Кейт Новак - Azure Bonds

Nameless looked down at the flagstones for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “To be honest, no. At least … not until now.”

“That’s all right.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his wrinkled cheek. “I found myself two good friends, and you gave me a brother.”

“A brother—” Nameless did not understand at first. “Oh, yes. You share the saurial’s soul.”

Dragonbait shook his head.

“You do. Phalse divided your soul,” Nameless told the paladin. “You have half a soul each.”

Dragonbait’s eyes squinted with displeasure. He extended two claws, pointed at Alias and retracted one, pointed at himself and retracted the second.

“He should know,” Olive said. “He’s the expert on souls.”

The lizard nodded.

“You can’t split a soul and get two souls,” Nameless argued.

“Why not?” the halfling demanded. “They’re infinite things. If you break them up, you still have two infinite things.”

Akabar stared in amazement at the short bard.

“What?” Olive asked, uncomfortable in his case. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” the Turmish mage replied. “I’m simply surprised at the firmness of your theological argument.”

“Halflings go to church, too, you know … sometimes.”

Alias yawned. The exertions of the past month, the first month of her life, were beginning to catch up with her. “This is all very interesting,” she lied, “but what I’d really like to do is catch Phalse and his master and take care of this last blasted sigil.”

“But don’t you see what this means?” Nameless said. “You really could be human.”

“So?”

“So?” the true bard exclaimed. “Doesn’t that matter to you?”

Alias shrugged again. “Dragonbait says I have a soul, and that means I’m not a thing. I’ve already decided that the rest doesn’t matter much. Most adventurers aren’t particularly fussy about whether you’re human or halfling, mage or fighter, and all the rest, just so you pull your own weight and remain loyal to your party. Isn’t that what you taught me?”

Nameless nodded, a little astounded that she had come to all these conclusions on her own without guidance. Perhaps, as Akabar had said, his endeavor had been blessed by the gods—better gods than Moander.

“So,” Alias said, trying to steer the conversation to more practical matters, “this is the Citadel of White Exile. It used to be your home. Do you have any idea where Phalse could be?”

“I abandoned the citadel to Phalse. Before I left, Phalse’s master built a bridge from here to his own realm, which Phalse uses to report to him. It’s in the courtyard below. Unless the little monster hides in one of the tower rooms, there is no place else for him to go.”

“Why not? Where does that plain lead?” Alias asked, pointing across the monotonous expanse of gray below them.

“This place was built to be completely secure. Heft a rock into the sky.”

Dragonbait broke off a piece of flagstone and did as the bard had instructed. The stone went up smoothly about fifty feet before it exploded in a rainbow of fireworks against the background of the white sky.

Nameless explained, “Above us is the Plane of Life, called the Positive Material Plane by sages. Any unprotected thing that enters explodes as every bit of matter within it achieves its full potential and becomes a star. There is no escape that way.”

He motioned toward the gray expanse beyond. “We sit on the border between the Plane of Life and the Plane of Gems, which sages call the Para-elemental Plane of Minerals. Wordy lot, sages. Out on the Plane of Gems, all unprotected living things are relentlessly turned into crystals of stunning beauty and complete lifelessness. Phalse, as far as I know, has no protection against either of these effects. The only way to this place are the two bridges built by Phalse’s master, one to his domain and one to the Hill of Fangs.

“You must be very cautious looking for Phalse. When I arrived, I was attacked by one of his master’s guard beasts—all mouths and teeth. And Phalse still has Cassana’s wand, which still has power over you.”

Alias nodded. “What about Phalse’s master?”

“None of us has ever seen him. Cassana sent someone through the portal to his domain to find out about him. Her agent was returned in pieces. The saurial can lead you to the other portal. Phalse brought him out of it. Your … shell and his body were branded in the courtyard, then brought up here and taken to the Hill of Fangs, and from there into Westgate.”

“Will you be all right here alone?” Alias asked.

“Yes. The energy-wrought sky has certain healing properties. I will wait here until I feel strong enough to walk. Then I will follow you.”

“Perhaps, Alias, you should remain here, too,” Akabar suggested, “so that Phalse cannot use the wand on you.”

“Look, Akash, whose battle is this, anyway? Phalse might try to use the wand, but I’ve already beaten its power once. I’m not about to cringe from it now.” Then, in a more gentle tone, she asked Nameless, “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer that we waited for you to heal?”

Nameless shook his head. “You don’t want to give Phalse a chance to call in reinforcements from the lower planes. If you defeat Phalse, you can force him to call his master from his domain through the portal and deal with him.” He looked up at the saurial. “You remember the way?”

The lizard nodded.

Alias frowned a little, still dissatisfied with leaving Nameless alone. Akabar thought to himself, she must care about him more than she knows.

“All right, Dragonbait. Which way?”

The saurial led them to a gap in the crenelations. A single set of stairs, steep, narrow, and without a railing, wound along the outside of the tower. Alias’s frown grew deeper when she saw they would have to go down in single file.

“I’m going to go first until we reach a door,” Alias said. “May I borrow your sword just a little while longer, Dragonbait?”

The saurial cocked his head in the manner that Alias usually assumed meant he hadn’t understood the question. Now she was beginning to believe it simply meant he didn’t want to answer the question. The fragrance of violets filled the air. She held the strange weapon out, thinking he might be uncomfortable allowing someone else to wield it.

“If you’d rather have it back, I’ll understand,” she said, but the lizard shook his head and pushed her hand away gently, indicating she should keep the blade.

When this is over, we’re going to learn to talk together, she promised herself. She started down the stairs, Dragonbait behind her, followed by Akabar. Olive brought up the rear. The halfling sighed at the steepness of the stairs, though their narrowness did not disturb her in the least. She trotted down them casually. Akabar, however, pressed himself against the wall of the tower and kept his eyes on his feet.

Nameless waited until Olive’s head disappeared below the level of the wall, then counted to twenty before limping to the staircase, gripping his wounded side. Half concealed by a large, fanged crenelation, he watched them descend. When they’d entered the first door, the true bard started down the stairs himself. He reached the first door and passed by it, continuing farther down the staircase. His only hope lay in the possibility that the tower had not given up all its secrets to its new owner.

On the ground far below, outside the tower’s protective shell, a cloaked figure lowered the hand that had been shielding his eyes from the sky’s light. Carefully, he removed the eye-cusps that gave him the sight of an eagle and replaced them in the small egg that was their home. He sighed, and his breath circled like fog through the transparent envelope that surrounded him. Then he took up his staff and made his way over the broken terrain of gem-stones to the Citadel of White Exile.