15
Heed not the pleas of Sylvans.
Mercy will be your undoing.
—G AXIX, D RACU PHILOSOPHER
A S C ASSIA STEPPED OUTSIDE FOR HER NIGHTLY walk, the Vozarra emerged from the shadows, her nose twitching as she sniffed. Cassia bent down and petted her soft head, her throat thick with a sense of wonder. As she ruffled the fox’s ears, Voz pawed at them, and Cassia felt the creature’s annoyance.
She couldn’t help smiling at the Vozarra’s accusing look. “Sorry. I guess you don’t like your ears touched.” She made a mental note not to do that again. “I was going to walk in the woods. Would you like to come with me?”
The fox didn’t hesitate, trotting along ahead of her on the path. Cassia smiled as she watched the fox’s white-tipped tail appear and disappear among the underbrush as she sniffed her way along. After a while, Voz led her to the clearing with the small lake, perhaps scenting the water. As the fox lowered her head to take a drink, moon sprites rose from the water’s surface in a glittering cloud. Thirst sated, Voz jumped down and stalked into the trees on the trail of some scent. Cassia watched her, taking a seat on a flat rock at the lake’s edge.
She felt the air change, and knew she was no longer alone. She caught sight of Aril a moment later as he emerged from the trees.
“Good eve, Aril,” she said, less nervous now that she knew he was probably a guardian of Welkincaster.
“Cassia,” he said simply, inclining his head.
“How are you?” she asked, feeling awkward. Back home, whenever there were visitors, her sisters were the ones who handled the small talk. She didn’t have the knack.
“Well,” he replied. “And you?”
She thought of her recent progress with the ring. “Better and better. Did you go to the castle yet?”
Aril shook his head.
“You have nothing to fear from the kobold,” she reassured him. “Your people are the rightful guardians of this place. Gutel will be happy to see you.”
“I am not scared of the kobold,” he said, his voice as rough as a shagbark hickory. He folded his wings around himself like a cloak.
She thought she might have stung his pride. “Why, then?”
“I am a spirit. I belong in the open air.” His tone told her he’d tired of that topic. “Tell me more about your people. Your home. Where is it?
Cassia smiled at the obvious subject change, a pang in her heart at the thought of her sisters. “I live in a fortress in a bend of the Scar River. In what Gutel calls the lower mainland.”
“Do you like it?”
She looked up at the moon sprites making patterns against the night sky. Did she like Scarhamm? She hadn’t thought about it. It was her home. Her sisters were there. The fortress was dark, but it had a somber elegance when it was decorated for revels, although those were extremely rare now.
“I like it well enough,” she said, shoving away the maudlin thoughts. “Do you like it here?”
He hesitated a moment. “I don’t think I’m in the right place.”
She looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?” When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Where do think you come from?”
“Somewhere else,” he said simply. His answers were cryptic at best, and though she tried not to let it bother her, curiosity was starting to get to her. The shadows hid his expression, but she felt his sadness. “Are there more Zerians here yet?” he asked.
“Not yet. Besides me and Voz, it’s just Gutel and a Dracu.”
“What’s a Dracu?” Aril asked. “Do they have wings?”
“No,” she said. “They live underground. They have no interest in creatures of the air.”
Her chest tightened as she realized that she didn’t know if that was true. She was trying to protect Aril from Zeru, but she couldn’t think of a credible reason to do so. Zeru would have as little interest in Aril as she had in an imp living in the Cryptlands. The Dracu’s purpose was the ring, and he didn’t seem to care about the welkin or its spirits at all.
“Would you like to fly?” Aril asked, surprising her into a moment of stunned silence.
She hadn’t been hinting. To be sure she wasn’t misunderstanding his question, she said, “I don’t have wings, remember?”
“I mean… with me.”
She stared up at Aril, weighing his words. “Are you… offering to carry me?”
“You told me you dreamed of flying.”
Cassia was touched that he’d remembered. But… would she be safe? She sensed only gentleness from him. But she glimpsed his talons catching the moonlight, and her stomach flipped. Those talons could tear flesh.
The question was, could she afford to refuse an opportunity to see the welkin from the air, maybe even find a way home?
“All right,” she said breathlessly. “Yes, I’d like to go.”
“It’s colder up there,” he said. “You should wear something warmer.”
“This is all I have,” she said, spreading her hands to indicate her drab Huntsman’s garb, her now-sleeveless tunic over linen trousers. She tried to imagine what Gutel would say if she asked to borrow a cloak. She didn’t want to find out. “I’ll be fine in this.”
“If you’re sure,” he said, reaching out to put his arms around her, enveloping her. “Hold on to me.”
She gripped his arms, his chest solid and steady at her back. “Ready.”
He bent his knees and launched them up, and Cassia let out a squeak as her stomach dropped to the Cryptlands. Above the canopy, his wings flapped, creating their own wind. Exhilaration kicked in, and she half laughed, half screeched.
“Scared?” he asked, tensing. “Should I land?”
“No!” she cried, looking around. The forest was a dark blanket beneath her, the castle a pale shape in the moonlight. She could see where the welkin’s edge frothed out, flowing like an overpoured tankard of ale. Beyond, the moon touched cloud after cloud, a whole world she had never imagined she would see. It was dizzying. “This is incredible!”
“Oh,” Aril said. “Good.”
He did a loop over the forest, the sharp angle making her head spin.
“Welkincaster looks even smaller from above,” she said breathlessly. The silvered treetops bent and bowed in the wind, waving at her like hands raised in greeting. For a few minutes, Aril allowed them to glide with the breeze.
“How far can you fly?” she asked, staring at the edges of the cloud. “Can you leave the welkin?”
“I haven’t tried,” he said. “We should go back.”
He turned in a wide arc and headed toward the clearing, easily visible because of the moon sprites glowing like moving stars above the lake. His great wings spread wide, pumping to slow their descent. Cassia braced for impact, but he alighted gracefully.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. She turned to face him, aware that his arms still held her, but not feeling any need to move away. “When will you take me again?”
In the dark, she could only see the upward curve of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes. “Tomorrow?”
She nodded, telling herself it was time to step away from him, though she had an urge to move closer to his warmth. She sighed. The last thing she needed was to become attached to a spirit she would soon leave behind. Even as her chest ached with regret, she took a step back.
His hands tightened for a second before he let them fall away. “Good night, Cassia. See you tomorrow night.”
After a breakfast of apricots and cherries, Cassia found Gutel reading in the library. The cherries had been a quick addition, more to test her ring than anything.
Setting the book he was reading in his lap, the kobold turned his face away from the light of the window and put a hand to his head. She didn’t ask if he’d found the ale or cider the day before. The answer was obvious.
“Why don’t we continue with the ring?” she suggested brightly. “I can restore more of the garden.”
“Can’t you rest for one day?” he said irritably. “You didn’t have to nearly kill yourself over a few apples, you know. The ring’s presence is enough to restore the welkin if you’re patient. You were showing off, that’s what you were doing. Showy braggart of a Sylvan.”
She crossed her arms, annoyed that he might be at least partly right. “ You try not to get carried away when you realize your magic ring can make food and bring plants back to life.”
“Not back to life. Livelier,” he corrected, shielding his eyes from the window. “And don’t exhaust yourself. There’s fruit enough to feed us. Now sit down. As you’re undeniably the welkin’s caretaker, Sylvan or no, we have work to do.”
Cassia took her seat by the window. “I’m glad you’re willing to make do with me.”
“There are other welkins, or there used to be,” he went on. “I don’t know if they still exist. But the Vozarra can fly. Perhaps it would be willing to let you ride on its back.” He turned to give her a harsh look. “Don’t assume it will let you. They’re not horses, you know.”
“I didn’t think they were,” she said, annoyed at the reminder of his low opinion of her. He didn’t seem to understand the bond she was forming with the Vozarra. There was something about her that spoke to Cassia’s spirit, something wild and free that made her happy to see. And somehow the fox’s presence made her feel like she belonged here. “I’m sure Voz will let me know if she wants a rider.”
“Don’t name it,” he said sharply. “You’ll only get attached. They come and go, these spirits. They’re summoned here when needed but they might not stay.”
Hmm. Maybe that explained Aril and his confusion. He’d probably never been here before. It seemed an inefficient way to run things if you were always dealing with new spirits, but she supposed the welkins had their own magic and rules. Still, she couldn’t help but get attached. She looked out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of copper fur. “I like Voz. We understand each other.”
“You understand nothing yet. You have much to learn. What’s that smell?” Gutel sniffed the air. “Lavender?”
“Gardenia,” she corrected.
He eyed her suspiciously. “Have you been using the ring?”
She shrugged but didn’t meet his eyes. “Not on purpose. Much.”
“Don’t do that until you know you can handle it.” He sighed, rubbing creases into his hat as he scratched his forehead. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this. Every other steward was as sober as a priestess.”
“Unlike some kobolds,” she put in, drawing a harsh glare. Determined not to be put off by his ill humor, she said, “You explained that the Vozarra would disappear if it were to travel to the lower mainland because of the ban against uninvited spirits in the mortal realm. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” he said, his red eyes redder than usual.
“Does that apply to all the winged spirits that come here?”
“It applies to any of the ephemeral spirits that come from the Netherwhere,” Gutel explained, putting the book back and choosing another. He opened it to show her an illustration of a person with wings. “The Zerian caretakers of the ring were always an exception, though. As they were created from corporeal creatures, they can go between realms.” He looked around the room as if noticing something for the first time. “Where’s the Dracu? He’s usually here by now.”
Cassia was glad Zeru hadn’t shown up yet. It was calmer without him around. “Probably skulking nearby so he can leap out and scare us.”
At that moment, Zeru came through the door, his shirt rumpled, his hair a dark, spiky mess.
“Did I summon you?” Cassia cried in horror, alarmed the ring could have that much power.
“Don’t be stupid,” he snarled, turning to Gutel. “In case you haven’t figured it out, she’s asking all these questions because she’s trying to escape. Not that she’s being remotely subtle.”
“I want to go home,” Cassia said simply. “I haven’t hidden that.” As she noticed the kobold’s sharp look, she added, “I never said I wouldn’t come back.” She glared at Zeru. Miserable Dracu, making her newfound ally suspicious of her. “Anyway, what were you doing listening outside the door? Are we so threatening that you need to spy on us?”
Disgust laced every word of his reply. “I was waiting for the two of you to finish your how-to-not-act-like-a-fool-who-doesn’t-know-how-to-use-the-ring lesson so I could get some real work done.”
Cassia raised her brows and glanced at Gutel, who was blinking in surprise. This was grumpy, even for the Dracu.
But nothing could ruin her mood today. She was on her way to mastering the ring. “Gutel will be instructing me on the duties of a caretaker, so if you find that idea unpleasant, you might want to leave.”
“I’m not leaving,” he said, grabbing a book and sitting in the red chair. “I have to find a way to take that blasted ring from your benighted finger before the next accursed full moon.”
Silence descended.
“You can’t steal the ring,” Gutel told him with soft warning. “She’s the steward.”
Cassia sat straighter, encouraged by the kobold’s quick defense.
“As I’ve said, it’s not stealing if it’s mine.” Zeru opened a book and leafed through it. “And anyone can be the caretaker. Anyone who wears the ring. I can be the caretaker if I put the cursèd thing on.”
“Don’t call it cursèd!” Gutel shouted, hopping to his feet. “And not everyone can wear it!” As abruptly, he sat and held a hand to his forehead as if it were a door with broken hinges. “Not only does it have to be given freely, but it also has to be accepted freely and… well, someone unsuited to be steward wouldn’t be able to bear the magic. Its magic uses the life force of whoever wears it. It would kill someone too weak to bear it.” Gutel lifted his chin at Zeru’s skeptical look. “I believe that’s why the ring wouldn’t come off when you first gave it to her.”
Cassia gasped. “You mean, it felt that I was strong enough?”
“That you have enough life force,” he said, turning to her. “Otherwise, the ring would have come right off again.”
“This is all speculation,” Zeru said. “You’re bending your logic into knots now that you’ve decided she’s the steward.”
“I’m sharing what I’ve learned from reading the lore,” Gutel said haughtily. He wagged a finger. “Don’t dismiss the magic of the ring. Respect it, Dracu. Otherwise, you’ll never figure out your role in the welkins. I’m convinced you have one. I don’t think it’s random that your family held the ring in safekeeping. Nor can it be an accident that you gave it to the Sylvan as a child. There are greater things at work here.”
Cassia didn’t know how she felt about his claims. But the important thing was that the kobold believed them, and therefore, he would support her. “What do you suppose would draw the ring to some people over others?” she asked, enjoying the stiffness in Zeru’s posture as he listened to these unwelcome revelations.
Gutel shrugged. “Every steward I’ve ever known has been good-hearted and trustworthy.”
Zeru snorted, making it clear he didn’t think the current wearer of the artifact had those admirable qualities.
Gutel took his hat off and inclined his head to Cassia. “Which I suppose must mean that I judged you harshly when we first met. And for that, I apologize.”
Drawing in a surprised breath, she dipped her chin. “Thank you.” His kindly tone brought a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry I threatened to throw you out the window. And implied you’d be marinated and roasted if you came to Scarhamm.”
He put his hat back on. “Forgiven.”
“I’m glad you’re both so fond of each other,” Zeru said, tossing the book onto a side table. “Gutel, explain to me why a Seer I hired would tell me to come here to get the ring back, when all being here has achieved is to make the bond stronger?”
“Perhaps your Seer didn’t know,” Gutel said. “I didn’t believe the Sylvan would be able to wield the magic. But she can. She has proven it.”
“And how do you know I wouldn’t be able to do the same?” Zeru asked.
Cassia leaned forward, curious. “Did you try?”
“To put on the ring?” Zeru scoffed. “No. The moment I saw it, I had it in mind for you. Fool that I was.”
“Ah, see?” Gutel clapped his hands together. “The ring was telling you who the true wearer was. And Sylvan or no, Lady Cassia is the caretaker, so we must—”
“ Lady ,” Zeru broke in. Cassia thought she’d never heard a word spoken with so much scorn.
“It’s the title for the caretaker,” the kobold answered stubbornly. “You’ll use it, too.”
A glitter entered Zeru’s green eyes. “I will not.”
Gutel’s eyes darkened with warning, and he started to get to his feet.
“He doesn’t need to and neither do you,” Cassia said, feeling awkward at the kobold’s sudden shift to deference. “My father hardly uses titles, unless they are military in nature.”
“Well, I’m not calling you by your given name alone,” Gutel cried. “You’re the caretaker! You deserve respect!”
Touched by his new loyalty to her, she smiled. “I’ll feel respected enough if you call me Cassia. Truly.”
He scrunched his face up. “Very well. Too bad, though. If we’re not using titles, I don’t suppose you’ll call me O Magnificent Household Spirit , as Xerxunia did.” He sighed. “I liked that. She was a steward above the rest.”
“It is a bit of a mouthful,” Cassia said, considering.
Gutel pushed to his feet, his hand still pressing against his head. “We can discuss it later. Tomorrow, I’ll show you the portraits and tell you all the titles of past caretakers. For the present, I’m going back to bed.”
“Rest well,” Cassia said, adding, “noble Kobold.”
He showed an alarming number of pointy teeth and bowed, sweeping off his hat. She inclined her head, still smiling as he left the chamber. If only she’d known a few days ago how much things would improve.
“Tell me one thing, Cassia the Cunning,” Zeru said, his bitter tone making her shoulders tense. “How did you manage to turn things around so quickly?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, knowing exactly what he meant.
He spoke with studied calm. “When we first arrived, you had no power, no advantage. No hope. Now you have the kobold on your side. You’ve gained some control over the ring. Somehow, you’ve twisted everything to your advantage. Maybe the ring has more power than I realized.”
She told herself to take the compliment, but his implication that she was using magic to manipulate things bothered her. She turned to face him with a lifted chin. “It’s not magic, Dracu. I simply never give up. Sometimes I fall on my face. And sometimes I succeed.”
Mostly she fell on her face. She thought of all the many, many times she’d failed to use the ring the way her people needed. Her disastrous attempt to impress her father with her knife skills. Her dangerous experiments with concoctions that had nearly poisoned her. But the Dracu only knew the times she’d bested him. Even when it wasn’t intentional.
“You succeed too often for it to be a matter of chance,” he observed, his eyes going to the ring.
Well, she did seem to get the better of him, at least sometimes. Maybe he was an exception in her life of failures. Maybe he would be the one creature who would never know how inadequate she felt.
“It’s your own failures that bother you,” she said defensively. “Your Seer said you craved redemption. Why don’t you focus on how you can make up for your mistakes rather than blaming me for them?”
His eyes registered a direct hit before his face darkened with savage contempt. But she’d seen the moment of hurt. Strangely, she hadn’t enjoyed it.
“I hope you remember this moment,” he said, eyes sharp and knowing, “when I take the ring from your unworthy finger. I won’t hesitate to crow over my victory.” Then he bent at the waist, treating her to a courtly bow, a mockery of the kobold’s kind gesture, before leaving the room.
Cassia couldn’t move for a good minute. It was as if he’d read her mind. Unworthy. How often had she herself thought that?
Her mood was still bitter when she made her way to the gardens later. “I want a pear,” she commanded, touching a tree.
A blossom appeared and grew into a piece of fruit. But the skin was gray and spotty, and when she took a bite, the flesh was rotten.