I stepped forward, leaning in close to the books to squint at their titles. Many were so layered with dust they were impossible to make out. I reached out to clean the spine.
Platon danced forward, smiling nervously. “Ah, First Verifier, do be careful. Remember Master Hagne’s rules, that I just told you?”
I hadn’t listened to his rules at all, but I didn’t want the young Acadian pupil to know that. Smiling apologetically, I withdrew my hand and kept studying the spines, looking for promising titles in legible print. Most of the words were in Oedijan sea-tongue, but of such an old dialect they might as well have been in the Lighted-tongue. The education my mother and father had given me at home hadn’t touched on ancient languages, and the five years I’d attended a public scholarium were scarcely sufficient to read in the older forms of the sea-tongue. This wouldn’t be an easy search.
“May I help?” Platon asked after a time. He seemed eager for our task to be over, no doubt anxious we might break another of his mistress’ rules.
“Look for titles on the Lighted Passage. Or anything relating to Famine.”
The boy bobbed his head and hurried down the aisle. “Go slow, Platon,” he muttered to himself as he searched. “Pretend like you’re swimming to the book. Slow and even, handling them gentle as lambs.”
I tried to block out his words as I squinted at the swimming letters. In such dim light, the ancient script was all but impossible to read. At my prompting, Platon fetched a pyr lamp, but it only helped marginally, particularly as the pyr lamps were kept dim. Platon explained apologetically that the cultures were pruned to reduce risk of light damage to the books. Corin stood at the end of the aisle waiting for us. Unable to read even modern sea-tongue, a library was probably the last place she wanted to be. I tried to ignore the squirming in my stomach and kept searching.
By the end of two turns, Platon and I had gathered between us three books: The Legend of the Lighted Passage; Daemonic Tales: Encounters with Malevolent Pyr; and The Seeds of Famine. Of the three, the last sounded the most promising. Not only was it the oldest, but it was also a translation of a much older text, one the author claimed to be written in 18 SLP, not two decades after the Lighted Passage.
Though my eyes ached and my neck was stiff, I opened The Seeds of Famine onto one of the book stands near the end of the shelves which, as Platon explained, kept the book from opening flat and ruining the spine, and started to read.
From the Lower Realm of the world beyond ours, a Seed rose. It was a small thing, no larger than a pebble, and none noticed its passing as it lifted higher and higher, until it reached—
“Is it helpful?” Platon appeared at my shoulder and looked curiously at the yellowed pages before me. “Remember, keep it on the book stand and turn it slowly. Like handling—”
“—A lamb, I remember.” I tried shutting out the pupil and continued scanning the cramped script.
…Until it reached the Higher Realm where our gods, the Eidola, reign. Tyurn Sky-Sea, Ruler of All Realms, Lord of All, was strong—
“This is probably the oldest book I’ve ever handled,” the boy mused.
“You’re not handling it, I am. Now please, will you be quiet?”
Though his interruptions made my head ache worse than it already was, I immediately regretted the sharp words. Turning back, I winced at the hurt on the pupil’s face.
“I’m sorry, Platon,” I said softly. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just need to concentrate.”
The hurt immediately vanished. “It’s alright. You’re probably uncomfortable down here. I was pretty uncomfortable the first few times I came down here. It’s dark and musty, and you have to move so slowly…”
I sighed and leaned my head against my hands, kneading my eyes with my palms. I’d get no peace with the boy here. And somehow, being around him brought Linos to mind. “We’d better go. I’m assuming I can’t take these with me?”
The pupil looked scandalized. “Of course not! You’d ruin them! Meaning no offense, Mistress Airene, but any kind of exposure at their age would be bad for them. Particularly moisture. But I can reserve them for you here!”
I pushed away from the table. “Do that. Then we’ll get out of here. I’ve had enough of squinting at squirming lines in the dark for one day.”
Once Platon had secured my three finds in a cubby at the end of a shelf, we made out way back up to the ground floor. My legs, already sore from my long ascent up Kyros’ tower, protested with every step, but all I could do was grimace and carry on. There was no way I was complaining about getting tired in front of Corin, not to mention the boy, who practically skipped up the stairs with his boundless energy.
When we reached the main doors again, the boy turned. “I’ll see you soon? When you come back to read those books?”
“I imagine you will.”
Platon beamed. He had a way of smiling that made him seem much younger than the thirteen years I’d initially thought him. “I’ll see you then, Mistress Airene!”
“Just one thing before we go. Do you knowing where the healing ward is?”
After the pupil’s directions got us lost, Corin and I eventually received adequate instruction to find our destination. The healing ward — called the Ward, appropriately enough — was on the opposite side of the campus in a long building built of gray stone. It easily stretched five hundred cubits in either direction and rose three stories high. From the look of it, Ward could house hundreds of the ill, perhaps even a thousand, if not very comfortably.
Nervously, I led Corin through the front door. A clerk waited at a small desk before us, watching unsmiling as we stopped and looked around. From the hall beyond the desk, I heard the murmur of voices, punctuated by screams.
Wincing as another shriek pierced the air, I approached the clerk. “I’m looking for Linos of Port.”
“Are you? And what’s your interest in Linos of Port?” The clerk studied me with an arched brow.
“I’m his sister. Airene of Port.”
The clerk nodded and began to flip through a book splotched with ink, chewing absentmindedly on the end of her pen as she did. Finally, she jabbed a finger at a scribbled line. “Here he is. Ward three, bed sixty-four.”
Muttering the clerk’s directions to myself, I led Corin through hallway after hallway, every one of them lined with doors. I wondered if this building had been built with this intention, for it seemed to suit the needs of a healing ward perfectly. Most patients occupied their own rooms. All spoke of the healers of the Acadium and how crucial they were in times of plague. But for regular use, with access to the Acadium restricted, I wondered who was actually able to seek assistance. Perhaps only patricians and the other notables of Oedija could secure access.
It wasn’t clear from those I saw. Some of their robes were cleaner and of finer material, but the fineness of a garment’s weave didn’t matter much when a person was in the thrall of foul humors. I turned my gaze aside from angry red boils and chest-wracking coughs. Though healers were everywhere, it seemed unlikely that some of those around us would make it out alive.
We passed through another archway, then ’64’ was on a door ahead of us, engraved in an iron plaque. The door was shut. Nervously, I approached it and laid a hand on the iron. It was cool to the touch. I hesitated a moment longer, conscious of Corin watching and waiting behind me, then knocked softly on the door. When I didn’t hear a response, I slowly opened it.
Linos lay on a bed within, staring up at the ceiling with wide, unshifting eyes. He didn’t look over as we entered and shut the door quietly behind us. Barely two spans had passed since his last visit to Canopy, but as I looked down on him, I felt my little brother had grown older. The first growth of blonde stubble had appeared over his lip. Someone had washed his face and arms, which lay over the unadorned blankets covering him. He wore a rough brown robe different from the gray one I’d last seen him in. He looked thin, but not much more than since his transformation at Vusu’s hands.
As my chest grew tight, I searched for distractions. Opening the drapes to allow in more light, I tucked the blankets under him as I had when he’d been a child. Anxious to know he’d been treated well, I sent Corin for a healer. A healer’s assistant came instead with a long-suffering look, but upon hearing I was kin, he patiently recounted Linos’ care. There was not much to speak of. Kallias the Sculptor had visited twice, but neither session had shown progress. Beyond that, Linos had barely stirred, though he took care of his needs when prompted. “It’s as if he needs reminding how to live,” the assistant mused.
I dismissed him, unable to hide my sour expression.
Once he’d left, I spoke to Corin without looking at her. “Could you give us a moment?”
Without a word, she left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.
I turned back to Linos. His expression hadn't shifted. But for his chest steadily moving up and down, I might have thought him dead. I stepped closer and reached toward him. My hand shook as it settled on the exposed skin of his arm.
Pain split through my skull and brought me to my knees. I was barely aware I'd fallen. I felt myself flayed open, layer by layer of myself exposed like a body under a knife, each spike of pain precise and efficient.
Something was doing this cutting, something foreign and daemonic. Suddenly, I became aware of it, the thing that was pulling apart the deepest parts of myself and laying them bare.
Defiant rage filling me, I gathered the shreds of myself and pushed against the invading presence. At first, my resistance did nothing against the invader. Then, measure by measure, I began to force it out. I became aware of my body again and wrenched my hand away from my brother's skin. As soon as contact was broken, the looming presence fell away, leaving my head aching and my body shivering.
I clutched my arms tightly around myself and rose shakily to my feet. My head felt stuffed full of fleece, my thoughts sluggish as molasses. But I forced myself to see beyond the pain and look down on my brother.
He stared up at me, grinning.
A small, startled noise rose up in my throat before I could stop it. “Linos?”
“So you are another of his seeds.” It was my brother speaking. Yet somehow, I knew the words were not his. They came out harsh, biting. My brother had taken pride in his rich baritone since his voice had dropped a year before. He’d never spoken in this harsh tone before.
I forced myself to keep his gaze. “What do you mean?” I asked with forced calm.
A mocking grin twisted his face. “You know what I mean. Are you not a First Verifier now? Surely you can figure this out.”
I clenched my jaw and forced myself to face the truth. This was not Linos I spoke with, but the one who had taken his place. Vessel.
“What have you done to my brother?” My words shook with the emotions I forced down.
“I am your brother. Now, at least.” Linos’ eyes glimmered. “He has his claws in you now, Airene. He wishes to know you further.”
“Who do you speak of? Vusu? Famine?”
“You seek answers, to understand what has happened, what is happening. He can help you. You must go to him. No one else can tell you all you need to know.”
I wanted to shake my brother, to drive out whatever daemon possessed him. I wanted to unhear his words that wormed their way into my head. But, once again, I could do nothing.
“I'm going now, Linos,” I said in as steady a voice as I could. “I'll come see you later, when you're feeling better.”
Finally, those bright blue eyes closed, and his head fell back against the pillow. For a moment, I dared to hope he was returning to his rest, unmarred by daemons.
Then slow laughter rasped from his throat, wave after wave spasming his body.
Clenching my fists so tightly my nails drew blood, I fumbled for the door's latch and fled the room.
6
Quintessence
The Seed, engorged with the power of Tyurn Sky-Sea, swept over the land. But where it went, things only became worse. Crops ready for reaping fell as dust in their fields. Lakes and rivers dried up to their sources. The ill lost the will to live, and plague once more claimed the lands.
Clepsammia appeared before her father and saw what he had become. Tyurn Sky-Sea, once as large as a mountain and as strong as a giant, had shrunk to a starved, sickly man. He could not lift his head to greet his daughter, nor even recognize her as she neared.
The Goddess of Fate clasped her father’s hands, kneeling by his bed. But her voice was iron, forged hard in grief’s fires, as she spoke. ‘Father! You must rise from your bed! Come see what your pride has brought to those you swore to protect! Did I not warn you that this would come to pass? This Seed that grows is not of harvest, but famine. You have brought an end to all realms, oh Lord of All!’
Tyurn Sky-Sea roused at her words. But even as his anger and pride stirred, he looked over Telae and found his daughter had spoken true. All that his dreams of plenty had brought only ruin.
‘What can I do, Daughter?’ he asked, all hope dead in his breast. ‘I have doomed us all!’
But Clepsammia, Maiden of the Sands, wore a sad, knowing smile, for all knowledge of what was and is to come was hers. ‘Not yet, Father. For there is yet one thing you can still do…’
- The Seeds of Famine, a translation from the Lighted-tongue; by Oracle Kalene of deme Hull; 881 SLP
We walked the Acadium campus in silence as my mind buzzed. Now more than ever, I needed answers. Linos’ words — or Vessel's, I thought bitterly — had made my questions burn brighter. What did they mean? And could the figure he referred to be anyone other than Vusu or Famine?
And then there was what had happened when I'd touched him. I gingerly touched my temple as we exited the Acadium gates. The pain had dulled to an ache, but my mind still felt raw and vandalized. Who or what that had been, I still didn't know. It bore an echo of the ravenous hunger I'd felt radiating from Famine when I'd stood before him in the Pyrthae, but it hadn't possessed the same depth or vastness. And I’d contended with its will and broken free. Whatever that daemon was, it wasn’t Famine himself. A dark part of me wondered if it was Linos himself who had attacked me. But I had another theory. And until I consulted Talan about it, I’d cling to it, and believe my brother still held on.
Corin stopped in the street just out of earshot of the Acadium guards. “Be wary,” she cautioned in a low voice. “We are still in danger.”
“I know that,” I said, rousing from my thoughts. “I’d be hardpressed to forget our mugging.”
She gave me an expressionless look, then turned and left down a side road.
I bit back my words and followed. She didn’t deserve my irony, not after she’d waited patiently with me all day. Even if much of it was done from guilt, it didn’t change that she’d been a steady friend to me when Nomusa, Xaron, and Talan couldn’t be.
“Look, Corin—” I began.
“You’ve had a long day,” she interrupted without turning around. “We’ve not eaten since morning. And you were recently ill. I’m not offended.”
I hesitated, more convinced she was than before. “Still, I’m sorry. I appreciate you being here today.”
She didn’t turn, but nodded once. I’d have to be content with that.
“We should pass through the Laurel Palace,” she said after traveling a while along the road. “It’s a shorter path out in the open.”
“As long as my medallion still opens the way, I’ll take any shortcuts.”
The laurel guards let us through the gates at a flash of my medallion. Three-quarters of a turn after, we finished crossing the bridge and stood before the Aviary.
“I suppose we need to get a room outfitted for you,” I mused as we approached the building. I went a few steps further before I noticed Corin had stopped. I turned back, trepidation rising in me. “Corin?”
“I’m leaving.” Her gaze traveled over my head.
I sighed. “I wasn’t lying wh
en I said I’d try to find your sister.”
“I know.”
We were both still for a moment. “Where will you go?” I asked softly. “What will you do?”
The big woman shook her head. “I’ll find her.”
Corin had come on her own to Oedija, so I knew she didn’t have any relations here, and no other friends that I knew of. She had no place to go. Even with her iron will, she needed a place to sleep. And no matter what had happened between us, she was my friend.
“Seek out Maesos,” I said. “He’ll give you a place to stay as long as you need one. Though he may have you cart his wares around a bit.”
She considered this for a long moment before nodding. “It’s a good plan. Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
By impulse, I stepped forward and pulled Corin into a tight hug. “You’ll find her,” I muttered into her rough tunic. “Just take care of yourself until you do.”
The former cartwoman hesitated, then loosely put an arm around me until I stepped away. Without another word, she nodded, then turned in the direction of the Conclave gate. I watched her go. Not a coin to her name, but she boldly moved forward. If only I could be so decisive in my actions. I hesitated even to visit my sick brother. Shaking my head, I turned and entered back into the Aviary.
But I’d only just stepped into my room when restlessness seized me. Now that I had a moment to myself, I wondered what I was doing, returning to the Aviary before the day was done. There was still a turn or two of light left. Yet here I was, back in my room. Was I so afraid of wandering the streets now? Did I think I would be mugged again, or worse? Or had it been my encounters with Linos, Isidora, and Kyros that drove me to take shelter?
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