Guardians Watch Read online

  Two utterly cold eyes stared into his. They weren’t like human eyes at all. No emotion or feeling at all there that he could read. He flinched before them, but he didn’t lower his hand.

  “We have business with the FirstMother,” the woman in red said without slowing.

  Larin reached to grab her shoulder.

  She stepped inside his grasp and one hand flashed up towards his face. In the moment before she struck him, Larin saw something glitter from the end of her finger. Then there was a small stinging sensation in his neck and everything went black.

  “FirstMother, come quickly!”

  Nalene was in her quarters on the top floor of the mansion, working at her desk, when the young Tender arrived breathless at her door. “What is it?” she asked sharply. No doubt it was something minor, a shortage in the kitchen perhaps. Sometimes she wondered if any of them were capable of anything.

  “It’s…there’s someone come to the gate, asking for you,” the girl said, and she was hardly more than a girl, with pale blue nervous eyes and pimples.

  “I’m busy right now. Tell them to wait.’

  “I…” The girl shifted nervously from one foot to the other, but she made no move to leave. “They’re not like anyone else. I think you want to see them.”

  Nalene looked up from her desk and gave her a sharp look. “Did you not hear me?”

  The girl hung her head. “I did.” Still she did not leave.

  With an irritated sound, Nalene got up. The girl backed out of the way as Nalene brushed past her.

  As Nalene approached the front gate she saw one of her guards, the big, dumb one, lying on the ground. Standing near him were three women in brightly-colored robes. The woman in red must have heard her because she turned and looked at her. Even from a distance something in her cold, emotionless gaze was unnerving and Nalene faltered for just a moment, before recovering herself.

  “He is not dead. Only sleeping,” the woman said as she approached.

  Nalene looked down at the man, saw the faint rise and fall of his chest. Because of her sulbit, it took only a small effort to hear his Selfsong emanating off him. It sounded healthy enough. “What did you do to him?”

  “I taught him not to touch what he does not know. Now he knows. He will be more careful next time.” There was a large, red welt on the guard’s neck.

  Nalene crossed her arms and tried to appear calmer than she felt. Her sulbit was a comforting presence curled around the back of her neck, just under her robes. It was awake, watching the woman in red warily. It too sensed something different about her. “You were asking for me.” She made it a statement, not a question. However unusual this woman and her companions were, she needed to know that the FirstMother was not a woman to be ordered about.

  The woman in red made no reply at first, only stared steadily at her. Some kind of beetle crawled out of the woman’s robe and disappeared into her long, black hair. She didn’t appear to notice. Behind her the two women in yellow were as motionless as statues, gazing at Nalene with the same unnerving lack of emotion. Everyone around them—the other guard, the Tender in charge of new volunteers, a short line of new volunteers, two workmen with heavy carts—had stopped what they were doing and were staring.

  “What do you want?” Nalene hated how thin her voice sounded. She should be in charge of this situation. This woman should be shaking in her presence, not the other way around. A large, heavy moth flapped around Nalene’s face, its wings brushing her. She recoiled, slapping at it ineffectively. She had always loathed moths.

  “You are the FirstMother.”

  The moth flapped away and Nalene could again focus on the woman. “Of course I’m the FirstMother. Are you blind?”

  “Are you?”

  Nalene blinked at her. She could get no read on this woman or her companions. The Song coming off them was muted. What little she could hear gave her no clues. With no real clue as to how to proceed, she fell back on angry bluster. “I don’t have time to stand here and play games with you, whoever you are. If you won’t tell me why you’re here, then leave. I have things to do.”

  She had no sooner finished speaking than she felt something crawling up her leg. She looked down to see that she was standing on an anthill. Ants were boiling everywhere. When did an anthill show up here? Slapping at her leg, she jumped back to get out of it. The woman in red followed and stood right where she’d been. She didn’t seem concerned about the anthill at all.

  “We are here because you summoned us.”

  “I summoned you?”

  “I am known as Ricarn. These are my sisters, Yelvin.” The two women behind her appeared identical in every way, both with long, flowing black hair, strangely white skin and dark eyes that might have been black.

  A sudden realization hit Nalene. “You’re Tenders?”

  “Of the Arc of Insects.”

  “But you’re…your Arc disappeared in the early days of the Empire.”

  “Correction. It was the rest of our sisters who disappeared, consumed by their hunger for power. It was then we chose to remove ourselves to a quieter place, to avoid being caught in your fall.”

  “How did you know to come? I sent no messengers—”

  “We have our…friends. We learn much from them.”

  She raised a finger and pointed. Nalene felt something on her hand. It was a wasp. She shook her hand and it flew away.

  “Then you are welcome here,” Nalene said, trying to recover her balance. She felt certain the woman was laughing at her inside, though nothing showed on her face. “We need all allies we can get in the fight against Melekath.” She turned to the Tender who was screening the women who were lined up to become Tenders. “Anouk. Leave those women there for now. Show our sisters to their quarters and get them their robes and haircuts.”

  “We do not need quarters. We are quite comfortable outside,” Ricarn said. “Nor do we require clothing and our hair suits us as it is.”

  Nalene felt her anger rise and she welcomed it. Anger blunted feelings of discomfort, feelings of unease that might be fear. “It is not a request. It is an order from your FirstMother,” Nalene grated. She felt her sulbit slide forward, its skin cool against her neck.

  “You are not our FirstMother,” Ricarn said coolly. “We do not follow your orders.”

  Nalene felt her face grow red as her anger burned hotter. She could feel the others looking at her and knew they watched closely to see how she would respond. How much of her authority might be lost, right here, right now?

  “Is it necessary to do this now?” Ricarn asked softly, as if she could read her thoughts. “In front of so many?”

  “You speak this way to me, Xochitl’s chosen representative? What else shall I do?”

  “Perhaps it is as you say, that our Arc disappeared long ago. If that is the case, then it follows that we are not actually Tenders, and thus not under your dominion.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Would it not be better to treat us as close allies rather than as subjects?”

  Nalene thought about this, then gave a curt nod. “For now,” she agreed. “But we are not done with this.”

  “No. I suppose we aren’t. What do you call the creature on your shoulder?”

  Nalene’s hand went protectively to it, though Ricarn had made no threatening move toward it. “It is my sulbit. A gift from the Protector.”

  “Yes, the Protector.”

  “He has been sent by the Mother to aid us.”

  “And these creatures are his aid.”

  “They are. With them we will be able to stop Melekath.”

  “There is no other way then.”

  “No. There isn’t.”

  “Then you must do as he says.”

  “We do it willingly, happy to serve the Mother anyway we can. You’ll understand, once you take a sulbit for yourself.”

  Ricarn gave the merest shake of her head. “We have no need of them.”

  “
You would refuse the Protector himself?”

  “We answer only to Xochitl.”

  “Then why are you here? What use can you be?” Nalene challenged.

  “That remains to be seen,” Ricarn replied, completely unperturbed. “With your leave, we will find ourselves suitable accommodations on your grounds. And we will discover how we can help in the fight.”

  Nine

  “We found another one, FirstMother.”

  Nalene stopped and turned around. Mulin and Perast stood in the hallway behind her. It was Mulin who had spoken.

  “Not here,” Nalene said. “Let’s go outside and walk.” She wanted to make sure no one overheard what the two Tenders had to say. It was still predawn and the Tenders were starting to file into the dining room for breakfast.

  When they were outside Nalene led them along one of the many stone footpaths. It forked, and she started to go right, but then she saw the girl who’d refused her sulbit scrubbing it so she went left. What she wanted was to find a bench they could sit down on because she suddenly wasn’t feeling so well, but there didn’t seem to be any on this path. Finally, she just stopped and faced them.

  “Drained, like the others?” Nalene already knew the answer, but she had to say something.

  “Yes, he was. At least I think it was a he. It was hard to tell from what was left.” Mulin sounded shaken. Perast looked pale and she was biting her lip.

  “How many does that make?”

  “At least five. That we know of,” Mulin replied. She wiped her forehead and Nalene saw that she was sweating, though it was still cool. “There could be others. The streets of Qarath run thick with rumors. It is impossible to follow them all.”

  “Did you see…her anywhere?” It was hard for Nalene to say Lenda’s name out loud. She still felt guilty. Despite what Lowellin said, Lenda did matter. Whatever happened to her was Nalene’s fault. She should never have let the girl go for her sulbit. She wasn’t strong enough to handle even one of the creatures and now she had two.

  The two Tenders exchanged looks. “From a distance,” Mulin said. “We were by the river, down near Merchant’s Bridge. We saw someone climbing up the side of a building on the other side of the river.”

  “Climbing up the side of a building? Are you sure it was Lenda?”

  “Yes. We could hear her Song, only…”

  “What?”

  “It has changed. Her SelfSong is different. There’s something else woven into it.”

  Changed. Lenda’s sulbits were changing her. Into what? What was happening to her? Nalene felt sick.

  “FirstMother,” Perast said, “we could see her sulbits. They were on her back and they were big. The size of cats.” She broke off and lowered her eyes. Mulin took over.

  “We think they were the reason she was able to climb the wall so easily. It was not something a normal person could have done.”

  Nalene fought to hide how upset she was. “Keep looking for her. Find her. Help her.”

  “What if we can’t? Help her, I mean. Should we…” Mulin was unable to finish the sentence.

  “No!” Nalene said sharply. “There has to be a way. I don’t want her harmed.” She said this knowing that if word got out there was a rogue Tender killing people it would hurt the Tenders’ standing in the eyes of the people.

  But right then she didn’t care.

  Ten

  Quyloc was exhausted. The strain was getting to him. He never knew when the next attempt would come, but already three times he’d been dragged through into the Pente Akka. He had to keep his spear always in hand for when that happened and he’d learned to listen for the faint crackling noise warning him that it was about to happen. So far, every time he’d been able to react quickly enough, summon the Veil, and flee before anything attacked him, but it had been close a couple of times and each time it got closer. It was like the hunter was getting better at it.

  Sooner or later he was bound to make a mistake. It happened while he was eating. He set down the spear for just a moment to smear butter on a piece of bread. He heard the faint crackling noise, just a fraction of a second before the world began to shimmer and fade. Instantly he grabbed for the spear and got hold of it just in time.

  He was back in the jungle, thick trees crowding all around, the hum of insects in the air.

  He was about to summon the Veil when there was the faintest rustling sound overhead, the sound of something heavy dragging along a limb.

  He acted instantly, without looking to see what it was, throwing himself forward. There was a hiss of air as something struck at the spot where his head had just been.

  As he hit the ground, he tucked and rolled, letting his momentum carry him back to his feet and spinning around. In the same motion he brought the spear up before him, and set his feet wide, his weight on the balls of his feet.

  A huge snake, its head as big as his, hung from the limb he’d been standing under. It was green tinged with yellow and its dead, reptilian eyes fixed on him, its tongue flicking out.

  Then it recoiled and struck at him again. Quyloc twisted to the side, the open fangs scarcely missing him.

  Before the snake could recoil he struck, burying the point of the spear into the soft spot just behind the snake’s jaw.

  The snake hissed and jerked back, so fast he almost lost hold of the spear. It fell from the tree as it thrashed in its death throes, its body easily forty feet long and as big around as a man’s torso.

  Quyloc saw movement from the corner of his eye and turned his head to see yet another snake gliding along a thick limb toward him. He heard hissing on both sides.

  Without waiting to see anymore he pictured the Veil in his mind, then slashed an opening and dove through.

  On the yellow sands, under the purple-black sky, he paused and looked back. He could see at least four snakes converging on the spot he’d just left. One of them was closer than the others and Quyloc realized with alarm that although the cut he’d made in the Veil was sealing rapidly, it wouldn’t be all the way closed in time.

  The snake’s head flashed forward and it got its head in the opening just before it closed. It twisted this way and that as it fought to get the rest of its body through the opening.

  Quyloc stepped forward and slashed downward with all his strength. The blade cut through the snake’s skull easily, nearly cutting its head in half. As it thrashed wildly, he reversed the spear and used the butt to jam it back through the opening. A moment later the rent in the Veil was sealed.

  Before Quyloc left the borderland between his world and the Pente Akka, he noticed that the spot on his chest where he’d been stung was itching. When he touched it he felt a bump there.

  He closed his eyes, pictured his office, and returned there. Back in his office, he walked into his personal quarters and stood in front of the mirror.

  There was no bump on his chest, no mark of any kind.

  As the adrenalin wore off, Quyloc began to feel really tired. He went out on the balcony and sat down on one of the chairs and thought.

  Clearly the hunter had some way of watching him. There was no way it was just coincidence that he’d been pulled through into the Pente Akka just after he set the spear down. Nor was it a coincidence that there was a snake just in that spot, ready to strike at him. It was a planned ambush.

  So why didn’t the hunter pull him through earlier, before he realized he needed to keep a hold on the spear? And how was he able to escape the last time, when Rome was with him in his office?

  It had to have something to do with the sting he’d gotten. It must be spreading through him, getting stronger. As it did so, the hunter was better able to see him, to drag him through at just the spot where it wanted him.

  Quyloc began to glimpse just how truly dangerous his predicament was. There was no way he could be constantly alert. Sooner or later he was going to make a mistake, and it would be his last.

  Eleven

  Nalene sat on the balcony outside her quarters. T
here was a low table before her with one chair on the other side of it. The chair she sat in was very simple, but compared to the one on the other side of the table it was a throne. That one had a crack down the middle that had a tendency to pinch the sitter, and one of the rear legs was shorter than the rest. This made it unstable and the result was that anyone sitting in it had to be conscious of her balance all the time. Failure to pay attention could easily lead to a new seat…on the floor. Only a few days ago Velma forgot herself while giving a report, leaned back without thinking, and fell on her back. Nalene thought the chair dealt out useful lessons in humility and alertness.

  The balcony wrapped completely around the top floor of the estate house. From it she could look down on the grounds and observe her Tenders while they trained. There was almost nothing on the estate that she could not see, almost nowhere that was safe from her gaze. She liked it that way. She suspected that the estate’s previous owner, the late, unlamented Lord Ergood, had felt the same way. Perhaps the man had not been a total idiot.

  It was hard to sit there. She had to work to resist the urge to pace. She could not completely deny the fact that she was nervous, and that angered her. She didn’t like being afraid. The source of her fear was Ricarn, the Insect Tender, who was hopefully even now on her way here. She’d dispatched Velma to find her and bring her for a talk.

  “But FirstMother,” Velma had said uneasily, her hands twining around each other restlessly, “that woman makes me nervous. Can’t I send one of the others?”

  “No, I don’t want one of the others to fetch her. I want you. And I want you to do it exactly as I told you.”

  “But what if she won’t come?” Velma was getting dangerously close to whining. In most ways she was a suitable second-in-command. She did what she was told and she had almost no inclination to think for herself. But there were times when Nalene truly regretted giving her the position.