Shon closed the door. No one was in the hall, but he didn't want to risk it. The Machat moved quickly and quietly. He rarely heard them coming, even when they were only a few feet away. Once the door clicked shut, he leaned against it. "I found her."
"That's good, isn't it?" Matthu glanced around the room and then crouched to look under the bunk.
Shon pressed his hand to his face. He rarely confided in Matthu. It wasn't right. He was the older brother. But right now he had to talk to someone.
"Amelia was on the mountainside." Shon spoke slowly, explaining how he had found Amelia after she had killed a crudon on her own with no more than her throwing knives. He shared how Kepsalon had used the bakai to cause both he and Amelia to fall in love with one another, because it allowed them to know one another's souls on a subconscious and intuitive level, forming a much closer connection than would otherwise have developed in the same span of time. And at last, he told him how Amelia had declared her intention to honor her marriage to Naatos rather than risk Shon's life. How she wanted to be left alone.
Matthu listened. At first, he folded his arms, but then he let them fall back to his sides and sat on the edge of the bed. Hands clasped, he leaned forward.
Shon found it easier to speak if he did not look at Matthu. Instead he glanced at him once or twice as he paced the length of the room. When he finished at last, he stopped in front of Matthu, his hands behind his back. "And so I left her there."
"You left her…" Matthu rubbed his hand across his cheek, frowning. "I…I don't understand that. Is it a bad thing that she wants to be left alone on a mountain at night? Aren't we supposed to protect her?"
"I had to let her go. I have to support her, and she has to have the time to think. If we made the connection through the bakai, I can't use that connection to manipulate her. Staying would have just caused problems." Shon turned. His jaw ached from clenching, and a dull headache pounded in the back of his skull. He ran his hands through his hair, his agitation increasing.
"What if something attacks her? Don't we protect the royal family even if they don't want us to?" Matthu asked, frowning. "That crudon can't be the only one out there."
"She can take care of herself." Shon sank against the wall, staring absently ahead. "I guess maybe the bakai confirms what she said, and I know she needs to be alone. It would have been wrong of me to stay. I will never be able to be with Amelia if I try to control or trap her." He folded his arms, replaying his last moments with Amelia over and over. The way she had looked at him. The sadness in her voice. The yearning he too felt. He had forced his own desires away to respect her wishes, but that was all he could do.
Leaning his face against his hands, Shon drew in a shuddering breath. "It's Naatos that's the problem."
"That's a bit of an understatement."
"I know."
"So what's happening next?" Matthu shifted forward, his frown deepening. "She just decides whether she's coming back or heads somewhere else and we meet her later?" Standing, Matthu shook his head. "I don't like that, Shon. I mean, we should respect her, but we're supposed to protect her. Maybe we should go out and find her."
"We are also supposed to protect the king and queen and prince—and now the whole of Libysha." Shon covered his face. "If her path takes her to a place I cannot follow, then I have to trust that she will come back to me."
"Yeah…but you left her alone on the mountain." Matthu remained uncertain, his fingers working against his folded arms. "You wouldn't have left me alone. You'd have given me space, but you'd have stayed. I don't know."
"Sometimes when someone you love tells you to go, you have to go. It's complicated, Matthu." And it was. Shon's thoughts were so convoluted. The bakai might be affecting his thoughts. All of these feelings certainly were. Maybe he had been wrong to leave her. "I need advice."
"I don't know that I have good advice." Matthu sat beside him. "But we're in a city full of prophets. Surely one of them would know. One of them has to know!"
Shon's arms fell to his sides, limp, an idea appearing. "The Levthro."
Matthu's eyes widened. "Um…that's forbidden. Even if it is here. Why don't we just find one of the—"
Shon shook his head and stood. His heart beat faster as clarity flooded through him. "No. I'm not talking to the Machat anymore. They may be prophets, but they will just tell me what they've said all along. It's cryptic. It's vague. It could be interpreted in so many ways. Kepsalon is as clear as they come. But the Levthro…"
Shon looked toward the door. The Levthro was sometimes known as the Chamber of What Might Be. It figured prominently within Libyshan lore and mythology. According to some, it was tied to the Tue-Rah itself, and those who entered could ask a question and see every possible answer that the future might hold.
"Through the Levthro, I can see all the outcomes and then work backwards to figure out the best course of action."
Matthu stared at him incredulously. His brow puckered in a series of thin lines. "We finally meet the Machat again after about three hundred years, and we are going to do the one thing we absolutely know they'd be upset if we do?"
Shon shrugged. "What else can we do?"
"You were just talking to me about respecting what Amelia wanted. What about the Machat?"
"You've heard their prophecies. You've seen the pictures that they make. Those tell us the odds. But they don't tell us what could be if we change something. Now I have to decide what I am going to do to help Amelia, and I would rather be damned for the rest of my days than make a choice that will make things worse!" He removed his razor bow and quiver, setting them on the upper bunk. He then checked the tomarangs at his side. "Besides, if they are so good at prophecy and foretelling, they'll have made it impossible for us to enter the Levthro at all."
Matthu nodded slowly, but he did not appear convinced. "Unless it's like that one story. You know with Belu? How the cost of going in is the greatest consequence of all."
"I'm willing to risk it." Shon removed his leather armor and the heavy outer tunic, leaving only the thin grey shirt beneath. He tossed it onto the top of the bunk. He then removed the guards from his legs and the layered belt from his waist. He had to act now before he changed his mind.
Shon finished stripping away, leaving his base clothing and four of his tomarangs. "If I get caught, I'll tell them why I'm doing this. No sense lying. They might even let me in anyway."
Matthu opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. "Fine." He threw his hands in the air and started removing his own armor. "But I'm going with you."
"Now hold on." Shon lifted his hand. "I didn't—"
"You're not doing this alone." Matthu gave him a light shove and removed his hunting knives. "You'd do the same for me. Let's get this over with."
Shon didn't even try to argue with him. It was best to get this done as quickly as possible.
Once they finished discarding all the armor so that they could move quickly and swiftly, Shon opened the door. All was still. Slender torches coated in sweet-scented pitch hung on hooks through the carved stone passages. Not even a dog or bird disturbed the calm.
Shon motioned for Matthu to follow him. As soon as they stepped out, a woman spoke in a soft tone. "If you want to reach the Levthro, you will need a Machat to help you."
Shon stiffened and turned. Chialao stood at the corner of the hall, shrouded in shadows. Her dark blue-grey leather hunting gown blended almost perfectly into the mountain wall. She uncovered a small clay lamp, the low glow casting an ethereal halo around her.
"I knew you would seek it. So I am here to assist you." Chialao stepped forward. She looked at them through thick dark lashes, her eyes bright and clear. She pointed toward the fifth passage in the hall. "You see, there are far too many crises this night. Far too many in danger, and so the Levthro is only hidden. It is not guarded. The locks would be sufficient to keep one out. Unless you had a Machat, which now you do."
Shon exchanged glances with Matthu. He remembered
what she had said the last time they spoke. Chialao had left him to make a horrible decision, but she had at least given him the facts that he needed. But could he trust her further? There was something in the way she looked at him, the shine of her eyes, the curve of her smile, that unnerved him.
"What do you want in return?" Shon asked. "Surely you have some purpose behind this. You don't strike me as someone who would do something for nothing."
Chialao dipped her head as if she appreciated his observation. "We Machat are expected to work in the shadows. We rarely have the opportunity to share our gifts directly. And the wonders we see are often held back so as not to deny others the ability to make choices on their own. So often people feel that once they know the full possibilities—or the most likely scenario—that they have no choice. That what is seen is what must be."
Shon studied her. "And that's what the Levthro shows?"
"Yes. The Levthro will show you everything around a choice or a single event in the past. The masters know of ways to condense it into a single stream to make it more manageable. Someone like you may not remember everything clearly, but they will be in your mind forever. They will always be part of you. Guiding or perhaps tormenting you."
Matthu backed away. "Shon, that doesn't sound like what you need. If you're one of those people who can't remember—"
"He will remember what he sees." Chialao did not raise her voice, yet her words were more intense. She tilted her head as she looked directly into Shon's eyes. "You will remember what you see, Shon. At least what matters most."
Shon's skin crawled, but he could not break away. "Will it help?"
"It will help you make your decision. Though if you wish, I can give you the information you need now." Chialao circled him, the clay lamp cradled in her palm. "If you wish to save Amelia, then leave tonight. Go to the village beyond the Relfon Ridge. You'll find a weaving woman there who needs a man like you. Take her as your wife and tell Amelia nothing. She will continue to love you, but you will continue to live. By the time she realizes that you have moved your affections to another, she will have completed her tasks. It is cruel, but in the end, it is best."
Shon laughed dryly, but Matthu did not appear comfortable. He drew back farther, fidgeting.
"I will not abandon Amelia," Shon said. "Not in the long run. I'll wait here for her to return, and I'll figure out what's best. But in the end, I will always return to Amelia. My goal is to be with her."
"Shon, she has already left you. Even if she has not realized it fully. You were used to fill her heart, and you have served your purpose. If you want to find happiness, you will not find it with Amelia." Chialao paused in front of the nearest passage, curling her hand to shield the flame from the subtle breeze.
Her sharp but commanding presence made her words all the more impressive, but Shon could not shake the longing that clung to him. There had to be some way he and Amelia could be together. "I don't believe that this is the only possibility."
"Well, it's not the only possibility. There are many possibilities. If you want to see them all, or if you don't trust me, then come see for yourself." Chialao continued down the hall, the halo of light moving with her.
"Shon, I don't think this is a good idea," Matthu whispered.
"It's the best idea we have." Shon followed Chialao. He didn't even glance back to see if Matthu was coming. He knew he would, and sure enough, the scuff of Matthu's well-worn leather boots sounded behind him.
Tension radiated through Shon's body. The headache beat like a dull pulse within his skull, but the desire to know had become an obsession. It had grown within him as rapidly as his passion for Amelia. The calm sanity he had presented on the mountainside dissolved in this rising fever. There was a way, even if it wasn't the most probable, a way that could lead to forging a path with Amelia in which they ultimately were reunited as a couple.
Chialao led them deeper and deeper into New Istador. Eventually the long yawning passages opened into a massive cavern, hollowed out further and sculpted to highlight natural formations, stalactites, and stalagmites. The tips of all the stones were coated with the same sweet-scented indigo pitch as the other torches. The light from the clay lamp merged with the lit stone spires. Specks of mica and lines of quartz caught the light and cast it about. Upon each of the larger stone formations sat a painting or sculpture in dozens of styles. The glass paintings glowed as they passed by, their vivid colors intensifying next to the lamp's soft glow.
Not a single Machat was present in this place.
Shon found his attention drawn to these pieces of art. All were apparently prophesies. As they passed through the chamber, Shon noted that beneath each one was a number. Presumably a date, though he did not recognize the dating system. There were other carved notations as well. Most cryptic. No more than a few words, generally one or two.
Shon recognized a few of them. One was the fall of the Ubarlan King. Another was of King Theol as he swore to uphold and honor peace for his rule as his father had pledged him. Shon paused a little while longer to examine this image. It had both been delicately carved within the glass and painted with a special kind of oil paint. He had been there when King Theol knelt in the river and made that vow, rivulets of red dye flowing downstream from his red-drenched hands. All of it had washed away within seconds, leaving both the river and king perfectly clean.
On that day, Shon recalled his own grief, a grief shared by many. The armies were dissolved, and, at that time, he had feared there would be no opportunities for great deeds or grand heroics. It had been a complex moment, a strangely bought peace, but to his mind all that had mattered was how boring and tedious it would be. Had he petitioned to join the Ayamin two years, even one year earlier, he might have participated in the final battles and made more of a name for himself than he had done in more minor capacities. But no…he had wanted to prepare a little more. Study just a little harder for trials. Trials that he later passed with great ease.
Shon thrust his hand through his hair again. Now great war had come upon them. The wishes of the young Shon had been granted, and yet there was no sweetness in it. He would gladly give all battle and all chance for heroics up if it meant he could be with Amelia, but that was not how this worked.
Matthu nudged him. "You all right?" he whispered.
Shon nodded and cleared his throat. There was no sense regretting what he had once wished. Wishes made no difference. When he looked up, a chill shuddered through him. Chialao waited for them near an oil painting of the beheading of Tylet on Valne's Peak.
"Come." Chialao turned, her skirts rustling with the sharpness of her movement.
Shon followed with Matthu close behind.
Chialao led them farther into the maze of art and stone. Faint trails of smoke rose from the lit rocks. The sweet scent was so strong here it made Shon's eyes water.
At last, after passing a massive alabaster sculpture of the first Most Honorable One, they reached the center of the cavern.
"Here we are." Chialao set the lamp in the crook of a polished stone and gestured to the floor.
It was the first time Shon had noticed it. While the walls and ceiling had been left to their natural state, the floor had been carved in a series of lines, coils, and abstract designs. This center portion housed a twelve-foot circle with a broad rose-gold band around its circumference. The designs within the circle were as fluid as if someone had spilled liquid gold upon it and spun it across with a great brush.
Chialao crouched and pressed her hand upon three points. Once she did, the sections ground against one another. The innermost section moved downward, folding out into a spiraling staircase that opened into a large circular pit.
"This," Chialao said, straightening, "is where you will find the Levthro. The Levthro cannot lie to you. It cannot be changed or influenced. It shows what has been and everything that may be. Once you enter, you will speak into the box at the base of the staircase. Tell it what you want to know." Chialao tilted her he
ad as she knelt at the side of the pit. "Understand that this is a dangerous place, Shon. What once is seen cannot be unseen. Are you willing to accept this?"
"Shon…" Matthu's breaths came sharper now, his tone pleading. "This…it doesn't feel right."
Shon stared down the staircase into the darkness. A knot formed in his stomach as his brother's words faded from his mind. "I am willing."
4
In Need of Counseling
Amelia drew away from Naatos, unable to pull her gaze free. His presence burned against her mind, threatening to draw her in again or thrust her into cold rage. She saw once more what Kepsalon had shown her. What might have been. Was it possible that she could have been so overwhelmed by hormones, passion, and shock that she would have not only flung herself into Naatos's path but also surrendered herself to his desires?
Her cheeks burned with shame and anger, her fists tightening. A need to prove he couldn't control her, wouldn't control her, flamed within.
As if he sensed her thoughts about him, Naatos turned his focus to her. His light-blue eyes sliced through her, cutting into her soul.
The discomfort increased within Amelia, but she forced herself to stare back. She was going to have to run. But she would not back down any more than she had to.
"Give me your hand, Amelia." Naatos spoke with an even tone as he stepped toward her. "They will not dare to stop you if you choose to come with me."
"Of course not," Kepsalon said. "How many times must I say it? It is her choice. Unlike you, we Machat both uphold and follow the law. But do not go any closer to her. And do not touch her. Not unless she says you can."
A flicker of disgust passed over Naatos's face. "You presume to tell me what I can and cannot do with my wife?"
"I presume to tell you that you must respect the boundaries your wife has set. You have the finesse of an avalanche, Naatos. Not because you are incapable of showing tenderness or compassion, but because you deem it unnecessary." Kepsalon half-smiled. "Now it is even more important that you do request her permission. Ask her to return with you. Negotiate with her."
Enemy Known Page 3
