Krysilla hurried to keep up with Zhiv, still wearing his tradesman brown vest, and the two Dogs, Razev and Kirag, both without their staves this time though she didn’t know where such large, powerful items might be safely stored. Zhiv looked behind him, and his eyes narrowed at the sight of her attempt at running in spite of the growing heat. “If you want her to collapse,” he said to the Dogs, “by all means, keep up this pace.”
Razev turned and glared at Zhiv, forcing his companion to stop. Why? Krysilla didn’t know. Everything had been fine the night before. “The sooner we get to Marilisin, the sooner justice can be done,” Razev said.
Zhiv glared back. “Just don’t break us in the process.”
Past him, she could see Lord Marilisin’s city, its thick wall extending out into the sea, topped with an embattled parapet that ran the whole length of it, ships appearing and disappearing from the side that faced the ocean. Its whiteness seemed almost heavenly in the mid-morning summer light, the call of sea birds only adding to its wondrousness. The smell of the ocean was new to Krysilla and strange enough that she couldn’t decide whether she liked the salty tang or not. As if it mattered. If all went well, this city would be their refuge. “I’m fine,” she assured Zhiv. “Just a little tired.”
He didn’t believe her, though they continued on with no further argument. She could tell by the way he put his hand on the small of her back when they crossed a brook, as if ready to pull her close, and the way he dropped back so that she was always in his line of sight. If he’d been a possible suitor, she might have been flattered. As it was, it worried her, no matter how much she enjoyed it. People might get the wrong idea, especially since she no longer wore a sash.
Only two kinds of women went without a sash: widows, though for only a brief time, and prostitutes. She’d count herself lucky if men thought she was the former.
And yet, last night, when she had taken off her sash and buried it, none of this had mattered. Anything had seemed possible, as long as Zhiv was there. And he’d promised he would get her an appropriate one, white with black trim.
“Hurry up,” Razev called out from up ahead.
“Was he always this impatient?” she murmured, trying to pick up the pace even more.
“He has his reasons this time.” His voice was just as low as hers. “We discussed portals early this morning.”
“I thought we were going to see Marilisin first.”
“True. We are. I’m sure you noticed the blue handkerchief?”
“Yes. Oh.” Marriage could mean children as well. And now, it was highly likely they were in danger from Teranasin. The thought made her ill. “Where are his family now?”
“He sent them to lands that are closer to the mountains, both because she has relatives there who can shelter them and because he’s familiar with that terrain. They can survive for a time without anyone’s help. However, he doesn’t know if they’ve arrived or not. Apparently, he’d hoped I could produce a portal quickly enough for him to inquire at a town along their path, but that’s not how they work. Once I’d explained...he was not pleased.”
The portal they had used to get here had been a large relic from the days of the Ornic. But Zhiv had been able to create smaller ones, portable enough he could carry them, and innocuous enough--the spell was tied to plain, brown sacks--that no one would think twice about them, beyond noticing that there was a spell on them.
“Is there some other way to find out?”
“None that I currently have on me. Once we get to the city, I might, but I haven’t even mentioned this as an option to him yet. I don’t want to get his hopes up.”
Krysilla nodded. That made sense. “What if they haven’t left Hurush?”
“We still have time. The Dogs protect their own.” He raised his voice. “Of course, it won’t do us any good if we’re so exhausted we collapse by the time we arrive. Slow down.”
This time, Razev said nothing, simply kept walking at the same brisk pace. Kirag only glanced behind once, but kept pace as well.
“He has a right to be worried,” she said, moving faster.
Zhiv hurried along as well, though he frowned. “But not a right to punish you for what I can’t do.”
She thought of the portal that had taken them to Zhiv’s home in the mountains. It couldn’t be that difficult to create the kind that Zhiv used. “What would it take to build another?”
“Two sacks, or two pieces of cloth, or some combination of the two, and a man able to travel to the town in question to place it there.”
Ah. There lay the problem. “You don’t have a portal you can link to that’s near the route?”
“Given we have no longer have a map of all their locations, and the Dogs have been systematically destroying them whenever they find them, what do you think the answer to that question might be?” He seemed amused, and yet, he was still tired enough that she felt she shouldn’t trouble him any further.
She watched his brother and sighed. “There has to be some way.”
“When we get to the city, I’ll do what I can.” And they said nothing more as they walked.
Eventually, they got close enough to see the main gate. Krysilla had wondered how they would enter the city in broad daylight without gaining any undue notice. She knew the Dogs were after them, and she knew the word had been sent through the kingdom so that ordinary citizens could keep watch for the so-called killer of the royal family, but she didn’t know how far these attempts might go or had gone. But when she turned to ask Zhiv what his plan might be, he was gone. “Zhiv?” she said softly.
“Still here.”
Razev stopped, didn’t turn, simply looked at the sky. “You’re going to use that?” His voice dripped with contempt.
“Why not? It was a gift from the King, a little modified by me, and this pendant and I might as well finish the journey we started.”
“It’s not a living thing,” Razev muttered, continuing forward.
“I was being metaphorical. Seriously, there’s no reason not to wear it. Not when I have two Dogs with me to answer the question of why someone would want to remain unseen. As for the masses, they won’t even know I’ve passed by.”
“You’re still a prisoner,” Kirag said. “And prisoners aren’t allowed to use magic for the duration of their arrest.”
“If you have a way of getting me in without magic and without drawing extra attention or bringing further risk on what’s already a risky endeavor, I’m all ears.”
“We can see him,” Razev said, giving up the argument with a shake of his head. “Just walk ahead of us.” And they slowed so he could.
Krysilla walked ahead as well. As she passed the Dogs, she noticed that their scarlet vests had been replaced by tradesmen-brown in the time she’d turned away. Amazed, she almost tripped over Zhiv, who caught her with one arm and laughed. “Trembling?” he whispered close to her ear. “You? Are you worried the Dogs have watched you more often than you thought?” he said. She blushed. Apparently, he noticed. “Or are you thinking back to when I caught you in the forest?”
“Hush,” she muttered, and because it was the latter, said, “It’s not a pleasant memory.”
“Why not?”
“Do you need ask?” She remembered all the tales she’d heard of Dogs lying in wait for trespassers of the law, and her certainty when Zhiv had caught her that he was one of them. It was almost laughable now, or would have been, if not for their quickly-changing vests.
“It’s the moment we began to be honest with each other. I thought that might count for something with you.”
“If you two aren’t quiet,” Razev called out from behind them, “all this will be for nothing.”
“Of course,” Zhiv said, and fell silent. His arm dropped away, leaving her alone once more.
Krysilla didn’t like that memory. She’d been scared out of her wits, babbling, with the locks right there to prove she was about to perform magic forbidden to her trade, and all the while Zhiv had watched her with what she could only call amusement. And yet, when he put it like that, she realized it was true. Frightening as it was to be caught looking for something forbidden, it had also been a relief, though she hadn’t seen it at the time. Her first time speaking to him in the meadow, in full daylight, that was her favorite memory because she hadn’t needed to worry about what to say.
And because she didn’t want him thinking she didn’t appreciate their meeting, no matter what trouble it had brought her since, she focused on his steps, hoping to see through the illusion enough to see his arm, not to break the illusion itself. It took some focus and made her feel a little weak, but when she managed to see a faint outline she quickly caught up to him and tapped him on the arm with the back of her hand, as if she were brushing away a fly. Though she couldn’t see his reaction, she allowed herself a smile, because in this moment she was truly happy.
To her surprise, she felt his hand wrap around hers, giving it a small squeeze before letting go. Heat flushed her cheeks. They weren’t together, not like that. But then, perhaps things were different among minstrels, including friendship between men and women. She hoped so.
She tried not to consider that perhaps the gesture had nothing to do with friendship.
In front of them, on the wide road that led into the city, was a small stream of people heading into the main gate. They joined them, listening to the shouted instructions of a man standing near the gate, wearing green leggings and a white tunic with the Marilisin seal just below the shoulder. His loud voice announced they were all to keep an eye out for the Ornic, who had escaped after killing the royal family. The man paused and turned toward them, his eyes widening.
Before anything could happen the man’s eyes glazed briefly, and then he moved on to the next group, bypassing Zhiv and Krysilla. She turned and said to Razev and Kirag, “Did you just--”
“Persuasion. Completely legal,” Kirag replied in a low voice, though Razev gave him a cold look that made her wonder if he would be speaking to Kirag later about this.
“Who was he?” Krysilla asked, facing forward, as if she didn’t have two Dogs behind her who thought little of using a persuasion spell on a stranger.
Razev answered. “One of Marilisin’s special guards.”
“Dogs weren’t enough for him,” Kirag muttered.
Razev’s reply gave no hint of whatever his true feelings might be. “Dogs don’t handle the city’s business. Only the King’s.”
“And yet no Dogs at the gate,” Kirag mused, “making the announcement themselves.”
“That is interesting, isn’t it?” Zhiv agreed, his voice barely above the murmur of the crowd.
It was to Zhiv that Razev said, “You might as well take the back streets without that enchantment.”
“Ah yes, because ducking through alleys makes you look as if you have the best of intentions.”
It was a playful jab, but Razev clearly wasn’t in the mood for it. “Would you rather its magic get the wrong attention before we can meet your ‘friend’?”
“Would you be sorry if I did?” Krysilla felt Zhiv’s hand wrap around hers once more, pulling her into a dark side street. Once in the shadows, he reappeared, pendant in hand and obviously just taken from around his neck.
Razev didn’t answer his question, nor did he look down the alley to watch his brother. “We’ll meet at the place you described,” he said, facing so that it appeared he was talking to Kirag.
“Whatever happened to closely watching me?”
“You’re assuming you could run fast enough to lose me.”
“True. Well then, Jyomsa, let’s leave these two alone. While we stroll the dark alleys, I’ll describe the beauties of the city that you will likely never see.”
Krysilla followed Zhiv through the narrow back streets of the chief city of Marilisin’s land, and, to her surprise, listened as he kept his promise. He knew the city well, and was able to describe many features she hadn’t expected. “They truly have a name for it?” she said, when he’d mentioned that particular fact. Cities weren’t allowed to have names, except for the city of the King. They were called simply “the village”, or, if there were more than one, as was the case in the lands of Lord Felldesh, “the south village,” or “the village near the river Naryaset.” Anything else was forbidden. The notion of a city with a name of its own felt arrogant, and somewhat treasonous.
“Well, it’s not official,” Zhiv said, peering around a corner. On the other side, she could see Razev and Kirag walking the open streets. She wondered how close they were to their destination, a small bookshop. “But yes, the informal name of this city is Openwater.” Razev glanced down the alley, sidelong, and Zhiv grinned, his words for Krysilla, though he didn’t look away from his brother. “It even has an Ornic name: Zhanav.”
Krysilla’s eyes widened at the mention of a people that had nearly destroyed the world and had enough power beyond their ashes to put the kingdom into a frenzy at the mere whisper of their possible reappearance. Saying the name in the open air meant teasing death. “You have no fear left, do you?”
“None.” His eyes sparkled with mischief when he looked at her. And something else. Something she couldn’t figure out, but that reminded her of times when he’d overextended himself.
That concerned her. When they’d used the portal, all who had operated it--Krysilla, Zhiv, Daegan, and Hyaji--had struggled the whole night through with weakness and a fever. She still felt weak.
Zhiv was the first one to recover, and yet, the light in his eyes that she remembered had dimmed somehow, especially compared to the fire of their conversation last night. He’d declared Ornic magic was his by right, using oaths she’d never heard but that must have come from his childhood. Those declarations had won him more of his admiration than she’d admit. But in the morning...he still smiled, laughed, and had even brought up old memories to Razev when Kirag was focused elsewhere. Pleasant ones. A remembrance of an aunt who loved cabbage, or a cousin who sang particularly well. But the tone of his voice wasn’t the same. And she couldn’t discover the difference.
What concerned her most was that, if she were honest about it, the look in his eyes reminded her of the last time she had looked in a mirror, back when she lived with her husband.
Former husband, she reminded herself.
They continued on until he turned a corner and she could see a bookstore on the other side of the alley, stacks of books on tables surrounding the worn door that led to the shop itself. Soon, the two Dogs came into view as well.
Razev stopped, tilted his head back, and waited for them to come out.
“And now, Jyomsa,” Zhiv said, “that ends my lecture on the uniqueness of this particular oh-so-Tothsin city.” He paused. “I’ve been thinking about your sash.”
“Have you?”
“I promised you’d get an appropriate one before you saw Lord Marilisin, and I intend to keep that promise.” He began to move toward the light of the open street. Krysilla followed. “One with fine, black lace, just as the King should have given you.”
Remembering the King’s lie, she said, “You were the one who told me it was part of the expense. He wouldn’t have given it to me.”
“Perhaps not him.” And the look he gave her then made it clear Zhiv wouldn’t have rested until she’d received one.
“Not that I doubt your ability, but--”
“You do.” Zhiv leaned against the alley’s wall, just within the darkness of the alley, even though his brother was growing impatient. “I made Vyomsi a noble. I threatened Felldesh enough that he made a point to meet me in the darkest rooms of his keep.”
“And you have at least one trusted contact among the nobles. I don’t--”
He laid a finger on her lips and she fought the desire that raced through her at his touch. His smile softened. “Wait. And see. This plan will work, and you’ll walk away from me with more than when I met you. I promise.” His smile faded, and some of the fire from last night came back into his eyes. “I swear it on the strings that carried me, and the voice that gave me flight.” His finger brushed against her lips as he pulled it away. Far too aware of how they naturally parted, she walked quickly toward the open street.
This wouldn’t last. Daegan Jixsin--Zhiv’s friend and a locksmith from Hurush, among other things--was waiting for them back at the cave with her sister, Nitty, and the children: Tira, her niece, and Zhiv’s orphaned nephews, Rysil and Syril, both of whom were now looking to their minstrel uncle for their support. Hyaji had already left for the house of his fellow Disciples.
She hated it. Before the King’s death, Zhiv had spoken of rebuilding, of learning, of spells that were only new because they were forgotten, and gaining the ability to protect those she loved. That was what she wanted, and that by itself was already lost. But what was worse was that the little group that had begun to feel like a family to her would end once they’d struck a deal with Lord Marilisin.
Her time with Zhiv, as well.
Once the deal was struck, she would leave with her sister and niece. Perhaps Daegan would join them. He seemed to have taken a liking to Nitty. But there were no guarantees. The oath she’d made with Daegan and Zhiv in the Jixsin kitchen meant little now.
Zhiv said nothing as she walked away, only followed.
The sunlight made her blink. “That the one?” She nodded toward the bookstore.
Zhiv came up alongside her. “The very same.”
Razev and Kirag remained silent as they fell in behind her and Zhiv once more. She had expected them to walk down the street and wait. Instead, they followed the two all the way into the shop.
The shopkeeper raised his hands. “Look wherever you like,” he said to the Dogs. Krysilla turned to see both their vests were once again the brilliant scarlet that marked the executioners of those who practiced illegal magic...or encouraged it.
Zhiv scowled briefly at Razev before turning to the shopkeeper. “How are you Nenjrin?”
Nenjrin looked from Zhiv to the Dogs, then back again. “Burning Light, Parlay.” His hand shook, and he shuffled his feet, as if getting ready to run at any moment. “What have you got me into this time?”
“Your lack of discretion and self-preservation warms my heart. It’s not what you think. And I mean that in the fullest sense. No time to explain, though. I’d like to see your biggest client.”
Nenjrin paled. “Why me? And where’s your minstrel vest?”
“Long story, not for your ears. These two,” he nodded to the Dogs, “would like to speak with her. With me present, of course. Be sure to add that.”
Nenjrin shook his head again, obviously not wanting to say what he did. “Sorry. Not doing it, Parlay.”
That surprised Krysilla. Zhiv had said this man would get them in contact with the Marilisins themselves, and he had two Dogs with him, openly showing themselves. Knowing a servant in the manor wouldn’t bring this kind of resistance. This client of his had to be someone with both money and power. Someone who could destroy Nenjrin’s shop if they cared to try.
“It’s been a long time, Nenjrin, and in that time I’ve decided to make some changes to my life. First, my name isn’t Parlay, it’s Zhiv. Tell her that you’ve learned this, and tell her that the Dogs have no reason to question her. They’re with me. All three of us have something to tell her. I think she’ll have an idea what it might be.”
“Zhiv,” Nenjrin whispered, his eyes so wide Krysilla wondered that they didn’t pop out. “You’re--oh, Burning Light, get out.”
“Nenjrin, I can’t approach her directly. You know this.”
“Do you know what the Dogs in this city would do if they knew you were here?”
“I have a rough idea.”
“Look, there’s no way you’re with actual Dogs. It’s not possible, though that’s a mighty good show, you two. The real Dogs have been making deals with Lord Marilisin so that my client doesn’t take things into her own hands. Softies, every one of them, and even that’s only possible because of the rumors you’d left her so brokenhearted you wouldn’t dare return.” He frowned. “How do you know she even wants to talk to you?”
“She always wants to talk to me.” Zhiv looked less than pleased with that.
Krysilla tried to ignore the obvious fact that this contact had once been more than a friend to Zhiv.
Nenjrin shook his head emphatically. “I have children now, Parlay. Zhiv. Whoever. I can’t--”
“You run no risk,” Razev said, in a voice that Krysilla was sure had been used more than once against those who dared to cast spells they shouldn’t. “As Zhiv has said, we have no reason to question her.”
“In fact,” Zhiv grinned, “I’m sure her father will be very interested in what we have to say.”
Nenjrin chuckled nervously. “As if they’re real Dogs.”
“Do you want proof?” Razev asked. The air began to crackle from some unreleased spell. “Paper burns awfully fast.”
Zhiv sighed. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come down to threats.”
Nenjrin paused, his mouth opening and closing several times, the color draining from his face. “They’re really--”
“True Dogs, yes.”
“And they’re with you?”
“For a time. Our objectives happen to coincide.”
Nenjrin’s gaze shifted to Krysilla. He looked her up and down, still pale as before. “And this one? What does she have to do with this?”
“That’s for your client to learn.”
“She’s not gonna like knowing you’re with someone else.”
Ordinarily, the words would have caused a blush to race across her cheeks, followed by a strong denial that they were in any way “involved.” This time, the shock of knowing they might be about to meet a woman from his past kept her silent. You aren’t the first woman to interest him, Byor had said. She knew this. Had even, when she’d caught herself indulging in a delusion about his flirting, repeated it to herself. And yet, the reality of it was more difficult to take than she had expected.
Zhiv’s smile turned hard. “Then she won’t like it. Besides, we’re not together. She just happened to be caught up in one of my schemes.”
Nenjrin stared, nostrils flaring. “It’s on your head,” he muttered as he stalked off through a cloth-covered doorway.
“Thank you,” Krysilla said so softly even she couldn’t quite hear it.
Zhiv shrugged, then looked at her for a long time, with an unreadable expression. “You remember this morning?”
“Yes.” She remembered it very well. I don’t want you to lie for me, Zhiv had said while they were getting ready to leave. In fact, I would appreciate it if you didn’t lie at all. It ruins your sense of truth, and the ability to see through spells of illusion.
Now you tell me this, she had almost snapped, and then had considered what she’d said. Why now?
He’d only shrugged. Promise me you won’t lie.
Nenjrin emerged, his lips set in a hard, thin line. “She says the guard will be by shortly.”
Guard? Uneasy, Krysilla looked at Zhiv, but he only seemed mildly surprised. “And you told her about the Dogs? Ah.” He seemed disappointed, turning briefly to Razev with a shrug. To Nenjrin, he said, “That’s a shame. Well, we shall have to make it clear she must reconsider her approach the next time we meet. Thank you.” He bowed low, and turned as if to leave.
“Wait!” Nenjrin ran after him. “Do you know what she’ll do to me if she finds you’ve left?”
“Close your business?”
“Doesn’t seem like it’s doing too well now,” Razev muttered, poking at a tall, dusty stack of ancient books. It swayed and Krysilla reached out a hand to steady it. Under her palm, she could feel a distant hum of magic, and it took a moment for her to realize she was focusing on it. Jerking her hand away, the stack fell, books pouring across the floor like water. “I’m sorry,” she said, and began to pick them up.
“See!” Nenjrin pointed at the stack. “Every time, Par--Zhiv. Every time you come into my shop, I end up in a worse situation than when you walked in.” He began picking books off the floor as well.
Zhiv took Krysilla by the hand. “Give her my compliments,” he said, and then all four of them had ducked to the back of the shop.
“What is he doing?” she heard Kirag growl behind them as they raced past shelves of worn and mysterious books that lined the halls and rooms behind the shop. If Razev answered, she didn’t hear it. Frankly, she would have liked hearing an answer right now, but not from the Dogs.
And then she wondered if that shrug had meant more than it appeared to say.
“I thought he was supposed to introduce us,” she said as they ran.
Zhiv slowed in front of a small box. He opened it and she saw a plain bronze mirror on a pillow of velvet, the kind a woman could hold in her hand. He snatched it and shoved it into hers, leaving the box behind as they began to run once more.
“What are you doing?” she said, horrified that he would take it as if it belonged to him.
“Keep a good grip on it.”
He was no thief, she reminded herself. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“It’s for after we’ve finished running,” he said, a grin stretching from ear to ear. “We’ll need it.”
“You should hit him for that,” Kirag called out to her.
“As if I’m the one who’s supposed to keep him in line?” Krysilla called back over her shoulder. They ran out the back door, which faced the wall that ran around the city, and they both stopped. “Rope?” she said to Zhiv, remembering how they’d climbed the wall of Hurush.
“’Fraid not. This way.” She gripped his hand as they hurried past the back doors of merchants and servants, under long strings with wet clothes marked up with drying spells and tubs with clothes soaking in washing spells. More and more laundry surrounded them as they wove between the tubs, along with the stares of the curious and women busy with chores, until they arrived at a small brook that ran under the city wall. Stone lined it, and a grating set into the wall made it impossible to go through the opening that allowed the water in.
“If they were smart,” Zhiv said, “they would have put this underground a long time ago.”
“And kept us from the water?” an indignant housewife said.
“I’ll show you why it’s a disadvantage,” he said. He turned to Krysilla and held out his hand, as if he were about to help her into a carriage. “Care for a swim?”
There was a clatter down the street, a sound of a carriage moving swiftly.
Krysilla felt panic tighten her throat. “I can’t swim.”
He stared at her, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Circle be damned.” He looked at the grating once more. “It’s too far down. I’ll have to cause a commotion.”
Razev stepped forward. “Wait.”
But Zhiv had already leaned down and drawn a spell on the rusted metal within reach. Standing up, he laced his fingers together, then slowly pulled them apart. There was a sound of metal groaning under the water, then creaking and shrieking and then Krysilla saw the grating peeling outward from bottom to top, leaving an opening big enough for her head to get through.
“The water isn’t deep,” he said, looking slightly pale from the casting. “Join me?”
She nodded. Tucking the mirror she’d given him into the band of her skirt, she jumped in with him, feet first.
The water rushed over her head, but her feet soon touched bottom. Doing her best to stay calm, she bent her knees, going deeper, but also allowing herself to jump high enough to get her head above water again. She reached out and gripped the wall, her fingers on her free hand barely managing to catch.
“It might be more important to teach you how to swim before anything else,” Zhiv murmured beside her, still holding her other hand. He let go and swam through the opening. She followed him, hand over hand on the stone lining, gripping the metal when she was close enough. In spite of the warmth from the last sweltering days of summer, the water felt cool as it flowed past her into the city. On the other side of the grating, Zhiv held out his hand and helped her through. “Coming with us?” he said to Razev. “Or are you simply going to give us a head start?”
Razev snorted. “Someone has to fix the grating.” The racket on the street grew louder, then stopped. Razev looked down the length of the stone-bound brook, as if he had been on a pleasant walk and happened to notice some trash. “And I think I should explain your actions to your ‘client’.”
Zhiv’s eyes sparkled. Though he spoke to Razev, his eyes never left Krysilla. “I’ll show you something you’ve been dying to learn if you join us.”
Razev scoffed. “What could you teach me?”
“Not teaching, Dog Jhodhi.”
Razev’s focus turned away from the street and toward Zhiv.
His family. That mirror must have been the thing Zhiv had mentioned, the item that might help Razev learn what had happened to his family.
The water flowed into the city, not out of it, and kept trying to push Krysilla away from Zhiv. It had taken more effort than she had expected to grab his outstretched hand while he’d spoken with his brother. Once done, he pulled her forward, and she couldn’t help imagining them doing this strictly for fun, that he was pulling her in for a quick kiss while they journeyed. The way his eyes watched her, she wondered if he would, even though they were trying to escape whoever was supposed to give them access to Lord Marilisin.
“Last chance, Ulandi,” he said to Razev. “I’m trying to do you a favor.”
“Get me back to my family. That’s the best favor you could do me.”
Krysilla blinked. The water wasn’t as deep further from the wall, and it was possible to stand in the water with her head free and clear of it. Zhiv crouched down. With a jump, he pulled himself onto dry ground. He had just laid down, hand outstretched to help Krysilla, when there was a shout from the street. “You!” She turned her head toward the sound and saw a handful of men in green and white, just like the man at the front gate.
“Ignore them,” he said. “She’ll find us soon enough.”
Trusting him, Krysilla wrapped her hand around his wrist, and he did the same with hers. Pulling her up, it took a fair amount of effort for her to scramble to dry ground. By then, she heard a splash and saw two men, dressed entirely in green and white, wading in the brook after them while a few others had been stopped by Razev and Kirag.
“Why did she send guards?” she asked as they began once more to run, mirror once again firmly gripped in her hand. How this unknown contact had enough authority to send them was something that had begun to form a knot in her stomach.
“Because she didn’t like the way I left when I was here last.”
“But doesn’t this mean--”
“We’ll speak with her, don’t worry. Just run, and trust me.”
He’d always been correct when it came to people. He had a sense about them. And so, she trusted him, and ran with him toward a series of low hills not far from the city until her lungs felt as if they were about to burst and her feet felt odd, squishing inside their boots. She wasn’t the only one winded when he gestured for her to follow him into a small, abandoned dugout.
They collapsed just inside the door, their backs both hitting the dirt wall with a thump, their breathing loud in the silence of the abandoned home.
“You’re a wanted criminal,” she panted. Wasn’t he only safe as long as he was Razev’s prisoner?
He turned his head toward her. “And you look far too beautiful right now.”
“Oh, hush.” She hated his flattery. She didn’t look as gaunt or pale as when she had first met him, but she was no beauty, either. She brushed a stray, black lock of hair from her face. Raven-black, he’d described it once. “I thought we wanted your contact to find us.” She began to take off her boots and socks so she could dry them.
“We do, and she will.” He leaned his head back against the dirt wall and closed his eyes. “The point is not that she finds us, but how easy we make it for her.”
How much power does this woman have and what are you to her? she wanted to ask. Does she love you? Krysilla finished taking off her boots, cast a drying spell to help the process along, and leaned her head back as well though she knew her wet hair would turn the dirt to mud. She didn’t care. Exhaustion swept over her.
“The mirror?” Zhiv asked, sounding tired as well.
She held it up. “Is it like the one in the cave with the wheels?” She shouldn’t call it that. More like The Cave With the Portal, and even that didn’t quite describe what it held. The Ornic portal was unlike any magical contraption she’d ever seen, and she doubted she’d see anything like it again. The mirror that room held was the only one she’d seen that could show other places inside it.
Zhiv grinned. “Somewhat. It’s not nearly as well done, because this one was built by me.”
So it did belong to him, after all. She blinked. “How?” She noticed he was still wearing his sopping wet boots and gestured toward them, an offer to take them off.
He waved her away and did it himself. “In my off-time when I was here last.”
“How?” She sat up, facing him more fully. “I mean, how did you build it? What were the spells?”
He laughed, and his gaze softened in a way that made her blush. It’s not what you think it is, she told herself. He’s like this with every woman. Remember how he’d flirted with Lily?
As if guessing her thoughts, he looked away as he set up his own drying spell. “Aren’t you more interested in how to use it?” Giving her a sly, sidelong glance, he held out his hand. She gave him the mirror, then moved closer (far too close for propriety and she was more than aware of that) to see what it did.
He held it in front of him, the viewing side up. “When it’s like this,” he said, “you can receive messages through it. It’s actually an easier spell than the viewing you saw in the Ornic mirror because the characters are part of the spell itself. Tie the two objects, like you would a small portal and--”
“But that doesn’t explain anything. How do you tie them in the first place?”
“They have to be in the same room when you do it. It’s--” and then, for the first time since she’d met him, he hesitated in describing magic. “The spell I use is a modification of one the Ornic used a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Why the hesitation?
“I didn’t say it was.”
“But--”
“Do you want to hear this?”
“As long as you don’t hide anything.”
His gaze turned sharp, calculating, but not as it had when they’d first met. And when a smile grew on his face, she knew it was genuine. “What have I said about my secrets, Jyomsa?”
She sighed. His secrets, he’d said more than once, were his own.
“The only difference,” he said, continuing as if nothing off-topic had been said, “is that this isn’t tied to a mirror. She thought that would be too difficult to hide, given how she lives her life. Instead, we tied it to the seal the Marilisin family has worn since they were Ornic lords.”
She nodded slowly, not surprised by the revelation, though she’d still been hoping the “she” he’d been referring to wasn’t a member of the noble family itself. “How soon before Lady Marilisin tries to use it?”
“Soon enough.” He looked at her then, sizing up her reaction. “She’s not as bad as I’ve implied, if you’re curious. She’s actually rather interesting.”
Like you said I was interesting? she couldn’t help wondering. I’m not the first, she reminded herself. “I’m sure she is. You have a tendency to find such people.”
If he caught the slightly jealous tone she hated hearing in her own voice, he didn’t show it. “Her most glaring flaw is that she’s not honest with herself. And she’s always gotten what she wanted.”
Not you, though, Krysilla realized. That was why we ran. You don’t want her to think she can pick you up like a favorite toy whenever you come to visit. She glanced at the mirror in front of him. Still empty. “How long before she writes?”
“I’m a little surprised she hasn’t already tried,” he admitted, then held it up. “Viewing is very difficult through her medal, though it’s possible she’s trying that aspect of the spell instead.”
“Or it could be she wants to talk to you alone.” She hated saying that, but if she were being honest, that was likely the truth.
Zhiv’s tone became hard, unbending. “Then we won’t talk.”
Krysilla blinked. “She’s the one who’ll take us to Lord Marilisin, isn’t she?”
“My brother could get us in with a wave of the hand. It’s his privilege as a Dog. Unfortunately, entering like that tends to shut people up and I was hoping for information to flow both ways. I was hoping to be a little more...diplomatic. But Dogs will be Dogs.”
She thought of how the color of their vests had changed. “And they can’t hide?”
“They won’t. Not around a noble. It’s a matter of pride, I’ve been told, but I wonder if they simply enjoy watching a leader of men cower.”
“Then you’ll have to send her a message.”
“Beyond what I’ve already done? No. I’m not giving in to her whims like that.”
Krysilla thought quickly. “You could simply ask her if she were hoping you’d be alone.”
He lowered the mirror, looking at Krysilla now. And waited.
“Well,” she said, not as sure of herself as before, “Nenjrin likely mentioned the Dogs when he contacted her.” Or me, she almost added before thinking better of it. “Maybe she won’t talk to you until she knows you’re alone.”
“The only way she can be sure of that is if--” he paused, then chuckled and closed his eyes. “She’s following us.”
A small bit of fear wriggled into Krysilla’s heart. It had been bad enough meeting Lady Felldesh at the extravaganza in a borrowed gown and shoes. But meeting a former lover of Zhiv in a plain dress and mud in her hair without any sash at all? She cringed at the thought.
Holding the mirror firmly, he began to draw a spell on it. The characters glowed, forming into words she could read. Were you hoping I’d be alone? “We’ll see if she responds to that. For all her lying to herself, she’s always been one to appreciate honesty in others.”
“Then why is she attached to you?”
He shot her a playful glower. “She isn’t. She simply expects me to fall in line one of these days.”
“And do what?”
“Become a husband she can show off.”
His direct answer surprised her. She remembered talking down by the cove about how much she wanted a home, a family, and she remembered how he’d wished her luck. It had been clear a family had nothing to do with his future plans. He’d also made it clear this deal with Marilisin would end their time together. Was he concerned she would expect him to fall in line as well? She knew better than that and thought it showed. Didn’t it? “I imagine she’s willing to wait a long time?”
“Forever. That was the exact word she used.” His gaze changed, and she could have sworn he looked puzzled. “You don’t mind any of this?”
“What? You talking about an old love?” She forced her jealousy away. “Only if it means you’re distracted from the real reason we’re here.”
“Even that isn’t simple, Jyomsa.” He leaned his head back against the wall once more. “And frankly, I’d like a distraction right about now rather than think about what’s to come. I’ve already gone over it too many times in my head. Any more and I’m likely to trip up.”
He’d never looked so serious to her. “That difficult?”
“Yes.” The smile was gone from his face. He stared at the opposite wall before shaking his head, then looking down at the mirror. Still empty.
If Zhiv was worried, then it was indeed something to be worried about. Hoping she wasn’t making things worse, Krysilla said, “I know nothing of nobles, beyond the little I heard growing up of the Felldesh family. Is Lord Marilisin a hard man?”
“Far from it. In fact, when he was younger, he was good friends with Lord Felldesh, and I heard they made quite an odd-looking friendship. Lord Marilisin tends to be outgoing and friendly, while...well, you’ve met Lord Felldesh already.”
“It’s hardly a view into his true self. We were looking for proof of terrible deeds and found them.”
“True. Back to the topic at hand, the danger is not from Lord Marilisin.” Zhiv tilted the mirror, holding it up once more. His frown deepened. “Lady Marilisin is more than an only daughter. She’s his only child. Thankfully, he’s a good enough parent that she didn’t become entirely spoiled, but she’s still gotten her way more often than not. He lets her read things she shouldn’t read, talk to people when she should be quiet, and otherwise do as she likes. And she’s never known a day of hunger. Or hard work. She’s only seen them from the outside when Lord Marilisin took her on his charitable rounds. To her credit, what she saw disturbed her greatly. And her sense of duty is strong enough that the two of them have managed to build one of the most prosperous cities in the whole kingdom. Only Lord Felldesh bests them in wealth and power.”
Krysilla blinked. “Pardon?”
“The Felldesh lands are small but he has the raw goods for what eventually becomes the Lights and the Platters.”
She stared at the floor now, amazed. The Lights and the Platters kept fire spells from everyone but a select few. They were critical in a world where spells were restricted by trade, not need. Something that critical would have brought enormous wealth to the Felldesh family. She’d grown up on his lands, had grown up with the notion that the Felldesh family was good and kind and gave everything they had to their people. And yet, she had just seen a city almost as large as the capital. Felldesh had nothing to compare.
As if knowing what she was thinking, Zhiv said, “He believes cities are a bane to civilization. Make one too big, and evil will fill it. It’s practically the Felldesh motto. It’s also why he keeps the market far from any of the villages. He fears the two might merge.”
“Why have I never heard of this? I grew up there.”
“But not in the places that dealt in that trade. Not to mention, Lord Felldesh believes such things should be kept quiet, since you never know when a friend might become your enemy. However, the mines are real and truly belong to Felldesh, though they’re cut off from the rest of his lands with strict, discreet routes for the goods, and plenty of coin, food, and comfort for those who work in them, to make sure they remain happy and silent. It’s not that different an existence from living in Okya Valley, actually, minus the coin, food, and comfort.” He sighed through his nose, looking once more at the mirror. “She’s not going to answer.”
Krysilla tucked away what he’d said about Okya Valley for future thoughts. “Perhaps she’s forgotten you.”
“Do you think so?” He set the mirror on the ground.
“Or perhaps she’s finally given up on you coming ‘round.”
“One can only hope,” he murmured. He turned toward her, leaning against the wall with one arm while the other braced him against the dirt floor, stretching across her lap. Whispering in her ear, his breath warm, he said, “Do you really think I’m forgettable, Krysilla?”
Heart pounding in her chest, she didn’t trust herself to answer. Instead of pulling away, as he’d done in the past, the tip of his nose brushed against the top of her ear, making her eyes close in rapture. His lips gently trailed downward along the edge. She gasped at the contact, then scrambled to her feet.
She didn’t even realize she’d covered the ear he’d played with, pressing one hand against it, until she’d turned to face him. “We’re partners,” she hissed.
“Why so upset?” His smug grin infuriated her. “It’s forgettable, isn’t it?” There was an edge to his smile and his tone that made her realize she’d inadvertently touched a nerve.
Her eyes widened as she realized his point. He refused to think of himself as forgettable. That conceited, arrogant...“You bastard.”
“Actually, that’s a bit of a debate. Would you care to hear the story? Or would you rather I go back to explaining how to create a mirror like this?” And he gestured toward it, his eyes still glinting from whatever anger or pain she’d managed to bring out in him.
Folding her arms over her tingling chest, she tried to ignore how close she’d come to letting him do more than tease her ear. If he’d taken it any further...she shoved those thoughts as far away as she could. She should slap him for what he’d done, but she knew he’d only done it because she’d hurt him. “Don’t do that again.”
“Call you by your personal name?”
“Don’t.” He knew exactly what she meant. “We’re partners. You said once you couldn’t allow anything beyond--”
“Family. I was going to pretend we were family. But that feels like an eternity ago, and now you’re simply an unfortunate widow, or at least, that’s what we’re going to let most people think. I doubt anyone will ask, until you get back to your village.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall again with a small sigh.
He’d never asked where she would go after the deal was made. Though she wasn’t surprised at his guess, her leaving was the last thing she wanted to discuss. “But until then, we’re partners. We swore an oath to each other.”
“And after today that oath will mean nothing.”
The words stung, in spite of his neutral tone. She clenched her jaw, not trusting herself to say anything.
Zhiv sighed again and opened his eyes. When he spoke, he sounded contrite, something she’d never expected from him. “Jyomsa, what I did just now was indeed forgettable. And rather regrettable, as well, considering our current circumstances. Forgive me.” Looking truly sorry, he said, “This day may be our last. I shouldn’t have toyed with it.”
He meant it. Still feeling desire for him pooling inside, Krysilla shook her head. This was the very reason she didn’t allow him to use her personal name. “You remember what I said about crossing boundaries?”
“Yes. It won’t happen again.”
Again, he meant it. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she said, “Please, Hon Mikailsin, tell me more about your mirror.”
“Formalities,” he muttered, picking up it up. “Now I deeply regret what I did.”
“As well you should.” And yet, she smiled as she knelt at his feet.
As he began to explain how the item was used, she realized that she regretted what she had said about him being forgettable in any way. Perhaps this Lady Marilisin had forgotten him, but she didn’t see how that was possible. One look at his smile, at the light in his eyes as he held out the mirror, eager as a schoolboy who’d just mastered his sums, with the sun bringing out the gold in his gold-brown, wavy, mussed up hair, still wet, and she knew she never would.
Zhiv paused, as if listening. His smile faded. “Dogs,” he said softly.
Quietly as she could, Krysilla moved back to the wall, though this time he pulled her gently to his other side, away from the door. Leaning in, this time she was the one who whispered in his ear. “Plans?”
He shook his head, confused. Then chuckled. “Razev.”
Krysilla relaxed. “Kirag, too?”
He nodded, but made no move to get up. Instead, he leaned his back more fully against the wall, his head tilting back, eyes closed.
“How do you know?” she said, still close enough to him to whisper and be heard clearly.
“The shard.”
The remnant of an execution spell cast on him when he was a child, the “shard” lingered in him and gave him trouble every night, except when he had exhausted himself to the point of fever with a spell. Near as she could tell, the “shard” was what gave him the ability to tell when the Dogs were near. But the actual process was something she’d always wanted to learn more about, and not only to satisfy her curiosity. She’d seen him in agony once too often. If there was a way to help him escape the nightmares of his past, she would love to find it.
And she knew she hadn’t even seen it at its worst.
She heard voices muttering outside, then a voice she recognized. “Would have thought he’d try to go all the way back,” Kirag said.
“He knows better,” Razev replied, then called out, “You’ve got a visitor, Zhiv.”
Zhiv’s smile was slow and bitter. “It seems she didn’t forget me, after all, Jyomsa.”
Krysilla only pressed herself against the wall, hoping she wouldn’t need to be seen. “Let me know how things go.”
He opened his eyes and cocked his head, amused. “You think you’re staying here?”
“Well, there’s no need to introduce me. It’d just be awkward all around.”
“For whom?” His amusement deepened. He leaned in closer, and Krysilla almost hoped he would try teasing her ear again. “If you’re worried about your appearance--”
“I’m sorry,” an elegant, cultivated voice said from above them. “Am I interrupting something?”
Krysilla didn’t want to look up. She’d been a baker’s wife, used to sometimes being covered in flour and dough, but never with mud in her hair or dirt on her dress from her earlier scramble away from Zhiv. In fact, as things had gotten better, before she’s left her village, she’d prided herself on the fact that she actually spent time trying to look pretty, futile as it sometimes felt. The thought of facing Lady Marilisin like this made her wish she could disappear.
But it wouldn’t look good for any of them if she cowered. So, in spite of her inward cringing, she forced herself to look up at Zhiv’s former lover with her shoulders back and chin high.
Lady Marilisin looked to be only twenty and one years old. She wore a gown more narrow in the skirt than what Krysilla had seen, with a filmy overlay that seemed out of place in this dugout, too delicate, too easily ripped. Her trim figure was somewhat hidden by the cut of the dress, with the waist riding just below her bust and her white sash running along it, tied in the back so that the long material streamed behind her, a style Krysilla had never seen, even in her brief time inside the Felldesh manor. The lady’s smile, framed with light blond tendrils that had escaped from the braids coiled on the back of her head, was amused in that knowing way that Krysilla had always associated with Zhiv. But her eyes were what caught Krysilla’s jealousy. They were bright, happy, intelligent, and full of warmth. They were, in other words, everything her former husband had told her she wasn’t.
“I’ve heard you have a story for me.” Lady Marilisin’s voice was like music itself.
No wonder Zhiv had speculated she’d forgotten him. The woman likely had a bevy of men praying for simply a returning glance across the room.
Zhiv didn’t immediately answer, only looked her over. “You felt the bracelets would be too much?”
“I never wear them if I’m unsure of the terrain. As if you’re one to talk. Wearing a tradesman’s vest, of all things, and barefoot.” She looked around the room.
“You’ll have to sit on the floor, I’m afraid,” Zhiv said. “I don’t trust the chair.” He gestured to a splintered thing in the corner.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she grinned, and lowered herself until she was settled on one hip, hardly leaning on her pale hand lightly pressing into the floor. “Don’t be shy,” she called out through the door. “If you’re part of the tale, please join us.” Then, to Zhiv. “I haven’t been amused in some time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s your fault, you know.” Her slight pout was sincere. “You left just when things were getting interesting.”
Zhiv’s smile didn’t fade. “King’s business, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, I’ve heard.” And in her eyes, Krysilla could see a million questions forming.
Razev and Kirag entered, positioning themselves in a corner with a clear view of the door.
“Now,” she said, tilting her head, “last I heard, a certain fiddler had left my father’s city to investigate a small disturbance among the nobles. One so scandalous that none spoke of it except in hushed tones at certain parties, and then only to those sure to keep the secret.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now, of course. Lady Felldesh has proven true all the rumors we heard. I’ve also heard the royal family is dead, and that this certain fiddler has been accused of murdering them.”
Krysilla noted that Zhiv’s smile was definitely appreciative. “You’ve heard a lot.”
“I do what I can.” And now her gaze turned appreciative in turn. “Not nearly as much as some.”
Krysilla hugged her knees to her chest, feeling miserable at the closeness these two shared. You knew it when you first met him, she told herself. He would eventually become bored and leave you and now you see that it’s been this way with others before you.
“Ah, then,” Zhiv said, drawing his knees to his chest as well, “I doubt you need anything more from me than a confirmation of what you think...and a name.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And in return?”
“One of my requests, because I feel this information warrants many in payment, is safe shelter for those traveling with me.”
Lady Marilisin stared, eyes widening ever so slightly. “Of course. How many more travel with you?”
Zhiv listed them off (all except Hyaji), one by one, and Lady Marilisin’s eyes grew wider with each mention, especially when he came to his nephews. When he finished, she said, “I shall greet them myself, and take them by carriage to the manor.”
“You’ve stopped calling it a castle?”
“The word is no longer fashionable, unless you’re royalty. If I call it that on my own, I won’t sound convincing when I say it among friends.”
But Zhiv had already turned to Kirag and Razev. “Can you tell the others?”
They looked at each other for a moment, then Kirag nodded and left.
“No mirror?” Lady Marilisin said, watching Kirag go with elegant puzzlement.
“I didn’t have enough time to make another.” He held up the mirror. “It was difficult enough getting some practice in, and if I have to choose one or the other, I’ll choose the practice.”
“Creating one of those could be practice.” It sounded as if she were fishing for something.
“It’s not the same, and you know it. Though I do admit, this would have come in very handy more than once.” All business once more, Zhiv said, “My next request is for the material to make a divorced woman’s sash. Nothing too fancy, though. I’ll need it before I see your father.”
Lady Marilisin sat up, hands folded in her lap. “For your partner, I imagine.”
“Yes. It should have been given to her, but...well, circumstances.”
“I imagine,” she murmured. “You do realize the gossip that will follow me?”
“First, you are too well-loved by your people for them to think the sash is for you, and too free-spirited for them to believe you had a secret marriage tucked away among all your lovers.”
Lady Marilisin’s lips thinned and a light blush dusted her cheeks. Krysilla sympathized, in spite of her jealousy.
“Second, you have a wide array of fabrics in a room large enough to sleep thirty people. I imagine that somewhere in among the oddities you’ve collected there’s a scrap of fabric fine enough for the sash itself, and perhaps even black lace to trim it. There will never be a need for even a servant of the castle to know what you’ve given her, or that you had it in the first place. Give us the material, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
Lady Marilisin took a quick breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m sure I can find something. Anything else?”
Zhiv’s smile became a mischievous grin, but that only lasted a moment. “The rest can wait. Once we have everyone at your father’s manor, I’ll outline the rest of my payment.”
“Fifty percent now and fifty percent later. You haven’t changed a bit.” Lady Marilisin got to her feet with a grace that made Krysilla all the more aware of her own clumsy attempt when she and Zhiv stood. “I’ll inform my driver of the extra passengers.”
He didn’t reply, only waited as Lady Marilisin passed him and walked to the enclosed carriage waiting outside. A regular carrier, from what she could see. The kind anyone could buy in Hurush for a short jaunt across town, and the kind no one would look twice at except to make sure they were out of the path.
“You certainly pick the charming ones,” Razev murmured, coming up to stand just behind them.
“Interesting, Razev. Not charming. Interesting. Nothing else will do.”
Krysilla hugged herself, in spite of the heat. She couldn’t help it. It was as if she were standing in her kitchen once more, staring at Zhiv on the other side, listening to his answer when she said there were other women in the town who would give in to his advances. None more interesting than you, he’d said.
But she was nothing compared to Lady Marilisin.
The whole time the lady spoke with the driver, Zhiv kept his eyes on her. Always. And with that same calculation in them she’d seen focused on her, though not as often as in the beginning.
The observation clicked. As Zhiv had grown to trust her, his smile had become more open, more warm. And when he did look at her with any calculation, there was amusement there as well. No. Friendliness. He likes me, she reminded herself. And that seemed to be more than Lady Marilisin got, even though they had shared a bed at one time. Because the longer Krysilla watched Zhiv, the more she got the sense that Zhiv didn’t trust the noble smiling back at him.