An Accident of Stars (37 page)

An unexpected lump rose in Zech's throat. “I promise,” she managed. Jeiden nodded, evidently satisfied, and then, in the space of two seconds, appeared to realise that not only had he been hugging her, but that he'd leapt on the bed to do so. Colouring prettily, he scuttled backwards along the blankets and stumbled to his feet, scratching pointedly at his neck while hiding his face in his elbow. Matu entered more sedately, ignoring the chair in favour of resting on his haunches by the bedside. A quiet smile lit his face, and though he restricted his display of affection to briefly squeezing her hand, the effect was somehow more touching than if he'd gathered her up in his arms.

“If you're going to tell me how stupid I was, get it over with,” Zech said, forcing a smile so fragile that it trembled at the corners. Until that moment, she hadn't known how frightened she was that Matu would disapprove of what she'd done.

“You weren't stupid,” he replied softly. “What you did was extraordinary. I have no wish to demean or diminish you for it, and as frightened as I was of losing you, I'm a hundred – no, a thousand times more impressed with you for having succeeded. But…”

He paused, and Zech's heart froze in her chest.

“You risked Safi's life instead of yours. That wasn't fair, Zechalia, and it wasn't right. She had no idea what you were getting her into; not that you did either, but that hardly makes it acceptable, does it?”

Don't cry,
Zech told herself.
Whatever you do, don't cry.

“I didn't have a choice,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “We'd been meeting in the dreamscape – I'd explained everything, she
agreed
– but she didn't remember in waking, and then there wasn't any time. I had to act quickly–”

“But you didn't.” Matu's eyes were sad. “If the queens had turned us away, even if they'd imprisoned us, we would have found another way. Thanks to the portal, we arrived in Yevekshasa days ahead of schedule; we still had time for Yasha to reach out to her old contacts, for Kikra and the Shavaktiin to speak with Pix; we had time to make plans, Zech. Different plans. Safer plans. You chose this.” His voice was so gentle, and yet his words cut deep. “
You chose this.
And maybe one day, you'll tell me why. But until then…” He shook his head and laughed. “Listen to me. There's no right way to do this, so I'm doing it all wrong.”

“A right way to do what?” Zech asked, proud that her voice didn't tremble.

“A right way to say you did something dangerous. You risked someone else's life in service of your plans, and you should feel the weight of that choice, so that you understand exactly what it meant – what it still means. But even so, Safi might have refused you; she didn't. You might have backed down; you didn't. She might have died, and you might have failed.
But you didn't.
And together, what you've done is extraordinary. I don't know what's going to happen next, what this means for you or any of us. But I'm proud, Zech. I'm proud of you. And I'm glad beyond the telling of it that you lived.”

And with that, he lent forward and dropped a kiss on her forehead, the way a fond older brother might.

He and Jeiden stayed for a little while after that, talking of inconsequential things, or trying to; there wasn't much to be said just then that didn't have some sort of ulterior meaning, and eventually their collective attempt to pretend otherwise faltered. Though Jeiden clearly wanted to stay longer, Matu recognised Zech's exhaustion and gently led his other charge away, leaving her in silence.

And so she sat, waiting for the fourth and final knock that stubbornly refused to come. There were many sacred fours in Ashasa's lore, but the one currently foremost in Zechalia's thoughts was the four of elements, all of which she and Safi had faced as part of the Trial of Queens. First had been water, that numbing plunge into the unknown; second was stone, exemplified both by the heart of the mesa itself and the crystal-knife they'd pulled from it; third was darkness, the long nightmare of the lightless tunnel; and fourth and last had been fire, the bloody scion-battle. She shivered at the memory, her new scars tingling sharply as though raked by ghostly claws, and she wondered, as she had wondered several times since waking, how she would ever find the strength to sleep again, and whether it could possibly be without nightmares if she did.

The silence was oppressive, weighing on her like walls of rock. Unbidden, an old Vekshi childsong sprang to mind, a tune she'd not heard since Sashi and Yena were younger than she was now. They used to sing it while playing catch-as-catch-can in the compound yard. Recalling them both, Zech whispered it under her breath:

“
O
ne for silence
, two for strength;

three for grief and four for wrath,

five for sound and six for weakness,

seven for joy and eight for peace;

hold you close and hold you under

only fire brings release.”

S
he finished
and looked to the door again, half-convinced her recitation would summon the final knock. But the room remained stubbornly silent, and all Zech had the strength to do was lie back and stare at the ceiling, waiting for a solution that refused to come.

There was a knock.

Blinking slowly, Zech sat up. “Come in?”

The door opened, revealing Safi, Yena, Halaya and a yellow-robed Shavaktiin whose name, she dimly remembered, was Kikra.Her heart began to pound.
Ashasa heard me
. “Yes? What is it?”

“We're needed in the dreamscape,” Safi said.

“
H
ow do
you know I'll remember this in waking?” Viya asked nervously.

“Walking unguided in the dreamscape is one thing,” Oyako said, her voice as soothing as a cold cloth laid on fevered skin. “But entering with the direct aid of a skilled dreamseer is quite another.” Pulling a chair up to the bedside, she sat down and gently took Viya's hand. “Close your eyes and count backwards from twenty.”

“Out loud or in my head?”

“It doesn't matter, so long as you space the numbers between breaths.”

Until that moment, Viya had forgotten the young acolyte of Teket's Kin who'd mended her childhood scrapes. Not every healer asked their patients to count, but theirs always had – it helped to distract her patients, she said – and doing so now made Viya feel as safe and comforted as if she were once more five years old, snug beneath her three-coloured quilt while winter rain drummed on the roof. Her grip on Oyako's hand relaxed as her breathing slowly deepened.

Three. Two. One.

She opened her eyes in the dreamscape.

Beneath a dome of silver-streaked night, she and Oyako stood amidst an endless stretch of soft black grass, its long stems shifting and whispering in the breath of some unfelt breeze. The grass grew from the vast dark of an underfoot sky: instead of flowers, the velvet field was dotted with the pinprick lights of stars. They ought to have fallen through, tumbling forever into that impossible firmament, but the ground felt real enough beneath her bare feet, as springy and soft as moss, and when Oyako led her forward, she didn't stumble.

“Is this… Does it always look like this?” she whispered, awed. The place was so beautiful, it almost felt worthy of Ke and Na themselves.

Oyako looked at her strangely. “You didn't dream this on purpose?”

“Me?” Viya blinked. “You mean this isn't yours?”

“My dreamscape is all frozen waterfalls and red snow,” said Oyako. “I've never seen any of this before. You've brought it with you. This
is
you.”

For a moment, they both just stared. The silver lights overhead changed colour, flickering through shades of gold, red, blue and green, like the streaky tails of comets. Then, with an audible exhalation, Oyako shook her head.

“Come on. We need to find the others.”

“How?”

By way of answer, Oyako reached down and plucked the nearest star-flower from the grass. It glimmered brightly, hovering just above the surface of her palm, before she enclosed it in her fist. When she opened her hand again, the star was gone, replaced by a small white bird.“Find Kikra,” she told it, and the bird shot off, leaving a trail of tiny white feather-stars floating in its wake. Delightedly, Viya touched one; it popped against her fingers like a soap-bubble.

“Do we follow?” she asked.

“We do,” said Oyako. “Better not to keep the others waiting.”

The feather-stars led them to a gentle slope above a curving valley. Four figures stood below them: Safi, Zech, and the Shavaktiin dreamseers, Kikra and Luy. Like Oyako, the men wore no veils, their bare faces unfamiliar, yet even from a distance, Viya felt absurdly certain that the taller, darker man, with his row-braided hair and subtle smile, was Luy. As they came closer, the mirrored scars on Zech and Safi's faces drew her attention. Without quite meaning to, she broke away from Oyako and ran to them, stumbling down the slope, and when they ran to meet her too, it felt entirely natural. Zech and Safi opened their arms, and with the perfect logic of dreams, they wrapped each other in a tight, three-way hug, inhaling together, scars touching scars, before pulling away again.

There was a silence, neither awkward nor exactly comfortable; it fitted them like a shirt they were yet to grow into. Viya smiled at Safi, raised a brow at Zech.

“I hear we are queens together, of a sort.”

Zech grimaced. Her grey hair was streaked with white around her scars, which were themselves particoloured against her calico skin. Once, Viya would have found the combination perturbing; now, it arrested her. “You could say that.”

“I helped,” said Safi wryly. “They gave me a tattoo.”

“I've allied with Amenet,” Viya said, seeing no reason to dissemble. “We'll rule together, Vexa i Vexa.”

“How very… Vekshi,” said Zech. Her tone was innocent enough, but a certain sly gleam in her eyes betrayed her awareness of the pun. “We're due to meet the Council soon. But I'm not sure what to say to them. What I've done… What we've done–” she glanced at Safi, who straightened, “–has thrown things into turmoil. I have no allies, no power, and nothing to bargain with.”

“What about Yasha?” Safi asked.

“She wants to make me her proxy,” Zech replied, with unexpected bitterness. “A tool for her pride, her ambitions. Which is fair, really. After all, it's what I did to you.”

Gently, Safi laid a hand on the other girl's shoulder. “You didn't force me to do anything, Zech. I wanted to help.”

“But you didn't understand what it meant! Not really.”

“Neither did you, and what's done is done,” said Safi firmly. “And anyway, this isn't the place. We shouldn't waste time.”

“You're right,” Zech said, and turned to Viya. “How stand your forces?”

“As ready as they can be,” she replied, “though truly, it's not me they follow. They obey Rixevet and cleave to Amenet – I haven't even addressed them. But my name still has weight, as does the confusion surrounding my disappearance. Leoden's mistreatment of me, I'm told, has become a rallying point; dissenters have been moving their forces north, to Avekou and the surrounding territories. In open battle, my husband would still overwhelm us, but that's the whole point of striking at him through Kadeja, is it not? To avoid open battle. You say you've little power, Zech, but setting Ashasa's Knives on the Vex'Mara – have you sway enough to achieve that much?”

“Possibly,” said Zech, after a moment. “The Knives are strong at the moment – too strong, Yasha says, and I agree with her. Maybe we can use it to our advantage, maybe not. But either way…” she faltered, looking Viya straight in the eye. “Either way, I don't want Vekshi forces inside Kena. Not if I can help it. Yasha wants me to make our aid a toehold in your government; she wants court positions and trade concessions and a dozen other things, but she forgets I was raised in Kena, that my love of Karavos exceeds her own; she doesn't imagine I pray to Ashasa and Sahu together. I might be a queen of Veksh, but if she knew my heart…”

“What do you want then?” asked Viya. Her head was spinning. “That day in the Square of Gods, you pulled me from the mob and took me to Yasha. I thought your allegiance was to her above all else. Yet here you are, betraying her.”

“To your advantage,” Zech said sharply.

“So you say. I find it hard to believe.” But though she spoke the words, it didn't feel true, and from the look on Zech's face, it was plain the other girl knew she knew it too. There was just something about the dreamscape that made lying harder – even (or perhaps especially) to herself.

“I want stability,” said Zech softly. “Stability and peace. Leoden's coup fractured Kena at a time of strength, and that's bad for everyone. Kadeja claims her version of Ashasa, the goddess-as-all-gods, is meant to bring unity, but unity is what we lost when she and Leoden came to power. If she only wanted people to choose for themselves, that would be one thing, but instead she's pushing her change by force, like… like pulling out people's hearts and telling them to bleed a different colour.”

“Decapitate a snake, and the body dies,” Safi said suddenly.

Zech and Viya both stared at her. “What?”

Safi blinked. “It's a saying where I'm from. I just mean that armies aren't the problem here, not really: it's Leoden and Kadeja. Take them away, and everything else falls into place. If your forces aren't strong enough to fight theirs, and if Zech doesn't want to put Vekshi troops in Kena, then don't. Go straight to the source.”

“You make it sound easy, worldwalker,” said Viya. “The palace is guarded by protective magic, the doors and gates by thousands of soldiers and arakoi. How?”

Safi opened her mouth. Closed it again. A strange look came over her face.

“Magic is new to me,” she said slowly. “I mean, until I came to Kena, I never even knew it existed. But I've been around a lot of it the past few weeks, and I think I'm starting to get a feel for how it works. There are limitations, sure, but the rules aren't fixed; they can bend, if you work it properly. That's what Matu thinks anyway, and I believe him. And if that's right, then maybe… maybe I have an idea.”

“Go on,” said Viya and Zech together.

And Safi did just that.

Viya listened quietly, a growing hope in her chest. What Safi proposed wasn't like anything she'd heard of before, not even in a moon-tale, but perhaps that was the point: that only a worldwalker – someone who hadn't been raised on temple-lore, on the many crucial differences between ilumet and jahudemet, sevikmet and maramet – could dream up something so radical. It ought to have been impossible, but when she probed the logic of it, testing for flaws, to her utter astonishment, she found none. Not that it wasn't risky, of course – there was a real chance, if things went wrong, that the whole thing would backfire spectacularly.
And yet…

“It could work,” she said, glancing at Zech. “For my part, it could definitely work. But what about yours? You still need something to trade, some leverage with the Council.”

Zech chewed her lip, clearly frustrated. “I know! But there's really only one thing they want from me, and that's…” She broke off, eyes widening. “The look on Yasha's
face
,” she whispered. “Oh, I have leverage, all right. It'll work.”

“We're agreed then,” said Viya. “Ke and Na willing, there'll be no mishaps, but if there are, send word through the Shavaktiin.”

While they'd been speaking, Oyako, Luy and Kikra had encircled them, standing far enough away to give them privacy (or the illusion of it, Viya noted sharply; after all, this wasn't a real space, which meant the usual rules of eavesdropping didn't apply) but close enough now to make their presence felt.

“All right,” said Zech, grinning wickedly. “Safi? Does that suit you?”

“Why wouldn't it? Besides, you're the queens – well, queen and Vexa. I'm just a spare.”

Viya looked at her. “That's a strange way of putting it. What makes you say so?”

Safi shrugged, visibly discomforted for the first time in the entire conversation. “I just… I was never meant to be here, that's all. In this world. It was an accident, and now… if everything goes to plan, I'll go back home again.”

“And why should that be relevant? You still matter; your actions still matter. How and why you came here isn't the same as how and why you'll leave – it's what you do in the middle that's important.”

“I suppose it is,” said Safi slowly. “My thanks, Iviyat.”

“Don't thank me,” said Viya, loftily. “
I
had nothing to do with it.”Not waiting for an answer, she exchanged a courteous bow with Zech, then turned away to Oyako, who was smiling.

“I take it that was productive?” the dreamseer asked, not quite innocently.

Viya lifted her chin. “I take it that's a rhetorical question, as you doubtless overheard everything?”

“Something like that.” Oyako hesitated. “It's very beautiful here. We could stay awhile. We don't have to go straight back to the waking world.”

It was a tempting offer, so much so that Viya almost accepted it without question.
Frozen waterfalls and red snow,
the Shavaktiin had said. But she had sworn herself to Amenet, just as wholly – and perhaps unexpectedly – as Pix had pledged to her, and if Safi's plan were to have any chance of working, then they'd need to begin preparations as soon as possible.

“No,” she said, regretfully. “Another time, maybe. When Leoden is gone, and Amenet and I have come into our power.”

“Another time, then,” said Oyako, and each of them smiled as if it wasn't a lie.

W
aking from the dreamscape
, the first thing Saffron saw was Kikra's yellow robe, some subtle draft making the hem flutter like a butterfly's wing. As her gaze panned slowly upwards, she experienced a moment of disorientation: only moments earlier, she'd seen the dreamseer barefaced, and it was jarring to find that his quiet smile was once more obscured behind a latticed veil.

“Thank you,” she said, awkwardly.

He bowed his head. “My pleasure.”

On the other side of the bed, Zech groaned, her pale eyes fixed on Saffron.

“We're here again,” she said. “And you know what? I am
hungry
.”

As soon as she said it, Saffron's stomach growled. “Me too.” She turned to Halaya and Yena, the room's only other occupants, both of whom had brought in chairs from elsewhere. “How long were we out?”

“Hours,” Halaya said. “It's after dark now.”

“If you like, I can get you some dinner,” Yena offered. “Well, a late dinner.”

“That would be–” she wanted to say
awesome
, but the idiom didn't quite translate into Kenan, “–very much appreciated. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” said Yena, rising. Her expression turned sly. “You always look so sweet when you're sleeping.”

Saffron went bright red.

“Has anything happened?” Zech asked Halaya, as Yena slipped out the door.“Nothing important,” Halaya replied. “Or nothing we know about, anyway. The fact that we've been allowed out of our rooms is a positive sign, but anyone who's tried to go much further than the courtyard has been politely but firmly encouraged to turn back. The last I saw of her, Yasha was bribing the younger acolytes to take messages through to the queens, evidently with some success – she's had a few visitors, hooded and cloaked, of whom the guards asked no questions.” She hesitated. “Zechalia, you also had visitors while you slept, though of course we had to turn them away – Mesthani a Vekte and Cehala a Dahun.”