Soulkeeper Page 17

  “Excellent.” The merchant slapped Devin on the shoulder. “I’ll have her prepped overnight so she’ll follow any and all orders you give her… within reason, of course. And don’t go thinking to have some illicit fun with her, mind you. As I said, she is well trained. You won’t like what happens if you try.”

  Devin was insulted that the pompous little toad thought he’d even consider it.

  “We depart tomorrow morning from the southern gate. Make sure Jacaranda is dressed and outfitted for travel.”

  “I’ll provide you both with fresh horses for the ride,” Gerag said as they stood and shook hands. “With all the insanity about, I feel that the need for Soulkeepers is about to grow tremendously. Here’s to hoping you and I have a long relationship ahead of us.”

  Devin would rather cut out his own eyelids.

  “Peaceful days to you,” he said, dipping his head.

  “And prosperous nights and all that to you as well,” Gerag said.

  Devin spared one last look at Jacaranda. Her violet eyes followed him carefully. The expression on her face was passive, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a lie. The soulless was on edge, always watching, always ready.

  “Tomorrow morning,” he said to her as he passed.

  “If Master wishes it.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Are you sure you’ll be safe?” Tommy asked Devin as he prepared for his lengthy travel with Jacaranda. His brother-in-law sat at the table in his bed robe, a small bowl of cheese and nuts before him. Tommy had made himself quite comfortable at Devin’s home. Several blankets lay strewn about the slender couch, intermixed with pillows and cast-off clothes needing a wash.

  “Is anywhere safe?” Devin asked as he buckled his pistol and sword to his waist.

  “Well, some places are theoretically safer than others,” Tommy said, tearing a chunk of cheese free and tossing it into his mouth. “And outside Londheim seems particularly unsafe. At least here the grass isn’t trying to choke us and the dead haven’t risen up to kill us yet.”

  “Yet?”

  “I can throw lightning my from my fingers, and a sentient being of flame is snoozing in our fireplace. Forgive me for keeping my mind open to possibilities.”

  Devin glanced to the fireplace while removing his hat from a hook on the wall. Normally the few logs would have burned to embers overnight, but Puffy had kept it carefully controlled so that one of them was untouched completely. The little firekin appeared to be flattened across the top of it, the black dots of its eyes closed into thin slits one could easily miss if not looking for them.

  “Will you and Puffy be all right while I am gone?” he asked.

  “Theoretically,” Tommy said. When Devin glared he lifted his hands in apology. “Sorry, I forgot you are not a morning person. And yes, I’ve been getting along quite splendidly with the local Wise. Malik is a studious, focused man, though he is a tiny bit distracting.”

  “Distracting?”

  “Well, he’s, uh, Malik’s a particularly… striking person to look upon.”

  Devin laughed lightheartedly at Tommy’s blushing face and neck.

  “Do I hear the first seeds of a crush blooming?”

  Tommy harrumphed.

  “He’s also twenty years my senior, Devin. Please do not interject yourself into my romantic life. We have more important matters for us to focus on right now.”

  Devin squeezed his brother-in-law on the shoulder.

  “As everyone is fond of saying lately, it seems the world is ending. Try not to be too picky or focused on work. We should enjoy what happiness there is for us in this life.”

  “Says the man trotting off to do some wealthy merchant’s bidding,” Tommy said. “Seems like you’re the one who could use more happiness in his life.”

  Devin winked as he slung his fully stocked pack over his shoulder.

  “My time with Brittany gave me enough happiness to last a lifetime. Take care, Tommy.”

  “You too, Devin.”

  Devin’s house was located near the official center of Londheim, tucked away into a corner of the wall that bordered Church District. Normally it was a quiet walk, his few neighbors wealthy enough to afford sleeping in most days instead of waking with the sun. This time, however, he was surprised to see a trio gathering at the end of the street, the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Aggerson, and an odd cloth merchant who went only by his first name, Jomo.

  “Good morning, Soulkeeper,” Mr. Aggerson called with a wave.

  “Did you plan on watching the crossroad oak as well?” asked his wife.

  The two looked dressed for a ninth-day sermon, wearing plain but expensive gray clothes to protect against the chill. Devin shook his head, confused.

  “Is there something amiss with the oak?” he asked.

  “Oh, we hear it’s changed with the arrival of the refugees,” the missus said. “Ask Jomo, he’s seen it.”

  “It truly is remarkable to witness,” Jomo said, nodding. He was on the eccentric side, his clothes loose and blue and his mustache impressively long. Rumors put him as having been a wildly successful magician back east before he retired to Londheim. Given the dark-skinned man’s overwhelming charisma, Devin found he believed it more than not.

  Devin walked alongside them, still baffled. The crossroad oak was an ancient tree at the cross section of the north-south and east-west throughways. No plaque or memorial marked its planting, but the roads were carefully cobbled around it, and had been for as long as anyone could remember. It was easily the most popular spot for weddings in Londheim, as well as proposals and celebrations.

  “I do have a bit of time,” Devin said. “So what would I witness if I accompanied you?”

  “Oh you must accompany us, you must,” Jomo said. “And I would not spoil the wondrous surprise, especially if you come with virgin eyes and ears. Step, step, all of you, lest we miss the sunrise!”

  Over three hundred people gathered around the old oak tree by the time they arrived, the bodies forming a tightly sealed circle. Devin led the way, taking advantage of his status to politely request a bit of space for his group.

  “Good, good, we’re not late,” Jomo said. He rubbed his gloved hands happily together. “I tell you, I have been awaiting for this ever since yesterday morn!”

  The crossroad oak’s size was extraordinary, its trunk at least fifteen feet wide. Thick, heavy branches curled and twisted in all directions, filling the air above it with wide green leaves. So far nothing about it seemed amiss, and Devin was familiar enough with each and every black branch. He’d raced his sister to the tree’s apex numerous times while growing up, winning more often than he lost. It might seem cliché, but the crossroad oak was one of his favorite spots in Londheim to relax at the end of a long day.

  “What exactly are we waiting for?” Devin asked after several minutes of awkward silence and shuffling.

  “You’ll know it when you see it,” Jomo said.

  “Sunrise, dear,” Mrs. Aggerson clarified. “It happens at sunrise.”

  Just a few minutes, then. Devin stretched his arms and back to keep them loose for the coming travel, an eye on the tree at all times. The first rays of sunlight trickled over the walls of Londheim. Onlookers clapped and pressed closer to the oak. Devin frowned. Still nothing. The tree was as it always was. A soft rustle teased their ears. Branches gently swayed. The relaxing sound almost made him miss the blindingly obvious before him.

  The leaves were flapping in a wind that was not there.

  “Jomo…” Devin said.

  “Hush now,” the man said, his eyes never leaving the oak. “Just watch.”

  It started at the bottom, where the lower hanging branches offered their arms for eager children to climb. A soft light like fire shimmered through the leaves. What was a dark green in the late night was now a flourishing bloom of gold and red. The wave of color flowed upward, with each and every leaf folding itself in half before opening again.

  No, not leaves.
Wings connected to tiny brown circles like acorns detached from the tree’s branches. Their light was so bright, the volume so tremendous as they flooded outward, that it made a mockery of the sunrise. A soft chorus accompanied their flight, like the rustle of leaves combined with the aria of a young girl. Each leaf sang it, and as they floated overhead Devin listened to the constantly shifting and changing song. The pitch deepened. The swirling vortex of wings condensed directly over the tree.

  All is alive, and all is new, thought Devin. The vortex’s eye blazed gold while pulses of orange and red flowed toward the increasingly widening outer circle. Devin heard words amid the song, strange and foreign, but they settled comfortably on his heart like a warm blanket. The sky above him burned like fire, and it was as wondrous and beautiful as anything Devin had ever imagined.

  A single explosive crack marked the leaves’ scattering. The song faded, and the leaf-creatures rapidly dispersed into distant red and yellow dots across the orange sky. They left behind a barren crossroad oak as if it were the dead of winter. Onlookers cheered and clapped. Devin shared in their joy. In the shadow of the crawling mountain, surrounded by the soiled grass of the black water, such vibrancy and life gave him hope.

  “Do they come back?” Devin asked.

  “Every nightfall,” Jomo said. “I’ve been here for that as well, and it’s not quite the same. They’ve dulled their colors, and they arrive over the course of an hour instead of one sudden flurry. Fascinating to witness, still, but it doesn’t hold the magic of the sunrise.”

  “I wonder what they are?” Mrs. Aggerson asked. “I think they look like butterflies, don’t you?”

  “Indeed, butterflies, strange butterflies,” Mr. Aggerson said. He took Jomo’s hand and shook it. “I am so glad you told us. I much appreciated the show.”

  “Thank you all for the invite,” Devin said, tipping his hat to the trio as he trudged south. “I cannot think of a better way to have started my morning. Enjoy the small crowds while they last. It won’t be long until half of Londheim comes for a peek.”

  Devin arrived at the southern gate to find Jacaranda waiting for him with a thick pack of supplies strapped to her back. Her brown leather trousers and burgundy shirt looked like they’d never been worn before today. Over this, she wore a long coat that hung nearly down to her ankles. Her long, expensive daggers were buckled prominently at each hip.

  “I see you are well armed,” he said, smiling at the woman.

  “I am adequately prepared for the journey,” she said.

  “I hope that includes food and blankets.”

  The soulless woman looked mildly confused.

  “I said I am adequately prepared for the journey.”

  She spoke as if he were a toddler failing to comprehend a basic idea. A little bit of Devin’s cheer from witnessing the crossroad oak leaked out with his sigh.

  “Forget it. We’ve a long ride ahead of us, so let’s get started. Where are the horses stabled?”

  Devin had worked with soulless before. At least ten dozen occupied the lowest-tiered ranks of the city guard, the wealthy often employed them as servants, and even the Keeping Church accepted them as custodians. This was the first time, however, that one had been explicitly assigned to him, and Devin disliked every part of it. Traveling with Jacaranda had all the awkward inconveniences of traveling with another but without any of the benefits. One could not make small talk with a soulless.

  “Is the sun bothering you?” Devin asked. The weather might be cold but that didn’t mean the rising sun couldn’t sting the eyes every time the road swung momentarily east.

  “Squinting is unpleasant.”

  “I see that. Generally the sun is responsible.” Jacaranda remained silent, so Devin pressed on. Soulless did not act on minor inconveniences. He’d once seen a soulless guard stand an entire shift in the rain because he didn’t think to take two steps to the left to duck underneath a porch. “Did you pack a hat of some kind?”

  “Master does not like how I look with hats.”

  “And your master isn’t here right now, either.”

  Jacaranda gave him a blank look.

  “I do not understand how that matters. Master said hats hide my hair and do not flatter my face; therefore I may not wear them.”

  Devin wished Gerag were on the road with them so he could slap the bulbous little toad across the head.

  “Well, I think you’d look fine with a hat.”

  “Irrelevant.”

  Devin tried not to let it bother him. After all, Jacaranda was easily the most talkative soulless he’d ever met. Most would ignore comments sent their direction if they did not include immediate orders to follow. The two rode in silence for hours, skirting the limits of the destruction the crawling mountain had breathed southward upon its arrival at Londheim. Jacaranda watched him at all times. He tried playing a game of guessing what orders Gerag had given her, and the only one he was certain of was Do not trust the Soulkeeper.

  The first day passed easily enough. Every other hour they’d see travelers fleeing to Londheim, and Devin often stopped and chatted with them while their horses rested. The people were frightened and confused, so Devin did his best to give them answers and hope in equal measure. When it came time to settle in for the night, Jacaranda aided in building the campfire but did not intend to sleep beside it.

  “Master says I should not sleep close to fires,” she explained as she dragged her bedroll far from the campfire. “He does not trust me to prevent burns.”

  “I hope you have an extra blanket, then,” he said. “The nights are getting pretty cold.”

  “I am adequately prepared for the journey,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Devin said. “You’ve told me.”

  So he slept alone beside the fire, enjoying its warmth on his skin as he relaxed after a long day of riding. Sleep came quickly, but sadly it lasted only a few hours before his eyes snapped open, followed by an immediate groan of annoyance. Ever since the black water’s arrival he’d been unable to sleep through the reaping hour. Its presence was simply too powerful to ignore. Cold fingers brushed the edges of his spine. Electricity set the hairs on his arms and legs to rise. When the moment passed he’d be able to fall back asleep, but not any sooner. Deciding he might as well enjoy the silence, he looked up at the stars and drank in their beauty.

  Grass rustled to his left. Devin’s hand moved hidden beneath his blanket to his pistol. He’d loaded it before settling down for the night, just in case they encountered the odd bandit. He kept his eyes skyward, not revealing he’d noticed. No reason to panic yet. There was a good chance his midnight visitor was a curious animal, not a thief. Devin shifted his head ever so slightly until his pack was in sight.

  No, not an animal. Human eyes stared at him. Devin counted to three and then lurched to a sit, his pistol swinging in his left hand to draw a bead on the interloper. Within a heartbeat Devin’s finger was off the trigger.

  “Hello there,” Devin said. He tilted his pistol up and to the side. “Are you hungry?”

  A pale-skinned boy knelt over Devin’s pack, a half loaf of bread wrapped in brown paper clutched tightly to his chest. Dirt layered his mussed hair. Blood stained part of his shirt. Every muscle in his body looked tensed for a sprint. The boy ignored Devin’s question, his eyes focused solely on the pistol.

  “Do you see this?” Devin asked. He showed the silver moon and triangle decorating the side of his pistol. “Do you know what this means? It means I’m a Soulkeeper, child. I won’t hurt you.”

  “Another man said he wouldn’t hurt me,” the boy said. “He lied. He wanted me to… to touch him. I bet you do, too.”

  Devin’s anger flared, and he kept it cool and hidden beneath his face. The last thing he wanted was this boy to think that anger was directed at him.

  “I wish only to see you safe and well,” Devin said. “Have you a family, or a home?”

  “Black water took my family,” the boy said. “Didn’t take me
. Won’t let it. Won’t let no one.” His grip on the bread was so tight it crumpled between his fingers. “Thanks for the food.”

  “Wait,” Devin said. The child put himself at great risk living so far from civilization, especially if he hoped to feed himself by robbing travelers. “Please, I only wish to help you. I’m a member of the Keeping Church. Come with me to Londheim, and I promise you’ll receive shelter and food.”

  The boy took two steps back into the tall grass.

  “You lie.”

  “I am nothing if my word is not true.”

  Fear and trauma were powerful poisons, and Devin had only his kind words to combat it. He remained patient, letting the child think through things on his own.

  “You… do you promise?” the boy suddenly asked.

  “I promise.”

  He looked down at the food, then back up at Devin. Debating.

  A hand reached behind the boy, slender fingers locking against his forehead. The other hand drew a knife across the boy’s throat, opening it up with a flourish of blood.

  “No!” Devin screamed.

  The boy collapsed onto his chest and convulsed. Jacaranda knelt behind him, calmly wiping the blood from her dagger. She spared Devin an emotionless glance before walking back toward the campfire, her dagger returned to its sheath. Devin’s anger, already a boil, surged uncontrollably through his veins.

  “Why?” he asked, leaping in her way. His fist tightened into a painful white-knuckle grip on the handle of his pistol. “Why would you do something so awful?”

  Jacaranda tilted her head to one side. Mild confusion. No guilt or empathy. Devin doubted her pulse had even accelerated.

  “Thieves are not to be tolerated.”

  “That wasn’t a thief! It was a boy, just a starving boy.”

  “The boy held our supplies. You distracted him, I brought him down. Our supplies are safe.”

  As if it were that simple. As if the corpse bleeding out in the grass meant nothing. Devin lifted his pistol and sighted it between her eyes. Jacaranda stared back, unflinching. Her daggers were in hand, and he couldn’t remember when she drew them. Speed. Stealth. Her training was good. Far too good.