The hart knows.
~ Wisdom of the Argonyx grazing fields
SINCE I HAD A SENSE of the palace, I roamed the lightkeep and bailey for the day, and while I never saw the prince, I found the Maru Deep attendant, Gryner, in the stables, preparing to return home.
“There’re a few High Keep caravans always on the road,” he told me as he curried a wooly piebald steed. “They carry valuables from the Argonyx—stone and metals, mostly—and retrieve tithes from the lightkeeps. Always need guards, if you want the work.” He looked me over. “You’re no fighter, but you’re a survivor, which maybe matters more.”
I gave him a wry smile. “I’m staying.”
He pursed his lips. “Let me say, standing witness to a Feast might seem the least and last you can do for your Chosen—or maybe some just relish the auric rush. But the savagery reaches farther than the dragon’s fangs. It’ll seize you too, leave scars.” He shook his head. “Don’t watch.”
I nodded, which wasn’t quite the same as a promise. “If you happen to encounter a trading family who left a daughter in Sevaare, can you tell them she’s here?”
“What’s the clan name? Maru Deep sees a fair share of travelers.”
“Not one of the freeheld traveler clans,” I said. “None that came through Sevaare ever knew of my people. But we called ourselves the Vaifaire.”
Gryner brushed away a speckling of hairs. “You could ask yourself if you came along.”
“Maybe the next caravan.”
This attack was nothing compared to what’s coming. So the prince had said while the pyrelight of the demon-touched dead flickered in his icy eyes. But when was it coming? And would anyplace be safe?
The savagery reaches farther than the dragon’s fangs.
“Be careful on the road,” I told Gryner. “No dinzah dreams. A Devouring means… nothing good.”
“Nothing good and also nothing dullards like us might do about it,” he noted. “The light remembers that and so should we.”
Since I couldn’t quarrel—I wasn’t sure why I even had the impulse to, except I was familiar with my own contrariness—I gave the steed a kindly scratch and bade it carry him well.
As I started to walk away, Gryner called out to me. “Your people who left, if they didn’t come back, likely there’s a reason.”
I nodded. “And I’d like to know it.”
“Sometimes making up our own reasons—and taking our own path—matters more.”
I’d been making up my own way for too long to not know that. And yet… I just waved a goodbye.
Breaking my longstanding rule never to find myself at a guard station, I voluntarily went to the inner bailey door and, in my most polite and upstanding tone, inquired where I might find Lisel.
“That’s Commander Vreas to you,” the guard said, not unkindly. So much for my attempt at seeming upstanding even though I was more or less neatly clad in companion leftovers. “I saw her accompanying the hart herd this morning so she might still be up in the grazing field.” He peered at me. “If you are looking for employ, take some rootstock with you to befriend the harts…and the hartier.”
Everyone trying to give me a job, as if I hadn’t done my best to avoid such thankless toil since leaving the innkeeper’s cellar. But I expressed my gratitude and he pointed me through the gate into the outer bailey where I walked past the blacksmith, butcher, bakery, brewery, and more barracks.
I paused to glance back at the palace. Under the almost winter sun, the towers gleamed. The quarried stone had been smoothed in places and left more rough in others so that the turrets seemed to rise naturally from the rock. Skillfully done, and yet it could not disguise what this place was: a citadel guarded against an insidious foe.
At that thought, my gaze lifted higher.
Despite the midday light—or maybe because of it—the obsidian peak high above seemed even blacker than night. When my eyes adjusted to that darkness, I thought I saw, near the apex, something darker move within the shadows.
Impossible. But my spine prickled with the sensation of being watched in return.
Ducking my head between my shoulders, I spun around and hurried for the outer gate. Two surly chook boys were throwing hedrons behind the dawn well while their feathered charges pecked nearby, and following their directions, I made my way down the road. The crushed gravel from the hills around us, not earthbone, was grouted with frost, but being on the move felt good.
Now that I was among them, the Argonyx weren’t quite so stark as they had seemed from the distant plains. The valleys captured enough weathered scree to sustain broken patches of grass and even a few stunted trees, and the early snows frosted the dark stone prettily, like an endless horizon of particularly imposing and inedible sweet buns.
On the near flank of a lesser crest, tawny harts grazed on sallow tufts and the golden-green scattering of lusher forage presumably brought by the caravans Gryner had mentioned. Gusts of wind over the saddle had swept clear paths through the snow and were cold enough that I wished I’d brought my cloak, but the sun burned on my exposed cheeks. I trudged up the hillside, huffing more than a little and focused on the ache in my thighs, so it wasn’t until I reached Lisel that I straightened up again.
And I choked as I tried to catch my breath. Perched in the high vale, we had a view toward the Widening Leas and, in the other direction, a vista of the Argonyx ranging into the clouds.
Lisel caught my elbow when I swayed. “Put your head down,” she said as she lowered me to a crouch. “Mountain madness can grab you like a catamount, and you’ve had shocks aplenty of late.”
I squeezed my eyes shut when the vertigo spun me even though I hadn’t moved. “I climbed the temple tower in Sevaare once,” I said through gritted teeth. “And swore never again. This is worse.”
She chuckled. “Decided you weren’t meant for the spiritual life?”
“Honestly?” I squinted one eye at her. “Decided there wasn’t anything to take. Not that wouldn’t be more trouble than it was worth.”
She stayed hunkered down beside me, balanced on the balls of her boots with the end of her staff dug into the rough ground. “Did you seek me out just to confess these sins, little urchin?”
“Friends call me Fei.”
“You left sins and friends in Sevaare.” She eyed me back. “What do you want from me, Feinan? I should tell you firstly, I’ve nothing even a thief not afraid of heights would deem worthwhile.”
I gave her a wounded look. “Perhaps I want new friends. The guard at the inner gate suggested I bring roots to the harts, maybe seek a path in, ah, harting.” I rummaged through my pocket and produced the fistful of tubers I’d freed from a cart parked near the bakery.
Lisel squinted at me. “I think I’ve never met anyone less suited for gentling beasts. You are no more meant for labor than your lady.”
“Unfair,” I complained. “It’s not like either of us has been given a chance. But speaking of unfair—”
“Were we?”
I went on as if she hadn’t interrupted. “The lady would apologize for her sharpness when last you saw her.”
“Would, or did?” Lisel raised her eyebrow.
“Such doubting,” I lamented. “I’d think living alongside the haloria would give you faith.”
She took a sharp breath, as if she wasn’t acclimated to the heights either. But then she let it out slow. “Feinan—”
“Fei,” I reminded her.
She rubbed her brow back into place. “Just tell me why you are here.”
Buffing dirt off the tubers, I considered whether honesty or faster talking would get me where I wanted to go. But after that trek up the mountainside, maybe I was a little weary.
I peered sidelong at her. “Have you ever heard of a Chosen being…unchosen?” When she lurched to her feet, I scrambled up too, ignoring the queasy flip of my stomach. “Please! Commander Vreas, Lady Dyania didn’t send me to ask. I just wondered—”
“My brother died bringing you back here. Others I’ve served with burned on that pyre, along with people I pledged to protect. Do you not believe”—she spat the word—“that if I could save everyone, I would?”
I recoiled at her vehemence. “You could save one.”
“At what cost?”
Since the lady herself had already explained it to me, repeatedly, I already knew the answer. But when had I ever listened? “If you could just look the other way while I borrow one of the harts and a chariot, and maybe a map, some supplies, probably a pike or two wouldn’t go amiss, although Zik’s arms are so short I’m not sure—”
She sighed, gustier than the wind over the pass. “Fei.”
Now she was going to be friendly when I could tell she was about to deny me? “Lisel,” I pleaded, because until she actually said no, there was still a chance. “A Devouring bodes ill, but certainly there’re enough sweet, pure auras with one lady less. Neh, I bet now that the prince has spoken to her, looked her in the eye—both eyes, even—he probably doesn’t even want to…to…”
Lisel laid a heavy hand on my shoulder, like I was no bigger than Zik. “Fei. No. The lady can’t just sneak away, as good at sneaking as you might be. The haloria reckoned the auric need to fight the coming battles—”
“And we already lost some,” I reminded her, needlessly. “So they can just…find some…others.” That was starting to sound like sacrificing someone else, so I stopped myself, shrugging off her hand.
But Lisel just shook her head, her mouth tugging down but not even mad anymore, though it sounded as if I’d ignored her brother’s loss. “From what I’ve heard, the numinlor has sequestered herself, desperately seeking to balance auras for the dragon.”
“Scruples and desperation,” I spat. “The High Keep already has auras plenty and pure enough to tempt a dragon, should they choose to tender them.”
“Feinan.” Lisel stepped into my space, forcing my chin up. “Fei. Never say anything like that where someone might hear you.” She glanced around, as if the harts would be listening. “Sacrifice in the name of nobility and valor is one thing, but no one relinquishes power.”
“It’s not fair.” The whine in my own voice embarrassed me, and I sank to the ground, the broken stone cold under my backside.
Lisel sat down next to me. “No, not fair at all.” She tilted her head to give me a look. “Tell me, was there some point at which you were under the illusion that life was fair?”
I let out a snort lest she think I appreciated her sarcasm. “You know the answer is no.”
“Why do you even care? The lady is no one to you, and you could’ve left well enough alone.”
I cast a sidelong glance at her. “What do you mean, leave? I’m her loyal, long-suffering minion.”
Lisel coughed out a laugh. “Heyo, you think I didn’t notice how her attendants fled the carriage while you grinned at me? I didn’t question the swap when you seemed willing.”
My fingers combed through the broken rock, as if I might find the answer there to why I stayed. “It’s true I didn’t know the lady. Yet, not knowing any of us, she was willing to sacrifice her life.” I winced as something nicked at my hand—a shard of obsidian, sharper than my old knife. “Of course I always knew life wasn’t fair for me. But if it’s not fair for someone as kind and strong and beautiful as Lady Dyania, then…none of us have a chance.”
“As you say, not fair at all.” When I gave her a sour look, she reached over to pat me awkwardly on my knee. “And the sun is on its way down. Since you’re here, would you like to help me bring in the harts?”
“No,” I said sullenly. I’d already made a terrible choice by staying, as if fate or fortune would be swayed just because I’d foolishly become attached; no reason to make things worse.
“And yet here you are, so you might as well.” She dragged me upright, and there wasn’t much I could do about that either. I pocketed the obsidian.
Lisel introduced me to her own hart which had broken free during the demon attack when her chariot was smashed but had returned in the middle of the night to find her. “He is named Nars which means bravery in an old Osri dialect.” She stroked between the graceful horns which were notched with runes and nodded for me to hand over the tubers I’d brought.
I held out the roots, wary of my fingers though the hart’s lips were soft as silkha. The slobber was less sanctified, probably, but the creature’s snuffling breath warmed my skin. “You’re from Osiroon?”
“My mother was. She came here as a Chosen’s companion and married my father when he was still a guardsman.” Nars had a large bronze bell around his neck and she gave it a clang with her knuckle. Around the vale, the other harts lifted their antlered heads and began to drift toward us. “Maybe life isn’t fair, but after accompanying the cavalcade around the kingdom, I’m grateful to not be still in Osiroon.”
“Zik said things have been bad there.” I wiped my damp hand across my hip. “They’ve suffered more demon attacks and gone hungry because of it. But there’s been no aid from the High Keep. Would someone hear his report?”
Lisel frowned. “My mother has family in Osiroon and gets letters sometimes. I’ll ask what she’s heard. Any suggestions to my father would better come from her than me.”
I winced in sympathy, although I wasn’t quite sure if I’d rather have no father or one who slapped me. “So do we have to round the beasts up ourselves or…?”
“They know where home is. We are here only to let our smell and staves deter the catamounts.”
I glanced around the hills with a scowl. “That would’ve been good to know.”
“Neh, you’ve been through worse and survived.”
Somehow that didn’t seem enough anymore.
As the harts converged behind their bellwether, Lisel and I descended the gravel path back to the lightkeep. My only true home had left me behind, and sometimes I wasn’t sure where my next meal would come from. For a few surly steps, I envied the harts.
I glanced up at Lisel. “Considering your father is marshal, I’d have thought your aura too refined for such as this.” I gestured at the harts. “Demon fighting, yes, but droving?”
“To be free in the mountains with my favorite hart all my days? I wish.” She thumped her staff into the ground in emphasis. “The haloria declared my brother pure enough that he might’ve served as Chosen, but as you say, fighters are always needed too. My father paid a tithe to keep him in the barracks.” Though the staff held her steady, her voice faltered. “Yet the demons took him anyway. Maybe the light remembered…and claimed what it wanted in the end.”
That made the light and the demons sound too much the same to me. But what did I know about auras and darkness and sacrifice?
By the time we got the harts settled in the stable yard, twilight had deepened. In the flicker of torchlight, Lisel gave me a crooked smile. “And now you know the basics of how to handle a hart, where we keep the chariot supplies, the quickest way past protected lightkeep walls.”
“Figuring out how to sneak away with a hart was not my intent at all when I’m so clearly not cut out for it,” I said with much wounded dignity. “I was going to convince you to do it.”
She laughed. “Fei, you are only honest at the wrong times.”
I thought about that on my way back to the Sevaare chambers. If neither sneaking nor honesty was going to save Lady Dyania, what was I to do next?
Probably the lady too would remind me life was unfair.
When I knocked, the door wrenched open before my knuckles fell a second time. Zik, wild eyed, gawped at me, then grabbed my hand and dragged me within.
“Where have you been?” Then he wrinkled his nose. “And why do you smell like dung?” When I opened my mouth to answer, he shoved me toward the privacy chamber. “Don’t matter. Scrub off the stink.”
“What—?” I stumbled ahead of his shooing. He had more strength than I’d expected lurking in his scrawny body.
“Lady Dyania has been summoned—by the king!”
I froze. “Another tribunal?”
“Worse. A feast.”
I blanched. “But they can’t have the Devouring yet. The haloria must rebalance the auras—”
“Not a Feast,” he half-yelled the word. “Just a feast, ya.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “No demons?”
“Just High Keep nobles and the Chosen Ones. And their companions.” He poked my arm. “Who shouldn’t smell like dung. Hurry, Fei. We’re going to meet the king.”