The Shadowglass

by Rin Chupeco

  “Likh!” Rahim exclaimed, unsuccessfully curbing his laughter.

  Althy had nearly drove the librarians insane, having them pull every conceivable book Istera had about rune magic. But despite our efforts, there was nothing much to find.

  They are Little Tears’s seed, none of whom must come to pass. Vernasha had meant Dark asha. That was why Dark asha could command the daeva—only those who commanded the Dark could bring about shadowglass.

  “Likh may have a point, Rahim,” Kalen said wryly. “It seems that Kion was built on a lie.”

  “Nobody’s going to believe us,” Khalad pointed out. “The legend according to Vernasha has been too ingrained in people’s beliefs. They would cling to their faith rather than see it shattered. I suspect that was what Vernasha intended all along.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Likh sounded disheartened. We had compared the letter Sakmeet had hidden to a collection of Vernasha’s other works, and the writing matched perfectly. “This isn’t why I wanted to be an asha.”

  “This shouldn’t stop you from being proud to be one,” Althy said firmly.

  Likh stared down at his lap, downcast. Khalad cast a worried glance at him.

  “It’s late,” the older asha went on. “A day changes nothing, and we will be back at Kion tomorrow. We’d all best get some rest.”

  “Althy,” I said, after the others had left, “how did Mykkie kill the last Dark asha before me?” Now that the urgency had passed, I wanted my answer.

  “You are persistent,” my mentor said. “But I did promise you the story in our freer moments. Her name was Illara. She was a strong-willed novice in her own right. You remind me a bit of her, in fact. But unlike you, she was too free with drawing in the Dark, and she took on more than she could handle. She grew reckless and intractable. Her heartsglass had not even darkened yet when she botched a daeva raising and, in a moment of madness, tried to use it to attack Arhen-Kosho. She assaulted a small fishing community, swept it out to sea. And while Mykkie grieved, she never faltered. She killed her charge. It was the only way. Don’t think much of it, Tea. You’re different than she was.”

  Althy excused herself after sharing the story, and I stared at the paper in my hand, as if I could rearrange the words if I willed it long enough. There was more to Vernasha’s letter beyond her admission of guilt.

  The Blight is a terrible rune, Vernasha had instructed. At its command, you can twist someone beyond recognition, allow him the form and shape of a terrible daeva—a lesser size, but as rabid. You can perform this blight on any unsuspecting person, letting it incubate within him for days and weeks with no one the wiser. The result is a monster of your own making, a daeva that not even a Dark asha can command. Any asha can create the necessary poison to introduce into her victim’s food and drink, but a bone witch must cast the final spell. For this reason, we must deny those accursed women this rune.

  Still, the casting is long and complicated. The rune must be woven into food and drink at least three times in two days, then at least once every three days following. Take too long and the spell will be rendered irrelevant, and you must repeat the process all over again. Once done, perform the rune one final time over the person to awaken his demons. The only known cure is a merciful death—of either the target or its summoner.

  The Blight rune is a secret our elders must uphold under penalty of death. Vigilance is key.

  Vernasha had scratched a strange rune on the paper that resembled a floating eye. This Delving rune glows red, she had written, should the Blight rune fester within us.

  We were quick to take her advice and relieved to find that none of us had symptoms of the blight.

  Kalen then tested it on poor Yarrod. The rune glowed red.

  I’m surprised you’re letting me in on all this, Fox murmured in my head. Not that I’m complaining.

  I don’t want to keep secrets from you, I responded, trying not to think about my black heartsglass, other details I hadn’t told him.

  What do you want me to do?

  Inform Empress Alyx about this new development but ask her not to act until we return.

  What about Inessa?

  You’ll tell her regardless of what I say.

  I felt his grin. I wouldn’t if you asked me to. She’ll understand.

  I don’t want to put you in a spot where you have to choose between us. I’m gonna turn in; it’s late.

  Take care, Tea. Love you.

  Love you too, Big Brother.

  “You cannot keep punishing yourself, Tea,” Kalen said quietly, coming to sit beside me.

  “Are we seriously going to kill the boy tomorrow?”

  He sighed. “They cannot keep him indefinitely. He’s already injured a few soldiers. King Rendorvik understands the situation. I’ll wield the sword myself if I have to. I’d take the burden from you if I could.”

  “I know.” I turned to kiss him. Waking up in Kion beside him felt like an eternity ago. “But there are still so many questions. Who used the Blight on Garindor’s assistant? Was our presence the trigger? Vernasha gave no hints as to what the rune itself looks like, only the Delving to find it on someone else!”

  “I think you’ll agree with me when I say we should prepare our own food and drinks from now on. I make excellent baba ghanoush.”

  “I’m serious, Kalen.”

  “So am I.” He gathered my face in his hands. “What can I do to help you?” He pressed his forehead against mine. “Are you still having nightmares?”

  “I had one when we left Kion,” I admitted. “A waking nightmare, on the azi. I turned and saw the city in flames.”

  He frowned. “Has it happened again?”

  “Not since arriving here, no. And my heartsglass has been clean for nearly two weeks. I’ve seen no specks of black. Do you think…perhaps I’ve…?”

  “It’s possible. You’ve been taking better care of yourself and drawing in less of the Dark might have been the simplest solution all along.” He kissed me again, long and sweet. “Trust yourself a little more than you trust me, Tea.”

  “That would be impossible, love,” I whispered back.

  • • •

  I burned.

  I was flames and carnage. Howling, all the more terrible for how human it sounded, emanated from the thick of smoke. Fires sprouted around me, the air and screaming all the nourishment they needed.

  But I felt no heat. The searing pyres bowed their pointed heads at me, a grotesque parody of genuflecting, and crackled their names. I expected them to pirouette out of my way like loyal dogs, but they brushed against my hua and lingered, ringing fire across my back like wings. There were silhouettes against the bonfires, figures in the ember. I approached.

  Althy lay on the ground before me, dead. Her face was smeared with blood, and a knife pinned her to the ground, the hilt buried in her stomach. Likh was beside her, his legs folded unnaturally beneath him like a broken marionette, his graceful face upturned for a kiss that would never come. I saw the unmoving figures of other corpses in shadowed relief. Bodies lay atop each other, eviscerated and sharing the same shadow. Empty heartsglass watched me pass.

  A figure staggered out of the darkness and tangled itself in my dress. My sister, Daisy. Her blood-soaked face stared back at me. “Why?” she whispered. I looked down and saw that my hand was buried inside her chest, staining my hua red.

  No, I thought. Despite the smells of death, enough light filtered through the darkness to shine on my senses. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

  “No!” I cried, but the knife wouldn’t drop from my hand. It dug into my palm, and I felt its blade slide through flesh. “No, no, no, no—”

  “Tea.”

  The fire wavered, faded, and I stood, rooted in complete darkness. The voice was familiar but odd to my ears. It held a note of fear, which I didn’t associate
it with.

  “Tea. Listen to me. I’m here, Tea.”

  I opened my eyes—and nearly toppled off the ledge when I saw the hundred-foot drop before me. Why am I standing in an open windowsill? I thought, dazed. Why was I here? I could feel every breeze that sang through the palace, striving to upset my precarious balance.

  “Tea. Take my hand.”

  I turned slowly and saw Kalen, arm outstretched, ready to interfere should the winds have their way. “What happened?” Hadn’t I been asleep?

  “Let’s talk after you get down from there.”

  I took his hand. All gentleness disappeared. He dragged me inside in the space of an exhale, wrapping me in arms that threatened to squeeze the breath out of me, his heartsglass digging into my rib cage.

  “What were you doing?” he choked out. Only then did I see Likh standing behind him, petrified.

  We were in the castle library. I stood before an open window, staring down at what would have been a fatal fall. Clad in only a thin nightgown, my skin was chilled at the cold. “What happened?” I repeated.

  “You walked in,” Likh gasped. “You opened the window and tried to climb out! I tried to stop you using runes, but they didn’t work!”

  Kalen added grimly, “When I woke and you weren’t in bed, I thought you were sneaking off to do more research. Then I heard Likh call out. My runes didn’t work on you either.”

  “I don’t—I don’t remember anything except for a nightmare.” I’d never sleepwalked before. My gaze traveled down. Even in the gloom, I could see the fading swirls of black in my heartsglass. I trembled.

  “You scared me.” Kalen’s lips were on my hair. “I thought you were negating our runes somehow, that you wanted to—”

  His voice broke. I began to cry, apologies pouring out of me in hiccups and tears. I clung to him, letting out all the frustration I’d tried to keep bottled in since Polaire had died, since my heartsglass had turned black, since the nightmares had begun. I heard Kalen saying something to Likh, promising to explain everything in the morning, then he rose with me in his arms and carried me back to our room.

  “You need watching,” he murmured, his hands trailing down my back, willing me to stay with him—here, in bed with the twisted sheets and the familiar heat of his skin, not in the hellscape of my mind where my body attempted to step off towers with neither my cognizance nor my permission.

  “Will you watch me?” I had never been so afraid before. Not even when Aenah or Usij controlled my thoughts, not when facing down daeva. There was no outside influence to blame, only a traitorous heartsglass that tainted the rest of me with secret plagues. Kalen had given me the best of him, but the best of me lay in pieces. Hardly a fair trade.

  I’m no different than Illara. I’m no different.

  But the words froze in my throat, refusing to give the thoughts a voice. I was selfish and frightened, and did not want to let him go.

  Kalen pressed his lips against mine, and I held on for dear life. “Always.”

  No other dreams haunted me for the rest of the night.

  • • •

  “Hold still,” Kalen told me the next morning as he wove Calm on me.

  Given the power asha had at their disposal, it was easy to overlook the passive runes. I often did, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear my old fighting instructor, Lady Hami, berating me.

  I closed my eyes as he centered the rune around my heartsglass, working it into complicated weaves so the effects would last longer. Almost immediately, I felt lighter, stress leaching out of my pores. The rune didn’t mean freedom from all my burdens, but the load grew more tolerable.

  I was a reluctant recipient. Calm took strength away from its caster, though Kalen, true to form, showed no signs of exhaustion. “Only for now,” I told him. “You can’t do this all the time.”

  “I’ll pace myself. How are you feeling?”

  “A lot better than last night.” Bathed in the sanity of daylight, it felt like my emotions had been organized into neat catalogs, tucked away into the bookcases of my mind. “Kalen, why didn’t your or Likh’s runes work on me last night? Was it something I did?”

  Kalen frowned. “Dark asha aren’t generally able to deflect runes without raising some protection to take the blow. Althy can check you over once we return, and I’m sure Mykaela can figure out something.”

  “I’m scared. Mykaela never had this problem.”

  He sighed. “There’re a few things you can do that Mykaela can’t, Tea. And I suspect that might be one of the reasons for your differences.”

  It hit me then, what he was trying to say. “Is it the azi? You think my connection with the azi is making me crazy?”

  “You’re not crazy,” Kalen was firm. “But I don’t think asha are supposed to be in contact with those creatures for prolonged durations, especially when they’re in your head. I don’t know how Sakmeet managed it. It seemed to prolong her life, but given the manner in which she died, out there in the snow with no protection…it worries me. I don’t know what Althy or Mykaela are going to decide, but I think they’re going to ask you to disengage from the daeva, Tea, no matter how fond it is of you or you of it. It’s too risky, and this is still unknown territory.”

  “I’m not going to kill it,” I was quick to argue, though he made sense. “The azi has hidden itself from us all these years, and the only reason it started attacking Kion was because of Aenah’s control. I know it won’t harm anyone else, even without me in charge.”

  “But what if someone else gets ahold of it? Druj is still out there, and I don’t know how many more followers Aenah and Usij have left.”

  “I hate it when you’re right.” I paused, surprised at how sad I felt. The azi had stopped feeling like a weapon to wield a long time ago. I knew it was inevitable, but… “If you think it’s for the best.”

  He smiled at me. “In another life, you would be fighting me tooth and nail.”

  “I’m blaming you and this blasted rune.” My heartsglass was clear again this morning, but I no longer trusted its hue. “And I’m going to tell Fox too. About the black in my heartsglass.”

  He nodded. “I was wondering when you would.”

  “He’s with Inessa. I didn’t want to put him in the middle.” I took a deep breath. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t tell him when we return.”

  “I should cast this spell more often,” he teased. “You’re adorable when you’re mad, but you’re even more so when you agree with me.”

  I took his hand and pressed it against my lips. “What if that’s not enough?” I whispered. “What if something else is making me do this?”

  “Then we’ll push it out, eradicate it. There are many people back home wanting to help you.” He smiled. “And I won’t make the same mistake I did last night. I’m sticking close to you for the long term.”

  “How awful,” I said, tugging his head down into a kiss.

  • • •

  The Calming rune was enough to keep me placid when it came time to kill poor Garindor’s assistant. King Rendorvik had tried to convince the old man not to attend, but the latter was adamant. “Yarrod’s a good lad and a hard worker. The least I can do is to be there for him till the very end.”

  Kalen had volunteered to do the deed, arguing it would be too dangerous for the king to carry out the execution, given the prisoner’s condition. His blade was quick and sharp, and the grotesque mantis-like daeva died instantly and without further pain.

  King Rendorvik ordered full honors for his burial. “You would not have come all the way here if your work wasn’t important,” he said, “I appreciate your offer to stay for the funeral, but it will take time that you don’t have.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Althy said, grateful. “I only wish we could do more.”

  “You can help by finding the mad
man responsible, Lady Altaecia.”

  “I’ll stay behind to help Rendor,” Councilor Ludvig informed me. “A full investigation must be carried out, and he’s asked me to take charge. Let me do what I can here while you do what you can in Kion. Perhaps we can find the answer coming at both ends.”

  “I will miss you,” I told him tearfully, hugging him tight.

  He snorted. “I’ll see you in a few months, child. Let’s not be too dramatic about this.” But I thought his eyes were misty as he said it.

  King Rendorvik presented me with Sakmeet’s journal before we left. “She had no living relatives here, and her writings should be appreciated by one who understands her work.” I was touched and thanked him warmly.

  Lord Garindor promised to hide both of the rare books should any other asha come from the Willows. Lord Cyran seized Khalad’s hand, promising to help the Drychta protect the tomes with his own life if necessary, oblivious to Likh’s displeasure.

  All good-byes said, I reached out toward the azi again, knowing full well it might be the last time. The daeva understood; I found sorrow instead of anger, but the thoughts reaching out to me were those of comfort. This time, there were no visions of Istera in flames to torture me as we climbed up into the sky and became lost among the clouds.

  As before, we landed a good distance from the city, where we had departed. To our surprise, soldiers arrived as we were disembarking. At their head was the elder asha, Hestia, smugly in the lead. With her was the Deathseekers’ leader, Zahid, and Kalen’s friends Ostry and Levi, both unable to hide their discomfort.

  The azi was quick. As soon as we had disembarked, it launched itself into the air and vanished from view, heedless of Hestia’s stuttered ultimatums. Seething, she turned to me instead.

  “Tea of House Valerian.” Even under the spell of the Calm rune, I had to resist the urge to smack the smirk off of the elder’s face. “On behalf of the Willows, I am arresting you for the murder of Sancha al-Sarim.”

  “Who’s that?” Likh asked, confused.

  Kalen planted himself in front of me, and Althy stalked toward the other asha. “What evidence do you have?” she demanded.