“How do you … I’m not …”
Taking hold of one of Mariah’s hands again in a sudden and fierce gesture, the woman spoke. “Please, do not deny who and what you are, Hawk. The world cannot afford you—especially you—the luxury of that reticence, not now.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” Mariah swallowed, an uncomfortable lump suddenly blocking her airway. “My name is Mariah,” she croaked.
“Of course. Forgive me.”
Why was this woman treating her as if she were some kind of … superior? As far as she knew, the Ceo San were meant to be caretakers of the world, much as the Keepers often cared for them, but ever since she had taken her hands a few moments before, this Keeper spoke as if she had to answer to Mariah. “What is your name?” she asked for lack of something better to say.
“I am Dennari. Dennari Denholm.”
“Denholm?” Mariah stared, her discomfort forgotten. “There was a Keeper in Kannuk; her name was Daire Denholm. Are you her … sister?” She realized too late that she’d said more than she’d intended, that she had basically told the woman that she had been in Varidian. She wondered how closely, if at all, the temples in Cillian were connected to those in Varidian. Did it matter? Surely, the Keepers were not spies for the king. And even if they were, he didn’t hold sway in Cillian, at least not yet.
Dennari laughed. “Of a sort. The temple caretakers all take the same name. We are a sisterhood of sorts, with a singular purpose. To serve the Althamir and keep their temples as we have been instructed.”
“Oh.” No one had ever mentioned anything like this to her, and Mariah suddenly felt ignorant once again, ignorant of the very culture she had been born to and the magics that had spawned her. It would be difficult to learn anything new without revealing everything to the stranger. Although the Keeper might be the trusting sort, Mariah was not yet ready to make that leap.
The Keeper briefly lifted a hand to Mariah’s cheek. “I know you, although you might not yet know yourself. Your presence brings me hope. I hope I can give you something in return.”
Mariah stared at her. Riddles, just as she had gotten from Daire. The other Keeper had known nothing about her, couldn’t have known anything, and yet had told Mariah, We must remember when things are darkest that we’re never alone.
Her gaze shifted to their grasped hands. And she hadn’t been alone. Even in the dark dungeon of Draydon Keep, there had been Tibbot, the old fox. And Old Cat Eyes. He had come to her in a dream, or maybe a vision—she still wasn’t sure which—and convinced her to keep trying to escape and to free Tibbot. It had seemed impossible.
He cannot hold you, the odd man with the braided russet hair and eyes like a cat had said. That it had proven to be true was still a little shocking, but it had to have been a coincidence. She had escaped, but she had still been captured in the first place. The king had held her for all intents and purposes, if only for a little while. Still, the fact that Daire’s words had seemed to predict the events of her then future had kept Mariah awake for many a dark hour over the past months.
“Mariah?”
“I’m sorry. I was just thinking …”
“I am limited outside my temple—even within it, I’m afraid—but I wouldn’t have been sent to you if I couldn’t provide you with something that you need. Is there something weighing on you? I can listen at the very least.”
Her comment tickled something at the back of Mariah’s mind, and she leapt, deciding there was no point in hiding from a woman who seemed to be able to pull the secrets straight from her head. Even so, she asked her something less personal, but still something that had been eating at her since the moment she’d seen the temple in Kannuk. “Why do the temples in Varidian still stand? Everything its king has done … He’s burned the histories … claimed the Ceo San … claimed my people for his own ends.” There, she’d said it, claimed the other Ceo San as kin. A fierce pride filled her and simultaneously brought tears to her eyes. “Why has he let the temples continue to stand against him?”
Dennari was silent for a long moment, a faraway look in her eyes as if she was considering what she could say. “I am happy to hear that they stand still. As long as we continue to obey the Althamir as we are instructed, our temples are protected. Your king likely knows that. As long as they are protected, my sisters can furnish a bit of aid and succor to those that come to them.” She hesitated. “But we are also limited. Our … we cannot … My sisters cannot stand directly against the king, cannot aid your people by fighting against him.”
“Why not?”
It seemed that the temples of the Althamir were more than simply places to honor the gods. The Keepers held mysteries and knowledge far beyond what she understood—and maybe even magics beyond what she comprehended.
The garden around them, the breeze, and the little noises she had heard teasing the edges of her senses all seemed to fall silent as Dennari looked at her hands. Her voice was quiet and grim when she finally spoke. “Because we are not warriors. And because he does not wish it. If we, as Keepers, act beyond our bounds, we will lose his protection, and the temples will fall.”
“He? Who’s he?” Mariah shuddered. There was power—and truth—in the Keeper’s words.
The Keeper was silent and continued to stare at her hands.
“I should return,” Mariah whispered when the moment stretched into awkwardness. “But if I am to succeed, I’ll need help. And without the temples … I was hoping …” Mariah squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, the pain that would come to anyone that took part in the things she was planning. It would never work. A simple arrow, like the one that had taken her down in the drudge camp, could end it all. It was foolish and stupid to think that she, a sheltered woman who barely knew a thing about the real world, could stand against a kingdom. “I can’t …”
A soft hand enveloped hers. “You will not be alone, young one.” The Keeper’s voice was warm, and the words soothed her, so Mariah opened her eyes and watched the woman as she uttered her final pronouncement. “I promise. He promises. Things will not be easy, and I do not know if you will succeed, but they are waiting for you … Will you leave them wanting? Will you leave them … alone?”
PART II
MISSIONS
Chapter Five
Infiltration
Late the next evening, the village of Grof finally came into sight below Mariah as she flew over the Granite Sea. Although no storms had barred her way or thrown her small hawk body off course this time, the entire day had been overcast, with dull clouds stretching from horizon to horizon. It was a relief to see something that didn’t blend into the endless gray of the sky and sea.
The various docks were bustling as fisher folk returned from the water with their catches, so Mariah winged eastward toward the edge of the hillside village, bypassing the piers as well as the terraced boardwalk that led up to the main buildings of the town. She hoped to find a quiet spot just beyond Grof’s borders where she could land and change before walking through town.
Mariah had missed the little place, her safe haven in an otherwise unfriendly realm. She had just started to descend toward a dense thicket of beach grasses near the Quell road when a pair of figures moving toward Grof caught her attention. It was two women. They had their heads together, as if they were in deep discussion. One was slim and perhaps even taller than Mariah. The other was of average height, but both were well-muscled and had their hair hidden beneath rough black leather caps. And both were clad in stiff, black leather armor, swords hanging from their sides and bows slung across the woolen cloaks on their backs.
Soldiers. Rothgar’s soldiers.
Stifling the urge to scream at them for being anywhere near the village, for just … being, Mariah tightened her beak and angled sharply to the right, ascending again and praying that they hadn’t noticed her.
The king’s guard were not a common
sight this far south, so close to the sea in a town that was known for little more than its fish. At least, they hadn’t been when Mariah had left half a year before. Was it just a coincidence that they had appeared just when she was returning? Or had there been more? A shiver ran through her. In her letter, Shira had said “things” were keeping her from leaving Grof on her own. Was this it?
As she flew into the foothills beyond the road and back toward the edge of town under the cover of trees, Maria’s heart sped. Had Cam’s body been found? Had Kannuk’s constables told the guard that Shira had been seen with him the day he disappeared? Were they looking for her? Or had someone in the drudge camp known who she was? They had been so careful not to let anyone see her in her human form during the rescue. She abruptly cut off that line of thought. Worrying would do her no good. She had to get to the inn and talk to her friend.
As she had once before many months ago, Mariah soon found herself in her hawk form behind the Herring Hideaway. Within the little copse of trees behind the woodshed, she tucked herself out of the cold on a thick branch against the furrowed brown bark of a young hemlock. Its dense needles hid her from view as she waited. She had intended to walk through town and right up to the Hideaway, but the sight of the soldiers had changed all of that.
She tried to relax. Panicking would do her no good. She picked up her talons carefully and pushed herself further back against the tree trunk as the wind picked up. If the muffled noise from the inn was any indication, those inside the Hideaway were right in the middle of dinner. It was busier than she remembered, with lights blazing from the kitchen and from several of the windows on the upper floor. The smoke curling merrily from the chimney carried the aroma of Rose’s famous fish stew, tempting her to go right in. But she had to be cautious. Would the soldiers come here? It made sense. This was the only inn for miles.
Although she told herself that it was unlikely that they would know who—or what—she was even if they did see her, she couldn’t make herself go inside. So, she settled in, ignoring her growing hunger, and waited.
When it became apparent that neither Shira nor one of her parents would come out back to gather wood or dump kitchen scraps, Mariah began to watch Shira’s bedroom window on the lower floor to the left of the kitchen. It was dark and quiet, but she stared at it, waiting for signs that her friend was inside. Despite the cold, however, exhaustion began to creep into her muscles. After a while, she gave up watching the window and instead tucked her beak into the feathers at her shoulder and fell into a light, restless sleep.
* * *
When Mariah awoke, the night around her was quiet, and the inn was dark except for the muted orange glow coming from the banked kitchen fire. She waited several minutes, but nothing beyond nocturnal insects moved or made a sound.
As silently as she could, she lifted off and flew down to Shira’s window. Landing lightly on the sill, she waited again, listening.
Old Cat Eyes, if you have any compassion for me at all, Shira will be in this room like she’s supposed to be. Mariah didn’t know why she had taken to occasionally talking in her mind to the strange man from her vision. She realized she did it more when she was irritated or worried, but it was better than talking to herself, she supposed, something that was exceedingly difficult in hawk form anyway. When a few moments went by in silence, Mariah carefully tapped her beak on the wood frame of the window. The sound wasn’t very loud, but she was afraid that tapping on the glass would wake everyone, not just Shira.
She had pulled back her head to try again when the flapping of the curtain startled her. There, standing in the shadows with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, was Shira. Mariah’s heart swelled to see her friend hale and whole, and the surprised expression of the innkeeper’s daughter reflected those feelings back to her as Shira leaned down to open the window. Mariah winced at the creaking noise the wood frame made as Shira hoisted it up halfway and pushed an arm through. Gingerly, Mariah stepped on and let herself be pulled inside.
Neither of them made a single sound until the window was fully closed again. Holding her up to her eye level, Shira sighed. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you, lady.”
Instead of shrieking a response, Mariah clicked her beak and then fluttered over to Shira’s narrow bed. In just a moment, she was sitting on the mattress, legs stretched out before her, human again. Shira wasted no time in throwing her arms around her, and she returned the embrace, her throat tight. “It’s good to see you, too, fuzz face,” she whispered.
The other woman chuckled and sat back. Without preamble, she said, “You see ’em? I mean, that’s what all this secrecy is about, yeah? Why you didn’t just come in the front door like a normal person?”
Mariah nodded. “I was right? They’re here? At the inn?” She slipped out of her pack and set it on the floor just under Shira’s bed.
“Yep. Two of ’em. Came in during dinner lookin’ for room and board. Say they’re off to Kilgereen in the mornin’. Don’t know how any self-respecting woman can work for that—”
Mariah let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding and interrupted. “You don’t mind if I stay in your room until then, do you? I’ve gotta bad—”
“A bad feelin’? I know the feelin’.” Shira grinned.
How was she always so happy, even in the darkest times? Maybe it was just her nature, but its contrast to her own personality drew Mariah. During their quest to free Ayla and Nya, the light that Shira seemed to hold within had kept Mariah going more than once when she might have given up; she could admit that now. She nodded at her friend.
“It’s been kinda hard for me to sleep with ’em under the same roof, ya know,” Shira continued in a low voice. “I thought Ma’s jaw was gonna break from how tight she was wound up all evenin’. She was pleasant, o’ course, but she’s not used to hosting their sort, not nowadays anyhow.” There seemed to be more to that story, but Shira just sighed. “Well … anyhow … you just fly in?”
“I arrived before sunset. I was waiting outside.” She nodded toward the window. “But I fell asleep. Long day, you know. Not many places to rest on the way here.”
Shira fingered the brown muslin scarf that Mariah had loosely draped across her head and shoulders. “New disguise?”
Mariah pulled the fabric off to reveal her choppy silver locks in all their glory. As she folded the long wrapping and set it in front of the dark lamp on Shira’s small bedside table, she said, “I thought this might be easier than dealing with that orange paste. It’s certainly cold enough for it. And there was so little time after I got your letter, and there was the wedding and all …”
Shira, who had been idly playing with the tips of Mariah’s hair, stilled, and her hands dropped. “Weddin’?”
It was Mariah’s turn to smile. “Yes. It was all so sudden. I barely had time to register it myself.”
Shira’s eyes went wide, and her hands gripped her nightdress. “You …?”
“Oh, no! Shira! Me? Hardly.” She shook her head, the notion absurd. “Gwyn. It was Gwyn.” Shira muttered something under her breath, but her posture relaxed, so Mariah went on. “I’d always suspected she and Wakely were more than just friends. Guess I was right. You should see the place they—” This time, Mariah’s stomach interrupted her with a loud rumble.
Shira squeezed Mariah’s hand, as if to reassure herself that her friend was really there, before she got up and headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Mariah watched her walk away. The limp was still there from the arrow she had taken in her bear form in the drudge camp, but it was slight and barely noticeable now.
Sure to her word, the dark-haired woman returned a few moments later, a basket in hand. Inside, Mariah found a loaf of bread, several strips of dried fish—the same kind they had eaten on their journey toward Glenley—and a handful of delectable dried cherries.
�
��Been savin’ those for a rainy day, but this is better,” Shira said, waiting patiently beside her as she ate.
Mariah held one of the small fruits in her mouth, savoring it, before she wiped at her chin. “Sorry. Guess I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
Still, it was nothing compared to how hungry she had been—starving really—the last time she had appeared on the doorstep of the Hideaway. It seemed that the Cadens were always feeding her, always taking care of her, and she found she didn’t mind. Would her parents have been like this, so loving and nurturing, if Mariah hadn’t been born like she was? Her stomach twisted, and she swallowed her last bite, bile replacing the pleasant flavors.
It didn’t do her any good to dwell on things like that. She put the basket aside just as a yawn caught her by surprise.
“Or tired apparently,” she said, laying the remainder of the food aside.
In a few moments, she was stretched out next to Shira on the bed, the blanket pulled up to her shoulders, the warmth finally chasing away the chill in her bones and bringing more sleepiness with it.
“I’m really glad you’re back,” Shira mumbled as she turned onto her side and away from Mariah. “We have a lot to talk about.”
And with that, she fell silent, her breath deepening, but Mariah knew she was right.
* * *
Mariah awoke alone and found that it was already midmorning. Shira must’ve gone to help her family prepare breakfast for the inn’s guests. She had just finished taking care of her morning necessities when Shira came bustling in, her mother at her back.
“Oh, Mariah! I almost didn’t believe it when Shira said you were here.” Rose opened her arms. “Well, come here and give me a hug. We’ve been so worried. Shira really expected you back sooner, and when you didn’t come, well … looks like we had nothin’ to fear.”
Mariah let herself be enveloped by the innkeeper, who was also the town healer, and found herself hugging Rose back. “I’ve been fine, very busy helping Xae’s family get settled, you know.”
Revelation of the Dragon Page 5
