Chapter 37
Izzy was still nursing her first cup of tea while Éibhear—now in his human form and dressed—and Elisa were well into their second. The witch had also pulled out biscuits and she was pleasant enough, but, at the moment, it meant nothing to Izzy. Nothing. Not after what had just happened between Izzy and her grandmother. That horrid bitch. Izzy had always known that woman wasn’t worthy of having even a second of Rhi’s precious time. But then Izzy kept going back to the bigger issue of what Rhi did need in her life.
“Your rage comes off you in waves, Iseabail.”
Izzy looked up at her great grandmother, Elisa. Based on what she could guess, Elisa was a good six hundred years old, and yet she looked no more than fifty winters or so. Izzy had to admit . . . she liked the idea of going into her sixth-or seven-hundredth winter looking this good.
Other than that, though, she was just pissy about the whole thing.
“I hated that woman before I ever saw her,” Izzy said plainly, “and now I hate her even more.”
“You’re so like your mother. She was honest like you.”
“She still is.”
“And Haldane hated her for it.”
“Then I’m glad I could carry on my mother’s legacy.”
“So am I. Of course, I never liked my daughter much either. So it seems you’re carrying on
my
legacy as well.” She held up a plate. “Biscuits?”
Izzy took the plate from her and threw the whole thing against the wall. Biscuits and all.
“Oy!” Éibhear snapped. “I was going to eat those.”
When Izzy glowered at him, he quickly added, “Well . . . they did look a bit dry.”
“Don’t worry,” Elisa said with a smile. “I have more.” She stood and went to a small cabinet in what Izzy assumed was her study. There were books from floor to ceiling and crates filled with witch supplies. At least that’s what she guessed they were since the materials looked like the kinds of things that she’d seen her mother and Morfyd using every full moon.
Elisa came back to the table and placed another plate of biscuits in front of Éibhear. Once done, she sat at the table, her smile still in place.
“So,” Elisa said, acting as if Izzy’s temper hadn’t snapped like a twig, “you want us to take little Rhianwen in.”
“She’s not an orphan I’m trying to palm off on you lot.”
“No. She’s a powerful being that you have no control over.”
Izzy studied her great grandmother. “Maybe.”
“But you think we can help with that?”
“My mother thinks you can. I have no idea what you can do.”
“We can teach your sister to control the power within her. We can make her safe to be around those she loves.”
“And you know all this . . . how?”
“Your sister’s power radiates for thousands of leagues. Even the mages as far off as the Eastlands feel her power—and fear it.”
“So you’re going to try to make her a Nolwenn then?”
“That’s the one thing I can assure you will never happen.”
Feeling slightly insulted, Izzy had to ask, “And why is that?”
“I was born to this life, Iseabail. So were Haldane and your mother. And, if Talaith had stayed, she’d be a Nolwenn. Trained in the arts from birth. But your sister, like you, can’t jump in now. She’s sixteen winters, past her first blood—”
“And trained to be a free-thinking human being who can make her own decisions?”
Elisa smiled. “Some might say. Really, Iseabail, it’s about preparing your sister for something beyond these grand walls. That is . . . if we decide to help her.”
“Why wouldn’t you help her? Because I’d happily cut your daughter’s thro—”
Éibhear suddenly coughed, pointed at his throat. “Biscuit went down the wrong way.” He glared at Izzy and practically snarled between clenched teeth, “Sorry.”
“Your feelings about my daughter, Iseabail, are expected and, I’m sorry to say, quite natural. She was abhorrent to my grandchild, but Haldane has always been stubborn.”
“
I’m
stubborn. She’s a twa—”
Another cough cut into her words. “Another biscuit struggling down your gullet?” Izzy asked sweetly.
“They’re a little
dry
.”
Izzy focused on Elisa. “What do you want? Because I know you want something.”
The witch rested her arms on the table and leaned in. Her smile reminded Izzy of her mum but without that warmth Izzy had always taken comfort in. “I’ll take your sister in, ensure her safety, and have her trained, but there’s a task.”
“Of course there is.” Izzy sighed loudly. “Who do I have to kill?”
“This task isn’t for you.” Elisa focused on Éibhear. “It’s for you.”
“Me?” Éibhear said around another biscuit. How many was that now?
“This has nothing to do with him.”
“Isn’t he Rhi’s uncle?”
“I am definitely
Rhi’s
uncle.”
Izzy’s eyes crossed. “I see we’re not letting that go.”
“Nope.”
Elisa offered Éibhear more tea, which he readily accepted. Did he think this was some kind of tea party? It wasn’t!
“So do you need
me
to kill someone?” Éibhear asked.
“You two seem kind of focused on that. Do many ask you to kill?”
Izzy and Éibhear shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you both, but this isn’t about killing. This is about rescuing.”
“Rescuing?” Éibhear was surprised. No one had asked him to rescue anyone. Ever. “I can do that.”
Izzy looked at him. “Do you really have time?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Your mother gave you a task, Éibhear. To find out about Vateria.”
“Well then,” Elisa cut in. “That makes this much easier.”
“You need me to rescue someone from Vateria?”
“No. Before the last night of the full moon, you need to
rescue
Vateria before she’s sacrificed.”
“Huh,” Éibhear grunted, truly surprised. “I really didn’t see that coming.”
Chapter 38
One of the Nolwenns led them to the doors that Éibhear had kicked in. “When you’re done,” the witch said before they walked out, “you may return. But not before.”
Not liking the cow’s tone, Izzy pulled her arm back, but Éibhear caught hold and dragged her out the doors.
“
Why do you keep doing that?
” she demanded.
“Must we repeat what just happened?”
“Forget that, Éibhear. We need to talk about—”
“Izzy!” a voice called out.
Izzy looked at the street and grinned. “Brannie!” She ran down the stairs and met Branwen halfway. They threw their arms around each other and Éibhear looked past them to Aidan, Caswyn, and Uther. All four of them rolled their eyes at each other. One would think the two females hadn’t seen each other in years rather than a few days.
“Are you all right?” Izzy demanded of her friend. “Were you hurt?”
“Iz, I’m fine.” Brannie hugged her again. “I figured this was the most likely place to find you. We have word from Rhiannon.”
“I’m sure you do, but that’ll have to wait.” Izzy smiled. “I have people for you to meet.”
“People?”
Izzy took Brannie’s hand and led her down the steps to her birth father’s family, who were still waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her.
“Who’s that?” Aidan asked, the four of them watching Izzy introduce each family member to an overwhelmed Branwen.
“The family of Izzy’s birth father.”
“Really?”
“Aye.”
“How are they?”
“Ever so nice. All soldiers and blacksmiths. I think my father will like Izzy’s grandfather.”
“How does Izzy’s grandfather feel about you?”
“Oh, he hates me.”
Aidan shrugged. “He knows you’re defiling his granddaughter. What do you expect?”
“I hate you.”
“Only when I’m right.”
“So now what?” Caswyn asked.
“You sound eager.”
“He’s met some long-tailed royal,” Aidan explained. “And hopes to spend time with her at the human’s harvest festival.”
“I hope to buy a prostitute at the harvest festival,” Uther announced. “Just for a night or two. Not to keep.”
“Especially since Annwyl outlawed slavery of any kind.”
“Did she?”
Éibhear walked around his idiot friends and headed toward Izzy and her family. “You ready?” he asked.
“What’s going on?” Maskini asked.
“Well,” Izzy said, “I beat up my grandmother, which was weird because she looked just like Mum, but she did start it, and I found out that all the times I’ve used a shield to protect myself from Magicks was apparently a vast waste of effort. I also met my
great
grandmother who said she’d help my sister but only if Éibhear does something
incredibly
stupid, but it seems he won’t listen to me about it. Plus, Brannie, it looks like Macsen is descended from battle dogs, and as far as Éibhear’s concerned, tea can soothe anything.”
Aidan smiled. “Now aren’t you glad you asked?”
“Gods,” Layla sighed, “you really are like your mother.”
Chapter 39
Éibhear held up a map that Zachariah had dug up for them. Normally, they’d place a map on a table, but at the moment, there wasn’t enough room around the table for that. There was Izzy, Izzy’s family, Éibhear’s comrades, and Brannie all packed into this small, fourth-floor family room.
“Are you just going to hold that?” Maskini asked him.
“Unless you have a better option.”
Maskini took the map from Éibhear’s hands and walked over to the far wall. She held it up against the cool brick. “Layla.”
Layla walked over to her mother and pulled out two blades from her boot. Lifting the daggers, she rammed one in each of the top two corners. “There,” she said, pleased with herself. Her smile just like Izzy’s.
Stepping back, Éibhear studied the map.
“What did the witch tell you?” Aidan asked.
“That they’ll have Vateria near a source of power. Most likely here,” he said, pointing to a mountainous terrain less than a half day’s flight outside the city walls.
“They weren’t more specific?”
“They never are.”
Éibhear felt a tug on the back of his shirt and he saw that it was Izzy sitting on the table behind him. He stepped back until his ass rested against the table and she handed him something. He stared at it.
“What is this?”
“I got it from Zarah. She took two slices of bread and put meat in the middle. It’s good and you can eat it without a knife.”
Éibhear took a bite.
“It’s good, yeah?”
He nodded his head in approval while Uther sidled up next to him. “What’s that you got there?”
Éibhear glared at his comrade. “It’s
mine
. That’s what it is.”
“You can’t share?”
“No.”
“Are you two done?” Maskini demanded. She pointed at the map. “We’ve got work to do.”
“But we’re hungry,” Uther replied.
“Are you whining?”
“Maybe. A little.”
Rolling her eyes, Maskini pushed past her family and walked out.
“Maybe?” Izzy teased Uther.
“I’m hungry!”
“Okay!”
Éibhear stared at the map and ate his meat and bread.
“All right,” Izzy said next to him, her voice low. “What’s bothering you?”
“Who says something’s bothering me?”
“I do. I can see it on your face.”
“Know me so well now, do you?”
“I’ve always known you well, dragon. You just never wanted to see it. Now what’s bothering you?”
“Can witches be lied to?”
“Anybody can be lied to. The question is whether they believe the lie or the liar. Why?”
“How many converted does this cult have?”
“Heru didn’t say. Enough for him to be nervous and for them to feel confident enough to attack your mother’s troops at the salt mines.”
“Right. But they didn’t strike right at us. They came under cover of dark, nice and quiet. If you hadn’t alerted us, they would have had you and been gone long before we’d realized you were missing.”
“Which means what to you?”
“That they’re not at full army strength yet, and they’re not ready for direct attacks.”
“So?”
“Then why would they put themselves here”—he pointed at the map again—“out in the open, where they’d be unable to stop a full onslaught?”
“Because they need the power that’s there.”
“According to my mother, there are power sources everywhere. She can get power from a bloody vegetable patch if she needs to.” Éibhear walked closer to the map, studied it. “There has to be a place of power that makes more strategic sense.”
“Who says they’re strategic?” Uther asked, grinning when Maskini handed him, Caswyn, and Uther two slices of bread each, with big chunks of meat in the middle. “Ta.”
“Just because they’re zealots doesn’t mean they’re stupid.”
Izzy studied him for a moment, then asked, “What would you do?”
“What would I do about what?”
“If it was you.”
“You mean if I was a crazed zealot?”
Izzy chuckled. “Right. How would crazed-zealot Éibhear handle this?”
Éibhear glanced at his fellow Mì-runach, then walked over to the double doors that led out to a balcony. He stood out there and looked over the beautiful city. He was sure Rhi would like it here. It was large, had amazing architecture, and strong walls surrounding it. Lots of things for her to sketch.
He walked back into the study. “I’d want to stay within the city walls. Once those gates are closed, they could hold off a sustained attack if they had to.”
“How can they be in the city and we not know?” Layla asked.
“Especially when their top people blind themselves in some kind of solidarity with their god.” Izzy added.
Éibhear stared out at the city again. “There must be a way for them to stay out of sight and be near a power source that helps them with whatever they’re doing.”
“What about this god?” Aidan asked around his food. “We know anything about him?”
One of Izzy’s cousins stepped forward. “I went to the library like Izzy asked and spoke to one of the sisters. Chramnesind is called the Sightless One. He has no eyes. He’s the god of earth and pain.”
Izzy scrunched up her nose. “That sounds awfully unpleasant.”
“The god of earth?” Uther asked. “You mean like dirt?”
“That’s unimpressive,” Aidan sighed, his food now gone. “You might as well be the god of grass. Or the god of cow shit.” Aidan blinked. “What?” he asked Éibhear. “What did I say?”
Éibhear went back out on the balcony, looked out and down.
“Do you lot have a sewer system here?” he asked.
“Yes,” Maskini replied. “Don’t you?”
“No,” Izzy answered.
“Ew.”
Éibhear scratched his chin. “Do the sewers run under all the temples?”
“Of course.”
Izzy walked out on the balcony and stood by Éibhear. She stared up at him until he looked out over the darkening city. She followed his gaze and cringed. “Oh, no.”
“It makes sense.”
“I know.” She put her hands to her face and rubbed her forehead. “But we both know this can’t end well.”
Maskini gazed at her beloved son’s child. The grandchild she never thought she’d get to see, much less meet. And to find out that her son’s only child had become a beautiful, intelligent, and powerful warrior brought nothing but great pride and satisfaction to Maskini.
So Maskini gazed at her beautiful grandchild. She gazed and asked, “
Have you lost your fucking mind?
”
“That’s still up for debate.”
“You want me to unleash the Imperial Guard into the sewer system under all the temples? Because this fire-breathing lizard thinks—only
thinks,
mind you—that the Cult of Chramnesind might be somewhere down there? Don’t you think someone would have noticed them by now? Wandering around? A cult?”
“Maybe she’s right, Izzy,” the lizard said.
“I know I am!”
“No. I think Éibhear’s right,” Izzy pushed.
“How could you think he’s right?”
“Because it’s the perfect place for them.”
“How could the witches, magi, and sorcerers in these temples not know they have some cult leeching off their power?”
“Perhaps they’re part of the cult,” the lizard with gold hair suggested.
“No,” Izzy said. “They can’t afford pissing off the other gods by just choosing one.”
“Especially this Chramnesind,” Maskini’s granddaughter, Rachel, explained. She’d been the one to talk to the sisters at the library since she already had a good relationship with them. “The other gods hate him.”
“Bit of a prat?” Izzy asked.
“You could say. He wants to be the one god. The one we all bow down to.”
“Then for his acolytes to quietly use the power of other gods for their rituals would be quite the insult.”
“Plus the shit.”
They all looked at the brown-haired lizard. Uther, maybe?
“What?” Izzy asked.
“The shit.”
“What about it?”
“It makes sense they’d use the sewers to get around.”
Maskini glanced at Rachel. “Because of the shit?”
“He’s blind, yeah?” the brown-haired one went on. “Their god? And so are some of the acolytes. If they consider the sewers home . . . it must be easy to get to if they can smell it, especially since they can’t see it.” When they all just stared at him, he went on. “When you’re blind, you use your other senses. We have a few Mì-runach who’ve been blinded in battle. Not just lost one eye, but both. But just because they’re blind, don’t mean we can’t use ’em. We just give ’em some time to get used to being blind; then they come back in with us. They use their sense of smell and their hearing to get around. They’re bloody brilliant in battle.”
“You use the
blind
in battle?” Maskini demanded, unused to this sort of barbarianism in her own home.
“We don’t force ’em, do we, Éibhear? But if they want to fight, we let ’em fight. They’re damn good, too.”
“A Mì-runach would rather die in battle,” the blue-haired lizard explained, “than sit around a cave waiting for death. So missing limbs . . . missing eyes . . . doesn’t really stop a Mì-runach.”
After staring at the fire-breathing lizards for several long seconds, her mouth hanging open, Maskini faced her granddaughter. “Iseabail?”
She gave a small shrug. “It makes a bizarre kind of logic, doesn’t it?”
“You want us to check out the sewers?”
“It couldn’t hurt. Besides, Éibhear and the others are here for a reason.”
“And who told you that?”
“Rhydderch Hael.”
“Who’s that?”
“The father god of dragons.”
“The father god of dragons . . . talks to you?”
“Made her his champion,” the brown-haired lizard tossed in. “Didn’t he, Iz?”
“He did.”
“Why?”
“It’s a bit of a long story,” Izzy admitted. “Just know I really had no choice at the time.”
“And you trust this god?”
“Oh, gods, no. No, no, no,” she laughed. “Never!”
Maskini glanced at Rachel again, but the girl could only shrug.
Poor Izzy. Being raised among the barbarians in the Dark Plains had made her . . . uneven. Desert Landers were all about cold logic and precise planning. None of this insane guessing and ruminating and talking to gods. Who had time for all this?
“You don’t trust him, and yet you’re going to believe him on
this
?”
“Rhydderch Hael wants something. No. He
needs
something. Something he can’t do himself. So, yeah, I trust Éibhear and the Mì-runach on this. Besides, sneak attacks are what they do. And they do it well.”
“I guess if you’re sure . . .”
“It couldn’t hurt to look, Gran,” Rachel suggested. “We’ll call in a few of the Guard who are off for the night. Put the others on alert. By tomorrow we’ll have a good idea what’s in those sewers.”
Maskini looked over the group, then at Layla. Her daughter nodded. “It couldn’t hurt, Mum.”
“All right. We’ll do it.”
“Thank you . . . um . . .”
She saw the girl struggling with what to call her. And Maskini understood. The girl had a mighty loyalty in her, and it must be confusing to think about her family—or kin, as she liked to call them—back in Dark Plains. Although they weren’t blood, they’d helped raise her, loved her, taught her to care for herself in battle and life. They’d done what Maskini and her clan had been unable to do. For that alone Maskini would be eternally grateful.
“Maskini, child. Just call me Maskini.”
“Maskini. Thank you. Now, Bran and I can get started tonight and check out—”
“No.” The blue-haired dragon shook his head at Izzy.
“No, what?”
“You need sleep. We’ll get started tomorrow.”
“Éibhear—”
“After what happened between you and Haldane, you need your sleep.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need—”
The dragon put his obscenely large hand over Izzy’s face.
Completely
over her face.
“Hush, now. I’m doing what’s best for you.”
That seemed to irritate Izzy because she began swinging and trying to pry his hand off her face. Maskini glanced across the room at her husband. Zachariah didn’t believe this disturbingly large—when human; as dragon he was horrifyingly large—blue-haired “uncle” was any sort of proper uncle. But like her mother, Izzy seemed a bit clueless when it came to the true feelings of males.