Aside from my in-depth conversations with Aveela, I had never before experienced the deep intrigue in the ancient Lifkin that I found mirrored in Herald Devrim. I pulled several maps together, indicating some of the inconsistencies of the Hume’s research and records and clarifying mysteries on their diagrams that Aveela’s extensive first-hand spirit accounts answered.
The maps arrayed before me were most curious, and only a few of which I’d seen before. For the most part, they looked to have originated from Lifkin archives—labeled in our tongue and ancient runes.
Scanning over the maps, I pulled out the ones that showed different models of islas. While for the most part each of the floating islands had been self-sufficient, there were still distinct purposes among them, especially between those in service to the empress and those privately owned by her nobles.
I pressed flat the ancient parchment with a diamond-patterned isla along its top. A few of the runes had smudged with time, but most remained readable. “I believe this is closest to the isla we’ll find to the north.” I quickly explained the purposes of some of the older islas—a column-shaped isla intended for research, the small, light islas that were rumored to be the size of sailing waterships meant for transportation between the islas. “And of course there are the primary residence ones, with broad tops and lots of underground chambers.” The outer, flat surfaces of these islas were home to the wealthiest members while the lower areas housed Lifkin servants, Hume servitors, and the “undesirable” Hume, as most of the records labeled them.
“From what I could tell when I found the isla, this one is of moderate size and affiliated with the empress. I’m not sure what purposes it served for her—”
Devrim interrupted me, “My research has provided clues.”
His voice was low, with a hint of either suspicion or a warning, it wasn’t immediately clear which.
I showed Devrim where the passages for Hume servants would have been within the isla’s structure, an essential understanding for our journey to the isla and search for whatever artifact the herald believed was waiting inside. I didn’t go so far as to press to find what that artifact might be. If it was the Seed, as I feared, I had to trust myself to resist whatever magic the herald had used to compel Bansaerin to lie about the sheriff’s death if he turned it on me to investigate why the Seed was missing.
If the artifact was something beyond the Seed, then its surrender to the Hume would buy my people’s safe journey into the frigid north. I know what Bansaerin and the other Nightblades would say to such a possibility, but they weren’t in a position to bargain with the Hume. That had fallen to me.
“You are proving a most valuable resource already,” Devrim said to me with a nod. “Well done, Cranwin.”
“Thank you, sir.”
With goodwill on my side, I took the opportunity to further my own suit. “I’d like to see Bansaerin, before we leave.”
The herald had just called the guard captain over to his side. He barely glanced at me. “That won’t be necessary.”
I frowned at Devrim. He didn’t think that just because we’d made a bargain that I would consent to everything he said, did he? I raised my chin. “It is necessary to me, as part of our arrangement. He should know what to expect and that his wrongful imprisonment is soon coming to an end. And when he’s released, he deserves to know it’s not another Hume trick.”
“Hmm.” That drew his full attention. The herald looked me over, as though trying to gauge whether or not I was serious in my insistence.
I was.
“Very well.” He waved his hand, and Hytham straightened, hands behind his back. “Kessim will take you.” Herald Devrim nodded to the other adjudicator who, when called, extracted himself from his conversation at the side of the sanctuary and hurried to present himself before Devrim.
Hytham made as to speak, thought better of it, and reconsidered again as Kessim drew near. His gaze darted between the three of us, but the pressing energy of the herald’s presence drowned out whatever he was trying to communicate to me.
Kessim was older than Hytham and missing the chivalric air that Hytham carried—that’s how they would have described it in the ancients’ romances anyway.
He remained relatively quiet as we crossed the sanctuary, passed through an arched wooden door into a small room, and took a winding stair down into the cellar where I knew, already, the dungeon was held.
My stomach dropped at the stiffening of Bansaerin’s shoulders when he heard approaching footsteps. Did he know Kessim already?
“Saerin?” I murmured the nickname I’d given him a few years before my coming of age, when I first told him about my magic.
Bansaerin whirled around, eyes wide in panic. He clutched the bars and looked me over. The bruise over his eye that I’d tried to heal had faded, but he had a new cut and bruise along his cheekbone. “What are you doing here?” he demanded in Lifkin. His knuckles tightened on the bars, gaze darting from me to Kessim.
The adjudicator stopped a dozen paces away, and I hurried to Bansaerin’s cell. I placed my hand against the non-swollen side of his face. “They’ve been hurting you.”
“I am much more concerned about how they’ve gotten their hands on you.” He glared past me to Kessim.
“I’ve reached an understanding with them, in consultation with my uncle and the chief. I’m to lead them to the ruins, and then they’ll set you free.”
“Draeza, how? The ruins?” Relief and fear flickered back and forth across his expression, dueling for which was stronger.
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“There’s something they seek up there, in the isla. I told them that I would help them find the way more quickly in exchange for them setting you free.”
“But why would they—”
“It seems to be an artifact they want rather badly. And we both know you’re innocent.”
Bansaerin reached up and took my hand in his. “I didn’t want you to put yourself in danger for me.” The gold of his gaze darkened. He was worried.
“I made it to the isla before on my own. I can lead them there . . . while our family travels north.” I slowed my speech so he would take my meaning. I didn’t think this other adjudicator, Kessim, spoke Lifkin, but I guarded my speech nonetheless.
His shoulders relaxed only slightly at my explanation. We both remembered the fear of the Great Displacement, being unable to sleep, on edge with the slightest sound of hooves on the road, certain the Hume soldiers would pursue us, run us down. I didn’t know what he had done over the last several days trying to protect us, but I knew it was as much on his mind as on my own. It was the true purpose of the Nightblades—ensuring the survival of our family.
“When they set you free, go to my cousin’s house.” And don’t get arrested again, I wanted to add but restrained myself. This wasn’t his fault, and there was every chance a second arrest wouldn’t be either. “I will leave word with her to be expecting you, while you recover.” I wetted my lips. “Please be kind to Parrith.”
Bansaerin scowled. No to that, then.
“Time’s up,” Kessim announced from his position near the cellar door that led back up into the church.
“If you have to leave before we return—”
“I’ll leave word for you,” Bansaerin promised, tightening his grip on my hand. “Please, Draeza, be careful.” A warning Bansaerin had told me over and over flared behind his gaze. You cannot trust them.
I nodded back and released him, reluctantly pulling myself away to return to Kessim’s side.
I looked back at him as Kessim led me out and down the hall. Bansaerin stared after me. Maybe when I returned from the isla we could find the Umbral Wolves together.
“Is he your lover?” Kessim asked as we climbed the stair.
“Excuse me?” My steps faltered and I paused midway on the staircase, the new Adjudicator a few steps ahead of me.
“The prisoner. The two of you seem to care a great deal for one another.”
“Oh.” I continued forward, thankful for the dim light and curling staircase which would hide the color flushing against my cheeks. On multiple occasions, Mirdal remarked upon how obvious it was when I am embarrassed, only making repetitions of said embarrassment all the more embarrassing for being so self-evident to not only myself but to anyone curious enough to be watching.
I didn’t know how to answer Kessim with what precisely Bansaerin and I were to one another, or at least not what we might like to be. “We do care a great deal for each other.”
I doubted Bansaerin could hear our conversation, but I didn’t want to risk any further dashes to his hopes, even if he no longer cared for me in that way. Or if he ever had in the first place—the matter has always been confusing to me where Bansaerin was concerned.
“Do you have a lover?” When in doubt, I’ve found it easiest to turn the questioner’s questions back upon them. Most people fail to notice such a tactic and it allows me the intriguing experience of learning another’s secrets while concealing mine.
“I do.” His chest swelled and he lengthened his stride, gaining the narrow room at the top of the stairs. “Several in fact.”
I couldn’t help the surprised “Oh” that slipped through my lips for the second time in a matter of moments. “And do you care about them?”
“In the moment I do.”
His answer was matter-of-fact and yet I found myself struggling to understand what precisely he meant. A multiplicity of lovers was quite a different state of affairs than what I had imagined to be normal for adjudicators.
“Do these lovers live in separate places?” This seemed the easiest way to organize such a feat, and he seemed pleased by my question.
“They do.” Adjudicator Kessim beamed. “Luisa is in Dust, naturally, and Marcus an hour or so outside Roaane. Imelda lives in a small town, Vallich, which I doubt you’ve ever heard of, and Iris . . .” He listed a few others, but they grew increasingly difficult to remember.
Just before we reentered the sanctuary, I found it most prudent to redirect our conversation back nearer to what we’d been talking about as I feared where the conversation about his lovers might lead and I did want to reach a place of understanding between us as he was to be traveling north as well. “What about friends? Do you care about them?”
“Of course I do.” Adjudicator Kassim was more naturally boisterous and, well, louder than Hytham. The enthusiasm of his response seemed much closer to what I had been hoping to convey before.
“Ah, then perhaps it would be easier to say that Bansaerin and I are friends.”
“Almost brothers-in-arms, then?” the adjudicator added as he swung open the arched wooden door, strode through, and held it ajar for me.
“Yes. Err, well with the addendum that we are not militaristically involved.” It seemed unwise to let him barrel ahead believing that Bansaerin and I had violent aims of one sort or another. Though the Nightblades had on multiple occasions planned dramatic responses to the events unfolding in the wider world, no violent action had ever actually been taken and I had no wish for an adjudicator to believe us capable of such violence now that Hytham and I had just managed to convince the Order that Bansaerin should go free.
With Herald Devrim distracted by travel preparations, I made my way to Hytham’s side and settled beside him in one of the rough wooden pews. With so grand a room, it seemed a waste to have nailed uncomfortable wooden benches into the floor. How might they be moved for recognitions and celebrations? Did the Hume remain shoulder-to-shoulder in rows on all occasions?
“Your friend, he is well?” Hytham asked. He looked me over, a habit I was growing more accustomed to.
“He is, though still hurt. I could not help him in front of Kessim.”
“You should be careful, around Kessim.”
I grinned. If only Hytham knew how much he sounded like Bansaerin. Undoubtedly he would give me the same warning about Bansaerin my uncle had, and Bansaerin would warn me about Hytham in turn. Were I to follow all of their advice, I would have only Uncle and my cousins for company. “He seems pleasant.” I lowered my voice. “I do not think he is going to enchant anyone into swallowing their own tongue.”
Hytham shook his head, his expression dark. “He is not an honorable man.”
I sighed through my nose. If Kessim’s many lovers did not know about one another then no, such a choice was not honorable, but it should not entail that the man be rejected outright. “Do you have any allies here? Anyone close to you within the Order?” I wanted to know who else we could count on as we traveled to the isla.
“I have you.”
I pressed my lips into a line and glared back at him. If he was making a jest, it was not humorous. “You need allies, people who can help you.” I shot my gaze over toward Devrim, hoping my meaning was clear.
“You are not odious to talk to,” he replied, as though the matter was settled.
What was his plan for when this was over? When I went north with my family and he continued in service with Devrim? How was he to survive?
My stomach growled, equally as frustrated as I was. I thought of the warmth of the tavern and the pleasant, floating sensation inspired by the ale. “I’m hungry.”
Hytham grinned and gestured to the end of the aisle. We made it to the door of the church before the herald called us back, his voice as sharp as Uncle’s had been when he caught me and Mirdal playing too close to the river when we were small. “The aides are bringing food presently. Please”—he waved toward the front of the church where men in brown robes slowly paced forward with baskets and silver trays in hand—“join me.”
