The Queen of Days, page 25
I looked at Tass, cursed a silent prayer. “I don’t suppose you have a place we could hide out.”
For some reason, this made Tass laugh. “Yes, Bal. I do.”
We followed her across the sandy bank, making our way back to civilization. It wasn’t long before fine-looking houses crept up around us, and I recognized where we were. Only the northern shore of Cothis had beachfront properties nice enough to make even the gods jealous. Which meant that we were as far away from the harbor as we could get while still being on Cothis. The harbor. And the entrance to the Archive.
I slouched, walking desolately through the clean streets, past extravagant mansions that were only used for a few weeks in the height of summer by Cothis’s upper crust. This time of year, they should be packed with nobles and servants and guards. The beach should be echoing with children’s laughter, the lawns chiming with the clinking of glasses as one garden party slid into the next.
But the streets were empty, the houses silent. I wondered how many of the nobles who owned these homes were still trapped in the temple. A petty part of my mind thought they deserved nothing more for turning against my family. But in truth, my ability to hold that old anger was evaporating with the water that drenched my clothes. My boots squelched with every step, leaving tiny ponds in my wake, following me like a wet shadow.
The longer we walked, the feebler my heart beat. My mind whirled, going over every single detail of our confrontation with Karanis.
Why hadn’t I just shot him? He’d been standing ten feet in front of me. A few rounds into his skull would have solved everything. Not even a god-Ankaari-whatever could survive that. Probably. And yeah, we would have been shot immediately by every codie on the island, but the fact didn’t seem to carry the same weight as it had when I was standing in the boat. When I had Mira.
And now what? We’d go back to Tass’s hideout, wherever that was, and dry off? While anything could be happening to Mira. Then we were supposed to go back to the Archive and get the idol back from the Curator? Never mind the fact that he threw us out and told us not to return. There was nothing in the whole of the Great Below that would convince him to give us the idol back.
He was obviously a powerful Ankaari himself. Even if we were able to break into the Archive, we would still have to steal the idol out from under his nose and escape. Then, all we had to do was take the idol back to Karanis, trade it for Mira, and get out.
Easy.
Because Karanis would never dream of reneging on a deal.
Desperate as I was, even I knew that the odds of our success were slim to none. I shook my head, straining for any scrap of calm. Desperation and panic wouldn’t help Mira. Pessimism wouldn’t save her. I could.
“Here we are,” Tass murmured.
I squared my shoulders, raised my head, and stumbled to a stop. Uttered a curse. “What are we doing here?”
Tass pushed open a very familiar gate and walked a few steps onto a wide red-brick drive. She looked over her shoulder at us, standing in a loose knot, mouths hanging open. “Is there a problem?”
“A problem?” I looked past her, past the enormous foundation held up by eight stone lions, past the vaulted arches of a covered forecourt that reached toward us in a three-sided square. My eyes raced across the brown-tiled roof whose even lines were broken by the pyramid-like peaks of nine small towers. Not that I could see more than four of them from my position. But I knew there were nine because: “This is my house.”
“This was your house,” Tass replied, matter-of-factly. “Or, it was your summer home, to be precise. I purchased it several years ago, through intermediaries, of course.”
“Oh, of course,” Kai parroted, shaking his head with obvious disbelief.
“Come,” Tass commanded, pulling us along in her wake.
I was unprepared to step through the door of my old summer home. Like a sleepwalker, I ghosted through the halls. Passageways filled with memories that refused to lie still and sleep. Tass took us through the grand, gold-and-blue-tiled foyer, winding past a few overstuffed sitting rooms to the dining room.
My dining room.
All of it, from the furniture to the paintings on the wall, had belonged to my family. It was like a time capsule. In the most soul-crushing way. Nothing had changed. If I listened close enough, I could almost—almost—hear the sound of my parents’ laughter. Almost grasp the life that should have been. Should have. But wasn’t.
Tass crossed the room, peering through a wide bank of windows overlooking the beach. After a moment she drew the curtains closed. Nodding to herself, she turned. “Please, sit.”
I glanced at my crew, at Kai whose mouth hung open, and at Zee who looked like she’d seen a ghost. They were glued to their feet with the same shock that numbed my whole body. Edik, not having known us back then, was the most at ease.
But then, why shouldn’t he be? Zee was safe. And there were a half dozen boats docked in the private slips behind the house. He could steal one and be at our airship in a matter of hours. Hell, he could take that letter and run straight to the empress if he wanted. Instead, he grabbed a chair on one of the table’s long sides and tugged Zee into a seat beside him.
“I would offer you refreshment, but I advised the staff to leave the island. Still, if you’re hungry I could probably . . . figure something out,” Tass said, waving her hand in the general direction of the kitchen.
“Maybe later,” Edik said, with a bemused, if tired expression. “Do you really have staff?” he asked, making conversation while the rest of us struggled for words. While I struggled. Flailed to make sense of a world that had been broken in two.
Because it didn’t make sense. Nothing did. Why was he sitting here wasting time on chitchat? Why wasn’t he grabbing supplies and running? Leaving?
Tass nodded sitting at the head of the table. “I seldom have the time to maintain my properties. Staff is necessary to keep everything in working order.”
“Why is everything so . . . Why is everything the same?” Zee asked as I dropped bonelessly into the chair across from her.
Tass shrugged. “This was how everything was decorated when I purchased the property. The butler said Governor Paasch had no use for it, which is why the house remained untouched. It was eventually put up for sale in the months after Paasch . . . took power.”
“But why is everything still here?” Zee pressed when Tass failed to grasp the real reason for our dismay. “All our things, why didn’t you take them down? Redecorate? Something?”
“Should I have?”
“Yeah. Tass,” Kai’s voice was soft, but no less incredulous. “This is weird.”
“I don’t see why. People have things,” Tass argued, clearly confused by our reactions. “I’ve noticed. They collect, not just required furniture, but items; trinkets, decorations, pictures of other people.”
“People keep gifts. We keep things as reminders, and pictures of people we love,” Kai said, adamantly trying to make Tass understand where she’d gone wrong. He gestured to the wall behind me as if to punctuate his words.
I didn’t need to look to know that my mother’s portrait hung there, staring down at me in grief. In accusation.
“I suppose you are right about that,” Tass agreed, and then after a moment, she shrugged. “I do not have any of these things. My memory is perfect, so I do not require a memento to recall something pleasant. I have never received a gift, so I’ve nothing to display. And I do not have people because . . . I’m not people.”
Tass spoke in such a matter-of-fact way, with such a lack of emotion that it would be easy to call her cold. But I felt something almost bereft behind her words. Then I remembered all those brothers and sisters; that family who’d tossed her aside. Anger reared up within me all the stronger for how surprised I was for its presence.
Tass was weird, and yeah, she could be unnerving. And sure, I’d only known her for a few days, but I liked Tass. And I felt lonely for her.
“The staff thought it was odd too, but the butler eventually convinced them,” she continued, when none of us could formulate a response. “He said your mother worked so hard to put the house together, that it would be a shame to take everything down.”
“Your butler worked for my mother?”
“Great Below,” Kai swore weakly. “Enon works for you?”
“Yes.”
“But he must be eighty, if he’s a day,” Kai said, his voice high in disbelief. “He should be retired.”
“True, his age is a concern,” Tass said, bowing her head to Kai’s point. “But he is very attached to this house; it seemed a shame to make him leave it. In any event, his mind is still sharp, and he enjoys his vocation, so I let him have it on the condition that he move into the downstairs bedroom.”
“The downstairs . . .” Kai’s words failed him. “That’s the master’s suite.”
“Yes. However I require so little sleep, it seemed wasteful to dedicate an entire room toward it. And Enon’s knees are not what they used to be. I couldn’t have him climbing stairs. He disagreed at first, but I was quite insistent.” Tass almost seemed to fidget under Kai’s gaze, and I could have sworn she was nervous, having us there. Foolish impression, probably.
But I suddenly remembered Mira’s words—her assertion that Tass had saved her . . . all those years ago. I hadn’t truly believed it until she brought us here. Still saving us.
The why of it should have bothered me. Would have bothered me yesterday. But today the answer was obvious—though perhaps not to Tass.
Family.
She was longing for family. Like all of us. It was why we were in this mess.
“Well, that’s just . . .” Kai couldn’t finish the sentence. His eyes had gone misty. Enon had been like a surrogate father to Kai, and I knew the summers we spent here were some of the happiest Kai had.
“Yes?” Tass’s lithe form shifted beneath the unfinished sentence.
“Nice,” I said. “That was very nice of you.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” I said, smiling for the first time in what felt like ages. “It’s not something most people would do.”
“No? Well, like I said, I’m not people.”
“No,” I agreed. I looked around the room and for a moment, I felt like I was home. For a moment, I thought I’d see Enon come through the door with a tray of tea and the candied oranges I always loved.
But he wouldn’t. Tass had sent him away to keep him safe, and for that I was grateful beyond words. Because if Enon were here, I’d have to tell him I’d let Mira be taken hostage, and I don’t think I could have weathered his disappointment. Not to mention Enon would have thrown away his life trying to save Mira. Trying to save us all from the mess I’d created.
Tass’s head tilted to one side. “Mira?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed hard, though the memory of salt water scraping my throat refused to wash away. “I have to get her back.”
“How?” Kai asked, leaning forward in anticipation. “What’s the plan?”
Karanis’s orders echoed in the back of my mind like a bell that could not be stilled. Bring the idol, and Mira would be freed. “I’m going to get the idol back from the Curator.” What Karanis would do with that idol, well . . . I couldn’t let that be a concern. Not when Mira’s life hung in the balance. “I have to.”
Zee scrubbed her face with her hands. “The Curator kicked us out of the library, Bal. How are we supposed to get into the Archive without his consent?”
“We do what we do best, Zee. We break in.”
“‘We break in,’ he says. Like we’re boosting jewels off an old lady,” Kai said, his sarcasm a frail mask for his fear.
“Is the attempt worth the time we have left?” Zee asked. “Or should we be planning to go all in against Karanis now? Take him out and be done with it.”
There was something dark and bloodthirsty in my cousin’s voice. I loved it. That ruthless thread I’d never heard before. And she wasn’t wrong.
“We’ll have multiple plans in play,” I said, acknowledging Zee with a sharp smile. “But I’m going after that statue.”
Tass shook her head. “Even if that was possible, the Curator is not someone you wish to anger. I’ve seen him hold a grudge longer than Ashaar is old. You wouldn’t survive it, Bal.”
“Mira might not survive Karanis if I don’t,” I snapped.
“True, but Mira will likely die even if you do succeed.”
I balled my fist, slammed it on the table. “So you think I should just do nothing?”
“No, but you need to acknowledge the possibility. Karanis is duplicitous to his core. Changeable as the sea, you might say. Account for it now and act accordingly,” she replied evenly. “Now, how do you plan on getting into the Archive?”
I raked a hand through my hair, suddenly smothered by the sense of déjà vu. The first time my father brought me to the Archive, we’d come alone. As we walked up the Western Hill, he confessed to having something of an obsession with the Curator and his vast collection. My father told me on that long walk that the Archive had existed for countless centuries, from the earliest traces of Ashaar. He believed that our people hadn’t put down roots here by chance—that Ashaar had grown strong and wise from our proximity to that vast font of wisdom.
As a young boy, still many years from manhood, I hadn’t believed a single word my father had said. It sounded too much like the ridiculous sermons the priests of Karanis always spouted. Even as a boy, I hadn’t been one to believe in the impossible. Ironic that.
“In his free time, my father read everything he could about the Archive,” I said at last.
Kai snorted. “What free time? Only time he wasn’t working was . . .” His eyes went wide. “Over the summer.”
“Exactly.”
“What did he find?” Zee asked.
One of my shoulders twitched. “Not sure. I remember him complaining that, for the oldest structure he’d ever seen, there was a frustrating lack of information about the Archive.”
Zee sagged. “So he found out nothing.”
“Thing is, I don’t think that’s true. Zee, you remember how he would always doodle our routes and scribble out notes when he took us to the Archive?”
“Yeah,” she said, her back straightening. She looked from me to Kai and back again, her eyes wide and hopeful. “And when we came back here . . .”
“He’d lock himself in the map room.”
Kai muttered an impressed curse. “Was the old man mapping out the Archive?”
I looked to Tass. “Don’t suppose you’ve ever looked through the map room?”
She shook her head. “The room has a pretty enough view, but I’ve never had need of its contents. Until now, that is. Shall we?”
Tass and I walked side by side through my onetime home, and even though I knew she hadn’t changed anything, seeing it was . . . There were no words. It was like a shrine to my lost life. Ghosts crowded these halls. Not the restless shades of lost souls but specters conjured from my own memories.
I could almost see them, my parents dancing slow waltzes when they thought we were in bed. My aunts and uncles playing cards over pitchers of sweet tea. The warmth of my mother’s embrace when she tucked me in at night. I could almost smell her perfume, roses and hyacinth and . . .
I shook my head. Was this how all Tass’s homes were? I wondered. Did she skirt at the edges of other people’s stories, as invisible as she was immortal?
“Did you know who I was?” I asked her in an undertone. “When you saw me in the Code Hall, did you know this had been my home?”
“Yes. I knew.” She didn’t say anything more for a few feet worth of steps. “I confess to a certain . . . curiosity, about you and your crew.”
I felt my eyebrows rise and for a reason that I couldn’t quite explain, I was flattered. “Wow. The mysterious Queen of Days curious about a humble thief.”
“It is true. I am not often curious about humans,” she replied, my sarcasm flying right over her head. “Your people don’t usually live long enough to become truly interesting, but something about you and your family made me feel . . .”
Lonely perhaps? A desire to belong? Both things felt true, but I wasn’t foolish enough to say them aloud.
“Curious,” she repeated at long last, as if her vocabulary—or her heart—had defeated her.
The map room was in the northernmost tower, located directly above my father’s study. A narrow iron staircase led us up to a trapdoor that opened on tight, squealing hinges. That tower was the highest in the house and covered in windows looking out onto the sea from the north, and across the entire island of Cothis from the east, south, and west.
A long table took up most of the space in the center of the room. Its top was still covered with maps of Ashaar, their edges pinned with dust-covered paperweights like my father was moments from returning. The dust—or the sight—made my eyes water just a bit, thinking of him standing here. It was the dust. Definitely.
I ran my hand along the edge of one of the maps, this one depicting the island of Arisha, the capital of Ashaar. No doubt it was evidence of my father’s last obsession, though what that was I’d never now know.
I turned away from the table. Beneath the windows were built-in bookcases, and in these, my father had stored stack after stack of neatly rolled maps.
Kai was looking at me with a slightly helpless expression. “This could take all day.”
“Then we’d better get started.”
I walked a quick circuit of the room, trying to devise a plan of attack. My father had made small notes on some of the bookcases, a half-hearted attempt at organization, I thought. One case for each of the seven islands of Ashaar. I hesitated at the stack labeled “Cothis.” Zee and Edik were already crouched in front of it, unrolling map after map in search for any sign of the Archive.
It made sense to start there, but something was pulling me away. That was the thing about grifting. The theft always began in a target’s mind. Maybe it was just that I knew my father best, but an unmarked stack across the room seemed to be calling me.
