“It’s not all depths,” Lahvja countered. “Ofrit has to mean the innermost reaches. They’re almost inaccessible. The few villages there don’t welcome outsiders, but they would know the secrets of the jungle.”
Nimhea gave her a cold stare, then turned to gaze at the ceiling.
Ara sighed. “And how will we convince them to share these secrets?”
Vijerians had drawn back from the rest of Saetlund after the conquest, using the terrain of their province as a natural barrier to the Vokkan armies. The empire attempted a march into the jungles, clear-cutting a huge swath from TriBridge south, which became known as the Gash. They stopped just short of Mer, then abandoned the project, having decided the cost and labor required to build roads throughout the province was too much. Dismissing the villages as worthless in the eyes of the emperor, the Vokkans excused their failure by claiming their capture of the only major city in the province meant the entire province had been subdued. The Vijerians knew better, and Lahvja had told them that Vijeri played a key role in supporting the Resistance with supplies of weapons and other necessities.
“I hope the fact that I’m Vijerian and Teth is half Vijerian will work in our favor,” Lahvja answered. “Or that because we’re seeking a holy site, they’ll know we are no friends of the empire. But you’re right to be concerned. We’ll have to go to Mer. It’s the only village in the interior that regularly receives outsiders.”
“Then we go to Mer,” Nimhea said without deigning to look at them. “Now someone shutter that lantern.”
* * *
Ara woke the next morning knowing she would not let the day pass without confronting Nimhea. The princess had a right to anger and grief, but her behavior threatened to fray the bonds of their group and undermine their quest. Though Ara was awake, the quiet, shallow breaths of her companions let her know they were still sleeping. She rolled carefully out of her hammock and felt her way across the cabin to the door.
On the ship’s deck, the bright sun of late morning greeted her, and she realized how tired they must all have been to sleep so long, cocooned in the darkness belowdecks. All of them except Nimhea, who stood at the rail gazing out at the Southern Sea.
“How long have you been up?” Ara asked, joining the princess.
Nimhea glanced at her. “Why do you care?”
“Because you’re giving me an answer like that,” Ara replied, watching sea swells lift the ship then recede.
The princess’s only response was a huff of breath. She pushed off the rail and began to walk away.
“You are not leaving.” Ara grabbed Nimhea’s arms, turning the princess to face her. “We are going to talk about Eamon—even if I have to throw both of us into the sea to make it happen.”
Nimhea shook her off. “That’s ridiculous.”
When Ara continued to hold her with a flat stare, Nimhea made a disgusted sound.
“Fine. We can talk.”
“Tell me how you are,” Ara said quietly. “How you really are.”
“How am I supposed to be?” Nimhea shot back. Then she looked away, seeking something, anything, to focus on other than Ara, her eyes finally settling on a group of seagulls that circled the mainmast. The birds’ shrill cries punctuated the tension between the two women.
“Stop it,” Ara told her, fighting to regain Nimhea’s attention. “I am not your enemy.”
Nimhea was quiet a long time. Tears began to slip from the corners of her eyes. She swiped at them angrily, then laughed. It was an ugly sound.
“I’m being punished, aren’t I.” Nimhea made it a statement rather than a question.
“Punished by who?” Ara asked, startled by the harshness of Nimhea’s tone.
Looking abashed, Nimhea wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back on her heels. “By the gods.”
“You think Eamon leaving was the gods punishing you.”
“No,” Nimhea replied. “My failure was Eamon leaving. Don’t you see? Eamon was my test. I was supposed to save him. He’s the person closest to me in the world, and I was blind to his suffering. If I’d been the sister I should have been, Eamon never would have entangled himself with the wizards.”
After considering that, Ara said, “I don’t think the gods are doling out punishments. Even if what you’re saying is true, it would mean the gods aren’t only punishing you, but Eamon as well.”
“But . . .” Nimhea pressed her lips together.
Ara gestured for the princess to continue.
“I should have been the first Loreknight!” The words burst out of Nimhea. “Teth is a thief. A thief! Yes, I like him, but a Loreknight? It was supposed to be me. How else can I know that I’m meant to seek the throne?”
“You’re seeking the throne because you’re the heir,” Ara said gently. “You want to be Saetlund’s queen. A good queen.” She paused, then said, “Loreknights serve the kings and queens of Saetlund, but I don’t know if a monarch has ever also been a Loreknight.”
Nimhea’s face fell.
“You never considered that, did you?” Ara felt for the princess.
In truth, until that moment Ara hadn’t considered it either. The only reason Eni’s choice made sense was because of Teth’s personal allegiance to the god, but if she’d had to guess who the first Loreknight would be, she would have named Nimhea.
“I just . . .” Nimhea’s voice was shaky. “The idea of the Loreknights, the kingdom’s champions. I’m a warrior. What could be more of an honor?”
“You would rather be a Loreknight than queen?” Ara asked, deeply curious about how Nimhea would answer.
“I always thought I could be both.”
They both fell silent and turned back toward the sea.
“Eamon’s leaving wasn’t the work of the gods,” Ara said at last. “Eamon alone is responsible.”
Nimhea grimaced. “I don’t know how to accept that my twin brother is evil. That sounds like a line out of an overwrought players’ drama.”
With a soft laugh, Ara said, “It does.”
She leaned over the railing, watching the waves swell and recede beneath the ship. “I don’t think Eamon is evil. He made a poor choice for reasons that I don’t think we can fully grasp. That doesn’t mean he’s inherently wicked.”
Nimhea rested her hip against the rail and folded her arms. “I wish I could believe that.”
“You can,” Ara told her. “You’re choosing not to.”
“Why would I do that?” Nimhea’s eyes clouded with anger. “I hate feeling this way.”
Ara turned to face the princess. “Because it’s easier.”
“Believing my brother is evil is easier?” Nimhea scoffed.
Ara pressed on. “Think about it, Nimhea. If Eamon were evil you could write him off forever, disown him, arrest him, send him into exile without any doubt you’d done the right thing.”
She paused, making sure Nimhea hadn’t already dismissed what she was saying out of hand. The princess’s expression had gone from angry to irritated, and she held Ara’s gaze with hawk-sharp eyes.
“But if Eamon is a good person, as I believe he is,” Ara continued, “all of this gets much more complicated. We’re forced to face the whys of his betrayal. He made a choice we think is awful, maybe beyond forgiveness. We have to know what drove him to make that choice.”
A tear slipped down Nimhea’s cheek. “You really think he’s not wicked?”
“I don’t think he wanted to betray us,” Ara said, taking her hand. “I believe he must have thought he had to.”
“How can you be so certain?” Nimhea shook her head. “Why aren’t you angry? Eamon’s the one who dragged you into this.”
“Eamon set me on the path to finding my true self,” Ara replied. “I’m the Loresmith, and my purpose is to seek out the gods who will name the Loreknights. I don’t have time t
o be angry.”
Nimhea pulled her hand free. “You’re making me feel like a child.”
“Good,” Ara said. “Because you’re acting like one.”
The princess lurched back as if Ara had shoved her, then she stared at Ara in silence for a long moment.
At last she let out a brittle laugh. “Gods, I have been, haven’t I?”
“A bit,” Ara answered.
“You don’t sweeten your words at all.”
Ara’s lips formed a thin smile. “Not when it comes to matters like this. I can’t afford to. None of us can.”
“So what do I do?”
“You focus on the task at hand, like I’ve been trying to do,” Ara told her, then added, “And you start being nicer to Lahvja.”
Nimhea swallowed and looked away. “That’s hard.”
“You didn’t seem to think so before Eamon left.”
“But that’s why he left,” Nimhea lashed out. “I was so caught up in Lahvja that I ignored my brother to the point that he left us.” Shaking her head, Nimhea finished, “I won’t be distracted again.”
“Fine,” Ara said. “Don’t be distracted. That doesn’t give you permission to be cruel to someone who cares about you.”
Nimhea nodded slowly.
Teth emerged from belowdecks. He stretched and blinked against the bright light. Walking over to them, he called, “Did I miss anything?”
The first shout came before Ara could answer.
“Land ho!” The first sailor’s cry was followed by others. Ara, Nimhea, and Teth ran to the ship’s bow. In the distance was a tiny wall of green so bright it appeared to be glowing.
“The Serpent Coast,” Ara murmured. “I never thought I’d see it.”
Nimhea gave her a sidelong glance. “You must be doing a lot of things you never thought these days.”
“Was that a joke, Princess?” Teth asked, his eyebrows going up.
With a shrug, Nimhea answered, “It have might been.”
* * *
Despite the protection of oiled canvas cloaks, the travelers arrived at the village soaked to the bone. Raindrops were far sneakier than Ara had imagined. They crept inside the tiniest gaps between fabric and flesh and took advantage of movement however slight, a shift in the saddle, a shrugging of shoulders, the turning of one’s head, to bypass the barriers set against it. Beneath the heavy cloak, Ara’s sodden clothes had pasted themselves to her body. Her skin felt slimy. She was miserable and wondered if the others were faring any better. They’d given up speaking shortly after the rain began, as the torrent drowned any attempts at conversation.
The road widened very slightly to reveal the village. One moment there had been a narrow trail barely discernible among branches and vines of the dense jungle, the next a settlement appeared as though emerald curtains had been drawn back. Its buildings balanced on stilts, and the dwellings themselves were camouflaged within the tree canopy. Steep railed ladders stretched from the ground to offer entrance, and bridges linked the buildings to one another; an entire community floated above their heads.
Ara glanced around the spaces beneath the elevated walkways. She spotted gated platforms linked to hoists that could be used by anyone for whom the narrow ladders weren’t feasible or to raise heavy goods, but she couldn’t imagine getting the horses onto the lifts. Fortunately, underneath one of the largest buildings squatted a long, broad structure that appeared to be stables. She nudged Cloud with her heels and led the group on a zigzagging path to negotiate the myriad stilts.
The stable keeper was a spindly man with hair that fell down his back in an orange-and-black plait. Teth haggled over the price, while Ara blinked up through the rain at the tavern.
Lahvja came to stand beside her.
“Have you visited this village?” Ara asked.
Lahvja shook her head. “I was born in TriBridge and spent my childhood there.”
She paused, turning a half circle to regard the community above. “The interior of Vijeri is a mystery—even to the rest of the province.”
Though she felt a stir of unease, knowing they would have to traverse country unknown even to the province’s inhabitants, Ara found reassurance in the fact that there would be no more likely place to find Ofrit’s hidden site.
Looking at Ara, Lahvja continued, “The jungle makes travel difficult and frustrates many who imagine they’d like to build here. But as you can see, those who live among the vines and trees make an art of it.”
Lahvja pointed to the ladder. Up close, Ara saw that its rails were carved with figures that looked like a language, but not any she recognized. She ran her fingers over the symbols, tracing their shapes.
“What is it?”
“Poems,” Lahvja answered. “In Old Vijerian.”
“People still speak Old Vijerian?” Ara asked with surprise. The old languages of the province had faded long ago, or so she’d thought.
Lahvja laughed. “Speak and write. Vijerians take pride in keeping the language alive. With few outsiders venturing into the depths of the province, people living in the interior speak it more often than the common language.”
“I had no idea,” Ara said.
“You aren’t meant to know,” Lahvja told her. “It’s one of the things we Vijerians keep to ourselves.”
Ara peered at the railing. “Can you read some to me?”
Smiling, Lahvja read:
Deep, deep
strange, my love falls
into me
for an infinite
moment.
Something in Ara stirred at the words. She looked back to the stables, searching for Teth. He caught her staring and raised a teasing eyebrow. Ara turned away, a flush creeping up her neck. At the swift movement, the vine hanging beside Ara shifted.
A head appeared.
The snake, its skin the same jade hue as the vines and leaves surrounding it, stared at her. Its tongue flicked out, tasting the air mere inches from her face.
Ara didn’t know whether to scream or giggle madly. The snake’s mouth curved up, making it appear that the creature was smiling at her. She stood frozen, not even daring to breathe.
A soft cooing sound came from behind her, and Lahvja’s hands stretched toward the snake. “Oh, aren’t you darling.”
Ara still couldn’t bring herself to move. To her horror, it was the snake that began to slide forward. Closer. Closer to her face. Its tongue continued to flicker in and out. Then its head was resting on Lahvja’s palm.
“I’m delighted to meet you,” Lahvja told the snake. It slid over Lahvja’s skin, circling her wrist, making its way up her arm.
Ara watched its body stretch from the trees. It was so long. So terribly long.
The snake’s tail appeared only after the rest of its body hugged Lahvja’s right arm and both her shoulders. Ara felt a little sick.
Noting her stricken expression, Lahvja laughed gently. “You needn’t fear this one. She’s a friend, and I’m sure she’s well known around the village.”
It took Ara a moment to find her voice. “I didn’t know snakes could be friends.”
“Excellent friends.” Lahvja beamed at her, then the snake. “They eat disease-carrying vermin, and they gift us with ingredients key to the work of Vijerian apothecarists.”
Still mortified, Ara asked, “Aren’t you at all afraid?”
“I have nothing to fear.” She tickled the snake’s throat. “Most snakes aren’t venomous, and their bites rare. If you’re bitten by a snake, it means you’ve done something wrong.”
“How do you know what snakes are dangerous?” Ara wasn’t ready to give random snakes the benefit of the doubt.
Lahvja considered her question. “If you see red, yellow, or purple skin, or any combination thereof—stay far away.”
“Are the
y all so big?” Ara pointed to Lahvja’s snake friend.
Lahvja’s laughter did not put Ara at ease.
“This one is hardly big,” the summoner said, making Ara groan inwardly. “There are massive snakes in the jungle, but the largest serpents are shy and don’t trouble themselves with people.”
Ara made herself speak the question that jumped into her mind. “Are any of the big ones dangerous?”
“The only serpent rumored to be man-eating is the amethyst python,” Lahvja replied. “And it’s deep in the jungle, far from any settlements.”
“Deep in the jungle,” Ara repeated. “You mean where we’re going.”
Lahvja opened her mouth to answer then stopped herself, brow furrowing. “Ah. Yes, I see how that’s troubling. Quite troubling, actually.”
Ara swallowed the hard lump in her throat.
“If it helps,” Lahvja continued, “it’s believed there are very few amethyst pythons in existence. There isn’t enough sizable prey to sustain a large population.”
At sizable prey Ara had stopped listening.
“Gah!” Teth’s exclamation announced his arrival.
He jumped back from Lahvja. His cry made Ara jump, too.
“Look,” Lahvja scolded. “Now you’ve made her irritable.”
Somehow the snake’s stare did appear cross.
Teth gaped at Lahvja. “You let that thing climb on you voluntarily?”
“Of course.” Lahvja stroked the serpent’s throat.
Teth made a strangled sound.
Lahvja frowned at him. “Teth, I’m beginning to doubt your Vijerian roots.”
Nimhea appeared behind Teth. “What’s all the yelling about— oh . . .”
Her eyes widened when she saw the snake entwined with the summoner.
“That’s incredible,” she said.
Teth and Ara exchanged a look of disbelief.
“Is it your magic?” Nimhea came closer to Lahvja.
Lahvja shook her head. “Not at all. Would you like to meet her?”
Cast in Secrets and Shadow Page 5
