by Giles Carwyn
“Can you sense them yet?” Shara asked, and felt her niece gather her ani and send her awareness down the street, looking for the pocket of possible survivors Shara had detected.
Galliana shook her head. “I can sense some rats, but that is all.”
“It is very subtle,” Shara assured her. “I went over this neighborhood at least a dozen times before I noticed anything. There are several of them, definitely human, but their life forces are so faint that I’m afraid they must be dying.”
“We’ve found many others alive,” Galliana reminded her. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
Shara wished she shared her niece’s optimism. Even though she had failed in her primary objective, Shara had to admit that what the Ohndariens had accomplished in the last few days was amazing. They had already moved the survivors from the Citadel to Clifftown. The little stronghold below the eastern ridge had been built as a way station where ships could be inspected and pay their tolls before passing through the locks. But it was also the city’s primary defense against an attack from the Summer Seas. It would be nearly as easy to defend as the Citadel. Shara had encountered a great deal of fear and doubt when she first suggested abandoning the Citadel and marching everyone to the far side of the city along the top of the Water Wall’s aqueduct. People were especially reluctant to walk through the dark tunnel where the dried-up waterway cut through the side of the mountain, but Shara needed every possible sword defending the Sunrise Gate when the Summermen arrived. There had been almost no wind in the past couple of days, which had certainly slowed the Summer Fleet, but they would be arriving at any moment.
Despite people’s fears, changing locations seemed to change the mood as well. In the Citadel, the Ohndariens had been locked in despair, almost waiting to die. Getting them moving again seemed to bring them back to life. Some had built rafts and started going on short fishing trips beyond the wall. Other small groups had started foraging for shellfish and harvesting wild vegetables on the Petal Islands. Not one of them had decided to leave the city when Shara gave them the opportunity. Those who wanted to flee had done so at the first sign of trouble. Those who wanted to stay were determined to see this through.
It certainly didn’t hurt that there had been no attacks from the weeping ones after Shara fought their master over control of Baedellin. The ani slaves had gone inert. Their master was either hiding or had fled the city. Shara had found evidence that the sorcerer had previously taken up housing in her tower. She had visited the Zelani school a few days ago, looking for books that might have more information on the mindless slaves and had found her workroom ransacked. It reeked of blood and feces, bringing back hated memories of her time with Victeris. The pall of black emmeria lingered like a shadow, but her enemy was no longer there.
It was frustrating. Shara had never had to find a sorcerer before. It was proving harder than she could have guessed, and time was running out. With a few more days of good food in them, the citizens and Lightning Swords should be able to defend Clifftown, but they didn’t have much hope against a simultaneous attack from weeping ones from within the city.
“This one right here,” Shara said, pointing to a shop whose sign sported a dancing goat holding a wedge of cheese. The once-cheery establishment looked dark and dead, like every other shop and café in the city. Not a whisper of sound came from inside.
“Allow us, Shara-lani,” said a Lightning Sword with a black ponytail. His name was Speevor, and he seemed to have taken it upon himself to be her personal bodyguard. He gave her one of his mirthless smiles, the barest widening of his mouth.
Shara paused, nodded. She wouldn’t do the Lightning Swords the disservice of rejecting their help. Speevor and two others stepped into the shop. After a few minutes they called out that all was clear.
She and Galliana stepped inside, and both covered their noses against the overpowering smell of rotting cheese. Everyone in the room looked like they wanted to gag. The shop had been demolished. Shredded cheesecloth and furniture were scattered all around the room. Shara could hear the frantic scurry of rats’ feet, but couldn’t see them.
“They’re down below,” Shara said, pointing to an open cellar door. The stench of foul cheese flowed upward from the trapdoor.
Shara sent her awareness down the dark hole. She could feel the hollow nothingness of weeping ones below, dozens of them. But there were people there, too, somewhere beyond the weeping ones.
“Whatever I’m feeling, it’s coming from down there.”
Shara started toward the ladder leading into the darkness, but Speevor waved her aside. “I’ll go first,” he said, not waiting for her answer.
“Be careful. There are weeping ones down there.”
He nodded, grim, but apparently unworried. One of his men handed him a torch and he headed below. The Lightning Swords followed him. Shara and Galliana trailed last, descending into the cellar. Rats scurried into the shadows as they reached the bottom.
The tiny room was packed with a crowd of weeping ones, the rasping of their frantic breath filling the room. They stood slack-jawed and motionless, staring at nothing with their pitch-black eyes. Tears made black streaks down their cheeks, over their jaws, and down their necks. Many of them had large black stains on their clothing or bare chests. The Lightning Swords fanned out, shields first, and began herding them into one corner. When bumped with a shield, the weeping ones would move away with shuffling steps like brainless sheep. “Keep alert,” Speevor warned his men. “This time could be different.”
But Shara knew it wouldn’t be different. The soulless ani slaves had all been like this ever since that first time she was attacked. Not a single weeping one had fought back. Every group they’d found had been like this one, standing, waiting for orders. The only reason they looked alive was their constant gasping for breath. Their faces showed no emotion, but Shara couldn’t help feeling like they were in constant agony.
It was entirely possible that the mage Shara sought had fled the city. Every indication pointed to it. But why bother to enslave an entire city and then simply walk away? Was that the original plan? Simply to soften Ohndarien’s defenses for a future attack?
For a moment she considered again that it was Arefaine. Could the girl be powerful enough to be controlling these slaves all the way from Ohohhom? Was that why Shara had been able to overpower her when they clashed over Baedellin?
She shook her head. It couldn’t possibly be that. Sending one’s ani across great distances was very difficult. No one was powerful enough to exert their will across an entire ocean.
Were they?
There were too many questions, and not enough time to answer them.
“I think I feel them,” Galliana said, her eyebrows furrowing as she concentrated. “They’re right there” She pointed. “Very faint, beyond that wall.”
“Very good,” Shara said, impressed by her niece’s sensitivity. “That’s exactly what I feel.”
At a nod from Speevor, the Lightning Swords nudged the weeping ones away from the spot where Galliana was pointing. Shara hated seeing human beings move like that, shuffling aside out of pure instinct like beaten dogs slinking away from a cruel master. However, the lack of resistance from the ani slaves had made it relatively easy to herd them into the courtyard of the abandoned Citadel for safekeeping. Shara had no delusions that the makeshift prison would hold the wretched creatures if they came back to life, but for now it made everyone feel safer to know where they were.
Speevor looked closely at the wall and pushed aside a huge stack of cheese wheels, revealing a little hole where the bricks had been removed. Shara heard a little gasp from within. It sounded like a child.
“Is there anyone in there?” she called, kneeling at the opening.
“Shara?” A weak, cracked voice spoke from the blackness within.
Shara nearly stumbled. “Issefyn!” she shouted, crawling through the hole.
The faint glow of three separate life forces blazed to
life in her magical vision.
“Issefyn, is that you?”
Speevor handed her the torch and Shara peered into the narrow, hand-carved passageway. Shara’s once beautiful and stately friend was huddled at the end of the tiny niche. She held a sickly-looking boy on her lap and a pair of frightened eyes peered at Shara from around Issefyn’s shoulder.
“By the Seasons!” Shara winced, wanting to cover her face at the wretched sight.
“It’s me,” Issefyn said, barely able to speak. “Thank the Seasons you’ve come.”
Shara crawled in farther to help them. With a wince, Issefyn handed the child to her. Shara took the boy and began crawling backward to pull him out. He hung limp in her arms, barely conscious. The boy was so skinny that Shara wanted to weep. It took her a few moments to realize that he was Pimmor, one of the newest students at the Zelani school. That meant that the little girl behind Issefyn had to be his older sister, Fleuren.
Shara crawled out of the tiny opening and handed the boy to Galliana. Then she turned and helped Issefyn out of the hole. The Zelani teacher felt like a skeleton in her arms. Shara could feel each individual rib as she helped Issefyn to her feet. Issefyn hung on Shara, barely able to stand.
“Have you been in there the whole time?” Shara said. “Since the school was attacked?
Issefyn nodded. “I tried,” she said, nearly crying. “I tried, but I could only save two.”
Shara fought back her own tears. She’d never seen Issefyn like this, so utterly defeated. Despite her lack of magical talent, Issefyn had always carried herself like a queen, commanding respect from even the most advanced Zelani students.
Shara held her for a long time, giving her a chance to collect herself. Galliana glanced at her with a horrified expression. One of the Lightning Swords was offering the little boy a drink of water, but he was too lethargic to swallow it. The liquid just ran down the side of his face.
They hadn’t found anyone this bad off, not even close.
Speevor kept trying to coax the little girl out of the tunnel, but she wouldn’t come to him. “They’re still out there,” the child whispered. “I can hear them breathing. They’re still there.”
“It’s all right,” Speevor said. “They can’t hurt you, not anymore.”
Shara sent the girl a steady stream of calming energy as Speevor gently coaxed her out of the tunnel. She was glad to see that he wrapped his hand around the girl’s head, covering her eyes so she couldn’t see the crowd of weeping ones in the corner.
“How long has it been?” Issefyn asked. “It was so dark in there, we couldn’t tell day from night…” She paused to catch her breath. Her dress was stained white with dried sweat. One of the Lightning Swords offered her his water pouch and helped her drink. She only got a few sips down before pushing him away. “The man came looking for us once, brought those things to find us. But he didn’t see us. I…I hid our life lights.”
“Man? What man?” Shara asked, feeling a surge of hope.
Issefyn nodded at the weeping ones. “Their master,” she murmured, then swayed on her feet. Shara caught her, held her upright.
“I’m sorry,” Shara said. “I’m so sorry, my friend.” She motioned to the other Lightning Swords. “Quick, let’s get them back to Clifftown. They need food and rest. We can go back for the weeping ones later.” Shara breathed the power of the Floani form into her body and lifted Issefyn in her arms. “It’s all right, my friend. We’ll get you cleaned up. You’ll feel like yourself in no time.”
The Lightning Swords picked up the children and followed her out of the rat-infested cheese shop.
Shara stood in the little gatehouse next to the Sunset Gate. She had given up trying to count the number of sails in the distance. The Summer Fleet had arrived, but they had anchored themselves a few miles offshore, waiting to consolidate their forces before moving forward.
Shara tapped her knuckles on the blue-white marble battlements. Ohndarien’s walls would hold. The Summermen had ridiculous numbers, but she remembered how fickle they had been during poet duels. They were hardly a disciplined fighting force, and she couldn’t imagine them maintaining a protracted assault with heavy losses.
She heard the sound of heavy boots on the stairs behind her and knew immediately that it was Speevor. No one else stomped like him, as if every step sent roots deep into the ground.
He walked up to her and grunted at the ships in the distance. “You were right. They seem to have brought everybody.”
“It won’t matter. Summermen change their minds faster than they change clothes.”
Speevor grunted. The man seemed immune to hope. And despair. He planted his big feet on the ground and dared the world to move him.
“Issefyn-lani is asking for you.”
“Isn’t she sleeping?” Shara asked, ignoring his mistake about Issefyn’s title. She was descended from the mages of Efften and knew almost as much about the ten paths as Shara did, but she had never come close to mastering any of them. She simply didn’t have the talent.
“No, Shara-lani,” Speevor said. “She insisted on waiting up for you.”
Beloved Issefyn. Of course she would realize how important her information would be to Shara.
“Did you bring her food?” Shara asked.
“She was bathed and is eating now.”
“Good,” Shara said, leaving the battlements and heading for the spiral staircase that led down from the wall.
Clifftown was little more than a cluster of buildings surrounding a bay nestled at the base of a cliff. Ohndarien was built on a narrow ridge that separated the two halves of the world. The west side of the ridge had a very gentle slope, but the east side was nearly vertical. Being here always made Shara feel like she was trapped at the bottom of a well.
It only took a few minutes to get from the Sunrise Gate to the port master’s residence that she and the Lightning Swords had taken over. The blue stone mansion was a bustle of activity. Shara made her way through the front room with a few quick nods and smiles before heading upstairs to her own chambers.
Issefyn sat at the little table in the corner of the room. She looked worlds better than she had when Shara had found her. Her curly black hair had been washed and combed. The cotton robe hung from painfully thin shoulders, but she sat with the stately grace that Shara remembered. A steaming bowl of fish stew and a half bowl of porridge sat before her, and she had just put a spoonful into her mouth. She smiled wearily around the bite and nodded, indicating that Shara should sit.
“My friend,” Shara said, taking her hands and squeezing them. “It makes me sick to think of what you have endured.”
Issefyn swallowed her mouthful and gave a weak smile. “It could always be worse, child. I could be one of them.”
“You should be sleeping.”
“No, there was nothing to do in that little hole except sleep. What I want to do now is fight back.”
“Good,” Shara said with a sigh of relief. “I could use any help you can give me.”
“Then let’s not waste any time. Do you think the man who created the indentured is still in the city?”
“I don’t know,” Shara admitted. “But we have to assume he is.”
“I agree. He’s undoubtedly waiting for the right moment to attack. We have to find him before he does.”
“Thank you,” Shara breathed. “It is so good not to face this alone. I thought you had been slain.”
“There were times I wish I had been. For the first few days I was able to leave the children and go search for food, but I must have been spotted because those indentured followed me into the cheese shop.”
“Is that when you saw him?”
“Yes, he followed them into the cellar, searching for me with his ani.”
“But he never found you?”
Issefyn shook her head. “I don’t believe I have ever put that much emotion into a simple glamour before.”
“You even fooled me for a while.”
> “Fear is a powerful tool.”
Shara nodded. “And it is easy for powerful mages to rely so much on their magical sight that they forget to use their own eyes. That’s a painful lesson I had to learn for myself.”
“So we agree that this mage must be very powerful.”
“Yes, but also arrogant enough to miss things. We might be able to use that against him.”
Issefyn frowned. “I wouldn’t count on that.”
“Neither will I. What did the man look like?”
“He was short, and dark-skinned. Probably of Kherish descent, but I must admit that I didn’t get as good a look as I would have wanted. He had a dark beard and mustache and black hair. He wore leather.”
“It is a tremendous help. I’ve been afraid that he was hiding in plain sight, right among us.”
“That is the best place to hide, if you can manage it,” Issefyn agreed.
“I was also worried that perhaps Arefaine had done all of this from a distance.”
“Arefaine?” Issefyn said, raising an eyebrow. “Do you think she is involved in this somehow?”
“I know she is. If she wants to return to Efften, she’ll have to go through the Silver Islanders to get there. That’s why she needs the Summer Fleet. I met another sorcerer on the Floating Palace who was helping her. He mentioned that Arefaine had an agent in Ohndarien, but I didn’t know who. Now we have something to go on, at least.”
“Could this sorcerer from the Summer Seas be the one controlling the weeping ones here in Ohndarien?”
“Based on your description, definitely not.”
Issefyn waited for more, but Shara decided not to offer any details. It still bothered her that Jesheks’s body had never been found. She didn’t want him to be dead, but she didn’t necessarily want him skulking in shadows either.
“And you think Arefaine sent the man I saw?”
“I am almost certain, and I feel the idiot that I didn’t see through her lies when I had the chance.”
