This is an excerpt from the upcoming Raven Canticle release Tides of Blood by J.E. Zarnofsky. Tides of Blood will go available for preorder tomorrow (look for that announcement then)!
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Chapter One
Dedicating half of my life to training in stealth, espionage, and sword work had proven useful for just one thing - infiltrating the Great Library. Well, two things actually. But last night was for fighting in the tavern. Today, I intended to make one last memory before I left home.
Crouching at the edge of the plateau, I waited for the morning guard. The burnt orange luminaries cast deep shadows across the lush valleys below me. The sky swayed between purples and reds with the brightening orbs. A faint breeze carried the scent of rain across the arid cliffs.
So many mornings like this one, I used to watch the dawn with my grandmother, Fayza, and every time she’d say how she hated these empty dawns. The elders always said the world ended fifty years ago, and if you ask me, that’s some doomsday nonsense. Yes, things changed, drastically. But those who remained rebuilt their lives and figured out how to live in the world they found beneath their feet.
Leather boots shuffling across dirt and stone beneath the ledge stole my thoughts. They neared with a lackadaisical step. The last night-guard finally arrived.
He edged into view along the path carved beneath my ledge. After a few paces, he stopped and waved at someone ahead of him. I squinted, pushing away the daze of too much honeyed wine and not nearly enough sleep.
“I thought your shift ended?” a woman called from beyond where I could see.
The guard shrugged. “Just about. You’ll get someone else to keep you company soon enough.”
“I could use the change of scenery.”
Two guards. My simple morning slipped off the cliff into the rocks below. The change of shifts between the night and morning guard always left a hole where I could follow the tired guard, unseen. It wasn’t as if guards were even necessary—the impenetrable cliffs of Shozzai left it as a titular role, an unofficial, tiresome rite of passage for some, and insufferable punishment for the rest of us.
If I were a smarter woman, I would have gone home, made myself a cup of coffee, and nursed my hangover. Chances were my mother had pulled some strings to shove a knife in my plans.
All the more reason to go.
I palmed a small stone and leapt from my perch to the path carved into the cliffside not too far below. At the sound, the second guard gasped and stepped away,
no longer gazing over the valleys. She looked vaguely familiar, no older than my brother and likely one of his classmates.
Her eyes narrowed, flecks of silver paint around them catching the morning light. “What are you doing here?”
“Running late, unfortunately.” I shrugged and flipped a rope of hair out of my face.
She chewed her lip, and her hand hovered over the bone horn on her belt.
I rolled my eyes and gestured toward the cave entrance ahead. “Are we going or what? Let’s get this over with.”
Her hand dropped and she shook her head. “You’re just going to be dead weight today, aren’t you.” It wasn’t even a question. Clearly, Fahd hadn’t told his friends anything good about me.
I rolled my eyes.
Her entire body heaved as she resumed her trek.
As she passed me, I followed, taking audible steps. I pocketed the rock and stepped behind her. My right arm wrapped around her neck, and my free hand covered her mouth. Before she could struggle, I squeezed and counted to five. She slumped in my grip, and I let her go. Her pulse beat strongly against my fingers at her neck. I rolled her to the side, safe against the cliff wall. From my pouch I grabbed a wad of cloth, shoved it in her mouth, and tied her wrists with the rope from her own belt.
It wouldn’t hold her long. It didn’t need to.
I almost felt a bit guilty. But honestly, who hadn’t woken up at some point, gagged and tied up, wondering why someone practiced on them. Especially on a day of Seeking.
I turned toward the cave and ran silently over the red rock path. The level ground jutted over the valley and formed a small courtyard at the library’s primary entrance. It appeared nothing more than a natural cave, wide enough for two people to walk through if they didn’t mind rubbing their shoulders along the smooth stone.
The tunnel exited to a small grotto where an oversized carved desk and a chair waited for its librarian to return. The morning light streamed from the daylight hole above. A shadow darkened the room for a moment as the guard climbed the wood ladder, grumbling as he left. His replacement greeted him from the top, and I scurried along the shadows, clearing the grotto and taking the left tunnel to the main chamber.
The massive room of stone could have held a city within its walls. Carved paths swirled around the opening, each lined with shelves filled to the brim with tomes of history, stories, and sciences. Catwalks reached across the vast space connecting one side to the other. Small passages in the stone led to rooms filled with even more materials, while the floor beneath housed rows of tables and chairs.
I closed my eyes, letting them adjust to the nearly non-existent light. The familiar scent of musty paper and aged leather filled my lungs with every breath. No matter how much time I spent in this room, my heart raced every time I entered it.
And nothing was more peaceful than walking the stone paths of the Great Library before it opened, the lanterns were lit, and people crowded the shelves and tables. I needed one last stroll through the serene aisles, alone, to ease my mind.
Bitter, sharp metal pressed against my neck. My skin tried to leave my flesh. “You’re late,” my mother whispered. Even without seeing her, I could picture her crooked smirk. Her words echoed against the stone as she dropped the knife from my throat. “I expected you here an hour ago.”
I forced my shoulders to relax and turned to face her. “I decided to watch the dawn and ask Fayza for some guidance.”
Hanan’s face softened at my grandmother’s name. In the darkness, her metallic lines of gold paint shone more visible than her eyes. She placed her hand along my cheek. “She would have been proud of you. She wanted to see this, to see you enter the world you were born into.”
Yet this world that both my mother and I were born into, what remained after the Reformation, was a world that Fayza Karabela despised.
“Have you chosen your name yet?” she asked.
“No, nothing’s felt right.” I pulled away, leaning against the cool stone.
“You don’t have much time, Shamara,” my mother cooed. “What are they going to call you, the nameless one?” Her bird-like laughter carried through the cavern, echoing off the stone walls.
“I’ll figure it out. There’s plenty of time.”
“Is there, now?”
I rolled my eyes. “Why are you here?”
“You have few hours until your Seeking.” Her smile faded, replaced by the somberness only a mother can carry. “Do you know where you will go?”
“Nope.”
“Shamara.” Her tone carried more than just simple disapproval.
“Three years to explore. There’s no rush. I know I’m not going to go picking fights with warlords, unlike some people.”
My mother’s scowl deepened at my not-so-subtle jab. “I expect you to take this pilgrimage seriously. Your Seeking determines what path your ancestors will guide you to.”
“The world isn’t at war anymore. The ground’s not still vanishing beneath our feet. The sky hasn’t fallen yet, either. I’ll do this on my terms, not yours.”
“The world is not as peaceful as you think. If you believe that foolishness as truth, it will get you killed.” She frowned, pursing her lips as she examined me.
“I’ll be fine, mother.”
She shook her head. “You may think you can avoid warlords, their raids and their petty cruelty. It’s not as simple as not going north and staying out of Torashone. Others may not wear the title, but they’ll still fashion themselves the sort. Greed and power are a plague that threaten Cirra’s balance everywhere. And wearing a disguise of civility makes them far more dangerous than
12 Tides of Blood
those who wear their intentions plainly.” She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. When she opened them, Hanan turned on her heels and left along the curving path.
I watched her go, treading in the sea of her words, unwilling to admit she might be right.
Hanan’s voice echoed through the empty library. “Oh, Adrashir! What a lovely surprise seeing you here.” I hid behind a shelf and debated between escaping to another exit or eavesdropping. Suffering through lectures and mandatory service for being caught trespassing were not on my to-do list for the day.
“Hanan Karabela.” Adrashir’s baritone voice had always made him difficult to read from afar, a small part of why he sat on the council with her. “What brings you here this early?”
“I could ask you the same.”
“Not wise to be here alone, not with the hysteria that Jihan is trying to spread.”
Hysteria? So, eavesdropping it was.
My mother groaned. “He is old enough he barely remembers his own name.”
“He still oversees the records,” he said.
“That doesn’t make his mind flawless. No one is sneaking in and removing names from the books. There has been no evidence of tampering, magical or otherwise.” Her words were firm and finite. It was a sign to Adrashir that the debate ended, and a sign to me she would let him pass.
Whatever removing names meant, I didn’t need to be caught and interrogated over something I wasn’t actually involved with.
I scurried down the path, weaving my way through the maze of side tunnels until I reached the upper grotto. The light streamed brighter from the hole above, calling me with its dance. The smooth red stone that surrounded me glittered as if it were living flame. These paths and tunnels were a part of me, and I wondered how well I would remember them when I returned home.
I breathed it in and tucked the memory away for when I would need it again.
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