A Lonely Magic (28 page)

Well, fuck that.

Fen reached the queen as Cyntha waved a hand toward the audience, her eyes still on Baldric, said, “Men of Val Kyr, come forward. You must speak reason to your leader.”

From this close, Fen could see the sweat beading down Baldric’s temples and smell his fury. But she ignored him, gently slipping her fingers around the hand of the queen.

The queen didn’t noticeably react. Her face stayed serene, like that of her daughter and grandson, but her hand tightened around Fen’s.

Fen really wished Gaelith had given her an instruction book with her tattoos. What could her ivy do? She knew that if she could communicate her need the nanomites would do their best for her, but they had limits she didn’t understand.

She took a silent breath and imagined her ivy as armor, invulnerable, blade-proof, and capable of spreading to cover the queen as well as her. Her leg itched ferociously and so did her shoulder.

Fen closed her free hand around her crystal. She didn’t know what this would do—maybe give every crystal receiver in Syl Var the expected headache?—but hell, she might need the help. Wrapping her fingers tightly around the blue rock, she thought,
Defend
.
Go!

Then she screamed as her body burst into flame.

She fell to her knees. Her back felt like it was ripping apart, the flesh splitting open and searing closed, the fabric of her tunic and robe sizzling into crumbling ash as fire poured out of her, leaping forth and soaring into the sky.

Oh, shit, it hurt.

She dropped farther forward onto her hands, still screaming, the pain so intense that it tore at her throat, stole her breath.

In the dimness of her agony, she could hear Baldric’s voice. “No, no,” he spluttered, falling back and away from her, and then he screamed, too.

His scream was louder than hers.

She turned her head, trying to see through the torment. Something beat at him, ferociously diving, attacking his face and eyes, flames streaming from its tail.

A bird.

Her bird, her phoenix, created from ink and nanomites and now made of pure fire.

The queen crouched next to her, saying words that Fen couldn’t hear. Movement, people, noise, color, chaos.

It hurt.

Oh, God, she hurt.

Fen’s Mother Speaks

Oh, God, what a weird dream. Fen burrowed deeper into the covers, eyes still closed. She was not getting up. Ten more minutes, she needed ten more minutes.

But a niggling feeling of uncertainty poked at her. Her alarm wasn’t playing, but she could hear water flowing, and her bed was really comfortable, softer than it ought to be. She took a deep breath. The sheets smelled spicy, almost like cinnamon.

She opened her eyes.

“Ah, good, you awaken.” Gaelith gestured, moving a single forefinger in a semi-circle. The lights brightened from shadowed darkness to a dim glow. She leaned forward in her cushioned armchair. “How fare you?”

Fen pushed herself upright. Muted shades of aqua on the walls, floor, ceiling, and fabrics of the small, cozy room reminded her of an underwater grotto, as if she were in the Little Mermaid’s bedroom. “What happened?”

“That is a vast question and while I could begin to undertake the answering of it, I fear our time would not be wisely spent.” Gaelith sounded tart, almost cross. “I should prefer to find out how you are feeling and affirm that my healing skills are not as lacking as my artistry.”

Fen blinked a few times. What did that mean?

“I feel fine?” She did feel fine once she stopped to consider it. In fact, better than fine—she felt energetic and light, as if she could bounce out of bed and go for a run, and she was not usually the go-for-a-run type. Like, not ever.

And then the memories came flooding back. “Oh, my God. What happened?”

“Please to move your arms,” Gaelith ordered. “Above your head, stretched as you can. Test your shoulder for me.”

Fen obeyed without hesitation. She knew her shoulder wouldn’t hurt and it didn’t. She craned to look at it. She’d felt it tearing apart. She’d felt herself burning, on fire, choking on the smoke and flames. Had all that been her imagination? But she couldn’t see any sign of damage. “Holy shit, you are a good healer.”

Gaelith sighed. “Indeed. But I shall be far more careful with my art in the future. The scoldings I have had to endure have been… well, the least of my concerns, and well-deserved. But Fen, I do so apologize.” She put her hands together in front of her face. “Such a thing should never have happened.”

“What did happen?” Fen asked again.

“What do you remember?” Gaelith responded.

Fen thought back. Where to begin? Her phoenix, Baldric, the queen, her mom, the ceremony, Kaio talking in her head, Zach and all his mysterious comments… it was much too long a story to tell. And Gaelith had missed the whole thing, of course, because…

“Is Luke okay?” Fen blurted out.

Gaelith beamed at her. “Luken is as distraught over his failures as a bodyguard as I have been distraught over my failures as an artist, and as Kaio has been furious at both of us. The moment I leave, I assure you, he shall be prostrating himself on your floor, begging your indulgence or, failing that, a swift end to his misery.”

Fen’s lips pulled into a smile that warmed her body all the way through. Luke was alive. Everything was going to be okay. But…

“I saw my mom,” she said next. “She talked to me.”

Gaelith’s smile faded. “Yes, so I am given to understand.”

“How?” Fen asked, trying to keep her voice even. “I said something and she just appeared. How did she do that?”

Gaelith placed a gentle hand over hers. “Your culture invented books, which are such a delightful concept. I long to learn to read and enjoy the pleasures of your stories. Kaio has shared some with me—Agatha Christie? I so wish I could understand her in the original.”

Agatha Christie? A small but noisy subsection of Fen’s brain started planning. If Kaio hadn’t given Gaelith Harry Potter and Miles Vorkosigan yet, he was depriving her of more fun than she could imagine. She couldn’t wait for Gaelith to meet Ekaterin. And she knew—absolutely knew—that Gaelith would be as devastated by Hedwig’s death as she had been.

But the rest of her brain stayed focused as Gaelith continued, “We store information in crystal matrices. Visual, audio, holographic. Your mother stored her message for you in your crystal. It remained hidden because she protected it with a password, the name of her home said three times.”

Gaelith paused.

Fen’s lips didn’t seem to know what to do, whether they wanted to smile or shake or squeeze themselves together, so she bit the insides of her cheeks while she waited until she could steady her voice and ask her next question.

But Gaelith didn’t hesitate. “Shall we take a look at it? It should be accessible to me now.”

Fen managed to jerk her chin up and down again.

Gaelith reached toward her and touched the kyanite at her neck. Her eyes glazed over and her face twitched—nose wrinkling, eyebrows arching, lips twisting—as she reacted to what she saw.

“Ah, sweet,” she murmured. “What a delightful baby you were. Oh, here we go. Yes, this is it. But she has left you much more. This is a most charming scrapbook. No, that word must be wrong. Scraps are refuse. No, no, refuse and refuse? How can the same word mean garbage and unwillingness? Those are not at all the same.”

Fen felt her lips fighting to curve into an unwilling smile. “It’s all right. Go ahead and show me what we both want to see.”

Gaelith nodded, eyes still closed, and then dropped her hand, gesturing toward the open floor space in front of them.

Fen’s mother appeared. “Oh, my darling girl,” her mother said. “I hope you never see this message, but if you do, it’s because this is the third time you’ve said or heard the name of my lost home, Wai Pa. I fear this must mean you have been captured by the Val Kyr.”

“Oh, my,” Gaelith breathed. “I had heard of her words, but the sight lends power. I understand the uproar.”

Fen barely heard her. But she barely heard her mother, too. Her eyes were eating up the sight of her, reveling in the familiar face, delighting in the texture of the voice, the words irrelevant.

“We’ve been running from them for your whole life. I hoped ignorance would keep you safe. If I was wrong, I am so sorry.” Her mother’s image leaned forward, speaking urgently, “Know this: do not trust the Val Kyr. Their actions destroyed Wai Pa, which is a secret they will do anything to keep.”

Gaelith gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

Fen’s mother straightened, her face grim. “It was mid-summer and I was harvesting in the algae forest. Not unaccompanied, of course. My sisters may still be alive in Val Kyr. My brothers, the Val Kyr killed.”

The noise Gaelith made might have been outrage or pain.

“I… well, time passed. I adapted. One does. I bore a child, a son. A hundred years later I was pregnant again and an opportunity to escape appeared. I seized it with both hands.” She closed her fists, clenching her fingers tight.

Fen’s mother paused, looking down at the ground for a moment before looking up again. “I discovered in that moment that anger from eight scores earlier still burned within me and I have no regrets. But it wasn’t only my anger that pushed me to run. Your brother was raised a Val Kyr. By then, he was a man full-grown and Val Kyr to the core. I didn’t want that for you.”

“I have a brother,” Fen said in shock. The thought felt wrong, a discordant note clanging in her head. She and her mother, they’d been a team. A happy little team for a long time, a not-so-happy team for a little more, but so bonded, so close, always. Had her brother felt the same way about his mother? Their mother?

“Yes.” Gaelith put a hand on Fen’s shoulder but her eyes never wavered from the image of Fen’s mother.

“But I do wish I could talk to him once more. I can’t imagine it would matter to him, but I loved him. I wish I could tell him so.”

Fen wasn’t having a panic attack. It was nothing like that. No flushing, no heart racing. But she felt stiff and frozen. And like maybe she wanted to break things. Smash a few windows, perhaps?

“My escape was impulsive,” Fen’s mother continued. “I had no plan. I knew of no way to find kin. The best I could do was run inland and hope to avoid the Val Kyr by staying away from water.” She sighed. “Fen, beloved, you must have so many questions and I can’t possibly answer them all. In truth, I hope you never see this message. I’m sick now, but I’m going to get better and when I do, I’ll delete it. I’ll tell you the whole story myself when you’re older. Maybe together we can find our kin. And if not…”

She tilted her head to one side, tears sparkling in her eyes. “If not, know that I love you. My darling girl, you are my sunshine, my joy, my miracle. I would do anything for you.” She put her hand back over her heart, briefly, and then lifting it to her lips, blew Fen a kiss.

Her image shimmered out.

“I have a brother,” Fen said. Sure, it probably wasn’t the most important thing her mother had said, but the idea was such a shock. She’d gotten used to being alone in the world. Now, all of a sudden, she wasn’t. She had a brother.

Um, subtext of Mom’s message, he’s probably kind of an ass
, some sensible part of her brain whispered to her.
And not the point
, the less-sensible rest of her responded.

“Yes.” Gaelith sounded distant, her words soft, her eyes looking far away. “No one must know of this. Not immediately.”

“That I have a brother?”

Gaelith chuckled, seeming to come back into the room, mentally present again. “That news you may share. In my experience, brothers bring both joy and pain and I wish you your full share of their experience. But the rest of it, Fen, you must tell no one.”

“I don’t even understand the rest of it,” Fen said.

“Good. Forget you heard it. No one has ever known why Wai Pa fell. That it could have been caused by the Val Kyr is news that will roil our city.” Gaelith shook her head, her face grim, lips tight. “Syl Var is already filled with such unrest. The Sia Mara have not warred amongst ourselves for tens of thousands of years. If this information spreads, I fear the worst.”

Fen shrugged. “I don’t think I know what I know. I didn’t really get what she was saying. She just—it was my mom.” Her throat burned and her nose tickled and the skin across her cheekbones felt too tight. “It was my mom. And she’s somebody else’s mom, too. And she’s like, what, two hundred years old? Why didn’t she tell me?” She was gritting her teeth, trying to hold back the sobs by sheer will. “Why did she die?”

“Copper poisoning, most like,” Gaelith said.

“What?” The surprise knocked Fen out of the ferocious cry that had been imminent and she blinked at Gaelith. “How would you know that?”

“The yellow in her eyes.” Gaelith gestured toward the spot where Fen’s mother had appeared. “It is one of the tell-tale signs. Did her liver fail?”

Fen nodded. “And she went—her brain—she was raving a lot at the end.”

Gaelith shifted a hand from her shoulder to her cheek. “Oh, child. I am so sorry. That must have been terrible for you.”