The Light of All That Falls, page 29
Asha inclined her head, then hesitated. “You know she can join us for the meal, if you would like.”
“No.” Caeden smiled again, though there was pain in it. “She was here because I intended this to be the last place I ever was. She was here so that I could pretend, one last time.” He swallowed. “Pretending is not a luxury that I can afford anymore.”
There was silence, and then Caeden shifted.
“I have to leave soon,” he announced.
Asha’s heart skipped a beat. “Already?” she said uneasily. “What about Diara?”
“I will be back before she returns,” Caeden said confidently. “But this deal she’s offered you, along with some of the other things I’ve learned recently… it bothers me. I don’t think I can waste any time before trying to find out what’s going on.” He smiled reassuringly at her. “I will be back.”
Asha bit her lip worriedly, but nodded.
“Do you even need to return to the Tributary?” she asked suddenly. “If this is your dok’en, aren’t you already connected to it?”
“This is a… more complicated version. A more detailed simulation. It’s not just in my head—my unconscious mind is providing the handling of the rules, I suppose you’d say, but many of the specifics are actually stored within the Vessel itself.” He saw her mildly confused look. “The library, for example. Those books you’ve been reading aren’t full of information I necessarily know—some of it will be Andrael’s, and other parts will have been contributed by Cyr. Probably many parts,” Caeden admitted, somewhat drily. He shook his head, as if realizing he was digressing. “Regardless. The point being, my mind is providing the foundation, but not the building itself. Which means I need the key to access it just like everyone else.”
Asha frowned. “Then how did Diara get in?”
“If I had to guess? She modified the keys from Isiliar’s Tributary with some of the Essence that she took from me while I was their prisoner.” Caeden scowled. “I was supposed to be the one in here, so in my original plan that wouldn’t have been possible. It still must have been incredibly difficult—she had to have been working on it since the moment they found Isiliar—but…” He shrugged tiredly. “I miscalculated.”
Asha let that pass without comment. “Where will you go for information?” she asked instead.
“I may have to go and talk to the sha’teth, though it’s a risk,” Caeden admitted. “Alaris would be my best source of information, but I have no way of forcing him to tell me.”
Asha paused at that, and Caeden looked queryingly at her.
She wavered, still reluctant to trust him. Deep down, though, she knew that he was on her side.
She quickly explained about Knowing, Caeden’s eyes widening as she described the blade.
“You’re right,” he said thoughtfully after she had finished. “Isiliar used it on me, and she discovered… everything. All my plans. It’s why I had to put her in a Tributary in the first place.” He grimaced. “That, and she knew how the Siphon worked. The plan was to use Knowing on her when I arrived, figure out how to use the Siphon, and then move on.”
“So it should work on Alaris, too,” said Asha.
“I believe it would—Andrael made those blades specifically with the Venerate in mind. I don’t think it could kill him, but it should at least cut him.” Caeden drew in a breath. “Thank you. I should go and get it as soon as we’ve made contact with the Lyth.” He finished the last mouthful of his meal and wiped his mouth neatly with a napkin. “I think we’re close, by the way.”
Asha pushed back her plate, too.
“Then let’s get to it,” she said softly.
Chapter 17
Davian heaved at the torch-lit slab of broken stone, he and Raeleth giving a final half grunt, half shout of effort as together they lifted it and shoved it aside.
The thick stone crashed to the floor in a shower of grit, revealing splintered wood beneath where it had been. The remains of a desk. Wordlessly, Davian and Raeleth started pulling bits away, swiftly and efficiently looking for the precious metal they knew it would contain. Nails to hold everything together. Ornamentation of some description, too, if they were lucky. One such desk they’d found had filled almost a third of the sturdy pail they carried around, though that had been a spectacularly rare find.
He pried each piece he spotted free and tossed it into the bucket, the rattling sound a small but welcome reminder that they were one step closer to reaching quota. He allowed a small trickle of Essence to ease the ache in his muscles as he worked, though he was trying to use what was left in his Reserve as little as possible. This was harder work than he’d expected, the pace of it constant and tense and demanding, each day—they all thought of the time between bells as daytime, despite the unchanging red-and-black sky—a struggle to find enough metal for the four of them. He’d built up muscle during his stay in Tel’Tarthen, but he still didn’t have the stamina for the hours of intense work that were required here.
He couldn’t afford to show that. Not when he was supposed to have been here for more than three months already, rather than just a week.
He wiped sweat from his brow despite the chill of the air, glancing over at Ched and Ana, the other members of the team. They were working in the next room, focused on the process of tearing off an inner door to get at the hinges. Despite the hours they’d all spent together, the two were largely still strangers to Davian.
“Has he said anything, lately?” he panted to Raeleth in a low voice, eyeing Ched’s hulking figure. The man had a ruddy complexion that was exacerbated by both torchlight and moon, stood a head taller than Davian, and was seemingly built entirely of muscle.
“No. By El’s grace, I think he’s let it go.” Raeleth was breathing heavily but spoke quietly, too, not looking up from what he was doing. “He’s more suspicious of the other teams than you, now.”
Davian cast another discomforted glance over at Ched. His first week with the team had shown him just how little information he was going to get from them. Meaningful conversation during the day was impossible, beyond the necessities: every ounce of energy and focus was channeled toward making sure that no metal was missed, and, more importantly, toward avoiding the many dangers that lurked within the city. By the time evening came and they returned to camp, everyone seemed intent on eating quickly and sleeping as much as possible in order to prepare themselves for the next day.
Given that, Davian had decided to use some of his first evenings with the group to investigate the immediate area. He’d used precious Essence to banish the need for sleep, trying to familiarize himself with the layout of the city, hoping to stumble across some information about exactly where they were or what was going on here. He had always waited until the rest of the group were slumbering, of course—which happened rapidly after the evening meal was done—but three nights ago, something had disturbed Ched, and the large man had woken to realize that Davian was gone.
Ched had never been friendly, but things had been… tense, after that. Davian had stuck to his story that he had been out walking nearby because he couldn’t sleep, but it was a thin excuse and everyone knew it.
Even so, Davian nodded, taking Raeleth at his word that no more questions had been asked. He had quickly grown to like the wiry, curly-haired man, even if their chances to talk freely had been limited to moments like this.
He kept working despite his entire body protesting, searching the jagged shadows for anything that glinted. They would need to start heading back soon.
They pushed on mutely for another ten minutes before the bell echoed across the city and a call from Ched—who was nominally in charge of the group—sounded out. Davian released an audible sigh, allowing his arms to drop, breathing hard. Raeleth followed suit, all but collapsing into a sitting position, snatching up his water skin and taking deep gulps. Sweat ran down the other man’s face in rivulets, streaking through the grime that always accumulated as they worked in the thick dust of the ruins. Davian staggered a little as he searched for his own water, then took a long swig before allowing himself to slide down next to Raeleth.
There was dead silence for a minute as everyone focused on catching their breath.
“You all right?”
Davian turned to find Ana watching Raeleth, who was slumped against the wall, still breathing hard. The only woman in their crew of four, Ana was shorter than Davian, but her build was as solid as any warrior’s he had seen. Surviving three months of this work would of necessity do that, he supposed.
Davian’s gaze switched to Raeleth, and he saw why Ana was asking. The wiry man was dripping sweat and looked pale, even in the torchlight.
“Fine,” snorted Raeleth, waving his hand dismissively and producing what was clearly meant to be a smile, though it came out as more of a grimace. “Slept badly last night, is all. Not a lot of energy today.”
Ana accepted the explanation, though her green eyes remained thoughtful.
“You going to be able to haul?” Ched’s expression was severe, though Davian had come to realize that the look was close to a permanent thing. He indicated the pail. “We need to get this to Isstharis before last bell. I’m not going to risk having this much uncredited overnight.” His gaze flicked at the last to Davian, who just barely managed to keep his expression neutral.
Raeleth hesitated, and Davian saw the answer in his eyes. “I’ll manage,” he said eventually, his back straightening with resolve. Raeleth was their assigned hauler: the one both trusted and burdened with regularly running their pails of metal to the dar’gaithin and receiving their rations in return.
Davian frowned. Raeleth did look weaker than even today’s exertion would account for.
The other man saw his expression, glaring at him briefly before struggling to his feet and stalking over to the pail, which was almost full—a good haul, two days’ worth of rations at least. The reinforced buckets used by the scavenging teams were large, heavy and awkward when full; Raeleth took a deep breath and grasped the handle, pulling upward.
He didn’t make it two steps before the pail dropped back to the ground with a rattling sound, tipping precariously before settling on its base again. Raeleth glanced at the others, red faced.
“Seems I’m more tired than I thought,” he admitted sheepishly.
“We didn’t take you in so that you could rest,” rumbled Ched. The big man glared in exasperation, but it was clear to anyone with eyes that Raeleth was physically incapable of doing what was needed. “Very well. Shadat, you take it. Just make sure the snake knows who to credit.”
Shadat was the name Davian had chosen to go by, given that his real name was widely known. His heart dropped, and he glanced at Raeleth, who was already shaking his head.
“You or Ana should go. Isstharis doesn’t know him yet, and…” Raeleth gestured. “I thought it might be a bit soon,” he finished meaningfully.
“All the more reason to send him. Last thing we need is the snake sniffing around because she thinks we’re hiding something from her.” Ched turned to Davian, and his green eyes were hard. “We’re not hiding anything, are we, Shadat?”
Davian snorted, doing his best to cover over his nervousness. Raeleth was right; particularly given how suspicious the other two were of him, it was strange that he was now being entrusted with an entire day’s worth of metal. If he had really wanted to try and steal something, this would likely be the perfect time.
“It’s fine,” he said, trying to pass off his concern as irritation. “I love the idea of finishing the day by carting a bucket full of metal up and down stairs for another half hour.”
Ana chuckled, and Ched made a sound that might or might not have been an acknowledgment before turning away. The big, balding man with the thick black beard might have given up on asking around about Davian, as Raeleth had said, but he was still clearly intent on testing him.
As the other two moved to collect their tools, Davian edged closer to Raeleth.
“Is this going to be a problem?” he murmured. Raeleth had previously acknowledged that Davian might have to interact with Isstharis, but their limited time together had been focused on other things, both of them mistakenly assuming that this wouldn’t happen so soon.
“Probably not,” Raeleth replied softly, shuffling closer. “It’s a simple exchange. Isstharis will have heard what you look like, but that doesn’t mean she’ll recognize you—the description of you they circulated was more for the humans than the snakes. They seem to have trouble recognizing people they’ve met before, let alone identifying them by specific features. Isstharis didn’t even start to recognize me until two months in.”
Davian grunted. “Well. No way to get out of it now, I suppose,” he said, casting a glance back at the other two. There was no point in risking a scene over this. Life here was about survival, not loyalty—and he had no illusions that if Ched or Ana realized he was hiding something from the dar’gaithin, they would hesitate for even a second before looking to improve their circumstances. “Anything I need to know?”
Raeleth thought for a moment.
“It’s the end of the day and early in the week, so you might run into Maresh.” He winced at Davian’s querying look. “Ah. Of course. You wouldn’t have had the pleasure. Maresh and his team are…” He paused as if trying to think of a polite way to put it, then shrugged. “Well, they’re the extortionists of our little corner of the city. They don’t do any scavenging themselves, but instead wait around near Isstharis—often between second and last bell, when everyone’s carting the last of what they’ve found—and demand a share of yours before you hand it over. Once they’ve collected enough to get rations for a while, they turn it in and keep to themselves until they need more.”
Davian felt his expression darken. “And everyone lets them get away with that?”
“They’re bigger than everyone else—even Ched—and perfectly willing to employ violence.” Raeleth said the words with a small shrug. “A few people resisted early on, and those ended up with broken bones. Which meant that they could barely work. Which meant that they ended up not meeting quota. Some of us tried to slip them food, but Isstharis takes note when a team doesn’t deliver; in the end, they got carted away by the al’goriat. After that…” He sighed. “Not being able to gather in large groups means that we can’t organize to take Maresh down. And Isstharis knows, but she doesn’t care as long as she’s getting her metal. I think she actually finds it useful. Someone to redirect everyone’s anger away from her.”
Davian scowled, and Raeleth placed a hand on his shoulder, expression serious. “I don’t like it either, but I’m sure you’ve realized by now that we need to pick our battles here. Even if you thought you could beat them somehow, it’s not worth the attention it would bring.”
His hand slid from Davian’s shoulder and he stumbled, steadying himself against the closest wall. Davian quickly forgot his anger as he examined Raeleth again.
“You really don’t look great,” he observed.
Raeleth glanced around. The other two had disappeared from view, already heading back to the hollowed-out building in which the four of them slept.
“I… I might need your help,” he admitted.
He pulled up his shirt.
Davian recoiled at the sight of the glistening black mass, roughly the size of a man’s hand, rippling over Raeleth’s heart.
“Fates,” he muttered. “Again? When?”
He had seen Dark around the city several times over the past week, though he hadn’t thought Raeleth or anyone from their team had gotten close to it. It was deceptively hard to spot in the stark, dead shadows cast by the red moon; sometimes it would form in a pool on the ground, but just as often it would drip silently from the roof, coagulating on the stone overhead and then gradually allowing gravity to suck it back down. Twice, Raeleth had held Davian back from walking directly beneath such a hazard. Davian was finding himself significantly more wary of his surroundings now.
“It’s not new,” said Raeleth, his tone vaguely apologetic. “I noticed it starting to form again a couple of days ago, but I… I don’t know. I was hoping it was going to go away, I suppose. Wasn’t going to mention it, but…” He gingerly lowered his shirt. “I might need to impose on you again after all.”
Davian tried not to show his dismay. He hadn’t explained his limited Reserve to Raeleth yet, nor the fact that he was an Augur: there had been no need thus far and though the other man seemed trustworthy, giving away too much information too quickly had seemed imprudent. It was a conversation that he was going to have to have sooner rather than later, it seemed.
Still, he couldn’t leave Raeleth like this. He closed his eyes, funneling Essence carefully into the other man until the Dark retreated once again, shriveling like leaves in a fire. Gone to all outward appearances, but this time Davian thought he could still sense a faint, dark spot directly above Raeleth’s heart. No matter how much Essence he poured in, that spot refused to disappear.
Trying to hide his concern, he opened his eyes again. This hadn’t taken anywhere near as much Essence as last time—the infection was far less advanced, he assumed—but it had nonetheless used more than he could afford. He had four, maybe five more such expenditures before he would be unable to do this again.
If the Dark kept coming back every week, that gave Raeleth not much more than a month to live.
“Thank you,” said Raeleth, standing a little straighter, oblivious to Davian’s concern. He felt absently at his chest, then eyed the pail of bent, rusted metal pieces. “I could probably…”
“It’s all right.” Davian shook his head, albeit reluctantly. “Ched will definitely notice if you’ve not only suddenly recovered enough to haul, but volunteered to do the job for me. I was going to be seen eventually—better to stop the others getting suspicious and just get it out of the way early.”
“As you say.” Raeleth’s relief was obvious. Davian had given him the Essence necessary to heal him, but nothing more. The man was still in dire need of some rest.
