King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) (25 page)

She darted toward the small cave, leaving Vine to follow. She listened at the opening for a moment before easing around the corner to peek inside. The cave was empty of people. Inside, a massive pool of Fire burned like a melted sun. Heat rolled over Dara as she stared in wonder at the glowing lake. Vine halted beside her, a gasp of awe escaping her lips.

The lake of Fire filled most of the cave, wider than the castle dueling hall. Channels bled into it, hewn recently from the stone, as far as Dara could tell. Unlike the original Well, which sent Fire outward, this lake pulled Fire in, and it was growing steadily. Dara had spent enough time watching Zage maintain the Well to recognize how much Work must have gone into drawing the Fire in like this without alerting him. It was a massive undertaking, doubtless involving multiple Workers, and it had been going on for some time.

 So the Fireworkers were gathering power in this cave. The question remained: what did they plan to do with it?

Dara continued to stare, paralyzed by the rush of the power before her, until Vine tapped her on the shoulder.

“Isn’t this fascinating?” Vine said. “Positively riveting. If it weren’t for the rather inhospitable heat level I should like to install one of these in my garden.” Sweat drenched her forehead, and she danced uncomfortably on her toes. Right. Vine wouldn’t be able to handle standing this close to so much Fire, unlike Dara.

“That’s one way to put it,” Dara said, turning to leave the cave. “Let’s gather the others and get out of here before someone comes to tend it.”

“Wiser words were never spoken,” Vine said, hurrying ahead to put plenty of distance between her and the lake of Fire. Dara wished she could do the same, but as they collected their companions and left the caverns, the image of that mass of Fire burned in her mind like the core of a Fire Lantern. What were they going to do?

23.

News

LORDS
Morrven and Samanar shouted across the table at each other. The tapestries lining the council chamber vibrated with the force of their vitriol. Siv wished he could put his fingers in his ears and hum.

They weren’t even arguing about anything interesting. The harvest was in, the bridges had been shored up, and the city was in rather good shape for the coming winter. No, the latest Morrven/Samanar argument started over who got to sit next to Lady Tull.

Siv’s future wife was turning out to be a real asset on the royal council. Her soft-spoken presence gave the meetings an air of civility. She was always well informed about the affairs of the mountain, and she asked intelligent questions that helped keep everyone on track. Siv was shocked at how effective she was considering how young and relatively inexperienced she was. She was only a few years older than Siv himself, but she managed to appear wise, while he still struggled to make his presence felt.

Unfortunately, she was so popular with the elderly lords that they climbed over each other to fawn over her. Morrven and Samanar had nearly come to blows over who got to shower her with attention during that day’s meeting. The argument quickly morphed into an airing of every issue the two lords had clashed over for the past three decades. Siv tried to rein them in at first, but they warmed up like malfunctioning Firekettles. He abandoned his efforts to get through to them when it became clear they couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing through their ears. Then it got personal, which proved to be even more entertaining. Morrven’s plump cheeks went as purple as his plums, and he recounted the antics of Lord Samanar’s wife (who’d left him for the butler at a now-infamous royal feast). Samanar’s luminous morrinvole eyes nearly popped out of his head, and he challenged Morrven to an old-fashioned Fire Blade duel.

Siv had decided he was rather enjoying the chaos of the scene when Lord Rollendar stood up and told his contemporaries to be quiet.

Lord Samanar rounded on him. “But Von—”

“I said that’s enough, Lord Samanar,” Lord Von said. “We have important business to discuss today.”

“Very well. You’re right, Von.”

Lord Morrven scoffed. “Sure, do what he says, you toad-faced—”

Lady Tull laid a hand on the rotund nobleman’s arm, silencing him immediately.

“I agree with Lord Rollendar. I’m sure the king would like our full attention.”

“Of course, my lady.” Morrven took a seat, still glaring at Lord Samanar, who had gone to sit beside Lord Von.

“Right,” Siv said. He cleared his throat and rearranged the sheaf of papers in front of him. “Thank you, Lady Tull. Today I’d like to discuss Lord Roven’s proposal for a mining . . .”

Siv trailed off as a messenger burst into the council chamber. Instead of approaching the king, he hurried directly to Lord Rollendar and handed over a weathered parchment. Von read it and glanced at Siv. Then he stood. The council members fell silent immediately.

“Soole has invaded Cindral Forest.”

“What?”

“When?”

The noblemen barely glanced at Siv, directing their questions to Von.

“Their army is moving?”

“How many men are there?”

“What do they want with that backward place?”

Siv wished he had time to consider an appropriate response. Why hadn’t the messenger given the news to the king first? He tried to get the nobles to quiet down so he could speak. He felt nervous. Not about Soole. They wouldn’t dare attack the mountain. But he was afraid he would take the wrong steps, and his people would suffer. He pushed at the crown on his head, which felt as heavy as a sack of stones.

“I propose that we increase the size of the army in light of this news,” Lord Von said. “We must be prepared for an attack on our allies.”

“You want to fight Soole?” Lord Nanning said, folding and unfolding his hands nervously. “They buy our Works for export across the two seas. We can’t move against them.”

“If they’re in a conquering mood, they won’t stop with a few woodsmen in that blasted forest,” Lord Farrow grunted.

“Cindral Forest has always been peaceful,” Lady Nanning said, laying a hand on her husband’s arm to still his fidgeting. “What provoked this attack?”

“Vertigon is supposed to be peaceful too,” Lord Roven said. “Let’s not get involved.”

Lord Samanar stood and pounded a fist on the table. “Von is right. We need a bigger army.”

“The mountain is unassailable,” Lord Morrven shot back at him. “More soldiers won’t make it any safer than it already is.”

“We could never match Soole anyway.”

“How long before they move again?”

“What does Trure say?”

“And Pendark?”

“We need more information.”

“We need more men, I say!”

“Get Pavorran in here.”

“It has nothing to do with us. Let us stay out of it!”

Siv was well aware he needed to say something before the conversation got out of hand. The lords and ladies talked over each other, declaring what should be done about the crisis. Soole and Cindral Forest were located far away from Vertigon Mountain. The invasion shouldn’t affect them directly. But if Soole was sending armies beyond its boundaries, what would stop it from going after Trure next? Vertigon would have to respond if their closest ally was attacked. Siv curled his fingers around his papers, missing his father with a sudden, surprising ferocity. He stood, but the nobles didn’t even notice.

“My lords,” Lady Tull said. Her delicate voice somehow carried over the bluster of the others, and they fell silent to listen. “I wish to hear what our king has to say about all this.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Siv said. “We have to gather more information before we act.”

“We need a bigger army,” Lord Samanar repeated.

“General Pavorran has already proposed an expansion of the army,” Siv said. “But we don’t want to become a military state just yet.”

“Hear! Hear!” said Lord Morrven.

“Why not?” asked Lord Samanar.

“Firelord take Soole all the way to his burning realm,” Lord Farrow grumbled.

Siv raised a hand, but the nobles paid little heed. They broke into half a dozen smaller arguments around the table.

Lady Tull leaned toward Siv. “I believe it would be wise,” she said, “to at least consider recruiting a few more soldiers, if only because it will reassure the people.”

A few of the others heard her and murmured words of assent. Lady Tull smiled reassuringly. Siv took a deep breath. Maybe a few more soldiers wouldn’t hurt anything. He’d keep a close eye on them, though.

“Very well, my lady,” Siv said. “I will defer to your good judgment.” He raised his voice, trying to imbue it with a regal quality. “I’ll give Pavorran permission to expand the army, but we will not consider any troop movements until after the winter. No one will dare threaten Vertigon before then.” He looked around the table at each of the nobles in turn, finally drawing their full attention. “Let’s remember what makes Vertigon strong: the position of our city high above the concerns of the world. This mountain is unassailable. We must reassure the people that their protection is our highest priority, but remind them they are safe on the mountain.”

“Right you are, Your Majesty.”

“Agreed! Vertigon will remain strong.”

The nobles voiced their approval one by one. It was very like a consensus. Siv had had a damn hard time achieving such uniform approval often enough. He grinned at Lady Tull.

“I’m glad you agree, my lords,” Siv said. “In the meantime, we’ll gather news from Soole and Cindral Forest and our allies in Trure. Let’s avoid making any rash decisions.”

“My brothers are on their way to Soole,” Lord Von said suddenly. “The Rollendars can provide the information we need.”

“Very good, Lord Von,” Siv said, not missing a beat. “Thank you for your forethought.”

Dara had already warned him about the Rollendar brothers’ departure, but it irked him that House Rollendar was once again better positioned than he was. He still couldn’t figure out Von’s end game. He had sent a message to Hirram, the serving man at House Zurren, asking him to keep an ear open for any news, hoping for hints about the disappearance of the mysterious duelists. It was time he started cultivating some informants of his own.

The nobles talked animatedly as they left the council chambers. Several of them surrounded Lord Von, seeking more information from his mysterious sources. Siv was about to call him back for a private chat, when Lady Tull approached him.

“Your Highness, I hope you don’t mind me speaking up in council meetings,” she said.

“Of course not, my lady,” Siv said. “I value your opinion. And you are to be queen. We ought to work together on matters of state.”

“I will do what I can to help.” Lady Tull smiled demurely.

“The noblemen listen to you, my lady. You shouldn’t underestimate how valuable that is.”

“I won’t.” She dropped into an elegant curtsy. “Until next time, Your Highness.”

“My lady.”

Siv watched her go, the last of the council members departing close on her heels. The more Lady Tull turned her support his way, the stronger his positioning amongst the nobles became. Perhaps their marriage really would be the right thing for Vertigon.

As the doors to the council chamber closed behind the nobles, Siv ran a hand over the polished wood of the large table. It had come all the way from Cindral Forest. Known for woodworkers and papermakers, it was supposed to be a serene land with a few small villages scattered within the forest’s boundaries. It didn’t amount to a proper kingdom. Cindral Forest was no threat to Soole. However, it would provide a secure staging ground for actions against Trure, the country where his mother and sister were now staying. If Soole threw the Lands Below into further turmoil, Siv hoped he could prevail upon them to return to the safety of the mountain. Vertigon was far out of harm’s way, especially with the expansion of the army. Siv frowned. He hoped he wouldn’t regret that decision. He’d have to make sure the army stayed close to the barracks on the far side of Square Peak. Their presence would reassure the people, but he couldn’t have them teaming up with the mysterious missing duelists.

Siv pulled off his crown and dropped it on the table with a thunk. Then he poked his head outside the door and told Pool to summon General Pavorran.

24.

The Phoenix Leaf

AT
her next Fireworking lesson, Dara told Zage about what she had seen in the cavern, including the growing well of Fire and the two men they had seen leaving the cave.

Zage considered the news in silence for a few minutes, his pale forehead furrowing, and then he said, “Your father and Daz Stoneburner were there. Did they mention any other Fireworkers?”

“Stoneburner said something about the Square Workers,” Dara said. “That makes it sound like there are a fair number of them involved, doesn’t it?”

“There would have to be to accumulate that much Fire.” Zage gazed out over the Well, the light flickering in his eyes like twin flames. “They must be redirecting the flow of Fire from their shops, giving up some of their own share to build up the lake of Fire you describe.”

“They couldn’t tap into the system before it reaches the shops?”

“I’d sense such an attempt,” Zage said. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment. “No, the Fire is flowing to the shops as it should. The disbursal system is carefully controlled.”

“What happens if you lose control?” Dara asked.

Zage looked up, his glittering eyes meeting hers.

“Lose control in what way?”

“Like the Surge,” Dara said. She swallowed hard, her resolve strengthening. She’d have to ask about it eventually. “Will you tell me about the Surge, Fire Warden?”

Zage sighed heavily, but he didn’t look surprised. He stretched an egg-white hand over the Well and drew a stream of Fire up toward it. He poured the Fire back and forth between his palms, letting the raw power pool and spiral in ever more complicated designs. Dara had never seen him do anything beautiful before. His Work was always functional, with a dry precision that belied his true strength. But now he let the flows of Fire morph and curl like Fireblossoms.