Chapter 25 Cero
Cero
Dawn tinged the murky horizon a rosy pink as Cero approached fog-enshrouded Kotama, capital of Jaduna lands.
He loathed flying through clouds: The canvas of the Sail grew heavy with moisture and it was far more difficult to keep the craft steady.
His leathers would grow sodden and cold.
The entire experience was like being dunked in a glacial river.
Even with his considerable strength in windsmithing, it took all Cero’s effort to keep the Sail aloft.
But according to Kade’s map—which Karinna procured with an unsubtle threat to Kade’s manhood—the closest landing spot outside the valley was a three-day hike away. It had taken them more than a week to fly this far. Cero was frustrated at the loss of time. He’d take the clouds over a delay.
Besides, the prospect of hiking for three days in the wilderness with Karinna made Cero uneasy. He’d probably end up picking a throwing star out of his spleen.
At least she hadn’t been sick for the last day or two. Heights still bothered Karinna, but she pointedly didn’t look down, got in and out of the Sail without Cero’s intervention, and generally kept to herself.
Other than the cat, whom she fawned over. Abzi was, Cero had to admit, a beautiful cat. If Karinna hadn’t already claimed her affections, Cero himself would be slipping Abzi treats. As it was, Abzi continued to prefer traveling beneath Cero’s seat—something that made him inordinately smug.
The map of Kotama had shown a large field on the northeast end of the valley. As Cero made his way there, the clouds broke enough that he saw treetops below. Bleeding Spires. If he misjudged the landing, the Sail would be shredded.
“What’s taking so damned long?” Karinna called through the comms tube. “Just land.”
“Do you want to be impaled on a branch?”
He didn’t hear her response, his attention fixed below.
Thrice he circled, finally catching a glimpse of the field.
That was enough. He spun the Sail down, narrowly avoiding the protruding boughs of the trees bordering the field.
The effort was exhausting—he’d been flying all night. He wanted to collapse into a pile.
But the field, which had been empty when he began his descent, was now filling with Jaduna, light flickering about their hands.
One sorceress shot out a bolt of fire, striking the Sail.
Immediately, the Loha flowed back into its bowl.
Cero snatched it up quickly as the Sail’s canvas collapsed in a heap.
He shoved his way out and emerged to find the air crackling with lightning.
Cero lifted his arms. “My name is Cero bet-Dafra!” he said. “I come on behalf of the Kegari people, but not on behalf of the Tel Ilessi. I am here to request aid.”
Two Jaduna approached, a man and woman wearing short tunics and voluminous pants in varying shades of green.
They exchanged a glance at Cero’s declaration.
Behind him, Karinna muttered curses as she made her way out of the Sail’s heavy canvas.
Something furry brushed against his ankles.
Abzi, emerging more gracefully than Karinna or Cero, sat on Cero’s foot and watched the Jaduna as if she owned them.
“You’re not welcome here.” As the Jaduna woman spoke, more of her people emerged from the trees into the clearing. “Leave at once, and we won’t visit anything unpleasant upon you.”
“You don’t even know what we want.” Karinna finally pushed away from the Sail, her anger lashing out like a whip. “You can’t just boot us out without even listening.”
The same Jaduna woman sputtered at Karinna’s insolence. “These are the sovereign lands of the Jaduna people—”
“I don’t care if it’s the bleeding Nightbringer’s summer home. At least listen!”
“We need their help, rebel,” Cero whispered to Karinna out of the corner of his mouth. “Not to irritate them into murder.”
“Wait.” Another voice spoke, and a curly-haired, pale-skinned Jaduna woman stepped forward from the crowd. Those around her fell back. From her embroidered purple dress and the heavy rope of coins she wore around her forehead and neck, Cero knew her as a Raani.
“You are Blood of Shatharin,” she said to Karinna. “She Who Tells the Tale. Karinna, is it? Laia of Serra’s second child? Forgive us.” She bowed her head. “My people did not recognize you.”
Karinna hid her surprise well—unexpected since half the time, she seemed out of control of her emotions.
“You were quite rude,” she sniffed at the Raani. “Threatening the daughter of a woman who saved all your necks. Me and my fellow traveler”—she jerked her head toward Cero—“want to speak to your Raanis. Now.”
Cero winced at her imperiousness—she might be Laia’s daughter, but rudeness would not serve them well.
“Please,” Cero added. “It is urgent, or we wouldn’t be quite so insistent.”
“I am Raani J’mila of Kin Bij,” the curly-haired woman said. “Come with me. You will leave your Sail here. No one will disturb it.”
Cero was hesitant to do so, but as the Jaduna had surrounded the Sail, he didn’t have a choice. He and Karinna followed the Raani into the huge trees. Their steps were soft upon the leaf-strewn forest floor. Golden lamplight glimmered from the tree’s branches, where the Jaduna built their homes.
“You are far from the center of the city,” Raani J’mila said, gesturing to a well-lit path between two trees.
Their bark was smooth and mottled, the trunks as wide as houses.
At the end of the path stood a square shadow in the shape of a door.
It seemed to shimmer in the air, its color a pure, deep blue.
The lights did not reflect on the shadow’s surface, and it stood about a foot taller than Cero.
A chill ran up Cero’s spine as he looked at it, and he paused, wary.
“This portal will save us much time,” J’mila called back to him when she saw him stop. “Have no fear. It is safe.”
J’mila stepped into the doorway, disappearing almost immediately. Cero glanced at Karinna, but the rebel shrugged and followed the older woman in.
In the moment that he followed Karinna, Cero regretted it. He was drenched by a darkness so complete, he couldn’t see his hand before his face, nor hear his own breath. Spectral images rose up around him. Dafra cloister. His father. The orphans’ quarters burning.
A voice echoed, young and familiar. Who are you, Cero bet-Dafra?
Cero tried to speak, but he was frozen on the shores of a wild ocean, gazing at a sky the same color as a rotting fish—until a hand reached out and grabbed him, pulling him forward and out of the portal into another small clearing. Karinna.
“What’s wrong with you, pilot?” She released him, frowning in disdain. “Why are you waving your arms about like you’re drunk?”
Cero swayed, feeling like a fool, and the Raani immediately came to his side.
“What—what was that?” he asked her as she steadied him. “What was in there?”
Her kohl-lined eyes were sympathetic. “The portals weave alongside the dimension of death, for they are created with great difficulty using the magic of our Songma, who sing to souls. They are more difficult for some. You’ll be fine in a moment.
” She released Cero when he nodded, his balance returned.
She gestured to a handsome young man awaiting them.
“This is Linh, one of my Raan-Ruku.” Cero tried to remember what it meant.
Wolves of the Mother. The Raanis’ elite personal guards.
“He will get you settled.” J’mila looked between Cero and Karinna.
“I will tell the Raanis you wish to speak with them. Linh will bring you to us when I send word.” Then she stepped through the portal and was gone.
Cero glanced at the portal once, unnerved that he’d have to walk through it if he wanted to get to his Sail. But he marked its location and followed Linh.
The forest around them was more populated, with glass and tile glimmering from a huge granite cliff to the west. Cero caught sight of intricately wrought structures that appeared to be woven into the trees, warm lamplight shining through their glass windows.
Most of the Jaduna on the ground level were walking, though Cero did see a horse or two, and many wagons. Baskets of goods were hauled up via rope pulleys, and there were huge platforms that rose with magical aid, taking residents to the top levels of the trees.
It was a beautiful place. And yet its contours plucked at something deep and unknowable in Cero’s mind. The peaked roofs of the homes. The shape of the lamps. Even the striations of the tree bark. They all beckoned with a sense of familiarity. As if he’d seen them in a dream.
Linh hurried them up a seemingly never-ending trail of stone steps that led to a distant cluster of buildings. As they climbed the hill, the fog burned away, revealing a brilliant blue sky. When they were nearing the top, Linh glanced back at Cero—or more specifically, Cero’s hand.
“Your ring,” Linh said. “May I see it?”
Cero hesitated before offering the wide silver band to Linh.
As the Jaduna examined it, still walking, Cero thought of the aaj’s other half—smaller, thinner, still in his pack.
After Aiz had lost hers, he’d created a new one, though he wasn’t sure why.
It’s not as if he was ever going to give it to anyone.
“A communicator?” Linh asked, and at Cero’s nod, he whistled. “A remarkable piece of magic. It took Kin Khind a century to create the soul-bond coin. How did you—”
“Our—ah—quarters?” Cero cut him off, for they’d reached the top of the hill, and he had no wish to say any more about the aaj.
“Yes.” Linh gestured to a row of small homes, all of which opened to a terrace of steaming hot springs.
“Our guesthouses. You’ll find all that you need within.
The Raanis will see you—tonight perhaps, or tomorrow.
But”—Linh curled his lip as he looked them up and down—“you cannot arrive looking like beggars.”