The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) (48 page)

Shaking his head, Sinjin smiled.

"Don't take me wrong, now. I love women and a few of them love me back, but I don't expect I'll ever understand them."

"Thanks, Benjin."

"Don't you worry about it; the girl's always thought highly of you."

The conversation was going in a direction Sinjin wasn't certain he was comfortable with. "Do you know where Kendra went?"

"She's in her bunk. It's right next to yours."

Sinjin was relieved and anxious all at once. Benjin escorted him into the deckhouse and acquainted him with his bunk. It was small but far better than his previous sailing experience had been. Those memories tormented him at times, but he did his best to let the past stay in the past.

Benjin left him to get some rest, but Sinjin knew he wouldn't sleep well if he thought Kendra was angry with him. After a light knock, she said, "Come in."

Sinjin entered with his head bowed, partly to fit through the hatch and partly to avoid making immediate eye contact with Kendra. When he finally did meet her eyes, they looked puffy and red--not a good sign. He tried to remember what Benjin had just taught him, but in that moment, he could find no way in which that information was helpful. It didn't tell him what to say, or how to keep from making mistakes that ended with tears. All Benjin's advice did was to tell him to expect defeat. Grudgingly, he acknowledged that the information wasn't completely useless. At least he could have realistic expectations.

"I hope I didn't upset you," he said.

"You're not the only thing in the world I might be upset about, you know," she said. "Has it occurred to you that I lost my mother just as much as you lost yours?"

"I'm sorry," Sinjin said, feeling genuine regret for not having talked with her about that sooner. Of course she must be feeling the pain of having lost her mother after having been betrayed by her. They didn't know if Khenna was alive or dead, but Sinjin could see why the woman would be lost to Kendra nonetheless. "I know it must sound like I think that everything is about me, but that's not it. It's just that I made Gwen cry, and then I came to see you, and I was feeling pretty thoughtless and stupid--"

"Wait," Kendra said, her voice firm and her anger now clearly directed at him. "You made Gwen cry?"

If Sinjin could have thought of any excuse to leave, he would have, but he was trapped by his own words. How could he have been so foolish as to even mention Gwen's name in this conversation? "Uh . . . well, I, uh. I thought that maybe she could get more use out of Koe than I could, so I was going to give him to her."

The look in Kendra's eyes convinced him to stop talking. "You were just going to give one of the most powerful artifacts in all of Godsland to some girl?"

"She's not just 'some girl,'" Sinjin said, knowing it was a mistake. "I've known her my whole life."

"That's sweet," Kendra said. "There are decidedly less expensive ways to garner the affections of a girl like her. Buy her a good meal and a new dress, and I'll bet she's yours."

Sinjin tried to think of what to say and remembered Benjin's words again. With that in mind, he bowed his head and retreated from Kendra's cabin. From the corner of his vision, he saw a figure move just as the first sheets of rain fell. Knowing Gwen had seen where he'd come from, Sinjin went to his bunk feeling low. He hadn't expected to get much sleep, which was good since something in the cabin next to his kept banging on the wall until the early hours.

Chapter 5

Mistakes are like enemies--easily made but not easily unmade.

--Benjin Hawk

* * *

As the shadows grew long, the mists beneath Allette grew bolder and stalked her. Not much longer and they would claim her. Her doom seemed to wait there and she whimpered. The pain alone brought tears to her eyes, but the fear made them impossible to hold back. After a few testing movements, she found her muscles sore, her skin bruised and a number of scrapes, but no broken bones. A single glance up showed that no one was looking down on her. No one cared. Her father was the only person in this forsaken place that cared for her, and he was gone. Even if he lived, he was lost to her. She was on her own. The Cloud Forest and the Jaga stood between her and the Midlands.

That thought chilled her. She'd flown over the Jaga to get to the Heights, and the memory of it made her skin crawl. What wasn't desolate and barren was verdant swamp, filled with things that crawled and slithered and flew. There were feral dragons there. Allette had not seen any on her flight, and for that she was grateful, but she knew they were there. Deep in the center of the swamps had been a place she'd looked at only once, and the memory still sickened her. Even from the air, she had smelled the stench of it and had been compelled by curiosity to look down. There she had seen a seething pit of wrongness, mottled gray and black, slick with ooze, and from that place crept and crawled unnatural things, things that shouldn't exist.

The jungle surrounding it was surely impassible, and the thought of crossing through that festering swamp stole her breath. There must be another way home, she thought. She was the daughter of sailors, and sailors did not give up when things got hard. They toughened up and survived. Gritting her teeth, Allette pushed herself upright and stood. It took three hops before her right leg would bear her weight, but then the pain became less intense and she was able to stand. Though her bruises ached, the movement helped ease the pain of her stiff muscles, and sweat poured from her. The mists had closed in, and she was bathed in moisture, her clothes almost instantly soaked. Visibility was low and the light from above illuminated the mists, making it even more difficult to see.

Shadows moved within those mists, and there were grunts and whispers. Allette thought that madness might have claimed her when she heard a voice call out her name. It was soft and in the distance. She couldn't be certain, and it troubled her. The mists, her father had said, were actually clouds and could be very dangerous.

Down. That was the only way out. She had to go down.

Slowly and deliberately, she began to move downward, deeper into the mists. It seemed like a journey into insanity. No one would choose to go into those roiling vapors, but Allette had no choice. If she stayed above the clouds, she would die. She would at least have a chance if she made it into the Cloud Forest itself. Certainly there were dangers there, but there was also food. The rumbling of her stomach reminded her that all she'd had to eat was some bitter citrus. At that moment, though, she was worried about becoming food for something else. Not for the first time, she saw shadows moving through the mists, whispering and gibbering as they went, and Allette did not want to know what made such noises, she didn't want to see these beings that seemed to be stalking her.

The stones continued to slope away beneath her feet. Although most were stable, here and there a stone would turn or move, threatening to send her tumbling or twist an ankle. Her progress was fretfully slow, but progress it was, and that pushed her forward. Getting away from the madness and the mists and being able to see at least something of her surroundings was all Allette could think of. Each step brought her closer and was, in itself, a victory. Fear had conquered her in the past, and even she had almost refused to come on this trip to the Heights because of her fear. Now, though, she knew just how right she'd been. She should never have come to this horrible place, and now it would be the death of her. Surely there was no way she'd ever find her way home.

* * *

His lantern dim, Sensi walked the halls like a haunted man. The thrower and a mere child dead--or as good as dead. Even if the girl did survive for a time, the rains would come. There was nothing he could have done differently, he reminded himself. He had done only as his duty required. He hadn't thrown the thrower from the Heights, and he hadn't cast the girl into the Cloud Forest, assuming she survived the initial fall. The memory of it played over and over in his head, his own personal nightmare.

The lord chancellor had said only to prepare a funeral rite for the thrower, and men had already been dispatched to reclaim his body. And what of the child's body? What if they returned with the girl as well? What would he do then?

The questions drove him to walk faster, as if he could run from the feeling of responsibility that would not be deterred. Tears filled his eyes, and he sobbed once before reaching his quarters. He wasn't certain what he would do when the men returned, but for that moment, all he could do was kneel down and beg for forgiveness.

* * *

Beneath the clouds waited what looked like a magical place. And perhaps it was. Her father had always said that magic might be beautiful, but it'll bite you as quick as a snake. That was the way this place felt, as if it were just waiting to show her something beautiful right before eating her. Shivering, Allette stepped from rock onto mossy soil that sank a little beneath her weight. Again she heard whispering in the mists, but this time it had a much more human tone, and she could just make out the words, "Don't know why I come. No one cares. The fool has forgotten about me."

Allette crouched down and moved back toward the concealment of the mists, seeing a distinct form moving through the foliage. The mists concealed her but also blinded her, and she could hear little more than the occasional footfall and what sounded like an animal moving on four legs. Even those sounds faded, and Allette finally allowed herself to move back into the preternatural glow that enveloped the Cloud Forest. This was no place for her, she thought. She belonged on the deck of a ship, not in a jungle. All the things she knew were useless here. It was a realization that crushed her confidence. Before she'd thought herself capable, ready and able to take on any challenge; coming to this place had proven her to be weak and ignorant. Here she was but a child, and there was no one to guide her.

On instinct, she looked for tracks in the rich soil. Her father had always said that a ship's tracks fade quickly, whereas a man's footfall might remain for years. It didn't take long for her to find something. Though not initially obvious, there was something of a trail leading into the jungle. It did not appear heavily used but was just clear enough to allow passage without having to battle the jungle. The plants frightened Allette as much as the wildlife that lurked within the trees and the mosses that covered almost everything else. Moisture clung to her clothing, which steamed, and she tried to remember what it felt like to be dry. Misty rain fell intermittently, and at other times it poured. When the rain stopped for more than a few breaths, Allette looked for more tracks in the soft moss, but the rains had erased most of the evidence. In truth, she wasn't certain she wanted to follow whomever it was who had been within the mists, but she had nowhere else to go, and at least this trail made it easier to move through the forest. It seemed more like a jungle to Allette. She'd always imagined forests as orderly places with long shadows and red leaves carpeting the forest floor.

This place was another thing altogether. Glossy and slick in the constant rain, it was a riot of life, twisting and competing for light. Never before had she thought of plants as competitive, but here they were, the strong smothering the weak and taking the light for themselves. Perhaps plants were not so unlike people after all, she thought. It was then that the forest showed its teeth; finger-length thorns, sharp as cat's claws, hid beneath supple, satiny leaves on a twisted, ropelike vine. It took only an instant for Allette to brush up against the plant and the pain to flare in her side. She took one more startled step but stopped abruptly as the thorns dug deeper. Gasping, she stepped back, and the vine moved with her, causing searing pain as its angle in relation to her body changed. With a slow and deliberate movement, Allette pulled herself away from the vine, which she steadied with both hands. The deep wounds bled freely. Allette took an unsteady step, realizing that she may have reached her end.

It was her father's will that pushed her forward at that moment. He would not give up. He would not just lie down and die. He would fight. He would live!
But he had not,
another voice in her head added. He was dead and she was alone. The thoughts nearly took her to her knees, but she would not let that voice win. Every time she did, it seemed to take a piece of her, and she could not afford to lose any more of herself. This challenge she faced would require everything from her, even the blood that currently dripped past her fingers and onto the moss, leaving a crimson trail. Books had told her that a wounded animal would draw predators, and she tried to push that knowledge from her mind.

Breathing heavily and moving unsteadily, Allette stepped between the gnarled branches of two huge trees whose trunks, a few feet apart, were twisted together several feet up to form something of a grand entranceway. On the other side, things looked different than elsewhere in the forest, and it took her addled mind a moment to register what she saw. It was unlike anything she'd ever heard or dreamed of. This place was made out of plants and trees, but it had been shaped by human hands. Along the borders grew trees that had been woven together to form a massive natural fence. Underneath ran a bubbling stream, its bed covered with rounded rocks free of lichen and moss.

Near the center of the glade stood a house of woven trees. A door made of branches and vines appeared to be the only entrance, and smoke rolled out of a stone chimney. How anyone could have created such a place was beyond her comprehension, and she stood gaping for some time, her mind moving ever slower as the life blood slipped from her body. When the attack came, she didn't even move. Only the sound of an animal running on all fours preceded the attack, and all Allette sensed were claws and teeth accompanied by a terrible howl. It felt as if she'd been hit in the chest with a hammer, and she fell backward onto the thick grasses and moss. Her vision faded as she fell, darkness enveloping her, and the last thing she felt before she succumbed was searing pain.

* * *

A fine wax candle burned on an iron holder. Only the thinnest line of black smoke rose from it, proof of its quality. A pity the holder was so crude, Sensi had always thought; it seemed wrong to foul such fine candles with a crude and wretched holder.

"The world is changing, Sensi," the lord chancellor said. "If we don't change with it, we'll be left behind."

Sensi had heard these words before, but he wasn't so certain. Change seemed the most frightening thing of all to Sensi. He was comfortable and safe. He knew his role in life; he knew his job well. The lord chancellor seemed bent on changing that. It was most uncomfortable, indeed. When the lord chancellor pulled the figurine from within his robes, Sensi got a cold feeling in his stomach. There was already blood on this figurine in his opinion, and it could only lead to more.

"Only a few of these were ever made, and most were destroyed long ago, but the gods have blessed me with this, and I'll not let that gift go unused. If we'd had this twenty years ago," the lord chancellor continued, the figurine inert and lifeless in his hand, unlike when the girl had held it, "we could've avoided all that unpleasantness with Thundegar Rheams."

"How would that have kept him from being thrown from the Heights?" Sensi asked.

"It wouldn't. It would've gotten him thrown sooner, which would have avoided some of the unpleasantness that led up to his being thrown."

"I still don't see how," Sensi started to say, but a look silenced him.

A moment later a knock came at the stout and bolted door. The lord chancellor used this room only for meetings he didn't necessarily want anyone else to know about. Sensi eyed the door with concern and didn't move. The lord chancellor just made a rude sound and opened the door himself, a task that Sensi knew was beneath him. He reminded himself that the lord chancellor could just as easily have him thrown from the Heights; it was a thought he did not relish.

Merini, chief among the lord chancellor's guard, entered the room with a bow to the lord chancellor and a nod to Sensi. He was a thick man wrapped in black hair and looked to Sensi to be as hard as the rock around them.

"My lord," Merini said after the lord chancellor nodded to him, "the protocol for seeking your grace's counsel has been amended per your request. Once you've acknowledged each supplicant, they are to accept the figurine from your hands, turn it about in their hands while keeping eye contact with you, and then return it to you."

"Good," the lord chancellor said, a smile now coming to his face. "And the position of thrower?"

"Has been filled, your grace," Merini said.

Sensi had no doubt the lord chancellor knew exactly who the new thrower would be, but he was not supposed to know, and the game must be played--always the game. Sensi tired of it.