The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)(49)

It made Trynne cringe inside.



There was nothing in Morwenna’s demeanor or attitude that hinted she was about to perform trickery. After walking together to one of the palace fountains—each was guarded by Espion day and night—Morwenna stepped into the waters without any hint of ceremony, her arm still linked with Trynne’s. Trynne followed and they both stood together.

Into the cistern, Trynne thought, her stomach full of butterflies. It was a motto of courage she’d learned from her father. He’d feared heights when he was a child, but Lady Evie had grasped his hand and jumped into the water of the cistern at Kingfountain with him—an experience that had awoken his bravery.

“First, we go to Pisan,” Morwenna said. “It intersects the east-west ley line. Normally I would have brought us to Marq or Guilme, but both are controlled by Gahalatine.” She uttered the word of power in a low voice, “Kennesayrim,” and the magic pulled them away on the ley line. It was a familiar sensation now, and in an instant, they were standing in a small circular fountain at the poisoner school. Night had just fallen, and Trynne saw the torches on the walls, flickering orange light. The stone sconces were sculpted into the form of twisting snakes and the walls were made of wood and plaster. An old, mildewy smell of waterways and damp corners filled the air.

Morwenna wrinkled her nose, still clutching Trynne’s arm. “Have you been to Pisan before?” she asked.

“Never,” Trynne replied.

“I would offer to show you around. The training yard is unlike anything you’ve seen, I’m sure. But perhaps another time would be better.”

Trynne nodded.

Morwenna smiled impishly. “I’ve gone to Chandigarl many times, Trynne. There are so many people, you couldn’t possibly imagine it.” She gave Trynne a coaxing smile. “Now be ready. It’s a long fall.”

The poisoner uttered the word of power again, but this time the feeling of falling down a waterfall persisted for much, much longer. Trynne’s stomach roiled with sickness and nausea as the magic swept them away. Would the journey never end? There was a fear that it might not, that she was trapped beneath some enormous cascade of water that fell into oblivion. She felt Morwenna’s arm tighten against hers.

Suddenly, they arrived. Trynne wobbled, wanting to fall down, but Morwenna held her up and uttered the word, “Anthisstemi.” It was the same word Myrddin had used when he had taken her to make her oaths.

Trynne straightened, feeling her strength instantly return.

“Thank you,” she muttered, disentangling their arms. The very air felt different, full of humidity and moisture and strange smells. She was used to the noise of morning birds chirping, but this land was full of clicking insects mixed with a different kind of birdsong.

Even the fountain was different. Instead of it being a circle, it was made of a series of half-circles at odd angles to each other. The porcelain tiles were a rich blue, and the waters had a greenish cast. No coins were resting in the basin.

Morwenna stepped outside of the fountain and her image shimmered as she disguised herself in courtly dress. Her hair was still black, but now it was done up into intricate ringlets that cascaded down from a series of headdresses. Her skin was darker, her eyes slanted, but Trynne could still tell it was Morwenna. The disguise could not shield that truth from Trynne’s magic.

“These are the ceremonial robes of a Shaliah,” Morwenna explained, gesturing to her pale silver gown and high girdle. “They are sacred healers in this society. I adopted the disguise because it allows me to wander wherever I wish. Come, we’re at the edge of the zenana. We cannot get there through the ley lines.”

Trynne adjusted the strap across her shoulder, feeling the bulk of the weapons in the lute case thump against the small of her back. She also stroked her arm, feeling the straps holding the Tay al-Ard beneath the garment, grateful for its reassuring presence.

The little shrine with the fountain sat amidst a park full of willowlike trees with deep green foliage and fragrant blossoms. The plants and flowers were unlike any she had seen in Kingfountain, and the enormity of the park was very striking. Everywhere she looked, there were people walking, exercising, and enjoying the beauty of the place. Some were even playing musical instruments. There was no debris anywhere along the grass-lined path. The grounds were immaculately kept, and extended almost as far as the eye could see.

Morwenna walked along a paved footpath that led toward a long wall of trees. Trynne had no idea what kind of trees they were, but the leaves were red and jagged and looked like fire. It was lovely beyond anything she’d seen before. Beyond them, Trynne could smell a lake and hear the ripples of the water lapping against the shore.

“The zenana is over there,” Morwenna said, pointing toward the enormous lake through the trees. “They’re still building a bridge to connect the island to the mainland, but that will take years. You can see the part they’ve completed over there.” She gestured to it, and Trynne saw the sweeping archways extending into the waters. It only went partway across, but the portions that had been completed were intricately carved.

“How do we get there?” Trynne asked, glancing backward to see if anyone was following them. The garden had dozens of people, but it was vast enough to feel empty.

“There is a harbor right there,” Morwenna said. “They have stone boats. That is the only way to cross. Men are not permitted to enter the boats without a scroll showing the royal seal. Women can come or go as they please, or so I’ve been told. Do you know the word of power for languages?”