Enemy Known

by Butler, J. M.

  The puma padded into the room, paced between Amelia and WroOth, and then curled up next to WroOth. He nudged WroOth's elbow, angling his chin up. WroOth obliged, continuing to read. The puma began purring again.

  The deep purring along with the crackling of the fireplace soothed Amelia. It was far too pleasant right now. She tried to remain awake, but slowly she drifted into sleep.

  Naatos's voice woke her. She started, irritated with herself for falling asleep. The torches had burnt out, and the only light came from the now low-burning fire. Naatos stood beside WroOth. "It's all been dealt with. If your eyes are any indication, so have you."

  WroOth shrugged. He steepled his fingers together. "Haven't changed my mind. Whether it's just me here now is rather irrelevant. So let's avoid the risk of an altercation or escalation, shall we? You know I am loyal to you, brother. But for now, that loyalty has taken a different form. It's in your best interests and hers to make the relationship with Amelia work. I am ensuring that you have the best chance for that. So trust me. She's your wife. I will not encourage her to leave you. Even if it feels like a contradiction…"

  "You've never been good at dealing with what you perceived as obvious contradictions," Naatos said coolly. "How am I to know that you aren't—"

  "Ah-ah." WroOth shook his head at him. "It is not truly a contradiction. You see, brother, with proper attention to the details, abundant understanding, a change of scenery, and copious romance, you and Amelia may share something as powerful as Mara and me. And what more could I want for either of you? So trust me, Naatos. I know who I am."

  "And who is that?"

  The smile spread over WroOth's face. "I am WroOth. Para of Reltux. Member of the Shrieking Chimera Cadre. The Trickster Root. The Silver Tongued Lure. Keyr Vawtrian. Your brother and hers. I'm all this and more. Never less. Good night, Naatos."

  The tension in the room eased. Naatos laughed softly and patted WroOth on the shoulder. "Good night, WroOth."

  41

  Serpent at Night

  Naatos patted WroOth's shoulder, shaking his head. When WroOth called him out, it was best to listen. Even if it was perhaps coming more from Amelia's conscience. As frustrating as it was, WroOth's caution was wise.

  He glanced over at Amelia. Her decision to sleep on the couch bothered him, though it made sense. Had she joined him in bed, he would have sought to persuade her. It would likely have resulted in fighting and more problems ensuing. Not to mention it had been uncomfortable to take her up on her offer when she had been writhing in agony with tears streaming down her face mere hours before. Resting there, snuggled down in the red blanket, she appeared peaceful. He could almost pretend she was happy or waiting for a gentle kiss to awaken her.

  He stepped around WroOth toward her. WroOth lifted his hand. Naatos shook his head. "I'm just bidding her goodnight."

  WroOth relaxed back against the chair. He rested his temple against his hand.

  Naatos considered pointing out that neither WroOth nor AaQar had required chaperons for their marriages, but then again they had both married women who wanted them. He stooped down and kissed Amelia's cheek. She frowned and pulled back. The blanket slid, and a disapproving sigh slipped from her lips.

  Wonderful. Even in sleep she rejected him. Naatos started to step back, but he paused. The way that she lay there caused the fabric to gape. Discoloration appeared on the skin above and near the top of the bodice of her dress. A deeper purple mottling. He frowned. He pressed the fabric of the bodice down farther, leaning closer. The purple veins flowed from the heart, focusing in a deeper dark crescent just above her breast. It had intensified significantly since her last attack, the center nearly black. This was at least the third, and it had clearly been worse. Anger rose within him. Of course she hadn't told him. Why would she?

  He pulled back and left, not glancing at WroOth. The rage grew with each step. This Awdawm would destroy her yet.

  He slammed the door to his room open, stepped in, and then left. There was little point in even trying to rest. At least not now. He stalked from their chambers entirely and made his way down to the menagerie on the second floor. The second floor of the third mountain had been filled at one time with animals and creatures of all types. It did not boast nearly the stock of beasts it once had, but he was slowly rebuilding it.

  These chambers smelled of hay, manure, alfalfa, and raw meat. The torches here were unscented. Incense tended to agitate the more sensitive predators, but the scent never bothered Naatos. He walked along the central path until he reached the back room where he often conducted his work. It was a large room, kept lit at all times, with all the supplies he needed and numerous books, as well in shelves that lined the far wall.

  He removed a book entitled Mythologies of the Races and tugged the bell pull to summon a servant. Flipping to the section with the Neyeb, he searched the entries. Mythological beasts among the Neyeb took on many forms, most of which were dangerous to the Neyeb, but not all. He paused, reaching the entry on the sveti. He smiled. "Perfect."

  An attendant appeared in the doorway. "Do you require anything, my lord?"

  "Go to the interior collection. Bring back one of the elsen serpents. The small one in the box brought from Polfradon." Naatos returned his gaze to the picture on the page, studying the way this sveti's body was formed and its various attributes. Books on mythology rarely contained the scientific data he preferred when preparing for another's transformation, but he had had enough practice at this point to make it work. This would be one of his more delicate attempts, however. He flexed his hand, gaging his own strength.

  The attendant returned with quick steps, holding the small chest at arm's length. "Do you require anything else?"

  "Go to my chambers and to my room. It is the only one open at the moment. There's a turquoise dress on a peg on the wall. Bring it to me." Naatos took the box and opened it. The small black serpent lifted its delicate head. He scooped it up carefully, letting it coil around his hand and wrist.

  The small snake possessed a strong venom that was toxic only to non Neyeb. It would make an excellent base for the sveti. Its current size made it almost invisible if it was in the shadows yet its dark eyes glittered like beads. It was smart. That intelligence would still have to be enhanced.

  The attendant returned after a few moments longer, the turquoise dress in hand. As he passed it to Naatos, he hesitated. "The Lord WroOth has a message for you."

  "And?" Naatos took the dress and spread it out on the table so that the bodice and collar faced him.

  "He said to tell you that the topaz one would suit you better." The attendant stepped back at once, his hand twitching.

  At least WroOth was feeling more like himself. The Imprinting had either worn away entirely or soon would. “That will be all." Naatos placed the snake back into its box and walked to the back of the room.

  The back wall was lined with jars of various herbs, compounds, and powders. He selected a jar with pale-silver liquid, removed a thick stone bowl, and set them both on the table. When Amelia had bashed her face into the table after the deep mindreading, Naatos had been worried for her. The healing had rendered it largely inconsequential, aside from her initial discomfort. But now it would prove to be his salvation. This would, of course, ruin the dress, but Naatos hadn't met anyone who could remove blood from lighter cool-toned fabrics. That was why black was almost always the better choice. His business always involved blood, even when it was just the paperwork.

  Taking the dress, he cut out the bloodied portions and put them into the bowl. While some of the blood was his as Amelia had guessed, some of it was also hers. When she had fallen, she had struck her face into the stone table. The fact that he could heal her made that fact unnecessary for her knowledge.

  His hunting knife sliced through the fabric with precision, leaving no stray scraps of thread. He then placed it in the bowl and unscrewed the jar. A strong sulfur-like scent rose, stinging his nostrils. Naatos poured it in until t
he fabric was covered. It began to bubble and hiss, the smell growing more metallic.

  This plan truly was perfect. Neyeb mythology had serpents in abundance, all with differing abilities and effects. He'd always intended to use this particular serpent, which was why he gave it to Amelia for that time. It was only now that he had determined how. Having Amelia hold it in Polfradon so that it knew her scent and had that connection meant that it would take that much less now to finish the bond.

  Naatos picked up the snake. "You are going to become something very special," he said. "A sveti." He held the snake up to the torch light, examining it for any weaknesses but finding none. "Now, you are going to have only one task. If you complete it and return to me, I will save you from death."

  The black serpent coiled around his thumb. Its tiny ruby tongue flicked in and out. Naatos had never been certain whether some creatures understood on a deeper level the words he spoke, but they did follow his commands. For now, that was all that mattered.

  He took the snake's head between his thumb and forefinger, gripping it firmly but not so hard as to hurt it. Then he focused his energy on its transformation. He visualized the sveti and all of its components. The venom sac, the sleek slate and black scales, the fluid muscles and flesh that allowed for rapid growth. Energy flowed from his hand into it.

  When he finished, Naatos opened his eyes. The sveti looked much as it had when it was an ordinary black snake. It was still the same length but just a little thicker. Three small ridges protruded from its blunt snout. "Love can sometimes feed horrid creatures," Naatos said.

  The bowl with the liquid finished hissing and bubbling. Still holding the sveti, Naatos removed the fabric, leaving behind only Amelia's restored blood. It filled more than a quarter of the bowl. Placing the sveti inside, Naatos smiled. The sveti swam about in the blood, dipping its head and drinking.

  Naatos was pleased. "It's for the best that your kind are only creatures of stories and mythology," Naatos said.

  The tale of the sveti was a brutal one indeed. He did not recall hearing it spoken often among the Neyeb, but how could he blame them? A sveti was a monster that grew and lived off the first romantic love of a Neyeb's heart. Upon consumption of the Neyeb's blood and acquiring the Neyeb's scent, the sveti was joined to that heart love. In Amelia's case, that would be Shon. And now the sveti would hunger for Shon.

  "You will never be satisfied until you have drained the blood and life from his body, and with every thought she has for Shon, every fleeting moment of affection, you will grow stronger and larger. And nothing will defeat you. Only if she stops loving him, but we know that won't happen until he's dead."

  The sveti spun around, slurping down the final drops of blood. It then peered up at him. Scooping the sveti up, Naatos let it coil once more around his wrist. Its tiny tongue flicked in and out, tickling the inside of his wrist. If it was alarmed, it made no signs. He took it outside the temple and set it down on the grass.

  The sveti slithered forward, arched its head up, and then tasted the air. Slowly, it angled away from the temple and darted forward into the grass.

  Naatos smiled, folding his arms. Now all that remained was to shroud this memory, then he'd have nothing left to worry about. Shon would be dead.

  Depending on how fast the sveti grew, the sveti might require multiple breaks for hunting and rest. But it would find Shon in a few days at most, and then…well. That would be that, and Amelia would be free and never know what had happened.

  42

  A King Second

  Shon scarcely believed his own father was willing to cast Amelia aside like this. Vorec's disregard didn't surprise him so much, nor did Saldon's cooler response. Vorec distrusted Amelia. He always had. He had opposed her being taken in as an infant; a blood child could only become something evil. Even though they weren't entirely certain what it meant, her being both a blood child and the Third Nalenth had presumably made her a monster. But Linufe, his own father. A man who had in every other instance stood up for the weak and the ill, the defenseless and the wrongly accused. Now he had abandoned Amelia.

  Shon suffered through the rest of the intervention. The Machat's words seemed to have fallen on minds blocked against anything contrary to their own beliefs. The parchment that the Machat had given him had a number of sketches on it, but they looked more like rough scribbles. Nothing sprang to mind, but then again he could barely focus. Linufe, Vorec, and Saldon eventually determined that neither he nor Matthu were to be permitted to participate in the attack or the rescue. They would be sent with the forces to liberate the palace. When Shon continued to object, they determined that he would not participate at all. The look his father gave him revealed how much he had disappointed him, but Shon returned it, his own rage blazing. By the time it was finished, Shon had to find some place to be alone or else he knew he would say something he would regret.

  No one followed him. Or if they did, he did not notice. He eventually found himself at a watch point in the mountain. The Machat watchwoman perched on the top of the natural stone spire, her simple grey garments blending in. She kept her hand around the polished blowgun and gave him a slight nod before returning her attention to the sky.

  Shon had no desire for conversation. He walked around the watch point until he was out of her sight and then sat with his back against the stone. He stared off in the temple's direction. He couldn't see it from here, but it was out there. Facing it was enough.

  Song birds flew about, some twittering. A large egret landed on the outcropping just above his head. It twisted its narrow white neck around before fluttering off into the welcoming branches. Squirrels and chipmunks darted up and down. Life continued on. But toward what? Shon snapped a fallen twig into piece after piece, letting the bits sift to the coarse stone below.

  Time passed in a muddled manner. Shon's disgrace barely settled in. What did it matter if he was effectively on probation as an Ayamin? All that he kept thinking about was how wrong his father and the elder Ayamin had been. To abandon Amelia? To pretend that this was no violation of what they claimed to hold dear? How could they sacrifice one of their own like this and pretend that she was to blame? He clenched his eyes shut, the grief intensifying. He didn't even want to imagine what Naatos had done to her by this point or what he would do to her. But how could he stop it?

  The sun soon began to set. The trees and rocks cast long shadows that crept across the uneven ground in minute steps, slowly engulfing him.

  Shon rested his chin on his fist. The shadows slowly engulfed him. He would have to do something, but what? The Ayamin all knew him, and if Vorec's thoroughness proved to be as on point as usual, he would not even be permitted to leave.

  He pushed up and stretched, blood flowing back through his stiff muscles. Walking to the edge of the watchpoint, he peered over the edge. The rock face was sheer, dropping down more than fifty feet without regular handholds or nooks to grasp. Shon circled the watchpoint, peering over each side.

  "You won't be able to get down from up here," the Machat woman said. Her voice was light and gentle. She tapped her slender fingers on the reed pipe. "And if you do try, you will certainly die."

  "Everyone dies," Shon muttered.

  "Yes, but not all must die as fools. And every moment that you have in this life is precious and should be used to the fullest that you can." The woman smiled. "I know why you're here. Have faith."

  Shon wanted to yell at her. What was she, a Machat, doing telling him to have faith? Her people were the ones who had betrayed them to Naatos. They were the reason that Amelia had to surrender herself. And yet she bore no appearance of shame. Her hazel eyes were clear, her expression calm.

  His voice knotted in his throat. "Why?" he said at last.

  "Without faith, what would you have?" The woman shrugged. "I am not a prophet as you would understand it. But I do have my faith, and it comforts me. Without it, I would be lost."

  "I'm already lost."

  "Even people on the
right path may sometimes feel lost." The Machat woman tilted her head, focusing on something in the distance. A slight smile pulled at her thin lips, the top shaped like a delicate bow. "That's why feelings are so dangerous, Awdawm. They can be as treacherous as the masters of illusion. My own feelings have told me many things, most of which have been lies."

  "Or that's what you tell yourself to keep from feeling that you've been on the wrong path all along," Shon said. He sat back down on a rock. The coolness of night slid across the land.

  The Machat woman laughed a little. "Perhaps. Or perhaps what we feel, or even what we fear, lies to us and makes us think we have no choice when in fact we do. Perhaps the path I am on is the one I have chosen because it is the one I want. Even with all its breaks and gulfs. Perhaps the same is true with you. What was it Chialao said? You are the Awdawm who always waits too long." She shook her head, a faint sadness in her voice. "It is my weakness as well."

  "You knew Chialao?" He drew back, not certain whether he could trust her.

  "We all knew Chialao. We all know one another. Her words were not only for you and she." The woman sighed. "I do not know what becomes of those whom the messenger comes for, but I hope that there may yet be some…hope for them. She was not always so angry. But death often does that. Particularly the unjust kind. But all of that is soon to change. This new visitor will certainly change everything in this place."

  "Who?" Shon frowned. He leaned over the barrier. Down below, he saw a strange creature half-flying, half-running across the ground. It looked like a dragon horse. The rider clung to its back, swathed in a black robe, and seeming as uncomfortable as if he had never ridden such a creature in all his life. The size was wrong for Naatos, AaQar, or WroOth. "Who is that?" he asked.

  "You'll know soon enough." The Machat woman lifted her chin, looking beyond the rider. She sighed. "In two days, all will be so different."