Reunion

  My dear friend Rhidea,

  I have decided to put away my Coactive Theory studies for a while. Possibly forever. Jinna . . . she died recently—because of me. Thames was blaming himself, but I know it was my fault. We were trifling with things that ought not be touched, and now a friend is dead because of it. Magic is a dangerous force, and not to be trifled with. I wish you and your colleagues the best, but I am done. I hope to see you soon, regardless. Also . . . please don’t believe what you might hear about my illness. I don’t know why Edrius was telling people I was so close to death, because I’m already getting better. It’s not life-threatening, and I’ll be back to full strength soon.

  — Eivael Kalceron

  Manidor 5, 989

  (Norvaen 23, 997—Night Season)

  One week later, we were back in Nytaea. The boat ride was far faster than taking the road by horseback, as horses could not travel round the clock.

  It was the middle of the Sunless Cycle, yet at the third hour of the day, visibility would still be decent if not for the rain pouring down upon the ivory city, rendering all but ten paces ahead completely invisible. The only color came from the orange glow of the torches mounted upon the Palace parapet, battling the rain, slathered so thickly with pitch that it dripped on the cobblestones below.

  I stood on the second tier of the Palace parapet, hands on the crenelated stone battlement that ringed the wall, gazing out into the rain. Kaen stood beside me, arms crossed. “You almost ready for the meeting?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll be in soon.” I sighed. “It’s been a long, crazy trip, Kaen. It’s good to be back, but this rain . . . ugh, what a day.”

  “But that’s not what has you like this. I know you, Lyn. You’ve been in a funk lately, ever since Ti’Vaeth. Maybe before.”

  I hung my head. “You’re right. I’m not really upset or anything, though. Just . . . I don’t know how to explain it. My world, and my place in it, seems to change with every Sol Cycle, every day. And these visions in my dreams . . . I still don’t know what they are.” It wasn’t entirely true, as I had a very good idea of what they were, just . . . not why I had them or what they meant.

  My friend was silent for a moment as the rain continued to pour down. We were getting soaked thoroughly. Hopefully we didn’t catch a cold from this. It was not a cold rain, not the kind that chilled you to the bone and made you want to curl up and die like on some days, especially in the cold Night Season.

  Kaen took up the same leaning position as me. “You really think they mean something? That they’re not just, you know, a manifestation of your own fears, or stories you’ve heard? A way of—of coping with your past? Our past?”

  I shook my head. “No.” I still hadn’t explained them in detail to Kaen, or anyone other than Rhidea. I told her everything important. Almost everything. I trusted Kaen with my life, and had for years, but certain things made him uncomfortable. Authority, political games, talk of other worlds . . . perhaps he struggled to grasp such subjects, and didn’t like to try.

  White always asked me the same question over and over: Well, what do you want me to show you? By now, I remembered most things about those dreams even outside of them. And still they mystified me.

  I didn’t explain any more. Even though I probably should have. “I appreciate your concern,” I said softly.

  Kaen was silent for a minute. “Lyn,” he said at last, looking at me and blinking rain out of his eye, “we still have some unfinished business to attend to, don’t we?”

  My heart began to beat more rapidly, and I shivered slightly—not just from the rain. He has to bring this up now. I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to face it right now. “I thought we weren’t going to—”

  “You said we would talk about it when we got back,” he interrupted. “So here we are. I already talked to Phoebe about it. And she still insists on coming.”

  “I know.” I knew she would. She had a real dark side, just like Kaen. Only while his was a quick-flash anger, one that crouched inside and waited for a chance to spring, hers was that cold, ever-present looming of a wrong that would never be forgotten, the kind that only a woman could have. Her thirst for repayment would never be quenched until she saw justice administered upon the thieves that had killed Lentha, killed our whole orphanage.

  Vengeance. We needed vengeance. I still wasn’t certain on the whole matter. I knew all too well where Phoebe stood, though Mandrie would beg us not to go if she found out about it. That was why . . . well, that was why she would always remain the little sister of the group.

  I felt unsettled about the whole business. It didn’t make me feel right. And yet at the same time, it seemed right. It was right, it had to be. But what would Rhidea say? I hadn’t told her of our plan, partly because she had already promised to inform the authorities about the thieving band and put a bounty on their heads.

  We would see it done ourselves. Just the three of us. I knew that we could do it. And quench my soul in the thickest oil, but I would do it. I would. “Kaen, I will. I’ll go with you.”

  “Really?” He seemed almost surprised. “I thought you weren’t sure about whether it was right or not?”

  I shook my head slowly. “I’m still not. But let’s get it over with before I change my mind.”

  He hesitated, and then nodded sharply. “All right. Two days from now. I’ll let Phoebe know.”

  I was done wrestling with these things. Let’s just get it done and over with, I told myself.

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  The meeting with Mydia’s cabinet was long and boring, as I’d known it would be.

  I finally made it out of the conference chamber, trailing behind Kaen. He was commonly included in such meetings, and occasionally Phoebe, even though they had no high birth, political experience or other such clout. They were part of my group, and I was trusted by Mydia and Rhidea, so it got them in. Ironically, we all hated such things. Politics, schemes . . . mind games. In my case, it was mostly just boredom. I could follow along with most of what was said. Kaen, too, was great with strategy and critical thinking. He spoke up once in a while to add an important detail that helped the governors . . . well, sometimes they just plowed over him, but it could have helped. But he and Phoebe couldn’t stand Gaela or Big Bart. It was hard to blame them on that point.

  Mydia managed to squeeze out of the conference room a bit later and catch up to me. She took me by the arm, and I turned to look at her. She had on a beautiful green dress and her queenly tiara. She almost looked like she fit the thing. Almost. The tiara, that is, not the dress. Mydia remained Queen Regent. I didn’t understand it completely, but the government was still somewhat amorphous.

  Everyone was relieved to hear, however, that there would be no war between Nytaea and the far more powerful empire of Kystrea, of which we had been a part until recently. It wouldn’t have been much of a war, more a bug-stomping. A rebellion to squash. Just one of thirteen to put down. But we would have gone down fighting. Nytaea was easily the largest and strongest of the thirteen—but had few experienced leaders, and twelve versus one made for terrible odds.

  Bart and Gaela had done well in Mydia and Rhidea’s absence. Keuda’s experience as a state secretary and Lanthar’s military knowledge had seen the city-state well prepared (as well as possible) for the expected invasion and working smoothly. New soldiers were being trained. Kaen was offered the position of corporal, but he turned it down, as he had already chosen to set out with us. I was half surprised that Phoebe didn’t try to take the spot, as ferocious and ambitious as she was. She was going to stay and look after Mandrie for us. She always tried to pretend she didn’t have a motherly side, and yet it came out so naturally.

  Kaen and I were relieved to see the girl for the first time in a month. Mandrie always seemed to brighten a room just by being in it. She stood in the hallway now, a brilliant smile on her face. I knew she still bore emotional scars from her imprisonment in the tower, but she was recovering remarkably well. “Lyn!” she chirped. “I’ve been waiting this whole time with Phoebe. She said I couldn’t go in, so I stayed here.”

  I smiled and scooped her into an embrace, ruffling her hair as I always did. “Thanks.”

  She grinned. “It wasn’t that bad. Are we still going out for lunch in the city?”

  Kaen rolled his eyes. “Yes, we’re still going out. Come on, Myd . . . ah, Your Majesty. You’re paying, remember?”

  The queen held up her money pouch. “Of course. What do you think I have all this money for?”

  We were soon strolling through the rain-glossed streets of the alabaster city in search of a reputable restaurant—trailed all the while by Mydia’s persistent Queensguard. The rain had subsided and the stars shown amongst the auroras in the sunless sky.

  It felt like old times, yet now we acted as high-society snobs, searching for a sit-down restaurant instead of just a bakery selling something to eat. We were eating for the social activity of it, not for mere sustenance. Well . . . I was pretty hungry. Mydia would be paying a pretty penny just to feed Kaen and me. We could eat a bear just between the two of us. It didn’t really matter if I was using my strength or not: my metabolism chewed through anything I gave it. Mydia and Phoebe were always jealous, but they didn’t understand the hunger.

  The establishment that we chose was a well-respected one frequented by anyone of middle-to-high class, bearing a cute overhang and a carved wooden door. The Pleasant Pastry. Inside, the dining room had a low-hanging ceiling with wagon-wheel lanterns suspended from crisscrossing beams. The lantern light cast a warm glow on the place, augmenting the aurora light that seeped in through the open windows at the front. We sat at a table near the front, proceeding to order a large plate of rolls and butter and a roast turkey to share. Kaen and I got a beef roast as well. Meat of any kind was a luxury we orphans had never been able to afford, particularly choice cuts.

  Mydia wore one of her usual disguises, that of a thin noble-woman a few years her senior, bearing unremarkable features—yet I caught a few knowing glances and nods from the present nobility that indicated it might be a bit too common by now. Of course, if they had noticed the Queensguard waiting just outside the door, that would have been a dead giveaway as well.

  Our conversation was mostly light, with a lot of laughter. Phoebe and Kaen had accepted Mydia as one of our group, and Mandrie treated her like just one more older sister. Kaen seemed to feel a bit uncomfortable in our group, being outnumbered four to one by gender, but it was the more familial kind of discomfort that a boy might show growing up in a family with eight sisters (not too uncommon on Mani, remember). Mydia and Mandrie were the only ones in our group who were anything resembling ladylike, or . . . girlish. Whichever one it was. I was probably supposed to know the difference.

  Afterward, we went to see the orphanage that Phoebe had helped to start. It lay on the western side of town, a repurposed warehouse purchased with grant money straight from the Nytaean royal treasury. I had been overjoyed to hear of the matter. This was only one of three new orphanages. Inside, a stocky young woman in a matronly dress greeted us warmly. “Phoebe! You brought your friends like you said.” She put her hands on her hips and looked the four of us up and down. “Well, I’m Berta. Come on in.”

  We did so, following Berta. Immediately inside, a couple of young noses poked out, a girl and a boy, bringing a smile to my lips. As she showed us around the place, some dozen children running about the different rooms, I felt a growing sense of sorrow building within my chest, weighing me down, contrasting with the bright happiness that should have dominated. The two emotions, strong as warhorses, struggled against each other.

  Looking to my side, I saw that Mandrie seemed to be feeling the same conflicting emotions, albeit a little differently. They were the childlike emotions of one torn from her childhood, as opposed to my own . . . different ones. Ugh. I couldn’t make sense of it, yet I couldn’t help but shake my head and grimace a bit, lips trembling, eyes misting up. I never got emotional like this. I’d been trying so hard to ignore that day . . .

  Kaen took hold of my shoulder. “Lyn, are you all right? You look awful.”

  I nodded. Then I shook my head slowly, backing up, drawing complaints from a couple of the children. “No. I feel . . . I don’t know. It’s just a bit too much for me. It hasn’t been long since . . . you know . . .”

  “Just hang in there. Remember, this is a beautiful thing. Try not to associate it with the past. She’s making a new start here.”

  I nodded. “Thanks. You’re right. I think—” I wiped my eyes “—I’ll be all right.” I felt so stupid for crying.

  We made our way back over to the others, and a little girl approached me tentatively. “Are you sad, Miss White Hair?”

  I smiled despite myself. Dropping to my knees, I took the girl’s tiny hand in my own two hands and said, “Yes, child. I am. But I’m also so very happy, and sometimes you have to balance both of those in the best way.”

  The girl nodded as though she understood, and then shook her head. “I don’t understand, but . . . you’re really pretty.” Then she cracked a winning smile.

  My smile deepened, tears running down my cheeks, and I scooped the girl up in a hug, careful not to crush her small frame. She squealed in delight, and I spun her around. The other children swarmed around me, some reaching their arms up for a similar ride.

  Berta smiled. “They seem to like you, Lyn.”

  “Careful around her,” Phoebe warned them with mock rebuke. “She’s secretly a monster. Cracked many a man twice her size over the head and threw a couple from the Palace.”

  The children giggled.

  I supposed it was a funny story to hear, despite being nearly accurate. I ignored Phoebe’s jibes, however, lest I spoil the moment by my reactions.

  A short time later, we left the orphanage, leaving a package with Berta. Contributions to the children: clothing and food. Then we headed back to the Palace.