Duskfall (19 page)

And even if the visions were somehow true, if the impossible was possible and Canta had chosen to manifest Herself… why would She appear to
Jane
, of all people? The girl who had put mud in the family stew as a joke, who dressed in a tattered sheet and leapt out at her siblings to scare them. And beneath that question lurked another.

Why not Cinzia?

Cinzia had devoted her life to the Goddess, done everything She had asked of her and more, and Canta chose to send visions to
her sister
? Was it a cruel jest? Cinzia had always thought of Canta as merciful and loving. Now she wasn’t so sure.

She wiped the last plate clean, and sighed deeply.

“Everything all right, my lady?” Kovac asked, drying his hands on a towel.

Cinzia looked over her shoulder. Her family had retired to the drawing room. “I do not know how to help them, Kovac,” she said. She was convinced this was a test, an opportunity to prove her worth. But, if so, it was a test she was failing. “They will not see reason. They—”

A large crash echoed from downstairs, in the woodshop.

Kovac glanced at her. “Wait here,” he said.

Eward was already standing in the doorway to the woodshop as Cinzia followed Kovac down the stairs.

“It’s all right,” Eward said. “Whoever it was has gone.”

She felt a rush of affection; Eward had run towards danger, not away. Kovac glared at her but Cinzia shrugged; he could not have expected her to wait upstairs. They walked into the shop, her father behind them. She was about to ask what had happened when she saw the large glass window of the shop, or what was left of it. A few shards of glass still protruded from the frame.

A large stone lay on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass. Someone had painted a Trinacrya on its surface.

“What happened?” Pascia rushed into the room, Jane behind her. “Is everyone all right? Is anyone hurt?”

“Everyone is fine,” Ehram said, picking up the stone. “It was just a warning.”

Cinzia saw Kovac raise an eyebrow. She looked at her father. “Just a warning, Father? As opposed to what?”

Ehram sighed, and a look passed between him and her mother. Pascia stepped forward, taking Cinzia’s hand.

“Cinzia, sweetheart… as word of Jane’s visions has spread, the people of Navone have not been as kind to us as they once were.”

“What do you mean?” Cinzia asked. She wished she could sit down. She had assumed—hoped—that no one in the city knew what her family was doing.

“Someone please answer me,” Cinzia said.
How can they expect me to help them when they don’t tell me anything?

“It started with my woodworking,” Ehram finally said. “At first we didn’t understand why customers that had come to us for years were suddenly avoiding the shop. Then one of them let slip that rumors were spreading. Rumors of Jane, and visions, and daemons.”

“Ehram,” Cinzia’s mother said cautiously, but her father kept going.

“They told us it was not good to be seen doing business with anyone of questionable beliefs.”

“As if we had not shown them our devotion through the decades,” her mother added with more than a hint of bitterness.

“Things got worse,” Ehram continued. “The children rarely go out now, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. There have been a few incidents…”

“Sammel’s face?” Cinzia asked, suddenly understanding. She had noticed bruises. Faded, probably weeks old, but there nonetheless. He was just a
boy
, for Canta’s sake.

Ehram glanced at Kovac. “This isn’t the first warning we’ve received. People aren’t just ignoring us anymore. Since word of the Crucible, they’ve become more aggressive.”

Cinzia gripped the grainy wood of the workbench closest to her. Her gaze shifted to Jane, standing there, calm as ever.

The heavy feeling within Cinzia ignited, became a passionate fire.

“How could you,” she whispered, staring at Jane. “How could you bring this down on our family?” Her voice was rising, but Cinzia did not care. “How could you do this to them?”

Ehram began to speak, but Jane interrupted him.

“I can speak for myself, Father. Cinzia needs to hear it from me.” Jane returned Cinzia’s gaze, her eyes peaceful. “You know so much about Canta and Her doctrine. You know about faith, and trust, and sacrifice. You know that Her plan is greater than we can fathom.”

Of course Cinzia knew. But what did it matter if Jane led their family down a path that could only end in tragedy?

“Believe all of that, Cinzia. It is as true now as it has ever been. Our family… they believe it, too. They know that the work I—we—have been chosen for is important, and it is real. Bigger than any one of us, even our entire family.”

Cinzia’s rage boiled over. “How can you dilute Canta’s doctrine like that and still call yourself Her servant? And to endanger our
family
?”

“Silence.” Her father’s voice cut into Cinzia like it had when she was a little girl. “I know you are confused, Cinzia. But Jane is right. We understand the scope of what is happening. That makes us fanatics, zealots, even heretics, but it is true. And now, we must do what is best for our family, and for the work.” He looked at Jane.

“No, Father,” Jane said. “Not yet. I know we have made plans, I know the lengths we have gone to ensure our family would be safe… but they do not matter now.”

Ehram paled. “They do not matter? Why? For Canta’s sake, what’s happened? Is the Crucible here already?”

“No. In two days, maybe three, with a full company of the Sons of Canta and her own Goddessguard. But not yet.”

Cinzia wondered how in the Sfaera Jane could know that, but she was too dumbstruck, too awed at the ridiculousness and tragedy of what was happening to voice the question.

“What is it, Jane?” her mother asked. “Why can we not go through with our plans?”

Jane straightened. “Canta wills us to stay. I have had another vision.” She glanced at Cinzia, but quickly looked away. “Canta Herself spoke to me and…” She stopped, looking up at the ceiling, as if imploring for help. “We have to stay in Navone, and await the Crucible. That is Canta’s will. That is what She would have us do.”

Cinzia saw it in their eyes. Fear was blatant on her mother’s face, Ehram was ghost-like, Eward frowned; but Cinzia saw something more in their eyes.

They would do as Jane said. They would stay. And there was nothing Cinzia could do to change their minds.

W
INTER HARDLY RECOGNIZED HERSELF
as she looked into the mirror Kali had given her—a mirror worth more than all the wealth she could ever possess in Pranna. They had stopped for the night in a town called Brynne; Kali had rented the room at an inn called Canta’s Jewel. The sun had already set outside, and candles illuminated the chamber.

The bed Winter sat on was one of the most ornate and expensive things she had ever seen in her life. The quilt was thick and downy, the sheets rose-petal soft, of a material Winter had never seen before. Four ornate carved posts jutted up from each corner. Sheer curtains hung around the bed, parted and tied to the posts. Kali obviously enjoyed a certain level of comfort, and Winter couldn’t say she objected. Persecution had all but disappeared since joining Kali and Nash, now replaced with indifference.

The speed with which Winter grew accustomed to such things frightened her. Kali’s silvery mirror no longer filled her with awe. It was just a tool, now. Wide black eyes stared back at her from the mirror. Eyes more tired than she remembered, dark lines forming underneath. Her hair was the same, long and black and straight. Skin pale as ever.

Of course, her new clothes made a difference. Winter had asked whether the odd clothing Kali wore caused her problems, and Kali had only laughed. Kali must have deduced that Winter’s interest in her apparel was more than passing—or simply read her mind; Winter still wasn’t sure of the extent of Kali’s abilities—because the next morning Winter had found on her bed a new black leather outfit almost identical to Kali’s. Winter had only just now worked up the courage to try the clothes on. She raised one hand tentatively to her neck, letting her fingers brush lightly against the bare skin. The shirt she wore had a tiny collar, but a deep neckline left little to the imagination. She still wore her mother’s necklace. It did not seem right to go without it—she needed something from her home.

A part of her felt guilt for wearing such clothing, but another part reveled in it.
If Gord could see me now
, Winter thought.
Or Lian’s parents.
Which would be worse? Or more entertaining, for that matter. Tiellans had always been a bit too priggish in her opinion.

But, as Winter gazed at herself in the mirror, she knew it was more than the clothing. She felt as if she were looking at another person entirely.

“You look different.”

Winter looked up, setting the mirror down on the bed. Lian stood in the doorway. Quickly, she looped her
siara
around her neck and shoulders, covering up the necklace and her bare skin. She wondered how curious she must look, how the
siara
must contrast with the fitted leather.

“Used to smile a lot more, that’s for sure.”

Winter felt her cheeks flush. To have someone see her like this, to have
Lian
see her like this, of all people…
No. If Kali can wear it and not care what people think, I can, too.
She sat up straight.

“Used to talk a lot more, too,” Lian said.

“Sorry,” Winter said. She smiled, though her hands fidgeted on her lap. She picked up the mirror just to still them.

“I’m sorry, too,” Lian said. His frame nearly filled the doorway. He’d gained muscle in the past few years working on her father’s boat. “Can I come in?”

Winter nodded. She and Lian had hardly found time to talk alone. Travel with Nash, Kali, and Elsi was quick and efficient, and free time scarce.

Lian closed the door quietly behind him and moved to a carved chair across from where Winter sat on the bed. Lian was staying in a room with Nash, while Kali and Elsi shared another. Winter had argued that she didn’t need a room of her own, but Kali had insisted. It wasn’t proper for a young woman—even a tiellan, Kali had said, which had made Winter frown—to share her room with anyone.

She and Lian sat in silence for a moment. Winter clenched the mirror, watching Lian watch her. Anxiety spun within her.

“How’re you doing?” Lian finally asked.

Winter maintained her smile. Lian was right; smiling didn’t come as easily to her as it once had. “Well enough,” she said. “We’re covering a lot of ground. Kali says that at this rate we’ll arrive in Roden in less than a month. We might catch up to Knot before that.”

“I know all that,” Lian said, waving his hand. “Don’t mess around. How are
you
doing?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Overwhelmed, but I’ll be all right.”

“What do you expect to come of all this?” Lian lowered his voice. “If we find Knot, how’re you going to deal with them?” He nodded towards the room Kali and Elsi shared next door. “They want Knot, or Lathe, whoever he is, just as bad as you. Probably more. Don’t know if there’s much we can do about it.”

Winter shrugged. “We’ll do what we have to.” She tried to sound like she meant it, but the truth was, she had run the same question over and over through her own mind.

“For Canta’s sake, is that really your plan? ‘We’ll do what we have to?’”

“Don’t say that name around me.”

Lian just stared at her. Winter didn’t care. What did Lian expect from her? This was her path. She had chosen it. She wished he could accept that.

Lian sighed, and then came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. She was suddenly very conscious of his proximity.

“Winter,” Lian said, then he hesitated. Winter shifted uncomfortably. It was odd. He wasn’t touching her. But she felt… she was beginning to feel the way she had felt in the alley, in Cineste. The cold stone behind her. The man’s warm, stinking body pressing against her.

Winter shut her eyes. She had to stop thinking about that night. The images kept creeping into her head, and every time they did, she felt worse. She tried to think of something else, anything. Her father. Knot.

Faltira
.

She had taken frost three times since her testing. Each day Nash had worked with her. Each time had been more incredible. The way it made her feel was like nothing Winter had ever imagined. It made her feel like the person she had always wanted to be.

“Winter,” Lian began again, “you know I’ve loved you since we were little. I’ve loved you… I’ve loved you in more ways than one, I guess.” He was blushing.

“You’re changing,” he said. “This drug, what it’s doing to you… you’re different.
We’re
different.”

“I’m married now. Ever think that might be why you’re feeling different?” Winter blinked. She didn’t know where that gibe had come from.

If Lian was offended, he didn’t show it. “These clothes, this life,
faltira
—this ain’t who you are.”

“What do you know about who I am?” Winter asked. Why was she being so rude? She felt angry with him, vindictive, and she didn’t know why.

Lian only watched her, patiently.

“I’m sorry,” Winter said, and she meant it. “You’re my best friend, but you have to understand that what I’m doing, I’m doing for all of us. If I can become like Nash, if I can hone this skill…” She met his eyes, now, despite every desire telling her to look away. “I won’t be helpless anymore. You won’t have to worry about me, try to protect me. You won’t have to put yourself at risk. Nor will Knot.”

Winter did not tell him the other reason she felt drawn to
faltira
. How could she tell Lian that she had never truly felt connected with him? Or with anyone in Pranna, for that matter—besides her father. How could Lian possibly understand that?

“That’s never
mattered
. People worry about you because they love you, Winter. That’s why I’m here. That’s what friends do, we protect each other.”

“And it’s my turn,” she said. She could tell he didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter.