“And then what?”
“That is the question, Taul. Isn’t it? And then what? Most are afraid.”
“Are you?”
Balniss nodded. “Who wouldn’t be? All these hidden assassins. All these seething factions hiding in the shadows. All the whispers that will one day blossom into a roar which will shake the crater’s foundations….”
Taul stifled a laugh.
Balniss looked at him questioningly. His face was serious.
“It’s just that you sound like a valley prophet,” Taul said.
“They may be right. Have you ever considered it?”
“They pop up every season in every valley and then disappear.”
“Or perhaps they are silenced. Perhaps that’s why the goddess keeps making them spring up.”
Taul laughed aloud this time. Balniss looked hurt.
“I thought you weren’t into superstitions,” Taul said.
“I’m not. That’s the point. Things are happening, brother. You must do what you can to prepare. Arm yourself, secure your matron’s future, wrangle her relations, and then hunker down here. I fear what comes will be longer than the calamity through which we’ve been living.”
Balniss turned back to inspecting each device.
“Don’t touch any of these,” he said. “They aren’t useful for your purpose, and I fear you won't survive them.”
“That’s fine. I just want to follow him. I don’t want to make a deal without knowing more.”
“Wise,” Balniss said. He hunched over, burdened. Taul had never seen him this way. He’d always been so certain of everything. His elder in every way. But was he? Balniss had never worked in the orchards. Their matron had sent him early to Isilmyr for studies, and then the diviner’s cohort. Had that been his choice, or their matron mother’s decision? Did she know something?
His stomach turned, and he felt ill.
Balniss looked up then and smiled. “We’ll do what we can, neh? Wear the devices hidden,” he said. “In the time before, when knights wore only battle trousers, they hid their devices in their hair or under sashes and on thin ribbons bound to their bodies, and, of course, rings and bands on their wrists and ankles. I recall a story of a knight who spent a cycle studying his rival’s equipment and activities. He watched countless tournaments, battles, even private acts. All to learn from the shadows who his opponent really was, what he relied on. So, when the day came, he issued a challenge in the court for a crime over a cycle old. He did all that was necessary, all that one could expect.”
“Did he win?” Taul asked.
Balniss shook his head. “There was more to his target than he’d expected. But the lesson is important, Taul. This urchin can’t be more than a knight of Isilayne, can he? Surely not. And here you have magnificent tools from an era he can only dream of. The inheritance of your house. An ancient house with strength in its roots, neh? Don’t wear them too long, though. You’ll find the most recent wearers near the surface. The longer you wear them the deeper you’ll go, and powerful voices may rise to meet you. You don’t want that to happen. They will be terrifying to you.”
“Like in the womb… the deep roots?”
“You would know better than me on that matter. Hosmyr men trained differently in the old days. They had an ancient apprentice tablet for learning to fight with valley sorcery. Sensing heat, movement of the body, the flow of blood, breath, sap like in the trees.”
“What about the dagger?” Taul pointed to a foot long blade, edged on both sides with a fine tip. It was all black.
“No. It may make you do things you’ll later regret.”
“More than taking someone else’s child?”
Balniss frowned, almost angry. “The world is darker than you know. Come, let us go into the orchard and find a quiet space. I think you’ll find the trees will help your practice.”
Taul agreed. “Go up. I’ll put all this away.”
When he was alone, he took up a needle and spoke his name to it, and his great need. The thing tugged at him, as if draining strength and warmth from his arm, then it eased. A droning cry of anguish and rage welled in him as the needle heated uncomfortably.
House above all, it said to him. At any cost.
He hid the needle in a secret cuff pocket, put the knife in its scabbard, and slid it into a loop on his belt. The other useful devices he tucked into a secret pocket lining his tunic. The rest he carefully wrapped and placed back in the chest.
Last of all was the spearhead. Balniss was right about the dangers of using it, but he wasn’t prime consort, sworn to Lor’Toshtolin unto death, bound in his body to its matron. Taul would find a smith to make the shaft. This was a new age. The court had made many things possible, Many grievances would surface, and he must be ready. Unlike Hosmyr’s sons, he would not wield a sunlit spear.
“No,” he said. “I will wield the Dark, as my ancestors did.”
37
Above, through a thick layer of rock and stone, the warehouses and shops were quiet as Halkamas slept through the sunlit day. It was decidedly the best time to meet, as neither high matron needed to be above ground to reach the alliance chamber.
One of Gishna’s great nieces made a blue-fire with an enchanted ferro rod—a precious device from a long-gone era—and the room erupted with competing strands of power. Gishna closed her eyes and waited for the length of five breaths before she reopened them. The whiteness blinded her for a moment. It was not the whiteness of her perpetual veil, but the whiteness of the brilliant, gleaming Dark. The dome of silence was smaller than usual, and she’d had the two seats set close to the fire. She motioned her people back, though. She sat, vulnerable but warmed, waiting patiently for the hope of her house.
Zaidra arrived quietly, her knights enveloped in the lightest, noiseless black steel, a recipe they had not shared with anyone outside their blood houses. Barely the tinkle of metal or footfalls of those majestic creatures sounded in the narrow tunnel leading to Velkamas. What she’d give for a stack of those men. What she could do with them!
Knights of Isilayne spilled into the room like a black wave, securing the chamber. When they’d performed their check, Zaidra entered. More knights crowded the hallway. It was impressive to be sure, but Gishna knew she was looking at the bulk of Vakayne’s forces. Elite, magnificent, but so very few.
“I took the liberty,” Gishna said, motioning to the flames. The sound barrier was not as secure, but sufficient for what she needed. At that moment, she doubted whether Zaidra could tell the difference. A fear welled up in her that maybe Zaidra’s exceptional girls were all beautiful, but empty vessels after all.
“You take many liberties these days,” Zaidra said sharply.
