Felun

Rain lashed against the windows. Felun sat in pained silence, holding a cold pack to his ribs. Guards milled round the ship on high alert. Sungrazers he hadn’t seen for years had bundled aboard, all eager to speak with his father.

No one had gone down into the hold yet—he was keeping an eye on it. Silverwater could fend for himself, but he hoped for Yuying’s sake that everyone was too busy to poke about. His inattention runes would only go so far. Still, he thought guiltily, would it be such a bad thing for her to be sent swiftly away from this kingdom of shadows and assassinations? Other than the fact that she’d never forgive him for it, that was.

“What a night,” someone said. “One of the blue-robes elbowed you, too?”

Felun looked up, blinking. “Uncle Jiahao—hello. I’m alright. I only hit the door on the way out. Here, there are plenty of spare stools.”

Jiahao nodded, cradling his side as he sat. “That’s too bad. Your brother’s alright?”

“He’s fine. The healing mages helped him.” Yichen, in his stupid and heroic attempt to shield mother with his body, had been grazed by a projectile. Felun had spotted him being ushered into the upstairs office with an uneasy look on his face; Father would probably be interrogating him on the particulars of what being healed had felt like.

“Ah, that’s good, that’s good.” Jiahao cleared his throat. “You’re looking well; is it possible you’ve grown taller since I last saw you? What about Guofan, and little Yuying, eh? How have they been? I remember when you were all this small!” He held his free hand about a foot off the ground and waggled it while chuckling in that croaky way of his.

“Uh, I don’t know. I haven’t seen them in a while.” He changed the subject. “How’ve you and Auntie Shirin been? Is it strange here? Too hot, lots of sand?”

“Hmm, not as much as you might think. They have all kinds of clever runes to keep the weather out—a special type of mage, even—but asking them about it is like playing the guqin to a cow. Your Auntie learned some recipes, though. Did you know they have fish in the river here? So fresh and succulent!”

“What’s this about fish?” came a voice over his shoulder. “Hello, Haoyu. It’s been so long!”

Felun turned his head, but Auntie Shirin was already striding around and drawing up a seat next to Jiahao. Together, they looked nothing alike—but Jiahao had lowered his standing to marry a foreigner, so their love must mean something.

Shirin passed him a cold pack. “Here,” she said. “For your side.” She turned to Felun. “I heard one of the Healers looked at your brother?”

“Yeah. Yichen’s fine.”

“That’s very fortunate.” She sighed, brow furrowing. “To think, we missed out on the dinner!”

“Such a shame,” Jiahao agreed. “Ah, who knows? They might bring us some leftovers.”

“Leftovers,” Shirin said scornfully. “It wouldn’t be much different from how they already treat us. As if we’re so much unworthier than those legacy families of theirs.”

Felun blinked. “Yeah, uh. That’s a shame. Though we weren’t going to stay for that part.” Too easy to poison, he’d heard mother say. “What’s ‘legacy’?”

Shirin frowned, crossing her arms. “Some hundreds of years ago, there were groups of travellers who stayed. Now, the kingdom is starting to open again, but we’re all less accepted than the legacy outsiders.” Catching his curious look, she said, “even me. I’m no different. Ancestry means nothing to these people if you haven’t lived here.”

“Oh,” he said. “Father said something about silk dealings. Are the legacy people any help?”

She shook her head. “They’re as secretive as the rest of them. I tried speaking to one of the Cardainnes—a Librarian—and it was useless.” She pursed her lips. Sweat sheened her brow. “That an attempt on the Sixthborn’s life happened on the night of our arrival…it’ll be such trouble to smooth things over, much less proceed with the negotiations…”

Jiahao placed a comforting hand over her own. “Don’t fret, dearest. I’m sure you can relax now that Haoyu’s family is here.” He cast a warm, faintly anxious glance at Felun. “And that music show was quite something, right? Strange-looking type of guzheng they have here. A shame it was cut short, but praise the heavens that no one was badly hurt.”

“Mm,” Shirin said agreeably. She pressed a hand to chest, rubbing at her sternum. One of her lacquer nails had snapped off at the end, leaving a jagged edge. “I would have liked to see the whole thing…darling, could you fetch me a glass of water? That commotion was just…too much.”

“Of course, of course.” Jiahao got up at once.

“First time you saw a Songian play like that?” Felun asked curiously.

Shirin smiled faintly. “Yes. They don’t share such interesting things with us. Has your father spoken of the negotiations regarding that Library of theirs?”

Felun thought back to the labyrinth, with Suria scowling over his shoulder. His hands itched under their bandages and he resisted the urge to scratch. “No, but I’ve heard of it. Did they give you a tour?”

“A very unfriendly one. I was very lucky to get a look. Usually, they—ah, excuse me.” She frowned, face paling. The hand at her chest curled tight. “Is there an apothecary on-board? It’s only…I feel a little unwell.” Her breath was coming a touch sharper, Felun noted with alarm.

“I’ll ask mother,” he said hastily. She was on the other side of the cabin; he didn’t run, but he did speed-walk.

“What is it, Haoyu?” she asked, turning to him. There was annoyance written over her features. “I’m speaking to your Auntie Ming at the moment—”

“Shirin’s feeling unwell,” he broke in. She raised an eyebrow at the interruption. “Is there an apothecary?”

“Yawen is on the next ship over. Busy with twisted ankles.”

“She should really come over and see—” Felun started, but from across the cabin came a wheezing gasp.

He whirled around just in time to see Shirin crumple. The stool teetered and fell as she slipped off, the impact ringing out through the cabin.

Voices erupted into noise. Mother’s voice cut through, commanding a guard to bring her to Yawen. Felun sprinted across the cabin, only to find others had got there first. Cousin Lin had shaken her by shoulders before grabbing her wrist. She frowned in concentration, before flipping Shirin onto her back. Half-familiar spell-lights sparked frantically at her fingertips. Uncle Jiahao rushed to her side, dropping the glass he’d gone to fetch. Glass shards littered the floor, and water pooled at his feet.

Felun tossed his cold pack aside and pushed his way through the fast-gathering crowd. “Stasis?” he blurted out. “I can help.” Dungeonrunning hadn’t taught him many skills applicable to other areas of life, but he could at least be useful in this.

“Yes,” Lin grunted. “No pulse—anyone who can, until Yawen gets here…” Blood trickled from her nose. “Damn! I’m low. Can you take over?”

“Okay.” Felun rolled up his sleeves and knelt by Shirin’s side. His blood pounded in a rushing roar through his ears. It’d be far less taxing with his book at hand, but that was stashed away upstairs. He wished he could do more than this—that Scionsong mage flashed through his thoughts, melting her injuries away with a wave of her hand. If only he’d stayed in Cathay long enough to have at least attempted that semester of apothecary physic mother had spoken of so much…

“Anyone?” Lin asked the murmuring crowd. Jiahao was already kneeling to pour magic into his wife’s arm, heedless of the broken glass, but the crowd was all hesitant murmurs. “Anyone else? No? Then step back, give us some space. Make a path for Yawen, ready for when she gets here.”

Shirin lay limp and unresponsive. It looked as if all the blood had drained from her face. Was it pooling in the crevices of a stopped heart? Cousin Lin had been right to start a stasis right away, but how slim was the chance of succeeding? It was stopping her from getting worse, but staying like this long enough couldn’t be good. He could hold a stasis better than most, but he was just a Breaker, not a—

His Breaker-sense tingled, so softly he might not have noticed if he weren’t agonizing over the fact.

He blinked. What was that? It tingled again, despite him not having consciously activated it. Strange. His gut churned uneasily as he forced himself to focus on keeping the spell steady. Was there a dangerous spell nearby? Surely not; the ship was thoroughly warded. Unless…

Unless it wasn’t inside the ship.

“Lin,” he said. “I’m going to step away a second. Fill in for me.”

“What? Are you sure—”

“Now,” he said urgently. “Please.”

Lin knelt and flooded Shirin’s unconscious form with more stasis and strands of pure magic, jaw clenched tight.

“I need a runequill,” he said to the crowd, holding out his hand. “Please—one of you has to have one.” He cursed himself for leaving his own in his room for the performance; father had warned against bringing anything that could be considered a weapon.

Uneasy mutterings broke out, but hands rummaged through pockets; someone tossed a quill and he snatched it out of the air. The nib was blunted and the grip smaller than he was used to, but he sketched a hasty circle around himself anyway, radiating spikes like a jagged sun. It was far better than using ink or blood or spit, so it would do.

Then he delved into his Breaker-sense.

The world blurred, every colour running like thawed ice. His eyes snagged on a brightness before him, pale strands cobwebbing the shadow of a heart. He reached out, hand bumping up against what he knew to be Shirin’s arm. Lin’s hands were in the way, still infusing stasis. He sensed a thread from Jiahao too, the flow of pure magic keeping her blood from stagnating. In the gaps between each surge, the coil of brightness flared. It fanned itself into a flame before his eyes; before long, the stopgap would be fruitless.

He slid his senses over the outline and found there was no depth in which to dive. His stomach lurched. It was recent enough, faster to deal with without delving—but powerful, if it had laid dormant for this long. Its roots were gnarled like claws.

“Haoyu,” Lin snapped, her voice scratchy with stress. “Running low. You’d better know what you’re doing.”

He reached for the spell. It slithered and flexed beneath his Breaker-grip, bending with excruciating resistance. His head pounded. He wished he had his proper tools. But right now there were only his hands, cracked and blistered, and that pale spell before him, choking the blood from Shirin’s heart.

Felun gritted his teeth and pushed far past what was safe and painless. Everything, he thought. He gave everything. The working fought him, twisting and biting and howling a song that made his ears buzz with agony before it snapped beneath his hands. His protective circle went up in a barrage of sparks. Blood gushed from his nose. His fingers wept blisters beneath their bandages.

Peripherally, he sensed commotion. Someone stepped in to catch him as he fell. He squeezed his eyes shut against the growing spots of blackness in his vision. He couldn’t faint now—he had to check—had to check he’d done it properly, that it was all gone, that no one else was bleeding, had to see this through—

But overexhaustion won.

===

When he opened his eyes, the ceiling took a long time to come into focus. He heard voices, noise.

He sat up. The world whirled. He was reminded, absurdly, of a time Yichen had spun a globe so hard he’d broken it.

“Whoa,” said Lin. There was a wad of cotton jammed up each of her nostrils. She steadied him with a hand at his shoulder. “Careful.”

Across the room, Shirin sat upright, looking dazed but very much alive. Apothecary Yawen knelt by her side. Jiahao stood a little ways off, fending off the excited babbling of nosy relatives. His mother presided over the scene, straight-backed and imposing.

“How long was I out?” he croaked. There was half-dried blood on his face.

“A few minutes. Yawen said you overexerted yourself, drained totally dry. Heavens, your eyes are red. Auntie Shirin’s looking alright, by the way. What did you do just then?”

“What do you think?” he asked testily, still looking at Shirin and the crowd of relatives. Bad enough that there was a magical cause—where had it come from? He had a few guesses, and he liked none of them.

Lin gripped his shoulder when he made to stand. “Yawen said you’re not to get up and start running around. What you mean, what do I think? What was that, the rune circle and the dripping blood everywhere?”

“I haven’t been missing for the last few years for no reason,” he said, rubbing at his blistered fingers. “They didn’t tell you?”

“Tell us what? Your father said you’d run off to marry some girl.”

Huh. His parents had thought that spinning a story of elopement would be less shameful than the truth? He was surprised, but only a little. “He was lying. I ran off to be a dungeonrunner.”

“That was dungeonrunning, just then?” Lin looked doubtful.

“I learned some tricks. Can I get up yet?”

“No,” Lin snapped. “Sit down. Give it a minute. Your mother’ll have my tongue cut off if you faint again.”

“Trust me, mother doesn’t care.”

She fished a palm-sized looking glass from her pocket and shoved in his face. “I’m sure she does. See? This can’t be normal.”

He blinked at his own red-eyed reflection. “It’s happened before.”

He was more concerned with the weeping blisters on his hands, paranoid that the defect had not only worsened, but marched a sliver of the way up his arms. The few other Breakers he’d met had told him that they’d heal slowly with enough rest—but only if he stopped while the problem was small. It had been too late for Orhan, he recalled. Far too late. And he wasn’t getting an awful lot of opportunities to rest these days.

“I need to talk to mother,” he said. “Or—”

There was a clatter from the staircase. Felun looked over his shoulder and scowled.

“What did I miss?” Yichen announced.

“Nothing but everything,” Felun said scathingly. He didn’t know if Yichen knew how to administer stasis, but he’d at least taken studies in physic. It would’ve been helpful if he’d been there.

“You look like a drowned cat,” Yichen replied cheerfully.

He grunted an acknowledgment and slipped away as Cousin Lin filled Yichen in on the details.

“Haoyu,” Jiahao exclaimed as he drew near, but mother stepped in to intercept.

“Haoyu needs to ensure his guests are undisturbed,” she said. “Both of them.”

He froze, for a moment wondering if she knew about Yuying. Then he realised she meant Ishaan and Silverwater. He hesitated, but there was no use arguing. “I need to speak with you later, or with father.”

“Of course. Once all this excitement is dealt with.”

He gave Jiahao what he hoped was an encouraging smile over his shoulder before heading for the hold. He needed a little time before he could face Ishaan. And he wasn’t sure mother cared if he checked so long as he knew what it meant, that Ishaan was here at all.

Silverwater was right where he’d left him, more or less. He lounged on a crate, cleaning one of his knives with a scrap of cloth.

“Did you cut that from one of our bolts?” Felun asked suspiciously.

Silverwater paused. “Your sister was kind enough to lend me her handkerchief.”

There was a strange shadow in the corner, which might or might not have been Yuying. Felun rubbed his eyes, concentrating.

“Hi,” said Yuying, seemingly flickering into existence. His runes still sparkled fresh on her forehead. She squinted at his face, and belatedly he remembered the dried blood. “You did magic? What happened? I heard an awful lot of shoes knocking around upstairs. And a ton of yelling.”

“I had to fix some runework,” Felun lied. “Kind of urgent, you know how mother is. The others are all here to talk about trade. They uh, probably won’t come down here, but you should be careful. Stay out of the way.”

“I know. When can we get off-board? Ooh, are you going to hide me with Auntie Shirin? I heard they have their own quarters, so maybe—”

He held up a hand. “I don’t know yet. I need to plan. We need to plan,” he amended. “But we’ve got to do it carefully, alright?”

Yuying deflated. “Yeah, okay. Let me see Auntie Shirin, though? I’d like to speak with her before we have to leave.”

“She, uh—she isn’t a witch, you know.”

“I know,” Yuying said sharply. “But she was nice to me.”

“She is very nice,” he said, as a peace offering. “I think she’s busy, but I’ll see.” A thought occurred to him. “I need to speak to Silverwater for now.”

Silverwater looked up, spines twitching lazily. “You do?”

“Yeah. I need to show you some papers. Left them with my luggage, though.” He didn’t, but it would get them out of Yuying’s earshot.

Silverwater pulled on his human-disguise. To Felun’s faint surprise, it looked none the worse for wear. Which was just as well; he suspected Suria had worked herself to near-burnout on the thing. They ducked out of the hold. From the main cabin came murmurs and exclamations, interspersed by snatches of mother’s voice. Felun glanced at the empty stairs and ushered Silverwater up—only when he’d sequestered them safely in his room did he breathe a sigh of relief.

“Well?” Silverwater asked, removing his veilment and folding it carefully over his arm. No longer draped over his form, it looked like a sheet spun from versicoloured thistledown. “What is it that you did not want your sister hearing, Sungrazer Felun?”

“There was some trouble,” he said grimly. “Iolite didn’t plan this, did she?”

Silverwater’s spines bristled with interest. “Trouble? That’s the first I’ve heard of it. What trouble? Be specific.”

“Well first, we were shot at in the castle. Second, my aunt had a spell put on her. Hidden, you know? I’m pretty sure that by one of the Songian mages, but the first part—”

“I knew nothing of this. Elaborate on how you were attacked.”

“There’s not much to explain. We were watching a performance up in the castle and we were shot at, with…I don’t know, it didn’t feel like a hundred percent spell-like. Yichen said it was some kind of metal spike. Some sort of machine involved, too? I think the princess was hurt—we were watching her play music when it just…happened.”

“You think we did that?” Silverwater asked skeptically.

“Wouldn’t be that far-fetched, would it?” he asked. “Is there going to be more trouble? Because I need to get Yuying out of here before that happens. If you can provide an estimate.”

“I don’t have an estimate,” Silverwater enunciated carefully. “Because there’s no such thing. Iolite doesn’t speak to us as much as you’d think. Besides, my duties are at the Hive. I shouldn’t have been in Glister in the first place. I don’t like being here either, having to relay messages to your kin who claim to have no time for me and yet insist I linger around as their schedule dictates within the same breath. But for your consideration, Sungrazer Felun, perhaps consider looking closer to home.”

“Father wouldn’t,” he started. “How? It makes no sense.”

“Think carefully. I’m sure your people have many special mages and enough coin to hire them. You said a machine—well, that’s simple enough. A skilled tinkerer, an illusionist or two. I’m almost certain this wasn’t us. Too much trouble to infiltrate. But with a skin like yours? Easier.”

“Wrecking diplomatic relations is the last thing they want,” Felun pointed out. He exhaled, glancing at the knife in Silverwater’s hand. “Still, you killed those princes—yeah that’s right, I heard Saiph talking about it. I remember; I was there. You made me open the door.”

“Does Iolite want the royals killed off, or does your family?” Silverwater shot back. “I wasn’t at the negotiations, so I cannot say for certain. Iolite’s goals and your Sungrazer goals are similar, but they are not the same. They desire different pieces of the same kill. That is how an alliance works, Sungrazer Felun. But you may be interested to know that Iolite told me to stay far away from the castle.”

“Really?” He let his doubt bleed into the word.

“They who call themselves Magicians don’t cooperate with our kind,” Silverwater said, passing Yuying’s handkerchief over his knife. He examined his own scowl in its polished reflection. “They’ll sacrifice every outsider in the palace if one of us gets caught sneaking around. They’re itching for an excuse, little firstson.”

“So, just to check—none of your Hive are going to swarm the castle again while we’re here?”

“No,” Silverwater said, voice suddenly hissing with frustration. He sheathed the knife. “Not a chance. You think it was easy? We made them, Sungrazer. She set us to crafting shells. Fodder bodies, like in the tales of wartime. The Hive was a mess for months. Membranes, sacs, growth nectar, bodies everywhere. Reserves run dry. All for your kin and one little amphora. I don’t even know if it’s gotten cleaned since we left, not with so many of the original Generals killed.”

“But Iolite wanted them gone, didn’t she? The whole attack—correct me if I’ve got this all wrong, but it was three things at once.” He listed them off his fingers for emphasis. “First, destabilisation for father’s end of the deal, so he gets a better handhold on this place. Then a distraction, for us to enter the Library. And finally, a way to send the disloyal to their deaths.”

Silverwater glared at him.

“I don’t get it. If you hated doing that so much, then why help her?” He continued despite Silverwater’s growing scowl; for once, Iolite’s shadow wasn’t looming here. “I’ve got eyes, you know? You’re all getting injured and stuff, like all the time. Suria’s juggling everything, Ezphorza’s in pain, and Saiph’s going to get hurt even more because of the syrup. But Iolite’s not. You can leave if you want, can’t you?” Surely not all of them had an Ishaan to be held hostage.

“Why would we want to leave?” Silverwater asked, eyes flashing. “It would be worse if we did.”

“Would it? Or do you just not know any better?”

“I knew worse,” Silverwater hissed. His wings flared and his tail lashed; suddenly, he seemed to be taking up an awful lot of space. “That’s enough. Stop trying your human tricks on me, Sungrazer Felun. You don’t understand, and you’re fortunate enough that you never will.”

“Fine.” He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Fine, I’ve got it; nothing planned on your end.”

“Stay alive,” Silverwater said, turning away. “We’ll be needing you.”