Page 74 of Witchlight
Iseult knew the answer was because she wasn’t like Safi. Because she couldn’t let only instinct guide her. But now, in this long, long pause, Iseult had learned her opponent, had learned her terrain. So now she could choose her perfect battlefield, target the heart, the brain, the king at the center of it all.
Yes, it might be a trap, but if Ragnor could keep going with his legs cut off, then so could Iseult. For Safi, for Aeduan, for all of the Witchlands and the Moon Mother sleeping below.
THIRTY-SIX
Merik called themWakers,the Cleaved who’d returned to life. He found only a few each night, buta fewhad quickly added up to nearly a hundred. Sometimes the Wakers returned to life during the day, and those people often wound up in the clutches of the Raider King.
But any Cleaved who awoke at night—they were for Merik to find. For Merik to protect. Thus far, the Raider King hadn’t learned Merik was slipping in, hiding himself in shadow and snow and city ruins. And Merik planned to keep it that way.
If Ragnor knew the Cleaved were being stolen away, he might make it so none of the Cleaved could ever leave again.
Tonight, Merik took the tunnel into the city. Occasionally, he would fly—but only if a storm churned to mask his approach. Usually, there was too much risk. Too much visibility in the sky.
As always, Merik would look for Wakers tonight. But first, he needed to fulfill his promise to the domna.No, to the Empress.That new title was going to take some getting used to.
“I hate these tunnels,” Sky groused behind him. “Everything is so cursin’ wet.”
Merik didn’t respond. Sky loved to hear her own voice, and she loved even more to complain. Plus, in the end, she wasn’t wrong: everythingwasso cursin’ wet inside these tunnels. She and Merik splashed through water that reached almost to their calves. So cold, it made Merik’s bones ache inside his boots. Like Sky, he wore nondescript Baedyed gear—borrowed from Loulou and Riness—and the sand-scarves they’d wrap over their faces now clung like wet seaweed to their necks.
For the water not only burbled at them from below, but also dripped constantly from a collapsing ceiling. The python weight of the river pressed down, squeezing water into any cracks it could find. One day, this whole thing would fall.
But not yet.
Foxfire glimmered around them, casting the water—drip, drip, splash, splash—with a green glow. It made Merik think of Vivia. It made him think of a home that had never felt like home.
“Ugh,” Sky groaned now. “I think that was an eel that just scraped me. Ihateeels, Merik. Slimy little things that look too much like snakes—”
“All right,” Merik cut in, trying not to laugh. Sky’s complaining had a way of lightening the mood, and whether that was a function of her magic or just her own general good nature, he hadn’t yet sorted out. “We’re almost to the tower now, Sky. Time to wrap up and get quiet.”
“Hye.” She used the Nubrevnan word foryes. That was another language she’d been toying with recently. “I’ll wrap this sodden scarf around me—which has basically become an eel itself—and then enjoy the way it freezes against my face as we sneak into the night. I can’t wait.”
Again, Merik found himself laughing. And his own scarfwasice against his skin, as he wrapped it in the style Baedyeds used to ward off their Sand Sea.
They traveled the remaining two hundred paces to the tunnel’s end. Here, the river relented her hold on the land, and the water stopped falling. The puddles shifted into ice that crunched under their heels. As the tunnel’s elevation rose, the floor turned to steps. The foxfire dimmed to darkness, and the final fifty paces were thick with shadows.
It reminded Merik of the Cisterns back in Lovats. Which in turn, always made him think of Cam. He wished the boy were with him now instead of Sky. Which wasn’t fair to Sky, of course—she was loyal and useful. But she wasn’thome,and home was all Merik dreamed of most days.
He shook his head, clearing the thoughts as if he were Aurora shaking off the snow. Then he rubbed once at his chest, a motion that was almost a Nubrevnan salute.
A king does not rule,his mother had once told him,but serves.
The steps stopped, and Merik stopped with them. Sky grunted, part acknowledgment that she was ready to move on when he was. Part annoyance because the ice on these ancient stones had almost tripped her.
She had quite expressive grunts.
The door before them was one that Merik had installed before they’d fled the city—anddoorwas a generous term for it. It was more like an octopus’s hoard: shells and rocks and strands of seaweed meant to hide it from sharks and men. Instead of shells, Merik had found ancient planks; instead of rocks, he’d gathered bricks; and instead of seaweed, he’d moved dead, dried vines together like nets.
The vines rattled as Merik pushed out of the tunnel, his eyes squinting to see beyond. They were in a building beside Esme’s tower—a space Revan had found while poking around for useful supplies. It must have been a shop once upon a time. Perhaps even an illegal one, for why else would they need such easy, secret access across the river?
Either way, the shelves that had once clung half-heartedly to the walls were now what made Merik’s door.
“No one’s here,” he whispered, before twisting sideways to squeeze through his arrangement of bricks. Wind plied him. His face, already half numb, turned to ice. In seconds, Sky was beside him and scooting toward the exit while Merik rearranged the planks and vines. When he glanced at her, she was waving an all-clear sign.
So far, so good. Now came the hard part—the part where Sky would take the lead. Normally, they would travel east from Esme’s tower, aiming for the Well, where most of the Cleaved clustered, and therefore where most of the Wakers formed. But not tonight.
Merik strained onto his toes and peeked out the window. Then gave Sky the all-clear sign.
“Don’t speak,” she told him, moving to his side. “Leave it all to me.” She spoke in Marstoki now.
