by C S Vass
“Fascinating,” Fiona said impatiently. The haze of incense that surrounded them was making her feel agitated.
“I must be boring you. A girl of your class surely couldn’t understand what it’s like, to have lived so close to the summit of the mountain only to lose it all.” Suomo turned to face Fiona and her voice became very harsh. “When the Awakening came and my talents were discovered they drove me away. Even my precious children were terrified of me. My husband said he would take my hands if I ever set foot in his house again.”
Her laughter was a terrible cry.
Fiona was unconcerned. “I paid you for magic, not stories.”
Suomo shuffled over to Fiona, bent-low to the ground with a paintbrush in her hands. She began to paint an intricate red pattern on the ground. “Stay seated,” Suomo said. “This will get very messy if it’s not done right.”
“Just do it.”
A few moments later Fiona found herself sitting inside of a highly complex geometric shape. She felt a deep disquiet in her bones, but forced herself to be still. Candles that ran with purple wax all around them let off flames of pure white light like a sea of stars.
Suddenly the ground shook and the pattern around Fiona began to grow hot. She was so startled she almost shouted and jumped up, but forced herself to remain rooted through sheer will. “Good,” Suomo cooed. “It comes.”
There was a terrible howl as if made by some monstrous prehistoric beast. Shadows along the wall began to dance as the white fire around them grew brighter. Light exploded from the flames and swam over Suomo’s hands until they too glowed with energy.
“Be still now,” Suomo said. “When I am ready, you will take it from me.”
“Take it?” Fiona shouted, but she couldn’t even hear herself over the gusts of wind that blasted through the room along with that penetrating deadly howl.
Without warning a swirling orb of white energy appeared in Suomo’s hands and she held it out to Fiona.
“Now!” Suomo rasped. “Take it, or it will kill us both! Don’t let go no matter what!”
Bracing herself Fiona grasped the orb with both hands. She expected it to burn, and oh how it did, though it was not the scorching heat of fire, but the piercing bite of ice that scorched her hands.
For a few moments Fiona and Suomo gripped the orb together, joined by its magical evanescence while the hell-storm raged around them. “Take it now!” Suomo shouted. “Bring it into your body or it will destroy us!”
Fiona pushed with all her might and tried to bring the orb inside of her. Old witch could have at least warned me what was going to happen, she thought as she strained to hug the magical energy into her body. It was as if the silver orb was made out of some magnetic material opposite of the substance of herself. The more she moved it towards her breast the more she felt it try to fly away. With a rush of energy in one great heave she slammed it with all her might.
The orb slipped from her hands and shot towards the ceiling.
“You’ve killed us!” Suomo shouted.
“No!” Fiona yelled as she leapt after it. Heart sinking she wrapped her hands around it again. It burned her twice as badly as before and seemed to have developed a will of its own. The orb thrashed back and forth, causing her body to lurch this way and that.
Rodrick
The thought ran through her head in one astonishing moment of clarity, and as if electrified Fiona seized the orb with all her remaining might. Slowly, she crushed it towards herself while the magical energy struggled desperately to get away.
When it touched her body, she felt as if she had descended into an ocean of ice.
Once it was halfway in she nearly lost consciousness.
When the orb was fully inside Fiona thought her soul had left her body.
All was black.
As Fiona came back to consciousness, she was sure that she was dead. She had no body and was floating through a sea of darkness. There was a strange sense of calm about her. A howl splintered the serenity of her world like the first light of dawn on a pure black horizon. This time though she felt no fear. The noise was strangely…comforting.
She saw a beam of light in the distance. At first she thought it was the orb again but as it approached, it took the form of a sleek-coated silver dog. It ran at her with its tongue out. Fiona would have reached out to pet it if she had an arm to do so with.
The dog left as quickly as it had come and once more she was surrounded by darkness.
Fiona woke up to the foul smells of Suomo’s house. Groggily she picked her head up off of the floor.
“A shame,” Suomo grunted. “I had hoped to make use of your body, but you survived after all.”
“It’s done then?” Fiona asked. She felt oddly clean as if she had just taken a very hot bath.
Suomo laughed but did not deign to reply.
“I don’t feel much different,” Fiona said as she rose. “How do I know it worked?”
“I imagine it will be hard not to notice. You may leave me, child. Our arrangement is at an end.”
“I still have questions,” Fiona said angrily. “How do I use it?”
“Child, you cannot hope to use the manjeko yet. It will take time.”
“Time?” Fiona pounded her fist on the table. “I don’t have time!”
“You will make time,” Suomo said, anger creeping into her own voice. “The manjeko will not be ordered. It is a miracle that you are not dead, but your ordeal has just begun. This power is inside you, but would you expect a child who was given their first fiddle to play in an orchestra? The true sight will not be rushed. I have given you the manjeko, but it is up to it to determine if you are worthy.”
“Up to it?” Fiona asked. “What does that mean?”
“You will find out in time. Now go!”
“I’ll be back if you’ve deceived me.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” Suomo said. Then as an afterthought she added, “But it is not you I need fear.”
Fiona opened the door to leave. Before she stepped outside Suomo called to her. “One more thing. Tell me, child, when you meet him which will you use, the demon or the dragon?”
Fiona slammed the door behind her.
* * *
The outside air immediately refreshed her and lifted whatever was left of the haze from inside Suomo’s house. It was early. Dawn had only just come upon Haygarden. The streets of the Stone District were largely empty of the late-night crowds stumbling home from the pubs and the early morning crowds starting the trek to work.
It was hard to believe that the city had changed so much in two years. Of course, the Stone District was never known as a center of luxury, but it had deteriorated greatly in the time since Duke Redfire had died. The signs were everywhere. Two years ago Fiona would have passed several city guard patrols; now there were none. Two years ago there were alms houses and charities waiting with open doors; now there was no promise of a meal or a place to rest your head if you found yourself out of doors.
But the worst of the damage the last two years had inflicted upon them was written on the faces of the folk who lived there. Two years ago they were poor, proud, often jovial, and often angry. Now the Stone District was a place of bleak ennui. A smile from a stranger was rare, and a smile from a stranger that reached their eyes was non-existent.
Fiona hugged her plain grey cloak tightly around herself. Winter was upon them, and it was freezing cold. A frost from the northern mountains had descended on the land, killing crops and people indiscriminately. Many would not survive the long, icy months ahead.
As she continued on her way, she reached a path that sloped upwards where the houses parted to allow a view into the Leaf District where the Merchant’s Guild sat on a high hill. Fiona took a pause to look at it. The huge glass windows shone like mirrors in the early winter dawn. Snow piled neatly along its roof, granting the building a comfortable, regal look that could be found nowhere in the Stone District.
Fiona spat on
the ground bitterly and kept going.
Of all the changes that had occurred in Haygarden since Fiona had left, of all the things that she had braced herself for, the daily corruption of the Merchant’s Guild was perhaps the most terrible to her. It had started shortly after Duke Redfire’s death. Like piranhas swimming towards blood in the water the Tellosian moneylenders had swarmed upon the Merchant’s Guild as soon as the events leading to the Awakening and Duke Redfire’s death concluded.
It had started as trade discussions. Then as an opportunity for investment. Day after day Tellosian envoys arrived. They purchased businesses, granted loans, and bought the loyalty of prominent court members until many in Haygarden said that they had won the rebellion on the battlefield all those years ago just to lose it at the negotiating table afterwards.
For a fleeting moment of guilt Fiona thought of Sandra Redfire asking, then begging for her to stay before angrily turning her back. She pushed the thought out of her head. That was two years ago, and now that she was back she did not have plans to stay long.
No, if it was up to her Fiona would not have ended up in Haygarden at all after the way things had ended. But she had higher priorities than her own convenience. Rodrick had destroyed her life and she would hunt him down to the bitter end no matter what. Haygarden was just a stepping stone on her path to him. Once she was confident that the power of the manjeko was truly hers she would leave the city for good.
Then what?
It was a thought that had haunted her more than once. She gazed around the empty streets, as if searching for a response, but was only answered by a gusty blast of wind that cut through her cloak. Tellos had nothing for her, of that she was certain. It wouldn’t be enough to simply leave Haygarden. She intended to leave the entire continent and go somewhere where nobody had ever heard the word Tellos.
It wouldn’t be easy. The Tellosian Empire had been quite busy since magic burst forth into the world two years ago during the Awakening. Not only were their moneylenders strangling Haygarden into submission, but they had devoted immense efforts to increase their magical abilities. Not wanting anything valuable to slip away from them in these uncertain times the Empire deployed thousands of soldiers to guard the borders, and thousands of scryers to magically scan them for any illegal crossings. Now only those with government-issued passports could hope to leave.
It made no difference to Fiona. She found a way to the manjeko, now she would find a way to Rodrick, and afterwards she would find her way out. She would take it one step at a time, and that was that.
With such thoughts in mind she finally approached the squat brick house she was staying in. It was a cheap rundown place, but she couldn’t do much better. The gold she had taken from her old manor before leaving was essentially used up, and she had no plans to go back and see what the state of the place was now.
Something gave her pause as she approached the thin cedar door to her temporary home. There was a noise inside—a cough. Somebody was there.
The old Fiona would not have smiled grimly as the snow fell around her, drawn the demon-pommel blade, and felt a sense of pleasure in catching the scoundrel pawing about her things. The old Fiona did not have such cut-throat instincts from two years of hardship and strife. The old Fiona’s heart may even have pounded with anxiety, instead of calmly continuing on its emotionless march.
The old Fiona was dead.
Chapter Two
“You!”
“Nice to see you too, friend,” Donyo Brownwater said with a wide obnoxious grin. His off-grey eyes were bloodshot and his salt-and-pepper beard had considerably more salt than the last time she’d seen him.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Really now, two years go by and this is how you greet me?” Donyo asked. He took a long deliberate gulp from a wineskin.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “Are you following me?”
“I confess, this isn’t going the way I imagined at all. What’s wrong? You’re in so late. Did you go out looking for prince charming only to find a toad covered in warts? Well, that’s alright. It’s nothing a drink between friends can’t patch over I suppose.” He offered her the wineskin which she promptly smacked out of his fat hand and sent spilling onto the floor.
The look Donyo gave her made her feel a twang of guilt.
“Listen,” he said. “I apologize for catching you off-guard. I will be honest and admit that I had informants looking for you. The woman you paid to stay here contacted one of them. I thought you might come back one day and prefer to remain inconspicuous and I will honor that, Fiona. But I wanted to see you. Where have you been? What have you been doing for two long years?”
Fiona looked into his off-grey eyes, and sighed. She sheathed the demon-pommel sword. “Do you really have to ask?”
“I suppose not,” Donyo said. “Well, how was it? Did you find the bastard?”
Fiona picked the wineskin up and took a long pull. It was sour and tasted of cranberry.
“I became very acquainted with countryside,” Fiona said. “But no, I did not find him.”
“A shame. I don’t suppose you’re here to settle down then?”
“No.”
He laughed and took the wineskin back. “Good, because this place you’ve found is a real shit-hole. Though it isn’t hard to imagine why you might prefer it to the luxuries of court.”
Fiona’s lips tightened, but after a moment a sharp barking laugh erupted from her. Donyo laughed merrily with her, and he passed her the wineskin.
The room was disgusting, even for Fiona’s standards. Just a flea-ridden pile of straw, a table and chairs which collectively had more broken legs than not, and cracked walls crawling with roaches.
“I’ll take this over Sun Circle any day,” she said as she sat down.
“Well now, don’t be too certain. I haven’t had the chance to persuade you to come back to court yet. But before we begin can we please start a fire? It’s freezing in here.” Fiona had been cold for so long she had practically forgotten, but quickly got a blaze going in the small hearth that brought some semblance of cheer to the room.
“I know what’s waiting for me at court, Donyo. You of all people should know that I’m not going back there. Not ever.”
“Yes, yes,” Donyo said with a wave of his hand. “I understand. It’s nothing but rascals and sods.”
“I see you’re in good company.”
“I’ll ignore that.” He reached into his red tunic and pulled out a long wooden pipe with a serpent wrapped around the bowl.
“Since when do you smoke?” she asked.
“Ah yes, you wouldn’t know would you. It’s the latest craze. Sandra has seen fit to open diplomatic relations with the Laquathi. They recently sent us a great many barrels of this fine fire-cured dark-leaf. Would you care to try?”
“I’ll pass,” she said as she pushed the pipe aside. “One might think you’ve enough bad habits as it is already.”
Donyo blew a cloud of thick blue smoke into the center of the room and sighed contentedly. “Can’t have too many vices these days. If this is all that Geoff manages to accomplish while he’s over there then I’ll happily call his mission a splendid success.”
“Geoff Hightower? He’s left Sun Circle? But, he’s the Lord Defender.”
“Indeed. He’s also the only member of court who happens to be a native of Laquath. He was needed there. Things are not well, Fiona. Haygarden needs allies.”
She folded her arms. “It’s naught to me. But how is Sandra managing? Is she a capable Duchess? A good ruler?”
Donyo blew another cloud of smoke through which she saw his eyebrows furrow. “It’s hard to tell.”
“Hard to tell? That hardly inspires confidence.”
“I agree. That’s why I’m adding vices instead of managing the ones I have. At this rate by the end of the year I shall have taken up gambling, whoring, and rumpscuttle roulette.”
“Rumpscuttle roulette?�
��
“A rather complicated game. One needs four or five companions, a large sheet with a hole, I should think several jugs of wine—”
“I get the picture,” Fiona said quickly. “Tell me more about Sandra.”
A strained look came into the Master Architect’s face. “It’s complicated. She hasn’t much of a chance, truth be told. The Autumn harvest was a travesty. The Empire is meddling in our affairs. Tellosian moneylenders are buying up every bit of Haygarden they can. They’re putting enormous pressure on Sandra and the court to enact policies favorable to the Empire. And if all that weren’t enough, now we have the nuisance of the Forgotten.”
“The Forgotten?” Fiona asked. She had not heard of the Forgotten.
“You truly have been away for a long time,” Donyo said. “Maybe things would have been better for you if you stayed away. Gods know I’ve considered leaving myself. Let me put it this way. The Empire is out-muscling us in the open. The Forgotten are doing it in the shadows.”
“That sounds all too familiar,” Fiona said.
“You’re thinking of the Vaentysh Boys. It’s not the same. The Vaentysh Boys are fanatics. The Forgotten are much more…practical. They hold no lofty idealized versions of the past or visions of a future utopia. In short, they’re thugs.”
“It never stops, does it?” Fiona said. “Pass the wine.”
“Well look at that. I don’t think I’ve ever broken into a second wineskin with you.”
“Good thing you’re the type to always keep two,” Fiona said as she grabbed the new wineskin from him and pulled. “It sounds like you have your hands quite full between the Empire and the Forgotten. Sun Circle sure picked a bad time to send Geoff away.”
“There’s little the Lord Defender can do about the Forgotten. It’s as I’ve said, they’re street thugs. They operate any low-level black markets in Haygarden. They tend to congregate at a filthy little tavern here in the Stone District—The Spotted Weasel. They’re simply an unfortunate product of the times. As soon as we fix our other problems, things will get better.”
