by Tammy Salyer
“Send me back there, and I will find out.”
“No,” Tuzhazu broke in, looking at her for the first time. “From what you’ve said, your people have angered him. It seems likely he’s the one who sent you to us. Thus, he must want you here.”
It was clear that these people would listen to nothing she said. They were corrupted too far by Balavad’s treachery. Her patience strained, then snapped. “If Balavad was such a savior to you, why then did the child I was brought here with suffer from this Waste? He has not cured it permanently. If he were benevolent, as you seem to believe, he would have. He’s using you.” But for what? she wondered.
Tuzhazu swarmed toward her like a gale, pressing close enough she could count his teeth as they flashed. “He did more for us than our own Verity did. And if you question the choices the Archons have made further, after the suffering we’ve endured, you’ll end up in a cage just like—”
“Enough, Tek Det.”
He remained looming over Symvalline for another few breaths, his emerald-gray eyes spearing hers, then stepped away.
With nothing left to lose, Symvalline gave away her last secret. “Please, listen to me. I didn’t come through the starpath alone.” She had their attention. “My daughter, her name is Isemay, she was with me when the starpath drew us in. She…she’s with the Zhallah people.” Her voice broke, the despair she’d been holding back creeping from her stomach to her heart, threatening to drown her from the inside. “If you won’t help me, at least let me go to her. She’s alone, frightened, too young to know what’s going on. Please. Don’t be cruel to those who’ve done you no harm.”
Akeeva stood and walked closer to her. “A child. How old?”
“Sixteen turns around Halla, our daystar.”
“And does she carry the spark of your Verity?”
“No, she’s just a frightened girl who’s already been through more than a child should.”
Akeeva paced back toward her seat and settled in. “Then we do have use for you, Vinnric. I’ve been told you’re a healer. Our own tenders can do nothing for the Waste. So until your Verity retrieves you, you’ll stay and work with our healers to find a perpetual cure for the plague. If you do, we’ll release you.” Akeeva’s eyes turned toward the distance, her stare as remote and unfeeling as her voice. “If you don’t, it won’t matter if you see your child again. Her death from the plague is as good as assured.”
Chapter Eight
Mura and Lysis lived in a four-room dwelling on the edge of the village that extended from the side of a massive Churss tower like a stone bubble. Green and purple vines twined along its outer walls and roof in a dense mat that almost hid the home within. Inside, the main room that served as kitchen and dining room, workspace, and sitting room was cool and comfortable. Mura showed Isemay the sleeping room they’d share. Another room was where her mother slept, and the final room was for storage and private business.
Isemay asked her first question: “If these rock towers can move, what happens to your house when this one does?”
Suppressing a grin, Mura assured her, “Oh, it won’t.”
Lysis seemed glad to have the company, but Isemay couldn’t miss the slight wrinkle that creased the space between her brows every time she looked at Isemay. She just didn’t know if the woman’s concern had more to do with Isemay’s situation of being lost and alone, or if it was about her being a foreigner, with all the unknowns that status carried.
She was generous, though, and gave Isemay a plate of fruits and something vaguely breadlike, and she began consuming them as fast as she could. She’d barely taken note of her hunger until now, but after the first bite, the hunger established itself as a ravenous beast that would not be tamed until it had its fill. The food was unusual but at least better than the nightcaps.
While Lysis made tea at the hearth, which Isemay noted did not burn wood but rather was composed of flat stones that were heated through some unseen means, she said to Mura, “Erli Detzu came to visit with you last night.”
Mura’s face flushed a rose pink, and Isemay realized she was blushing. Unlike a Vinnric, her whole face and head were overcome, and ordinarily Isemay would have giggled at how hard the emotion was for Mura to hide. Yet, at the moment, she could not feel a trace of amusement, not while her mum was in danger.
Lysis’s first statement came out with a tinge of playfulness, but the next was serious as she leveled a dark stare at Mura. “I didn’t know what to tell him. Mura, at your age you should know better than to leave the Churss. And to take children out there—what were you thinking? What would I do if I lost you the same way we lost Dwoon?” Before she finished speaking, the anger in her tone gave way to sorrow that seemed to live just below the surface, and Mura quickly reached for her mother’s hand.
“I know, and I’m sorry. It won’t ever happen again,” she promised. “I miss him too. I just…it was just something he’d take me to do when I was still young. I thought it would be like being with him again. And the other kids, they’re too young to know the danger. I just wanted them to realize that Arc Rheunos isn’t the scary, horrible world it sometimes seems like—”
“But it is dangerous. Far too dangerous, as you’ve proven. Cylli and Onni’s mother is distraught. She might not recover. The only safety we have is here in the Churss.”
Mura’s color washed to a pale blue-tinted gray. But her feelings of guilt and sorrow didn’t need to be illustrated by anything but her stricken expression. “That can’t be true, Mother. We all know the story of how Deespora saved many by bringing them here after the last Equifulcrum, but we can’t hide in the Churss forever, just like Salukis says, and even Councilor Poolan agrees. Eventually, we have to face the Minothians and reclaim Arc Rheunos, or at least mend the division between us. Hiding is the same as imprisonment. It’s not fair to us, and it’s not fair to the children after us. Worst of all, it’s not fair to the children we’ve already lost.”
“Salukis Engzu is reckless and foolish,” Lysis snapped, slamming down the tea mugs she held. “You are not, Mura. You know better than to treat your life like a bargaining piece to be thrown at whims like hunting for nightcaps…”
As their argument continued, Isemay felt like she was intruding. This rift in beliefs seemed to be among more than just Mura and her mum and was much more pressing to them than her and her own mum’s troubles. She slid through the outer entryway with all the stealth she’d learned from her Knight foster family and emerged outside into the peaceful Churss without them noticing her go.
She looked around, taking in the fresh air, the last glints of a setting sun that dappled the tops of the massive towers, the chirrups and whistles of songbirds and hum of insects. The rock forest felt…safe. Like living among giants whose every impulse was to ensure you had nothing to fear. It was as different to the wide streets, thriving and widespread markets, and looming buildings of Asteryss as she could imagine. And she found she liked it.
But she could not stay. Pushing the moment of respite behind her, she peered about for a footpath that looked like it might lead to somewhere quiet where she would not be interrupted as she tried to reach her da through the memory keeper. If she had luck reaching him, he could help her decide what to do next. Maybe he could even come and get her. Her hand rose to her neck to touch the jewel.
It wasn’t there.
Frantically, she patted herself up and down, searching in every fold of her clothes for it, then she began to scan the ground.
“Did you lose something?” a familiar voice asked.
She looked up and saw Salukis approaching from the main path. “My-my memory keeper. A pendant my father gave me. I was showing it to Mura, but I haven’t seen it since…” Since they’d been sitting at the edge of the Churss. Had she dropped it there or somewhere along the path?
He stopped before her, and the two black-furred creatures that he’d greeted earlier planted themselves on either side of him contentedly. “Since?” he prompted.
<
br /> The wending paths inside the Churss were growing dark as evening fell, but she couldn’t wait another day to try reaching her da. She had to get back to the forest’s boundaries. Alone, she’d get lost. But with help…
“Salukis, you have to take me back.”
“…Back where?”
“Where Mura and I waited for you. I have to find that pendant. It’s my only link to my da.”
“Sure, I’ll take you back.”
She was about to press the argument, but then realized he’d agreed to go. “You will?”
“Why not? Believe me, I’m not in much hurry to return to my own house. My father is…let’s just say, he’s got designs on a garden wall that will be thick and tall enough to surround a forest before he’s through making me build it. My mother and Uncle Browan are pretty excited about it, too. What’s one more day of waiting before I get started?” He muttered sullenly, “Especially since it’ll probably take me my whole life to finish it. First though, he sent me over here to apologize to Lysis for being involved in a trip that put Mura and the other kids in danger. Even though it was Mura’s idea. Not that they believed me. Just give me a moment.” He looked to the two furry creatures, “Juz, Tekl, I’ll be right back. Stay here.”
He rapped against the rocks that formed the entryway arch of Mura’s home, then called, “Heyo?”
The sound of a raised voice cut off abruptly, then Mura’s voice came from within: “Come in, Salukis.”
He started to part the woven screen covering the entrance, then turned his head back to Isemay. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
She nodded impatiently.
While he was gone, his two pets turned their heads toward her. “…Hi,” she said, unable to resist her curiosity about them.
Her voice seemed to be taken as a kind of invitation, and suddenly they were circling her, each pushing their wet black snouts up close and sniffing her as if she were an irresistible morsel of the unknown. She supposed she was, being from another of the Cosmos’s five realms. She reached down carefully and scratched one behind its horn. “Good…boy?”
At her touch, the creature lunged up and placed its front paws on her chest, and she saw the length of its claws for the first time. They looked sharp enough to gut her. “Okay, yes, good. I, uh, I like you too.”
Its muzzle opened, revealing teeth that were, if anything, sharper than its claws, and panted in her face. Its breath smelled a bit like fish.
“Nice boy, good boy,” she stammered, trying to back away.
Salukis stepped outside, rather hurriedly. “Ugh, that’s that. It’s a good thing Lysis isn’t my mother. Juz, what are you doing? I know she’s a wonder, but get down, boy.” To Isemay, he said, “Ready? We better go before she decides she needs a new garden wall too.”
Chapter Nine
Symvalline considered fighting her captors as Minoth guards arrived to escort her from Akeeva’s quarters. But though she was stronger than many, she was not stronger than a kingdom. And she couldn’t risk being killed when the other option was only captivity. Not when Isemay’s life depended on her.
“Summon all the healers we have in Minoth and bring them to the Knight,” Akeeva told the guards.
“Yes, Everlight.” They dipped their heads to acknowledge the command and began shepherding Symvalline out.
They passed first through the anteroom of Akeeva’s chamber, which was filled with children, who by her estimate were all under ten or eleven turns. They were well-fed, clean, and boisterous as any children their ages. From what Agatha her fellow captive on the way here had told her, these girls and boys were separated from their parents and kept here in the palace, yet none seemed overly distressed by their situation. Seeing this lightened her heart the smallest bit. It meant there were limits, then, to the Minothians’ cruelty and heartlessness.
Everlight Hall was vast, and the guards escorted her through without her blindfold. Small victories. Each glimpse she had through windows showed her steep, soaring mountains in every direction. The hall and the city outside its gates were in a wide valley, every side hemmed in by terrain it would take her months to walk through if she escaped. And that was only if she could find a map to show her how to get back to where she’d started. And if she could shake off pursuit by flying guards. And…
The puzzle grew ever more complex as she thought it over. To make matters harder, her immediate situation contained an even more complex puzzle. How could Akeeva seriously believe Symvalline could cure the disease that cut straight into the hearts, both literally and figuratively, of this realm’s people? She knew nothing of their bodies, or their plants and animals, much less the diseases that could fell them. She had barely even practiced healing in her own realm in the last centuries. Knights hardly needed much aid from her or any source but their own inherited vitality. There’d been the times she’d ministered to Isemay, her broken arm from stealing and crashing a set of prototype wings Ulfric had built, her concussion from falling from Vigil Tower when she’d tried to climb it without aid of ropes. But little beyond that. The people of Ivoryss had healers of their own, and her primary duty was to her Verity, not their ills.
The thing her new obligation did give her was time—and, if she was lucky, access to enough natural elements to concoct more than medicines. As the guards led her down what she hoped was the last staircase to wherever she would be held, she wrestled with the part of her mind that argued: How much time did she really have? If Isemay was susceptible to this world’s ailments, and if this Waste was as widespread and virulent as they all seemed to believe, Isemay’s time could be short indeed.
At the base of the last stairs, her guards pushed open a heavy wooden door and escorted her into a spacious chamber the size of a modest eating hall. It was filled with every manner of vial and bottle, basin and box, mortars and pestles, and numerous fireboxes for setting contained burns. Shelves, tables, and trunks were spread throughout, holding what she assumed were to be her experimental materials. The space was loaded with the accoutrements of not just any healer’s laboratory, but with enough necessities for many, many healers to work together. Ulfric, with his love for craft and experimentation, would have been agog at what she’d been granted access to.
Smiling inwardly at the possibilities that lay before her, she turned to her guards. “I’ll start immediately. Leave me, lock me in if you must, but please take my assurances to Ak—the Everlight, that I will do everything within my power and experience to carry out her will.”
The female guard shook her head. “We’re to stay with you until your assistants arrive.”
The other nodded agreement, and they took positions in front of the door. These two, she noted, wore light swords and armor.
So, not quite as easy as she’d hoped it would be. But that didn’t mean she was completely handicapped. One did not live as many lifetimes as she had without learning a few tricks about stealth—or how to make potions that could make the liveliest person fall asleep when needed.
Looking around, she thought about where to begin. First step, inventory. And it would go much faster if she had help. “Guards,” she said, “when will assistance arrive? I assume the Everlight doesn’t expect me to start from scratch with this task.”
Both eyed her, saying nothing. Either they didn’t know, or they’d been ordered not to speak to her more than necessary.
Fine, then.
It had been midafternoon when they’d arrived at Everlight Hall, and by the time her first visitor arrived, she’d had to light several lamps to keep the gloomy shadows of the large chamber at bay. Her afternoon’s discoveries had revealed a few dozen herbs, leaves, powders, and tinctures she mentally catalogued as potentially useful, along with several books that were written in Elder Veros to refer to.
The bookshelves in the room stood taller than any typically sized Arc Rheunosian could reach, soaring all the way to the vaulted ceiling six times higher than her own height. But then, with half their population able to s
imply flap wings to gain access to the top shelves, it made sense. She, however, had required the aid of one of the guards to bring down every book she couldn’t reach alone or with the aid of a ladder. Hundreds lay in neat piles on the floor now.
But one had been pulled down that held her attention longer than any other. Though thick, it was a smallish book and bound with a plain fibrous cover that was flexible and worn. More like a journal than a tome on medicine or botany, and when she flipped it open to a random page, she saw that’s what it was. The first words written, scribbled really, in the corner of the first page were odd: “Only the maker can unmake the cage.”
The single line was strangely compelling, and she flipped through the rest quickly. Informal handwriting and detailed but disorganized drawings adorned each leaf. A quick scan showed her none had anything to do with the business of healing. This book contained musing and theories about Verity lore. More than one page discussed the archaneology of Verity vessels and their Fenestrii at great length.
Furtively, Symvalline tucked this book aside where no one else would see it. When she had the chance to study it in depth without being observed, she would.
Based on her early research of a handful of the remaining voluminous stacks, she felt closer to being able to concoct useful potions of her own, but it would be some time before she was ready to break free of this place, and she would need more than potions to aid her in finding Isemay. Patience had always been one of her attributes, but she knew the next few days would try hers more than any other in her life.
When the chamber’s main door was pushed open in the evening, she assumed it would either be dinner or her promised help. It was neither.
“Both of you, we have three more Waste victims. Go up to the main hall and help bring them down to our new”—Tuzhazu’s gleaming eyes shot to her as he nearly sneered the word—“healer.”
She could read the thoughts of her two guards on their faces as if they were more books. They were equally distressed at the idea of handling victims of the plague as they were at wanting to defy their commander’s orders. Their fear of Tuzhazu turned out the greater, and they left the room without a word.
