“Give me your socks.” Thorn held out his hand. The large man had insisted they rest for a full day and night.
Candor and Letti, despite being accompanied by a new and hulking stranger, felt safer than they had since the moment they left for the cliffs. They did not argue. Candor groaned as she stripped her blood-soaked socks from her feet. Her slices had grown white around the edges from the time they spent wet.
“You must let me heal those.” Thorn knelt before Candor. “You will not be able to continue this way.”
“Let him help, Candor.” Letti’s soft voice echoed, and Candor, ready to feel whole again, yielded.
“This will feel odd.” Thorn explained. “I will have to focus on each cut, and I will be channeling the material of your skin back together.”
Candor blanched. She had seen Lola perform small feats of majik, but this seemed impossible. Nevertheless, she gave her permission, and Thorn hunched over her feet.
As he started mumbling, Candor practiced her breathing; the skin of her feet felt as though it were crawling, as though something with many, many feet were swarming both above and below the cuts. She strove not to make a sound.
Several long moments later, Thorn sat back, a pleased look briefly crossing his face. Marveling, Candor drew her feet close to her face; her skin was smooth. No scars lined her soles, the smears of blood the only remaining souvenir of their recent trauma.
Candor sat back in relief.
“Look.” Thorn pointed through the open side of the turret. Across the mountains to the east hung ominous thunderclouds. Dark and drifting, they piled upon themselves.
“No starfish here.” Letti murmured.
Candor gazed at the storm. “Where did it originate?”
Thorn paused amid his belongings. He had insisted both girls repack their rucks, and he had taken the lead by example. “What do you mean?”
“Storms over the ocean form because of the way the ocean air interacts with the cool air of the Black Teeth. Or angry deities, depending on your persuasion.” Candor pointed towards the impending storm. “What causes that storm? There’s no ocean in the center of Icaria.”
Utterly unsure what to make of the two girls, Thorn stood, dusted his hands on his filthy trousers and met them at the window. Past the Kotemor directly to the east, the girls could see copses of trees that grew thinner as the land picked up the horizon.
“Those,” Thorn gestured unhelpfully to the east, “are the great blood plains. The Fae call them Balishobeth which ironically means fertile place, give or take a syllable. Further south they pocket into sandy deserts.”
“Oh.” Candor nodded thoughtfully. “So, the heat of the plains makes the air unstable and clashes with the cooler air of the mountains.”
“More or less,” said Thorn. “How is it that you know so little about Icaria, but you know how storms are formed?”
Candor shrugged. “The books my moms had spoke more deeply of some things than others.”
Thorn grunted but returned to his pack. “Here.” He unfolded a large piece of fabric. Upon closer examination, Candor realized, one side seemed to be coated with wax, giving it a slippery, slithery feeling.
“What is this?” Letti took the other end of it, and together the girls pulled it straight. A small stitching ran through the middle, and the two panels stretched nearly three lengths across and two lengths long.
“That,” Thorn actually looked proud, “Is part of snakeskin from a basilisk.”
Candor and Letti looked blank.
“It’s a giant snake that inhabits the spaces under the Àstoriad, east of the Hatch.”
“The Hatch?” Candor asked, this conversation grew ever more puzzling.
“Rejad, the Hatch.” Thorn ran a hand over his short hair. “Look, let’s hang this and have a conversation after the rain arrives. No need to start off wet again.”
The girls agreed, and Thorn demonstrated a few knots. “Tie the ends to the columns and string the rest of the cord through the holes along the sides of the tarp.” Thorn threw the end of a cord over a small rail that ran around the top of the interior, just under the roof.
“Does everyone have a snakeskin tarp?” Letti asked curiously.
Thorn snorted. “Hardly. I’m the only one alive with one at the moment. No, when this was built, majik was much more widespread, and proofing textiles was a fairly regular business. Those tarps never lasted as long, of course, but usually one could find a repair shop in a city, or even some villages, that had regular business with a witch.”
Candor bit back her questions and finished stringing the shelter. Thorn ensured that the top of the tarp hung inside the stone structure, while the bottom hung over the side. Both ends he secured with cord and drew the skin as tight as he could. When they finished, the inside of the open-air turret appeared as if it had a canopy inside.
“This looks like the wedding tents.” Letti peaked out the side to check on the rain. The sky had darkened in anticipation, and the piles of clouds towered above the Kotemor.
“Did you have lots of weddings in your village?” Thorn asked innocently.
“No.” Candor answered with mock serenity. “No answers for you, until you offer us some.”
Thorn scowled. “You’re awfully forthright.”
Letti chuckled.
“Alright. The Hatch is the site of a terrible disaster. At the end of the mad king’s reign, some witches discovered how to—”
“You know of the witches?” Candor interrupted.
Thorn raised an eyebrow, a darkly amused look flashing across his face.
“The witches were an old order of majik users. They were the first humans to be instructed on how to use majik. The Fae taught the Dovar, the first witches. They travelled around for a while and most were killed by some idiot with a sword. A few more episodes like this, and the order decided they needed protection. So, the witches created a new order, the nuns. They learned alongside the witches but did not learn majik. A nun learned to fight and protect his or her witch.” Thorn paused. “It’s odd you’re going to the Citadel, and you don’t know about the witches.”
“Why?” Candor asked curiously. The one small text she’d pilfered from her mothers’ library hadn’t mentioned a connection between witches and the Citadel, just that it had been a place of deep majik for the Fae.
Thorn raised an eyebrow.
“I know half of a lot of things, it would seem.” Candor muttered.
Letti grimaced. “What can you tell us about the Citadel?”
Thorn’s visage darkened, and his eyes seemed as stormy as the clouds outside their shelter. “I’ve only been once. A long time ago. I don’t know what’s left of it after the fall.”
“Wait,” Candor said slowly, “the fall was hundreds of years ago.”
“Give or take.” Thorn nodded. He leaned back against the wall of the turret, eyes closing. “You are inquisitive.”
“You’re the only one who’s ever told me anything.” Candor narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know what’s left of it after the fall.”
“No.”
“Which implies that you visited before the fall.”
“Yes.”
“Just how old are you?” Candor asked, incredulous.
“Quite old.” Thorn shifted, finding a more comfortable stone.
Neither girl responded, and the silence stretched long enough that Thorn opened his eyes. Both girls faced him, visages curiously masked.
“I’m not the first person you know who doesn’t age.” Thorn raised an eyebrow. “Candor I’m guessing your mothers did not age either.”
Momentarily quiet, Thorn took advantage of the absence of questions to continue. “I don’t know enough about your situation to comment, but I will tell you about the land if you are willing.”
Candor bit her tongue. This man clearly suspected some truth about her family, but she was loathe to push, lest he shut down completely.
Letti spoke up. “That seems fair.” She looked up as the first heavy drops sounded on the tarp. “How did you kill the snake?”
Thorn felt a curious movement across his face. His lips nearly twitched into a smile. Letti’s dark curly hair reminded him of—no. He did not think of that anymore.
“I was tracking someone near Rejad and found myself in the Àstoriad.” Thorn stopped as the rain began to pound. He’d always liked the sound of rain.
“I was visiting a small village when a child went missing.” Thorn shook his head. “Parents should keep better track of their kids. The kid had wandered into the mountains, and had slunk himself down a hole, probably chasing something, who knows.” Thorn waved his hand as if this particular detail were unimportant. “It was the den of a basilisk. The snake had already eaten the child by the time I arrived, but I killed it and sliced open its stomach for good measure. The child didn’t survive, but I returned his body. And then I skinned the snake and made a tarp.” Thorn spread his hands. “That’s all.”
Both Candor and Letti were impressed but were unwilling to ask for more stories. A silence fell.
“You still have yet to repack your rucks.” Thorn finally said, pointing at the two sacks.
“Not much to unpack in mine.” Letti stood on the bottom straps of her pack and pulled out the whale’s stomach, still full of water.
Thorn’s eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. Candor began unloading her items one at a time, the wet clothes, the boots, the book, the skirts, the shawls, the food items, and all the odd instruments that had wrapped with her blankets. Since they were taking turns sleeping, both girls had used Letti’s bedroll. Lastly, Candor laid her indigo sword, still in its sheath next to her items.
Thorn did not bother hiding his incredulity at Candor’s pack. “Do you have any idea what any of this is?” He gestured at the instruments.
“No.” Candor sat back and resorted to honesty.
Thorn blew out slowly, returned to his own layout, and pulled a large pipe from under a pair of trousers. From a small sack that seemed to be made of a smaller piece of the snakeskin, Thorn pinched a bit of dried, green plant. Depositing it in the end of his pipe, he muttered over it, and took a long inhale.
Candor thought she might burst with curiosity.
Letti asked, “Is that mintweed?”
“No. It’s Ryé.” Thorn regarded Letti. “It’s grown in swamps and is unpleasant to harvest and expensive to buy.”
“Oh.” Said Letti meekly. “Some of our neighbors liked mintweed.”
“An acceptable alterative.” Thorn nodded approvingly. He sat back for several long minutes, staring at the top of the tarp. He puffed a few bitter smelling rings tupwards.
Finally, he let his chin drop slowly until he considered the girls once more. “I will get you to the Citadel.”
Not expecting this statement, Candor blinked. “I didn’t realize you were contemplating otherwise.” Her hand twitched.
“Relax, haelfin.” Thorn growled. A curious pain ricocheted between Candor’s eyes. She flinched, as if she had been struck.
Thorn did not seem to notice. “I had resolved to travel with you as long as was interesting to me, until I could be reasonably sure you would be safe.”
“And that didn’t extend to the Citadel?” Letti asked.
“No. It did not.” Thorn said. “You seem,” he chose his words carefully, “to be caught up in something much larger than yourselves, and I am curious what fate has in store for you.”
“Brilliant.” Candor muttered. “We’re entertainment. Twins above.”
“You hold with the old faith?” Thorn leaned forward, pipe forgotten briefly, once more surprised.
Candor and Letti exchanged glances.
“Let me guess.” Thorn puffed, amused. “You didn’t know there were additional faiths.”
Letti shook her head, but Candor scowled. She did not enjoy feeling uninformed. “We don’t know a lot, alright, we haven’t had a hundred years to traipse across the continent.”
“Peace.” Thorn held up his hands, pipe between his lips.
“Would you like to know what some of these do?” Thorn asked.
Sullenly, Candor nodded.
“Before we begin, hang your clothes up and let them dry.” Thorn’s accent deepened. “No need to give yourselves an infection before you really get going on your quest.”
Candor and Letti did as they were told, then settled, backs against the walls of the tower, mirroring Thorn.
“First of all,” Thorn pointed to the whale stomach. “Where did you get that?”
“It was my mother’s.” Candor shrugged. “It’s the stomach of a whale.”
“No, it’s not,” said Thorn. “It’s the stomach of a Calenthari. A giant cat that lives in the mountains.”
“These mountains?” Asked Letti, alarmed.
“Yes. But I haven’t seen them recently. They also live in the Àstoriad.” Thorn seemed impressed. “I wonder how your mother came across it.”
“Solid chance she killed it. She was a wicked swordswoman.”
“Is.” Letti interjected. “We didn’t find their bodies.”
“Is,” Candor repeated softly, then looked away. A silence descended.
“I would be honored to meet your mothers someday.” Thorn said quietly.
Candor nodded, then picked up an intricately wrought metal piece. “What’s this then?”
“Wait, a few things about your stomach,” Thorn returned to the previous item. “It not only holds water, but you can cook in it. If you put water in it, heat stones and put them in the water, you can boil food. You can also use it as a waterproof bag for other items, such as metal pieces you don’t want abused.” Thorn raised an eyebrow.
“Good to know.” Candor responded, suitably impressed.
Letti grinned. “We could make soup out here!”
“Have you killed a Calenthari too?” Letti asked.
Thorn wrinkled his nose. “No, I’ve not had the misfortune of coming so close to one.”
Letti nodded.
“Alright, this is?” Candor held the little metal box out to Thorn. He examined it for a moment, popping the top open. It hinged on a small, thin cylinder of metal at the rear of the box, revealing a small piece of metal, suspended under a clear sheet of glass. The circular piece of glass on the bottom of the device bore runes, ticked around its perimeter.
“This is a compass.” Thorn explained. “You—”
“By the Twins!” Candor squealed. “I’ve read about these.”
“Of course, you have.” Said Thorn, grumpily. “You know how to read it?”
“I know the concept; would you show me?”
Mollified, Thorn explained how to find the land’s directions. “You should keep this accessible at all times. It will save your life. Mine has.” Thorn picked up a similar box from his things. His was slightly smaller, but clearly quite old. A small jewel sat on the inside of the top.
“It’s lovely.” Letti smiled.
The rain intensified as Thorn continued to sift through Candor’s items. He identified a small timepiece that, when exposed to the sun, informed the reader exactly what angle the sun made with Icaria. “This one is only really helpful if everyone around you has one as well.”
There was a small box at which Thorn whistled softly. “I’ve always wanted one of these.” He opened it. “It’s an interlude. You can put small things in here, living things, and they will stay alive indefinitely.”
Candor frowned. “What would be the point of that?”
“They were created during the second Fae genocide. This one looks like it was made for pixies. But some were made for gnomes, and larger Fae. You could put one in here that was injured or that you needed to transport somewhere, and as long as he wasn’t exposed to our time stream again, he wouldn’t die. He wasn’t really existing either.” Thorn hesitated. “That requires more of an explanation of majik than we have time for. Don’t lose that.”
He moved on to a small triangular piece with a sliding rod that Thorn, said, could be used to see the stars during the day. “It’s good for navigating, especially on ships.”
A couple glass spheres, Thorn said, could be used as explosive weapons. “You put your concoction inside, cork it, and throw it. Once it’s exploded, the glass will knit itself back together. It only breaks if it’s receiving pressure from the inside.”
“That could come in handy.” Candor replaced her possessions, and thanked Thorn. “You know quite a bit.”
“Yes.” Thorn shrugged. “False modesty is as useless as it is irritating. I have been around a long time. I should know a lot of things. What good is it to remain ignorant when the capacity to learn is at your fingertips.”
Candor grinned, and Letti rolled her eyes. Whatever mistrust her friend had harbored towards the strange man had just evaporated.
“So—” Candor paused as a long, forlorn howl rent the air.
“Don’t worry.” Thorn rumbled. “They can’t hurt us.”
Letti shivered. “They can’t come up the Way?”
“No.” Thorn shook his head. “They do not exist in this world the way Fae or humans do. They were made after the Way was laid; they do not have access.” He spoke as if this clarified the issue.
Feeling a great exhaustion, Candor continued to rewrap her items, beginning with the glass spheres, and finishing with her interlude. She left the compass out and wrapped the small starseer and set it aside.
Thorn hadn’t commented on any of the books, but as she made to wrap them up again, a choking sound seemed to emanate from the big man.
“Where did you get that?” Thorn pointed at the large, decaying book that Candor had plucked from the dais in the middle of her mothers’ subterranean library.
“I assume it was my mothers’.” Candor made to unwrap it again.
“No!” Thorn sprang to Candor, who shuffled back, hissing. She did not like feeling attacked.
“Don’t take another look at that until you make it to the Citadel.” Thorn cautioned, all blood drained from his face. “Promise me.”
Candor, loathe to make such a restrictive promise, felt the cold shiver of some unknown power slink up her spine, and she nodded. She’d ask about the book again later, when Thorn was off guard. For now, she wrapped it once more and thrust it into her pack.
Standing, Candor walked to the clothes she and Letti had hung over the small rail. Snatching a guilty glance behind her to ensure Letti had engaged Thorn, Candor muttered the same word she had heard Thorn whisper to his pipe. A heat rippled through her body, and the colors of the room flickered into heightened vividness.
With a yelp, Candor jumped back. The bottom of her hanging trousers flickered with a small flame.
“Marda!” Thorn leapt across the enclosed space and snuffed the fire with another muttered word. He whirled on Candor.
“What,” he thundered. “Do you think you’re doing?”
Candor grimaced but did not quake. “Majik?”
“Majik” Thorn spat, “should never be used with a question mark.”
Repairing the trousers with another small word, Thorn returned to the far side of the space and flopped down, rubbing his eyes. “Getting you two to the Citadel might be more challenging than I thought.”
“What is that language?” Letti asked.
“What?” Thorn, thoroughly distracted, raised his eyes to Letti, peering at her as if he had never seen something quite like her. Candor made a note to thank her for the distraction later.
“You’ve sworn twice now, and it’s not a word I recognize.” Letti’s eyes were wide and innocent.
“It’s my native tongue. Kotemori.” Still stormy, Thorn puffed to relight his pipe.
“Kotemori…” Letti repeated, “Are you from these mountains?”
“Originally, yes.” Thorn replied. He looked exhausted. “A long, long time ago, these mountains were inhabited. Now strange things, remnants of violence and violation roam these lands. I don’t even think Fae have remained.” Thorn twitched his bare feet. “The closest civilizations lie on the edges of the mountains. There’s one to the south of us. The Ankori, ghosteaters.”
Feeling that she had used up her questions, and unwilling to risk Thorn’s wrath again, Candor folded herself back down next to Letti and listened to the rain. All three fell silent for a few moments, before Thorn hauled himself to his feet, stalked over to the hanging clothes, muttered a word, and snatched them from the bar.
Tossing them to Candor, he spoke quietly. “Listen to me. I will only say this once. Majik is not to be tinkered with. It is not to be used, exploited, or experimented with under any circumstance. You have not been taught, and I will not teach you. If you are really going to the Citadel, and if there are any instructors left, and if you survive the trip there, you might learn something. For now, do not use the words I have accidentally gifted you. Do not use words your mother might have given you. Do not try to affect majik in any way, or I will leave you to your fate. Do you understand?”
Chastened, Candor nodded. Letti’s eyes were wide, fingertips in her mouth.
“Those are dry now.” Thorn snuffed out his pipe. “Repack as much as you like. We’ll eat and sleep. Tomorrow, we continue, rain or shine.”
“By the twins, I hope it’s shine,” Letti whispered. Candor smiled in spite of herself.
By the next morning, the storm had shaken itself out and the air felt clean as Candor climbed down the small staircase that led back to the stones of the way. Glancing up at the little apartment, Candor appreciated the ingenuity of the entire structure.
Quietly, Candor began to step through the Aiadar. She had awoken before both Letti and Thorn, stiff and sore, feeling as though she had spent the last two days being pummeled by waves. She could feel her muscles groan as the slow dance stretched her body. It took a few movements to face the tower again, but when she did, Candor was unsurprised to see that Thorn had descended and was watching her intently. As Candor slid into her next pose, Thorn joined her, flowing through the motions as gracefully as Mo had done. Candor did not allow her surprise to show on her face. She was practicing the Aiadar. Nothing penetrated her concentration during the combat dance. Not even a tall dark stranger who knew the steps better than she did.
As their movements drew to a close, Candor picked up her water skin she’d brought with her. Capping it, she tossed it to Thorn. Catching it deftly, he took a long draught, never taking his eyes off Candor.
Candor grabbed her tunic from the top of the wall where she left it and slipped it over her wrapped chest. Thorn tossed the water back.
“How do you know the Aiadar?” Thorn asked.
Candor shrugged. “Mo—my mother—taught me.”
Thorn hesitated. “Did anyone else in your village look like you?”
“Not a one.” Candor breezed past Thorn and up to their little nest. She had resolved not to ask Thorn any more questions until he was prepared to answer them fully. She had listened to enough half-truths from her mothers.
Thorn watched Candor disappear before leaning over the edge of the Great Stone Way, forlorn gaze falling languidly on the trees and forests that would outlast them all.
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