A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) (31 page)

Both Dahni and Draius screamed. Blood gushed from Berin’s chest onto the face of the creature, who tried to shake off the impaled body. Perinon dropped his sword, covered his face, and crouched.

The scream from the Phrenii was eerie and unworldly. All but Draius and Perinon were mesmerized, watching silently as the creature tried frantically to pull its horn out of Berin’s body. Draius continued to scream. She clawed at her face and eyes. Perinon moaned and collapsed onto the floor, frantically wiping his face. A Guard finally knelt and tried to keep Perinon from harming himself.

Miina grabbed Draius’s forearms, even though one was splinted.

She struggled, ignoring the pain. “Berin, no! Get the blood off! The blood!” Her sight blurred and she retreated to white chaos.

chapter Thirty-Four

Changes

The training of a matriarch is brutal, and I’m not referring to long hours spent studying records or the lineal business. A matriarch must make decisions in a pragmatic, heartless manner, and be ready to sacrifice all for her family line. I was taught this when Nuora dissolved my first contract because I was childless. “Love” can’t overcome our dwindling birthrate. There is one exception: he who wears the Kaskea must be given allowance to find love, although this secret we keep close.

—Meran-Viisi matriarchal records, made by Lady Aracia upon her replacement of Lady Nuora, T.Y. 1465

Lornis tried not to fidget, gripping his hands tightly behind his back. He admired Jan’s calm demeanor, considering they faced a terrifying sight for any grown man: three matriarchs sat at the table in front of them. Lady Meran-Viisi Aracia, Lady Kulte-Kolme Enkali, and Lady Serasa-Kolme Anja all bore expressions of disapproval, in varying levels of severity. He and Jan were being taken to task, and this had been important enough to call his matriarch Enkali into the sister cities.

“We called you here to address the issues of Draius and her son, as well as your parts in her rescue.” Aracia spoke first. As matriarch of the oldest constellation and the lineage of the King, she carried the most power of the three.

Lornis looked down when Enkali’s bright eyes focused on him. He didn’t want his grandmother to see the emotion within him, the frustration and pain of watching Draius lie comatose for almost an eight-day.

“We’ve consulted the Phrenii,” Enkali said gently. “They say Draius will recover, and they feel she will be sane when she wakes.”

Relief flooded through him, loosening his clenched fists. It’d been questionable whether Draius, Perinon, or even the Phrenii, would recover from Berin’s death. King Perinon’s “illness” was noticed by the
H&H
, but never connected to the sudden lack of Phrenii about the streets. The Phrenii
disappeared
for several days, while Perinon and Draius both lay insensate. When they appeared again, the King recovered, but not Draius. The Phrenii insisted upon abiding by Draius’s wish and had not applied any of their healing.

Lornis raised his head to meet his grandmother’s eyes.

“Peri will sleep better, hearing that news,” Jan said.

Lornis winced. Peri had been at his mother’s side every morning, staying until his father came to take him to afternoon lessons. The boy had been wracked with grief and guilt, feeling he was to blame for his mother’s situation. Lornis didn’t know if Jan tried to alleviate some of Peri’s guilt, but he’d tried whenever he stopped by the hospital room. He couldn’t tell if he’d helped the boy, or made matters worse.

“One of our decisions is to promote Serasa-Kolme Perinon to favored grandchild,” Aracia said. “The Serasa-Kolme will finance Peri’s education, while he will be marked in Meran-Viisi records as possible heir for the throne, in the event the King has no suitable children within the next fifteen years.”

Lornis couldn’t get any hint of the underlying conflicts by looking at the women’s faces. Anja’s face mirrored the bland expressions of the other two matriarchs, although she looked like a young girl next to the wizened Enkali. This was undoubtedly the result of heated negotiations, due to the money involved. Regardless, this was a boon for Peri, who would now receive the education of a Tyrran king.

“Draius and I are honored. You won’t be disappointed in Peri.” Jan bowed.

Jan didn’t give any other indication of his feelings, but Lornis remembered the public argument between him and Draius. He’d wanted the boy to remain Serasa-Kolme but, if King Perinon didn’t have sons, Peri would eventually have to become Meran-Viisi. Perhaps Jan could overlook the lineal name change, if his son became King.

“There is the matter of your marriage contract,” Anja said.

“My indiscretions are over,” Jan said. “In any event, we can append mitigating clauses to the contract, for either Draius or myself.”

Lornis examined his boots, not wanting to see Jan’s face. Did Draius really approve of comfort clauses?

“Contract clauses no longer matter,” Anja said. “Draius asked to have the contract dissolved and since she now wears the Kaskea, we must abide by her feelings.”

“She must now go with her heart,” Enkali added, and Aracia nodded.

Were the matriarchs speaking of love? Lornis and Jan glanced at each other, their eyebrows raised. Matriarchs spoke of family obligations, of setting aside one’s feelings for the good of the lineage, and of sacrifices—never of love. The men waited for more explanation.

“I don’t understand,” Jan said, breaking a moment of silence.

Enkali and Anja looked at Aracia.

“The Meran-Viisi understand the burden of wearing the Kaskea.” Aracia’s voice was tight. “It will be impossible for Draius to live within an arranged marriage.”

Jan shook his head and opened his mouth, but Anja cut him off.

“You will be as clear as a window to her. There will be no more children if your contract stands.” Anja’s tone was curiously flat, as was her expression, but something in her face caused Jan to close his mouth.

Lornis continued to examine his feet. His left toe was scuffed, so he’d need to buff that boot when he got back to—

“Lornis.” Enkali’s voice made him snap his head up.

Here it comes.
I’m going to be punished for interfering in Serasa-Kolme business
. He hoped he wouldn’t be moved back to Plains End, away from the sister cities. Besides, he wasn’t stupid: everything changed after Enkali had consulted Jhari. While he didn’t know the details, he knew he had to be
here
in Betarr Serasa.

“You must abide by whatever Draius decides.”

What else would he do? Confused, he noted the humor in his grandmother’s quick brown eyes. Realization slowly dawned.
Draius is free to be with whomever she choses
. If he got out of this matriarchal tribunal with career, lineage, and body intact—he’d be going courting. And, if Jan wanted to mend his relationship with his now-previous wife, he’d have competition.

Aracia interrupted his gleeful reverie. “Lady Anja will address your involvement with criminal elements of, shall we say, unsavory reputation?”

“The Guard often uses criminal sources of information. Without Jan’s source, we’d never have found Draius—” Lornis snapped his mouth shut when Jan gave him an unfriendly glance.

He didn’t get around to saying that Anja appeared to already know that source, a man with cold eyes who Lornis didn’t want to remember, or ever want to see again. He suspected the man was a career criminal, and a very powerful one. When Anja had reluctantly accepted aid from Lornis, as well as from Jan’s source, she’d applied the condition that “the watch and the City Guard cannot be formally involved.”

Lornis had explained the conspiracy concerning the Sareenian ship
Danilo
Ana
, a councilman, and Berin—with possible Groygan interference. Apparently the pickpockets and small-time street thugs that skulked outside the control of matriarchs and the King’s Law had suffered from the strange activities of this conspiracy. They had gathered impressive intelligence on their own, but needed the extra pieces of the puzzle, brought by Lornis. The man with the cold eyes knew all the dark corners of the sister cities, including the forgotten places.

“Of course, saving Draius and Peri does mitigate your punishment.” Anja’s eyes were only for Jan. Lornis stepped back, happy to be left out of her frigid gaze. This was matriarchal justice, but about something other than the rescue attempt.

Jan tensed and stood taller. “The life-debt is paid. There is nothing more between him and me.”

“Ensure it stays that way,” Anja said. “Otherwise, I will remove your name and all Serasa-Kolme support.”

Lornis stepped back further. This was an extreme punishment. Aracia and Enkali stared off into the air. Watching another matriarch clean her own house even made them uncomfortable.

“As it is, you remain Serasa-Kolme. I’m reinstating
half
your disbursements and allowing you to see Peri, provided you remain a proper model for him.”

Jan looked down, his jaw clenched. Lornis willed him to say nothing. This wasn’t the time to argue with his matriarch, not with the Meran-Viisi and Kulte-Kolme watching. After a moment, Jan nodded and looked up to meet Anja’s eyes. Some agreement passed between them, although Lornis doubted this would be their last words on this subject.

Surprisingly, there was nothing more. Lornis felt the tightness around his chest fade. There hadn’t been any punishment, at least for him—and Draius was now free.

•••

When Draius woke, she saw a white ceiling above her and smelled the herbs and concoctions used in the hospital wards. Her head felt fuzzy but her body felt whole. She wriggled her toes and fingers, feeling the heavy splint on her right hand and arm. She knew, without looking, what creature stood beside her bed. The memories came rushing back: the horn driving through Berin’s heart and the blood gushing onto her face.

“We killed him.” It was an accusation, full of anger that could be directed nowhere.

“Yes,” Dahni replied. “Berin acted on impulse and we were distracted. Unprepared.”

Before she’d been bound by the Kaskea, she would have thought the creature’s answer was callous. Now she felt the crushing weight of Dahni’s sorrow, shepherding generation after generation of Tyrrans to the Stars, and still not immune to the loss of an individual soul. She hadn’t known the Phrenii mourned so deeply. She couldn’t keep hold of her anger, not when she compared it to that immense pain.

“The Phrenii never kill,” Dahni added.

“I know,” Draius whispered, her throat constricting. Even during wartime the Phrenii only supported Tyrra with non-lethal magic. They never participated directly in battle.

“Now we are tainted by blood and death. We are changed.”

“Changed how?”

Dahni didn’t answer. She sensed the creature couldn’t explain how. Perhaps the Phrenii were being overly dramatic, because throughout Tyrran history they had provided battlefield
support
. The phrenic elemental powers, which the King could direct, were used for distraction or blockading, not as weapons. However, those elemental storms might have indirectly hurt or killed
someone
.

Elemental storms? She looked at Dahni’s eyes, green, representing water and healing. “Where did all that water come from? The puddles, the wet clothes on everyone. And I’m sure I felt rain when I came out of the Blindness.”

“You were out of control, pulling our power, but we allowed it because you were defending yourself. You can do that only with our permission.”

“Will I be able to heal, too?”

“We do not know. The King has only been able to channel our elemental powers, not our abstract ones.” Dahni was referring to their powers like prescience, healing, influence, protection and the power to command loyalty, inherent in Spirit, otherwise known as Mahri.

She changed the subject. “How long have I been here?”

“Almost an eight-day. Your body needed rest from the shock. We did not heal you, because you did not give us permission.” The creature almost sounded motherly, if that were possible.

“Where’s Peri?”

“At his afternoon lessons. The sleeping draught the criminals gave him did no permanent harm. Your matriarch sends her regards, with a message that your son will be her favored grandchild.”

Draius raised her eyebrows. She was relieved to hear Peri was safe, but Anja’s message had interesting ramifications. Dahni watched her with bright green eyes.

“Have we said something unexpected?” Dahni asked.

She finally put her finger on what bothered her. “Why are you plural now, when you were singular in the Void?”

“Our individuality will ultimately un-make us, or so the prophecy goes. This is why we only allow ourselves to be singular within the Void, and only to you, Little One.”

As usual, she filed away the words that didn’t make sense and picked only one puzzle to attack at a time. Glancing down at her long frame in the bed, she said, “That’s twice you’ve referred to me as ‘Little One.’ I’m definitely not small.”

Dahni cocked its head. “We apologize. The term
dra’us
translates to ‘Little One’ in the old language. It is easy for us to make mistakes with names.”

“Well, that language has been dead for over 600 years—long enough time to learn a new one. Please don’t call me that any more.” She petulantly adjusted her sheets.

The creature didn’t say anything, but she felt a tickling in her head.

“Are you laughing at me?” She glared at Dahni. Struggling up to a sitting position, she leaned back against the iron frame of the bed so her head was nearly on the same level with the creature’s bright green eyes.

“We do not laugh,” the creature said, using a grave tone.

She glanced around the room, which seemed so normal. She just didn’t feel normal. “My life will never be the same, will it?”

“No.”

“Will I always know exactly where you are? Will you always be in my mind?”

“Yes.”

The Phrenii never lied, and they apparently didn’t waste words.

“What does it mean to have two mortals using the Kaskea?”

“We do not know. Two mortals have never, at the same time, been in rapport with us.”

“At least we’ve settled that.” Draius felt the tickling in her head again. “You
do
have a sense of humor.”

“Maybe we do, but it is still true that we do not laugh.”

She heard the sound of a throat clearing. Lornis stood at the door, hesitant to disturb their conversation. Since Dahni was close, she could see his feelings shining out of his body. They were so bright they almost hurt her. They were frightening, as well.
Of course I’m scared. I’ve never experienced honest concern for my well-being—or maybe I’ve never
believed
it possible
.

Dahni sensed her discomfort and backed away as Lornis came in the room. “We will be near, if you need us,” the creature said delicately.