The Red Sea (40 page)

After asking around, he learned Winden was out tending to the Basket. He hadn't seen it since the Tauren had pillaged it, and despite having heard of the damage, when he saw it in person, his heart sank. Trees had been hacked down, piled up, and torched. Flowers lay in great wilting heaps. Fruit had been smashed with mallets and—unless his nose deceived him—defecated on. Winden was among a handful of people raking out the wreckage to clear the circle and start anew.

"We'll be leaving tomorrow," Dante told her. "Before we go, I've got two last tasks. The second is to visit the Dresh, let them know what happened, and grow them a new Star Tree."

"As for the first?"

Dante bit his lower lip. "Do you have any dreamflowers here?"

She motioned to the shredded trunks and moldering leaves. "They ripped up everything. There's nothing left. But there may still be some at the temple above the city."

"Thank you. I'll go take a look."

"Are you going into the Mists? Do you want me to come with you?"

"I'll be fine." He tipped his head at the remains of the Basket. "Your time is better spent here."

Back in town, he located Blays at his fencing grounds, where he waited until they concluded the morning's training.

"I need to go into the Mists," Dante said. "Alone. But I'd like you nearby in case anything goes wrong."

Blays toweled the sweat from his face. "The Mists? Don't tell me there's more we need to know about the Star Trees."

"I'm going to find Larsin."

His eyebrows shot up. "Yes. Of course. Whenever you're ready."

They headed up the main road, which had been stomped down by the passage of a battalion. Dante was afraid the Tauren might have sacked the temple, but it stood unmolested. After a short search, they located a bush of the orange flowers growing in the woods behind the building.

Dante arranged himself on one of the pallets inside the temple and consumed the flower. "Let's hope I know what I'm doing."

Blays snorted. "When has that ever stopped us?"

Dante closed his eyes. Before he knew it, his world faded behind him.

He woke in the bed. As before, it was much too small. As he swept off the sheet, it tore apart in a shower of crusty fragments. The bedroom was festooned with cobwebs and mouse droppings. Outside, the overhang had collapsed onto the porch. The mug he'd taken his smallbeer in was smashed beneath the rotten beams, half buried in the dirt like the shards of pottery he sometimes found in the norren hills.

There was no sign of the monk, living or dead. Dante descended to the basement, prodding his way down the moldy steps. Three of them snapped. At the bottom, he turned around and hiked back up.

He exited the blank white portal into the vaporous land beyond. There, he walked forward, picturing his father's face. Trees began to jut from the all-encompassing clouds. Minute by minute, the mist thinned. He was in a dense deciduous forest that smelled of dew and shade. A path resolved from the dirt. He followed it.

And found himself facing the exact cabin he'd just left. It was much newer, though. Well-maintained. Like the first time he'd come to the Pastlands.

His heart raced. If he was stuck, would he be able to remember the way out? What if his mind faded as it had before, and this time, rather than hours of real time, he lost years here, adrift like the Dreamers on their beds?

Something rasped from the side of the house. He headed for the sound, ready to accept his cup of beer from the waiting monk.

In the side yard, a man straightened, leaning on his broom. He was nearly as young as Dante. Disbelief, shock, and recognition filled the eyes of Larsin Galand.

Larsin drifted forward. As he neared, Dante saw the man wasn't quite as young as in his memories. Nor as he'd appeared on horseback in the Pastlands; his dark hair was starting to recede from the temples, and as he smiled in awe, the corners of his eyes crinkled deeply.

But it was, without doubt, him.

"You're here." Larsin's smile collapsed on itself. "Then are you..?"

"Dead?" Dante said. "No, despite everyone else's best efforts. I'm Dreaming."

His father laughed in relief. "But you're there? On the Plagued Islands?"

"And we've defeated the Tauren. Not only that, but we rediscovered the Star Trees. The cure for the ronone."

''Then he was right," Larsin murmured. "Did you come here to tell me this?"

"Preserving your people's freedom was your life's work. I thought you had the right to know it's been fulfilled."

"You're sure the Tauren are gone? We've beaten them back before only for them to return."

"Vordon's dead," Dante said. "Along with at least half of his soldiers. The return of the Star Trees has forged a new alliance between the Kandeans and the Boat-Growers. I wouldn't be surprised if others join them soon."

"Aye, that would do it. Incredible. Once the Mallish started arming the Tauren, I didn't think we had a chance."

"There's more. The Dresh aren't all dead. We found a town of them on Spearpoint Rock. After this, we'll be inviting them back to the main island."

Larsin gawked. "Is there anything more? I'm quickly running out of shock."

Dante tipped his head to the side. "That's everything. Relevant to you, at least."

His father nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm at a loss for words. I long ago got used to the idea that I'd never see you again. I'm sorry. For everything."

"I don't need your apology."

"I can see that. But I need to make it. If you'll allow me."

This sounded familiar. Had Larsin and Niles had become such good friends because of their similarities? Or in order to manipulate Dante, had Niles become exceedingly adept at imitating Larsin's thinking?

Dante nodded. "I know you couldn't have come back. You'd have had to turn around for the islands within days. And me being me—prone to ignoring anything resembling authority—I would have found a way to follow."

Larsin smiled, eyes crinkling again. "So I left you with that much, at least. As for the cleverness, that's all your mother."

Dante gestured around the glade. "Is…she here?"

Larsin's mouth formed a tight, crooked smile. "If so, I haven't found her. Rebuilding the cabin we used to live in is the closest I've got."

"This part of the Mists seems to be reserved for the islands. Even if there was a way to get to her, by now, she's probably crossed into the Worldsea."

"Could be. But if she has, she's forgotten me. If I go there, I'll forget her too."

"Even if she's gone," Dante said. "Death can't take away the time you had together."

"Don't be wiser than your father. It's unseemly."

"Does that mean I'm right?"

"Aye, you might be. But I'm in no hurry to decide, am I?" Larsin set his broom against the side of the cabin, tilting his head. "What prompted you to come here in the first place?"

Dante laughed wryly. "Your friend Niles pretended to be you. He sent me a letter."

Something crossed the man's face, but Dante didn't know him well enough to read it. "I never wanted you to come here. I knew you had enough problems of your own. I couldn't ask you to risk your life here for me."

"Niles didn't seem to have any problem with it."

"And all it took was a letter?"

"And its deliverer." Dante rubbed his mouth. "He sent Riddi."

"So you met her!"

"In a sense. She brought me the letter, but she was netherburned. Sick with the ronone. She died. I'm sorry."

Darkness clouded Larsin's eyes. His jaw and neck tightened. He pressed his lips together, as if to prevent himself from vomiting up something vile. He snatched up the broom and smashed it against the cabin.

"I didn't want to tell you this. His voice shook; he was breathing hard. "But his actions have killed your sister, too."

"Whose actions?" Dante said. "And what do you mean, 'too'?"

"Did Niles tell you how I died?"

"Campaigning against the Tauren. You fell down a cliff."

"I didn't fall." Larsin gripped the broken broom handle tight. "I was pushed."

"By Niles?" Dante's voice was now quivering, too. "Why?"

"Because I refused to send for you. He argued with me for weeks. But I wasn't about to put such a burden on you. Even if he'd summoned you here on the sly, he knew I would have sent you right back home. He must have decided the only way to do it was to get rid of me. And pretend to
be
me."

Dante fell silent. A cold wind cut through the shadows cast by the forest. "It was good to see you, father. You were a better man than the one I knew."

"Wait." Larsin stepped forward, grabbing Dante's forearm in a harsh grip. "You can't kill him."

Dante raised a brow. "Then why did you tell me what he'd done?"

His father gritted his teeth. "May I make one request of you?"

"Speak it."

"Make it quick."

Dante nodded. He turned his back on the cabin and walked into the woods.

* * *

He awoke in the pallet in the temple. For a moment, as the fog cleared from his aching head, he tried to tell himself it hadn't been real. That he
had
been stuck in the Pastlands, tormented by his own fears.

But this couldn't be so. After seeing his father, he'd fallen asleep, as you did to leave the Mists. And an instant later, he'd been here.

"What is it?" Blays said. "I'd say you look like you saw a ghost, but considering that was the plan, did you
not
see one?"

Dante rubbed his eyes. "I spoke to my father."

"I see. I'm glad you went, but I'm sorry it went badly."

"It was a good talk. But he told me something that was hard to hear. His death—it wasn't an accident."

Blays drew back his head. "He was beloved here. Their only hope to take down the Tauren. Why would anyone kill him?"

"Because he refused to ask me for help."

Blays' eyes went hooded. "So someone got him out of the way. To do what he wouldn't. Do you want my blessing?"

"Would I need it?"

"He was your father. That makes you sole arbiter of this decision."

Dante stood. "We leave tomorrow morning. Be ready."

He walked alone to town, found Naran, and made plans to depart. Then he strolled into the woods. And waited.

Since the victory over the Tauren, Niles had been sleeping in a stone house on a hill overlooking the bay. At midnight, with the moon his only witness, Dante crept into the house, moved to the back room, and stood over Niles' bed.

Niles' eyes popped open. With a groan of surprise, he sat up, pawing at the side of his mattress where his sword was leaning. "Dante? Lyle's balls, you gave me a start!"

"I went into the Mists," Dante said. "And I found Larsin."

"He's still there? I would have thought he'd be off to find his wife by now."

"Were you counting on that? Whenever we went into the Mists, you made sure you were with me. Why? So I wouldn't learn the truth?"

Niles furrowed his brow. "What did he tell you? You know the dead have no respect for the living. They'll tell you anything if it suits their purposes."

"Sounds like someone else I know." Dante stepped closer. "We're past words, Niles."

The older man's face went tight with fear. He lunged for the sheathed sword. Dante rooted him to the mattress with a web of shadows. Niles slapped feebly for the weapon, but it was inches from his reach.

Niles relaxed, rolling his eyes toward Dante. "He was my friend! He meant far more to me than he did to you. But the Tauren were breathing down our neck. Growing stronger by the day. There was only one way to stand against them. And he wouldn't do it."

"So you did what was necessary."

"You're damned right I did! If the Tauren kept on, we were all dead anyway, weren't we? So what did his life matter? If he didn't have the guts to save our people, then I had to do whatever it took, didn't I?"

Dante picked up the man's sword, unsheathing it with a hiss of leather. "Do you think that absolves you?"

"I know you understand the burden of committing dark acts in the name of the light. You would have done the exact same thing. How dare you come to punish me?"

"Because," Dante said. "I'm not very nice."

Niles' jaw trembled. He shut his eyes, then opened them. "Let me stand."

Dante backed away from the mattress and released the net of shadows. Niles swung his feet off the bed, inhaled deeply, and stood.

"Put Winden in charge. The Boat-Growers respect her. So will the others."

"A fine choice."

Niles pursed his lips, eyes going stony. "I won't apologize. I did what needed to be done. I saved my people."

"I'm not saying you did wrong," Dante said. "But that won't save you."

"Will it hurt?"

He shook his head. "Larsin asked me to be quick. But I would have been anyway. After everything, a piece of me respects you."

Niles closed his eyes again, tipping back his chin. As he inhaled—perhaps to speak more, or perhaps to clear his head—Dante reached into the shadows within his heart and stilled them.

* * *

He dragged the body outside, past the bay, and dumped it in the Currents.

He slept fine. To make sure he saw Winden, he woke earlier than he would have liked. She was by the shore, overseeing a handful of shaden the divers had brought in from the bay.

Seeing him, she stood. "You're leaving today?"

"In a few hours."

"Take as many as you like." She gestured to the shells. "But they lose their power within a few weeks of death."

"Really? Then why are the Mallish so interested in them?"

"I've never even been to Mallon. But if my wild guesses are that valuable to you, I'll try."

"No need. Either they've found a way to preserve them, or they think they can." He touched her arm. "We need to talk. Alone."

She frowned, following him down the beach to a quiet patch of shade. "Is something wrong?"

He locked eyes with her. "Have you ever gone into the Mists to see Larsin?"

"The living aren't supposed to cross over. Kaval forbids it. And the dead, they're disturbed by it."

Dante found it hard to believe the living accepted such strictures, but he saw no lie in her eyes. "I found him. His death wasn't an accident. Niles killed him."

He explained what he'd learned. Winden's expression was stunned, then outraged. By the end, her face raged like the whirlpool of Arawn's Mill.

"He did it, didn't he?" she said. "Why didn't I guess this?"

"Because you wouldn't have wanted to believe it."

Shadows gathered around her hands. "Where is Niles?"

"Dead. I killed him last night."

Winden stared at him, then nodded. "Good. You may go, then. I'll tell my people what he did and why he's gone."

"You can't tell them the truth. Things are too fragile here. If it gets out that Niles murdered his best friend, it could tear Kandak apart. Drive your allies away."

"Our leader is dead. There's no hiding that!"

"You don't hide it," Dante said. "On our way out, we're going to see the Dresh. Tell your people that Niles came with us. That after we made peace with the Dresh, while crossing back, a wave knocked him off the bridge. This way, his last act was to help find forgiveness for your people."

Winden's brown eyes burned like candlefruit. "You want me to lie. To my friends."

"Your people have survived for centuries by lying. You're their leader now, Winden. You have to do whatever it takes to protect them. From their enemies, and from the truths that might destroy them."

"Tonen."

Dante nodded. "Tonen."

"I'm not sure I'm ready for this," she said. "I'm not sure I
want
it."

"No one's ever ready to lead. The only way to get there is by doing it." He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight. "It will be hard. Just remember how many people are relying on you. That can be scary. But it can be a source of great strength, too."

She withdrew, clear-eyed. "Do you think you'll return some day?"

"No time soon. Too much work ahead of me. But I feel like I've hardly scratched the surface of what there is to learn here." Dante walked into the sun, staring out at the twinkling sea. "Besides, I'd come back here just to feel this again."

He returned to town to gather up his few possessions, including his notebooks and a few boxed-up shaden. Blays waited by the shore, chatting with the townsfolk.

"Are you sure we have to leave?" Blays said. "I have an alternate idea: we move Narashtovik here."

"Convince the People of the Pocket to help me detach it from the coastline and float it down here, and you've got a deal."

A longboat rowed in, beaching itself. After a few hugs and farewells, they climbed aboard. The sailors pushed off. On the shore, the Kandeans broke into their song of goodbye. Dante wanted to close his eyes to remember it better, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from what they were leaving behind.

* * *

Waves crashed to either side, casting spray into his face. He walked on, barefoot for a better grip on the still-warm line of rock snaking out to Spearpoint. Blays was with him, but he was otherwise unaccompanied, with the
Sword of the South
anchored in one of the few protected coves along the Joladi Coast.

On the tiny island, the Dresh awaited him, having seen the steam. They carried arms but didn't brandish them. Their eyes were questioning. They led Dante and Blays through the woods and the orchards to the village on the aquamarine bay. Sando and Aladi sat in the shade, shelling nuts and dropping the refuse in an orderly pile.