Season of the Dragon, page 27
She hesitated to bring up Druvna for fear of Mishny’s wrath, but his last words concerned her. I must know what he meant. She prodded the fire with a long stick, sending up sparks. “Before he died, Druvna said to make sure I got to Val’Enara. What did he mean by that?”
Mishny spat sayari ale at the fire, sending the flames higher. “Ask those two.” She pointed at Aldewin and Rhoji. “But I lead the pod now. I decide what we do and where we go. We’re not getting swallowed by the Chasm of Nil so you can bury yourself in scrolls and escape the world. I’ll never know why Druvna made a deal to escort you there. I told him you’d be more trouble than you’re worth, and by Niyadi’s ass, I was right.” Her eyes were wide and dark, and her voice edged in a bitter tone.
“Deal with who?” Quen asked.
Previously reclining, Rhoji bolted upright, his jaw tensed, and he interrupted. “You were there when we made the plan, Mishny. You agreed—”
“I didn’t agree to shite. Druvna agreed. As leader of the pod, it was his right. But he’s dead now because of that one, and I’ll not follow him to Vay’Nada’s shores. Not today, and not on account of you, Doj’Anira.” Spittle shone on her lower lip.
Fury rose in Quen’s gullet. She rose, her whole body trembling. “Was anyone going to ask me what I want?”
Learning what she could of Vaya di Menaris and the Orrokan arts would give her the edge she needed to hunt Vahgrin. After all, she’d used Pahpi’s lessons in Still Waters to keep the Nixan soul within her locked away. Each day, the changeling became more insistent. And I now understand the meaning of its words when it speaks to me. That thought disturbed her the most. A deeper training in Vaya di Menaris might be the only way to eradicate my shadow soul.
Val’Enara might be best for me now. But dammit, that’s beside the point. Her companions hadn’t bothered to ask what she wanted. Her father had told Nevara Quen wasn’t a sack of flour to be traded. But people have treated me like an object. First the Dynasty and now my brother and companions. And what of our hunt for Vahgrin?
“Phsh,” Mishny said. She laughed ironically. “You’re complaining about us pulling your arse from a Qülla dungeon? ‘Cause I’m happy to personally deliver you back to the Dynasty and collect a fat reward, I’d wager.”
“I wasn't talking about that. Not one of you shite-eaters bothered to consider what I wanted.” She glared first at Rhoji, then Aldewin. Both flinched from her gaze.
Mishny bolted to her feet and pointed a thin finger at Quen. “I don’t give a fuck what you want. I don’t trust you. Haven’t since I first laid eyes on you.”
“Why? I did nothing to—”
“I don’t need to explain myself.” Mishny looked around at the others. “And I don’t owe any of you lot shite.” She pointed to Druvna’s dented helmet, still perched cockeyed on her head. “Druvna made me leader, and I decide who’s in and out. I decide where this pod goes and what work we take on. And I say we’re headed to Vindaô Province—like we planned. We’ll find mercenary work and lie low for a while.” She stared across the fire at Quen. “Except you, Doj’Anira.”
Quen’s body still shook, and she fought back the tears of anger and hurt. I feared the pod would reject me if they learned I’m Nixan. It didn’t matter. Mishny doesn’t even know I’m Rajani, but she booted me anyway. “I thought we—this pod—was a family. Are you going to let Mishny kick me out? Why not vote? Like we did in Juinar when we decided Earnôt’s fate.”
“Quen, don’t….” Tears shone in the corners of Shel’s eyes like bright jewels in the firelight.
Quen’s throat was so tight she could barely speak. “My friends…” Her voice was thin, her words barely audible. “I thought we were—family.”
Tears choked Eira’s voice. “You are like a sister to us, Quen. But… I have to protect the others that I love too.” He put his hand in Shel’s, and his shoulder touched Rhoji’s.
Quen’s eyes bored into Rhoji’s. Her voice quavered yet held an edge. “And you—my First Kin.” She laughed a bitter laugh. “So you will cast me out, too. Finally able to be rid of me like you always wanted.” She harrumphed. “I’m surprised it took you this long.”
Rhoji pulled at her hand. “We must speak. In private.”
Quen crossed her arms and remained planted. “Go ahead. Speak. We have no secrets from the pod.” A lie. We both have secrets, don’t we, Rhoji?
Rhoji pinched the bridge of his nose as Pahpi did when frustrated. The memory was like a dagger through her heart.
“This may be our last chance to talk. I have things to tell you. Things I know you want to hear.”
Her need for answers was larger than her pride. Quen rolled her eyes but said, “Fine. Let us speak.” She followed Rhoji to the clearing’s far side. The night air made her shiver. Quen was ready to lash out at him, but as soon as they stopped, Rhoji scooped her into a hug.
Rhoji whispered, “I thought I’d lost you forever.”
Rhoji’s uncharacteristic tenderness caught her by surprise, and she hugged him tightly. Her voice was tremulous. “Why are you siding with Mishny? Why send me to Val’Enara when you know it’s not what I want? Are you so eager to be rid of me?”
Rhoji held her face between his large hands. “Remember when you were a wee thing? Pahpi told you ‘Still Waters’ so much, people thought it was your name.”
The tension in her shoulders eased, and Quen couldn’t help but laugh. Because she didn’t respond when people called her ‘Still Waters,’ the other kids thought she was a dimwit. “Still Waters. That was Pahpi’s answer to everything.” Oh, Pahpi. Did you always know what I was? Did you really believe I could keep the Nixan from consuming me by repeating that mantra my whole life? She let out a tremulous sigh. “He wanted me to study at Val’Enara. Did he—do you think he knew…” She couldn’t bring herself to name the Nixan aloud.
Rhoji was pensive, his thoughts momentarily far off. “Honestly, I don’t know what Pahpi knew. About many things.” He returned his gaze to Quen. “Looking back—the excessive time he spent training you. Repeating that fucking mantra….” His jaw twitched. “I thought he loved you best. But maybe…”
“Maybe he was afraid of me or what I’d become?” Fresh tears welled, and her stomach was a hollow pit.
Rhoji’s eyes softened. “His true feelings—about you, me, or any of this—died with him. But of this, I am certain. He loved you, Quen.”
“But could he love me if I became… could he truly love a…?” She couldn’t say the word out loud.
Rhoji didn’t finish her sentence, perhaps also not wanting to give voice to the ugly truth. “What we saw—at the Menagerie. Are you truly—”
A shapeshifting Rajani sorceress dragon rider destined to take part in the destruction of the human world? He’s not ready for the whole truth of what I suspect my future holds. “I’m uncertain what I truly am. Or what I’ll become if I don’t control this—thing inside me.” A partial truth, anyway. Should I mention the scroll Nevara showed Pahpi? Proof their mother had colluded with the Dragos Sol’iberi to plant a Vay’Nada spawn soul in Quen. That truth would cut a wound so deep in Rhoji’s soul, it would crush him into emotional dust. Besides, he likely wouldn’t believe me. People stick with the comfort of lies they’ve believed rather than truths they don’t prefer.
Quen sighed. “Perhaps it is best for me to go to Val’Enara. Maybe I should trust that Pahpi knew more than he revealed about me.” She recalled his argument in Solia with Nevara.
Rhoji nodded. “This was my thinking as well.”
“Well, I wish you’d spoken to me about it before acting like a lordly First Kin arsehole.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you. We’ve been busy trying to get you out of Qülla—and staying alive.” He looked deeply into her bicolored eyes. “I don’t understand this Doj’Anira business. Do you?”
She shook her head.
“You know Pahpi wanted you to study at Val’Enara. But did you know he and Lio fought about it?”
She shook her head. I’ve never known Pahpi to be angry with Liodhan.
Rhoji ran his hands through his long hair, unbraided and gritty with road dust. “Ah, Quen. I’m your First Kin now, and I’m supposed to guide you. To know what’s best for you. But I’m lost in all this. Dragons. The Dynasty hunting you. Why?” He shrugged. “Before, you mentioned Pahpi knew things we didn’t. Maybe Pahpi was right to insist you study at Val’Enara.”
She wiped her nose on her sleeve and sniffled. “You, Rhoji Tomo Santu di Sulmére, are saying Pahpi was right?” She felt his forehead. “Are you okay?”
He chuckled. “I think so.”
When they were growing up, the nightly meal often lasted for hours. Rhoji and Pahpi debated things like Kovan policy, the meanings of various sutras of the Vaya di Solis, or the best way to make a hide supple. Quen rarely entered the fray, content to listen and weigh both sides. Sometimes she agreed with Rhoji but kept her thoughts to herself, not wanting to cause Pahpi more consternation. “It’s unlike you to agree with anything Pahpi wanted or said.”
Rhoji picked at a tree’s bark and flicked a piece off. “Maybe what we’ve been through—since the fires in Solia. My eyes have opened.”
“Pahpi would have liked to hear you say that.” Quen’s throat was tight.
“I know you want to stay with the pod. You enjoy the ranging life.”
“It suits me.” I’d gladly exchange a comfortable life for the intrigue of the unknown. She glanced back at the pod, and her eyes landed on Aldewin. And maybe more than wanderlust or justice binds me to the pod.
“You can range again. Spreading the gospel of the Vaya di Solis around the Sulmére.” He smirked.
Quen lightly punched his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not.” The breeze caught his blue feather earring and twirled it against his cheek. He laughed. “Okay, I kind of am. But the point is, we both need somewhere safe to land while we figure it out.”
“Where do you intend to land? You never seemed like Jagaru to me.”
Rhoji nodded. “I’ll admit it was not Mishny’s idea to head to Vindaô Province.” His eyes caught sight of Eira. “The wine merchant you saw me with at the capital—Ser Chervais. He offered me a position at his estate in Bardivia. Said there’s plenty of mercenary work. Tensions are growing between Bardivia and the Dynasty, so the wealthier merchants are bulking up their personal and house guards. The pod should easily find work.”
There was still a question tickling her brain. Mishny had implied that Rhoji and Aldewin conspired in the plan to send Quen to Val’Enara rather than staying with the Jagaru. “You were involved in the Val’Enara plan. But what of Aldewin? How did he figure into this?” That Aldewin would deign to make plans for her irritated her, yet it gladdened her that he cared enough to consider her. Quen vacillated between wanting to bed the man or break him.
“If you hate the monk’s life, blame him. It was Aldewin’s idea. He and Druvna approached me as your First Kin. I agreed it was a good idea even before what happened at the Menagerie.”
“Why would you consider Val’Enara the right path before the Menagerie? You saw how much I’ve enjoyed ranging with the Jagaru. How I finally belonged somewhere.” Hot tears sprang to her eyes again.
Rhoji’s eyes watered too. “You’ve never fooled me. I’ve known you were different my whole life.”
Her heart thumped wildly, and a band of anxiety tightened her chest. “What do you mean?”
Rhoji smiled warmly at her. “You could always jump higher and run faster than anyone. Like freakishly swift.” He tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “How Pahpi spent so much time training you in Vaya d’Enara stillness, but hardly noticed I existed.” His lips pulled tighter.
“I’m sorry.” I truly am. I never asked for Pahpi’s constant attention.
Rhoji shook his head, closed his eyes, and swallowed. “It’s not something for you to regret. I know this now, though as children, I often resented you. Hated you even.”
She’d often felt like he hated her, but hearing it spoken aloud still stung. She’d never understood what she’d done to make him so angry at her. At least now she knew.
“But you were also—my only friend.” Fat tears welled in his eyes.
Quen threw her arms around him, her face buried in his shoulder. “I’m scared, Rhoji.”
“I know, sol’dishi.” He smoothed her dusty hair, and his hand swept over the bony ridge at the base of her skull. He pulled his hand away. “I am scared too.”
He didn’t have to say it. Quen, and the Nixan she’d become, frightened Rhoji. Slints do not remember their family. At least that was what stories said of them. And if I’m Rajani? People don’t trust women who consort with Vay’Nada spawn, like dragons.
Rhoji forced a wan smile. “I know you hold Lumine’s light in your heart. Perhaps Val’Enara, filled with the wisdom of ages past—you will find answers. And lots of bruises from training, according to Aldewin. Good luck with that.” He playfully poked her ribs.
Quen smiled back at him. “Yeah, that’s better than putting up with Mishny’s sour ass.”
He laughed. “She will be unbearable.” Rhoji put an arm around her shoulder. “Remember, I love you, little sister, and always will.”
“No matter what—I become?”
Rhoji held her shoulders. “You are Quen Tomo Santu di Sulmére, daughter of Santu Inzo Dakon di Sulmére. Never forget that.” He hugged her. When they separated, he wiped away a tear.
Quen’s throat was tight, so she nodded rather than trying to speak. If someone had told her a few months ago that parting from Rhoji would choke her up, she’d have accused them of having curdled drey’s milk for brains. After all they’d been through together. And now to know Rhoji had known she was Nixan and loved her, anyway. It made her want to stay with him, yet reinforced why they must separate. If he stays with me, I only bring the possibility of danger upon him.
“Come.” Rhoji rubbed his arms. “Let us join the others before we freeze.”
When they rejoined the group, Mishny was asleep—or at least acting like it—her back to them. Eira, Shel, and Aldewin lounged and still passed the pipe. At the edge of their camp, Nivi was fast asleep, his long legs taking up the space of four men.
Imbica sat cross-legged, her palms resting on her knees, her eyes unblinking and focused on the fire. Is she in a trance? Imbica startled Quen when she said, “Welcome back.”
Quen sat across from Imbica and accepted the pipe when Shel handed it to her. The bitter smoke burned in her chest yet soothed her mind. She turned her attention to Imbica. “You are my sworn shield. Tomorrow, I will ride with Aldewin and Nivi to Val’Enara. You will join us.”
Imbica raised her gaze from the fire. “I will not travel with you to the Chasm of Nil.”
The three lounging sat up.
“It took you less than a full day to break your oath,” Eira said.
Aldewin blew out heja smoke. “She can’t come with us because she’s unwelcome at Val’Enara.” He offered the pipe to Imbica. “Am I right?”
Imbica waved the heja away. “Val’Enara accepted me as a Rising at age ten. By twelve, the Archon promoted me to Ascended.”
Aldewin whistled. “Kensai level by twelve. You were a Menaris prodigy.”
Imbica nodded, though not with an air of arrogance. “The Three bestow blessings without preference for lineage or wealth. Something the Dynasty has yet to appreciate.”
“I second that,” Rhoji said.
“Did you get kicked out?” Shel asked.
Eira kicked her foot. “Don’t be rude.”
Shel kicked him back. “It’s an honest question.”
Imbica showed no offense at the inquiry. “Before being named Ascended Master, I left of my own accord.”
“But you showed such promise. By now, you’d probably be a Zenith.” Quen doubted she’d make it past Rising, given she had no aptitude for manipulating the elements of Menaris. Val’Enara might admit her to study the Orrokan art of war and the Vaya di Solis—together known as “The Way.” But unless she mastered Menaris, Val’Enara would never promote her above the rank of Rising. I can’t imagine throwing away an opportunity like Imbica had.
Imbica stretched her arm toward the fire, twirled her fingers, and raised sparkling embers, making them dance. “At Val’Enara, Ascended Masters and Zeniths spend their days charting the heavens, consulting scrolls, teaching younglings, and arguing amongst themselves. If they make it past Kensai, they grow old without seeing the world beyond the Moon Gate.”
Shel stoked the fire. “We began traveling with our da while still in training pants. Hard to imagine not ranging across Indrasi.”
Eira, leaning back on his forearms, took the pipe. “Our da taught us to read scrolls and tabulate, but he said Menauld was our best teacher.”
Imbica yawned behind her hand. “Indeed. What good does command of the Corners do a mage if she’s locked in a stone tower, unable to use the gifts the Three gave her to help people?”
Aldewin nodded, his jaw tight. “A fair point, and one I have asked myself since leaving the Pillar.”
Imbica flicked her wrist, and the sparkling embers fell back to the fire. “It’s enough to make one wonder if the Pillars are high places of learning or—”
“Prisons,” Aldewin said.
Imbica sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I transferred to Val’Vatra to study the Way of Fire and become a Kovatha. The Dynasty has faults, but it sees the value of Menaris.” She gave a wry laugh. “I thought I would help people.” She smoothed stray gray hairs away from her face. “Look at me now.”
“You helped me,” Quen said. “If not for you, I’d be dead.” If Imbica knew what I truly was, would she have saved me from Vahgrin’s fire?
“You could return if you wanted, right?” Shel asked. “If they didn’t kick you out, you could go back, since you’re not a Kovatha anymore.” She blew a smoke ring.
