Page 18 of Witchlight
The Hell-Bards meanwhile ogled the new arrivals. The walls and ceiling were sharply square; the stairs worn but well carved. Firewitched lanterns guttered in sconces nearby, but twenty paces up and twenty paces down were shrouded in total darkness.
“Empress… Vaness?” the Hell-Bard woman asked, her green eyes so wide they pulled at scars fanning across her cheek to her ear. She was young with a heart-shaped, pale face. “Is this real? Is thatreallyher, Zan, or am I seeing those nightmares the prince warned us about?”
“I… think it’s her, Lev.” The man’s eyes scrunched. He was a giant, his neck so wide it gave him the illusion of having no neck at all. Meanwhile, his short hair was the same color as his browned skin, while a new beard sprouting across his face gleamed fiery red.
“Itisme,” the Empress said in Cartorran, lifting her hands appeasingly. “I am no nightmare. And these are two friends of mine. Cam.” She waved to the boy. “And… Livia.”
Well, Vivia supposed itwaswisest to avoid revealing her true identity. However, as far as aliases went,Liviawas blighted bad. And the woman Lev clearly agreed. Her eyebrows crooked high. “Livia, huh? And a Nubrevnan admiral too, who looks a lot like how the rightful queen is described.”
Vivia sighed. She was glad to hear the wordrightful—and frankly glad she wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone she wasn’t. Her brain couldn’t handle any more tumult right now. “Yes, you’re right: I am Vivia Nihar, rightful queen of Nubrevna. Cam here, though…” She laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He really is Cam, but he doesn’t speak Cartorran, so if you might be so kind as to explain why you’reherein the middle of this mountain, then I will translate the situation to him.”
“It’s simple,” Lev answered, shrugging at Zander. “We were supposed to use the magic doorways in the mountain to travel, but. Well, the ruttin’ mountain changed on us—twice. We’ve been wandering around ever since. It’s almost… what, two days now? Kind of impossible to tell, honestly.”
“Travel to where?” Vaness asked as Vivia translated softly. The boy, his mouth agape, just listened and wagged his head.
“Nubrevna, of course.” Lev said this in a way that suggested both Vivia and Vaness should have known. “Because we have letters. For you.” She looked at Vaness as she said this. Then twisted toward Vivia. “And for you.”
Vivia stopped her translation. “Aletter? From whom?”
It was Zander who replied, his voice somber and practiced: “From Her Imperial Majesty Safiya fon Cartorra. She requests your aid immediately in Poznin, and in return, she will give you all the soldiers you need to reclaim your rightful thrones.”
NINE
By the time Merik finished his pitiful but blessedly warm stew, he and Aurora had company.
The boy clung to the safety of the stairs, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. But there was also an air of awe around him as he took in the sight of Aurora, tail wagging and drool hanging like ribbons from her mouth.
“She won’t hurt you,” Merik assured, still using Marstoki. “Her name is Aurora. It meansdawn. What’s your name?”
The boy didn’t answer—nor did he flee. So Merik shifted back to his cycling of languages, just in case he had judged the boy’s clothing wrong. Cartorran. Dalmotti. Arithuanian. Marstoki. It was in Merik’s third attempt at Marstoki that the boy finally reacted.
“Revan,” he said, his voice surprisingly strong. “My name is Revan. What…isshe?”
“She’s a storm hound. Just a puppy though. I found her much like I found you. She needed someone to feed and help her, so I did.”
Aurora’s tail wagged faster. The boy risked a smile, though it died almost as soon as it arrived when a shiver rattled through him. He was better dressed than Merik for these elements, but he was still just a child. “Where are we?”
Merik inhaled at that question. A drawn-out, audible breath to steel him against what he was about to say: “Poznin. It’s very far from where I assume you must have come from. Which is where, exactly?”
“Tirla.”
Very far indeed. And the boy must be son to one of the powerful merchant families there; it would explain the fine clothes and rings. “Do you remember anything?” Merik asked. Aurora meanwhile rolled onto her back.
It made the boy smile again. And in turn, Merik’s own attempt at a smile widened. “Have you ever had a dog?”
Revan shook his head.
“Then come. I think she’d like her belly rubbed, but it’ll take two sets of hands.”
Revan didn’t move. Merik’s smile wanted to falter, but he kept it pasted on. “Like this.” He demonstrated, and the scratching sound of his palms on Aurora’s belly—as well as her contented grunts—filled the tower.
Revan still did not come in. “There used to be a lady here, didn’t there?”
Merik nodded.Scratch, scratch, scratch.
“She was bad. She brought me here. And my mother too. But I don’t see my mother out there. Just all those…” He hesitated. Then uttered a word Merik had never heard before:Kyrestiri.
“Kyrestiri?” Merik repeated, letting his ministrations to Aurora pause.
