Antiphon

Chapter 7

Jin Li Tam

The courtyard on the south side of the library was a mad press of people as Foresters and refugees alike gathered for the dedication of the west-facing wing.

Jin Li Tam stood between the pillars of the western patio and bounced on her heels to keep Jakob amused while Rudolfo talked quietly with Aedric and Isaak. Jakob had been fussy of late after being so long a quiet baby, but she suspected that his first teeth were coming in.

I will ask Lynnae for teething powders. The girl had spent the last few months working with the River Woman and seemed to have an aptitude for the work. The River Woman herself had referred to her as an apt apprentice at least twice, both times bringing a blush to the girl’s cheeks.

Thinking of Lynnae, she glanced around the front lines of the crowd to see if she could find her. When she singled her out, standing between the River Woman and her father, Lysias, Jin Li Tam flashed a smile that was quickly returned. Then, she turned back to Rudolfo and the others.

“It’s time, Lord Rudolfo,” Isaak said.

Ahead of them, the crowd built. This first wing was small, but in these times, small victories had to be celebrated as they were achieved. There at the base of the stone steps, wagons of food and wine stood ready for the feast to follow. After eighteen months of construction and a near-constant stream of books flowing from the mechoservitors’ pens, they’d reclaimed some tiny part of what had been lost at Windwir.

And today marks two years.

She stepped to the side of the podium and felt pride as her husband stepped forward. He held a single sheet of scribbled notes in his hand and glanced to her and Jakob as he placed the paper on the flat, wooden surface. Then, he looked to Isaak and Aedric before clearing his voice.

“Two years ago,” he began, “we all watched the sky and lamented that loss of light that was Windwir’s pyre.” He glanced to Isaak again, and Jin saw how carefully he chose his words. “Evil men with terrible intent used the Androfrancines’ knowledge against them, and in doing so, changed our world.”

She heard the timbre in his voice as he projected it over the crowd. Watching them, she could see the rapt attention upon their faces as they listened to their king. They love him, she realized. And she knew he and his family had earned that love over two millennia in this place. She’d seen that love poured out- even extended to her, especially since Jakob’s birth-since she’d first come to the Ninefold Forest nearly two years ago.

She could remember pondering that charismatic Gypsy King and what one of his young Gypsy Scouts had told her in those early days. He always knows the right path to take. and he always takes it.

Not so anymore. She could see the doubt in his eyes, and sometimes, in their late-night murmurings, he would whisper his fears to her while she held him close. And though she did not say it, she felt it, too. The world had changed with the Desolation of Windwir and had kept changing from there.

People were applauding, and Jakob stirred awake in her arms. She felt a stab of guilt and looked up. Had he finished so soon? She looked to him and he appeared to be paused, finger raised to make another comment. She scanned the crowed, glancing again toward Lynnae.

She paused.

Just left of Lynnae stood a young man with close-cropped hair, and in a sea of smiles and clapping, his face was sober and his hands were at his sides. He was staring at the central pillar of the portico.

Rudolfo continued speaking, and she followed the young man’s eyes. Something shimmered there, and she opened her mouth to shout.

The light was white and followed by a hot fist of wind and sound that shattered her ears. Something large and metal and fast impacted her and the world spun as she felt long metal arms encircling her, pulling her and Jakob close as heat billowed around them. She heard cracking as the pillar collapsed and the roof followed. She heard rock hitting metal and bellows rasping. She choked and sobbed.

The dust and smoke settled, and Jakob’s wail rose up to join the screams and cries of the wounded and bereaved.

A reedy voice whispered in her ear. “Safe,” he said. His voice had an odd lilt to it, and she heard popping and grinding deep in his chest cavity.

The world wobbled around her, and she fought its graying, forcing herself to move as best she could, shifting Jakob. “Isaak?” she asked.

But the metal man did not answer.

Neb

Outside the cave, kin-wolves slunk about, casting shadows by the light of a blue-green moon as a warm wind moaned down the canyons of the ruined city. They’d been out since the sun dropped, though they’d not approached as yet. Still, when the wind dipped, he could hear their claws upon the ancient, decimated street.

Odd. They do not howl.

Behind him, the woman stirred, and he turned to face her. Her fever had broken early in the day, telling him that his poultice and powders were doing their work. More and more, she moved and mumbled, her eyes moving behind closed lids. Neb went to her now and drew his canteen, unscrewing the cap.

He’d found three sources of water on the quick scouting runs he’d allowed himself since securing them in the cave. In the morning, he would need to make another run if she kept taking the water.

Placing a hand beneath her head, he lifted it and put the mouth of the canteen against her lower lip. Her lips parted by reflex, and he tipped the water into her mouth. The skin on the back of her neck felt cool and smooth now in his hands.

Her eyes fluttered and opened. They went wide, and he saw that they were a light green. She started to struggle, her mouth opening as she pulled in the breath to shout. When she did, it was a hoarse sound but in a language he did not recognize, and her wrestling was too weak for any kind of effectiveness. He waited, holding the canteen to her mouth once more.

“I can’t understand you,” he said, keeping his voice low and quiet.

Her eyebrows furrowed, bending the scars on her forehead. “Understand?” she asked.

He heard the snuffling outside now and pressed the canteen into her hands. Lifting his thorn rifle, he moved back to the mouth of the cave in time to see a large shadow retreating from the stones he’d piled at the front of the cave. He took aim and squeezed the bulb, listening to the hiss and cough of the thorn as it exited the rifle and closed the distance between them. He could not tell if the poisoned missile clattered off against stone and glass or if it found its mark in the flank of the kin-wolf.

He turned back and saw the woman pulling herself weakly from the blanket. She wasn’t getting far, but the fear on her face was unmistakable. Neb moved slowly toward her, crouching nearby as she tried to pull herself up with trembling arms. Her clothing, wet from sweat, clung to her, and once more, Neb found himself averting his eyes. He thought perhaps the scars upon her arms and neck and face would snare his eyes, but in truth, each line of images pulled toward the curved parts of her he sought to avoid.

Neb swallowed. “You understand Landlish?”

She stopped, her eyes going wide for a moment. She turned to him. “Yes.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was hesitant and uncertain. “But. it has been a very long time.”

She settled back now, still eyeing him with suspicion. But when he extended the canteen, she took it and drank from it. He watched as her eyes broke contact with him here and there to take in her surroundings. Each time, he knew she marked some detail.

She is a scout of some kind. Keeping his voice even and low, he asked her the first question that came to mind. “Where are you from?”

“Far away,” she said. “But that doesn’t matter.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you the Abomination?”

The other woman called me that. He did not know how to answer, but the questioning look on his face must have been sufficient. She continued. “The one called Nebios Homeseeker?”