Jaime’s screams spilled into the night. He leapt out of bed. Pounded against the shutters of his window.
Hilaris! Hilaris! Hilaris! he screamed.
Just as he was about to reach the pyre, the woman burst inside his nightmare and pulled him away.
“Prince,” she cried. “Wake, sweet, it is only a bad dream—”
“No fire,” Jaime screamed, throat bled raw. “No fire, I said! Let me go, I have to get to him! Hilaris—I’m SORRY!”
He didn’t remember how that night ended. But his last dream was of guards drugging him; and the Kaipponese yelling that he would wake the whole city; and the woman cradling his head, smelling of lavender.
She hummed a familiar melody deep into his spirit.
“What is a Fire Sage who fears fire?” someone said.
Jaime opened his eyes.
His head throbbed from another awful headache. Jaime gripped his temples, sorely wishing he had his breather. But he threw off his covers and peered through the door.
Two rows of pillars roofed the second floor. White tapestries of the Arcurean swift spilled behind them. Stone pedestals stood at attention in the foreground. Today, their offering bowls were empty.
“ . . . more than fortunate the daimyo missed yesterday’s spectacle. He will be here any hour now.”
The lovely woman from last night peered at the dying flames of a terra cotta firepit. The Kaipponese man continued to pace. The young councilor sighed.
“For now,” the councilor said, “we plan in secret. Perhaps even rid ourselves of the daimyo.”
A scornful laugh.
Across the pantheon, past the frescos of ancient Jaypan heroes in battle, scarred with the light and shadow of the fires, was an airpriest.
Jaime sucked in a breath.
No mistake—he wore the same white robes and maroon stripes as the Archpriestess. He was much older than the others. A piebald beard grizzled his jaws. His deep-set eyes were like dusty windows in an abandoned farmstead. The medallion rolled off his fingertips.
Jaime pulled himself back in, his chest thundering.
An airpriest, there’s an airpriest here—
“Did any of you notice the boy’s lungs last night?” the Kaipponese said. “He is sickly.”
No one answered him.
The Kaipponese grunted, “It is folly to hide the Prince in our city. This will be the end of us.”
“It is decided.” The young councilor peered sideways at them. “Until our messengers receive word from Senator Gaiyus, it is too dangerous to take the Prince to the High Temple. Therefore, Achuros, you must train him here.”
Achuros?
That airpriest was Achuros? Hadn’t Commander Julias told him to find a man in the south named “Achuros”?
“What now?” The airpriest caught the stone medallion by its chain and moved into the firelight. “Nothing is decided, Florin. After the Queen’s death, I swore never to take on another apprentice—you know that. But piss on the past! I especially refuse to train the son of Usheon Ottega.”
With the exception of the black-eyed Kaipponese, the others groaned.
“Not this again.” The young councilor stared up at the frescoes. “It must be you. No one else in the entire Kingdom can.”
“The Archpriestess can.”
The Kaipponese laughed. “My Lord Mayor, no one can force an airpriest against his will. That would be sacrilege.”
“Thank you, Sojin,” the priest said.
The youngest one—the Mayor?—glared at them. The airpriest stood up and turned his back to them. The trains of his white sleeves clasped together.
“I have prayed to Lord Jaypes,” the priest murmured.
Immediately, the others hushed.
“ . . . to ask what in the high hells His Holy Lordship was thinking. All of you saw that boy. Not only do I refuse to train him, so will the Temple priests when they see what an undersized little fig we have standing between us and a Fire Sage who, by the way,” he scratched his scraggly beard, “levelled a rebel city with his fire currents alone.”
His words lanced through Jaime’s heart. He marched away and pressed himself against the door.
Breathe. Breathe. What if the priest is right? How can I save them when I couldn’t even save Hilaris?
Jaime didn’t notice the stoa’s silence, or the footsteps approaching his door until the heavy stench of stonemist incense drowned the room.
“Prince?”
He looked up, trying not to choke.
The Lord Mayor stood in the doorway. At this distance, against daylight, he looked even younger than Jaime remembered. Long, hemp-brown curls framed his round face. His downturned eyes locked into permanent seriousness.
Jaime hurried to bow his head.
“My lord.”
The Mayor’s sterling eyes frowned at the bannister. “Please do not take offense at anything you heard. Achuros has a good heart, but he has yet to release himself from tragedies of the past. If you would forgive us, we would speak to you about our plans.”
Jaime breathed deeply. “Okay.”
When they were back on ground level, the Inner Council rearranged themselves. The pretty lady—the Lord Mayor’s wife—clasped her hands neatly in front of her. She redid her hair today: the top half fitted into a tight bun, falling in dark waves past her shoulder blades. The small Kaipponese hunched against a pillar, his wiry arms crossed. And the priest sat cross-legged by the firepit, his bare feet showing through the folds of his robes.
Jaime tried smiling at the priest. He received a curdled look back.
The Mayor placed a fist against his chest and bowed. “Prince, a formal greeting on behalf of the City-State of Arcurea. This is my beloved wife and lady, Prescilla Menander.” The young woman curtsied. “Sojin Tadamora, Captain of the City Watch.” The black-eyed man offered no bow at all. “And honorable Achuros of Temple Jaypes.” The priest didn’t look up. “I am Florinokles Menander, the Lord Mayor—or simply Florin if you wish. The Lord bless you, Your Highness.”
Your Highness.
He dizzily tucked himself away on the furthest bench. “I’m Jamian.” After a pause, he added, “Pappas.”
Florin’s gaze brightened. “Yes, your name is familiar. Senator Gaiyus sent news of you before—well. The incident on the mountain. All the Lords of the Air Alliance received his report. It was stunning.”
The Air Alliance. Didn’t Lord Gaiyus say the Alliance was the remnant of an old rebellion that opposed the King’s invasion?
“So you are part of the Air Alliance,” Jaime said.
Mayor Florin nodded. “Gaiyus was an old friend of my father’s before he passed.”
“Is Lord Gaiyus okay? And my mamá—Hida Pappas—and Commander Julias, and the others in Townfold, are they alive?”
Florin crossed the room to a bowl of incense. “We don’t know. I have sent a few letters, but nothing has come back since the Archpriestess’s attack.”
Jaime’s shoulders slumped.
As Florin lit incense, Lady Prescilla gently took her husband’s arm. “My love, if Gaiyus Sartorios were captured or dead, the whole Kingdom would know. The Air Alliance would, certainly.”
The others nodded in agreement.
“So what now?” said Jaime.
“Our province is covertly loyal to the Alliance,” Florin said, “but we pay tribute to a local daimyo—”
“A vassal lord to the King,” Sojin glowered, like it was Jaime’s fault.
“—and he has heard of unrest in his regions. Haigen Namoto will be making his way to our town soon. Prince, if he discovers you are in Arcurea, all of us will die and you will stand in chains before the King. We must be cautious with your lodging.”
“Okay,” Jaime said, “but we have to look for my family, too. I have to know if
they’re alive.”
“There are bigger evils we face than harm to your peasant family,” Sojin snapped.
“Like you?” Jaime shot back.
Sojin snarled and lunged, but Florin left the pedestal and slipped between them.
“Enough, both of you!”
Jaime sat back down. The Kaipponese did not.
“We will speak of your family tonight, Prince, and I will order my bondlords to comb the south for news of them. Now, what plans did Senator Gaiyus have for you?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t have time to talk about it. But before I escaped, Commander Julias said . . . ” Jaime paused. “He said I had to get training from an airpriest.”
“If your eavesdropping did you any good,” Sojin hissed, “then you know going to the High Temple is out of the question. Since your fire show on the mountain, the royal patrols have doubled.”
Florin rubbed incense dust off his fingers. “Yes, you will have to be trained here.”
“By him?” Jaime shot the priest a glare.
“Achuros is a senior airpriest and former advisor of the Old Senate. He will teach you to defend yourself, and to fight. A few months from now, you will Duel the King.”
“A few months from now?”
Sojin waved away a curl of stonemist smoke. “I thought Sartorios was proceeding with the original plan.”
“Things have changed,” Florin said. “Senator Gaiyus’s base is in flames, and the Holy Lord knows if Julias Markus’s forces stand a chance against the royal lochoi. The Senator would trust us to steward the Alliance in his stead.”
“I vote my life on the original plan,” muttered the priest.
This sparked a heated debate between the councilors. It looked like someone was going to sever off a head. Jaime stepped into the turmoil, throwing up his hands.
“Will everyone PLEASE tell me the original plan?”
Everyone quieted. Sojin glared in another direction. Lady Prescilla took a scroll curled on top of another pedestal and unfurled it over the ground.
“The Colosseum,” she said.
It was an ancient map. He inched towards it, his eyes wide.
Wow.
Once in awhile, a coastal merchant would visit Mount Alaeris and talk about the world beyond the mists: how Jaypes was a mountainous island-Kingdom, how the Kingdoms of Air, Water, Fire and Earth were really five continents.
Despite the impatience of the men, Lady Prescilla paused their political dialogue and pointed to the smallest continent in the middle of the map.
“This is Jaypes, our Kingdom,” she said. “And these are Glaidde and Kaippon, the Water and Fire Kingdoms.”
Two continents, connected by a thin peninsula, fell vertical in The West. Jaime heard those two had been warring longer than he’d lived. The Skyrros Ocean divided Jaypes from them, fortunately.
And to the Far East: Larfour, the Kingdom of Earth.
It was larger than the other three Kingdoms combined. While Lady Prescilla named the various seas around it, Jaime stared at its giant shape. According to legend, Larfour was Guardian of the Kingdoms, charged with keeping the peace of the elements. During the ancient days, all the other Sages would kneel to its High Kings, Earth Sages who could raise whole mountain chains.
It was completely empty of labels.
Before Jaime could ask her more about Larfour, Lady Prescilla’s finger fell to the north.
“And the Fifth Continent,” she said.
His eyes spread wider. This one was bigger even than the Earth Kingdom, separated from the other Kingdoms by a narrow sea of water Prescilla called “Kon’s Tail.” When he rearranged them in his mind, the other four continents fit like puzzle pieces against its shores.
A giant continent outside Jaypes!
The thought hurt his head. Up on Mount Alairus, Jaypes Kingdom once felt like the whole world.
“What’s on the Fifth Continent?” Jaime asked.
Prescilla ran her fingers along giant peaks that layered its borders. “No one knows, Prince. Otherworldly energies thicken the air there. Mankind stopped trying to scale its mountains ages ago. Those energies would make them go mad and kill themselves.”
“Cool,” he breathed.
Sojin slammed a scarred hand over the pedestal. “We are not here to give the boy a geography lesson.”
“He is our Prince,” she said, unflinching. “He should know.”
Her blunt stare made Sojin pull his gaze away. The others kept silent and let her continue.
“We were speaking of the Colosseum.”
“Uh-huh,” Jaime nodded, eyes big.
“Every century, on the second full moon after the summer solstice, the greatest of the Jaypan athletes gather there to compete. This is called the Greatsporting. It’s one of our oldest traditions.”
The Mayor said, “Yes. Usheon will be there—”
“To dedicate the games to himself,” the priest interrupted. His bedraggled face twisted. “Originally they were to honor the Ascaerii. The Holy Lord’s divine representatives.”
Jaime gasped, “What do they compete for?”
Florin rekindled the incense. “The Greatsporting consists of wrestling, foot-racing, spear-throwing, climbing, and charioteering, lastly. All of Jaypes’s greatest sports. What they compete for, however—”
The Mayor stopped, his round cheeks reddening.
“What?” Jaime said. “What’s the prize?”
The priest dug his iron eyes into him. “Under an Ascaerii’s reign? A golden amphora. This year, it will be the privilege to personally burn you at the stake.”
His fingers seized the nonexistent breather in his pocket. Lady Prescilla took the priest’s arm, pulling him away with a hushed rebuke. Jaime looked away, trying to maintain indifference despite the flush of his chest.
“And you’re sure Usheon will be there?”
“Certainly,” said Florin. “The Kingdom’s greatest powers would kill to watch the Greatsporting live. A pity we won’t.”
“Yes,” Sojin butt in, “and while our tyrant King squanders our tax money on useless traditions, the Alliance will merge and seize the silver mines of Mount Mynati. We do not need the Prince for that.”
“Hold on,” Jaime said, “I don’t understand—”
“It will never work,” Lady Prescilla snapped. “You know the state of the Alliance. No two City-States will agree on anything.”
Jaime circled away from the incense, his eyes watering. “Why not?”
The priest laughed bitterly. “The Air Alliance is in havoc: twelve arrogant lords more interested in annihilating each another than serving you.” At Florin’s frown, the priest dipped in a bow. “Excepting you, my good lord. And now that the Head Senator is missing, no central command unifies them. The King will crush those imbeciles while they bicker over their wine and women.”
“So there’s no real resistance?” Jaime cried.
“There is a resistance,” Sojin hissed. “The Alliance will come together and march on Mynati. Without silver, the King cannot import grain to feed his soldiers. There will be no need for a siege on the Capital. We will force him to surrender.”
“What naiveté,” the priest muttered.
They shot each other dirty looks. But Mayor Florin stayed tall as a spear.
“Everything they say has truth, Prince,” he said. “Arcurea has many enemies, even among the Alliance. But we will discard our plans with Mynati. After you appeared in our city, it was apparent the Holy Lord’s prophecy would truly come to pass.” Jaime raised his brows. “Our god kept his promise by delivering you in the final hour. None of us expected this. And I believe Lord Jaypes will keep his promise to help you depose Usheon.”
“It must happen by September first,” Prescilla nodded.
Jaime blinked. “Why?”
Florin explained, “The prophecy states the Prince will overthrow Usheon Ottega in the fourteenth year of his reign. September first is that day. It also happens to fall on the day of the Greatsporting. This is not coincidence, but holy intervention.”
Gods, the incense. His throat squeezed shut. He made a note to wash himself in the Estos River later. “So you’re saying I have to Duel him in the Colosseum?”
“If you do not, a Fire Sage will reign on in the Kingdom of Air, and the divine banestorm above us will blot out our Kingdom. This is Lord Jaypes’s will.” The Mayor nodded, as if pondering to himself. “It is apparent.”
For once, the priest nodded, too. “An imbalance of elements, hence the banestorm. Yes. Just like ancient history.”
“Hold on! I’m a Fire Sage!” Jaime cut in. “So how can I rule the Air Kingdom, or even overthrow the King?”
“You are different.” Florin’s face stayed solemn. “You are Lord Jaypes’s chosen.”
“Great,” Jaime muttered.
Lord Jaypes can solve everything.
Without announcement, the airpriest strolled out of the room as if he didn’t realize a meeting was still in session.
Jaime clenched his fists. Hold on, give my medallion back!
Everyone looked up but no one stopped him. Sojin turned his gaze to Florin. As his eyes narrowed, the wings on both ends extended past his dark eyebrows.
“That boy is a danger to my son. When the daimyo comes, I will inform him we have the Prince.”
Florin sighed. “Sojin—”
The City Captain bowed curtly. “Lord Mayor.”
And he marched away.
“Don’t mind him,” Lady Prescilla told her husband. “He is a dragon without teeth.”
Mayor Florin pinched his hairless chin. “We will debate later. I’m off to write Lord Haigen a welcome letter. It will be very warm indeed. Prescilla, my love, will you see that the Prince’s stay is comfortable?”
They whispered at length, but Jaime barely listened. His eyes were riveted on the map. Something drew him back to the Earth Kingdom.
“What about Larfour?” he said.
He turned around. The others froze like busts outside the stoa’s pillars.
Stormfire Page 7
