THE SACRED SWORD WAS A different place in the morning. Quiet and mostly deserted, Kate found it strangely welcoming. Golden sunshine filled the foyer from a tall, crystal glass window set above the entrance. It warmed the top of Kate’s head as she stood waiting for Madam Anise. The girl who had greeted her when she arrived was different from the ones last night. Dressed in a plain skirt and modest bodice, she barely paid Kate any mind at all as she cleaned the wooden podium, wiping it down with an oil-soaked rag.
Kate craned her head to peer through the entrance to the tavern, hearing the distant clank of crockery. A pleasant smell wafted toward her, reminding her stomach that she’d neglected it this morning in her haste to depart her quarters before Corwin showed up at her door with more of his tantalizing sweet rolls. In hindsight, it was a silly act. Corwin wouldn’t have come today. Not after last night. She supposed that might have been the real reason behind her hurry—avoiding the sting of Corwin’s absence.
It’s for the best, Kate reminded herself. She should never have let him get that close again. She always knew they could never be together, a truth more apparent now than ever.
Finally, the door to the small office opened and Madam Anise appeared. “Come in, Miss Brighton.”
Kate hurried forward, her stomach starting to cartwheel. She’d half expected to be turned away again. The office was much the same as it had been the night before, small and dark, with no windows and only two candles burning. Anise motioned for Kate to sit, and she did so, folding her hands in her lap and pressing her lips together to keep in the questions bubbling up inside her. The woman sat at the opposite side of the desk, letting her forearms rest on it, hands clasped. Once again, she wore an austere dress, this one the dark gray of storm clouds.
“Before we go any further, I want to give you the chance to walk away from this while you still can.”
Kate raised her eyebrows in surprise. Was she kidding? “No disrespect, madam, but I didn’t come this far to turn back now.”
“No, but you might never have started if you’d known where it would lead.” Anise leaned back in the chair. “The answers you seek will change your life, Kate Brighton, in ways you can’t even guess. You won’t ever be able to unlearn what you learn. From what I’ve gathered, your life here in Norgard is somewhat comfortable. Prince Corwin seems to care for you, you’re living in your family’s old quarters, and there is little that you could want for.”
Kate sat up straight, her nerves twitching at the sensitive subject. “My life in the castle is temporary. It always was. I came back to Norgard to learn the truth about my father.”
Anise stared at her for several long seconds before nodding. “If you’re sure, then let’s get on with it.” She pulled open a desk drawer and withdrew a large sapphire nearly the size of her thumb. Faint lines marked the magestone’s shimmering blue surface. Kate recognized it at once from a visit she and Signe had made to the order houses just a few days before. They’d gone into each one, searching for a magestone for sale that might help Bonner create his revolvers without getting caught. The incident in the Wandering Woods had inspired the idea—if whoever was behind the daydrake attacks could use the common spells available in the order shops to hide them, then why couldn’t Bonner? Only, the spells of any worth and power were embedded on precious gemstones and priced too high for the likes of Kate and Signe. The doublet could’ve paid for it, Kate thought, fretting once more as she pictured the state it was in now and dreading what Signe would say when she returned from Tyvald.
“This contains a binding spell.” Anise set the sapphire on the desk. “A curse that will only activate if the person bound to it breaks their vow. Do that, and every inch of your body will be covered in boils and lesions, including your tongue, so that you will be unable to speak any more betrayals.”
Kate shuddered, having no difficulty imagining how terrible it would be. Growing up, she remembered a young lord who’d incurred a similar curse, and he hadn’t been able to sit a horse for weeks afterward until the spell finally faded. At the time, she thought it the worst punishment a person could endure.
“Before I will allow you to learn anything else,” Anise continued, “you must accept the vow not to reveal these secrets. The truths you are determined to learn will put more than yourself at risk.”
Kate swallowed, questions swirling in her mind. What was her father involved in for this woman to go to such drastic, expensive lengths to ensure her silence? For half a moment, she considered taking Anise up on the offer to walk away. But no. The truth was what she came for, and she would have it.
“I accept the vow.”
“Very well. Hold out your hand.” Anise scooped up the sapphire and placed it on Kate’s outstretched palm. Then she slid her hand over Kate’s, cupping the stone between them. Anise spoke the words of the incantation, and Kate saw the light seep out through their fingers as the spell in the stone activated. Heat began to spread over her body, making her itch and want to squirm, but she resisted until it was over.
Once done, Anise returned the sapphire to the drawer. The etchings of the spell had turned to brown blemishes on the jewel’s surface, ruining its beauty and rendering it worthless. “Follow me,” she said, rising from her chair.
She led the way out of the office and into the tavern portion of the brothel. The chairs were all set on top of the tables, the floor still wet in places from the morning’s scrubbing. Anise stopped just beyond the door to the kitchens, and told Kate to wait, before going inside.
She reemerged a moment later with another woman joining her. Wearing an apron and with a kerchief wrapped around her head, the woman made for the most unlikely of cooks Kate had ever seen, especially inside a brothel. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with sea-green eyes and bright-blond hair that hung in a loose braid down to her waist. Although not young, the woman’s body was thin and lithe as a dancer’s. The only thing seemingly out of place was her scarred hands, covered in burn marks that ran from her fingers to her forearms before disappearing beneath the hems of her sleeves.
“This is Vianne.” Anise motioned to the woman.
Stepping forward, Vianne grasped Kate’s hand. “Welcome, Miss Kate. It’s so good to meet you at last. I’m glad you’ve finally come.”
Kate’s eyes widened, her confusion growing by the second. “Who . . . who are you?”
“Not here,” Anise said. Then she turned and strode from the room.
Vianne motioned for Kate to go first, and the two of them followed Anise out of the tavern and into the right-side hallway. Unlike the night before, all the doors were open this time, revealing the bedrooms within. Kate forced herself to look into each one, determined not to be embarrassed this time. She might have rejected Corwin’s offer to be his paramour, but she understood that some of the issue resided with her inability to grow beyond the untested ideals of her childhood. Each room presented a different flavor and feel. One was dark and sultry, decorated with lacy black curtains, black silk sheets, and more than a dozen candles, unlit at the moment. Another was done all in red. Yet another all in white. Whatever your pleasure, Kate thought with a peculiar feeling in her stomach.
When they reached the end of the hallway, Anise paused, looking over her shoulder a moment, then turned and entered the last room, another bedroom and the most ostentatious of all Kate had seen. Decorated in the royal colors of Norgard, a massive bed, large enough to hold ten people, loomed in its center, while an equally large sofa occupied one whole side of the room. Mirrors hung from every wall and the ceiling.
As Vianne closed the door behind them, Anise approached the mirror on the farthest wall. She grasped a knob at the top of the gilded frame and pulled. The mirror swung open to reveal a doorway beyond with stairs leading downward. Cool, damp air swept into the room, sending a flurry of chills over Kate’s skin. A single lamp that hung on the wall just inside lit the way.
Anise headed down the steps, and moments later they emerged in a cramped, low-ceilinged room stuffed to the brim with a long table and chairs. Several more doors were placed around the walls, and Kate wondered if there was a secret passage leading down here from every room above.
“I’ll let you take over,” Anise said, sitting down in the one of the chairs and motioning to Vianne.
Wordlessly, Vianne crossed the room to the farthest door in the corner. She paused with her hand on the doorknob and said to Kate. “He’s bound to be . . . excited. We don’t get visitors often. Please be patient with him.”
Who is behind that door? Kate thought, too bewildered to speak. She felt as if she were strapped to a runaway horse, incapable of doing anything but rush headlong into whatever danger awaited beyond.
Vianne pushed the door open and stepped inside. Kate noticed the warmth first, pleasant and welcome, a stark contrast to the room she’d been in. Four lamps hung from the walls, the flames inside them flickering and dancing playfully as if stirred by a breeze, one that couldn’t possibly be blowing in this cave-like place.
A little boy came hurtling across the room toward Vianne. At a single glance, Kate understood that this was her son. They had the same bright-blond hair, and when the boy reached Vianne’s opened arms, she picked him up and rained kisses down on his head while he laughed with delight.
“You’re back!” the boy said. Kate couldn’t quite place his age, although she guessed four or five, given his size. “That was fast. I’m—” The boy craned his head toward Kate. “Who is that?” He sounded at once both intrigued and frightened. His thin, small fingers tightened around Vianne’s shoulders, the knuckles showing white.
“This, my little prince, is a very special guest.” Vianne leaned down, forcibly returning the boy to his feet. She had to pry his hands from her shoulders, and even then he latched onto the folds of her skirt instead. Vianne turned to Kate. “This is my son, Kiran.”
Kate stared back at the woman, her mind an utter blank. An explanation of why this woman would be introducing her son tried to assert itself into Kate’s thoughts, but it was too impossible to allow. It couldn’t. It can’t be—
“He is your brother, Kate,” Vianne said. “Kiran is Hale’s son.”
The world seemed to spin around Kate. She wanted something to hold on to, but the room was bare save for a table and chair and two narrow beds. Even the walls wouldn’t have given her purchase. At first she’d thought they were made of stone, same as the rest of these underground chambers, but now she saw that they were a dull metal. Even the floor and ceiling were metal.
With a worried look, Vianne bent toward Kiran. “This is Kate. She is your sister.”
The boy’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped open, his surprise almost comical. That was when Kate saw the truth in his eyes. They were the same shape as her father’s, the same shade of brown.
She sucked in a breath. “This is why my father was sending those payments? To support you and your . . . his . . . son?”
Vianne nodded. “I wasn’t always a cook. Your father was one of my regular visitors. Until one day when he became something more.”
Love? Kate wondered. Did my father love you? He must have, but even if he hadn’t, Kate knew her father would’ve loved his son. She wanted to be angry, to feel betrayed at her father’s deception, but that was the old Kate, the child who had not yet experienced the world beyond her sheltered life. Grown-up Kate understood that her parents’ marriage had been cold and empty. She couldn’t blame her father for finding comfort somewhere else.
More questions crowded into her mind. “Why does he live down—” Kate felt a small hand at her waist and looked down to see Kiran tugging on the end of her tunic. She squatted, putting herself at eye level with the child.
“Are you really my sister?” the boy asked, head cocked ever so slightly.
Kate nodded, marveling at how familiar he seemed, as if she’d known him all his life. He looked so much like her father. Our father. The fact that she hadn’t known him before now sent a wrench through her chest.
The boy’s answering smile seemed to swallow his whole face. “Want to see my toys?”
Without waiting for a response, Kiran grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the bed. Kate couldn’t say no—it was impossible to deny this child. He seemed starved for human contact. And the sun, she noted at his alarming paleness. She could see the veins on his face like blue rivers crisscrossing his forehead and beneath his eyes. Did he live down here all the time? It didn’t make sense.
One by one, Kiran pulled out the toys from beneath his bed, ragged, pathetic things, most broken and frayed. One of the dolls, a crude object made from old canvas with a painted-on face, was singed across the top of its head where Kate suspected yarn had once been sewn to make the hair.
“How old are you, Kiran?” Kate asked after a moment.
“Six,” he said with an air of pride, as if this were a most impressive age. “I can count to a hundred. Want to hear? One . . . two . . .”
Six years old. Kate felt sick to her stomach. He was too small to be so old, but she should’ve guessed it already. Her father had been making those payments for three years before his death. The questions burned fresh in her mind, but she held them back, giving the boy the attention he craved while his mother watched them from the doorway, her eyes bright with emotion.
He is my brother. My father’s secret. But there was more to the story, Kate was certain.
Eventually, Vianne crossed over to them and gave Kiran’s head an affectionate pat. “I need to talk with Miss Kate, my little prince. Will you play on your own for a bit?”
Kiran nodded, although his lip threatened to curl into a pout. Guiltily, Kate followed Vianne out of the bedroom and back to where Anise sat, waiting for them.
“I know you have questions,” Vianne said. “And we’re ready to answer all we can.”
Kate pulled out one of the chairs and sat down slowly. “Why do you keep him down here?” It seemed the most important of all the questions jockeying for position in her mind. She couldn’t imagine a more miserable existence.
Vianne stole a furtive glance at Anise, who nodded. “Master Raith trusts her, and the binding spell will ensure her silence in everything she learns today.”
“Raith? What does he have to do with this?” Kate asked, unconsciously leaning forward.
“We’ll get to that,” Anise replied. “Go ahead, Vianne.”
The other woman let out a sigh, her scarred fingers drumming against the table. “Kiran is forced to live down here because, like your father and like you, he is a wilder.”
Kate’s jaw dropped to her chest. This woman knew? Her father had trusted her with his secret? Why?
“Then again, Hale is not solely to blame. I am a wilder, too.” Vianne raised her hand and a small flame appeared on her palm.
A wilder. A pyrist. At once everything made sense—the metal walls, the burned toys, even the strange warmth. Only, it didn’t make sense. Most wilders didn’t come into their magic until adolescence.
“Kiran has his powers already? But he’s so young.”
“So were you—just seven if I remember right.”
Kate swallowed, a strange resentment rising up in her over how much her father must’ve trusted this woman. And yet he kept her secret from me.
“Kiran’s ability first appeared when he was just a baby,” Vianne continued, giving a slight shudder. “We don’t know why it came to him so early, but you can imagine how difficult it was to keep him hidden, and the danger he posed to others. That’s why Hale had the room built for him. Kiran didn’t know how to control his magic back then. How could he, being so young? He’s much better now, though.” Vianne nodded, as if to reassure herself of this truth.
“Then why keep him down here still?” Kate asked, and too late she realized how stupid the question was.
“The Inquisition, of course,” a man’s voice spoke as if from nowhere.
Kate jumped in surprise, her hand going to the revolver at her belt. After last night, she never wanted to be without it. But she didn’t pull it out as Master Raith slid from the shadows by the stairs and approached them. Once again, he wasn’t wearing his mask or robes. Anise and Vianne both greeted him warmly, and a moment later, Kiran came bolting out of his room to leap into Raith’s arms. To Kate’s growing shock, the master magist hugged the boy, then tickled his sides, coaxing a giggle. Who is this man? She stared at him, taking in the birthmark on his face and the permanent black stains on his fingertips.
Raith set Kiran back down a moment later with a promise to come play with him once he was done out here. Kate watched it all, feeling as if she’d stepped into some strange, unknown world where right was left and up was down.
Once Kiran had retreated, Raith said, “Now, where were we? Oh yes, the Inquisition. As you know, Kate, the Inquisition gives the gold order the power to actively hunt for wilders, regardless of age or suspected guilt. Kiran was just three years old when the high king sanctioned it. But your father tried to stop it from happening altogether.”
At once Kate remembered what Corwin had told her about how her father and the king had been arguing about the Inquisition before the attack.
“It’s why he went to the king’s chambers that morning,” Raith continued, “to change Orwin’s mind. Hale knew you would not be in danger from it. You are, or were, a part of the gentry and so, for the most part, exempt from the gold’s reach.”
“But not Kiran,” Kate said, anger starting to simmer inside her at the injustice of it.
“No,” Vianne agreed, her voice sharp and bitter. “Not the bastard son of a prostitute.”
Kate winced, pity mixing with the anger now. She understood without doubt that her father would’ve done anything to protect Kiran and his mother. Of course he would have. They were family. I have a brother. The thought tugged hard on her tear ducts, and she forced it away.
“Is that what happened then?” Kate asked. “Was the attack on King Orwin just an argument that escalated into a fight?”
“I doubt it,” said Raith with a sad shake of his head. “But I’m afraid we don’t exactly know what happened. That was a secret Hale took with him to the next life. He went there not to assassinate the king but to persuade him, with the help of his magic if need be.”
“His magic?”
“Yes, his magic—and yours—can influence the minds of living creatures. It’s called sway. It’s a rare and powerful spirit gift.”
Suddenly Kate remembered just who she was talking to. “But I don’t understand. You’re a magist, and yet you were friends with my father, and you know about Vianne and Kiran and me.”
“Oh, and me, let us not forget,” Anise said, the hint of a smirk on her face. She held out her hand and a gush of water rose up from her palm, bubbling over on itself like a miniature fountain.
Kate gaped. “You’re a wilder, too?”
Anise flashed a pleased, proud smile.
“We all are here,” Raith said, and when Kate swung back to him, he added, “Magists are no different from wilders. The ability to imbue inanimate objects with spells is just a form of spirit magic, similar to what enables you to touch minds. We’re even bound by the same laws. Did you know that when wilder magic and magist magic meet directly, they will cancel each other out?” He nodded at her frown. “It’s true. All magic flows from the same source. It’s all connected. When it meets itself, it simply stops.”
Kate’s frowned deepened. “I don’t understand.”
He gestured to the revolver on her belt. “It’s like what would happen if two bullets were to meet in the air, both of them rendered powerless at the impact.”
Slowly, Kate nodded, although her doubt remained.
“Magist magic doesn’t work at night either,” Raith went on. “We can’t create new spells any more than a pyrist can summon fire or an aerist wind. Everything we might need at night, we must prepare in the day.”
Now Kate openly gaped in astonishment. She’d never heard this before, and it seemed a secret the Mage League wouldn’t want divulged. But she was glad to learn it, to know the magists weren’t as all-powerful as they seemed.
Then another question rose up in her mind. “Do you know why I was able to use my magic last night?”
Raith shrugged. “Who can say? Magic is a fickle thing, as unpredictable as the weather, at times. But I would venture to guess it was because the moon was full and you were standing in its light. No one knows exactly how it all works, but magic in Rime is connected to the light. Moonlight is usually too weak to make much of a difference, but it’s not unheard of. Of course, if you want to know more, you’d have to ask a white robe. As for myself, I’ve never been preoccupied with magical theory. Not when there’s a world that needs fixing.”
Kate started to ask him more, but he cut her off with a raised hand. “The point here, Kate, is that we were all the same once, some three hundred years ago, before the War of Three divided us into wilders and magists. Back then all the cities in the three fronts employed magic wielders in their armies—magicians, as we were called then. They used all the magic available to them to try to destroy their enemies. Including, as the legend goes, unleashing the nightdrakes.”
“I always thought that was just myth,” Kate said.
“Some of it might be. We don’t really know what happened, other than that magic was involved.” Raith scratched at his chin, his blackened fingers noticeably stiff. She wondered how they’d gotten that way, imagining some spell gone wrong.
“But we do know the consequences,” Raith continued. “After the war ended, thanks entirely to the destructive force of those same nightdrakes, the laying of blame began. Magicians with active gifts, like those of fire and earth, were held responsible for the devastation by both the city leaders and the magicians with more passive spirit gifts, like what the magists possess today. Our magic could be contained. It’s more easily restricted and was thereby considered safe, while the other forms of magic were deemed too unpredictable and too powerful to be allowed. And so the lines were drawn.”
He paused and drew a weary sigh. “But I and some others in my order believe it’s time for those lines to be erased, for wilders and magists to be united again. That is what your father ultimately wanted when he decided to do all he could to convince the king to stop the Inquisition, and it’s why I asked Vianne to tell you the truth about your father even though Hale didn’t want you to become involved.”
“I don’t understand,” Kate said, feeling as if she were standing on the narrowest edge of a precipice, an inevitable fall looming. She remembered Anise’s earlier warning, and dread began to pulse in her temples. “What exactly is going on here?”
“This,” Raith said, gesturing to the room, “is the headquarters of the Rising, and you are here because we want you to take your father’s place among our ranks.” He paused, then added with a wry smile, “And before you ask, Corwin’s theory about us is wrong. We have nothing to do with the daydrakes. On the contrary, we’re doing everything we can to stop them.”