The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 69
Ain bowed, in the Anaskari fashion, a slight frown on his face. Could the man be sincere? Baffling, but all signs pointed to ‘yes.’ Yet, how long before whatever goodwill the King felt trickled down to the people of the city? If ever?
Schan allowed himself a nod but little else.
The King left and then all that remained was to follow the soldiers from the palace. Giovan took them through the hallways and passages and across the neatly kept, if dark, palace lawns. As ever, the paths thumped beneath his feet. At the main gates, Giovan had them opened by order of the King, and motioned for his men to follow Schan through. He kept Ain back.
Giovan spoke in a soft voice, his Medah accent fair. “Treat his majesty’s offer with care, Pathfinder.”
Ain stiffened. “Don’t insult me.”
“It’s only an insult if I’m wrong. And I mean both Wayrn and the letter, you understand.”
“I will do so.”
“Then you and your friend now want peace?”
“I want to go home.” With the bird, to see Silaj and his child. And never set foot in Anaskar again.
Giovan stared at him a moment before gesturing to the street. “Then let’s get you there.”
Ain preceded him into the street. No rain fell from the inky sky but a chill wind cut through his cloak. Schan made no mention of it, but when the Shield formed up around them and headed from the palace walls, Ain found himself glad of it. Even the multitude of paths dimmed somewhat.
Home.
Where was that exactly? Something Wilatt said echoed.
You don’t like your current home?
Only he did. In comparison, Sekkati was a frozen land of stone and ill weather. The only wonderful thing about it was the sea, where all was quiet. Where no paths hissed.
And that was not enough.
He walked on, meeting a carriage, which took them to the Mountain Gate. The driver wore an expression of worry. His face was lined with sleep-wrinkles, Ain noted when he climbed up.
Two Mascare met them at the gate, torches blazing. One held a cage covered in a heavy cloth. Ain leapt from the carriage. Schan’s sigh faded as Ain ran to the two red-robed men. The cage was handed over without complaint, and then the masks left the gate. Giovan and Wayrn spoke with the guards and as the large doors ground open, Ain peered under the cloth.
There she was.
Her eyes were closed, but her flame-hued feathers shone in the torchlight. He lowered the cloth with his own long sigh. A knot unravelled in his stomach. She was safe again. Even being near her warmed him through.
“We’re taking horses, lad,” Schan said. “Hope you can remember how to ride. At least we’ll be going slow in the dark.”
“Sorry?” Ain saw the horses and nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
Schan didn’t appear convinced, but turned to thank Giovan for the supplies, his voice containing the barest trace of gratitude. Ain loaded the cage, securing it to the packs and climbing into the saddle. It took a moment, but once he had his balance, memories of Jedda teaching him to ride returned and he was able to stay on his horse, which snorted at him as it clopped through the gate.
Ain looked over his shoulder.
The gates were closing, light fading with their grinding, Giovan staring after them.
Freedom. At last, they had escaped the city. Ain made a fist. “We’re truly free. The King was not lying.”
“Seems not.” Schan smiled. He eased his horse down the dark path, face losing some of the tension it had worn for weeks now. Behind him and off to the side, Wayrn rode in silence. Schan’s smile didn’t last. “Let’s hope there’s no tricks left for the King to play.” He pointed to the cage. “And what are you going to do with that bird? Hard to believe he’d let it go.”
“Care for it.”
Schan shook his head. “You think she needs that?”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s a wild bird, she doesn’t need caring for. She needs to be free.”
“No. I only just –”
“Be calm, lad. I mean, she needs to be free to hunt and to fly, to choose where she lives. That cage isn’t enough. You might not be enough for her.”
He’d never thought of that. She did deserve to be free, but not before she was truly safe, away from the city. And she’d want to stay anyway. There was a connection, one that no-one else had. The warmth proved it. “You’re right. As soon as we’ve put some distance between us and the city.”
“That’s the way.”
The mountain path wound down toward distant, invisible foothills according to Wayrn. Ain leant back in the saddle. Finally. The paths faded. So few now, or at least, so few tangents. They simply led down the mountain.
They passed no-one on the road and by dawn, a heavy rain began to fall. Nothing like the rarity of rainfall in the desert. The lightening landscape had begun to blur when they stopped to pitch tents as best they could. Schan kept an eye on Wayrn, expression thoughtful, but the bird took up most of Ain’s flagging attention, adding the only scraps of meat provided in their provisions for her tray. Their own meal was cold, despite the cooking implements and supplies they’d been given, but thanks to the rain, there was no way to prepare anything. Nor did anyone seem to have the inclination.
By the time they were underway later that morning, Ain was beyond saddle-sore. “This is awful,” he said. “I’d forgotten.”
“It’ll take time.”
“For me to die?”
Schan chuckled. “To grow used to the saddle. We’ll walk in a bit and I’ll find something to put over the saddle.”
Near noon they broke to eat and walk the horses as the rain cleared, leaving a cold wind behind. Ain had checked on the bird regularly, but she always appeared well. He strode across to Wayrn with a flask of water. The man was feeding his mare. He’d spoken little as they travelled and his mood had hardly lifted since leaving the city.
“Wayrn?”
The envoy tried to school his features. “Yes?”
“Take some water.”
He accepted it. “Thank you.”
Ain hesitated. “You are angry with your King, aren’t you?”
“You would be too,” he said, corking the flask and returning it.
“Because he is forcing you to be envoy to Medah?”
“Because I can’t stay and defend my friends.” He shrugged. “And because I resent becoming little more than a hostage, which is what will happen once we reach Cloud Oasis.”
Ain paused. It was strange that the King sent only one man as part of his envoy. Why not a party? Something more official. “That is what you believe?”
“Do you not think your Elders will see me as such an opportunity?”
“Possibly.”
Schan joined them, his expression unreadable. Was it sympathy perhaps? Or mistrust? “The Elders may believe it an honest gesture, you coming along. A sign of the King’s commitment.” He paused. “Or they might think you’ve been sent to spy on us. We remember the last Anaskari ‘envoys’ and not fondly.”
Ain frowned. He didn’t remember that. Surely before the Glass War? “Then you think King Oseto’s offer of peace is suspect?”
“Just what I need.” Wayrn shook his head. “He’s sincere, he simply cannot spare the men. The invasion is much on his mind, as you can surely recognise.”
“We can,” Schan said, glancing at Ain. “Others are just as distracted, I’ll admit. But we aren’t going to trust you outright, Wayrn.”
“I don’t expect you to.” He returned to tending his mount.
Ain moved away. The glance from Schan was timed well. Perhaps the bird had taken too much of his attention. And why shouldn’t she? She was beautiful. Wonderful. And yet, he hadn’t considered Wayrn’s true purpose. Worse, he’d barely given much thought to Silaj, and he ought to have been thrilled to be heading home. Sands, the bird did have a hold on him.
Was it dangerous? What would he overlook next? An attack?
“Think we’re far enough to let her go today?” Schan asked, once he joined him.
He hesitated. “I think the foothills will be best.”
“She’s a mountain bird, isn’t she?”
Ain shrugged. “We found her underground.”
“Which I’m guessing is where that camouflage-creature took her.”
“I suppose.”
“Best to decide soon.”
When dusk fell they’d reached the damp of the green foothills. Ain stood a little way from Schan and Wayrn, who were setting up camp, holding the cage in both hands. The covering was gone and he stared at her.
Each feather a work of art.
The smooth claw, the power in her eyes.
She preened herself, adjusting her grip on the bar. A small tuft of orange slipped from one of the wings. If he kept her now, would she truly become miserable? Of course she would. She deserved to fly.
And if he kept her, would his obsession destroy him?
But if he let her free, would she stay?
Her warmth swirled around him, a deep tingling that extended just to his fingertips as he held her close. How could he give her up? He’d even gotten the better of King Oseto, something he’d not have thought possible.
Ain gripped the cage door. No. He was being childish. Foolish. He had to make a choice. He had to chose his family. He’d been given his life back, how could he lose it to a wild bird, no matter how enchanting?
Jali deserved more.
“And you do, too – don’t you?” he said to the bird. “You’re safe now, aren’t you?”
He glanced around, but the earth was not distorted by strange shadows, by the stalking creature with its colour-changing skin. It must have been trapped back in the city, thankfully. Ain’s hand trembled. He took a breath and unhooked the latch, squeezing his eyes shut.
Still he kept the cage door closed.
She deserves better. Jali deserves better.
He swung the bars open.
The Bird of the Sun met his eyes, dark liquid pools. Was there a hint of gratitude there? It hopped to the edge of the cage then leapt into the air with a shrill cry. Ain fell to his knees, a shiver wracking his body. He reached after her but she was circling higher and higher, great wings flapping through a creeping mist. She was leaving.
But wait, she turned...
His heart swelled.
And she circled above but did not stay long, turning. How swiftly she flew. Frozen to his spot on the cold stone, Ain watched her slip away, returning to the mountains.
Just as Schan said.
And maybe King Oseto would have the last laugh after all.
Chapter 50
Seto explained his theory to Solicci, this time in the comfort of his chambers, morning sun lancing into the room and splashing across the deep armchairs. “And so she must remember me as Oseto, not as she remembers Casa Swordfish.”
Solicci gave a slow nod. “A fair assessment, my King. All Greatmasks must be convinced of the user’s worth.”
“And do Greatmasks routinely strike down their users?”
“It has happened to me before. I was urging Osani to do something; he wouldn’t listen. I pushed – demanded actually, and woke on the floor of my quarters.”
“That is somehow reassuring.”
Solicci smiled.
“And my path, now?”
“Would be to continue as you have. Call to her, speak to her. Spend time with her – as you cannot do so wearing her, make yourself known to her despite that.” Solicci scratched his hook nose. “I have no doubt that the Greatmasks are aware of everything that goes on around them. It is sometimes a matter of being persistent.”
“If only there were no other imminent concerns.”
“Truly.” He paused. “What language have you used, to speak with her?”
“Anaskari as it stands today. You think I should use the old tongue? I don’t recall my father or brother doing such a thing.”
“Osani preferred it, perhaps Chelona will now?” His face grew pained though his voice remained perfectly calm. Again, Seto was sure Solicci thought he was hiding his facial expressions better than he was.
“Do you miss him?”
“Certainly. The Greatmask is more alive than I can fully fathom. He has a will, and at times I think that will is at odds with itself, at times such purpose would radiate from him.”
“I have meant to ask you about him, but so much has diverted that intent. How did Tantos steal and use Osani?”
He spread his hands. “That I fear we may never discover. I would have thought it impossible, but he knew things that no House seems to know. Perhaps more than his father. Just where was Tantos before his return?”
“Sofia did not say.”
“Danillo will have some ideas, I believe.”
Seto stood and poured two small glasses of fire-lemon. “Allow me to be direct, Solicci.”
“I would not dare try and stop you, my King.” He sipped.
“Do you regret it?”
Solicci did not need reminding. “Yes.”
Seto took his own drink. “Go on.”
“To be honest, I hadn’t planned to, Sire.”
“Indulge me – and take that request as an order,” he grinned.
He sighed. “You know why I tried to seize power?”
“As I understand it, you did not agree with my brother and Danillo, both of whom saw a threat in the East.”
“And more the fool I was it seems.”
“But Oson?”
“Can you believe that bitterness will drive a man to poor unions?”
“I can.” Seto paused. Perhaps it was time to lay a card or two on the table. “Solicci, I want to trust you. Your advice has been valuable and your loyalty appears above reproach, in all things you have acted in my and the city’s best interest. Your work with Nemola for instance, or with the council. But my brother may have once felt the same.”
Regret flicked across his face. “Then revealing Chelona and seeking me for advice is an act of desperation as much as faith?”
“Should it be?”
He straightened. “No, my King.”
“And where have you placed your bitterness, now?”
“Away.”
“I hope so, Solicci. Should Danillo return, and Sofia, both will remain Protector and Successor. If that is not a condition you could work with, I would wish to know it now.”
“My bitterness was for your brother, in chief.”
“And we find more common ground.”
“For one, this conversation would have been beyond your brother. His strength of will was his weakness. Inside, he held too many of your father’s views. And if I am honest with myself, I believe Queen Alessi deserved better.”
Ah. Who in the palace hadn’t fallen for her, truly? But that explained it. Always the personal motivations beneath the political ones. But did it make Solicci as trustworthy as he needed to be? As Anaskar needed? “Perhaps we all did.” He toyed with his cup. “I appreciate your advice and service, Solicci. Be assured I will call upon you again.”
“I will be ready,” he said as he stood, made a bow and slipped from the rooms.
Seto glanced at the old box on the mantle. Did it matter which tongue he used? “Chelona, we’re running out of time, my dear. If you mean to answer, do it soon.”
He rose, locked his quarters and gave express orders not to be disturbed.
Then he slid a heavy desk across the secret entrance to the old ways and opened the box, removing Chelona. Her dark sockets were unfathomable.
This time he would break through.
He raised the mask and stared into her eyes.
“Chelona, hear me,” he said, using the old tongue. “I am not here to force your hand. I am not here in a misguided attempt to bend you to my will. I am not here as Casa Swordfish. I am here as Oseto, the young man who tried to save you. And I need help, our city needs me. You are one of her protectors – help me now, I entreat you.”
Did she grow warmer in his hands?
Seto raised the mask to his face.
And screamed.
Chapter 51
Sofia woke in a cold stone building. Its walls were lined with small windows of stained glass – or was it sap? Light pressed within. Where...? She groaned. Captured. The same room Efran had dumped her in before ignoring her completely. After failing to break her way out, she’d slumped onto the bed and...fallen asleep.
And now, to rub salt into the wound of her failure, her limbs were like steel rods; her arms dull as lead. When she moved her neck it creaked. It was getting worse. Was it the lenasi? It had to be something else.
No way to know and no-one to ask. She was alone. Were Notch and the others alive?
An unlit fireplace stood opposite her bed, which was naught but rustling straw. She slid her body around, breathing hard. Pain lanced her limbs. By the time she reached a half sitting position sweat had formed at her temples.
“Gods,” she groaned. The unresponsiveness in her limbs went beyond anything the lenasi had caused.
She needed Argeon. Or Osani. Immediately.
A door opened and Efran entered, a smile on his face. “I’m glad to see you awake at last.”
“Where...are my...friends?” she asked, the words difficult to form. Even her jaw was tight! “And my...masks.”
“Both are safe for now.” He knelt before her, blue eyes intent. “I see you are in pain. Why? Did your little stunt with the grove cost you?”
If she answered he’d only use it against her.
He stood. “Then I will leave now and finish off your friends. Starting with the ever-defiant Notch, I think.”
“I need a mask,” she ground out. “They protect me...from my addiction.”
“Do they? What are you addicted to?”
The more words she forced out the easier speaking became. Quickly, finish the lie with a half-truth. The whole truth was something else, something worse perhaps – if her frozen limbs were anything to go by. “Lenasi...I wear them and it alleviates the pain.”
“This is a poor ploy, Sofia – and my stores are hardly open to you.”
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