That sounded rather ominous. “Strong enough for what? What’s changed?”
“For what is to come next.” She told him about the sudden appearance of a girl wearing his own face, and the Zaal’s plan to bring down The Door.
“Calaa. That’s... I honestly should not be surprised.” He’d rebuffed her advances, and those advances had been an act. Perhaps that was why she’d failed.
“She had a lot to say. She wishes to save her own traitorous neck.”
“Will you spare her?” He knew what the penalty was for Calaa’s crimes. “Has she been of use?”
“I’m undecided. She says the Zaal has been working on this charm for many years. It is his life’s work and his true joy. She’s seen his power, power no other one of us can claim, not even Ilaan. I feel her fear is forcing the truth out of her mouth.”
A charm he’s been working on for years. He rubbed the ridged and broken flesh of his forearm. His life’s work.
“He must not succeed,” said Jaa. Her image shivered, vanished, reappeared. “If he destroys The Door, our path to Mistra won’t be the only thing taken away.”
“What do you mean? What else is there?” He traced with his fingertips the scars which ran like ropes around his wrists.
“When we shimmer, when we move from place to place, we go through a sort of Door as well. You see, I am not in actuality sitting in your garden. I appear to you with a charm rather than shimmer to your home. Your mother knows this charm. Ilaan knows it. But it is difficult to master. Many will not be able to learn it. If we are denied these small Doors, you might have to give us all lessons in portation.” It was hard to imagine a world without the freedom his people took for granted, even if he didn’t share it. “But that’s not the worst of it. There is the Veil. Whoever lingers there will be trapped forever.”
“Ilaan.” There was no way he would allow Ilaan to be trapped in that gray place. He thought about charms, about things that were difficult, and he had an idea.
“With Ilaan and Lelet by your side, you would not fail. But your friend is gone, and I fear she is not yet strong enough to stand against the Zaal.” Jaa twisted her fingers together. “I can’t send you to stand against him alone.”
“I think I can.” A power no other demon claims. “I can stop him.”
She frowned. “What? You think you have a weapon to use against him? My boy, you are many things, but you are no warrior. He will burn you to a cinder before you could lift your hand.”
His heart pounded. He was right. “Mother Jaa, think about it. What is his charm made of? What have I been told over and over, my whole life? What makes me different? What was the whole point of La Naa?”
Jaa opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Rhuun continued. “And what do I still manage to have more of than he does, no matter how many times he sliced me open?”
She looked grim, her mouth a thin line. “Your blood.”
He nodded. “I don’t need a weapon. I am the weapon.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Eriis
“When does it begin?” Rhuun asked.
“It’s already started,” Mother Jaa replied. “Go.” Her image wavered and faded. “Lest it be too late and us stranded and alone forever. Go now, my beautiful boy, my lovely weapon. Go.”
Rhuun left his seat in his sandy garden and followed the crowd of well-dressed and nervous-looking people heading away from the palace. He could feel them on the edge of panic. He let them push past him and, in a moment, found himself alone in the plaza. The wreckage from the passage of the daeeve could still be seen here and there in smashed benches and deep gouges in the stone paving. He looked at the low clouds over the atrium and took a deep breath. She was right. It had begun.
Past the arched towers of the palace, brilliant and almost beautiful against the dark and dirty clouds, white and gold beams of light crawled across the sky, traces and strands of magic making their lethal way towards The Door—the final Door, the Doorway to all other Doors—which hung like a round jewel above the War Tower. Once the beam reached it, it would be too late.
Is it that I have to go up there? Maybe that’s what I’m for. All along. He headed for the source of the light, Ilaan’s old house, and the Zaal.
“Say, aren’t you supposed to be on Mistra?” The Zaal had come down to the street outside the house to watch his work. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Once we’re done here, you and I can have a nice long talk about the rest of your blood. You may be a ruin, but what you’ve got inside you, that’s a wonder.”
Rhuun waited for his fear to snatch his breath and steal his strength. Don’t let it.
“I’m going to stop you,” Rhuun said, and he meant it. I am the weapon.
“You? Really? How? Maybe a drinking contest. You’d stand a chance there.” The Zaal lifted his hand, and Rhuun’s feet flew out from under him. For a moment, he couldn’t move his legs, and his fear came rushing back. The Zaal snickered as he flicked his fingers to lift the charm and Rhuun struggled to stand. “Hellne should have put you out for the Crosswinds the day you were born. You have nothing. You are nothing. Not even your Glass Girl here to stand in front of you. What do you call a demon with no fire? Oh, I know. A dead human.” He slapped his thigh and laughed at his own joke. “Freak.”
The Zaal turned away, ready to admire his life’s work.
Something ran down Rhuun’s arms. Not blood, he didn’t think it was blood. Spats sizzled as drops hit the stones. He got to his feet.
“Zaal.”
The mage turned, annoyed at the interruption. Then his eyes widened.
“I am not a freak. I’m not a beast or a drunk or a shame. I am Rhuun of Eriis, and this city and the High Seat are mine.” The sizzling grew to a roar. It was all around him. “And as far as my fire, it seems you have been misinformed.”
He raised his arms and all the fire in the world exploded between them, slamming the Zaal into the old stone wall behind him.
Rhuun exhaled deeply then looked back up at the still uncoiling lights. With or without the Zaal, they would be about their business. They were part of Rhuun—a part that had been stolen, and warped and made to do the bidding of a cruel master, but part of him nonetheless. Up there? Down here? He wasn’t sure what to do next.
“I’m so happy for you, manifesting at this late hour.” The Zaal walked through the cloud of dust the explosion had kicked up, brushed a bit of ash off his tunic, and smiled. “But it’s already done. You’re too late. I mean, what are you going to do? Fly up there?”
“Funny you should mention that.” And he smiled back at the Zaal, whose own smile faded as Rhuun opened his wings. He didn’t get the satisfaction of seeing the look of shock on the Zaal’s face, but he liked to imagine it was quite dramatic. Up three floors, four, and another few beats of his powerful wings. Thank you, Ocean. That’s what my wings are for.
For a moment, he was level with the top window and just looked in. This had been Ilaan’s room, although of course all of Ilaan’s things were gone. Instead, a ball of light hovered in midair in the center of the room. It shot the bolts of light out the window and past him. He was reminded of the many hours spent watching Lelet through the glass doors of her own room.
Should have told her sooner, he thought but only for an instant.
The force of the mage’s magic flew past and around him, until he was somehow noticed. He had attracted its attention, and the power hesitated. The beam of light paused on its journey, sensing something more interesting in its path, and hit him in the chest, holding him in place like a clawed fist. He was examined. Good thing, he thought, despite the pain, good thing because I can’t hover. The blood magic, with a sort of joy, recognized its progenitor, and it teemed and seethed and burned its way back into his body. Part of him, returning to him now. He glanced down; he was beginning to glow.
Now, I have to do it now; and with great effort he gave one more beat of his lovely wings, now starting to burn and
crisp away at the edges. Put that pain away, just like you’ve been doing your whole life. Take it, and put it away. A place to put things, Mother Jaa once told him. A place to put things you might need one day.
Today is that day. Now take it back out.
He looked inside, found those private pathways and secret places, and pulled the pain back out.
I am the weapon.
If anyone remained on the ground below or happened to be passing by an open window, they would have seen a man lit from within, blazing from the inside like a badly mended porcelain cup but full of fire, not water. A lifetime of gathered pain came pouring out, as every burn, every scorch and sear and slight, all his scars and every piece of pain turned out and away and back in the face of the mage’s magic, as the corrupted blood burned its way back into his flesh.
Rhuun saw faces—Aelle reaching out to him with her lovely hands on fire; his mother, her hand raised and her eyes cold; Ilaan smiling but burning him all the same; men in the woods, with rocks and a knife. He heard his own childish breath rasping as he ran from some attack; Lelet asking, “Are you ugly?”; a chorus of derisive shouts—a drunk, a cripple, a shame, ugly, ugly Beast. He smelled blood, scorched skin, the Zaal, and more knives.
He grieved for a life of waste and pain.
The river would be nice. I’d like to see the river again
As the weapon faltered and collapsed back into the tower room, Rhuun found a sliver of cool, pure light. He reached for it with hands that had begun to char and turn to ash, and as he plunged into its clear and perfect depth, he was consumed.
And then the pain was gone, as was everything else.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Eriis
At the sharp rap at her door, Lelet rose from her sleeping mat, flexing her wrist. Better today. And she could take a deep breath without feeling a needle of pain. It had been four days since Moth left for the city and two days since Calaa told them about the Zaal’s plan.
“It’s time.” Mother Jaa stood in Lelet’s doorway, cane in hand. “Time for us to go.”
“Good,” Lelet said. That meant she was strong enough to stand between Moth and harm, that together they would defeat the Zaal. But before she could slip on her sandals or bind up her hair, she found herself outside the Arch. It was normally thronged with people shopping or strolling, but it was abandoned except for herself and Jaa. She quickly tied back her hair and looked around. “Why did you bring me here? Where’s Moth—I mean, the prince?”
Jaa smiled gently. “I am here because he brought me here,” she said. “Well, both of you did. He needed you, every step of the way.”
“I don’t understand,” Lelet said. “That’s not what I asked. We were at the tents—”
“We were, and as was promised, he brought me back.”
“Mother, what do you mean, he brought you back ‘as promised’?”
Jaa was talking about Moth, and Moth was the prince who was supposed to bring something back, all right. But this was just an elderly demon woman.
As if she’d heard Lelet’s thoughts, Jaa said, “I was not always what you see. I was once someone else, someone more like yourself. Would you like to meet her?”
Lelet nodded. The road to the arch became indistinct, and the dust faded out of sight. She was in the market, but it was different. It was alive. It was before The Weapon.
She stood next to a striking woman who had in her youth been quite handsome, her loosely coiled hair striped with gray, her eyes a bright, warm crimson. Instead of gray or brown or tan, she wore a sage-green gown woven of cotton or linen with a light blue apron over it, embroidered with sprigs of white flowers at the hem. She carried a wicker basket with oranges inside. Lelet looked around. There was color everywhere, baskets and stalls of food that looked familiar, and flowers in the window boxes. And she could see the sun. The sky was the blue-green of the inside of an eggshell. It looked to be late afternoon.
“They cannot see us,” said Jaa, as Lelet leapt back to avoid a gang of children. “My name was Shoyujaa on this day. It was the last day I was called that name.”
She strode off, and Lelet followed. The boys and girls ran barefoot through the market and appeared to be wearing some sort of uniform, tunics and knee-length shorts, black with red trim. They were trailed closely by a dozen or so russet-furred bats, that, when they got tired or wanted the attention of their masters, would roost by their little claws in the children’s long hair. Their little golden eyes gleamed like jewels among the unruly locks.
“I was called Shoyujaa before The Weapon”, the woman repeated. “I had a good life, a good husband, two daughters grown and with children of their own. We respected Light, Wind, and Rain, and they sheltered and protected us. We gave proper allegiance to our king, who did the same. We had a nice house in the Quarter, only a few streets from the Arch. I loved that house. It was on a hill. We had a garden, two orange trees and one lemon, right outside our window. Indulgences from the other side, but we discovered the trees liked our dry days and breezy nights. And water was not so hard to come by as it was to become. Jaase, my husband, he liked the lemons. He would boil the skins with sugar. I liked my oranges. I could lean out my window and pick my breakfast. We had fruit for ourselves and our families and even more to spare. That’s what I was doing in the market that day. I was going to sell my basket of oranges. That was the day I saw my first human. He wasn’t alone, of course. It would have been a special day indeed to see a human, but I also saw the princess.”
And in fact they turned a corner in the market and saw the scene, just as it had been that day.
“Hellne. She’s beautiful,” said Lelet.
“You can see where my lovely boy came by his good looks. You can see it in both of them,” Shoyujaa said.
Hellne looked ready to attend a royal ball or the theater. Lelet had no way of knowing if the princess always dressed so extravagantly. She wore a tight vivid blue silk dress which covered her from throat to ankle, slashed to the knee and from wrist to shoulder. The silk looked awfully familiar. Over the dress was a transparent silver silk veil which attached at the ankle and the wrist and by jeweled combs to her hair. It was ornately embroidered with blue and white stones, and her hair, which was much more loosely arranged than the current fashion, was strung with the same sapphires and diamonds. Lelet rather doubted the girl wore paste. By her side was another demon girl, probably a courtier, who wore the same tight dress and loose cape, but her outfit was an unfortunate pink and green, and she had flowers in her hair, not jewels. Lelet was amazed to see what they’d done to their wings, worn on the outside, folded like living origami, carefully arranged so they laid atop the silky veil. They were decorated, in the princess’s case, with blue and silver paint and more glittering stones. It said, I’ll never need to use them. They are just to be admired.
Shoyujaa leaned closer and whispered, “We loved our pretty princess, but we were most grateful for her brother, Araan. Hellne cared for nothing except for the clothes and jewels on her back and making sure everyone saw them.”
Sounds familiar.
Behind the two girls came a stern-looking woman in a plain black-on-black gown and cape, whose hair was dressed with simple, dark stones. Her wings were discreetly folded away. Our girl wasn’t allowed to wander about without a chaperone. Especially with this other person in her retinue.
The man by the princess’s side was a human. He wore the brown-and-forest green robe of an academic and even had a notebook folded in half and sticking out of his leather travel bag. But by his bearing and easy smile, it was clear he was no cleric. And he had Rhuun’s face.
Lelet held her hand to her heart. This was Brother Blue. His eyes were light brown, and his hair was cropped. He was more conventionally handsome and lacked Rhuun’s otherworldly beauty, but there could be no doubt. He must have grown tired of bending over to speak to the princess, because he laid his hand on her arm, just to get her attention. The chaperone stepped between them with a ha
nd full of fire, and he leapt back as if she’d set his hair ablaze. The two girls laughed, and then the human laughed as well. The older woman did not join them but nodded, satisfied her point was made.
“On any other day,” said Jaa, “this would have been enough to send me running home to Jaase. But I was a bold thing back then.”
The image of Shoyujaa stepped into the street and approached the princess and her escorts. She held out her basket and offered the fruit. The princess and her friend each took one, and the human did as well. The chaperone drew back and pulled her veil over her face like someone threw dust at her, but the other three smiled and thanked Shoyujaa. The human seemed interested in how she got the trees to grow—was it not too arid? —and would have lingered, but the princess grew bored and off they went, the poor chaperone now burdened by three large pieces of fruit.
“That’s when I went home with a tale of wonders for my Jaase. The next day was The Weapon.”
The market disappeared, replaced by rubble, the stink of burning, and the heavy, dirty clouds that never went away.
“I don’t know why I lived, but I did. There were many of us, those who The Weapon did not take, who left the path of life behind soon after. I wanted to follow along behind Jaase and my girls, so I went walking. I went walking without family or home or water or trees. I walked until it was time to lie down and sleep, and when I could no longer find a place to lie down, I walked into the desert. And when I laid down in the desert, that was when the Rain came.”
Shoyujaa’s sweet smile faded away as the street reappeared, and Jaa stood before her again.
She said, “I was thrown down by the Weapon. I was separated from my sisters, Light and Wind. Incorporeal, unable to sleep or rest or see what had become of them. I found Shoyujaa in the desert, and I found a soul ready to vacate. I said, ‘Give me your form. I will respect and cherish it, and you no longer have any use for it. But understand that I must take your sight, because what I seek cannot be perceived by mortal eyes.’ And my tears fell on her body, and she gladly welcomed me. That was the last time it rained on Eriis.
The River King Page 25
