Call of Sunteri (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 2) (3 page)

“Morning, Miss Saesa. Come to see Feat?” he asks as he ducks beneath the counter. He retrieves a bundle as Saesa leads me into the depths of the shop. It’s not so bad once we’re inside. It opens up a little at the counter.

“Who’s your friend?” The man’s eyes glint with amusement as he unravels the oilcloth and glances at me.

“This is Tib,” Saesa says, her eyes fixed on the counter. “Tib, this is Mister Bren. And this,” she pulls the last bit of oilcloth away to reveal a gleaming blade, “this is Feat.”

I eye the blade, which is as long as my forearm and almost as broad. The hilt is banded with leather, and the cross guard has a deep chevron design. I don’t know much about swords. It seems fine. Saesa is obviously very proud of it, so I make my eyes go wide with admiration.

“It’s nice,” I say.

“It’s designed after Sir Azaeli’s. She lost hers on the last quest, though,” Saesa sighs, a little disappointed. “She has a new one now, but I’ve heard her say how much she misses the old one. This is much smaller, of course. I’m not a two-hander like she is.” She traces her fingers along the hilt lovingly under Mister Bren’s watchful eye. Everyone goes quiet. Finally, she reaches to her purse.

“Here you go, sir.” Saesa pulls out a silver coin and slides it across the counter looking hopeful. “How much more, now?”

“One gold forty yesterday. This,” he says, tapping the coin on the counter, “has you paid down to one gold and thirty-nine, Miss Saesa. You’re getting there. Unless you have anything else for me?”

Saesa chews her lip thoughtfully and glances at me.

“Prince Vorance arrived last night,” she ventures, watching him carefully.

“Aye, knew that,” he says with a short nod. He folds the oilcloth over the blade as Saesa watches with longing.

“Surely his men will need their weapons tended. They’ll need your services,” she offers.

“I like where this is going.” Bren scratches out a figure on a scrap of parchment pinned to the sword’s wrappings. He writes the new figure beneath it. The scrap is covered in similarly crossed out amounts. Saesa has been paying for this sword for months. Years, probably.

“I can drive them to you. Bring you business,” she says.

Mister Bren smirks as he tucks the sword below and then rests his elbows on the counter so he’s eye-level with her.

“You do that, Miss,” he says, “and I’ll knock five silver off your sword for every gold spent by a man who comes in here sayin’ your name. Deal?” He offers a rough hand across the counter, and Saesa shakes it firmly.

“Deal,” she grins. “Come on, Tib. Let’s go to the Inn.”

Outside, we’re greeted by a sheet of frozen rain and Raefe, who’s leaning against the rickety railing under the shelter of the leaky awning.

“How’s Feat?” he asks Saesa with a hint of disapproval.

“Raefe…” she sighs. “I was just…”

“Saesa.”

“One gold thirty-nine silver to go,” she mutters.

“Good,” he says, tugging his hood down over his brow. “That should take a while. Maybe by then you’ll be trained up enough for it.”

“I’m ready now,” Saesa says with a huff. “Hub says I’m the best in my group.” She crosses her arms under her furs.

“Care to test that again?” he asks. “Or do you remember the last time we had a bout?” He steps closer so he’s towering over her. Saesa purses her lips and glares at him. She doesn’t say anything.

“I thought so,” Raefe says. “Come on, let’s go home. It’s almost luncheon.” He ducks into the rain and Saesa turns to me.

“I really hate him sometimes,” Saesa says as she watches him saunter away. “You’re so lucky you don’t have a brother to boss you,” she grumbles. “Come on.”

Luncheon is pots of melted cheese with warm crusty bread to dunk into them, and vegetables and Saesa’s salt fish, all spread out on the dining table with fancy silver and fine dishes with gold rims that glint in the candle light.

“After we eat,” Saesa says to me as I stuff myself with bread and cheese, “I have my training. You could come.”

“It’s time Tib figures out what he wants to work towards, if he’s keen to stay,” Nessa says. She bounces baby Garsi on her knee while Emme clings to her arm.

“Well, he can’t do swords like Saesa and Raefe and me,” Ruben pipes up through a mouthful. “He’s too skinny.”

“I was weak when I started. Hub helped me get stronger.” Saesa argues.

“Master Hubvenchlis, Saesa.” Nessa corrects her.

“Master Hubvenchlis,” Saesa repeats apologetically.

“What is it you like to do, Tib?” Nessa catches a bit of drool with a lace-trimmed serviette as Garsi gums a crust of bread.

“Climbing,” I say. Right away I realize that I shouldn’t have. It might connect me to the towers.

“Magic.”

Nessa makes a suggestion that I don’t hear. Everyone watches me, waiting for me to answer.

“Say magic.”

Yes, say magic. No, I don’t want to. I despise magic. Mages, Sorcerers, I don’t want anything to do with them.

“Tib?” Saesa whispers. Nudges me. Everyone’s looking.

“Magic,” I say reluctantly. Most of the eyebrows around the table go up. Lilen is the first to break the silence.

“No offense,” she says, “but you really don’t seem bright enough.”

“Lilen!” Maisie scolds. “Just because you start off saying ‘no offense’ doesn’t make it all right to insult someone.”

“Well anyway, he’s too old. Mages start at six, like I did.”

“How old are you, anyway?” Ruben asks me as he dunks his bread and pulls out a long, stretchy string of cheese from the pot.

“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging.

“You don’t know?” Lilen asks with disbelief.

“You must be around my age. Twelve.” Saesa says.

“Nobody ever kept track.” I mumble.

“Didn’t you have birthdays?” Emme asks, wide-eyed.

“Not really.” I look around at them and then down at my fine plate. They have no idea. “In the fields, we work. We work every day, all day. We work and we sleep. Picking, hauling, pulling, dumping. It never stops. You’re too tired for anything but bread and sleep. We don’t play. We don’t dance or celebrate birthdays. We work. We sleep.” I pluck at my shirt. “So you can wear your red.” The room falls into awkward silence. Finally, Rube speaks up.

“Well, do you have hair yet?” he asks. Nessa covers her laugh.

“Ruben!” Maisie gasps. “Where did you hear that?”

“Raefe,” Ruben leans across the table. “He says you get hair on your chest when you’re thirteen. I’m going to have a beard. If you don’t have any, you’re probably twelve. Do you?” I shake my head.

Nessa clears her throat, still quite amused.

“I’ll see if I can set up an interview for you, Tib, if you’re certain,” she says. “Studying at the Academy is a hefty expense, but Master Rendin and I have an agreement. If you’re serious and he deems you suitable, I’m sure we can work something out.”

I spend a few quiet days with Saesa, gathering information, paying a silver on her sword, following her around, before Master Rendin shows up for my interview. The Mage is warm to Nessa, and she doesn’t seem frightened of him at all. Not like I am. She welcomes him into the sitting room and offers him tea. It’s just us: Nessa, Master Rendin, and me. I have new clothes now. Not red. Green trousers. White shirt. Blue vest. I picked them out myself. I kept my boots, though. They’re good boots.

I’m not sure why Nessa made such a fuss over my appearance, when Master Rendin doesn’t seem so concerned with his own at all. His hair is a great nest of white frizz that nearly covers his face. It doesn’t look like it has ever been combed. His white eyebrows are so long that they creep up and tangle into the nest, and his beard goes all the way to his belt where it’s caught in the clasp of it. He watches me with a twinkle in his eye as I take a seat across from him. I try not to shiver. He and Nessa make small talk until the tea comes. I’m glad. I don’t want to talk to him. After a while, though, he turns his attention to me.

“Tib,” he says. “Nessa tells me you’re interested in an apprenticeship at the Academy.”

No
, I think to myself.
I don’t want to do this.

“Say yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir. I am.” I mumble.

“Delightful,” Master Rendin smiles at me. “And won’t you tell me why? What is it about magical studies that interests you?” There’s an awkward stretch of silence as I try to think of a reply. Nothing about magic interests me. It only brings destruction. Pain. Mages are wicked people. Selfish. Power hungry. Nessa reaches to pat my hand, which is clenched into a fist in my lap.

“Don’t be shy, dear. You can speak freely to Master Rendin,” she says with an encouraging nod.

I look across at the Mage. Maybe he isn’t so bad. He has none of the Mark that covered the Sorcerers who lured my sister away and later captured my family. He has a kindness about him. As I look at him, the space beside his right ear glitters. There’s a silent flare. A stream of light. He doesn’t seem to notice it, nor does Nessa. I shift in my seat and the answer comes to me.

“I want to learn. I want to know things. So I can help people.” The beam of light pulses between his ear and the odd shimmer, and then it fades slowly away until it’s gone. I glance at Nessa, who bobs her head at me again. She’s looking at me with an odd expression. Nobody has looked at me that way before. It takes me some time to realize what it is. Pride. She’s proud of me.

The interview goes on for a while, but not as long as I expected it to. When he’s through with his questions, Nessa dismisses me. I go out to find Saesa milling nearby. When I close the door behind me, she presses her ear to it and beckons me close.

“Don’t you want to know what they’re saying about you?” she whispers.

“Not really,” I whisper.

“Oh, Tib. Come on.” She beckons me again, and I lean against the door to listen.

“I’m sure you understand our hesitation,” Master Rendin is saying. “He is Sunteri, after all. After the last one we accepted…”

“Of course,” Nessa says. There’s the tinkling sound of silver on a cup as she stirs her tea. “I’m certain you’ll make the right decision for all those involved.

“They’re talking about Viala,” Saesa whispers. “She was Sunteri. She went bad. The Academy has been under close scrutiny since then.” The name causes my head to go light and fuzzy. I cling to the door. Close my eyes. The image assaults me. My sister sitting among the red blossoms, her black hair fanned out by the breeze, the book on her knee.

“What happened to her?” I manage hoarsely.

“Nobody knows,” Saesa replies. “She disappeared. Rumor says she was stripped, but there’s no proof of it. It’s actually caused a lot of trouble lately.”

I shake my head slowly, unable to focus on anything even as Saesa keeps talking. Viala. The name echoes through my mind and along with it the image of my sister riding away with the Sorcerers. The roots. The trees. The dust.

Tib
 

“Climb the wall.”

Yes, climb the wall. It feels good to scale it to the top, up to the ledge that overlooks the ravine. I found this place on my own. It’s a secret place, tucked away past the spires of the palace. Hidden by the thick trees of the forest park. The wall plunges on the other side to a river three stories down. It’s dark. I can’t see the waterfall from here, the one that drains into the sea behind the palace. I can hear it, though. Peaceful and soothing. This is my favorite place now. My own. I didn’t even tell Saesa about it, though I’ve been coming here for a couple of days.

I dangle my feet over the edge. Wait. Listen. The air in front of me shimmers like it did beside the Mage. A figure emerges, pale and gaunt and only as large as my hand. His eyes are black but bright at the same time. Everything else is faded. Pale skin, yellow-white hair, faded blue pants. Reddish stubs at his back where his wings once were. Almost colorless. I press myself back against the arch. My heart races. I grip the stone, ready to climb down. Ready to run.

“Stay.”

Yes, stay. His voice is in my mind and also in the air around me. Stronger than it has been. He drifts closer to me and our eyes meet. Link. I know him. I trust him. This is Meyvn. We’ve been through things together. Many things. Roots and sand. Towers and flames. Ships. Nessa’s manse.

“
There,
” he says, both in my mind as always and also aloud. I remember him now, though he’s changed a little. His skin has more color to it. He seems stronger. Not skeletal as he has been at the trees or on the ship.
How am I remembering all of this now?
I wonder.
Where have these memories been?

“It’s typical to have confusion,” Meyvn says. “Don’t be alarmed. You remember me now, hm?”

Memories surface and fall away in my mind. I see a time when he was nearly dead. Almost all bones. A shadow of what he had been. Dancing around my root prison. Shouting orders about Nan and Zhilee. Zhilee, little sister. He defended her. Kept the others away. What happened to her? I can’t remember. He’s right. I’m so confused.

“You…” I whisper. The white figures of my nightmares flash before me. “You look different. Better.”

“Yes, the Mage was a great help. Thank you for that. I wondered how we would lure one in. It was easier than I expected. I was sorry to make you lie to them.”

“You made me say I wanted to study there? Just so you could take his magic?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief. I think of the Mage in the sitting room. The strange shimmer that nobody seemed to notice. The stream of light that bled from him.

“Just a little bit.” Mevyn sits on the ledge beside me. Peers up at me. Watches. I can’t stop thinking of Zhilee.

“It was necessary,” Mevyn says. “He won’t even miss it.”

“What happened to her?” I ask. “My sister?”

“Which?”

“Zhilee.”

“You,” he says gently, “asked me to take that memory away. Are you sure you want to know?”

I push myself to remember the night that the Sorcerer came and took us. We were all under his spell. He brought us to the trees. Left us with the fallen fae, trapped in our cruel prisons. I start to shake. There was one. One white, twisted creature. One with a red slab that sent promises and commands. I could never see the writing, but I could see the gold light. I could see the reactions of the one who read its words. Anger. Sadness. Fury. Defeat. Cruelty. A fateful word. Sunset. The dread it carried with it. Then it goes black, as though nothing happened after.

Next, I’m climbing the towers. Lighting fires. Swimming to a ship.

“It’s better if you don’t know, Tib.” Meyvn says. “Trust in me. Trust in our agreement.”

“You told me to do all of those things,” I murmur.

“What things?”

“Burning the towers,” I whisper.

“That was your idea,” he says with the same careful, gentle tone.

“Why?” I ask. I’m not sure I want the answer.

“To avenge Zhilee and your nan. To stop the Sorcerers from hurting anyone else. You came up with it.”

“To avenge…” I shake my head as the realization stabs me like a knife through the heart. “They’re dead.”

“Dead.” Mevyn whispers, shaking his head. “It’s just you and I left. We’re the last. The only remaining.”

I think of the cruel white creatures that bound us in our root prison. How they were commanded by words on a stone. Ordered by Sorcerers who made promises and didn’t keep them. Sorcerers who turned them against each other. I remember the screams. Animal. Guttural. Savage. White and bony. Fighting. Slashing. Sapping each other until there was nothing left. And Mevyn, who tucked himself beside me. Whispered ways to keep us both safe until it was over. And when it was over, he’s right. No one was left. Just us two.

I bury my head in my knees and sob so hard I fear I’ll fall off the edge of the wall. I remember Mevyn doing the same as we sat on the edge of the empty bowl that was once his people’s Wellspring. Magic given freely by fairies, and drained by the greed of men. Reaped and ravaged by those who only wanted more power. These words. Are they my own? Are they Meyvn’s? This grief, is it mine? Is it his? I can’t tell. I don’t know.

“The last.” Meyvn sighs. “Unless…”

“Unless?” I look up. Wipe my nose on my sleeve.

“If we could get to Kythshire, they would help us. My kind flourish there. I’m stronger now. We could make the journey together.”

“They would help us?”

“Yes. There are ways. Ways to restore the Wellspring. To guard it from Mages and Sorcerers. To revive my people. We could put an end to the oppression of Zhaghen. Free those gripped in its clutches. Make it a city like this one. Like Cerion, where babies laugh and no child is motherless. No one would have to suffer a fate like the one suffered by you and your departed family. We could live in harmony.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if Sunteri’s Wellspring remained empty?” I ask. “Then nobody could use the magic or fight over it. If it stayed dried up, the Sorcerers would be powerless.”

“Not so,” Mevyn says gravely. “They would only move on to another spring and grow more ruthless. They tried already. They were almost able to overtake Kythshire’s Wellspring, thanks to your sister. They were stopped. Thwarted, by the knight Azaeli.”

“Azaeli,” I remember the short knight in the procession leading the prince out of the city. Meyvn’s voice in my mind, telling me to take note of her.

“They will go on, the Sorcerers of Zhaghen, until they are defeated once and for all.”

“Weren’t they? I thought I heard…”

“Not all. Even with the towers burnt, they survive. They spread out over the land like a sickness, leaving our oasis wasted. Ready to reap and drain and gain more. Stepstone and Elespen and Haigh. Hywilkin and Tunvidel. All of these places are threatened. War, Tib. War and death will follow in their wake, and only you and I know. Only you and I can stop them.” I stare at him, wide-eyed. Terrified.

“What can we do?” I ask. I’m only a boy. I couldn’t fight Sorcerers. Hide from them, maybe, but not fight them.

“We must go to Kythshire and petition for their help in restoring Sunteri’s Wellspring. Together with them, we can determine a way to stop the spread of Sorcery. You and I cannot do it alone, Tib. We need allies.”

“Allies,” I say, nodding.

“Now, as I hate to do, but as I always do with your permission, I will clear this moment from your memory. For my protection and for yours. Do you understand why?”

I frown and stare down at the rushing water below. How many of these conversations have we had? How many times has he wiped them away? Why me, I wonder. But then, who else could he have trusted? Not a man, a grown man. No, he needed someone unremarkable. Someone who could slip in and out of situations unnoticed. He’s right. We’re the last. We’re in this together. The last of our families.

“I understand,” I say. “But wait, when will we go? Do we have to go alone?” I think of Saesa. She’s always talking about adventures. She’s good with her sword, surprisingly good. I’ve watched her training these two days. I don’t see why Raefe has discouraged her. She beats any opponent they put her against.

“We shall go when the time presents itself.” Meyvn says. “Who would you bring? For what purpose?”

“Saesa. She can fight. She’s my friend. I don’t want to leave her.”

“Perhaps.”

Yes, perhaps. The word echoes in my mind as I look up at the stars. My thoughts wander to the manse and to Nessa and Saesa who care about me. They’re probably sleeping soundly in their beds. I wonder how long I’ve been sitting here. Quiet. Thinking. It feels like hours. It’s so peaceful and open here that I doze off, and when I wake it’s not yet dawn. Something is closed in my fist. I move my fingers and feel the coins slide together inside them. I look. Gold. Two gold. My heart races as I immediately think of Saesa. Bren. Feat. One gold thirty-two. That was the last tally.

I scramble down the wall and race through the streets, faster than a city boy could. Quieter, too. Unheard. Unseen. No one is up, anyway. It’s too early. Even the sea market is deserted. My heart is pumping, maybe from the run, maybe from my excitement. Saesa will finally buy Feat. Then she can come with me when I go. Where, I don’t remember. But I know what’s meant to happen.

My shutters are still open. I climb up the trellis and slip into my room. Inside it’s silent. I creep through the hallway and stop at Saesa’s door. Listen. Breathing. She’s asleep. Cautiously I tiptoe to her bed. Push the coins under her pillow. Go back to my room. Doze off again.

Saesa’s squeal wakes me. I roll out of bed and rub my eyes as I go to the door. She’s in the hallway, rushing toward me. Her eyes are bright. She casts a glance over her shoulder before she skips into my room and closes the door.

“Tib!” she whispers excitedly. “I don’t know how, but look!” She opens her hand to show me the gold. I try to look surprised and puzzled. I hope it’s convincing. She’s too excited to notice, anyway. “They were under my pillow! Where do you suppose they came from? Oh, it doesn’t matter, does it? Now I can get Feat!” The last part she whispers as a knock echoes from outside. Not on my door, but down the hallway.

“Saesa,” Raefe calls. “You okay?”

Saesa tucks the gold into her pocket.

“Get dressed,” she says to me. “I want to go before breakfast.” She’s too distracted to realize I already am. I grin as she jogs to my door to answer her brother.

“Over here,” she says. “I’m fine.” She goes out.

“I thought I heard you—”

“I was excited, that’s all. I thought of something.” I hear her door close, and I peek out into the hallway. Raefe has already gone downstairs. I follow and get my cloak from the cupboard. An insistent knock on the main door makes me jump.

“Who in the seven stars…at this hour of the morning?” Maisie mutters as she brushes past me in her morning coat with Garsi toddling behind her, squealing happily. Maisie opens the door. I can’t see much. Chain mail leggings. The butt of a spear resting beside heavy boots. I slink back, tucking myself into the corner beside the cupboard where I’m sure not to be seen.

“City guard,” a deep voice booms. Nessa rushes down the stairs. She sees me as she scoops up Garsi, and gives me a quick, reassuring smile. When she turns to the door, her smile brightens sweetly.

“Why, Freland,” Nessa says with surprise, “won’t you come in out of the snow?”

The boots hesitate. Stomp on the mat. Clomp inside.

“Thank you, Lady Ganvent.”

“Of course,” Nessa says graciously. “What can we do for you? Something warm to drink, perhaps?”

“No m’lady. This isn’t a social visit. We’re sent to find a boy. Around twelve, thirteen. Black hair. Sunteri features. A few around the city said they might’ve seen him going around with your Saesa.”

“Oh?” Nessa asks. Saesa comes out from her room and peers over the railing. She meets my gaze, her eyes wide with fear. Quickly, she changes her expression to that of mild interest as she turns her attention to the scene at the door.

“He’s suspected of a crime,” Freland says gruffly. “Need to question him. Can’t say any more than that. Have you seen him? Do you have him here?”

“Maisie, won’t you get my silk purse? It’s in the cupboard, there.” Nessa says. Maisie opens the cupboard door. She glances at me and I give her a pleading look. They can’t take me. Not now. I have something important to do. I wish I could remember what. Maisie presses her lips together. She gives a very slight nod toward the door beside me. The dining room. It leads to the kitchen. The kitchen has a back door. I look up at Saesa again. She’s careful to keep her eyes on the guard. She won’t give me away. Neither will Nessa, apparently.

“Sorry, m’lady. I won’t take a coin for this one. My orders are from the captain himself.”

“Freland!” Nessa admonishes. “I would never presume to bribe you. How could you even suggest it? Never mind about the purse, Maisie.” Maisie chuckles and closes the cupboard. She turns her back to me but stays in place. Blocks the guard’s view of the dining room door.

“Is the boy here or isn’t he, Lady Ganvent? I would hate to have to call in a search.”