Duskfall (21 page)

“What is this?” she asked.

“A voidstone. A basic tool for any psimancer. They have many uses, which we will discuss—the first of which is communication. Once you are ready, we will be able to communicate instantaneously, no matter where you are in the Sfaera. But first we must attune you to one.”

Winter stared at the small stone. She could hardly believe such a thing was possible—instantaneous communication?—but she had seen so many things that seemed impossible in the last few days, she had a hard time finding a reason to doubt.

“Carry that with you,” Nash said. “Keep it close, press it against your skin. You need to bond with it, in a way, before we really teach you how to use it.”

The thing didn’t look like much. Then Nash dropped something else in Winter’s palm.

A single frost crystal.

“For
emergencies
,” he said. “Only take it if there is no other choice. I’ll check with you, to make sure you still have it, every morning and every night. Otherwise, you are to only eat frost given to you by me or Kali.”

Winter nodded. The difference between the stone and the frost crystal was tangible; one was heavy, dull, seemingly useless. The other was light, jagged, and contained more power than Winter had ever thought possible.

“Keep the frost somewhere safe,” Nash said. “Not easily accessible, otherwise it might be too tempting. But not completely out of the way, either. If you need to take it but cannot reach it in time, it is worthless.”

“Yes,” Winter whispered, keeping her eyes on him, with an effort. The weight of the
faltira
in her hand seemed to burn a hole through it.

“Very well. Our lesson is over, then. Get some rest. We have another long day of traveling tomorrow.”

Nash left the room, and Winter was alone.

Alone, with the
faltira
.

N
AVONE STOOD IN THE
foothills of the Sorensan Mountains—the same mountains that marked the narrow border between Khale and Roden. The city was roughly square-shaped, each corner facing a cardinal direction. Only two gates allowed access to the city; Knot and Astrid had entered the main gate on the southwest side that afternoon. The second was along the northeast wall, directly opposite from where they’d entered, and led to the border crossing into Roden.

Knot could picture the Roden Gate, as it was called, clearly in his mind, though he and Astrid were still far from the border crossing. Like the main gate, the Roden Gate was built into the thick wall of the city and flanked by large circular towers on each side. But what lay beyond the gate demonstrated the strategic advantage of Navone’s geography. The north and east corners of the city ran directly into the high granite cliffs, forming the very mountains into extensions of the walls and creating a small field between the Roden Gate and the Blood Gate.

As one of the only traversable passes across the Sorensan Mountains, the Blood Gate consisted of two massive, circular towers built into the rock cliffs on either side of the pass, towering over Navone and the large gate they protected. The gate itself was more of a tunnel, fashioned from stone and protected on either end by a portcullis and massive oak and iron-reinforced doors. Simple in design, complex because of its sheer size, but effective in purpose. The Blood Gate stood impregnable for centuries. But then Roden invested in a powerful navy, circumventing the Blood Gate, and the game had changed.

The Blood Gate was a worry for another time. For now, Knot needed to find out about the Holy Crucible.

“What do you think?” Astrid asked him as they moved quietly through the merchants’ line of the city. The sun sank in the distance; only a couple more hours of light remained.

Market tents lined the cobbled street, and people hurried back and forth. Merchants shouted above the crowd, advertising their wares. A few Borderguards patrolled the streets, spears high. No sign of Sons of Canta or Goddessguards, but there was a sense of unease in the bustling throng. There were few greetings but many distrustful glares.

“Not sure,” Knot said. “Sons would be patrolling if the Crucible had arrived already, but the Borderguard barely had a presence on the walls to begin with.” Only a few had stood on the walls, with two manning the gate when they’d entered.

“Perhaps the Sons are too sneaky for you,” Astrid said.

“Doubtful. Doubt the Goddessguard would be, either.” It took Knot a moment to realize she had said it in jest.

“Who
is
too sneaky for you, hot shot?”

Knot sensed the sarcasm, but he shrugged. “Don’t know.” He looked down at her. For some reason he thought her extra strength might make her more awkward, but she was less noticeable than a shadow in darkness, even in daylight. Or she could be, anyway, when she wanted to be. Not a comforting thought.

“All the same,” he said, “it seems the Crucible ain’t arrived. Might as well take our chances for the night.”

Part of him had hoped to find the Crucible already in the city. Running into the Crucible might be his only chance to get rid of the girl.
The vampire
, he corrected himself. Since their last fight, he and Astrid hadn’t spoken about what he’d heard, or thought he’d heard, in Brynne, and Astrid still refused to tell him why she was following him.

If she would just
tell
him, he might be able to understand. Despite everything, Knot liked the girl. But he couldn’t trust her.

“What if the Crucible
has
arrived? And we’ve just underestimated her?”

“Or overestimated,” Knot mumbled. “If that’s the case, we’ll make do. But I’m not keen on traveling through the Sorensan Pass during the night.” Hopefully the Crucible would arrive that evening. Knot looked down at the girl. He didn’t know what the Crucible would do to a vampire. Nothing pleasant, that was sure. But Astrid was a risk he couldn’t take.

“Humans,” she sniffed. “You need so much maintenance, it’s pitiful.”

Knot led the way through the merchants’ line towards the Circle Square at the city’s center. “People are on edge,” he said. “Scared of what’s coming.”

“Never trust a religion with secrets, that’s what I always say,” Astrid said.

Knot raised an eyebrow. “So there are religions you
would
trust? Strange words from someone religion makes it a point to condemn.”

“Their loss,” she said, though she avoided his eyes. “I think they’re jealous.”

Knot conceded a half-smile.

“So, which inn is it tonight?” Astrid asked. “The Horse’s Testicles? Or perhaps we could find one called The King Who Gave Up His Crown; I heard the longer an inn’s name, the more comfortable it is, yes? Or, if we’re lucky, we might find an inn called Canta’s Daemons. Perfect for the two of us, wouldn’t you say?”

Knot ignored her.

“Really,” Astrid continued, “one of the most ridiculous things I’ve noticed in my centuries on this miserable Sfaera is how you humans try so outrageously hard with your names. Especially the inns. Just once, I’d like to find an inn that was called Fin’s Place, or The Sleep Easy Lodge.”

Rounding a corner, they entered the plaza that stood at the city’s center. Five different roads converged on a wide, open circle. Three steps led down into a square within the circle, the top step of each corner of the square just touching the outer rim of the circle, giving the place its name: the Circle Square. A massive stone fountain depicting a stylized version of the Sfaera stood in the middle of the space. The globe rose nearly as tall as the two- and three-story buildings around it. Water poured from the top, trickling down into a pool below. Knot wondered how the thing functioned in the cold.

Around the fountain, a group of children bundled in furs played a game of stone-hop. Eight or nine of them, each about Astrid’s age.

The girl watched them, her face expressionless. Whatever good humor she’d been in a few minutes earlier seemed gone.

“I’ll be back,” she said. Then she walked towards the children.

Knot sat down on a stone bench. They hadn’t rested at all that morning, to assure their arrival in Navone before nightfall. His feet and the backs of his legs still ached, and sitting down felt good.

A woman sat beside him, but Knot ignored her. She was no threat, and the last thing he wanted was a mundane conversation. When Knot looked up, he was surprised to see Astrid playing with the children. She was laughing and jumping, occasionally tossing something into the fountain with a splash.

Knot experienced a moment of unease in which he wondered whether this wasn’t some form of hunt for her. He’d only seen her feed once, on bodies already dead. She’d mentioned she only truly had to feed a couple times each month.

He kept one eye on her anyway.

As he observed Astrid and surveyed the city circle, looking out for any other, less expected threats, his thoughts wandered.

He remembered a dream from the night before. He seemed to be having dreams every night, now. In most of them he crept about in shadow, but last night’s dream had taken place on a massive open battlefield. It was nighttime, or so it seemed, the entire sky dark except for a tiny, bright blue light above. Knot had attacked with his squad, slaughtering a faceless enemy. But Knot had stabbed one of the men he’d fought alongside. One of his brothers. Just like every dream before, this one ended in death.

He chewed on his cheek, lost in thought, watching the children at the fountain. Knot could tell that some of them were wary of Astrid. Whether that was because Astrid was a stranger, or because they sensed something deeper, Knot couldn’t tell.

“Hello,” the woman beside him said.

Knot was suddenly alert. He’d forgotten she was there. As he looked at her, he knew, suddenly, that his first impression of her had been wrong. She wasn’t a threat necessarily, but something wasn’t right with this woman. He wasn’t sure what. That was the problem with inhumanly honed senses that he didn’t understand.

“Hello,” Knot said, hoping she would leave the conversation at that. Now that he got a good look at her, he realized she was quite young. Winter’s age, perhaps twenty-one summers at the most.

“Welcome to Navone,” the woman said.

“Thank you.”

“Is that your daughter?” the woman asked. “She is a beautiful little girl.”

“Thank you,” Knot said again. The woman wasn’t just being conversational, Knot realized. The way she fidgeted made him wary.

“Do I know you?” he asked. It was a long shot, but perhaps he had known her… before.

“No,” the woman said. “My name is Jane. I live here, in Navone.” She had long, blond hair, and striking blue eyes. A beautiful woman, Knot admitted. Despite her simple, well-fitting dress, he could tell she was noble. The way she bore herself, the straightness of her back. A modest noble, perhaps, but a noble nonetheless.

Knot glanced back at Astrid. The children had formed some kind of crowd. Knot could no longer see Astrid. They’d apparently found something to gawk at.

“And you,” the woman, Jane, continued, “are just passing through Navone, are you not? You and your… she
is
your daughter, yes?”

Knot frowned. That was the cover they had been using, but there was something off in the way this Jane said it, as if she
knew
something, a joke she wasn’t sharing. And Knot couldn’t help but wonder why she’d be so friendly when the entire city seemed on a knife’s edge.

“She is,” Knot said cautiously. He checked his surroundings. If the woman’s goal was to distract him, he wanted to be ready for the why. But he could see no one lurking at the edge of the city circle, or observing him and this woman.

“My name is Benir,” he said, hoping some information, albeit false, would satisfy the stranger. “My daughter is Lucia. We were just looking for an inn. We’re staying the night, and then we must be on our way early tomorrow.”

“I see.” Jane glanced at the crowd of children, and frowned. “Oh, Goddess…”

Knot followed her gaze. Some of the boys, who he saw must be at least eleven or twelve years old, were pushing someone between them.

Astrid.

Knot stood. He recognized the body language. He’d seen this sort of thing all too often in Pranna. When just a few of the wrong humans got a tiellan alone.

The boys laughed as Knot walked towards them. He was aware of Jane following him. A tight ball of apprehension formed in his stomach. For the boys or Astrid? He wasn’t sure.

“So you’re an outsider
and
you don’t have a mother?” one of the boys asked. The others laughed, though the older boys seemed to be the bullies, the ringleaders. The other children’s laughter was strained.

“I didn’t
say
I don’t have a mother,” Astrid said. Her defensiveness surprised Knot. “I just said she isn’t
here
.”

One of the boys sneered. “She probably left you.”

Canta rising
, Knot thought.
Are children always so cruel?

“She didn’t
leave
me,” Astrid said. Her voice was taut with emotion. Astrid took most things in her stride; was this just an act, as well?

“Lucia,” Knot said, trying to sound firm. The children turned and Astrid rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Knot looked down in shock. He still had no idea how to read her, but something welled up within him. He put an arm around the girl. He knew it was fake, the moment he did it. He was going to turn this girl—this daemon—over to the Crucible the first chance he got.

But comforting her still felt like the right thing to do.

“Your daddy came to save you?” one of the boys sneered. Knot glared at him, but before he could respond, another voice cut in.

“Jakob, didn’t I see you sneaking into Garen’s shop? Perhaps your mother would like to hear about that.” It was Jane.

The boy who had spoken looked down and muttered something incomprehensible.

“Sorry?” Jane asked, stern as iron.

“Nothing, Miss Oden,” the boy said.

“Very well. Off you go, all of you. You’ve caused enough trouble.”

The children dispersed. Knot heard a few of them mutter something about not having to listen to “that woman.” He didn’t know what to make of it. Instead, he looked down at Astrid.