A Kingdom Lost Read online

  Chapter Eight

  Starbride

  Master Bernard hunched over the pyramid worktable, his focus so tight that Starbride could see his tongue poking from between his lips. She cleared her throat, and he whipped around as if she’d clanged a pair of cymbals.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No, it’s me. I shouldn’t be so…” He laughed breathlessly. “Never mind.” He gestured to the half-finished pyramid in front of him. “After your success hiding from the corpse Fiends, I decided to try my hand at making a pyramid to block mind magic. Unfortunately, mind magic was never my greatest skill.”

  Starbride nodded. It wasn’t hers, either, but it certainly was one of Roland’s strengths. “How close are you?”

  He shrugged. “When I finish, we can test it here and won’t have to put any of our own in danger.” He gave her a look she was certain he’d leveled at many a naughty student.

  She was lucky to have known him as a comrade instead of a teacher. He didn’t scare her in the slightest. Still, his reminder of how catastrophic her test could have gone struck a chord within her. It had haunted her dreams. She’d spent most of her time since then indoors, making pyramids and crafting a plan about how to break into the Pyradisté Academy.

  “More pyramids mean more crystal,” Master Bernard said. “When we go to the academy, we’ll look around. I can’t think what the Fiend king might be able to do with the capstone. He shouldn’t be able to retune it, but he’s done so much we never even thought about, all this Fiend magic.”

  Starbride nodded. Roland was more powerful than even Crowe had remembered. When he’d “died,” he’d merged with his Fiend while retaining his pyradisté’s mind. Being a Fiend made Roland a more powerful pyradisté, but according to everything Starbride had learned, being a Fiend should also have made him vulnerable to pyramid magic, just like the corpse Fiends.

  A soft knock made her turn. “It’s dark,” Hugo said from the doorway.

  “Has Dawnmother gone out?” Starbride asked.

  He gave her a reproachful look. “If you wanted her to stay behind, you should have just told her.”

  “Are you volunteering, Hugo? Order her to stay behind and see how it works.”

  “She’s going to be angry.”

  “Let me handle her. The fewer people with us that can be hypnotized, the better.”

  “Until I figure out this pyramid, we’ll have to risk it,” Master Bernard said. “After all, we need your skill with a blade, Lord Hugo.”

  Hugo stood a little taller. “The academy should be empty, right? All the pyradistés are either hiding, with us…or they’re dead.”

  Master Bernard closed his eyes, clearly pained by the loss of his students.

  Starbride rushed ahead. “An empty building doesn’t stay empty for long in Marienne.” They were words right out of Freddie’s mouth, and she almost laughed. “We should be prepared for townspeople who won’t want their new home invaded as well as whatever surprises the Fiend king’s left for us.”

  “And on the lookout for any stray crystal,” Master Bernard said.

  “Wouldn’t he have stripped it out already?” Hugo asked.

  “We didn’t leave it out for anyone to find. Even former students wouldn’t know all the secret caches. They’d have to tear the place apart.”

  Starbride had her doubts. Corpse Fiends didn’t need to rest, and they were strong. Tearing a building down wouldn’t be a great chore for them. “The sooner we get this done, the better.”

  She and Master Bernard already wore pyramids that would hide them from Fiendish senses, so they filled their satchels with whatever else they might need, including pyramids that might repel a Fiend and those that would negate magical traps or alarms. If Roland hadn’t found all that the academy had to offer, he might have triggered the rest to explode if any pyradistés came sniffing around.

  Pennynail joined them as they crept from their basement hideout. He’d told her earlier that if their group was spotted by a patrol of corpse Fiends or mind-warped townspeople, he would lead them away while Starbride continued the mission. She hated that they might have to split, that Pennynail would have to face such danger alone, but he was well used to it. Katya would have trusted him without fear.

  As if she’d opened a door, more doubts reared in Starbride’s mind. She didn’t have to do all these dangerous tasks. She could sneak out of the city, if such a path even existed anymore, and make her way into the country, maybe all the way to Allusia. If Katya was trapped somewhere in Marienne, Starbride could gather allies and return to rescue her. Roland must have been planning something big if he was trotting out a fake Katya and Einrich for the public. Maybe if the people were more relaxed or confused, they’d be easier to control? She didn’t know, but she wished for the hundredth time that it wasn’t her problem.

  But Katya was worth the danger. Starbride imagined Katya’s arms around her again, tried to conjure the smell of Katya’s hair as they lay together.

  Starbride lengthened her stride, renewed with purpose. Katya was depending on her. She wouldn’t fail. She took comfort in the fact that her role and Roland’s had been reversed. Now he was the one in charge, snug and secure in the palace, and she was outside trying to put all his careful plans to shambles. He would find holding the palace harder than taking it. Enough mischief would distract him from his goals, whatever they were.

  The grounds surrounding the Pyradisté Academy and the Halls of Law were filled with shadows. The great pyramid’s slanted sides were dark. The dormitories, however, stood alight with candles and lanterns. Even with the students scattered, the space hadn’t gone to waste. Starbride didn’t know what had happened to the law students, if they were still in residence. Her friends from Allusia should have arrived to start the winter term, but Starbride had heard nothing of them. Starbride hoped they hadn’t begun their journey at all, or that some incident on the road had stopped them long before they reached Marienne. Then word of Marienne’s troubles could have overtaken them, and they would have gone home.

  One by one, Starbride, Master Bernard, Hugo, and Pennynail sneaked across the square that separated the great pyramid from the buildings around it. A sign hung across the pyramid’s door, a neatly printed wooden plank that warned residents to keep out, the letters easy to read even in the meager light from the moon and the streetlamps lining the road.

  Starbride pulled a pyramid while the others kept watch. She focused, and the dim landscape faded to black and white. She scanned for the telltale glow of guardian pyramids with magically augmented sight. “Two above the door,” she said. She fell out of her trance. “Embedded in the jamb.”

  “There were two guarding it before,” Master Bernard said. “They were tuned to catch anyone with violent intent toward the building or its occupants, but the Fiend king could have replaced them. If you cancel them, you’ll get the attention of any pyradistés lurking in the building.”

  Starbride glanced up at the darkened structure. Anyone hiding within would probably welcome meeting a fellow pyradisté who wasn’t trying to kill them. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take. You lead. I’ll keep a detection pyramid active and look for any other surprises.”

  Master Bernard nodded. “I’ll hold a light pyramid. We’ll move quickly.”

  Starbride cancelled the two guardian pyramids, Pennynail picked the lock, and they raced inside. Starbride almost wept when she saw the ground floor. The little garden had been smashed, the limbs of dead plants scattered across the floor. The large light pyramid that had caught the sunlight from above lay in glittering pieces. Furniture sat in sad, splintered hulks around the room.

  As Hugo kept a guiding touch on her arm, Starbride disabled another guardian pyramid on the stairs before they ventured upward. In the trance, her steps weren’t as sure as they’d normally be. Near the first floor, she recoiled from a horrible stench, nearly jerking out of Hugo’s grasp. A body lay at the top of the s
taircase in a pool of dried blood. When they neared, a cloud of flies billowed upward. Starbride clamped her mouth tight and hurried on, forcing herself to fall back into her pyramid.

  Master Bernard rubbed his chin and frowned at the wreckage in his office. He pushed away the remains of his desk until he found a floorboard that had been torn away. “Well, that was the easiest cache to find. This way.”

  Starbride couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being tracked, that the shadows themselves were watching. Silent killers might be rushing toward them. She hadn’t spotted another guardian or alarm since the stairs, but if the pyradisté who’d made the three was nearby, he’d know they tampered with his work.

  Master Bernard checked seven more crystal caches. Two had been plundered, but the rest were intact. Starbride and the others packed satchels, pockets, and bags with unworked crystal and tools. The great pyramid itself was just stone and glass. There was no way Roland could use it for magic, but the capstone was another story. Master Bernard led them up a hidden staircase to where the stone ended. They would have to open a trapdoor and climb outside to reach the capstone itself. Luckily, the thin metal staircase—invisible from the street—that led upward was intact.

  “It’s the last act a graduating pyradisté has to make,” Master Bernard said as he opened the trapdoor. “He or she has to polish the capstone.”

  “Then the Fiend king knows about it,” Starbride murmured. She took a deep breath and poked her head out into the night, suddenly glad she couldn’t see down the steep sides to the ground far below. She checked the staircase for traps but found none. Roland must have assumed the others would be enough.

  That or he didn’t find this whole endeavor worth the effort. Maybe they’d just wasted their time with her ideas about the capstone. She shook her head and tried to dispel such doubts. She stepped out onto the metal stairs, trying hard not to think about plummeting to her death.

  “Hurry,” Hugo whispered. Starbride leaned toward the pyramid as the stairs circled it to the top. The wind tugged at her hair, and she couldn’t help but imagine the gusts plucking her off the edge and sending her into the abyss.

  At the top, she gripped Hugo’s arm and fell into her detection pyramid once more.

  The capstone wasn’t active, but this close, she sensed its potential. She focused harder to detect what it could do. It was a light pyramid, an incredibly complex one, intricately faceted inside and smooth on the surface. Its facets were perfectly symmetrical, and this close, she could see that the corners were edged with gold. It was a masterwork, one that had probably taken several pyradistés working in harmony, but it took only one person to operate, and it could change color, as she’d often seen.

  But could Roland retune it? Starbride had to focus on what type of pyramid she wanted when she crafted one. She’d never tried to change the purpose after it was finished.

  “It’s going to take a lot to destroy it,” Hugo said.

  Starbride winced.

  “Are you insane?” Master Bernard cried. Starbride grabbed his uninjured arm to keep him from flailing around. “It’s a masterpiece!”

  Starbride wasn’t sure they even could destroy it, it was so thick, but she didn’t want to be the one to tell Master Bernard that they might have to. She touched the capstone and fell into it, delighting in its intricate pathways. It was a masterpiece, in more ways than one, and it could be used by any pyradisté; that was the problem.

  “Fall into it with me, please, Bernard,” she said.

  When he joined her, she was tickled by his presence within the pyramid. She’d only encountered such a joining twice before, with Crowe when they’d been using the capstone beneath the palace to keep Yanchasa placated. This capstone didn’t have the same foul Fiend energy. Together, she and Master Bernard could make it gleam like a dozen suns.

  “Can you feel my mind?” she asked.

  “Of course.” She could almost feel his amusement. “Never had much of a chance to work a pyramid with another, eh?”

  His presence gave her an idea. “Maybe that’s it. If we can…leave our imprint on this, somehow, so that it takes both of us to work it…could we lock it?”

  He was silent for a moment. She could feel him, reach for him. She couldn’t read his mind like she could with a mind pyramid on a non-pyradisté. Maybe this was the only way to touch another pyradisté’s thoughts. Even then, she couldn’t intrude, could only touch. Starbride pulled her mind toward Master Bernard’s, and he in turn pulled toward hers.

  “I have an idea.” Beside her in the dark, he pressed a pyramid into her hand. “Here, a mind pyramid. I’ve got one, too. Try and fall into it, but don’t leave the capstone behind. Try and focus on both.”

  Two pyramids at once? She’d never done such a thing, but just falling into a mind pyramid didn’t require as much focus as trying to use it on someone. Still, she couldn’t help but lose her focus with the capstone. Starbride took a deep breath and tried again, first the capstone, then the mind pyramid, but it wouldn’t work.

  “Try doing both at once,” Master Bernard said once, his soothing voice reminding her of Crowe.

  The intricacies of the capstone actually helped her fall into the mind pyramid, and she slipped into both like sliding into warm water.

  Master Bernard waited for her there. She felt his arm brush hers, and then the mind pyramids touched. A high-pitched whine built in Starbride’s ears, and she could sense Master Bernard stronger than before. She still couldn’t read his thoughts, but she could sense his emotions, his elation at discovering something new. “I’ve played around with mind pyramids before,” he said, and she could almost hear a whispering echo from his thoughts. “In my school days, but this… It must be the capstone helping us somehow. It’s incredible!”

  Starbride felt his embarrassment as well as a lingering memory of youthful lust, and she guessed that “playing around” with mind pyramids must have been to heighten pleasure. She laughed out loud, her affection for him growing. “Thank you for sharing.”

  “Watch.”

  He dipped into her mind pyramid to pull himself further into the light capstone, using the two mind pyramids as a slingshot. He wove his thoughts into the capstone, leaving a lingering memory of him wherever he touched it. He was so deft, almost effortless, and she knew he wasn’t the master of the Pyradisté Academy just because he was good with paperwork.

  “Amazing,” she breathed, and she felt his pride.

  “Now you.”

  Starbride’s first attempt was a rampage, careening into Master Bernard’s mind pyramid and giving herself a headache.

  “Softly,” Bernard said. “Sneak up on it.”

  She pictured her mind on tiptoes, creeping up on his pyramid, and she felt a brief fracture in her head, as if she was standing in two places at once. The vertigo almost made her sag.

  Master Bernard’s mind pathways on the capstone were like tributaries on a map. She followed them, and felt them infused with not only him but her, and where she went, she left part of herself, but it didn’t feel as strong as what he’d done.

  “Think of a specific memory,” he said. “That way, whoever uses this pyramid will have to have our memories while they use it. And since no one can take our memories…”

  Starbride smiled. Wanting to thumb her nose at Roland, she thought of Katya standing on the balcony the night of the Courtiers Ball, her brilliant clothes, her shining jewels, and best of all, her smile, her laugh, the tingle in Starbride’s belly.

  With a sigh, Starbride withdrew, determined more than ever to get Katya back, even if she had to tear the palace down.

  When they were both out of the pyramid, Starbride tried to fall into it again but found it slippery, its intricate pathways blocked.

  In the dim light from the moon, Master Bernard said, “You won’t get in without me, a mind pyramid, and that memory.”

  Starbride smiled in satisfaction. “Let’s see the Fiend king break through that.”

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nbsp; Chapter Nine

  Katya

  Dayscout accompanied Katya and her father into the wilderness. Katya hadn’t had to try hard to convince her mother to stay in Newhope with the children and Lord Vincent. Brutal, Castelle, and her friends were enough to escort them into the hills to find the adsnazi.

  Katya had hoped her father would stay behind, too, but she knew he was tired of hiding.

  “If you went alone, my girl,” he said, “the adsnazi might send you back to collect who’s really in charge.”

  She supposed she should have thanked him for saving her a trip, but she’d feared how much sarcasm would creep into her voice. Meeting with Starbride’s parents had turned her mood blacker than usual.

  The adsnazi lived in adobe houses near a wide river that flowed through the hills outside of Newhope. Scrubby green brush and cacti sprouted from sandy patches between large red boulders. A cliff side rose just behind the river, though the bank sloped gently down on the village side. It was a good, defensible position. Enemies could only come at them from the track Katya and her father followed. If anyone tried to leave the trail, they’d trip over piles of scree, barren rocks, and the needle-like thorns of the cacti.

  A woman and a man waited on the track before them. More people bustled among the dwellings, but they paid the visitors as much attention as they would a lizard. The waiting pair wore simple brown trousers, though their shirts were a riot of swirling colors, his mostly greens and browns, hers reds and blues. They had shaved heads but for one braided lock in the back. The man smiled, a bit sarcastically to Katya’s eye, and the woman scowled.

  Dayscout dismounted and clasped their hands. The woman gave him a slight smile, as if she was unused to smiling in general. As Katya dismounted and came close, she saw that the man was maybe Da’s age, but the lines near his eyes contrasted with his smooth cheeks. The woman was young and pretty, though her features were sharper than Katya usually cared for. Even with her reddish-brown skin and black hair, she didn’t remind Katya of Starbride in the least.