18. MIMIC HUNT

Teraeth’s story

The Mother of Trees, the Manol

The day of Vol Karoth’s escape, just after noon

The palace descended into a mess of not-very-well-controlled chaos. Prior to a few months ago, no mimic had dared trespass the Mother of Trees for centuries. It was assumed that mimics had all departed for other lands, where it was safer, because no one knew how to deal with their powers. Yet recently, a mimic had infiltrated the palace, murdered the king’s double, replaced the Queen, murdered said Queen, and who knows what else.1 The vané guards were understandably paranoid.

Teraeth contemplated ordering them to stand down, but it would’ve looked odd. Especially so when more than a few guards remembered delivering Teraeth to a throne room that already contained a Teraeth. They knew something was wrong, and after losing a member of royalty to a mimic only recently, they didn’t intend to do so again.

Teraeth hoped that Talon could escape whatever trouble she’d accidentally triggered. He’d have to apologize at a later date for not realizing that security had been upgraded to include her. In the meantime, he acted like catching the mimic was something he wanted. Even though it was quite the reverse.

Teraeth ordered extra guards to man the exits (where Talon wouldn’t go). Further, he demanded immediate reports on what had been seen and what information they had. He ordered analysis done on the methods used, far too early to be of any use. Normally, he’d let competent people do their job, but in this case, he hamstrung them. He felt like someone had hung weights on his belt as he slowly walked over and sat down on the throne.

Teraeth hated this so much.

The courtiers gave him knowing looks. It didn’t take him a second to realize why. Teraeth had arrived with two women and the former vané queen’s only son. Teraeth’s memories of the aftermath of the Battle of the Well of Spirals were fuzzy, but he suspected every damn vané in the Mother of Trees knew the nature of his relationship with both Kihrin and Janel. It must have seemed like he was bringing a whole stable of lovers with him.

“Perhaps our conversation should wait until after this unpleasantness has been dealt with, Your Majesty?” Valathea smiled warmly at her stepson.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I think that would be wise. And perhaps all of us might retire to some location less formal?” Because while he hadn’t spent a great deal of time in the vané throne room, he still recalled enough. Any conversations here would be stilted, unbearably formal, and eavesdropped on by dozens of people unless Teraeth literally forced all the guards and all the courtiers out of the room. And even then, there would still be listening posts and magical spells designed to keep the room under constant surveillance.

“Why yes, I believe that can be arranged.” Valathea paused to turn to Xivan. “Apologies for earlier.” She tilted her head. “Is Talea well?”

Xivan scratched at the back of her neck. “Uh, thank you. And Talea’s fine. In fact, we are expecting her to join us very soon.”

“Oh good. She’s always delightful. And I must say, Xivan, you’re looking exceptionally well yourself.”

Teraeth’s mouth twisted to the side. Indeed, Xivan looked extremely hale—so much so that someone staring at her would likely never imagine that she was anything but a living, breathing, perfectly healthy Khorveshan woman. She didn’t look dead. Mostly because Teraeth didn’t think she was anymore. It seemed that the one sure way to be Returned from the dead even after the Goddess of Death had been slain was to take the job for oneself.

Another reminder, cold and pointed as a sharp knife sliding between ribs: the only reason that position had been vacant was because Teraeth had killed his own mother.

Janel cleared her throat, and when Teraeth glanced at her, she winked at him in return. He gave her a tiny, private smile, grateful that she was there to keep him from drowning in memories. They still had a great deal to do; Kihrin needed them.

After several hours of thankfully fruitless searching (proving Teraeth’s trust in Talon’s ability to escape capture had not been misplaced), Teraeth pretended at irritability and called off the search. Then he retired to the king’s private chambers for lunch. To Teraeth’s private chambers, he supposed. At least until they Returned his father.

Those rooms were all that he’d expected. Ridiculously luxurious. Endless silks and rare woods trained to grow into exquisite interlocking shapes. Enough room for several families, all decorated in green and brown forest colors, with no sharp edges anywhere. If the furniture sprouted flowers made from glass and gemstone and the carpets had the inviting lush nap of meadow grass, it did nothing to limit the sense of wilderness. Of wildness. Teraeth could only shake his head in admiration of the artistry of it all.

In this lifetime, he’d grown up in a cave. This felt like someone else’s property. Likely because prior to Teraeth’s own coronation, it had been someone else’s property: his nephew, Kelanis.² And now here he was, the same soul who had once been the Emperor of Quur, now crowned as the very thing he’d attempted to invade the Manol in order to destroy. He reached for the arrowhead around his neck and clenched it until the edges bit into his fingers.

Janel took his hand. “Just breathe. This is only temporary.”

“It had better be,” Teraeth growled.

There’d be a dinner that evening he’d be expected to attend. Probably some sort of dance. Teraeth would be expected to attend that too.

He wouldn’t.

Valathea called for wine and food as she gave the tour. The closet alone seemed like it would take weeks to sort through. There were too many clothes.

It wasn’t just his ascetic upbringing at work there. The clothing provided was intricate, sumptuous, incredibly detailed, and perfect in craftsmanship. Many of these pieces would have taken months to make. Some might have taken years. Which meant there was no possibility that any of it had been made for him.

He looked over at Valathea, a clear question in his eyes.

“It’s not our habit to throw anything away,” Valathea explained. “Consider this a private history of the vané royal family in sartorial form.” She reached over to one of the racks and pulled down a suit of meticulously embroidered gold satin. “I believe this was made for my brother-in-law, Kelindel. And this”—she went all the way back to the end of the row and removed a strange, shifting dress of green and gold—“my mother-in-law, Queen Terrin.” She smiled at Teraeth. “First ruler of the vané.”

Teraeth could only blink. There had to be some extraordinary preservation spells at work in this room. Some of these clothes were millennia old. All of it was the oddest, strangest reminder of how old Teraeth wasn’t. Even if he counted his first life as Emperor Atrin Kandor of Quur, he was still an infant compared to the oldest vané. Compared to someone like Valathea, who’d been there from the start.

“Fuck,” Xivan muttered. “What happens if you spill your soup?”

Valathea looked amused. “I would imagine you change your outfit.”

Janel shook her head. Her expression wasn’t contempt. Far from it. She was hardly one to mock anyone for wearing extravagant decorations; Teraeth had never seen her pass up the opportunity to wear as much jewelry as humanly possible. This meant something to her that he didn’t understand. He made a mental note to ask her about it later, when they weren’t surrounded by servants waiting to cater to his every whim, eavesdrop on him, and in general hover. The fun thing about being Emperor of Quur had always been that he’d been able to come and go as he pleased. Who could follow him if he wanted to escape? All he had to do was teleport away. If he wanted to wander the countryside in disguise, such was his prerogative. If he wanted to take control of the army, that was his right too. He had never been expected to stay in his palace, sit on his throne, smile, and look pretty. Whereas that was very much what would be required of him here.

It bothered him.

Teraeth suspected Valathea knew that and was having a bit of fun with him. She acted completely unconcerned about anything that wasn’t ensuring all the pillows in the royal bedroom were properly fluffed and his wineglass was full.

Until some ineffable milestone passed, at which point Valathea dismissed the servants. The moment the doors shut with only Teraeth, Janel, Xivan, and Valathea inside, her attitude changed.

“These rooms are well warded,” Valathea said. “They’re as private as any place on the Mother of Trees can be, and I have ensured they are even more so.” She tapped the emerald stone Chainbreaker around her neck. “Now why don’t you tell me exactly what it is that you have in mind. And frankly, how it would even be possible. Because if Returning Terindel was easy, I’d have done it by now.”

Xivan cleared her throat, but didn’t say anything.

Janel was staring at Teraeth. With a sinking feeling, he realized she was going to let him have this conversation. Since this was his father they were discussing and he was king here. His idorrá, his speech.³

Teraeth exhaled slowly. “We have a plan. It’s better that you don’t know the details. The plan needs Chainbreaker, and it may need someone who can use Chainbreaker on a lot of people at once.”

“Thus, you need your father.”

“Or you master Chainbreaker in a hurry,” Teraeth said. “But even if you did, it would still be better this way.”

“Oh, I agree,” Valathea said.

Teraeth shook his head. “Probably not for the reasons you’re thinking. Chainbreaker has limitations. One of the largest is that it’s not a passive illusion. If you don’t know someone’s there, then you can’t affect them. So if everyone knows you have Chainbreaker, and everyone also knows that your husband—my father—is dead…”

Valathea studied him carefully. “You want me to be a decoy.”

“We want you to cover for Doc,” Janel corrected. “Because you can hide him with illusions that are passive while he concentrates on using Chainbreaker.”

“And you want me to be a decoy,” Valathea added.

“And we want you to be a decoy,” Janel agreed.

Thankfully, Valathea didn’t look completely opposed to the idea, but then she frowned. “That all makes a great deal of sense. There’s just one problem: I don’t understand how you’ll ever manage it. Bringing my husband back from the dead, I mean.” Her gaze flicked over to Janel. “I know you can travel to the Afterlife, but I wasn’t under the impression it was in your power to bring souls back.”

“That’s where I step in,” Xivan said. She bit her lip, looking as nervous as Teraeth had ever seen her. She let out a slightly hysterical laugh while shaking her head. “Oh, I am so very much not used to this. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Sometimes it’s best to just say it,” Valathea said kindly.

Xivan made a face, but clearly didn’t disagree. “I’m Thaena.”

Valathea stared at her. A flicker of confusion flashed across her expression.

“Apparently, the position is transferable,” Teraeth said. “She’s the new Goddess of Death.”

Valathea’s face twisted in shock, and for a second, she looked like she might do … something. Perhaps turn invisible using Chainbreaker or wrap Xivan in illusions or perhaps just punch her. “That’s not possible.”

“Oh, it is,” Teraeth said. “Tya and Taja figured out a way.”

“It’s possible to transfer the conceptual link to a new recipient,” Janel quickly qualified. “Which has the end result of transferring the position. Thus, Xivan is now Thaena.”

That time, the shock lacked any associated threat of violence, but it was as profound and total as anything Teraeth had ever seen. “And you know this? You know this for a fact?”

“We do,” Janel said but didn’t explain further.

“My mother knew about it,” Teraeth said. “It was a point of contention between Tya, Taja, and herself. They’d created these talismans that could only be triggered if one of the Guardians died. If they were picked up and carried by a person with the right synergies, then it would form a link and transform them, transferring the associated concept and all its powers. Xivan can’t use all of Thaena’s powers yet, but she’s figuring it out. We’ve seen her Return people.”

“Honesty compels me to admit that I didn’t have to cross over the Veils when I did it,” Xivan said, “which will be a lot harder. The only question is: What would I be bringing him back to? Did you preserve the body?”

That snapped Valathea out of her fugue. “What kind of magically immortal race do you think we are? Of course we preserved the body. It’s been under spells since the night—” She didn’t finish the sentence. Since the night Terindel was murdered. Since the night Teraeth was crowned. Since the Battle of the Well of Spirals.

Since half the Immortals died.

“Excellent,” Janel said. “That will make this much easier.”

“Which is handy,” Teraeth added, “because it won’t be easy at all.”

Valathea looked bemused. “Won’t it? Can’t she just … bring him back?”

Xivan shrugged to indicate she had no idea.

“That depends on where my mother put him,” Teraeth answered, “and how far along Xivan’s powers have grown by that point. The Afterlife is a big place. As big as this world. It would be like looking for a single person in the entire world. What are the odds that you’d just stumble across them?”

When he paused, he realized he’d actually been waiting for Talea to answer. He wasn’t the only one, to judge from the look on Xivan’s face.

Hopefully, she’d be back soon.

“It’s not just Thaena,” Janel said. “Talea—you remember Talea?—she’s become Taja.”

Valathea put a hand to her mouth. The emotions on her face were complex and conflicted.

Teraeth understood. Valathea had to have known all the Immortals for a very long time, and she was Kirpis vané. Taja had also been Kirpis vané. That meant Valathea had probably known Taja long before she became one of the Guardians. It had to be difficult to see someone else wearing the name.

“I had assumed that—” Valathea swallowed. “I had hoped that however the Immortals had been resurrected the last time would work again.” She gave Xivan an apologetic look. “With all respect, of course. I’m sure you’ll both do a lovely job. I can’t say I especially wanted to have to continue to deal with Khaemezra, but it’s a lot to get used to.” She looked at Teraeth with large, dewy violet eyes. “Are the others being … replaced?” She paused.

“That’s the idea,” Janel said. “Talea, Senera, and Thurvishar are off seeing to that right now. Not that Tya or Khored can be replaced—they’re still alive.” She added, “And I’d like them to stay that way.”

“I’m sure they’d appreciate that as well,” Valathea replied.

The food and drink had gone untouched until this point, but Valathea remembered its existence, probably to buy herself an excuse to think over things in silence. She nibbled at canapés and drank the wine in long, slow gulps. Everyone else did too, although with more food and less wine.

Finally, she set down her glass on the tabletop with solid finality. “So what is the plan?”

Janel started to wait for Teraeth again, and he waved her on. “No, no. You explain it.”

“It’s not complicated,” Janel admitted. “Once Talea arrives, the three of us—Xivan, Talea, and myself—will enter the Afterlife and begin our search for Terindel. We’re hoping that Xivan will be able to track him down using her powers. Or if that doesn’t work, then because of Talea, we’ll just be lucky.”

“I’m going with you,” Valathea said.

“No, you’re not,” Teraeth corrected and, when she glared defiantly at him, added, “Not because we don’t want you to but because you can’t. I’d be going too if it were that easy. It makes no sense to give Xivan three people to Return when she’s just figuring out how her powers work. Talea and Janel can travel on their own without outside assistance. You and I can’t.”

“Talea can pass through the Veil?” Valathea shook her head immediately. “She’s a Guardian now. You explained this. I apologize.”

“It’s a great deal of information to absorb,” Janel said, “but even if that weren’t true, what do you think are the realistic odds that Relos Var isn’t tracking you in some manner? You, of all people? You’re lucky enough, if such a term can be used, to be one of the few individuals Relos Var takes seriously. So you can’t simply vanish from the Living World without him searching for you.”

“Nor can you!” Valathea protested.

“I won’t,” Janel said, smiling. “I’m doing nothing more than sleeping at night, an activity that I assure you is perfectly normal behavior for me. Relos Var knows where I journey at night, and he knows he can’t stop it. He won’t waste the energy.”

Valathea sighed bitterly, then pulled herself together. “Yes. Very well, but I don’t like it,” Valathea said.

“Noted,” Teraeth replied while swallowing the additional “but I don’t care” at the end. Ah, diplomacy. “You and I shall stay here with Kihrin—”

“You mean with Talon,” Valathea corrected.

Teraeth and Janel both froze.

Right. The downside to his stepmother being smart was that she also wasn’t stupid.

Valathea rolled her eyes at Teraeth and his companions. “Do you honestly expect I wouldn’t notice when we have a mimic ward activate and Kihrin’s the only one not in the throne room? Oh yes, and then there’s the little issue of how Kihrin and Thurvishar are the two who broke Talon out of her imprisonment in the first place. Which I had to cover up for you, by the way.” She paused. “I assume you’re all aware of her identity and she’s operating with your full consent?”

“Yes,” Janel said. “It’s important that we continue to maintain that ruse as well.”

“Ah. Well, word of advice, then: generally speaking, people make eye contact with their lovers.”

Janel grimaced.

“I told you that you were going to have to get over that,” Teraeth told her.

“If I touch her, I want to throw up,” Janel said primly.

“Where is Kihrin?” Valathea asked.

Everyone hesitated.

“Busy,” Janel said and, when Valathea visibly began to protest, added, “Truly, it’s better that you don’t know. And it’s of critical importance that Relos Var not know. When the time’s right, Kihrin will explain.”

Valathea studied the woman for a long minute, then turned her attention to Teraeth. “And you’re not worried?” she asked.

“Of course I’m worried,” Teraeth said, “but that doesn’t change anything. He’s doing what he has to do. Janel, Talea, and Xivan will do their part. You and I will stay here and make preparations for when they return. We want this to be as easy for Xivan as possible, so we’ll need—” He cleared his throat. “We’ll need my father’s body.”

“And you’ll get it,” Valathea said, “but not tonight. The mimic wards were activated, and that means certain facilities are under lockdown. Because a mimic is involved, any place where bodies are stored is under especially tight security right now. You may be king, but it will look odd if you were to override such protocols.”

Teraeth sighed. That wasn’t the best news in the world, but it wasn’t insurmountable. They could wait a day.

“Tomorrow it is, then.” He didn’t ask what was the worst that could happen. Teraeth liked to think he could learn from his mistakes.

“Thank you,” Valathea said. “I admit that I had grown frustrated I might not be able to make good on my promise to Thaena before—” Her eyes flickered over to Teraeth, and then the rest of that sentence shriveled up and died. “I apologize. That was inappropriate.”

Teraeth gave her a thin, tight smile. “No need. You didn’t finish the sentence.” She hadn’t, after all, actually said the words. Not matricide or deicide or even before you decapitated her.

“I didn’t have to,” Valathea responded.

“If I may be so bold,” Xivan said, “the old Thaena can rot in hell. She’s not going to be helping us. For obvious reasons.”

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up, Athea,”⁴ Janel said. “If Khaemezra threw Terindel into the Font of Souls, there’s nothing we can do to recover him, other than wait for him to be born again.”

“She didn’t do that,” Teraeth said immediately, rarely so certain of anything as he was of that. “My mother wouldn’t have done that. She wanted him to suffer, not to be reincarnated. I don’t think she’d have given him to the demons either. He’s probably locked up in a basement somewhere, forever waiting for her to return so the torture can begin.”

“I can’t believe I used to like her,” Janel said.

Teraeth nodded. “My mother was on occasion a horrible woman.” Then he frowned. It would’ve been easy if that’s all she’d ever been, but no. Most of the time she hadn’t been a horrible woman. Not at all.

Valathea reached over and put a hand on Teraeth’s shoulder, her own expression blank. Teraeth felt his breath grow ragged and cursed the fact that Valathea had quickly made it clear that she’d treat him like her own son and not just her husband’s. It manifested in moments like this, when he could tell that she’d almost forgotten herself and hugged him.

Janel stood. “We should find Talon—I mean Kihrin. And then”—her next words looked physically painful for her to speak—“we should allow everyone to grow used to the idea that we’re sharing quarters and no doubt hosting orgies nightly.” She gave Teraeth a sharp look. “And no, we will most certainly not be hosting orgies nightly.”

“Now that is a shame.” Teraeth grinned sharklike at his lover. “But I suppose if I must, for the good of all.”

Valathea stood up. “Barring any further misadventures by your missing companions, I expect we’ll move forward with plans tomorrow. This night, on the other hand, act as normally as possible. That means attending dinner.”

“Is there a dance after?” Teraeth asked, already knowing the answer and dreading it with every drop of blood in him. “I won’t be attending. Make whatever excuse is necessary.”

“But, Teraeth, you love danc—” Janel bit off the word.

She was no doubt considering the last time he’d danced in any capacity: the ritual his mother had controlled him into performing in order to wipe out the Manol vané.

“Yes, of course,” Janel said. “No dancing.”