Duskfall (47 page)

“Don’t despair. You are right, to an extent—Sirana hasn’t been at her best, lately. You still have much to learn, but believe me—if you
do
take the time to learn it, you will go far. But remember your most important rival will not be Sirana. There can only be one acumen in the Triad at a time, Kali. I don’t plan on stepping down anytime soon.”

Kali nodded. Her cheeks and ears still burned from embarrassment, but she looked up to meet his eyes. He was right; her rivalry with Sirana was petty. And, while she felt some of her pride returning at Kosarin’s praise, she felt humbled, as well. She was a powerful acumen, but was she powerful enough to challenge
him
?

Her assignment was a test of sorts. If any telenic could rival Sirana’s power, it was Lathe. And it was Kali’s duty to kill him. Kali would not fail.

“Don’t worry, sir,” Kali said. “I’ll get the job done.”

“That’s all we ask,” Kosarin said, smiling. Then he waved her away, already turning his attention from her to the papers on the table in front of him.

Kali began the process of extracting her projection from the lacuna, but then heard Kosarin’s voice.

“Kali,” he said, not even looking up, “when I give you an order to kill Lathe and his companions, I mean to
kill
them. Quickly and simply. This is business and business only; I know how your mind works. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,
Triadin
,” Kali said, her throat dry.

“Very good,” Kosarin said. “Now go. I have work to do.”

Kali nodded, and within seconds she was back in the Void.

C
INZIA LAY AWAKE, TOSSING
and turning. She should be exhausted, and yet all she felt was a strange sense of invigoration. The blisters on her feet, the soreness of her legs, none of it mattered.

“Cinzia?” Jane whispered in the dark. The fire beside them had faded to glowing embers long ago.

“Yes?” Cinzia could barely see Jane’s outline against the glowing coals.

“I cannot stop thinking about what we translated today,” Jane whispered. “All of those ‘bewares’…”

Cinzia nodded. The same lines echoed in her mind as well. “‘When the serpent rises up against the eagle,’” Cinzia said quietly. They could both remember lines from the Codex surprisingly well. “That must mean Roden and Khale.”

“Why? Khale’s sigil is the gryphon.”

“It was the eagle first. King Artis VI changed it to the gryphon. Ironically, we did not have the gryphon on our sigil until the animal itself became extinct.”

Jane made a small
hmph
sound.

“What?” Cinzia whispered. “We learned
some
useful stuff at the seminary.”

“But if she—Arcana—saw
our
day, why reference the sigil we had a thousand years ago instead of the one now?”

Cinzia shrugged. It was a good question. “But the serpent makes sense, too. Roden’s sigil is the dragon.”

“Khale and Roden have fought for centuries. She could be referring to any of those conflicts.”

“Or to a war yet to come,” Cinzia whispered. “She referred to a secret war earlier in the book.”

Cinzia’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness now, and she realized she was looking directly into Jane’s eyes.

“Did we walk into the middle of a war?” Jane asked.

“We are here by Canta’s will, are we not? The revelation I received in Navone… Canta commanded us to come.”

It was more of a question than Cinzia intended it to be. And, she realized, it was the first time either of them had brought up the strange event since it had happened.

“I do not know, Cinzia.”

And, just like that, the seed of doubt that Cinzia had carried around in her chest since Navone blossomed like a midwinter rose.

What had she done?

“We should discuss that another time,” Jane whispered. “The passage we read today bothers me far more.”

For a moment Cinzia wanted to scream. How could Jane do this? How could Jane let Cinzia lead them into Roden—into
Roden
, of all places—when she was not even sure it was the right thing to do?

Slowly, Cinzia calmed herself. Deep breaths. She had no right to criticize Jane. They had needed to get away from Navone, away from the Denomination, and Cinzia took the only path open to them. She had done what she needed to do.

“Arcana warned of other religions,” Jane whispered, oblivious to Cinzia’s inner turmoil, “who rise up against the mother.”

Cinzia sighed. It all came down to this. Somewhere inside her she knew, this was her moment. This was her time to call Jane out, to accuse her of rebelling against the Denomination. The Nine Scriptures themselves said so.

But Cinzia hesitated. She had experienced her own vision. She was translating the Nine Scriptures, for Canta’s sake. What did that mean? How did that fit into this puzzle? She looked at Jane, knowing this was her chance, her opportunity to express how she felt. She was watching it pass her by.

They both remained silent for a moment. Finally, Jane spoke. “It seems we both have something we want to refrain from discussing,” she whispered.

Cinzia smiled up at her sister sadly. “Some pair we make.”

Silence. Cinzia almost thought that Jane had fallen asleep, when her sister spoke again.

“The last part, Cinzia… about the Queen of Chaos, about servants fearing for their lives, what is that about?”

Cinzia sighed, trying to calm herself.

“It probably refers to tiellans,” Cinzia said. “Although why they would fear for their lives, I do not know.”

“Do not be naive, sister,” Jane said. “Despite the Emancipation, they are still not treated as equals. Winter and Lian both said attitudes towards tiellans are becoming more cruel. They are moving to the cities, now, where they can at least band together.”

Jane was right. Cinzia did not like to think about it, but tiellans were
not
treated as equals. Cinzia had conditioned herself to ignore such things, but there it was when she looked for it. “Perhaps the persecution of tiellans will escalate even further,” she whispered.

A cold lump formed in Cinzia’s stomach. She had never thought tiellans deserved their lot; she had certainly never considered them evil, as many had. The hatred towards tiellans was rooted in fear, as hatred often was. During the Age of Marvels tiellans had been powerful, wielding magics and great enchanted weapons. Humans had yet to develop such wonders. If tiellans ever discovered the truth behind the legends, they could dramatically upset the status quo. Cinzia could understand fearing such a thing; that did not mean she approved of the hate.

“What about the Queen of Chaos?” Cinzia asked, shaking her head. “Do you know anything about that?” Her sister did not respond. “Jane? Do you know what the Queen of Chaos is? Or who?”

Jane’s face was pale. Finally she shook her head. She would not meet Cinzia’s eyes, instead looking off into darkness. “I don’t think so.”

Cinzia frowned, not convinced, but then Jane changed the subject.

“The last section,” Jane said. She sighed. “About the daemons, and about Canta…”

“The daemons shall rise again?” A chill ran down Cinzia’s spine. “What kind of daemons?” Daemons were only tangential to Cantic doctrine; there were vampires and other creatures of the night, considered part-daemon. But true daemons, the stuff of legends and bedtime stories, had not existed for millennia.

Jane shook her head. “It says the Nine shall rise again. The Nine Disciples? Why would they seek vengeance on Canta’s children?”

Cinzia frowned. “Perhaps for what they did to their Goddess.” Canta’s life on the Sfaera had ended when she was tortured and murdered by her own children.

“Or… it could be referring to the Nine Daemons,” Jane whispered. “The Daemons from the beginning.”

“There are daemons even daemons fear; always at night they gather near.”

Cinzia had not said the words; nor had Jane. Fear was suddenly a desperate man drowning in Cinzia’s chest, flailing and struggling. Then, a green glow illuminated the sisters.

Astrid sat beside them, her eyes like dull green fires. Like the fire of Cinzia’s revelation in Navone.

“Where in Oblivion did you come from?” Cinzia gasped, breathing for the first time, she realized, since the girl had said the words.

“You two really have a privacy problem. You can’t expect people not to eavesdrop when you’re chatting like two grandmothers at a baby’s nameday party.”

Cinzia shivered. She was familiar with the adage, of course.
Daemons even daemons fear.
And now, with a vampire sitting next to her and thoughts of the Nine Daemons on her mind, Cinzia realized what the children’s rhyme might actually mean. Stories were often based in truth. Perhaps the truth here was far more literal than she had thought.

“Do you know what daemons the passage refers to?” Cinzia asked.

“I know that I have nightmares of my own,” Astrid said quietly, “that are far more terrifying than anything I’ve seen in the waking world.”

“There are daemons even daemons fear,” Cinzia repeated.

Astrid shrugged. “Or I’m just crazy. Who knows. Anyway, you two should get some sleep. Only a few hours ’til dawn.”

Then the girl was gone. Whether she had gone to her own bedroll, or out into the forest, Cinzia did not know.

“Astrid is right,” Jane whispered. “We need rest.”

Cinzia nodded, but fear still crawled beneath her skin. Did Jane feel the same thing? How could she not?

“Very well. See you in the morning, sister.” Cinzia lay back. She needed sleep, but finding it after such a scare was unlikely.

Then Jane’s hand grasped her own beneath their blankets.

“I love you, Cinzi,” Jane said.

With her sister’s touch came a wave of comfort. Not enough to quell Cinzia’s fears completely, but enough. Enough to get her through the night.

“I love you, Jane.”

Cinzia closed her eyes, waiting for dawn to break.

A
S
K
NOT APPROACHED
I
ZET
, he half-expected the ethereal blackness of his dreams to loom in the distance, with sparks and bursts of strange color, or to see the blue light shine brightly, high above all. But there was just the blue sky and the sun, snowcapped rolling fields around them, mountains in the distance, gray and white and sharp as daggers. And, at the joining of two rivers at the Gulf of Nahl, a city.

Hundreds of flat, squat huts with snow capped roofs spread out before Knot. The city spilled outside its main protective wall and into the surrounding countryside. Within the wall were more squat buildings, rarely any taller than two stories except for the massive dome of the imperial palace rising above the city near the sea.

Knot had seen Triah, or at least remembered the city from his dreams, and in almost every way that city put this one to shame. Izet’s imperial dome, however, was breathtaking.

They had barely reached the outskirts of the city; huts and houses were dotted sporadically on patches of land, animal pens and fences sprawling around them. The closer the houses were to the city wall, the more packed together they were.

Knot had asked Cinzia and Kovac to shed their Cantic livery before entering the city. He worried the clothing would draw attention. It had been useful in crossing the border, but a Cantic priestess and her entourage would turn heads. They still had the clothing, should they need it, but Knot had a feeling they would not. His gut told him so. And, if he’d learned one thing in the past year, it was to trust his gut.

Winter and Lian wore large hoods, covering their ears, but Knot knew their group looked suspicious. Three people with their hoods up in the middle of a sunny day—Astrid wore hers too, of course—wasn’t normal. But it was cold, and Knot hoped that would be enough of an excuse.

Knot rubbed his temples. Another headache was forming. He could almost sense when they were coming, now. The odd tingling, directly behind his eyes, eventually progressed to a full-blown pounding throughout his skull. The worst ones felt as if his forehead were on a chopping block being repeatedly split by a blunt axe.

Winter’s arm brushed against his own, and Knot flexed his hand, feeling a tingle work its way up to his shoulder. Winter’s spirits seemed to have lifted since her kidnapping; she was more talkative, more open. Knot had actually seen her speak to everyone in the group, including the other humans, without scowling or snapping at them, which seemed a step in the right direction.

Fortunately, Knot was no exception. She almost treated him like she had when they were courting, before their marriage. Knot was grateful, but he also wondered where the new attitude was coming from. Winter was different in so many ways. Knot still had trouble getting used to her tight leather clothing. There’d been a few times when he had to consciously stop himself staring. The only thing that seemed to remain of the girl he had known was the dark stone necklace around her neck. The same necklace she’d worn the day they were married.

Knot reached back and lightly touched the bundle of cloth wrapped around his sword. He had yet to use it, but he was strangely comforted by the fact that it was there.
Just do what you always do
, he told himself.
Keep going forward. Everything else’ll fall into place.