Citadel of the Sky (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 1) (6 page)

Tiana said eagerly, “Wonderful. I knew you could do it. What do you see?”

Kiar dragged her gaze away from watching Iriss strum her viola and peered at the smears across Tiana and the King. Her eyes stung, and she said, “Can you put the necklaces down? It’s hard to see them under your own markings….” She heard the gentle clinks as the necklaces were placed on a table. But all she saw were the smears, a darkness across the Logos where she thought they must be.

“Lord of Winter,” she breathed. Fear rushed through her, and she wondered if Hook had seen this. She turned towards the window and brought herself into focus with the King’s eidolons. Their outlines were distinct, their features invisible, and as they moved, they left a fading visual echo behind them that didn’t quite match their movements. Then she looked at the opal necklaces again. In comparison to the eidolons, the darkness of the pendants was as vast and deep as the Logos itself.

“How can that be? What am I missing?” she muttered and picked up one of the necklaces, trying to recalibrate her sight.

“How can what be?” asked Tiana. “What did you see? What’s going on?” Jerya shushed her, and Kiar was grateful.

She squeezed her eyes closed, opened them, and promptly over-focused. A horrible buzzing attempt to describe the smear emerged from her throat. Panic overwhelmed her and she flung the necklace away from her. Stuffing her fist in her mouth, she stumbled to the window.

The eidolons scattered away from her as she fumbled open the latch and pushed the window open. Then she spat out a mouthful of blood and vomit, and leaned out, gasping for breath. Her natural vision blinded by tears, she still registered the Logos of the outdoors, and it was a balm on her sight.

In the courtyard far below, a line of supplicants waited for admittance to the Court of the Justiciars, to beg for judgement or rewards. The detailing of their life-forces was sharp and beautiful, for the most part. Too sharp; it would cut her if she couldn’t ease back out of focus again.

“Kiar?” Tiana said behind her. Her voice was high. “Are—are you all right? I didn’t think….”

Kiar dragged in a deep breath. “I’ve been better.”

Tiana said, “What was that… sound?”

“That’s what happens when you have a half-trained idiot look too hard at eidolons.” She stared at the line outside. There was something odd about it, but she couldn’t identify what it was.

“What… can you explain?” Tiana’s voice was timid, and Kiar felt even worse for worrying her.

“Everything around us is just information, Tiana. It’s just words. The difference between an ordinary person and somebody who’s taken plepanin is that plepanin tears away the gift of interpreting the world as a coherent whole. Surviving the plepanin means relearning how to do that. But our Blood magic isn’t part of the Logos and it obscures it. If you’re properly trained, like Twist, you learn how to work around the marring. If you’re me, you try to put words to what can’t be described.”

She turned around and looked at the necklaces again. The one she had flung away was still on the ground, and the other one was on the table. No matter how carefully she looked at them, she couldn’t see anything underneath the eidolon shadow.

“Well, they’re the same in at least one way. They’re eidolons or so deeply touched by them that the taint obscures anything I could see. I’m sorry.”

Jerya frowned. “Both of them?”

Kiar nodded. “Yes. I know they look… real. But they smear the Logos exactly the same way eidolons and emanations do. I don’t know what Hook saw that made him think they might be connected to… to the Blood’s madness. Honestly, I have no idea how he hoped to interact with them, now that I see them with the Logos.” She paused and added bitterly, “I’m sure Twist would know.”

Tiana sounded puzzled. “No matter how I approach it, either someone with the family magic has to be involved, or there’s some new kind of fiend.”

Kiar frowned. “What makes you say that?”

Tiana looked up from her fingers. “I know they’re connected, Tomas and the pendant. I just can’t see how.”

Kiar frowned and turned to lean back out the window to look at the line again. Normally, she’d believe Tiana’s certainty was self-delusion. But because the phantasmagory was involved, because Tiana had led them unerringly to the second pendant, that certainty could be significant. Or it might just be her fantasy. There was simply no way to tell.

She finally identified what had she had noticed staring out the window before. “There’s someone in the plaintiff line marked by family magic. Why is that?”

Iriss stopped her melodic strumming and Jerya rose to her feet. “Who?”

Kiar pointed out two peasant men standing together, near where the line vanished into the court, at the second guard checkpoint.

Jerya stared at them for a long moment and then turned and marched to the sitting room door. She opened it and said, “You, come here.”

Berrin followed her back to the window, where she pointed out the same men. “Bring those men up here. Tell them they’ve been granted the honor of a personal audience with the King.”

Berrin looked taken aback, almost as if he was going to argue. But then he gave a quick smile and bowed. “As you say, Your Highness.” Then he left.

Jerya said, unsmiling, “Let’s find out. Maybe there’s a simple explanation.”

Tiana moved her hands in agitation. “More bastard theories.”

Iriss spoke up, “Parts of the Regency Court have been talking about Benjen again.”

Lisette said, “The courts like to see Benjen in every shadow, despite the more recent Blights.”

The King said flatly, “Benjen is dead.” Everyone looked at him. Kiar thought he would know, since he’d been there.

But Jerya said, “We shall see.” She returned to the window and watched.

Kiar closed her eyes until Berrin returned and announced the visitors. “Presenting Wallis Jacoby and his brother Clary, from the village of Rushing Fork.”

He herded in two men. One was clearly frightened, holding his hat in his hands with his eyes on the floor: a typical peasant pulled aside to meet people high above his station. The other’s form rippled with unformed eidolons, cascading and dancing within him. His behavior was extraordinary as well; his head was high, wild eyes staring around the room, his mouth moving constantly. His brother maintained a tight grip on him, even as he bowed deeply.

“Thank you, Berrin,” Jerya said, turning from the window. She smiled at the visitors.

Iriss murmured, “Gentlemen, you are in the presence of His Majesty King Shonathan, Her Royal Highness the Crown Princess Jerya, and Her Serene Highness Princess Tiana.” She gestured fluidly at each princess as she identified them. Kiar had long ago convinced the Regents to leave her out of any introductions.

Tiana touched the King’s hand, and he jerked. “Ah, yes. Always good to meet new people. Why are we meeting these fine men, Iriss dear?”

Wallis Jacoby looked up from his bow, saw the King’s eidolons, and fell to his knees. “Honored… we’re honored, Your Majesty.”

He didn’t sound honored. He sounded terrified. His brother, free of Wallis’s restraining hand, took two steps forward before tripping over his feet and sprawling across the carpet.

Jerya seated herself, still smiling. “Why did you come to court today, Wallis?” Clary pulled himself to his knees and sat there, his mouth moving in silent speech.

The man stared silently at the ground for so long that Kiar had to look elsewhere. Looking at the liquid movement of the substance of Clary’s form was making her stomach turn again. Tiana had her eyes closed, and Kiar was more than willing to believe the younger princess had slipped into the phantasmagory. But Jerya just sat there, her smile fading into a patient, reserved expression. Iriss was equally still, her pale shadow, although her gaze was focused on the afflicted man.

Finally, the man Wallis risked a glance up. “The taxes, Your Highness. Half our village has been afflicted by the plague, and we’re having difficulty with the crops.” Clary’s eyes darted around the room, and he pushed himself to his feet. Wallis pulled him down again.

Jerya said, “The plague… tell me about the plague, if you please.” Her brow furrowed.

The man said, “Oh, Your Highness, it’s a terrible thing. My brother Clary survived it, and as you see, he’s only fit for the simplest tasks now, even with supervision. You see? You see how his mouth moves? Once he spoke and he described the nightmares the fever brought him, but his voice died and all his stupid jokes with it.”

He swallowed and continued. “Half the village has been touched by the screams, and it kills at least half those it touches. My daughter and wife are gone as well.” Sorrow and rage threaded through his voice.

“I see. My sympathies for your loss,” said Jerya. She paused and he lowered his gaze again. “But you say you came about your taxes? Surely, even if you reside within this county, you wouldn’t need to come all the way to the Justiciar’s Court to renegotiate your tax obligation. Has the count’s magistrate failed you in some way?”

“The magistrate died, Your Highness, and the replacement selected by the count has chosen not to inspect the territories, in light of the troubles we’ve been having.”

Jerya said, “Ah, the troubles.” She paused, then said, “Tell me about the troubles?” There was an expression Kiar didn’t recognize on the elder princess’s face: a strange sort of intensity.

The man looked up again, doubt and confusion on his face. “Which ones, Your Highness?”

It was Jerya’s turn to be silent, gazing at the man. He ducked his head and pulled his brother closer. Finally, she said, “Let’s start with the one that caused the death of your magistrate.”

“A fiend,” he said promptly. “There are a terrible number of fiends about these days, spoiling crops and stealing children and preying on the lonely.”

“And?”

“My granddaddy always said that fiends bring out the bandits. But everyone’s pretty sure a fiend took this one, on account of the tax money being left behind, and all the blood.”

“And the other troubles?” Jerya laced her fingers together.

“The weather. It’s been so… wrong.” The sour rage under his terror leaked through his voice. His brother tried to stand again and was jerked down. “It’s hurt the harvest the last three years running.”

Jerya said, “Your count is not sympathetic? There has been peace for almost a decade.”

“We’re farmers, Your Highness. The failure of the harvest is our own fault, or so our lords claim.”

Jerya frowned for the first time. “I see. And does your count protect you from the bandits?”

The man looked down and chose his words with care. “I’m sure he tries very hard, Your Highness.” Then he turned to look silently at the King, who was tapping his fingers together in sequence and watching in bemusement.

Jerya said, “Very well, Wallis Jacoby. I will investigate the situation. I would like you and your brother to be our guests for the next few days, in case I need any clarification.” He slumped, looking beaten.

He’s expecting a prison, realized Kiar.

But Jerya went on, “Berrin. Escort these men to the Palace housekeeper and see that she finds them appropriate quarters. Comfortable ones, please.”

The man blinked and then rose to his feet, bowing and pulling his brother after him. “You’re very kind, Your Highness.” His hunched shoulders smoothed out as he bowed.

After Berrin shepherded the men out, the King said, “Yithiere stopped the last Blighter at the border. It had almost no impact on the common folk. What they remember is Benjen.” He sighed. “What they fear is us.”

Jerya glanced at her father and then said, “Kiar? What did you see?”

Kiar said, “The simple one was touched by eidolons. Not like the pendants, but like Lisette or Iriss.”

Iriss said suddenly, “I could read his lips. At least, I think so. The brother. Clary.” She said his name like she was tasting it. “He was saying the same thing over and over, mostly. Like he had a song in his head.” She absently began strumming her viola again.

“Well, what was it?’ Tiana asked.

Iriss said, “Oh! Um. Let me see. Dead, dead, dead star, between midnight and dawn. Dream, dream, dream, night drags on. Monster, monster, monster, it’s not real. Never, never, never, nightmares don’t heal.” She fell silent, and as the silence dragged out, she turned pink. “I didn’t say it made sense. But I did see it. I practice!”

Kiar blew out her breath. “Very cheerful. So. Eidolon pendant. Eidolon-touched plague victim. Unfamiliar eidolon at the funeral. I think there
must
be an unknown member of the Blood.”

Tiana said, “Are you sure it was eidolons? Our magic?”

Kiar’s patience snapped. “Benjen the Bastard gets not one, but two, entries in the history of Blighters. Why are you so set against the idea that any of the Blood could do something bad?”

Tiana looked frightened. “I’m not. I just don’t think it—I don’t want another Blood Blight. I—” she glanced at Jerya. “I know how bad they are. This isn’t anything like Benjen. A plague? Is it, Daddy? Tell them. Whoever it was would have to be
here,
and you can’t make people sick with eidolons or emanations.”

Kiar took a deep breath. Then, begrudging the words, she said, “You’re probably right. Without seeing more survivors of the plague, I can’t prove a supernatural influence. Depending on where his village is, Clary may have run afoul of Cathay or Yithiere on one of their rides, or something even more arcane. The pendants date from long ago. And one stray eidolon does not, strictly speaking, make a Blight.”
Even if it killed Tomas.
“But it
was
an eidolon, Tiana.”

Tiana lowered her gaze and sat, chewing her lip. Iriss asked, “Will they ever forget, Your Majesty?”

Kiar said, “Not as long as bastards of the Blood go Blighter.”

Lisette said sharply, “It’s not limited to bastards, Kiar.”

The King said to Iriss, “I don’t know. You know me and memory. Rinta and Yithiere didn’t think they would. But Tomas… Tomas had a plan for easing some of the nightmares.”

Jerya said, “What was it?”

The King scratched his chin. “I’m not really sure. He didn’t want to burden me with it. Something to do with the Justiciars. I don’t attend council meetings much, you know.” Another eidolon stepped out of the King. “Tomas did that for me.”