Page 27 of This Dark Descent
“It’s been a while since I’ve been able to just talk about this stuff,”Mikira said as they descended from the coach into the sweltering afternoon. “Sometimes I feel like all I talk about now is Rezek.”
“He sounds very unpleasant.”
“Colds are unpleasant. Rezek is one bad day away from homicidal.”
They entered a narrow shop called Fox and Quill, a Kinnish bookshop where the walls were lined with secondhand volumes Ari had longed for from afar for months. Now, two weeks into her service, Damien had handed over her first wages that morning, and she’d known exactly what she intended to buy. A short time later, she had her own personal Arkala, the front inscribed with Aslir’s silhouette.
What she really wanted was a Kinnish book of enchantments, but Damien had warned her it’d be difficult to find authentic Kinnish texts, and he’d asked that she leave doing so to him, as he could do it quietly and without connection to them. Normal enchanter texts were heavily regulated enough; they couldn’t afford the attention that came with Kinnish ones.
They emerged from the cool darkness of the shop into a street that had grown congested in their absence.
“Let’s walk toward the square.” Mikira rose on her toes to see over a gathering crowd. “I think the royal address is starting.”
“The what?” Ari asked, returning her book to the coach before trailing after her.
“The royal family always addresses the city the night of the opening ball. It marks the start of the Illinir festival.” Mikira pointed at a corridor of wooden booths along the street’s edges. Cloth and jewel figurines of the four Harbingers hung between the lampposts. Rach’s massive emerald horns glinted black in the fading sunlight, Skylis’s wings stretched out in all their sunset glory. Aslir’s star-white coat shone like a beacon, but it was Lyzairin, the Great Serpent, whose likeness was most frequent.
For all that Sendism railed against Kinnism, it drew so much from it, and she wondered if they even understood why. Did they know the reasonLyzairin’s visage was associated with festivals, why her long body was often pictured in a circle, symbolizing the unification and community tenet central to Kinnish culture? Or did they just like the way she looked, with scales that sparkled like lapis lazuli and teeth and claws bared in warning?
Until recently, Arl hadn’t known any of that herself. Nor that it was against Kinnish practice to create idols of the Harbingers, but she’d come to realize over the course of her time in Veradell that most treated the Harbingers like myths. The Order of Sendia still drew decent crowds to their churches, and she frequently saw the clerics out preaching in the streets, but most seemed to think them nothing more than stories.
They joined the people thronging toward Canburrow Square, where a large stage had been erected. A representative from each of the four greater houses stood to one side, save for House Ruthar. Were they late, or intentionally missing? Either way, it sent a message: they didn’t support whatever the king was about to relay.
It was a dangerous balancing act, seeing as house status was granted by the king, but the last thing he could afford was instability in the Council of Lords. Removing House Ruthar would just draw more attention to their opinion on the war, and with the other three houses in support of it, the king had the votes he needed for any measures.
Guards in pristine white surrounded the platform, keeping the gathering crowd at bay as three people took the stage. Ari recognized Princess Eshlin Zuerlin first. A gown of midnight green hugged her full-bodied figure, a thick layer of kohl outlining eyes of the same color. Even in an elegant dress she had the imposing bearing of the skilled swordswoman she was known to be, a talent she was said to have acquired from her departed mother.
Prince Darius surveyed the crowd with a wide smile that bared his teeth. He had their father’s coloring, with hair nearly as fair as his skin. There was something cuttingly cold about his manner, as if they were all gathered here for his amusement. But where the two royal siblings stood like pillarsready to bear the weight, King Theo Zuerlin was hunched and willowy, a once powerful frame reduced to wiry muscle and a thin, wispy beard.
Ari felt something brush her arm and turned to find Mikira rigid, her hands drawn into tight fists. “Are you all right? You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” she ground out as the ailing king approached a Sendian cleric behind the podium. The cleric reached out with supplicating palms in the Goddess’s gesture of blessing, and the king returned it. Once, only the king would have bowed, the cleric touching his open palms to bestow the blessing, but the balance of power had shifted; the church was mainly a symbol now. A symbol the king clearly meant to capitalize on.
“Does he think parading a soldier on the stage erases the hundreds of veterans sleeping on the street?” Mikira hissed, and Ari followed her line of sight to a military officer standing straight-backed on the right, his lapel decorated with gemstone pins in honor of his service.
This whole stage had been carefully arranged like a set piece, and the show was ready to begin.
King Theo stepped up to a charmed microphone, his children on either side of him. “People of Enderlain,” he called in a voice that hinted at his former strength. “I welcome you to the twelfth running of the decadal Illinir, so held in honor of the holy Goddess who watches over us.”
A cheer went up among the people, but Ari and Mikira weren’t alone in remaining silent. Several other grim-faced spectators stood with arms crossed, waiting to hear what the king had to say. More than one was dirty and gaunt, the rising price of grain having carved its consequences into their bodies.
“We run this race to remind ourselves of the great gifts we were given when the Goddess sent the Harbingers to humanity, and also in remembrance of the potential for great destruction that magic carries. Over a century ago, four enchanters sought power beyond their station. In their pursuit of godhood, the Heretics’ magic erupted in a devasting explosion that took several thousand Enderlish lives and destroyed Kinahara.”
Ari drew a sharp breath. Nearly four times as many Kinnish died from the Cataclysm, and all he cared to mention was the territory Enderlain no longer had.
“It is for this reason that magic must be carefully controlled. It is for this reason that the enchant registry was established, and the Illinir alongside it. With this race, we celebrate what magic should be. With this race, we remind ourselves of what our friends and family are fighting for in Celair.”
“Liar,” Mikira hissed through clenched teeth.
Liar, echoed Ari’s thoughts.
“Over the course of the years after the Cataclysm, we withdrew our troops from Celair and Vyna, shrinking Enderlain’s might below its station. This was a mistake. To show weakness was a mistake. Today, I am honored to report that we are making more headway in recovering the Celairen territory than ever before.”
A murmur radiated around them, and Ari moved closer to Mikira as the mass of people pressed eagerly inward. Was this what it was like so many years ago, when Enderlain made the same choice to invade Kinahara? They already had Vyna and Celair under their domain, but their greed was depthless. Since the Cataclysm, their weakened military couldn’t hold, and both countries reasserted their independence. Her Saba had thought their days of overreaching finished, until the last Ranier king died and his brother-in-law ascended the throne, promising to return Enderlain to its former glory.
People whispered that he stole the throne from his brother-in-law’s line of succession. King Theo said his brother-in-law had died childless, but there were rumors that out there somewhere, there was an illegitimate child who could challenge his claim to the throne, and the Eternal War was nothing but a distraction, a means of keeping the eye busy while the trick was done elsewhere.
“Each day our soldiers risk their lives to ensure Enderlain’s future is bright.” King Theo brought a hand to his heart. “We thank them for their sacrifice, as the Goddess thanks them.”
