by Cassia Meare
"But there are creatures here," Elinor said. "The white guards, for one."
"Oh, yes. They asked me for haven after Virso’s murder and Nemours’ ethnic cleansing."
Clearly Sigrit had a good knowledge of Earth, and of contemporary Earth, too. She said things Elinor didn’t even know yet, but whose meaning she could guess.
"They don’t bother me," Sigrit said. "They have a city there, in the middle of the jungle. Mostly they sit around posturing, saying they will be great again. But at the end of the day, they’re cowards. They do fear Nemours and Delian."
"And the werewolves and harpies …"
"Poor little ones. In danger of extinction and in fear of their lives. We must preserve diversity."
That smile again, as if she knew everything Elinor had ever been taught or told. How could she? Elinor told herself not to be impressed and was surprised when Sigrit stopped before her and repeated, "Witches are jealous creatures, and I’ve dealt with my rivals. Now I must deal with you."
A chill struck Elinor, as if she suddenly could feel the cold again — the cold of that dark stone place. "With me? I’m nothing compared to you."
"Now you’re not," Sigrit said. "But you have a knack for this."
"I don’t want to be a witch. Nothing powerful, like you. I only wanted—"
"I know what you wanted. But power brings corruption. It’s hard for someone like you to understand, but it does. Look at the Lady Ahn. An immortal, with every advantage, and yet she craves power. She tiptoes toward magic, fearing Mother, but she wants it so badly. It calls to her …"
"It doesn’t call to me, beyond what I can do to help the state of things."
"Then we shall put your claim to the test," Sigrit said decisively. "This is what I require from you, Lady Elinor: your powers."
Elinor frowned, puzzled. "Which powers?"
"All of them. I want you to give up those hekas, and any others that you and your princes should find if you return to Earth." Two of Sigrit’s hands came forward, one to turn Elinor’s arm and exhibit the hekas while the other stroked the symbols. "Give them up."
"Do you mean that if I give these up, and if I can no longer use these hekas or any in the future, you are able to bring back the knights — no tricks?"
It was Sigrit’s turn to frown. "You insult me by supposing I would not keep my side of the bargain. Yes, I am able to bring them back to life for the battle, and will do if you give up all the hekas from the Knowledge. All. Once we agree, the only tricky thing would be for you to convince the knights to fight on your side. That, I cannot do."
"And there is no trick to that?" Elinor insisted. "Such as the knights returning without will or force or judgment?"
"They will return as they were in life, with their full faculties and at the apex of their strength. And with the capacity to decide for themselves. In short, fully able to fight, if they freely agree."
Elinor got in business mode. "How many are there?"
"Four thousand."
"And their mounts?"
"Old Edge is full of wild horses. It takes a simple spell to tame them."
Four thousand mounted knights, the best fighters who had ever lived. Nemours’ northern forces numbered ten thousand. With Stonemount's large contingent, should the Abuse have ended, fifteen thousand.
A total of nineteen thousand, or fourteen thousand should Tayne stay out of the fray.
Ahn’s southern forces were eleven thousand — sixteen thousand with Tayne.
So the north might win with the knights, even if Tayne stayed on Ahn’s side. Nemours’ forces would be slightly inferior in number but superior in ability.
Tayne remained the wild card. If Nemours had found Lotho Sils and killed him, it was still no guarantee that the Abuse would be broken, or that — were it broken — Stonemount would join the north in time.
Without the knights, Nemours and Delian might lose.
Sigrit guessed Elinor’s calculations. She said, "Don’t ask me about what happened in the House of Mages. That would be telling."
She tapped her own nose and wrinkled it. How charming she would be, were she not a power-hungry sorceress.
The question is why she wants me not to have the hekas, Elinor thought. I am no threat to her. I could not ever rival a witch who can raise the dead.
Something about this bargain was crucial to Sigrit of Inön. The avid glint that flashed in her eyes for a moment as she waited for an answer, poised like a bird of prey about to take flight, told Elinor there would be a further fee down the line.
But they could not do without the knights; no, not even if Aya were to eventually rise against them for using Sigrit and dark spells. Ahn would have something up her sleeve, with or without Lotho. They would be defeated, and two worlds would be lost. Or one.
No one could predict all outcomes. You did what you could when you could.
However, now Elinor knew that she could haggle.
"I shall give them up," she said, raising a quick hand at Sigrit’s smile. "But I want to use them a few last times."
Sigrit scoffed, flopped three wrists and turned away, as if they were at the market. Elinor was in her element. Not like Delian, who would say yes to everything and let the witch shave his head besides, as long as he could have the knights.
"You can keep Binding," Elinor said. "I won’t use it again. And Likeness — I haven’t used it and won’t."
Turning in profile, Sigrit shrugged with one fine shoulder. "Binding went badly for you and Likeness is too dangerous for a mortal. You’re giving up nothing."
"I want the use of Protection, Crossing and Time five times each," Elinor stated, crossing her arms.
"I see. Crossing five times when there are four hekas outstanding, so you can get to them fast." Swiveling, Sigrit walked back to Elinor. "Time, in case some of these hekas are no longer available and you have to go to another century? And Time also to go home."
"It’s reasonable," Elinor said.
"But, girl, why should I give you anything? You’re the one who needs me."
"Precisely," Elinor said slowly. "Why should you give me anything?"
Sigrit’s eyes fell away from hers, and her grin was now of appreciation.
"You could crush me to dust," Elinor said. "You only pretend I am a real threat to you."
"Don’t sell yourself short."
"I don’t. There is something you want, and you want it very much — and for some reason, my being powerless is your way to it."
The only response from the witch was a long, slow drawing of breath, as if she were thinking of whatever it was.
"So," Elinor pursued, "five uses of each, except Likeness and Binding, and no new hekas."
"I will give you three uses of Protection. Three Crossings. And two Times."
"Why only two Times?"
"For you to make a decision," Sigrit said, "and have one chance to regret it."
For me to go home to my father, and then away from that time again.
"But no more than that," Sigrit added in a final tone. "Take it or leave it."
"Five of Crossing, three of Protection, two of Time," Elinor countered. "And ships."
"The cheek of the girl! How do you know I have ships?" Sigrit sighed. "All right, I do have them. Enough ships to carry the knights up the coast, and I promise the monsters on the way will behave."
"And I retain the right to use the spells in the grimoire."
"Oh, that children’s book." Sigrit showed the tip of her tongue in disdain. "Certainly."
"And I retain what Nemours gave me. Creation."
Another emotion went through Sigrit’s face, and Elinor could not tell whether it was annoyance or smugness.
"That makes no difference to me."
"Then we are agreed."
Elinor stretched her hand, and Sigrit took it with her middle one, and kept it. "A handshake is not enough, my dear. We need to do a bit of magic."
"You don’t trust my word?"
T
he sorceress didn’t even answer; she pulled Elinor with her through the same door Delian had used, and then into a small, gloomy chamber. She closed the door and motioned for Elinor to sit at a marble table.
Removing her cape, Sigrit stood in her slim dress at a gilded basin, where she washed her hands, whispering incantations Elinor could not hear.
Elinor’s heart beat so loudly it sounded like music in the room. What would come next?
When Sigrit turned, a sharp and ornate dagger in her hand, Elinor’s gulp was also audible. The sorceress sat across from her with the cold table between them. "I’m going to fasten your promise and give you something to wear in that locket of yours."
"Blood?" Elinor asked in some disgust.
"No." Once more, Sigrit smiled. "Flesh. But just a tiny bit. Where shall I take it from?"
Elinor pulled away, leaning back in her chair, and Sigrit’s charming laugh filled the room. "I swear it won’t hurt. It’s not as if I need a whole finger. Look."
Placing her hand on the marble, Sigrit sliced a tiny bit of flesh from her palm. The wound hardly bled and closed immediately. "See?"
This was bad. Their flesh would mingle, and Elinor would carry it around her neck.
"Will you spy us through that?" she asked.
"No." Sigrit’s three right hands went up. "I swear."
Anything else it might do to Elinor was immaterial at the moment — if Elinor could keep creation and maintain her promise to Sigrit, which she would. The woman didn’t want her to be powerful, and something else she could not yet understand. But Nemours and Delian needed the knights. They must have the knights.
Elinor put her hand on the table, and it burned when Sigrit took a tiny slice of her palm. The witch ran her finger above it, whispering a healing spell, and the flesh closed.
Sigrit tapped the end of the dagger next to her own flesh on the marble. She whispered as she grabbed a vial and let fall a tiny drop of something like quicksilver into the space between them. Elinor watched in as the two pieces sizzled then blended together, coalescing and quickly turning into one round bit of meat. With the dagger, Sigrit cut it clean in half.
Fishing a long chain that had been hidden inside her cleavage, Sigrit opened a medal of hers and placed half the circle inside it, shutting it. She stretched a hand for Elinor’s chain and did the same, placing the other part of the mixed flesh inside her locket, snapping it closed and handing it back.
"You’ll find you cannot open it."
Elinor tried; it was true.
"Our bargain in flesh," Sigrit said. "I’m old-fashioned, and it’s so much more poetic. Besides, we women do love jewelry, don’t we?"
The Lady of Inön stood, as did Elinor — and because Elinor hadn’t returned the chain to her neck, Sigrit took it from her hand, slipped it over her head and patted it into place.
"There," she said. "Now go get your knights."
33
The divination was not clear.
Lotho was dead, but it wasn’t certain whether the Abuse over Lord Tayne had been lifted. Hesir’s throw of teeth and bones had shown forces facing each other, and one lying to the side, undecided.
Sometimes spells lasted a while longer than the life of whoever had cast them. Sometimes lifting them left the victim confused and listless.
They couldn’t know how Tayne would react, which was why Ahn had sent Hesir on an errand. An errand to a dangerous place. She had survived and returned.
"There was no problem on the way, lady," Hesir told Ahn as she entered her chambers. She had been absent only a day.
Strange, Ahn thought. Hesir was now Set-Tuaa in Lotho’s place. As his acolyte and heir, she had received the warning that he was gone. Spirits of Tuii remained long enough for that visitation, the passing on of the position, and Ahn could only imagine with what little eagerness Lotho had done that, even after death.
And with what elation Hesir had received the call. She had tried not to show it when informing Ahn of Lotho's death — but she had seemed inches taller and glowing with purpose. Expecting to be made immortal on the spot, perhaps.
It could lead to trouble, this ambition of Hesir’s, if Ahn were not an immortal. She must just be vigilant and not let the Tuaa become another Sigrit. No, before that Hesir’s heart would become a pile of ash; Ahn would make sure of it.
In the meantime, Hesir was to be profoundly useful. Essential, really, even as Ahn’s allies made their way to the north for a battle that was one week away.
"He is here?"
Hesir, the new Tuaa, nodded. "In the east balcony."
There was no problem on the way, Hesir had said. As Ahn crossed the halls of Crystal Hold, she reflected that was in itself a problem. For a Tuaa to get in and out of Witchsweep unharmed meant that Sigrit had plans, but Ahn could not worry about them now. If that upstart witch meddled with the princess directly, Ahn would destroy her. Envelop her in darkness. Crush her in eternal night.
After a sidelong glance at Hesir, who walked half a step behind her, Ahn took a deep breath. Hesir had been around a long time, and she had talent. But such a lot to learn, too.
They must win the war, that was all. They must show that Nemours could be defeated, and that he could be wrong. An important lesson to all, especially to the Lord Protector.
And then Ahn would have the chance to put the world in order. It was high time.
At the end of the corridor the lone white figure outside, framed by the arched door of the balcony, made her smile. It wasn’t a happy smile; there was nothing to be happy about. It was a grim smile of determination.
"Commander Aarin," she said.
The general of the White Guard turned away from the mist. His penetrating black eyes met Ahn’s, saying a lot — which might save them actual words. His eyes were arrogant, hurt, defiant. And yet he was there.
Aarin might have said: I am Virso’s creature. I was the chief of his guards, the most trusted in his army. I was created with purpose and left with none. I ought to have been respected, my kind feared — and instead we were driven to hide in a jungle by your brothers, and you did nothing to stop them.
You did nothing to save the world.
You enjoyed your existence and held court and seduced mortals — and you gave up your power, and the power of creation.
Your life became small.
And now, finally, you need my help.
I knew you would.
"What you promise us, I will believe," said Aarin, skipping all the rest.
"Your place," Ahn said, "if you serve and obey me as Father’s daughter."
"If you become your Father’s daughter," Aarin said, not one to measure his words.
"And my Mother’s," Ahn reminded him.
Aarin cocked his head. "You want us on a leash, then."
It took a long moment — as if her lips could not part or her voice rise — for Ahn to say, "Not in this battle."
A light shone in the black depths of the commander’s eyes. Aarin drew himself up to his full height, and there was a nobility to him which Ahn could not concede to his whole race. He didn’t sneer or smirk or look smug.
"You won’t ask me to hold back"—he leaned slightly forward—"no matter who my opponent is?"
Nemours … Delian …
Tears did not wet Ahn’s eyes, although she felt them inside. She felt a whole flood of them, unseen.
"I ask you all the opposite."
"To become tame only when the battle is over, then?" the commander asked.
She nodded. "How many of you?"
"Able to fight at this time, three hundred."
Each worth twenty mortal knights at least.
"And there are others," Aarin continued, "who hate your brothers as much as we do."
"Those beasts?" Ahn spat.
"And others."
"Reliable others?" Ahn asked with distaste. "These are—temporary alliances, I assume?"
It was Aarin’s turn to nod. "We can deal with them later. I doubt it will
be a problem." He glanced at Hesir. "Will she be doing anything?"
"She could bring a storm or make horses run wild," Ahn said with a wave of her hand. "But—"
"But so can they," Aarin remarked. "And I’d prefer the fight to be honorable."
An honorable fight, when I’m calling on you and who knows what else. Ahn kept a bitter smile off her lips.
"Hesir will only scry for me," Ahn said. "I’ll watch things through her eyes."
"One would think you might be planning a quick escape if things don’t go your way," Aarin remarked smoothly. "Should not the lady for whom we fight be in the field?"
"I have my generals, and now my commander," Ahn said sharply. "But understand this, I love my brothers. I would rather not be there and—"
"And regret anything. I see." The guard lowered white lashes over his eyes. "You have lost much, I know that. I regret the little prince. But this will be for the best."
His wings suddenly opened with a crack. They spanned the length of the balcony, dazzling in their purity.
"The world should be as it once was," he said. "As it was meant to be."
"Yes," Ahn whispered, and more loudly she added, "This is why I fight."
"I shall be there," said Aarin.
With another crack of wings, he was gone.
34
"Let us go," said Elinor, appearing at the chamber where Delian waited.
Delian stopped his pacing. "Is she giving them to us?"
Elinor nodded. Delian’s face showed immense relief, followed by worry. "What did she ask for?"
"Nothing I could not give," Elinor said. "Come, Delian. We must find the knights."
"Where?" he asked, joining her as she moved down the hall with purpose.
"The catacombs."
"Not crypts? She said catacombs?"
"I’m afraid so." She glanced at him. "Does it give you pause?"
His face was grim. "Not many things are giving me pause anymore." He glanced back at her. "But thinking she might have put a spell on you does."
"I had to give up the hekas." She raised her sleeve and looked. Binding and Likeness gone already; difficult for her to give up advantages, she realized, unless it were to gain more. She tapped the symbols that remained. "I can only use these a few more times. And can’t have any new ones."
