When the Goddess Wakes Page 5

  “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said, then hooked a chair with a foot, pulled it out, set down the basket, and produced a plate. He must have anticipated the cabinets were entirely empty because he pulled cutlery from a belt pouch, then plopped down in the chair and continued unpacking.

  He was pulling out some cheese when Elenai walked over to look at him. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  He disregarded her sarcasm. “I’ll feel more comfortable with some food in me. Hey, you should open the curtains. Get us some more light.”

  Elenai wondered why she was doing that even as she wandered over to follow his suggestion.

  As promised, the view showed her no signs of the siege, looking as it did on a well-tended inner courtyard. Kyrkenall poured something into a goblet and pushed it toward her.

  She took it and drank. It proved a young wine stored in some cool place. Despite the sweetness, she enjoyed the wonderful wet on her throat. And yet, she was irritated as she lowered the goblet. She could guess why Kyrkenall was here.

  “You look like you’re in a bad mood,” he said. “We just beat the Naor, remember?”

  “I need more sleep. It looks like you do, too.”

  “Usually. But we’ve a lot to discuss, don’t we?”

  She didn’t really want to talk about Kalandra, or how to contact her through the emerald. She needed some breathing room. “I’m going to freshen up.” She retreated to the bedroom, where she poured water into a ludicrously beautiful porcelain washbasin.

  “Hey,” Kyrkenall said through the door, “remember when you used to finish every sentence you said to me with the word ‘alten’? Who’d have guessed how soon you’d be turning your back on me and stomping into the next room.”

  She decided against telling him she hadn’t stomped. The frown he inspired looked back at her beneath tired eyes in the highly polished bronze mirror above the washbasin.

  She splashed water over her face, gargled, and slowly combed out her hair. Long days in the sun had brightened the ruddier shades in her auburn locks.

  As she finished her preparations, she decided upon morning prayers, reasoning that even if the Gods had been mere ancestors, as their recent travels had suggested, they still deserved respect. Or maybe she just wanted a few more minutes alone. Once she rose, she obstinately decided against donning the khalat.

  When she rejoined Kyrkenall, he was crunching into a slice of buttered bread. Cherry pits and crumbs littered his plate.

  He pointed to the scrambled eggs, as well as some sausages, well seared, and a wheaty-looking loaf, already sliced.

  She sat down across from him, used a spoon to serve up the lukewarm eggs, and helped herself to some of the bread he’d brought. She ate.

  “Oh, thank you, Kyrkenall.” The archer spoke in a terrible falsetto. “You’re so thoughtful and kind to bring me food. I shall be forever grateful.” He dropped the impression. “I wanted to welcome you here officially, with a proper breakfast, because I remember how damned lonely these old suites are.”

  “Thank you,” she said gruffly.

  “Is there anything wrong with that? I seem to recall saving your life a few times yesterday. Are we no longer friends?”

  “Of course we’re friends. But I wish you’d just get to your point.” She helped herself to more wine and discarded the temptation to thank him for it.

  Kyrkenall reached into a belt pouch, removed a shimmering silk bag, and from it produced a fist-sized emerald. He set it on the table.

  “I’m not going to try to open that this morning.”

  He held up a placating hand. “I saw what it did to Thelar.”

  “It almost killed him. Opening that stone can’t be attempted unless there’s a host of mages ready to help. And right now we can’t risk any.”

  “You want to find the queen, right? Well, here’s this stone.” Kyrkenall rapped the table next to it. “It’s obviously important, because it was in her chambers. It’s obviously really important, because she protected it.”

  He had a point. “Do you think the queen was afraid someone would try to learn something secret?”

  “Maybe,” Kyrkenall said. “But it was secured in her office, and she surrounded herself with sycophants who wouldn’t dare cross her. Do you really think this spell’s there to keep people away from the stone?”

  Elenai found herself taking him seriously about this subject for the first time. “Why do you think the ward is there?”

  “It’s not to keep people out. It’s to keep something in.”

  She chewed some of the sausage as she decided how to broach her worry delicately. She swallowed. “Kyrkenall, you should know that this is probably another memory stone. Maybe it’s a more sophisticated one, but we have no evidence there’s anything to keep in. And I know you’ll tell me that N’lahr was preserved, but he was imprisoned as a side effect of hearthstone damage. Full-sized. It was a freak accident and I doubt the queen could even fully explain it, much less duplicate it.”

  “Maybe that’s all true,” Kyrkenall conceded. “But then why did Rialla say Kalandra was ‘in’ the gem?”

  “Rialla’s vague, Kyrkenall. Maybe she meant all that’s left of Kalandra is in a ‘stone on the shelf.’ We’re not even sure this emerald is what she was talking about.”

  “You’re not listening. Again, if it’s a memory stone, why is it locked off, like there’s something inside the queen was afraid could get out? The other two stones in the queen’s office weren’t protected that way. And one of the others contained the memories of a god.”

  He’d latched onto this singular idea, like a climber scrabbling desperately for purchase lest he slip to his doom.

  “Let’s say Kalandra’s not even involved. Let’s just consider the scene and wonder which of the three stones left in Leonara’s office is likely to hold the most important information. Maybe the stone that no one can open?”

  Elenai set down her goblet. “You’re right. We should prioritize trying to open it. When we can muster the resources.”

  “Yes.” He tried not to sound eager. “But right now you can scout it out—just to look at it, not open it. To see if you can tell more about how it’s closed.”

  “Without getting blasted,” she suggested.

  “Of course! Can you just look at it without activating anything?”

  “You mean just view it through the inner world? I saw it last night.”

  “Sure. But did you really look at it?”

  “Kyrkenall, no.”

  “I’m not asking you to touch it, just to look at it. That’s not going to set anything off.”

  “What is it you want me to look for?”

  He held off answering, abruptly embarrassed, then worked past the feeling. “Could you sense any life inside?”

  A flood of sympathy swept her irritation away. “Oh, Kyrkenall.”

  “I don’t need pity. Rialla said Kalandra was in there. Maybe you can confirm it.”

  “No, I’m afraid I can’t. Certainly not without activating its protection. You shouldn’t get your hopes this high.”

  “We’ve seen a lot of strange things,” Kyrkenall continued. “Things that should have been impossible.”

  “That’s absolutely true. And you’re absolutely right. That gem may hold important information. But I’m not looking now. And I don’t want you asking anyone else, either.”

  “Is that an order, Your Majesty?”

  “Stop that.”

  She hadn’t meant to put quite as much snap into her voice. She saw him bristle, and then he looked away.

  “Sorry,” he said softly. “I … sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I know how important this is to you.”

  “She’s been gone a long time,” he said quietly.

  At the ringing of temple bells proclaiming the hour, she was reminded of her schedule. “N’lahr and I are meeting the Naor general next hour. Along with one of the Erymyran councilors.”

  Kyrkenall ge
ntly retrieved the emerald and returned it to the bag, and then his belt pouch. “Which one?”

  “Councilman Brevahn.”

  “Him?”

  “Do you know him?” She hadn’t paid enough attention to Darassan politics to recognize any councilors by name. From Rylin she’d learned he was one of the only councilors to survive an attack by the queen, by virtue of being absent when she had killed everyone in the council chamber yesterday. Apparently their crumbling crystalline bodies still stood like statues within the hallowed hall, along with that of poor Alten Lasren, who’d died trying to shield them.

  “Sure, I know him. Brevahn’s been leading the call for criminal charges against me.”

  “Oh,” she said, knowing another wave of foolishness for not wondering more about who wanted to speak with her.

  “You’re a power now. He’s going to want to see how malleable you are.”

  “I am not ‘malleable.’”

  He grinned. “Don’t I know it.” He added: “As long as we’re on the subject of councilors and thrones, and all that, there’s something I think I should say.”

  “Oh?” Elenai mentally braced herself.

  He laughed at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You look as though I announced I was going to hit you. I just have some advice.”

  “What is it?”

  He fell silent for a long while. Elenai grew more and more curious as his expressions shifted between concern and worry and then on to wistful reverie. Finally, those eerie, pupilless eyes focused upon her. “Do you remember when I faced the kobalin at the bridge?”

  “I’ll never forget it, or his name. Vorn.”

  “Aye. Well, it doesn’t always play out like that. I often win by walking in as if I’m already victorious. I don’t have to fight; my foes will lay down their weapons before we start. It’s like what you did last night, at the end of the battle.”

  “You mean when I bluffed about being able to destroy the Naor?”

  “That was a bluff?” Kyrkenall laughed. “Maybe you don’t need my advice.”

  “No, go on,” she said, intrigued. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you’ve earned a reputation. And a lot of fights are won with how you present yourself.”

  “So, you pretend confidence even when you don’t have it.”

  “Oh, I always have confidence. And at this point so should you. Don’t let anyone push you around. Kobalin, Naor, councilor, you name it.”

  “That sounds like arrogance.”

  “There’s a fine line,” Kyrkenall admitted. “And maybe I err on the wrong side sometimes. But what I don’t want to see is you erring too much the other way. Yes, keep the whole judging with heart and mind thing close to your, uh, heart, but act as the ruler we all know you to be.”

  She so regularly thought of Kyrkenall distracted by his own needs, that she sometimes forgot he possessed keen emotional insight. His concern for her, and faith in her character, touched her, and she felt a surge of warmth for him. “Sometimes,” she said, “you know just what to say.”

  He gave her an oddly piercing look. She was about to ask him what that was about when a loud rap on the door startled them both. Kyrkenall immediately turned in his chair.

  “Kyrkenall, Elenai, are you in there?” N’lahr asked, his voice taut.

  “We’re here,” Kyrkenall said, rising. “I thought that was your knock.”

  The commander opened the door without invitation and stepped inside, his expression grave. “Throw on your khalat,” he ordered Elenai, then shifted to Kyrkenall. “Grab Arzhun. We have a problem.”

  4

  A Long Strange Road

  Roused by the morning horn call, Rylin didn’t truly feel awake until he splashed water over his face. He would have given a lot for some of Varama’s fortifying juices and smiled to think he could tell her so soon.

  He eyed himself in the bronze mirror and rubbed his chin stubble. He’d never gotten used to the beard and he didn’t want it to return, so after throwing on fresh undergarments, he lathered on soap and readied his razor blade on the hanging strop.

  He’d just finished when he grew aware of a light rapping on the outer door.

  The last person who’d interrupted his morning routine had been Varama. He knew it couldn’t be her, but felt a burst of excitement as he rinsed his face and threw on a shirt. He hooked it closed as he advanced across the floor, paused to tuck the garment into his uniform pants, then opened the door.

  He tried to disguise his disappointment at the sight of Thelar, whose own clothes looked clean and pressed even if he himself appeared exhausted.

  “Good morning,” the exalt said stiffly.

  Rylin returned the greeting and ushered the man into his suite.

  “You look well rested,” Thelar observed.

  Rylin laughed. “I wish I felt it. Hey, are you hungry? I…” Rylin’s voice trailed off.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Rylin shook his head, his good mood dissipated. “I’d hired a cook. And she kept the larder full. But after I … had to flee, I don’t guess she had any reason to be here.” He met the exalt’s dark eyes. “And I just realized I’ve no idea what happened to her. Maybe she’s fine.” He showed an empty hand. “Anyway—there’s probably nothing to eat here, or drink.”

  “I’ve already broken fast,” Thelar said.

  “Of course,” Rylin said, feeling awkward. “I’ll be back in a moment. Make yourself comfortable.”

  He left Thelar wandering toward the balcony while he stepped away to finish dressing.

  When he returned, Thelar was seated at the small dining table, where he’d placed a slim shining shard of a light blue hearthstone before him.

  “Was the healer right?” Rylin asked. “You’re feeling fit for magics this morning?”

  “Fit enough.”

  “It looked like you and he knew each other,” Rylin continued, having seen the warm glances that had passed between Thelar and the lean, freckled man last night. “And here I thought you had something going on with one of those twins. Or maybe both.”

  Thelar frowned and Rylin remembered too late how new and fragile their good fellowship was. “No offense meant. I just thought…” He cleared his throat and took his seat before starting over. “It’s good to see you have somebody.”

  A flash of perturbation crossed his face, but Thelar appeared to have decided against taking insult. “Do you have someone?” he asked politely.

  “Me?” Rylin started to smile and then felt it slide away. It was his fault for bringing up the subject. “There was someone who liked me, back in Alantris,” he answered slowly. “She was brave, and skilled, and probably too young. And now she’s dead.”

  Thelar watched, apparently uncertain what to say.

  Rylin filled the awkward silence. “Maybe there’s Tesra, but she’s with the queen, isn’t she? I swear I saw her hesitate right on the edge of the queen’s portal, as though she might have thought about staying. But she went through.”

  Thelar eyed him dubiously. “Tesra. Really. She knows you tricked her.”

  “I can’t imagine I’m high on her favorite people list.”

  “No.”

  “In my defense, I had to find out what you exalts were up to.”

  “I suppose,” Thelar said doubtfully, and Rylin understood that it was more the method he’d used than the information he sought which troubled the exalt. Rylin repressed a surge of defensive anger as he sought a response, but then Thelar cleared his throat and continued. “I could have been a better friend to her.” Rylin wondered if the disapproval he’d heard in the man’s voice only a moment before had been aimed more at himself. “She’d grown suspicious of Synahla and the queen before I did,” Thelar finished.

  “Then why didn’t she side with us?”

  “I don’t know.” Thelar shifted, as though the wooden chair were uncomfortable. “I was too angry for letting you fool her, so I didn
’t enjoy her confidence from then on.”

  Rylin remembered the events of that day: his lies to Tesra about leaving the Altenerai to join the Exalts, his “friendly bout” with M’vai and Meria, during which Thelar had cheated, the tryst with Tesra that she had instigated, but which would never have happened if he hadn’t misled her. At the time he’d been pleased to have gained so much information about the enemy, but he had since grown uncomfortable with his actions, because the line between playing a convincing role and taking advantage of the situation had been muddled.

  Thelar continued: “If I hadn’t borne that grudge, if I’d been a better friend, Tesra might have turned to me instead of losing herself with them.”

  Rylin’s first impulse was to remark that Thelar had always been a champion grudge bearer, but he held off. Even after they’d stood side by side in battle some old prejudices flared up too easily. Much as he had come to respect and depend upon Thelar, he wondered if past history might preclude the development of a real friendship.

  Realizing such pessimistic musings wouldn’t make their work this morning any easier, Rylin decided to focus on next steps. “All we can do,” he said, not unsympathetically, “is acknowledge our errors and move forward, together.”

  “You’re right.”

  Rylin gestured to the shard. “What do we do first?”

  “If you’d like me to attempt the sending, you can monitor. I’ve much more experience with hearthstones.” He sounded like his old pompous self until he added quickly, “Unless you’d rather try.”

  Rylin understood then that Thelar, too, recognized the fragility of their newfound alliance. “I’m sure you’re right about experience, but I know Varama. And knowing her will make her easier to find, won’t it?”

  “It’s the hearthstone she’s using that will make it possible to find her. But the point you made last night is compelling. She’s far more likely to greet you warmly.”

  “I’m not sure she greets anyone warmly,” Rylin said, and then at Thelar’s questioning look explained further. “She keeps her feelings pretty well hidden. Anyway. What’s the process?”

  “Once I activate the shard, root yourself to it as deeply as possible. I can help with that. I also can feed energies into the connection to strengthen it. Then you need to ignore nearly every tenet you’ve ever heard about spell casting. Extend yourself and reach toward your intended target.”