Zal

Torian’s caution, their warning to me about parading through the streets with Sun Stone shards winking on my shoulders, was understandable, but I was bound for the House of Mages. They’d know soon enough what had befallen me.

Nevertheless, if it weren’t for the fact that I’d call more attention to myself, I’d have run all the way to the House of Mages because I didn’t want to leave Torian on their own any longer than I had to. Ibb and Jocosa seemed honest and trustworthy as far as I could determine without the power to do a divining spell, but with Torian, I wanted to take no chances.

As I strode through the streets, I had to dodge dawdling groups of visitors as well as troops of guards from both Houses who were quick-stepping over pavers worn smooth by many feet over many years, forcing all to step aside with shouts of Make way!

After the third squad in mage livery trotted past, I slowed for a moment, staring after them. I’d never noticed so many patrols in the capital before. Was this normal for Judgment Days? Ordinarily, I was in and out of the city as quickly as I could make my circuit reports and escape. The only time I’d stayed longer was after Loriah’s attack, and then it was only because the healers wouldn’t release me until they were certain they’d done as much for me as they could.

Walking through the streets then, I’d been disoriented enough because my depth perception had nearly vanished. I hadn’t had time to notice who exactly was on the streets with me, guards or otherwise.

Judgment Square, when I reached it, was ringed around by flimsy booths canopied with brightly colored cloth. My stomach churned because I knew full well these weren’t permanent market stalls—no structures were allowed to stand overnight atop the intricate stone inlay of the square. Sod it, the law decreed that the Square’s vast mural depicting sun, moon, and stars should greet the dawn unhindered. Not even foot traffic was allowed until the rising sun had touched every corner.

So these vendors had erected their stands after that, expressly for this occasion. Yes, Judgment Day meant that more citizens descended on the capital, but… but fuck, this wasn’t a festival. Today, people would be punished or cleared, as the tribunal decided. Some might be executed, which should never be cause for celebration.

Scowling, I skirted the stalls and approached the postern door between the House of Mages and the Library, where the Scribe’s administrative office was located. I wouldn’t see Brylun themself, of course, only one of their many assistants who handled routine duties, one of which was accepting requests for audiences with the Trine.

When I stepped inside, the place was packed. Three clerks stood behind the wide marble counter. If I recalled correctly, each clerk handled different duties—the one on the right was for permits for businesses, both temporary and permanent. The center one handled registrations of other sorts, such as partnership licenses and land leases. The one on the left—the one where most people waited, of course—managed the Trine’s public calendar.

I took my place at the back of that line, standing out because I was both the only Sun-born in the queue and at least a head taller than the rest. I drummed my fingers against my leg as the clerk handed a wooden token to an Earth-born wearing a grimy snood in a vaguely familiar crocheted pattern. The cap was saggy and misshapen, looking more like he’d stuffed it with leaves and rocks than hair. I wondered idly whether he’d done something to warrant a shearing and was trying to disguise his crime.

That sort of trick wasn’t illegal, precisely, and I kicked myself for not thinking of it for Torian. Even Jocosa was more shocked by Torian’s shoulder-length, unbraided hair than she was by their pale skin. Maybe after meeting with the Trine I could—

“Next,” the clerk called, as the fellow hurried out, shoulders hunched and face turned away, and another person entered to take their place behind me.

By the time it was my turn, I’d lost even the illusion of patience. I stepped up to the counter and slapped both hands on it with a thwap that made the clerk wince.

The man was actually someone I recognized—a Sun-born several years younger than me who’d chosen to renounce the Sun Mage path in favor of children of his own and another sort of service, although his mage abilities had never been above the average.

I nodded to him. “Natin. I hope your family is well.”

He stared up at me, his hands clutching the edge of the counter, a very odd expression flickering over his face. His glance cut beyond my shoulder and I turned to follow his gaze, but the only thing in that direction was the doorway, and it was clear.

I faced him again. “Natin? Is aught amiss?”

“What? No. I…” He swallowed. “Nothing.”

I gentled my tone, since he seemed so on edge. “Surely you remember me. It’s Zal.”

“Y-yes. Of course.” Natin patted the neat coil of braids at his nape. “Why have you— That is, what is your pleasure?”

“I’d like an audience with the Trine. It’s urgent.”

Natin attempted to regain his usual aplomb, but it settled over him like an ill-fitting jerkin. “You realize that urgency is in the eye of the beholder. The Trine is quite occupied with Judgment Day duties. They have little time for mundane requests.”

I leaned forward, resting a forearm on the burnished wood. “Have I ever made a frivolous request?”

He tugged at his shirt as though it were too tight. “To my knowledge, you’ve never made a request at all.”

“Then don’t you think I might know the difference between something that’s urgent and something that can await the Trine’s convenience? Trust me when I say that I have information that they will want to hear, and the sooner the better.”

Natin pressed his lips together as though trapping words behind them. “Very well.” He consulted a slate on the counter next to his elbow. “You may have your audience in… two hours’ time. Present yourself at the House vestibule and the Trine can spare you twenty minutes.”

I suspected that they’d clear their schedule for longer than that once they heard what Torian had to say about the Infomancers, and what I had to say about Torian. “Thank you. We’ll be here.”

He raised his eyebrows. “‘We’?”

“Yes. I’m bringing someone with me.” I flicked my fingers at the slate, where he’d chalked my name. “You’d best add that, so we’re not delayed by all these guards.”

After he did so—rather begrudgingly, I thought—I nodded sharply. By the time I’d shouldered my way out of the crowded office, I was sweating, my skin prickling with the need for space and air.

Of course, once outside, it wasn’t much better. The air was heavy with the dueling smells of wood smoke, roasting meats, and far too many bodies, along with the pung of animal droppings that steamed on the pavers until someone from the night soil guild could clear it away.

Two hours’ time. That didn’t give us much grace. I hurried through the streets, breaking into a trot when the way was clear enough. I hoped Torian had been able to eat and bathe by now, since we’d be hard pressed to make our appointment otherwise. I had no wish to appear before the Trine in all my trail dirt, and my belly was so hollow it was cleaving to my spine.

Of course, it was also twisted like a wood snake from worry over how the Trine would take our news.

When I turned the last corner and spotted the Cock & Bull’s green door, I could finally draw a full breath, my scowl relaxing at last.

But my relief vanished the instant I stepped inside.

The common room was completely empty. No customers. No Ibb or Jocosa. No maids or Darej. The tables were all littered with half empty tankards and abandoned bowls and loaves.

My stomach dove for my boots. Torian.

Why had I left them? I should have found another way to arrange our audience. Gripping my walking stick in a palm damp with sweat, I raced for the curtained doorway and pounded up the narrow stairs, my footsteps booming hollowly on the treads. I launched myself off the landing and through another curtain, only to stagger to a halt.

Because everyone missing from downstairs was here, packed into the hallway and crowded as close to the door at the far end of the corridor as they could manage. I caught the sound of a muffled sob and shifted my grip, ready to flatten anyone who’d dare make Torian cry.

But then I heard it: Torian’s voice, not crying but soaring in song, faint words drifting out from behind the closed door. Sail, I heard, and bridge and troubled water.

The sobs weren’t Torian’s. No, it was the folk jammed together, straining to hear, who had tears streaming down their faces.

I could understand why. Torian’s voice was a wonder at any time, but this? My own eye prickled, throat catching. Although I couldn’t hear the words, the unfamiliar melody nigh on broke my heart.

I lowered my staff. “Pardon me,” I said as I edged my way through. Ibb, Jocosa, and the two maids who must be their children were standing right outside the door. Darej was actually leaning against the door, eyes closed, with their mother’s hands on their shoulders.

Jocosa looked up at me and swallowed twice. “Stay as long as you like. There’ll be no charge for your meals or lodging. Whatever you want for your supper tonight, I’ll make it special.” She sniffed mightily, then dashed her hand under her eyes and straightened her shoulders. “Your bath’s waiting inside, but we can hot up the water in a trice. Darej?”

I held up a palm. “There’s no need for that. I’m used to the trail. Anything warmer than the river is an unlooked-for boon.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If you’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then I’ll make you a dulaberry tart.” She turned and glared at everyone who was still standing about in the corridor, straining to hear Torian’s voice. “What are you lot loitering about for?” She flipped her apron at them. “Don’t blame me if your soup’s gone cold. And Maer, Lafi? Off with you. There’s dishes to wash and tables to clear.” She poked Ibb in the chest. “Unless I miss my guess, there’ll be a gracious lot of ales to pull, so you’d best get behind the bar.”

She chivvied all of them off through the curtain to the stairs, but before she followed, she turned back to me, and an almost shy smile lit her face. “Thank you. And thank your partner. I haven’t heard such like since I was a tiny child, and never thought to again.”

I blinked at that. There’d never been anybody like Torian, of that I was certain. Jocosa and Ibb seemed older than me by a good few years, although not as old as Ranolt in Market Spinney. Had this been the Moon-born’s magic? Is that what the world had lost when they all died? Temple chants were all right in their way, but song was completely different, touched something else inside us.

The Infomancers hadn’t just committed genocide with the Lunaria virus. They’d killed part of my world’s soul.

When I slipped inside the room, Torian broke off their song. Half-naked, they were sitting cross-legged on the bed with their back to the window, the cross-hatched light from the mullioned window spilling over their smooth, pale skin. A meal was laid out on a table in the corner and a copper slipper bath stood opposite the bed. If its water wasn’t steaming, at least it wasn’t thundering over rocks or limned with frost. I sighed contentedly.

Torian’s smile was both welcoming and relieved. “You’re back.”

“Indeed.” I leaned my walking stick in the corner. “We’ve an audience in somewhat less than two hours.”

Torian scrambled off the bed. “Then you’ll want to eat and bathe. I’ll get out of the way. I’m sure I can—”

“Stay. We’ve no secrets between us any longer. There’s naught but skin under my clothing, and you’ve seen it often enough on our journey.” I paused with my hands on the collar of my jerkin. “Unless you want to leave.”

They shook their head. “No. But the lack of privacy on the trail was unavoidable. I thought perhaps you might prefer a bit more while you have the opportunity.”

“Nay. By now, privacy means being alone with you, so I’m okay.” I stripped off jerkin and shirt and started to unlace my breeks.

“You’ve been gone longer than I thought you’d be.”

I paused at the hesitation in their tone. “Were you worried?”

They smiled crookedly. “I believe worry is my new baseline. But in this case, it’s only that the bathwater is tepid now.”

“Tepid is better than frigid.”

Torian gave me a stern glare, the equal of any from my old mage teachers. “You deserve a hot bath, Zal. I’ll handle it.” They stood, took the two steps to the tub, and plunged both arms into the water to the elbow.

I watched, my jaw sagging, as they swirled their hands through the water, a look of fierce concentration on their face, and the golden lattice under their skin glowing.

“W-what are you doing?” I croaked.

They shot me a mischievous grin that made them look absurdly young. “Heating the water. Didn’t I tell you? I figured this out right before…” Their face shuttered and they stood, shaking droplets off their fingers before they picked up a length of toweling, looking down as they dried their hands. “It’s nice and warm now.”

I strode over to them and wrapped my arms around them. Although both our chests were bare, the contact wasn’t lascivious, not on my part, and not on Torian’s part either. It was comfort, pure and simple. Because I knew what they hadn’t said.

Before I killed Edric.