Cartomancy Page 14

“In Felarati, a guest of Prince Pyrust.”

  Nirati laughed. “Is that possible? I’d rather dream you in Ixyll. But if you are there, don’t go to the Empress. She will only torture and deceive you.”

  “The Sleeping Empress? Why would she do that? She waits for us to reach her so she can help reestablish the Empire.” Keles smiled at her and Takwee cooed delightedly. “As long as you are dreaming, will you tell me where you are?”

  Nirati opened her arms—letting an alarmed Takwee dangle from her right wrist. “I am in Kunjiqui. Grandfather made it for me. He created it and he . . . he brought me here when I died.” Is that right? Did I die?

  “You cannot be dead, Nirati. The dead do not dream.”

  Oh, but I think they do. I think they dream of being alive again. She brought her arms in over her chest and shivered. “You’re right, Keles; I am certain of it. But dreams are never certain, are they?”

  “No. What of Grandfather and Jorim and Mother?”

  “I’ve no news of Jorim, but no worries for him. Were I to dream him in Felarati, he would dream himself away again. With Mother I have no contact. Grandfather is well and happily at work. Are you not in contact with him?”

  “The situation here is complicated enough that I don’t need him interrogating me. I can’t risk being distracted by his ire. When I am done, he’ll have a complete map of the new Felarati. Maybe that will please him, though my failure to complete the Ixyll survey will not.”

  “He loves you. He loves us all.” She reached out to caress his face, but her fingers just moved through the image. Still, his face turned to her hand, and he would have kissed her palm had his lips not passed through it.

  “Nirati.” Nelesquin’s voice boomed from high atop a distant hill. “Quickly, darling!”

  With the echoes of his voice, the image of her brother evaporated. Takwee mewed sadly—the first real sign of any discontent on her part. Nirati’s heart sank a bit, but she salvaged the memory of Keles’ smile. She created its twin on her face, then, in three long strides, reached Nelesquin’s side.

  He rested his hands on her shoulders and turned her back around to face whence she had come. He kissed the back of her head, then settled his large hands over her eyes. “Who was that I saw you with, Nirati?”

  “My twin, Keles. I dreamed him.”

  “Ah, I look forward to meeting him.”

  “I warned him of Cyrsa.”

  “Better he should warn her of me.” He laughed easily. “Now, my love, the surprise I promised you. Let me just turn us about.”

  Neither of them moved. Instead, the whole top of the hill spun slowly. With his hands over her eyes, he hooked his elbows in front of her shoulders and drew her tight against his broad chest. He held her there for a moment, then rested his chin on her head.

  “Behold, beloved, what we have wrought.”

  His hands fell away and she opened her eyes. She blinked, quickly, for so much sunlight glinted from thousands of pinpoints that she almost shifted day to night to protect her eyes. But they would shine just as brightly in the dark, I am certain.

  Below her, the land had sunk between two mountain ranges. Vast plains isolated the foothills from the slender finger of deep blue water thrust deep into the land. On that narrow ocean bobbed dozens of ships—none as large as the Stormwolf, but each large enough to carry hundreds of soldiers. Other ships waited next to quays or in dry docks, ready to be launched.

  At the hill’s base, nine formations—nine ranks deep, nine men wide—stood tall and proud in silver mail, with glowing silver helmets. The sunlight reflected from their weapons—and Nirati knew that each ship could carry just such a unit. They reminded her of the ranks of the Naleni army and the Keru, save these men had a blue cast to their flesh, jet-black hair, and—if the two nearest them were models for their race—amber eyes like those of a cat.

  The two men approaching them differed from the others in that their armor and helmets had been washed with gold. At twenty feet each dropped to a knee and pounded his right fist to his left shoulder in a salute. They bowed their heads and held those bows for longer than she had ever seen before.

  Beyond the time required for a Prince. Then it occurred to her that she had seen such a bow held before. In a temple, when one sought the favor of the gods.

  Their heads came up and they both rose as Nelesquin beckoned them forward. They still stopped a respectful distance—just out of reach—yet they had an arrogance that she found both attractive and frightening.

  Nelesquin waved a hand toward the one with a snarling ram crest on his helmet. “This is Gachin. He is Dost of the Durrani host. Keerana is his second-in-command.”

  Gachin’s eyes narrowed, and the sharpened tips of his ears were visible through hair as he doffed his helmet. Still, he gave her a respectful smile. “The goddess honors us by visiting as we embark. The invasion of the Empire has already begun, but we shall consolidate it, as you desire, goddess.”

  Invasion? As I desire? She vaguely recalled Nelesquin mentioning a need to position himself to defend against Cyrsa, but invasion had not been part of it. And yet while she tried to remember what exactly had been said, a part of her knew that invasion was the only way his goals could be accomplished.

  Keerana watched her closely. “The goddess is not pleased?”

  She shook her head quickly. “It is only the thought of your departure so quickly after our meeting that displeases me. I am certain you will be successful with your endeavor.”

  “We shall, goddess, then you shall come with our Lord Nelesquin and reside in Kelewan. We shall raze Quun’s home and build you the most beautiful temple.” Gachin bowed his head confidently.

  “Though no temple,” offered his subordinate, “could ever approach your beauty, goddess.”

  Nelesquin laughed, then dismissed the two of them with a wave. “Go to your ships. You will take Kelewan and secure all of Erumvirine. From there we shall march north.”

  Gachin bowed again, but Keerana raised an eyebrow. “My lord, I would ask your consent on a matter.”

  Nelesquin folded arms over his chest. “Speak.”

  Though Nelesquin’s tone had not been inviting, Keerana did not quail. “Lord Nelesquin, once we have had the glory of returning Kelewan to your possession, I ask permission to take a third of our force and range south. I have studied all you have made available, and I believe that the Five Princes, in their jealousy and envy, will rise. I wish to punish them swiftly so my lord’s further plans shall not be hampered.”

  Nelesquin contemplated the request, then he nodded. “Very well, you have my leave, provided those troops are not needed to consolidate our holding.”

  “As you command, lord.” Keerana bowed deeply, then withdrew with Gachin.

  Nelesquin smiled down at Nirati. “They are perfect, are they not? Clever, respectful, ambitious, resourceful. They will do well.”

  She frowned. “But will not an invasion unleash the same destruction as happened during the Cataclysm?”

  “No, not at all. This is the brilliance of Anturasixan.” He opened his arms to take it all in. “I was schooled in the ways of magic, and as your grandfather created this place, we altered reality. We have placed magic both in the land and in those who people the land. None of the Durrani will ever be Mystics, but they do not need to be. Here, in this valley, we bred generation after generation of them, pitting them against each other. You saw it, with Keerana and Gachin. Keerana would replace him in an instant, save Gachin’s clan was ascendant in their last war. The Durrani are brilliant at war, and those who do not fight are gifted as healers, helping keep their companions alive.”

  Nirati shivered. “You have re-created the vanyesh?”

  He stepped to her and enfolded her in his arms. “Do not believe the tales of the vanyesh. We did not seek magic for power, but merely so we could undo that which wild magic unleashed. We were always mistrusted, but this is because such vast power can be difficult to control. Not here. You yourse
lf control it. Look how you make the day and night pass as you will. You are not evil, nor is the power.”

  “Lord Nelesquin has it correctly, granddaughter.”

  Upon hearing Qiro’s voice, she turned and managed to keep a smile on her face despite the horror running through her. Her grandfather had been eternal and unchanging. Tall, slender, proud beyond arrogance, with thick white hair, a white goatee and moustaches, Qiro Anturasi had always been an image of power. He ruled Anturasikun as would an emperor, and was treated by many as something more.

  But now he had become something less. Deep bags, dark and heavy, hung beneath his eyes. His hair had become matted and his beard had grown unkempt. He still held his head high, but his shoulders were slumped. As he walked toward her, his left leg moved stiffly, as if that hip refused to work. And his eyes, his icy blue eyes, which had always been keen, now somehow focused past her.

  She tore herself from Nelesquin’s grasp and ran to her grandfather. She hugged him tightly and could feel him quake within her grasp. He returned the hug, weakly, and leaned heavily upon her.

  “It has been far too long, Grandfather.”

  “No, girl, no time at all. Much has been done.” A palsied hand stroked her hair. “My Lord Nelesquin has given me many tasks, but when I am done he has told me I am free to indulge myself. Soon I shall.”

  Nirati looked at Nelesquin. “I think he needs a rest, a long rest. I will take him back to Kunjiqui and tend to him. Will you permit that, my lord?”

  Nelesquin laughed. “That is an excellent idea. You have done wonderful work, Grandmaster Anturasi. I knew I was right to choose you. You have repaid my faith many times over.”

  Choose him? Nirati frowned, then got under her grandfather’s right arm and looped it over her shoulder. “Come, Grandfather, I shall tell you stories. I shall tell you of Keles and his adventures.”

  “Keles?” The old man’s voice softened and became almost wistful. “He was a handful, just like your father.”

  “No, you’re thinking of Jorim, Grandfather.” She put her left arm around his waist and was shocked to find him so thin. She could have easily lifted him and borne him to her sanctuary like a child. “I dreamed of Keles, and he said he was in Felarati. Can you imagine?”

  “A grandson of mine in the Dark City? No, this will not be permitted. I will stop it.”

  Nirati tightened her grip. “Later, Grandfather, when you have rested. You always said you did your best work after rest.”

  “Yes, yes, and this will take my best work.” Qiro kissed Nirati’s head. “I will always do my best for you.”

  “And I for you, Grandfather.” She smiled, genuinely this time, and led him off.

  And, after he admired his fleet sailing northwest, Nelesquin joined her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  3rd day, Month of the Dragon, Year of the Rat

  9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

  163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

  737th year since the Cataclysm

  Nemehyan, Caxyan

  Jorim Anturasi had progressed so quickly in his studies that the maicana took it as a sure sign he was Tetcomchoa-reborn—and even he began to wonder if it was not true. He kept telling himself it wasn’t, but the sheer joy he felt in learning magic made him question many of the convictions he’d held his entire life. He still accepted that magic was a bad thing, but perhaps only out-of-control magic was bad—the same way anything done without respect for tradition, and without discipline, was bad.

  He knelt in his private chamber’s anteroom across a round wooden table from Nauana. She had proven an apt teacher and he’d quickly moved from simple to more complex invocations. The key to it all, as she had insisted the first day, was to find the mai that defined things.

  The truth was the link to magic, and could be used to call it forth and shift the balance of things. And shifting the balance of more than just the elements was also possible; one could use magic to alter objects physically. Best of all, while there were traditional methods for doing anything, there usually were multiple ways an effect could be created. As he learned more complex magics, he came more quickly to the desired ends. And, often, the more refined methods, while requiring more concentration, exhausted him less than the crude methods.

  Nauana’s dark eyes sharpened as Jorim took a small wooden bucket from Shimik and poured golden sand in the center of the table. He tossed the empty bucket back to the Fenn, then scratched him behind an ear. Shimik fell over backward into a somersault and rolled away toward Jorim’s bedchamber.

  “Tetcomchoa, I do not understand why you have this sand here. The lesson for today does not require sand.”

  “I know, Nauana, but I had an idea and wish to try something.” Jorim touched a fingertip to the sand, then brushed away all but a single grain. “If this works, I think you will see something completely miraculous.”

  She smiled, but slid back from the edge of the table. “As my lord wishes.”

  “Thanks for the display of confidence.” He forced himself to relax, then concentrated on the grain of sand. Because it was so small, he found it difficult to identify at first. Solidity was the easiest aspect to grasp, with a hint of light. As he located it within mai, he found a strong connection between it and the rest of the sand, which did not surprise him too much. He had already learned that like was connected to like, and part of one thing was always connected to the other parts.

  Slowly, he began to play with the balances of reality. First he used magic to make it light enough to float. That was not difficult given how little it weighed. The hard part was in retaining enough weight so it didn’t shoot up to the ceiling. After a few ups and downs, he centered it a finger length above his fingertip.

  Then he began to play with heat. He channeled the mai into it and felt it begin to warm. Knowing his goal was within reach, he pumped more in. The grain of sand warmed, then became incandescent.

  Then it exploded into a puff of vapor.

  Nauana blinked, then leaned forward. “Are you all right, my lord?”

  The barest hint of fatigue washed over him, but he nodded. “I’m fine, Nauana.”

  “Was that the miracle, Lord?”

  “No, not quite. Watch.” He picked up a handful of sand, raised it to face height between them, then slowly let it drift down. Using the mai, he caught the falling sand and held it suspended as a small sphere in the air. “Nor is this, yet.”

  She said nothing, but watched the sand intently.

  Again Jorim located the sand through the mai, and this time used the connectedness of it all. He slowly began to rebalance it so it would become warmer and warmer. As it began to heat up, he recalled his previous error and used the mai to alter another balance. Very carefully, while allowing the heat to continue to rise, he shifted the balance of the sand from solid to fluid.

  When he’d first arrived on the Stormwolf in the land of the Amentzutl, he’d noticed a number of things which were common in the Nine, but nonexistent among the Amentzutl. One was horses, and the other was the wheel—at least as something to be used for more than a toy. While some on the expedition wanted to brand the Amentzutl as hopelessly primitive, wheeled transport was highly impractical in their rugged, mountainous land. When the expedition’s military had used war chariots against the Mozoyan, the Amentzutl had been impressed and even credited him with a miracle in their production.

  One other thing the Amentzutl lacked was knowledge of glass. Jorim’s knowledge of it was not much more than basic, but he did know that sand, if heated enough, would become a thick, viscous fluid that could be shaped. While he had none of the skills of a glass artisan, mai and his ability to control it did give him some tools to manipulate the glass.

  The sand sphere began to glow and give off light, easily illuminating the joy on Nauana’s face. Even Shimik keened with delight from the doorway. As the glow built, Jorim kept careful control of the sand, slowing the flow of mai into heat and pushing more into making it
fluid. Curiously enough, it continued to get warm, which made sense. It is melting, which requires heat no matter what. By shifting that balance, I force it to become hotter.

  The sand melted into glass and hung there, a miniature sun, blazing away. Using mai he constricted it around its equator and split the glowing yellow mass into two teardrops. He rounded both of them off and saw a look of pure wonder and joy on Nauana’s face.

  And now to see if I can do the last of it.

  Ever since he had noticed that things had a truth to them, he had been drawn to studying it. Though he was restricted from using magic outside the training sessions, he did spend a lot of time sensing the truth of things and defining them in mai. As he learned to see them, he began to understand the Amentzutl cosmology and could identify things by their sense in mai. He’d even had Iesol hide common items in a sealed wooden box and he’d been able to pick out what they were sight unseen.

  Concentrating, he drew the truth of the table into his mind, then projected that into the glass. The twin orbs merged, then flattened out into a low disk. Three small legs dripped down and froze in place.

  Nauana gasped and covered her mouth with a hand.

  Jorim smiled and reached out to touch her essence with mai. As he did so he realized he’d not tried that with any living creature before, and he didn’t know what to expect. From the surface he felt her physically. Much as he had done with the table, he projected that sense of her into the glass.

  The glass flattened itself into a thin disk that rotated between them. Though it still glowed, it remained thin enough that he could see her through it. The glass molded itself over the image of her features, sculpting itself to her face. The high cheekbones, the straight nose, the full lips. The glass flowed back to define her jaws and her ears. It even followed the shape of her head and flowed down over her neck and shoulders to become a perfect bust, save for her eyes.

  The glass could not capture her eyes, so it thinned and holes opened, allowing him to look through it and to her.

  And in doing that, he pushed past the surface and found her truth.