Xaron shook his head and focused back on his current predicament. There’d be time enough to contemplate his motivations later if he made it back out. He had nearly reached another closed doorway through a room that looked to be an entertainment hall when the door opened. Xaron immediately extinguished his light and ducked behind a table. He didn’t have much cover. All it would take was a glance from the guard to be caught.
But it wasn’t a guard who walked through. The woman who entered the room looked to be little older than Xaron was, and though her eyes were shadowed, Xaron thought they had the distinctive narrow shape of his people, the Qao Fu. From the way she strode across the room, walking in front of the man who was with her, he knew this must be the matron of the estate, Servant Feiyan herself.
“It seems like common sense,” Feiyan observed mildly to her companion. “I didn’t think I needed to tell her explicitly that making sculptures of other people’s ponds is rude.”
Sculptures from ponds? Xaron didn’t know what to make of that. He kept listening as they were hidden from view behind the table.
“Perhaps she believes she did you a service,” the man next to her offered. “After all, it is quite a nice sculpture.”
They stepped around the table, and Xaron was almost as surprised at the flippant tone he used with the Servant as he was at his appearance. From his shaved head and tin spiral earrings, this man was an honor, one of the caste in Oedija relegated to servitude. This honor, however, wore rich robes far beyond his station, and had none of the submissiveness of other honors Xaron had met. He knew little what to make of it all.
“Quite,” Feiyan replied sourly. “Just what I wanted: a feral sculpting her image in my garden.”
Now his heart was pumping. Feral, she’d said. He had a strong suspicion he knew who they were referring to as well. Suddenly, his unease doubled at the task before him.
“Truly, who does she think she is?” the Servant continued to gripe. “Coming with her commands, as if I were nothing but a common honor.”
“Ouch,” the honor said mildly.
The smile she shared with him seemed that of friends. Bewildered, Xaron wondered just who this honor was.
Feiyan faced forward again and exhaled noisily. “Time to be the Servant again. Try not to let me say something that might get myself killed.”
“Isn’t that why you keep me around?”
They entered through another doorway.
Xaron knew he had to hear more of this feral. Summoning his courage, he darted forward on silent feet and caught the door just before it closed. He held his breath, waiting for either the honor or his mistress to notice. But they must have been too absorbed in their conversation, for neither raised an alarm. When he thought enough time had passed, he exhaled and slowly, ever so slowly, opened the door to peer in.
A hallway lined with pyr lamps extended for several dozen spans. From it came a steady, cool breeze. It had to lead outside, he reasoned. Xaron smiled at that. Outside he’d have a much easier time moving around, and less chance of being surprised. He itched to bolt down the hall at that moment, but the receding figures at the end of the hall pressed caution on him once more. He slipped through and softly let the door close behind.
Xaron kept low as he slunk down the hall after Feiyan and the honor. Though his back ached and his legs cramped and he could barely refrain from panting, he knew how easy it would be for them to look back and catch him. Not that crouching would hide him, but it couldn’t hurt his chances.
They moved around a bend, and Xaron took a quick moment to stand and stretch his abused muscles, then peered around the corner after them. The entrance to a garden between sections of the estate lay beyond, but so did Feiyan and the honor, who had stopped at the exit. Xaron silently cursed and pulled back, and listened as their conversation drifted down the hall.
“She has no respect at all,” Feiyan hissed. “Sitting atop a statue of herself in my garden. Unrefined arrogance, it is.”
“Perhaps we should reconsider this relationship,” the honor observed.
“You speak as if I have a choice.” Bitterness tinged the Servant’s words now. In sharp clarity, Xaron suddenly saw how vulnerable Feiyan felt before this woman. “I tell you, Kako. These people… I fear very little in my life, as you know. Fear has always been the tool I’ve best employed, but never had used against me. But her and her master — these, I fear. For all the power and influence I’ve gathered, nothing I can do could touch them.”
“I know,” the honor named Kako said simply. “Let us never forget that then, and not let them use our fear against us.”
Xaron heard them proceed further into the garden and followed after. Ducking behind a row of manicured laurel shrugs, he glimpsed between the leaves the statue the Servant had referred to, and blinked in surprise. A statue of ice rose from the pond in the middle of the garden, a woman’s features formed into it with unnatural smoothness, as if the water had frozen in exactly that shape rather than been carved. Perched atop it was a silver-haired woman in a dark tunic and trousers. Xaron stared at her, wondering at what she had wrought. He thought he knew much of channeling, yet he had not the first idea of how he would create such a thing, as he knew she must have. Magic was supposed to work by using the energies of the Pyrthae to create effects. Radiance, kinesis, magnesis — these were the tools a warden had to work with. And none of these could create ice that Xaron knew of. A creeping sense of awe came over him.
“You’re late.” Her silvery blue hair flashed through the darkness like broken ice bobbing down a mountain river as she leaped down from her statue to approach the Servant and her honor.
“My apologies,” Feiyan said as the woman stalked up to stand before her. “What a beautiful sculpture you formed for me.” Her tone had utterly changed, from barbs to oily placation. Xaron liked this side of Feiyan even less.
The silver-haired woman smirked. “Yes, it is beautiful, isn’t it? And just like beauty, its existence will be fleeting.”
The Servant inclined her head a fraction. “Just as swiftly opportunities come and go. I understand you have news of our arrangement.”
“Yes.” The silver-haired woman turned away to trace a finger along the statue. “Our apothecary has fled, it seems. Until we discover where he has gone, we cannot proceed with our plans. Any assistance you might provide in this area would be of great appreciation to my master.”
Feiyan bowed her head. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Once he is found, and I’m sure he will be soon, then I trust you remain capable of delivering the expected concoctions from the apothecary. My master is eager to have his designs move forward. He has been waiting a very long time for results, and feels he is growing very near to them now.”
The Servant bowed again. “Of course. Though I must admit, my confidence has been somewhat shaken following the unfortunate death of Agmon of Iris. It is strange that he should die so soon after breaking off his relationship with your master.”
The silver-haired woman smiled a cold smile. “Yes. It is.”
“But of course you have nothing to fear of that from me, Iela,” Feiyan continued smoothly. “I remain at your master’s disposal.”
Xaron wracked his memory for any mention of an ‘Iela’ before when he’d lived in the feral commune, but came up with nothing. While he thought, he shifted his feet to relieve his aching muscles.
A twig snapped beneath his foot.
He froze as Iela whipped her head towards his hiding spot. “What's that?”
His heart hammered in his ears so that he couldn’t make out Feiyan’s response. But it didn’t matter. Whatever she said, Iela didn’t listen, but slowly began to walk toward his hiding spot.
Xaron thought highly of his abilities, but he'd never fought with them. This Iela, on the other hand, looked like she knew her way around a fight. But there was nothing he could do. If he tried a radiance shield, she'd see through it in an instant.
Xaron closed
his eyes. There was only one thing he could do. He reached into his pocket and gave the signal, only hoping that his companions’ aid wouldn’t come too late.
Just as I returned to Nomusa from my last-minute visit, I received the signal.
I froze mid-step as I felt it, hoping it had been my imagination. But there it came again: a twitch of the lodestone in my pocket. A year before, Xaron had managed to bond a pair of iron ore pieces with his magic. Ever since, we’d used them to send a signal if one of us needed aid. I had only needed to do so once, and then only to extricate myself from an awkward situation with a jeweler we were investigating happening upon me eavesdropping. Nothing like the life-and-death situation he faced now.
Heart hammering in my ears, I took the last few steps to Nomusa and said in a rush, “He gave the signal. I have to go in.” Then I whirled by her, setting off for the front gate of Feiyan’s estate.
“What are you going to do?” my companion called quietly after me. I didn’t turn to respond, but quickened my pace. We had no time to waste.
The guards at the gate gave me a strange look as I gave my fake name, Jaxale, and the title of acolyte, but they admitted me into the courtyard, and one went to fetch their mistress. I wasn’t surprised they so readily accepted my disguise. After all, my errand had been to retrieve the gray robes and the eleven-pointed star pendant that Eidolan acolytes wore. I looked the part; now I just had to play it.
It was all I could do not to shuffle my feet as the door guard stared steadily at me, chewing over and over what looked to be mushed brown leaves. After avoiding his gaze for a while, I stared back at him until he grew bored and looked down the street.
The gate guard came back alone. “The mistress is busy. You can leave a message if you want.”
I sweated a little more wondering what that meant. “Thank you for trying,” I said, bowing politely, meek and sweet as a kind-hearted acolyte. I hoped it would be a jarring enough contrast with my next words. “Please tell her that my master bids that she visit him soon. He has been faithful to his word and spoken of what happened to no one, nor of her part in it.” I bowed again. “We will continue to practice discretion, despite all who inquire into it.”
The guard blinked. “I’ll tell her that.” He began to close the door then hesitated. “Hold on. Just wait here a minute.”
I nodded and smiled graciously as the man closed the door. If he knew anything of what she was up to lately, I didn’t doubt that he dashed to give Feiyan word of what I’d said. The door guard stared at me again with renewed interest.
In half the time as the first wait, the door opened again, this time revealing a woman I immediately recognized from sketches on the announcements of the elections. It helped that Feiyan was Qao Fu, rare enough among Oedijan officials. She was young still, little more than a decade older than me, and had acquired a measure of the healthy weight that often came with wealth. Her robes looked expensive, and though she wore gold and silver, they lacked for jewels. Her eyes were what held me, though: cold, curious, and calculating beyond even what I’d expected from her reputation.
“Ah, an Eidolan acolyte,” she said with a thin smile. “I am always pleased to host one of the faith.”
Her calm reaction put me off-balance, no doubt as it was intended to do. I tried to recover my wits, giving myself time to compose myself by bowing low. “Mistress, I am sorry to disturb you so late—”
“Indeed, it is quite late,” Feiyan interrupted in a pleasant tone. “Yet when you say such interesting things, I cannot help but make time for you. So tell me, Acolyte Jaxale. What did you mean by your words?”
As the full realization of how much power Feiyan commanded here, with three of her guards in close reach and the late night shielding us from many prying eyes, I did not have to try for my voice to quiver with fear. “Please, Mistress Feiyan,” I said, my voice high with distress. “Do not be angry with me. I was only sent to tell you we keep faith after…” I trailed off.
The Servant studied me for a long, unshifting moment. “We. Who do you mean by that?”
“The sanctuary, of course, my Servant.” I bowed quickly once more. “And the oracle. He wishes to—”
“I believe your master is mistaken,” Feiyan interrupted again. “I do not know of what you speak, nor what secret he means to keep of mine.” To my surprise, she gave me the slightest bow, which was a sign of respect for one of so low a station as an acolyte. Hoping I looked properly flustered, I bowed one last time and thanked her profusely, then left down the walkway with unfeigned haste. Once the guard at the gate had let me out with a leer, I hurried away down the street and out of sight until I returned to the alley where Nomusa waited.
As soon as I had ducked behind the corner again, she seized me and stared me in the eyes. “What is going on, Airene?”
I exhaled and let my shoulders drop from around my ears. “I don’t know yet. But I hope it was enough.”
Xaron held his breath as Iela continued to approach his hiding spot behind the laurel bushes.
“Might I ask what you’re looking at?” Feiyan said mildly.
“Is there anyone else in these gardens?” Iela asked without turning towards the Servant. “Guards who patrol it, or perhaps a gardener?”
“They wouldn’t while I have a meeting here. I am sure it’s just a pigeon; they like to eat the berries off the bushes.”
“Then when I look, I suppose I’ll see a pigeon.”
“Please, Iela,” Feiyan said, annoyance starting to show in her voice. “I serve at your master’s leisure, but I am a busy woman. If you do not have anything more to say…”
Iela was halfway towards Xaron before she stopped and turned. “Yes. I suppose you are right. I am busy as well.”
Xaron let out a slow exhale of relief as she walked back to the where the Servant and the honor Kako waited. He wasn’t in the clear yet, but he looked to be out of immediate danger. He hoped Airene wouldn’t do anything rash now that he’d given the signal, though.
“As I was saying,” Iela said, “if you hear anything of Eazal of Sandglass, do tell us. Our arrangement cannot proceed without him.”
Xaron couldn’t decide if the Servant’s expression shifted or not. “Indeed, that would be most unfortunate,” she said neutrally. “I will have my best men out searching for him.”
Iela frowned at that. “As long as it is done discreetly. Now, as you say, we are both busy, and I have other calls to pay this night.” She began to turn away.
“If I may, emissary,” the honor Kako spoke up. “It is not my place, but I compelled to inquire all the same as to what these potions will be used for. The methods by which we are administering them is… suspect, to say the least. Are they poison?”
Iela turned slowly back towards him. “No, they are not poison,” she said softly. “They are the antidote. A new world is coming, one without these mistruths plaguing it. Where those who deserve to rule are doing so.”
Xaron had an uncomfortable feeling that she thought deserved to rule were wardens like her. And himself. Once wardens had ruled; all in Oedija knew of the Tyrant Wardens from over a century before, whose cruel reign and denigration of those without an attunement to the Pyrthae had spurred all the rules that governed wardens in their own age. He found himself strangely both repulsed and intrigued by her suggestion.
Iela shook her head. “Beyond that, I cannot say. But just as the cure is often as deadly as the disease, it is true that many will die from these tinctures.” A pause. “But I trust that will not be an issue for you.”
Feiyan hesitated just a moment too long before smiling. “Of course not.”
“Good. If that’s settled then—”
“Mistress!”
Xaron startled as a guard entered from the entryway behind him and hurried towards the three standing under the steadily melting sculpture. In his haste, the guard had missed him crouching in the shrubbery. Xaron breathed out a sigh of relief as he passed, but he didn’t know that he
could risk another chance at discovery like that. He had to flee. Yet he couldn’t help but eavesdrop on a few last words.
“Yes?” Feiyan said to her guard. “What is it?”
“Mistress, there is a girl here for you,” the guard huffed as he came up to her. “An acolyte, apparently.”
“What in the eleven hells could an Eidolan acolyte be doing here?” Feiyan wondered aloud.
“Mistress, I do not know. Shall I inquire?”
“What do you think you should do?” the honor Kako said sarcastically. “Do you think you should divine the purpose of her visit before bothering our mistress with her presence?”
Xaron didn’t wait to hear an answer. Considering the timing, he had a feeling he knew exactly who this Eidolan acolyte was. Slinking from the laurel bush and back through the entryway, Xaron set back inside to take the long way back out of the Servant’s estate.
When Xaron finally arrived back at the alley where Nomusa and I waited, I drew him into an embrace, grime and sweat and all. “You damned fool,” I muttered into his shoulder.
“Let him breathe a moment.” Nomusa gently pried me off, while Xaron had an embarrassed but pleased grin plastered on his face.
I poked him in the chest. “I pretended to be an acolyte for you. Had to play the demure, chaste girl to that she-devil Feiyan’s face.”
His grin widened. “I figured it was you. Thanks again, though to be honest, I was practically escaping by then anyway.”
I rolled my eyes. “You could have stopped with thanks.”
“Perhaps you had best tell us what you learned,” Nomusa interjected.
Xaron took a deep breath, then launched into his tale. He recounted how he’d scaled the cliff in a single leap, crossed the courtyard under the guard’s nose without being detected once, then how he’d traveled the rooms without light and didn’t bump into a single thing.
The Worlds of J D L Rosell Page 8
