Souldancer (Soul Cycle Book 2) (26 page)

Tefler frowned. At last he said, “It’ll be bad if Shaiel finds all the souldancers.”

Astlin and Xander exchanged worried looks. “Why?” he asked. “How do you know?”

“He gets visions,” Cook volunteered.

Tefler’s shifting eyes glared at the cook. “I like to call them inside tips.”

Xander crossed his arms. “Nessh warned against false prophets. Give us proof.”

“You’ve spent your whole life looking for something that even you don’t understand,” Tefler told Xander, who found himself struck speechless. “This makes it hard for you to fit in. I can empathize with that.”

The priest turned to Astlin. “You lived in two cities at once. You also have trouble finding healthy outlets for anger.”

“I’m convinced,” she said. “What’s our escape route?”

Xander thought for a moment. “Can we steal a ship?”

“The ether-runners are manned with greycloaks and Cadrys navy,” said Cook. “Bad odds, even with two souldancers.”

“Then help us take the
Kerioth
,” Xander said.

Tefler looked askance at Xander. “What are we gonna do with it?”

Xander took Astlin’s hand. “We will fly to Keth. It’s home to her kin, and we may find safety from the Night Gen.”

“Sounds good,” said Tefler. “But only nexists can pilot Night Gen ships.”

“I am a nexist,” Xander said.

“You might be ready to fly when you’ve trained for a year,” said Cook.

Xander paused before looking to Astlin. “Her power dwarfs mine. And she has steered an ether-runner.”

Astlin’s eyes widened. The room fell quiet.

Tefler was the first to speak. “Would that work?”

“The sympathetic interface operates on different principles,” said Cook, “but the effect’s about the same.”

“You say you are just a cook?” asked Xander.

Cook grinned. “Working on a ship all your life, you pick things up.”

Tefler fixed his strange eyes on Astlin. “Can you do this?”

Astlin looked as if she wanted to shrink out of sight. “I don’t think I should.”

Xander gently cupped her face in his hand. “It is the only way.”

Tefler bit his lip. “Yeah. It is.”

A three-dimensional image of Mithgar hovered in the chart house of the Lawbringer corvette
Exarch
, humming like a nest of industrious insects. Thurif hunched over the translucent globe, inspecting its scarred surface.

“How many hours suffice to read a map?”

The voice pierced Thurif’s brain like a thousand hot needles. He resisted the urge to face its source. “Ether-running is a delicate science, my prince. The steersman must have exact coordinates.”

Hazeroth circled around to the map’s far side. Instead of the sheer black mantle that had veiled him at their first meeting, a sturdy wool jacket, breeches, and knee-high boots adorned his almost boylike frame. He fit the portrait of a young dandy playing the hunter, though it would be fatally stupid to think he was merely playing.

“Are you not a Steersman? Guide the ship yourself.”

“I wear the Guild’s robes; that is true. Yet I received little training at the Wheel. Better to call me a Transessist.”

The demon’s fist arced through the illusory map to pound the table beneath. “You claimed to know the souldancer’s location. I do not suffer idle boasts.”

“Forgive me,” said Thurif. “My sources predate the Guild’s fall. I must correct for Mithgar’s post-Cataclysm shape. The work proceeds swiftly, I assure you.”

Hazeroth’s tone shifted from petulance to annoyance. “Do not add to my vexations. The Light Gen escaped, and the Nesshin boy with him.”

Thurif never lifted his misplaced eyes from the map. “The Gen is my ally.”

“He abetted piracy. And unlike you, he offered nothing of use. Imprisonment was better than he deserved.”

“I will make amends for the
Kerioth
,” said Thurif, “but the boy is needed to control the fire souldancer. I advise dispatching Lawbringers to search for him at once.”

Hazeroth snorted. “The boy is nothing. I command this ship, a chapter of greycloaks, a flight of Night Gen, and three other souldancers. They will take her in hand.”

“Shaiel calls Thera’s hosts kin. He wishes them found; not destroyed.”

“You would teach Shaiel’s Blade his lord’s wishes?”

Thurif moved a tract of desert into view. “Nothing is further from my mind.”

“Speak your thoughts then, lest I peel them from your malformed skull.”

Thurif magnified one square of the map grid, revealing a narrow canyon. “Each souldancer was imprisoned upon creation. All prisons require keys to open.”

Waiting for Hazeroth’s reply was like standing in the eye of a raging storm. “A key I now hold,” he said at last.

“Then you understand the need for delicacy.”

“It is cruel to keep children from their play,” said Hazeroth, who vanished as suddenly as he’d come.

“As you will, my prince.”

Thurif waited several moments before silently damning Hazeroth for a fool.

Astlin studied the landing pad from the shelter of an access tunnel. Weathered concrete spanned from the opening to a platform where the nexus-runner perched like a resting blackbird. There was no sound but the rustling of giant leaves; no motion but their shadows swarming across the black trident of the
Kerioth’s
hull like monstrous bats.

“What gives?” said Tefler. “The place should be crawling with guards.”

Astlin stepped forward.

Xander touched her shoulder. “It must be an ambush.”

“Trust me,” Astlin said. She moved down the shadowy tunnel toward the dock.

“Be careful,” said Zan.

Astlin stood just inside the tunnel’s mouth, where a lush breeze displaced the smell of rust and oil. The silence beyond meant more than a lack of sound.

“We’re alone,” she called back.

“You sure?” asked Tefler.

“I don’t hear any other thoughts.”

Tefler sighed. “Can we get something more solid? I know a good palmist.”

“I’ll go check,” said Cook.

“What if someone sees you?” Xander asked.

Cook shrugged. “I’ll say I got lost. No one questions me much around here.”

“Good idea,” said Tefler.

Cook crossed the paved branch, his fluid gait defying his ungainly frame. He mounted the platform, circled the ship’s three-bladed hull, and approached the lowered gangway.

Tefler playfully punched Astlin’s arm.

“Sorry I doubted you could read minds,” he said. Then, sheepishly, “Please don’t read my mind.”

Chiming buckles and rings announced Astlin’s departure from the tunnel. The others joined her, walking two by two on the shockingly narrow branch. Looking at the abyss on either side made Astlin dizzy, so she fixed her eyes forward. They were halfway across when Zan grabbed her cloak.

“Wait.”

Morbid thoughts darkened her mind. “What is it?”

Cook was treading slowly up the boarding ramp. His upper body had just disappeared above deck level when Zan said, “I hear water.”

A deep rumbling signaled Cook’s violent expulsion in a torrent that left him soaked and heaving on the sodden dock. Sudden movement drew Astlin’s eyes back to the ship. What looked like a drowned woman in a bronze-trimmed leather top and sea foam green skirts descended the ramp amid a smell like rain.

Astlin felt her cloak shaking. She traced the source to Zan’s trembling hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Irallel,” he whispered.

Cook rolled out of Irallel’s path just before she strode through the space he’d occupied.

She’d have trampled him,
Astlin thought. Another epiphany struck her like a chill wind.
I can’t touch her mind!
She could vaguely sense Irallel’s presence now, but the woman’s thoughts slipped from her grasp like polished stones coated in slime.

“The gold lady should run,” said Zan.

Xander imposed himself between the fire and air souldancers. “Why?”

Zan’s voice fell. “She killed the grey man.”

“A Lawbringer?” asked Astlin.

“He was one of us,” Zan said. “Now he’s a screaming cloud.”

Irallel stood at the platform’s base. Her eyes gleamed like coins paid to ferry the dead. “Are you really made of gold?”

Astlin met her gaze. “I don’t know what I am.”

“I do.” Irallel nodded at Zan. “You’re like him.”

“For his sake I hope you’re wrong,” said Astlin.

Irallel’s laugh was like lashing rain. “Was that meant to sound humble?”

“Humility is knowledge,” Xander said. “You cannot know what she’s suffered.”

Irallel circled the small band, but her eyes never left Astlin. “I know what she
will
suffer.”

Astlin felt Xander’s wrath, but he moved before she could stop him. He thrust his open hands toward Irallel. The force he released shook the
Kerioth
but parted around Irallel like waves around a headland.

The Fire whispered to Astlin. Before she could answer, she was underwater.

Drowning didn’t worry her. Feeling cold for the second time in decades did. The icy flood seeped in, threatening to quench her soul.

This is Irallel—what she really is inside.

The deluge subsided as quickly as it came. Astlin found herself on her hands and knees amid a stream that flowed from the path’s edges and into the sky. She frantically cast about for Xander but found only Irallel.

Astlin’s voice seethed like glowing coals. “Where is he?”

Irallel tossed her sodden hair and smirked. “How should I know?”

The fire souldancer lunged.

Irallel dodged with an ease that made Cook’s fluid grace seem clumsy. She seized Astlin’s right hand with unexpected strength, evoking a stab of pain.

“Somewhat stronger than gold,” Irallel said.

Astlin removed her left glove with her teeth and pressed her hand against Irallel’s face. Steam hissed from beneath her fingers.

Irallel clicked her teeth. “Only brass.”

Her knee crashed into Astlin’s stomach with a burst of pain. Astlin pulled free of her grasp and went reeling backward.

“Those tanner’s scraps are fair protection,” Irallel said, “but you can hear them jangling a mile off.”

Astlin sensed hazy thoughts before pained groans reached her ears. Cook crawled out from behind the ship, his clothes torn and bloody.

“One of your friends survived.” Irallel rushed toward him. “We can’t have that.”

Panic stabbed Astlin’s heart. She thought she could hold Irallel, but she’d never catch her in time.

She can’t outrun your thoughts,
said a small greedy voice. Astlin understood the Fire’s ploy. Xander had woken it, and spending her will on Irallel would loosen its bonds.

Irallel pointed a corpse-green finger at Cook.

“Stop!” Astlin laced the word with her power, but it slid off Irallel’s soul.

“Begging already?” Irallel mocked. “Are you really so weak?”

The Fire blazed behind Astlin’s eyes. It screamed to be let out, straining against the confines of her body till she feared she’d burst at the seams.

“Yes. You win. Now stop.”

The water souldancer frowned. “Don’t insult me.” Ice formed at her feet and spread upstream, trapping Cook’s arms and legs. “Show me your soul.”

The Fire’s demands became lavish, vengeful promises. At this distance, it would take Cook too. Astlin wavered on the brink of surrender.

Thoughts as serene as a still pond coaxed Astlin out of the chaos.
Hey, are you reading my mind?
Below the calm surface, pain flared like lightning seen from orbit.
I hope so, because trust me—letting Irallel goad you is a bad idea.

Irallel still pointed at her icebound victim. A quivering ball of water formed at her fingertip.

Cook!?
Astlin cried silently.

That’s my name and job description.

She’ll kill you! Or I will. How can you be so calm?

Cook gave a mental shrug.
Learning’s a hobby of mine. You know what I found out? There’s really not much to fear in this world. Which reminds me—is this connection two-way?

The less you know about my mind, the better,
Astlin warned.

The Fire shoved a grasping claw through the widening door of its cage. Irallel’s water ball—now the size of an egg—grew cloudy with absorbed particles.

That’s fear talking,
said Cook.
I bet Xander knows what goes on in there. It can’t be
that
bad if he loves you so much.

What?

Come on. You don’t need telepathy to see it. He doesn’t hate you for coming clean, and I won’t either.

Fighting a wave of shame, Astlin showed Cook an account of her life that words couldn’t have described. She momentarily felt
lighter
, but fear of condemnation weighed her down.

Okay,
said Cook.
You’ve had a pretty hard time; made some serious mistakes. One doesn’t excuse the other, but the Fire bleeding into your soul doesn’t help.

Hot liquid welled in Astlin’s eyes.
Can you…is there any forgiving what I’ve done?

Irallel’s face lit with cruel wonder. “Are you
crying
?” She covered her mouth to stifle bubbling laughter.

I’ve got nothing to forgive you for,
said Cook,
though
I can’t speak for anyone else. But about that Fire—you know it’s just you, right?

If that’s true, then I’m a rabid monster that destroys whatever it sees!

Yeah, fire does that when it’s out of control. But it can be useful too. You’re afraid to face it rationally, so it feeds on your appetites.

What does that mean?

It means you need to tame the Fire with reason—not just will. And you should do it soon, because your antipode has
her
elemental act together, and she’s about to kill me with it.

Cook’ calmness under threat of death awed Astlin. She turned her inner eye to face the Fire. The pain was like staring into the sun, until she realized that the sun and her eye were one and the same.

I want to burn everything,
Astlin realized with growing exhilaration.
I want to consume it all. But I can’t—at least not yet.

Astlin joined her will to the Fire. They spoke to Irallel with one voice. “You beat me.”