped the page back and forth, taking in the text on either side.

  Zandi pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to hide the smile playing on his lips. “Demharlin. The word is both plural and singular. What did you need to know about them?”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Gib sighed. “I’m not sure, really. As I said, a friend suggested I study up on them.”

  “Huh. I see.” Zandi’s mouth slanted down, but even the frown was handsome on his dark, heart-shaped face. “They’re indigenous to our mountains, you know. There are several documented clans throughout the Pinnacles.”

  Gib studied an illustration which compared two of the creatures side by side. Both had similar features, with feathered crests, wings, and tails. The only difference in the two were their overall sizes and genders. The woman stood probably a foot taller than her male counterpart.

  Zandi tapped one long finger on the open page. “Their women are rare, rumored to be as few as one in thirty or more. And they only reproduce once every forty years or something like that. It’s a wonder the race hasn’t died out.”

  “I suppose that’s interesting, but I don’t know why my friend wanted me to study them. Do they ever come into the populated areas of Arden?”

  “Not in recent history. Human cities and towns have driven them farther up into the mountains. I mean, they thrive there. Their feathers and tough hides keep them warm, but they don’t have much range over the flatter places.”

  Gib frowned. “Their teeth and claws look nasty. Maybe it’s a good thing they’re not common in the lowlands. They could pose a threat.”

  “I suppose,” Zandi shrugged. “But I don’t think they’d want to fight humanity anyway. Humans tend to live on the ground and in small homes. Demharlin prefer high altitudes and open space.”

  “But if they’re overcrowded in the mountains, what then? Would they be tempted to attack humans to gain more land?” Gib knew he was grasping at straws now. What in the two worlds did these creatures have to do with the conversation he’d witnessed earlier? Had Diddy given him the name of the wrong book?

  “Oh, the Pinnacles aren’t their sole habitat. They can live anywhere there are mountains or cliffs. Some have been sighted as far south as Tembo and across the western sea on the cliffs of Derry. I don’t know that they’d be looking for more land.”

  “Huh.” Gib continued to leaf through the book. “Maybe I’ll have to borrow this. It may take a while to learn what I’m supposed to know. There’s more here than I would have thought.”

  Zandi smiled. “I know. The demharlin are one of my favorites because they’re so interesting. The other species of Folk are too, but some of them are so secretive that they’re hard to observe—like the naga in Shantar. My mother is native to the land. She’s told me bedtime stories of the naga since I was a baby, but most of the tales are rumors and speculation.”

  Gib flipped through until he found another drawing. This one was of a demharlin and a human standing side by side. The caption beneath their feet simply listed the illustration as “shifted form.” What did that mean? He turned the book toward Zandi and pointed. “Is this a size comparison? What does shifted form mean?”

  “Oh, the magic left behind from their demon heritage allows the demharlin to be shape shifters. They can take on the appearance of species who are similar to them, like humans or goblins. They may be able to shift to look like harpies as well. I’m not sure.”

  Gib’s stomach sank. These creatures could disguise themselves to look human? Was that what Diddy was trying to tell him? Maybe there was one or more of these demharlin hunting the King or his family. Gib had thought the council was King Rishi’s biggest worry, but maybe the royal family’s troubles ran deeper.

  “There are several species of Folk who can shift.” Zandi’s voice was more a background noise, but Gib nodded along to appease the other man. “It depends on their origins, really. The sirens and banshee can also shift. It has to do with those species having demon bloodlines. They all have strong natural magic—”

  Gib closed the book and stood promptly. “I think I’ve figured out what I’m supposed to be studying. Thank you for your help.”

  Zandi reeled, looking around, before he stood as well. “All—all right. I guess you’ll be off now?”

  “It’s getting late.” Gib nearly winced. It hadn’t been his intention to glean knowledge from Zandi only to run out on him, but he really did need to go somewhere more private to pour over all of this.

  “I suppose.” Zandi looked out the darkening window. “Well, good luck.”

  Ugh. Stop being an arse. After the way you treated him at the tavern, you need to redeem yourself. Though, truth be told, it was becoming less and less difficult to converse with Zandi. Gib floundered for something more to say. “Thank you though. Really, you were a big help.”

  Zandi walked just ahead of him as both men took their leave. “Eh, I like talking probably even more than you like listening. I should thank you.”

  A smile pulled at Gib’s mouth, and a strange feeling stirred to life just under his skin. It was an unexplainable pang of warmth that left him wanting to shiver. He wasn’t sure when his opinion of Zandi had changed, but it had. Gib found himself liking the mage more the more they spoke to one another. “I’d say you’re decent company, especially after our rocky start.”

  Zandi flashed a dazzling smile over his shoulder, emerald eyes dancing in the low light. “Decent company? Is that the best you can say for me?”

  “Well, I—” Gib sputtered, trying to redeem himself.

  Zandi’s laughter was melodic, pleasing to the ear. “It’s hard to say what sort of company you are. You barely talk at all.”

  As they approached the desk, Gib’s face burst with heat. “I talk. You just haven’t been around when I’m talking!” He set the book on the counter and looked around. Syther seemed to have disappeared.

  “Oh?” One of Zandi’s dark brows arched coyly, and the bindi painted onto his forehead glittered in the false light. He leaned against the desk. “Well then, where would I find you while you are talking? I mean, if I’m ever going to determine whether you’re good company or not, I would have to hear you say a little more.”

  Gib’s insides danced in a strange mix of excitement and anxiety. This interaction with Zandi wasn’t wrong, was it? He thought of Joel’s icy blue eyes, and his heart twisted, though not as sharply as it once had. Is this what it was like to move on? Gib wasn’t sure he liked it. Oh, hell. It’s not like I’m asking Zandi for his hand or anything! Joel told me I deserved to be happy. He even encouraged it. What will it hurt
if I befriend Zandi? When he finally responded, his voice sounded more confident than he was feeling inside. “I go to the Rose Bouquet with my friends some evenings. Usually the last one of the sennight.”

  “So if I showed up on one of those evenings I might chance to see you?”

  Gib smiled despite his shaking nerves. “Yeah. You might.”

  “All right then.” Zandi locked eyes with him and flashed a devious beam. “I suppose I’ll see you soon. Perhaps you’ll have something more to say.”

  “Maybe. You might even find you enjoy my company.”

  Chapter Ten

  Joel licked his dry lips and glanced around the council chamber. All the envoys, foreign and local alike, were already present and called to order. He tapped his fingers on the dry piece of parchment he’d been given for note-taking and waited for the discussion to start. No matter how many times he sat in this dark, windowless chamber, he never seemed able to calm his rapid heart or frayed nerves. Had they really been in Teivel for three fortnights? He’d lost track of the days. Joel gazed over at his father and stiffened at what he saw.

  Koal’s mouth was drawn into a thin frown. In the dim light, the seneschal of Arden looked tired and gaunt. Joel wished he could somehow offer more support. His father was being worn too thin. Six sennights in this foreign country had taken its toll on him the most.

  Emperor Sarpedon gestured toward Adrian Titus, who nodded his head once before addressing the group. “I believe we were to pick up where we last left off. Chancellor Garron, you have agreed to sign the treaty discussed at the meeting two days ago?”

  The chancellor of Nales bowed his head before he spoke. “After much deliberation, Archmage, I have decided it will be in my country’s best interest to sign.” His stiff voice masked any emotion he may have been feeling, but Joel was sure he could feel unspoken tension leaching from the leader.

  Nales was a small country and its precarious position on the Northern Empire’s southern border probably left the chancellor feeling vulnerable. What could he possibly do to save his tiny country if Emperor Sarpedon decided to take it? Of course signing the treaty was in his best interest.