Sacrifice (Catalyst Moon #5), page 18
Brice studied him. “Are you all right?”
Relah. Grief and sorrow sounded like Elan’s voice in Drake’s mind and a response wouldn’t come. Then something solid pressed against his shoulder. Atanar. Drake’s voice returned, if only a whisper. “I lost my brother at Stonehaven.”
Brice sucked in a breath. “Oh, gods, Drake, I’m so sorry.”
“Me too,” Rilla said. “I lost my twin sister to fell fever when we were children. I remember how hard it was. Still is.”
Brice hugged her wife’s shoulders as Rilla withdrew a biri and tinderbox from her coat pocket. A flare of flame, a deep inhale, and she exhaled a stream of smoke into the night air. She gave Drake a somewhat abashed look. “For what it’s worth,” Rilla said, offering him the biri. “I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you in the past. About your magic. You were just trying to get by, same as the rest of us.”
He accepted, savoring the heady smoke, though he resolved not to indulge too much. They weren’t exactly hidden here. “Thanks,” he said as he passed the biri on to Brice. “For…coming.”
Brice blew out her own stream of smoke. “Assembly and mages…united. By the One, if we can convince them all to cooperate, there’ll be no stopping us.”
“That’s a big ‘if’,” Drake muttered. Then Nat smiled at him and he added, “But it’s a hopeful one, too.”
* * *
Dusk was an hour away when Eris’s newly-formed caradoc nose scented Drake, Atanar, and the Assembly women’s arrival. Amid the buzzing cicadas and waning sunlight, she crouched in the high saffron-colored grasses of the Silverwood plain, exploring the wonders of this new shape. Shifting to a creature so like her, with hair and heated blood, was vastly easier than turning into a crow. She’d been in the large feline shape for hours, and only felt a little strain. No; she felt downright powerful. Claws and fangs suited her well. Too well, Gid probably would have teased.
Atanar sensed her first. He paused, lifted a hand in a silent signal, and the others froze. His head swiveled and she caught the faint salty taste of fear on the evening wind, then his eyes locked on hers.
Drake followed Atanar’s gaze. “Gods above, she’s gotten far too used to that shape. At least when she was a crow, I could catch her in a net.”
Eris could not resist. Her muscles bunched and she leaped through the grasses with two strides, then barreled into Drake. The women lifted their weapons as Eris used her newfound strength to push Drake down and butt her head against his.
“Hold,” Atanar called to the newcomers. “She’s…a friend.”
Drake didn’t move beneath Eris’s paws. “Is this payback for the net comment or for calling you Serla Crow?”
She bared her fangs to make him flinch, then clambered down from his chest. Her transition to her human form was smoother than it’d ever been from a crow-shape. If only she’d had caradoc cats to study back in the bastion! There had been house cats, of course, but at the time, Eris had only wanted to fly.
When she was a fully-clothed human again she bowed to the two women she had not seen since they’d all fled Whitewater City last midwinter. “Thank you for coming. I must admit, I wasn’t sure you’d answer Drake’s message.”
Both Assembly women gaped at her. After a beat too long, the red-haired woman, Brice, spoke. “Well, we can’t turn into animals, but we have other things in common.”
“Can the other mages,” Rilla waved a hand, “do that, too? Or I suppose the question is: will they, for us dregs?”
The answer to the latter question remained to be seen. Eris ignored the squirm of anxiety in her gut. “Seren’s Children possess a wide range of talents. Our powers have only increased outside of the bastion walls.” She gestured in the direction of the camp and they began to walk. “Let’s get you settled and refreshed, and we’ll speak properly.”
Leal had been patrolling the perimeter, so he greeted them before they reached the camp proper. “Well met,” he said to the Assembly women. “I’m not sure you remember me, but I’m Leal. It’s good to see you both hale and healthy.”
Brice and Rilla exchanged glances before they each bowed to the Sufani man. “Glad to see you, too,” Brice said. “You look good.”
Leal grinned. “Magic is good for more than just healing wounds.”
“I see that,” Rilla said weakly.
When they reached the mages’ camp, sheltered in the woods at the edge of the province, Eris spotted Adrie standing opposite Brenna and Fletcher at the center of a cluster of mages. All of them spoke in low, angry voices, then Adrie caught sight of Eris and waved. The rest of the mages followed her gaze, and silence fell across the group, although no one relaxed.
Eris strode up to them, keeping her expression mild. “Is there a problem?”
Brenna and Fletcher, and the rest of Seren’s Children, stared at Brice and Rilla with open disdain. “Only two dregs managed to show up, eh?” Fletcher sneered. “Not sure how much help they’ll be. By the looks on their faces, they’re frightened little bunnies.”
Rilla gripped her spear. “Come over here and say that, Mage.”
“We mean you no harm,” Brice said, hands raised, palms out. Every gaze swiveled Eris’s way, but she cut her eyes to Drake – briefly, so as not to alert anyone. Come on, Drake, she thought, willing his magic to work. Indeed, after a few heartbeats a sense of calm washed over her, as if she’d slid into warm bathwater. The others, too, relaxed; more than a few looked at the Assembly women with open curiosity instead of hostility.
Adrie merely grinned at the Assembly women. “Glad to see you both. They saved our lives in Whitewater City,” she added to Fletcher and the rest of Seren’s Children. “They’re good people. Not mages, but then, no one’s perfect.”
She stepped forward to greet the Assembly women, and some of the other mages followed suit. Fletcher’s bushy brows drew together. “I still say it’s folly to join their little rebellion.”
“You should reconsider,” Rilla replied. “Otherwise, you’re going to fail.”
Brice rushed to add, “We once thought as you did, ser. We thought determination and an iron will were enough to defeat our foes. But we were wrong. We needed organization, supplies, money. We have fought to gather those resources for the Assembly. But the thick of the fight is in Lasath, and our kindred in the capital need all the help they can get.”
“Rebellion’s a nice idea,” Rilla added. “But the reality is, screaming at the opposing side until you’re blue in the face is useless. I’ve tried it enough to know.”
Eris raised her voice to carry across the area, so that hopefully even Brenna would hear. “But what do we get? Have you made any progress on abolishing the tiers?”
“Not as much as we’d hoped by now,” Brice answered. “We’ve met with the Council – several times. So far, they’ve ignored us.”
Rilla smirked. “But perhaps, with some additional firepower on our part, they’d see reason.”
Brenna scowled, her cheeks going pink. “Seren’s Children will not be setting fire to the capital. Magic, or otherwise. We tried that. It failed. My mother and brother died, and the dregs hate us more than ever now.”
“Change hurts,” Rilla said. “You must accept it and keep going.”
Brenna shook her head. “I’m not sure how much more pain I can bear.” She looked at Eris. “This is folly. We should leave the dregs to their fate.”
“The point of accumulating power isn’t necessarily to throw it around,” Eris replied. “But rather to speak in a voice too loud to be ignored. The Assembly and Seren’s Children can be that voice – together. The Councilors will think twice about ignoring people who could burn the capital to sparkling ash.”
“Assuming the sentinels don’t shoot the lot of us on sight,” Brenna muttered.
Eris’s chest tightened. “The sentinels are little match for us outside of bastion walls. Do you have any better ideas?”
Brenna was silent.
Eris glanced over at the Assembly women, who tensed as if she were still in her caradoc form. “I’ll not let any mage be used as a tool again. If we join the Assembly, it will be as equals.”
“Is such an alliance even possible?” Leal asked.
The setting sun filtered through the trees, dappling the Assembly women with uncertain, shifting light. At last, Brice replied, albeit slowly, as if she weighed each word. “I believe they will agree to let mages join their fight to abolish the tier marks–”
“Not just the marks,” Eris interrupted. “But the bastions, too.”
Brice nodded. “That’s a harder fight, but liberty is always a worthy goal.”
“We’ll vouch for you,” Rilla added. “But we can’t guarantee the others’ cooperation.”
“Aren’t you in charge of the Assembly?” Fletcher asked.
“The Assembly has no kings or queens,” Brice replied. “Some of us hold more sway than others, but we all must agree to cooperate.”
“That’s not very comforting,” Fletcher shot back.
Rilla shrugged. “It’s honest. And it’s the best we can do right now.”
“Leave the other Assembly folk to me,” Eris replied. Inwardly, she preened. This was going better than she’d dared to hope. No one had made any attempts at violence during the meeting. She surveyed the other mages of Seren’s Children, both of Jensine’s clan and those who followed Fletcher; most of them looked intrigued, not hostile.
Brenna shot Eris a dark look. “My mother would never have agreed to this.”
Eris resisted the urge to signal Drake to use his calming magic; he needed to save his strength. Even so, she fought to keep her hands their human shape and not the claws she’d been practicing. Brenna was still grieving, after all, and Eris knew the price of love too well.
“Your mother already did agree to a strange alliance,” Eris replied as gently as she could. “When she let us bastion folk join Seren’s Children. Now we’re stronger than ever.”
“That remains to be seen.” Brenna turned away and headed for her caravan, where her daughter played with Hazel and a few other young ones.
Eris looked back at the Assembly women. “Give us a day or so to sort ourselves out, then we’ll head to the capital. You’re welcome among us until then. If you’re hungry, speak with Adrie. In the meantime,” she shivered as her skin prickled in anticipation of her magic, “We’ll prepare to move out.”
FIFTEEN
“This isn’t going to work.” Kali threw the brush on the bed and glared into the hand-held mirror. Her hair had decided to curl in all the wrong places and slip free of every attempted braid, just when she needed to appear at her most presentable. Worse, the inky-purple robes the Cipher had given her closed high around her neck, obscuring her scar but also making deep breaths uncomfortable. The close-fitting hem at her wrists, while they hid the absence of a tier mark, also felt far too much like hematite cuffs.
Kali tugged at the woolen robe’s neckline. “Natanaree’s a few rungs short of a ladder if she thinks I can pass as a priestess of Nox.” Her new belt of onyx and moonstone beads, carved into intricate skulls, clattered with each motion. “The priests won’t allow me near the Circle archives, let alone have me paw through their books and scrolls.”
Tal appeared in the doorway between the bedchamber and the living area of the room they’d been allotted… to share. That was bizarre enough on its own. Add to that the impeccably furnished space, complete with two bedchambers joined by a seating area, and Kali could hardly believe she’d found her way into such luxury. She definitely didn’t deserve it.
In direct contrast to Kali’s internal turmoil, Tal had simply accepted their new space without so much as a grunt, although she had ensured no assassins lurked in the wardrobe. Now, of course, the former commander’s hair was braided and pinned into submission, and her new armor—polished iron engraved with swirls and stars—was clean enough to eat off. She studied Kali, tilting her head as if in great thought. “Let me.”
Kali drew away out of habit, edging to the other side of the bed. “This is no problem a sword can solve, though I’m tempted.”
“Do you wish to arrive at the Temple of the One looking like you were mauled by a wild boar?” Tal asked, tilting her head to show off her own immaculate braid.
Her proposition made far too much sense. Damn her. Apparently, priestesses of Nox were rare enough to be strangers to most, and inscrutable enough to account for any, as Natanaree had put it, “peculiar behavior.” Kali hoped that not believing in the gods counted as “peculiar” and not “criminal,” at least to the Circle folks here.
But an orderly appearance would ease their ruse, which meant letting Tal near her hair. Kali’s stomach flipped. “Is it too late to go back to mage jail?”
“I’m sure Argent could arrange it.” Tal gestured to the brush. “Shall I try?”
Nothing for it; there was too much at stake and only half an hour until Natanaree had scheduled Kali’s arrival at the Circle archives. Kali held out the brush as if it were a dagger. “Be gentle. My hair likes to tangle.”
At Tal’s instruction, Kali sat at the room’s desk—heartwood, polished to a sheen—and held the mirror up while the former sentinel stood behind her. Kali’s braid fell apart with a touch, sending her dark brown hair tumbling over her rigid shoulders and down her back. Nimble fingers combed through the strands, then Tal gathered Kali’s hair and began to brush the ends. Kali braced for a painful tug or snarl, but Tal worked the brush with gentle efficiency. Some of Kali’s tension slipped away and her shoulders sank.
After a few minutes, Tal had suitably removed the tangles, and set to braiding. Kali tilted the mirror to try and see what the former sentinel was doing to her. “Nothing too tight,” Kali said. “I can’t concentrate if my head’s pounding.”
Tal gave a half-smile in the mirror. “Understood.”
She gathered sections of Kali’s hair from the sides and began to separate and twine the strands into a neat plait. There was no pain, no sharp tugs, only the pleasant, tingling sensation of fingers winding through Kali’s hair and occasionally brushing against her scalp. Kali relaxed more, sinking into the cushioned chair as Tal braided, until eventually, Tal stopped at the nape of Kali’s neck. Then Tal switched to the other side, her movements swift, certain.
“You braid hair often?” Kali could not help but ask.
“Only my own,” Tal replied. “But it isn’t cooperative, so I’ve learned a few tricks.” She was quiet as she worked. “You have your mother’s coloring.”
“Aye, My father’s hair was blond enough to blind you in the sun.”
“I take after my mother, too. Except for my nose. Foley always said I had his nose.”
“Do you remember your mother?” Kali asked.
“Bits and pieces.” Tal finished the other side and began to gather the ends of both braids. “You?”
Kali smirked. “I never knew your mother.”
Tal was silent but her fingers paused their work for half a heartbeat before she continued.
Kali winced. “Sorry. No, I had no memories of Kamala until Stonehaven. I’m not sure it’s better, now that I have some.”
“She was a friend to me,” Tal said. “One of few I have ever known.”
Tears gathered at Kali’s eyes. She let them fall. “I wish we’d had more time.”
“As do I.” Tal drew back. “Is my work satisfactory?”
Kali swiped her eyes and went to the tall mirror by her bed, using the hand mirror to assess the former sentinel’s handiwork. Two braids crested either side of her head, curving down to her neck, and Tal had tied them off using a silk ribbon. The lower six inches or so of Kali’s hair flowed freely down her back, where the loose waves nestled peacefully together.
Kali skimmed her fingertips over the braids. “No trace of a wild boar here… Are you all right?”
Tal leaned against the chair, fist to her mouth. The words had barely left Kali’s lips before the former sentinel broke into a coughing fit that forced her to her knees. Kali rushed to the other woman’s side, but Tal waved her back. “I’m fine,” she managed at last, gasping. “I’m fine.”
Blood speckled Tal’s hand before she pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket and swiped her skin clean.
“Well, you definitely seem fine,” Kali said wryly. She didn’t move away but she did suppress the urge to place a comforting hand on Tal’s back. “This happens a lot?”
The fit ended and Tal rose with the grace all sentinels seemed to possess. “My lungs suffered some damage in Whitewater City,” she said, smoothing out her immaculate hair. “The heat from Sadira’s fire.”
And my fire, Kali thought with a flash of guilt that she tried to snuff. She, Sadira, all of them had been fighting for their lives. Surely guilt was pointless.
“Has a mage examined you?” Kali asked. “Natanaree might be able to send for someone from the bastion.”
Tal shot her a sardonic look. “No mage could heal me, especially now.” She patted one of the pouches at her belt, where Kali had seen her stow her hematite – another gift from the Cipher, no doubt.
No, not exactly a gift, but a precaution against Kali’s deadly magic. Against Kali, herself – for all the good it would do. As Kali had learned, with enough stolen power, even hematite wouldn’t stop her.
Heat crept up her neck and she decided to change the subject lest she say something she regretted. “My hair is perfect, for once. I’ll try not to get used to it. Thank you.”
Tal’s smile did not light up her face, nor did it make her stern features beautiful, but the expression softened her edges; a candle’s glow in the moments before true dawn. “Are you ready, then?” Tal asked.
“No,” Kali said. “But we should go, anyway.”
* * *
The river of souls flowed through Stonewall’s center, his chest and heart. His head swam with the raw energy and the delight of merging with the river, but he fought for focus.
