He Who Breaks the Earth (The Gods-Touched Duology)
He Who Breaks the Earth: Chapter 8

The sun was a blessing, as were the sound of wind in the sails, the rush of water, and the world open before Noa like a gift. She didn’t want to come down from the low sail, a hidden platform just behind it as if the sailors on this ship needed to keep a clear view of the river without anyone getting a clear view of them. She stretched her bare toes and hummed the first few bars of her favorite song, a bawdy thing she’d skipped to through the streets singing at the top of her lungs with her dance troupe after performances, hoping her father would hear of it by morning.

The memory made Noa stop singing.

“This isn’t your first time on a boat.” The voice made Noa jump, and she looked down to replace the captain, Ellis, just under her on the rigging. “None of Anwei’s other friends know how to tie knots, hoist a sail, or operate a winch.”

“Learning made my father angry.” She grinned down at him. “So I did it as often as I could.”

“A girl after my own heart.”

“He has boats out here somewhere. Not as big as this one.” She swept an eye appreciatively across the large vessel. It was not a pretty boat. Not even a fast boat. But sitting up at the top with a destination she’d chosen and no chance anyone would stop her felt like a whole new life.

Except for the shapeshifter. He might stop them. But Noa didn’t mind that so much. Shapeshifters were crammed full of magic and death and teeth and claws, not silver rounds. “Maybe I’ll end up on a boat like this, laughing at the world as it goes by.”

“This boat doesn’t care much what anyone thinks of it.” Ellis squinted against the sun. “It seems a little like you, in that way.” He pointed to the platform, some kind of metal tube on a strap hanging down his back. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to go not care what people think deckside, because I need the platform.”

“What for?” Noa slid over, grabbing hold of the crisscross of ropes around the short mast.

“Business.” He climbed up and pulled the strap off his shoulder, setting up the tube on a sort of tripod. When she didn’t climb down, Ellis propped a hand under his chin. “And you’d have to join up to the crew if you want more information than that.”

“Are there open spots?” Noa asked. “I’ll join up right now.”

“Yaru won’t appreciate me poaching her crew, and I prefer it when Yaru appreciates me.” Shooing her with one hand, Ellis turned back to the tube, going up on his knees to peek up over the sail. “Now run along.”

Noa ducked to peek through the gap between sails and caught sight of what had Ellis so excited. Downriver, a stocky little boat was headed in their direction. She stilled, staring at the familiar shape of it in the distance. “Falan’s dice!” she hissed under her breath. Swinging backward off the beam, Noa tucked into a flip as she fell, landing on her feet.

“Fancy.” Altahn was sitting at the prow. “Was that for my benefit, or do you always add in a little sparkle for anyone who might be watching you jump from fifteen feet below?”

“I can’t help sparkling, Altahn.” She pushed past him to the rail, squinting at the boat quickly approaching. It was a much smaller vessel than the one they were on, fitted for no more than five crew members at the most, the rest of the space jam-packed with crates. Noa’s stomach twisted. Maybe her father had noticed that she’d gone.

“What’s going on with the pirate?” Altahn’s chin tipped up toward Ellis, the man’s long hair in a simple braid down his back that didn’t stop the bits round his face flying around his cheeks.

“Pirate?” Noa looked around frantically, wondering how in Calsta’s name she could have missed such an interesting detail.

“The prow’s painted green,” Altahn provided, warily looking around as sailors ran up from the hammocks below to fit oars to the ship’s low sides. “Pirates are the only ones who do that. Why are they so excited?”

“Be ready!” Ellis’s voice rang down over them. “It’s one of Russo’s! Keep your knives at hand, lads!”

“Are we sailing into a fight?” Altahn scrubbed a hand across his face. “This is the last time I’m letting Anwei call in favors just to get us somewhere faster.” He started for the passageway that led to the rooms. “Isn’t Russo your—”

A terrible boom rocked the boat, a shower of ash and smoke blocking Ellis from view. Noa darted after Altahn as the sailors frantically ratcheted up sheets of metal that had been hinged to the rails. Noa saw it before she felt it: a crack of light bright as lightning. A split second later, the sound of it buzzed through her to the bone.

The whole boat lurched sideways, sailors cursing, Ellis yelling—

“What under Calsta’s blue sky is going on?” Altahn roared, his placid smile finally forgotten.

“You’re the one who said they were going to fight. What do you think this is?” Noa peeked out through the doorway, smoke billowing up into the air, but she couldn’t tell from where.

“With your father?” Altahn ducked, stumbling to the ground and covering his head with his arms as the boat rocked again. “I guess I see now that if he wanted my sword, he would have been more direct. Seems like he’s here to collect you, as well.”

“Shut your mouth.” Noa breathed in deep only for the smoke to come coughing back out.

Altahn slid over to her, patting her back. “Are you all right?”

Eyes watering, Noa started to laugh. “Are you really”—she coughed, gasping for air—“stupid enough to ask me that question right now?”

Anwei and Knox came running up the hallway, rushing past them without sparing them a glance. No more explosions or loud cracks tore through the air for a moment, and Noa hunched forward, hands to her chest as the last few coughs squeezed out of her. She put an arm over her nose to block out the awful smell of smoke.

“It won’t help.” Altahn covered his nose and mouth despite what he’d said. “This stuff smells like it came from the Belains. The oil cast to the smoke gets through everything. They charge extra for it.”

“Another Trib clan?” Noa dragged him deeper into the corridor, jamming a shoulder into the locked cargo door. Altahn kicked it open and let her enter first, shutting the door once he was through. It was almost completely dark inside, the bare dribblings of light like lamps set to glimmer at the front of a stage.

At least the air tasted clean. Noa felt around until she found a low crate and sat on top of it, jumping when another muffled crack rang outside.

“I can’t believe someone sold these twits a salpowder carom.” Altahn’s voice cut sharp, and Noa could hear him rustling around in agitation. “They’re not supposed to leave Trib land. Calsta as my witness, heads are going to roll when I get back with Patenga’s sword.”

“A shapeshifter’s sword is going to stop Ellis from shooting fire at people?” Noa braced herself against the crate, wondering when the next impact would come. “I think the narmaiden’s already in the nursery, Altahn.”

Altahn’s footsteps thunked between crates, Noa’s eyes beginning to pick out shapes in the darkness. “Maybe they just bought a single carom. No one in their right mind would sell the plans….”

Noa stood, feeling her way after him. “Your father wouldn’t be pleased with the snarl you’ve made of things, I guess?”

Altahn stopped. Turned. “What?”

“Haring off after a sword when it seems like the Trib clans are making trouble.” Noa cocked her head. “I’m not trying to be mean. You’re a what… a clan kinder-something. Doesn’t that mean you’re supposed to be in charge?”

He put a hand on the crate next to him, his knees bending with the roll of the ship as if he suddenly needed the support to stop himself from folding up. “Kynate.”

“So fancy. Sparkly. Like me.”

Shaking his head slowly, he started checking crates and looking under bags. “Maybe Anwei will know if he has any more of them; then I can take them all with us when we go. She’ll… see the clues, or bend things together like she really is some kind of goddess. You know she did something to the salpowder back in Chaol that should have been impossible.” Altahn threw a shadowy bundle from the stacks of goods onto the ground, then kicked it on his way to the next line of crates.

Noa slid between him and the row, her hands up. “Okay, first of all, if this guy really is a pirate, stop breaking his stuff. It’s not like the shipping advisor this time. Ellis is right here to notice if you put a hole in the beautiful portrait he’s just commissioned.”

Altahn grunted. “You knew that was one of your father’s boats. Is he looking for you? Are you leaving him clues or something? Is Anwei holding you hostage, and your way of crying out for help is continually referencing a naked shipping advisor I would prefer to forget?”

“I pray to Falan that my father isn’t searching for me. I thought I had at least a month before he’d notice I was gone.” Noa hopped onto a crate next to Altahn, eyeing the bag on the floor he’d kicked. It had made suspiciously shattery noises when it hit the ground. “But I’m beginning to wonder if leaving even matters. I was sitting up there in the wind thinking this was the last place he’d ever want me. And then wondering if I chose to come because of him. Is that really escaping, or is it just a different cage?”

Altahn didn’t speak for a moment. Then slid onto the crate beside her. “My father wanted me to marry this girl.”

Looking over, Noa wondered where Galerey had gotten to, Altahn’s sleeves and collar unoccupied for the first time she’d ever seen. “Is she pretty, at least?”

“Who cares? I’ve always done everything he asked, even when it meant staying in every evening to read the codes instead of racing horses with my friends. Waking up with the sun every morning to properly reverence the Blue Lady, though we never actually did anything other than yawn a bit and shiver. Or leading riders on salpowder runs when every single one of them had been hunting firekey warrens since before I was born. Telling me to replace some nice flowers for a bridal wreath before I’d even met the girl who was supposed to wear them was too much.”

Noa hated the feeling bubbling up inside her: jealousy. Altahn’s father had been training him to lead their clan. Every time she’d tried to look at travel routes or supply lists, her father swatted her away. She’d been one of the goods listed on his shipping manifests, not worth his notice beyond replaceing the right man to buy her. He didn’t even care if she liked men.

She did. But he’d never thought to ask.

“I’m supposed to be on a trip choosing textiles for my wedding with my father’s most recent…” She waved her hand indeterminately. Mostly because there weren’t clear words, only that her father’s latest companion was sure, as they all were, that she was going to be the one that stuck. A sad naivete that Noa had long since learned to ignore because it didn’t do to attach herself to her father’s women—her own mother had lasted longer than most, by all reports. She hadn’t been sent back to Elantia until Noa was three. “The woman was so excited that I entrusted the whole affair to her superior taste that she didn’t realize leaving without me and not telling anyone was a bad idea.”

“You’re engaged?” Altahn looked up, realization dawning on his face. “The first time I saw you, you were with the governor’s son.”

“That’s the one.” Noa pressed her lips together. “Not the highest bidder, but the one with the best silver round to political power ratio. Father’s been waiting years to cash in on his investment in raising a daughter. He got a respectable bride price for me, but the real prize was a connection to the man controlling the docks across the bay from Lasei.” She turned a little, leaning toward Altahn. “Can you imagine the money he’ll make selling under the table? He thinks if he wishes hard enough, the borders will stay closed forever except for the one little tunnel he’s dug to Lasei.”

“Men like your father don’t rely on wishes.”

Noa nodded because it was true. “What about you? Did your father need some extra… what do Trib pay for bride price? Cows?”

“Fathers pay dowry to ensure their daughters are taken care of among the clans. And yes. In cows. Because that’s all we care about.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was only—”

“I know.” Altahn sighed, pressing back the long fringe of hair hanging down his cheek. “Everything was set though, cows included, before anyone thought to tell me about it.”

“So technically you’re engaged too? Wreaths and everything?”

“Technically. But I…. couldn’t do it. Father said he understood, and I thought he meant that maybe I could have a say in that at least, but then he told me to take a few riders south, have a few laughs, and then be ready to do my duty when I got back.” He took a deep breath. “So I went south. Heard about Tual looking for tombs. And… got obsessed. We knew where Patenga would have dug his tomb, and the legends about the sword put it with him inside. I stayed in the south for weeks, sent people to go looking for the tomb, greased the right palms. When they found the opening, I went home.”

“Distraction tactics. I like it.”

“No, the sword is important. It wasn’t just a distraction. It was…” Altahn scrubbed his hands down his face. “It has to be important. My father knew it was or he wouldn’t have let me convince him to go after it.”

“So you’re going to face down a shapeshifter to get it back?” Noa chuckled, nudging his shoulder. “I’ll write a story about you for my troupe to perform when I get back to Chaol.” A twinge of sadness rippled through her at the thought of them. She missed them. But she didn’t miss them enough to want to go back. “The bridegroom who would rather fight monsters than wear flowers in his hair. Maybe she’s beautiful. Maybe she’s smart. Maybe—”

His head dipped. “It doesn’t matter what she is, because now that my father is gone, it’s worse. While he was here, I wanted to please him. Now, it’s like the things he wanted matter more. Like I have to be the son he wanted now. I have to go replace that girl and set a wreath on her head. I have to replace this sword, because if I don’t…” He trailed off, his voice nothing more than a ghost.

“If you don’t, what will happen, Altahn?”

Altahn’s chin tipped toward her, his eyes replaceing hers in the dark. “It was my fault he was in the tunnel.”

“Guilt makes you more obedient than love?” Noa flinched at the words herself, almost wishing she hadn’t said them. She turned away from him, her smile falling away. “I never was obedient. When I realized being disobedient wouldn’t force my father to see me as a person, I knew I had to get away. Yet somehow he’s still in charge now. Everything still revolves around him. The things I think, the songs I sing, what I say, what I like, what I wear. Like all I’ve ever been was a thorn in his finger that he couldn’t wait to pull out, but now that I’ve pulled myself out, all I am is a thorn. Not connected to anything.”

Altahn looked down at her skirts, threaded through with gold and silver. “You’re nice-looking for a thorn.”

She laughed. It was quiet outside now, so whatever had happened was done, and none of her father’s sailors were hammering on the door looking for her, which was a promising sign. “The question I’m trying to ask myself is what do I want. It sounds so easy, but it isn’t.” She glanced at him. “Unless you’re already happy with what you’ve got. A bunch of cows?”

“Cows aren’t so bad. At least I want to believe it. Why else would my father have worked so hard to get them?” Altahn’s heels kicked against the crate. After a moment he slid off and bent to inspect the crate’s label before moving to the next. “But I really do want the sword. Patenga stole it from us, and ever since, our clan hasn’t had a single gods-touched. We’ve been unlucky, the mountains capped with snow, the firekeys hiding from us.”

Gods-touched among Trib? Noa perked up at the thought, ideas about stories featuring the vast network of lies to hide their young from Devoted. There would be fighting, and dancing, and her fire tethers roaring to life…

“The idea always was to retrieve the sword in order to bring Calsta’s favor back to us. My whole family for generations has spent at least one month every year giving up things they’ve seen Devoted refuse—the things Calsta requires, even if the Warlord won’t share what the oaths are. Sugar, onions, spices—”

“So you are a Prin….” The voice startled Noa even as it fumbled over the word. She turned to replace a shadow approaching from the hold door. Her skin prickled at the way the darkness twisted around the form, too large to be a man. She slid off the crate, her heart beating faster.

Knox’s mouth twisted in thought as he stepped closer, oblivious to her discomfort. He turned to look at Anwei, who’d followed him in. “Prina? That’s not right. Priath? No, pritha.”

“Did you just call me a pineapple?” Altahn’s brow furrowed. “In my own language?”

Anwei’s mouth curved into an unwilling smile as she grabbed hold of Noa’s hand. “He means priantia. A holy one. Trib who sacrifice everything in the hopes that Calsta will notice them and touch them with her power.”

“I know what priantia means.” Altahn didn’t follow as Anwei dragged Noa toward the door.

“Ellis is breathing fire, and he’s on his way down here.” Anwei’s grip on Noa’s hand was almost as tight as her voice as she led her between crates. “What in Calsta’s name are you two doing breaking in here? That was literally his one condition, that we stay out of the hold.” Noa craned her neck to keep one eye on Knox and his host of shadows, the idea of him lurking behind her as welcome as a spider crawling into her mouth.

“Altahn!” Anwei hissed. “Come, now.”

“I have to replace out if he has any other caroms down here. That other ship had one too. If Ellis is selling them—”

“Those salpowder tubes? The other ship didn’t have one. I’m not exactly sure what happened, but—” Anwei let out an exasperated breath and gave Noa a push through the door. “Get out of here.” She turned back to the darkness. “Knox? Hurry up. I have to fix the damage they did to the door and stop Altahn from stealing pirate booty.”

“I can’t let him keep them,” Altahn hissed back. “Caroms belong to Trib and Trib alone, and the Commonwealth having them will change…” He looked up at Anwei, as if suddenly wondering how may words he’d said out loud and which ones would fetch the highest price.

“I can help you search.” Anwei’s whisper was hoarse. “I’ll even help you get them out of here, but we can’t take them until we’re about to step off this boat.”

“Is this the part of some new contract between us? You help me replace the caroms, and suddenly I owe you extra salpowder?”

“Call it a kind deed, Altahn. Just get out of there!”

Altahn blinked, then nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

“Come on.” Knox swept into the hall, sending Noa scuttling toward the deck. He strode past her, moving faster at the sound of Ellis’s voice grumbling down from above.

“What did the other ship do?” Noa forced herself to grab hold of Knox’s sleeve. “It was one of my father’s. They didn’t try to board? Didn’t know I was here, right?”

“You think he’d try to come after you?” Knox’s brow furrowed. “Does Anwei know that?”

Noa shrugged. Ellis’s voice was growing louder.

Knox shrugged. “Best tell her. Ellis shot something toward the other boat—I guess he has some kind of monopoly on river trade. But the other boat shot off some kind of warning. By the time I got up there, they were charging us, like they meant to ram our boat head-on. Ellis ordered the sailors to back off the second he saw Russo’s house mark. We passed peaceably after that, so if your father is after you, he didn’t know you were here.”

“So, something’s different about my father’s boats. Ellis knows not to go after them.” Noa’s thoughts began to spark. Her father had stumbled across something to stop pirates like Ellis from blowing holes in his hull. Something to do with salpowder? Noa took an unwilling step toward the deck, the idea too interesting to stop the way it danced in her mind.

Knox paused, turning back toward her. “Please do not go spouting off about Russo’s boats. If a man like Ellis replaces out he has Russo’s own daughter on board, it’s not going to go well for us.” He squinted at her. “You’re all right, though?”

The words didn’t enter Noa’s mind at first, circling her twice before she understood what he was asking. A belanvian. A moody one. Concerned about her? “…Yes?” she said slowly.

“Not feeling sad about leaving your fancy bed and weird singing friends?”

Not concern, then. Noa grinned, stepping up to him and poking him directly in the chest, shuddering when the shadows around him billowed a little closer as if they were alive and wanted a good look at her. “You don’t like me.”

Knox’s shrug came a beat too slow. “I almost died the last time you didn’t come through. When we were at the governor’s house, your distraction started too late, I got poisoned, and you didn’t show up to get us out of the compound safely. Anwei and I both almost died.” He waved her off as footsteps started toward them from the deck. “I guess I’m just waiting for the next time you forget that the rest of us aren’t dressed in costumes, dancing around to entertain you.”