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Year Four, Spring: Aletheia's Way, II

Year Four, Spring: Aletheia's Way, II

No wall was thick enough to deafen Eris. Aletheia turned to her side and covered her head, plugging her ears with the most comfortable pillow she had ever touched, and tried not to listen. She was wrapped in fabric of red and deep blue and bright purple, entombed in silk and buried in satin, drowning in luxury beyond what she knew existed until hours before—yet somehow she was not comfortable, because no matter how the sheets felt, she was still alone.

No dog. No Pyraz. No Rook. Just an empty room, all to herself, with shrieks beyond.

She didn’t know what this meant. She didn’t know what she wanted it to mean. Things would return to normal, she supposed, back to how they were before Eris started acting strangely in Patiyali. Aletheia doubted the tall sorceress who had seemed so adult when they met, but who in fact was hardly older than she was now herself, would ever come to terms with her feelings. It was sad. Rook loved her, and not just for her beauty. All Aletheia wanted was for her friends to be happy. That was what would have made her happy.

But she was not happy.

She was convinced there was nothing to think about that night, but unable to fall asleep she thought anyway. On and on and on.

She wondered if she was jealous. That was the most ridiculous thought of all. Aletheia was the baggage, not Eris. She had no right in being jealous. But…the more time Rook spent with Eris, the less he spent with Aletheia—and it was being alone that Aletheia hated more than anything else. There were also other impulses, sillier impulses that made her feel guilty to even consider. It was just that—Eris seemed to have so much in her life, yet she wasted it on pride and vanity and cruelty. If Aletheia were Eris, she could do such good. And if she were the one Rook had interest in…

Those thoughts in particular needed to be banished. After all she was fifteen as the calendar went and really only fourteen while he was in his twenties and he would never see her in that way anyway, and she didn’t want him to, except…

She was smart enough to know that the future would find her eventually. One day she could become the woman she saw in her locket. She just needed to be ready to grab the one she wanted when it approached. Yet in that moment, in all that comfort, she wondered if she wouldn’t always be baggage. A follower. A pet at Rook’s legs, like Eris said, tolerated out of good will. Not a real member of the party. She wondered if she would ever have a life of her own. She wondered if she was supposed to be alive at all, and if everyone might be happier if she simply disappeared.

Of course that was ridiculous. Rook had come back for her. She had come for her first. He didn’t think about her the way she sometimes thought about him, even though she tried not to, but like his sister. She just needed to accept that when he decided to sleep with Eris, rather than beside her, it wasn’t because he was abandoning her. It was because he was a boy, and Eris was Eris, and Aletheia was just the little sister.

She knew and understood and appreciated all that. But knowing it didn’t help her fall asleep when loneliness came in, and always, still, she was riddled through with self-doubt.

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At some point past dawn her hair turned brown. She had been staring at the ceiling, splayed out on the bed like a starfish, messy strands in her eyes, when the color changed. She tripped over herself to look in the room’s polished mirror.

She did not recognize the girl looking back. She found she looked even more plain than usual with dark hair, yet there was something in her eyes that caught her attention—something in having green eyes.

She remembered green eyes. And for a brief moment, she realized that she saw Aletheia as Aletheia might have been down the path of normality. If she never became a magician and never struck out as an adventurer. A mundane life wasn’t easy, she realized. And when she looked in her locket she did not aspire to be the boring woman in the library. Yet when she saw herself with normal eyes, she could only think of what it would mean to live without the memory of death. That was worth a great deal in return. In that moment she wished she could just be normal.

With Eris’ enchantments over her it was safe to slink downstairs for breakfast. Outside the windows of the lobby Aletheia saw the bustling broad streets of the city and was taken aback by the sheer scale. They had arrived at night and while Katharos had seemed huge it was only in the sense of seeming. Now it was huge. Impossibly. The city never stopped. Even in Vandens, which was a big town, the border was never out of vision. Here—it was like the whole world was stone. Every building was a skyscraper. Carriages and horses and people, so many people, everywhere, all at once.

Aletheia had never been to Katharos.

Rook and Eris were already at a table. They were bathed and well-groomed. Rook had shaved and his clothes were intact. Eris wore her hair up, which she almost never did, and was draped in a silk robe. Their things were otherwise left upstairs.

Aletheia didn’t recognize them at first, with their hairs the wrong color. They were also sitting very close to each other, on the same side of the table; usually they sat across from each other. And they were whispering something in each other’s ears as she approached—

She took a seat across from them, and then she saw they weren’t whispering. They were kissing. In public. With their eyes closed and everything. Aletheia looked around, expecting that if a maid or guard saw this it would be reported as an illegal act, but no one except her seemed to care.

She smiled. She had seen Rook kiss Eris, but never her kiss him back. Of course they did things together in private, everyone knew that, but this was different. Really different. Aletheia remembered the night in Lord Arqa’s keep, where he tried to kiss her in front of the party and she had run away. Maybe she finally could make him happy. And that did make Aletheia happy, really, truthfully.

Aletheia pulled her seat closer to the table, letting its legs scrape loudly against the ground so to signal her arrival. Her two companions took an extra moment before they pulled apart.

“Aletheia!” Rook said. He pushed Eris away. Her eyes went somewhat wide as she straightened herself, clearing her throat, and wiping away her lips. But she didn’t run. “We were—waiting for you.”

“We could have stood to wait a while longer yet,” Eris said.

Aletheia tried to conceal her smile. Especially toward Eris, who for the first time seemed like a human being instead of ice in bipedal form. She decided to have fun. “Did you sleep ok?” she asked.

Rook coughed. He rapidly tried to change the subject. “While we have some cover from these illusions,” he said, “I don’t think we should spend our time here carelessly.”

“Agreed,” Eris said. “We must devise a plan of action. Shall we go kill your uncle?”

Rook put an arm around her shoulder. “That’s the kind of talk we’d do best to avoid regardless of our disguises, in civilized quarters.”

Eris folded her arms and rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away. “No doubt it will be somewhat more complicated, yet if a vacancy is sought, one must be made.”

“He has a son, it isn’t so simple.”

“Two spells instead of one…very well, how would you go about reclaiming your rightful place?”

“If it were so easy, I would have done it already,” Rook said. “I’m not half so stupid as I look, you know, I’ve given this some thought over the years. Maybe not nearly enough.”

“I see no plan before us, so ‘not enough’ seems right.”

Aletheia wished she had something to say to prove she wasn’t baggage. But she didn’t, so she just watched.

“Katharos isn’t a murderocracy,” Rook said, now leaning over the table. “If a prince murders his father, he doesn’t become Archon—he gets thrown into Thermopos for patricide. We could slip into Keep Korakos at night and butcher all my cousins, yes, but I’d still be a fugitive, and they’d put the pieces together even if we weren’t found out.”

“But your uncle got away with it,” Aletheia said.

“He had the voice of a prince for his ascension and a conspiracy concocted to justify it. He put in the work first. If I want more than revenge—to become doukas—then it’ll take much more than homicide. That won’t even be the start of it.”

“And what would be the start?” Eris said.

Rook considered this. “Rook Korakos would need to be cleared of his crimes.”

The girls glanced at each other from across the table. They had been sharing such moments more frequently of late, yet Aletheia never had any notion at all of what Eris was thinking.

“What were his crimes?” Eris asked.

Rook rubbed his eyes and forehead. He sighed. “I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter, for he isn’t ready to face this place yet. He’s…too young.”

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“You’re practically ancient,” Aletheia said.

“What age will be old enough, I wonder?” Eris said.

He gave this some thought. “Seventy or eighty. Then they’ll all be dead anyway and I can swoop in and take what’s mine.”

“Your humor distracts. When will we be better suited to face this issue than now?” Eris said.

“Are we well suited now? The Seekers on our trail and Pyraz gone?”

“The Seekers temporarily off our scent, and us in contact with one who may have the funds to provide a base of operations.”

Rook snapped her way. “Jason.”

She nodded. “‘Tis our money anyway. Perhaps we might dragoon him into our service, as compensation for his earlier betrayal?”

Aletheia reached out to grab Rook by the wrist, to meet his eye. “Rook,” she said. “What are you hiding from? What did they accuse you of?”

He sighed. “They alleged I was involved in a plot to assassinate the Archon. I found out about the plot after the knights they had sent to arrest me.”

“What about your parents?”

“Some shade of the same. Of course a fight broke out and they couldn’t be apprehended peacefully. That’s how these things go. Assassination with a legal sheen.”

He grew tense and nervous. Aletheia regretted asking, but it seemed important.

“That was four years ago,” Eris said. Rook nodded, so she continued, “You have changed much. You now have a woman with you, and a young attendant. With a touch of magic…you may not be recognized. With Jason’s help, and a new wardrobe, it may be possible to reintroduce you into noble society.”

He gave this deep thought. While he did, Aletheia asked, “Why do you want this so much?”

“What do you mean?” Eris replied, mostly disinterested.

“We could go, like Rook says, and it would be the same for you, wouldn’t it? Why do you want him to succeed so much?” Then, as a follow-up, with a grin, “Do you want to be made the duchess?”

Eris stared at Aletheia with a look of utter contempt. Her mouth opened, then closed. “Certainly not,” she growled. “Yet—an injustice has been done. Is it strange I should want to see it righted?”

“I’m not sure you’ve ever cared about injustice before,” Rook said.

“Well…injustice has never broached my companions before. Nor the man for whom I am…deeply affectionate.”

“In love with,” Rook corrected.

“…the man I am in love with,” Eris echoed, rather distantly, almost like a Servitor. But she still said the words, and to hear them Aletheia almost screamed. When she realized what she had said in Aletheia’s presence she covered her face and blushed deep scarlet. “Stop grinning,” she commanded.

“Okay,” Aletheia said. But she didn’t stop. Instead she watched Eris for a moment, and then she retrieved the locket from around her neck.

The locket from the manaforge.

She put it down in front of Eris.

Eris noticed it a moment later.

“What is this?”

“Open it,” Aletheia said. “It’s a mirror.”

“I have my own mirror.”

“It’s special. Open it. Please.”

Eris glanced at Rook. He nodded. “You should open it,” he said.

She grabbed it, then with a long fingernail popped it open, tilting it sideways and gazing into its two mirrors. Her eyes narrowed.

“What do you see?” Aletheia asked.

Eris cocked an eyebrow. “What is this?”

“What do you see?” Rook asked.

“What trick are you playing on me!” she snapped at Rook.

“It’s not a trick,” he said. “It’s from the manaforge. We think that it shows two paths, like revealing your potential to yourself, so you know which way to go.”

She continued to stare. Then the locket snapped shut. She glared at him. “And what did it show to you?”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t remember,” he said. “What did it show you?”

“I do not remember,” she said. She slid the locket across the table to Aletheia.

Aletheia had no idea what to make of this reaction—did Eris like what she saw, and was too embarrassed to say? Or did she dislike what she saw and thus didn’t want to believe she saw it at all? And what did she see? Aletheia desperately wanted to know, but she resigned herself to the fact that she never would.

They sat a moment in silence. She took the locket herself and stared into it. Always the same two old women. The thought that she might become the admired adventurer was one of the few things that kept her going.

“The first step is to find Jason,” Rook said.

“Yes,” Eris agreed. “We might begin by checking the brothels.”

“Not a bad idea. I volunteer.” He stood up, but Eris grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down.

“Yet if he has succeeded in retrieving Arqa’s fortune, as we have assumed so far,” she growled, “then he may do better to bring the prostitutes to himself.”

“They would know where he was either way,” Aletheia said.

“We might be overthinking this problem,” Rook said. “Let’s try the Library.”

So that was their first stop, but not before Eris instructed they visit the market. “If we are to impersonate members of society, we had best not look like rats,” she said. She was the only one with any sense of fashion between the three of them; she bought them each clothes. For Rook, a fine dark doublet in blue, with sleeves of purple and pads around the shoulders and a collar that looked extremely uncomfortable. For Aletheia she spent an eternity perusing, as if no clothes would be suitable at all, but eventually she settled on a loose chiton in white, in the Regal style that was sometimes fashionable in court, suspended from the shoulders, bare to the arms, and so long it had to be carried lest it dragged.

Aletheia expected her to buy something obscenely gaudy for herself, which would have been just like her, and indeed Eris spent hours speaking with tailors and eyeing finery. But in the end she went with nothing more than a red silk dress, cinched at the waist and very low cut.

Apparently she had decided her natural features were gaudy enough by themselves. And she was right. Everyone stared at her when they departed down the street together. No one looked at Aletheia. But maybe she liked it better that way.

They made for the Library, snaking through the Katharos streets. Aletheia kept close to her companions. She felt no different than she would have in a jungle. Vulnerable, surrounded by enemies, evil shadows everywhere. The only difference was that her ears hurt from all the noise.

“They think you’re the duchess and I’m your bodyguard,” Rook, who had retrieved his sword, said.

Eris enjoyed the attention. “Is that such a tragedy?”

“We’re supposed to be inconspicuous,” Aletheia whispered.

“We are hiding in plain sight. The Seekers will not think to look for us among the nobility so closeby their tower.” Aletheia wasn’t sure that made sense, but Eris continued, “If anyone asks, we are sisters, and you are our knightly protector.”

It was already night by the time they arrived at the Library. Within they found a scribe, who they asked about Jason. Rook took the lead.

The scribe set down a quill. He gazed upward, irritated at being disturbed, and waited several seconds before replying. “I hope you do not come to me in jest, Sir.”

“Jest?”

“I would think a man of social standing would know. Everyone knows. You can’t go ten inches in this city without hearing that name.”

“The name of Jason?” Aletheia said.

“We’ve been away,” Rook said. “Business across the Hepaz. He’s a friend of ours, when last we saw him he was employed here.”

The scribe found this story implausible. “Everyone is a friend of Jason these days.”

“What do you mean? Can you tell us the story?”

He closed his book and sat up straight. “He found a fortune in Darom. Went on a grand adventure. They’ve written a play about it. He’s the richest man in the city. The story is he slew a vampire in single combat with its own sword, but I knew the man and he’s a rank coward; it’s all hogwash. Yet that’s what they say.”

“Single combat,” Eris said. “How impressive.”

“When news got out that he lifted the curse over Arqa, the Archon made him a bloody knight. Can you believe it? He’s Jason Kalamos now, a gentleman.”

They all exclaimed, “What?” in unison.

“You really have been away, haven’t you?”

“That son of a bitch,” Rook said.

“I do not know why I am surprised,” Eris said. “Where is he?”

“Marching in parades, l shouldn’t wonder. I heard he moved into the Silver District, no doubt you’ll find him there. Can you believe it? A gutter-rat scribe like him? He couldn’t even read when we taught him to write.”

Eris turned to leave. Rook thanked the scribe and followed after her. Aletheia stayed still for a moment, watching her companions go, then waved goodbye and pursued.

“So,” Eris said. “He takes the credit for our victory, as well as the spoils, and for this they make him a knight. It seems you may have missed your opportunity to re-enter high society.”

“This may be our in yet,” Rook said. “He has standing and power now. We can use it for our advantage.”

“If he does anything except turn us in to the Seekers.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Aletheia said.

“He already did!” Eris said.

“He’s a rogue,” Rook said, “but he still has a conscience. He came with us to Darom, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he came with us to Darom—for the money! He told me so explicitly. He read about the vault in some ancient tome. Or did you not know?”

Rook stopped. He put his hands to his head, like a headache was overcoming him. Aletheia grabbed his arm to show her support. “No,” he said. “I didn’t—that bastard. I’m going to kill him.”

“See? Vengeance is so delightful,” Eris said.

“He has to be able to explain! He’s our friend!” Aletheia said.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Rook said. And he seemed angry. Rook was almost never angry, not around her, and she was frightened to watch him march through the streets like that.

She didn’t understand what there was to be angry about. The glory was up for grabs—they couldn’t claim it. The money, they had left behind. This was only good news as far as she could see. She hoped her companions would agree sooner before later.

They reached the Silver District before long. It was a place of infinite splendor, so called because even at night it was bright as day: countless miniature moons oozed silver light down onto the road, illuminating the path. They passed through two enormous open gates with inactive Lightning Walls and encountered guards in heavy armor, but in their state of well dress they were given no trouble and allowed through. Then they saw the buildings, manors that took up entire blocks, villas surrounded by gates, terraced gardens behind elaborate walls, every building covered in glass windows—real glass everywhere. Arcane protectors patrolled down the streets and all was completely clean, no trash or wild pigs or vagrants or bums or corpses or manure anywhere.

Every manner bore the heraldry of gentry. Banners of wolves and foxes and swords and hands and everything else that fit within a coat of arms hung off walls, so each family could be identified from afar.

“Which is Jason?” Aletheia asked.

“Jason Kalamos,” Rook said. Kalamos meant ‘quill.’ “Anything that looks scholarly, I’d bet.”

They searched up and down the streets until it was very late and Aletheia became worried they would be stopped by the guards for suspicious behavior. But finally they found a huge manor, four storeys, vast beyond belief, ancient and built of tall black stones, and from its upper floor’s windows were the brand-new banners emblazoned with the sigil of a quill.

“Kalamos,” Eris said. “Very subtle.”

They knocked on the door. It looked as though it might have once been a keystone mechanism of black steel, like Old Kingdom doors, but now it was a huge wooden banded gate with a knocker.

It was a long time before it was opened. And when it was, a dwarf was on the other side. He wore mail and carried a huge axe.

“Who are you?” he said in a voice like stones being crushed.

“Is this the home of Jason?” Rook asked. When met with a nod he continued. “We’d like to speak with him.”

“He’s asleep,” the dwarf growled.

“Wake him. Tell him that Rook, Eris, and Aletheia have come for a visit.”

“Everybody wants to speak with Jason Kalamos.”

“Tell him our names and I guarantee he’ll want to see us,” Rook said. “Or want us driven away. In either case, he’ll be angry to know you left us outside.”

The dwarf gave them a long consideration. The gate was shut. But several minutes later it opened again and they were welcomed inside. The dwarf led them to a parlor, where a manalight burned dimly, and there was Jason in a robe.

He had Lord Arqa’s sword at his hip.

“Shit,” he said. “It really is you.” He swallowed. “What’s wrong with your hair?”