Briar looked at her in horror. Stela wasn’t a demon, but covered in ichor, the wards reacted as if she were. He could still taste it in his mouth, and spat.
Then he turned and ran into the night.
—
Briar returned to Mistress Leesha’s keep, slipping unseen past the night guards and into her private garden. If Stela or the other Warded Children were hunting for him, this was the last place they would think to look.
The hogroot patch looked inviting, but sleep was far from Briar’s thoughts. Just the opposite, his limbs shook with unreleased energy.
So he paced until he knew the garden intimately. There were three entrances—two grand and inviting, and one carefully hidden against one of the manse walls, obscured by flora.
Briar dug a small burrow in the hogroot for future use. He practiced sharusahk. Anything to keep his thoughts from drifting back to Stela Cutter.
Leesha had shown an affinity for Duchess Araine’s gardens, walking the rows at least twice a day. Sure enough, while the sky was still brightening, the hidden door opened and the mistress slipped out among the herbs.
When he was certain she was alone, Briar stepped out to face her. “They’re dangerous.”
Leesha’s hand snapped into one of the many pockets of her dress, but then recognition caught up. “Night, Briar! One of these days you’re going to end up with a faceful of blinding powder.”
Briar nodded at the distance between them. “Can’t throw powder that far.”
Leesha tsked. “Are you all right, Briar?”
He didn’t know how to answer. He’d washed every inch of himself, but still he felt the ichor on his skin, tasted it in his mouth. Stela’s scratches had already healed, but he could still feel them itch.
“Who’s dangerous, Briar?” Leesha asked.
“The Children,” Briar said. “Ent fighting to keep the wood safe. Fighting because it feels good to fight. Magic makes us feel unbeatable.”
“Us?” Leesha asked. She stepped close, taking one of his hands and turning it over. She gasped at the ward there.
Briar pulled his hand away. “Thought they were like me. Ent. Ent like me at all.”
“Briar, what’s happened?” Leesha asked.
“Ate a coreling’s heart tonight,” Briar said. “Made’m…drunk. Wild. Only going to get worse.”
Leesha looked taken aback. “Idiot girl,” she muttered to herself. “Told us himself! Said he ate them.” She growled, clenching her fists.
“Ay?” Briar asked, confused.
“The tattoos are only half the reason Arlen Bales can ripping fly,” Leesha said. “It’s the corespawned meat!”
Briar looked at her dumbly, having no idea what she meant. After a moment she collected herself, looking back at him. “I need you to go back, Briar. I need you to convince them to meet with me.”
Briar shook his head. “Ent going back. Not now, not ever. Going home.”
“Home?” Leesha asked. “Elissa and Ragen won’t head north for weeks yet.”
“Not north,” Briar said. “Home. Lakton.”
CHAPTER 6
EVERAM IS A LIE
334 AR
Renna grit her teeth, watching as Shanvah spoon-fed a thin gruel to her father. Shanjat swallowed mechanically, eyes straight ahead, staring at nothing. His aura was bright with life but flat and unmoving. Auras showed emotions, but Shanjat had none to show.
The sight sickened her. Two days ago, Shanjat had been a powerful man in the prime of his life. A better fighter by far than Renna. Now he had all the will of Renna’s old milking cow. He could walk a path if led, squat in the privy and wipe himself when told, even spoon his own gruel if it was placed before him. But if left to his own devices, he would stand in his stall staring at nothing until he dropped.
It didn’t help that Arlen and Jardir were shouting at each other on the tower’s next level. In some ways, that was the worst of it. Shanvah, usually so calm and detached, was weeping openly, and flinched at every angry sound from above.
“Be strong,” Renna said. “They’ll find a way to bring your da back to us.”
“Will they?” Shanvah asked, using the edge of the spoon to scrape a dribble of drool from her father’s lip. She kissed his cheek and moved away, Renna following.
“Not all will make it to the end of Sharak Ka,” Shanvah’s voice was low, “if indeed any do. It is an honor to die on alagai talons. But this…” she gestured to her father, staring at nothing, “…half life? Alagai Ka made a mocking shell of my father to whisper his evils. If the Deliverer cannot restore him, I will kill him myself.”
Renna’s throat was heavy, and she found herself blinking back tears of her own. She and Shanvah were hardly friends, but that no longer mattered. The Krasians believed that all who shed blood together against the night were family, and for better or worse that was what they were now.
Shanvah was watching her, eyes daring Renna to argue. “Time comes,” Renna said, “I’ll be there to catch your tears.”
Shanvah wept anew, throwing her arms about Renna. Renna fought the instinct to pull away, holding the girl tight and patting her back.
When she was finished, Shanvah pulled back, sniffling as she undid her scarf and moved to the basin to wash. When she looked up at her reflection in the silvered mirror, there was grim determination on her face.
She turned to Renna, producing a small, sharp knife. “I won’t share my father’s fate.”
Renna eyed the blade warily. “Don’t know yet that they can’t save him, Shan. Ent time yet.”
“It is not for him.” Shanvah flipped the knife in nimble fingers, handing it to Renna hilt-first. “It is for me. I want you to cut mind wards into my forehead.”
Renna shook her head. “I can paint them with blackstem…”
“Blackstem fades,” Shanvah said. “And our supply may dwindle as we walk the road to the abyss. You heard the father of demons. The journey is long, and you are mortal. The time will come when your guard grows lax, and then I will be free.”
Renna blinked. “Ay, you may be right about that. We can tattoo…”
Shanvah shook her head. “The Evejah commands we not profane our bodies with permanent ink. I will follow the example set down by the Shar’Dama Ka.”
Renna looked at her, seeing the strength and determination in the girl’s aura. “Ay, all right.” She took the knife, laying Shanvah on her back. “Need something to bite on?”
Shanvah shook her head. “Pain is only wind.”
—
“Ent no choice but to stick to the plan,” the Par’chin said.
Jardir looked at him incredulously. “Of course there is a choice, Par’chin. There is always a choice. You had a choice when you broke into Sharik Hora and started us on this path, and there is a choice now. Do not let the honeyed words of Alagai Ka blind you. The very fact that he endorses your mad plan is reason to reconsider. He seeks to lure us into forgetting our true responsibility.”
“And that is?” the Par’chin asked.
“To lead our people in Sharak Ka, vanguard in the battle between Everam and Nie.”
“Night.” The Par’chin rolled his eyes. “You still spouting that nonsense? Everam is a lie, Ahmann. Nie is a lie. Demon said it himself. Fiction to keep folk from fearin’ the dark.”
The blasphemy no longer surprised him, but still Jardir marveled at how stubborn the Par’chin could be. “How can you say that after all we have seen, Par’chin? How many prophecies must come true before you begin to have faith?”
The Par’chin closed his eyes. “I can see the future now. The sun will…rise tomorrow.” He smirked as he opened his eyes. “Gonna think I speak to the Creator when that comes true?”
“You were not so insolent when I was your ajin’pal,” Jardir said. “Mocking what you do not understand.”
“Ent,” the Par’chin said. “Mocking stories you make up to explain what we both don’t understand. We’re cattle to these things, Ahmann. Sharak Ka means no more to them than a bull stirring up the cows, and we’ve started a stampede. It will happen now whether we’re there or not. I trust my people to stand against the night. Do you?”