Carol Berg - Breath and Bone

I licked my dry lips. No need to remind me of that. “But Brother Gildas did not know?”

“Ah. Indeed that is perhaps the one favorable circumstance of this betrayal.”

“So you know that Brother Gildas…”

“…has taken the boy and the book of maps. Yes. And we must assume he is taking them to Sila Diaglou. Which means we must wonder if her demands of my brother will change once she knows what she has.” He held up four fingers and ticked off one and then a second. “It is obvious why the priestess wants the lighthouse. Its treasures thwart her aims of an ignorant, helpless populace. As for why she desires one of Caedmon’s line to go under her knife: My family is consecrated to Navronne—I will be displeased if you laugh too openly at that consideration after such close viewing of us three together—and she has long held that our blood will be all the more potent for these purification rites she works, releasing a great deal of power at the same time.”

He wagged his third finger, offering me no opening to respond. “As for Evanore…she hungers for it. Not solely for its gold, for which she has little use, but because my land is the true heart of Navronne, which is the Heart of the World. You have not seen such magic as can be worked in Evanore.”

The prince wriggled his remaining finger. “But you, Magnus Valentia de Cartamandua-Celestine…why did she ask for you instead of your grandfather’s book? You have already unlocked the maps to her man Gildas. To seek out Danae holy places so that she can work her abominations, all she needs is the book and time enough to use it. You’ve no more insight than the monk as to which places in the book are significant—perhaps less—and a book is far easier to manage than an obstreperous pureblood. Certainly purebloods have skills in magic—most of them superior to yours, it seems—but Sila considers your kind a disease akin to royalty and practors, an affront to the Gehoum, and she vows to dispossess purebloods of their favored place in the world. Did you not know that? So lay your mind to the question. Why does she want you?”

The wind moaned through the jagged glass. A quick review of everything I had learned and experienced over the past weeks, most especially my grandfather’s fractured testimony, brought me only one conclusion. “I suppose because I can take her past the boundaries of the maps. Gildas can lead her to any location on the maps, but to travel deeper into the realms of the Danae, they’d need my grandfather or me. My grandfather told me that my bent could take me anywhere…even to places he had not mapped…even to the boundaries of heaven or hell. Silly to think…No one would believe such a thing.”

The prince settled back in his chair. “The boundaries of hell…I doubt you’d care for that.”

My skin crept. He spoke as if he’d visited there.

Dread encircled and choked me like smoke from the braziers. “I’ve told the others, and so, I suppose you know that these murderous rites the Harrowers perform destroy the Danae guardians and corrupt the Canon. If Sila Diaglou were to lead her Harrower legions into their land…My lord, what better way to accomplish her ambitions than to destroy them all?”

He fell into a deadly stillness. Then he rose from his chair and grasped the back of it for a moment, as if to steady himself. “Well then, we certainly can’t allow you to fall into her hands.”

He turned away and moved in measured steps, not toward the outer door, but toward the kitchen stair. His shapeless green robes hinted at a slender man slightly more than average height.

This could not be the end of the subject. Luviar’s passion…the certainty of the darkness to come…only in these past few days had the urgency penetrated my understanding: the end of the Danae…the death of Navronne…the long night, the end of the world we knew become a reality as palpable as the wood beneath my feet.

“My lord, protecting me is not enough,” I said to his back. “What if they’ve other ways to make the attempt? What if they abduct my grandfather? The danger—”

“Your sister has secured your grandfather and hidden him somewhere not even I can find.” He paused at the edge of the pool of light cast by the braziers. “You’ve tested well, Magnus. Better than the first reports led me to expect. That morning in Palinur…Voushanti doubted your mind’s clarity.”

“My lord, what use do you think to make of me?” Even as the essential question took shape in my head, I was not sure I could bear the answer. Such a deep-buried longing gripped my heart, far deeper and more profound than the doulon hunger, I thought my chest must burst.

“I think you have just answered that question,” said Osriel, as if plucking thoughts from my head. “The Danae dance on the solstice; did you know that? Whatever magic exists in the world is renewed on that night. The music of the universe reaches its crescendo, so they say, and without magic we will not prevail. That’s why I chose that day for our confrontation with Sila Diaglou. The assistance we need from the Danae must be arranged before they dance. And someone must warn them of the priestess and her plot.”

The treacherous, trickster Danae. Blue fire spun in my head…dragons and herons and long muscled limbs. Glimmers of light and shadow shifted and leaped on the burnished wood floor. I stared unblinking, as if these things might form some pattern I could comprehend.

“Good night, friend Valen.”

Startled, I glanced up to see his pale lips graced with quiet amusement. And for the first time that evening, he spoke without whisper or throaty harshness. So familiar.

Words rushed out of me. “Your Grace, this night has left my curiosity pricked beyond all reason. Excuse my impertinence, but you are not at all the person I expected. And I have a fancy…foolish, I know…that we are not strangers. I would look upon your face, lord, that I might know my rightful king.”

“You’re not afraid? Even my eldest brother, who regularly dropped me down the sewage sluice at our father’s house in Avenus, fears me. And rightly so.” His gold ring gleamed in the dying light, defining his hand against his shapeless robes.

“I do fear you, lord. Reason demands it. Instinct insists upon it. Yet I do not find myself afraid.”

“I’ve planned to force your service blind,” he said. “How can I trust you—a proven, skillful liar? I’ve been given reason to believe you involved in the matter of this murdered boy. And you could easily have betrayed Luviar and Victor, hoping to buy yourself a more comfortable future.”

“No, my lord! I never—” Guilt aborted my protest. For certain he must feel the heat of my shame about Luviar’s death. Yet some circumstance had gained me his favor. “The mission to rescue Abbot Luviar and Brother Victor…that was my test.”

“Luviar, may his Creator cherish his great soul, trusted you. That—and desperation—bought you that morning’s chance. I do regret I had to use Jullian in such vile fashion, but I had no time to argue or explain or devise a better trial.” He raised a hand and the flames in the braziers flared, bathing us both in yellow light. “I suspect Luviar was right. He said you were but lost and searching for your place. Perhaps that place is at my side…for as long as I can survive.” His smile widened, and he lifted his hood.

I gawked like a crofter’s child brought to a palace. Then a pleasured warmth suffused both flesh and spirit. Reclaiming sense, I sank to one knee and touched fingers to forehead, making proper obeisance to my bound master and sovereign lord…to the Thane of Erasku’s intelligent and persuasive secretary, Gram.

“My Lord Voushanti!” The urgent voice and pelting footsteps from the bottom of the guesthouse stair halted my ascent and spun Voushanti halfway round.