38: THE TOPPLING CARDS

Kalindra’s reaction The Lighthouse at Shadrag Gor

Just after Kalindra’s memory of meeting the abbess

“—we’ve made some progress, but not nearly enough,” Thurvishar finished.

Kalindra made a face and pushed down her profound and very real desire to retch. She’d so hoped that maybe Vol Karoth had forgotten about her, would just skip going over those memories, but that had always been a fool’s desire.

“Kalindra?” Xivan’s stare was far too perceptive. She’d been watching Kalindra carefully.

Waiting for her to break.

But no sooner had Kalindra thought that than she mentally corrected herself. She knew better. She really did. Xivan seemed genuinely concerned. Kalindra could tell herself that it was for pragmatic reasons—any weakness in one of them could be exploited against all of them—but no one was making Xivan give a damn about her. She’d decided to do that all on her own.

“No,” Kalindra said to her. “I’m not okay.”

Xivan just nodded, her expression perfectly stern. Not judging or approving. Just … acknowledging.

It wasn’t so unreasonable, after all, that Kalindra wouldn’t be fine at all.

Then Kalindra noticed the silence. She looked up to see that no one was talking, and they were so pointedly not staring at her that it was painfully obvious they were attempting not to be rude.

“Your son’s adorable,” Talea said.

Kalindra’s response was automatic, but Nikali was the one subject she never tired of discussing. Her little boy. “He really is.”

“He has your smile,” the woman added.

Kalindra felt the sticky, sick twist of her gut at what was supposed to be a compliment. She sniffed. “He’s has Jarith’s smile.”

“If you say so,” Talea agreed pleasantly.

Kalindra looked away. As she did, she saw a length of shadow in the kitchen detach itself from the wall and cross the room, like someone moving just beyond the light’s edge.

But of course, she could see everyone present.

Kalindra inhaled and rubbed her eyes. She didn’t ask if the others had seen anything. None of them had been looking in the right direction. And Kalindra knew she wasn’t just seeing things.

“We’ll take a small break,” Thurvishar suggested. “Then start again. It is working, just … slowly.”

Kalindra knew she wasn’t the only person wondering if they would run out of time first.

Kihrin’s story Inside Vol Karoth’s prison

Janel and Teraeth staggered as we emerged from the gray area yet again. It had been the most promising one yet: a re-creation of a barracks S’arric had lived in on Nythrawl, early in his career. He … I … had often referred to it as “my prison” when sending messages to Rev’arric.

“I really wish Thurvishar were here,” Janel said, leaning against a wall and spitting to clear the taste of vomit from her mouth. “He could have warned us what sort of ‘emotional connection’ this had for Vol Karoth.”

“What was that?” Teraeth asked, wiping his own mouth on the back of his sleeve.

“It’s called hunko,” I explained. “It’s a sort of fermented worm paste mixed with sour apples, overripe bananas, and ipecacuanha roots, and I told you not to drink it.”¹

“Why was it even there?” Teraeth asked.

“It’s a thing they use to haze new recruits,” I said, shaking my head.

“I can still taste it,” Janel whined. “Oh gods, that’s never going away.”

“It does,” I said. Then I grinned an evil grin as I finished with, “In about an hour. Or two.”

“Two hours? Kill me now,” Teraeth said. “Fuck it. Vol Karoth’s right; any species who would do that to a person doesn’t deserve to live.”

“Hey, not funny,” I said, frowning.

He held a finger and thumb less than a quarter inch apart.

I shook my head. “No.”

He shrugged, coughed, spat. “Fine,” he said, some strength returning to his voice. I knew it was bravado, but I appreciated the effort. “And that emotion was…?”

“Humiliation,” I said. “In the real world, I’m pretty sure I was the one forced to drink that cup.” I was equally sure that hadn’t been the worst of it by a long shot, which made me grateful that we hadn’t seen any of that. But it also made me nervous, because why hadn’t we seen any of that?

“What I want to know is, how did they make it smell so good?” Janel asked.

“Illusions,” I replied with a shrug. “Why does vané food taste good?”

“Hey now,” Teraeth protested.

“Excuse me,” I corrected myself. “Why does Kirpis vané food taste good?”

Teraeth closed his mouth and shrugged. “Fair,” he said.

“Are we sure finding Talon is worth this much effort?” Janel asked.

“Yes,” I said. “One, we don’t leave anyone behind.” She looked unconvinced, so I continued, “And two, if we find her, then we get Thurvishar back.”

“Fine, I’m sold. Shall we continue?” Janel said, straightening from the wall and marching with determination and purpose in an entirely random direction.

Talea’s memory Out at sea

Ten days after the Battle of the Well of Spirals

Talea’s luck ran out when it came time to find a ship to Zherias. She wouldn’t have thought it difficult—the Capital City was a major harbor, the major harbor, really, for the entire empire. But the first three ships she approached either wouldn’t take her or seemed too eager to take her, with such a leer on the captain’s face that she wouldn’t have stepped on their ships for any price. The fourth ship said they had room, but it meant she’d be leaving on the evening tide, rather than the morning’s—most of a day wasted.

Most merchant ships leaving Quur did so with reasonably light cargoes, since the main trade routes ran to Quur rather than away from it. The currents did no one any favors in this regard, so there was an advantage to running high when leaving the city, in order to shave as much time as possible off the voyage. This ship actually carried a cargo, which was the whole reason it hadn’t been one of her top choices.

A cargo meant the ship would be slower. But it seemed it was either that or not go at all. And on the plus side, it had given her the time to do that shopping she had wanted, even if it was only a small stop to pick up a backpack and several new sets of clothes, all light enough and thin enough to help with the tropical weather, which would be even worse in Zherias than it was in the Capital. It all seemed frightfully thin and underdressed. She never thought she’d miss the cold.

The ship itself was best described as homely, but as Talea had never been on a ship before, she didn’t really have much to measure it against. The captain had flirted, but not to an extent that made her think she’d be knocked upside the head and sold into slavery the first night she fell asleep. She even had a room with a lock.

She tried, as much as possible, not to think about Xivan. She also failed. Which meant she spent the first couple days on the forecastle of the ship, staring out at the water, brooding.

After a while, she noticed the little girl was there too, mimicking her head on her hand as she stared out at the sea. It was difficult not to think she was being mocked.

Although it was also adorable, so there was that.

“Do you think people will start to gossip about the crazy lady who hears voices?” Talea whispered conversationally.

“Oh, they’re not paying attention.”

“That’s not true.”

“Staring at your ass doesn’t count.”

Talea covered her face with a hand and growled through the fingers. “Am I doing the right thing?”

Silence.

“This is what you wanted me to do, isn’t it? I have to assume you orchestrated that utterly ridiculous set of coincidences. Wasn’t this the whole point?”

“I’ve told you my agenda,” Eshi said. “And it’s nothing malicious.” The little girl hopped up on the railing, which would have made Talea nervous if it had been anyone but the imaginary ghost of a goddess. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” Eshi said. “Taja can’t control fate.”

Talea glared at her sideways. “Really? Then how did I end up in the same brothel where my sister was murdered? That was a low blow, by the way.”

“I didn’t do that,” Eshi insisted. “Not directly.”

Talea huffed.

“The D’Mons sold a property, and later, Galen D’Mon met a girl he felt understood him, so he married her. And Sheloran’s mother bought him the velvet house, because she knew it would have sentimental value. After all, Lessoral D’Talus isn’t just any old god-queen, is she?”

“No,” Talea said. “She’s not.” As the God-Queen of Whores, Caless—Lessoral D’Talus—would have indeed been in a position to understand the Shattered Veil Club’s “sentimental value.” And the funny thing was, if anyone had asked Talea who she worshipped four years earlier, she’d have said Caless before Taja. How many offerings had she given to Caless over the years? How many times had she prayed for deliverance, for her and her sister? Caless hadn’t answered those prayers.

But for that matter, neither had Taja.

“The only coincidence in all of that is what happened at the Octagon, and I will admit to shifting the odds a little there. But the rest? Merit staying at the Shattered Veil Club? How the club itself ended up in Galen’s possession? None of that is coincidence. It’s a string of tipped levers, with each trigger tripping the next in a very predictable fashion. It’s not truly random at all. I mean, can you imagine if Taja truly controlled fate? Oh, Relos Var would never stand a chance.”

Talea frowned at the blue waters of the sea, sparkling gem-bright and dazzling before her. “I thought that’s what luck is.”

“In part. And Taja was able to tip the odds, shift the probabilities, but she could never control how people reacted.” The little girl shook a finger. “Which is something for you to remember. You can tip the odds of an event happening, but not how people react to the event itself. People have facets. We’re complicated and shifting. Difficult to predict.”

“Me?” Talea shook her head. “I’m not tipping anything.”

“Just as well, really. It’s not exactly reliable, although in some ways that’s an advantage. I know that seems odd, but people always underestimate Taja. They think her powers are card tricks and rolls of the dice.” She grinned. “Who pays attention to the pebble that makes the horse bolt? All they notice is the rider who gets thrown and cracks his skull.”

Talea scoffed. “Perfect. I’m already used to everyone underestimating me.”

“I would imagine so.” Eshi traced her fingers over the ship’s wooden railing. “I’ll teach you a few tricks to help.”

“Tricks?” Talea leaned out just to make sure she wasn’t easily viewed by anyone who might be curious about the crazy lady talking to herself. “Spells?”

“Sort of? You’ll want to know how to do certain things, but we have to go slowly. I don’t dare rush this faster than your body can handle.” The little girl sighed. “Taja thought we’d have more time, I think, but she was always such an optimist. Yet here we are.” Eshi put her little fingers on top of Talea’s.

Talea closed her eyes.

“You should know that anything involving the ritual that created Vol Karoth is almost impossible to predict. So Vol Karoth himself? Any of the dragons, including Relos Var? Blank spots. You have to understand, they are distortions—corruptions—creatures of pure chaos. Trying to see past an event that involves them is just … impossible. But!” The little girl grinned. “The very fact that you can’t see past an event tells us something. It tells us that this is an event that involves dragons.”

“Or Vol Karoth?”

“Right. Or Vol Karoth,” Eshi said.

Talea nodded and watched the sea. After a pause, she said, “I assume one of these events is coming up.”

Eshi laughed. “Yes, as a matter of fact! A kind of convergence, all pointing in the same direction, to a big, blank null. So you should be there.”

“Wait. You don’t think Relos Var will show up?”

“There’s a chance,” Eshi emphasized. “There’s also a chance that Xaltorath may show up. Or Suless. Or both. Like I said, it’s a nexus point. Anything could happen. And I think the odds of Xivan being involved are rather high.”

“I don’t want to see Xivan hurt,” Talea said.

“Then I think you’ll have to make a choice,” Eshi said, “because saving Sheloran from Xivan and keeping Xivan from being hurt are not necessarily compatible goals. And then there’s that other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“What. Do. You. Want?” Eshi leaned against her shoulder. “Do you want Xivan to come to her senses and leave with you so you both can settle down somewhere in a lovely little cottage by a lake? Do you want to lead a fierce band of warrior women and carve a path through the empire? What do you want?”

Talea thought about it. “I don’t want people to grow up the way I did,” she finally said. A sailor passing by behind her gave her a strange look; she’d spoken too loud.

“I’m pretty sure Senera wants the same thing,” Eshi said.²

“Yeah, but Senera believed Relos Var when he said he would fix everything.” Talea slapped her hands against the wooden railing, pushed herself up until she was leaning on both wrists. “I’m not that naïve.”³

Eshi giggled. “Oh, I’d love to see Senera’s face when she learns you think she’s naïve.”

“Oh, it’s not her fault.” Talea shrugged. “Var told her that she was special. Who wouldn’t be charmed by that? I would be.” She squinted as she looked out toward the horizon. “Hmm. You know, I think there’s another ship out there.”

“It’s the ocean,” Eshi said. “That happens.”

The sailor up in the crow’s nest started raising the alarm.

Talea frowned at Eshi. “That happens, huh?”

Eshi grinned and raised both hands in a helpless gesture. “Oh yes.”

A sailor came running up behind Talea. “You can fight, yes?”

Talea glared at the man. He took a step back, eyes wide.

“I mean—” He swallowed and pointed. “Pirate ship, headed this way. Anyone who can fight should. Especially a pretty lady like you.”

“What if they like pretty boys better?”

The man laughed a little hysterically. “Thank Laaka I’m not one of those. They’ll probably just kill me straight off.”

Those were the last rational, sane words anyone said for some time. Sailors opened up closets and hauled out large, verdigrised statuary, setting up two of them on the deck facing the incoming ship. They moved with panicked haste, clearly not practiced at this, and regretting it more with every passing second.

Talea blinked at what she was looking at. They weren’t shaped the same—someone had crafted them to look like fish instead of insects—but these were absolutely the same as Quuros scorpion war machines. She watched more sailors run in with casks they began loading while each man’s driver picked up a control crystal.

“Fire when ready!” the captain ordered.

Talea could see right away that a scorpion engine (fish engine?) was not exactly an ideal siege weapon for use when at sea. The beam of light that marked the impact point for the engine’s firing arc kept skipping about as the ship heaved on the waves, while the other ship moved counterpoint. They’d be lucky if they managed to hit the ocean with the way the deck was pitching under them.

Talea checked her sword and hoped the pirate ship wasn’t armed with similar equipment.

The war machines were nearly silent as they fired, just the shouting of the men and the whistling noise they made as casks sailed through the air. Talea watched the small casks fly out—and vanish just before two large booms echoed.

For a second, it seemed like no one dared even breathe. Then the captain was shouting again. “It’s a trick! Raise fog! Raise fog right now!”

Talea was sure he hadn’t actually needed to shout. The ship’s mage was standing right next to him.

Talea heard whistling.

There was nothing to dodge. No way to know when to dodge or where to go. And she didn’t see exactly when the pirate ship’s return fire hit, just saw the explosion and the rapidly expanding flame. Then the fogbank swept over the ship like a mother covering her child with a blanket. Talea could barely see the end of her arm. The captain gave more orders. Presumably something to the effect of “Go forward, as fast as you can, and take us out of here.”

Or at least, that’s what should have happened.

A loud splash carried, followed by a shudder that swept through the entire ship as it began to list to the side.

“What’s going on?” the captain cried out. “Why are we turning?”

“Something’s caught on the rudder chain, sir! I can’t … I can’t stop it!”

“Cap’n! The anchor’s been dropped!”

The sound of movement, of creaking ropes and groaning wood, reached Talea’s ears. She had no idea how far away that sort of noise could carry over the waves. It seemed close, however. It seemed to grow closer with every passing second.

More booms sounded, and an angry shout. Someone cried out, “I said wait!”

Talea unsheathed her sword.

“Get rid of the fog! Get rid of it!” The captain apparently had already decided that was a bad tactical decision. Talea was inclined to agree. If her ship had the services of a mage, well, apparently the pirates did too.

And something more.

As the fog began to clear, Talea looked down at the deck to see a wet footprint. She had that much warning before someone large and angry rushed her with a harpoon. She let momentum and the assumption that he’d caught his prey by surprise carry him too far forward, then she sliced down and around one of his wrists. He had fins and webbed fingers. His skin looked gray and thick, less like human skin than something appropriate to a shark’s.

He screamed like a man, though.

Sadly, he wasn’t alone. The sounds of shouting people, the clash of metal hitting kind or wood or flesh, was all too familiar even before the last of the fog lifted. The pirate ship was still closing, but these attackers had swum over and climbed the hull.

The human pirates began swinging over while Talea was still preoccupied with the advance party. She didn’t like anything about her odds in this situation—that first wave had been smart enough to concentrate on the sailors manning the scorpion engines. That left only the ship’s mage and the hope that the other side would be reluctant to use any weapons that might damage the cargo they’d come to steal.

The captain cried out, “Weapons down! We surrender!”

Talea looked over to see that a pirate had a sword to the man’s throat. At least a dozen knives floated in midair around the ship’s mage as well, with the clear understanding that he’d be skewered if he so much as flinched. The sound of groaning, injured men echoed on the water, punctuated with the sharp scissor sounds of the few men who hadn’t felt like following orders or hadn’t heard in time.

Silence, then the sound of weapons being dropped to the ground.

“Sword down, little girl,” one of the pirates told her. “Your mother said playtime is over.”

“Come try to take it,” Talea said with a smile, “and we’ll see how much you like my toys.”

A large Zheriasian man with his hair in braids crossed over from the other ship, taking his time and clearly enjoying himself. He had a cutlass resting on his shoulder insouciantly. “Well. I have to say this is the easiest I’ve ever taken a ship. Nicely done.” His gaze fell on Talea. “But there’s always the one person who has to go and spoil things. And that would be you, wouldn’t it?”

“Perhaps if you guaranteed her safety, she might be more willing to stop fighting?” The woman who’d asked the question was not Zheriasian, nor did she even especially look like a pirate. She looked like a courtesan of some sort, used to wearing fine things, not at all used to physical labor.

“I can’t imagine why I would think I might not be safe with pirates,” Talea said.

“Talea? Light! Talea, is that you?” Qown asked.

Half the ship, Talea included, must have stopped to turn and stare at the man who peeked his head out from behind the ship’s captain. He was pretty, with extremely long black hair and soulful brown eyes. Since Galen showed up to the meeting with his aunts with blue eyes, I have to assume they switched back to their natural eye colors before that meeting.

She stared at him for several seconds before she realized she did in fact recognize him.

“Qown? What—? You have hair!”

The pirates all looked nonplussed. The man whom Qown had apparently been hiding behind twisted. “What? You know her?”

“Uh, yes!” Qown came out of hiding and motioned for Talea to put down her sword. “It’s all right. Talea’s a friend. Talea, you’re safe.”

She didn’t lower her sword. Instead, she looked at the pirate captain. “Well?” she asked him. “Am I safe?”

He pondered her. “Don’t hurt any more of my men and we’ll talk.”

Meanwhile, Qown had rushed over to one of the fallen sea folk. Talea didn’t know if he was already dead or not. She hoped not, simply because it would make negotiations easier if she hadn’t killed any of the pirates. But she hadn’t been trying to keep them alive either. It could go any number of ways.

Talea cleaned off the edge of her sword and tipped the blade back into its scabbard. The pirate gave the weapon an appreciative look.

The merchant ship’s captain was being tied up, along with the ship’s mage, while most of the sailors were being herded into some of the smaller rooms in the back of the ship. They seemed rather surprised to find they weren’t being tossed overboard.

The man who had been holding a sword to the captain’s throat sheathed his weapon and came over. Even before he’d walked close, something about him had raised Talea’s hackles. She wasn’t quite sure what it was. He was handsome enough, tall and trim and with a carriage that spoke of quick reflexes and a better-than-average familiarity with a blade. Then she saw the sunlight glitter off eyes bluer than the sea and knew why she’d felt the urge to go for her sword again.

Because this had to be Darzin D’Mon’s son Galen.

He’d grown since she’d last seen him, but it had never been close up. Thurvishar’s book had made him seem like a timid rabbit, and this man was every bit the hawk she’d have expected from a D’Mon, all laughing grin, flushed with success. That grin only slipped when he glanced down at the deck and saw the blood.

“So this is my friend—”

“Perhaps introductions can wait for later,” Galen D’Mon told Qown.

Talea snorted. He wasn’t as stupid as he looked. “That sounds like a wise idea.”

“Well!” The pirate captain clapped Galen and Qown on the shoulders. “That went very well. I’ll keep my end of the bargain. Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay on? Or maybe just your wife?” He grinned.

Galen laughed.

“I’m right here,” said the woman Talea had taken for a courtesan.

Wait a minute.

Talea gave her another look. She had to squint to see the resemblance to Caless, but it was there. Maybe, if nothing else, it shone through in an undeniably sensual beauty. Sheloran was hiding behind an open fan, which had the net effect of drawing attention down to her small waist, her voluptuous figure. Talea was amused to note she’d been warped enough from her time spent training with the Spurned that the first thing she thought was a dismissive “But it doesn’t look like she can even use a sword.”

Which reminded her of Xivan. She scowled and looked away.

“So what do you say?” The captain propositioned Sheloran. “Stay on with me? I promise it’ll never be boring…”

“Oh, trust me. My life’s never boring now.” She gave Talea a thoughtful look, an unvoiced question in her eyes.

The pirate captain said, “Fine, the girl can stay, but it’s on your heads to make sure she behaves herself. I’m not a passenger ship, despite what it’s seemed like lately.” He stalked off, probably to search rooms for the captain’s strongbox.

“How can you be sure they’re not going to kill everyone here the moment your back’s turned?” Talea asked Galen D’Mon.

The prince sighed. “I’m not. But what would be the point of it? They’ll get their cargo, and they mostly got it without a fuss. Plus, he kept his word so far and kept it when he didn’t have to. Frankly, after seeing what we can do, I’d like to think the captain’s not stupid enough to make us angry.”

Talea chewed on her lip. “I suppose I don’t have a choice. So, um…”

“Yes?” Galen gazed at her with evident amusement.

“Where are we going?” Talea asked. “Zherias?”

“Not exactly,” Galen said.

Sheloran laughed. “What my darling husband means to say is we have no idea.”