Bloodmoon (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 2) (25 page)

Yara had a coy look on her face. She traded a look with the Dolmers. ‘Now, what if I told you we could make it five, or perhaps even six?’

‘What? Merion stuttered.

‘What?’ Lilain echoed.

Sheen stepped forward. ‘We know a way of mixing the bloods of two veins, one you can rush, the other you can’t. In small doses at first, so that you train the body to accept the foreign vein.’

Lilain snorted. ‘That’s impossible. It’s written in your soul what you can and can’t rush.’

Shan grinned. ‘Not any more,’ she retorted. ‘We found an old man in Vina that had found a way of using shades that cross the barriers of the veins. He’d spent the better half of his life translating an old book of the First Empire. Only worked for leeches though. Not for normal rushers. Something about the aptitude for it.’

Lilain had crossed her arms, keeping her face expressionless. ‘I’m listening,’ was all she said.

Sheen continued. ‘You have to heat them, add a solvent, and be patient for it to come together.’

‘That’s alchemy, not biology. You can’t treat the shades like that. Have you ever managed it?’

The Dolmers swapped glances. ‘No, but we watched it happen. The old letter let us come, day after day, to watch him feed a young leech his mixture, a nephew I think,’ Shan explained. ‘It worked. The boy couldn’t stomach the fish vein. After a month, he could rush a dozen shades of it, just as long as it was mixed with a trace of a stable vein.’

Merion could feel himself fidgeting. He had barely had a chance to mix bloods yet, never mind poke about in unexplored, and so far untouchable, veins.

‘I’m still sceptical,’ stated Lilain, gazing around at the bottles and vials.

‘Well, we do have a leech right here …’ Yara said, half-smiling. It quickly faded when Lilain glared at her.

‘No,’ said his aunt. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘Aunt Lilain,’ Merion began, but she shook her head at him.

‘Don’t start, Nephew, I won’t hear of it,’ Lilain sternly interrupted.

Merion frowned. ‘But why? What are you so sceptical of?’

‘Your aunt is worried you might die,’ Sheen explained, leaning against one of the cupboards.

Shan piped up. ‘Rushing shades of veins you can’t stomach, without dilution, will rupture your insides. If the mixture was wrong, it would kill you in a handful of heartbeats.’

Merion thought about that for a moment. ‘I rushed turtle,’ he muttered. ‘In Fell Falls. That night before the attack,’ he said, just a whisper on his lips. It was all coming back to him now.

‘You did not,’ Lilain scoffed.

‘You were half-dead, aunt, I would not be surprised if you don’t remember.’

‘I remember …’ but Lilain trailed away, as if mentally she were a fisherman probing his net for holes. A flicker in her eyes told Merion she had found a few. ‘Surely not.’

‘Neither of us stopped to think,’ he replied, letting the memory flow. ‘I didn’t even question you.’

Lilain just stared at him, a strange mixture of shock and guilt plastered across her face. ‘Not in all my years,’ she breathed.

‘Turtle is a barrier-crossing shade. It’s not an amphibian, but it is very close to the fish vein,’ Sheen explained. ‘If you were rushing hard, you might just have managed it.’

‘Five shades,’ Yara interjected. ‘Old blood indeed, Master Harlequin. Your father? Your mother? ‘Yara queried, a curious glint in her emerald eyes.

‘I don’t know,’ Merion lied, and Yara nodded slowly.

‘Tell you what,’ Sheen cut in, feeling the tension growing. ‘How about we stick to the veins we know you can stomach, okay? Here, we have some blend-bottles.’

Merion pounced on the opportunity to escape, joining Sheen at the back of the wagon, where a number of intricate bottles sat on a shelf, wedged together and wrapped with twine. As Merion began to rifle through them, with Sheen explaining each one, Lilain stepped close to Yara and whispered in her ear.

‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Miss Mizar, but that is my nephew, and as such I look out for his safety. I imagine you’re only trying to help and please the boy, but he ain’t the kind for slow and steady. He runs at things full pelt. I won’t have him getting carried away with something as dangerous as this. Do we have an understanding?’

Yara bowed her head. ‘We do indeed, Ms Rennevie,’ she replied. ‘But in this circus, we let everybody choose for themselves. There is no ownership here, only respect. Merion may want to test himself. We may just have to trust him,’ she said, her voice as soft as warm butter.

Lilain searched her emerald eyes for a moment, trying to gauge whether she was joking or not. ‘
My
nephew,’ she repeated in a hiss.

Yara nodded and stepped back to let Lilain pass.

‘Found anything interesting?’ asked his aunt, striding up. Merion waggled his head from side to side, keeping his eyes on the bottles.

‘Too many to choose from.’

Sheen got to his feet. ‘I was just telling Merion here how shades can meet in the middle, finding a common ground in their power.’

‘But not all of them do that,’ Lilain corrected him. ‘Some aren’t to be mixed at all.’

Sheen, to his credit, shrugged and flashed her a smile. ‘I would be happy to learn which, Ma’am,’ he said. Lilain’s stern face softened, slowly but surely, into a smile as well.

There came a grunt from the doorway, and they all turned to find Lurker tipping his hat. ‘Got any magpie?’

Shan curtseyed at him. ‘Of course,’ she replied.

‘Good to see you too, Lurker,’ Merion chided him, but Lurker was too busy picking coins out of a purse to notice.

‘Might as well put that away, Mr Lurker. Blood in the circus is for all. Well, most of the shades, that is. You work for your blood, just like your supper,’ Yara explained, waving her hands. She took the little vial and bent down to place it in Lurker’s palm. The prospector sniffed, and tipped his hat again.

‘Then I s’pose thanks are in order, Ma’am,’ he grunted. He turned briefly to Lilain and Merion, nodded, and left them to it.

‘Charming, as always,’ Lilain huffed.

‘What about these?’ Merion held them up his aunt and she picked at the labels.

‘Fox and horse, clever combination. Extends the night eyes of the fox shade, in the right balance, whilst keeping a little of the speed. Carp and deer. Now that’s dangerously interesting. You’d be able to sense other rushers for miles around.’

‘Yes Ma’am,’ Sheen nodded, looking proud. He crossed his tanned, hairy arms over his chest. Merion knew the feeling.

‘Wolf and sloth, does that not cancel each other out a little?’

‘Not in the right balance.’

Merion was tapping his foot. ‘I imagine you’ll be here a while,’ he said.

Lilain smirked. ‘I think I will be, Nephew.’ She handed him back the vials. ‘This is good. That last one gives you daggers for claws and makes you fiercer than a stung bear. Get some eel, and … that is sprite, and goblin, if my eyes don’t deceive me.’

‘They do not, Ma’am.’ Sheen again.

‘Any armadillo? No, alright. Turtle it is then. And eagle, try that again. I hope that’s alright?’ Lilain asked of the Dolmers, and they just nodded.

‘Anything for a leech,’ Yara said.

‘Thank you,’ Merion said, swiftly stuffing his pockets with his new vials.

‘Perhaps you can show us tonight, Merion?’ Yara asked.

Merion flashed her a smile. ‘Perhaps I can,’ he answered, sounding very pleased with himself indeed. It was not every day he got to rush whenever and wherever he pleased. This was something entirely new, and without a doubt, extraordinarily thrilling. Merion flapped his coat about, feeling the weight of the vials in his pockets. He found himself thinking of Gile, with that wondrous coat of his, tailored for a leech. He felt the question hover on his lips, but he dragged it back. He did not want to give his aunt too much cause for worry in one day.

Merion said his thanks to the Dolmers, and stepped outside. The evening already had some chill in it, and he shivered. The tent flags, of all sorts of colours and patterns, were dancing idly in the breeze.

As Merion walked back towards his tent, he smiled every time he focused on the vials in his pockets. No more did he feel like a fledgling. He felt the air under his wings now. Strong and constant.
And if that is too prideful
, Merion thought to himself,
he did not care
. ‘I’ve earned it,’ he muttered beneath his breath to naught but the breeze and the growing shadows.

Merion marched back to their tent, a spark of an idea flourishing between his ears. He did not stop to chat. He did not linger, but set a course and kept to it, eager to hear what the faerie had to say.

The tent was empty and naturally Rhin was nowhere to be seen. Merion closed the flap and stood in the middle of the floor, waiting. Sure enough, Rhin shimmered into view, arms and crossed and a questioning look on his face.

‘I told them I’m a leech,’ Merion stated proudly.

‘Good for you,’ Rhin replied, nodding. He seemed a little surprised. ‘And what of the rest?’

Merion stepped forward. ‘Tonight, around the fire-pits, we reveal all,’ he said earnestly.

‘And how exactly are we going to do that?’ Rhin could not deny the little shiver of curiosity he felt.

‘In the best way possible,’ Merion grinned, before launching into his plan.

As Merion talked, Rhin began to frown, deeper and deeper, until by the end of it, he was thoroughly dubious. ‘I don’t know, Merion,’ he mumbled.

‘It
will
work. We’ll appeal to their showmanship. It’ll be like a circus act.’

Rhin wagged a grey finger. ‘You just want to join in, don’t you? Be part of the show?’

Merion stammered for a moment. ‘Well, why not?’ he countered.

‘Because that’s not what you’re here to do. You’re travelling east, Merion, that’s all. Don’t get too wrapped up in this life.’

Merion crossed his arms, mirroring the faerie. ‘I’m not getting wrapped up. I just want to enjoy it while it’s here, now. While I can.’

Rhin had to sigh. ‘I know what you mean,’ he muttered.

‘Now, are you in, Rhin Rehn’ar?’

The faerie stuffed his hands behind his breastplate and nodded. ‘Fine. But this better work.’

Merion took a seat on a rickety stool. ‘It will,’ he said. ‘Now, you were telling me something, before I was whisked away. I want to know what happened to your hand.’

Rhin moved to crouch on a pillow, muttering. ‘You don’t need to know.’

‘I think after the last time, I’ll decide for myself, if you don’t mind.’ Merion’s voice was momentarily stony. The hard edges of his words made Rhin flinch.

‘Fine,’ Rhin grunted. Slowly and carefully, he began to unwind the bandage around his hand. He winced here and there, whenever he grazed his palm. Merion watched him bare his teeth as he came to the last few turns. He moved even more slowly now, twisting his injured hand to make it easier. Merion shuddered as he caught sight of what lay beneath. Rhin held up his hand and splayed his fingers, so the boy could get a good look.

‘What in the name of the Almighty have you done to yourself?’ Merion asked, revulsed.

‘I didn’t do it,’ Rhin answered. ‘Not directly I mean.’

‘Don’t start speaking in riddles, Rhin Rehn’ar. You tell it to me straight.’

‘Alright, alright!’ Rhin hissed, hunkering down so the pillow half-swallowed him. Faeries are deceptively heavy. ‘Thousands of years ago, just as the dawn of your First Empire was breaking, we Fae were celebrating the end of our fifth empire. This was before Undering, before you humans started encroaching on our borders, before we were forced back to Eyra. Our empire was crumbling, rotten to the core. All thanks to the Fae King who ruled it, an old and cruel Fae. And so there was a coup, led by his son. After forcing his father from the throne, the new Fae King, Reghan, if I remember rightly, tore down his father’s court and appointed his own, kicking off a new empire, one that would be prosperous and beautiful, and all that. To cut a long song short, the old king was not the slightest bit amused, and plotted to start a war between the Fae and the
bean sidhe
, or banshees as you would call them. They were once wild things of the wastes. Wiry, tall, more beast than Fae, and twice as dangerous. They worshipped the dark magicks, and hunted together in warring clans. When they weren’t fighting amongst themselves, they sold their services out to rich Fae lords when a good fight was needed. They would scream and howl when they ran into battle, wild bony things that fought like demons, tooth and claw. They glowed sometimes with a red mist behind their small dark eyes. Or so the stories say.

‘Anyway, the old king escaped from his prison and fled to the wastes. He went to the banshees and gave them what was left of his own Hoard. He told them to start a war with the new king, convincing them with all sorts of vicious rumours and lies about what his son had in store for them. He stoked them into a frenzy and pointed them in the right direction.’

‘What does this—?’ Merion blurted, but Rhin cut him off with a gesture. The faerie had wrapped himself in his arms, as if the story itself were hard to speak aloud, as though the history of it chilled him.

‘So in the depths of a cold morning, the banshees attacked the palace of the new king, climbing its walls and creeping in through the windows and balconies. They slaughtered half the palace before the guards brought them down. Fae King Reghan was dead, along with his two sons. Only his daughter and queen remained, and there, drenched in blood, they swore to force the banshee kind into extinction. So started the rule of the Fae Queens.

‘So one by one, clan by clan, the Fae exterminated the banshees. It took centuries, and the rule of several Fae Queens before they saw it done. In the end only three remained. Three sisters. The queens cursed them to wither and die, but tethered their bones to the earth. Undead, they made them, and charged them with an oath which they must keep until the last Fae Queen dies. That is that they can be called up, whenever and for whatever a queen desires. Assassinations. Battle. Personal errands. Slaughter. Anything.’

‘I still don’t understand what this has to do with that cross on your hand, Rhin,’ Merion sighed, steepling his fingers.