Bound by Blood and Sand (10 page)

The day continued the same way the previous had. Jae worked and waited, fetched and carried and cleaned and sewed, and longed to be outside with her plants instead. The Avowed gathered in Lady Shirrad's study after lunch. With no choice but to serve as an attendant in case Lord Elan needed anything, Jae followed, and sat in a shadowed corner so she could continue with the estate's mending while they talked.

“Now that Lord Elan and I have been here for several days, I can see just how dire the situation at Aredann is,” Lord Desinn started. “I've sent word to His Highest, asking him to come oversee the abandonment personally, and immediately.”

A few of the Avowed's mouths opened, to gasp or to talk, but Lady Shirrad cut them all off. “Are you truly certain that's necessary? Our reservoir isn't all
that
low. The Well still provides.”

“Yes,” Lord Desinn said. “It does, but that's the problem. There simply isn't enough water, and what the Well sends to Aredann could be better used in the central cities. Once Aredann is empty, that's where the Highest will send it.”

“But that's not fair!” Lady Shirrad snapped, her voice breaking.

Jae looked up at her in surprise. She'd thought the Avowed were all happy to move closer to the central cities, where the drought wasn't as bad, but Lady Shirrad obviously wasn't. Then again, the rest of them would have it easier, but as a failed guardian, Lady Shirrad would probably never again be trusted with any responsibility, no matter how small.

But Aredann
wasn't
going to be abandoned. Jae was going to save it, even if she had to do it Lord Elan's way. She looked over at him and found him silent, watching Lord Desinn carefully.

“It isn't fair to waste water on a tiny estate like this, when others need it more,” Lord Desinn said. “That is what the Highest have decided, and none of us has any right to question that.”

Lady Shirrad looked down, cowed.

“We'll need to prepare for Lord Elthis's arrival, be as close to ready to leave as we can when he gets here. Aside from what remains in the reservoir, what is there to bring to Danardae?” Lord Desinn continued. He glanced at the room's largest mosaic, which had already been removed from the wall and sat leaning up against it. “Is there anything else of value?”

“Aredann has value,” Lady Shirrad said.

Lord Desinn rolled his eyes. “The artwork, the furnishings. Things that matter.”

Jae seethed at that, for the first time appreciating something the Lady had said. Aredann was their home. The people had value.

“The fountain,” one of the other Avowed ventured. “It was mage-crafted by Lord Aredann himself.”

“There's no way to move that,” Lady Shirrad said.

Jae frowned, that familiar feeling of a memory just out of reach hitting her again. The fountain—mage-crafted. But
not
by Lord Aredann. It had been sculpted by a woman, Jae was certain of that, someone tied to the Well….

She stared at the door that led to the corridor, as if she'd be able to gaze through the walls and into the courtyard.

“It is a shame, though, to leave it,” Lord Elan said, finally contributing something to the conversation. He glanced at Jae, then away. “If it could be moved, it would be worth more than any artwork. It isn't just mage-crafted; it's a piece of Aredann's history. Lord Aredann won the War here. It's something we should never forget.”

Jae swallowed her disdain. Of course the Highest needed monuments to remember the War. The Closest remembered it with every cursed breath they took. They were the ones who'd lost and been punished, and whose ancestors had forced the Highest to impose their ruthless caste system on the world, just to control the Well's reservoirs.

But the Well's gifts hadn't been meant to be restricted. The Well was meant to belong to everyone.

To everyone.

The voice echoed through her mind, a woman talking to a man, her son. Jae
had
seen it, but not in a dream. In some kind of vision, when she'd first unlocked magic in the fountain. The woman—
Janna,
Jae remembered—had crafted the fountain as part of her legacy. But her son had been sure her real legacy would be the Well, which she had needed help to create but which had been her idea. And Janna had meant for it to serve everyone.

Jae shut her eyes, trying to remember if she'd ever heard a legend of a mage named Janna. Surely the Highest would celebrate the ancestor who had brought them together to build the Well. But Jae couldn't remember her name from any story, any legend, any history. Janna or her son—Tandan.

But Janna had also thought about Tandan's children. Jae knew
their
names well enough. Lord Aredann, and his twin brother. Taesann, the great traitor.

Glowing energy pulsed around Jae when she opened her eyes. The Curse pounded in her head, but the magic was everywhere. She hadn't called for it, wasn't trying to do anything with it, but there it was, practically singing to her, and the fountain in the distance shone brighter and louder than anything else.

Jae could remember now, as if she were Janna and she'd built the fountain only minutes ago, but she was sure so much more had happened, and she
needed
to know what. If there was more magic in the fountain than just what she'd already discovered, she had to find it. It might be something that could help her save Aredann—or help her resist the Curse.

It would be a while before Jae could look at the fountain, but she could examine it from where she was sitting now, with magic. Except, as soon as she thought that, the Curse slammed into her skull, and the bursts of pain grew stronger. She wasn't supposed to use magic without Lord Elan's permission, even though the magic surrounded her like sunlight.

She forced herself to return to her mending, but it was a good thing none of the Avowed called on her to do anything else. She wouldn't have heard them, with her mind already outside.

Most of the Avowed seemed happy enough with their lot when their gathering ended. Only Lady Shirrad scowled as she stalked out. Jae stayed huddled in her corner, waiting until everyone else had followed Lady Shirrad, and the room was empty. No one summoned Jae, not even Lord Elan, so as soon as they were gone, she took the chance to dart out to the courtyard.

She grabbed the fountain's rim. She couldn't use magic without Lord Elan there, but she wasn't going to, not really. She was just looking.

That was all she did. She stared at the fountain, leaning over the basin, letting her eyes go wide and unfocused until they watered. Then she shut them—and
then
she saw it again, the radiant light she'd seen before.

She reached out with her mind and her hands, and the light consumed her. This time, she didn't scream. She just
saw.

The magic wouldn't keep Aredann back for long. He was too powerful, now that he'd found others like him. They were so desperate, hungry for things Taesann could never give them. Could never, and would never. Grandmother Janna and all the mages of the Bloodlines had decided when they'd founded the Well that it was meant for everyone—everyone had a right to drink from its reservoirs, and the Wellspring Bloodlines would build more reservoirs wherever people needed them. But Aredann and his allies wanted to seize the Well's power and use it to control the world, wielding access to water as a tool more deadly than any weapon. Taesann couldn't allow that to happen.

A wave of power hit Taesann, driving him down to his knees. Whatever Aredann and the others were trying, this was it, their last attempt. There was too much power behind the blast for one mage to hold off, even one as strong as Taesann, and he couldn't feel the rest of the Bloodlines anymore. It was as if they'd all vanished.

That was impossible. The Well drew power from the Wellspring Bloodlines, the descendants of the mages his grandmother had bound together—surely Aredann wouldn't try to gain control by killing all of them. Even he wasn't mad enough to do that. Aredann's allies' goal was to seize control of the magic that commanded the Well, not to destroy it.

Taesann dragged himself toward the fountain on his hands and knees. When he shut his eyes and looked at the world with other-vision, the fountain shone more brightly than anything else at his grandmother's home. His father had told him she'd crafted the fountain herself, and that was obvious in other-vision. The energy inside it felt like the Well—like Grandmother.

Another wave of Aredann's power hit Taesann, and he screamed, clutching the smooth stone. With no one else to help him, they'd break through his barriers in a few minutes, and then…

No. He wouldn't let them have what they wanted. Grandmother had charged their father with protecting the Well and the fragile balance it brought to the world, and Taesann's father had entrusted that to him. He was still a stronger mage than Aredann—but Aredann had allies, children and grandchildren of the mages who hadn't joined the Bloodlines. They called themselves the Highest, and they'd lent their power to Aredann, making him stronger than he'd ever be alone. But only the Wellspring Bloodlines could command the Well. Taesann would die before he'd let the Highest and Aredann wrest that magic away.

Taesann grabbed the knife he carried with him. Blood had more energy than anything else nearby, as it bound earth and water together. The knife was small and ceremonial; it would never help him in a fight, but it wasn't meant for that. It was for this.

Taesann slashed his arm and held it over the fountain's basin, ignoring the blinding pain of the cut. He reached out, seizing the power floating around him, and searched—

The Bloodlines were still there, weak and distant. They were spread across other battle sites through the world, but Taesann could sense them through the binding that held them together and powered the Well. But the battles they fought were minor skirmishes and distractions—the Highest mages were concentrating most of their power on trying to overtake Taesann himself.

Taesann couldn't save any of the other Bloodlines mages from where he was, stranded in isolation at Grandmother's estate, but he could protect the magic that commanded the Well. That was the most important thing—more important than any of their lives.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, and rallied his energy. He wasn't as strong a mage as Grandmother had been, but he could touch all four elements, and he seized as much of their energy as he could. Then he reached out, found the Wellspring Bloodlines again, felt their magic all bound together, and yanked.

Somewhere across the desert, dozens of mages went weak, their power stolen through the binding of the Bloodlines. It left them defenseless, vulnerable to the mages who were attacking them. They would doubtlessly give their lives—but their families would carry on their blood, and the Well would be protected even if the mages themselves died. Taesann didn't have the time to mourn them or the energy to regret what he'd done.

He formed the image in his mind of what he needed. Two generations ago, these mages had linked themselves together with blood; now he imagined their magic as if it was the blood seeping out of his arm. He poured that blood not just into the fountain's water but into the fountain itself, hiding it as deep in the stone as he could.

Grandmother had wanted this fountain to last forever, to be her legacy. She'd bound it, so it would run as long as there was enough water to sustain it, and it would gleam and glisten whether there was water or not. It was that binding magic that glowed so brightly when he looked at the fountain with other-vision—brightly enough to hide the Bloodlines' power buried underneath it.

When this cursed war was over and done, any of the Wellspring Bloodlines descendants would be able to reclaim their power. Even Aredann himself, if he could find it.

Taesann had no choice but to hope he wouldn't.

But he needed to leave something, some clue, so someone would. Taesann was weak now, as if the gash up his arm had sapped his life along with his blood, but he had just enough left in him to add a single, faint shape on the fountain. A handprint. A blood drop.

He pulled his hand back and stared into the fountain, using the last of his energy to will away all traces of what he'd done. The stone and the water glistened, undisturbed, as if nothing had happened at all. The impression he'd left was subtle enough that no one was likely to see it unless they truly looked for something.

Dizzy and exhausted, Taesann staggered inside and refused to look back. Aredann would find him soon. Taesann no longer hoped his brother had mercy—no longer believed his brother even had sanity. Taesann had given a death sentence to the other mages of the Bloodlines, but he would join them as soon as Aredann found him. Preserving the Well was more important than any of their lives, so surely preserving their magic was better than letting it die with them.

It had to be.

The Curse throbbing in her head brought Jae back to herself. The vision had been too much, skirted too close to breaking Lord Elan's order not to use magic. But it had been enough.

Jae didn't understand all of it yet, but one piece was very clear. Taesann had died defending the Well from usurpers, including his own brother, Aredann. Aredann had allied himself with the group that had eventually won the War of the Well—the Highest. Which meant that the Highest were the usurpers who had started the War.

They hadn't created the Well, as they'd claimed. They'd stolen it from the group Taesann had thought of as the Wellspring Bloodlines, who had lost the War. The Closest
were
the Wellspring Bloodlines, cursed for the crimes their ancestors had committed.

Except they hadn't.

Taesann wasn't a traitor. The Highest hadn't created the Well. Everything Jae had ever known was a lie.

Duty called her back sooner than she'd have liked, before she had a chance to finish turning it all over in her mind. She went through the motions of work, barely thinking about what she was doing. Fetching water, mending, helping in the kitchen. None of it was enough to distract her.

How long had it taken for the Closest to forget the truth? Maybe they'd been forbidden to speak of it, silenced like they were so often. Maybe the Highest had forgotten, too; maybe Lord Elan didn't even know the truth.

She seethed. Taesann's sacrifice had kept the Well's power out of the Highest's hands, and any time they said otherwise, claimed to command the Well, they were lying. The Highest said it took a great work of magic to change how the Well's water flowed between reservoirs—but that was a lie, because the Highest had no control over the Well's magic at all.

No wonder the Highest families had decided to abandon some estates. It was all they
could
do, since they were as helpless to save the Well as everyone else. The population being too large—if Jae was right, that was nothing but an excuse.

As she served dinner, she wondered how long it would take before the Avowed figured out they'd been lied to for generations. When people started dying from thirst and the Highest didn't stop it, there would be riots in the cities, shattering the Highest's precious social order. Imagining it brought a grim smile to her lips. Once people got angry enough, the Highest would be torn down, dragged through the streets. The riots wouldn't solve the problems, but tearing the Highest down would be a vicious kind of justice. The Highest families would pay for the crimes they'd committed and covered up, including the slaughter of so many Closest.

The future was chaos, war and blood and thirst, ending with everyone's bones bleached white in the desert. The sand would bury their buildings and bodies, and eventually it would be impossible to tell that anyone had lived in the desert at all. Unless the Well was saved. Jae didn't know what had happened to it, why its power was failing if it
wasn't
about the population, but there had to be a way to save it.

But if the Well was saved, so were the Highest, and the Curse would continue. Jae's people, the rightful owners of the Well, would still be enslaved.

As Jae watched Lady Shirrad drink her fill, she decided that she would
never
help the Highest maintain their lies. She would help Lord Elan save Aredann and the Closest who lived on it, but then…then she'd find a way. The Curse had been cast by mages, and a mage could end it. Jae would figure out how, and she would free the Closest and reclaim the Well that was rightfully theirs.

She didn't know yet how she'd resist Lord Elan's orders. But after so many generations of lies and sorrow, she would either end the Curse or she'd end
everything.

After dinner, Lord Elan told Lady Shirrad he wanted to retire to his rooms to rest. Jae followed him, anticipation and anger warring under her skin. She shut the door behind them, and for a moment, fear colored everything around her. Being alone with him in his chambers…

He tossed himself down onto his cushion and gestured to her to sit. She made herself as comfortable as she could on the flat bench of the windowsill. There was no breeze coming in, but she liked the feeling of the empty air behind her, and knowing that the garden and fountain were below.

“I want to find the Well,” Lord Elan said. “You said you can sense water. See if you can sense that.”

Jae nodded, resenting the order even as she shut her eyes. But the Curse started thrumming in the base of her skull—despite her immediately obeying the order. She'd had plenty of practice at ignoring pain, but the Curse
shouldn't
have punished obedience.

When she opened her eyes, the world was glowing. It only took her a few moments to separate out the brighter shine that she knew was water. The cistern in the corner was lit like the sun. She stared at it until her stomach dropped and she was seeing double, until she adjusted and let her mind float above the estate. From there, she could see the jugs in the basement and the kitchen, and when she widened her gaze, she could see the reservoir.

“Are you doing something?” Elan demanded.

It sounded as if he were calling from far away. When Jae looked at him, she barely saw him at all, just a ghostly glow where he was sitting. Her stomach swooped again as she saw both with her eyes and with this other-vision. The Curse echoed in her mind, pulling her back and compelling her to answer. She snapped, “I
was.
I need to concentrate!”

If he was angry that she dared yell at him, she couldn't tell. She couldn't make out his expression like this, only the Curse in her head. Even that felt distant, like fingers tapping against her skull instead of its usual hammer.

A faint glow pulled her attention not to the reservoir itself but under it, to the aqueduct that connected the reservoir to the Well. The reservoir was bright with water, even if it had run low, but the aqueduct was barely damp. There were traces—Jae could
feel
the power that had once run through it—but the magic had faded almost entirely. No wonder the reservoir hadn't filled, if the magic that called water to it was so dim.