Of Sea and Shadow (The Elder Empire: Sea Book 1) (35 page)

Panic began to swell in Calder’s chest. Until this point, he had been sure that he’d be able to come up with something to get them out of any situation. It hadn’t occurred to him how completely reliant they were on the raft.

Now that he thought of it, he probably should have tested the thing.

Above them, red quicklamps flashed to life. And a dozen alarm-bells began to ring.

Jyrine huddled close to him. “I know you’re the Reader, but if you could hurry up and think of something, I would certainly feel a lot better.”

“How long do you think it would take them to shoot us if we tried to swim for it?”

“How long does it take to load and fire a musket?”

Already, musket-barrels were emerging from all around the prison roof.

“Surrender your weapons!” A man called. “Return the prisoner! Drop the…bag!”

Second by second, the crushing weight of reality bore down on Calder. They had failed. They were all but caught. His father would go straight back to the alchemists and their experiments. His mother might lose her job, and would certainly see him as no better than Rojric. Jerri…well, they would likely return Jerri to her family. She, at least, should be safe.

And Calder would finally get what his mother had feared for him two years before: a cell next to his father.

A cell. Where he would sit, day after day, and fondly imagine throwing himself out the window.

The image filled him with new purpose, and he dropped the bag, leaving his empty hands raised in the air. “We…agree! We agree to…your terms!” He exaggerated the shivering in his voice, but not by much. “Please…just…save us!”

“Stay where you are,” came the man’s voice.

“Give me my coat,” Calder whispered to Jerri.

“I don’t know, I’m pretty comfortable wearing it.” But she was already climbing out of the coat, obviously eager to see what Calder had come up with.

It wasn’t much. He was going to see if he could invest enough Intent into the jacket to get it to float, and then send his father out in the bay, using the jacket as a makeshift flotation device. Since it was black, it should blend in to the night water, and his father might be able to cover his head with it and float at the same time.

It was a weak, desperate plan, filled with holes, but it was the best he could come up with. He had to try
something.

Then Jyrine handed him the coat, and he felt his seven nails clink against each other inside.

Inspiration bloomed like light in a cave.

He fumbled through the jacket like a blind man, finally managing to extract one of the nails. When he did, he looked from Jerri’s face—still excited—to his father’s lost expression.

“Trust me. I’m not crazy.”

Using the tip of the nail, he scraped a bloody gouge out of his hand. Jerri gasped, and his father moved forward as if to stop him, but it was too late.

Calder jumped back into Candle Bay.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
WO

Naberius shrugged off the ropes as he staggered down the hall of the Consultant’s chapter house. He’d been working his Intent into the bonds since the second they wrapped the rope around his wrists, and as soon as he was ready, the whole bundle came apart like rotten rags.

With his hands free, he tore off the cloth gag in his mouth, taking his first full, deep breath in days. When he was Emperor, he would make Calder Marten and his crew
feel
what they had done. He would tear them apart.

And then he would build them anew. It was his purpose. He realized that, now.

The Heart sang to him, even here, from across the island. After so many years in the Witnesses, he thought he’d experienced just about everything life had for him. Readers could see visions of the past, goals for the future, dreams and hopes and nightmares all bound up into the objects that people used every day. He thought he knew how the world worked.

But the Heart of the Dead Mother had a song unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It drew him, tantalized him,
taught
him. Simply from the feel of it—the cool lullaby—he knew that he would unlock secrets the world had never dreamed of. Hidden knowledge of life and death. He would be the wisest man that ever lived.

With that thought, he shook days of captivity from his mind. Who cared what Calder Marten had done? In the scale of the world, the sheer scope he’d seen when he Read the remnants of Nakothi’s body, Calder Marten was nothing.
Less
than nothing—the ghost of a dust mite compared to a titan.

Naberius focused himself. Even in his own mind, he hated babbling.

He straightened his coat, corrected his stride, and walked with perfect self-assurance out the back door of the chapter house. Nakothi’s song guided him.

It was on the other end of the island, in the back, and a little beneath him. As though someone had taken it underground. Were they trying to hide it from him?

He smiled only to himself as he stepped into a copse of trees, seemingly natural, and found a raked path. The way was clear before him.

Soon, he would destroy this world and birth it anew. He had been promised.

~~~

Jerri was no Reader, but she still had to press herself against the back wall of her cell to escape the Heart. Its icy grasp gnawed at her like a dog with a bone, whispering promises to her that she couldn’t hear.

You can be free,
it said.
You can be made anew. Your husband won’t understand who you are? You can change. Or you can change him. Rebirth comes for all.

Those who listened to the Elders for too long went mad, she knew. Even those who could not Read Intent, those like her who did not see straight into the unalloyed truth, could not stand more than the briefest glimpse into the minds of the Elders.

“They are older than we are,”
her father once said.
“Wiser, stronger, more intelligent than all of mankind put together. That is why we must be so careful. The lies we tell ourselves are what allow us to perceive the world at all. Crack those lies, and the human mind is like an egg with a cracked shell.”

She hadn’t understood her father’s words until years later, and she had never experienced such an object lesson as right here, right now. The Heart spoke with the purpose of Nakothi, but the Dead Mother’s intentions were strange and alien. Jerri had to learn what she could, and put that power to good use.

Right now, she wasn’t even interested in learning anything. She simply wanted it gone. This was not the first time Nakothi’s Heart had visited these cells—its power came and went over the past two days, as Shera carried it to Lucan for him to inspect.

Every time Shera visited, the Dead Mother’s voice grew louder. And that affected more than just Jerri’s peace of mind.

Whatever Reader ritual Lucan had used to mute sound, it had either worn off or vanished in the presence of Nakothi’s Heart. She caught snippets of his conversation.

“...getting dangerous...can’t stay. Do it now. Jorin will...”

His voice faded, but it sounded as though he was lecturing someone. And she thought she heard him mention Jorin.

That could be Jorin Curse-breaker, the Regent of the South who had taken over after the Emperor’s death. He’d built the original system of prisons under this island, Lucan had told her, though the cells in which they now rested were new additions. Why would they need a Regent to get involved? Was he supposed to do something about the Heart?

Of course, it could be any other of the ten thousand people with his name. Heroes of Imperial legend tended to have generations of people named after them, so it couldn’t be uncommon.

A woman responded. Jerri couldn’t make out many details, but the response was flat and even.

“...not sure you should,” Lucan said. “It wants...here. That’s more...afraid to...”

The woman raised her voice, so Jerri could hear her clearly.
“We
have to do something. The entire island is in danger.”

And Jerri finally recognized the woman’s voice: Shera. He was talking to the would-be assassin who had taken Jerri here in the first place.

She pressed herself even harder against the back wall. As much as the Heart’s presence frightened her, the idea of Shera remembering her scared her even more. What if Shera had only let her live this long as an oversight? And now, on the eve of Jerri’s escape, the woman had finally remembered?

Jerri clutched the iron band so hard that it stabbed into the flesh of her palm. As she’d suspected, the metal had warmed up after an hour or two, and ever since it was safe to touch Jerri had worn it against her skin. She was terrified to lose it, worried that she would miss her opportunity.

Scared that she might not get to fight for her freedom.

It was strange, she thought. She was looking forward to the fight itself more than to the freedom. What did that say about her?

That I’ve been locked up in here for too long, probably.

A figure in black moved outside the bars of Jerri’s cell, and Shera stepped up, watching Jerri curiously.

The terror gripped Jerri’s heart in panic. Would it be right now? Would Shera correct her mistake here?

She clutched the metal band even tighter, such that she was afraid she might draw blood. The Heart’s power had remained steady, so there was no signal, but she could try using the Elder artifact anyway. Maybe it would still work, and free her, even though it would likely anger the Sleepless.

If Shera entered, she would try it. What did she have to lose?

But the Consultant didn’t say anything. She simply stood there, watching.

After a few awkward moments, Jerri forced herself to her feet, slipping the iron band onto her left wrist and casually holding the arm behind her back. The artifact was a little loose to be worn as jewelry, but hopefully Shera wasn’t here for a detailed inspection.

With her other hand, Jerri combed her hair back as though that were the most important thing on her mind. It may have been too late to start playing the cool, unemotional prisoner after she had cringed and shrunk against the wall the second Shera showed up, but every bit of poise would help.

“Shera, isn’t it? May I help you with something?”

Shera was silent for another second before she spoke. “Why do what you’re doing? What is the point?”

Far from sounding cold and collected, she sounded...weary. That surprised Jerri even more than the assassin showing up in the first place. Every other time the two of them had spoken, the other woman had sounded as though she had a jagged black rock where her heart should be.

“I’m stuck in a cell, sleeping twelve hours a day,” Jyrine responded. “Just trying to while away idle hours, I suppose. Not much point to it.”

Shera sagged forward, resting her forehead against the bars. “I don’t want to do this. Elders and the Emperor and living forever...any of it. I just...well, that’s the way it is. So I at least want to know why. What are you doing this
for?
What’s the point?”

Jerri studied her for a moment. Shera looked as though she hadn’t slept for a week, and she spoke like someone about to die.

This was the ideal moment to offer hope.

“Humans are fundamentally selfish, aren’t we?” Jerri said. “No matter what else we do, when it comes down to a moment for action, we will
always
act for ourselves and those closest to us. We spend our whole lives worshiping one person.”

Shera didn’t react. She didn’t leave or argue, either, which Jerri took as a good sign.

“And where has that gotten us? Everyone agrees that it would be better if we were more charitable, more virtuous, simply nicer to our fellow man. But we don’t change. We advance, we make discoveries, but the basic nature of humanity remains the same throughout the centuries.”

Jerri held up one finger. “There is only one kind of truly selfless act. And that is anything done in the service of humanity as a
whole
. For all humankind. For everyone, present and future, whether or not we ever see a benefit for ourselves.”

Forcing herself to maintain a calm facade, Jerri stepped forward and gripped the bars, holding herself face-to-face with the woman who had taken her captive.

“The Sleepless do not worship Elders. We’re not a cult. Nor do we capture and examine them ourselves, like the Blackwatch do. Our goal is to
communicate
with the Great Elders, to establish a common understanding so that we can benefit from just the tiniest fraction of their wisdom. Not for ourselves, you understand. For all of mankind.”

Jerri finished the speech with a smile. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

Shera leaned back from the bars. She loosened her arms, rolling her neck, rubbing her shoulder, as though she had just woken up.

And after a few seconds, she spoke.

“So you’re idiots. Thanks. That tells me what I wanted to know.”

With her right hand, the Consultant reached behind her back and pulled out one of her bronze blades. Jerri stepped back, gripping the icy band of iron. Her palms were wet and clammy, and her breath was coming fast. Would she be able to complete the summons before Shera opened the door and used the knife? Would the call even work without the right timing?

But Shera didn’t open the door. Her gaze lingered on Jerri for another instant before she moved off down the hall, toward Lucan’s cell.

She had only taken one step when she stopped, going down into a crouch.

Lucan’s voice drifted from next door. “Who are you?” he asked someone Jerri couldn’t see. “What are you doing here?”

And another voice, a familiar voice, echoed through the stone hallways.

“On your knees,” Calder said.

~~~

Calder had rehearsed his next confrontation with Shera, but it didn’t go as well as he’d hoped.

When he and his Consultant escorts had turned the corner in the dungeon and seen Shera in the hallway, he had an instant of pure joy. He was still wearing the Emperor’s crown, after all, so he ordered her down on her knees.

Everyone in the hallway knelt on command, with a few notable exceptions. Calder himself remained standing, of course, as did Andel and Foster. The man in the cell to the left, some half-Heartlander man with a cell full of books, remained seated normally. And Shera stayed where she was, balanced on the balls of her feet with a knife in her right hand.