Burning Bright (6 page)

Sonya sat on the edge of her brother's bed, holding his hands and crying quietly. She looked up when she heard him, relief filling her face. "Dym," she said softly. "He only just calmed from his fit. I do not understand how this keeps happening. Why can no one figure out what is wrong with him?"

Dym shook his head in silent reply. He and many others had searched and searched for the source of the king's illness. He and Krasny had investigated the possibility of poison, but that too had turned up nothing.

No matter what they did, the Tsar was dying. Though he hated to admit it, even silently, Dym suspected it was only a matter of days. Moving around the bed, he squeezed Sonya's shoulders reassuringly, quietly casting a calming spell. She stood up and held him tightly, crying into his shoulder. Dym just held her, knowing there was nothing he could say that would ease the pain of losing a loved one.

"He keeps asking for Kolya," Sonya said looking up, eyes wet and red in the weak light. "I don't know what to do anymore, Dym. Nothing I say will get through to him. My brother holds on only because of Kolya, but he won't come!"

"And yet, here I am," Krasny said from the doorway, making Sonya whip around, gasp, and knock into Dym, who stumbled back and barely regained his footing. Krasny did not move from the doorway, simply stood there and stripped off the riding gloves he still wore. "I was just riding into the city to look for the Vessel while it was quiet. They told me he was dead."

Sonya practically flew across the room, and the sound of her hand landing on Krasny's cheek was shockingly loud. "You! Fire and ash, Kolya! That is the only reason you came? He's not dead yet, you heartless bastard!" She made to slap him again, but Krasny grabbed her wrist, and then the other. "He just wants to talk to you. Why won't you just listen?"

"That is between him and me," Krasny replied. "I know you care, Sonya, but it is our business, not yours. If that is all—"

"Bastard!" Sonya snarled and kicked him, and then shoved him away and stormed from the room. Krasny watched her go grimacing and touching one still-gloved hand to his cheek, which had gone a livid red in the shape of a hand print.

Nodding to Dym, he turned and stepped back out into the front room, closing the door behind him. Only a moment later, Dym could hear shouting. He lifted his hands, palms out and fingers spread, and silently cast a muffling spell.

In the bed, Zarya moaned faintly. Dym returned to his side, reaching out to take the hand that fumbled out from under the blankets. "Who—"

"Me, your Majesty," Dym said softly. "Be at peace."

"Kolya?" Zarya whispered.

Dym said nothing, merely reached out to stroke Zarya's brow and smooth back what remained of his hair, humming softly until Zarya slipped back into sleep. After several minutes, when it seemed as though Zarya would stay asleep, Dym tucked him back into his blankets and broke the muffling spell. Walking to the door, he opened it and stepped out into the front room.

The fight between the cousins was clearly over as Sonya was nowhere to be seen. Krasny, however, stood by the far window, staring out into the night.  "How is he?"

"Asleep," Dym replied quietly. "He thought I was you—or wanted to think I was you, your grace."

"Good for him," Krasny said, not quite able to keep all the bitterness from his cold tone.

Dym tilted his head thoughtfully, watching Krasny's back, noting that his long hair had slipped free of the ribbon that had bound it. The ribbon, he saw, was on the floor by the couch. So Sonya must have really lost her temper.  "I do not understand, your grace, why you are so determined not to see him."

"I do not see why you and every other scorching person in this palace think it is anyone's business but mine," Krasny snapped, finally turning around. The handprint on his cheek was still bright red, and there was a cut, as though from a ring, on the other.  "There is enough to worry about without gossiping about the personal problems between my cousins and me. I know that Sonya has taken you into her confidence, High Priest, but that does not mean you share
my
confidence."

Bowing low, Dym said, "Of course, you grace. My apologies. It is only the situation strikes a very personal chord and makes it hard not to speak up."

"Oh?" Krasny said. "What about our tired drama is so personal to you, High Priest? I have never known drama of any sort to be attached to your name." His brow furrowed in thought. "You came to the palace, what … two decades ago? You've been High Priest at least half of that since your predecessor retired early." His frown deepened. "I think that's right, but I travel so much it is hard to remember."

"You have the right of it, your grace," Dym said. "It was my caretaker in the Heart. My feelings for him were much stronger than merely that of a ward for his guardian. But I never said a word, feeling I couldn't—or shouldn't. He was killed by robbers one night when they broke into the church where I was still training. I will always wish I had said something."

Krasny regarded him with a sympathy Dym doubted many would have believed him capable of feeling. "I am sorry and can understand why you feel compelled to interfere, but the situation is not the same, not really. You'd do better to stay out of it, Holiness."

Dym nodded, acknowledging his words, but said softly, "If the situation is so different, your grace, explain to me how. It is my duty and honor to hear and to help. I am the hearth and the light, and putting me out does no one any good."

"Indeed," Krasny said, mouth quirking faintly in a rare show of amusement.  "Very well, then. I am headed into the Heart to search out the Vessel. Now that the curfew bells have rung and the city is quiet, I may better be able to follow the trail." He turned to glance out the window again and his eyes glowed yellow orange as he cast out his magic, feeling the tug of the Vessel. As the glow faded, he turned back to Dym, a hint of a smirk in the curve of his mouth. "Do you ride, Holiness?"

"Yes," Dym said, cocking his head quizzically.

"Then ride into the city with me. I doubt you've anything else of importance to do at this hour, unless you plan to keep his Majesty company." When Dym remained hesitant, Krasny crooked his fingers impatiently. "Come along and help me find the Vessel, and I will explain all the family drama to you. Perhaps then you will convince everyone else to drop the matter with that faerie tongue of yours."

Dym laughed. "I have no Verde blood in me."

"That does not mean you do not share the faerie talent for persuasion," Krasny replied. "So, will you come?"

"Of course, just give me a few minutes to change into more suitable attire," Dym said.

"I'll meet you in the Red Courtyard, then," Krasny said and, pulling on his riding gloves, departed.

Dym briefly considered first going to see Sonya, but decided she probably wanted nothing to do with company at present. Whatever argument between the cousins, it had put Krasny in a more malleable frame of mind and Dym was more than willing to go along with it.

They reminded him of days long gone, Krasny, Sonya, and Zarya. He did not want to see them break and fall apart the way he once had. So many people he had called friends and family, gone forever because misunderstandings and resentment had made them forget they loved each other. All that aside, Pozhar would not last if its core was destroyed. The people needed Sonya and Krasny because despite Dym's knowledge and power, he could not save Zarya.

Dym left the royal chambers and quickly returned to his own rooms in the cathedral, where he changed out of his ornate robes and into clothing as dark and plain as Krasny's own. All that gave away his rank was his heavy gold signet ring set with the flame and feather crest of the High Priest and the master keys that he carried at all times. Otherwise, he might have been just another noble, albeit one of those rare few permitted to use magic.

Leaving the cathedral again, but by the front door, Dym headed quickly down the long stairs leading from the cathedral and across the pavilion, down the main palace courtyard, and through a small gate set in the wall that was a shortcut to the smaller, private Red Courtyard.

Two horses stood waiting, stamping their feet restlessly, coats dark brown and glossy in the lamps lit around the small, square space. Krasny had rebound his hair and pulled on a cloak, making him little more than just another shadow. Spying Dym, he grabbed the reins of the nearest horse and swung smoothly up into the saddle.

Dym quickly mounted the other horse, and without a word they rode off, away from the palace and down the long road that stretched between the palace and the city proper.  Far above, the sky was clear, the stars sharp and bright, the full moon providing all the light they needed. The smell of snow and wintery pines was all around them, mingling with the less pleasant smells of an overcrowded city. They paused at the city gates, but Krasny displayed his ring to the guards, and they were quickly on their way again, slowing the horses as they wandered the city streets in search of the Vessel.

Eventually they stopped in the enormous pavilion that took up the center of the city, spreading out from the Cathedral of Ashes at the very heart of it.  Dym frowned thoughtfully. "When we are at the edges of the city, I can feel it. The Vessel is here. But the closer we get to the center, the more it all blurs." He frowned pensively at the cathedral. "I can only think the residual magic of the cathedral is interfering."

"There's a lot of old power here at the very center of the Heart," Krasny agreed. "Legend does say this was Zhar Ptitsa's home. The Cathedral of Sacred Fires was built after the Great Loss, when Tsar Aleksandr III decided to go through with the proposed sacrifices. Moving the Altar of Rebirth closer to the palace allowed more control."

"Dark days, from what I recall," Dym murmured and lifted one gloved hand to gesture. "If the Vessel is in or near the cathedral, it does make sense that his energy gets muddied. We could try inside and see if we have more luck. If the Vessel is a priest, sensing him should be easier once inside."

Krasny nodded, and they rode across the pavilion, dismounting at the base of the stairs. Leaving the horses tethered at the rails off to one side of the cathedral, they walked side by side up the long, wide steps. When they reached the nearest of the six sets of double doors, Dym pulled out his ring of master keys and selected the one that opened the Cathedral of Ashes.

They slipped inside, and he locked the door again behind them. Krasny led the way from the entry hall into the cathedral proper, nothing but the moonlight slipping through the windows to guide their way. A single candle was lit on the altar, next to an unlit candle; both were red:  Vessel Candles. Once, the Cathedral of Ashes had been filled with one thousand of the blood red candles. With every hunt, one candle was lit. After the Vessel was sacrificed the candle was taken away.

Approaching the altar, Dym climbed the stairs up to it and lightly touched the side of the lit candle, a chill running down his spine. He frowned thoughtfully, wondering what had provoked the sensation. Letting his fingers slide away, he turned to face Krasny, who stood in the aisle between the pews, eyes glowing bright gold as he cast out his magic. Dym did the same, feeling the gentle wash where their magic overlapped, creating a stronger pool of energy that rippled out across the cathedral.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the magic, feeling what it felt … and not quite grasping what they sought, like reaching for a jar just out of reach on the topmost shelf. He pushed harder, releasing more energy, but again, it just barely slipped out of reach.

With a frustrated noise he broke off, feeling Krasny do the same.  "Are we being resisted?" Krasny said. "I have never heard of a Vessel resisting before—well, not in this manner, anyway." He reached into his jacket and extracted a small flask, taking a sip from it. Dym wondered how hard Krasny had been pushing himself magically, lately, that he was drinking the counter tonic already.

Dym shook his head in reply to Krasny's comment. "I do not think it's the Vessel; I think it is this place, instinctively protecting the piece of Holy Zhar Ptitsa it can feel. But that is confirmation of a sort. We know for certain now that the Vessel is here. It will take only summoning all the priests and going through them one by one."

Krasny looked pained for a moment. "Roughly five hundred priests reside here. Just searching through them will take at least a day. Nevermind that we keep saying priests, but it could be one of the non-holy staff they retain, and if I know the Heart, there is likely an entire colony of street rats in the rafters. Even if we began right this moment, it would take days to go through them all, and there is no promise the Vessel would not simply slip away. Though I guess that would be a lead of its own."  He sighed softly, looking extremely tired for a moment.

"We can start in the morning," Dym said. "It has kept this long; it will keep a few hours more. We should go home and rest ourselves, given that it will be as arduous a task as you describe." Firebird knew they'd had more than a few of those in their days as Vessel hunters. Rare was the hunt that went easily. "Let's be off before we wake someone."

Nodding in agreement, Krasny turned and led the way out, not speaking again until they were outside once more. "Thank you for coming with me, High Priest. With my magic alone it would have taken longer, and I would not have been as certain."

Dym did not bother to comment that Zholty should have joined Krasny in the venture, never mind the other nobles.  "I am happy to help, and I do believe I was promised explanations."

Krasny's mouth twisted with his reluctance to discuss the matter, but he conceded with a nod as they walked down the steps and to their horses. "There is not much to tell, really. Once upon a time I loved a Tsar. He was not willing to love me because I was his cousin and a man. I tried countless times to prove to him we could work, overcome all the obstacles he threw in our path if he would just try. Every time he would start to listen … and then cast me aside again. Dying is a poor reason to ask for those things he rejected all his life.  He lived as a coward, High Priest, and so far as I am concerned, he can die as one."