Toward dawning light, p.10
Toward Dawning Light, page 10
Nezrin, who was seated on the bed and looked no worse for the wear despite spending the night in this sad little room, grimaced. “What else could I possibly have to do?” she snapped.
Why was everyone so testy? First some of the delegates, then Marko, now Nezrin? All Astrea wanted to do was find answers, not deal with peoples’ attitudes. Was that so much to ask?
“I’d actually like to show you some maps up in the library,” Jin said. “Maybe you can help us figure out which target to go to next.”
“You think I’d be any good at that?” asked Nezrin.
“You’ve spent more time with the Paragon than us,” Jin said. “It’s worth a try, right?”
Nezrin’s full lips pressed together. “I suppose that was why I came here in the first place.”
Without another word, Marko spun around and stalked out of the room again. Astrea was going to have to get him alone for a few minutes to see what was wrong with him. But until then, she would have to try to ignore him.
They wove their way back through the guardhouse in heavy silence, then cut through the gardens before re-entering the palace closer to the library. All the while, Nezrin marveled at the sights, green curiosity lighting up the air around her despite her earlier snippiness. It was no small thing, being at the palace. Astrea briefly wondered if Theo might also be enchanted by it, the same way he’d been eager to see other pieces of art and history back in Kalama.
Inside the palace once again, Marko marched right to the library and opened the doors. Astrea had half expected to find the Tornamian delegate in there just to spite them, or perhaps someone else from the newly formed alliance. But the library was quiet as always. The only difference was that a low fire now burned in the fireplace on the far side of the room.
“Tomas!” Marko called. “I’ve brought visitors.”
The librarian emerged from his office on the second floor and circled the mezzanine. He hurried down the spiral staircase, calling, “Prince Varojin! Adi! Astrea! Perfect.” Once on the ground floor, he pushed his round spectacles up his nose with his free hand while his other held several sheets of paper and rolled-up parchment. He appraised Nezrin, then asked, “Who’s this?”
“This is Nezrin Tilke,” Astrea said, “an associate of a void mage who’s offered an alliance with us. We thought it might be helpful for her to review what we gave you yesterday.”
Tomas’s eyes narrowed. “Is she a void mage?”
“No,” Nezrin said quickly. “Not a mage at all, actually.”
“Good.” Tomas gestured to one of the nearby tables. “Shall we sit?”
As they all settled in, Tomas spread out the rough translations Astrea’s father had provided as well as the map with the marked Paragon sites. Nezrin immediately reached for the translated pages.
“Where did you get these?” she asked.
Astrea hadn’t even thought this woman might be able to read the language. “Do you know what they say?” she asked.
“No, but Theo was always interested in it,” she said. “Did he give you these?”
“Not exactly,” Jin said. “Another former Paragon member did, though he doesn’t read the language fluently, so those are half translations at best.”
“My husband was fluent,” Nezrin murmured. “So was Theo.”
“Yes, he translated something else for us a while back,” Astrea said.
“What?” Gray confusion sparkled around Nezrin for a moment, then she shook her head. “Why would he do that?”
“It was an exchange of information, but now I wonder if he was always trying to help us in some way,” Jin said.
“He did fight to let us keep the original journal . . .” Adi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Was this always his plan? Why not come to us sooner?”
“I don’t think so,” Astrea said. But even if it had been, what did it matter now? Theo hadn’t been that helpful during that meeting so long ago in his shop, and he’d only really seemed to turn on Nazarov recently.
Nezrin set the translations down. “I don’t understand how this is going to help us.”
“Those may not,” Jin said, reaching for the rolled-up map, “but this might.” He unfurled it and passed it to Nezrin, who held it flat with her palms. “See these spots marked off?” Jin asked, pointing to the site up near the northwestern coast of Novaria and another farther south. “Do you know these places?”
Leaning forward, Nezrin examined the locations. “Yes, the more southern location is one I know. We went there often for meetings, my husband and I.”
“And the northern one, near the ocean?” Jin asked.
“No, actually.” She frowned. “What’s there?”
“We think it might be an ancient Paragon site,” he said. “Would Theo know about a place like this?”
Nezrin bit her lower lip. “He might. He was always reading as much as he could on Paragonian history. Always told me and my husband that it was key to understanding our next steps in achieving balance.”
“Did you believe him?” Adi asked.
She shrugged. “I never was one for studying or school.”
That didn’t really answer the question, but Astrea wasn’t going to push. It didn’t seem like a useful thing to argue about. Instead, she said, “Would other Paragon members know about it?”
Nezrin shrugged again. “Many simply followed what the higher-ups told them. So if the site wasn’t disclosed, then no, they probably wouldn’t know.”
“So the question is still if Nazarov knows about this place,” said Marko dryly. He’d remained standing on the far side of the table, broody as he’d watched the whole exchange.
“I think it’s safe to assume he does,” Astrea said. “He seemed to be The One’s right hand, and now he may have access to all sorts of old Paragon documentation. He’d probably want to go someplace remote after what happened . . .”
“So we go and stay prepared if Nazarov does show up,” Adi murmured.
Jin nodded, then said to Nezrin, “If there are any other places you know of where Theo might go or might send one of his followers, could you please write them down for us? We’ll investigate every one if you think they’re worth our time. We really need his help.”
“You’re still convinced he’s alive?” Nezrin asked.
“I have to be,” Jin said. “As I said, we need his help. I won’t give up until I know for sure he’s dead.”
Nezrin stared down at the map again, then at Jin and Astrea. “If you’re really the sun and moon, I must trust you to bring balance, as promised. I may not belong to the Paragon anymore, but my husband wholly believed the prophecy was true.” Red determination wrapped around her small frame. “I’ll tell you what I know, even on the off chance you find something you need.”
With Jin gone to help plan for the impending trip to the northwestern part of the country, Astrea made her way back upstairs in search of Cressida. She would not leave her best friend to deal with any of this alone. And besides, Astrea really didn’t want to be alone, either. If she stopped moving—stopped doing—the grief became unbearable.
So, she would keep putting one foot in front of the other. Despite wanting to return to her bed and curl up under the blankets, she would instead stay upright and active. Anything to not be crushed by the weight of it all.
Astrea passed by Cressida’s room, feeling only emptiness. Cressida wasn’t inside. She continued down the hall, passing by the room Saros once occupied. Her throat tightened, but Astrea didn’t even let herself look at the door. She kept her eyes forward, trained on her true destination: Sarsali and Balthazar’s room.
Almost as soon as she knocked, the door opened, revealing Balthazar’s kind, familiar face. He smiled down at her. “Just the person we could use!”
“Really?” Astrea asked, stepping inside as he made room for her.
Sarsali wasn’t there, but Cressida was sitting cross-legged by the coffee table and fiddling with several pieces of silver metal. Blue grief, steel pain, orange anxiety, and even red determination swirled around her, obscuring the colors of the scarf wrapped around her hair.
“What’s all this?” Astrea asked, trying to make her voice more cheerful.
“Working on plans for my new hand,” Cressida said, not taking her attention off the gleaming metal in front of her.
“And why am I the person you could use?” Astrea asked Balthazar. “You know I’m the last person to ask about anything like that.”
“We don’t have a question about the metal but about her skin,” Balthazar said.
“Why . . . is something wrong?” Astrea tried to get a look at Cressida’s injured arm, but it was still obscured by her sling.
“We’re afraid the metal will irritate it,” Cressida said.
“Oh.” Astrea may have been a healer, but she didn’t actually know all that much about caring for the human body. There were plenty of nurses and doctors—mages and non-mages alike—who would be better suited for that job. “Would Ivy know? I’m not really sure . . .”
“I don’t feel like going down to see her.”
“I could call her,” Astrea said.
Cressida shook her head. “I’d really rather not.”
Balthazar huffed.
As Cressida leaned forward, reaching for a piece of silver, she winced. Pain rolled down Astrea’s left arm, from her shoulder all the way down to the tips of her fingers. How was that possible, when Cressida no longer had a left hand? Astrea had heard of patients feeling that before, but she hadn’t expected to feel the echoes with her magic.
“When was the last time you took a tonic for the pain?” Astrea asked.
“I’m not taking them anymore,” Cressida said, making Balthazar huff again. She glared at him. “I don’t want to hear a word.”
“Cressida, my dear, won’t you just—”
“No! They make me feel like shit, and I already feel terrible enough without the side effects. I don’t want to take any more tonics.”
Astrea’s heart ached. She understood. As much as she could, she understood. It wasn’t the same, but after being taken by the Paragon and being drugged up with blue lotus, Astrea’s mind had taken weeks and weeks to recover. To stop feeling slow like molasses. Some days it still felt that way, worse since Saros had died. The healing tonics would cause a similar effect in Cressida, and if there was one thing Cressida didn’t like, it was being inebriated when there was work to be done.
“Balthazar, could you give us a moment?” Astrea asked.
He shot her a confused look, but eventually, he made his way out into the hall. His energy retreated farther and farther until he was gone, too mingled with other energy for Astrea to distinguish his from the crowd. Only then did she cross the distance to where Cressida sat on the floor between the sofa and coffee table.
Astrea dropped down next to her. Cressida kept her gaze trained on the small pieces of metal she still fiddled with.
“Cress.”
“What, Az? It’s fine if you can’t answer the question my dad had.”
“I know, but I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be.”
“Don’t be?” Astrea shook her head. “How can I not be? You’re in so much pain.” The kaleidoscope of colors around Cressida flared brighter, arcing out and stinging Astrea’s skin. “I see it. I feel it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Astrea said gently. “Tell me what’s wrong. Why aren’t you taking the tonics if they’ll help?”
“I can’t do what I need to do if I’m laid up in bed all day, half-delirious.” Cressida’s jaw clenched as she began aligning the metal pieces into the shape of a finger. “I told you—told Ellie—that aetherium was bad news. And now look where I am. Look where all of us are.”
That mission in the Badlands had gone horribly, terribly wrong. But it wasn’t like they went in not knowing the risks. Not knowing what aetherium could do. It was nothing short of a miracle that they had not lost more people. That Cressida had been fast enough to prevent the aetherium’s poisonous magic from spreading. That Astrea had been strong enough to save Jin. That they proved it was not necessarily a death sentence.
But telling Cressida all of that wasn’t going to help. It didn’t change what had happened to her. To Jin. To Saros.
“We need to stop these other governments from controlling it,” Cressida said. “All it’s going to do is get people hurt.”
“I don’t think that’s only up to us.”
“Whatever.”
“If you don’t want a tonic, will you at least let me heal you?” Astrea asked. “Just enough to take the edge off. I know how badly it hurts.”
Cressida’s fingers stopped playing with the metal. Her eyes fluttered shut. “It’s not fair, Az.”
“I know.” None of it was fair. Not one single bit of this. Not to any of them, not to the civilians now caught in the crossfire, not even to the soldiers forced to serve under the emperor’s command. Tears pricked Astrea’s lash line. “I know it’s not. But please, let me heal you. Until things start feeling better on their own. Then you can do your work, and I know that always makes you feel better.”
A tight laugh left Cressida as tears spilled down her cheeks. She let out a shaky breath. “I suppose it does, doesn’t it?”
“And let your dad help. He’s worried.”
“I know. But he and Ma won’t stop hovering.”
“They love you. We all do.”
Resting her head on Astrea’s shoulder, Cressida sighed. “I know.”
Astrea circled her arm around Cressida, letting her palm rest near her left shoulder. Light trickled out from between Astrea’s fingers as energy coursed through her veins. She pushed it deep under Cressida’s skin, low and warm and gentle. It surged ahead, down Cressida’s arm with Astrea’s guidance. And there. So much pain, like a vise cutting off circulation right above Astrea’s wrist. Pins and needles and gut-wrenching pain.
She sucked in a deep breath and pushed more healing energy into her best friend. Cressida relaxed against her shoulder. And finally, the pain lessened, though Astrea’s arm still ached with such intensity her head began to swim. Though she wouldn’t force Cressida to take any drugs she didn’t feel comfortable with, Astrea hoped she would at least take something before bed, something to help her get through the night.
“There,” Astrea said as her magic faded to a few twinkles of stardust. “That should help for a while.”
“Thank you.” Cressida’s voice was small, tired.
“I’ll always be here to help you, Cress.”
“I know.” She wiped at her wet cheeks and sat up straighter. “I can’t stop thinking about how none of this is fair.”
“We’ll find a way to make it right.” Astrea had to believe that. She just had to, otherwise all they’d lost and all they might still lose would be for nothing. And she could not let that happen. “We’ll find a way, Cress. I swear.”
Chapter 11
When Astrea had gone to see Cressida again the next day, Jin had left to continue trying to find Nazarov and handle the politics of the whole messy situation. Now, with Cressida working on her prosthetic and not wanting any more company, and with Jin busy, Astrea figured the least she could do was see if there were any updates on building a cipher with which to translate the void language.
Strangely, no guards trailed after her as she walked through the palace halls. Astrea was so used to being accompanied by someone that it was almost peculiar to be alone. But, she supposed, there would be no need with guards and soldiers stationed every dozen feet. Should something happen, there would be plenty of people to assist her.
Astrea even managed to make it to the library completely undisturbed. A few minutes to herself was nice, even if she could never truly be alone with her senses spread wide.
Pushing the library door open, Astrea found not just Tomas but Noemi, Adi, and Lennor, too, all gathered around one of the round tables near the fireplace on the far side of the room. She’d expected Noemi might be there, but Adi and Lennor? Astrea had thought they would be helping Jin plan things out.
“Hey, Az,” Adi said, smiling brightly.
The closer Astrea got to their table, it was like a ghost appeared. She could practically see Saros sitting there, not all that long ago, trying to puzzle things out.
Would it ever not hurt? Would her heart ever feel whole again? It was like she was a rowboat lost at sea, always at risk of a giant wave crashing into her and upending whatever little bit of stability she managed to find.
She couldn’t cry about this, not now. Not when she needed to check on everything, see how she could help. She couldn’t give in to her grief yet. Not when there was so much to be done.
“What’s all this?” Astrea asked, pushing her shoulders back.
Spread out were all kinds of worksheets, which appeared to be void letters corresponding to the standard alphabet used on the continent. Not everything was filled in, though, and several parts were scratched out. Beyond that were copies of the void language samples they had, plus the notebook Theo had once translated.
“We’ve been hard at work on this,” Noemi said, gesturing to the table, “but it’s still not done.”
“Looks like you’ve accomplished a lot,” Astrea said.
“Much of it on her own.” Tomas grinned. “Our linguist hasn’t exactly been the most accessible person but did get us started.”
“You did all this?” Astrea asked Noemi.
Magenta embarrassment flared around her as she ducked her head. “Some.”
“Most,” Tomas corrected. “She did most of it.”
“Well, it was important,” Noemi said, ducking her head again. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out once that linguist got me started . . .”
“Nonsense! You’re a natural,” Tomas said, and the magenta embarrassment surrounding Noemi flared brighter. “Perhaps you should consider becoming a translator.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that . . .” Noemi smiled shyly.
“Well, regardless, this is really great, Noemi,” Astrea said. “Really, really great. Thank you.”
