Chapter 33.5 The Graveyard
"The—" she stutters. "The Serpent King of the Sea and all his followers.
They have been after us since Rohus. When we saw you, we were afraid that they had made a deal with the King of Ithyma.
That they were coming to drag us from the lake and finish what they started—"
"That's enough," snaps Yaun.
Rohus. The Serpent King.
Finish what they started. "No. Tell me what you mean.
"
Yaun seethes, refusing, but I drop to my knees in the muddy grass before the children, looking at them seriously.
"My name is Tarah," I tell them again, taking in their shocked faces at my new position.
"That is my friend, the Princess of Ithyma.
" I point her out over my shoulder. "And Marton, a scholar from the Dawn Academy in Philostia.
And Vakhrin, a banished manticore from Umrahs.
We are on a quest to put right all that has been done wrong to our people at the hands of the powerful men and monsters and liars of this world.
You speak of a Serpent King out of Rohus and of people there that would hurt you.
Tell me who they are. Tell me all you know.
If it is in my power, I will stop them. If it is in my power, I will help you.
You have my word."
I don't know what it is exactly that makes them trust me.
Maybe they can sense my sincerity. Maybe it is because I am kneeling in the muck like a fool.
Maybe it has been so long since someone older attempted to take care of them, they are willing to give their confidences away to the first person to try.
Whatever the reason, they begin to speak to me.
Bit by bit, in whispers and false starts from Nerris and angry outbursts from her brother, the story pieces itself together.
They lived in Rohus, by the salty sea, in a colony of sirens away from the human lands.
Their village was raided by flesh traders, most of their people taken, many of their loved ones killed.
These four children, three siblings and younger cousin, were able to escape, hiding themselves away in time to avoid the raiders.
Though they overheard their captors discussing a man they called the Serpent King of Sea.
A man that fearful folk whisper about in Rohus, telling stories of his villainy.
His awful power. How he has countless followers at his beck and call.
How he sells protectorkin as slaves across the sea.
It is awful how quickly the children pour their story out, once they decide to trust me.
As if they have been waiting for someone to listen for a long, long time.
Day bleeds into evening and Marton and the others begin to pitch camp behind me.
"You can't sleep out here in the open," says Yaun, as if the idea is horrifyingly ridiculous.
"Why not?"
He shakes his head.
"These are the king's lands." They know nothing of our king, have heard very few stories, have assumed he is a dragon as their parents once taught them the kings and queens of Ithyma had been.
But they know not to trust the people who have too much power.
Who own the very land you walk on, and can rip it out from under you.
They take us to their permanent camp, a damp cave hidden in a bend of the lake—accessible only by wading through hip deep water—where they have been staying for many months.
The two younger sirens are there, in their human forms, an adorable girl and boy who must be several years younger than Sartok.
They stare at us, and cling to their older siblings as we draw near, but otherwise make little fuss at our invasion of their space.
The cave is...not a home.
It is dank and small, smelling of stagnant water and smoke from a cookfire in one corner.
The children have made it as comfortable as possible, with scavenged bedding and moss used to pad the seats of rocks to make chairs.
Handmade games and other improvised tools and comforts.
I recognize the signs of people making the most of the grim reality before them.
It reminds me of the tower where Cherry and I grew up.
Nerris talks as she and her sister show us around the space, making room for our bedding and packs among their things.
She shows us some of the objects she has scavenged from the wreckage of the king's ruined home on the shores of the lake.
A metal hairbrush that must have belonged to a maid—it is too plain to have been Cherry's.
A dented cookpot. A wooden croquet mallet.
It is the last that makes me tip my head in thought.
If something made of wood has survived the fire, then surely other things have as well.
I ask Nerris about it, and she tells me they have sifted through the ruins many times, occasionally finding something usable.
Marton asks her if she has seen any books.
Yaun scoffs. The fire that burned the house down, apparently, was started in the library.
The books were the first thing to burn.
"Will you take us to the ruins tomorrow?
" I ask them.
"Why would you want to see them?
" I suspect Yaun is being contrary on principle.
It is Cherry who answers.
"That place used to be my home. My favorite place in the world.
When we were there, my father paid attention to me.
.."
Vakhrin squeezes her knee over the skirt of her dress.
"We'll take you," Nerris promises.
"Emilia knows a shortcut." She nods at her little sister with a smile.
Emilia nods and blushes and hides behind her sister.
These children are not accustomed to strangers.
They are skittish as horses but...lovely, and kind.
I hate how the world has forced them here, living in squalor in this dark cave.
I add their names to my mental list of all who have suffered since the fall of the kin.
The world is out of balance. Can we tip the scales back in the other direction?
I fall asleep that night, sandwiched between my friends, listening to the children breath, vowing to myself to try.
The sirens weren't exaggerating. This place is a graveyard.
Even years after the fire that destroyed the manor, the smell and color of ash still clings to the ground, and to the charred stone remains of the structure rising skeletally from the earth.
There are no human remains, all burned up, buried, or carried off by scavengers.
But the detritus of what this place used to be litters the ground.
The bricked out square of a fireplace which no longer keeps anyone warm.
An armoire with all its fine clothes long since eaten by flame.
Half of a grand staircase, leading up to nothing.
Our feet crackle over fallen leaves and splinters of scalded wood, sinking ankle deep into ashy mud in some places.
There is a kind of reverent silence over our group, as if this place really is a graveyard.
It is Marton who breaks the silence.
"Does anything look familiar?" he asks Cherry.
She is quiet for a moment, looking over the ruins with misty eyes.
"Of course it does. And it doesn't." Another beat.
We walk in silence. "I think of all the servants who used to live here.
All that this place used to be. I don't know if I feel guilty that I wasn't here when this happened.
..or glad."
"Do you think the fire was an accident?
" Marton asks, turning my way.
"In my professional, fire-breathing opinion?
"
He blushes. "Er—"
I shake my head at him.
"I don't know. You say it happened two years ago?
" I ask the children. The two oldest have come with us, the younger two staying back.
Emilia doesn't like to visit the ruins, though she did discover a shortcut to get here.
"It happened before we came here.
We crossed the Repenfell Strait from Rohus when we ran from the Serpent King's men.
Headed inland and found the nearest body of water big enough to hide in.
Since this land is the king's private place, and it's burnt, no one ever comes here.
We've never had a visitor until—"
"Until you decided to knock us out of the sky?
" asks Vakhrin dryly.
Nerris blushes.
"When we saw you were kin, saw you came in the direction of the Ithymian Palace, we assumed .
. ."
Yaun is unrepentant.
"We assumed the Serpent King had made a deal for our hides.
"
"Your first thought was that the Ithymian King was sending a dragon and a manticore after you on this.
..Serpent King's orders?"
"You don't know the Serpent King," says Nerris seriously, "but among the kin of Rohus, he is .
. . untouchable. Inescapable. His reach extends to every corner of the country and sea.
If he wants you, he has you. If he wants you dead, you die.
"
Marton tips his head curiously to one side.
"What species of kin is this Serpent King?
A Kraken? Some kind of sea serpent?"
Nerris and Yaun both regard him in surprise.
"Of course not," says Yaun.
"He's Dragomira. He's a basilisk."