But he couldn’t bear to look at her for a moment longer. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. She wouldn’t be wondering how to feed her children.
Running away from all this wouldn’t fix it – couldn’t fix it. He only had one choice.
Dragon. Kill the dragon.
Yes, Ram.
He would have to kill the dragon. He would have to make sure there were no more refugees – and then if he were still alive, he would have to spend his whole life making things right – rebuilding, giving, serving. Running away right now – that wouldn’t help anyone but himself.
With his cheeks burning and his wound on fire, he fled the refugee crowds, head down, desperate not to see or be seen. He felt something hot on his cheeks, but he didn’t stop to brush away his tears until he was well into the Government District and down an alley, around a corner and then out beside a moat around a palace. He was so turned around that he wouldn’t have known where his desperate flight had taken him if he hadn’t seen the moat.
Roses climbed the walls of the palace and guards were ringed around the wall. From the calls and cheers, he thought that the crowd had gathered on the other side of the palace, waiting for the announcement. That’s where he should be, instead of in this lonely street, far away from anything else. The buildings here were quiet, the moat still. Lily pads floated on the top of the water. He could smell the sun on them and their faint fragrance. But he couldn’t bear to go to where the people were. He closed his eyes but all he saw in his mind were the faces of those children.
Dragon. Dragon.
A voice floated down from the palace wall.
“I thought that perhaps you would make the speech, my beauty. I shouldn’t keep your charms all to myself.”
There was a tinkling laugh. “I think that I’m starting to like you, Renli.”
Amaryllis! Tamerlan stepped out, peering up at the figures on the top of the palace wall. They stood close together, as if their words were only for each other, though their voices carried easily in the clear summer air.
“Only starting?” he feigned a hurt tone.
Tamerlin shifted nervously. She sounded playful. She sounded like she wasn’t being coerced. But she was only sixteen. She shouldn’t be marrying at all – not yet. Although, better married than sold as a sacrifice. And he’d told himself that he would just check to be sure that she was okay. He wouldn’t ruin things for her if she was well and safe. After all, it probably wouldn’t help her any to be flirting with a future husband only to have her criminal brother storm into the moment demanding that she flee with him.
Tamerlan ran a hand over his tired face.
“I won’t even know what to say!” Amaryllis protested, but she was clearly asking to be convinced.
“Just tell them about the hunt – tell them how we need to get rid of the dragon and how Abelmeyer’s Eye is the only way to bind him. Tell them that it’s a secret passed down from generation to generation.”
Tamerlan froze. Was there really a way to bind a dragon with something as simple as a relic?
Kill. Kill. Dragon.
But Lila Cherrylock’s voice pushed Ram’s aside for a moment, King Ablemeyer’s Eye – an amulet – is what put them in those trances in the first place. It won’t hold them for long – only blood can do that – but it could hold a dragon for a time. I would have stolen it if it wasn’t already lost by my time.
You would have stolen it? Byron broke in. I would have stolen it first and used it for the freedom of the masses. Such a relic belongs to the people.
Lost? How would something so precious be lost?
Maybe it isn’t lost. Maybe it was kept with King Abelmeyer’s treasures. Who can say? Lila suggested. Perhaps the other Legends know. All I know is that it wasn’t where I thought it would be.
You must join this hunt. Byron was just as intent as she was.
Where did King Abelmeyer keep his treasures?
Lila was first to answer. Hidden in the great works of art in the five cities. Or in the palace storerooms, but if it was in one of those, they would know, and there would be no hunt. You should open the Bridge of Legends and let me out. I want to find this treasure, too.
That was too big of a risk. Tamerlan watched his sister and her suitor walk down the wall, away from him. Their voices faded away as they left. She didn’t seem like someone who needed to be rescued. But this amulet showed promise. Perhaps it would be the key to redemption.
Let me out and I will help you! Lila insisted.
Let me out and we will free the people once more! Byron demanded. Let us make payment for our sins.
He’d have to do it without smoking. These Legends were far too excited at the prospect of this hunt. His hands trembled at that thought as if his body ached to dip into the Bridge of Legends again. But he didn’t dare do that. If you let the Legends out to play, there was no telling what they might do.
Kill! Kill them all!
9: Windsniffer
Marielle
LORD MYTHOS SEEMED mesmerized by the woman in the double-breasted coat, but it was the man with the large conch shell who captured Marielle’s attention. It glowed turquoise to her, though she couldn’t tell what she was smelling when she looked at the shell, even though she sniffed hard, trying to catch the scent of it. It wasn’t the turquoise of the sea or the turquoise and gold of magic – it was different than that, almost magical but not the magic she was used to. Stranger yet, even her eyes seemed to be seeing turquoise and that made her shiver at the strangeness of the experience.
Etienne had led the group to the inn beside Spellspinner’s Cures – The Grinning Cutlass.
“No foreigners,” the strongarm said before they even reached the door. Marielle flashed him a suspicious glare. He was the same one who had offered her a place in his bed the night before.
“An odd policy for an inn,” Etienne said mildly.
“I said – ” the strongarm didn’t get to say anything else. Etienne’s hand flashed out so quickly that Marielle couldn’t see what he did and then the strongarm was leaning against the wall gasping for breath while Etienne opened the door for his guests.
Marielle was the last to enter, watching carefully for any trouble that might come from behind. This city needed a better City Watch. She hadn’t seen a patrol yet and the few individuals she’d seen had scurried out of the way when trouble came. It made the hairs on the back of her neck rise up. A city without order was a city in trouble. Laws and order kept a place safe and prosperous. Failing to uphold them led to the kind of rot that destroyed a city.
Her lips formed a firm line of concern. No law. Refugees. A dragon threat. Xin was like a barge of dry wood sailing too close to a port light. The whole thing could go up in flames in a matter of moments. She would have to watch for that.
The inside of The Grinning Cutlass wafted with trails of yellow-orange and washing soda scent – greed and stone-gray suspicion.
By the time she entered, the innkeeper was already leading Lord Mythos to a back room. A woman with two pitchers, beaded with cool drops on the outside, followed the trail of foreigners.
Marielle peered at the customers, mentally cataloging them. Regular. Drunk. Two merchants eating lunch. Out of town visitors – older Landholds with business in the city. A suspicious character – petty thief perhaps? That dagger looked expensive for a man of that class.
She was only worried about the last in the list, but she fingered the handle of her dagger, sniffing the air.
His interest was piqued, little sizzles of electric blue excitement in his scent. She’d have to keep her eyes open or he’d pick their pockets as they left. If she’d been here with Carnelian, they would have scooped him up already.
Carnelian. Her last memory of her friend was that betrayal. She’d helped Lord Mythos drive Marielle toward that death chair. How had Etienne turned her loyalty? Or had he merely laid out for her the same thing he had for Marielle – that someone had to die, and it was bette
r that it be Marielle than everyone else. Maybe Carnelian wasn’t a traitor at all. Maybe she was a patriot? Most likely, she was just being practical. Carnelian had always been practical. Then why did it still sting to think of her?
She entered the room where Etienne and his guests were already arranged around the table where water was poured. Nothing else was allowed during Dawnwait. None of them were sitting, but they watched the serving girl and innkeeper like hawks until the two of them left. Marielle closed the door behind them and stood in front of it, playing the guard she’d promised to be.
“Who are you,” the woman demanded the moment the door was shut.
“Etienne Valenspear, formerly the Lord Mythos of Jingen.”
“The city that was burned three nights ago.”
“The very same,” he said, barely twitching at her words.
“And now you are here to welcome us to Xin – but you are not of Xin and have no authority here.” She tilted her head to the side. Careful. Considering.
“You didn’t seem to be receiving a better welcome,” Etienne said. “And it occurs to me that we can work together. Please, sit and let us talk.”
“We do not require your help.” The woman’s voice was terse.
No one had moved. No one had sat. And yet, Marielle felt the eyes of the man with the conch shell flicking over to her from time to time. He was curious about her. She could smell his interest, bright and fresh as cut citrus. It burst through the mistrust in the room in little marigold puffs.
“Then why are you in Xin?” Etienne asked. “Why send an advance team if you don’t wish to talk – or to do something to prepare for the arrival of your people on the ships?”
There was a hiss of indrawn breath. “How did you know we came from the ships?”
Etienne raised a single eyebrow. “You don’t rule a city of the Dragonblood Plains by ignorance and blindness.”
“You aren’t a ruler anymore.” There was acid in her words. No wonder she hadn’t found a warm reception here.
If she meant to insult him, it wasn’t working. His smile remained steady, but it was Marielle who spoke up.
“You are the people of Queen Mer, aren’t you? Like the Waverunners?”
The woman spat and around her, the men cursed quietly.
“The forsaken? Looking for their lost story? We are not such fools. We don’t believe a single story will make sense of everything and bring peace to the world.” Her fierce expression backed up her words, but Marielle tilted her head to the side, watching her. There was more to it than that. Her scent held contempt, but also guilt. Did they owe the Waverunners something? Or had they done something terrible to them? It was old guilt, bred in the bones, lingering still. Hmmm. She’d have to puzzle that out.
“Why not?” Marielle pressed.
“We don’t look for stories,” the woman said, standing a little straighter. “We create them.”
Those were bold words, and Marielle liked them, but she was surprised when the man with the conch shell turned to Etienne and asked, “Who is the young Windsniffer? Is she of your ship?”
Etienne paused a moment before answering. “She is.”
He turned to her, inclining his head slightly. “I am Anglarok of Ship White Peaks, of the Shard Islands of the Eighth Sea and I see my heart in you, young Windsniffer.”
Marielle blushed. Windsniffer? Could that be like a Scenter? His nose wrinkled as she thought that. He was smelling her emotions. She fought back a burst of surprise and replied awkwardly.
“I am Marielle Valenspear a Scenter for the Jingen City Watch.”
“Have you a Wind Guide, Marielle?” he asked.
She shot a glance at Etienne. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. What did that mean? How should she answer? She opened her mouth, uncertain. It took her a moment to decide on simply answering with the truth.
“No.” After all, she did not even know what that was.
He stepped away from the table, walking to where she was and circling her, seeming to study her from every angle, his nose wrinkling and sniffing constantly like a strange dog. Marielle shifted nervously, her belly quivering with nerves at the sudden attention.
“And I am Ki’squall Liandari of Ship White Peaks of the Beneficent Islands of the Sixth Sea,” the woman said, “I am the Ki’Squall of the Harbingers of the Retribution. And in this city, I have found no welcome and no mercy and so we shall give no welcome and no mercy in the Retribution.”
Her words sounded like a judgment. Marielle’s blood froze with the pronouncement. It was laced with the scent of deep, royal-blue authority and a confidence so thick she could have used it to rig a sail.
“I’ve welcomed you,” Etienne said. “And I would be pleased to help you with your – ”
“We don’t require help,” Liandari said again. Anglarok clucked his tongue and for some reason, Liandari blushed. “They said there would be an announcement in the Government District. We traveled there to listen but were not admitted to the square.”
“I can grant you access there,” Etienne said. He sat down, even though the rest of them were still standing, and took a sip from his cup of water. “But surely you are not here to participate in Dawnspell.”
“There was some talk of a hunt. A city-wide search for an ancient artifact,” Liandari said carefully.
“There is always a hunt. This one should be as mundane as any other. The search for a simple trinket.”
Liandari cocked her head slightly, as she seemed to do when working something out. “You are not so certain. You fear that this hunt will be for something that you actually need. You’ve asked them to make it about the mundane instead. You are waiting to see if your request has been granted.”
Etienne smiled and Marielle couldn’t decide if this was some sort of verbal duel or a meeting of like minds. “Would you like to come as my guest?”
“It will not wash away the insult Xin has shown us. It will not make this right.” She crossed her arms over her chest, practically quivering with indignation. “We should be granted places in the palace as honored guests. We should be offered tribute and gifts. We should be begged for mercy.”
“Perhaps it will be a start, yes?” Etienne asked affably, but there was an edge to his tone. He wasn’t the begging kind.
Memories of the rows of white sails flashed across Marielle’s memory. If that fleet was here to attack, could Xin survive such a conflict? What about right now when they were choked with refugees and under the threat of a dragon? She didn’t think so. Maybe someone should be begging for mercy.
“What is the Retribution?” she asked and both Etienne and Liandari looked at her with surprise as if they had forgotten that anyone else in the room could speak.
Liandari cleared her throat. “The Retribution brings Queen Mer’s justice to the land. As our prophecy says,
A key will unlock Queen Mer’s justice – the opening of a dam, the loosing of a river.
A key will unlock her children’s glory – a changing of the tide, a babble of many waters.
Look for the key when the tides foam red and the dragons rise again.
Look for the key when the Legends walk the world of men and the shells sing a new song.
Look for the key in the blood of the dragon, in the dreams of the dragon, in the song of the dragon.
Look for the key in the smoke of the dragon, in the death of the dragon, in the shards of the dragon.”
She cleared her throat before continuing. “We are the Harbingers of the Retribution – the first tentacles feeling the land before we seize it. We have come looking for the key.”
Marielle shivered. If she found any keys, she would know exactly who not to give them to.
Behind her, Anglarok chucked, smelling of apricot satisfaction. “I like this one. She cares only about truth and justice. I will be her Wind Guide.”
Marielle swallowed. As if things weren’t complicated enough, now she had to find out what a Wind Guide was and what pr
ice she would need to pay to yet another creditor.
10: The Hunt
Marielle
THE CROWD SURGED AROUND them so powerfully that Marielle was almost pushed into the moat. She leaned her shoulder forward, bracing herself against the push of the crowd.
True to his word, Lord Mythos had brought them past the Government District guards to the very front of the crowd as the noon announcement was about to be made. He stood side by side with Liandari, pressed against the moat of the Palace. Landholds and important merchants angrily pressed in from behind them to regain their usurped position.
Etienne and Liandari didn’t care. They stood like two islands in an ocean storm, untouched as the harpooner guards and Marielle watched their backs.
“Watch it!”
“Foreigners!”
The mutters and curses around them were not friendly.
Marielle’s scarf was wrapped four times around her mouth and nose and even that wasn’t enough to block out the green bursts of envy and sepia resentment. She missed Carnelian. Carnelian would have pushed people back, barking at them to make a path for her Scenter. Instead, Marielle was nearly in the moat as she tried to catch a fresh breath of air and not be overwhelmed by the scents of the crowd.
Normal scents were bad enough – freshly baked bread, fish from the docks, tanners, alchemists, spice merchants, and the thousand other every-day scents that clung to the people as they crowded together. But threaded through that was the anticipation of the hunt, swirling light blue and bright red with expectation and sweet-apple delight, and the undertone of ochre and paprika worry. There were also the beginning plumes of rose-colored obsession, and that worried Marielle. Whatever this crowd began to hunt for was going to be taken very seriously indeed.
“Make way for the Timekeepers! Make way!” a crier called, and the crowd pressed back, pushing Marielle even closer to the tepid canal water as the white-robed time priests pushed forward, swinging their gold and silver mandalas and ringing silver bells. Only a week ago, Marielle would have ignored them – just another religion with strange beliefs – but after the rise of the dragon, she didn’t feel the same way. What if they were right about things, too? What if Grandfather Timeless was real? What if all really was one and one was all, and her past sins meant nothing because they accomplished nothing? What if all human suffering meant nothing because they were all just part of one greater whole?
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