‘You wish for more than you have,’ the whisper said. ‘You crave it. Your dominion is flawed, and you wish to perfect it. Yet you, King of Many, do not know the way.’
‘No, I do not,’ said Tyurn Sky-Sea, troubled, for there was little he did not know.
‘And am I not Lord of All?’ he questioned the voice. Had it come from anyone but himself, he would have thundered his denial.
‘If you were Lord of All, how could you and your subjects ever lack for anything? But I, born of your desire, know how you may live up to that name, King of Many. It is simple, what you must do. Then all the lands will grow rich and bountiful.’
It rankled the pride of Tyurn Sky-Sea to be less than the master of everything. Thus, he said at once, ’And what is it I must do?’
The Seed told Tyurn Sky-Sea, and the Lord of All Realms went forth and did as it said.
- The Seeds of Famine, a translation from the Lighted-tongue; by Oracle Kalene of deme Hull; 881 SLP
I walked the gardens for a long, painful time. Plodding along one winding path after another in the mile-long gardens, sheltered under the rows of columns on either side, I forced my leaden legs forward and managed to remain upright.
As I passed a willow tree, I suddenly stopped. My ear always keen for whispered words, the hushed conversation alerted me to someone on the other side of the tree, secreted within the foliage. I peered through the gently swaying branches. Two figures stood on the other side, their features hidden beyond the red and pale yellow of their robes. Quieting my breath, I stepped through the willow branches, trying to get close enough to make out their words.
But no sooner had I stepped under the tree than my foot found a branch and cracked it. The figure wearing pale yellow whirled around, and I recognized Nomusa even before she spoke. She was dressed as I hadn’t often seen her, with her chiton plain and no jewelry adorning her neck or wrists. Her hair was in simple plaits against her head, though still with her usual tidiness. Humility seemed to be what she sought to present, and she found it perfectly.
Her surprise faded as she recognized me in turn, only to be replaced by an expression I couldn’t read. “Airene!” she said too loudly to be natural. “You’re awake! How are you feeling?”
I stepped through the sweeping leaves. The figure in red was already quickly walking away, a hood masking his or her face. Before I could say anything, Nomusa stepped up and embraced me. I returned it, curiosity biting deep.
As we pulled apart, I wore a smile. She could keep her secret for the moment. “I’m fine now, though my belly is still trying to eat itself.”
She laughed heartily and pulled me into another hug. “I’m glad to see you up. We’ve all been so worried.” She abruptly pulled me away again. “What happened? What Corin said made no sense.”
I studied her. While I’d been asleep, Nomusa seemed to have undergone a metamorphosis. Instead of the reluctant, skeptical partner, she once again seemed alive and invested. It was like having her back from our early days of Finching.
“I’ll have to tell you later,” I said. “I can’t have anyone overhearing.”
“If they do as poor a job spying on us as you did earlier, I think we’ll be fine.”
A wry grin worked its way onto my face. “I’m far from my best right now.”
She looped her arm in mine. “I suppose your tale can wait. I have plenty to catch you up on.”
She began walking us back through the gardens the way we’d come, opposite of the way the figure in red had taken. But I said nothing of it, wondering if Nomusa would speak of the hooded stranger herself. And if she didn’t, what that might mean.
“How about we sit while we talk?” I suggested.
“I would, but… Since you’re up, you really should go before the Council. They’ve been asking for you every time I see them, and my usual time meeting them is in just over a turn.”
I groaned. “I should have stayed in bed.”
Nomusa looked me up and down. “Yes, you should have.”
“Come on. I’m not that bad off.”
She snorted lightly and continued to pull me along. “I suppose I’ll begin with what’s most pertinent. It’s official, Airene.”
I looked sharply at her, guessing what she meant. “They actually went for it?”
“They did. The Council approved the mandate two days ago. The Order of Verifiers is once again an official branch of the Oedijan demotism.”
I had thought I was over that particular victory, particularly as I knew it came with strings attached. But despite my apprehension, a glow of pride warmed my chest, and I had to hold back a grin.
“But though we’re Verifiers now, you still have to be confirmed as my fellow First Verifier.”
The warmth dissipated. “By the Council?” Half of the Low Consuls were Preservists under Orhan’s thumb. Considering their close alignment with the Valemish and their ancestral home in Avvad, it seemed a safe bet that they were privy to Eazal’s attempted assassination of me, and possibly were even the orchestrators of it. I doubted any of them would support me gaining power. I’d need the full support of the other five Low Consuls to pass. At least I knew Jaxas would cast the deciding vote in my favor.
“Did any of the Preservists confirm you?”
Nomusa’s brow furrowed. “Actually, yes. All of them did.”
I stared at her. “And you don’t suspect this is a trap?”
“I know it is. I haven’t told you of the agreement binding us.”
“Best tear off the bandage.”
“First, we must make a full account of our activities and the coin we spend. We have a clerk to help with that portion, at least, to whom we’ll report each day for her to record in the Aviary ledgers.”
“The Aviary? It’s ready to reside in then?”
“Of sorts.” Nomusa grimaced. “It still reeks of finch droppings — they’d been using the whole place to keep birds, you know, not just the tower. And the furniture is minimal. Still, there are some comforts — we have a cook and an honor who comes by daily to tidy up.”
I wondered if the honor would also take the time to rifle through our belongings and report anything of interest to the Council. “I can live in most conditions. After all, I’ve stayed one night with Talan. Not like that,” I hastily amended.
Nomusa smiled coyly. “I’m sure it wasn’t.”
“You’re hopeless.” I abruptly switched the topic. “Do we have a collective allowance, or is it individual?”
“Both. Fifteen silvers a day for the whole Order, though we’ll raise eyebrows if we individually spend more than five.”
I felt even weaker in the knees than I had before. Fifteen silvers had been half our collective savings before the shell horns had blown. To be afforded that amount in a single day was staggering. “We could buy off Nikias every day.”
Nomusa’s frown told me she hadn’t forgotten my contentious bribe. “We could. But once we bring on more Finches, it will go faster.”
“More Finches?” I was baffled. “But we can’t initiate Xaron and Talan.”
“I wouldn’t want to hire those lazy sops anyway. But of course we’ll gather more, Airene. With a war coming, and the Manifest stirring trouble, and corruption in our own government, we’re going to need more than the two of us to keep tabs on it all.”
“But who could we trust?”
She watched me carefully. “Things are going to be different, Airene. We’ll likely have to give people responsibilities even if we don’t fully trust them. You need to be ready for that, because that day is coming soon.”
I turned my gaze away. “Very well.”
We exited the palace. With the monsoons soon arriving, the sky was thick with clouds, but the muggy heat of summer still stubbornly clung on. Given the state I was in, I dreaded the walk down to the Conclave and looked longingly at a carriage waiting on the marble road below the stairs. Instead of turning our path to avoid it, however, Nomusa pulled me toward it.
/> “What are you doing?” I hissed.
“Catching our ride down.” She glanced at me, amusement glinting in her eyes. “Who did you suppose this carriage was waiting for?”
Without waiting for an answer, Nomusa greeted the driver familiarly and took his hand to step up into it. As the driver turned to me, I mutely accepted his aid and entered. It was a relief to sit again, especially on cushioned seats, though the cramped quarters were stuffy and hot.
“Do you regularly use a carriage now?” I asked Nomusa.
She smiled faintly. “Another of our privileges. Though our special treatment from the Laurel Palace may end if things continue the way they do.”
“Tension between the Council and the Despoina?”
“Between the Council and the Archon. Jaxas has been vocal about confronting our foes, now that we know who they are. He’s drawn the ire of Orhan and his lackeys for it.”
Anger stirred in my gut, more insistent than hunger for the moment. “Of course,” I muttered furiously. “You’d think that having lived here as long as they have, they’d feel more loyalty.”
“You never forget your homeland.” Her eyes had a distant look, and I knew she was thinking of her own home ishaka a thousand miles away.
“What do they want us to do anyway? The Council, I mean.”
Nomusa drew away from her contemplation. “Ah, now we’re at the crux of it. We’re to investigate corruption.”
“Corruption?”
She nodded. “They — the Preservists and Verchlesa, as it is — are interested in understanding what led to the Despot being taken and the rise of the Manifest unimpeded, and who was behind it.”
I stretched my cramped legs. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
“Of course. But what better way to keep ahead of charges of corruption than pointing fingers at other people?”
“Maybe they hope we’ll go after Jaxas. Since he was affiliated with Vusu and all.”
“Or maybe that we’ll try and take down the Tribunal.” Nomusa snorted. “As if we would be that much of fools.”
Despair clawed at my chest. “Is nothing being done then?”
“Some things are. They can’t completely ignore an oncoming army, so the Council has put out an order for the taxoi to be raised again. When Avvad marches, we’ll at least have the semblance of an army. Though if they’ll fight for Avvad or Oedija remains to be seen. Particularly when we may not be able to feed them.”
“Are the droughts that bad?”
“They’re only the beginning. The more immediate problem is bringing what harvest there is into the city. The Council is negotiating with the Underguild for passage, but Kalindi’s demands have been untenable, to say the least.”
I winced. “The Council is negotiating with the Underguild? For food? What happened?”
Nomusa shook her head. “Since Kalindi overtook the Underguild, he has used far more aggressive tactics than we’ve seen from the syndicate. Crime has increased on the streets for many reasons, but most of the murders seem to be traced back to him. His most significant attempt at control has been to seize many of the shipments of grain and other foods before they pass through the city gates and hold them ransom.”
The Underguild was extorting the demotism itself. I’d missed more in three days than I could have imagined possible. Yet still, I knew I hadn’t heard the heart of what I needed to. “But what of the real danger? What are they doing about Famine?”
Nomusa pushed the curtain aside from the window to peer out. “Nothing,” she said softly. “Nothing at all.”
“They know, don’t they? That Famine is real and rising again?”
She didn’t meet my gaze. “Jaxas told them what you’d seen, and recalled that they remember what they saw at the trial, a glowing serpent swallowing Vusu and Linos. But the Low Consuls weren’t convinced. They said it was an illusion, that it must be a simple conjuring for a warden of Vusu’s strength.”
I trembled, hot anger coursing through me. “But you corroborated him at least, right? You told them what I saw?”
Her hesitation spoke volumes. “The Order is still in its infancy—”
“You know he’s real! I saw him! I went into the Pyrthae and saw him, Nomusa!” I noticed my voice was loud enough for the driver to hear, but I found it hard to care. Why should I hide the truth from anyone? They’d know all too soon.
“I know,” Nomusa said hurriedly. “I know what you saw. But that doesn’t change the fact that we need to seem credible as an organization right now. And no matter how true it is, claiming that a daemon god has risen from the legends is not a good way to establish our name.”
I reined in my anger. It wasn’t fair to put it on Nomusa. Even if she should have done more. “Then target Vusu. They saw what he is capable of. Surely that at least can stir them to action.”
“You’d think. But he hasn’t been seen since Asileia’s trial, and you know what they say: When the pyr doesn’t appear—”
“—It isn’t here, I know,” I finished with irritation. “But he’s had three days to recover now. If he can heal like Kallias the Sculptor can, then he’s already at work again.”
Nomusa gave me an odd look. “I never took you for a believer in that sort of thing.”
I flushed despite myself. “Vusu has the power of a daemon god behind him. I don’t think healing himself is outside the realm of possibility.”
She shrugged. “But maybe he won’t recover. Maybe that quarrel you put in him will kill him. After all, even wardens aren’t immune to corruption of the flesh.”
“You don’t know that,” I pointed out heavily. Her words were tempting, and I wanted to believe them. But I felt the wrongness of them in my gut. Vusu still loomed large, and as long as he was a danger, Famine would be as well.
Standing before the god in the Pyrthae, I’d sensed far more than what my material senses could tell me. I’d felt the hunger that drove him, endless and ever-sharp, cutting at him every moment that he couldn’t sate it. It was a craving far greater than what any addicted asher felt while waiting for his next hit of silvertongue. And his hunger wasn’t for flesh. More I couldn’t understand, but remembering that feeling of a predator casually studying me as prey struck icy fear through me anew.
The carriage rolled up before the Conclave. For a moment, it was all I could do to stare. The broad dome of bronze and white marble was broken like an egg’s shell, half of it torn away during our struggle with Vusu. Everywhere it had cracked and crumbled, time was catching up with the grand edifice, green and gray patina spreading out from the rents.
As Nomusa exited, I tore my eyes away and followed. As I lowered myself, my legs nearly collapsed under me. I bitterly wondered if my hunger was yet the depth of Famine’s. A smile twisted onto my lips as I took Nomusa’s offered arm, and we walked toward the tall double doors, now riddled with wide cracks.
It was only as the Conclave guards studied us that I realized I’d forgotten to mention something. “Nomusa,” I muttered, “I don’t have my Verifier medallion. Someone must have taken it while I slept.”
“I took it,” she responded briskly. “At the behest of the Council. Until you’re confirmed, they didn’t want you flashing it about.”
“I never flashed it about,” I protested, but was relieved nonetheless. If it was missing, best that there was a chance of getting it back. Even if it came at a cost.
The guards barely delayed us but greeted Nomusa warmly. I kept my face carefully composed. It didn’t surprise me that Nomusa had already made friends with the guards, particularly since one of the pair hadn’t been hard on the eyes.
As the handsome guard cracked open the door, we slipped inside. Amusement was replaced with silent awe. Much of the great chamber had been swept of debris. The signs of the fight were still written on the walls, and a thick layer of dust began a dozen cubits up where it seemed the cleaners couldn’t reach. All but the most massive blocks had been cleared away. Now that I thought about it, I was
astounded that the Servants and Low Consuls were continuing to use the building. It didn’t look stable with the many crevices in its pillars, walls, and floors, not to mention the cracked dome above.
Yet I followed Nomusa around the edge toward the Archon’s platform. The giant bell that had been mounted there to call everyone to attention had split up the middle, the offending rock, twice my size, lying nearby. Banishing silly thoughts of omens, I focused my attention on the small door behind the platform as we stopped ten paces short of it.
Nomusa paused. “You’re sure you want to do this now?”
“We’re already here,” I said wearily. “And you said it was a shoo-in, didn’t you?”
“We’ll see.”
She turned to the guards waiting on either side of the door. “I am First Verifier Nomusa. Will you admit me and my companion, Airene of Port, so that she may become First Verifier alongside me?”
A male honor appeared from the shadows of a nearby column. “They are in conference at the moment and requested that they remained undisturbed. If you will wait, they should be done within the turn.”
Nomusa’s nostrils flared, but she only turned on her heel and marched for the dais. I followed and gratefully sat next to her on the edge, resting my protesting legs and leaning back on my arms.
We waited in silence. Both of us knew the things we had to tell each other must be spoken in secret. Yet now that we paused, I felt the pressure of my news once more. I wriggled my fingers on the stone, wondering if my shifts had appeared yet, wondering if I’d be able to channel if I tried. But I didn’t dare attempt it. Though I hoped I would be able to control it, my memories of the first instance inspired little confidence.
My gaze wandered over to the Archon’s bell again, but for a moment, my eyes saw not what was, but what had been. Asileia Wreath stood upon the dais, her chin uplifted. She scattered into mist as a hole ripped through the fabric of the world. Teeth, iridescently white, erupted from nowhere. And from between them stepped a shadow. The shadow paused, then turned its head toward me, revealing Vusu’s face. “After all this,” he said slowly, “and it is you who have doomed us.”
Realm of Ashes Page 4
