The Blade Bearers (Blade and Bone Book 6), page 29
Lily closed her eyes and focused, ignoring the pain that bloomed in her. She had to find it. She had the strength. And she could use what she possessed to let it flow out of her.
Then Esmerelda sucked in a breath. Her eyes opened.
Lily started to move, and Esmerelda shook her head slightly.
“Not. Yet.”
Lily gritted her teeth and held her hands in place, feeling the way that whatever was there began to steadily ease its way out of Esmerelda, into the talisman. Lily had no control over it. She recognized that the bone and the flower were drawing away whatever influence the Alainsith had used on her.
Then the pain began to abate.
It happened slowly, gradually, but it eased.
Esmerelda pushed Lily away and placed her hands around the flower. The bone fragments had eroded, becoming nothing more than nubs. The same had happened to the woven grass stem of the flower.
“You did well,” Louisa said, shifting closer to Lily. “And now let me finish.”
Lily just stared, barely able to move. She couldn’t think of doing anything else, so she slid out of the way, resting on her heels. She was tired, though this fatigue was more because of everything she had faced so far.
Hands grabbed her, helping her to stand. She looked up at Honaaz, who regarded her with an expression of concern, but she nodded at him. She would be fine. She had done it.
It wasn’t like anything she’d ever done before. Not only was this connected to her and the bone, but Lily had also done more than that—she’d added something to the flower that Esmerelda had woven, combining her art with another.
Lily had done this. She had modified something. It wasn’t just the bone talisman.
And if she could combine various aspects of the art, maybe she could even be more powerful than what she had become using her talisman and the Alainsith bone.
Did she have enough time?
She couldn’t see the sea from here, or anything other than the darkness of night. The buildings blocked her way, and the faint trace of haze that hung over everything around her suggested that the effect of the Alainsith still persisted, despite what she and the others had done. Lily wondered how long it would hold. Maybe it would eventually destroy everything.
For now, they had survived. For now, they had succeeded.
Now they had to decide what to do next.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
HENRY MEYER
A note had been left on Meyer’s doorstep at some point overnight. He traced his fingers around the edge of it and let out a soft, frustrated sigh. It was one more thing to do, adding to his already long list.
Gather a horse. Meet me outside the Sanaron section.
—A.
It was vague enough that he was tempted to ignore it, but he knew it came from Adira. And anything from Adira was likely to be significant, especially if she had found something.
He grabbed his cloak, and since he was going to be traveling by horseback—though he suspected he wasn’t going too far—he also pulled the sword out of the closet and strapped it to his back.
He left a note for Pippin, instructing him on errands he needed run, before he made his way out toward the Teller Gate.
The city was busy, though these days, it constantly felt like that. It didn’t matter what time of day or night it was, crowds were abundant. Most people were from Reyand, but not all of them were from Verendal. There were people sleeping everywhere. Streets were littered with people resting, and though it bothered him, he also didn’t push the Archers to clear the streets. At least not in this part of the city. The Archers, along with private security forces, kept the people on one side of the river, out of the wealthier sections, but he didn’t want to prevent anyone from getting inside the walls of the city if they wanted to. It made it more difficult to patrol, and it would actually make it more difficult for the Archers to keep any measure of influence, but he thought that was the most humane thing to do.
If there was one thing his years had granted him, it was an understanding that there was a balance needed between finding justice and embracing humanity. He hoped the king forgave him, but then again, the king still had not answered his summons, despite the fact that Meyer had gone to the gate every day now for the better part of a week. The Realmsguard seemed to be getting increasingly frustrated with him, but he did not care.
He sensed someone tailing him as he made his way through the streets.
When he turned a corner, he caught sight of a cloak, and he stopped. “I see you, Oscar,” he called.
Meyer tapped his cane on the cobblestones. He wasn’t going to leave the city without a cane, though he probably wouldn’t need it if he was going by horseback.
Oscar strode toward him, moving with a loping and almost lupine grace. His gaze darted in either direction, sweeping around him, never settling in one place for long.
“You always did have a good eye,” Oscar said.
“Or maybe you just don’t have the skill that you think you do.”
“Oh, I have that.”
Meyer snorted. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to see what you were doing.”
“You could’ve come to me in any other way, in any other place, rather than trying to follow me. You know that I could have summoned the Archers to simply grab you, right?”
“Would you have?” Oscar asked.
Maybe at one point, Meyer would have, but these days the Archers had more on their plate. Meyer didn’t want to add to that.
“What do you want?”
“You’ve been leaving the city every day. I assume you’ve been looking at the fog.”
Meyer glanced toward the gate. There were people around them, but most of them were sleeping on the street, or at least trying to. Others were weaving through the crowd and the people everywhere, or they were crouched up against the building, trying to be oblivious of them.
“I’ve been going out there with Kezia and Adira,” Meyer said, using names rather than peoples so he didn’t draw any unwanted attention to himself.
“And now you’re going out at a different time. Usually you leave an hour later.”
“You’ve been following me every day?”
“Not every day, but often enough to keep track of patterns.” Oscar shrugged. “It’s what I do. What are you doing now?”
“I’m answering mail.”
Oscar snorted. “Mail. You look like you’re going to the stables. One of the king’s stables.” He waved his hand off into the distance. “I believe Finn used to use this one, but he never enjoyed riding.”
“Mostly because he never learned.”
“I believed he tended to get wider horses.” Oscar started to laugh.
“He didn’t know how to ask politely,” Meyer said.
“Are you sure it makes sense to lead a horse through that?” Oscar gestured toward the wall, but Meyer knew he was indicating past the wall, in the direction of the crowd that would be on the other side of it.
“I need a horse where I’m going.”
Oscar eyed the sword strapped to Meyer’s back. “I see. I didn’t think we had need of a journeyman executioner these days, but perhaps there are still responsibilities that have to be completed.”
“This has nothing to do with those responsibilities,” Meyer said. “Listen. If you’re insistent, then you can come along. I don’t know what it’s for, nor do I know why I’ve been summoned, but you certainly are welcome.”
Oscar looked as if he wanted to debate how he would answer, but he simply nodded. “I think I will. And in this case, given the service that I’m offering the throne, the king can pay for my ride.” He watched him, seeming to wait for Meyer to object, and when he didn’t, he grunted. “I don’t have to push?”
“You don’t have to push. You’re not wrong. You have provided a valuable service. I’m not going to antagonize you.”
“Gods, you’re taking the fun out of it.”
“I didn’t realize there was any fun in it.”
Once they reached the stable, Meyer wandered inside, spoke briefly to the young stable boy, and requested a pair of horses. The boy frowned at him until Meyer showed him his credentials, a mark that the king had once given him, and the boy scurried off.
“I imagine that’s useful,” Oscar said.
“It depends. Sometimes. Other times it’s just a necessity.”
“Then it’s even more useful.”
The boy returned, leading two older horses, both mares that were saddled and ready to go. Meyer gave him a few coins for his trouble, and then guided them to the street, toward the gate. They had to pick their way carefully, as the number of people around made it difficult to lead the horses. It might’ve been easier to grab them outside the city, if there had been a stable available out there. That would be something else to consider. Either that, or he would have to talk to the Archers about ensuring that the streets were wide enough to navigate with horses. There were times when they needed to move quickly, and with as many people as were here…
“I will pass along the suggestion,” Oscar said.
“What suggestion is that?”
“I see the way you’re looking around. And you’re right. We need to be able to get through the streets a little easier. I hadn’t thought about it, but I think that my people might have an interest in making sure we can navigate here as well.”
Meyer was tempted to argue with him and object, but if Oscar was offering, then Meyer wasn’t beyond accepting his help.
Was that what he had become? In the time that Finn had been away—which felt like an eternity, but had in reality only been a few weeks—he had gotten to the point where he had started to depend on a thief to help with controlling the city?
King Porman hadn’t maintained control. At this point, Meyer wasn’t sure that the king could. He wasn’t sure why, only that he’d been absent.
“I don’t think he’s there,” Oscar said, glancing behind him to the palace. “I think he wanted us to think he was there, but he went north and continued on to the Alainsith. Figures it’s safer there.”
“We saw his caravan arrive,” Meyer said.
“That’s just it, isn’t it? You saw his caravan arrive, but you didn’t see the king.”
“He’s there.”
But the comment did raise a question in his mind. He’d been waiting for an audience, and the king had not granted it. What if Oscar was right? What if the king wasn’t in Verendal?
And if he wasn’t, why not?
They guided their horses through the encampments outside the city, until they reached a space where it became wide enough that they could climb onto the horses and ride to the ever-growing edge of the settlement. There had to be nearly twice as many people outside the city now than there were inside it. The sheer number was incredible. Meyer wondered at what point they would reach the limits of what the people here would tolerate. Better yet, though, he wondered why so many people had come all the way to Verendal.
Oscar peered around the settlement, but he didn’t say anything. He just watched. In the distance, Meyer caught sight of a faint trace of fog, and he made his way toward it.
He caught up to Adira. “Is there anything more you can tell me about this?”
“Only that we’ve been testing for changes and have not found anything that makes sense,” she said. Meyer frowned at her, and she shook her head. “To the fog.”
She motioned for them to follow, and they headed away from the city via the king’s road, before she veered into the trees.
That surprised Meyer.
“The hegen have been working through this area,” he said. “If there’s anything here—”
“Not here,” she said. “And the hegen have been looking, but they haven’t been looking as far as they need to. I think they fear going too deep into the forest.”
Oscar shrugged. “Most people are scared of going too deep in the forest, especially if they’re sensible.”
“I think fear is not sensible,” Adira said. “Fear without reason is simply fear. Ignorance. It’s only once you understand something that you should have reason to be afraid. Otherwise you’re like a child fearing the darkness.”
Oscar snorted, and Meyer shook his head. “Show us.”
She guided them through the forest, and he realized that they were heading almost perpendicular to the king’s road, yet he didn’t see if they were following any sort of path. He couldn’t tell what she was using to navigate.
“How far do we have to go?” Meyer asked.
“Not far. I’m not going to force you to camp outside the city. You strike me as someone accustomed to your comforts.”
“I’m an old man.”
“You’re only as old as you feel,” she said.
“Well, I feel like an old man.”
They kept riding, and at one point, Adira slowed so that he could see an Alainsith structure. The moss-covered gray stone had a few markings that looked as if they had faded over time. The architecture resembled what was found in other places within the forest, and reminded him somewhat of the structures in Verendal itself. The stone radiated a sense of energy.
Adira twisted her fingers in a spiraling pattern, and a bit of fog drifted off them and layered over the forest. Meyer remained impressed by what she could do with the fog, and wondered if there were many people from Sanaron who had that ability. He suspected that Morgan did, which was probably part of the reason she had ruled in Sanaron, though he hadn’t had an opportunity to speak to her before she’d left with Finn. Who else, though?
He found Oscar watching Adira, a question in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Meyer found that surprising, though perhaps he shouldn’t have. Oscar tended to be circumspect, and given what they had encountered already, Oscar felt as if it wasn’t his place to question.
“I’ve been exploring the Alainsith structures,” she said. “I didn’t know what they were before coming to Verendal, but now I have a very clear idea of what they are. More than that, I have a clear idea of what they mean. There is power within them.”
“It’s old power,” Meyer said.
“That’s what they’d like us to believe.”
“Why do you say that?” He patted his horse, who had started to stomp her feet a little.
“Only because when you begin to feel that power, you start to recognize that it’s more than what you were told beforehand. It lingers.”
“It’s ancient,” Oscar said. “Like the buildings. There are probably two dozen within Verendal that are like that.”
She looked over to him. “How many?”
“There were more at one time,” Meyer explained. “In the early days of the witchcraft war, several of the buildings were destroyed. Well, quite a few were destroyed. The destruction was meant to power some of their spells, we suspect, but we’ve never been able to prove that, and we didn’t have any difficulty with it in the days after the war began.”
Adira frowned. “Witchcraft shouldn’t be able to destroy buildings like that.”
“Do you have a lot of experience with witchcraft?” Meyer asked.
“Not until recently.” She turned her horse and guided them deeper into the forest, following a path that only she recognized.
“Are all the people of Sanaron like her?” Oscar asked him.
“Probably not all, but I’m glad she’s here.”
“She might be right,” he said, looking behind him. “Think about how many Alainsith structures we have in the forest around Verendal. There weren’t many that were destroyed. Why did they target those within the city?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure Finn came up with some explanation, but I don’t have those answers.”
“We keep attributing everything to witchcraft, and while that might be part of it, it can’t be all of it,” Oscar said. “That’s what I’m trying to get across. There has to be some other purpose behind all of this—even these structures. Just the forest around that one?”
“It looks like the forest,” Meyer said.
“Because you aren’t trained like a thief,” Oscar muttered, shaking his head.
They rode on for a while, neither of them speaking much, the forest starting to shift around them. It seemed to be darker, and the trees more densely grown than in other sections. They picked their way over fallen logs, around shrubs that attempted to snag the horses’ legs, and at one point they had to turn back before they could move through the forest again. After some time, Meyer started to think that Adira didn’t know where she was going, but she continued heading in a very specific direction.
“What should I have noticed?” Meyer asked as they slowed at another of the Alainsith structures. This one was in a part of the forest that didn’t seem as dense as others, though the trees had only given it a little space, not so much as they had in other parts.
Adira used her patterns with the fog again, causing it to swirl and spiral, creating something that began to flow from her. She pressed it out through the trees, then beyond.
“What did you see of the forest around the first fog structure?” Oscar asked.
Meyer shrugged. “I saw the forest.”
Even as he said it, he recognized that there was more to it than just that. He had seen the forest, but he had seen the specific pattern to the trees, some of them taller and looming over it, surrounding it. And there had been how the hegen, including Kezia, had placed various pieces of art around those trees in particular.
“You’re getting at the trees,” Meyer said.
Oscar nodded. “So you did notice. Good. I was worried that you weren’t paying attention.”
“What of them?”
“Do you see them around any other structures like that?”
Meyer had thought there were trees scattered all around the forest, but maybe there weren’t. He looked at this Alainsith ruin, but as he did, he realized that Oscar wasn’t wrong. There were no trees growing in a similar fashion. Nothing like what he had seen.
