Age of Myth (The Legends of the First Empire #1)

“I’ll see what I can do,” she managed to say as the pain forced her teeth to clench. She held his stare as long as she could, the pain hammering hard with each second. Arion was relieved when he broke first.

“Anything can I get you?” Persephone asked. She grimaced nervously. “Is—there—anything—I—can—get—for—you?”

“I want to sleep. I just need to rest, and I’ll be better.”

She hoped that was true.

—

The room was dark the next time Arion woke. Outside the window, stars shone. Inside the room, a single lamp—a hollowed-out block of chalk stuffed with animal fat—revealed the same girl she had awakened to before. This time the girl lay on the floor. Her head was propped against the side of the wolf, which lay sprawled across the wooden floor. Once more, Suri played with a loop of string.

Arion wasn’t in any immediate pain for a change and just lay still, watching as the girl wove a surprisingly complex pattern. Arion had no idea Rhunes played the same game she taught her students, and seeing it was like watching a dog walk on its hind legs. Arion knew the design. After centuries, she’d likely formed every possible combination. The one between Suri’s fingers was what Arion referred to as the Spider’s Box, and the girl was doing a lovely job. Her fingers worked with unexpected facility—whirling, twisting, and drawing out the string with nimble grace and uncompromising confidence. Arion realized this Rhune girl, who used a wolf as a pillow, was doing a much better job of weaving than Mawyndul? ever had.

“The bottom thread,” Arion said when Suri hesitated.

She expected the Rhune girl to jump at the sound of her voice, but she didn’t even look over.

“No,” she replied, focusing on the labyrinthine structure. “Done that one. Was thinking if I…” Suri reached in with both thumbs, hooked the primary strands, and then rolled her wrists. Inverted, the whole architecture of the pattern had turned inside out.

Arion smiled. “Very clever.”

Suri sighed. “Dumb. Now stuck.”

“No, no, you’re not.” Arion propped herself up. “Come closer.”

Suri sat up, leaning toward the bed. Arion studied the weave. Reaching out, she hooked her fingers inside the pattern and pulled the entire arrangement free of Suri’s hands and onto her own fingers. Arion looped two more strings, folded the whole thing inside itself again, and held it out to the girl.

Suri studied the weave, tongue slipping along her upper lip. Then a smile appeared, and she inserted her fingers into the center and pulled. The pattern extended and slipped back onto her hands. With a bend of two fingers the construction changed once more.

In that instant, they both laughed in delight.

“Me never done that one before,” Suri said.

“Nor I. But then neither of us has four hands.”

After she let the string slip off all but two fingers, Suri saw the pattern vanish, and the string was just a loop again.

“And it’s not ‘Me never done that one before’; it’s ‘I have never done that one before.’?”

Suri looked skeptical. “Sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

Suri lay back down on the wolf. “Feeling better?”

Arion nodded and realized her headache was still there, just quietly curled up in the back of her head for the time being. She wasn’t as dizzy, either. Her stomach had calmed, and she even felt a bit hungry. Buoyed by her general well-being, she closed her eyes and hummed to create a resonance, but she was still blocked. The Art didn’t respond. The lack of sensation was distressing, as if half her body were paralyzed.

What if it doesn’t come back?

Although she had lived without the Art in her youth, Arion couldn’t imagine how. Losing it would be worse than losing her arms and legs. She’d be an invalid. The very idea terrified her. Fear welled up, threatening to drown her.

I shouldn’t think about that—not now, not here.

“Can you juggle?” Arion blurted, throwing out the question as an anchor to keep herself from slipping off a cliff.

The girl looked at her, puzzled.

Arion saw her belt pouch on a table. “In that bag,” she told Suri, “are three stones. Can you throw them up and keep all of them in the air at once?”

Suri smiled. She took the stones from the bag and, getting to her knees, tossed them up one at a time with a natural ease. The ceiling was low, but the girl didn’t hit the beams. Catching and tossing the stones, she soon had them moving in a tight circle.

“You’ve done this before.”

“Tura taught me…ah…she taught I?”

“No,” Arion said. “In that case, me is correct.”

“Sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

Suri once more looked skeptical. Arion smiled. Not because the girl had second-guessed her native language skills but because Suri wasn’t watching the stones. They continued to fly one after another, her hands catching and tossing with a mind of their own. The display was impressive. Not that it was a remarkable example of juggling skill, but this was a Rhune, and a young Rhune at that. Arion had been taught they were barely above animals, distinct from Fhrey or Dherg in their lack of intelligence. Rhunes couldn’t think the way people did. They acted mainly on instinct. Any resemblance they had to higher beings was simply an imitation or purely a coincidence. But that didn’t appear to be the case. Persephone and the girl both spoke Fhrey, and the girl could juggle better than the prince. She even formed complex string patterns for enjoyment. How could that be possible if they couldn’t think? “Who is Tura?” Arion asked as Suri caught the stones and reached for the bag.

“Was mine friend. She raised I.”

“No, you should have said, ‘Was my friend, and she raised me.’?”

Suri scowled, then shrugged.

“Did you have a fight?”

“Fight?”

“You said Tura was your friend.”

“Died.”

The casual way she said it shocked Arion. “What killed her?”

Suri looked puzzled. “Nothing. Just died. She old.”

Arion peered into Suri’s dark-brown eyes. Seeing her own reflection, she wondered if Ferrol was trying to tell her something.

“Why is it you’re always the one watching me?” Arion asked.

“Me not,” Suri said. “Perse—”

“I am not.”

The Rhune girl sighed and rolled her eyes. “Persephone watches, too, and old woman. Others have work. We, more time. I should be…” She trailed off, watching Arion for a correction. When it didn’t come, she went on, “Solving riddle of bone, but I”—another brief hesitation—“can think here, too.”

“What’s the riddle of the bone?”

“Asked gods tell future. Them answer through chicken bones.” Suri drew out what looked like a blackened stick. “This one very strong. Warned of a terrible monster. Great power coming. Killing all us. I believe it be Grin, a great brown beast that lives in forest. Not bear after all. She demon, but me don’t know which. Not knowing, can’t stop. Working out puzzle of which. Problem is, only have until full moon.”

The surprise of discovering such a Fhrey-like Rhune was instantly squelched by the girl’s superstitious bone-foretelling rituals and belief in monsters and demons. Perhaps the girl wasn’t an animal, but she was primitive nonetheless. Arion found this disappointing. For a moment she had been excited to think the differences between Rhunes and Fhrey might have been narrower than suspected. The string weaving and juggling almost suggested that Rhunes had the capacity to learn the Art. The look of shock and revulsion on Gryndal’s face if she could prove that would be worth a crack on the head. Yet despite everything, Suri was still a Rhune, still a world apart.

“Awake?” Persephone said as she nervously entered.

Suri got to her feet and stretched. “See,” Suri told Arion, and pointed at Persephone. “I time is over.”

“My shift is over,” Arion corrected.

“Sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

Suri shook her head with a scowl, then spoke to the wolf. It, too, got up and stretched. The two headed toward the door together, and then Suri paused and looked back. “Not worry. It come back.”

“What will?” Arion asked.

Suri only smiled, then disappeared beyond the doorway.





CHAPTER NINETEEN


Waiting on the Moon