The Shadowglass Read online

  Councilor Ludvig snorted. “I’m surprised Scalzieg and the others haven’t burned the place down without me around, Rendor,” he said.

  I started, the words calling to mind my horrific vision of Ankyo in flames from only a few hours ago.

  Ludvig continued, “The lack of visible wreckage tells me they might be more competent than I first thought when they started their training under me.”

  The Isteran king laughed. “We stand in winter all year, my old friend. You know better than any of us how fires fear our kind of cold.” He turned curious eyes toward the azi. At my silent command, it had lowered its three snouts to prostrate itself on the ground, a sign of its submission. “I am afraid I do not have a large enough stable to house your daeva friend here.”

  “We would much rather not keep him inside the city, Your Majesty,” I said. “The azi prefers the open air.”

  “You must be the Lady Tea. We’ve heard much about you, far away as we are from most.” The king reached out his hand, and I shook it. “Call me Rendor. We share the same teacher, and I would like to think that makes us kinsmen almost.”

  Councilor Ludvig snorted again but looked faintly approving.

  King Rendorvik was a courteous man, greeting the rest of the group with an informality that was not characteristic of royalty. Kalen and Khalad, he recognized with pleasure. “It’s been a while since you’ve visited Farsun, Your Grace.” He sobered. “And how is your cousin Kance?”

  At the mention of Kance, I felt my heartsglass color blue, and Kalen couldn’t hide his wince. “As good as anyone can expect, your Majesty, considering the circumstances.”

  “I am so very sorry to hear of your uncle’s malady. I hope His Majesty recovers with all speed.”

  It was my turn to try not to flinch. The cause of the Odalian king’s sickness was a mystery to most, and I wasn’t sure how the friendly royal would react if he knew that the reason for Telemaine’s insanity was standing before him, accepting his hospitality.

  Khalad was more forthcoming. “Whatever malaise he suffers is his own doing,” he said with no trace of rancor. Khalad had more reason to hate his father than any of us. “Kance would make a more fitting king in his stead.”

  “Khalad,” King Rendorvik said reverently. “I did not know the old king’s eldest son was a heartforger until recently, but we hold both your titles in high esteem. Surely your father didn’t deserve this, despite the crimes he committed?”

  Khalad bowed. “I speak as a heartforger, Your Majesty, when I say that Kance is a hundred times the king our father had ever hoped to be.”

  The king inclined his head as well. “I trust your judgment. As badly as he treated his people and his own sons, I nonetheless hope he finds his peace. May they both find peace.” And you as well, his heartsglass seemed to suggest.

  A good-looking boy, only a few years older than Khalad, stepped forward. “My name is Cyran,” he said, clasping his hands around the startled forger’s. Likh was stationed behind me, but I swore I could feel the heat blistering out of his heartsglass without turning around. “The old Heartforger, Master Narel, healed me from the same long illness that His Majesty King Kance suffered from. I am told you were instrumental in the cure as well. I owe you my life. Please tell me how I can repay your kindness.”

  “No thanks are needed, milord,” Khalad said politely. “It’s all part of my work.”

  “At least permit me to give you a tour around Farsun?”

  The blaze Likh was generating behind my back threatened to explode into the fire of a full-fledged sun.

  “Perhaps next time? I’m afraid we have pressing duties that we cannot delay.”

  “I will hold you to that, milord.”

  The azi followed us until we were at Farsun’s gates before taking to the air with one last whoop of farewell. It brushed against my mind, friendly and affectionate, and then was gone.

  “Isterans are rather blasé when it comes to daeva, it seems,” Althy noted.

  “We have a different way of dealing with them than you Kions, I imagine.”

  Despite the trumpets, the procession toward the city lacked the pomp and circumstance I was used to in Kion. There were no crowds cheering us on as we headed to the royal palace. Many citizens bowed to the king and then continued with their work, greeting us briefly and with the same casualness as we passed.

  It felt strange to be relatively ignored, but after everything I’d experienced in Daanoris, the Isteran ability to treat their kings like any other Isteran for the most part came as a welcome relief.

  “The daeva zarich’s burial mound lies within the Runeswood,” the king said as we walked, “far too close to our city for comfort. But our Dark asha, Sakmeet, tamed it rather well.”

  “Tamed it?” Likh echoed from behind us, his emotions more tempered now that Lord Cyran had gone ahead.

  “I understand that Dark asha put daeva back into the ground as quickly as possible, aye? Takes quite a toll on them, as I’m sure you know. We don’t have as many asha here in Farsun as you do in Ankyo, and a few of our brilliant asha thought it would be better to prioritize their quality of life rather than ask the Willows for a new Dark asha every twenty or so years when she burns herself out. It was easier on Sakmeet to control the zarich and keep it away from the city than to resurrect it every few years and completely sap her strength while she’s at it. We have found that daeva—our zarich, at least, and your azi too, apparently—prefer their solitude unless threatened. In the Runeswood, the zarich has all the privacy it desires.”

  I was stunned. “I didn’t know,” I said. Why would the Willows allow Mykaela to waste her life away with every resurrection when she could have conserved her strength this way?

  “It’s because of a policy of the asha association,” Althy said quietly, answering my question. “They decided it was too risky to put one person in charge of all daeva. There is still the threat of darkrot from controlling many daeva at once. The Isterans had their own Dark asha and only one beast to manage within their borders. We have far more daeva to command in our territory.”

  “You mean it would be riskier to put one person in charge of daeva if that bone witch hadn’t pledged absolute loyalty to the elders,” I corrected bitterly.

  “There are precedents, Tea. There have been Dark asha in the past who’d given in to temptation.”

  Still, if Isterans could treat Sakmeet well despite her abilities, then why couldn’t Kion treat Mykaela or me the same way? “Who was she?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “The Dark asha Mykaela had to kill. The one who took in too much power and succumbed to the darkrot. Polaire told me about her once, but not in much detail.”

  The matronly asha sighed. “It’s not something we like to talk about, child. And now is not the best time for these questions.”

  I fell silent as we passed another crowd of people, some stopping to have a brief word with their liege before we moved on. Farsun was a city tucked under a constant blanket of ice, but business thrived. Brightly lit shops were adorned with signs inviting entry, and smoke spiraled out of chimneys, suggesting warmth within. Unlike Kion, there were no displays of opulence here; people chose comfort over luxury. Caps and cloaks were more commonplace than jewelry and spells. Rahim stood out among our lot, flaunting his bright, lavishly embroidered clothes without a care for frostbite.

  “What happened to Sakmeet?” Kalen asked as we entered the great hall. From the outside, the royal palace was a forbidding stone fortress. Inside, fireplaces burned warmly, and long, complicated wall tapestries added touches of color amid the gray stone and cemented bricks. “The details of her death were hazy.”

  King Rendorvik shook his head sadly. “We found her out in the snow, frozen to death. There was no mark of the daeva on her body, that much we could ascertain. She was prone to journeying on her own for weeks at a tim
e, though we warned her it would grow more difficult in her old age. But she was quite a tenacious, if stubborn, lady. She would not permit us to assist her and insisted on her own independence despite the dangers. We mourned her loss and feared that the zarich might attack now that her hold on it was gone, but we have not heard word from it for the last two years. We have patrols stationed around the area, but the creature does not approach them.”

  “I do not understand,” Rahim said. “What Tea has recently started with the azi, Sakmeet had been doing all this time? Why did we not know this?”

  “Oh, you did know about it,” Councilor Ludvig said wryly. “I recommended that the Willows follow the same training Sakmeet experimented with long before Mykaela ever became asha. I was shot down every time. As Althy pointed out, there are dangers to controlling multiple daeva, and as it is, there aren’t enough Dark asha around to handle them all.”

  “We’re not as luxurious as Kion,” King Rendor said, guiding us to our rooms. “But we claim the softest beds in all the eight kingdoms. Stay for as long as you wish. We rarely have the opportunity to entertain visitors this far north. Would there be anything else you require?”

  I cleared my throat. “I was hoping to take a look at your library, Your Majes—Rendor.”

  The king chuckled. “Ludvig told us that you were interested in our collection of books, but wouldn’t you rather relax first? It’s a long journey, even on daevaback.”

  “I’m afraid our research is that important,” Khalad admitted. “I’m sure you know of the strange creatures sighted along your borders?”

  Queen Daeria’s eyes widened, and husband and wife looked at each other. “So you’ve heard,” the king said finally. “Our soldiers have encountered three so far, but it’s three more than we desire. They’re unusual breeds, very unlike any daeva I’ve studied and hard, though not impossible, to kill. If we had encountered them in groups instead of on their own and had we not had at least thirty men in each case, we would have suffered more casualties. We do not know where the creatures came from, much less what they are or why they have been attacking us.”

  “We’ve heard similar rumors from Tresea,” the queen chimed in, “though they’ve been tight-lipped about their own troubles. But what do our books have to do with any of this?”

  “Your kingdom has the oldest known collection on runic magic, Your Highness,” Althy explained. “Our collection in Kion is severely limited. At this point, any knowledge would be beneficial, no matter how far-fetched.”

  “I’ve found that old remedies are still the most effective,” the queen agreed. “Our library is open for your perusal whenever you wish.”

  “I do not understand,” Rahim rumbled after we had unpacked and regrouped. “What breed of monster are we talking about?”

  “It’s not something the asha elders want public,” Likh explained. “We’ve been hearing reports of odd monsters along the upper kingdoms. There’ve been some rumors in Odalia about similar demons. Except it’s not daeva—they’re far too small. And we can’t investigate in more detail or get support from Prince Kance in Kneave because…um…” The boy turned pale and cast an apologetic glance my way.

  “Because Prince Kance doesn’t want anything to do with me right now,” I finished for him. It still hurt to say it, but I had burned my bridges to Odalia the instant I killed Aenah and destroyed Telemaine.

  Rahim softened almost immediately, eyes growing bright with tears of sympathy. I saw the signs and was already bracing myself when he engulfed me with arms, twice the size of even Kalen’s. “My uchenik, this is not your doing. You are good person, and the prince will see it. That his father suffered under thrall of Faceless trash is not your doing. He will see in time, little one.”

  “Unffgh,” I managed to say from somewhere underneath his beard.

  “And why are you here, Rahim?” Kalen asked, trying his best not to look amused.

  “The Isterans, underneath their wool and fur, hold fashion in the highest esteem. The Queen Deira, she is kind enough to ask this humble Tresean to come to Farsun and design gowns for her girls. The Queen of Istera asking a Tresean! Back in my youth, it would be treasonous to imagine peace between our two kingdoms. It is like asking pink not to clash with the red! But I am honored, and I am determined.” He swept his burly arms out, briefly forgetting that I was still clinging to them. “To keep the style yet keep out the cold at same time! It is the undertaking of my career!”

  “You’re doing good work, Rahim,” Kalen said calmly with a straight face. “You’re doing good work.”

  The Isterans were avid readers and collectors of literature, and I was expecting an impressive library. What I wasn’t expecting was for it to take up a full wing of the castle. What the rest of the Farsun palace lacked in opulence, King Rendrovik’s manuscript collection made up for with decadence. Marble floors shone and vaulted ceilings were decorated in vividly colored frescoes by, no doubt, illustrious painters. Golden motifs and busts lined the bookcases. The shelves were of cured mahogany, specially treated to last and polished to shine.

  “It’s not much,” said the Isteran king with quiet pride, “but it’s the most important place in all of Istera, and we try to present it as such.”

  “Uhh…” I said in awe.

  “This the most magnificent room I have ever been in,” Likh whispered.

  “We boast some first-century manuscripts,” Queen Deira cautioned. “There will be assistants to help you with your work, so you would do well to follow their instructions. Some of these volumes are quite old, and we ask you take great care while browsing them.”

  “Uhh…” I repeated.

  “You’re going to catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that.” Kalen’s attempt at teasing was lost on me. I wandered past bookshelves lined with rare manuscripts and incunabula. Though my fingers flexed and trembled, I was too afraid to touch them for fear they might disintegrate. I could spend the rest of my life in this library; even if I read quickly, I knew I would never finish the texts in my lifetime—or a second lifetime.

  “We were told you had the oldest accounts of the Blade that Soars legends,” Khalad said. “And some on runic magic. Tea and I would be very interested in… Tea? Are you okay?”

  “Forget it, Khalad,” Kalen said. “She’s gone. Give her time.”

  “In that case,” Rahim said, “I will go to consult with Queen Deira. Do not let books eat your lyubimaya, Kalen, and do not let her eat them.”

  “H-how many books do you even have?” I finally stammered, trying to take it all in.

  “Almost a million at last count.” King Rendorvik laughed, as we were led deeper into the library. “Our head librarian would know the exact number. It takes a lot of effort to keep the volumes in good condition, considering our perpetual winters.”

  “Tea,” Althy said, “focus. Remember that we have a purpose in coming here.”

  “Yes,” I found myself saying, “to read everything we can get our hands on.”

  “Oh dear,” murmured my asha-sister. “We’ve lost her.”

  • • •

  Kalen volunteered to consult with some of the Isteran generals about the alleged daeva sightings, and Khalad went with him. That left the rest of us free to raid King Rendorvik’s library. There were nearly a million reasons to be distracted, and it took physical effort on Althy’s part to prevent me from wandering to new piles of books instead of sticking to the research we came to do.

  The legend of the Blade that Soars and Dancing Wind was an interesting piece of mythology. The problem was that multiple retellings had been collected, chronicling cultures and politics of multiple kingdoms, each using the narrative as a source. It was easy for me to drift into other unrelated stories before realizing my mistake—and I was making a lot of mistakes.

  “But they have a complete history of asha here,” I whined. “Vernash
a of the Roses kept a diary that was preserved!” How could Althy be so flippant surrounded by so much knowledge? Vernasha was the famous asha who founded Kion, so surely she would understand my interest. “There’s also a complete manuscript listing the adventures of the Five Great Heroes’ epic in greater detail than anything I’ve read, and it’s more than two thousand pages! Look, this is Rashnu’s final journal, recounting his life after the other Great Heroes perished at the Ring of Worship—”

  “Tea.”

  “Did you know that Aadil wasn’t actually the rightful ruler of Drycht? He was a distant relation to King Adhitaya and revolted against him fifteen years ago when heavy taxation turned the people against the monarch. There are even colored paintings of Adhitaya and his sons—”

  “Read them all after we have our answers.”

  Clearly, Althy had more willpower than I. She hefted a solid volume bound in thick, black leather with gold lettering. “This is the earliest retelling I can find, said to be written by the Great Hero Ashi the Swift herself. The librarians believe this to be the earliest source on Blade that Soars, so I’d like us to focus there.” She raised an eyebrow at Likh, who was paging through a large tome on ancient Kion culture. “Find something interesting?”

  The boy blushed and laid down the book. “All the books here are fascinating,” he squeaked.

  “Think about the possibilities!” It was hard to dampen my excitement, even with Althy’s sensibility. “There could be runes here that we’ve never even heard of. Imagine a rune for every kind of spell you could imagine. Isteran librarians have been studying these books all their lives, and even they say they haven’t begun to understand half of what is written here!”

  “While I always make it a habit to support enthusiasm for learning,” Althy said, “today is not that day. Tea, might I remind you that this trip to Istera was your prerogative.”

  “Sorry.” Chastened, I focused on the book she indicated. “In the beginning, Blade that Soars,” I read. “In the beginning, Dancing Wind. They ruled the sky as the land took breath, the lands as wide as the ground held sand and soil…” I trailed off. “So far, this doesn’t sound all that different from what we sing for the darashi oyun.”