An Accident of Stars (41 page)

“Gwen!” shrieked Saffron. “Hurry!”

The portal spasmed, shrinking and billowing, a pulsating hoop.

Yasha blanched. “Gwen, you go. See it through.”

“The Shavaktiin will stay, too,” said Halaya, pulling back to Yasha's side. “The story moves regardless.”

Gwen opened her mouth to argue, but there wasn't time. Swallowing her fear, she approached the portal, all while looking straight at Saffron.

“You'll have to follow after me,” she said in English, doing her best to keep her voice steady. “Just make sure she comes through last, OK? Don't let her get through the portal ahead of you.”

Saffron nodded; there were tears in her eyes as Zech let out a sound that was half nails on chalkboard, half death rattle. Sucking in breath, Gwen turned back to the portal. It was vibrating now, almost painful to look at. She watched it undulate, shrinking and growing, waiting for the right opportunity.

Three. Two. One.

She jumped.

And found herself in the middle of a melee. All around her, Iviyat's honoured swords and the Vekshi priestesses were fighting back to back against twelve, no,
thirteen
of Leoden's guards, trying desperately to keep them away from the portal and their respective charges both. The hallway – they were in a hallway, she noted dimly – rang with shouts and the hissing clatter of blade on blade. Dodging the backswing of a nearby fighter, she dashed across to the far wall, where Viya, Pix and Trishka were arguing furiously. Pix was armed, a throwing knife in each hand, and as Gwen approached Trishka darted over to one of the fallen guards and claimed his sword.

“I thought there weren't meant to be guards here!” she yelled, straining to be heard over the din. “At this rate, the whole palace will know we're here in minutes!”

“Sheer bad luck!” Pix shot back. “A damned troop was going past when the portal opened. So far, they've no reinforcements, but if we don't move fast–”

A sound like a sonic boom cut her off, followed by a pulsing wave of energy that nearly knocked Gwen over. The palace floor shook, a sullen rumble purring through the stone, and everyone still upright either fell or staggered, swearing in their confusion.

“Zech!” Pix shouted, in the same breath that Trishka said, “It's gone!”

Even without looking, Gwen knew that something was wrong. A sick feeling clawed at the pit of her stomach.

She turned.

Saffron was on her knees, Zech cradled bonelessly in her arms. The Vekshi girl coughed wetly.

“Made it,” she croaked.

She spasmed and went limp.

I
was too slow
.

Oh. Help. Help me.

Zech?

Saffron was frozen. The world was a roaring void, full of cold noise and hard, bright surfaces that she could neither bring into focus nor identify. Zech was ash-pale, her scars so white and ridged, they looked like bone. She was barely breathing, the deadweight of her numbing Saffron's legs. Someone – Gwen – was asking her questions, full of
how, why, what,
and she answered them in English, mechanically, her voice sounding distant and strange.

“She just kept screaming. It was hurting her, the portal. I had to keep on holding her, or she would've run through and left me on the other side. I
had
to. So I grabbed her wrists, and I turned my back – I came through backwards, I mean, so that I could pull her after me – but as soon as she stepped through it, there was this moment where we were stuck between
there
and
here
, in this floating place that wasn't a place, and there was some
force
, some energy, that was trying to pull her away from me. And I looked at her, and she said something – I couldn't hear her, even though it was silent – and then we came through…” She stopped, the knot in her throat so hard and sharp, it was like she'd swallowed a diamond. “Will she be all right? What happened?”

“I don't know,” said Gwen, helplessly. “I hope so.”

A thump and clatter broke through Saffron's shock. For the first time, she noticed what was going on around them – or rather, what
had
been going on. The sound she'd heard was a guard's body falling to the floor, the last survivor of a brief and bloody battle. The hallway was a killing field: not only the palace guards, but several of Viya's honoured swords lay dead on the ground, their blood pooling on the hard stone. Saffron fought the urge to vomit.

“We can't stay here,” Gwen said, turning to the others. “Iviyat, which way?”

“It's–” Viya began, but Trishka cut her off.

“It's gone, Gwen,” she said, urgently. “Not the portal – the palace protections. Every scrap of magic that was defending this place vanished when Safi and Zech came through.”

“So?” said Pix. “What does that matter?”

“It
matters
,” Trishka snapped, “because every magic-user in the palace will know something's wrong, and doubtless a good many others within a nearby radius. Thorns and godshit,
I
felt it go, and I wasn't even connected to it! You don't just rip down a working that big without anyone noticing, let alone without consequences. Who knows what else was damaged? But more importantly,” and here she looked straight at Viya, “it means you have a choice. The original plan was for Kadeja to be returned to Veksh outside the palace; but if you wished it, your jahudemet-priestess, Jesha–” her gaze darted sideways, indicating the tallest of the red-robed women, who was busy wiping the blood from her staff-blade, “–could portal her straight there. But if you do that, you must admit to the Vekshi that the heart of Karavos lies bare and vulnerable. It would be expedient, to be sure, but even if Zech were in a position to speak for us, would you trust them not to invade?”

Viya opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Jesha already knows the protections are gone?”

“She'll know something's changed. It's possible she doesn't know what, but I doubt it.”

As if to underscore this point, the palace rumbled around them. Trishka swore, and Viya licked her lips.

“How long will it take to restore them?”

“A day. Maybe two, depending on what else is happening.”

“Enough!” hissed Pix. “Talk and move!
We can't stay here.
”

Not waiting for a reply, she marched over to the honoured swords and started issuing orders. Their leader still looked to Viya for confirmation, but at her nod, he saluted Pix and led his troop further into the palace – presumably, Saffron remembered, to take care of Vex Leoden. That left the yshra, none of whom spoke Kenan, a fact that Pix only remembered at the last minute: she strode over to Jesha, stopped, then turned on her heel and hurried back to the others.

“You,” she said to Saffron, her voice wavering only slightly as her gaze skated Zech's ashen face, “you tell them to come with us. You're the most fluent in Vekshi now.”

“But Zech–”

“–needs you to help us!” Her tone was harsh, but the look Pix shot her was fear and pity commingled. “Please. We need to go.”

“Here,” said Gwen. “I'll take her.”

Zech coughed again, sputtering back into consciousness. One eye rolled open, bloodshot and pleading. The veins stood out in her throat. “Go,” she rasped. “Got us here. Do the rest.”

Swallowing, Saffron eased her friend into Gwen's arms, flinching at Zech's pained whimpers. The girl wasn't burned or bleeding, and yet she was somehow broken. But when Gwen went to hoist her up, Zech shook her head.

“Can walk,” she said. “Can stand. Just… help.” And then, with a flash of her old imperiousness, she glared at Saffron, her words an echo of Yasha's. “Don't wait. Go!”

Not daring to disobey, Saffron nodded and hurried over to the remaining priestesses, all of whom were staring at Zech.

“What ails Zechalia a Kadeja?” Jesha asked.

Saffron swallowed. “The portal drained her. She'll be fine.”

Jesha touched her forehead reverently. “Ashasa's will be done.”

“That's all fine and fair, but we still have to hurry. We need to find the Vex'Mara.”

“Kadeja,” Jesha growled, and said alone, the name was a curse. “Her heresy is a blight upon the world. We are ready.”

V
iya was
tense as a bowstring as they hurried through the palace. Bad enough that they'd had the misfortune to run into some of Leoden's guards, but with the wards gone and the ground periodically shaking – and whether that was their fault or due to some other danger, she didn't dare speculate – they had even less time than planned to find Kadeja. And what of the soldiers she'd sent to barricade Leoden? For all she knew, they were dead already, her husband at large in the palace, and though their own brief battle hadn't drawn any extra attention thus far, that was due to geography more than luck. Kadeja had a sharp temper and keen ears, and not only the palace servants, but everyone from minor functionaries to senior courtiers had taken to avoiding her chambers, opting to walk the longer route through the upper gallery. Only the guards ever did otherwise, and then sparingly.

But if the Vex'Mara was in her chambers – and they'd gambled that she was – she'd surely heard the furore, and
that
meant she'd likely fled. Heart pounding, Viya tried to think where Kadeja would go. She hadn't passed them in this direction, which left two other options: east, towards the gardens, or north and down, into the palace heart. She didn't want to divide their meagre forces, but it might prove necessary. She suppressed a snort at the strangeness of her allies. Four fearsome yshra, a Vekshi exile, two meddling worldwalkers, a Kenan ex-courtier and whatever Zech was hardly made for a fearsome arsenal, but she'd use them as best she could.

Rounding a corner, Viya sighted the double doors of Kadeja's rooms and halted.

“There,” she said.

“I recognise it,” Safi said softly. “I think – that first time, in the dreamscape – I think we saw it.”

Viya looked to Zech for confirmation. The Vekshi girl was mottled and pale, staggering along with one arm looped around Gwen, who was practically carrying her, and yet she kept on stubbornly moving. Viya was still angry at Zech, only now she didn't know what to do with it. She choked on her outrage like gristle, the feeling gone cold and sour with guilt; she hadn't anticipated how much the portal would take from her, how dangerous it was. “Is she right?”

“She is.” Coughing, Zech disentangled herself from Gwen and straightened. “Let me go first.”

Viya stared at her. “You can barely stand. She's my marriage-mate; she's my responsibility.”

“She's
my
bloodmother,” Zech said flatly. “Or did you forget?”

Viya flushed; she had indeed forgotten, albeit briefly. And no matter how dearly she wanted to make Kadeja pay for every stripe of skin she'd ever taken out of her back – despite how angry she was – she couldn't deny Zech her right to a confrontation.

“Go, then,” she said.

Just for a moment, Zech hesitated. Her lips twitched, as though she had something else to say.

But she didn't. She walked silently on, a conquering queen, and flung open the doors.

And stopped, staring.

There stood Kadeja: barefoot, dressed simply in a Kenan gown of pale blue belted with silver. Her face was puffy and tear-streaked, her head so newly shaved that shorn wisps still clung to her neck and temple.

She was holding a knife to Luy's throat.

His veils were ripped, the tattered fabric fluttering against his chest and shoulders, leaving him barefaced and breathing hard. One arm was twisted savagely up behind his back, his free hand clutching Kadeja's corded forearm. Shivering, Zech recognised the knife as the same one which, an age ago, had severed Safi's fingers in the Square of Gods.

This is my bloodmother. This is the woman who bore me.

Beside her, Jesha stiffened in anger. “We can reach her–” she began, but Zech shook her head.

“He's an ally. I won't risk his life.”

Kadeja smiled as the priestesses lowered their staffs.

“Such obedient things you are,” she sneered in Kenan. “The yshra of Ashasa's Knives – let all Yevekshasa tremble before them, who obey a child!”

“Not a child,” said Zech. “A queen.”

Kadeja's gaze narrowed as she took in Zech's telltale scars, her mottled skin – then widened again in sudden recognition.

“The girl from the fountain,” she said, startled. “You claimed my omen.”

“She claimed
me
,” said Safi, stepping forwards. She held up her maimed hand, displaying her missing fingers, her tattoo clearly visible. “And in return, I stood proxy for her.”

A strange look crossed Kadeja's face. “A shasuyakesani child-queen, aided by a proxy?” she said. Her voice was oddly quiet, though her grip on Luy was no less fierce. “Ashasa's will is strange indeed.”

Something in Zech broke, some fragile hope she hadn't known was there until suddenly, brutally, it wasn't. “You truly don't know me, do you?” She laughed, the ugliness of it twisting her heart. “I don't know why I'm surprised. You must have hardly looked at me before you passed me on.”

“Who
are
you?” Kadeja hissed.

“Zechalia a Kadeja, a queen of Veksh and your unrightful child,” she said, trembling. “Let him go,
mother
. Ashasa wants you home.”

A piercing silence fell, broken only by the raggedness of Luy's breathing as the blade at his throat drew a few beads of blood. Kadeja stood still as a hunting cat. Slow and predatory, she flicked her gaze from Zech to Viya.

“And what say you, little marriage-mate? Does the Cuivexa of Kena stand alongside a queen of Veksh?”

Zech almost jumped when Viya replied; she'd all but forgotten the other girl was there.