Chapter 21 #2
The king arched a brow but nodded, and Bastion opened the box between them. At the window, Lord Valin turned to face them. His eyes caught on the box for the first time, and he stilled, like it was a coiled snake.
Bastion unwound the length of raw wool muffling the pendant and showed the pendant to each of them. Then, he bundled it back up and enclosed it in the box.
“From what I observed,” Bastion continued, “I believe the pirates were using it–and others like it–to communicate.”
With his elbow propped on the arm of his chair, the king stroked his beard. Bastion had seen Endre make the very same gesture when he was considering a thing. Behind the ladies, the fire crackled and punctuated the silence.
“If what you say is true, then there are greater dangers here,” Torvald said.
“Yes.”
“Hmm,” the king intoned, still stroking his beard. Then he lifted his eyes to Bastion’s. “You know that the Acari possess no magic?”
Bastion was slow to respond, doing his best to keep a note of disbelief out of his voice. “I am aware, Your Majesty.”
“Still, such jewelry is jealously guarded. It seems unusual to find such pieces in the hands of pirates,” Torvald mused.
“How many of these pendants did you see?” Valin asked.
“Personally?” Bastion asked, indicating the box on the table. “Two.”
“What does that mean? ‘Personally?’” Valin pressed.
Bastion hesitated, his eyes darting between the spymaster and the king. He’d come here to tell them what happened, but he hadn’t counted on Valin being part of the conversation.
“I saw others in a memory,” he answered.
“Lyanthis’s daughter was caught with us in the siege.
She shared–” he stumbled, finding it difficult to land on the right word for that half-remembered dream “–a memory from one of the pirates. We saw teams being given the pendants, and Buck speaking to them about communicating… and destroying the pendants if they were caught.”
Queen Thyra spoke for the first time. “Is it possible someone else enchanted the pendants?”
“That is the most likely scenario,” Torvald responded.
“Since you’ve brought the pendant, we can test it and find out,” Valin said.
“You can do that?” Bastion asked.
The spymaster inclined his head as if it were the simplest thing. “It would be my pleasure to take this burden from you.”
“Lord Valin,” the king said, turning in his seat. The spymaster came to his side. “I leave this matter in your care. Find out who was behind this attack, as quickly as possible.”
Bastion scooped the box up and offered it to Valin.
As the spymaster took it, their fingers brushed, and a jolt of panic made Bastion’s heart jump.
The emotion came to him so viscerally, Bastion stiffened.
Had he imagined it? Valin’s outward calm belied an inner turbulence that made the hair on the back of Bastion’s neck stand up.
Suspicion ran through his abdomen like an anchor, and Bastion knew with frigid certainty that the spymaster had no intention of following through on his suggestion.
“You mentioned what they were after,” the king said, circling back round.
“Yes,” Bastion answered. With difficulty, he dragged his eyes to the king. “Ulla and I heard a description in the memory of one of the pirates. Black and oblong, perhaps the length of an arm. Innocuous, like a piece of rock. Does that ring any bells?”
Everyone shook their heads except Valin, who had returned to looking out the window.
“Whatever this thing is, the pirates were willing to use a powerful weapon to get it. It was some kind of sound magic that put everyone who heard its call to sleep.”
To his right, Queen Thyra inhaled sharply. “Describe it, please,” she said.
Her reaction surprised him, and Bastion mentally kicked himself. On rare occasions, he’d seen her eviscerate courtiers and make it sound like a compliment. She might appear to be only a beauty, but he knew she was far from ornamental.
“It was a metal rod, perhaps as long as two men are tall, with a wolf’s head on one end.”
“Was there a moon the night of the attack?” she asked.
“No, Your Majesty. The sky remained dark.”
“And the sound?”
Bastion furrowed his brow and glanced at the others.
Endre listened dutifully, ever the student of diplomacy and matters of state.
The Queen Mother watched Valin from the corner of her eye, while the spymaster appeared disinterested.
The king waited, but there was a bright focus that hadn’t been there before.
Bastion turned back to the queen. “It’s how I imagined my death might sound.”
She sucked in a breath, her face pale.
“Torvald.” His name was barely a whisper, but it charged the air in the room. Bastion tensed. The king frowned into his hand, eyes downcast.
“Do you know what it is?” Bastion asked.
“A carnyx,” Thyra said, a deep, shuddering breath making the word flutter on her tongue. “There are only nine in existence. They are the reason the Varo Citadel has never been breached.”
“I was not aware there was one missing,” Valin said, the residue of a sneer in his voice.
“Isn’t that supposed to be your job, Lord Valin?” the Queen Mother asked. She pursed her lips like she’d licked something unpleasant off her teeth.
“Even my spies are not skilled enough to infiltrate the Varo Citadel, Your Majesty,” he answered.
“My love,” the king said. “Will you send a raven to your mother? If there is a Varo weapon in the wind, I want to know when it was stolen and why we weren’t informed.”
“Assuming it was stolen,” Valin interjected.
They all turned to him. The spymaster glanced over his shoulder, feigning surprise.
“What? Would you ignore the experience of everyone in Moonwatch who fell victim to this weapon? The Varo did not report the theft of this carnyx, and they are capable of enchanting items.”
Queen Thyra looked ready to spit venom, the expression so foreign that it froze Bastion in place.
“How dare you!” the Queen Mother exclaimed.
Valin merely inclined his head. “It’s my job, Your Majesty, to look at every possibility.” Endre took a step towards Valin, his hand clenching his long knife like he was ready to draw it.
The king boomed, “Enough!”
The prince stopped and retreated, but his hand stayed on the long knife sheathed at his side. It was easy to forget that he was half Varo, especially since his mother had sent her attendants home long before Bastion arrived in the palace.
“Lord Kyrith told me they were unable to recover the carnyx,” the king said.
Bastion’s heart dropped again. “That is my understanding, Your Majesty. But we brought prisoners who may be able to help find it.”
Torvald nodded. “You’ve given us much to think about. Is there anything else?”
Bastion gripped the arm of his chair, and the king’s eyes followed the movement.
“The matter of my lineage,” Bastion said. His heart felt like a bird chained to a stone, desperately trying to fly away. “I would be remiss if I didn’t give you this information before you made a final decision about my knighthood.”
“You’re an orphan, are you not?” Valin asked.
Bastion gritted his teeth. The question had the ring of an accusation. He swallowed the fear rising in him.
“Yes, but… there’s more than that.”
__________
The revelation went about how he expected.
Valin was outraged at being deceived. The Queen Mother watched Bastion with shrewd eyes and not a little pride.
Thyra smiled with all the affection of a cat who just discovered she was raising a duck instead of a kitten and was supremely pleased, while the king digested the information with an air of gravity.
All Torvald said was, “I admire the courage it took to tell us, but understand… this deception may cost you your knighthood.”
Bastion swallowed. “I understand, Your Majesty.”
A knock on the door cut off any further discussion.
“Ah, our next appointment,” Queen Thyra said. “Endre, Lord Valin, Bastion, thank you for coming this morning.”
As if he’d been waiting for the dismissal, Valin bowed and strode from the room, the box tucked beneath his arm.
Bastion’s eyes followed him, catching the hitch in his step when he saw whoever waited in the hall.
He and Endre bid the monarchs farewell and left as a woman slipped into the room.
Bastion only had time to note the long braid that hung to her waist, as white as a bleached bone.
The door closed, but not before Bastion heard a note of worry enter the queen’s voice as she said, “Runa, this is an unexpected pleasure…”
Endre gave him a reassuring look and departed with the others, off to whatever princely duties demanded his attention. Left to his own devices, Bastion wandered through the palace, reflecting.
It was Lord Valin he found himself dwelling on.
The man had never been friendly, always regarding Bastion as if he were a nuisance.
His reaction to Bastion being part Yvri was unsurprising, but the emotion that surged between them when he handed off the pendant was not.
He couldn’t prove anything, and Valin had been a pillar of loyalty and decorum since before Torvald took the throne.
The interaction left Bastion feeling like he’d just shown his hand in a game of cards.
He stepped out onto a deserted terrace that looked west and inhaled the cold winter air. Below, the river cut through the city, glinting like a drawn blade. Bastion went to the balustrade and gripped it until the bite of cold stone sank through his palms in a bone-deep ache.
That was how Lyanthis found him.
“A word, Bastion,” he said.
“Not now, Lyanthis. I’m a little preoccupied,” Bastion answered, shoulders tense. Lyanthis’s nostrils flared, a precursor to the haughty sneer Bastion had seen so many times over the years.
“As am I,” the Yvri said, “with my daughter’s well-being.”
Bastion clenched the balustrade tighter, the veins on the back of his hands standing out in stark relief. He was in no mood for diplomacy. “Is she unwell?”
“Don’t be coy with me,” Lyanthis sneered. “I can smell the bond on you.” His lips drew back, putting his fangs on full display. “You have no idea what you condemn her to.”
He’d come looking for a fight.
Fine. Bastion would give him a fight.
He squared up to Lyanthis and folded his arms.
“I’m a quicker study than your dim-witted apprentices,” Bastion whispered. “Minato made it very clear what a disservice I would be doing to Ulla.”
Lyanthis let out a sharp, mirthless bark. “Ha! Minato?” He turned and paced the length of the terrace, his energy coiled and ready to strike. “You know he was the first in over a century to bond outside the Yvri? To abandon his people.”
“Perhaps openly.”
Lyanthis stopped short. He lifted his chin, his gaze razor sharp. “How would you know?
“Because I’m part Yvri!” Bastion bellowed, spreading his arms wide. “I’m proof of another pairing! If you think there aren’t others now, you’re a fool. They just hide because of people like you!”
He barreled on, taking no joy in the shock on Lyanthis’s face.
“Do you think I asked for this?” Bastion cried, clutching his chest. “That I chose this unquenchable thirst? This sword through my heart! Perhaps if YOU hadn’t ostracized her, she wouldn’t have been in that godforsaken village, and our paths would never have crossed!”
“Hold your tongue, boy! You know nothing of what you speak.”
Bastion stepped forwards, crowding him. “Don’t I? I know that your own daughter would rather be alone than step into the prison you’ve made for her, however pretty. She found her voice, a way to show up in the world that matters, helping the weak and the wounded! Do you know how many she’s healed?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lyanthis said, turning away.
“It doesn’t matter?” Bastion maneuvered to stay in his line of sight, forcing Lyanthis to look him in the eye. “You diminish her accomplishments and want to lock her away? For what? Your peace of mind? She will die slowly because of you!”
“And she will die quickly because of YOU!” Lyanthis spat. Bastion drew back a step. “In the hold of a ship, or run through in battle, or from a broken heart because you were killed first!”
All the heat exited Bastion’s body, leaving him frigid. The terror and the pain he’d felt in the belly of The Basilisk compounded with the certainty he’d had on the battlements of Moonwatch, that he’d led Ulla to her death.
Minato’s words scraped against the inside of his skull: You will condemn her to a life of isolation!
The emotions escaped his grasp, as torrid as a sail in a hurricane.
Lyanthis sensed Bastion’s hesitation and seized them, a triumphant light blazing in his eyes.
A foreign sensation seeped over Bastion’s mind, and he felt the Yvri wind every fiber of doubt, insecurity, and unworthiness around his fist until it was so taut Bastion thought he might black out.
“Twice, she nearly died saving you!” Lyanthis’s fangs flashed as he leaned forwards. “If she had gone with Taro, she would’ve been safe.”
The mention of the Yvri warrior settled some of Bastion’s trepidation. He pushed Lyanthis away.
“Taro tried to kill me.”
“Of course he did! He’s her betrothed!”
Bastion staggered backwards. A knife in his back would have surprised him less.
Lyanthis stilled. His eyes raked over Bastion, and he moved closer, a predator ready for the kill.
“Ulla is not equipped to navigate this world alone. She needs a husband to protect her, a pod to support her.” The words came out matter-of-factly, as if feeling didn’t matter. Love didn’t matter. “You,” he said, “are not enough.”
Bastion’s fears swarmed over him like crabs on a corpse. With them came the words Taro had spoken on The Basilisk: You need us. You need me.
No mountain he’d climbed was high enough, no battle he’d won was notable enough. He was a child again, trying to disappear into the shadows, surviving off scraps of kindness.
He swallowed. “What would you have me do?”
Lyanthis gave him a brittle smile that spoke of victory but not pleasure.
“Break her heart.”