Fire Within: Book Two of Fire and Stone (Stories of Fire and Stone 2) (19 page)

“And since no one wanted to see the poor chicken suffering, Mom made a chicken pie! Pie, Toman!” Esset was gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke. “And Sergeant Warthog is swearing up and down that it’s every bit as good as the ones the Staggering Tankard makes. We
have
to go get some before she eats it all.”

Toman remembered really liking the chicken pies at the Staggering Tankard—even once swearing that those pies must have been the reason the sergeant had set up shop there—but he just couldn’t seem to muster any enthusiasm. It seemed too unreal. Some corner of him salivated at the thought of the pies, but the other part was almost scornful of the thought. Toman looked down at the almost-finished spear he’d been polishing.

“We should probably finish up before we go,” Toman said.

“What?” Shock clearly registered on Esset’s face. “Come on, Toman! If we don’t go now, she’ll eat it
all.
All the chicken pie, Toman.
”

“Go, please,” Nassata urged them. “There are only a few things left to do here, and I know I won’t miss the pie. I will stick to Nadran fare, thank you.”

Toman saw Esset flash Nassata a smile of thanks, but Toman wished she hadn’t said anything. He didn’t want to go and be around people. He still loved his family, but being around them just reminded him that one day, Moloch would come and end them all.

“Let’s go, Toman!” Esset urged again.

“You’re right,” Toman finally said to appease his brother. “But go on ahead. I’ll finish this one spear and join you. Save me a piece.”

Esset hesitated, and Toman knew he hadn’t really convinced him. But Esset wanted to believe Toman would come, so he believed.

“Okay, but still be quick. It’s always better warm.” Esset ducked back out of the armory.

Toman felt Nassata’s eyes on him and wondered if she was unconvinced too. He didn’t have the motivation to try to persuade her.

“You know, it’s very strange to see you without your hat all the time,” Nassata finally said.

Toman shrugged, wondering why everyone kept bringing up things he didn’t want to think about or deal with.

“Yeah.” It was all the response he could muster. Sure, part of him missed his hat—the same part of him that missed chicken pies, the same part that was becoming increasingly smothered by the part of himself that Moloch had broken. The broken part was only reminded when he saw the hat that the previous Animator’s mission, like his own, had been completely futile and even foolish. Who wanted to be reminded of something like that?

Fortunately, Nassata didn’t press him further, and Toman hurried to finish polishing the spear.

He passed it to her to inspect like he had all the others. She barely glanced at it.

“Thank you, Toman. Go enjoy your pie,” Nassata said with her gracious smile.

“Sure.” Toman escaped the armory as quickly as he could. He hurried until he was around the first corner the tunnel took, then stopped and leaned against the wall. He tilted his head back against the wall and concentrated on his breathing for a moment, but it was already steady.

There were no eyes on him right now—not Esset’s, not his parents, and not the Nadra—and that was increasingly how he liked it. He wanted to be alone far more than he wanted to indulge in some pointless memory of pie or hats. Toman turned down a corridor in the wrong direction from the kitchen or dining hall. It was time to get lost for a while.

Three weeks later, Esset was alone in one of the springs, reclining with his head leaned back against the formed rocks. The rustle of the bead curtain got him to crack an eye to see who was there. He always wore his smallclothes in the springs, so he wasn't concerned about modesty. Esset wasn’t too surprised to see that it was Kessa, but the expression on her face did get his attention.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked her.

“I’m well.” She studied him for a moment, then slipped into the spring with him. He felt her tail curl around his ankle. “But you don’t look so good.”

“No, I don’t imagine so,” he replied, leaning his head back against the rocks again. “I’m exhausted. Tseka and Nassata have to wake me up multiple times every night. I even burned Tseka.” He closed his eyes, ashamed.

“She told me. She also said she smacked you and told you not to do it again,” Kessa said.

Esset couldn’t help it—he smiled. “Yes, that she did. She also helped me move all flammable items out of my room. I’ve been trying to eat enough and get enough sleep, but I’m just exhausted and I’m jumping at everything, afraid I’m going to set something on fire.”

He exhaled heavily. “And it’s not just when I’m asleep. That’s why I’ve been spending so much time in here. Water and rocks don’t burn. I’ve spent hours reading my summoner’s tome, but there’s nothing in there about this, and Dad can’t find anything in your library.” And of course they had no access to any other library.

“It’s not too bad. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Kessa was trying to reassure him, but to Esset, her words felt empty.

The silence stretched on until Esset looked at her again and found her still carefully watching him.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked. Kessa was worried about him, he knew, but that wasn’t why she’d come to find him.

“I’m concerned about Toman,” she said.

“Yeah, me too,” Esset replied. “Physically he seems to be back to his old self, but…”

“So you’ve noticed too? I haven’t seen him smile since he returned. Not once,” Kessa said. Esset blinked and realized she was right.

“I knew something was off, but I hadn’t noticed that in particular,” he confessed. “He’s been quieter and a bit moody. Mostly I’m just worried because he hasn’t talked to me at all about what happened. I was hoping he’d talked to you instead.” Esset’s hopes were dashed when Kessa shook her head.

“Darn. Maybe he just needs more time,” Esset said. He hoped so. He wasn’t sure what to do—they’d always been able to go to each other. “I don’t know what the right thing is to do right now. I just don’t want him to suffer alone.”

“I know. Neither do I,” Kessa replied sadly. “I’ve tried to be there, and I’ve even tried asking, gently, but he won’t open up.”

“Well, I’ll talk to Mom and Dad about it too, but I think we’re doing all we can. We just need to keep doing what we’re doing and be there when he comes around,” Esset said. He’d spent far too long thinking about it to not have come to that conclusion already.

“I guess you’re right,” Kessa agreed unhappily. They both became lost in their own private thoughts for a while, until Esset spoke up.

“You know, I’ve wondered since the first day I came to Salithsa; the lights you use, the lanterns and stalactites in the main area, how are they illuminated?” he asked out of the blue.

“It’s a certain mineral. When it’s at a certain temperature, it glows,” Kessa replied, smiling at Esset’s curiosity. “The Shapers put it in a form that’s useful and direct heat to it. For the lanterns it’s different though. They use the same mineral, but there’s a kind of lichen that has a reaction with it to cause the glowing.”

“Fascinating. How did you come across it?”

“I don’t know. We’ve used the mineral for a very long time,” Kessa replied.

“Huh. What’s it called?” he asked.

“Va—eep!” Kessa cut herself off with a startled cry.

Without any kind of warning, fire sprang up in the air around them. Esset gasped as he felt a rush of heat roll off him. This outburst wasn’t being caused by emotion, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

“Kessa, get out of here!” he warned her. He had a feeling like a brittle dam within him was about to break. He had a feeble bit of control over the fire, and he used it to keep it away from Kessa as she slid out of the pool up onto the rock floor. Then she hesitated, looking at him.

“Esset…”

“GO!” he roared. The fires around him multiplied and intensified—steam rose from both him and the water around him. Kessa ducked and slithered out of the room practically on her belly. Esset’s control failed moments later and the fires grew again. He thought he heard Kessa’s voice faintly—no screams, thank Hyrishal—but he could only hope she was out of the room. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

A faint yellow nimbus glowed around him and beyond that, just short of touching him, the water boiled. Steam billowed into the room, but the fires dancing in the air couldn’t be doused. The heat was incredible, yet Esset didn’t get burned; evidently, since the fire was “his,” it wouldn’t burn him. It did hurt, however—every nerve felt like it was afire. His eyes took on a yellowish glow and his head had an incredible pressure building inside it.

An orange-red veil dropped over his vision, and with the steam in the room, it became impossible to see. His ears filled with the roar of flames. His mouth was so dry it tasted like ash and the metallic tang of pure fire filled his nostrils. For a second, he could almost believe that he was fire itself; then everything went black.

Esset came to with a brutal headache. His heartbeat throbbed in his ears and pulsed in his temples. He cracked his eyes open and immediately regretted it; he squeezed them tightly shut again and groaned. His throat felt like it had been liberally lined with sandpaper; even his sinuses ached with dryness.

He heard a splash as a pair of boots landed in shallow water next to his head. Water?

Esset opened his eyes again and somehow managed to keep them open this time. His brother leaned over him, concern painted all over his face.

“Hey, Esset,” Toman said. Above and past him, Esset could see Kessa peering down at him. Esset breathed a sigh of relief that made him cough from the dryness of his throat. As his brother helped him sit up, Esset was finally able to find his bearings.

Water from the hot spring was slowly refilling the pool around them after having been boiled dry. The room was full of steam, but it was clearing slowly to reveal that every surface—walls, floor, and ceiling—was scorched black.

“How do you feel?” Toman asked.

“Lous—” Esset broke off coughing. When he recovered, he cupped some water from the pool in his hands and drank a few sips until his throat was normally lubricated again.

“Lousy,” he finished. But at least he no longer felt like he was about to explode. “Help me up.”

Toman obliged and gave Esset a hand up. Esset looked at the pool walls and shook his head.

“This has gone too far. At this rate, I’m not just going to hurt somebody, I’m going to kill them. I didn’t even have any warning.” Esset rubbed his shoulder—it hurt from hitting the ground when he blacked out. Suddenly he found that he was shaking.

“Let’s get you out of this hole first,” Toman said. “I’ll give you a leg up.” Kessa poked her head over the edge again and helped Esset up from the top too. She gave Esset a quick hug.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered to him quickly before leaning over the edge to give Toman a hand up too.

“You too,” Esset whispered back. He was feeling light-headed; he blinked and Toman was up out of the pool already.

“We need to get you some clothes. Come on,” Kessa said, putting her hands on Esset’s shoulders and steering him back to his room.

They got him sitting, dry, and clothed in short order, and Esset slowly came back out of the state of shock he’d lapsed into. Kessa left to get Esset something to eat and drink, leaving the brothers together.

“How’re you doing?” Toman asked him.

“I’m fine. But I nearly killed Kessa back there when I lost control. I can’t risk that again,” Esset replied.

“What will you do?” Toman asked. He couldn’t argue with that, after all. It was true.

“Leave, at the very least. I have to see if I can find a way to control it. I’ve been getting Dad and some of the Nadran scholars to look into it, but I can’t find anything to help me here. Maybe I’ll just walk up to Moloch and blow up in his face.” That last part Esset said out of frustration.

“Please don’t even joke about that,” Toman replied. Esset winced.

“Sorry. I guess it didn’t work so well last time. But even if this can’t be fixed, at least I managed to do some good in the extra time the phoenix gave me. It’s just ironic that it’s the phoenix’s abilities that are going to do me in after she decided not to take my life in payment for calling her.” Esset had always hated cruel ironies the most.