A Hint of Frost: Araneae Nation ( Book One) (18 page)

I leaned into Rhys. “What does he mean?”

His answer was a noncommittal shrug.

Old Father’s voice lifted. “In the time after the divide of the Above and the Below, when the First World was new, the sun god Tawa looked upon his wife, Kokyangwuti, and he confided his dreams in her. From his thoughts, she formed his visions from clay, those of birds and beasts, fish and other beings, those made in their image.” A mournful note entered his voice. “Those beings were imperfect, and their First World was filled with greed and mistrust, violence and deception. It was then that Tawa and Kokyangwuti formed the Second World and welcomed those who abided their laws of creation to settle this new and fertile land. It was then Araneaeans were culled from their heathen brethren, lifted up and given dominion over the Second World.”

“Forgive me, Old One.” Vaughn stifled a yawn. “Is there a point to this bedtime story?”

Rhys picked the fork from Vaughn’s plate and drove it into his brother’s thigh. “There. I’ve made four points for him.” He yanked it free. “Show him respect or I’ll make four more.”

Vaughn spoke through clenched teeth. “A warning would have sufficed.”

“You and I are long past such pleasantries.” Rhys exhaled, then addressed the quiet circle. “Please continue, Old Father, my brother will keep his peace until you’ve finished.”

With a slow nod, the elder began again, but momentum had abandoned him. “Those who were unworthy were left to face the burning of the First World. It’s why our clans gather around fires, to be reminded of the fate we escaped and to be near Tawa’s heat, though our fires are cold echoes of his sun.” He covered what looked to me suspiciously like a yawn. “There is more.” He rubbed his eyes as if the smoke had clouded them. “I regret…my memory is not what it once was.”

Several moments passed as we waited for him to resume, but all he managed was a snore. Mana hurried to his side, and he blinked into slow awareness. Into the silence, Old Father continued as if uninterrupted. “I have spoken my truths.” He rose. “I am done.” Walking stick in hand, he shuffled out with Mana.

One of the Deinopidae males nearest Chinedu muttered, “The Old One tells tales.”

“His beliefs are not ours,” Chinedu said, “but I’ve found all lore to hold a grain of truth.”

“It’s not lore,” Sikyakookyang chastised him. “It’s our faith.”

Inclining his head, he considered her again. “Yes. Faith. It’s an interesting concept.”

One of her dark eyebrows lifted. “You prefer proof of the divine?”

“I prefer tangible to intangible.” He grinned. “If it can be touched, it can be killed.”

Shaking her head indulgently, she patted his thigh. “We’re fortunate then we have both between us.”

“Indeed.” The arch above her eye captivated him enough he traced its curve.

I waited for their attention. “I’m afraid that I don’t understand Old Father’s message.”

Chinedu’s gaze captured mine. “Rhys said you encountered the yellow death on your trip to Beltania.” I nodded we had. “The point Old Father was working toward is that he believes this plague is a curse from the two gods. He believes they have decided the time has come to raze this world and Araneaeans with it.” He shrugged. “I don’t share his beliefs, but I share his concerns.”

Chinedu might allow Old Father his eccentricities, but I doubted he would have allowed us to be brought here on the basis of faith unless he had cold proof to argue his point. “Such as?”

He drew out his words. “We thought our neighbors to the north had been spared this plague, but it seems to be spreading.” When he nodded, the male at his shoulder retreated. “Whatever your beliefs, you can’t deny this is not of our world. At least no part of it I’ve seen.”

The Deinopidae emerged with a section of…I don’t know what it was tucked beneath his arm. When he neared us, he presented the odd thing for our inspection. Made of translucent material but for a network of fine black veins, it was a teardrop shape and beautiful.

It was also instantly recognizable, but the large scale, if it was authentic, confused me.

“Is that a real wing?” I breathed.

Rhys cupped my shoulder, keeping me seated when curiosity lured me forward. His gaze swept over the appendage, but his assessment was less kind. “What is it? Where did you find it?”

“One of our stables was attacked three nights past. Our sickened animals were isolated in that barn.” Sikyakookyang leaned against her husband’s side. “When a clanswoman went in search of her husband, she found the handlers with their necks broken. Each varanus had been slit from chin to navel, their innards removed.” She rubbed her arms. “She found the wing among the dead, but there were no more.”

In the silence that followed, I thought of the pecoras we’d seen burst at their seams. So it was spreading, this yellow death, but had it spread into Araneaeans? “Are any of you infected?”

“No.” Fear put steel in her voice. “No one has exhibited any of the symptoms.” She toyed with a sun-shaped charm on her necklace. “In any case, I don’t believe the sickness is spreading from the animals into Araneaeans.” I heard the implied
yet
clearly, and it didn’t endear her to me.

Rhys shoved aside his plate and his half-eaten steak. “What of the infected varanus?”

“I had them destroyed and their corpses burned in offering.” Her eyes darkened. “I’d heard rumors of trouble in the south, but the accountings were too bizarre. I didn’t believe them. When the sickness came, I realized my mistake.” She linked her fingers and stared at her hands. “It was then I first feared for my clan and sought a union with the Deinopidae.” She spared Chinedu a smile. “After finding the wing, as a precaution, I sent scouts to each of the southernmost clans.”

Rhys leaned forward, interested. “What did they discover?”

“That the rumors were true. The sickness had swept through the herds as well as the wildlife. Several clans reported missing females. The males—husbands, fathers, brothers, sons—all dead,” she said. “Yellow death doesn’t break necks. Araneaean fingers are needed for that.”

“Is it possible a maven or paladin is using the yellow death as cover to stage a coup?” I couldn’t think of how else to tie the sort of deaths we’d seen to the selective murder she implied.

“We encountered a large pecora, a stag, before reaching the veil. We realized it was sick and put an end to its suffering.” Rhys’s fingers tapped on his plate’s edge. “Lourdes filled it will arrows, then I beheaded it. It should have died well before my killing blow.” His hand stilled. “It was rotted. Perhaps this plague is flesh-eating, or perhaps not. I saw a similar illness once, in Cathis, but it was a contagious bacterial infection found in fresh corpses.”

“Corpses, how did…?” I swallowed. “Oh.” It spread because they’d eaten their dead.

“Yes.” He held my gaze as if daring me to be the first to glance away. “Most Mimetidae are more secretive than Trefor with their flesh addictions. At least corpses are already dead.” I couldn’t argue his logic. “I witnessed a number of those deaths. They were necessary to keep the illness from spreading once it began affecting those who consumed the rancid meat. Those males were sickly. Most, I’d bet, were unaware they’d been slain, their fevers raged so high. They bled too. Not the sickly yellow of the pecora, but Araneaean red. In the end, we gathered the afflicted and burned them in their hut.” His voice hardened. “It was the only method left at our disposal.”

“That’s why you insisted we leave.” I frowned. “You should have told me.”

His fingers sank into my hair and cupped my skull, turning me to face him. “I had no idea what had infected the creature and dared spare no time for speculation.” His grip tightened. “You are safe in my keeping.” His eyes glinted with all the facets of an emerald. “No harm will come to you.” He kissed me, a brush of lips that left his breath ragged and me wanting. “I won’t allow it.”

“I know.” I doubted the gods themselves could defy his iron will.

His smile burst on my tongue, and I wished we’d had time to learn one another before leaving on this journey. Or perhaps I was wrong to wish for something different than the gift we’d been given. I trusted a hundredfold more what I saw with my own eyes. In that respect, Chinedu and my faith meshed. What I’d learned about Rhys was his word was true, his promises were always kept, and his devotion to me was unwavering despite my insecurities.

Perhaps this was the ideal sojourn before we wed. He could give me no better gift than the trust he’d earned. Desire was a fine thing, but trust was a foundation for the rest of our lives.

Sikyakookyang cleared her throat delicately. “You asked what we sought by inviting you here tonight and including you in our council. We seek to reaffirm our alliance. You’ve seen our clan’s discovery, and your encounter shows the yellow death is migrating north despite the cold.”

“Perhaps my lack of social graces has use after all. What my wife means is a large-scale search for the true cause of these deaths will cost a hefty bit of gold.” Chinedu grinned. “Your gold to be exact.” He leaned forward. “Whatever this plague is, it requires a fast cure.” He measured me for a moment. “If someone seeks to profit from the deaths of these poor males, then my clan is at your partisan’s disposal. We won’t tolerate cowardice cloaked by misfortune.”

While I mourned the fact I was never invited anywhere without my purse, this was a worthy cause and I had the means to fund it. “Consider it done. Send your price to my brother, Armand. He’s authorized to act in my absence. Tell him I will explain when I return home.”

His brow creased. “You never said what brought you to Beltania.”

“You never asked.” I curbed bitterness from my voice. It served no purpose. “My sister is missing.” Running was a better word for it. “Vaughn tracked her to the veil, but we abandoned our pursuit and sought shelter since the roads are no longer safe. Even now, her trail grows cold.”

For the first time since Rhys forked Vaughn, he spoke up. “That’s not entirely true.” His smug voice grated beneath an undercurrent of pain. “We never left your sister’s trail.” He exuded pure self-satisfaction. “While you two slept, I scoured the city for her scent. With so steep a price set on her head, I would have ridden you into the ground myself rather than make a useless stop.”

Rhys coiled tight, ready to spring at the least provocation. I patted his thigh to calm him.

“This trip served your purpose.” I should have realized Vaughn had been too pleased at the prospect of this side trip. I’d assumed tormenting Rhys was the reason. Perhaps his motives were less shallow than I’d suspected. “Coming here killed two birds with one stone for you.”

His lips hitched in a smile, one frightening in its sincerity. “So it did.”

“What did you discover?” Rhys pegged him with a sharp glare.

“Her sister and the Theridiidae paid a farmer for the use of his spare room.” He tapped the side of his nose. “The scent was fresh. They couldn’t have been gone long. They were foolish traveling the roads tonight.” He shrugged. “Perhaps they don’t realize the danger they’re in. Or if they do, they might have thought it worth the risk to gain ground on us.” He acted as if the notion of outrunning him was laughable. “If we leave at dawn, we’ll catch them, I’d wager before nightfall.”

My pulse skipped. “If they’re close—”

“No.” Rhys trapped my wrist. “Vaughn’s right. They’ll make poor time in the dark. Theirs is a desperate gamble we are too careful to match. They may not realize the danger they’re in, but we do.” He snarled, “I won’t risk your safety by fumbling around in the dark.”

Vaughn’s chuckle shook his large frame. He muttered, “Too easy.”

Rhys’s jaw popped under the strain of ignoring his brother. “Vaughn said we can catch them, and we will. Now is not the time for recklessness. I promised you I’d get Pascale back.” He swallowed. “You say you trust me.” He braced himself. “Now is your chance to prove it.”

I found myself assuring him he held my complete faith. “We wait for the dawn.”

Though my heart wrenched at the thought of Pascale alone with Kellen in the night, I knew Rhys was right. The time we’d spent here was necessary. Whatever the root of this yellow death, if it continued sweeping through the herd animals and crippling southland farming communities, then those dependent on their produce would likewise crumple. I would not count on my fingers the cost of safeguarding these clans or our trade routes. Gold was cold comfort for the starving.

He stroked my cheek. “Thank you.” His smile etched hard lines around his eyes.

I leaned near. “Are you well?”

His tone roughened. “Yes.” I didn’t believe him. He closed the distance from his mouth to my ear. “Wait for me. Remain in Vaughn’s sight.” He waited, as if he didn’t want to leave me.

“Go,” Vaughn said gruffly. “I’ll watch her.”

With a nod, Rhys vanished into the night.

I watched him go, unnerved when I lost sight of him. “Where is he going?”

“Somewhere private, I imagine.” Vaughn picked bloody cloth from his clotted wound.

Something in the way he said it made me pause. “Is he all right?”

“I don’t know.” He ripped his pant leg open and inspected his thigh.

His altruistic acts must be limited to one per solar cycle. “You don’t care?”

“Should I?” He poked the four tine marks.

I gained my bearings. Rhys had exited to the east, so I would take the western stairs. “I need a private moment. I won’t be long.” I pulled a small tin from my pocket and put it in his hand. “Here. Use this. It’s a healing balm. You don’t want to risk an infection.”

He turned the container over in his hand. “I’ll give you as long as I would take myself.”

Life on the road would be a much simpler thing if I were a male. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I hadn’t explored much of Beltania when I’d come here with Father. Traveling with the Araneidae paladin meant conducting business at each stop, and I pitied him the hours of tedium.

Uncertain where Rhys might have gone, and unable to see much farther than the end of my nose, I made my way toward the river. Stopping at the water’s edge, I inhaled and fancied I smelled his familiar anise scent. Glancing around, I was alone except for the low rush of water.