27. Reznyk
Chapter 27
Reznyk
BLACKWATER
I sink to the grass and bury my head in my hands. My mind howls.
Hero? Never.
Screaming, blood, and flames. That’s what I am. That’s all I’ll ever be.
Cloth rustles as Kira sits down beside me. She doesn’t say anything, and for a long time, I sit with my knees pulled up to my chest, cradling my head as the sun warms my shoulders and the birds and insects of the high mountains sing all around us. Finally, I raise my head and stare at the patch of bare stone the old god just crossed.
“I didn’t come to the Towers like you,” I begin. My voice is rough, like the rasp of a file against wood. “I wasn’t invited. I— I sought them out.”
I fall silent. That’s not the start of the story. But it’s not a story I’ve ever had reason to tell, is it? I clear my throat as a dragonfly’s glossy wings catch the light by the stream.
“You know where I’m from,” I say.
I can’t quite bring myself to meet her gaze, but I watch out of the corner of my eye as she nods.
“It was a small, nasty place, Blackwater. Smugglers and crime lords, mostly. Hells, as a kid, I thought it was normal for ships to come into the harbor at night with no lights.” I chuckle at the memory. “The brothel was the biggest business in town.”
I close my eyes, searching for a way to describe it, but the words don’t come. Looking back, I can recognize what kind of place the Siren’s Song was. But to me, at that time, it was full of magic and wonder and women who played games with me or told me stories or snuck me treats from the larder. I was a child, and the Siren’s Song was my home.
I sigh, then pick a blade of grass and twirl it between my fingers.
“Madame Drenaris ran the brothel,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “She was also my mother. But she didn’t run the town. Lord Murus did.”
I drop the blade of grass at my feet. A sudden breeze ruffles the seed heads in the meadow and makes the willow leaves wink silver and green.
“Like the Maganti family and Silver City?” Kira asks.
“No,” I say. “Not at all.”
A shiver crawls up the back of my neck. The Magantis, Syrus’s family, run Silver City like a business. Sure, every deal they cut has something in it for them, but ultimately, they do well when the entire city does well.
Lord Murus ran Blackwater like he was holding it against a wall with a blade to its throat. He was going to take all he could and kick the corpse into the harbor.
“Murus wanted the brothel,” I say. “But it was more than that. He wanted my mother too.”
“As a wife?” Kira asks. “Or a, uh, concubine?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer. “I didn’t understand it as a child. I still don’t quite understand it now. She used to say men like him only want something beautiful so they can put it in a cage.”
Kira laughs low in her throat, and I wonder if most women have experienced men like that. It’s not a happy thought.
“They went back and forth for years,” I continue. “Screaming messengers. Threats. Stones thrown through windows.”
“Gods,” Kira whispers. “That must have been terrifying.”
I shrug. I should have been afraid. But my mother never showed fear. She told me I was safe, and so I was. Madame Drenaris was the heart of the Siren’s Song, and the heart of my childhood. I never doubted her.
“It came to a head when I was about ten years old,” I say. “My mother sent me to the Port of Good Fortune with a few of the younger girls. She said it was so we could see the feast day celebration.”
My voice fails. I close my eyes. Wind dances across my face and tugs at my hair. Even now, after so many years, the pain is still sharp.
“When we returned,” I begin, my voice soft and slow, “it was gone. The entire place. Burned to the ground.”
I shake my head, trying to dispel the scent of ash and cinders that lingers in my memory.
“I tried to confront him, Lord Murus. I ran all the way to his estate, screaming and raising my fists. But Scarlet caught me. She was one of the girls who’d taken me to the Port. She bought me taffy.” I pause, sorting through the jumble of memories I usually keep locked in the dark. “She caught me in the middle of the road outside his estate, and she said, ‘Not now, Reznyk. He’ll only kill you too.’ She probably could have gotten something from Lord Murus, if she’d turned me in. But she took me with her instead.”
I pause, then stretch my legs.
“We went back to the Port. There was nowhere else to go, really. Scarlet found a place, another brothel. I stayed on for a while, running errands. But the owner didn’t really want me there, so I found…other work.”
I fall silent, remembering.
“I learned how to fight,” I finally confess. “I learned how to hurt people. How to steal. I learned what it means to have the kind of power that makes people afraid of you, and I— I wanted it.”
I suck in a breath. I’m afraid to look at Kira, to see myself reflected in her eyes, so I turn toward the valley instead, where the shadows of clouds dance across the green and gold leaves far below.
“And then,” I continue, “one day, two men in long white robes came to the Port. I don’t know who they were or what they were doing, but they pulled me like a flame calls to a moth. I followed them for days, until I finally got close enough to steal the thing that had been screaming out to me.” I take a breath, then continue. “It was a silver chain.”
“You robbed an Exemplar from the Towers?” Kira asks.
I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at her, and nod.
“I didn’t know they were from the Towers. I had no idea what the chain actually was,” I continue. “But some part of me knew what it could do. So I wrapped it in a handkerchief and talked my way onto a sloop headed for Blackwater.”
I pull my legs up to my chest and drop my head to my knees. Memories swirl and dance like flames. I’ve never told anyone what happened in Blackwater that day, and the words are slow in coming. I remember the smell of the muddy harbor at low tide, the wind pushing in from the ocean as the sun set over the swamps. A thousand tiny, hidden creatures sang in chorus as I walked up the hill to the estate of Lord Murus, the stolen silver chain wrapped around my fist, strange magic crackling across my skin.
I don’t remember all of it. My memories are full of holes, like silk spread over a fire. I’m not sure how I got into the estate, for one, or how I ended up in the drawing room with Lord Murus on his knees before me.
But I do remember what he said to me.
“Murus,” I begin. “When I found him, he—he said he’d take me in. Said he’d raise me. As his son.”
I open my eyes and stare out across the valley, where the leaves hold more gold and crimson today than they did yesterday. I remember the way Murus’s hands trembled when he told me he’d be my father, that he would teach me everything he knew. That I would rule Blackwater when he was gone.
Next to me, Kira mumbles something under her breath. It sounds like a curse. She understands. More than anyone else, I would guess. A woman raised in Silver City’s orphanage would know exactly what it means when someone offers you a family. I clear my throat.
“Like I said,” I continue, “I didn’t know what the silver chain would do. When I let the magic go, I— I didn’t think it would explode.”
Here my memories go black again. I remember jets of flame shooting from the chain on my fist, waves of superheated air, the scent of ash, and a strange, horrible gasping sound, like the earth herself had just taken a breath.
And the next thing I remember is staggering to my feet as Blackwater burned below me.
“I only wanted to stop Murus,” I say. My voice is thin, like it’s been pulled tight over something sharp. “To make him pay for what he did. I didn’t want to destroy his estate. I didn’t realize the wind would carry the flames?—”
My voice cuts off, like I’m being choked. I wipe my hand across my eyes. Maybe it was the wind that carried the flames. Maybe it was the force of my hatred and rage combined with the magic I’d stolen, magic I had no idea how to control.
Whatever the cause, Blackwater burned to the ground that night. By morning, there was nothing left of the town Murus promised me but cinders and ash.
“I spent a long time in the swamps, after that,” I whisper. “Years later, when I finally made it back to the Port, I felt that pull again. There was another Exemplar on the docks, with another silver chain. This time, I didn’t steal it. I followed him to Silver City. To the Towers.”
I open my mouth, but slowly realize there’s nothing left to say. I could apologize, but what difference would that make? I heard the screams of the people who died in the flames. I still hear them. No apology could ever right the wrongs I’ve done.
I turn away from Kira, unable to force myself to meet her gaze. She’ll be horrified, of course. Anyone would be horrified by what I’ve done, what I am.
And I didn’t stop with Blackwater, did I? No, I ran straight to the Towers. I learned how to control the magic in those silver chains, how to kill and destroy with elegance and precision. I became a monster, or perhaps I was already a monster. Hells, I even betrayed the Towers. They sent me to murder an old god and trap their power in the amulet.
But I didn’t use the amulet. I took the magic of the old god for myself, so that not even the Exemplars of the Towers could make me bow.
So here I am, the monster of the Daggers. Master of my own destiny. Powerful beyond my wildest dreams. Feared by all, even those who once claimed to love me.
And completely alone.