Jaxas gestured to Kelena, who still stood next to Nomusa. “Kelena has eyes and ears among the Seekers, and has learned of the traitor’s location. She has also heard continual reports that he remains in a room at the heart of the Wyvern’s Claw, the wooden amphitheater off the shores of Lake Thys. By all accounts, he remains ill from the bolt Airene shot through him.”
My face flushed as all eyes turned toward me. I struggled to remain properly dignified, though Xaron’s grin didn’t help.
“Isidora, Xaron, and the other Watchers will enter by stealth into the Claw,” Jaxas continued. “Following Kelena’s instructions, you will navigate your way to where Vusu lays ill then execute him in the name of Oedija’s justice. When you are finished, you are to go to the lake’s shore, where Kelena has planned an escape.”
Some of the Watchers visibly shivered. Even having shot Vusu once, my skin broke out into chicken flesh. Execute him. The order sounded cold, military. The command of a leader.
Xaron spoke up. “What is this escape? Always best to know your escape when you house-break.”
The Archon nodded at Kelena, and she cleared her throat. “There are boats on Lake Thys that none will expect to aid us,” she said, a slight shake in her voice. “The honors on these boats will direct them to the shore at the appointed signal: the waving of a torch at the landing point.”
“What kind of boats?” Xaron pressed. “Fishing vessels?”
Kelena hesitated. “Lotus Ships.”
Xaron’s eyes widened, then he let out a laugh. “This isn’t the way I expected to spend my first night on a Lotus Ship!”
Isidora cast him a bemused look, then asked, “Why would these honors risk their lives for us?”
“Because they are whores.” Kelena seemed to have gained back her bite. “And no one is more despised and mistreated than an honor-whore.”
I cringed, imagining how true that must be.
“In exchange,” Jaxas said, unperturbed by Kelena’s vehemence, “I have promised them freedom from their class and profession, with both financial support and the opportunity to learn another trade.”
I turned my gaze to the Archon, eyes narrowed. Considering how significantly the Council had clipped his power, he had no way of making good on such promises. Perhaps it was necessary, but the lie didn’t sit easily.
Yet Jaxas gave no sign of guilt as he turned to the last of the gathered. “First Laurel Synne, Heir Komo, and his guards have agreed to accompany you on a separate mission. There’s a warehouse in Brinecoast where Vusumuzi keeps an important hostage, someone you might believe to be dead — Despot Myron Wreath.”
The First Laurel’s stiff expression broke as her brow creased. Yet she only gave a nod in acknowledgement then turned to Komo. “I have developed a strategy for entering the warehouse, Heir Komo. We may discuss this before we embark.”
The Bali prince nodded, his face drawn. “That would be good.” His words were only undermined slightly by a boyish crack in his voice.
Jaxas bowed deeply to each gathered group. By their astonished expressions, I knew all comprehended what it meant. It was a singular honor for any Wreath to bow to anyone, much less foreign soldiers, outlaw wardens, and common plebeians.
“Thank you all for your unbelievable faith and courage,” he said as he straightened. “These are dangerous tasks I ask of you. Many of you are not trained for battle. Yet to a one, you have borne the burdens I’ve laid at your feet. Whatever the results tonight, each one of you will be remembered as heroes, your deeds forever remembered.”
“You save Oedija,” I suddenly interjected. As all eyes turned to me, I fought down a flush and continued softer, “You save her when she most needs it.”
Nomusa arched an amused eyebrow, while Xaron smiled openly. I let out a breath and smiled back. Whatever embarrassment I might have cost myself, it was worth it see a little levity from my friends.
Jaxas glanced at the dark sky. “The sands are running low. Go while we still have time.”
At his words, they dispersed. I hugged Xaron one last time before he and the other Watchers swept after the Yorandu soldiers and laurel guards. Nomusa came to stand by me as we watched them disappear into the gloom. Soon, only Jaxas, Tribune Timon, and the four Shepherds were left, their manacles clinking softly as they shifted. I glanced at them mistrustfully, but looked away as Jaxas bent toward the Tribune to speak.
“He didn’t name their task,” I muttered to Nomusa.
“I wondered at that as well.”
We watched in silence until their conversation finished. Timon, noticing our gazes, grinned wickedly at us before turning down the cobblestone path, the four Shepherds following silently. I suddenly wondered how he managed to control them. It made sense that Vusu had been able to. But Timon? He seemed little more than a small, spiteful man.
“They have perhaps the most important task tonight,” Jaxas said as he walked up next to us.
Before I could ask what he meant, he continued. “Come. Airene, we will drop you off at the Laurel Palace on our way to the Conclave.”
My jaw nearly dropped. “What? I should come with you.”
“No,” he said firmly. “You’re still unwell. The safest place for you is in my solar tonight. Rest there and trust that we’ll do our parts.”
I felt the truth of his words. My limbs shook with the simple act of standing, and my pain worsened with every passing moment. Yet I couldn’t let it go at that. “There must be something I can do. I wouldn’t rest tonight even if I were stepping over the threshold of death’s door.”
The hard lines in the Archon’s face softened. “I’m sorry, Airene. It is what’s best for you.”
Nomusa’s expression spasmed, clearly torn, yet she remained silent. I couldn’t find a good excuse to delay them any longer. At a motion from Jaxas, Nomusa and I piled into the carriage and soon rumbled down the garden path.
Someone had lit the hearth in Jaxas’ solar, and the room had filled with a suffusing warmth. Yet I couldn’t find comfort in it as I let the door swing shut behind me with a heavy thud. My heart hammered painfully in my chest, and each labored breath sent waves of pain throughout my body. The guilt was still worse. I staggered over to a chair by the fire and slumped into it, closing my eyes and resting my head back.
Everyone had a role in this night, the night we would tear down the Manifest. Except for me. It showed of how little consequence I was. What had I done this past span but muddle through old books and speak with batty spinsters? I’d thrown away the Order and a lifelong dream. I’d not discovered how to defeat Famine, not for sure, and learned little enough besides. I could barely channel to save my life, as I’d discovered. Now it was clear why I had no role. There was none I could perform without bungling it.
Wallowing in self-misery and pain, I considered calling for a poppy tincture. If I could do nothing but rest, let me rest like the dead, I thought. But something held me back. I’d told Jaxas I couldn’t rest while the others risked their lives. I’d stand by that, no matter how futile the gesture.
Yet as time dragged on and the warmth from the fire seeped into my bones, I found my eyelids drifting closed. Visions of the horrible things befalling my friends couldn’t stay the exhaustion. Even as I despised myself, even as I sat upright to try and stay awake, gasping at the pain from my ribs, I could barely keep my eyes open.
Then something boomed like thunder outside, and my eyes flew wide open. A moment later, the windows and doors rattled, and vibrations pulsed through the stone under my feet. Fear and vigor flooded me, compelling me to stand and hurry to the balcony doors.
It took but a moment to find the source of the eruption. Over the wall, across the dark lake in the deme beyond, a conflagration greater than any I’d seen blazed and spread. I stared as the flames and smoke billowed up. We had no volcanoes in Oedija — it was all that I could think in the daze.
The truth hit me a moment afterward.
My knees buckled as I saw it was true
. The wooden amphitheater, the one I’d once feared would catch flame, finally had.
The Wyvern’s Claw burned.
Interlude
Talan
A knife in the back. A hand clasped over the gasping mouth. Warm life spilling over his skin.
Talan held his breath as the man jerked in his arms. So long as he didn’t breathe, he could keep calm. So long as he didn’t smell the bitter, coppery stench, his stomach wouldn’t purge itself clean.
His lips twisted into a bitter smile as the man grew still and heavy in his arms. If only he could believe his own lies.
He released the limp man to the ground. As he sucked in a breath, the stink of blood filled his nostrils. The perfume of a killer, he thought, and coughed as bile hit the back of his throat.
He didn’t startle as someone came up next to him in the darkness, moving on silent feet, but acknowledged his companion with a nod.
“You’ve changed,” Sule noted as she glanced at the body on the ground. “You’re more like how Sule remembers you.”
He tried to ignore her words and looked down the tunnel. He didn’t see any silhouettes against the dim pyr lamp at the far end, but that didn’t mean much. The Underguild’s network of tunnels, caves, and forgotten caverns was riddled with holes in which an enterprising street urchin or malevolent dwarf could listen.
“The quieter we are, the less chance of discovery,” he reminded his companion softly, then motioned for her to follow. He pretended not to notice the small smile the Qarin-possessed woman wore as he turned from her and set off down the tunnel.
His footsteps were nearly silent, a steady flow of kinesis cushioning his footfalls. Behind him, Sule did the same; he could only hear her following by the soft rustle of her clothes. All else was silence but for a slow drip of water somewhere ahead.
He heard them before he saw them, a sudden patter of feet approaching from either end. Talan whirled and channeled, sending seven sharp darts of kinesis hurtling down the hall. From the cries, a few found their marks. On his other side, he heard the soft ring of metal as Sule drew her sword from its cloth-wrapped scabbard and charged at the men approaching from behind. The cries echoing down the tunnel told of her blade finding its mark.
Talan charged toward the three figures limned with lamplight ahead of him and threw forward radiance. Yellow flames surged from his fingertips and leaped up to embrace his attackers. Their screams crescendoed to join those of the men Sule cut down, then abruptly stopped as Talan sent another round of kinetic darts into them. The three figures collapsed, silent but for the crackle of their burning flesh.
Sule sauntered up behind him, no longer bothering to cushion her steps. “They know we’re here.”
Talan flexed his hands, fingers numb from the quick channeling. “We’d best hurry then.”
But he hesitated. He could taste the foul aroma of blood and burned meat. The smoke made his head light and dizzy. He tried not to think of how it must feel to burn, or for pure force to rip through your gut.
Find your center, he reminded himself. The words of his long-ago mentor came to mind after: If all the world is whirling, what can you do but turn with it?
He took in a shallow breath, then leaped over the flaming corpses with a kinetic push. He didn’t look back as he set into a jog.
The necessity for silence gone, they moved more quickly. They were close now. He knew these catacombs as well as any part of the city. He’d held an audience with the Guildmasters on dozens of occasions and could have followed the winding paths with his eyes closed, had he ever trusted his fellow Guilders enough to attempt it. It would all be settled soon. He couldn’t keep a bitter smile from his lips.
No one waited before the great doors to the final chamber. The doors stood wide open. Talan halted and raised a hand, and Sule heeded his warning. A line of torches implied a path toward the open doors. He scanned the rest of the greeting chamber, squinting into the shadows that gathered around the edges, but saw no one. Unless Guilders hung like bats from the black ceiling above, this room was empty.
He turned halfway back to his companion and studied her from the corner of his eye. The Qarin had given him its word that it would cooperate and help him undermine the Underguild. But Talan could only rely upon it hating Avvad. Beyond that, he wasn’t sure what the jinni possessing his childhood flame desired, much less if it aligned with his own goals and well-being.
“Perhaps they wait in ambush beyond,” he whispered to Sule. “Will you continue?”
He could almost see the spirit gazing out from the woman’s eyes. “I gave you my word, and it is binding. Let’s meet this ambush together, Talan Wraithsbane.”
Talan closed his eyes. Despite all he’d seen and done, the fear had never gone away. He didn’t want to die. Least of all to scum like Kalindi; least of all now. But he’d made a promise to Airene, and he meant to stick to it. He’d keep her safe.
Yet he couldn’t help but wonder at himself. When had he become so resolved to protect her? In some ways, he barely knew her. They’d spoken little of their childhoods, of their fears and hopes and dreams. Most often, it had been business that brought them together. But there was a spark in her that he’d seen in no one else. It was a gamble to throw away his life to save hers, a gamble that the spark was real. A gamble that they would have the chance to fan it to flame.
But he’d always been too much of a gambler for his own good.
“Let’s,” he said softly. Then, standing, he walked into plain view and crossed the chamber to the door. Sule’s footsteps echoed softly behind him.
As he entered the grand chamber at the heart of the Underguild, he saw the five thrones of the Guildmasters were filled. The putrid smell of decay told him who occupied them. His smile curled into a snarl as he witnessed what had become of his former leaders.
In the center slouched Hax, the man who had brought about an unprecedented period of order and civility to crime in Oedija. He’d survived dozens of attempts on his life. He hadn’t survived Kalindi.
On the left sat what remained of the woman responsible for Talan’s induction into the Underguild. Peralda had been one of the most fascinating women he’d met, able to manipulate the worst of humanity into doing her bidding. Even Talan, it turned out. He suspected she’d wanted him to take her place as Guildmaster after her. He’d never know now, nor if he would’ve accepted the dubious honor.
The figure in the rightmost seat shifted in the shadows. Sheltered from the lamplight, he couldn’t make out the man’s features. But Talan remembered who had always sat in that seat.
“Kalindi.”
“Undermaster Kalindi,” the hidden man corrected him softly. As he leaned forward, his face came slowly into the light. A sweep of black hair fell over a face that might have been handsome, had Talan not known what lay beneath.
“I wondered when you’d try for me, Wraithsbane. Everyone said you were unpredictable. But I knew you’d come slithering to me.” His lips curled into a sneer. “All I had to do was threaten your little Finch to ensure it.”
His heart hammered in his throat. “Predictable or unpredictable,” he said with forced calm. “Either way, this ends the same.”
“Does it? And how is that, Wraithsbane?”
Talan ignored him. The conversation was a ruse, meant to do nothing more than buy time as he observed the corners of the room for assailants lying in wait. Unless they hung from the ceiling high above, he saw none. Kalindi’s arrogance had no limits. The fool still didn’t know what Talan was capable of. But he couldn’t rely on the man’s stupidity for his own safety.
Opening his locus wider, he spread his awareness around him. It strained his mind to do so for long, but for a moment, he glimpsed every living thing around him, including the two dozen men creeping toward them from the former chamber. Guilders had been lying in wait after all.
But they weren’t what made his blood run cold. Something else lurked beyond them.
A familiar desire su
ddenly suffused him. Come, four voices whispered in his mind. Come. Become one with us.
He sealed his locus, cutting off the connection with a gasp. The edges of his mind felt torn and frayed, but the fear cut worse. Ikoz, Silks — here among the Underguild. He’d long suspected the Valemish harbored them within the city limits. But he hadn’t thought to find them in league with the Underguild. Avvad’s reach was greater than any of them had realized.
Kalindi’s grin grew wide, and he leaned forward as if to loom over them. “Is something wrong, Wraithsbane?”
“Silks,” Sule breathed next to him, the Qarin having sensed them as well.
Talan nodded and risked a glance backward. Without his awareness spread, he had no idea how close the men behind them were. Tentatively, he opened himself to Valem’s power again, allowing in trickles of radiance and kinesis. Without spreading his awareness, the spirits would be hard-pressed to assault his mind. Even if they found a way, he had to channel, or he’d be nothing to the score of men bearing down on them.
“Now, now, Talan,” Kalindi suddenly addressed them. “It does not have to end like this.” His tone had changed, from sneering to conciliatory.
Talan trusted this side of Kalindi even less. Yet he found himself looking up at the self-proclaimed Undermaster and asking flatly, “What?”
“I don’t throw away good tools. I could make use of you. If you agree to my terms, I’ll spare your life.”
Anger suddenly flared back to life within him. “And what terms are those?”
“You have connections in many places. The Laurel Palace. The Conclave through the new Order of Verifiers. Eyes and ears in these places would serve me well. So here’s my proposal, Wraithsbane. You spy for me, and I swear to let you and your companion here go free, and never touch your Finch again. I think that’s more than fair, don’t you?”
Realm of Ashes Page 34
