One thing was certain, Krysilla decided: her clothes were much better suited to the rocky terrain surrounding the cove than Lady Marilisin’s filmy dress and embroidered shoes. Her careful steps slowed them down to half the speed that they’d used to walk to the city. If Zhiv felt at all frustrated by the pace, he didn’t show it. He was just as courteous to Lady Marilisin as he’d been to Krysilla when he had been concerned that the pace was too much for her.
She was starting to agree with Razev. The sooner they got this over with, the better.
And she was most certainly glad she hadn’t taken Zhiv’s concern and protection as anything more than friendliness.
When she could push her jealousy aside, she did take note of something she hadn’t expected. Lady Marilisin didn’t cling, or even notice Zhiv much on the journey, beyond what was polite. Instead, she spent much of her time speaking with Razev, asking about news from Hurush, from the most mundane weather to her obvious concern regarding the lists the Disciples had apparently been compiling for the past few weeks. “I think it’s safe to confess that my father won’t allow them to compile any within his city until the King has been chosen,” she said. “He feels this is not something that should be done without a firm hand guiding it.”
“Your father is a wise man,” Razev replied. Zhiv said nothing.
Next in frequency of attention came Krysilla, and even then Lady Marilisin’s questions steered away from the personal. She wanted to know what kind of magic Krysilla had used, and where she’d learned it. In return, Krysilla found she could ask anything she liked about the training of a noblewoman.
“How old were you?” she asked.
“Ten,” Lady Marilisin said, then grew sheepish. “I’m afraid I’m not a good example. I refused to learn for many years. I threw tantrums that shame me now, all to avoid casting in favor of running through the garden. Most begin training at seven. My father hoped I would begin earlier. Did your father train you?”
Krysilla nodded. “Mine started at four, though. I didn’t know it at the time. It was small magic, growing seedlings for the garden.”
“You had a garden?”
“Mmm. My father was a farmer.”
“I never touched that magic,” Lady Marilisin said, almost wistful. Krysilla wasn’t surprised she never had. Why would a noble learn how to farm? “Ours focuses on attacks and defense,” the lady continued, “though, to be honest, their practicality has yet to be tested. My father was furious when I didn’t want to learn anything at all. Too many nobles are forgetting their spells entirely, you see.” The land sloped downward, with a series of wide rocks that made a broad, natural staircase. Zhiv held out one hand, positioning himself so that Lady Marilisin had to rely on him on her way down. Her grateful smile was all the attention she gave him. “My father is concerned that if this continues, the only ones who will remember how to defend against an attack will be the Dogs.”
“There’s been no inter-house fighting since the days of the Ornic,” Razev said. “I doubt losing those spells will bring any catastrophe.”
“Ah, but what if one enterprising noble learned what he could?” she said. “Our manors are often filled with Ornic spells. We clap our hands and walls move, or rooms disappear. It’s a wonderful show for those who have no idea what’s inscribed in the walls, and we feel it’s a check on any pride among the lower classes. Our equals know better. And if one decided to take control of the others, to work outside the system, would we be strong enough to resist? It’s questions such as these that trouble my father, and as a result, trouble me.”
Krysilla nodded slowly. Focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, she tried to hold on to the conversation as she followed Zhiv and Lady Marilisin down to the end of the stone stairs that marked the first portion of the descent to the cove.
“Are you doing well, Goodwife Jyomsa?” Razev asked.
She shook her head, noticing for the first time that Zhiv hadn’t commented on it. Perhaps, given his past with the lady, he felt he couldn’t. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“I beg pardon,” Lady Marilisin said. “I fear I’ve exhausted you with my conversation.”
Krysilla shook her head again. “Our journey...it has been a little more difficult than I’m...accustomed--”
“We’ve been in fear for our lives for the past three weeks, Lia,” Zhiv said.
The words themselves were matter-of-fact. That, in itself, surprised Krysilla. Zhiv had been so nonchalant with describing their situation before, as if there were nothing that could be thrown at them that couldn’t be overcome. But what stood out most was not his direct manner. He’d obviously called her by her personal name many times before. It hurt, and Krysilla didn’t want it to hurt.
Besides, she had been the one to turn him down. Because whatever pain she felt now would be nothing compared to when he left her for someone else.
“Ah, well then...” Lady Marilisin turned back to Krysilla on what was now level ground, “I shall wait until we arrive to give you all the details of my education. Do you need help on the rocks?” She gestured toward the cliffs in front of them. Small, Zhiv had called them, stating that the ones to the North were much more intimidating, but Krysilla thought they were intimidating enough. Ahead, she could see the gray line of rocks that marked the steep, narrow stairs that led to the shoreline. Before, she had had Zhiv to help her climb them. Now, she would be lucky if she got help from Razev. She certainly didn’t want any from Lady Marilisin.
“No,” Krysilla said. “I’m fine.”
But she caught Zhiv looking at them from up ahead, concern in his eyes: the same deep concern that he’d shown each time she’d been overcome by the portal, not the courtly attention he showed “Lia” as they walked. She wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. It confused her. He’d made it clear that she meant something to him, that he liked her, but she was also aware that he had a use for her as well, though she didn’t know what that might be. Not yet. Did he worry about losing that possibility?
It made her wish they had been able to spend more time discussing magic instead of trying to survive.
Now that Lady Marilisin was here, and Zhiv would go his way while everyone else would go theirs, it seemed absurd to even think about learning to cast anything more than what she already knew.
And yet, she wanted it. That brief moment listening to him talk about the mirror hadn’t been enough.
The stairs weren’t as difficult going down as they had been coming up. Razev helped, though Lady Marilisin offered several times. Razev even offered the use of his staff.
“I thought you weren’t carrying them,” Krysilla said, surprised.
“Dogs always carry them,” Zhiv explained from further down. “They’re never without them from the moment the King first hands it over. As for where they’re kept on a Dog’s person, that’s something only the Dogs themselves know.” And she caught a brief glance that told her he might be one of the exceptions.
That brief glance comforted her, in a way she couldn’t explain.
No one said anything more until they reached the pile of rocks at the bottom that stood as a divider between the cliffs themselves and the sandy shoreline that made up the vast majority of the cove’s floor.
“Hello,” Zhiv called out. “We’re back.”
It made her smile when she saw “Lord” Kevya Razkyaviztalem Ulroputalemzhyozn, the “owner” of the cave where they had been staying, appear from behind part of the cliff. Because his name was so difficult to pronounce, he granted them permission to simply call him “Lord Kevya” because, he said, it was the part of his name he loved best. “Greetings!”
“Hail, Lord Kevya!” both she and Zhiv called out.
He hobbled down the shoreline toward them, his feet, as always, bare, and the rags covering him swaying in the sea breeze.
Perhaps, she considered as she watched him approach, Zhiv could add Kevya to the list of those he wanted Lady Marilisin to take care of. Kevya, in spite of his madness in thinking he was one of the Ornic lords of old, was very kind, and had graciously allowed them the use of his cave in exchange for a song. More than that, he’d shared his meager food when they’d first arrived, and watched over the ones who were still recovering, allowing some of the burden to be taken from Nitty, who had grown somewhat fond of the old man herself.
Yes. Krysilla would talk to Zhiv about adding him to the list.
“You are all well, I hope?” Kevya called out, continuing toward them.
Zhiv picked up his pace, as if he hadn’t been tired earlier. “Very well. And we have brought a visitor.” He turned and gestured toward Lady Marilisin as if she were a performer on a stage. “Lord Kevya Ulroputalemzhyozn, may I present the honorable Lady Liliana Marilisin.”
Not even a personal name then, Krysilla couldn’t help noticing. Only close family shortened a personal name like that. Or someone closer than family.
Kevya bowed as much as age would allow. “It is an honor to meet one of the Tothsin nobles.”
Lady Marilisin glanced at Zhiv who winked. A gracious, and somewhat amused, smile lit her features. “I am the one who is honored,” she said, curtsying deeply. Then, in a loud whisper, “I have never met an Ornic lord before.”
“That’s because we have hidden ourselves, my good lady,” he replied, as if talking about the weather. “My ancestors ran from the Dogs and I ran with them. They taught me in secret, hiding in caves where I could practice my spells without detection. When I was grown, I and a few of my compatriots chose to abscond to the caverns of your wonderful land, and we have remained in secret here, many, many years.”
“I imagine,” she said, with perhaps a little too much wonder in her voice. They all headed back toward the cave. Lord Kevya offered Lady Marilisin his arm, and she took it with a slight curtsy. “I must admit, though, Lord--”
“Kevya, please.”
The Tothsin lady visibly fought against a laugh. “Kevya. The Dogs haven’t been on the hunt since before I was born. Why did you not visit me for all these years, if only as a courtesy, one noble to another?”
“Alas, my clothes, good lady.” He spread one arm out, covered with rags, as he hobbled along.
“I could have gotten you better.”
“At what cost? Freedom has more value than any cloth. The Dogs still watch for us, with only a few exceptions.” He gave Razev a friendly nod.
Krysilla took note of Lady Marilisin’s glance toward Zhiv. “I understand. But Kevya, you would have nothing to fear from anyone in the Marilisin manor.”
“Ah look!” he called out. “My pages have arrived. And they brought the little serving girl with them.”
Syril, Rysil, and Tira ran toward them. Zhiv let the younger of his two nephews rush into his arms. In spite of the boy’s eight years in age, Zhiv easily spun him around. The older one, fast approaching twelve years and wanting to show it, merely said, “Good journey, uncle?”
“Good journey,” Zhiv grinned.
Tira threw her arms around Krysilla’s waist, clinging as if she were afraid Krysilla would disappear forever. It was such a contrast to the casual hugs and tussles from the boys that it caught Krysilla’s attention. Tira, abandoned by her father and raised in chaos, already knew loss.
If the boys didn’t, it meant Zhiv hadn’t yet told them that their parents were dead.
Nor did it seem that Zhiv had told the boys about their other uncle, Razev, though that made more sense. The boys barely looked at “the Dog” as Zhiv nudged them toward Kevya.
Rysil, the older of the two, and almost too old to be called a child, bowed low. “All is prepared as you ordered, my lord.”
Kevya thanked him and turned back to Lady Marilisin, “I have ordered a small feast prepared, in honor of my soon-departing guests. They have brightened my life in a way I haven’t experienced since High Lord Porver fell into the Naryaset.” He frowned. “I have so little to give them.” Brightening a little, he patted her arm. “That is why I am glad you’re here, my dear. You are fulfilling your duty well, taking them on as you are.”
Something in her eyes faded. “I do what I can. It helps when I have wise advisors to guide me.” Again, she glanced at Zhiv, but he was busy discussing with Syril the kinds of fish the boys had seen in the cove. There was no change in her expression when she turned her attention back to the old man. “I am afraid I do not have time to spend, however. We must leave quickly.”
“Truly? But I have asked the goodwife’s sister to prepare the best dinner I can give. Not even a bite? It would offend me if you didn’t partake of even a little of our midday meal.”
“In that case,” she said, looking amused once more, “I am afraid I have no choice.”
The old man chortled, as if he had scored a great victory. “Zhiv,” she heard Razev say behind them, his voice stern.
“Run ahead and serve the old lord well,” Zhiv said to the boys. “Perhaps he’ll tell you another story about the Blessed Ones.”
“He doesn’t call them Blessed Ones,” Syril frowned, as if his uncle should know this. “They’re Ornic in his stories.”
“You’re not correcting him, are you?”
“No.”
“Good. Run along.”
“And then you’ll see the shells we got? They’re sharp enough we could use them as axes.”
Zhiv grinned at Syril’s and even Rysil’s hopeful faces. “Axes? I’ll have to make a point of looking at them, then.”
Rysil left, but Syril lingered. “And there’s these things with pinchers, Uncle!”
“Later, Syril.” Zhiv waved him toward the cave. The boy reluctantly raced after his brother.
Zhiv hesitated, then called out to his nephew once more. When the boy turned, he said, “There’s more than that in the sea. Beasts with several arms and underwater flowers and fish with so many colors that they make you wonder if an Ornic painted them. Would you like to see it?”
“Yes!”
Zhiv chuckled. “Then serve the old lord well, and I’ll show you and your brother, both.”
Krysilla watched him race back to the cave with a smile that wouldn’t leave. She hadn’t expected Zhiv to be good with children. And yet, although he became uncomfortable and bewildered if any of them were distressed, he didn’t mind playing along with their games, or initiating his own. If he’d had any mind to settle down, she thought while watching them, he might have made a good father.
It wasn’t that it was too late. Far from it. He’d simply made it clear that he had no intention of ever living that kind of life.
Zhiv’s smile faded as he watched his nephews running back toward the cave. “I’m afraid, my lord,” he said, “I have business with my protector.”
“Go to it then.” Kevya waved without even turning to look at him.
Taking a deep breath, Zhiv’s expression when he glanced at Razev was unreadable. They walked further down the shoreline, away from the cave. Whatever was about to be said, Krysilla decided, was not likely to be pleasant.
It was with a cold shiver that she remembered their true situation. They’d all, except Nitty, been seen casting illegal magic--even Hyaji, who had taken an oath as a Disciple to never cast--and the presence of the Dogs made that clear. According to the laws of the land, Daegan, Zhiv, and Krysilla should have been executed for that alone. It was only Zhiv’s testimony and Razev’s mercy that had allowed them to live this long. And it was the deal Zhiv planned to strike with Lord Marilisin that would enable all of them to walk free and continue their lives. In exchange for Zhiv’s.
He’ll escape, Krysilla reminded herself. He will never accept death, not after what he had said. Trusting him, she watched Dog Kirag--watching them from a small outcropping just outside the cave, she realized--trying to listen as Tira, who rarely spoke, chattered about the wonders of the ocean. Kirag smiled as he watched her talk about the waves, her arms spreading high and low to show her aunt the bigness of what she’d seen, lifting a foot to show her the sand still clinging between her toes.
He seemed sincere enough in his amusement. Perhaps he had children himself. But, she couldn’t help wondering, was that why he was helping them now, or was there another reason?
Razev trusted him, she reminded herself and tried to relax. That should be enough.
They rounded the small outcropping and Kevya’s cave came into view almost immediately to their right. In front of the cave was a low platform of rock, with uneven steps that led to it, and a line of children’s shoes and boots stood at the front entrance, a custom Kevya had insisted on.
Lady Marilisin had already sat down on the floor when they arrived. Krysilla took note of her sister’s and Daegan’s health as she entered and took off her boots. Nitty was doing well. She had put a small bit of fish stew in one of two bowls the old man had in his keeping. I’m sorry, he’d apologized at their first meal together. My friends always bring their own. No matter, Zhiv had said with a sweep of his hand. In the old days--days I’m sure you remember, my lord--it wasn’t uncommon for a small group to share one bowl, especially if they were traveling.
She remembered how his nephews had tried not to giggle at the performance of their uncle. And she remembered how they’d talked while they ate about all the things that he could do with them now that he was no longer employed by the King. Running for their lives had only seemed to enhance the aura of excitement the two boys had placed around their Uncle Zhiv, minstrel and spy.
Daegan was sitting up, though he still looked pale. Of them all, she had thought he would have recovered the fastest. Instead, the fever had ended up hitting him the hardest, whether because he had tried to keep the structure that ran the portal intact mostly by himself, or because the nature of his work meant little time for getting used to more powerful magic, she couldn’t say.
The children kept themselves busy while Nitty finished the stew, either listening to stories, or telling them, or exploring just outside the cave. Rysil had proven a good leader of the younger two, making sure they obeyed and stayed out of trouble. Even now, as they began the meal, Rysil was the one who made sure Tira and Syril minded their manners, and waited patiently for their turn. The sick, the elderly, then the children and then the rest. Krysilla was proud of them.
Conversation was brief and stayed superficial. Small talk. Krysilla watched Lady Marilisin and the old man and couldn’t help wondering if this was how it was in the sitting rooms of the nobles. She hadn’t had much experience. Just once with Lady Felldesh, and looking back, that had been as much to satisfy Lady Felldesh’s curiosity as anything else.
And then, while Tira daintily ate some stale bread Rysil had gotten for her, Krysilla noticed Lady Marilisin watching her. Turning to Krysilla, she said, “Are you her mother?”
“Aunt.” Krysilla glanced at Nitty, who acted as if she hadn’t heard.
“Ah.”
“Is there something you wish to know?” Nitty said, still not looking at Lady Marilisin. In fact, Krysilla realized, she hadn’t looked at the noblewoman since she’d arrived.
“She’s a wonderful girl. Very pretty and sweet.”
Tira blushed, and gave a smile that would have melted the coldest heart.
“If you ever need to place her--” Lady Marilisin continued, but Nitty cut her off.
“She’s the daughter of a merchant. Not a servant.” Her direct response caught Lady Marilisin off-guard.
Zhiv’s words about Lady Marilisin came back. She’s never known what it’s like to be hungry. There must be many things she didn’t know. Terrified they’d offended the noblewoman, Krysilla tried to smooth things over, though she didn’t have Zhiv’s gift for it. “It’s always good to have options. It’s also quite an honor you’ve given her, the opportunity to work in a land like this.”
Nitty glared at Krysilla who raised an eyebrow back. They’d both heard stories of nobles who’d taken a liking to a young girl or boy, and raised them in their house. Always, the children were from terrible circumstances. Krysilla continued, “However, we’re going to go back home after this.”
Nitty nearly dropped the single bowl she’d filled for Daegan.
Trying to keep a straight face, Krysilla continued. “I have a bakery that is currently being watched over by my assistant. Tira can help me there until my sister finds another husband and I’m sure she’ll find one who can provide very well for both of them.”
Lady Marilisin nodded, with almost the same amusement on her face as when she’d listened to the old man go on about Ornic customs. Does she think we’re all mad? Krysilla couldn’t help wondering. Does she expects us all dead before the next New Moon? Or perhaps, she tried to calm herself, she doesn’t expect my plan to work?
But then, Lady Marilisin changed the subject to something more pleasant: the current attempt to regulate the coastal trade. And just when the old man had begun to disagree that a lack of regulation would discourage pirates, Razev and a very sober Zhiv returned.
“We saved some for you,” Rysil said, not looking at Razev, but at his Uncle Zhiv.
“Thank you.” Zhiv hardly smiled.
Razev gave his brother a pointed stare. Zhiv glared back. “Get your things. We’re leaving.”
“Now?” Syril said, but Rysil shushed him and began to gather their small packs.
“It appears,” Kevya said, “that my time of hospitality has ended.”
Zhiv paused in making sure his nephews were ready, and Krysilla breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t like him to be so serious. Kevya’s observation seemed to bring him back to himself, a smile somewhere between genuine and a smirk, forming in spite of whatever dark thoughts had grown behind it. “I beg pardon, Lord Kevya, for being so abrupt. May we take leave of your kindness?”
“Of course.” The “lord” waved away his apology. “And take whatever food you like. Remember me with kindness.”
“Always.” His smile turned thoroughly genuine. “I am very grateful to you, Lord Kevya, for allowing us the use of your home during our distress. I owe you more than one song for all the trouble we have caused you.”
“I am grateful you allowed me the joy of being around others again, Hon Mikailsin. The honor is mine.” And he bowed low.
Zhiv paused, looking almost shocked. Then he also bowed low. “Thank you.” Once more, he became serious, though not as completely as when he’d first entered the cave. Krysilla had nothing more than her torn pack to gather. Nitty and Tira had no true belongings beyond a small stuffed doll Daegan had found in Zhiv’s house before they left. It was old, and worn, yet Tira held it as if she cradled an infant. Krysilla noted that Nitty spent a little extra time combing through Tira’s hair, her fingers drawing a small spell that Krysilla had never seen, but that let the knots fall out as her fingers touched them.
She’d never learned a spell like that. And yet, which spells she did and didn’t know didn’t take her attention nearly as much as Zhiv and his change in attitude. His lightheartedness seemed forced now, his eyes barely seeing what was in front of him.
What had Razev said to him?
Whatever it was, it wasn’t hinted at on the way out. And after Nitty, Tira, Daegan, the boys, Kirag, and Lady Marilisin had squeezed into the carriage waiting for them not far beyond the broad stone steps, Zhiv announced that he would walk. Lady Marilisin’s mouth tensed, but even she could see there was barely enough room for the number that had already gone inside. Razev announced he would follow him, and Krysilla, who had let everyone else go first, found herself saying she would also walk with him.
Neither Zhiv nor Razev had looked surprised. However, Lady Marilisin’s lips thinned briefly. The smile that followed seemed a little too broad. “Very well. Though I’ve never known Zhiv to want--”
“It’s all right, Lady Marilisin,” Zhiv said. “She can come with.”
Lady Marilisin shrugged as if it wasn’t her concern and told the driver to move along. As they drove away, Razev and Krysilla followed a now very quiet Zhiv, fiddle slung across his chest and his satchel strap criss-crossing it from the opposite shoulder. The wind teased his hair, but he seemed too lost in thought to notice.
When Zhiv had walked far enough not to hear them, Razev said, “This is what he was like when he was younger. In case you were interested.”
Krysilla blinked. It was hard to imagine Zhiv being anyone other than who he was. “Quiet?”
“Quiet, and with a tendency to pout. At least, until he figured out a way to get out of whatever rules had been placed on him.” Razev glanced sidelong at Krysilla. “Does he listen to you?”
“Not especially.”
“I’ve seen you two talk.”
“Oh. That.” Zhiv’s fever had faded in the early morning, and the “shard” never appeared. There had been no need for stories or songs or anything she knew he’d used in the past to distract himself from the spell that wanted to kill him.
Because, as he’d once explained, the spell couldn’t take hold as long as he believed it wasn’t real. As he focused on it, or on the massacre of his family where he’d received it, the spell began its work.
But that didn’t mean he listened to her when they spoke. “From what I’ve seen, he does as he likes.”
“You know that’s not true.” It almost sounded like a chastisement. “If that were true, he would have already left.”
“He hasn’t left because you’re here, and so are his nephews.”
Razev smiled, and Krysilla couldn’t help noticing the similarity between the brothers when he did. “You notice I don’t follow my brother closely?”
Krysilla nodded. “You said he could never run fast enough to get away from you.”
Razev snorted. “I could track him anywhere in the kingdom if I chose. He could bolt this instant, and I would find him. It might take weeks, months, years, or decades, but he would be found, and he knows it. It could be argued that’s why he hasn’t left. It could also be argued he stays for his--our nephews. They might be split up if he tries to farm them out somewhere, and the very names our sister gave them make it clear they’re meant to stay together. But he doesn’t stay for them, or for me.”
“He loves his nephews,” Krysilla began to say in his defense.
“I have no doubt. I love them and this is the first time I’ve seen them. He’s had far more contact. And he’s not heartless. Cruel, but not heartless.”
Lord Felldesh had once described Zhiv as cruel. So far, she hadn’t seen where he was any more cruel than other men she’d known. In many ways, he was kinder.
“No,” Razev continued, “he’s not here for me, or for his nephews. He’d find a way around both obstacles if he truly wanted to leave.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?”
“I think he listens to you far more than you give him credit. And because I think that, I have a request.”
She waited.
When he spoke, his face actually showed some emotion: pain. “He hasn’t told our nephews of their parents. Our sister and her husband.”
“And you want me to remind him? Why haven’t you told them?”
“It’s the responsibility of family, not strangers, and that’s what I am. Worse than that. I’m of the kind that had the deed done.”
Which would explain why Zhiv hadn’t asked Razev to take them in. Frankly, it amazed her that Razev could join the Dogs at all, given what had happened. “What makes you think I should give advice to him?”
“Not advice.” He frowned, watching Zhiv’s growing distance from them. “Just do as you’ve always done with him.”
As if that would work. What would that even mean? She thought of the look in his eyes after he’d learned of his sister’s death. Though it had clearly devastated him, he’d never truly mourned her. There had been no memorial. There had been no time. And after they came here, there was always some other thing to focus on, some other distraction.
Up ahead, Zhiv had stopped and pulled out the mirror from his satchel. He drew a spell on it as they approached. “What are you up to?” Razev asked as they got closer.
Zhiv’s cold tone when he spoke concerned Krysilla. “What are you going to do? Arrest me? Just give me a moment. We’re far enough away from anyone that it’s worth the risk. Where are your wife’s relatives?”
Razev stared. “Vallasin lands. Village at the foot of the Cliffs of Azril.”
Zhiv glanced up from his work with a faint smile. “Of all places.”
“Yes. I thought that as well.”
“Would she take the main route?”
“Likely.”
For several moments, the only sound was Zhiv’s fingers drawing spell after spell. Then, Razev said, “How would this work with my family?”
“One night, long ago, the King honored you with a medal for your dedicated service.”
“No.”
“A flick here and there and--”
“You were spying on me?”
“The mirror went back to Lady Marilisin the next day, with her none the wiser. How could I have spied on you? Besides, I knew if anything happened to you, your wife would never leave that trinket behind. At the very least, if anything were to happen, I’d have an idea where your family might be.”
With a final brush of his fingers against the surface, he handed the bronze mirror to Razev. “Take a look?”
Distrust clear in his face, he took the mirror. His eyes softened, his face filling with longing.
“Are they well?” Zhiv asked.
His voice was rough when he spoke. “Yes.” He frowned and cleared his throat. “Where are they?”
“Just outside the city of Hurush.”
Razev looked like a horse about to bolt. “Near the city?”
“If you’ve been declared missing, it’s the best place to be for information in case you should turn up.”
Razev shook his head. “I told her to leave.”
“Women make their own decisions, and they’re wrong about as often as men.”
Panic still filled his eyes when he looked at his brother. “Can you send a message through this?”
“No. Even if I could, it wouldn’t work unless whoever held the other end knew to look for one.”
Razev looked back at the mirror, his jaw twitching, though not from anger.
“The rest of the pack will protect them, you know,” Zhiv said.
Razev cleared his throat. “Dogs obey the King.” Or whoever they think is next in line, Krysilla silently added. “You do remember who attacked us at the portal? And Teranasin knows I’ve betrayed him.”
“But he wants to keep the favor of the Dogs. Most of them. He won’t move to harm anyone associated with the Dogs until he’s certain he has that, and I have no idea how he’ll manage it. Even the ones who’ve left the King’s service in disgrace could be certain their families would remain untouched. No Dog worth the name would stand for anything less. If you’ve been reported as missing, your comrades will be visiting your wife often, and your children may come and go freely among the pack. That’s a protection all by itself. Also, Teranasin’s got more on his mind than your family’s welfare, at the moment. No matter what he threatened, right now he’s distracted by the empty throne. That should comfort, if nothing else.”
Razev nodded, but said nothing. He held out the mirror to his brother.
Zhiv shook his head, gesturing for Razev to keep it. “You’re welcome.”
Razev nodded, thumping his brother on the shoulder as he passed, his grip tight on the mirror. He pushed it under his vest and it seemed to disappear entirely.
Zhiv had explained earlier that morning, when they had yet to make contact with the Marilisins, that the wall surrounded not only the city, but the ports as well. This was the part of the wall they now approached. A narrow walkway had been built for those who disembarked, but had no wish to stay in the city. Few used it, preferring the wider gates on the other side, including the one that led to the overland trade route.
Glancing at Razev, Krysilla wasn’t surprised that he had once more, without any obvious spell, changed his vest to tradesman-brown. Unsure how much amazement to show someone who could kill or torture her for what she’d already done casting-wise (and would have already done so under other circumstances), she once more ignored the change. Soon, the magic Razev had cast paled in importance.
As they went through a gate just big enough for a cart to get through, she saw the full port of Openwater for the first time.
She’d never seen anything close to this. Enormous gates stood in the open water, made of dressed stone, cut in irregular shapes. Along one of them, a team of masons were at work, repairing something below the water-line. Within the port, numerous boats far larger than the kind that ran up and down the Naryaset river drifted between the stone gates and the stone docks. The hum of skimmers (would they still be called that for ships this big?) loading cargo, talking with other members of the crew as well as people who would likely never set foot on a boat, floated toward them, a constant presence. Unlike the boats of the Naryaset, each of these boats had a tall, narrow pole the height of a man and a half near the center of the deck, from which hung a stream of small, flags in various brilliant colors that connected to the bow of the ship. Pegs large enough to climb alternated along the sides of the poles on some ships. Others had nets that hung down from the top, some of them tied in elaborate designs inspired by the sea beyond the port.
But what amazed her most of all was that she couldn’t look at an open spot of water without a boat covering it soon, or at least passing along it.
She hadn’t even realized she’d stopped to stare until she heard Zhiv step closer. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I had no idea.”
“Not to ask the obvious, but you never thought you’d see anything like this, did you?”
“Never. How do they manage so much trade?”
“Other cities along the coast. It’s easier to go by boat than take the overland route. Bypasses certain nobles who want a larger than usual cut of the coin as you travel.”
She chuckled, more aware than she’d like of fees and fines and taxes from her time in the bakery. “I’m sorry,” she said, realizing she was holding them up.
“Not at all.” Zhiv’s smile was warm. “Why else do you think we came this way?”
Would he have done this for “Lia” if she hadn’t known of such things already? But she had no right to think it, let alone say it, and they kept walking. “The other cities,” she said, “do they all have a wall like this?”
“Surrounding the port? No. It’s rumored some had something similar, but no one knows why, if they ever did. If the stories are true, any determined...person...could have smashed through it. There’s certainly no sign of it. And here, there’s no sign of a gate that lowered, or any other defenses, so who knows why they built it.”
“Perhaps,” Razev said, “it was just for show.”
Zhiv shook his head. “That wasn’t like them. Not for most of their existence. Only toward the end did they create monuments to stupidity, and the wall is too old for that.”
They said nothing else as they walked. Only as they approached the manor, with its gray stone and windows shining like gold from the low-hanging sun, did Krysilla say, almost under her breath, “I hope they settled in well.”
“Lady Marilisin--” Zhiv began to say.
“Lia, you mean?” The words were out before she could stop them. It annoyed her that he would pretend they had never been close, almost as much as the fact that they had once been. And perhaps still were.
Zhiv paused, a faint smile tugging one corner of his mouth before he continued. “Lia takes very good care of her guests. I doubt they’ve lacked anything while we were gone.”
She remembered the incident between Lady Marilisin and Nitty, and almost told him about it. But when she saw his face, and the distant look in his eyes, she knew she couldn’t add to his burden. They were about to finalize the deal. It was enough that he’d gotten them this far. If Lady Marilisin tried to pull Tira any closer to her, then she would tell Zhiv. As it was, Daegan knew. In fact, chances were good he’d been watching over both daughter and mother. He would tell Zhiv before she could.
And so, she remained silent as they approached the iron gate that barred the way into the manor’s courtyard, guards in their green and white uniforms standing on either side.
Razev didn’t hesitate. “We’re here to see Lady Marilisin.”
“Business?” the guard on the left answered.
“Charity. She offered us jobs.”
Krysilla couldn’t help a slight chill at the thought of how easily the Dogs she’d met so far could lie. It made sense, but it still disturbed her. Every Tothsin ideal spoke against it, and no matter how much she’d come to sympathize with the Ornic because of Zhiv, there was still a part of her that very much agreed in the beliefs she’d been given since she was a child.
The guard nodded and stepped out of the way. The three entered and were promptly met in the courtyard by an old man, dressed in servant-black and with the blue handkerchief of a married man in his vest pocket. “May I help you?”
“Lady Marilisin has an offer for us,” Razev said. “She told us to come see her about it.”
The old servant frowned in a way that said Oh, another one, though there was a spark of recognition in his eyes when he saw Zhiv. “Follow me.”
Krysilla felt almost as intimidated as when she’d been shown to Zhiv’s room in the King’s castle. They went past heavy oak doors, carved with the symbols of Toth’s vision of the peaceful future, and walked into an expansive entryway of blue-gray marble. Early evening sunlight streamed through large windows filled with glass. Thick, rich carpets of scarlet-red ran along the stone floor. Except in this manor, the servant walked on them, as did Zhiv and Razev. Still, Krysilla hated knowing her filthy boots were touching something obviously meant for soft shoes and delicate steps.
The men don’t seem to care, she told herself. Neither should I.
Unlike the King’s castle, with it’s several floors, there were only three flights of stairs to climb. And, again unlike the King’s castle, these stairs were in the open, where all could see them ascend the grand, rectangular steps that were carved to appear as if water had been poured down from the upper floor. The stone railings had waves etched into the underside that Krysilla only noticed when her thumb accidentally curled around one of them. And at the base of each one, at the end of a center railing, was a King’s Light, glowing warm, reminding her of the one Zhiv had put in her kitchen, the last time they had seen each other at her husband’s house.
Former husband.
But that thought was quickly pushed away by another: was this where Zhiv had gotten that warm Light?
Silly thought. Lights were given to all the citizens of the kingdom. They could be gotten in all kinds of varieties and Zhiv, as a servant of the King, would have had more access than usual to them. Your jealousy is showing, she told herself, and tried to focus on the present.
On the top floor, the walls had been painted to look like ocean waves. Various creatures swam in them: fish, and creatures that almost looked like fish, and creatures that didn’t look like fish at all. And when Krysilla didn’t look directly at them, they seemed to come to life.
“I apologize for the spell,” the old man said ahead of them. “The lady has been practicing some magic on the walls. Our lord has promised us it will not last more than another month.”
Neither Razev nor Zhiv replied, and Krysilla realized the old man didn’t seem to expect a response.
They stopped in front of an ornate door covered with symbols carved into the wood, including one that was very familiar: the Ornic sun, big as her hand and placed at eye-level. She hadn’t expected to see it on the door of a supposedly devout Tothsin. Zhiv had drawn it for her, and a few of his books contained the image, some in a multitude of colors and the others in plain black and white. There was no color in the one carved onto the door the old man opened wide beyond the stain of the wood.
In front of them was a room larger than the entire bottom floor of Lejer Gillasin’s house, including the bakery. Gold trimmed the cream-colored walls, gold braid the bright blue chairs and gold ran through the sea-green and blue rug in the center. There was even gold etched into the low table in the center of the room and gold round the cupboard doors underneath it.
All her life Krysilla had been told about the austerity of the nobles. It was a Tothsin ideal, born from a hatred of Ornic excess and greed. Yet between this and the wealth of the Felldesh manor, she was having a hard time thinking austerity had ever existed among those nobles whom, it was said, left their Ornic ways behind them.
But she found she couldn’t hate it, for it was a lovely room. In some ways, it reminded her of a more expensive version of the Blue Room back in her home with Lejer. The one in which she’d put the warm Light that Zhiv had left in her kitchen.
“Please be seated,” the old man said. “The lady will be with you shortly.”
Once the door had closed with the old man outside it, Zhiv sprang toward the table. “Do you mind a makeshift sash? It will only fulfill part of my promise, but you’ll have something.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s been a long time since I stitched anything, and frankly--”
Stunned, Krysilla realized she had always thought he would delegate this task to others, and she wasn’t sure which part surprised her the most. But when she found the single question she wanted to ask, she was surprised to learn it had nothing to do with his taking up a primarily feminine job. And that she already knew the answer, but nevertheless felt she must ask. “How do you know she left any here?”
“Because,” he continued, opening one of the cupboards, “this is governed by one of my spells. It’s tied to her room, the same as my satchel is tied to different locations.”
This shouldn’t surprise you, she told herself. “Ah.” The word was little more than a whisper.
Razev scowled. “You went lower than I expected.”
“Not as low as I could have,” Zhiv replied. “I could have married her.” He pulled out a small, black velvet bag, closed with a black cord tied around the top. He frowned. “I think this belongs to you,” he said, handing it to Krysilla.
But why was he frowning? Didn’t it have what he wanted? She undid the cord and reached in, surprised at the fineness of the material she touched. It made her think of her time in the meadow with Zhiv, when he had shown her a gown far more beautiful than she had ever dreamed of handling. And now she wondered where he had gotten that dress.
Ignoring the pain that thought caused, she drew a folded, black and white sash from the bag. The black lace had been crafted to look like ocean waves, and the white material was so fine, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to tie it around her waist. It was like holding water in her hands. “I can’t wear this,” she whispered, horrified that her common hands were still touching it. Zhiv had told her the material of a divorced woman’s sash was of a higher quality than a widow’s sash, but this...“I’m sorry, I--”
“No, I understand.” Zhiv’s frown deepened. “Let me see it.”
Handing it to him, she waited as he put it to his forehead, just as he had the dagger when he’d been trying to learn if Lord Teranasin had cast with it. His lips twisted into a smirk. “Circle be damned.” He lowered the sash, opened both his eyes and shook his head.
“It will have to do,” Razev said.
“Does it?” Zhiv continued to stare at the sash in his hand.
“Would you rather she continue speaking to nobles without a sash at all? What kind of message will that send when the lady of the house has given you one herself?”
“That we aren’t willing to accept an insult like this.”
“How is that an insult?” Razev demanded. “You asked her to give you one.”
“I asked for material. Not this.”
“What is it then?”
Zhiv didn’t reply, only kept staring at the sash. “Is it dangerous?” Krysilla asked.
He looked away from the sash then, bewildered, but only for a moment. “No.”
“Then let her wear it,” Razev said. “She’ll appear respectable--”
“She doesn’t need a sash to be respectable.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” The two men glared at each other.
Hoping to diffuse the situation, Krysilla said, “If there’s no danger in it, I’ll wear it.” No matter how awful I’ll look with something so fine around my waist.
Zhiv studied her closely. “This is an insult, Jyomsa. It’s meant to make you feel unworthy. I’ll speak to her and get you something that’s still fine, but that doesn’t make you look as if you stole it from the Queen.”
Razev snorted. “I doubt she meant it that way, Zhiv.”
“Oh, she did. She’s seen too much of how people outside the castle live for this to be anything else. It’s designed to make her uncomfortable.” He held up the sash. “Her magic is in every stitch, in the rip of the fabric, and in the forming of the lace. No servant made this.”
“Suppose she did,” Razev said. “It’s considered an honor among nobles to create an item without servants. She might claim you’re seeing something that’s not there.”
“She might,” Zhiv admitted. “I didn’t say this wouldn’t be delicate.”
As they said these things, Krysilla looked at the material. Yes, it was too fine, much too fine for someone like her. But if she refused, or allowed Zhiv to refuse for her, then they might end up losing everything they had worked to gain. Not to mention the problems that would crop up if she continued sashless. “It’s fine, Zhiv. I’ll wear it.”
He started at her words, though he recovered quickly enough. “She means to make you feel unwelcome.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. It’s only an insult if I choose to see it that way. If she meant well, she’ll be happy. If not, and I’m not uncomfortable as she wished, that’s fine as well. And besides, you yourself told me the sash of a divorced woman was finer than a widow’s. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Not considering how it came about.”
Zhiv studied her a moment, then laughed, an amused sound that made her cheeks warm, but not from embarrassment. “That’s one way to look at it.” He put the sash in her hand, watching her closely as she wrapped it around her waist, trying not to let the material snag on trembling hands that had never felt this rough until now. “You’ll still need something you can wear for everyday. The sash of a divorced woman is indeed finer, but not like that. It’ll be a nuisance.” When he looked at her with what she would have called admiration in any other person, the warmth in her cheeks grew.
It’s only for now, she told herself. And soon, even this moment will pass and he’ll be gone.
The handle of the door jiggled just as she managed to fit the sash into a vague resemblance of a knot that had already begun to slip when the door opened.
She turned, fully prepared for either “Lia’s” joy at seeing her wearing her own creation, or her thrill at seeing Krysilla’s sash already coming undone, and froze. In front of her stood, not the beautiful Lady Marilisin, but an older man, still young enough to stand straight as he closed the door and approached them. White hair grew at all angles on his head, and his blue eyes sparkled with a mischief that reminded her of Zhiv’s, but more kind. And then she noticed he wore no black coat, no green vest, but around his neck under his shirt, she could catch a glimpse of a gold chain, its shape telling her that a pendant of some sort hung from it. An Ornic medallion perhaps, given the carving on the door? But what would a good Tothsin have to do with either?
“What trouble have you brought to my house this time, Zhiv?” the old man said, with a glance at Razev and Krysilla.
Zhiv bowed. “None I would have wished on you, lord.”
The lord’s brows rose. “It must be bad if you’re calling me that.”
Zhiv straightened from his respectful gesture, his manner as casual now as before, and his tone hinting at many conversations with the man who must be Lord Marilisin. “How are my friends?”
Lord Marilisin’s mouth twitched, as if fighting laughter. He said, “They’re well. The little ones have bathed, and the couple are waiting for you in your favorite sitting room.” Facing Krysilla, he said, “You must be her sister. Nitty, isn’t it? The one who arrived before you? Your face reminds me of her.”
Krysilla nodded. “Yes, lord.” Then, coming to herself, she dropped a curtsy. Razev, she noted, showed no deference, but remained as he was.
“How did you wind up getting tangled with this man?” Lord Marilisin gestured toward Zhiv.
The entirety of their meeting flashed through her mind. How could she describe it? “I made the mistake of helping someone in need,” she finally said, though not without a smile.
Lord Marilisin nodded slowly, the mischief in his eyes growing. “Isn’t that always how it works?” Taking a deep breath, he continued on to the chair opposite where Zhiv stood. “Well, two women, three children, two Dogs, and an accusation of murder hanging over the King’s Minstrel, who, if I remember correctly, told me once he could handle anything the council threw at him.”
“All true, even the last.” Zhiv sat down in a chair facing the noble.
Lord Marilisin’s smile faded, as did some of the mischief from his eyes. “Do you realize how difficult it’s been to keep those posters out of this city? Your face and true name have filled the whole of the kingdom by now, and my own Disciples within the walls have been screaming at me day and night to publish your infamy on every street. Fortunately for you, I have an equally loud voice screaming your innocence at me just as often. That guard at the main gate is our compromise. So tell me, Zhiv,” the lord gestured for Krysilla and Razev to sit, “who wants you dead?”
“One final condition.”
“And that is?” He leaned his chin into his upturned palm, elbow resting on the arm of the chair.
“Freedom for the innocents with me. Nitty Jyomsa and her daughter will need to get to a place of safety where the one I’m about to name can’t touch them. Daegan can take care of himself, but he’ll still need his name cleared. The goodwife here,” he nodded at Krysilla, “was witness with me of what I’m about to describe. She’ll need her name cleared and a place of safety until this settles.” He paused, as if fighting something within himself. “And my nephews...they’ll need a place as well. Preferably with the one I name in my final wish.”
Krysilla could almost hear the games of her youth. Ha, the Dogs have caught you! What is your final wish before they scatter your ashes to the wind? In spite of the fire, the room felt cold.
He’ll escape, she told herself. It’s part of his game.
Lord Marilisin regarded Zhiv. “Perhaps. My power isn’t what it once was, Zhiv, but you’ve become very close to this family. There would be much mourning if anything you wished were to be left undone. I’m not convinced, though, that you yourself can’t be saved. I’m assuming you think your death is certain? Why?”
“Leaving aside my usefulness as a scapegoat...I cast Ornic spells twice in the castle.”
Lord Marilisin frowned. “We heard it was bad. It was hard to believe that your magic was plastered all over the main staircase,” he then muttered, “or what was left of it.” Louder, he said, “Your life, we’ll leave as a matter still open for debate. But I think I can do something for the others.”
“Think?”
“I’ve never been one to give assurances, Zhiv.”
“I need more than that.”
“Or you’ll do what?”
“Let you miss an opportunity you’ve been wanting for some time.”
Lord Marilisin smiled a puzzled smile. “Opportunity? The only thing an assurance will give you is an empty promise. You know this.”
“And I know you keep your promises, even the ones you call empty.”
“I’m not a Blessed One, Zhiv. I don’t have power that can shake the earth or--why am I saying what you already know? There is no assurance I can give beyond my solemn word to do what I can. Even if it means sailing them down the coast and hiding them on the Mauritan islands until this calms down, I’ll do what I can. That promise will have to do.”
Zhiv nodded, and began.
It didn’t take long for Zhiv to rehearse all the events surrounding the King’s death and Lord Teranasin’s involvement. As he spoke, Lord Marilisin face grew more and more grave.
He said little about Nitty’s involvement, and none about the portal they had used to escape beyond calling it an Ornic invention that had broken in their operation of it. “Beyond that,” he said, “I know nothing about it.”
“Enough to use it, though,” Lord Marilisin murmured, his gaze fixed on Zhiv.
“Desperation forces people to do many things.”
“Yes.” The lord settled deeper into his chair, still studying Zhiv. “And you confirm this, Dog?”
Razev nodded. “I have it on good authority that the magic in the Queen’s chambers contains Teranasin’s signature, not Zhiv’s. And I can confirm with my own eyes that I and my companion were attacked by the other members of the pack, without provocation, and without proven reason.”
“Though I’m sure you find it interesting that the Dogs would have rather seen you dead than even assist them in the capture.”
Razev gave a faint smirk. “It could be that they wanted the kill for themselves.”
“And you know that’s never been the case.”
Razev didn’t say anything, though his smirk remained.
“And you, goodwife?” Lord Marilisin said, turning to her. “You confirm what he saw?”
Looking away from retying her sash’s knot which had come undone while the men talked, she glanced at Zhiv. The look on his face reminded her of when he’d made her promise not to lie. “Yes.”
Lord Marilisin gave a deep, heavy sigh. He didn’t speak for a long enough time that Krysilla began to wonder if they were truly in the house of a man who could help. “Felldesh will announce his alliance with Teranasin tomorrow. That is what I’ve heard.”
Zhiv’s eyes narrowed. “When did you hear this?”
“You left that mirror lying around that bookseller’s shop,” Lord Marilisin scoffed. “I kept it long enough to figure out a copy before sending it back. It’s been most useful.”
“I’m glad.” Zhiv’s smile made it clear that he would have liked to have taken advantage of it himself.
“And through it I’ve learned from my own contacts that Teranasin has managed to get enough support to make him King. More than that, a document has emerged, signed with the King’s own hand, that names Vyomsi Teranasin as the equivalent of the old title of Azaril if anything should happen to his family.”
Rather convenient, Krysilla thought. Her sash felt too loose. She looked down and saw it had begun to unwind itself again. She tightened it, and tried once more to tie it. She looked up to see Lord Marilisin watching her with a puzzlement that only lasted until he spoke again. “Not to mention, what you’ve told me confirms that he does indeed have friends among the Dogs, and that is a problem, especially with Dogs inside our own walls.” Lord Marilisin stared at the fire. “I will help you on one condition.”
“That wasn’t our agreement.”
“I said I would do what I could, and this is part of that agreement. The problem, Zhiv, with your request is that any support I give to an enemy of Teranasin puts my whole city in danger.”
Krysilla felt her skin grow cold. If Zhiv was worried by this change in events, he didn’t look it. “Never stopped you before.”
“I never had to worry about Felldesh trying to muscle his way in before. You know how he is.” Turning to Krysilla he said, “Felldesh is a good ruler, he truly is. No one in your land goes hungry if he can help it, and those who are in debt are allowed to work the debt away in the King’s Mines. Not the best end, true, but it’s a decent enough life and they get to keep their lives and a bit of comfort besides. He’s a good man. He’s also, if you haven’t noticed, very zealous, far more than I ever was. The Dogs don’t come near because he allows the Disciples to preach whenever they wish. Mandated services, too, if I remember.”
She nodded in confirmation. She had never missed a day of service, except for illness. All were required to attend to hear the Disciple preach. And, as a result, all believed in restricting magic by trade.
“A few years ago,” Lord Marilisin continued, “Felldesh and I had a sort of falling out. A philosophical difference of opinion brought on by listening once too often to a wandering fiddler. I go against Teranasin, I go against Felldesh. I go against Felldesh when he’s decided Teranasin should be King, and I’ve brought war to this city.”
“Rather dramatic,” Razev said.
“Ah, my dear Dog, I wish it were. But if Felldesh hadn’t been the only heir to his house, he might have taken the oath and lived the rest of his days as a Disciple. He’s certainly got the passion for it. Instead, he turns that passion to his politics. And he won’t change his mind once it’s made up. So, what I need from you,” he turned to Zhiv, “is to get me the means to defend my city if he should decide to attack.”
“Wars between the nobles are forbidden,” Razev said, his voice hard. “No one has tried it since the last Ornic lord fought the Dogs.”
“And the Dogs haven’t tried to kill their own since those days, either.” But they had. Krysilla had seen it herself. Taking the posture of a man discussing the weather, Lord Marilisin said to Zhiv, “Do you think you can do it?”
“What’s the task?”
“Get me a book. That’s all. It just happens to be on a ship that will be arriving tomorrow. Get it for me, without attaching my name to it, and I’ll run to the capital myself to denounce Teranasin. Better than that, I’ll tell those who’ve given me this information what you’ve told me, and form a denouncement the moment the book is in my hands, with my own presence soon to follow.”
Zhiv watched the lord through narrowed eyes. “That’s all?”
“That’s all?” Lord Marilisin looked as if he were about to start laughing. “My dear boy, this is the best I can give you. And no one must know of my involvement. Not even Lia.”
Zhiv tapped his fingers slowly against the arm of the chair. “I accept.”
“Then, I welcome you to my home.”