She nodded.
“Well.” He fell silent.
“We shouldn’t waste time. Let us say what needs to be said. I thought your hand was on the Weapon. I thought you put that baby in me and left me on purpose. I was going to kill you. I had it all worked out.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” Malloy took her hand and brought it to his lips in the very same way he’d done to charm her, all those years ago. “I adored you then, and I adore you still. I could live another hundred years and never meet another like you, my princess.”
Hellne was glad she hadn’t killed him after all.
Chapter Forty-Three
Eriis
Thaali was wearing her stupid crown again.
Of course, in actuality, it wasn’t her crown at all. If it were anyone’s, it would properly be on Araan’s head, not that he seemed even slightly interested in anything to do with the High Seat.
Aelle thought perhaps it might look better on her head, but since her head currently was shaped like Hellne’s, she kept her opinions in her mouth. Hellne had never worn the thing, saying it reminded her too much of her father and of the times before The Weapon, but Thaali said, “It’s pretty. I like it, and it’s mine.”
And who would contradict their queen?
That was another thing. Thaali was definitely Araan’s...well, girlfriend sounded juvenile, but sometimes she called herself his wife and sometimes he said she was his “lady,” but did that make her a queen? And all the while Aelle, posing as Hellne the actual queen, was breaking herself in half doing the real work of the High Seat.
She was exhausted. She had no idea Hellne worked so hard. Or perhaps the older woman had some secrets to getting things done she hadn’t passed along, when she’d asked Aelle to step into her shoes—and body and face. After the delegation from Mistra left and Olly and Rhuun with them, it fell to Aelle to take charge of the first phase of this “exciting new era of cooperation,” namely opening The Door for the first shipment of dirt. That was the official reason for The Door being opened. The real reason, the reason no one knew, was that once the dirt was delivered, the Zaal’s daaeva pets would flood through. Once on Mistra, Hellne, Scilla, her Olly, and even Blue (somehow) had a plan to defeat them. Her only job here was to make sure The Door remained open long enough for all of them to leave and make sure no one else knew.
But dirt. All this for dirt. Before he’d been called to Mistra on an errand for Rhuun, Coll had explained to her politely, even though he knew she was not Hellne, how the soil of Mistra had things living in it that would somehow turn Eriis back into a garden, but she still thought it was a poor start. They should send sweet wine and more jewelry and then dirt if there was any time left over. After making this observation, she was first thrilled then horrified to see those around her begin to rewrite the proposals, trying to put this new order into action. No one in particular ever listened to Aelle, but she was no longer Aelle. She quickly amended her remarks—it was a little joke. Of course the dirt would come first.
She had to carefully watch each word. And she had to be civil to Calaa, who still served as Rhuun’s secretary and was always underfoot, and she had to look the Zaal in the eye without flinching. That was the hardest. Honestly, she was terrified of the old man, and she hated the way he looked at her, like he knew her secrets. There was one secret he wasn’t privy to, and it was vital it remained that way. Fortunately, she had Zaii at her elbow, and he knew from the real Hellne’s own lips to keep the mage away from her. Without him, she would have thrown herself into the Crosswinds.
Why, oh why, did I think being queen was the be-all when I was a girl? She supposed it was the idea of all eyes being on you. That still appealed to her, but only if those eyes didn’t come attached to grasping hands and complaining mouths. It was nothing but meetings.
Even today, the day she’d been working towards, Dirt Day as she privately called it, she had a full slate of meetings: water rations; a party from The Edge come to town and they had to be acknowledged; and a group of teachers from inside the Arch that wanted to volunteer their services for the less fortunate children born Outside. As much as she liked that idea, she didn’t have much time to consider it. She had to change into something ceremonial.
And here was Thaali, who hadn’t attended a single meeting, who probably didn’t even know where they were held, wearing the glass crown like it belonged to her.
“It’s now, right?” Thaali asked, wandering around the large courtyard where The Door would be opened. “I’m excited.”
“Where is Araan?” Aelle asked. “Shouldn’t he be here?”
Thaali smiled. “He’ll be here. Don’t wait for him, he said.” And she went off to sit in the shade of the arched roofline of the High Seat hall. A few moments later, the Zaal in his fancy green-trimmed, hooded robe joined her.
Calaa showed up in a handsome gown of gray and green and made herself useful by talking to the workers who would eventually shimmer out of the courtyard with their loads of dirt. Zaii appeared next, looking nervous, which made her nervous in turn. She hadn’t really thought about her personal safety, assuming the daaeve would take to The Door like sand through a screen and ignore everyone around them. But if Zaii was worried... Well, it was too late because the ceremony to open The Door on Mistra had already begun.
“The prince made it clear you are to stand well behind me, Madam,” Zaii said in her ear.
Aelle looked at his face and wasn’t prepared to argue. She watched from behind Zaii’s shoulder as The Door opened in the courtyard. She’d seen it before, both here at the palace and back at the tents, but it still amazed her. She peered through. There was Olly—she had to remember not to wave at him—along with Scilla, Coll, and a tall, young human who looked so like Rhuun she had to look twice and twice again. Could this be Brother Blue? Somehow restored? Hovering at the edge of the opening was a slight feminine figure wearing a deep hood. Hellne, she assumed. Wouldn’t do to appear on both sides, at least not yet.
Scilla stepped forward, and from the look on her face and the way she moved her hands, Aelle assumed she was reciting some charm. The Door grew much larger. The group of them were at the Guardhouse gate, at the circular drive. Aelle and Ilaan had lit the torches there the night Rhuun got his wings, to guide him and Lelet home.
Rhuun. Why wasn’t he there? This was his project as much as anyone’s.
“Looks like you’ve got things well in hand.” Ilaan was right behind her.
She gave a very un-queenly shriek and threw her arms around him then took a quick step back and cleared her throat.
“‘Bout time you got here. The dirt’s about to come through. And where’s Rhuun?”
Ilaan gave cheerful nods to the curious Eriisai who were waiting to move the loads out, a warm smile for Zaii, and a half bow towards Thaali, who stood to frown at the new person in the courtyard. He didn’t acknowledge the Zaal, who didn’t acknowledge him. “He’s close by. He’s fine. We’ll talk about it later.”
“You mean he’s here? But—”
“He’s the only one of us who has literally no defense against the Zaal in case things go wrong. Don’t make me argue with you like I had to with him.” He cocked his head. “Do you know what happens after they’re done moving the dirt?”
“Some nasty creatures get sucked back through, and that gang—” she indicated the group on Mistra— “takes care of them. Right?”
He didn’t reply, and she felt a strong desire to scream.
“What else?” she said. “You might as well tell me now. No, wait a moment then tell me.”
The first load, hauled by several larger-than-usual humans she didn’t recognize, came through, and she stepped forward to greet them, handing them cups of water as they had agreed. The men drank their water and gaped at the demons, who politely did not stare back at them. They squinted at the hazy sky, wiped their brows and handed back the cups. Then they turned around and walked back through. The human worker’s counterparts
stepped forward, picked up the buckets, baskets, carts, and shimmered away. This, minus the ceremonial water, would be repeated for the better part of the afternoon. She was told enough dirt to fill the entire courtyard to the height of a man would be moved this day, with much more to follow. Most of it was going straight to the Edge and eager farmers.
Since everyone knew Ilaan and Hellne were tight as two mice in a hole, no one wondered why they whispered to each other now.
“How much did she tell you when you agreed to do this for her?” Ilaan asked. “Specifically about those nasty creatures?”
“Not much. The hmmm,” she pointed her chin towards the Zaal, “found them in the desert. Well, technically, she found them with his maps. He wants them to eat the humans, and our friends have a plan to stop them. But I don’t know what it is. I suppose you do?”
“The basics. If it works, it’s clever. If not, what I do know is there are couple of monsters here. They’ve mastered the trick of changing faces. Right here. Over there. Don’t look.”
Aelle gasped then covered it with a cough. “Thaali? And then Araan must be... Light and Wind, and I’ve been dealing with them for ages. I knew they were strange, but... They could have eaten me.” She stopped again. “They’ve...those people I’ve heard about, people from the Quarter—they didn’t all run away to the tents, did they?”
“I’m sorry you weren’t told. Someone was worried for your safety, if you knew what they were.”
“Someone who looks very much like me right now?”
Ilaan nodded.
She was both furious that once again she’d only been told half the story and deeply grateful she hadn’t known she was dining with monsters. “Look,” she said. “They’re done. That’s all the dirt. What happens now?”
The Zaal made his way to the center of the courtyard, picking through spilled clods and clumps of dirt.
“As we agreed, this is your time,” he said. “The way is open. Mistra is yours.”
“At last.” The voice came from behind them, from the High Seat. “We will take what we have been promised.”
It was Araan. He wasn’t alone.
Chapter Forty-Four
Eriis
“Rushta,” Ilaan muttered. “Here we go. Get her clear.” He gave Aelle a little push in the direction of Zaii, who took her by the arm and hauled her out of the path between the High Seat hall and the open Door. Then he turned to face Araan.
Araan stood at the foot of the steps leading to the Seat, and his kin slithered and oozed and writhed in their thousands around him. The combined weight of the ropes of their bodies bore the graceful stone benches to shatter on the ground, their fat and rapacious coils ripped silks from the walls, and they moved in a restless tide, waiting.
“This doesn’t concern you, demon. Stand aside.” Araan, or the creature wearing Araan’s face, left the hall and entered the courtyard. He put up a hand, and his kin hesitated. In their seething impatience to be gone, they ground the lighted stones to dust.
Ilaan stood aside as requested. “I’m not here to stop your passage, friend. Far from it. The Door stands open. You and your kin should go.”
“Are you serious?” The Zaal stuck his finger in Ilaan’s face. “You’ve done nothing but cause trouble your whole life. I hardly think you showed up today just to say hello.”
Ilaan smiled pleasantly at the mage. “I know what you did.”
The Zaal stroked his chin and smirked. “That’s a mightily long list, boy.”
Be clever today, Niico whispered. Perhaps edit your remarks.
Now was the moment where he ought to make a speech about how the Zaal plotted with the creatures against the High Seat, how unleashing them on Mistra shut the door on the potential future they all wanted, how they’d all been fooled. But that wasn’t why he was here today. The creatures had to go through, and the Zaal must be left unaccused. Unaccused loudly, that is.
He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “If we only spoke of your crimes against the High Seat, it would be the Crosswinds for certain. But there is also the question of what you did to Niico.”
The mage had the sense to take a step back. “It was on your father’s order. If you blame me, you must first extract your revenge from him. Good luck with that.”
“You think I haven’t?”
The Zaal gave a slow frown. Good, let him wonder.
“Where did you find these creatures, anyway?” Ilaan asked.
“None of your business. But if you’d behaved yourself and done as was intended, you’d already know, instead of running off with...”
“The prince? Niico? Maaya? Let me think. Who else bested you?”
“Hmm, Niico is dead, and the Glass Girl and the prince are both back on Mistra. You seem to be shedding allies. Don’t get lippy with me, boy. I am still the Zaalmage.” He lifted his hand and tossed Ilaan like a pebble against the far wall of the courtyard.
Thaali burst into laughter. “Do it again.”
Ilaan got to his feet and brushed the dust from his tunic. “Please forgive this outburst, my lord.”
“It pleases me that you call me King Araan,” the creature said. “I’ve never been a king before.”
“King Araan, then.” Ilaan’s blood beat in his temples. “The Zaal is an old man who can no longer control his wits.” He paused. “Do you know what that is?”
“Old?”
“Wits.”
“Watch that mouth, lest it be filled with sand,” the Zaal sneered.
Araan shrugged. “You are free to slaughter each other after we’ve taken custody of our new home.”
“I’m getting bored.” Thaali all but stamped her feet. “Can’t we just go? I hate it here.”
Araan went to her. “We are the leaders of our people, my tender coil, my hot blood. We must wait and go last. You understand, don’t you?” He turned to Ilaan again. “I feel that of all the creatures assembled here today, you might be the one to come between us and our new home. Say truly, you won’t attempt to stop us?”
“I say truly I will not. Go. Faster the better.”
Araan turned back to the High Seat hall and raised his arms. The shadows that were only barely visible in the darkened space came into the light. They had no disguise, were nothing but themselves, and when the Eriisai saw them, they fled. Calaa hid behind a column. The Zaal was gray with fear. Ilaan forced himself to concentrate on The Door.
On the other side, he could see Olly, Scilla, Coll, the tall man who could be none other than Blue himself, and standing in front of them, the small woman threw back her hood—it was Hellne, the real Hellne, the queen.
She shouted at her “brother,” and then they all held up their hands and drew their knives across their open palms. The smell of fresh blood was too much. The creatures—how many he couldn’t say; it was hard to look at them long enough to see where one ended and the next began—made a frenzied leap towards The Door. Ilaan tried to see what was happening, but the scene on Mistra had gone very dark, too dark to be the sunlit front gate. What were they doing over there?
“Something’s wrong, they’re doing something, shut it down,” Calaa cried. She shouted at the Zaal, pulling on his sleeve.
Loyal, my left stone. Ilaan shimmered fast to the other side of the courtyard and pulled Calaa to her feet, away from the mage. “I’ll deal with you later.”
And using the skills Mother Jaa had taught him, he sent her away. Now it was just him and the Zaal, who was on his knees, struggling to shut The Door against the magic holding it open on the other side. Ilaan immediately set to doing the opposite.
Ilaan might have had more raw power, but the Zaal was older and far more experienced. As the mage continued his assault against the open Door with one hand, he made a tossing motion with the other. Sand flew in Ilaan’s mouth and down his throat, needles of grit blasting his face and eyes, like the sand was alive and frantic to torment him. Nearly blind from dust and grit, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the s
crap of cloth, still damp with a few drops of Rhuun’s blood, and joined its power with his own. The Zaal’s sand, also enchanted with the blood of the prince, recognized its long-lost kin in Ilaan’s charm. It gave a shout of dismay and drew back just long enough for him to keep The Door open.
Finally, the tide of creatures dropped to a trickle. If it had gone on much longer, if he hadn’t had Beast’s blood, Ilaan would have failed. The Zaal was old, yes, but stronger than Ilaan hoped or imagined.
But whatever they were doing on Mistra, it mattered less to the daeeve than the scent of fresh blood. Araan himself dropped his Eriisai skin and slithered through. Thaali came up behind him, still wearing her demon body. It was almost over. But right behind Thaali stormed Aelle.
“You give it back, you sdaasch!” She grabbed the crown and a handful of the creature/queen’s hair and yanked her head back. Thaali lost her balance and crashed to the stone courtyard, slamming her head and losing her crown. Aelle darted away with her prize. Ilaan turned back to see the exhausted face of his friends on Mistra standing or lying on the ground before some sort of sparking circle. Then it was gone.
Thaali, blood streaming down her face, struggled to her feet with the Zaal at her side. She took a step forward then shrieked enough to shake the stones in the Arch. It was too late.
The Door was shut.
Chapter Forty-Five
Mistra
The work went on all day, the carts hauled by the huge, sweating humans—they couldn’t use horses; they’d go mad at the smell—through The Door and back, until the sun dropped behind the tree line and the air became cool. Finally, there was no more dirt to move. Hellne watched the activity in the courtyard carefully. And here came the Zaal. He stepped forward and raised his arms, speaking to someone hidden in the shadows.
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