Aliyah
Someone was knocking on the door.
She roused herself and sat up. How many hours had passed? Enough for her magic to have returned—finally. It welled up in her core, safe and warm and familiar. She had not realised how dearly she had missed it until now. The magic that Kionah had given her—honey-fresh and lemon-sweet—had dwindled to near nothing, but it hardly mattered now that she had her own magic back.
She swept a wave of healing over herself, a working she’d come up with after one too many pre-dawn shifts. A wave of refreshment eased the dryness of her mouth and smoothed away the crick in her neck that had settled from sleeping in the wrong position. The magic brought her to an alertness that she hadn’t known she’d missed.
The knocking persisted. She rolled out of bed, tip-toed over, and hesitated with her hand over the handle. Flexing her magic up around her ears for a moment, she felt her hearing sharpen into a brittle point; there was only one set of breaths on the other side of the door, a steady rise and fall of the lungs—clear, calm, healthy. Some sort of matron-maid-equivalent, then? She opened the door.
“Hi,” Kionah said.
Aliyah flinched, taking an involuntary step back. “How did you find me?”
Kionah shrugged, hands in pockets. She was back in the shirt and trousers that she had worn on their journey, though they looked freshly laundered and thoroughly un-ironed. Her shirt was wrinkled and untucked and her hair was back in its bun, a few strands hanging loose. She didn’t have her shortsword or spell-slips with her. She seemed unthreatening enough, but she was blocking the exit. Aliyah wondered, if the worst came to pass, whether she would fare well jumping out of the window to escape. The precursors for vasodilation tingled in her palms, just in case.
“You do still have my magic,” Kionah said, and made a show of glancing around the room. Her gaze skipped over the scratched-up floorboards and water-stained wallpaper before alighting back onto Aliyah. “Also, Shasta technically owns this place—Crow Ear turf, see? It was fairly obvious, then, that you’d be one of the few to pay in Songian crowns,” she continued as Aliyah edged further backwards. “Please relax,” she added. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“What do you want? I’m not going to help you, even if you’re making a show of the fact that you can track me down. You’re criminals.”
“Does that scare you?” Kionah asked, tilting her head to one side. “I’m confused by your aversion to us on that basis. I’m not going to harm you. Nor is Shasta, for all his idiocy.”
“So you say. The fact remains—you’re a criminal. I don’t know why you think that I would trust you.”
“There’s honour among thieves,” Kionah sighed. “Depending on where one does the thieving. But I don’t suppose that would convince you, no. You keep saying we’re criminals—aren’t you, too?”
“Wh-what?”
“From what you told me of your time in Shadowsong,” Kionah said. “Aren’t you a criminal? Wasn’t that boy you got help from—Jackal something or other—wasn’t he a criminal, also? And yet you spoke of him in positive terms. What is it about us that worries you more?”
“I…that’s different. You guys had ammunition on your kitchen table. You kill people.”
“Hm, I don’t know about that. ‘You guys’, you say?” Kionah shook her head slowly. “That was all Shasta. I don’t spend my time carting illicit packages around. So I am not a murderer, not even indirectly. Which is why I came here, to ask you to join me. Not Shasta; just me. If you refuse the both of us, then that’s your prerogative. But personally, I thought we worked quite well together on our way out of Shadowsong.”
“Really,” Aliyah said flatly. “And what makes you think I’d be willing to join you, after all I’ve said?”
“I have the means to pay you,” Kionah said with a knowing tilt of her head. “And I’m far more understanding than Shasta is. What else are you going to do? All alone, in a city that feeds on naivety. I suppose, with your skills, you could join a mercenary band or dungeoning crew. Dangerous work, though, with people who would expect much out of a mage from a near-mythological discipline. Or perhaps you could find yourself a wealthier patron, up in one of the spires. I’m sure they’d only be too happy to eat you alive. Perhaps an insane richling would like to capture you or to harm you, in search of the source of your power. Do you know how to avoid that? I don’t think so.”
“You’re trying to scare me,” she said with more certainty than she felt.
“I’m telling you what I know of the situation. Like it or not, you haven’t got anything much but healing magic to get you by once your coin runs dry. And sad to say, you’ll be a coveted commodity because of it. Not in a way that’s to your advantage.”
A shiver ran down her spine. “You don’t know that. Stop that, I—I don’t have to use my magic that way. I can clean, I can sew, I can work as a maid again. I don’t need you. I can get away from all of you easily—”
“No, you can’t,” Kionah said, a fresh edge to her voice. “You think I never tried? You think hundreds of girls—girls just like you—aren’t out there vying for the privilege of scrubbing floors until their fingers bleed? Casting spells until they cough blood? There are scores of women out there with broken backs to show for it, and hands that can’t fully open no more. My own cousin came crying to me after—” She swallowed. “Look, I can tell you for a fact that Glister is not as kind to maids as Shadowsong. You think I chose to lift purses and work in pleasure houses because it was particularly enjoyable? Because I was blind to easier alternatives? I’ve lived here my whole life, Aliyah. I’ve walked the paths you think lead to freedom and I can tell you now they’re wrong.”
Kionah’s words rung with certainty. Aliyah shook her head even as anger and anxiety swirled together inside her, forming a sickly brew—the memory of the flint-eyed girl and her ambushing companion loomed. Was Glister really so opportunistic at every corner? She thought, with a sinking feeling, that maybe it was. A place as huge as this could hold anything and everything.
“You can say whatever you want,” she managed. “But you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“No, I don’t,” Kionah said, lifting her chin. “But I’m warning you that others will certainly try. But enough about them, and enough about me. What do you want, Aliyah?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, because that was a stressful question, now, wasn’t it? What did she want? She didn’t want Shadowsong, not with all of its secrets and baggage and bloodthirsty Magicians prowling around—but she did want to spend her free afternoons buried in books once more. She wanted to peel a freshly-picked clementine and to eat it segment by segment under the shade of the old ironwood tree, four years long gone, every branch long-burnt by now, smoke particles scattered to the winds. She wanted to see Rana again. She wanted to be happy but above all, she wanted to be safe.
“I—I want to go home,” she said, which wasn’t enough to convey what she meant.
Kionah gave her a small, tight smile. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid. But you do want to survive, don’t you? You wanted to survive every step of the way through those blasted tunnels, I could see it. We helped each other, didn’t we?”
Aliyah paused. Gone was the courtly cadence in Kionah’s tone. Now, there was something else threaded through her words, something that stretched past the title of spymaster and into the territory of—well, she’d said it herself, hadn’t she? Back when they’d talked among the bones of the vanquished Behemoth: chameleon strategy, emulation.
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Kionah was a type of trickster, she thought. Someone who flowed like water—water that could change its shape to fit the necessary receptacle, be it bowl, cup, city, castle. What Kionah had been in Shadowsong wasn’t necessarily what she was now. She’d been the flawless, competent royal spymaster right until she’d descended back into Glister. All that cool finesse had flowed seamlessly into threatening crosstalk, thieves' cant, bared teeth. Practiced viciousness. Perhaps it was good to not forget how quickly she’d switched out one mask for another. Or if she’d removed the mask entirely.
“I don’t necessarily need you for that,” Aliyah said slowly. “Look, I’m sure you’re right, I’m sure Glister is scary. But I know what you’re trying to do. You can’t trick me into going with you just because you’re the only person I sort-of know here. Because I clearly don’t know you at all.”
Kionah merely blinked at her for several heartbeats, then sighed, shoulders sagging. “Fine. I’m sorry,” she said, and she sounded sincere, but it wasn’t like Aliyah could tell for sure. “I can’t force you to help me, and I won’t. But I meant it, when I said I could help you. I’ll show you to Luxon’s to get that faery-mark looked at, no strings attached.”
“No strings at all?” She found that hard to believe. She’d never been one for the nuances of Songian court, but even she knew that soft favours and mutual obligations could hold more weight than they seemed to, on the surface.
“I’d be lying if I said I’m not hoping you’d reconsider. Think on it, if you like. The criminal association may bother you, I understand. But this is the least I can do, I promise you that. I dragged you into this mess and I’ll see if I can’t drag you a little out of it.”
“What use would you even have of me?” she asked warily.
“I like being alive,” Kionah said with a bluntness that unnerved her. “Someone with your healing ability will be useful in my particular circumstances, to say the least.”
“…Your particular circumstances? I thought that you had all the help you needed, with Shasta and all.”
Kionah snorted. “Shasta? We go way back, but he’s got his own affairs to mind and I mine.”
“I’m not signing up to be shot at by—other criminals. Whatever enemies you’ve managed to make. You know I can’t fight, not really. And I’m not a real Healer either.”
Kionah raised her chin. “Yes, I know. You’ve said so multiple times by now. I would merely like you around for…insurance, now I’m back. Glister can be an unpleasant place and I’ve lost allies by being away.” She hesitated. “Anyhow. Think it over, won’t you? And let me bring you to Luxon, at least. Then we’ll be even.”
Aliyah narrowed her eyes. “Is this some kind of trap?”
“If I wanted to trap you, I could have brought a bunch of Shasta’s boys down here with me. Or more likely, I would have snagged the master keys from the keeper, no pretense needed. As it was, I convinced Shasta that it would be far more beneficial to him if I came alone, helped you, and didn’t spook you off into the clutches of other interested parties.”
“And I’m supposed to…be grateful for that?” she asked bitterly.
“I’m just being level with you, Aliyah.” Kionah hesitated. “If not for your cooperation, I’d be dead by now. And you were the one who used up all your power against the faeries, back down in those hells-damned tunnels. I don’t like that sense of obligation any more than you would. So I would appreciate it if you’d let me wipe clean the slate, so to speak.”
Aliyah frowned as the itch on her forearm crept back into the forefront of her consciousness. She sent a wave of numbness to wash over it; it didn’t do anything. Ah, but of course; there was no histamine coursing under her skin, no grounded source of the itch—there was only itching in a magical sense—an illusion. It was something that, paradoxically, felt more real because of its so-called unreality. She gritted her teeth, tried again nonetheless. Nothing changed.
“And why should I trust you, after what you were in Shadowsong and what you do now?”
“I suppose you can’t. But neither can you trust the rest of the city.” Kionah laughed bitterly. “I’d hate to be in your position, I really would.”
“Okay,” Aliyah said, lifting her chin. “Let’s go see your faery friend, then.”
===
It was raining on the surface, a limp summery drizzle that barely cut through the mid-morning heat. Kionah had led her back to Crow Ear station and they’d taken the shuttlebus back up. Now, they walked under the eaves of shops to avoid the rain. It was some sort of main street, Aliyah gathered. Sellers hawked their wares from the sides, but they did so with a world-weary placidness. Golden mage-chariots rumbled by on the street proper, and she even saw someone trotting by on horseback.
“City Watch,” Kionah noted, following her gaze. “You see them a lot more up here.”
“If there’s a City Watch, why don’t you go ask them for help, instead of me?” Aliyah asked, and then regretted it immediately as Kionah’s shoulders tensed.
“My associates tend to stand in opposition,” she muttered. “Like I said, you see them more up here. Look, you don’t get it, do you? Things work like they do back in your castle, but also not. City Watch isn’t much help to the likes of me. Anyhow. Want breakfast? On me.”
“Uh,” she said. “Is this more bribery?”
“It’s not bribery.” Kionah flicked a limp strand of hair away from her face. “It’s shit weather, and I bet you haven’t eaten since you ran out on Shasta and I. Yes?”
“You…wouldn’t try to poison me, would you?”
Kionah stared at her flatly. “You’re a Healer, and I’m not that stupid. Are you hungry, or not?”
“I…I suppose.”
Kionah bought breakfast—actually bought it this time. Aliyah waited on a nearby bench and watched her buy it, with copper coins, from a hole-in-the-wall shop run by an old man with a braided beard. Kionah returned with a crinkly, clear cup in each hand, full of what looked like pale orange soup. There was a flimsy wooden spoon stuck into each serving. Kionah handed her one and started eating as they walked.
“What is this?” Aliyah asked, poking at the surface with the tip of her spoon. The soup was cold and viscous, like porridge without the lumps.
Kionah was drinking her mystery breakfast without abandon. “People just call it ‘brine’, but don’t let that put you off. It’s like…cold pudding, I suppose. Sweet, refreshing. Good for the summer.”
Aliyah took a tentative sip. It was nice, all things considered.
They rounded onto a high street of sorts, one that reminded her of the upper-markets back in the kingdom. The displays in these shop windows were a mixture of expensive-looking hats, charms, and perfumes. People swished and strutted down the sidewalks, holding painted parasols against the drizzle. Mage-chariots clicked on by, all shimmering filigree and shapely, studded wheels. Someone in a brightly-coloured capelet gave them a wide berth.
Kionah tossed her empty cup into the slot of a sleek, metallic waste-disposal contraption as they turned a corner. Aliyah gulped down the last of the brine and copied her.
“So this faery,” Aliyah said. “What’s she like?”
“Luxon?” Kionah frowned, just slightly. “She’s nice enough, if a little air-headed. Has a taste for human luxuries. You’ll see soon enough—there.”
She led the way to a shopfront stacked high with spell-bottles and what looked like antique brass kitchenware. A painted sign declared the name in bright purple letters: Fructuous Charms Emporium. The door jingled as she pushed it open.
“Hellooooo,” a voice trilled out. “I’ll be out in just a second!”
The inside of the emporium was all white and gold and grey, strung with butter-yellow lights and bundles of dried flowers. A high counter sat at the far end of the room and behind it, a curtained doorway set into the wall. The shelves displayed an assortment of bottles and scrolls, all of them shimmering with a thin film of enchantment. Dribbles of dark tar dripped from the crown molding, but Aliyah saw no sign of the faery, let alone any other shoppers.
Kionah went up to the counter and propped her elbow there, sighing. “Luxon, it’s me,” she called out. “Kionah.”
Creaking and clattering sounds rang out from the doorway behind the counter, as if someone were rushing down a long flight of rather steep steps.
“Kionah?” the faery asked, bursting out from behind the curtained doorway. “My, it’s been so long.” She swept over to her side of the counter in a flurry of lace and brocade.
Aliyah stared. The faery—Luxon—did sort of resemble the ones that she’d seen on the battlefield, and the ones they’d fled from in the underground cavern. Her skin was a colour halfway between ice-blue and violet, and she had huge, beautiful moth-like wings in the same shade that draped down her back like a cloak. Spikes of chitin-bone curved outwards and upwards, rooted in her cheekbones and temples and a tiny, stubby bump at her forehead like a vestigial unicorn’s horn. She was dressed from neck to wrists to ankles in a lacy grey gown.
“Oh, and greetings to you too,” she exclaimed, turning to Aliyah. Her lips curved up into an uncannily human-looking smile. The rest of her face didn’t move so much, but the spikes flexed and tilted upwards.
It was a little startling to see such inhuman parts up close and in motion—barely-visible seams in the chitin where joints lay—fluid and working and alive. Her eyes, too, were unusual and unnerving: large, lime-green, and multifaceted like cut gemstones, with no visible pupils or sclera whatsoever. This was no wooden, monstrous puppet-automaton paraded around at all the Songian festivals, slain by thespians dressed as Magicians. This was real, undeniably quasi-biological material. Sentient, sophont. It made Aliyah’s heard whirl. She tried to keep from staring.
“How may I help you today?” the faery continued. Her wings fluttered into motion and she flutter-hopped over the counter, landing lightly in front of them. Aliyah noticed that she had a tail; it moved expressively and faded to green along its length. The tip vaguely resembled a closed artichoke bud.
“My companion here has a problem,” Kionah said. “Some sort of enchantment cast upon her. Faery-like, in fact.”
Luxon gave an unusually graceful sort of frown. “But surely my compatriots in the Hive—”
“I…I don’t think they were from your Hive,” Aliyah ventured. “It happened outside of the city.” She glanced over to Kionah, hesitating.
Kionah sighed. “I made use of your map. We’re not sure who they are. Just show her, Aliyah.”
Aliyah pulled up her sleeve, and Luxon’s gemstone-eyes widened.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh dear, oh dear. That’s not good at all—it’s a tracker-mark.”