Realm of Ashes

by J. D. L. Rosell

  The Archmaster himself lay prone on a four-poster bed in the middle of the room, tucked under a sea of thick comforters. The room was cold enough that my skin rose in chills, but under those heavy blankets, it had to be hot and uncomfortable. I wondered if Kyros Brighteyed had taken some strange ill from channeling too much. After all, he’d contended with Vusu, and lost.

  “Leave us,” Kyros said firmly to the honor. “And bring Isidora.”

  I wondered who she was, and worried that he already looked forward to his next appointment. I set my jaw and stood still with forced patience.

  As soon as the woman had left, the Archmaster studied me. “So. You survived your trip into the Pyrthae.”

  His eyes didn’t glow as they usually did, but were a dun dark brown. Still, they carried all the sharp temper he’d displayed before. I shifted uncomfortably under that gaze. If there was an Acadian capable of knowing wardens at a glance, it was Kyros.

  “Yes.” I offered nothing further.

  “Well?” he prompted testily. “Has anything strange happened to you?”

  “What qualifies as strange after one has visited the Pyrthae?”

  Kyros suddenly slammed a hand on the frame of the bed with a resounding crack. “Damned depths, woman! Now is not the time to tiptoe around the truth like you’re afraid of shattering the crockery! You’ve been abed for three days. Why?”

  I held my tongue. Before, I had intended merely to pry what information I could from the man and leave him to his recovery. But now that he’d forced a confrontation, I wondered if I should aim higher. After all, Kyros had held Vusu at bay for a time. And he’d trained some Acadians to fight, two of whom I’d seen in action at the fight at the Conclave. He could be a valuable ally.

  He could teach me to channel. To fight against Vusu and Famine myself, and not expect my allies to do all the work.

  But he could also ruin me. I didn’t know him, and I certainly didn’t trust him. He might have fought Vusu, but that didn’t necessarily put us on the same side. And I needed my position as First Verifier more than I needed to learn to be a warden right now. Much as it pained me to admit it, Xaron was right. I couldn’t progress fast enough for it to make much of a difference. If I was to fight against the daemon god and his servant, it would have be as I’d always done before: plots and lies, webs and whispers.

  “Well?” the Archmaster demanded. “Out with it!”

  “I’ve been ill. I was unconscious most of that time, and weak when I was awake. When I could finally rise, I was ravenous.” I shrugged. “That’s all.”

  “And what did you see there? Did you see what Eltris claims to have?” His scowl twisted in a mocking grin that looked more like a snarl. “Did you see Famine?”

  A scowl hardened my own features. “I did.”

  He snorted. “So you’re as much a fool as she is. If that’s all you have to say to me, leave me be. I, unlike you, have suffered serious wounds and need my rest. Onala!”

  I didn’t move, even as I heard the door open behind me. “I’m not finished yet, Archmaster. I have questions to ask you in return.”

  “Do you?” A vein pulsed in his forehead. “Very well, Verifier. Put me to your questions.”

  “What do you know of the daemon god Famine?”

  He responded as I thought he would, spluttering a harsh laugh. “It was a trick, girl! An illusion by Vusumuzi! You cannot imagine the things a warden as powerful as he can do. The things he could make you do.” His eyes glimmered with a maliciousness it was hard to imagine.

  I tried not to let it faze me. “Where might I discover more about Famine? Is there a library that might have texts on him?”

  The Archmaster suddenly fell into a bout of coughs. “A library!” he exclaimed as soon as he could speak. “Oh, yes, we have a library full of legends and myths. In fact, try Tomes — I’m sure you’ll find all kinds of useless bilge there to keep you happy.”

  I took his jest as permission. “Who should I see to find these tomes?”

  “Tomes is a section of the library, foolish girl! Go there and tell them I sent you.” The Archmaster’s lips twisted into a sickly grin. “That ought to give that ancient hag the shock to finally keel her over.”

  His bitter humor grated on my nerves, but I held my temper in check. “I doubt she’ll take me at my word. I’ll need a token of approval. Your seal would do, I assume.”

  “My seal? Do you think me a king? You need no seal. When you reach her, she’ll allow you in.”

  I was just about to protest further when something gave me pause. It was like a thought unbidden, something half-remembered slipping across my mind. Only I recognized the thought was not my own.

  Suddenly gripped by curiosity, I reached after whatever had touched my mind, only to recoil. Pain flared in my head as I attempted to follow. I winced and put a hand to my temple.

  As the pain ebbed, I found Kyros watching me with sudden interest. A smirk slowly spread across his face. My heart pounded in my chest, and I pulled my hand away from my temple.

  “So,” he said at length. “That’s how it is. I wonder how.”

  “Thank you for your aid,” I rushed to say. “There is one other thing I wished to ask you about.”

  “There is one other thing you should ask me about.” Kyros grinned openly at me, his eyes laughing.

  I pretended not to notice. “Before the Despoina’s trial, you were training wardens. Training them to use their magic to fight as Shepherds do.”

  The humor drained from the Archmaster’s face. “I don’t know what you heard,” he snapped, his foul temper suddenly returned. “But I would never do such a thing.”

  “Of course not,” I said smoothly. “After all, such a crime would certainly condemn you to death. It might dismantle the Acadium as we know it. After all, if the head suffers corruption, the rest of the body likely holds it as well. I merely wished to verify it. That’s what I do, isn’t it?”

  “Get out.” He spoke it softly, then repeated louder, “Get out! Damned if I know why I let you in.”

  “Thank you, Archmaster.” I turned smoothly and left the room, passing by the stricken honor Onala to quickly descend the stairs.

  Two circles down, I paused and caught my breath. My heart raced, and regret coursed through me. I’d prodded Kyros where he was vulnerable, picking at his flagrant disobedience of the law, which could ruin him and the Acadium if exposed. But why had I done it? Had it been to claim back some measure of control over him as he smirked, guessing at my secrets? I suspected he hadn’t been bluffing;. Kyros didn’t seem fond of subtleties, nor one to put on a false face. If he smiled the way he had, he knew something that I wished he didn’t. And at the moment, there was only one secret I most wanted to guard.

  Despite myself, a private elation sparked to life. If Kyros believed me a warden, then I couldn’t have imagined it. And that wasn’t the only proof. When he’d spoken of not needing a seal or message from him, I’d felt something strange passing through my mind. It must have been channeling; how else could my sensing it tip Kyros off? But if it was channeling, it was nothing like the magic I’d experienced thus far.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. I quickly moved to the next circle down and stepped aside just in time to see someone rise from the stairwell. I was surprised to find that I recognized her: the Acadian woman who had fought against Vusu and his Shepherds at Asileia’s trial. One of Kyros’ trained wardens. The very ones I’d implied I’d rat out if the Archmaster revealed my secret.

  The woman smiled as she recognized me. “First Verifier Airene. How good to see you.” Despite the speed with which she’d ascended, she didn’t pant or shine with perspiration. She wasn’t a great beauty, yet there was something undeniably attractive to her, a surety and natural grace in the way she moved that couldn’t be falsified.

  “Yes, I am she,” I said. “And you must be Isidora.”

  The Acadian made a face. “I’ll bet
you heard that from Kyros. He loves to irk me by using my full name. Please, call me Isi.”

  “Very well, Isi.”

  There was an awkward pause as I tried to think of a way to excuse myself. But my mind was too full to make smooth conversation. For the Acadian’s part, she seemed to sense something was off.

  “I think I understand,” she said after a moment. “He’s already told you.”

  I blinked. “Who has told me what?”

  It was Isi’s turn to be confused. “But why would you—? Ah. Of course. You were at the Despoina’s trial.”

  “Yes, I was.”

  The air grew yet more uncomfortable between us. Now we both knew I could ruin her with that secret. But who had she thought would have told me? Kyros? It didn’t seem likely, but I couldn’t imagine who else she’d be talking about.

  Isi smiled, and it was tinged with something I couldn’t understand. Sympathy?

  “I know it can be a shock, Airene, wardens using their channeling for more than tricks or tools. But what Kyros and I did, what our fallen brother did, was what our gifts were meant for. The initial wardens were called to defend and protect, as I’m sure you know. We were only doing our best by Oedija, just as you continue to do. And I would think that with—” She paused. “But if he has not discussed it with you, I shouldn’t intrude.”

  Amidst my confusion, I couldn’t find a response. At length, the Acadian nodded at me and continued her ascent up, seeming as self-possessed as before. She thought she had my measure, and that their secret was safe. That grated me more than anything.

  Stewing silently, I made my long way down the rest of the tower, feeling as if I only understood half of what I’d heard in this damned tower.

  5

  Tomes

  In the twelfth season, the world’s fortunes began to turn.

  The pyr changed first. Spirits of harvest and benevolent ancestors, who had always been helpers to humans, suddenly played mean-spirited tricks. Tools went missing. Crops spoiled. Calves sickened and died. As the holy men and women were called to placate them, the pyr ignored their pleas and continued their mischief.

  Then worse things began to occur. Trees that had born bountiful fruit the seasons before wilted with blight. The breath of frail babes faltered and ceased. Wine became vinegar in the people’s mouths. All that had been given began to be taken away twofold, and the name of Tyurn Sky-Sea became a curse on his people’s lips.

  The Lord of All stared down in horror and rage. ‘What have you done?’ he cried to the Seed.

  ‘What have I done?’ the Seed replied. ‘Was it not you who gave all this to your people? Then is it not you who is turning it to ash?’

  ‘What do I do?’ the Lord of All begged of the Seed.

  ‘Do not fear. I will help,’ the Seed soothed him. ‘All you must do is lend me your power, and I will put all aright.’

  Tyurn Sky-Sea had lost much in eleven seasons. He did not feel the Seed pressing his roots deeper inside him.

  ‘Set things right,’ he said to the Seed, and gave yet more of himself away.

  - The Seeds of Famine, a translation from the Lighted-tongue; by Oracle Kalene of deme Hull; 881 SLP

  As promised, Corin waited for me outside Kyros’ tower. I marveled at her patience. No doubt long hours of waiting for the next person needing a cart had developed it, but it came so naturally to Corin that it had to be in her blood.

  Despite my sour mood, I flashed her a small smile as I came down the tower stairs. “If you wouldn’t mind, there’s a couple more things I’d like to do here.”

  Her face as impassive as before, she nodded. “It’s not safe to return on your own. I’ll stay with you.”

  And I'll help you recover your sister, I promised her silently, hoping I could.

  Corin scanned the grounds. “Where to first?”

  I hesitated. I knew what I ought to do. My brother had lain here in the Acadium for four days without seeing a person he knew. To go to him would be the right thing to do. But I couldn’t force myself to say the words. A wall of guilt held them back. Guilt at having failed him. Guilt that I didn’t want to witness what I’d let him become.

  “The library,” I finally said. “I guess we'll have to ask directions.”

  The friendlier of the two Acadians, both of whom still lingered nearby, looked over with a smile. “I can help you with that…”

  The old man pointed us in the library’s direction, and Corin and I thanked him before making our way across the Acadium once more. The nonsensical winding paths between the eclectic buildings were almost beginning to grow familiar. Following the directions, we wove between buildings and around Acadians leisurely carrying on with their business. In contrast to the city outside, there almost seemed a lightness to the air. The Acadium was not yet starving. I wondered how things would change when they were.

  Nearing the library, the crowds started to thin out. It brought a small smile to my lips. Acadians were supposed to be studious by nature. But when the only thing they had in common was their attunement to the Pyrthae, it didn't surprise me to see so few interested in the art of reading. With ancient texts, reading became a tedious chore, and one I little looked forward to.

  I almost didn't believe when we'd arrived at the library. Had the Acadian not warned us it rose only a story high, I would have passed it by for one of the grander buildings on campus. Still, it had a certain stateliness to it, with two fountains set in long, rectangular mirror pools extending toward the entrance stairs, and squat, stolid columns that were more functional than beautiful. Though I thought it couldn't be more straightforward, etched along the pediment were letters announcing ‘library’ in the Lighted-tongue of our ancestors.

  We entered through the weathered front doors into a dark, tall-ceilinged foyer. The air had a chill to it and smelled of stale parchment and dust. The room was gently lit by a chandelier of pyr lamps and sconces mounted on walls. All around us, orderly lines of shelves ran to the surrounding walls, blocking from view what I assumed was yet more shelves. Every available space was filled with books.

  My earlier derision evaporated as I stared around me. Never before had I seen the promise of so much knowledge. It seemed unimaginable that so many books could have been written in the world, much less collected here in one place. My mouth hung open until I caught myself.

  Footsteps echoed through the airy room as a portly boy hurried toward us. “Hello!” he huffed as he stopped a few paces away. “May I help you?”

  For a moment, I forgot what I’d come for. “Uh, yes. I'm looking for books on old Eidolan legends. I was told Tomes might hold the ones I'd want.”

  “Tomes?” The boy, who I assumed was an apprentice of some kind, seemed surprised. “Hardly anyone but the Master Historian goes down there now. And I'm afraid you'll need permission from the Master Librarian.”

  “I believe I already have it.”

  The boy seemed even more confused. “Yes, if you say so, Mistress…?”

  “Airene.” I didn’t correct him on my title. Somehow, it seemed petty to correct it for a child.

  “Mistress Airene,” the boy repeated, then turned to Corin. “And if you could tell me your name?”

  Corin looked startled at being addressed. The woman was remarkably skilled at going uncommented for long periods of time, particularly for a woman her size. “Corin,” she muttered.

  “Mistress Airene and Mistress Corin — pleasure meeting both of you.” He bowed deeply. “I am Pupil Platon.”

  “Pleasure to meet you as well, Platon.” I bowed politely in return.

  Platon beamed. “If you'll please wait here, I'll just confirm with Master Hagne that everything is in order.” The apprentice grinned at us again before turning and jogging back the way he'd come.

  As he left, Corin muttered, “Mistress Corin…”

  I hid a smile.

  The boy returned a short time later. “She wasn't pleased,” he said cheerily, “but she said you were permi
tted, so long as you followed the rules.”

  “The rules?”

  “I'll tell you as we go, if you please. Now if you're ready, mistresses…”

  Walking now instead of running, Platon chattered as he led the way. I found his words washing over me as I marveled at the sights around us. As we approached the chandelier, the ground fell away before us, revealing floor upon floor faintly lit by pyr lamps below. My eyes widened as I counted five floors before the light became too faint to make out any further. If each level had as many books as this one did, the sheer amount of knowledge contained in these walls was astounding.

  It was also intimidating. What I needed to know about Famine was likely not common knowledge, if it existed at all. Not to mention I didn’t know what kind of text would be most helpful. Ancient histories, mythic stories, religious texts, perhaps even merchant ledgers might hold the secrets I needed. I was searching for a needle in a granary. My stomach sank at the prospect of the turns of work that lay before me, particularly when we had less than six spans before Avvad’s armies began sieging the city.

  My mood soured as we descended, my already sore legs protesting the many stairs. Platon apologized over and over, explaining hurriedly that ancient texts were kept as far from the elements as possible to aid in their preservation. I nodded distractedly as I debated whether I should bother going through with this or not. Perhaps all I needed was to track down Eltris. It could be that the augur held the answers to all the mysteries surrounding Famine.

  Though, when I thought further, I wondered if she did. For all she seemed to know, Eltris hadn’t been able to stop Vusu or Famine. She hadn’t been able to save Linos. The Master Augur knew much, but she wasn’t omniscient. And I couldn’t rely on an unreliable woman in times like these.

  We descended five floors before the pupil finally stopped before some shelves. “Here they are, mistresses!” Platon announced cheerily, spreading his arms before us. “The most ancient Eidolan legends from the quills of the finest historians and storytellers the Four Realms has known.”