The Shadowglass

by Rin Chupeco

  “How did you convince him of your devotion, Lady Tea?” an armor-clad woman asked.

  “I’m still not quite sure. But I remember the day he convinced me of mine.”

  “What was it, if I may be so bold?”

  “I saw him bathing in a river with his shirt off.”

  I was certain the tables would break; the Yadoshans pounded their fists, howling their glee. “We must demand Lord Kalen’s side of the story!” Aden chortled. “Is your young beau still with the First Minister?”

  “Not anymore” came the amused reply behind me. “First Minister Stefan didn’t want to keep me for too long. It was a wise decision.”

  “A wise man, is our Stefan. Our pretty asha would no doubt be accosted by some hooligans had not our wholesome selves intervened. O’ course, we would never think of stealing your girl, milord! Let’s have another toast for you both!”

  “How many toasts have you had?” Kalen asked, peering down at me.

  “Does it matter?” My voice slurred. “I am having a very lovely time with all these genta…genner…genteel…boys, and they have been very kind.”

  “That’s nice, Tea.”

  “I told them alla ’bout you.”

  “That’s nice, Tea.”

  “I love you. I really do.”

  “I know. You are also very drunk.”

  “Whatsa sense o’ drinking from Stefan’s very expensive vintage if you don’ get drunk off your ass?” Knox countered.

  “I love him,” I confided to the others. “He saved me so many times. He smells really nice.”

  “We’ll take your word for it, little lady.”

  “He didn’t like me at first though. I changed his mind.”

  “So you said.”

  “He would have been a fool not to,” Balfour agreed.

  “We fought only this evening. He wants me to stay here, but I think I should return to Kion.”

  “Tea,” Kalen said.

  “I am quite in favor of Kalen’s decision, milady,” Knox said.

  “I have reshponsi—reshpunsib—duties to see to. But I would spend forever with him if I could. I would trade heartsglass with him this instant. He is glorious in bed.”

  “Tea!” Kalen sputtered, turning a bright red, as the roars of the other men and women grew louder.

  “And if anyone here so much as touches a hair on his adorable head, I shall pull out their beating hearts and force them to consume every last vein,” I added cheerfully.

  “I think Tea’s had enough for today, gentlemen. If you will excuse us.” Kalen reached down and scooped me into his arms. Without protest, I tucked my head underneath his chin, knowing I belonged there.

  “I understand, Lord Kalen,” Aden said almost reverently. “I would follow Lady Tea into battle with that kind of encouragement.”

  “You are an idiot,” Kalen said as soon as we were out of earshot.

  “But do you still love me?” I asked coquettishly, kissing his neck, oblivious to the hoots still coming from the great hall. “Will you love me if I don’t want to stay here in Yadosha?”

  He groaned. “Of course I will, you outrageous little sot. You are going to wake up tomorrow with a terrible headache. The main reason you’ll not want to stay here after this will be because of your inability to look any of those men in the eye again. What song was that?”

  “Song?”

  “The one you sang. You never sang for me before.”

  “I wanted you to like me. Nobody likes me after I’ve sung for them.”

  “You sang it terribly, and I like you just fine.”

  “How rude. Instructor Mia invested a lot of hours in my training, I’ll have you know.”

  “I want you to focus, Tea. We need you alert, not with a keg’s worth of Mireth Light in you.”

  “That’s its name? What a horrible name. There was nothing light about it. Is there a doohickey you can do?”

  “A what?”

  “You know. A—” I began gesticulating wildly. “A doohickey.”

  Kalen closed his eyes. “A spell. You want me to cast a spell on you.”

  “You already did!” I giggled. “I’m enthralled by you!”

  “A spell to ease your hangover.”

  “That’s what I said! A doohickey. Is there?”

  My gaze couldn’t follow the weaves he made, mostly because I had double vision and he now had four hands, but as soon as he finished, I felt a warm, slow wave steal over my senses, gently washing away some of my sluggishness. I blinked, the hall coming back into focus. “It… Did it work?”

  “It’s the Calming rune. The same one I’ve always used. You’ll still get a headache tomorrow, but at least you’re coherent now. Somewhat coherent. It doesn’t completely remove the intoxication.”

  “I shouldn’t have gotten drunk.”

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I didn’t know Calming runes could do this. Did you?”

  “It’s one of the spells Deathseekers learn before their first night out—for reasons that have nothing to do with our training. We used to draw straws over who had to remain sober enough not to fudge the weave.”

  “Why didn’t you do this for me before I made a fool of myself?” I hid my face against his chest with a pained groan. The Yadoshans were never going to let me live this down.

  “Because I thought it was hilarious. And before you start complaining,” he continued, “I had my eye on you this whole time. You might know Aden and his friends, but I don’t, and if they tried anything untoward, I would have bashed their faces in.”

  “My hero,” I purred against his neck. “You thought it was funny, but you got me out of there pretty quickly when I started bragging about your…” Perhaps I wasn’t completely sober yet. “You know.”

  He leaned close, his mouth against my ear, and I shivered. “Would you like a refresher?” he whispered. I could feel the grin curling at his mouth.

  I giggled, quite liking that idea and not really wanting to go back to our earlier fight. I cast a guilty glance at the other revelers, remembering my charge. “What about Likh? He wasn’t any better off than I was, and he’d been drinking more.”

  Kalen paused. “You’re right. And he’s warded, so the rune won’t work. We’d best see if he hasn’t killed Khalad yet.”

  “You noticed?”

  “They weren’t hiding their emotions.”

  We found Khalad and Likh both still in fighting moods. I’d never seen Likh so angry before. His hands were balled at his sides, and if looks could wither, Khalad would have been missing a few extremities.

  “I’m sorry for interrupting.” I was still tipsy and wobbled a bit when Kalen set me on my feet. “But I want to make sure you guys are okay before Kalen and I go—”

  “You’ve been arguing,” Kalen interrupted bluntly. “And we thought it was time you patched things up.”

  “We’re not arguing,” Khalad said, and his heartsglass flamed blue.

  “Shut up, Khalad. I’m not here to fight.” A headache was starting somewhere behind my eyeballs—not enough to put me out of action, but enough to irritate me. “Likh, drop your wards, and let Kalen make you sober.”

  “I promised Khalad I wouldn’t do that again,” Likh snapped, “despite not taking what I want into consideration, and I’m fairly sure he won’t—”

  “Likh, for the gods’ sake.” I flung out my hands, weaving a barely legible caricature of the Delving rune. “Look, let’s conduct a room-wide search to prove it’s safe to let down the barrier so we can—”

  I couldn’t finish. The rune showed me the lie of my own words and was glowing a dark, sooty red over one of the guests.

  I swung around, and the rune followed, like a pendulum—one, two, three, four. Four guests had the Blight rune incubating inside them
—including Lord Aden.

  “Tea?” Kalen matched my pace as I marched toward the center of the room, no longer drunk, channeling Scrying runes as fast as I could make them. Like stationary fireflies, they shone. I braced myself for the barrage of thoughts coming my way.

  they should have nanghait hunts every year. I reckon we could convince the southerners to let us use their taurvi a time or two—

  watered down codswallop, these things are nowadays. And only two years ago we had the finest lager straight from Steerfall—

  gotta be heading off soon. The missus ain’t gonna be happy I’m late, hunt or no hunt—

  Druj. It was a subtle whisper barely perceptible amid the throng of loud Yadoshan thoughts, but it stank of ugly magic and bitter spells. King Aadil.

  There was a man, sitting off to one side, all on his own, with a tankard of untasted beer beside him. He was dressed like a Yadoshan, and he looked like one: tall with a full beard and dark eyes. Our gazes met, and the thoughts grew overpowering.

  Druj, his mind seemed to snarl. Aadil, King of the world and the Dying and the Life, may his house flourish from now until the end of eternity—

  The man sprang up, and so did I. I saw the magic fizzle from his fingertips and knew what he intended. My gestures were quick, concise, accurate, and my rune was done before his.

  “Stop!” I yelled, and the room quieted. The Yadoshan imposter stopped, eyes wide as he choked. His hand lingered in the air, about to complete the final stroke that would have sent Aden and three other people spiraling into blighted, grotesque daeva-like transformations. With all my might, I forced the man to lower his arm, dispel his own rune.

  Then I drew back my fist and punched him hard on the chin. I felt the satisfactory crack of my knuckles hitting jaw, hopefully breaking it, and the man collapsed, knocked out cold.

  “This man,” I announced to the rest, “is Drychta!” before bending over and throwing up all over my shoes.

  The bulk of the Kion army we had left in Daanoris drifted into Ankyo. Zoya had enlisted more asha to accompany their ships, drag them speedily back to the continent.

  Mistress Parmina headed the first regiment, and she brought with her the body of the Dark asha, Lady Mykaela. Her remains had been carefully placed in a coffin of ice, no doubt the Valerian headmistress’s doing—opaque enough to see very little, but transparent enough to catch quick glimpses of what lay within: a lock of golden hair, a reposed palm, a layer of hua. The people were quiet with their heads bowed as horses pulled her coffin down their paved roads. Dark asha or not, Lady Mykaela was beloved among the Kions, and not a dry eye greeted the procession as it continued to her final resting place in the Willows.

  I looked on from the edge of the crowd as Empress Alyx and Princess Inessa rode up to receive her, Lord Fox a canter behind. Both royal women wept. The daughter’s slim form was racked with sobs while her mother sat, tall and erect in her saddle, as fresh tears coursed down her face.

  “Your Majesty,” Mistress Parmina said in a voice as clear as a bell, in a ritual as old as the kingdom itself. Her eyes were clear, and her patrician nose lifted despite the dried streaks of makeup that betrayed her poise. “Please welcome your most honored daughter to the Willows, who has served the House Valerian faithfully for twenty-six years. Now she sleeps, and we are all the lesser for her loss.”

  “Kion welcomes Lady Mykaela of the Sorrows,” the empress intoned, “and we honor her above all.”

  I never wished for this to happen.

  I startled, but the unexpected voice was quick to pacify me, taking up space in my head where it did not belong. I do not plan on staying long, Bard. I only wished… I only wanted to see… Her voice quieted, yearning toward the carriage, where her mentor lay.

  “Where are you?” I asked aloud. “And where are your daeva?”

  Have they enticed you to betray me already? Are you their agent now, set to wait for my contact, to goad me into revealing myself? It is difficult to be certain, to be careful, when there are so many schemes afoot.

  “What do you want?”

  I want to watch. For a little while. I owe her that much. I wish I could raise her. I wish I could raise Polaire. You don’t die from regret, but people keep dying for it in my place.

  We were silent, she and I, watching the rest of the procession pass, until the Lady Mykaela was within the embrace of the Willows. “They will find you,” I murmured.

  I expect them to, Bard. Fox knows where I intend.

  Why not maintain contact with me this way, instead of abandoning me to my own devices?

  My strength is not inexhaustible, as you saw in Daanoris. The Dark pulls too much from me now, more than it ever has, and I need to survive a little longer. I have other traps lying in wait, baits to replenish, and they command greater attention.

  The letters you left me—they are unfinished.

  Oh?

  There was no ending. You promised me an ending. There are missing pages.

  Did I? There was no surprise in her voice, no shock. But there was—satisfaction. Eagerness. I offered you my story, Bard. I will not be held responsible for what you misplace in the interim.

  And just like that, she was gone, taking more answers from me than I ever had of her.

  13

  “Talk.”

  Unlike in Kion, Yadoshans have little qualms about “interrogating” their prisoners, especially when said prisoner has been caught in the act. The Drychta was in slightly worse shape than when I had found him, with runic wards woven about his person as strong as Kalen could make them. Although he was initially confused, First Minister Stefan understood the situation after we explained, particularly after the man woke and began swearing at us in Drychta.

  There was a small volcano erupting somewhere behind my eyeballs. While Kalen’s Calming rune alleviated some of the previous night’s celebration, he had been right in warning me of the other aftereffects. The lack of a good night’s sleep made my hangover worse. Warding off Aden and the others infected by the blight had sapped most of my energy, and Delving the rest of the Yadoshans had taken the rest.

  First Minister Stefan and the other second ministers were in attendance, all armed to the teeth and looking ferocious, almost eager to have the Drychta escape for the chance at another hunt. There was no love lost between the two kingdoms; wars against the desert people made up a large part of Yadoshan history, and old habits were hard to break.

  First Minister Stefan had taken part in the initial interrogations, although his was conducted in the language of fists. By the time the prisoner was brought into my presence, the man sported black eyes and a bleeding lip, and no doubt other bruises I couldn’t see. My current mood gave me no incentive to protest his treatment, and even Khalad was unusually silent about the matter.

  “Can’t you finagle the information out of his brain?” Lord Besserly asked me. “Dark asha can do that, right?”

  First Minister Stefan coughed. “Lady Tea can most certainly put him in a better frame of mind to talk,” he said, rubbing at his reddened knuckles, “and she can most certainly compel his actions, but she told me the Drychta has blocks in his head that repel her Compulsion, like the Faceless. Unless he chooses to speak, she can do little.”

  “And he’s tied up in runic wards, milord,” Kalen reminded him. “It prevents him from attacking your minds, but also stops Tea from compelling his. More importantly, it prevents other minds nearby from gaining access to him, and he to them.”

  Lord Besserly swore. “Do you mean there are more of these spies in Thanh?”

  “Khalad and Likh are investigating. It’s best to be sure.”

  “How frustratingly complicated.”

  “I have a few more tricks up my sleeve, Your Excellency.” The runes I used were not of the Dark. Hidden ambushes were planted within the Drychta’s mind, that I knew. Underestimat
ing the Faceless was the reason Aenah took advantage of me. “Is Druj your master?”

  I didn’t need to understand Drychta to know the words flying out of the prisoner’s mouth, none of them answers to my question. First Minister Stefan responded to his impertinence with a quick blow across the face. The man sagged backward.

  I fashioned another layer of spells, adding them to the glittering runes already revolving around the prisoner. “Is Druj your master?”

  Blood dripped down the man’s chin, but he was defiantly silent. Slowly, steadily, I added another coating of spells. Each time, I posed the question again.

  Kalen stood behind the man, his hands copying my movements, adding to my strength. After five rune tiers, our prisoner began to fidget. At the eighth, he was trembling, beads of perspiration dripping down his forehead and onto his beard. By the fourteenth, he was shaking uncontrollably until, in the middle of my question, he finally blurted out a frantic, explosive, “Yes!”

  “How did you do it?” Lord Besserly asked, astounded. “You never even touched him.”

  “The wards were customized to prevent destructive spells, milord. But there are passive runes that pose no direct danger to anyone and are easily overlooked because of it. These runes simply increased his desire to talk.” I was right to be cautious. It had taken both Kalen and I together to overcome the man’s resistance, and Eagerness was a minor spell, easy enough to impose. “What is your name?”

  “Jareek of the Golden Rod, Third of the Light.”

  Lord Stefan sucked in a noisy breath, and Lord Besserly swore again.

  “Does his name hold some significance?” Kalen asked.

  “Very much so. This man is a ranked soldier and a member of King Aadil’s private bodyguards. How did he come to channel Dark runes? Seems Aadil has been keeping secrets from us. Why have you come to Yadosha, cretin? To attack Lady Tea?”

  “My king saw the dreaded three-headed beast flying above us into Yadosha, and so learned of the witch’s presence in the north,” Jareek said. “He sent me, in his infinite wisdom, to sow discord, and prevent you from assisting Odalia.”