Moth (18 page)

The king walked toward a bed of hyacinths and tulips, turned toward Torin, and stared at him steadily.

"I would be happy to free Bailey," he said. "She's a good friend of yours. Same as I was good friends with your father. I still care about friendship. We'll head straight to the temple and free her from its dungeon. Furthermore, I will command Ferius to never harass her again. Are we agreed then? You will march with me to Eloria?

Torin stared back, eyes narrowing.

"Are you . . ." He tilted his head. "Your Highness, are you saying you will only free Bailey if I join you in this war?"

The king stared at him a moment longer. His words spoke of friendship, but no compassion filled his eyes, only ruthless calculation. The king's face seemed as cold and hard as a stone jabbing into flesh.

"Choose, Torin," said the king. "Choose wisely. Return to your gardens . . . or march with me into war, and Bailey will be freed."

Torin stared back, mouth agape
.

He's serious,
he thought.
By Idar, he means to let Bailey remain underground unless I join him.
He swallowed.
I'm not a soldier! I'm just.. I'm just Torin the Gardener. How could I inspire the troops, even if my father was a hero?

He shut his eyes, remembering walking into the dusk with the bones of the slain Elorian. He remembered seeing the young woman there, the Elorian girl with the scarred face. He remembered her eyes, blue and as large as chicken eggs, staring at him in fear and wonder. He remembered the lights of the village gleaming behind her.

They are a peaceful people,
he thought.
I know that they are. How could I march with my king to burn them?

In his mind, the vision of the Elorian girl melted, and he saw Bailey's face. She smiled at him mockingly and called him Winky. Freckles covered her nose and cheeks, and her two golden braids shone in the sunlight. He ran with her through the fields, swam in the river, and wrestled with her atop bales of hay.

Bailey. My foster sister. My dearest friend.

And he saw her shackled in the dungeon. He saw the monks of Sailith torturing her with blades and whips. He saw her aging in chains, growing old and feeble, crying for him to save her.

I must save you, Bailey,
he thought, eyes stinging.
You would want me to spit upon the king. You would want me to leave this garden in disgust. But I cannot leave you.

He lowered his head and touched the hilt of his sword, the same sword he had fought the Elorian with. He raised his stinging eyes, looked at the king, and swallowed a lump in his throat. He nodded.

"Let's go free Bailey."

 
 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
THE ELDERS

She wandered through the city, thin and caked with dirt, a wild thing like a gutter rat. Once she had hunted upon the moonlit plains, clad in white furs. Now she scuttled through alleys, her tunic in tatters, scrounging for scraps. Once she had fished upon the Inaro River, steering her boat to the very edge of dusk. Now she crept and pounced upon spiders, stuffing them into her mouth before her revulsion could stop her.

"I've gone from a proud woman of Eloria to an urchin," Koyee said softly. "And still the elders won't see me."

How long ago had she left Oshy? It must have been almost two moons, Koyee thought. Most times she could not see the moon at all; it hid behind pagodas, towers, and the smoke of ten thousand chimneys.

As Koyee walked toward Minlao Palace yet again, as she did every hourglass turn, her belly ached and her eyes stung. She had not eaten or slept in far too long. The graveyard had been safe, the ghosts—both real and imaginary—guarding her sleep. Now Koyee slept upon roofs and in alleys, one eye always open, scanning the darkness for danger. Twice men had attacked her in her sleep, and twice she had bolted up, swung her sword, and scared them off. Those encounters left her feeling brittle, a threadbare rag fluttering in the wind.

"Pahmey," she whispered, looking up at the glittering towers of the city center. "Jewel of Eloria. The light of the darkness. The scourge of urchins and beggars."

Step by step, her bare feet black with grime, she emerged from the slums and wandered the wide, cobbled streets of the city's wealthy. Koyee did not like walking here. Too many soldiers patrolled these boulevards, wont to banish her back into the dregs. Yet still Koyee came here every hourglass turn, her hair in tangles, her belly tight, her sword across her back.

Armor clanked ahead and boots thudded.

Koyee leaped aside, hid behind the statue of an ancient emperor, and watched ten soldiers march down the road. They looked as glorious as she was filthy; their scale armor shone in the starlight, and their smoothed faces stared ahead blankly. Katanas hung across their backs, the hilts adorned with tassels, and round shields hung upon their arms.

When they had passed her by, Koyee emerged from the shadows, quick and silent as a spider, and continued up the street.

When she reached the palace again, she approached the robed guards and already felt her belly sink. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her blue ribbon. So many times she had come here, begging for an audience, only to be told to wait.

"Yet we have to keep trying, Eelani," she said. "We have to warn them of Timandra. We have to bring aid back to Oshy."

Her shoulder spirit hopped upon her shoulder. Koyee knew what she was thinking.

"Yes, Eelani, and we need to eat too. We'll find food soon, I promise. We can steal without the Ghosts too."

She reached Minlao, stared up at the crystal tower, and saw the elders move within its dome. With a sigh, she waved her blue ribbon at the guards.

"It's me again," she said. "Koyee Mai of Oshy."

The guards, tall and stoic and clad in white robes, smiled as they always did. Koyee stuffed the ribbon back into her pocket and turned to leave.

"Now let's go find some food, Eelani."

A pleasant voice rose behind her.

"Koyee Mai of Oshy. The elders will see you now."

She froze.

Her eyes narrowed.

She spun back toward them and tilted her head.

"Can you repeat that?" she said.

The guards smiled gently, as if they were commenting on the weather, as if Koyee hadn't begged them for entry since the spring.

"The elders of Pahmey will see you now. Koyee Mai of Oshy, bearer of the blue ribbon?"

She nodded hesitantly, still not sure this was really happening. "Yes, that's me."

The guards moved aside, exposing the gates.

"Your audience is granted, Koyee Mai. Enter the crystal palace, and may the wisdom of the elders bring you peace."

Her heart burst into a gallop. So many emotions swirled through her: relief, fear of Timandra, anger at her delay, and eagerness to finally deliver her warning. She didn't even care that she was clad in tatters, caked in dirt, and scrawny as a stick. She darted between the guards, raced up marble stairs, and barged through the gates into Minlao Palace.

A glass chamber awaited her, larger than all the huts in Oshy combined. She had never seen such splendor. A pool lay in the center, full of fish of every color. A staircase of golden wire coiled around the water, rising up the tower. Glass tubes topped its railing, full of water; glowing fish swam within, moving up and down the staircase, to and from their pool.

Koyee's mouth watered, and she was tempted to reach into the pool for a fish, but she had no time for a meal. She began to climb the staircase, twisting around the pool below, ascending the crystal tower.

With every step, the pool grew smaller below, dwindling to a mere puddle. Koyee climbed, legs weak and head spinning, only her resolve driving her on. She panted but dared not grab the railing for support. Even a hundred steps up, fish still swam within the glass tubes, their fins tipped with glowing bulbs, darting up the tower and back down to their home.

The walls glimmered around her, carved of crystals. Through them Koyee could make out the glimmer of the city lights, thousands of lanterns spreading across the hill. She tried to search for landmarks, but could see no more than blotches of light and shadow.

She was wobbling, coughing, and gasping for breath when she finally reached the tower top. She must have climbed a thousand steps.

"Oh merciful moonlight, Eelani," she said, wheezing, and fell to her hands and knees. "We used to be stronger, don't you think?"

It was a few moments before Koyee could stand again. When her heart slowed and her head stopped spinning, she beheld a door forged of silver and gold. She cleared her throat, turned the knob, and stepped inside.

Her breath died anew.

"It's . . . it's like being inside the moon," she whispered.

She stood within a dome—a dome so large, she thought a castle could fit inside. The walls and even the floor were made of glass, and as Koyee walked into the chamber, she squeaked in fright. This was no opaque glass like the bricks of the slums. This glass was pure and transparent; Koyee felt like she was walking on air. Below her feet, she could see the city roll out. Streets, houses, people, statues—they all seemed as small as toys. A smile spread across her face.

"It's beautiful, Eelani," she whispered, eyes damp.

Her shoulder spirit tugged her hair, and Koyee raised her head. She gasped.

An obsidian table stood ahead upon the glass floor. On its surface stood a brazier shaped like a dragon's mouth, flames crackling between its bronze teeth. Fifteen chairs surrounded the table, and upon them sat old men. They wore robes of silver, gold, and white silk, and embroidered sashes encircled their waists. Around their necks hung moonstar amulets. Their white beards flowed down their chests, between their knees, and onto the floor. Their eyes, almost as large as Koyee's fists, turned toward her.

Koyee wasn't sure what to do, and so she simply knelt.

"Elders of Pahmey," she said, head lowered. "I am Koyee Mai of the village of Oshy upon the dusk. I come bearing a warning." She looked back up at them. "Timandra has attacked us. A sunlit demon of the day slew my father. Our village needs aid."

The elders gazed at her, blinking silently.

Koyee straightened and stared back.

The silence stretched on.

Finally Koyee cleared her throat and spoke again, louder this time; perhaps the elders were hard of hearing.

"A Timandrian crossed over from the dusk!" she said, letting her voice echo in the dome. "He slew my father. I saw the prints of many more. I fear that they will attack our village again. Please, elders of Pahmey, send aid to my village. Send soldiers to defend Eloria."

Again they only stared at her silently, blinking. Several stroked their beards, and others looked up through the crystal dome, studying the stars.

"Elders of Pahmey!" Koyee repeated, heart thrashing. "Will you not speak?"

Her fingers shook and she wanted to throttle them. Had she survived all this time, come all this way, only to be ignored?

Finally one old man, his beard rolling across the floor, opened his mouth and spoke in a voice like crumbling parchment.

"The Timandrians, child, are but a myth. No living creature can survive the heat and light of a blazing sun." He smiled like a grandfather to an errant child. "The sunlit half of the world is a wasteland, a great hearth that burns all life."

Koyee could barely breathe. Her eyes stung. She took a step closer.

"I saw one!" she said. "I saw a sunlit demon. A Timandrian." Her voice shook. "His eyes were small like the eyes of a rat. One of them was green and the other black. His skin was bronze, his hair dark as dirt." A tear flowed down her cheek. "The Timandrians killed my father. They burned him to nothing but bones. Please, elders of Pahmey, heed my warning or the Timandrians will attack again. They are evil. They thirst for our blood. They will sail down the river and they will reach this city too and—"

"Child!" said another elder, voice sharp. He rose to his feet, a slim and frail man. His fingernails coiled out, a foot long and painted gold and lavender. "You saw only a vision in the dusk. I visited the border many years ago. The light shines there, cruel and taunting, and shapes seem to scurry within it. You saw only the whisper of a dream, only a legend, no more real than ghosts or sea monsters."

Koyee's fists shook. She looked from elder to elder. "You must believe me! I saw a demon. I truly did! I . . ."

Her words trailed off. She caught a reflection of herself in the glass walls, and she realized how she looked. A frail thing coated in dirt, her hair wild, her face scarred.

They thought she's only an urchin, she realized—one of the many mad souls who wandered the city streets, shouting of prophecies or doom or monsters in the night.

"Timandrians are real," she said again, but her voice was quiet now. Defeated.

The elders nodded sympathetically, and their stern faces softened. Kind smiles raised their mustaches.

"You have nothing to fear here in Pahmey, child of the border," said one, his skin naught but wrinkles. "You are safe here in our city, strong walls and strong guards protecting you. No monsters or ghosts can harm you. Now run along downstairs and seek our kitchens; a warm meal will await you there."

Koyee lowered her head, deflated. She took a few steps back toward the door and then looked over her shoulder. She spoke with a loud, trembling voice, tears in her eyes.

"Timandrians live, and they are cruel, and they will attack Oshy, and they will attack all of the Qaelin Empire, and their light will burn across Eloria. You will see them too, elders of Pahmey, but it will be too late. Their light will burn this city like flames burn meat."

With that, she spun around and ran downstairs, her eyes burning. She fled the palace grounds. She raced across the city streets, not caring if guards saw her. When finally she entered an alley, she curled up in the shadows, gritted her teeth, and whispered burning words.

"I will stop them, Eelani. I will stop the Timandrians. I will face them alone, just me and my sword, if I must. I will protect my home."

Her shoulder spirit nuzzled her cheek and said nothing.