Stonewiser: The Heart of the Stone, page 27
“We don't have to put up with your insults.”
“You're right. You don't. Because you can come and go as you please and that's not really related to me, is it?”
Zemi made to protest.
“Don't try to convince me, and don't lie to me either because then I'll know for sure that you can lie, just as I know that you can come and go at your will, that you can make decisions separate from me, even though you need me to carry out your actions. Am I right, Zemi?”
A blast rocked the deck. A bolt of darkness flashed from Mia's hands and tore at the folio, leaving only rips and pieces smoldering on the planks. Zemi vanished. A hysterical Mia clung to Sariah.
Kael bolted through the door with his harness still attached to the ropes. “What by Meliahs’ rot pit happened here?”
“I'm not sure.” Sariah hacked. “All this smoke. What were you trying to do, Mia?”
“Show you,” the child wailed.
Sariah consoled the weeping girl while sifting through the folio's remains. She picked up a piece of shredded leather no larger than her hand and examined it closely.
“Meliahs help us.” A faint outline could be seen on the leather, deeply cut in some parts and lightly etched in others. A leg, a torso, an arm. Water. A little deck. A man bolting through the air. “Mia, you did it.” She showed the little girl. “It's so pretty. Do you think we can try that again?”
“Do you want to set the deck on fire?” Kael said.
“We'll have to watch her, but I think we might be able to do it safely.”
“Do what?”
“Kael, son of Ars, allow me to introduce you to the newest sight copyist in your family.”
Mia fell asleep with the stones in her hands, the deep sleep that follows the urges with similar intensity. Sariah found it astonishing that anyone, let alone she, could find a mere child engaging and Mia's crazy deeds endearing. It was a strange tale to Sariah. She was thankful Mia had not yet manifested her resentment against her. That would come with time.
The deck rustled as it skimmed the water, rushing like Sariah's thoughts. Sariah's hands were cramping. Her fingers were blue-stained from the cobalt. She had used much of Aya's vellum and iron gall. She had managed to make a rough set of notes for her engrossments. She had isolated Zeminaya's intrusions out of the stone tales and translated them to the letters separately. The answers were so close and yet so far away. She needed to find the last two twin stone pairs.
A knock at the door announced Metelaus's arrival. “I've come to fetch Mia.”
“She'll sleep for the night, so you and your family can rest. I'm sorry, Metelaus, if all of this breaks the peace on your deck.”
“It's not your fault. It was bound to happen.”
“I think Torana holds me responsible for the awakening.”
“This is all grave news for a good mother and lots of fear. Perhaps in time she'll understand.”
“I might as well tell you. There's more bad news.”
Metelaus took a deep breath and sat down. “Sometimes you scare me worse than the rot, Sariah. Tell me.”
THIRTY
“YOU MUST FOLLOW Metelaus's lead,” Kael instructed for the tenth time.
“I know, I can do this, stop fretting.” Sariah followed Kael through the maze of itinerant decks that assembled in the nondescript location where the gathering took place.
Abruptly, he pulled her behind a deck shelter and faced her with a concerned frown. “Please, Sariah, heed me. Don't do anything rash. Beware and be careful.”
His mouth came down on hers with a passion that stole her breath and left her listless and dazed. It was like this with Kael, sudden and devastating, thrilling and yet shocking every time he broke the boundaries of their separate bodies to reclaim their intimacy.
“I can't think when you do this to me,” she whispered breathlessly.
“You'll get used to it, I promise.” He smiled down on her. “Remember, this is a gathering of lord marchers and their wisers. I can't be there to assist you.”
“At the present time, I wish you would grant me a different kind of assist.”
“More of that later.” He kissed the top of her head before releasing her. “And remember, don't mention the twin stones, Aya's hanging, Mia, Zemi, or any of the new discoveries you've made. The gathering has a far-reaching echo and we can't risk catching the Shield's ear.”
Kael took her hand and led her along, looking back at her from time to time as if trying to fix a memory of her face. He was uneasy for her, but his safety worried Sariah more. Metelaus had understood her concern. He had called Lazar into the meeting. Both brothers feared Kael's reaction if he learned of the Shield's threats, and although they had doubts about keeping the truth from Kael, in the end they both agreed that protecting him was the better aim.
Lazar had taken his runners to seal the Straights to prevent the Shield's incursions into the Barren Flats. Metelaus had agreed to warn the others of Arron's threat, to alert them to possible attacks, and to keep Kael busy with the gathering's business. He waited for Sariah now, outside the designated main deck, the only one outfitted with a long hall.
“Are you ready, wiser?” he asked.
Kael nodded a reluctant farewell and Sariah followed Metelaus inside the hall. Six marchers were already seated on cushions on the floor, some accompanied by wisers, some alone. They greeted Metelaus politely; they eyed her warily.
Metelaus took his place. “Welcome, marchers. Do the tribes thrive?” Sariah surmised he was the lead for this gathering.
“Enita reports that Atica thrives.”
“The stones be blessed,” Metelaus said.
“Orm reports that Panadam thrives.”
“The stones be blessed.”
“Elestor reports that Sadona suffered the fevers but now thrives.”
“Our condolences for your losses,” Metelaus said. “Do you require succor?”
“We seek three or four families, preferably with apprenticed members.”
“Meron offers.”
“Padanan offers.”
“Sadona accepts.”
“May the exchange occur as offered and may the stones be blessed.” Metelaus's quick mind and commanding approach impressed Sariah. He could have sat at the head of the Guild's Council easily.
“O'amur reports that Tar'edan thrives.”
“The stones be blessed.”
“Deleon reports that Meron suffers famine and calls for succor.”
“Who offers?”
The marchers hesitated. Like Ars, New Blood tribes had little to spare. Each tribe had just enough to feed itself and grow its livelihood. Deleon's countenance was pale. His eyes were sunken. He wore his anguish in his gaze.
“Ars offers.” Metelaus averted disaster. “What little we have we share.”
Enita groaned. “Oh, all right. Atica offers.”
“Tar'edam offers,” O'amur said, “but Meron must work their demesnes with more care and strive to build more land.”
“Meron accepts,” Deleon said.
“Jania reports that Urises thrives but fears ruination on account of the stubborn rot.”
“How many water sources polluted?” Metelaus asked.
“One, but spreading quickly,” Jania said. “We claim succor from Ars's land-healer. He has the expertise we require.”
Kael was certainly popular among the better-looking marchers. Wouldn't Jania like to have him at Urises? Sariah disliked the woman on the spot. Never before had she felt the visceral loathing that twisted her belly now. Jealousy? Meliahs help her. Stop this silliness and pay attention.
“I'll tell Kael of your request,” Metelaus said. “Ars thrives but warns of possible Shield attacks. We must take precautions. We need runners to close the Straights to the Shield's skiffs.”
A buzz rose in the chamber. Sariah could see the concern on the faces around her. With few words, Metelaus had delivered his warning thoroughly.
“Atica offers,” Enita said. Her tribe was the closest to the wall. The other five marchers declared their offers one after the other.
“May I ask how you came to obtain information regarding the Shield's future attacks?” Jania asked.
“The Shield attacked our demesne,” Metelaus said, unflappable. “Ars accepts all offers for runners. May the stones be blessed.”
Business that would have taken ten days to debate in the Guild's Council was concluded with extraordinary efficiency. The Guild would benefit from an arrangement as brief as the gathering's, but then again, the New Blood didn't like to linger in the unprotected flats without good cause, whereas the Council was always ensconced in the keep's impregnable safety.
“Will the wisers exchange?” Metelaus asked.
“We will,” a small dark man said. Sariah hadn't seen him before, sitting behind Enita with a blanket over his lap. As he moved forward to take command of the meeting, Sariah couldn't help but notice his calamity—the man had no legs. He scooted on his fists to the center of the hall and settled himself there. His bold pate reflected the torch's flame.
“I'm Malord of Atica, the gathering's wiser.” His eyes fell on Sariah. “You will attend me.”
This was the man that Sariah had come to meet, the oldest wiser in the Domain, the most experienced. Since Malord was also the stone healer who had tended to her during her bout with the wasting sickness, Sariah wondered what Malord had made of her injuries, if he suspected the nature of the wisings that had made her ill, if he knew. She followed the other wisers to sit cross-legged before Malord. His penetrating gray and black gaze was perturbing.
“Have you any agreements to exchange, confirm or deny this day? Malord asked.
Sariah marveled at the speed by which stones changed hands. They contained contracts, proposals or grievances between the tribes. Metelaus had explained that every wiser would convene with their marcher tonight, review these stones, inscribe new offers made at the gathering and return in the morning with inscribed responses that served as binding contracts.
“Marchers will do well finding new wisers for their tribes,” Malord said. “In the name of fairness, seven tribes is too heavy a burden for only four wisers.”
“What do you suggest we do, Malord?” Jania of Urises asked. “We are not birthing full wisers and neither are you.”
“Steal them if you must,” Malord said. “Ars did.”
“Begging your indulgences, I came to the Domain of my own accord,” Sariah said.
“Stealing them would assure that the Guild has no spies among us,” Malord said.
So. Now she knew how Malord felt.
“Ars is satisfied of its wiser,” Metelaus said. “Return to the business at hand.”
“Have wisers made progress in issues of health, sustenance, water-seeking or land-building?” Malord asked.
The three wisers hesitated before putting down their stones.
Malord stared at Sariah. “Well?”
“I've only recently arrived to Ars,” Sariah said. “I expect I'll report better progress during the next gathering.” When was the next gathering anyway, and why was Malord cursing her with his eyes?
“We appreciate quick work in the Domain,” Malord said. “We don't have the Guild to pamper us in luxury.”
Sariah smothered the smart retort that sprang to her lips. She wouldn't embarrass Ars. Things weren't going as she'd hoped. Malord wouldn't be easy to befriend.
“Have you made progress in complex wisings?” Malord asked. “Have you any new stones to introduce to your fellow wisers?”
Malord's glare was on Sariah again, but she stuck to Kael's advice and kept quiet.
“Wiser Gudo of Panadam announces our roamer's purchase of two Goodlander stones, possibly inscribed by an epic translator of the last two generations.”
“I bid to see the stones,” Malord said eagerly.
“Granted.” Sariah figured these two would meet soon.
“Wiser Zaadam of Tar'edan offers no new stones.”
“This is the third gathering where you offer no new stones.” Malord's tone reminded Sariah of Arron. “Be sure to come with something in your pouch the next time. We are too few for laziness.”
The woman nodded but offered a brilliant smile at the same time. It contrasted with the marvelous coppery hue of her skin. Her eyes were two tones of brown. One iris was markedly lighter than the other but by the New Blood standards, they almost matched on her face. She was mocking Malord wordlessly. Sariah liked her.
Malord wasn't done with Sariah. “I find it hard to believe that coming from the Goodlands—in fact, directly from the Guild's keep—you bring nothing new. A matching-eyes like you ought to have something to show for the New Blood's troubles.”
“Ars is satisfied with its wiser,” Metelaus said before Sariah could apportion Malord a good helping of her anger. She hadn't renounced her lease and quit the Guild to be trampled by a cranky old half-man.
“Don't mind Malord,” Zaadam whispered to Sariah. “His manners vanished with his legs.”
“The gathering's business is concluded for today. May you rest safely until tomorrow and may you keep the ways of the stones,” Metelaus said, to Sariah's relief. She secured the stones in her pouch and scurried to the door where she waited for Metelaus.
“Stonewiser.” Malord was at her feet and Sariah had no choice but to crouch down to hear the wiser's whispers. “I'll speak with you tonight. You'll come to my deck after you're done with your marcher, alone. You'll tell no one of our meeting.”
Sariah considered the wiser before her. She needed to speak to him, but he was brash, proud, grouchy and disagreeable. Well, she knew how to deal with that. “Begging your pardon, I've work to do.”
“You'll do as I command, you spoiled Goodlander brat. Unless you want a certain warning stone circulating the tribes, you'll make sure you comply with my instructions.”
He scooted on his knuckles out the door, leaving Sariah with a chill in her belly and a premonition of doom.
THIRTY-ONE
THE THUMP ON the roof startled Sariah. The rafters shook. A bit of thatch and dust drizzled on her.
“I'm a jumper!”
Sariah recognized the voice and darted outside just in time to watch as Mia tumbled from one roof to another.
“Hush, hush.” Torana ran after Mia. “Come down, child. Come down now.”
“I jump!” Mia vaulted, managed a tilted somersault and crashed on her bum on the next roof over.
“What was that?” somebody said inside the shelter.
Meliahs help them. Mia was loose in the grips of a jumping urge at sunset. Anyone could see her. Sariah exchanged silent looks with Torana, before she sprang into action, paralleling Torana's path on the opposite side of the deck where Mia stood in a harrowing headstand.
Torana pointed to the next shelter over. It was a cargo shelter, dark and without dwellers. Sariah understood. Quietly, she climbed on the little deck Mia was pounding with her frantic jumping and up to the shelter's roof. “Come, Mia, come.”
The urges were wild in Mia's eyes. The child was violently active. Sariah checked on Torana's progress. One shelter rope to go and no time to lose. Sariah lunged at Mia.
The child took flight, arms unfurled like wings, toes pointed like the best of jumpers. Sariah overtook her mid-flight. She wrapped her arms and legs about Mia, turned in the air, and crashed back-first on the cargo deck shelter's roof. With the shelter's ropes cut, it collapsed. Sariah bounced and tumbled to the deck holding on to Mia. Torana jumped on top of them, but the urges were too strong, and even with both women lying on top of Mia, the child was able to kick, claw and scream.
Torana pressed her hand over Mia's mouth.
“What's going on?” someone asked from another deck.
“Nothing,” Torana said. “I'm redoing my ropes.”
Sariah thanked the rapid onset of the night's darkness.
“Need help?”
“We're fine,” Sariah said.
“What do we do?” Torana whispered. They were barely able to keep Mia down and failing at keeping her quiet.
“Let me try something.” Sariah didn't know if it could work, but she was desperate and she couldn't think of anything else to do. She grasped Mia's hands and pressed her palms against hers. If she could play on her own affections for the child perhaps …
Wildness. Boundless freedom. Willfulness. The emotions dashed through Sariah's mind at the same manic pace of Mia's urges. Sariah steeled her heartbeat and took a deep breath. Peace. She allowed the emotion to settle over her. Exhaustion. She pushed her own coined emotions on Mia, allowing them to flow through to the child. Mia's resistance waned and then ceased. The child's respiration became heavy and regular. Sariah let Mia's hands go. Meliahs help her.
“What did you do?” Torana wiped the sweat from her brow.
“I'm not sure. But I think she'll sleep for a little while.”
“Do you think anyone saw?” Torana's eyes were haunted.
Sariah peered into the shadows. “I hope not.”
It was late by the time Metelaus concluded his conference with Sariah and took his leave from Aya's deck. The wisings had been easy but the work had been exhausting. At least she was satisfied she had been useful to Ars. She recognized the challenges a New Blood tribe faced without a wiser. Like the rot, the dearth of stonewisers meant death to the New Blood.
Kael had fallen asleep on their pallet while waiting for her to finish. Exhaustion was taking a toll on him. The journey and the gathering had come before he had rested from the running and the battle with the Shield. The gathering's brief time was filled with activity and Metelaus had been true to his word, keeping Kael engaged on a number of complicated, behind-the-scenes negotiations and, hopefully, safe.
Sariah sat beside Kael and caressed his hair. She trailed the strong bone of his jaw, relaxed in sleep, for once not clenched in defiance. She traced his well-defined lips, his clean-shaven cheeks and his broken eyebrow. He smiled in his sleep. By the Guild's standards, the attachment was a monumental inconvenience. It was foolish to feel about someone as she did about him. Yet the thrill of her emotions awed her, and the thought of harm touching him brought her pain worse than that possible on the flesh.
