The Vengekeep Prophecies (12 page)

We discovered that being saviors didn't pay much. Nothing at all, in fact. Aubrin became our breadwinner, taking daily trips into crowded areas and coming back with enough copperbits to keep us from starving. The plan to infiltrate the butcher Lek's vaults had long been forgotten.

The mood of the town-state grew darker. Vengekeep had always relied on bartering with other cities for essential supplies. The quarantine made such trading impossible. Some predicted we couldn't sustain ourselves for an entire year, that unless we were able to get provisions from the outside, we'd starve. Just one drought—something mentioned on the tapestry—or one bout of mag-plague to wipe out the cattle, and we'd be finished.

Da began meeting with Castellan Jorn daily to discuss ways to protect Vengekeep. Together, they devised a plan to deal with the flood forecast by the tapestry. Da oversaw a work crew who dug trenches at parts of the city prone to flooding during normal rain. The trenches would divert the rain to a special overflow tunnel being built under the city. The tunnel would then shunt most of the floodwaters away and directly into the nearby River Honnu. It became one of the few visible projects to give people hope.

The new trenches had come at just the right time. One afternoon, just three weeks until mooncrux, black storm clouds appeared on the horizon. Thunder, unlike any I'd ever heard, ricocheted across the valley.

Callie and I had taken Aubrin to the park, where they continued to practice sleight of hand under the mokka tree. My nose remained in a book.

“Ta-da!” Callie cried, making another successful swap. Aubrin sighed. There was simply no reining in Callie's pride at her accomplishments.

There was a distant flash of lightning, and we all looked up at the storm brewing in the skies along the valley rim, past the Provincial Guard barricade.

Callie's eyes widened. “Look at the clouds churn. This could be it.”

I nodded, clutching the book in my hands tightly. “I think we're ready for floods. It's a nice change from fire.” Magma men, fire from the sky … What
were
Ma and Da thinking? At least two more prophecies meant we'd be dealing with fire. Couldn't an unseasonal snowstorm have been in the cards?

Finished with her lesson, Callie crawled over to me while Aubrin went looking for stickworms. Callie poked at the stack of books by my side.

“I wish Talian was here. He's smart. He could help.”

A week ago, the Palatinate had notified the Castellan via a magical parchment that materialized on his desk that Talian had successfully completed the Trials and was returning to Vengekeep. Talian had orders to help the town-state in any way possible. Every day, the Castellan waited at the gates, wanting to be the first to welcome our new town-state mage. But, a week later, Talian still hadn't arrived. And the Palatinate didn't seem very concerned about his continued absence.

Without him, Callie and I had no choice but to continue making visits to the mage's house in the middle of the night, swapping out books and hoping that the newest batch would provide a breakthrough. I was learning lots of great stuff but nothing very useful about fateskein. In all the books we'd borrowed, I'd only ever found one brief mention of the stuff.

“This is interesting,” I muttered, pointing to a book on animals of the Five Provinces. “It explains how to make fateskein.”

Callie groaned. “I feel safe in saying we've got quite enough already, thank you.”

“When you see fateskein through a rubyeye,” I said, “you see what looks like gold wires running through it. But it's not wire. It's the silk from a spiderbat's web.”

Callie shuddered. “What good is that?”

“Well, you know how I can beat low-level spells by mixing a few natural ingredients? That works because certain plants and animals have a natural resistance to magic. Before they died out in the Great Uprisings, par-Dwarves were the most magic-resistant creatures in the Five Provinces. Now that the par-Dwarves are dead, spiderbats are the most resistant. And even they're dying out. The plants I use resist magic and cancel out its power.”

“That doesn't make sense,” Callie said, shaking her head. “Why would a magic-resistant substance be at the heart of a magical item like fateskein?”

“Actually, it makes a lot of sense. You take the most magic-resistant substance ever known—the silk from a spiderbat's web—and coat it in gold, a metal with magical properties so strong it's illegal for anyone but a mage to possess it.” I held up the book and quoted directly. “‘The energy produced by these two opposing forces in close contact is enough to disrupt fate.'”

“That's interesting and all, Jaxter, but how does it help us?”

I scowled. “It doesn't. The stupid chapter ends by saying that if you destroy fateskein, you cancel out anything that was to come. But it doesn't say
how
to destroy it.”

Nearby, Aubrin cried out. She sat with her back to the tree, tears welling in her eyes, breathing through teeth clenched in pain. Callie and I went to her side. Aubrin held out her hand. A dark red welt marked where her forefinger joined her hand. Atop the welt was a layer of clear, thick mucus. Looking around, I verified my suspicions. Lying next to Aubrin was a stickworm, long and thick as my tallest finger, its clear, gelatinous body wriggling slowly as it left the scene of the crime.

I smiled at her as I undid the pouches around my belt. “Hurts, doesn't it? I've gotten stung by my share of stickworms too. But you know what? Stickworms are the best things to get bitten by because they leave you something to make you feel better.”

Callie started stroking Aubrin's hair to calm her down. Gently, I ran my finger around Aubrin's welt, scooping up as much of the clear mucus as I could. “See,” I explained, “this is the stickworm's venom. That's what's making the bite feel like it's on fire. They always spit out too much when they sting. And the great thing about that is you can use venom to make antivenom.”

I took pinches of salts and herbs from my pouches. Kneeling down, I picked a few clovers from the ground, crushed them until they became pulp, then mixed everything in the palm of my hand with the venom.

Aubrin looked at me uncertainly. “I know,” I said, “it sounds weird that the same thing that hurts you will be what helps you. But that's how it works. These other ingredients change the venom just enough to make it soothing and …” I rubbed the antivenom on the wound. At first Aubrin flinched, but her gap-toothed grin returned as my concoction cooled the burning.

Thunder growled in the distance, and it was as if the accompanying lightning strike had gone off in my head. There, explaining the properties of antivenom to Aubrin, my mind exploded. For weeks, I'd felt I was getting nowhere reading Lotha's books. But, all that time, my brain had been cataloging bits of arcane facts that were now suddenly coming together like a giant puzzle. As the picture formed in my mind, I thought,
We have a chance.
A chance to beat the fateskein.

“We have to go,” I whispered, standing.

Callie threw a glance at the oncoming storm. “Right. The rain will be here soon.” We each took Aubrin by the hand and raced back to our house.

When we arrived, we found Da, Ma, and Nanni at the kitchen table, eating a spot of dinner. Nanni beckoned us in.

“Just in time for roast panna casserole. Callie, you're welcome to join—”

“I know what to do,” I said loudly. “I know how we can fix things.”

Everyone—Ma, Da, Nanni, even Aubrin and Callie—stared at me like I'd gone naff-nut. I pulled the satchel from my back and extracted the green leather book I'd just been reading.

“I've been studying up on fateskein,” I said, paging through to the section on spiderbats. When the family cast cautious glances at Callie, I admitted sheepishly, “It's okay. Callie knows.”

Callie nodded. “I won't tell anyone.”

Da glowered at the book in my hands. “Where did you get a book on fateskein?”

“From Lotha's library,” I said.

Nanni frowned. “But Lotha's house is locked. How could you—? Oh. Right. Sorry, forgot who we were for a minute.”

I held up the page. An illustration showed one of the rare spiderbats. The size of a large infant, it had the many-legged body of a spider with the leathery wings and pointed ears of a bat. I passed the book around while I grabbed a sheet of parchment and began scribbling as I continued to explain.

“The book's not
about
fateskein. Most books only mention it in passing. And those that do only suggest magical solutions. They all agree that you need several high-ranking mages to perform a long, complicated spell that eventually weakens the fateskein's hold and breaks it down.”

Nanni sighed. “Well, that's nice, Jaxter, but we're a mite short on mages of late.”

I nodded. “Right, well, that's just the
official
way to beat fateskein.” I quickly told them about the antivenom I'd made for Aubrin. I then explained about the spiderbat silk used to make fateskein.

“I've been giving this a think,” I said slowly, not wanting to get anyone's hopes up, “and I'm pretty sure I can make a solvent that will dissolve the tapestry and prevent the rest of the predictions from coming true.” I held up the list of ingredients I'd just composed. “It would be hard to make and, of course, we'd need a lot. A bucketful at least. But I really think this will work.”

Ma studied the list. My chest grew warm to see her taking part with even a small amount of energy. “We can get some of this here in town, but I haven't heard of half these items. The sap of an ernum tree?”

“Ernum trees only grow in Yonick Province,” I noted. “That's the first problem: we'd have to get most of the ingredients from outside Vengekeep.” I pointed to a sketch in the book, showing a large, bulbous spiderbat hanging upside down from a stalactite. “The second problem is that, even if we figure out how to get stuff from outside Vengekeep, the ingredient that would really go to work on the fateskein is the milk of a spiderbat. Just like how venom is needed to make antivenom, we'd need something from the spiderbat to combat the silk thread. Wouldn't need a lot, just a couple vials full. But it's what will make this all work. Thing is, spiderbats are nearly extinct. The only place where we can find them is in the aircaves outside Merriton.”

Merriton. The town-state on the exact opposite side of the Five Provinces from where we were.

But Da's face lit up optimistically. “Not a problem. We simply tell the Provincial Guard that we've discovered how to end the curse and ask them to fetch the ingredients.”

I shook my head. “Technically speaking, only a mage or a cursebreaker can end a curse. They know Talian's not here, so claiming we can stop it would be suspicious. And any mage would look at this list and know it has nothing to do with cursebreaking. So that means we have to get the ingredients
ourselves
.”

At this, everyone's faces fell.

“Well, that's that then,” Ma said ruefully. “Even without the Provincial Guard blocking the way, the fateskein's not going to let us leave anytime soon, is it?”

“The thing about fateskein,” I mused, removing my glasses and chewing lightly on one of the legs, “is that it's quite literal. You have to be very specific when you use it or there could be, well, nasty consequences.”

Indeed, one of the factors that had led to the outlawing of fateskein was this unpredictability factor. The bards who traveled the land often sang tales of those who attempted to use fateskein and how it backfired. There was the story of Xol, who made a pair of magic mittens with fateskein that he hoped would give him a million copperbits, but the moment he put them on, he was immediately crushed to death when a million copperbits fell from the sky on top of him. And the lovely lady of Yonick who wove a blanket depicting her as the most beautiful woman in the Five Provinces and spent the rest of her life mopping blood off her doorstep as suitors from across the land slaughtered one another in her presence in an effort to possess her.

“What's hard to judge,” I said, pointing to Ma's sketched replica of the tapestry, “is how literal it's going to be for us.” I pointed out the star and the four stick figures in the center, then I underlined the accompanying text with my finger. “It might mean that only those of us with the star birthmark have to stay.”

Immediately, all eyes went to Ma, a Grimjinx by marriage and the only one of us without the birthmark on her shoulder. She shook her head. “You can forget it. I'm not leaving any of you behind—”

“Allia,” Da said, taking her hand, “if you can go and get help—”

“I'm not leaving!” Ma insisted through gritted teeth. “If that's the only way, we'll just have to think of something else.”

“It might not be the only way.” I touched each of the four figures one by one. “Ma wove four figures into the tapestry. It could be that only four Grimjinxes have to stay.
One
of us could go get the ingredients for the solvent.”

I expected there to be lengthy discussions about which of us should attempt to leave. But Da quelled all debate by saying, “Jaxter, it has to be you.”