Ker Splinter
“Already abandoning me?” Nevdah called down the path.
Sela turned, squinting against the morning sun. “I can’t do much without stone. Or mud, for that matter. I’ll be back this afternoon.”
Nevdah glanced up at the tower. “Is it far, the place you’re going?”
“Not far. Whoever built the place used local stone. The river at the base of the bluff will probably have what I need.”
“And you’d only be gone a few hours?”
“That’s the plan.”
Nevdah hobbled down the uneven path toward her. “Then— care for some company? It’s been years since I went that far but I used… I saw the realm, you know.”
“I know. But it’s a steep climb—“
“It’s not because I can’t go far. My legs still work. A little stiff at the knees but the stretching does them good. It’s the shard.”
Sela looked at the tower. “I don’t mean to doubt you, Nevdah, but the tower’s not such a formidable building to get into. If someone wanted to steal the shard I don’t know that you being here or not would stop them. If you want to go for a walk near the river then you should.”
Nevdah smiled. “That tower’s got more secrets than you know. I told you Dror always knew his exits, but he also knew his traps and secret hiding places, too. The tower wasn’t built to protect the shard, it was built to protect him. The shard’s safe as long as I’m breathing, you don’t need to worry about that. I told you, all you have to worry about is fixing the roof. Not the world. And I think I’d like to risk the walk, if you won’t mind me tottering along.”
“Not at all,” said Sela, picking up the handcart. “Tell me more of your story on the way. I’ve only heard about you and Dror. What about the others? You said some were nobles. How would two boys from the docks of Parin meet nobles? Did Dror try to steal from them?”
The rumble of the cartwheels almost overwhelmed Nevdah’s laugh. “No, no, not that time, though that’s a good guess. It was Maija who brought us all together.”
“So you met her first?” Sela glanced over her shoulder.
“Yes,” he said, the smile lingering still. “I met her first. And thank goodness, or it might have been Dror and I never would have won a contest of charm with him as an opponent.”
They passed the final statue and Nevdah gave its mossy knee an affectionate pat. “Not that we ever fought about Maija, we didn’t. She was always… I don’t know why she took to me, in particular. It was never a question that I would love her. Not even that first day. It wasn’t like the tales, mind you. We didn’t swoon upon seeing each other or any of that nonsense. I don’t think it ever actually happens that way, if I’m honest.”
Sela laughed. “My mother always says if you fall in love at the sight of a person, you’re just as likely to fall out again when you see them the next morning.”
“She’s likely right. It wasn’t like that with Maija. I didn’t even think she looked much of anything that day, though you’ll never catch me telling her that.” He caught up with the front of the cart. Sela watched him for any sign he was out of breath or in pain, ready to slow her pace, but he walked easily beside her.
“It has to have been almost half a century now, isn’t it? I think she’d forgive you if you didn’t think she was beautiful the first time you met.”
“She was a wreck. Half-drowned and covered in the filth the city dumped into the river. I hauled her out of the water just outside the city gates. She never could swim, but she’d tried that day. The Khemeia had sacked her town up river some ten leagues. She’d fought to the bitter end until they pushed what remained of the town’s defenders to the banks of the river with their flaming powders and metal rains. She’d been afire and jumped in to stop the burning. The current was swift and carried her away before she realized. She clung to the side of a sinking fisherman’s boat until it finally broke apart. She always said she didn’t remember how she managed to stay afloat the rest of the way. She coughed water a good few hours after I found her.”
“Was that the first you’d heard of the Khemeia?”
“To our shame, no. The Khemeia had been troublesome for the northern territories for years. And our city councilors were slow to act even with their forces being so close to Parin. But Maija had seen something in the chaos that day. Between choking on the filthy water and her flailing to stay upright, it was the first thing she said to me as I tried to fish her out. ‘A stone like the void of night,” she said. ‘Sucks the life right out of anything it touches. Tell them, tell them to flee.’ That’s what she told me. I thought she was touched. I took her home and my mother wanted to throw her out because of the stench. But Maija just kept talking about this stone and she was badly burned from the Khemeian weapons. My mother was not a hard woman, and she relented, taking Maija to bathe her and heal her. But it was me, it was me she kept talking to. I didn’t understand most of it— I think she was still terrified and lost in the battle to make much sense. She finally fell asleep gripping my hand. I stood up to go and she squeezed my fingers one more time in her sleep and her lips moved, still whispering about this terrible stone. And that’s when I knew I’d love her. I didn’t love her yet, but I knew I was going to. Not the same thing, though sometimes people mistake them. It was only a moment, lost for a long time in so many others. One of the ones that would shake loose if the storytellers tried. Back then, though, I had other things to worry about. What to do with this strange woman. Whether to listen to her strange story of powerful stones or bring her to the Quiet Houses to recover her sanity. It wasn’t until much later— months, maybe, that I realized I’d even had an idea of loving her. Not until long after she’d persuaded us all into a mad attempt to stop Grindall.”
“You’re skipping ahead,” said Sela.
“I am. It’s hard not to, with her. She is a torrent in my mind, a flood that carries all else away. It’s difficult to remember a time before her and all the moments after her have been an agony.”
“Why— forgive me,” said Sela shaking her head.
“For what?”
“Pay me no mind. Go on with your story. We’re almost to the river.”
“What would you ask?”
She shook her head again. Nevdah smiled.
“You meant to ask why we parted, is that it? And feared offending me?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“There is nothing to feel offended by. There was no quarrel. Nothing to blame myself for. And certainly nothing to blame Maija for. Not ever. It’s the shard. You’ve heard how we shattered the stone.”
“Of course.”
“But those stories do not say we had to shatter it four times. And when Asa finally discovered how to keep the shards separated, the stories do not tell how it was still not enough. How Dror and Maija withered when they grew too near to one another. How even several leagues was still not enough to keep them from losing some of their vitality. They do not say that the reason the Ashen Cuckoo’s tower is here is because it is this distance that keeps ruin at bay. Nor that Queen Maija has never seen the interior of her country because if she closed the distance to the Ker Shard it would rapidly age her at the same time as it aged the bearer.”
The cart rattled over the river stones and Sela set it down. “I don’t understand. The Queen could just leave her Splinter in the care of her army. Or send an army here to secure the other. Why should that keep you apart? Have you really found no one in all these years trustworthy enough to guard them?”
“Alas, Sela, I have had many friends who I trust. Many more than our small band of six. So did the Queen and all the others. Dror even had a lover he prized above all. It was not distrust that did this.” Nevdah’s fingers trembled slightly as he pulled his tunic aside. An oblong sliver of metallic black split the skin of his chest. “Asa kept the shards from reforming into that terrible weapon, but it came at a cost. Dror was first. He was always the bravest. It only took a little, every year. It only took a few breaths away over time, Asa told us. But he didn’t volunteer, either. And on the opposite end, the Hagion Splinter extended those breaths. And Maija was the obvious choice.” He touched the edge of the sliver gingerly. “Not because I loved her. The people already loved her, too. She was always going to be Queen if we survived. It was always her rallying the realm, pushing us to stop Grindall, standing in the breach. That’s why I asked if she looked as young as she had when last I saw her. It’s been so long, Sela. We had such a good life. And the others paid for it. Dror lasted a decade. Asa went next, said it was his fault. We tried to persuade him that he was the only one who could undo it, but he— I don’t think he was the same. I think the guilt destroyed him. He only lasted two. Then Zyvie. And Barnabus. I remember the last time I was here— before. We were young men still. Youngish. We should have been. But he was frail. The man had been— enormous. Laugh as loud as a cathedral organ and he could knock me over with a friendly tap not even meaning to. But I came to visit, to bring him news and company and the wine he used to love. He was a shell. All the color gone from his hair, from his skin. He hunched and his gaze was always distant. He was silent more often than not. And he told me I’d better go, if I wanted to say goodbye. He meant if I wanted to say goodbye to Maija. We’d run out of time. I wish I’d gone. I wish I’d run back to her and— “ Nevdah broke into a sob and wiped his face. Sela reached out to touch his shoulder. “I was the last. I was the last and cursed to endure the longest. I never got to tell her properly. There was no time. And now there is too much. All these years we never asked another to take the shards. How could we? We woke up every day and kept deciding to try and save the world. But now— there’s nobody left. And I am not young. Or youngish. What will happen when there’s no one to hold the Ker Splinter?”
