Five Lands Saga Box Set 1 (Five Lands Saga Box Sets), page 131
They were using less and less of it as they went, as even sending a single person into a town was becoming more of a risk. Kenton wasn’t sure how much longer they’d be able to manage that at all.
A few feet away from him, Jaeme also rifled through his pack, reorganizing the weight distribution he’d said had been off since they’d picked up that morning. His eyes still looked empty much of the time, and he was still quieter than Kenton had ever known Jaeme to be. He’d been less sullen since Remalia, though. The despair was still there, but there was a determination underneath, growing the closer they got to Peldenar.
Kenton was glad for that, at least. They’d need it.
Sayvil brushed the leaves out of her hair and turned to Kenton, her smile dropping and her own expression becoming more determined. “We only have a few days before we’re supposed to meet with Saara. I know we can’t show up at the place we told her, but we also can’t leave her to fall into their hands.”
Saara was an adept warrior, but for this purpose, Diamis might send an army. Or an armada.
Probably both.
“Nikaenor had an idea for how to deal with that,” Kenton said.
Nikaenor had his bedroll wrapped over his shoulders against the evening chill, something they were feeling more and more as autumn fully settled over them. Now, though, he sank further underneath it, and Kenton knew it wasn’t about the cold.
“Let’s hear it, then,” Quinn said, and Nikaenor sighed.
“I was thinking,” he said, “that I could swim out into the ocean ahead of Saara’s arrival. If we take a ship, they’ll probably have vessels out there to catch us. But even if they’ve heard what my fish form looks like, I could swim right underneath them. They’ll never catch me.” Nikaenor looked less than thrilled about this plan, no doubt wishing that their only viable idea didn’t involve him having to do yet more swimming.
But he was good at it. The talent Mirilina had given him had saved their hides more than once.
“A nice thought,” Quinn said. “But you’ll never catch Saara that way, unless you swim as fast as a Tirostaari military ship. How would you even know which way to find her?”
“Oh,” Sayvil said. “That’s an excellent idea.”
Quinn’s brow furrowed. Even after weeks traveling with them all, the man had a tendency to look at them like they were all a little crazy, something Kenton couldn’t entirely blame him for. But usually this look wasn’t directed at Sayvil. “I just finished saying it’s a terrible idea,” Quinn said. “How do you figure it for a good one?”
“He’ll be able to find Saara,” Sayvil said, “the same way Jaeme or I could. Because Perchaya is still wearing the Drim ring that calls us together. A piece of my heart always feels like it’s called to the west.”
“It’s getting stronger,” Jaeme said, though he kept meddling with the pack, pretending to ignore the rest of them. “The closer we get to the coast and the closer she gets to us.”
Quinn looked impressed. “Can you tell how far out she is?”
“It’s not that precise,” Sayvil said.
“But I can tell you exactly which direction she’s in,” Nikaenor added, and all three of the bearers, at once, pointed a little north of directly west, toward the sea.
“Of course she’s in that direction,” Quinn said. “The entire bloody ocean is out there.”
“The entire ocean is somewhere over there,” Sayvil said, gesturing generally to the south, the west, and the northwest. “Saara is that way.” She pointed more specifically in the direction they’d all indicated before. “But if I could walk on the water, I could travel right to her.”
“We don’t need to walk, though,” Perchaya added. “Because Nikaenor can swim, which will afford him considerably more cover. It really is an excellent idea, Nikaenor.”
Nikaenor looked slightly more cheerful about it. As cheerful as he was likely ever to look about an idea that involved him leaping into the ocean and sprouting painful scales like little knives through his skin.
“What about Daniella?” Jaeme asked, finally putting down his pack. Then, as if he expected the rest of them to resist, he added, “I know getting to Saara is the most important at the moment, but if Nikaenor is going to swim for it, we can’t all go with him.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Kenton said.
Jaeme looked surprised, as if he was the only one who had a handle on the group’s priorities. Even with Daniella’s information already given over to Diamis, a Daniella who sided with Maldorath was the most dangerous opponent any of them could dream of facing. Kenton didn’t have any romantic inclinations toward her, like Perchaya had suggested, but she was his friend. He was damned well going to free her before approaching the castle, if he could.
Kenton continued without acknowledging Jaeme’s surprise. “Sayvil, Quinn, and Perchaya can accompany Nikaenor to warn Saara. Steal a boat, sail a ways off the coast, and then let Nikaenor swim the rest of the way. Once you get a better look at what’s out there—probably a full bloody armada, knowing Diamis—you can devise a strategy to sneak Saara around it, and you can all meet back up and travel to meet Jaeme and I when we’re finished taking care of the blood mages.”
“That’s a nice idea,” Sayvil said dryly. “Sneaking around an armada and all. But do you think you and Jaeme are ready to take on another conclave of mages by yourselves? We wouldn’t have managed it last time without Daniella to do most of the work for us. I remember it going poorly for Jaeme in particular.”
Jaeme grimaced, probably thinking of the blood puppets he’d had to fight off. Perchaya, however, looked at Kenton, and he knew she was thinking about how badly he’d been injured by Lukos. An injury he was still feeling more than he’d like, even after all this time.
He tried not to let it show, but he knew how little he could hide from Perchaya.
“She’s right,” Perchaya said, still watching him carefully. “You’re going to need our help.”
“Not if we handle it right,” Kenton returned. “And we need to send one of you bearers with Nikaenor so that the group on the shore can pinpoint the direction of the others to meet up with them if necessary.”
“The Drim should definitely be in separate groups,” Sayvil said. “Especially this close to Diamis’ stronghold, we can’t take the risk of both of you traveling into danger together, in case one group is captured.”
“Exactly,” Kenton said. “And I assumed that Quinn was going with you. So unless you and Quinn want to accompany me and send Jaeme with Nikaenor and Perchaya . . .”
Jaeme looked like he would rather take on the blood mages by himself than be left out of the group going after Daniella again, and Kenton couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t really an option, anyway. Kenton needed Jaeme for what he had planned.
“I’d rather steal a boat than fight a blood mage,” Sayvil allowed, and Kenton waited for further arguments.
None came, but Kenton knew from experience that it didn’t mean they wouldn’t later. “This is a good plan,” Kenton said. “The best we have. I don’t want to leave Daniella to Diamis any longer than necessary, so Jaeme and I will take care of the mages controlling her, while the rest of you get to Saara. Once we’ve accomplished that, we can head south and finally start working on getting ourselves into Peldenar without detection.”
As messy as all the rest of these plans were, that was the one Kenton worried about the most. Though if a large contingent of soldiers were left waiting on the shore for a meeting with Saara that never arrived, that certainly couldn’t hurt.
“If that’s decided,” Jaeme said, “I’d love to hear this plan whereby the two of us take out a group of blood mages with only our two swords.”
“That’s the best part,” Kenton said, pulling out a rough map he’d sketched earlier on a piece of paper Perchaya had given him from her sketchbook. He wasn’t the artist she was, by any means, but it was a good enough depiction of the area surrounding the small bay at the mouth of the Beldac river, where the sea caves were. “If we play our cards right, we won’t need any swords at all.”
Forty-six
Daniella walked the austere halls of Castle Peldenar, a stack of books in her hands, her fingers itching to dig into the pages. These books were ones she’d never seen in all her days picking through the castle library, or even in Grisham’s more extensive one: tomes that taught of blood magic, and histories that had been kept secret by Diamis for years, hidden carefully away.
Her father had owed the books to her, after she’d given him a tour of the many hidden rune walls of his own castle. Even in her heightened state, it pained her to give up the one accomplishment of her youth, the one secret she’d managed to divine about the castle that her father had not.
No matter. With the Soulfather’s help, she would soon surpass him in knowledge of things far more important than a set of secret doors.
Her father hadn’t been thrilled she’d wanted to take the books back to her own chambers, but he’d wisely seemed to know she wasn’t about to spend her time locked in his study. She wasn’t going to be locked away by him ever again. He was lucky that she’d permitted him to keep her here at all—it was only the will of Maldorath himself that kept her from defying him.
The Soulfather thought it unwise for her to be the one to capture Kenton. Her magic was too powerful, too untamed. There was too much risk that she would kill Kenton in a blast of power, as she had nearly done in Drepaine, when she failed to take his soul. Then the last piece of the key to unlocking the seal would skitter off to some part-blood Drim, and they’d have to spend who knew how long chasing it.
So Daniella remained here, happy to do the will of the Soulfather, even if it unfortunately coincided with her father’s.
She hummed as she walked, and a couple of servants carrying baskets of vegetables toward the kitchens stared wide-eyed at her. A nobleman and his wife making their way to the throne room to meet with Lord Diamis murmured to each other behind their hands. Servants staring at her, nobles mocking her—none of this was new. It had become even more pronounced since she’d returned.
Diamis’ meek daughter, stolen away from the castle months ago, tortured by blood mages and used for their dark purposes. And now rescued again. Supposedly saved by her “hero,” General Dektrian. There would be rumors upon rumors, and Daniella cared not a whit. These people were sniveling sycophants, all of them.
She did, however, take satisfaction at the way the nobleman and his wife paled when she smiled at them. They might not know exactly what she was thinking—how they would look turned inside out and splattered across the stone floor—but they were clearly unsettled by her. As they should be.
My citizens aren’t your playthings. Remember the greater purpose, Daniella, Diamis had told her before giving her the books, likely to prevent her from any unsanctioned experimentation.
She’d held in a snort of contempt, but only barely. His citizens could be anything she wanted them to be, and the more she learned, the more true that would become. In her mind, wielding her power and learning everything she could about it was a far greater purpose than some peaceful world. But serving Lord Maldorath was the greatest purpose of all, and the sad truth was, the Soulfather wanted her to follow Diamis’ rule for now.
And then, if her father survived, he could be her plaything as well.
Daniella made her way back to her rooms to spend the day learning the language of blood magic. To taste the words of a language so old it was already ancient when the gods walked the lands as mortals.
She was so caught up in the thrill of that thought—and in contemplating the fact that, oddly, what little of the language she had seen so far in books reminded her most, grammatically, of the language of the Ydgen mountain-folk, who’d never worshiped the gods at all—that she didn’t notice Adiante in the sitting room of her bedchambers until she’d nearly passed her. Adiante cleared her throat loudly to gain Daniella’s attention.
“Oh, Daniella! It’s so wonderful to see you safely home again!” Adiante stood up from Daniella’s divan and reached out as if to clasp Daniella’s hands, though said hands were full of books.
Daniella didn’t feel that it was quite so wonderful. She’d been pleased when she returned to Peldenar to find that her former lady-in-waiting wasn’t in the city, but instead off visiting distant family on a country estate.
Apparently, Adiante had felt that Daniella’s return after all these months necessitated her own. And by the way she eyed Daniella up and down, her eyes gleaming, Daniella guessed the woman found the trip back well worth it.
“I was so distressed to hear about your . . . difficulties in Andronim,” Adiante said, her voice prim, like she was too highborn to speak of something so lowly as blood mages. If only she knew. “And, of course, the death of the dear general. How tragic. And shocking!”
Daniella held back a smile. “Shocking, indeed. To him most of all.”
Adiante blinked, taken aback. But she recovered quickly. “It looks like you’ve eaten well on your journeys, though.” Her lips quirked up.
“Is that so.”
“Others likely haven’t noticed.” Adiante patted Daniella on the arm. “Though, I wonder if perhaps they will before too long.” She gave a knowing look to Daniella’s stomach.
Daniella wasn’t far enough along in her pregnancy for it to be showing much, especially in the looser dresses she’d always favored. But if Adiante had a secret power, divining good gossip would certainly be it.
Not that Daniella cared if the whole world knew she was pregnant, or what they would say about it. But she didn’t care to reward even a moment of intuition in the otherwise rampantly stupid girl.
Daniella tilted her head. “I doubt many here care about my eating habits,” she said, as if she didn’t know what Adiante could possibly be referring to.
Adiante giggled, leaning in closer. “You don’t need to play coy with me. I can sense these things, you know. I’m the one who first told you about the tea, after all. Perhaps it wasn’t as easy to find in Mortiche?”
There was a sly, knowing stress on that last word. For all that Daniella hadn’t exactly been well-hidden in Mortiche, she hadn’t heard that most people knew she’d spent time there; they focused on her supposed abuse at the hands of blood mages. Which did, Daniella had to admit, have a more spectacular outcome.
Adiante clearly knew more, though, or thought she did. Not that it mattered to Daniella what anyone knew. Keeping secrets was Diamis’ game, a tool of the weak and cowardly.
Daniella set the books down on a small side table, but Adiante’s eyes stayed eagerly fastened on Daniella’s stomach.
“Is there something you need, Adiante?” Daniella said, hoping Adiante would pick up the same thing from her gaze that the nobles in the hall had and scurry along.
It didn’t work. Adiante made even Nikaenor look like a genius.
“I’m your friend!” Adiante exclaimed with a wounded pout. “I wanted to assure myself that you are indeed back and well. And I need all the details, of course.” She picked up the book from the top of the pile and wrinkled her nose at the rune on the leather cover. Not at the fact that it was a blood rune, no doubt—Adiante likely had no idea what it was, even though it was one of the runes etched onto every soul vessel to consecrate them for the soulbinding ceremony—but just by the mere fact that it was a book. Then she tossed the book onto the divan, where it slid off and hit the ground.
Adiante had never been Daniella’s friend. Even when Daniella had been a pale shadow of her new self, Adiante had been beneath her.
“I’ve heard all sorts of things,” Adiante continued, patting her honey-blond hair, which was pulled back into a tight braided bun with curled tendrils draping down to frame her face. “But the most compelling is this very new development from a dear friend of mine in the duchy of Byrn. She says you were seen at the tournament in Grisham, at the side of Lord Jaemeson himself.”
At the sound of his name, Daniella’s blood seemed to boil under her skin, and she imagined Adiante’s bursting free, pore after pore after—
Daniella stepped past the other girl and picked up the book. “You bent the pages.”
“I didn’t think it possible at first, given that impression you made on him in Drepaine,” Adiante continued. “Remember the fountain? You were a sopping mess!” She shook her head, the ringlets around her face bouncing. “Though I had heard Lord Jaeme isn’t entirely discriminating with his conquests.” She laughed merrily, with that mocking undertone she’d always had.
“You bent the pages,” Daniella repeated, her voice lower. Her fingers twitched. Her power simmering right there on the surface, begging to be unleashed.
But Lord Maldorath wanted her to follow Diamis.
My citizens aren’t your playthings.
Surely even the Soulfather would make an exception for this one.
Adiante gave her a strange look, as if she was just now detecting that something was amiss. But then she continued, as if by her incessant chatter, she could force the world to be the same as it always had been. “But my friend said you were there as his courtee, not just a lover. Imagine that! Lord Jaemeson wanting to court—and perhaps even marry—you!”
Adiante looked up at Daniella, as if expecting her to respond to her ridiculous prattle. Something she saw in Daniella’s face made her falter.
Daniella felt something shift inside her. Something dark and urgent and far more compelling than her father’s inane desires. As a child, she’d suffered Adiante to torture her. Even as an adult, she’d silently allowed Adiante’s mockery. But Daniella was beyond this mockery now. She wouldn’t abide it. She set the book atop the others on the pile and plucked Adiante’s shawl from where the girl had laid it across the divan.
