Talon stared at the former sergeant, but there was no surprise in her voice. There was nothing at all. “Then you are Forsworn.” She nodded to Cobalt, who grabbed Stonewall once again. “You will be sent to Lasath to face the Pillars and their judgment. In the meantime, you’ll be locked back in your quarters.”
Cobalt and Vigil began to drag Stonewall away, but he dug his heels in and twisted to look back at Mage Halcyon – and Drake. The renegade mage took a single, tiny step toward his brother. Stonewall looked at Milo and Flint, then, his desperation plain. Help her, if you can. Milo nodded; briefly, and hopefully unnoticed. The former sergeant’s shoulders slumped and he allowed himself to be led back into the garrison.
Talon did not watch him go, only turned to the burnies again. “Lock the mages back up,” she said briskly. “Take every precaution. Milo, Flint.” She began to walk toward the garrison as well. “You’re with me.”
Milo shot his twin an incredulous look, but Flint only shook her head once, her expression clear. Play along, for now. She stepped after the commander without hesitation. After a moment, Milo followed.
*
The moment Eris returned to her human shape, a swell of nausea overtook her, strong enough to bring her to her knees in the forest clearing where she’d landed. She retched in the dirt and dried leaves, her eyes pricking with tears as convulsions racked her body. Only when nothing was left in her stomach did she realize she was not alone. She looked up in alarm, but it was only Leal, watching her calmly through the twilight.
Heat crept to Eris’ cheeks but she bit back her embarrassment and began to get to her feet. But she was exhausted and lightheaded, more so than she had ever been after changing. A byproduct of her pregnancy, or was something wrong? Leal came forward to offer a hand, but Eris shook the Sufani away. Once Eris was upright, she swiped at her mouth and eyes, sniffing.
“Morning sickness?” Leal asked. Despite being on more friendly terms with the mages than before, she still wore her indigo hood and veil, which left only her eyes visible.
“If so, it’s poorly named, seeing as it’s dusk. Strange; I felt nothing as a crow.”
“Perhaps birds don’t suffer as humans do when they bear young.” Leal shuddered. “My mother was ill the entire time she carried Dia. It was dreadful.”
“I feel better now,” Eris replied, glancing around the clearing. No sign of anyone else. “Did you come alone?”
Leal nodded. “We weren’t sure when you would return from the city. Your mage friends have been productive while you lot were gone. Did you learn anything useful in the marketplace? Where are the others?”
“Not far behind. I wanted to return quickly, because…” Eris trailed off and ran a hand through her hair. When her fingers hit empty air so quickly, she couldn’t help a flare of surprise.
She forced herself to meet Leal’s confused green eyes. “I hoped to find you alone,” Eris began. When Leal’s brows knitted, Eris took a deep breath. “The sentinels have taken a group of Sufani nomads prisoner. There were mages among them.”
Leal sagged her weight against her spear.
“But this changes nothing for us,” Eris went on. “We’ll still storm the bastion, only now we have a few more to rescue from the clutches of those metal-licking fools.”
Pale-green eyes met Eris’ until Leal straightened. “Your new allies are coming.”
Sure enough, Brice, Rilla, and Ben stepped into the clearing, glancing around. Brice had her bow and arrow ready, but when she spotted Eris, she tucked the weapons away. “Thank the One,” she said as they came forward. “I always worry you won’t be able to change back.”
Eris gave the blond woman a thin smile. “Let’s go. We have much to discuss with the others.”
The three Assembly folk exchanged nervous glances before Rilla said, “Did you tell Leal about…?”
“Aye,” Leal snapped. “But it changes nothing.”
With that, she stalked down the game trail that led to their camp. Eris watched her go before nodding to the others. They followed Leal, whose steps were silent; not even a leaf trembled after the Sufani’s progress. Brice was nearly as adept, while Rilla, Ben, and Eris could not conceal the traces of their passage. At least Ben wasn’t limping any longer, which Eris noted with smug satisfaction. He did not look at her, nor at anyone else, only kept his gaze on the trail ahead.
Night had nearly fallen by the time they reached the camp. The Sufani wagon sat dark and silent beneath a spreading oak tree. The other mages were already standing around what must have been a roaring fire at one time; now the embers glowed bright orange, with no smoke, and a pot of stew cooking above. Adrie and Cai met Eris first, both grinning broadly.
“Look what I did,” Cai exclaimed, shoving his bare forearm under Eris’ nose.
She pulled back, frowning at him. “Seren’s light, Cai, what’s gotten into–”
“Look,” Adrie interrupted.
Even in the dim light of the embers, Eris could see the fourth tier mark upon Cai’s wrist. A tier mark – and nothing else. No twin crescent moons marred his skin. Eris gaped. “How…?”
He waggled his brows. “How do you think?”
“Magic?”
“How else? I was thinking, how could we all get into the sodding city if we’re marked as mages? Then I got this crazy notion…” His smile faded and his hands dropped to his sides. “It was the sort of thing Gid would have come up with.”
It was, and the realization made her grief swell all over again. “Aye,” she whispered, blinking back tears.
Cai turned away, swiping at his eyes, and then nodded to Adrie and Marcen. “Not only me. All of us. We all were able to get rid of our mage marks.”
“Though those of us who had tier marks, kept them,” Adrie said. She had knelt by the stew, ladle and bowl in hand. She handed the full bowl to Marcen, who brought it, and a piece of hard bread, to Eris.
But the moment Eris caught the scent of broth, onions, and mushrooms, her stomach flipped. “I’m not hungry,” she said, passing the bowl and bread to Ben, who accepted warily.
Adrie frowned at her, but Eris ignored the other woman and took a seat by the glowing embers, which cast little light but created enough heat to chase away the wintery chill. The others gathered their supper and settled around her. Except Leal, who hovered on the outskirts of the fire’s warmth, sharpening one of her blades. After Eris related what they had learned in the city, no one spoke for a few seconds, but all eyes turned to Leal. The Sufani did not look at anyone, only skimmed her whetstone over one of her daggers, sending sparks into the darkness.
“After this news, we’ll need a bigger boat,” Cai said, gaze distant. “Or several. And strong arms to paddle upriver.”
“Unless you can magic the waterfall,” Brice said hopefully. “Then we could just float with the current all the way to Indigo-By-the-Sea.”
Eris laughed. “No mage in the world is strong enough to control a waterfall.”
“Upriver is our only real option,” Adrie said. “But even if the hemies have less hematite now, I’m sure they could rally enough strength to pursue.”
“Aye,” Eris agreed. “We’d have to abandon the boats not long after stealing them. Probably take to the opposite shore in the loneliest spot we can find, and then backtrack south.”
Rilla blew out a breath. “Talk about going through your ass to get to your ear.”
“If you have a better idea,” Eris said. “I’d love to hear it.”
Rilla shrugged. By now, the other mages were stirring, speaking in hushed, excited tones. Eris caught their excitement and for the first time in far too long, felt the first stirrings of true, real hope. Perhaps this plan wasn’t doomed to failure.
Eris pulled down her sleeve and studied her right wrist. The intricate, eight-pointed star that marked her as a second tier had faded with time. She couldn’t remember getting the mark; she had only been a babe. But her mage-mark—twin crescent moons, back to back, resting abo
ut a palm’s length down from her wrist—that pain she remembered all too well. The sting of the needle; the bite of ink into soft skin. She’d been all knees and elbows at eleven summers, but even so, it had taken three sentinels to hold her still so the Cipher could mark her. Only then, as Eris had screamed and struggled in the hemies’ grips, did she understand that her family had cast her aside.
Eris glanced at Cai, who sat beside her. “How did you do it?”
He’d been staring at the fire, allowing the others to plan, but at her words, he turned her way. “It wasn’t easy,” he said slowly. “Not at first. But once I really concentrated, it got easier. We couldn’t figure out how or why, until Mar pointed out that there’s no hematite anywhere nearby.”
“I didn’t think the presence of it in the bastion walls had any real effect on us,” Eris said. “I thought it was just a show of power. The collars and cuffs were always the true danger.”
Cai shrugged. “I thought that too, but maybe we were just accustomed to being,” he waved a hand, “less than we ought to be.”
Perhaps it was true. Eris watched Ben, whose limp had left him after their healing session earlier that day. Now he spoke as eagerly with the mages around him as he did with his Assembly allies. Leal was gone, no doubt patrolling the area. Eris flushed; why hadn’t she thought of setting someone on patrol?
Because she was still new to this life, this freedom.
“In all the planning Gid and I did to get here,” she murmured. “I never really understood what would happen once we did.”
Cai nodded. “Because you never truly believed we would.”
Eris looked at her mage-mark again, and concentrated. She had done this before, many times, but had only ever been able to sense the particles of ink that clung to her skin like grease to the bottom of a pan.
“How?” she whispered to Cai.
He blew out a soft breath; an echo of the wind that rustled the sheltering trees. “Scatter them. Make them disappear.”
Eris closed her eyes, and concentrated. The ink’s particles appeared in her mind’s eye as tiny black specks, stiff and resolute amid vibrant skin and muscle. Eris focused on the particles of ink. She imagined them scattering into her blood, like the grain she’d once tossed to her hens, to be purified by her body’s natural processes. Go away.
Before Eris could open her eyes, Cai gave a low whistle. “Nice work.”
When Eris looked at her wrist again, only her tier-mark remained. The crescent moons were gone. She stared at the unblemished skin. She’d have to check again in the sunlight to ensure no trace remained, but she was finally free of the bastion.
Just in time to return. But even that thought was fleeting and distant; smoke swept away by an eager wind.
“Gid would be proud,” Cai said.
Eris managed a faint smile at her friend. “Aye. He would.”
Twenty-Three
Stonewall placed a trembling hand against the door to his quarters. Per Talon’s orders, it was barred and locked from the outside, but the wood was smooth with age, and comforting in its own way. More comforting, at least, than the cold, unyielding stone walls that surrounded him. He allowed himself a grim smile at the irony.
The expression fled with a renewed flare of pain from his side and an accompanying wave of nausea. He’d been standing too long. But instead of lying down, he ducked his head and pressed both palms against the door, bracing for the onslaught, counting the seconds until the nausea passed. It didn’t. He gave up and retched, his injured side screaming, but nothing came up. There was nothing left, but he heaved anyway, as he had for the last two…or was it three days, now? His thoughts were sand churned by pounding waves.
The time immediately after his “trial” was a blur. His clearest memory was…strange. Fear, but not just his own, although he had enough. Fear: his own and Kali’s. He knew it was hers; he’d seen it in her eyes as Talon had tried to force his hand, and he’d felt the answering knot in his own chest. But he couldn’t help her then. Now would be no different. He only prayed the gods would keep her safe after he had failed so completely.
Cobalt and Vigil had not left a lantern, and his room had no windows, but light from the corridor crept in beneath the door. By now, Stonewall’s eyes had adjusted to the shadows. The stink of sweat, bile, and his chamber pot filled each breath. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine himself back in the alleys of Pillau, the city of his birth. If he concentrated, he could smell the salt tang of the sea too, but that was purely his imagination.
Stonewall flexed his hands, fighting the trembling, but after two—or three?—days with only the barest food and water, plagued by his wound and the desire for hematite, he was starting to think the tremors would never cease. Would he be able to hold a weapon again? He snorted. He probably wouldn’t live to see a weapon again, let alone wield one.
He turned and leaned his back against the door, resting his head against the smooth woodgrain. The walls of his quarters held no heat and he shivered in his tunic and breeches. With only traces of hematite in his blood, the cold pressed upon him like so much dirt over a grave. By the One, he needed a burn.
But there would not be any hematite ever again, and the loss would kill him. Well, he’d long since accepted that hematite would kill him, one way or another. Like so many other sentinels, he’d hoped to fall in combat before the desire for hematite took him down. Before he’d met Kali, he had certainly never anticipated this fate.
Forsworn.
Stonewall shook away the thought and glanced at his sleeping pallet. Beacon would tell him to conserve his strength, and indeed, the thought of lying down called to him like nothing else. When he slept, he didn’t think or feel; he only dreamed. But despite his injury and weakness, his stomach protested worse when he was prone. Standing was better, but not by much. Walking was probably foolish, but manageable, although he’d grown weary of pacing the tiny room.
Another deep breath made the stitches in his side burn, except this time he caught the stink of infection. His stomach twisted again and he surrendered to his body’s desire. Two steps brought him to his pallet where he collapsed, grimacing at the flare of pain from his wound and the renewed swell of nausea. The crack of light beneath his door glowed brilliant gold but cast the rest of his meager quarters in deeper shadows by contrast. Stonewall groped out until his fingertips brushed the river rock that Kali had given him. It felt like a block of ice after resting on the floor, but he didn’t care. He held the stone close, tugged the blanket over himself, curled on his non-injured side, and prayed for sleep.
Fear touched his mind again, though he had none for himself. He was lost. Drake wasn’t, though he probably would be soon. Thoughts of his older brother merged with bittersweet memories of their lives together: shared, stolen sweetrolls dissolving on his tongue; two skinny bodies pressed close while rain and wind hammered their flimsy shelter; the coppery tang in the air and his brother’s gentle murmurs as he mopped the blood off Stonewall’s cheek after an ill-fated run-in with the older orphans.
But no, the fear wasn’t entirely for Drake, or from him. Drake would never have wasted energy being afraid, and would have told Stonewall not to do so, either. Stonewall rubbed his thumb across the river rock’s smooth surface, and turned his thoughts—again—to Kali. If the gods were kind, he’d see her again in his dreams.
*
When Stonewall could bear his solitude no more, he threw off his blanket and slipped out of his room. Each step was fluid and free of pain. The door opened and closed soundlessly, allowing him into the sleeping shadows of the garrison. Moments later, he stood in the courtyard. Winter air slapped him, but he ignored the chill and hurried to the bastion gates. If magic was at work, Kali would know. He could find out what was hurting her, and put a stop to it. If he could.
If he could not…
The garrison was silent, empty. Stonewall’s boots made no sound against the gravel in the courtyard as he crossed over to the bastion. Atal a
nd Seren both hung high and full amid the inky sky and the glittering stars. But the mage moon was huge, bigger than Stonewall had ever seen; so vast, he could make out each pockmarked scar on Seren’s misshapen, shining face.
There was no guard at the bastion gates and the heavy, iron lock laced with hematite lay upon the flagstones, cast silver by the moons. The gates swung open, soundless, with a single push. Once inside the bastion, Stonewall closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp air. Kali, he thought. Kali, where are you?
When the sweet scent of jessamin filled his awareness, he realized she was in the garden. On the heels of this strange knowledge came her fear again, clinging to her like mist on cold iron, like the taste of blood in the back of his mouth. The force of her emotions was strong enough to sting his eyes. Everything else fell away as he hurried through the silent bastion, intent on his mission, unarmed, and alone.
Not three heartbeats after Stonewall had the thought, he found himself in the mage’s garden, pacing through trees in full blossom despite the frost that clung to each flower, fruit, and leaf. The press of cold was nothing more than an errant breeze. Kali was not in sight, but the scent of jessamin was stronger than ever, so he went to the bastion wall where he had found her what felt like a lifetime ago.
The wall rose high, high above his head, taller than any mountain, and jessamin vines blanketed every inch of stone and mortar. Stonewall allowed himself a moment of gaping, head-tilting awe until the yellow flowers stirred, snapping him out of his trance. Heart racing, he slid into a ready-position, just in case, and listened, but he heard only his own blood pounding in his ears. The jessamin rustled again and this time he caught Kali’s whimper of pain. Stonewall did not hesitate; he plunged both arms into the vines, searching for her.
Kali? Kali? His voice wouldn’t work; he could only think her name. Stonewall gritted his teeth and rummaged through the vines until his fingers brushed the wall. But Kali was not there. He stepped back, frowning.
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