Nomusa shrugged. “Intimidation. Perhaps Asileia wishes to show her suitor that while Oedija suffers, it isn’t weak.”
“Only a fool would fall for that.” I left the last part of my thought unspoken: that I hoped the Yorandu Heir was a fool, for all of our sakes.
As we arrived at the feast hall, we found it was transformed since our last visit. Pyr lamps, glowing the gold and green of the Wreaths, floated around the room, powerful magnets holding them aloft. Banners had been unfurled along the walls, depicting scenes of conquest against fearsome beasts as well as stories of the Eidola and the Lighted Passage. An array of food as vast as I’d ever seen spread before us in a spectacle of color, texture, and shape. My mouth began watering as I saw chocolate, a rare delicacy, adorning a number of desserts that I had no names for. Drinks, too, were more plentiful than I’d ever seen, with honors serving them to guests from platters.
But though the feast invited me to indulge, a sharp guilt needled me. Many starved on the streets of Oedija. Perhaps a show of plenty was one of the necessary frivolities of ceremony, but it did little to ease my conscience.
Forgoing the food for the moment, I turned my attention to the dais that had been raised at the far end of the room, a wooden scaffold painted gold rising half a man’s height and creaking with the people walking across it. Upon the platform, Despoina Asileia Wreath sat in a throne made of wicker wood, the ends fanning out several cubits above her, fashioned like a peacock’s feathers. The Despoina had not turned herself gold or bared her breasts as she had for her Ascension, but wore a sober violet chiton, even if the fold across the front did open coquettishly, hinting at what lay beneath. Her face had been painted to exaggerate her features, serving only to emphasize the bored expression with which she stared over the proceedings.
Next to the Despoina stood one of the few female laurel guards I’d seen. First Laurel Synne, Nomusa had told me earlier. Her face was all hard planes as she stared at the people around her, daring any to approach. A hard woman indeed to fill Lykos’ boots.
My gaze caught on the four manacled men surrounding her, and fear and loathing struck through me. The Shepherds’ faces were hidden within aqua hoods, but I knew they stared out with dead eyes. Loyalty to Oedija they might claim, but that didn’t make them my allies. Especially not with the secret I kept hidden. I didn’t know if they could detect attunement just by a looking at a person, and I didn’t want to find out. I spotted their Tribune handler lurking around the edges of the dais. He scowled as he stared around him, his head of thinning hair shining with perspiration, his maroon robes billowing loose about his shoulders. A nervous sort, I suspected. Best not to run into him either.
I averted my eyes and sought friendlier faces. Xaron was easiest to spot, and not only because of his Hilarion clothes. As I watched, he spouted a fountain of flames into the air from his mouth, to the amazement of the onlookers. I shook my head. The breadth of his tricks astonished me, particularly now that I was a warden myself. He was clearly reveling in having an audience to perform them in front of.
Jaxas was almost as easy to spot, if only because of the company he kept. He was absorbed in conversation with a pair of Bali dressed in as strange a fashion as I’d ever seen. The older man wore a robe patterned of a variety of bright colors, and a stole made of a leopard’s hide draped around his neck. His peppered hair was braided tightly against his head.
The boy was more extravagantly dressed. Though he was slightly shorter than myself, his feather crown rose high above my head, the yellow and blue quills plucked from a bird I didn’t know. Across his chest hung a broad collar of bronze, etched in fine detail with a hundred images, and from the collar hung ribbons of woven silk of as many colors as his older escort’s robes. His stomach was bare, revealing a young man’s lithe figure, and his arms were bare as well, but for the many bracers jangling about his forearms and wrists. He wore a skirt of bronze plates, and the sandals on his feet were painted gold.
The Yorandu Heir, Komo. I had known Komo was young, but I hadn’t expected him to look no more than fourteen years old. I doubted he even grew hair over his lip. The older man would be an advisor — I doubted a warrior would wear those robes.
I felt Nomusa stiffen by me, no doubt glimpsing the Yorandu as well. “I’m going to mingle,” she muttered. “Keep an ear out for anything of interest.” She headed in the opposite direction of the delegation.
I sighed and examined them again only to find Jaxas had spotted me. Our eyes met for a moment before he turned away to respond to something Komo had said. I turned away as well. If he wanted something from me, he could find me.
Dozens of patricians, Servants, and other notables of Oedija had grouped together. Most conversed in hushed tones, though from one or two erupted boisterous laughter. Yet in these times, most conversations would be of trade and commerce, of soldiers and strongholds. Between the knots of important and rich folk, honors flitted back and forth. I spotted Nikias in one corner scowling over it all. No doubt even this flawless affair wasn’t up to the steward’s standards.
As I scanned the room, I struggled to decide on a quarry oblivious enough to allow a Finch to eavesdrop. The wine in my hand called to me. Though it smelled too sweet, I wanted to lose myself in it and leave behind my worries for a time. But I only sipped. The threat of a Manifest attack weighed heavily on my mind. I found myself glancing often at the windows and doors.
“A frown at a celebration sticks out like a finch among terns.”
I startled and turned to the speaker, who had approached from behind. My mood soured further still at the sight of the richly dressed honor. “Kako.”
The man wore a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. In flattery of the Wreaths, he wore boldly green robes with a golden stole draped around his neck. Silver chains adorned his neck as well as his wrists, perhaps in mockery of his caste, though he still sported the tin spiral earrings and shaved head of his fellow honors.
“If you can’t enjoy yourself at a party of such great expense,” he said, “I don’t know what would please you, First Verifier.”
“Perhaps I’m displeased because of the great expense.”
“Ah, you think it wasteful. But is it not more wasteful to attend and not enjoy it?”
I was in no mood to mince words with the silver-tongued fool. “What does your mistress want?”
“Why would you assume she wants anything? No, Airene. The Low Consul has all she desires of you for the moment.”
Even knowing it was what he wanted, I couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean?”
The honor’s eyes glimmered with the light of a nearby pyr lamp. “But that is half the fun, isn’t it? My knowing, your wondering.”
I shrugged, playing nonchalant. “You’ve said nothing to wonder about.”
“No, perhaps I haven’t.” A smile lingered about the corners of his lips. “Perhaps it isn’t me you should ask after, but your closest allies. Perhaps you don’t keep them as close as you think.”
Chills prickled up my spine, but I forced a smile. “If you mean your arrangement with Nomusa, I know all about it.”
Despite my hopes, Kako’s smile didn’t slip. “Oh, I thought you might. But you have more friends than her.”
With that last barb, the honor turned and melded back into the crowd.
Kako had a gift for mischief. Despite myself, his words stuck in my mind like a thorn. The honor was many things, but he rarely lied without a grain of truth. But who else could he mean but Nomusa?
Hoping to distract myself, I ghosted near a group who seemed intent enough in their discussion not to notice me. But as soon as I drifted within earshot, one of them cast me a scowl and gestured to the others. I moved on as if I hadn’t noticed. But as I approached my second group of targets, I was noticed again and rebuffed, forced to drift further on.
It wasn’t long before I realized what I needed. And I knew just the person to help me get it.
I found Xaron in one corner
of the room entertaining four young women, likely patrician daughters. I stood just behind them and crossed my arms, unable to decide if I was amused or annoyed at how avidly he sought to charm them.
“But what is this?” he declared as he reached toward the ear of one of the girls. She giggled and moved out of the way, then gasped as his hand blossomed in a vision of shifting colored light. It seemed a streaked painting, and I thought I detected images in it — a butterfly settling on a flower, the sun shining golden through waving grass…
One of the girls gasped, and I blinked. The vision had felt like a nudge on my mind, like when Kyros had sent the message to the librarian from his tower. I looked at my friend with fresh eyes. Xaron had just channeled quintessence, I was sure of it. And I was equally sure he had no idea.
His gaze slid over to me, and he closed his fist, dissipating the scene. “Alas, but I require a respite from my service,” he said with a deep bow. “If you fine ladies would excuse me…”
“You’re not dismissed yet!” one of the girls objected. “You have to entertain us when we ask. Show us more!”
I moved around the patricians and looped my arm though Xaron’s. “Hilarion is going to entertain me now,” I said firmly, meeting the eye of the spoiled girl. “If you’ll excuse us.”
As I led Xaron away, I heard the girl whisper loudly, “I know what kind of entertainment she’s after,” and she and her companions burst into giggles. I ignored them as well as Xaron, for he grinned as I led him to as private an alcove as could be found in the bustling feast hall.
“Growing jealous?” he teased me as he stole my cup of wine and drained it.
“Very.” I waved over an honor and received two goblets more. “Xaron, I need your help.”
“Oh? Not the kind that girl was insinuating, surely?”
I gave him a flat stare, but he just grinned at me. “Teasing, Aire. What did you need?”
“Cover. We need to pretend to have a conversation while I listen in on people around the room. No one will let me get close enough.”
“You are wearing a rather intimidating scowl,” he pointed out. “But I’m sure it doesn’t help that you’re one of the leaders of an organization who used to put people like them in the stockyards.”
“Right. So can you help me?”
“Help you?” He wore a mischievous look. “I can do you one better. Put down your wine.”
Confused, I obliged, setting my glass down next to his. I grew even more perplexed as Xaron raised his hands to my temples.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you hear.” He closed his eyes, his face clearing of emotion. “You may want to brace yourself.”
The room shifted around me, then a wave of sound crashed over me. I reeled under the weight of it. The score of conversations had crescendoed until they filled my head, too loud and overwhelming to distinguish from one another. I would have cried out were I not afraid my own yell would provoke further pain.
As abruptly as it had come, the deluge subsided. “Airene?” I heard Xaron’s voice so clearly it seemed almost as if he spoke in my head. “Did I hurt you?”
“What did you just do?” My voice reverberated in my head, and I winced. While not quite painful, it wasn’t a pleasant sensation.
“Amplified the sound around you. I told you once sound is merely vibrations. Just as any Hilarion amplifies the vibrations in speakers’ throats, I can amplify the sounds you hear. But are you sure you’re not hurt? You’re scrunching your face like you’ve eaten a lemon, seeds and rind all.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. With the discomfort of speaking, I wanted to avoid explanations as much as I could. But I couldn’t help asking, “You’re using kinesis then?”
“Yes. A variation of it.”
It clicked. Before, when Xaron had been channeling the light scene for the girls, I’d thought I felt quintessence pressing on my mind. As the pain subsided, I again felt that same touch, surrounding me like a bubble. Xaron channeled quintessence, though he didn’t know it. He always had. As Eltris had said, quintessence was the hammer that forged channeled energy. All channeling required quintessence. Though some, like this trick, seemed to require more than simpler uses.
I tucked away my questions. Only one person might answer them for me, and I’d have to wait until tomorrow to ask her. “We may as well make use of this. Can you pick out a conversation for me?”
“Yes. Who would you like to hear?”
Only then did I realize I’d squeezed my eyes shut. Opening them, my vision swam as I scanned the room. I picked out the first interesting pairing I found. “Focus on the Despoina and the Bali man she’s speaking with.”
The sound whirled around me, and my eyes closed as the deluge filled my mind. Then, as the voices settled to a manageable level, two came to me clearer than the rest.
“I have heard you are the, what do you call it? The mouthpiece of a god.” The man had a rich baritone with a timbre that made me suspect he was fully aware of it.
“A goddess,” Asileia responded shortly. Her voice sounded reedy and thin compared to his. “I am the Hand of Clepsammia.”
“Ah, my apologies, my lady. And Clepsammia — she is a powerful goddess, no?”
“She claims all the sands of time.”
“Powerful indeed.” I heard the rustle of the man’s clothes as he moved, the sound of cloth scraping together and ornaments of some kind clinking. “A perfect matching for a powerful woman.”
Suddenly, I realized with horror what this conversation was: the Bali was courting our Despoina. Yet I knew by the manly voice it couldn’t be the Yorandu Heir.
In my surprise, I missed Asileia’s response, and the man was saying with irritation, “If the Despoina does not wish me near, I am sure she would tell you.”
“Leave him,” Asileia snapped. “I would hear his words.”
The sound of sandals on wood faded away. Someone had come to intervene, I gathered, perhaps a guard or an advisor, or even Jaxas.
“Is it not wearying, all these people fretting over you, when you have no need to be cared for? Not a woman such as you.”
“Yes. It is wearying.”
“Why don’t you send them away? Or perhaps we could go somewhere they will not bother youx. Somewhere more… private.”
A long silence between them told me of Asileia deliberating over his words. “I will meet this prince of yours first,” Asileia said decidedly. “But you and I will speak again. I would hear more of what you see when you gaze upon me.”
“Yes, divine queen of mine eye.”
I reached out and touched Xaron, and he obliged by pulling me away from the conversation. “Well?” he whispered.
My head was starting to ache, but I didn’t tell him to stop. The evening was only just getting started. “I’ll tell you later. Do you see any Low Consuls? Or Kako — I can’t get something he said earlier out of my head.” The briefest doubt that Feiyan’s henchman may have been alluding to Xaron flashed through my mind, but I dismissed it as quickly as it came. Questioning my trust in Xaron wasn’t an option.
“No. But there is — Burning hells!”
My senses seared as Xaron’s hand lifted from my temples. As the world righted under my feet, I put out a hand to the wall, gasping slightly. Queasiness assaulted me, and for a moment, it was hard to open my eyes.
“Aire.” Xaron sounded as if he spoke through clenched teeth.
I opened my eyes. Coming toward us were two Shepherds, the crowd flinching before them, their dead eyes never straying from us.
“Why approach now?” Xaron muttered. “I’ve been channeling all evening. I have a right to.”
Sharp fingers needled through my gut, but it wasn’t for Xaron that I feared. Remembering Eltris’ unnaturally keen hearing, and understanding it now for what it was, I didn’t dare respond. Shepherds might easily possess the same.
The two manacled wardens stood before us, balefully looking out from under their hoods. For
the moment, they stared at Xaron. “You have channeled, though you are forbidden,” one told him.
“I’m Hilarion!” Xaron responded angrily. “I have every right to channel!”
“Only for the entertainment of others.”
Though I quailed inside, I spoke up. “He was entertaining me. Surely that’s not outside his bounds.”
Icy water seemed to pour over me as both Shepherds turned their gazes on me. “This Hilarion was entertaining you,” the Shepherd repeated.
His expression didn’t shift. I had no idea if he believed me or not. “Yes,” I said firmly. “He was.”
“Don’t worry about him!” a reedy voice snapped from behind them. Stepping between the Shepherds was the Tribune I’d seen before. “The boy has the right, as he said. Go back to doing your jobs!”
The Shepherds moved without hesitation back to their posts. The Tribune looked between Xaron and me. “Entertaining her, were you?” he said with a leer.
“Yes,” Xaron responded stiffly.
Unperturbed, the Tribune peered at me. “And who are you?” he barked. His eyes wandered down to my medallion. “Ah. One of the new Finches. Friends with Hilarion, are you?”
“I believe I’m the one who gets to ask questions,” I said calmly. “You’re the new handler of the Shepherds?”
The Tribune sneered. “And I thought you lot were supposed to be sharp. Why else would they obey me?”
“Pray you fare better than the last one. As I recall, I shot him through with a crossbow.”
The man only grinned wider. “We’ll have to see if you get lucky twice.” Without another word, he turned and stalked back through the crowd.
I found Xaron staring at me. “What?”
“You were a bit… short. With Tribune Timon.”
“You heard the way he talked to us. I can’t stand men like him.” But the truth suddenly became apparent to me. “I suppose he scares me,” I admitted in a whisper. “Because of… you know.”
Xaron smiled sympathetically. “Of course I know. But drawing his ire won’t do you any favors.”
Realm of Ashes Page 17
