Duskfall (45 page)

“I suppose you’ll want me to do the other one too?” Cinzia smiled, more genuinely this time. When they were girls, Jane could never get massaged on just one side of her body. She needed symmetry.

“You remember that?” Jane asked, lifting her other foot.

Cinzia removed Jane’s boot. “Just because I was gone for seven years does not mean I’ve forgotten who you are.”

Jane smiled, but before she could respond, Knot approached them.

“How are you both?” Knot asked. He asked them often, which impressed her despite the deadness in his eyes.

“A bit sore, but we could be worse,” Cinzia said.

“Past few days have been hard. Can’t promise the next few’ll be any easier.”

Cinzia shrugged. “We chose to accompany you.” She glanced at Jane, who nodded. “We shall stay with you for a while, yet. At least until we reach the capital.”

Knot’s lips pursed. He looked tired.
I should feel that exhausted
, Cinzia thought to herself, looking at Knot’s slumped shoulders, the circles beneath his eyes. Of course, Knot had fallen into a freezing river the day before, and that was bound to have some effect.

“Very well.” Knot glanced at Jane. “As far as what we talked about earlier…?”

Jane nodded. “Yes, if you are still willing to accommodate us. Yes.”

Cinzia raised an eyebrow. She had no idea what the two were talking about.

“I’ll set up the canvas, then. You won’t have complete privacy, but it should give you some security while still allowing warmth from the fire.”

“Thank you,” Jane said, smiling up at him. Knot walked away.

“What was that about?” Cinzia whispered. She finished massaging Jane’s other foot, and Jane put on her boots.

“Translation,” Jane said. “Just because we are in the wilderness does not mean we can take a break. We are already one night behind.”

“That’s why you asked Knot to set up the cover,” Cinzia said.

Jane nodded. “He said he would tell the others to respect our privacy. I think they will, Cinzia. These are good people.”

Cinzia frowned. She actually agreed on that point, with one exception.

“And the vampire?” she whispered.

Jane shook her head. “She is just a child.”

“She is a
daemon
, Jane. What greater threat could there be?” A part of Cinzia wanted to believe Jane. Astrid seemed to have good intentions, but that did not change the girl’s nature. At some point, the daemon would emerge.

“I am not sure the Sfaera is as black and white as you think. Evil and good are not one-time choices. We must choose them every day, every minute, and we all make choices that fall on both sides of the spectrum.”

Jane’s words had merit. The Cantic Denomination taught a strict dichotomy between good and evil, but the world Cinzia knew was not so exact. Her father had rarely attended chapel, but he was still a good man. On the contrary, many of the people who frequented Cinzia’s services in Triah were some of the most despicable she knew. They attended the services, but learned nothing.

Jane was right. The world
was
full of contradictions. But Cinzia could not concede; any give on her end might make Jane think she believed in Jane’s visions.

“Let’s get to work, then,” Cinzia said, “so we can get some translation in before we sleep.”

* * *

“Wait—what was that last part?”

Cinzia looked down at the Codex. “‘And it shall come to pass in those days that a great nation shall rise, greater than any that hath heretofore been seen.’” She looked at Jane. “That part?”

“Yes. Were there any symbols in that section?”

Cinzia nodded, looking back. They had kept track of the untranslatable characters, but she was beginning to suspect Jane was right. They were never mentioned in the text, and Cinzia had not discerned any meaning from them.

She described them to her sister, anyway. There was no reason not to. If they turned out to mean nothing, then they meant nothing.

“Go on,” Jane said, once she had finished recording the symbols. They sat in the makeshift tent Knot had made for them, Cinzia cross-legged by the entrance farthest from the fire, a blanket wrapped around her. The Nine Scriptures lay in front of her. Jane sat on a large rock, her back to the fire, a candle lit at her side, manuscript paper and a pen and ink on her lap.

“‘And that great nation,’” Cinzia read,

shall be named after the constant star, whose light shines the brightest during all seasons, during all years, during all lifetimes. Her government shall rest upon the shoulders of many, and her religion upon the shoulders of few. At her heart shall be the learned, and their secret unions, and combinations, and societies. From the learned shall issue forth many murders, even unto the whole Sfaera.

There shall be great suffering, though they know it not.

There shall be great strife, though they see it not.

There shall be discord, and prejudice, and violence against all of Canta’s children, yet her children will not suspect.

And there shall be secret wars, and whispers of wars, until that day when the small nation shall rise up against the great.

Beware that day, when the serpent rises up against the eagle.

Beware that day, when other denominations rise up against the mother.

Beware that day, when murders abound, and the slaves fear for their lives, and the Queen of Chaos rises up against the Sfaera.

For in that day shall the Daemons rise again. In that day shall the Nine return, seeking their vengeance. In that day shall the Goddess die, and her children shall weep and mourn her passing. And there shall be no comfort.

Cinzia wrapped the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. The letters shifted and blurred beneath her eyes.

“That last part…” Jane whispered. “You must have it wrong.”

Cinzia willed her eyes to focus. She had read it correctly. She had yet to miss a phrase or a word. But she read it again anyway.

“‘In that day shall the Goddess die, and her children shall weep and mourn her passing.’” Her voice was hoarse from reading. “‘And there shall be no comfort.’”

“Are you sure?” Jane whispered.

Cinzia nodded. The words only now had begun to sink in.

“Canta’s Fane,” Jane repeated. “Canta’s Holy Fane. It can’t be true. It must mean something else, the prophecy must be twisted, a code of some sort. Where are the symbols in this passage?”

Cinzia shook her head. “There are none.”

Cinzia stared at the page, the strange letters shifting and merging. Certainly no symbols. But a code…

Perhaps
…

She flipped back a few pages. The strange metallic sheets were not flimsy, but they did not quite seem solid, either. Concentrating on the dizzying letters, she realized it might be easier to look through the dictation instead.

They had translated two of the Disciples’ books—Elessa and Baetrissa—so far, and were now working on the book of Arcana, which was easily the most confusing. The Codex seemed to follow a fairly straightforward structure. Ten “books” in all, the first nine written by each of Canta’s Nine Disciples: Elessa, Baetrissa, Arcana, Cinzia, Danica, Lucia, Ocrestia, Sirana, and Valeria. The last book seemed to have been written by the mysterious Elwene who had put the book together.

Elessa and Baetrissa reviewed histories and stories Cinzia already knew, from the Creation of the Sfaera down to Soren’s Folly and the Khalic Novennium. The book of Arcana, however, was baffling. Neither Cinzia nor Jane recognized a single story.

And now they’d come upon this passage.

Cinzia set the Codex aside. “Look back at your dictation,” she told Jane. “Go over the part we just read, about the great nation.” They needed to get to the bottom of this whole Goddess-dying business.

Jane shuffled through her notes. “‘And it shall come to pass in those days, that a great nation shall rise, greater than hath heretofore been seen.’”

“That has got to be Khale,” Cinzia said. “No greater nation on the Sfaera, at least not now. What did it say about the government?”

“‘Her government upon the shoulders of many, her religion on the shoulders of few.’”

“Definitely sounds like Khale.” Cinzia felt a thrill.

“Yes,” Jane said, “this is the very definition of our republic. And the religion ruled by the few… there are nine seats on the High Camarilla?”

Cinzia nodded. “And the Camarilla is overseen by the Triunity, which has only three.”

It seemed obvious that the book was referring to Khale. And not just Khale in general, but as the nation was
now
—quite specifically.

“Go on,” Cinzia urged.

“At her heart shall be the learned, and their secret unions and combinations, and societies. From the learned shall issue forth many murders, even unto the whole Sfaera.”

Jane looked up. “Murders?” she said. “Who are the learned?”

Cinzia nodded, tapping her index finger to her lips. “The learned must be the Citadel—they are famous for educating those in power, even in other countries, and for their scholarship. They are at the very heart of Triah, too. The murders, though… I do not know. All this about secret unions and societies makes even less sense. The Citadel is not secret.”

“The Citadel isn’t, but the Nazaniin are.”

Cinzia paused. Winter’s voice had come from outside the tent. Had she been listening the entire time?

Cinzia and Jane exchanged shrugs. The more information available, the better. Jane only cared about who
saw
the Nine Scriptures, not who heard them.

“The Nazaniin are real?” Cinzia asked loudly through the canvas. Cinzia had thought the Nazaniin were a cautionary tale told to children, until she’d met Winter and Knot. She had heard them mention the word a few times, but had not felt she could ask about it.

She leaned out of the tent. Winter sat by the fire right next to the tent—no wonder she had overheard.

“The Nazaniin
are
secret,” Winter said, “and they specialize in killing people. That’s about all I know, but I suppose it’s more than most.” Winter glanced at Knot, who was sitting nearby. What was really going on with those two?

“That fits with the text,” Jane said from within the tent. Cinzia crawled back inside as Jane reread another passage.

There shall be great suffering, though they know it not.
There shall be great strife, though they see it not.
There shall be discord, and prejudice, and violence against all of Canta’s children, yet her children will not suspect.

“Right,” Cinzia muttered. “If what Winter says about the Nazaniin is true… it makes sense. Unseen violence.”

“A dragon sleeps beneath the most peaceful time Khale has ever known,” Jane said.

Cinzia raised an eyebrow. “Did I translate that? What part is that from?”

“Just an image that came to mind,” Jane muttered. “I thought at first the violence referred to the tiellan rebellions, but—”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Astrid interrupted. Cinzia rolled her eyes. Was
everyone
listening in?

“Everyone knows about the rebellions,” Astrid said. “Whatever you’re reciting said ‘they know it not,’ ‘they see it not.’”

“Do you people not have anything better to do?” Cinzia asked through the canvas. Jane was suppressing a smile.

“We don’t, actually.” That was Lian. “We’ve set up camp, found dinner, made dinner, eaten dinner, and now we’re all ready for a night’s rest. You two are keeping us up.”

“If you actually told us what you two were doing in there, we might be more helpful,” Astrid said. Cinzia wasn’t opposed to the idea. They needed help.

“All in due time,” Jane said. “You each have parts to play in what comes. Each of you will realize what part that is when the time is right. Some sooner than others.”

“Well if that isn’t just cryptic as all Oblivion,” Astrid muttered. Outside, the others laughed.

Cinzia could not help but smile. Her sister could be maddeningly enigmatic at times. She was glad to see Jane smiling, too.

Perhaps there was hope for this ragtag group, after all.

“W
HERE ARE THE DAMN STONES
?” Kali asked, rummaging through her pack.

“I already told you, I don’t know,” Nash said.

Kali continued digging, pulling pouches and weapons and other odds and ends out one by one. They were in Roden, finally, at an inn in Tir. They made it through the Sorensan Pass easily enough. There were rumors of a party headed by a Cantic priestess and her Goddessguard, so it seemed the group had only recently left.

She was close.

Kali knew it, could feel it. That was why she wanted to check in with Kosarin; she wanted clear orders for when she encountered Lathe again. She couldn’t afford to fail this time.

Kali found the voidstones inside one of the leather pouches in her pack. Through a voidstone, any psimancer could communicate, no matter where they were on the Sfaera. Acumens, like Kali, could even see through another lacuna’s eyes if the lacuna held a personalized voidstone. These forms of communication were new and highly experimental, but the Nazaniin had reaped vast benefits. Kali suspected the Cantic Denomination’s psimancers had discovered communication through the Void as well; many of the Denomination’s recent movements had been too organized to have been planned without instantaneous communication.

“Dahlin, approach,” Kali said, reaching out to the lacuna with her mind. The man walked up to her, face blank.

It’s a shame
, she thought as she looked at the man.
He would have made a much more pleasing companion if I had more time to brand him.
Dahlin was handsome: tall, with dark hair and a sculpted face. He looked like a statue. An ancient, deific work of art.

And I destroyed him
, Kali thought, not without pleasure.
I snuffed his life away, and now he is mine
. It was business, of course, but Kali couldn’t help but feel the rush. She had never felt so powerful, so in control, as she did when making another being her own.

“You’re contacting him now?” Nash said.

“Of course. Now’s as good a time as any. I don’t want any misunderstandings.”