Lady of Stone, page 9
No father.
How in all the spirits’ names could she exist without her father?
“Are you all right?” Thana asked.
“I’ve never been…” Sylph didn’t even know how to say it. That terrible word, alone. But she wasn’t alone. She had Thana, the one person who’d ever cared about her enough to risk life and liberty. And Sylph didn’t know what to say, was afraid to speak in case more of her father’s words came out, and she cut this delicate cord between them.
“It’s all right,” Thana said, and there was that compassion in her eyes again. It simply appeared as if summoned. How could she just…care?
Sylph stared at her saddle. How could she feel so drawn to Thana and still so afraid? It couldn’t last, couldn’t be real. Thana wanted to keep the palace safe from Sylph’s power. True enough, but in her heart, Sylph knew that wasn’t the only reason Thana was helping her.
Thana didn’t want her to get hurt.
Should she apologize again? For not having the right words?
“Where are we going?” she said instead, grasping for any other topic. “Shouldn’t we be…hiding or something?”
“The Pyradisté Academy,” Thana said softly. “I need pyramids and information. As for hiding, we have a little time. I have no doubt that people will begin looking for us shortly, but Marienne is a huge city, and they won’t know where to start even after they discover we left together.”
Sylph supposed that made sense. And her father certainly wouldn’t expect her to go to the Pyradisté Academy. An entire building full of pyradistés? The mad peasants currently running wild? Her father would equate it with a den of thieves and murderers. Sylph shut her eyes to banish such thoughts. She might be out of her father’s reach at the moment, but how long would it take to banish him from her mind?
And what would she be when she did?
“It’s not much,” Thana said. A quick glance revealed that her defensive look was back. “Just a regular building. Before all the troubles, before the civil war, they had a grand old building, but that got taken over by a bank. I’ve always envisioned a grander structure one day, like a giant pyramid people can see across the city, something to rival the palace itself.”
“The troubles before the civil war,” Sylph said quietly. Thana had mentioned the war before, when the nobles had clashed with the monarch, the very war Queen Earnhilt had put a stop to in her younger days. “Some nobles refer to the civil war as the Troubles.” Not her father. He rarely spoke of it at all. The nobility tended toward forgetting their past mistakes when they could.
Thana stared, and Sylph realized her court mask had no doubt been absent for some time. Did she even need it anymore? She shook her head. Of course she did. When things went back to normal, she’d need everything she’d ever learned.
Sylph tried to keep up a blank look as Thana pointed out various structures around the city. She barely listened, looking at the people instead. She’d only ever ridden among the peasantry on her own estate, when the residents lined the road as she and her father rode through town. Whenever they came to Marienne, they rode down the main street to the palace, but a wall of guards had always ridden between her and the people.
Now, hardly anybody paid her or Thana any mind. They went about their business, walking, talking, calling out to one another. Their faces and bodies were so alive. She read happiness and anger and sadness from a distance, as if they didn’t care if their fellows knew what they were feeling.
“Wonderous,” she whispered. Her father would have sneered, but these people must have so many words for what they were thinking, how they were feeling. They would’ve had the right words for Thana, but Sylph didn’t even know if such words existed within her.
“Hello, Thana, dear. How are you?” someone called from across the street. A short young woman with an enormous basket was hurrying in the opposite direction.
“All right, Miss Chambers. You?” Thana said.
“Can’t complain. Take care.” And then she was gone. No bows, no courtly maneuvering. Just hello and then gone. Sylph felt like laughing but feared looking like a lunatic.
Others greeted Thana, too. Some seemed a bit wary of her, no doubt a sign of the recent pyradisté troubles. Thana frowned at that, and the pinched look between her brows said she was hurt.
Sylph couldn’t stand to see it and grabbed for the first words that came to her. “Any anti-pyradisté sentiment is no doubt due to our proximity to this academy of yours. Most people seem quite friendly, and there is comfort to be had in that.” Spirits, she sounded like a formal letter. She tried a smile, hoping her feelings came through. “That is the norm, correct?”
Thana gave her a crooked smile. “Are you asking if people usually like me?” She shrugged. “I don’t have many close friends.” She looked away. “Still, people out here are a lot nicer than the nobles in the palace.”
“Yes.” Sylph didn’t even have it in her to be arch. Thana spoke the truth. “Were people friendlier toward the pyradistés when they had their grand building?”
Now Thana frowned at her. “During the rebellion? I don’t think any non-pyradistés felt very charitable toward them.”
Sylph thought through her lessons but couldn’t recall a rebellion concerning the pyradistés.
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” Thana asked. When Sylph stared, Thana sighed hugely. “During the reign of Queen Earnhilt’s grandfather, a group of pyradistés banned together to try to take the kingdom.”
Sylph knew her surprise had to be showing, but they were out in the world now, and she doubted anyone cared. Still, she reined it in a little. “They what?”
“Yeah,” Thana said slowly. “I’m not surprised you don’t know. The nobility has probably written it off as embarrassing.”
“I had the same thought.”
Now Thana gave her a slightly condescending smile. “When Farraday was formed, the king’s sister and her pyradisté husband defeated a Fiend using pyramid magic. These rebel pyradistés I mentioned took that as the reason why pyradistés should rule the kingdom. When they were defeated, the monarch declared magic illegal. Pyradistés were either locked up, executed, or banished.”
Sylph frowned, both at the thought of rebellion and that a past monarch’s sister had married a peasant. Her father would have said those were dark days indeed. Sylph tried not to mirror his feelings, but it felt like trying to pull something out of herself. “How were they defeated?”
“We’re only as powerful as the number of pyramids we have. The monarch cut off the routes to where the crystal is mined, and when the pyradistés ran out, that was it.”
Sylph nodded. Had the king let the pyradistés run amok amongst the populace until they ran out of pyramids, knowing they couldn’t get more? Or had he fought them tooth and nail beforehand, losing troops, losing nobles, perhaps? If a great many had died, they would have declared that period in history a great embarrassment indeed.
“We lost a lot of knowledge,” Thana said, her gaze far away. “And it wasn’t until years later that pyradistés were allowed to practice again. It’s gotten to the point where we aren’t completely under suspicion.” She frowned hard. “Or it had until now.”
Sylph put a hand on her arm, surprising herself, but she had to do something, some show of support. When Thana smiled at her, she thought she might not need so many words after all.
Chapter Eight
Thana was happy that Sylph seemed thoughtful about the history of pyradistés. Or maybe her look of intensity was due to the fact that she was out of the palace with only Thana for company. Or it could have been the fire or the threat of death.
Or any of a thousand things.
At least she hadn’t responded with scoffs and angry denials. If she had, Thana might have abandoned her to continue this journey alone. And even that outcome would have been better than the mistrust she’d seen in the eyes of the people who lived and worked near a place she’d spent years getting to know.
Oh, there had been smiles. And Miss Chambers, who Thana had exchanged many flirtations with, had called a cheery hello. But others who should have known better scowled at her or hurried past. The same was probably happening to pyradistés all over the city. The closer they came to the academy, the lonelier the streets became.
So many emotions swirled through her, it was hard to process them all. To her horror, she wanted to weep with all the sadness and frustration and anger. Maybe she could do so while throwing things. But she took a deep breath, not wanting to fall apart in the open and give the passersby any more reason to think pyradistés unstable.
And she cringed at the thought of Sylph trying to comfort her. They’d both be so embarrassed and out of their element, they might combust.
The Pyradisté Academy looked incredibly nondescript from the outside. It could have been any old brick apartment building, its windows unadorned, its door simple with no markers or banners proclaiming what was inside. Thana had thought it a sad building at first, but now she was happy to see it remained depressingly normal. If everyone in Marienne decided to hunt down pyradistés, many wouldn’t even know where to find them.
Unless the people who’d seemed scared of her in the street decided to shout her whereabouts across the city.
And now she was back to angry again. Wonderful.
Thana dismounted to hitch her horse near the side of the building. She tied the reins and turned to Sylph, who held her own reins and stared at the hitching rail as if waiting for it to come to life and offer assistance. Thana resisted the urge to roll her eyes or laugh, even as her anger wanted her to lash out and relieve some tension.
Maybe she was finally learning diplomacy.
“Like this,” she said, moving aside so Sylph could see her loose, then retie the reins. “See?”
Sylph blinked and held the reins forward as if urging Thana to do it for her. Thana’s frustration must have registered because Sylph frowned slightly, and a bit of color came to her cheeks. “I don’t want to…tie it incorrectly.” She ducked her head, then raised her chin in the air unnecessarily high, her face a darker shade.
“Spirits give me strength,” Thana muttered. “Here, watch.” She waited until Sylph stood beside her. “Copy me.” Sylph finally tied the reins under her direction. Thana didn’t want to be a teacher, but she would not be a servant. She hoped Sylph was dreading the day when Thana finally decided to be neither and went her own way.
“I do know quite a lot about horses, you know,” Sylph said, not making eye contact. “I’ve just never had to use a…” She nodded toward the rail.
Oh yes, she probably knew all about breeding and hunting or racing or whatnot. But how to tie a strip of leather to a piece of wood was beyond her. Thana prayed to the spirits for patience. She led the way around the front again and through the simple doors which were well-oiled into boringness, so they matched the rest of the building. Inside, she stopped and breathed deep.
A huge pyramid rested in an open area just past the foyer, separating the staircase from the rooms and halls leading in different directions. It was an ancient artifact, a masterwork of facets that caught the light from the windows in the foyer and sent it shining in all directions, lighting the room as if it sat outside at midday.
Sylph gasped, and Thana smiled proudly before she frowned. She rounded so quickly, Sylph took a slight step back. “Please do not reach for that pyramid with your power. In fact, don’t reach for any pyramid. Don’t even think of them.”
Sylph shook her head hurriedly. “I won’t. I promise.”
Thana nodded, grateful they were both terrified by the prospect of Sylph retuning a pyramid that was taller than they were. With her odd ability to move stone, she could probably make all the buildings in Marienne dance.
“This way.” Thana led the way up the staircase. She couldn’t wander around looking for unattended pyramids to take, so Headmaster Cyrus would have to help. And he’d want to know why Thana was leaving Marienne. She could warn him that Queen Earnhilt was considering imprisoning pyradistés. More of them could flee. That sounded like the right thing to do, but Thana had pledged her loyalty to the crown above all else—she was part of an order designed specifically to protect the Umbriels, after all—and to inform others of their plans would be treason.
If she’d stayed, Gunnar and Earnhilt might even have been able to convince her that their plan was the right one. No, not when she thought of the offhand way Earnhilt had spoken of killing Sylph, who hadn’t asked for her power. There was right and wrong, and treason didn’t matter.
Then why did her stomach churn so?
“The headmaster’s office is this way,” she said softly as they came to the second landing and turned down a hallway.
“I see.” It was a noncommittal, barely listening sort of answer, but it was far better than if she had pushed ahead and shouted demands. Thana’s heart was beating so quickly that if Sylph had put a foot wrong, Thana might have yelled the place down.
The little card pinned to the headmaster’s door brought Thana’s heart into her throat. She knew what it would say before she reached it, but she hurried forward anyway to stare at the note stating that Cyrus was currently in class and would return in an hour.
But was the hour up or just starting or somewhere in the middle? There was no water clock in the hall, and no one stood nearby to ask. Thana tried the door and found it open, but of course it would be. It only led into Cyrus’s sitting room with its handful of chairs and low table. When Thana tried the door to the actual office, she found it locked.
Her limbs felt heavy as she rested her forehead against the door. She could feel time getting away from her. Sylph’s father would find the maid and be looking for Sylph. Gunnar and Earnhilt would notice Thana’s absence. They’d look through the palace first. Sooner or later, they’d compare notes. They would shout at one another and begin to ask questions, and it might take time, but they would track Thana here. She and Sylph had made no effort to hide.
“Are you all right?” Sylph asked softly.
Thana turned. Sylph had shut the door to the hall but rested a hand on the knob as if she didn’t know whether to flee or try to hold the door against intruders. At the moment, Thana didn’t know which to do, either. “The headmaster is teaching.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across Sylph’s face. “Hence the card.”
Thana chuckled. “I don’t want…we can’t wait.”
“I know.”
Thana’s mind raced even as her stomach sank. What in the spirits’ names was she even doing? She should have stayed in the palace, let Sylph make her own decisions. The queen had been in a position of power much longer than Thana. She knew what she was doing, knew the best course to take in any situation. She could prevent civil war and keep the peace just as the monster inside her—inside all Umbriels—kept the great Fiend under the palace in its prison.
Sylph was staring, and Thana thought she saw a slight tremble in those full lips. Her imagination, perhaps, or maybe it was fear. It wasn’t just Sylph’s inheritance at stake. Thana pictured her lips bloodless, her sparkling eyes lifeless, and her murder blamed on some other poor soul so the duke would have a target for his anger. Then that poor soul would be killed by the duke, but Thana couldn’t imagine that one, couldn’t see past Sylph’s life being snuffed out.
It was enough to make her ache.
She turned and regarded the office door again. She needed pyramids in order to defend them both. “I don’t suppose you know how to pick a lock?”
“That would be lucky, but no.”
Thana nodded. “Right.” Her mind hit on a solution, and before she could rethink it, she dragged a chair closer to the door.
Surprisingly, Sylph moved to help. “What are you going to do?”
“Break my foot, most likely.” She positioned the heavy chair close enough that she could lean on its back and raise her leg high enough to kick the door right next to the lock. She took a deep breath, glad of the chair. She imagined falling flat on her back if she tried this any other way, and she and Sylph didn’t need another reason to be embarrassed around each other.
Thana kicked as hard as she could. The contact made an impressive noise but didn’t give, and pain vibrated up Thana’s leg. She groaned and limped for a few steps, trying to hurry the pain away, never mind the keen disappointment.
“Are you all right?” Sylph asked, face creased in concern.
“Mm-hmm,” Thana said, clenching her teeth. “Nothing broken.”
“Let me try.” She mimicked Thana’s position and kicked. The door flew open with a splintery crack. She beamed so widely it was hard to hate her. “All in the heel, I think.”
No, Thana could still hate her a little. She hurried into the office, fighting not to limp. Someone might have heard that, narrowing their window of time even more. Luckily, Headmaster Cyrus kept quite a few pyramids in his office. He liked to trot them out to show new students, and his hobby was research. He would have loved the chance to teach Sylph, but there was no time to explain.
Thana borrowed a satchel from the coatrack and put the pyramids carefully inside, separating them by type into the pockets, never so glad that everyone who taught at the academy practiced meticulous labeling and categorizing of pyramids as rigorously as they taught it.
When she’d filled the satchel, Thana said, “Let’s go,” and led the way into the sitting room before remembering the other task she’d been considering: Warning Cyrus about the queen’s plans. She turned back just as Sylph pulled the office door as shut as it would now go.
The outer door to the hall flew open.
Thana whirled, heart flying into her mouth so fast, she couldn’t help making a strangled sound. A man in a black cassock with the white piping of a teacher stared at her curiously before smiling, revealing a row of white teeth amid a dark beard.
He pointed past her. “Is he back yet?”
Thana couldn’t think of who he meant, couldn’t even recall who she was at that moment. Sylph stepped past, a slight smile in place. “We were just knocking, but the headmaster hasn’t returned, it seems.”
