Green Wild (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 2) (5 page)

W
ITHOUT THINKING
, KIAR stepped forward and caught Twist’s arm, but that only changed the direction of his fall as he slumped against her. She struggled with his awkward weight, lowering him to the floor.

Her face alarmed, Tiana started forward. “Is he...?”

Biting her lip, Kiar waved a hand to stop Tiana, and Lisette did so by taking her hand. Kiar examined Twist’s pale skin, then felt his forehead.

“I think...” She turned Twist’s head back and forth, lifted his hand and dropped it, put her ear close to his mouth. His breath tickled her cheek. Then she sat back on her heels. “He’s sleeping. He’s exhausted himself.” She scowled and resisted the desire to prod him awake. Smelling salts might do it but simple assault probably wouldn’t, and from the looks of him, he needed the sleep. It was only luck that he’d managed to make it to safety before collapsing. She imagined what might have happened if he’d lost consciousness while skipping and shuddered.

Tiana guessed, “Lots of skipping around? That tires him out, right?”

Still looking at Twist’s face relaxed in sleep, Kiar nodded. “All workings do. But he’s been at this since last night and I don’t think he took a break. I don’t know why he pushes himself so hard—.”

Lisette had a sudden choking fit, but before Kiar could do more than glance at her in concern, somebody cleared their throat at the door. Master Camerind of Vassay stood there, with two of his companions beside him. One of them, thin to the point of scrawniness, with a shock of sandy hair, practically buzzed with excitement.

“There he is!” He pointed past Master Camerind at Twist.

Master Camerind offered a faint, grave smile to the room. “We were in the library when he appeared. He asked where you might be found, then vanished again. Ripper is excited to meet him.” He gestured at the sandy-haired man.

Ripper bounced on his toes. “Why is he on the floor? Is that part of his working?”

Kiar rose to her feet and stepped over Twist, placing herself between him and the gawkers. Tiana gave Ripper the cold, arrogant expression she’d picked up recently, which the man totally missed. “He’s ill. You can meet him later.”

Master Camerind chuckled. “I suppose he exhausted himself using that trick of his? Come, lads, I’m sure there will be a chance to approach him when he’s conscious.”

Ripper looked back and forth between Twist and Camerind—he hadn’t bothered looking directly at Kiar yet, even though she interfered with his line of sight—then edged into the room. “He should use clarity. That’s what we use, so we don’t fall over like—well, like he’s done.”

The third man from Vassay silently clapped a hand over his eyes. He reached out to grab Ripper’s arm, stopping him from moving further into Tiana’s rooms.

Lisette spoke quickly. “I think he was ready to get some rest, given where he ended up. It’s all right.”

“Wait a minute,” said Kiar, feeling like she’d been dunked in ice water. “Clarity? The drug?” She’d heard the term ‘clarity’ before. The men who’d attacked Tiana in Lor Seleni had been using clarity. It was a new drug in Ceria. Her brief investigation hadn’t revealed where it came from.

“Oh yes,” babbled Ripper. “It comes from an herbal concoction but we’ve discovered how to purify it. It’s very useful. “ He gave Master Camerind a sideways look, like he was trying to be clever. “But not as useful as a certain other powder. We could—”

“No, let’s talk about clarity,” Kiar interrupted, furiously. “Let’s talk about the clarity making its way into Ceria. Let’s talk about how clarity kills.”

Master Camerind cocked an amused eyebrow and Kiar longed to smack him. But Ripper responded, even as he batted at the hand of his other companion. “No—what? Clarity’s reasonably safe as long as you’re not—” he snickered, “—stupid or anything. But Master Twist isn’t stupid, we talk about him in classes—”

“Clarity makes a man strong and brave, right? Strong enough to think he can put out a wildfire with a switchblade.” Kiar advanced on the three Vassay scholars, and heard Tiana’s sharply inhaled breath as she finally caught up with the conversation.

“Sometimes—what?” Ripper focused on Kiar. “You’re very upset about something,” he guessed.

“Yes, I am,” said Kiar. “I’m upset about clarity users who tried to assassinate my cousin. I’m upset you have the sensitivity of a log. And I’m really upset you’re here right now.”

“I—I—I,” stuttered Ripper, his eyes round as she closed on him, moving deliberately into his personal space. He stumbled backward, giving into the guidance of his friend, and Master Camerind took his place.

“Calm yourself, Lady,” said the Master, that amusement still in place. “Are you suggesting our university students are responsible for how clarity is used in your city?”

“I’m suggesting—” Kiar took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, suddenly aware of the charged atmosphere “I’m suggesting you get out of here.”

“I thought you wanted to talk about clarity,” said Master Camerind, with the insolence of a man totally willing to provoke an international incident if the opportunity presented itself.

Kiar wasn’t ready to start one. “Get out. Take Ripper here with you. Don’t come back.”

Master Camerind bowed and gave her a happy little smile, like she’d just agreed with him. Then he stepped backward, and made a show of closing the door as he and his companions left.

Kiar turned around and leaned on the door, taking a deep breath, marveling that Twist had slept through the confrontation. She’d never been so angry in her life. When the Blighter had murdered the King, she’d been shocked and horrified. But Vassay
infuriated
her. She’d been ready to physically throw the Vassay faction out herself.

And she wasn’t the only one. Lisette casually held both of Tiana’s hands, and Cathay stood with one hand half-outstretched, ready to unleash one of his cats. Both of them had wide eyes.

Lisette sighed and loosened her grip on Tiana’s hands. She muttered something about the phantasmagory before saying, “Thank you, Kiar.”

“They would have deserved whatever happened,” said Cathay, slowly sitting back down again. He covered his eyes tiredly.

“Master Camerind, maybe,” Lisette said. “But Ripper is just an innocent idiot.”

Cathay snorted. “I don’t believe that. The leader, what was his name? He wouldn’t bring anybody stupid on this kind of trip.”

Lisette waved a hand. “Skill and sense aren’t always connected. I’m sure he’s good at what he does. And I bet he’s a treasure to anybody looking for an excuse to stick his nose in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She pushed Tiana back into a chair again and turned to Kiar. “You’re very tired, Kiar. You need to get some rest.”

Her light, airy tone hadn’t changed at all, so it took Kiar a moment to realize Lisette spoke to her. She shook her head. “Tiana, we should make them leave the Citadel entirely.”

Tiana blinked and looked over at Kiar. “That’s for the Magister to decide, isn’t it?”

“Master Camerind practically admitted Vassay was behind an attempt to assassinate you! And they’re trying to push the Citadel into giving them more plepanin.”

“I
wish
he’d admitted it,” said Tiana candidly. “But he didn’t, not really.” She hesitated and added sadly, “And they could have stopped. The men who attacked me, I mean. They wouldn’t have started if they hadn’t hated me so much.”

Cathay darted to Tiana’s side to comfort her. Kiar looked away, at Twist. She knelt, felt his brow and cheek again, shook her head, and stretched her emanations to move him to a couch. His feet flopped over the end. She found a washcloth and filled a bowl of warm water from the kettle and got started sponging filth off his face and hands. He looked so young when he slept, like he was barely older than her. She supposed, from the perspective of an ancient like the Magister, he was. He’d only been a youth when he inherited the post of Royal Wizard and started teaching her. His gift for skipping put such burdens on him.

“We can’t leave the Citadel to them,” she finally said. “If you’re going to leave the Citadel to go after this Firstborn light, I need to stay here, or they have to go.”

Tiana only said, “We have to fight the Blight. You’re worth a whole troop of soldiers, Kiar.”

As Kiar savagely squeezed water out of the washcloth, Lisette said, “Have you talked to the Magister about Vassay yet? Maybe he can soothe your concerns.”

“Hah,” muttered Tiana, barely audible.

Kiar ground her teeth, and then remembered a conversation she’d had with the Magister yesterday, during the chaos after the Antecession ceremony. “He said yesterday it was our job to protect them.”

“From Vassay? Or the Blighter? That’s an important detail, Kiar,” said Lisette.

“It was more of a general statement of faith,” admitted Kiar grudgingly. “But how could Vassay not be included? Just because it’s a whole country doesn’t make it less of a potential threat.”

“We talked to him about Vassay when we arrived,” Tiana said absently. “He wasn’t worried.” Kiar remembered the conversation differently, but it was true the Magister hadn’t exactly been alarmed by Vassay’s intrusion. Then again, the Blight itself hadn’t alarmed him much either.

“I can talk to him again if you want,” Lisette offered. “You really need to get some sleep, Kiar. You’re—” she hesitated, and Kiar’s skin prickled. “You’re more temperamental than usual.”

Kiar closed her mouth on an irritated response. She didn’t want to fight with Lisette. Or with Tiana. She didn’t want to set herself against them. She didn’t know how to do it and win, except by outright rebellion, and that she’d never do.

“I’ll sleep,” she muttered. “After that, I’ll talk to the Magister myself.”

K
iar fell asleep almost as soon
as she stretched out, but her sleep was restless and full of dreams. She’d been awake for a day and a half and in that day, she’d discovered the name of her family’s ancient enemy, spoken to him, fought a dragon, witnessed the visitation of a Firstborn and watched the lights of the Citadel go out. She’d stopped one earthquake and survived another. She’d moved literally tons of rubble, and sorted out library books. She’d argued with Tiana, although that was so common it was barely worth remembering. She’d learned about the source of the phantasmagory and lost it, all in the space of the same brutal murder. And she’d twice looked into her enemy’s private world.

Those peeks into Ohedreton’s world infused her dreams. Everything else drifted through: Twist’s mud-covered face, the King’s dying screams, Ohedreton’s terrible smile, all set against the backdrop of that lightless world.

Or at least it had been lightless the first time she visited. But when she’d destroyed Ohedreton’s avatar in the rooftop confrontation, she’d seen a reverse silhouette of Tiana against the sky, streaming with a blue light. She hadn’t had time to see anything else. But later, when she’d sunk her fingers into the extraworldly substance of the escaping fiend, she’d had more time to look around. She’d seen the armies, and the other fortresses, and Tiana’s silhouette hadn’t been nearly as visible.

And she’d seen other things, too. Human men, in the center of the closest armies, lifted up on some kind of scaffolding. It reminded her of an illustration she’d once seen of an execution: mobs of people surging around a few raised high. But the mob she’d seen had been full of aliens. Mostly andani, the black dancers, but andani seemed to make up the bulk of Ohedreton’s forces.

The reports unrolled in her dreams, and then wrapped themselves around the King’s bleeding torso. He opened his eyes and said, “Beware of the Bastard.”

Kiar said, “I know!” and sat up in bed. She’d shouted aloud. Fortunately for her pride, she was alone in the small room adjoining Tiana’s. She took a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair. She wasn’t Benjen the Black, Benjen the Bastard, resentful and disobedient and reviled, who tried to destroy the Royal Family. She was Tiana’s advisor and companion and friend and she couldn’t stomach the thought of directly opposing her. Not without support, anyhow.

The sun barely peeped over the horizon. Restless sleep or not, she’d still managed to sleep for nine solid hours. She hurriedly dressed before slipping into the hall. She wasn’t sure if Tiana and Lisette were in the next room or not—everybody’s schedules had been shifted around by the chaos—but she wasn’t ready to talk to either of them again. She had to talk to the Magister first, just like she said she would.

On her way to the Magister’s office, she passed by a series of tall, thin windows looking west off the mountain. Several long cushioned benches were placed along the windows. Twist stretched out on one of them, his arm flung over his eyes and his ankles crossed.

Kiar stopped dead, scrutinizing him for any clue why he was there.

Without moving his arm, he said, “How are you doing, Kiar?”

Frowning, Kiar said, “I know you have a room of your own. I saw them carry you inside.”

“Cells,” said Twist. “They call them cells, and for a reason, I might add. There are many reasons I’m not one of Niyhan’s Dedicated, but the so-called beds they provide in their cells are one of them.” He lifted his arm from his eyes and patted the bench. “This bench is here for guests like yourself who want to appreciate the sunset. It’s
lovely
in the mornings. Have you come to join me?” He opened his eyes and looked at her, smiling.

“No,” Kiar said shortly. “You don’t want me around.” It slipped out; she didn’t mean to be so blunt.

His brow furrowed and he sat up. “Don’t I?”

She refused to meet his eyes and didn’t answer.

He sighed. “Releasing you as my apprentice doesn’t mean I—you know what? Let’s talk about this later after you’ve had some time to think about it.” He laid back down and covered his eyes again.

Kiar’s face flamed. “Don’t skip when you’re that tired ever again,” she told his recumbent form, then hurried away before he could answer.

She went to the Magister’s office, not expecting to find much except the bright rays of dawn illuminating an empty desk. Even though it was decorated differently than the Chancellor’s office at home, with books and mementos of Niyhan rather than journals of genealogy and fashion, it was still the office of an administrator of an important organization. The Chancellor had a padded chair that revolved, with a cushioned back, while the Magister’s chair was straight-backed wood, with a single cushion for the seat. But they both had the exact same desk. And they were both unexpectedly busy at odd hours.