The Broken Kingdoms (31 page)

Shiny and I made our way along quietly, keeping close to buildings rather than crossing the Promenade. That would’ve been faster—the White Hall was directly across from us—but also more conspicuous, even amid the milling crowd. Most Villagers knew better than to enter those parts of the city frequented by visitors; doing so was a good way to get rousted by Order-Keepers. They would be tense today, and a good many of them were young hotheads who would just as soon take Shiny and me into an empty storehouse to deal with themselves. We needed to reach the White Hall itself, where they were more likely to do the proper thing and take us in.

I had discarded my makeshift stick, as it was too much of a giveaway. I barely had the strength to hold it, anyhow; a fever had sapped what little energy I’d gained from resting in the Village, forcing us to stop frequently. I walked close behind Shiny, holding on to the back of his cloak so that I could feel it when he stepped over an obstacle or skirted around milling folk. This forced me to keep low and shuffle a bit, which added to the disguise, though I could feel that Shiny hadn’t done the same, walking with his usual stiff-backed, upright pride. Hopefully no one would notice.

We had to pause at one point while a line of chained people came down the street with push brooms, sweeping the bricks clean for the day’s business. Debtors, most likely, only a step away from life in the Ancestors’ Village themselves. Working despite the tension in the city. Of course the Order of Itempas would not disrupt the city’s daily functions, even under a god’s death sentence.

Then they were gone, and Shiny started forward again—and abruptly paused. I bumped into his back, and he put back an arm to push me aside, into the doorway alcove of a building. Unfortunately, he touched the broken arm in the process; I managed not to scream, but just barely.

“What is it?” I whispered, when I’d regained enough self-control to speak. I was still panting. It helped me feel cooler, given the fever.

“More Order-Keepers, patrolling,” he said tersely. The Promenade must have been crawling with them. “They did not see us. Be still.”

I obeyed. We waited there long enough that Shiny’s morning glow began. Irrationally I worried that it would somehow draw the Lights, even though no one had ever seen the glow of his magic but me. Though perhaps it would work in our favor and draw some godling instead.

I jerked back, blinking and disoriented. Shiny held me up, bracing me against the door.

“What?” I asked. My thoughts were blurry.

“You collapsed.”

I took a deep breath, shivering before I could help myself. “Just a little farther. I can make it.”

“It might be best if—”

“No,” I said, trying to sound firmer. “Just get me to the steps. I can crawl from there if I have to.”

Shiny obviously had his doubts, but as usual he said nothing.

“You don’t have to go in with me,” I said as I recovered. “They’ll just kill you.”

Shiny sighed and took my hand, a silent rebuke. We resumed our careful movement around the circle.

That we reached the White Hall steps without trouble was so amazing that without thinking, I whispered a prayer of thanks to Itempas. Shiny turned to stare at me for a moment, then led me on up the steps.

My first knock on the big metal door got no response, but then I hadn’t knocked hard. When I tried to lift my hand again and swayed on my feet, Shiny caught my hand and knocked himself. Three booming strikes, seeming to echo through the whole building. The door opened before the third blow’s echoes had faded. “What the hells do you want?” asked an annoyed-sounding guard. He grew more annoyed as he assessed us. “Food distribution will be at noon, the way it is every day, in the Village,” he snapped. “Get back there or I’ll—”

“My name is Oree Shoth,” I said. I tugged back the hood so he could see I was Maroneh. “I killed three Order-Keepers. You’ve been looking for me. For us.” I gestured tiredly at Shiny. “We need to speak to Previt Rimarn Dih.”

They separated us and put me in a small room with a chair, a table, and a cup of water. I drank the water, begged the silent guard for more, and when he brought no more, I put my head down on the table and slept. The guard had obviously been given no instructions about this, so he let me sleep for some time. Then I was roughly shaken awake.

“Oree Shoth,” said a familiar voice. “This is unexpected. I’m told you asked to see me.”

Rimarn. I had never been so glad to hear his cold voice.

“Yes,” I said. My voice was hoarse, dry. I was hot all over and shaking a little. I probably looked like all the infinite hells combined. “There’s a cult. Not heretics—Itempans. They’re called the New Lights. One of their members is a scrivener. Dateh.” I tried to remember Dateh’s family name and could not. Had he ever told me? Unimportant. “They call him the Nypri. He’s a demon, a real one, like in the stories. Demon blood is poison to gods. He’s been capturing godlings and killing them. He’s the one who killed Role and… and others.” My strength ran out. I hadn’t had much of it to begin with, which was why I’d spoken as quickly as I could. My head drooped, the table beckoning. Perhaps they would let me sleep some more.

“That’s quite a tale,” Rimarn said after an astonished moment. “Quite a tale. You do seem… distressed, though that could simply be because your protector, the god Madding, has gone missing. We keep expecting his body to turn up, like the other two we found, but so far, nothing.”

He’d said it to hurt me, to see my reaction, but nothing could hurt more than the fact of Madding’s death. I sighed. “Ina, probably, and Oboro. I… heard they’d gone missing.” Perhaps the discovery of their bodies had triggered the Nightlord’s dramatic warning.

“You’ll have to tell me how you heard that, since we’d witheld that information from the public.” I heard Rimarn’s fingers tap against the tabletop. “I imagine you’ve had a difficult few weeks. Been hiding out among the beggars, have you?”

“No. Yes. Just today, I mean.” I dragged my head up, trying to orient on his face. People who could see took me more seriously when I seemed to look at them. I willed him to believe me. “Please. I don’t care if you go after them yourself. You probably shouldn’t; Dateh’s powerful, and his wife is an Arameri. A fullblood. They’ve probably got an army up there. The godlings. Just tell the godlings. Nemmer.”

“Nemmer?” At that, at last, he sounded surprised. Did he know Nemmer, or perhaps know of her? That would figure; the Order-Keepers had to be keeping track of the various gods of Shadow. I imagined they would keep an especially close eye on Nemmer given that her nature defied the pleasant, comfortable order of the Bright.

“Yes,” I said. “Madding was… they were. Working together. Trying to find their siblings.” I was so tired. “Please. Can I have some water?”

For a moment, I thought he would do nothing. Then to my surprise, Rimarn rose and went to the room’s door. I heard him speak to someone outside. After a moment, he returned to the table, pressing the refilled cup into my hand. Someone else came in with him and stood along the room’s far wall, but I had no idea who this was. Probably just another Order-Keeper.

I spilled half the water trying to lift it. After a moment, Rimarn took it from my hands and held it to my lips. I drank it all, licked the rim, and said, “Thank you.”

“How were you injured, Oree?”

“We jumped out of the Tree.”

“You…” He fell silent for a moment, then sighed. “Perhaps you should begin at the beginning.”

I contemplated the monumental task of talking more and shook my head.

“Then why should I believe you?”

I wanted to laugh, because I had no answer for him. Did he want proof that I’d leapt from the Tree and survived? Proof that the Lights were up to no good? What would sway him, me dying on the spot?

“Proof isn’t necessary, Previt Dih.” This was a new voice, and it was enough to startle me awake, because I recognized it. Oh, dear gods, how well I recognized it.

“Faith should be enough,” said Hado, the New Lights’ Master of Initiates. He smiled. “Shouldn’t it, Eru Shoth?”

“No.” I would have leapt to my feet and fled if I could have. Instead I could only whimper and despair. “No, I was so close.”

“You did better than you realize,” he said, coming over and patting my shoulder. It was the shoulder of the bad arm, which was now swollen and hot. “Oh, you’re not well at all. Previt, why hasn’t a bonebender been summoned for this woman?”

“I was just about to, Lord Hado,” said Rimarn. I could hear anger in his tone, underlying the careful respect in his speech. What…?

Hado humphed a little, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead. “Is the other one prepared? I’m not keen on wrestling him into submission.”

“If you like, my men can bring him to you later.” I could actually hear Rimarn’s frosty smile. “We would make certain he is sufficiently subdued.”

“Thank you, but no. I have orders, and no time.” A hand took my good arm and pulled me up. “Can you walk, Lady Oree?”

“Where…” I couldn’t catch my breath. Fear ate at my thoughts, but I was more confused by the conversation. Was Rimarn turning me over to the Lights? Since when had the Order of Itempas been subservient to some cult? Nothing here made sense. “Where are you taking me?”

He ignored my question and pulled me along, and I had no choice but to shuffle at his side. He had to go slow, as it was the best pace I could do. Outside the little room, we were joined by two other men, one of whom grabbed my injured arm before I could evade him. I screamed, and Hado cursed.

“Look at her, you fool. Be more careful.” With that, the man let me go, though his companion kept a grip on my good arm. Without that, I might not have remained standing.

“I will take her,” said Shiny, and I blinked, realizing I had grayed out again. Then someone lifted me in strong arms, and I felt warm all over like I’d been sitting in a patch of sun, and though I should not have felt safe at all, I did. So I slept again.

Waking, this time, was very different.

It took a long time, for one thing. I was very conscious of this as my mind moved from the stillness of sleep to the alertness of waking, yet my body did not keep up. I lay there, aware of silence and warmth and comfort, able to recall what had happened to me in a distant, careless sort of way, but unable to move. This did not feel restrictive or alarming. Just strange. So I drifted, no longer tired, but helpless while my flesh insisted upon waking in its own good time.

Eventually, however, I did succeed in drawing a deeper breath. This startled me because it did not hurt. The ache that had been deepening in one side where I thought the ribs were cracked was gone. So surprising was this that I drew another breath, moved my leg a little, and finally opened my eyes.

I could see.

Light surrounded me on all sides. The walls, the ceiling. I turned my head: the floor, too. All of it shone, some strange, hard material like polished stone or marble, but it glowed bright and white with its own inner magic.

I turned my head. (More surprise there: this did not hurt, either.) An enormous window, floor to very high ceiling, dominated one wall. I could not see beyond it, but the glass shimmered faintly. The furniture around the room—a dresser, two huge chairs, and an altar for worship in the corner—did not glow. I could see them only as dark outlines, silhouetted by the white of the walls and floor. I supposed not everything could be magic here. The bed that I lay on was dark, a negative shape against the pale floor. And threading up and down through the walls at random were long patches of darker material that looked like nothing I had ever seen before. This material glowed, too, in a faint green that was somehow familiar. Magic of a different sort.

“You’re awake,” said Hado from one of the chairs. I started, because I had not noticed the silhouette of legs against the floor.

He rose and came over, and as he did, I noticed something else strange. Though the other nonmagical objects in the room were dark to my vision, Hado was darker. It was a subtle thing, noticeable only when he moved past something that should have been equally shadowed.

Then he bent over me, reaching for my forehead, and I remembered that he was one of the people who had killed Madding. I slapped his hand away.

He paused, then chuckled. “And I see you’re feeling stronger. Well, then. If you’ll get up and get dressed, Lady, you have an appointment with someone very important. If you’re polite—and lucky—he may even answer your questions.”

I sat up, frowning, and only belatedly realized my arm was encumbered. I examined it and found that the upper arm had been set and splinted with two long metal rods, which had then been bound tightly in place with bandages. It still hurt, I found when I tried to bend it; this triggered a deep, spreading ache through the muscles. But it was infinitely better than it had been.

“How long have I been here?” I asked, dreading the answer. I was clean. Even the blood that had been crusted under my nails was gone. Someone had bound my hair back in a single neat braid. There was no bandaging on my ribs or head; those injuries were completely healed.

That took days. Weeks.

“You were brought here yesterday,” Hado said. He set clothing on my lap. I touched it and knew at once that it was not the usual New Light smock. The material under my fingers was something much finer and softer. “Most of your injuries were easily treated, but your arm will require a few more days. Don’t disturb the script.”

“Script?” But now I saw it as I lifted the sleeve of the nightgown I wore. Wrapped into the bindings was a small square of paper, on which had been drawn three interlinked sigils. The characters glowed against my silhouette, working whatever magic they did just by existing.

Bonebenders might use the odd sigil, generally the most commonly known or simple to draw, but never whole scripts. Anything this complex and intricate was scriveners’ work—the kind that cost a fortune.

“What is this, Hado?” I turned my head to follow him as he went over to a window. Now that I knew to look for that distinctive darkness, he was easy to see. “This isn’t the House of the Risen Sun. What’s going on? And you—what the hells are you?”