Chapter 11 #4
“It’s no longer a waypoint but a prison.
It’s become a cesspit of chaos and violence and war, and the dead have beseeched us to help them.
Yet how, when no necromancer we have ever had here could do more than speak with the dead?
They’re desperate for our aid, so they can pass on peacefully, but so far, we’ve had no way to offer it. ”
“Our father is... unconcerned,” Lexsea said.
“He has other priorities, while I would argue that as the patron of the dead, there can be no greater one.” Her voice sounded like velvet felt.
He wanted to wrap himself in it, roll down and down and down a hill until it was all he knew, until he disappeared and it was just—
Snap the fuck out of whatever you’re doing, Gennady barked, this time from inside his head.
Jesstin squinted and shook his head. “And you both are just so concerned about the plight of the dead? Enough to manipulate that twat Considine? You couldn’t have known I would come, and if he’d have known, he’d have made damn sure Elloven never met me,” he said, though he wasn’t confident the part about them knowing was true.
Everything was a calculated presumption.
“The only reason he hasn’t tried to kill me again is because it would kill her too. ”
“Oh, no, love. It wouldn’t kill you,” Lexsea said sweetly. He could only see the spikes of her tall heels, the delicate cut of her ankles leading to lean but muscular calves—
He grimaced, shifting.
“The death of one or the other is a perfectly legitimate means to break the bond, but there are better ways.”
“But she felt my pain when I was injured.”
“Only because you survived. Had Taven left you to die, Aelloven would have been free. Such a simple solution to his problem, and he was so close.” She chuckled. “So it’s a very good thing he didn’t know better.”
A sobering truth, one Taven never needed to know. “So your father needs Elloven, you need me, all of you have different goals, and why am I supposed to care?”
“Because we can break this bond for you.” Lexsea’s ridiculous spiked heels clacked on the dark stone ground. “I can seal them, and I can destroy them, and you will suffer no injury nor slight.”
They’d reached the part when they would reveal the cost, so he didn’t bother to ask.
Whether he and Elloven’s fates were indelibly tied or not, they both possessed something Rivenholde needed.
Whatever it was, there was nothing they could offer him to do their bidding.
“I’m going to tell you something most here think they know, but they have it wrong,” Ryquin said.
“Lex is my father’s chosen successor, not me.
The people of Rivenholde cling to the belief it’s because of my peculiar interests and the company I keep, that Lex is more ruthless. Well, the last part is true.”
Lexsea giggled. There was nothing pleasant in the sound, but Jesstin felt a flutter just the same.
“I never wanted it.” Ryquin sighed deep.
“But she does. And we made a deal, long ago, Lex and I, that if she helped me find a way to travel to Infinita Mori as a living man, then I could lead them back to prosperity while she oversaw matters of the living. Imagine what it must be like to be stuck, some for centuries, souls from all the worlds, a veritable horror with no end and no relief. I could usher them through the valleys and forests of their limbo and into the next life. They deserve better, and I intend to give it to them.”
“You want to rule the dead?” Jesstin burst out laughing. “Some kind of king of the netherworld?”
Ryquin only cracked a polite grin. “If you understood the conditions there, you might not be so flippant.”
“But they’re dead.”
“Death is but one journey we take, one form we assume,” Lexsea said.
Her voice was entrancing, rhythmic. Gennady was right.
She was doing something to him, and being aware of it didn’t help.
“Death is not the end nor the beginning. It should never be more than a brief sojourn on our endless journey. But for hundreds of years, Jesstin, the dead have not been allowed to pass. Does it sound fair to you?”
It sounds like a trap. I just can’t see the borders yet. “Right, so, I learn to take you to the netherworld and you break the bond?” It sounded like one of the fantastical stories he used to read to his nieces and nephews, except it was too farfetched even for fiction.
Ryquin’s nose flared with a brush of annoyance he hadn’t been quick enough to hide. “We prefer Infinita Mori, the Mori, or the Infinitum.”
“And no, that is not all.” Lexsea’s slim shadow climbed over Jesstin. He slammed his eyes shut, and she laughed. “The dead are waiting. Can you think of anyone you might like to see? Anyone at all?”
The word flashed in his mind.
Mother.
The mother he couldn’t remember because of Mathias.
The mother he’d dreamed of for years, a fantasy with only her portrait in the dining hall for reference.
Lexsea brushed her fingertips through his hair. “Think on it, yes?”
Elloven had never been to a circus of any kind, had only heard tales of them from Fabrien and his friends. What they’d described sounded like a child’s playground compared to what she saw as she walked with her uncle and Taven through the grounds of Cirque Calliope.
There was a large amphitheater on the north side, scaling up into the hillside.
At the bottom edge, a dozen pavilions were scattered along what Estelar had called a courtyard but seemed more like a separate village.
There were stalls for food and charms and all manner of mysterious goods.
Smoke from food and drink carts rolled into the air above.
It all smelled so delicious, she fantasized about trying a little from each one.
“Just as there are seven curias, there are seven exiberes, events,” Estelar explained. “There’s—”
“Can you tell me about the seven curias first?” Elloven asked, cutting in. They strolled down a busy fairway of vendors preparing for the night. “What they are?”
Estelar slowed some. “She really told you nothing? Esmeray?”
“She had her reasons,” Taven said. He had one hand on Elloven’s back, firm and unmoving, even when the crowd forced her to cut away. Every time she looked at him, she read the questions in his eyes, which would sound more like accusations on his lips.
“Our histories are no secret, not to those of the blood. But you must never tell our truths to outsiders, Aelloven. The men of your kingdom have no respect for our histories, our magic, or what we have endured as peoples, and that is why we no longer offer passage,” Estelar said.
Elloven saw the way women’s eyes traveled to him when they passed, how the men seemed afraid of him.
He was both handsome and fearsome, and it said something, she thought, that he’d chosen to remain with the mother of his children all these years when it seemed the consort system was designed for variety.
He had Malon, but Malon seemed more like an afterthought compared to how Estelar deferred to Tansea as an equal.
“If Esmeray was so guarded with you, then I’m sure it will come as a shock that the Coventicular of the Seven is a mirror for the Coventicular dos Sete. In Ilynglass.”
Elloven nearly challenged the Ilynglass claim, but the way he’d said it, like he was reciting facts she should already know, not ones she’d need convincing of, stayed her. It was also neither the first nor even the second time the mythical Ilynglass had come up in the past week alone. “A mirror?”
“Our curia of death is their Cabalos dos Mortos, or Cabal of the Dead. We go by Rivenholde, the same way all curias have chosen names, to blend into your kingdom when necessary, but they have no such need on their side. There was a time when there were portails between our worlds, which allowed all curias and cabals to cross freely, but those doors slammed shut when Infinita Mori was breached.”
Earlier on the walk, Estelar had explained how hundreds of years ago, the dead had been trapped by dark magic, and no one since had been able to reverse it. She hoped it wasn’t true, because it meant Gennady, her father, and so many others were stuck in a helpless terror she couldn’t imagine.
“Starting from north to south along the peaks of the Seven Sisters, we have Curia Grymwood, who use the magic of the arcane to create and enhance and destroy. They’re especially.
.. flashy when they put on shows, but I’m afraid we’ll miss theirs tonight.
Next we have the best curia, Curia Rivenholde.
We specialize in death magic.” He affected a light, facetious bow that made her and Taven laugh.
“Curia Duskmaw, the curia of chaos, is the third peak and your prominence, Aelloven. Their magic is less simple to define, as it can take many, many forms, which you know.”
How Elloven wished she did know, but she waited for him to continue.
“Then there’s Curia Rosedown, our curia of solace.
These are healers, soothers, and warders.
Curia Skyfire uses blood magic, such as calling upon the ancestors.
Curia Eversong are our silver tongues, our storytellers, dreamers, and chroniclers.
Lastly, Curia Ashwind, which is Taven’s prominence, utilizes time and space.
Many have the blood of more than one curia and so can practice more than one house of magic, which is why Taven can also heal, though he is not Rosedown prominent.
But only one house of magic can be dominant.
So while Taven can heal, he cannot lay or remove wards, spin protections, or other intricacies Rosedown is known for.
It would take days to run you through all these curias can do, and the many combinations of magic, but will that suffice for now? ”
She didn’t need to tell them her head was spinning. They both clearly saw it in her eyes. “Thank you for explaining.”
“You have blood from all houses, which doesn’t make you unique, but your lineage does. And being chaos prominent means your chaos magic can, when needed, call upon the other six schools of magic, in ways even those with pure prominence cannot access.”
“The frozen men.” Taven nodded with a dawning look of understanding. “Of course.”
“You froze men?” Estelar grinned. “On purpose?”
“I was defending Jesstin. I didn’t mean to.”
“Yet there are times you do mean to shape your chaos to the detriment of others, or would like to.” Estelar stopped in the fairway and waited for people to pass before speaking again. “And you’ve come here to understand how.”
“How to harness it in the defense of myself and the people I care about.”
“In due time.” Estelar squeezed her arm. “You’re home, Aelloven. At long last.” His face twitched. “With gratitude to Mr. Considine.”
Taven returned a tight smile. She found their exchange confusing, as with Taven’s sullen mood, which no longer matched the enthusiasm he’d had before their arrival.
“Now, the cirque!” Estelar spread his arms wide, sweeping the area in front of them. A large board, as tall as five men, detailed the events ahead.
He started to explain, but Elloven’s mind worked faster, reading ahead.
CIRQUE CALLIOPE RETURNS TO OBLIGE YOUR UTMOST DESIRES, FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY!
Revelers may indulge in some or all of these delectable delights:
The Opal of Desire
There is no wish too small or too great for our wishmaker! Come and see fantasy be made real!
The Odeon of the Heavens
Feats of strength and aerialism unlike any you’ll see anywhere else! Be dazzled as you watch our skilled acrobats fly through time and space, leaving you breathless!
Covent Mystique
Everyone’s favorite market returns to satisfy hungers of all kinds! Cast your net into the future with our oracles, gather rare enchantments, or lavish yourself with your favorite foods!
Spectral Mori
If you watch the Choral Mori with envy, envy no more, as you join them in their solemn song that brings us even closer to the beloved dead!
Cry of the Ancestors
Experience our histories in these most unique and vivid retellings that will bring past and present to light!
March of the Marionettes
A mummer’s farce, a comedy, and a cautionary tale wrapped in entertainment!
Arcana
Our elusive friends of the arcane persuasion dazzle us once more with their rare and celestial magic!
Our great Cirque Calliope would not be complete without the event that has everyone talking well beyond the season...
Labyrinth of Deception
A maze with no match. Win and anything you ask for is yours! Your sleeves will be adorned with the coveted seven golden stripes! Alas, if you should lose, you will perish in unusual and terrible ways whilst ruing the hour of your cursed birth! Fancy an attempt?
Estelar was right. None of it was like anything she’d ever experienced back home, or even in flashy Whitechurch.
Her eyes lingered on the Odeon of the Heavens, which must be what she’d seen a hint of on their ride through Rivenholde.
A flood of warm memories returned, of her mother teaching her tricks of flight and air in the field beyond their home.
Those sunlit days belonged to another lifetime.
“All of this in one night?” she asked with a wistful sigh.
“One very long night,” Estelar answered. “You’ll see.”
“Pretor, forgive me, but should we be indulging in distractions when we have the matter of the bond to resolve?” Taven asked.
“In due time, time being something you can respect as a son of Ashwind?” Estelar’s aversion for Taven was barely disguised. It wasn’t freshly made either. It predated their arrival.
“Of course. I only know Ellie is suffering now—”
“Aelloven, dear, are you suffering?” Estelar asked.
The question was loaded, and her answer would risk angering one or the other. But she’d spent too many hours coddling Taven’s sensitive constitution, and even more dreaming of being exactly where she was standing. “I only feel a slight tingle from Jesstin’s absence. I’d like to continue.”
“I was hoping you’d agree.” Estelar patted her arm. “For there’s someone holding our seats at the March of the Marionettes, someone who would very much like to meet you.”
“Oh?” Elloven perked. Was it Laxius, finally?
“Your brother, Acheron.”