Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
Iseult stood outside the tent and watched the eastern sky. An alarm was sounding, and if she frowned hard enough that way, she could see flashes like heat lightning.
She could see Threads too. Wild, silvery Threads somehow visible, although they must be miles beyond her range.
She thought of mountain bats and sea foxes, of shadow wyrms and the statues she’d seen on the bridge into the city.
Long ago, when the gods walked among us, Middle Sister Swallow found a dog and gave him wings.
“Get inside,” a voice called. It was the Admiral. “Get inside and stay there, Dark-Giver. There are dangers in the city tonight.”
Aren’t there always dangers in the city? Iseult thought back to Esme’s Cleaved—which she still could see no sign of, sense no Threads from. “Where is the Raider King?” she asked instead. “When will he return?”
“Why?” Kahina’s silvery eyebrows lifted. “Have you decided to accept his offer?”
“Offer?” Now Iseult was the one to lift her eyebrows—and the reaction was instant: Kahina’s Threads caught fire with surprise. Then anger. She’d said something she shouldn’t have.
“Inside,” Kahina repeated, and now her anger overtook her magic, sending sparks puffing from her mouth.
Iseult bowed her head, biting off a smile.
Ragnor had a proposal for her; the encampments were riled up; despite her incredible power as a Paladin, Kahina still obeyed the Raider King.
This was all useful information, and when Iseult ducked back into the tent, she examined the space with fresh eyes.
Whatever offer was coming her way, the information on that desk was meant to coax her into an agreement.
She was halfway back to the desk when Threads surged into her awareness. Frightened slate, focused green, and unexpectedly triumphant pink. The flap barely moved as a small Baedyed raider slithered in.
“Are you the Threadwitch?” they asked in shockingly good Nomatsi. “You must be. You’ve got the scar and the Witchmark.” They yanked down their mask, revealing a young, pale face and large teeth. “I’m Sky. Merik sent me.”
Despite the near-perfect Nomatsi, the words were absolutely indecipherable to Iseult. She blinked. “Merik? The … prince of N-Nubrevna?”
“Yeah. Scarred fellow. Missing some hair. He’s got a hideout on the other side of the river. For Wakers and anyone else who’s left the Raider King’s banner.”
None of this was any more comprehensible.
“So is he … here?” Iseult sent her magic reaching outward.
The girl shook her head. “Naw, he just got himself caught. But don’t worry. I think he’ll get away. Probably. Maybe. And now we can get away too.”
Iseult’s nose wiggled. “We?”
“Yeah, you. Me. I’m Sky, remember? I just told you. Your friend—some nobility or something from Cartorra—sent us to find you. Since it looks like you’re a prisoner, then I’m here to free you. Although…” The girl waved at Iseult’s collar. “I can’t help with that.”
These words finally connected in Iseult’s brain. “Safi,” she said on a sigh. Her spine sagged. “She’s all right? She’s safe?”
“Mostly.” Sky shrugged. “We have a good healer.”
“And Aeduan? Um, a … a monk. A C-Carawen—is he all right?”
“We haven’t found him yet.”
“Ah.” Iseult’s backbone reversed itself, locking upward again.
“We got people searching, though.” The girl glanced around, eyes big as a rabbit’s.
Iseult would bet she could be as fast as one too.
“Look, can we get going? I’ve sent everyone away.
Told ’em they were summoned to help with the alarm.
But it won’t last. They’ll realize I was lying soon—maybe even realize I’m not Marstoki. ”
“I can’t leave.”
Sky’s big eyes got bigger. Confusion swelled in her Threads. “You are the one we’re looking for, right?”
“Yes, but you have to tell Safi I can’t go yet. Tell her I have a way to end all of this cleanly and quickly—but when it’s done, she’ll need to be ready to get to the Well. I’ll, uh…” Iseult hesitated here. All those hours of planning and study, and now here she was thrown on the spot again.
But the book isn’t. The book has everything Safi needs to know.
In less than a second, Iseult had snatched it off the desk.
Two seconds after that, she had the book’s pouch unbuckled from her belt and the book slid safely inside.
“Here, take this. Give it to Safi. Tell her to follow all the markings I’ve made on the map in the middle.
It’ll take her right to the Well and should keep her out of sight of any raiders. ”
“Yeah, but the raiders are on the move now.” Sky’s Threads were a rusted wariness. “They’re all over the city.”
“I know, but trust me: there are paths to get past the troops. And I’ll meet Safi a-at the Air Well.”
“When?” Sky fastened the book to her own belt. “It’ll take me time to reach her, and then more time for her to get there.”
“I know.” Iseult’s hand moved to her neck, to the Threadstone that wasn’t there anymore, and where instead she found only heavy wood and iron. “But I’ll be there,” she said eventually. “If all goes according to plan, then I’ll be there waiting for her when she arrives.”
“I don’t like this. But … if you say so.”
“I do say so. Now quickly. People are c-coming, and I need one more thing from you. Tell me: Do you have any weapons with you?”
Sky’s Threads blinked with surprise. “Just this.” She slipped a small folding knife from her sleeve.
“Can I have it?”
“Won’t do much.”
“No,” Iseult agreed. But it would fit in her boot, and that was all she needed. “Thank you,” she murmured as she took it. Then seconds later, the girl was gone. Iseult was alone.
Outside, chaos gathered and brewed.
Aeduan was being moved. Dragged, actually, across a rough surface that indicated in cruel relief where each of his bones had been broken. Where each of his organs had been perforated and each of his vertebrae knocked into a place it shouldn’t be.
“You,” said a voice Aeduan hated, “are heavier than you look, Monk. Which is forcing me to reevaluate my own fitness—something I do not enjoy doing.”
Aeduan tried to respond, but all that came out was a groan. And try as he might, he could only get a single eye open. Which revealed, as he’d expected, Leopold fon Cartorra.
Aeduan couldn’t smell the man; his magic was too focused on healing a hundred injuries from which most people would never recover. But he knew that sharp jaw and mocking smile.
“Ah, you are awake.” Leopold’s smile turned harder.
“Good. I did so want to apologize for how much damage I caused you inside the mountain. You were meant to simply follow me. Not wake up all the Sightwitches. Fortunately for us both, however, you are a man for whom such wounds will not kill, but merely slow.”
Aeduan managed to haul open his other eye.
Leopold sharpened into something more human, with flushed cheeks and curls flying on a cold wind—a wind Aeduan recognized. There was a smell here he would never quite scrape off his bones.
In much the same way he would never quite remove the memories of the Exalted One who’d possessed him.
“No,” he tried to say. Do not bind Nadje inside me again. But of course, such words would not come. Aeduan’s left lung was flattened and his jaw was broken.
“Do not worry, Monk. I have no plans to bind an Old One to your body. It was a useful experiment, but it would not be useful a second time. That said,” Leopold continued, still holding Aeduan’s arms—the only part of Aeduan that felt intact, “you are correct that I have brought you to the Aether Well.”
Leopold let go. Aeduan’s arms flopped down. Pain crunched through him, and the six old wounds boomed like tectonic plates in an earthquake.
Overhead, the impenetrable gray of winter in the Sirmayans loomed, no sky to break through.
Leopold dropped to a crouch beside Aeduan’s head and blocked out even the clouds.
He reached for Aeduan’s face—and Aeduan was pleased when he could snap his head sideways.
Press it into the snow that surrounded him.
But it wasn’t Aeduan’s face that Leopold wanted. It was his earlobe and the opal pierced within. “Clever me,” Leopold murmured, sliding his thumb across it, “making these little stones all those centuries ago.” He pinched the opal. His lips torqued sideways.
And Aeduan felt as the summoning magic in the stone sparked through him. A jagged sensation like a tapestry being separated into individual strands. The magic jetted outward, to every Carawen monk nearby. They would realize he was hurt. They would come running to his aid.
Since the Monastery was nearby, that would mean many monks would soon converge here.
Leopold released the opal. His frown turned stern and, inexplicably, sad too.
As if he regretted all that had happened—not just between him and Aeduan, but for all of the world.
“One last thing before I go, Monk: whatever you might think of me, I am not your enemy.
I swear it. Just like you, I have only ever served the Cahr Awen, and right now is no different.
“The dark-giver and the light-bringer are about to fail. They will not reach the final Well to heal it—not without help. A great deal of help, in fact. Which is why I … well, I suppose you could say I nudged you here in the first place. I need your fellow monks, and I need them quickly.
“So, once you are healed, you must take the new abbot and all her forces through the mountain.” Here Leopold paused long enough to withdraw a scrap of cloth from his cloak. It was blood-soaked and sang of truth hidden beneath snow.
He dropped it, letting it flutter down to Aeduan’s chest. Next, he tugged out a leather thong, which he dangled over Aeduan’s eyes. Light glinted on silver. A scent like fireflies tickled Aeduan’s magic.
“How funny that this was once my coin, yet now it is a little trinket between lovers.” The way Leopold said this did not make it sound funny at all.
“Since you cannot use it to follow your lover now, then I will tell you exactly where she is and how to find her. Though do not seek her out until all the Carawens have joined you. Otherwise, your life and hers will be lost.”
Leopold dipped close now, angling his face so his mouth was near Aeduan’s ear.
His voice dropped to a whisper not even the Well could hear.
“The dark-giver is with your father in the heart of Poznin. She thinks she is helping you by trying to kill the Raider King, but we both know your father is more likely to kill her first. So hurry, Bloodwitch, and finish healing. Then go to the dark-giver before it is too late.”