The Beginning
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Chapter 22 Part 1
The sun was barely starting to lower in the sky when Elayza got up. “Jallen needs me again.” It had been bothering Elayza all afternoon--Jallen’s steady loss of strength. She could feel it, the relentless diminution of the child’s life-energy. It was faster today than yesterday, as yesterday it had been faster than the day before. The fact that she could finally put a name to its cause didn’t help.
Would she make it until Midsummer’s Eve?
None of them were in good shape. Kylara and Durnan were both lacking in sleep and worn from worry in about equal measures. Armeth was even more sleep-deprived, and Elayza suspected he’d been having seeing dreams again. She’d have to mention something to Kylara about getting the details out of him. Gods knew she didn’t want to put him through anything, but if he’d Seen anything that could possibly help . . .
Elayza could even feel the tension in Loret, much as he tried to pretend that none of it was affecting him. In fact, Naia was in the best condition of any of them.
Jallen, on the other hand . . .
Elayza concentrated, and groaned. “Gods. I may need two.” She added automatically, “Neither of you,” to Kylara and Durnan.
Kylara said, “Collo did it last night. We should be up to full strength.”
“No. I want to vary it. Constant energy-harvesting can’t be good for your bodies.”
Durnan opened his mouth, and she said, “Do not buck me on this one, Durnan. I say you’re not doing it again tonight and that’s that.”
He actually closed his mouth, and she felt a thrill of pride. It wasn’t often that Durnan bowed to her dictates, but she supposed when it concerned the Guardians’ physical well-being . . . well, that was her role, after all. To look after them. Because they certainly weren’t looking after themselves.
Although she’d been forced to use the other part of her gift to bolster Jallen’s flagging strength over and over again, it still made her a little sick every time. No matter how much her donor tried to relax, there was still an automatic inner resistence to being harvested. It felt too much like killing for Elayza’s hardcore healer’s soul to accept.
Loret said, “I’ll do it, then.”
Elayza bit her lip. “Maybe you’d better not.”
His lip curled. “What, is my life-energy not good enough for her, or something?”
Elayza almost rolled her eyes. He was so prickly. “Nothing like that,” she answered. “I’m just saying that it might do you more harm than it does Jallen good.”
He gave her a flat look.
“Look, when I take a person’s energy, a little of it is lost in the transfer, because they’re automatically resisting it. They can’t help it--it’s a natural reaction.”
“So?” Loret said. “You’ve managed to get life out of them.”
“Yes, but they don’t have a sense of self-preservation quite like yours. If I try to take some of your life, that might fight me so hard that it’ll actually use more energy than I can take. We don’t need you getting really sick--not right now. I’d rather use Naia.”
Naia looked up. “Using me?”
“I could do it,” Armeth said very softly.
Elayza gave him an apologetic look. He wanted to help Jallen very badly--it was plain on his face--but she didn’t want to risk it. “You’re so young, Armeth. I don’t want to take more than you can afford. Naia, I’m afraid it might have to be you right now. You’re the best condition.”
Naia looked leery, and Loret said loudly, “She doesn’t want to do it . . . Why don’t you just let me try?”
Elayza took in the stubborn set of his jaw and the glint in his eye. For whatever reason, Loret wanted to do this. She sighed. “You can try,” she said, privately not expecting it to succeed. “Naia, will you do it if it doesn’t work for Loret?”
After a moment, Naia shrugged, setting her book aside. “I suppose.”
The door opened just as Elayza reached for the knob. Collo looked at them in surprise and stepped back. “I was about to come get you,” he said. “She’s worse.”
Jallen was curled on her side, breathing shallowly. Her face was very pale, and when Elayza touched her forehead, she could feel both the chill of her skin and the low ebb of her energy. Oh dear.
Kylara? I just might need you for this.
All right. Now?
Let me see first.
Elayza turned to Loret, who held out his hand right away. “I can do this,” he said.
“You don’t have to do anything,” she told him. “Just relax.”
He shut his eyes, looking anything but relaxed. She took his proffered hand and, after a few deep breaths to settle her clenching stomach, set her other hand on Jallen’s chest. She thought of the imbalance between her right and her left hands, and something in her shifted, reaching for Loret’s energy.
It refused to come. Elayza let go of his hand, leaving her other one on Jallen’s chest. “Loret, I can’t get anything. I told you--”
His eyes popped open. He looked a little green, but he swallowed and said, “Let me try again.”
“Loret--”
“Please?”
She blinked at him, in shock. He looked a little startled too, but repeated it. “Please?”
This was one to remember. She opened her mouth to refuse again, but found herself saying, “Just relax, Loret. I’m the one doing the work. All you have to do is let it happen.”
He shook out his muscles like an athlete getting ready to run. His shoulders started to tense again, but he took a sharp breath through his nose and let it out slowly. “All right,” he said, and held out his hand again.
Elayza curled her fingers around his and let her gift reach out again. It hooked into Loret’s life-energy and pulled . . .
And the rich red power of him swarmed through her and poured into Jallen, with no resistence, no reluctance whatsoever.
In her shock, Elayza almost let go, but remembered at the last moment to hold on. Instead, she focused hard on Jallen’s and Loret’s relative strengths. Jallen filled to the brim first, and Elayza lifted her hand quickly. She didn’t know what would happen if a person got too much energy.
She checked Loret again. While definitely depleted, his strength was fuller than she’d expected. Loret was a little pale, but he managed to say, “Gods, was that it? You people make so much out of everything.”
Elayza eyed him. “Do you want to sit down?”
He shrugged. “If it makes you feel better.” But he sat a little heavily.
Naia was watching with narrowed eyes. “Do you still need me?”
“No,” Elayza said abstractedly, feeling Loret’s forehead. She’d brought two mugs of strengthening tea up with her, and she set one to Loret’s lips. “Drink.”
He gave her an annoyed looked and pulled the tea away from his face. “I can do it myself.”
“Well then, do it.” Elayza watched him with an eagle eye until he’d grudgingly taken several swallows, grimacing at the taste. “You’re not fooling me; I put honey in it.”
“Still tastes like--”
She coughed loudly to cover the obscenity. He grinned at her over the mug--he’d been teasing. Elayza had to turn away before he realized she was about to laugh.
She checked Jallen again, even though Collo was already covering her up with a blanket. She was breathing easier, and her heart beat was steady again. If Elayza hadn’t known better, she’d have said she’d never been ill.
She must have been frowning, because Collo said, “Is something wrong?”
“No,” she said quickly, straightening up. “Nothing. She’s fine.”
“Until tomorrow,” Collo said bitterly.
It reminded her. “I think we’ve discovered what’s making her ill.”
His eyes shot up to her face, hot and intense. “What is it?”
She tried to explain as best as she could, but his face got harder and harder with every word. Finally, he said in a flat voice, “The spirit world is draining her life away.”
“It’s a little more involved than that--” Elayza tried to explain, and he cut her off.
“Fix it.”
Oh, dear. “I can’t. None of us can. It’s a side-effect of her gift, and there’s no way to get rid of her gift. It’s impossible. Until we remove the source of the turmoil, she’ll remain ill.”
“When you trap the dark god, the spirit world will settle down and Jallen will get better,” Collo said in that same flat voice.
The silence seemed to echo.
The Cashkani word Collo snarled sounded like an oath. “By the Lady, this is exactly why I didn’t want to get mixed up with you.”
“Hey,” Loret said, wobbling to his feet, “this is not from us. Jallen’s gift is etched into her soul. If you hadn’t found us, she’d be dead, all right? Count your blessings. Can you see now why we need her?”
“All I see is that I have even less reason to allow her to join you.” Collo swallowed visibly. “She’s ill. She’s weak. According to you, her very life is being sucked away by the spirit world. Even if you give her energy right before--whatever you’re going to do--how can she possibly help? She’s only six!”
“She’s the Sorceress,” Elayza tried to explain. “She has talents that none of us can even come close to mimicking. We need her to complete--”
Elayza!
What is it?
Come downstairs--quick. How’s Loret? Is he all right?
He’s actually fine. I don’t know why, but he doesn’t seem to be affected that badly. But what is it? Is something wrong?
No--I think we’ve found a charm that might work.
“It’s called the Kustor charm,” Kylara told them, squinting at the book she held. It was a frail, thin, green-leather bound tome with faded illustrations. It had been in the pile of books they’d borrowed from Pedlar.
“How does it work?”
“You need a prison.” Kylara took off the amulet and set it on the table. “A gemstone, it says. Something hard, and something with facets, so they’ll get confused. A diamond is best.” She touched the incredible purple diamond in the Amulet with a half-smile. “Got that.”
“Second, we’ll need a border time--Midsummer’s or Midwinter’s Eve.” Kylara traced her finger down the page, excitement boiling up in her heart. “You need two or more people to act as jailors or wardens. The more the better.”
Collo, who had come down with Loret and Elayza, said half-defiantly, “Six should be enough.”
“Yeah, but it says here that we also need someone who can work magic.” Kylara gave him a raised-eyebrow look. He was the first to look away.
“The jailors need to anoint the chosen prison in their--” Kylara had to stop and swallow. “Their willingly-given blood.”
There was a little silence.
Loret said, “It probably doesn’t have to be very much.” He still looked a little pale, but Elayza had been right--he’d somehow sailed through the harvest of his life-energy with few ill effects.
“I wouldn’t think so,” Durnan said. “It’s probably not the amount, but the simple presence or absence that counts. Isn’t that right, Collo?”
Collo, his face like stone, said, “I am k’agthus. I know little of magic.”
“You know enough,” Kylara said.
There was another silence. Collo’s mouth tightened. “Yes. For blood-magic, there is no difference between a drop and a gush.”
Kylara nodded. “All right. After the blood, they have to form a circle around the prisoner and join hands. The sorcerer or sorceress has to speak the initial words of the charm, but there’s a short phrase that everyone has to repeat to affirm their position as jailor. After that, the ritual is done. It’s not permanent--the ritual has to be reaffirmed every so often, with the same number of jailors.”
Loret said, “It can’t be that simple. That’s too easy.” He stood up, reaching for the book. “Where’s the catch?”
Kylara looked down the page and felt her heart drop like a stone. “The jailors--all of them--have to be the equal of their prisoner.”
Loret sat down again with a thump.
Naia said, “Their equal how? In age? In status?”
“Their equal in power,” Kylara said hollowly.
“Who’s the equal of a god?”
“Another god,” Kylara said, and let the book drop.
“Well,” Durnan said, and had to leave it at that.
“Guess we start looking again,” Loret muttered.
Kylara looked at the book. “This is the only one we’ve found that could possibly work, especially within the time we have.”
“So what do we do?”
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Kylara tapped the book. “Men become gods.”
Chapter 22 Part 2
For what felt like the hundredth time, Durnan tried to reason with her. “Kylara, men can’t become gods. It’s not possible.”
“Then explain to me how we can become equals to a god, Durnan. Huh? Yeah. And the charm only works if it’s a circle of equals, entrapping their own equal. It’s all about relative power, and you know, we just are not as powerful as this god. No how, no way . . . unless we become gods.”
“What if we take on our gods, like the last ones did?” Loret asked. “How about that?”
Kylara snapped, “The last time someone tried that, they all died.”
“Maybe--” Durnan started, and she turned on him with a snarl.
“I am not going to lead you into certain death. I refuse. I will not.”
He said quietly, “Do you honestly think I’d suggest that?”
Her shoulders sagged. “No,” she said. “No. I’m sorry.”
He brushed her hair back from her face. “I was just going to say, maybe this particular spell isn’t what we really need.”
“But it’s the only one we’ve found that fits Kasole’s riddle at all,” Kylara protested.
“That we’ve found,” he emphasized. “That doesn’t mean it’s not out there somewhere.”
Loret said abruptly, “I’m with Durnan. Let’s not start thinking this is the only way to do it.” He looked defiantly back at their blank stares. “What?”
Kylara shook her head. “You can research more,” she said, going for the door. “I’m going to Godstown.”
When the door had thudded closed behind her, Durnan sighed and rubbed his temples.
“Do you want something for that headache?” Elayza said in a wry voice.
“Please.”
Naia leaned against the stillroom counter and watched as Elayza carefully measured out herbs and mixed them with a neat hand. “How did you learn all this?” she asked curiously. “I’m sure it didn’t just come with your gift.”
Elayza’s hands paused, then continued. “No. In the house of our first master, there was an old slave who was a healer. She taught me a lot of what I know. The rest I’ve picked up--here and there.”
“A scattered education,” Naia commented.
“True, but thorough for all that. Maybe more so than if I’d apprenticed with one healer. Did you need something in particular, Naia?”
“Well . . . Kylara mentioned to me that Durnan hasn’t been sleeping well lately. It’s all this spell thing, and Midsummer’s Eve . . . you know. She’s a little worried, frankly. Could you maybe slip him something that would allow him to get some rest?”
Elayza’s brow furrowed. “I wonder why she didn’t mention anything to me?”
“Oh, she was going to, but she left before she got an opportunity.”
“Ah. Well . . . let’s see. He won’t take something like this voluntarily, so I’ll have to drop it in his food on the sly.” Elayza ladled a single dipperful of water into a shallow bowl and took down a long, thin bottle with a narrow neck.
Naia looked on curiously. “What exactly are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m starting with a water base,” Elayza explained. “Normally this would dilute it terribly, but I want to make sure it mixes in evenly with his food. This is poppy extract. It’s what will really be sending him to sleep.” She uncorked the bottle and tilted it, allowing precisely six drops of the milky liquid to splash into the water.
“That doesn’t seem like quite enough,” Naia said.
“I can’t add any more . . . it’s dangerous stuff. People have been known to die from taking too much.” Elayza took down the redflower. “I’m putting this in to give him a little extra energy when he does wake up.” She crushed the leaves between her fingers and sprinkled them over the water. “Can you get me that funnel hanging up over by you?”
Naia stood on her toes to lift it down. Elayza took it and slid the narrow end into a clean bottle. Taking up the bowl, she asked Naia to hold the bottle steady and poured her sleeping potion into the wide mouth of the funnel. When it was all in the bottle, she set down the bowl, laid the funnel aside, corked the bottle, and gave it several energetic shakes. “There. All ready.” She gave Naia a smile. “My stubborn brother should sleep well tonight.”
Naia eyed the bottle. “He certainly will.”
When Kylara returned, everyone else was halfway through dinner. “Nothing,” she announced, slumping down on the bench beside Durnan. “They all say it can’t be done. End of story.” She let her head thump down on her folded arms.
Durnan put a hand on her tense back and rubbed lightly. “Are you hungry?”
She’d been spoiling for a fight all the way home, and he wasn’t going to give her one? “Not even an I-told-you-so?” she needled him.
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You’d hit me.”
An unwilling laugh escaped her. “Damn straight I would. Don’t get up--I’ll do it myself.” After a moment, she was able to pull herself off the bench and trudge over to the fireplace. “Any luck on your end?” she asked over her shoulder.
“A little, but the only ones we found require equality of power. Back to the same problem.”
Naia said absently, toying with her food, “There isn’t an imprisonment charm in the world that will work without equality of power--it’s because the real prison bars are the jailors’ strength and wills, rather than whatever physical thing is supposed to serve as the prison. Theoretically, you could have a prison charm without a physical prison at all--it really just serves as a mental focus for the jailors.”
There was dead silence.
Naia looked up, and blinked. “I read it,” she said. “Dershilben’s Of Magical Theory. He’s got a whole chapter in there about mental focus.”
“I didn’t know that had been translated from the Satese,” Kylara said slowly.
“I--it was. Very recently. I just read it last month.”
“Damn--I’d kill to get my hands on a copy of that translation. I’ve always had trouble with Satese.”
“It’s a difficult language,” Naia said sympathetically.
“Anything else helpful?”
“Ah--no. Nothing that I remember.”
“Nothing on the gods?”
Naia shook her head.
Kylara glanced at Durnan. He was sitting staring down into his soup bowl, the spoon dangling forgotten from his fingers. His eyes looked a little glazed. "Are you all right?"
It took several seconds for her words to penetrate, and when he looked up, his eyes were still unfocused. "Just . . . tired . . ."
"Go to bed, then."
He sat for a moment, as if he were mustering up the energy to even rise from the table. "Strange . . . it just hit me like a hammer to the head all of a sudden."
"Exhaustion can do that," Elayza told him. "Give in for a little while, big brother. You'll feel better in the morning."
When he'd dragged himself from the room, Naia pushed aside her bowl with a restless movement. "I think I'll go for a walk."
Kylara glanced outside. "It's getting dark."
"I know. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure? Because--"
Loret rolled his eyes. "Just let her go. I'm sure she can handle herself."
Naia shot him a dark look, but took the moment and ducked out the door before Kylara could say anything else.
"Why don't you like her?" Kylara asked him instead.
Loret's mouth twisted. "Am I that obvious?" he asked sardonically.
"As a virgin in a whorehouse," Kylara said dryly. "Is that it? You don't like her because she used to be a prostitute?"
"Used to be? Nah, that's not it." He shrugged. "I just don't like her. Gets on my nerves." He pulled Naia's half-done bowl towards him. Through a mouthful, he added, "Plus she eats like a damn bird."
"Don't talk with your mouth full . . . and I would have thought that'd be a selling point in her favor," Kylara needled him.
"You'd think, wouldn't you?"
Sleep washed over Durnan in a great wave almost before his head hit the pillow, and he fell straight into dreams.
Strange dreams.
He tumbled over and over in the thick molasses dark, his limbs heavy and unresponsive. It didn't seem to matter--he was happy just to float.
Slowly, he became aware of something troubling him. He didn't know what it was, just that it was there. What's wrong? he asked himself, and couldn't get a clear answer. That was odd. He rarely expected a clear answer from even Kylara, but himself he could always count on.
What did it matter, anyway?
But the thing stayed there, sitting in his mind like a boulder whose surface and shape he couldn't quite see. It wanted his attention, but he was so tired he couldn't muster up the energy to examine it.
Hands pulled at him, urgent. What was it? He wanted to sleep. Couldn't they just leave him alone?
Light seeped through his eyelids, horribly intrusive. It couldn't be morning already. It wasn’t--it was flickery light, torchlight . . . curiousity was subsumed in sheer lethargy.
"Durnan! Durnan!"
It was Kylara's voice, with a note of panic in it. He thought, Great gods, what could make her panic? He forced his lids open, but the world remained hazy and shifting, turning upside-down and inside out.
"Wha--" he muttered thickly. His tongue didn't want to work, his mouth loose and slack. What was it? The world refused to settle into focus, and he would have been bothered by it if he hadn't been . . . so tired . . .
Kylara needs you.
It seemed as if it took every rare scrap of energy he had to force the world into focus. Slowly, patches of color coalesced into shapes he could recognize--door, bed, table, trunk, Kylara struggling in the hands of Regent’s guards--
Adrenaline speared through the languor, and he was able to haul himself from the bed. When his feet touched the floor, however, all his muscles failed him at once, and the covers tangled like a malevolent water monster around his ankles, and he crumpled to the floor.
Hard, unforgiving hands closed around his arms, dragging him up. He tried to struggle, but the strange lethargy was still on him, and bursts of furious energy had to fight through it before they could aid him any.
In the end, it wasn’t enough, and he was hauled into the outer room, his traitorous body too bogged down within itself to even struggle. He stared around in horror . . . Loret, Jallen, Armeth, Elayza . . . all were thrashing in the hands of the Regent’s Guards.
There were too many of them for the others to handle--why couldn’t he move?
Forgive me, Gzigas . . . I have failed them . . .
Chapter 22 Part 3
Kylara had heard about absolute darkness before--darkness like being blind, darkness where closing or opening your eyes didn’t make one whit of difference. She’d never really believed it. There was always some light--somewhere--as soon as your eyes adjusted. Some dim glow, moonlight or starlight or faint reflection of a candle, that was a little lighter than the darkness around.
She closed her eyes and opened them again, almost sickeningly disoriented when it didn’t make any difference.
Now she knew there was such a thing as absolute darkness . . . the complete absence of light.
“Durnan?” she said, and her voice quavered.
A hand brushed her shoulder, then traced down her arm to close around her hand. “I’m here.”
At the warmth of his fingers, the wobbly nausea faded. At least she knew now that he was there. Amazing how crippling the mere loss of light could be.
She shook herself. First things first--she had to check on her Guardians. “Jallen?” Was she even awake? “Elayza, are you there? Where’s Jallen?”
“I’m here,” said Elayza’s disembodied voice, somewhere off to her left. “Jallen’s here too--she’s still out.”
“How’s she doing?”
“About as well as could be expected.” There was a sigh in her voice.
“Armeth?” He was so little and frail--and those guards had been so huge . . .
“I’m fine,” came his soft voice from out of the dark.
“Are you sure?” It would be just like Armeth to deny injury.
“Yes.”
“He’s just a little sore, that’s all,” Elayza added.
“All right. Loret?”
“Troll fuckers gave me a black eye,” he grumbled in answer. The sulkiness of his voice was reassuring. If Loret could complain, he was just fine.
“Naia?”
“She’s not here,” Loret said.
“She isn’t?”
“Don’t you remember--she went out for a walk right after Durnan went to bed. I don’t remember her coming back.”
It took Kylara a moment to remember. “Thank the gods! A piece of luck!”
“For her, at least.”
“If she’s out there, she can do something. I don’t know what, but it’s better than--”
“No,” Loret broke in. “I’m saying, it’s awfully handy for her to suddenly take a stroll on the same night the Regent’s Guards come to take us.”
There was a nasty little silence. “You mean--”
“She knew they were coming. Or maybe she tipped ‘em off herself.”
“Why would she do that?” Durnan said. “She’s a Guardian.”
“She was also the Regent’s mistress.”
“She hates his guts!” Kylara exclaimed.
“So? What does that matter, if she has everything she used to? Who says you have to like the person you spread your legs for?”
“Don’t be crude, Loret,” Kylara said impatiently. “I know you don’t like Naia, but--”
Elayza said suddenly, “She’s the one who told me to give Durnan the sleeping potion.”
“Sleeping potion?”
“I’m sorry--she told me you’d asked her to--because you’d been having trouble sleeping, Durnan--”
Durnan said incredulously, “I was drugged?”
“Really well.”
Loret’s voice was grimly satisfied. “See?”
All the strange things about Naia were starting to settle into a hard, cold ball in the pit of Kylara’s stomach. But she forced herself to say, “Look, you guys are leaping to conclusions here.” They could be, after all.
“Where else is there to leap?”
“But she’s one of us--”
“You’re being naive, Ky. Guardians are human, and humans are selfish.”
Durnan said, “But I felt the same thing around her that’s been around us. She’s in danger. Don’t you think that if she were planning to betray us, she would--”
At first, she thought it was an illusion. But--yes--the thick darkness was being lightened, a very little bit. Then a little bit more . . .
“Shhh!”
“What is it?”
“Someone’s coming.”
And Naia appeared around the corner, carrying a torch.
“Naia!” Kylara called out in a hoarse whisper, hardly daring to believe their luck. “Naia! Quick, get us out of here before the guards come back!”
Naia paused in front of their cell. “And why would I want to do that?” she asked softly.
Kylara stared at her, dumbfounded. The torch was dazzling her eyes, but she could still see Naia’s half-smirk. “What do you mean--why?” But the only thought in her head was He was right. Godsdammit, Loret was right.
Loret said coldly, “Yeah, why? When she’s the one who put us in here in the first place.”
Naia threw him a mocking glance. “Aren’t you clever.”
“Was this always the plan?” he snarled, pushing himself off the wall. “Or did the Regent come to you with a better offer than ours?”
Naia made a production out of flicking her luxurious hair over one shoulder with her free hand. “Oh, it was always the plan. I played my part well, don’t you think?”
“You coldhearted bitch!” Kylara’s fist shot through the bars, aiming for Naia’s eyes.
Naia leapt back, and Kylara grunted as her shoulder slammed with painful force into the bars. She couldn’t reach her, and was forced to glare uselessly.
Durnan’s whisper was incredulous, and diamond-hard. “Why would you do this? You’re a Guardian!”
The brittle, mocking expression, which had lifted for a moment of alarm, settled back over Naia’s perfect features. “I’d far rather be Queen.” Her eyes flickered to Kylara again. “Don’t do anything foolish. We need you alive for awhile yet.” She started to walk away, and then paused. Without turning her head, she said very softly, “You shouldn’t have trusted a whore, Kylara.”
Then she was gone, taking the torch with her, and they were in darkness once again.
Naia sat still as her maid painstakingly pulled a few wispy curls out of her elaborate coiffure to bounce delicately around her face. “Perfect,” she murmured, studying herself in the mirror. It was so nice to have one of these around again, and someone who actually knew how to do hair, and makeup.
“Will there be anything else, m’lady?”
“No. You may leave me.” The maid curtseyed and left Naia alone.
She rose from her seat and crossed the room to the full-length mirror that hung on the wall, enjoying the feel of silk against her body. That white linen dress . . . so plain, and crude. She studied herself in the mirror, pulling the neckline down a little, tugging the skirt so that it fell straight, smoothing her palms across her flat belly and over her hips.
For a moment she heard Kylara’s voice. The Regent’s not here, and we don’t care what you look like. You don’t need to do that.
Naia watched her mouth tremble in the mirror, and turned sharply away, her skirt belling out around her.
She went to the tall jewelry cabinet and opened it. A diamond necklace already glittered at her throat, and matching earrings dangled from her ears, but she wanted something else. She pulled open a drawer and picked out a diamond coronet that sparked white fire in her hands.
After carefully setting it on her head, she admired the effect with a hand mirror. Beautiful, she thought. Perfect. As she should be.
Soon it would be a true crown, not this small copy.
As she moved to put the hand mirror down, it tilted so that the diamond coronet disappeared from view, and all Naia could see in the circle of glass was her own eyes. There were shadows in them--not under, she never would have
tolerated that. But actually in them, deep in the usually-clear blue.
She couldn’t look into her own eyes anymore.
They’d accepted her. Oh, not completely. But Kylara had welcomed her into the circle of the Guardians, openly offering books and shelter and friendship. Durnan had never censured her for her attempted seduction. Elayza had shrugged off her sordid life’s-work, even when Naia had made a point of mentioning it. Armeth, although his reservations had been obvious, had never been anything but polite. And Jallen--gods, Jallen would have played with her hair all day if her father hadn’t made his disapproval obvious.
Of the Guardians, only Loret had held back. Was it because, as the Wily One, he’d seen the possibility of what she would do?
Enough of this!
The Guardians had been weak, idealistic, and too gullible. They’d deserved what they’d gotten. Right and wrong . . . there was no right or wrong. There was only power--those who had it, and those who didn’t.
Naia tilted her head back to watch the coronet glitter. Tomorrow, she would be crowned Queen. And she would have power forever.
When a knock sounded at the door, she jumped, and the hand mirror leapt from her hand and smashed on the floor. “Yes, what is it?” she snapped.
“His Grace sends for you, my lady. He is in the Great Hall.”
“I’ll be there shortly.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Naia looked down at the flower of broken glass that sparkled on the floor. A fractured, disjointed image of herself looked back. Without deliberation, she swept her shoe through the spill of glass, scattering it over the tile floor. Now it only reflected sparkles of light and color. She wouldn’t have to look at herself in it.
“Clean that up,” she ordered the maid, sweeping past her.
“Yes, my lady.”
Chapter 23 Part 1
“Huso?”
Jallen was awake. Kylara winced, feeling the little girl’s confusion to change to instinctive fear of the dark, and then--
“Huso! Huso!” Fear of the dark had morphed into the darker, more unfamiliar fear of no warm arms around her and no deep voice to whisper in her own language, no good father-smell to comfort.
Elayza’s voice: “Shh--your huso’s not here, sweetie--”
“SASCHE HUSO!”
It was Cashkani, but even if Kylara hadn’t been able to hear her thoughts, it would have been clear: Jallen wanted her father, and she wanted him right now.
Elayza’s voice continued, soft and coaxing, trying to calm the little girl. “He’s not here, but we’re all here, it’s all right, it’s all right . . .”
It’s not all right, how can you say that?
Elayza’s “voice” came back with a sort of weary snap in it, as Jallen started to cry in monotonous wails. Because Jallen needs to calm down or she’ll wear herself out and waste all of Loret’s good energy that I just gave her.
Dammit, she was right--and after several minutes, the heartbroken sobbing petered out, except for the occasional sniffle and mournful whisper of “Huso.”
It was hard to tell time in the dark--another disorienting factor. But Kylara could estimate from the gnawing pains in her stomach that the day was wearing on.
She sat against the wall, staring into space. How could she have missed this?
She was the Seeker. She was supposed to lead and handle the group. How could she have missed that Naia was a little too self-absorbed and inane to be real? How many times had the pretty mask slipped, and she’d seen the clever, calculating woman underneath?
The truth was, she hadn’t missed it, but she’d convinced herself that it didn’t matter--couldn’t matter. They were doing too many things--looking for the answer to the riddle, trying to figure out how to get to the Regent, trying to fathom the nature of Jallen’s illness . . . Naia, by contrast, hadn’t seemed that important.
Kylara let her head fall back against the damp, moldy stone wall behind her. It had been really important.
“How could I have been so blind?” she whispered. “How did I not see?”
There was a flicker of a thought from Loret’s mind, quickly buried. “Yeah,” she said aloud. “I know. You didn’t like her from the start.”
“No,” he said uncomfortably.
She let her temper flare. “Dammit, Loret! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You knew I didn’t like her,” Loret snapped back.
Durnan’s voice said soothingly, “Loret--Kylara--we don’t need--”
“Stay out of this,” they both snapped at once.
Kylara continued, “But I thought that was just a personal thing. Why didn’t you tell me your instincts were going haywire? You’re supposed to tell me things like that!”
“I didn’t know it was my Guardian instincts.”
“Durnan--why didn’t you say something? Didn’t you feel anything?”
He almost snarled, “Yes. I knew--something--was odd, but I couldn’t put my finger on it, and--” He heaved a sigh. “I underestimated her too. I failed you.”
Armeth said very softly, “I saw her once. In a dream.”
It was so unlike Armeth to actually volunteer information that it was Elayza who finally asked, “What did you see, Armeth? What was she doing?”
“She was holding a bowl with blood in it,” Armeth said. “She asked if she should drink too.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell us?”
There was a long moment of silence before Armeth whispered, “I was hoping Durnan would make it wrong.”
Durnan groaned, very softly.
“And then I saw her in the garden, and I thought he did--”
“What garden?”
“I saw us all in a garden, once. It had a lake, and trees, and--”
“When?”
“After Durnan and Loret came to see me.”
“You saw all of us? Together?”
“Yes.”
Loret said doubtfully, “Even Naia?”
“Yes.”
Kylara thought, Maybe that means we’ll live through this--somehow--some way--
Then she realized, But he saw Loret getting hanged, too. Just because he saw something once doesn’t mean it’ll always be the same future. That’s why he’s with us. Maybe I was supposed to talk Naia out of this, or she was supposed to change her mind because of something I did--and I didn’t . . .
“What else have you seen that you haven’t told us about, Armeth?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I’ve just been seeing--the blood--”
Kylara had almost forgotten his vision of the night that Jallen had come to them. He’d been seeing that over and over again? “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“You never asked.”
Loret added, “Besides, you didn’t seem to need our help.”
Her eyes narrowed in the dark. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You didn’t need help. You had it all under control. You didn’t need any of us.”
“Is this true?”
“Would I say it if it wasn’t true?”
“I wasn’t talking to you.” Kylara directed her voice out to the others. “All of you. Is this true?”
There was a long, drawn-out pause. None of them would look at her, or meet her eyes--not even Durnan. Kylara almost groaned. “I see.”
Durnan said, “Kylara--”
“Shh!” Elayza hissed.
Slowly, so slowly that Kylara hadn’t even noticed it during her argument, the darkness had been lightening. Someone was coming with a torch.
Kylara struggled to her feet. If Naia had come back to gloat, the smug godsdamned bitch--
But no--it wasn’t Naia. It was instead a squadron of guards, carrying a single dim, flickering torch. The one in the lead unlocked their cell.
Now they were all on their feet, even Jallen, who was hanging onto Elayza’s hand and was finally quiet. In the wavering light of the torch, every face was tight and wary.
The guard who’d unlocked the cell door came in and took hold of Elayza’s chains. “Come along, all of you,” he ordered.
“Where are we going?” Loret asked warily.
The head guard grinned nastily, showing broken teeth in the wavering light of the torch. “To see his Majesty.”
He started out of the cell, still holding Elayza’s fetters, so that she was forced to shuffle after him, her ankles still constrained. The length of chain that connected her to Jallen went taut, tugging the little girl forward, and the rest of them in turn.
Kylara eyed the phalanx of guards with amazement. Chained at wrist and ankle, tired, hungry, and emotionally drained . . . and they each got their own guard? The Regent was taking no chances, she thought ironically, and then: What does he want us for, though?
Just in front of her, Jallen stumbled and fell, with more clinking of chains. She began to cry again in a thin wail. Kylara broke away from her guard and picked her up, settling her against her shoulder and whispering, “Shhh, shhhh, shhhhhhh . . .” After a few moments, the cries subsided into sniffles, and Jallen was quiet. She was too tired and sick to really throw the tantrum that she could have.
Jallen’s chains cut into Kylara’s shoulder and neck, but she didn’t want to set her down. The little girl’s guard apparently decided to leave her there, as he didn't make any move to pull her out of Kylara's arms, but simply moved back to flank her.
They stumbled on, a light-blind, weary, fearful line dragged along by stone-faced guards. Their journey seemed to stretch out forever--hall after hall, and then stairway after stairway after stairway. Kylara began to concentrate merely on lifting her feet high enough to catch the next step, her mind so numb the task seemed monumental. Jallen’s weight was like lead in her arms.
What was going to happen to them?
She lifted her foot for the next step and stumbled as it came down on the same level as her other foot. Jallen made a surprised, fretful noise against her neck, and Kylara whispered an absent shhh as she took in the details of the new environment.
No more steps--they were in a long passageway with two high, golden doors at the end of it. She stared at them, sick dread in her stomach. Somehow, she knew they didn't lead to another set of stairs, but to the end of this nightmare journey.
The guard didn't even pause, but kept walking, dragging her along so she was forced to stumble along after, fighting not to drop Jallen. Bile rose in her throat as the great golden doors drew closer. Oh gods oh gods oh gods . . .
There was something wrong behind that door, she could feel it in every muscle of her body.
The doors swung wide open, and Kylara’s eyes began to water. If they’d stung from the dim torches the guards had carried, it was nothing to the blaze of light that filled the round golden room. Great braziers hung from the ceiling, filled with leaping flames, and they reflected back from the metal panels on the walls. More gold, Kylara thought.
The room was thus filled with flames and reflections of flames--too much light, too damn much . . .
After being so long in the dark, and the dimness of the single torch, all the light stabbed her eyes like long needles, driving right into her skull. She bit off a curse and clamped them tightly shut.
Loret didn't even bother to bite it off--he howled right out loud. "Shit!" Then there was a thumping sound, and a rattle of chains and a thud. Kylara managed to open her eyes a slit and looked over her shoulder.
Loret, the side of his face red and already starting to swell, was being hauled to his feet by the guard. There was blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and his thin body dangled from the guard's enormous hand like a rag doll.
Oh, gods! Loret? Are you all right?
I'm fine. But his "voice" was dazed and the response automatic. Kylara wasn’t convinced, but she couldn’t do anything for him, and he was staying on his feet. By squeezing her watering eyes tight and looking through the thinnest of slits, she was able to see the details of the ornate round room.
The focus of the room was a circular dais with another fiery brazier on it, this one standing chest-high on three brass legs. Behind it, through the rippling flames, Kylara could just see the Regent, with Naia standing slightly behind and below him.
Kylara concentrated on that beautiful, cold face, feeling her anger rise up like a savage beast. You sold us out, you selfish, greedy harlot. For what? For a crown, and for power, you sold out your fellow Guardians, your sworn god, and your entire country.
Then Naia’s eyes met hers, blue as sapphires, and just as hard. My sworn god? Who swore me to this god?
Kylara jolted. She hadn’t honestly expected Naia to “hear” her. But she answered flatly, The Fates.
The Fates also gave me this body, and this face. A scribe, indeed, with a body made for sex!
Kylara persisted, trying to make right what she’d neglected before. And you swore yourself to Hephat, from the first moment you taught yourself to read and think.
But what did this country ever do for me, Kylara? What did they do that I should throw my best chance at success away for them?
What best chance at success? You know better than that, Scribe. You are of Surania. If Surania falls, you fall with it.
I don’t think so, Seeker. Naia’s mind turned away.
Kylara panicked all at once. DON’T ignore me!
But Naia had dismissed her, and with it, her last hope that the other woman would be brought back to them--or to them, since she’d never really been one of them at all.
Chapter 23 Part 2
As they were brought before the altar, Jallen’s weight in her arms and against her shoulder was both comforting and dismaying. Comforting because it gave her an excuse to hold someone tightly, and dismaying because it told her she really was here and it wasn’t some horrible nightmare.
Then, so quickly she couldn’t stop it, Jallen’s guard simply reached over and pulled her from Kylara’s arms. Jallen shrieked and struggled wildly, her chains clanking against themselves, but the guard who held her was simply too big, and he easily constrained her.
Before she could even try to free Jallen, Kylara’s own guard planted a hand between her shoulder blades and shoved, forcing her to her knees before she fell on her face. Her kneecaps hit the hard tiled floor with such force that she thought for a moment that they’d cracked.
At her side, Jallen was crying silently. The others were arranged in a circle around the dais, all on their knees. She looked over and realized that there was a gap between her and Elayza, wider than those between the others.
Odd . . .
By craning her neck just a fraction, she could see Durnan, most of the way around the circle from her. His shoulders were tense, and if she had to guess, she would have said that behind his back, his knuckles were white. His eyes, like coals in his white face, met hers. I’m sorry.
He didn’t think they were going to live another hour, either.
It wasn’t you, she thought back, concentrating on making the thought as forceful as possible. Durnan was blaming himself for this, and the whole thing had been her fault, for not listening, for not leading-- It was me. It was her. It was the Regent. It was the dark god.
But that’s what I’m supposed to protect against, was his miserable reply.
You’re only human. You did the best you could.
It wasn’t enough.
Then the Regent moved, for the first time, and Kylara’s eyes were drawn to him. He held a heavy silver goblet in one hand, the bowl of it wider than his hand, and in the other a silver knife. There were identical etchings on both that seemed to twist and writhe in horrible shapes as she watched them.
The knife edge glittered with its own sharpness, and Kylara thought, Blood. The dark god wants blood.
I would have preferred not to die like this . . .
Saldatis stepped off the dais, and Kylara steeled herself. But he didn’t go for her first. Instead, he paced towards Jallen.
Kylara’s stomach revolted. No!
But then--Maybe--maybe it’ll be better for her to be first, so she won’t be so frightened watching the rest of us . . .
Saldatis began to chant, low mechanical words with no change of inflection from one syllable to the other, so they all ran together. “Kahalarit aq leat sauranis kahalarit aq leat yitta mehapit sumetis gahajut kahalarit aq leat sauranis . . .”
Still chanting, he set the goblet down and reached out to take Jallen’s tiny chin in a firm grip, holding her head steady. Her eyes were huge in her white face, and something of her must have understood what was coming, as young as she was.
Suddenly, Kylara thought of Collo, who loved his daughter so dearly and had been so adamant about letting her take her place as Guardian. He’d been right, after all, not that it mattered, and Kylara’s heart ached for the man who might never know how his daughter died.
The droning chant went on as Saldatis lifted the knife into the air, ready for a downward slash. Suddenly unable to watch, Kylara wrenched her head away.
A second later, Jallen screamed, and the sound seared through Kylara’s entire body. She sucked in a harsh breath, unsure how her link with the girl would be severed . . . or if it would . . .
The sound of soft, confused sobs filtered through her horror, and she lifted her head, blinking.
Jallen was alive.
There was blood pouring down her face and soaking down her braid from a cut that ran from her part almost to her temple, but she was still upright and her eyes were open. She was weeping, tears mingling messily with the blood that was starting to drip off her chin
Kylara’s mouth fell open. But--how--why--?
She watched, tense as a bowstring, for Saldatis to finish her off . . . but he moved on, chanting still, to Armeth, who watched him with eyes that said he’d seen this all before.
This time Kylara watched hard, puzzling. Saldatis took Armeth’s head in the same impersonal grip. The knife was lifted, slashed downward, and Armeth jolted but didn’t cry out as blood sprang from the livid line in his hair. Saldatis picked up the cup from the floor where he’d set it and allowed Armeth’s blood to spill into it for a few moments before he pulled it away and straightened.
He only wanted their blood at the moment--for whatever reason, their lives were not to be stolen yet. Kylara warned herself not to hope too much.
The Regent’s low monotonous chanting went on as he treaded around the circle. Durnan made no sound when the silver knife gashed open his head, but his eyes burned with hatred and fury.
Loret tried to bite Saldatis when his hand came near, and Kylara winced, expecting a blow. But Saldatis didn’t even pause in his chanting, but took Loret’s chin in the same cold, impersonal grip and made the same cold, impersonal slash as he had for the others. He didn’t even seem angry.
The very oddness of that shook something deep in Kylara, whatever was left to be shaken. It was almost inhuman, the monotonous chanting, the impersonality of the blood-drawing . . . like a priest not particularly interested in the sacrifice he was preparing.
Saldatis finished with Elayza and straightened, turning his impassive face to her. She stared straight into it.
You’re not my enemy.
It was a strange thing to think about a man holding a knife on her, a man who had just slashed open the heads of her five fellow Guardians, but there it was. She stared up into his eyes, flat metallic grey like the blade of the knife. They were dead eyes--or possibly they’d never been alive. There wasn’t anything behind them, not passion, not anger, not hot red glee. Nothing. Like a puppet’s painted eyes.
How could you hate a puppet?
Pain exploded in her head as he swiped the knife down across it, and she felt blood gush, pouring down into the goblet he held against her face. Strangely, she felt divorced from it all, coolly observing the sensations from a distance. Even when he finally pulled the cold metal away from her face, leaving her own hot blood to spill down her face and drip from her chin, Kylara didn’t register it quite correctly.
She watched, blinking stinging salty blood from her eyes, as Saldatis bore the cup to Naia.
The other woman was smiling, her eyes sparkling with power. "Shall I drink, too?" she purred, reaching for the cup.
He didn’t reply, but, lifting his arm, slashed her head.
She let out a hoarse, shocked scream, and then couldn't cry out any more as he clamped his hand around her throat to hold her up and pushed the hard silver cup against her face to catch the ruby-bright blood.
"You--promised--" she stuttered, her voice hoarse from the pressure of his hand. After a moment, the cup filled to the brim, and he let her fall.
She crumpled to the floor in a heap, like a puppet with all its strings cut at once, but she was able to look up at him. She couldn't seem to take it in. "You promised--you said--I would be your--queen--" she rasped.
He turned away, dismissing her as she had dismissed Kylara a few minutes before. He’d used her as Naia had used them.
As if all had suddenly come clear to her, too, Naia let out a scream of rage and pushed herself to her feet, her long-nailed hands reaching out for him as if she would tear his throat out--but the extra guard was there behind her, grabbing both wrists and wrenching her arms back behind so that all she could do was struggle uselessly.
Kylara thought savagely, The betrayer betrayed. You haven’t read enough stories, Naia, or you’d know that’s always the way of it.
Caught in the guard’s unyielding grip, all Naia could do was struggle. “Flea-dicked bastard!”
Saldatis ignored her and took the goblet, brimful with blood, back to the dais and set it on a little three-legged stand just to one side.
“Ass-licking troll fucker!” she raged at his uncaring back. “I hope that limp wick dries up and falls off!”
The chant had changed--it was faster, the words sharper and more cutting, his voice louder. He threw a handful of something wrinkled and brown into the flames, and the flames turned a deep red and whooshed up for a moment, sending out a thick, choking smell that invaded Kylara’s nose and numbed her brain. Then they settled, but the sickly red color, and the smell, remained.
Perhaps under the influence of that, Naia’s screams had finally subsided into sobs, more of impotent fury than real sorrow.
Chanting almost in a scream now, he lifted the goblet high above his head-- “Kahalarit aq leat sauranis kahalarit aq leat yitta!”--and flung their mingled stolen blood into the flames. A great belch of smoke, smelling horribly metallic and like cooking meat at the same time, roiled upwards.
Then came the pain, great lances of it stabbing all the way through her head from the thin line of fire at her hairline. It seemed to be ripping something out of her . . . like Elayza’s gift, but worse, far worse, without the tempering gentleness of the healer’s soul.
Jallen’s soft sobs turned momentarily into a high, thin scream at the very edge of hearing, and then broke off. Kylara tried to turn her head to see what had happened, but she couldn’t. The pain was too great. “Calling” out to her or anyone else wasn’t even a possibility.
Through the red haze over her vision, she could just see the brazier, and the Amulet in the midst of it still. Within the smoke and rippling air above the flames, something dark and horrible was taking shape, gaining form and density with every glass-edged word word that Saldatis uttered.
The dark god.
This was her enemy.
It took you long enough to catch on, Seeker. Look around--what do you think of these Guardians I’ve gathered?
This could not be ignored. Kylara flung the thought out at the darkness that hovered in the air above the brazier, and like a dark cloak around her brain. The Guardians I gathered!
Laughter, dark and somehow foul. You? You foolish mortal. You were as much a tool as this idiot of a priest I took, and his nearsighted whore. It was I who have done all these things, Seeker, and don’t you forget it!
The red haze over her eyes darkened to black and sucked her down.
Chapter 23 Part 3
When she woke, her cheek was resting against hard stone, and her entire head was throbbing, especially her temple.
She tried lifting her head, cautiously, and was rewarded by an especially sharp stab of pain. But in this case, she welcomed the pain. It meant she was alive.
Kylara?
“Aah!” The sharpest spike yet stabbed through her brain. “Don’t do that!”
“Sorry,” Elayza whispered. Then, raising her voice a little, she called out, “Kylara’s awake, everyone, but don’t try to talk to her mind--it’ll hurt her.”
Something occurred to Kylara. “Jallen?”
Elayza hesitated. “Hovering. She’s unconscious, but still with us for the moment.”
Kylara let out a sound between a sigh of relief and a moan of fury. “Everyone else?”
Durnan’s voice came to her out of the dark. “We’re all awake, except Jallen. We were getting concerned.”
She reached out and encountered his hand. Gripping it tight, she gritted her teeth and levered herself up into a sitting position. Her stomach clenched, and she paused and held her breath. There was nothing in her stomach to heave up, however, and in a moment, it settled.
Durnan’s arm came around her lower back, supporting her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“No,” she said bluntly. “But I’m not about to die, either.”
Loret said, “Why aren’t we dead?”
A scornful voice came from off to the left. “Because the ceremony dictates living blood. The dark god is connected to you now, and he’s going to make sure we don’t die until he’s done with you.”
Kylara lifted her head from Durnan’s shoulder. “Naia? What are you doing here?”
A derisive snort. “Do you honestly think that snake-lipped double-crosser would put me back in his bed after the way he treated me? He knows perfectly well I’d bite off his rocks and choke him with them.” She said it in a bored, matter-of-fact tone that didn’t quite hide the vicious fury underneath.
“How nasty of him to ruin your great plan to be queen,” Loret said snidely. “Do you need a shoulder to cry on?”
Naia told him to do something that even Loret probably hadn’t heard before. After a moment of stunned silence, however, he rallied. “No, thanks, tried it. Hurt like hell. How do we know you’re telling the truth?”
“You don’t,” she told him. “Either way, I don’t really care. We’ll be dead tomorrow anyway.”
“I thought you said the dark god was going to keep us alive,” Durnan said accusingly.
“I also said, until he was done with us. Tomorrow is Midsummer’s Eve.”
Kylara closed her eyes. “It’s the border time,” she said in a despairing voice. “The spell can be redone or broken. He still needs to escape from the Amulet.”
“I thought he did that,” Loret said.
“No--that was just breaking him most of the way out. He’s still tied to it. He can only escape at a border time, because that’s what the spell calls for.”
Naia said, “You don’t need to tell me, Seeker. I’m the one who found it for Saldatis. You’re just lucky I let you find it in the healer’s house.”
Kylara’s eyes snapped open. “Dershilben. You read that in the original, didn’t you?”
“Are you surprised that I lied?”
“I shouldn’t be.”
Kylara was about to say more, but thudding footsteps echoing down the passageway, and a tinge of lightness to the dark outside, cut her off. Were the guards coming to take them away again?
It was only one guard, the head guard, who slid the key in the lock and opened the door. Naia stepped forward, her face flat and expressionless, and left with him.
Loret howled an insult down the hall after her.
“She was talking with that one earlier,” he hissed, slumping down the wall to sit on the ground again. In the receding light from the guard’s torch, Kylara could see that his bruise had spread almost all over the left half of his face. “I heard her when I woke up.” He put on a falsetto that didn’t sound like Naia’s husky voice at all. “‘Oooh, you’re so strong--I’ll bet they give you lots of responsibility--’”
“Shut up, Loret,” Durnan said tiredly, and for a wonder, Loret did.
“Kylara--wake up!”
After Elayza had inspected her as best she could by touch, whispering apologies for the pain and her inability to do anything about it, Kylara had fallen asleep on Durnan’s shoulder again. Now she lifted her aching head, blinking at the slightly paler dark. “What is it?”
Durnan pointed. Naia, carrying a sturdy earthenware jug and a sputtering lamp, was just being ushered back into the cell by the guard she’d left with. Her wrists were still chained, and her thick hair was tumbled and tangled. There was a rip at the shoulder of her dress.
Naia turned to the guard and said, “You’ll bring food later, as we agreed.” Her chin was high and her face impassive, as if she were the one with the advantage in this situation.
“If ye want anything else, all ye have ta do is--” He grinned widely, showing broken teeth, and put his hand on Naia’s breast. “Ask.”
Naia stepped back, smiling coolly. “I’ll remember that.” She turned her head away, and the tiny light of the lamp flickered over her face, surprising a look in her eyes and a twist to her mouth. Almost, Kylara realized in surprise, like a woman struggling not to cry.
A moment later, as the door shut behind her with a clang, it was gone.
Kneeling, she put both jug and lamp on the ground in front of Elayza. “There’s enough water for you to at least clean out everyone’s wound,” she told the other woman in a matter-of-fact voice. “The lamp doesn’t look like much, but there’s enough oil for several hours probably.”
Elayza looked at her, blinking, for a moment before pulling herself together. “Everyone take a swallow of water before I get it all bloody,” she announced. “Not a big one, mind.”
Kylara took her drink and passed the jug on. “Naia,” she said, and the other woman’s eyes slid towards her, wary. “How did you get this?”
“I bargained for them,” Naia said in a brittle voice.
“With yourself,” Kylara said, her eyes narrowed as she tried to puzzle it out.
Naia’s mouth tightened. “What else is there to bargain with?”
“Why?”
“I have a wide-open cut on my head too,” the other woman said.
“But you could have just brought enough for yourself.”
“What good would that have done? She would have used it on the little one instead.” Naia flicked her hair over her shoulder in a pale imitation of her former haughty gesture and turned away, presenting Kylara with her back.
Loret was watching Naia, with the same narrow-eyed, slightly puzzled gaze as herself. Their eyes met, and Kylara raised her brows. Loret looked away.
After the jug had been passed around, Elayza got to work on Jallen, examining and then cleaning out the wound. “If only I had a needle,” she murmured, blotting the thickened blood away.
“It was the best I could do,” Naia snapped.
“I wasn’t blaming you,” Elayza said peaceably. “I’m just saying, we could have avoided the scar if I could have put stitches in.”
Naia said, as if speaking to a child, “We won’t live long enough to get a scar--”
Kylara spoke. “But if you believe that, Naia, what was the point of getting it in the first place?”
Naia didn’t say anything.
Kylara blinked her eyes open, frowning. The lamp was still burning in the window, sending its little glow out over the cell. After the food had come--two loaves of bread, which she and Durnan had carefully parceled out among everyone--they’d gradually fallen asleep. There was so little else to do in here, and the ritual they’d undergone that morning was still dragging on them.
The Guardians were tumbled together like a brood of puppies, with Naia off to one side like the runt of the litter. Kylara was just looking away when some movement caught her eye, and she looked back.
There was a man kneeling by Naia, with his hand lightly on her blood-stiffened hair. Kylara sat up, opening her mouth to snarl at him--but then he looked up, and she was struck dumb.
He was no guard, intent on more free sex. He wasn’t even a man.
The god Hephat said sadly, “My poor lost Scribe.”
Kylara looked around the cell wildly. She was the only one of the Guardians awake.
Jallen had been lifted from her nest in Elayza’s arms and was being cuddled against the shoulder of a dark-haired woman who crooned to her in Cashkani--Cashka, it had to be. Elayza was being examined by a slim blond man with gentle fingers. “Good job, Healer,” Usabata murmured approvingly, tracing the line of her wound.
Loret grumbled in his sleep, batting at the hand of the man who was studying the livid bruise on one side of his face. Ricate laughed softly and mussed Loret’s bright hair with rough affection. “Like a rabid wolverine, my Wily One.”
Armeth sighed and nuzzled his face into the arm of a pale-eyed man--Sabadar--who stroked his forehead as if soothing some pain and said nothing. Durnan relaxed under the thick blanket that a soft-faced woman--Gzigas--laid over him.
Seven Guardians, but only six gods.
“Where are the Fates?”
“Here, Seeker.”
The voice was strange--as if it were not one voice, but three, speaking at the same time, but with slightly different inflections and timing. Kylara stared up at the single woman who stood in front of her, and saw in the face three faces, and in the gown three shifting colors.
She said furiously, “Is this your idea of taking care of us?”
Gzigas made a movement as if to soothe Kylara, but the Fates raised a hand. “It is all we can do, Seeker.”
Kylara got to her feet, her fists clenched. If she’d dared to bare her teeth, she would have. “You’re gods!"
“There are laws, Seeker,” Gzigas said gently.
Sabadar looked up. “And just because our brother breaks them, is no reason we may, too.”
“It’s even more of a reason not to,” Ricate murmured.
But Kylara would not be soothed. She whirled on the Fates. “And you--you’re more than gods, you control the gods--”
“It is not as easy as just pulling strings, Seeker,” the Fates told her. “Things happen for a reason, and you are only mortal.”
“We’re going to die because things happen for a reason?” she howled, not bothering to keep her voice down. Strangely, the others slept on. “What could possibly be your reason for bringing us this far, only to die? Tell me that, dammit! Tell me that!” She lifted her hands to grab the Fates’ shoulders, but at the last moment found she couldn’t. She had to use her upraised hands to knuckle away mortifying tears, instead.
“Nobody said you or any of your Guardians were going to die.”
Kylara hiccupped. “Oh yeah? Your brother did. Whatever the hell his name is. We’re going to be his first sacrifices tomorrow, and then you’ll have lost, all of you--and all of us too--”
“You have the power to defeat him, Seeker.”
“I don’t understand,” Kylara whispered.
“We can give you a little help, Seeker,” Gzigas said in her gentle voice. “Or rather--we can each give our own champions a little bit. Not very much--but a very little bit.” She leaned over and touched her lips to Durnan’s forehead, like a mother checking for fever. “To you, Durnan, my brave man-son, I give you strength enough to see those you love in danger and not follow your instincts.”
Ricate ruffled Loret’s hair again. “To you, Loret, my little mad wolverine, I give you the luck of the gods, for a day.”
Usabata touched Elayza’s wound a second time. “To you, Elayza, my reluctant apprentice, I give the will to use your gift against your training.”
Sabadar stroked Armeth’s temples. “To you, Armeth, my gentle oracle, I give the sight of things past as well as things future.”
Hephat smoothed down Naia’s hair again. “To you, Naia, my wandering student, I give faith in your own knowledge.”
Cashka set her cheek against the top of Jallen’s head. “To you, Jallen, my sweet child-mage, I give the strength to perform your magic.”
She closed her eyes, and a shudder ran through her, hard. Ricate and Sabadar leapt to their feet, hands ready to steady her on both sides. But she lifted her head, shaking it at them. “It was just a little--she is such a little one that she didn’t need much of what I could give.” Reluctantly, she laid Jallen back in Elayza’s lap.
Kylara turned to the Fates, chin high. “What do you have for me?” she challenged, not expecting anything.
“It is already in your posession.”
She stared. “Where?”
“Your tools are all before you, and it is you who must use them, not us.”
With that, the Fates and the gods were gone, leaving Kylara alone with--
“The Guardians,” she said out loud, looking around her. “My tools.”
Chapter 24 Part 1
Naia woke to Kylara’s voice. “Get up! Get up, everyone! Come on, wake up!”
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. The lamp was still burning, and Kylara was moving around between the light and the shadows, waking the Guardians up. “Come on!”
Naia scowled at her. Didn’t she know they were tired? What right did she have to run around waking them up?
What for?
A small voice said, “Is my ‘huso here?”
Naia’s mouth dropped open. Jallen was awake, sitting up, rubbing her eyes. She’d been half-dead--more than half--when they’d gone to sleep, and now--
“No, he’s not--Jallen, how do you feel?”
“I want my ‘huso!”
“He’s not here. Jallen, answer me--how do you feel?”
Naia looked away from the pair, and back at Kylara. It was then that she realized something about her.
There was no hot, bright anger in her now--no limp and exhausted defeat. Rather, Kylara seemed to glow from within, almost vibrating with an energy that had been missing during their entire stay in the dungeon.
Durnan must have realized the same thing, because he caught her hand and forced her to stay in one place for a moment. “What is it?”
She tugged him to his feet by the grip on his hand. “The gods. They came. Here.”
“What?”
“What for?” Loret wanted to know.
Kylara flushed. “To give me a kick in the ass.”
“I didn’t know gods did that,” Durnan said drily.
“Well, the Fates did.”
Loret said, “Elayza?”
She was examining Jallen, who was wiggly and uncooperative, and sulking because her ‘huso wasn’t here yet. “Wait a minute, Loret--” Normally so serene, Elayza had a line between her brows and a bewildered look on her face as she felt Jallen’s forehead.
Loret wouldn’t wait. “My head doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s not even open.”
Elayza looked up. “You too?” She looked around, to a round of head-shakings and perplexed looks, except for Kylara, who was grinning widely.
Naia reached up and touched the wound with tentative fingers, expecting a sudden burst of pain. The hair around it was still stiff and crusted with blood. But where the wound itself had been, she felt nothing more than scar tissue, thick and nerveless, and a little tight when she pushed at it, as if it had just barely healed.
But the wound was less than twenty-four hours old, it couldn’t have healed, couldn’t possibly--
Naia pinched herself. It hurt. She wasn’t dreaming.
Kylara said, “I told you.”
“What were they like?” Elayza wanted to know.
“It was weird,” Kylara said. “They weren’t glowing or anything, and they weren’t taller than mortal man . . . but there was something about them. When Hephat looked at me, I couldn’t speak--literally.”
Was it possible? Had the gods come to this squalid little prison cell, to the champions who had failed them?
Naia shook herself. Impossible. Why would any god have come to her? Maybe to the others, who had all worshipped faithfully. But she’d never paid any homage to Hephat. Not only that, she had forsaken her role in the Guardians for--what? Ultimately, nothing. Why would Hephat still do this for her?
A soft voice said, “Naia?”
Armeth had gotten to his feet and was standing in front of her, his hands behind his back and his eyes focused with his customary intensity on her face. Naia looked away. She didn’t like to look into his too-clear eyes, like a mirror that showed her everything of herself.
“They were here.”
She had to look back, and when she did, there was a shy smile lurking around his mouth. “I saw them in my dream.”
She looked down at her lap, willing him to go away. “Good for you.” There was a chill dancing up and down her spine. Had he read her thoughts, like Kylara? But the Seer couldn’t do that . . . could he?
Armeth crouched so he could peer up into her face. “Hephat was sad for you. He called you his poor lost one and touched your hair. And he said he gave you faith in your own knowledge.”
Her voice was shaky when she asked, “He did?”
Armeth gave her one of his sweet smiles and went to Elayza, who was calling everyone over to examine them. Naia ignored her, too concerned with the thoughts that were bouncing like rubber balls in her head.
My poor lost Scribe . . . Strange how she could almost hear the words, and feel the gentle touch on her head.
From her earliest memories, she’d never had a man touch her without wanting to take something from her, even if it was just the feel of her hair. Most of the time it was more. She’d never had a man touch her to give anything, much less comfort, but oddly, that was just what the misty half-memory felt like.
Kylara was saying, “There’s still a chance we can pull out of this. That’s what they came to tell me. We haven’t lost yet.”
“We’re sure as hell headed in that direction,” Loret said, but his sourness was mostly an act. “What do we have to do?”
Kylara hesitated. “I don’t know. We have to figure that out.”
Loret cursed and kicked the floor. There was a general sagging of shoulders and waning of hopeful light all around the circle.
Durnan said in his quiet way, “How long do we have?”
“The final breaking takes place at noon on Midsummer’s Day,” Naia said before she thought, and then wished she hadn’t when all eyes turned on her. Except for Armeth’s--and strangely enough, Kylara’s--they were all flat and cold, especially Durnan’s. Naia wished she could take back the words and avoid the attention.
Kylara broke the film of ice that was slowly forming in the cell. “That was tomorrow when we went to sleep. How long do we have now?”
“Not long enough,” Durnan said. “Do you have any ideas?”
“No--but the gods gave each of you a gift. I think they know what we’re supposed to do, even if we don’t. Gzigas gave you--” She paused, thinking. “The strength to see those you love in danger, and not follow your instincts.”
Durnan’s eyes narrowed in puzzlement, but he didn’t say anything as she continued. “Armeth, you got visions of the past.”
He nodded, silent. Whether he’d had one or not already, he didn’t say.
“Jallen, you got the strength to perform your magic.”
Jallen lit up. “I get to do magic?”
There was a little ripple of laughter.
“Elayza, you got the will to use your gift against your training.”
Elayza blinked and traded puzzled looks with her brother.
“Naia, you got--”
“Faith in my own knowledge,” Naia said. “Armeth told me.”
“Oh. Loret--Ricate gave you the luck of the gods, for a day.”
“Luck,” Loret said, as if the word were a curse.
Kylara spread her hands. “I know. They’re strange. But that’s what we have to work with.”
“What did the Fates give you?” Loret asked suddenly.
“You,” she said. “All of you. They told me I’ve got the tools all here.”
Loret said slowly, “The Fates didn’t promise we’d win.”
“No,” Kylara had to admit.
“They didn’t even promise we’d live.”
“No.” She held up a finger. “But--if we don’t do anything, we definitely lose, and we definitely die.”
He thought about that. “And I’ve got the luck of the gods.” He grinned suddenly, the first grin Naia had ever seen on his foxlike face. “So what the hell--let’s gamble.”
Kylara turned to Naia. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Naia snapped, but some little part of her was breathless with hope.
Kylara said, “We need you for this one, Naia.”
Naia crossed her arms and made herself sneer. “What would you need a whore for?”
“Did I say we needed a whore? We need you. Not your body, or your beauty--but your mind.”
Naia’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowed. Her mind? Did the bitch mock her?
But the other woman’s eyes were steady and clear, as serious as Naia had ever seen them. “We need you, Scribe.”
Naia looked beyond her, to the rest of the Guardians in the shadows. Durnan, just behind Kylara, with his arm protectively around her waist. Elayza, with Jallen wide-eyed and silent in her arms. Loret with his chin jutted forward, ready to fight, but his eyes as wide as Jallen’s. Armeth, who with his wise pale gaze must have seen what she was long ago--and still he offered her a sweet, encouraging smile.
And Kylara--this strange, wild, mannish woman who was so comfortable in her own skin as Naia had somehow never been, and who needed her--needed her, Naia, the traitoress, the lying whore . . .
Kylara stretched out her hand, palm up, as if asking for something--or offering. “We need you--Guardian.”
Naia’s fingers curled slowly, the broken nails biting into her palm. She felt as if she teetered on a knife blade.
Then she forced her fingers to unclench, and her arm to lift, and her hand to settle into Kylara’s.
Kylara’s face burst into a smile, and she curled her fingers around Naia’s. “I knew it,” she exulted.
Naia tugged at her hand and gave her a narrow-eyed gaze. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Seeker.”
“No--but I will.”
Chapter 24 Part 2
Kylara asked Naia for everything she knew of what was going to occur at noon on Midsummer’s Day. It wasn’t much.
“He didn’t talk too much about that part,” she said ruefully. “Smart of him. I might have figured out what he was going to do.”
Kylara shot Loret a warning look. He scowled, but shut his mouth again.
“As far as I know,” Naia continued, ignoring the byplay, “it’ll be a reverse of the Kustor charm--”
This time Loret couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “The what?”
“The charm we found a few days ago--remember?”
“The one with the blood, and the equality, and that stuff?”
“Yes,” Naia answered. “It’s the charm that the last set of Guardians worked, according to the legend and to the dark god. All it needs is the prison, the timing, and the words spoken.”
Durnan spoke. “Wait a minute. Than what was all--” he tapped his scar, “--this about?”
“It was a ritual sacrifice to the dark god,” Naia answered him. “Most theologians agree that gods need belief and ritual like we mortals need food and air--and he hasn’t had any in eons.”
“So he’s been--dying?” It was Elayza who asked it, a stunned look on her face, as if she’d been hit with a brick.
“Something like that, yes. As much as a god can die, anyway. He’s been feeding off Saldatis, but he wants more.” Naia made a face. “It could have been anyone, but I suppose he liked the thought of getting his strength back through his ancient mortal enemies.”
“Very poetic,” Kylara said dryly.
“Yes, isn’t it?”
“Yeah--if it weren’t us, I might appreciate it more. So--he’s going to break out tomorrow. How do we stop it from happening?”
Loret said, “Can we interfere in the ritual? That would stop him from breaking free, wouldn’t it?”
But Naia shook her head. “It would work in the short term, but Saldatis would just kill us and try again in half a year.”
“Living is good,” Loret decided.
“Can we rework the charm?” Durnan offered. “You said it needed to be reaffirmed every so often, didn’t you?”
“I have a feeling Saldatis would find a way to break it again, unless we take care of him.”
“So what are we supposed to do,” Loret burst out, “sit around and wait for this stupid god to get out before we can do anything?”
“Maybe that’s exactly what we need to do,” Naia said. “A charm worked from the beginning is much stronger than a charm reaffirmed, after all.”
Loret snorted. “I think Saldatis would have something to say about that.”
“And don’t forget,” Elayza put in, an intense, pensive look on her face, “that the dark god is much stronger now than he was.”
Kylara looked at her. “What are you thinking, ‘Layza?”
“You said Usabata gave me the will to use my gift against my training.”
“Yeah--which I didn’t understand at all--”
“Kylara, if I take the dark god’s life away from him, he won’t have the strength to oppose us.”
“What?”
“Holy shit!”
“Elayza, no!”
Kylara flapped the other Guardians into silence. She said, “How?”
Elayza was a little pale, but she answered steadily. “The same way I can channel life from Loret into Jallen. It’s that gift Usabata spoke of, not my gift for knowing what shape you’re in.”
“They’re two different things, aren’t they? Gods aren’t mortals, and we’re certainly not gods--”
“But life-energy is basically the same, it’s just a matter of amount. I could have taken strength from a rat, or a cat, to give to Jallen, but it wouldn’t have been enough.”
“So you’re saying that the gods have the same life-energy as we do, just--more?”
“Precisely.”
“I don’t see why,” Loret argued. “They’re gods. We can’t become gods, so it can’t be the same.”
“But that’s a matter of the capacity of the human body,” Naia spoke up. “I’ve read the old Healers’ texts--they’re in the palace library. They say that there’s a very fixed amount for each person. Elayza, what would happen if you filled a rat up with all the energy of a human being?”
“They couldn’t hold it,” Elayza said definitely. “It only takes so much to run a rat body, and then there’s no place for the overflow to go.”
Loret’s eyes narrowed. “What would happen to it?”
Elayza winced. “I don’t really want to know.”
“And you’re going to do this to yourself?” Durnan demanded.
“I actually can’t,” she admitted. “The gift only works when I’m channeling energy, not just taking it in or giving it away.”
“So what are you going to do?” Loret asked. “Grab the Regent and channel all the dark god’s energy into him until he explodes? Not that I don’t like the idea, but it could get messy.”
Kylara had the beginnings of an idea how she was going to manage it, and thought, looking at the other woman’s face, that Elayza had more than the beginnings.
“I’m going to need to put it into you.”
“Me?”
“And everyone else.”
Durnan spoke. “What are you thinking, Kylara? You’ve got that look on your face.”
“Anyone remember the riddle?”
Naia recited,
“A circle of equals to bind their equal
with a charm of greatest sacrifice
bitterness and betrayal versus love and loyalty
when men are gods
Choose carefully, you who will come.
Blood will tell.”
Kylara said slowly, “I translated it wrong.”
“It looked all right to me--”
“Most of it was, but--” She looked up and around the circle. “Not men are gods. Gods are men.” She looked at Elayza. “A circle of equals to bind their equal. This is how we’re going to beat him. We’ll drag him down to our level instead of forcing ourselves up to his.”
For hours, they argued possibilities, logistics, and magical theory, lit by the flickering flame of the little lamp. Naia was their main source of the last.
“That’s impossible,” she exploded at one point. “Have you been listening to anything I said? Yuhannit said very clearly--”
Loret shot back, “You just said that Yuhannit was a close-minded twit.”
“Yes, but he’s a close-minded twit who knows his basic theory, which is more than I can say--”
“That’s what you’re here for,” Kylara told her. “Now stop bickering, you two.”
Naia said haughtily, “I was not bickering. I was having a difference of opinion.”
Loret made a rude noise. He hadn’t taken back his open distrust of Naia, but his arguments with her were starting to ease into the good-natured bickering by which he revealed that he respected someone. It was encouraging.
But bickering took up precious time, so Kylara said, “Fine--differentiate your opinion after this. Loret, we need a distraction, and we’ll probably need out of these manacles. Both of those are your department. What can you do with these?” she asked, holding out her wrists.
He examined hers by the light of the lamp. “I don’t know, but give me time and a hairpin.”
“Time we’ve got.”
“A hairpin I’ve got,” Naia put in, pulling a long pin out of her piled curls.
Loret blinked at it.
“What, you thought this stayed up on its own?”
“The only hitch is that we need his name,” Naia said while they were talking about the charm. “Otherwise it may not work.”
Jallen, who had been curled up in Elayza’s lap for most of the conversation, said sleepily, “Whose name?”
“Why?” Elayza asked. “I’d think that if we focused hard enough--”
“Yes, but there’s a chance it could go all crazy without his name,” Kylara answered. “Naia, did you ever hear Saldatis say it?”
“Say what?” Jallen hadn’t been answered.
“No, he never spoke of him in front of me.”
“Whose name?” Jallen yelled.
“The dark god’s, honey,” Elayza told her, and returned to her conversation with Kylara. “Maybe if we--”
“Oh, him. That’s just Sauranis.” Jallen curled up again, her curiousity satisfied.
“Who?”
“What?”
Loret looked up from the manacles. “Huh?”
Kylara focused on Jallen. “How do you know the dark god’s name, Jallen?”
Jallen blinked at her. “The gods told me,” she said, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s their brother--the one who did nasty things.”
“That’s it,” Durnan said. “That was the one word I couldn’t figure out of his chanting. Saldatis must have been using the name for the sacrifice.”
Kylara punched the air. “We’ve got his name. We’ve got him!”
Jallen had a thought. “Kylara, Kylara!”
“What?”
“Can I do the magic, because I knew the name? Please can I do the magic?”
“You have to do the magic,” Kylara told the little girl. “Nobody else can.”
Jallen clapped. “Yay!”
Kylara grinned at her and turned to Naia. “You remember how the words of the charm went?”
“Of course I remember the charm,” Naia said, deeply affronted.
“Good. You’re going to have to teach it to Jallen.” “Wha--? But--”
“Naia, I’m not assured of remembering it perfectly, and this isn’t exactly something we’re going to get a second chance on. You need to be the one to teach Jallen.”
Naia closed her mouth and nodded.
“How long will it take you, do you think?”
“I don’t know--I’ve got to teach her the words, and then translate them--”
“What for?”
“She needs to know the meanings of the words,” Naia insisted.
“She’s six! All she’s got to do is say the words--”
“And they’ll be so much hot air if she doesn’t fully understand what she’s doing. The words are only the focus of the will, not the other way around.”
“But--”
“You asked me to do this--now hush and let me do it.” Naia said something to Jallen in Cashkani, and the little girl’s eyes lit up as she spouted a long sentence in the same language.
Kylara gaped. “You’re speaking Cashkani!”
“The charm will work better if she doesn’t have to translate the words from Trebino in her head, after I’ve already translated them from Old Kashlan,” Naia said absently.
“In the name of the gods, where did you learn Cashkani?”
“I had a Cashkani slave once. I learned it from her.”
“How many languages do you speak?”
“Fluently?” She thought about it. “Only about eight.”
“Oh, only,” Loret said, but the sarcasm was weak.
“And Old Kashlan, but you know as well as I do that that’s as dead as last week’s dinner, so you can’t really say anyone speaks it--”
Kylara managed to break in. “And non-fluently?”
“I can stumble through a conversation in about five more, although I haven’t had the oppurtunity to really try out my Ristorian on a true native speaker--”
“Never mind. Forget I asked.”
Chapter 24 Part 3
Please be warned--there's a little harsher swearing in this.
By two hours later, Jallen was able to say the words perfectly. Kylara was worried about setting the charm off perfectly, the way the little girl was practicing, but Naia told her, “All the elements have to be there--blood, timing, prison--”
“All right, all right, I get the point.”
Kylara left them and went to Durnan, who was looking a little white around the mouth. “I can’t stand this,” he murmured to her.
Kylara knew perfectly well that Durnan didn’t say things like that lightly. The fact that he said it at all indicated how upset he must be. She took his hand. “Bad?”
“Like the night before Loret was almost hanged--but times seven.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry. We have to do this.”
He squeezed her hand. “I know. I’m not blaming you.”
“Besides, Gzigas gave you the strength for this.”
Elayza, too, was looking a little pale. “How about you?” Kylara asked. “Do you think you can do this?”
“I have to, don’t I?” But she was flexing the fingers of her left hand nervously, almost spasmodically. “I’m the only one who can.”
That much was true, and Kylara couldn’t see any way to make her feel better about it.
Elayza lifted her head with a tight, humorless little smile. “Besides--he hurt us. He’s almost killed Jallen. For that alone, I’ll do this gladly.”
Kylara blinked, startled, until she saw the glint in Elayza’s eyes, and she went away feeling reassured. Elayza wasn’t Durnan’s sister for nothing.
Loret looked up as she sat down by him. “Got ‘em?”
“Got one,” he said, holding up his newly unmanacled wrist. “They’re rusty, though--I wouldn’t want to have to get all of them.”
“That’s fine. So long as you’ve got mobility.”
“Want yours? I think I’ve got the hang of it now.”
“Sure.”
She watched as he worked on her lock, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. “How’s Elayza doing?” he asked too casually.
“She’s a little uncomfortable,” Kylara answered. “But she’s determined.”
He nodded and continued working. Armeth was sitting by them, absently digging a hole in the dirt floor with his big toe. Kylara thought of something.
“Armeth?”
He looked up at her, waiting for her next question.
“Can you--can you see if we’re going to make it?”
He considered it, digging the hole slightly bigger. Then he said thoughtfully, “You told me once that there are always at least two paths to the future, and sometimes more.” He shrugged. “I see two paths, Kylara.”
She eyed him dourly. “Is that another way of saying you don’t know?”
He told her, “We could succeed or we could fail. You don’t need me to tell you that.” He gave her a sweet smile, which didn’t help her suddenly pessimistic mood.
“What do you see if we succeed?”
“Good things,” he said. “For all of us, and for Surania.”
“And if we don’t?”
Loret paused in his work on Kylara’s chains, and lifted his head. Silence had fallen over the little cell. Even Naia and Jallen had paused in their practicing.
Armeth said after a moment, “Let’s hope we succeed.”
It was only a few minutes later that Loret lifted his head. “Is someone coming?”
Durnan and Kylara exchanged glances. “It could be food,” Durnan said, but he sounded doubtful.
Loret stuck Naia’s hairpin in his sleeve and rolled it up to hide the glint, and laid his manacles back on his wrists, not locking them, but manuvering them he could fool the guards.
When Kylara saw the first guard, she had hopes that it was something harmless. But then she saw the others.
Well, shit.
She stood up, drawing their attention. “What’s going on?”
The guard grinned at her and swung the cell door wide open. “The king is paying homage to his god. You’re to be the first sacrifices.”
Naia shot to her feet. “I didn’t know. I swear on Hephat’s scroll, I didn’t know--”
All right, all right--we believe you. Kylara had to say this mentally, because they were all being herded out into the hall again and locked together. Loret! Got any bright ideas?
What? Why me?
BECAUSE YOU’RE THE FUCKING WILY ONE, THAT’S WHY!
All right, all right-- He was silent for a moment. All right--I got one. His plan was both simple and effective, and it took moments to relay it to the rest of the group.
When they were almost to the top of the passageway, Kylara grabbed the chains that hooked her to Naia and gave them a hard tug, so the other woman lurched backward and almost fell. She turned, with fury all over her lovely face.
“What in the name of Hagra was that for?”
“You know perfectly well, you lying whore,” Kylara said, and socked her hard in the stomach.
She pulled her punch enough that Naia shouldn’t have felt it, but the other woman doubled over anyway, for the show. She came up snarling, and swiped out with her long nails, and they tumbled to the ground amid clattering chains and shrill curses.
Somehow, their fight served to do more damage to their guards than it did to them. Kylara managed to roll and trip hers, and Naia’s fell victim to her kicking foot. Jallen took a hint from that and started enthusiastically kicking her guard in the shins, distracting him enough that Durnan could knock him out with the weight of his chains. Elayza, Loret, and Armeth contributed as much as possible to the mass confusion and in this way, they tore through the corridor until all seven guards lay on the floor, out for the count.
Kylara, breathing hard, examined the welts on her forearms. “Damn,” she said to Naia. “When this is over, you are cutting those claws of yours.”
“Bitch.”
“Thank you.”
Loret was rummaging through the head guard’s belt. “Keys!” He unlocked his manacles and passed them on to Durnan, who knelt to take care of Jallen and Armeth.
“Mass confusion,” Kylara said. “It works every time. Loret, what are you doing?”
“Looking through their pouches--”
“Stop that!”
“But they have money!”
“They also have knives,” Durnan observed, picking one up. “We’ll need blood--we should do that now.” As carefully as possible, he drew the knife across the pad of Armeth’s thumb. “Squeeze it when the time comes--it’ll drip.” He did the same for the rest of them, saving his own for last, and made to drop the knife on the ground.
“What are you doing?” Loret yelped, still shaking his hand to lessen the sting. “That’s a good knife! Look, it’s got quartz in the hilt--”
“Leave it, you little raven,” Kylara ordered, “we don’t have time--”
“No way. Waste not, sell it for good money down the road.” He stuck it in his belt and reached for the guards’ pouches again, and Durnan lost patience.
“Leave the money, Loret!”
Loret was examining one of the guards. “Oh, hey--somebody bit this one--”
Armeth said, “It’s almost noon, Loret. We’d better go.” He was blushing.
“You bit him!” Loret sounded delighted. “Fantastic!”
“LORET!”
“All right--I’m coming--”
They ran up the corridor in a long string, Kylara leading the way and Durnan at the back to make sure neither of the little ones dropped behind. Naia, do you recognize this passageway?
Fine time to ask me--we’re going to the balcony overlooking the King’s Way.
What, the one that you can see all the way from the docks?
That’s the one. He must want a show.
Well, we’re going to give it to him.
Durnan “called” out to her. The little ones are getting tired, Ky. They can’t keep up this pace.
She dropped back, trusting Naia to lead the way, and picked up Jallen, who was panting and sweating. Durnan already had Armeth on his back and it took bare moments to catch up with the others.
They came to a fork and Naia didn’t even pause. “This way!” she called back to them, taking the left fork up the stairs.
There was light at the top, filtering through the crack between thick velvet curtains, and Kylara could faintly hear the monotonous, unearthly chanting of the earlier ceremony. Her heart chilled.
Armeth called out, “He’s already started!”
“But it’s not noon yet!”
“He must have decided to start early--but we can still disrupt it!” Naia called back. “There are ways!” She flung the curtains aside and skidded to a halt. Loret, unable to stop, smashed into her so hard she actually stumbled forward a few steps, clearing the way for the rest of them to pile out onto the balcony and see what had stopped her.
“Oh, shit,” Loret said in a hollow voice.
The form of a man filled the sky, as big as a mountain, clouds swirling within, and his voice shook the ground. “This land, and everything in it, are MINE.”
Kylara, still holding Jallen, stepped forward, tilting her head back. “NOT AS LONG AS I’M AROUND!”
The great head lowered, and the eyes, dark as a midnight sky, found her. “Who will stop me, mortal? You?”
“Damn straight,” Kylara snapped back. “Me and the rest of the Guardians.”
He began to laugh, and the laughter filled the thick, hot air like some sick fog. “The Guardians? The GUARDIANS? That frightened me once, mortal, but no more.” He lifted his enormous hand, and something tiny glittered in the midst of it just before he hurled it to earth.
The Amulet bounced high off the stones of the balcony, the gold twisting into shards, the great purple diamond--Sauranis’s prison for so long--exploding into dust.
“There is your precious Amulet, Guardians!”