“Derien?”
“Attending Miriuzca. Don’t look so surprised!” Rafe laughed. “He’s full young yet, but he and Megs between them are weeding out those she ought to see from those who just want to see her. I predict a brilliant future for him as her primary councilor of state—after he’s old enough to legally buy a drink.”
“Then Megs is—”
“Fine,” Mieka said. “Once she was certain sure Miriuzca was all right—this is, you understand, after the curtain came crashing down with a noise like six dozen shattered window walls, and everybody saw what was up onstage, and the Fae left, and you fell over, and all that sort of thing—” Pause for breath. “—she sort of wilted. Dery sent word that she slept for ten hours and woke up good as new.”
“I’m glad.” Cade watched Mieka grin from ear to ear. “What?” he demanded.
“Oh, nothin’.”
“All right, then.” Hitching himself higher against the pillows, he asked, “What were you thinking, slashing through that barrier?”
Mieka didn’t answer directly. “It wasn’t destructive things that got poor Pirro in the end, y’know.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
It would sound sappy if he put words to it—but words and what they meant to him had got him out of that encounter with skin and brain intact. He could scarcely scorn them now. He took refuge in something Mieka had said last night. “All Black Lightning knew was how to evoke fear. Hate. Shame for being born anything but Wizard or Elfen. I made that mistake myself, y’know, when I countered their fire-breathing dragon by icing him up like the Pennynines in a snowstorm. That worked, but it wouldn’t have for much longer. You’re right, Mieka, it was the opposite of what they were spewing through the theater that defeated them.”
Rafe nodded and got to his feet. “We’ll go see about that lunching, shall we?” He collected Jeska with a glance, and they left the bedchamber.
Cade had known them all long enough to know that Mieka had something he wanted to say and the other two had left so he could say it. Cayden relaxed into the pillows and arched a brow at him.
“Yeh, about Pirro…” He shifted uncomfortably at the foot of Cade’s bed. “I don’t know what sort of thorn he was using, but—he wasn’t anything I recognized. And it wasn’t as if he was doing this on his own. Thierin was using him like—like he was a living, breathing withie, naught but magic that he gave him. It wasn’t even his own magic. It was all Thierin’s.”
“Maybe it wasn’t thorn,” Cade mused. “Maybe that sort of magic, all that power, is a thrall in itself. And Pirro wanted more. Couldn’t help himself.” There would be a certain dark glory in it, he supposed.
“Maybe so. Towards the end there, I felt him reaching out. Pathetic, really. Some tiny crumb of him was still there and wanted to feel something—anything—other than what Thierin had put in those withies.”
“And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Provide.”
One shoulder hitched in an embarrassed shrug. “Kind of. I guess. I tried to. There was an awful lot to work with, once I explained to everybody what was needed. Longbranch and everybody, they put everything they had into those withies, and then used them to back up what I was doing with the knife—How did you…” He searched Cade’s eyes and trailed off. “Never mind. Tell me some other time. Anyways, first I concentrated on just a section of it, so I could hack my way through—”
“That sword was nicely done, by the way.”
“Knottinger believed it, and that’s what counted. Though I had to get in close, to make sure the sharp part caught him. I wanted to take his whole arm, but I didn’t dare risk it.” He pleated an edge of the blanket. “Quill … what was the point of all this?”
“To make everyone in the audience love and adore Cyed Henick.” When Mieka snorted, Cade insisted, “No, think about it. Everybody who’s anything other than Wizard or Elf hated themselves. They’d do anything not to feel that anymore. Black Lightning had found a way to identify all the magical races—”
“The colors!” Mieka exclaimed.
“Exactly. And once they knew who was what, there’d be a specific magic to change them—I’ve forgotten what word Emmot used, or maybe it was the Archduke, but it doesn’t matter. The goal was to make everybody support him as King. They’d never question him. Never gainsay him. Because they’d love him. Everyone would obey, and willingly, because it would never occur to them to doubt him.” He saw Mieka shudder. “He said that I’d do just what he wanted, tell him about the Elsewhens whenever he asked, and like it.”
There was a small silence. Then Mieka said firmly, “Well, he’s dead. Pity he took so many people with him.”
“I feel sorry for King Meredan.”
“Feel sorrier for the Queen. The last of her life with him, she hated him for everything he was.”
“Somebody ought to tell her that wasn’t her fault.”
“We can talk it over with Miriuzca. Oh—almost forgot! Dery said that Megs was approached by the Stewards and I’ve a feeling Miri will make her Chief Steward so she can reorganize and retrain everybody.”
Cade nodded. “She’ll enjoy that! Might be a good idea to have a Steward at every performance, not just at Seekhaven, but out on the Circuits. Just to be safe. The Lord and Lady only know what Black Lightning might’ve got up to, these last couple of years. Experimenting on their audiences, preparing for last night.”
“We can talk about that, too. Miriuzca wants to see us at the Castle tonight for dinner, if you’re recovered enough.”
“I’m fine. I’m not sure what happened to me just before that moonglade, though.”
Mieka took a moment to consider his answer. “I’ve never seen anybody who looked like he was made of glass, but you did. I thought if I gave you something familiar…” He finished with a shrug.
It hadn’t been just the sight of it that was familiar. It was the word itself. Moonglade was home. Where he was safe. Where he belonged.
Cade searched Mieka’s face. This was not the broken man Cade had seen in the worst dreams—for even the death dreams weren’t as bad as seeing Mieka destroyed. This was his lively, laughing, mad and clever little Elf, strong and confident. No, more than strong: powerful. He knew himself. He knew his own worth. He knew that he could face up to any fear. He would still play the jokester, and he would still drive them all to distraction with his pranks. But he was more than that, infinitely more, and he knew it. As for the magic … it glimmered from him, shining in his eyes, practically glowing on his skin.
Rafe and Jeska came in with trays of food and drink. After arranging one on Cade’s bed and the other on the desk, chairs were dragged over and a lavish lunching began.
All at once Rafe asked, “Seen much of anything lately?”
The casual question interrupted him in mid-swallow. He coughed slightly, then said, “No. Why?”
“Well, it’s just that it kind of occurred to me … to us, I mean…” He sighed, impatient with himself, and started again. “None of this showed up, did it? Nothing of what happened last night. Because you didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“I beg your pardon!”
Jeska held up a placating hand. “That’s not what he meant. It took all of us, Cayden. Not just you alone. It was you and me and Rafe and Mieka, Hawk’s Claw and Crystal Sparks—”
“Megs and Baltryn,” Rafe contributed.
“And the Fae,” Mieka finished.
“And the Harpy,” Cade said.
“I swear that I’ll never call your mother that again,” Mieka said fervently.
“I should think not,” Rafe drawled. “Lady Jaspiela likes her meat fully cooked.”
Cade felt queasy. “D’you honestly think the Harpy—? I mean, did Black Lightning—?”
“—become dinner?” Mieka supplied brightly.
Jeska set down his fork and scowled. “I’ll make you regret that, I swear I will.”
“
She spat out Cyed Henick,” Cade said. “Didn’t like Emmot much, either. Though the faerie dragons made a feast of them both.”
Jeska pointed a long finger at him. “No. Not a word more.” He turned to Mieka. “From either of you!”
Cade laughed. This, too, was where he was supposed to be. So easy, so welcome, to think of spending the rest of his life like this: laughing, sniping, discussing, arguing, traveling the Kingdom’s stages, all in service to their creativity and their unequaled performances. It occurred to him then that last night they’d given perhaps their greatest performance to date, without ever formally taking the stage.
Which reminded him of something he wanted to ask Mieka. “How did you convince Thierin that it was a real sword?”
“Quill. Old thing.” Making a face of infinite tolerance, he asked, “How long ago did I save your sorry asses that night in Gowerion?”
“Nine years, and I could quibble a bit with your interpretation, but what’s that to do with—”
“Nine years. Do I really have to remind you after nine years that on that night you joined up with the best and finest and cleverest and gorgeous-est glisker in Albeyn?”
Jeska threw a buttered muffin at him. Rafe rolled his eyes. Mieka smiled sweetly. Cade looked at each of them in turn. The rest of his life, just like this … with grayer hair, of course, and in his case much less hair … he had the feeling that whatever the Elsewhens might show him from now on would have their basis in this moment. He laughed again, and poured them all another cup of tea.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
There is a nagging temptation when writing an Author’s Note to address various things brought up by readers (Yeah, they do cuss quite a bit. But who’d believe these guys were nineteen years old if their strongest language was,“Well, fooey”?). For the most part, however, it is not a good idea to comment. The books ought to stand on their own—or, as Robert Redford succinctly puts it, “Do the work, and move on.”
I am muchly beholden to Russ Galen, Danny Baror, Beth Meacham, Laurie Rawn, Gena Lang, Jim and Tracy Taylor, BJ Doty and Primus St. John, Rodney and Jeane Relleve Caveness, and Ellen Browning Scripps.
Please visit my website at www.melanierawn.com. Good folks there, to whom I am also beholden.
Moving on now.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
(most of them, anyway)
BELLGLOSS, MASTER purveyor of thorn
BLACKPATH
ALAEN lutenist
BRIULY Alaen’s cousin; lutenist
BOWBENDER
AIRILIE Jeska’s daughter
JESCHENAR masquer, Touchstone
KAZIE Jeska’s wife
CHALLENDER, MIRKO tregetour, Crystal Sparks
COLDKETTLE, LORD Prince Ashgar’s private secretary
CROWKEEPER, HERRIS fettler, Black Lightning
CZILLAG
CHATTIM glisker, the Shadowshapers
DESHENANDA his wife
DAGGERING, LEDERRIS masquer, Crystal Sparks
EASTKEEPING
LORD KELINN Vrennerie’s husband
LADY VRENNERIE lady-in-waiting to Princess Miriuzca
EMMOT, SAGEMASTER Cade’s teacher, now retired
FAIRWALK, LORD KEARNEY Touchstone’s manager
FLUTER, TOBALT reporter, The Nayword
GOLDBRAIDER
VERED tregetour and masquer, the Shadowshapers
BEXAN Vered’s wife
GRAINER
CHIRENE Sakary’s wife
SAKARY fettler, the Shadowshapers
HENICK
CYED Archduke
PANSHILARA his wife, the Archduchess
HIGHCOLLAR
LORD ISSHAK Lady Jaspiela’s father
LADY KIRITIN Lady Jaspiela’s mother; born Blackswan
KEVELOCK, RAUEL tregetour and masquer, the Shadowshapers
KNOTTINGER, THIERIN tregetour, Black Lightning
LONGBRANCH, TRENAL tregetour, Hawk’s Claw
MINDBENDER, MEGUERIS lady-in-waiting to Princess Miriuzca
MISTRESS CAITIFFER Mieka’s mother-in-law
MISTRESS GESHA Trollwife at Shellery House
MISTRESS LUTA Trollwife in Seekhaven
MISTRESS MIRDLEY Trollwife at Redpebble Square
MISTRESS TOLA Trollwife; friend of Mistress Mirdley’s
MISTRESS WINGDOVE innkeeper in Lilyleaf; “Croodle”
NEEDLER, ROMUALD the Shadowshapers’ manager
OAKAPPLE, LORD distant cousin of the Blackpaths
PIERCEHAND, LORD ROLON owner of Castle Eyot, compulsive collector
ROBEL Yazz’s wife, part Giant
SEAMARK, KAJ masquer, Black Lightning
SILVERSUN
CADRIEL Zekien’s father, Master Fettler
CAYDEN tregetour, Touchstone
DERIEN Cade’s younger brother
LADY JASPIELA Cade and Dery’s mother; born Highcollar
ZEKIEN their father
SPANGLER, PIRRO glisker, Black Lightning
STAINDROP, BRISHEN Mishia’s sister
TAWNYMOOR, LORD Princess Iamina’s husband
THREADCHASER
CRISIANT Rafe’s wife; born Bramblecotte
RAFCADION fettler, Touchstone
MISTRESS Rafe’s mother
MASTER Rafe’s father; baker
WARRINGHEATH, MASTER owner of the Kiral Kellari
WINDTHISTLE
BARSABIAS Hadden’s great-uncle; “Uncle Breedbate”
BLYE Jed’s wife; born Cindercliff; glasscrafter
CILKA Mieka’s sister
HADDEN Mieka’s father
JEDRIS Jez’s twin brother
JEZAEL Mieka’s brother
JINSIE Mieka’s twin sister
JINDRA Mieka’s daughter
JORIE Tavier’s twin sister
MIEKA glisker, Touchstone
MISHIA Mieka’s mother; born Staindrop
MISTRESS WINDTHISTLE Mieka’s wife; born Caitiffer
PETRINKA Cilka’s twin sister
SHARADEL Hadden’s great-grandmother; born Snowminder
TAVIER Mieka’s youngest brother
YAZZ Touchstone’s coachman; part Giant
The Royals
ASHGAR Prince; heir to the throne
IAMINA Princess; King Meredan’s younger sister
MEREDAN King of Albeyn
MIRIUZCA Princess; Ashgar’s wife
ROSHIEN Queen of Albeyn
GLOSSARY
aflunters in a state of disorder; discombobulated
agroof flat on your face
backspang a tricky evasion
blodder to flow with a gurgling sound
bonce head
brach a hound bitch
breedbate someone who likes to start arguments or stir up quarrels
bully-rook a bragging cheater
caitiff witch
carkanet necklace
chavish the sound of many birds chirping or singing at once; the sound of many people chattering at once
clinquant glittering
clumperton clownish, clumsy lout
cogger false flatterer; charming trickster
Consecreations, the consecrate collided with creation; the local holy book
crambazzle worn-out, dissipated old man
cullion rude, disagreeable, mean-spirited person
fliting an exchange of invective, abuse, or mockery, especially one in verse set forth between two poets
frustle to shake out and exhibit plumage
giddiot “giddy” and “idiot”
ginnel a narrow passage between buildings
glunsh to devour food in hasty, noisy gulps; by extension, a glutton
grinagog person with a stupid, gaping grin
grouk become gradually enlivened after waking up
hindering a warding put on an individual’s magic so it cannot be used
naffter stupid person
pantomancer person who sees omens in all events
pillicock idiot
poofter silly, effeminate man
quakebuttock (aw, come on—isn’t it obvious?)
quat a pimple; used in contempt of a person
quod jail
quoob eccentric fool
stitch up frame
tiring room from retire; a private chamber
yark vomit
TOR BOOKS BY MELANIE RAWN
Spellbinder
Fire Raiser
THE GLASS THORNS SERIES
Touchstone
Elsewhens
Thornlost
Window Wall
Playing to the Gods
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MELANIE RAWN is the three-time Locus Award–nominated author of the bestselling Dragon Prince trilogy, the Dragon Star trilogy, and the Glass Thorns series, including Touchstone, Elsewhens, Thornlost, and Window Wall. She graduated from Scripps College with a B.A. in history and has worked as a teacher and editor. Rawn lives in Flagstaff, Arizona. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21