Rethana's Trial: Legends of the Light-Walkers, #2

By Courtney Cantrell

In Rethana’s Surrender, the pulse-pounding opening novel of Legends of the Light-Walkers, the gathering of an army shattered Rethana Chosardal’s comfortable life and thrust her into the arms of one who could be either tormentor or savior. But just as she began to feel safe with the clerics who once hunted her family, new trials wrenched her from even this thin protection.

Now unknown enemies have captured her and torn her from the side of her dying sister. Once again tossed on the waves of war with no safe harbor, Rethana has nowhere to turn. The elusive, nomadic Soldan claim her as part of their ancient prophecy to overthrow the malicious rule of an evil emperor. To entice her into their cause, the Soldan offer to feed her insatiable hunger for magical knowledge. Is Rethana willing to pay the price they ask?

Before she can decide, another menace sweeps down from the icy north. Under the relentless scourge of the diabolical Skardi, it becomes clear that the petty civil war between Soldan and the clerics places the whole nation in peril. There is no hope but an alliance...if only either side would heed Rethana’s warnings.

Rethana stands alone in the midst of trial and treachery, the powers of two great monarchs arrayed against her. Even the strength of the Warlord Allasin, her master and possible beloved, is out of reach. Abandoned by old friends, beset by new enemies, Rethana stands at the very heart of her homeland, forced to make her last stand.

Though the fate of Rethana’s sister remains unknown and the whole world rests upon her shoulders, Rethana will bend but not break. Only this iron determination can see her through Rethana’s Trial.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Faeddra Books
• Release date: Dec 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781497754461

Courtney Cantrell

Courtney Cantrell is the author of epic fantasy series Legends of the Light-Walkers, paranormal fantasy series Demons of Saltmarch, sci-fi epic The Elevator, and oodles of short stories. She was born in Texas and grew up in Germany. At age 12, she penned her first novel, a one-page murder mystery. (The gardener did it.) By age 17, she had finished two full-length YA sci-fi novels. Three transatlantic moves, thirty years, and countless shenanigans later, Courtney writes full-time as a stay-at-home mom. As of 2023, she has survived the collapse of modern civilization and completed 16 novels and two short story collections in multiple genres. Courtney lives with her husband, their daughter, two cats, and an assortment of cross-cultural doohickeys. She blogs haphazardly at courtcan.com and connects with her adoring fans as @courtcan on Mastodon.

Book preview

Chapter One

Rethana cleared her throat and tried to keep the quaver from her voice. Where are you taking me?

Only a few steps ahead, Alpey didn’t glance back. Out.

And then?

You’ll see soon enough.

Are we going past the Falls again?

Alpey laughed. Nay. We need a secret way, and that one hasn’t been for many a year.

Alpey, please let me go back to my sister. Why are you doing this?

You’ll see soon enough. Now be silent or I’ll gag you.

Rethana fell silent, not relishing the thought of the other woman’s cherry-red comori Fire between her teeth. With flames binding her wrists and hobbling her ankles, she already had enough trouble keeping up. Her feet disturbed pebbles, and her toe caught on outcroppings every few steps. But Alpey—the Soldan—glided through red-tinted shadows with the fluid elegance of a skilled warrior, every muscle honed and solid. No trace remained of a drudge’s servility, as though her veins now ran with something regal and fiercer than blood. This creature had never known servitude.

Chills passed down Rethana’s back. Was there ever a drudge named Alpey? Did she kill the real one? How had the woman managed to deceive the clerics’ entire camp—including Allasin himself?

But she couldn’t ask the questions burning like Fire in her mind. Even if Allasin, Mirai, and Niven could repair the cloven Terllach path, they’d be a long time at it. The battle wasn’t quite an hour gone. Niven’s adepts would be terrified still, incapable of assisting...if enough of them even remained alive to render aid. By the time Allasin and his people gained this side of the cleft, Rethana and the Soldan would be gone—and, doubtless, untrackable.

Her chest went tight at the thought. Allasin would come for his comor’mel...wouldn’t he? He did have the remainder of an army to marshal. And in the chaotic aftermath of the Soldan attack, it might be hours before Mirai’s apprentice, Metheny, could bring word to anyone of Rethana’s fate. It might not even be until morning.

And if Allasin didn’t make haste in it all...then what of Chel?

’Neth’s grace, please...please let him make haste.

They came to the bend in the path where the strange, arched rock formation waited in silent ruin. Alpey’s Fire wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the far wall, but the red light reflected off the nearest, jagged edges of the ancient bridge. Rethana’s stumbling feet slowed to a halt as she stared out across the chasm. How would it have been to stand on that bridge as it disintegrated, screaming as rock gave way, scrabbling for handholds that crumbled beneath desperate fingers? Dizziness assaulted her. She wavered toward the edge.

An unseen hand tugged, then jerked at her wrists. Searing pain flared in her skin. With a small cry, Rethana stumbled back, following the pull of fiery bonds. She tripped over a rock. The unseen hand—comori-born Air—didn’t bother to catch her, and she went sprawling. When she finally pulled herself onto hands and knees and looked up, her captor was standing over her.

Fool, Alpey said.

No more than that. As Rethana struggled to her feet, awkward in skirts and comori shackles, the Soldan woman turned away and continued on. This time, the command of fiery bonds was gentler, but Rethana still had no choice but to obey. Thrice damn-it, her Ward would be more welcome than ever! But the cherry-red bonds blocked comori from her summons; neither Elements nor Ward would be hers to command until Alpey released her.

Just after the curve in the path, Alpey halted at a deep niche in the wall and drew Rethana into it. At an angle that screened it from view of the path, a slender break in the rock admitted the two women one at a time. Inside, the cleft widened into a stairway that passed into the wall, around a curve, and out of sight. Rethana felt a lessening of pressure and looked down to see the bright red shackles disappear from her ankles. She raised her eyebrows at Alpey.

You’ll need freer movement on the stairs, the Soldan said. You may speak now.

How did you know about this place? 

Terllach Caverns is part of my people’s domain. I remained in contact with my comrades while in the clerics’ camp, so I knew where the ambush would happen.

An orb of red light blazed to life beside the Soldan. But instead of flickering like Fire, it gave off a steady glow. Rethana stared. Was this a Soldan thing? Or could anyone skilled in comori learn the making of it? She grimaced. Always the thrice-damned questions swarming in her head like a cloud of midges, always the hunger to know more, even in the midst of this nightmare....

As she watched, the silent orb floated toward the stairs and then up. Alpey hurried after, and Rethana’s wrist-bonds dragged her in the Soldan’s wake. She risked another question. What do you mean, this is part of your people’s domain? E’Tan-elsa controls all the northern and western territory. The Soldan never come further north than the Lake of Merloca.

Do we not? Alpey tossed a sly glance over her shoulder. When my cohort captured you the first time wasn’t enough to deny that old gammers’ tale?

"The first—! Rethana could barely draw breath. Her words came out in a squeak. Who are you? Where are you taking me?"

For now, I am Alpey, and I’m taking you out of this cavern. You should learn more patience, Rethana. Staff and rod, I don’t know how Allasin survived. Many a time I thought he should simply beat you. You don’t make a very good servant.

"I’m not his servant. I’m his comor’mel."

Ah. Yes. Quite the difference, I’m sure. That must be why he had you packing up his pavilion and loading his carts your first morning in camp. With the drudges.

Rethana snorted. She would not rise to that bait. What happened to the real Alpey? Did you kill her just so you could cozy up to the clerics?

The Soldan woman altered neither tone nor rapid pace as she climbed. Mayhap you didn’t realize, but clerics take very little notice of drudges. When a cleric looks at a drudge, he doesn’t see her. He sees a pair of hands to do the work, a mouth to feed, and, if he’s dishonorable, a graymalkin for taking his pleasure. Clerics don’t see the color of her hair or the shape of her face. They don’t see that her dress is ragged. If a drudge goes missing, they don’t see it, as long as someone’s still there to do the work.

Rethana felt a sick clenching in her gut. So you did kill her.

The moon weeps! The Soldan threw both hands in the air. Of course I didn’t! Don’t you understand? There never was an Alpey. I appeared one morning in Allasin’s camp, right at the very entrance to his damned pavilion, and he never realized that he’d never seen me before.

Rethana released a too-loud breath. But why? What did you gain from it all? Realization hit. You said you had contact with your people. Have they followed us these many weeks? Why not take me before we ever left Tir’odun?

The Soldan shrugged. "My Speaker deemed Terllach Caverns a more advantageous point of attack. He was right. The clerics would have mounted a better defense in the Tirg.

As for you, she continued, you weren’t the only reason I stayed so long in the clerics’ camp. What did we gain? The most valuable commodity of all, Rethana. Information.

For a few moments, the only sounds were Rethana’s labored breathing and their echoing footsteps. After weeks in the saddle without her usual bell-ringing and stairs-mounting, she was feeling this climb. Looking down, she saw that the hard steps were worn in the middle like the wooden ones of her Rocalnaret Qaslin home. She’d never given thought to how many years it had taken for the passage of feet to wear down the wood. Now, she had to wonder: How many centuries to wear down stone, not wood? And what feet had made these grooves? Soldan? Eame’nae? Or someone before them?

What sort of information? Her voice sounded small.

The Melil Eame’nae’s plans, said the red-haired Soldan. We now know for certain that he is building an army against us, and we have a good idea of that army’s size.

Rethana bit her lip. "Then Allasin was right. It is war."

This time, the Soldan half-turned toward her. Of course it’s war, you fool girl! What think you, that the clerics are conscripting every able-bodied man for sheer amusement? Allasin and his cronies aren’t the only drafting parties sent from E’Tan-elsa.

What?

"The Eame’naeir sent them in threes, their journeyman clerics. Their eam’ainneir. One ternion to the cities and villages around E’Tan-elsa and on the northern Irelae Plains. One ternion to the eastern mountain folk of the Ried’e Duinada. One ternion even as far as the Ried’e Besiad, though I don’t suppose those conscripts will come north in time to make much difference in how this all plays out. Alpey faced forward again, still climbing. One ternion into your Pangaedd Tirg. And if each ternion brings back at least two hundred soldiers, as Allasin has done, along with a whole passel of adepts in training...Shaddix will have a formidable military force indeed."

Rethana feigned ignorance. Shaddix?

The Melil Eame’nae. The First among Eame’naeir. The illustrious ruler of all Jiredd Stal. This last with noticeable scorn in Alpey’s voice. He already has an army several thousand strong quartered in and around the city.

How do you know he’s mounting this force against the Soldan?

What other enemy has he? Tharian of Halaferth doesn’t molest Jiredd Stal, and his Goodmen keep the Sun Road safe and passable. The Southern Wastes hold nothing worth conquest. Neither do the northern lands beyond the mountains.

Northern lands. Memories drifted through Rethana’s mind from that evening at the Tehvs homestead so long ago. The night of her first capture at Soldan hands. Dav’s brother Keioth had told a tale of strange enemies in the Northern Reaches...but her mind had filled with so many more pressing worries since then that she couldn’t recall the particulars anymore. Had Keioth taken his wife and little ones farther south, as he wanted? Or had he stayed on at the homestead, filling the space Dav had left?

Nay, the Melil Eame’nae has his eye fixed on the Soldan, Alpey went on. Ever have the Eame’naeir gnashed their teeth that we make our home in Jiredd Stal. They cannot tax us, they cannot hold us, they cannot command us, because they know we are their match. It vexes them no end. She was silent for a moment. After what I saw and heard in the clerics’ camp, I’m more sure than ever. The Eame’naeir have finally tired of our presence and are ready to show us the door. Shaddix has no interest in marching against a foreign land. He’s starting a civil war. Her tone hardened. But he’ll find we’re not so easy to evict from our land. The Irelae Plains belong to us.

Rethana stared at the back of Alpey’s head, and a grudging smile curved her lips. I can admire anyone who’d stand against Shaddix, she thought. Even a Soldan. Why tell me these things? she asked aloud. Why say all of this to an enemy? You know I’ll only share it all with Allasin when he frees me.

Alpey glanced back. You only assume he’ll come after you and that he’ll succeed in rescuing you if he does. Besides.... She smirked. What makes you think you’re my enemy?

Rethana frowned and held up her comori-bound hands in mute retort.

Alpey snorted. As if that were proof of anything. She faced forward again. Now be silent. We’re coming to an open area, and I would not risk the cleric’s company hearing us.

The Soldan’s red orb winked out; shadows rushed in. The Fire bonds at Rethana’s wrists emitted just enough light for her to see where to place her feet. She glanced behind her, where the stairs descended into darkness. For a moment, she froze, convinced that if she turned her back, a slavering, mad-eyed thing with sharp fangs would come hurtling up from below, sinking its claws into her unprotected back and dragging her down into the black depths to devour her alive. This was worse than her imaginings back at the precipice. The base of her spine prickled.

The awful thought so preoccupied her, she didn’t realize the Soldan had stopped until she tried to step up onto a step that wasn’t there and collided with the other woman. Alpey favored her with a glare visible even in the half-light, then pressed one slender finger against her lips. Her fingers twitched, beckoning. Rethana stepped forward...and into the open.

Open of sorts. The rock walls still rose on either side and up ahead, but the wall to her left leaned in at the top, terminating about ten feet from the floor. There, a slit of inky darkness paralleled the now smooth incline beneath her feet. Metal rungs punctuated the rock, forming a ladder that reached to the crest of the wall. She could well imagine a man or woman climbing those rungs to gaze out over the enormous cavern—and using heavy bow and arrow to pick off apprentices and soldiers below.

Before she could think or rethink, she drew a deep breath and opened her mouth to scream.

An unseen hand clamped down on her mouth, forcing her jaws together. She bit her tongue, wincing as her shriek emerged as naught more than a muffled groan. She tried to force her lips apart, but Air did not give. When she finally looked up into the Soldan woman’s face, she poured fury into her gaze.

But Alpey only pointed at her. Fire instead of Air next time, if you don’t behave yourself. I warned you.

Cloaked shadows detached from the darkness ahead. Pinpoints of Alpey’s comori red reflected from beneath woolen hoods, but none of the four newcomers revealed their faces. They drifted across the rocky path, their movements as fluid as those of the woman who had been the clumsy drudge. The nearest one greeted Alpey, grasping her arm above the elbow.

You have her. The man’s quiet voice sounded pleased. This is well met, indeed.

Alpey nodded. Aye, so it is. Where is Dilean? I’d have words with her.

I sent her on with the rest. We’ll find them in camp. Pleasure turned to amusement. I told her you’d scrap with her for saying you couldn’t bring the girl out.

I’ll have atonement from her this time. Tamsin won’t keep me from it.

The man shrugged beneath his dark cloak. White teeth flashed in the darkness. You’ll have to settle the matter with Tamsin. Until then, leave Dilean in peace.

Aye, Alpey replied. From behind her, Rethana couldn’t see the expression on her face, but she certainly sounded like she was sucking lemons. Served her right.

The Soldan man stepped past Alpey to face Rethana. Crimson light reflected off the tip of his nose and his smiling lips, but she couldn’t distinguish features. Something tingled in memory, as though he should be familiar. But why? Simply because he was Soldan? Yet another Soldan, capturing her? Mayhap she should get used to this.

His hand twitched at his side, as though he wanted to reach out but thought better of it. You are well?

She nodded, then squinted at him, trying to see more of his face. But he only chuckled deep in his chest. The three Soldan behind him turned and started up the path. He melted into the darkness with them. Alpey and Rethana followed, entering a second tunnel, where they began another ascent. This new staircase was so steep that Rethana had to use Fire-bound hands to aid her climb. It took twice as much breath, since Alpey’s Air kept her from breathing through her mouth. By the time they emerged from a tunnel and into fresh air, she had doubled over. Alpey’s hand pressed her down; at the same time, the vise of Air vanished from her mouth. Rethana dropped gasping onto a large stone to the right of the tunnel mouth.

Far below, the Irelae Plains spread out before her, waves of tall grasses a vast sea in the deepening dusk. A whispery sound drifted up, as though the meadows were telling each other secrets they hoped someone would overhear. On the eastern horizon rose the purple smudges of remote mountain peaks. To Rethana’s right, the not-quite-crescent of Pangaedd Tirg lost itself into the south. She sucked in enough breath to dampen her ire and ask a question. Where are we?

The foothills of the Ried’e Duinada, said Alpey. The way to E’Tan-elsa lies there. She pointed northeast. It’s from there the army of Shaddix will march, when they come.

Rethana nodded. She wouldn’t be able to find E’Tan-elsa traveling alone...but she did remember her family’s flight overland from the city to the Tirg and then down the steep road near Terllach Falls. The Beloen Road to E’Tan-elsa wouldn’t be too far west of here.  

But we go east, Alpey continued, interrupting her thoughts. The Soldan woman barked a laugh. How Shaddix would rage if he knew how close we really are! My people are gathered in the foothills not two days’ march from from his precious Sacred Halls.

Practically under his long nose, added the Soldan who’d spoken to them inside the cavern. We must go. The Speaker expects us not long after nightfall.

Moments later, the five Soldan were sprinting down the grassy hill and through a small valley. Rethana tried to keep up as best she could with wrists bound and long skirts getting in the way. Alpey’s skirts didn’t hamper her at all, and Rethana marveled again at the transformation from cowering drudge to woman of strength and purpose.

And I don’t dislike her. Shock followed the thought. For certain, I’m a moonraker of the first rate!

As Rethana lagged farther behind despite the cherry-red comori bonds that pulled her on, Alpey ran in step with the Soldan man for an exchange of brief words. He dropped back to Rethana’s side, then swung her up over his shoulder and ran on.

Jouncing up and down, Rethana grimaced in the gloom. Just like when they caught us the first time. Chel had been unconscious—

Chel. The image of her sister’s gaunt face, birthmark livid against pale skin, flashed through Rethana’s mind. Despair clamored at the entrance to her heart. She clenched her teeth, welcoming the familiar ache in her jaws. Don’t be long, Allasin. Please...please get Mirai to Chel.

She expected no answer, but she got one—in the form of an eerie silence that reverberated in the center of her forehead. Heart pounding, she tried to focus on the intangible connection she shared with her comoran. The link was there as always, but something about it had changed. It felt...creased...soft at the edges...like a piece of parchment folded and unfolded too often.

Allasin?

Silence replied again, as though a fragment had broken away and she could no longer read the words upon it. If il’eras were a document inscribed with Allasin’s emotions, then the letters were becoming less and less distinct.

Less distinct with distance? Did this mean he couldn’t use il’eras to track her?

And was this relief she felt? Or disappointment?

The journey through the foothills felt endless. Upended as she was, the blood throbbed in her ears, and her head pounded with it. Soon she stopped trying to see the landscape as they passed through. Eyes closed, she listened to the rhythmic footfalls of her captor, which matched the rhythm of the painful pulse in her head.

Behind the running Soldan, the sun gave up the day’s battle and sank into oblivion. But even as darkness fell, the Soldan didn’t slow. Along with their strange, elongated ears, did they possess eyes that could see in the dark? Rethana wondered how Alpey had come to be among them. She wondered why Alpey and the Soldan man who carried her seemed so familiar. Had everything since her first capture been a dream?

She blinked. The Soldan was lowering her to the ground; he kept a tight hold until she gained her feet. We’ve arrived, my lady, he said, laughter in his voice. In the dark, she could see only an outline of his hood against the stars. These final steps you must take alone. The cleft admits only one at a time.

She felt his fingers around hers, rough but warm, as he guided her hands to coarse stone. For the first time in hours, her wrists were free of Fire. The Soldan man disappeared into a deeper darkness before her.

Follow him, came Alpey’s voice at her ear. Looking up, Rethana saw the stars twinkling far above a looming wall, featureless in the dark. She groped into the even darker cleft after the Soldan. Her questing fingers found the rock wall to guide her. For an endless moment, stone enveloped her as she shuffled one careful foot before the other.

Memory stirred. She saw herself several years younger and in her great-grandmother’s study with Chel—who was singing a hymn that drifted up to Rocalnaret Qaslin’s windows every Fir’melil after the praedit’s weekly lecture. Chel—whose quiet voice sang words that Rethana had already begun to doubt.

Qaslaneth secures me

In the cleft of mountains

Beyond the shadows of my thirsty soul....

Rock closed around her, bringing smells of molds and dust. The throbbing in her head moved to her throat, and she choked on unshed tears. Ever this hunger for knowledge, and ever this thirst for—what? Oh, Chel, Chel...what was it you were trying to teach me? What lesson have I too long refused to learn?

Would she have another chance? Only if Allasin and Mirai reached Chel in time. Only if Chel survived her strange, horrible malady.

Only if I ever see her again.

’Neth above, please let me see her again.

Past a narrow bend, Rethana caught sight of her own hand, gray against black. A dim glow radiated from somewhere up ahead, then the flicker of firelight. She stepped out of the shadowed fissure and into the clear. Seeing the sparkling vista before her, she dashed tell-tale tears from her cheeks then went quite still.

The Speaker’s host, said Alpey at her ear again. We camp at the Melil Eame’nae’s doorstep, and he doesn’t deign to glance down at us. And so, he overlooks us.

The stars had fallen, turning into tiniest infernos on the ground. A hundred, Rethana thought at first. No, a thousand. Finally, she wondered if it wasn’t ten thousand campfires twinkling across the wide, dark valley—stars decorating an inverted night sky.

Three of of the Soldan who’d accompanied them were moving off into the camp, calling out and receiving greetings in turn. The Speaker’s host, Rethana repeated. Her voice was still thick, but that could be the molds. Who is the Speaker? 

There are many Speakers, said Alpey. A Speaker leads every cohort. Now that all the cohorts gather here, one Speaker leads all. A harsh chuckle escaped the Soldan woman. Your clerics would call him our First Speaker. Our own Melil Bheries. You will see him.

Why?

Alpey’s eyes met hers. He wants to see you.

Sudden fear fluttered in Rethana’s chest like a small, trapped animal. She wanted to release it but didn’t know how. Alpey, why have you brought me here?

Arden! At the sound of the new voice, both women turned. A young Soldan man approached, firelight reflecting off his teeth as he grinned. Welcome! It’s been too long since you’ve sat the circle.

Aye, replied Alpey, too long. Tell me, have you seen Dilean?

His grin widened. Arden, I’ve never seen her worse. She’s got her whole cohort in an uproar, demanding they stand by her when she claims she never said aught against you.

Alpey thumped him on the shoulder. Vian, your words do my heart good! That wench will feel the back of my hand yet. Spread word that I’m looking for her. Let her quail a bit.

Aye. With a chuckle and a final flash of white teeth, the young Soldan bolted away, dodging between campfires.

The former drudge turned to Rethana. Rethana knew she must look silly with her mouth wide open, but she couldn’t help it. The Soldan woman raised an eyebrow at her.

Now you know, Rethana. Are you surprised?

Arden, she said. I remember...you were in the Soldan camp at Saemnoth?

Aye.

She frowned, groping for memory. You were angry...one of the men mocked you.

Aye.

But.... Rethana swallowed. But you didn’t die on the cliff.

The amused smile faded from the Soldan woman’s face. When my comrades fell to their deaths, I was already on my way to Allasin’s camp, disguised and under orders from my Speaker. Her cool, dark eyes held Rethana’s. All but three of my cohort perished the night you came to our camp. My Speaker still wishes to hear you explain how this came to be.

Rethana shook her head. I can’t explain it. The other woman’s lips thinned. "Alpey, I can’t! I don’t know what happened to them! Her voice dropped to a weak tremor. Arden."

Still, said a male voice, the Speaker wishes to see you. And he will have questions about that night.

As Rethana turned toward the Soldan who’d carried her, he slipped his hood, exposing his face. She met his steady, warm gaze, and her breath stopped. The high, elegant cheekbones were no unusual feature...but that scar on the right side of his face, running from nose to jawline, set this Soldan apart. She remembered thinking his a face worth looking at, scar or no scar. And his a voice worth listening to. She recognized it now, its warm tones comforting in such uncertainty. How could I not recognize that voice?

Well met, Rethana, Manases said. You do remember me.

She nodded, staring. This had to be a dream. Any moment, she’d wake up with Chel in the Soldan tent, just like before....

Except this time there wouldn’t be bloody bits and pieces of Soldan guards scattered all over the camp.

He’ll have questions about this night, as well, Arden said. We left behind fallen comrades in Terllach Caverns, and I for one don’t know what killed them.

Nor do I, said Manases, still looking at Rethana. Concern flickered in his warm, dark eyes. But I’m to bring her to the Speaker. Perhaps he’ll uncover the answers we seek.

He shifted. Reflected firelight sparkled in the hollow of his throat, where a leather cord held his emerald-colored stone in place. Rethana frowned, remembering Fire bonds of vivid green around her wrists and legs, pinning her skirts and ankles as he brought her before his Speaker for the first time. She shook her head.

I don’t have any answers. The words came out in a wail. I don’t understand anything that’s happened.

Come before the Speaker. Manases’s hand was at her elbow, and she found herself moving forward. You know him. There is nothing to fear.

I know him? She looked at Arden. "He is your Speaker?"

Aye. He is Speaker to Manases and to me, last of our cohort. But despite his losses, he still remains Speaker for all cohorts.

The Melil Bheries you spoke of?

Arden answered a hail from a campfire they passed, then grinned. Aye, the First Speaker, though he will think it strange if you name him in Lirren Eamnaya to his face. He is no Eame’nae.

Manases laughed outright. You will understand in a few moments, he said, as though reading Rethana’s confusion in her eyes. Our Speaker is not as other Speakers, even as we Soldan are not as others are.

His fingers brushed his right ear, and Rethana felt sudden heat in her face. He’d tried to banter with her about Soldan differences that night so long ago, though he referred to certain other differences that had naught to do with ears. Why do I remember that, of all things!

I didn’t understand your Speaker the first time I met him, she said, too loud. I don’t expect to understand him any better a second time.

But Manases only smiled. This time, though, you will see him, he said. He has decided you should know who he is.

Again, that fearful creature fluttered in her chest—but why? Why should learning the Speaker’s identity unnerve her? He had known so much about her, as though intimately acquainted with her life, ’twould be a relief to know who he was! Alpey—no, Arden—had called information the most valuable asset. Now, as the two Soldan led Rethana along the outskirts of the camp, she found herself agreeing with the woman’s assessment. Curiosity had burned within her when she’d first met the Speaker. The madwoman Kryeis had known things, too, but Rethana didn’t expect ever to clarify that mystery. The enigma of the Speaker, however...if she learned who he really was, mayhap she would finally understand why he’d ordered her capture and Chel’s in the first place.

The Speaker didn’t make his headquarters in the plain, smallish tent she remembered from the Soldan camp near Saemnoth. This pavilion spread even wider than Allasin’s. Did the Speaker share it with Arden and Manases, the only comrades left from his original cohort? Swirling shapes and symbols decorated every surface. Dim firelight disguised the colors, but Rethana was willing to wager that every hue of the rainbow—and quite a few hues in between—tinged the canvas. One of the nearer campfires flared up as she studied the symbols, and she saw a crimson reminiscent of Arden’s comori red, like sugarcherries. Were all these the comori colors of the Soldan?

They reached the pavilion’s entrance. Manases drew aside heavy canvas, motioning her through. She glanced from him to Arden.

We do not go with you, the Soldan woman said. Perhaps he will summon us later, after he has spoken with you. For now, we wait here.

The fluttery creature in Rethana’s chest gnawed ever deeper, toward her heart. I don’t know anything, she said. The words spilled from her mouth before she could stop them. I’m afraid.

You enter his presence in a more dignified fashion than last time. Manases grinned at her. Already you have an advantage.

She could fight him. She could challenge him as she’d done before, and he would drag her in to the Speaker as he’d done before. But the thought of resistance proved no temptation. Curiosity was far too strong now...and besides, going in willingly might earn her the chance she needed later, the chance to escape the Soldan a second time and make her way back to Chel. For a moment, painful ache replaced fluttery fear. Chel still needed her; she mustn’t forget that.

Chel is my most precious commodity. More than any information.

Taking a deep breath and pulling her shoulders back, she stepped inside. Memory sparked again—entering Allasin’s pavilion, drifting down into darkness with him—but she extinguished it. Allasin would continue on to E’Tan-elsa with what remained of his prizes. Surely he’d give little thought to pursuing the Soldan, no matter how valuable he thought Rethana’s comori skills. No matter what else lay between them. Surely he wouldn’t risk his remaining adepts and his conscripted army to search for one missing comor’mel. She would do well to put him just as firmly from her own mind. Especially since the strange link between them was...what? Fading? Breaking?

And why don’t I know if I’m glad of that?

Manases let the canvas fall behind her, and she blinked in the pavilion’s expansive, dim interior. A pallet in one corner and a cold iron brazier provided the only furnishings. After the busy fullness of Allasin’s abode, this near-emptiness made her feel far too small. A lantern overhead shed the only light. The cloaked Speaker stood in the center of the pavilion, his back to her, his hands clasped behind him. Beneath the cloak’s hem, she glimpsed heels of leather boots.

He didn’t speak. She shifted in place. Should she announce herself or sit down? Staring at the Speaker’s rigid stance and hearing his strange silence, she wanted to fidget or burst into tears. Curiosity dwindled to nothing, and the fluttery thing in her chest thrust itself up into her throat. She swallowed. I’m going to be sick.

Then he spoke, and her whole body twitched. I was pleased, he said, when Arden reported that you were not dead.

He half-turned. She cleared her throat. Swallowed again. Did he expect a response? Thank you, she said, sounding ridiculous even to herself.

After the witchwoman took you, I wasn’t certain, he went on. Manases and I tracked you to the sea of boulders, but you disappeared.

Kryeis—the witchwoman—she had...secret ways.

He nodded. Aye, I suspected as much. Another long pause. Then he said, How did you kill my men that night?

Cold chills cascaded down her back, cold nausea flooded her stomach. She tried to speak. Nothing would come out.

In his three-quarters profile, a glint caught in his eye. Speak.

I-I didn’t, she finally said. I didn’t kill anyone.

I would know. If you could teach it to my people, this would be a great weapon to use against the Eame’naeir when they bring us battle.

But I don’t know anything about weapons!

They tell me that more of my comrades died in that same manner in Terllach Caverns today. Rent apart by unseen hands. I would know how you do this.

I didn’t. Her voice shook now. It wasn’t me!

You try my patience.

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

I’ve always known you would deny it, he went on. From the first, when I realized what you were capable of, I knew you would pretend innocence. You always did like to play pretend, Rethana.

The fluttery creature beat mad wings against the inside of her ribcage. Please believe me. I don’t understand what you mean!

Understanding means knowing what we know and what we do not know. Would you know, Rethana? Are you certain you would know?

Who are you? She cleared her throat. Thrice-damn it, what did he want? They said you would tell me who you are.

He made a sound that might have been a chuckle. Why do you ask my name? It is beyond understanding.

Then show me your face.

’Tis not one that would launch a thousand ships. We lack a sea, you see.

Like the nonsense ramblings of the Crone. Show me your face, she whispered.  

The Speaker turned, stepping into the circle of lantern light. As Rethana studied his features, adding them up to a sum of his identity, her breath slowed as though her body had forgotten how to draw air. Again, she pictured the massive, broken bridge in Terllach Caverns. She imagined its momentous crumbling into the depths. As she recognized the Speaker’s face, another sort of rock shattered beneath her, plunging her into a reality she couldn’t fathom. She groped for something to hold onto and found nothing.

The tiny thing that had fluttered in her chest plummeted with her, dropping with a thud into the pit of her stomach.

The Speaker was her brother, Lhuk.

Chapter Two

Rethana’s knees gave. She sat down hard, mouth wide open. Any moment, he’s going to tell me that I’m catching midges. Just like he used to.

But you’re dead, she said. In her head, the words made sense even though the evidence to the contrary stood before her with something like a smile on his face.

He held his arms out, inspecting them. I don’t seem to be. His voice held no banter. No. I think I’m very much alive.

She got to her knees but couldn’t rise any further. Lhukinan, she whispered.

He held up one hand. No. I am Speaker for the Soldan. You must see me no other way.

Staring up at him, she felt ten years old again...in good, safe hands. Part of her warned that it wasn’t so,