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

Noa’s lungs didn’t start working again until Anwei stopped in front of an apothecary.

How was she supposed to hide? Standing out was what Noa did. It wasn’t on purpose. It was like some kind of inborn, personal magic. She couldn’t turn it off at will.

Is this what your touch does, Falan? she asked when Anwei didn’t go in immediately, eyeing the blue swirls painted on the door with suspicion. Scholars said that lower gods couldn’t truly bestow powers the way Calsta and the nameless god could. But Noa didn’t need some kind of magic to come bursting out of her to prove that Falan loved her just as much as stuffy old Calsta loved her bloody-fingered Devoted.

Ready to be out of sight, Noa pulled open the door. “Come on,” she hissed, pulling her friend into the dark, low-ceilinged shop. Inside, mismatched jars of bones, dead snakes, and spiders glared at them, the dark clutter almost as menacing as Anwei’s expression. Every surface was crowded with treasure. If you treasured fish eyeballs and dead caterpillars, anyway. Which Noa did.

The shelves jutted out at odd angles so the shop felt like a maze. Flowers and dead leaves hung from the ceiling, and the air was muddy with spice.

Noa instantly liked the place.

The air almost seemed to hum around Anwei as she leaned back against the shop door, unwilling to go any farther, as if some of the things peering at them weren’t all the way dead. “Something is not right in here.” Anwei’s nostrils flared. “The whole place stinks of aukincy.”

“Should I expect all your contacts to be apothecarists with something not quite right about them?” Noa whispered.

“This isn’t an apothecary.” Anwei slid past her, a finger running along the bobbing host of distorted, bulbous animals stuffed inside their jars with no room to move. “Hello?” she called toward the back of the shop.

Noa followed quietly, excitedly looking over the shelves with this new bit of information. Tual Montanne was supposed to be an aukincer. The Warlord’s very own, to be exact. But he was the real thing—an actual shapeshifter, not a poor imitation mixing poisons and herbs and hoping they’d come together to make magic without a god to help them change. Could the shop belong to him?

Most high khonin didn’t mess around owning shops and such, but Noa could easily imagine a shapeshifter keeping a place like this, if only to occasionally pop out from behind the shelves to steal an unsuspecting customer’s eyeball.

Something rustled at the back of the store. Anwei crept toward the sound, and Noa tiptoed close behind, excitement brewing inside her.

Anwei stopped to peer around a taxidermied cat, bits of fur coming off when Noah pressed a hand to its back in order to get a look over her friend’s shoulder. Past the cat, Noa saw a counter nestled at the very back of the store. No one was there except for a gigantic fish skeleton that had been mounted on the wall, its bulbous eyes somehow still intact. Beneath the fish, a large purple curtain hid the wall, a breez rustling it from behind.

“Sorry, I heard you come in, but—” The curtain pushed open, and a man bustled through, hands full of a mortar and pestle. His dark hair was in long braids and twists just like Anwei’s, all of them pulled back in a neat tie at the nape of his neck. Anwei’s hand reached out to grab hold of Noa’s wrist, her eyes on the yellow grains in his mortar bowl.

He paused, his face crinkling into a pained twist before sneezing quite impressively into the crook of his elbow. “Sorry,” he repeated, setting the bowl of yellow powder on the counter. “I’ve been grinding this stuff all morning, and I’m beginning to think I’m allergic.”

Noa wanted to squeal with delight—Anwei had to be missing her people as much as Noa missed her own place in the world—but she faltered at the grip Anwei kept on her. A smile flickered on her friend’s face, a habit that could always save her, it seemed. No words came out, though, so Noa did what friends were supposed to. Lie.

“We were just wandering down the street and saw the blue door—my friend is low on herbs.” Noa pulled her wrist free of Anwei’s grip and walked up to lean on the counter, keeping well away from the yellow powder. “Do you have any of those?”

“Do I have… herbs?” The man licked his lips, looking up at the flowers and leaves hanging from the ceiling above her head. “Yes.”

“A friend of mine recommended your shop.” Anwei still hung back behind the shedding cat. “Paran?”

“Oh.” The Beildan pulled a stool up to the counter and began grinding his yellow powder again, his nose twitching. “He’s not in at the moment. We’ve got a shipment of face cream for nice young ladies such as yourselves”—he winked at Noa—“going out tonight. Getting it around those pirates hogging the Felac has been quite an adventure. Paran’s out there yelling at people as we speak.”

Anwei didn’t quite look at the bowl, her nose twitching. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even asked your name. I’m one of Yaru’s messengers.”

“I’m Cylus. Paran’s lousy healer. And you?” He grinned when Anwei didn’t respond, looking toward Noa. “All of Paran’s friends are the same. A little bit unkempt, dirt under their fingernails, and they all seem to have forgotten their own names.” He grinned toward Noa. “What about you?”

“Unkempt?” Noa straightened her back and gave him her best second khonin stare. “I beg your pardon?”

Cylus laughed, pushing the bowl aside to squint back toward Anwei. “You don’t look old enough to have made it out of Beilda.”

Anwei finally found the grin Noa knew so well, still not quite looking at the bowl that was now sitting between them on the counter. “Is that rinoe compound for part of your shipment, because contact with the skin can cause lesions and…” She gave a dainty sniff, then flinched back as if she’d gotten more than she’d bargained for. “Calsta’s breath! What else is in there?”

Cylus put up his hands, not the least bit fazed. “Oh, I know. Honestly, I was skeptical too, at first. Aukincy in general tends to bring us more patients than it cures.” He pulled the bowl a little closer. “But our local aukincer here can do miracles like I’ve never seen before.”

“An aukincer. Here in town?” Anwei’s face was a careful blank.

“No, he’s got some kind of estate out in the jungle north of here. Not many are brave enough to venture out that way except kids daring each other to enter the caves. He always comes in on a boat, then sails out again, but I’m not sure where he goes, exactly. The tributaries are quite treacherous.”

Noa knit her fingers in front of her on the counter, excitement an electric sting in her humors. This was truly living, clues coming up in a real conversation instead of as part of a script on stage. Even if the stage had more fireworks and nice music to set the mood. “The aukincer makes… face cream?”

“Comes in every few months with bricks for me to grind up,” Cylus was saying. “All he asks in return is that Paran stock a few less traditional supplies—”

A bell on the door chimed.

“You’ve been so helpful.” Anwei’s smile spread wide across her face. “I’ll come back when Paran—” Something changed in Anwei’s face, her nostrils flaring. She grabbed hold of Noa’s wrist again and dragged her behind the counter. Noa craned her neck to see who had come in but couldn’t catch a glimpse through the maze of shelves. Cylus slid off his stool, confused.

“I’m fascinated by these bricks. Do you mind if I take a look?” Anwei swept the curtain back before Cylus could stop her, pulling Noa into to a workshop crowded with tables and broken chairs. There were shelves up on their sides with jars clustered on top and underneath dried insects in trays, messy piles of leaves and petals sorted by color. In the center of the room, there waas a heavy work table with a yellow brick of compressed powder on a tray square in the middle.

“Um… all right?” Cylus fumbled to hook the curtain open on the edge of the door, Anwei shrinking back to the far corner of the workroom, out of direct line of sight from the shop. “I’ve got another customer, so…” He turned to face the man who’d come in, Noa only catching sight of a suede sun hat. The customer seemed to be quite taken with what looked like a jar of dirt near the entrance, then began exclaiming over a blue bottle with something lumpy and clawed bobbing inside.

Anwei scuttled across the workroom to the back door, which opened with a squeak. “Don’t touch anything,” she whispered, sliding through to hide behind it. “He doesn’t know you. Stall. No, watch him. No. Hide.”

“Anwei—” But the healer had already shut herself out of sight. Watch Cylus? Noa wondered. He’s not even the contact we were looking for.

“We were just talking about you.” Cylus called to the customer.

Edging around the table, Noa sat on the one unbroken chair, finally getting a clear view of the man who’d come in. He plunked the blue jar down on the counter and took off his hat. “Hopefully only good things. When did you get this little beauty in, Cylus? I ask specifically for rare specimens, and Paran puts this one out on the shelf for anyone to snap up?”

Tual Montanne.

Noa had never seen him in person, but she was certain it had to be him. She held her breath, drawing on every drop of stage training she had to present a calm exterior and sending a prayer up to Falan it would stick. This man looked so normal. Brown eyes. Light olive skin that could have matched just about any province in the Commonwealth. He had a beard, though, and Noa knew not to trust a man with a nicely shaped beard.

How could he have arrived at the shop at the same exact moment Anwei had come to meet her contact? In a stage production, such a coincidence never would have made it to the final script.

Noa’s humors went cold as Tual bent down to peer through the jar, glass and water distorting his brown eyes as he stared at the unfortunate creature floating inside.

“We never know when you’re going to be around, and you know Paran,” Cylus was saying. “He’s not going to say no to someone with silver rounds. Why anyone would want it is beyond me—it’s not only foul, but I half expect looking at it to give me some terrible disease.”

Tual grinned, standing up. “Foul and diseased, my two favorite words. I’ll have something really special ready for you when the rest of the things I ordered come in.”

“Noa!” Anwei was peeking through the shop door, a glimpse of a stairwell showing behind her. She mouthed the words rather than risk a whisper. “Get out of sight… move!”

But Noa couldn’t move because Tual had looked past Cylus to where she was sitting at the table, a curious smile on his good-natured face. But when their eyes met, a chill spread through Noa, shadows dancing behind his eyes that were there one moment, then gone the next. Like Knox’s shadows.

Falan seemed to rise inside her, pulling back Tual’s costume until she could see the darkness in his wake, a thousand times deeper than the flickers around Knox, though it was better contained. Noa swallowed, willing herself not to show the fear fizzing up inside her.

Tual gave her a friendly wave. “Are you a new assistant?” But then he caught sight of her khonin knots and frowned. “Someone of your rank shouldn’t be grinding up posies in the dark for an old coot like Cylus.”

Noa grinned, her face feeling strained. Knox’s stab wound. The plague in Chaol. Lia’s parents burned up in their own home. All those things belonged to this man, and she could feel it in those shadows lurking behind his eyes. Tual Montanne had no right to look so genial and harmless. He was a monster. Noa floundered for something to say, suddenly wishing this was a stage, with lines written for her to say, and a set happy ending.“I can’t just buy face creams willy-nilly. You’re the one who makes this stuff he’s mixing?”

When he nodded, Noa forced herself to gesture to the piles of dead plants on the table behind her. “My skin is extremely delicate. One wrong flower petal, and all this hard work…” She waved a hand across her face and snapped. “Gone.”

“We wouldn’t want that to happen—your skin’s a veritable work of art.” Tual’s smile was too warm for someone missing a soul. Or holding too many, she supposed. “You’ll put this old codger through his paces, but I think you won’t be disappointed. Speaking of which, Cylus, when are my shipments coming in? Is Paran here?”

“He’s, um…” Cylus glanced back at Noa apologetically, his eyes darting past her when he didn’t see Anwei. He leaned forward, trying to look farther into the room to catch sight of her. “He’s upstairs.”

Noa had to stop herself from frowning. Cylus had said Paran wasn’t there.

“There’s a new shipment of something up there,” Cylus continued. “He told me not to disturb him, but I think he’d want to know you’re here.” The healer walked into the little workroom, glancing around for Anwei. Noa’s stomach lurched, but when she looked back, Anwei had somehow slipped back inside and was calmly inspecting bunches of thorny stalks in the far corner where Tual wouldn’t be able to see her.

Cylus gave her an apologetic nod. As if his lie about Paran was the worst thing happening in the shop. “I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t touch anything, please.”

Anwei hardly looked away from the stalks, nodding until he disappeared through the back door and up the stairs, which creaked with each step. The moment he was out of sight, she waved her arms wide, then pointed to the wall between them and the counter. Her eyes bulged in the most unskilled attempt at charades Noa had ever seen. Noa sighed, wondering if it was too late to teach Anwei the proper value of a good stage whisper.

Tual hummed tunelessly, tapping his fingers against the counter. “Your accent is Elantin, no? What brings you to our little town?”

“Oh, I was supposed to go upriver—my father’s got a whole merchant fleet and promised me a trip to Rentara, but I guess there’s some kind of hullabaloo about ships on the river. Father says it’s unsafe, and I already fired every single apothecary in the port, so stopping was a bit of an emergency.” She sighed, looking around the workroom, doing her best to mimic one of Father’s little hangers-on. “I mean, this place looks like some kind of aukincer human sacrifice den, but everyone knows it’s those secret backdoor shops no one talks about that produce the best products.”

“I keep my favorite places secret too. That way I don’t have to share.” Tual didn’t even have the decency to look condescending, lowering his voice as if they were sharing confidences.

Which Noa would have thought was charming. Except for the part where she knew he was a murderer who could turn his skin into scales at will. Or maybe it wasn’t at will, just a by-product of doing blasphemous magic that killed the people around him. She’d have to ask Anwei later.

“Some of the shipment was yours,” Cylus called from the stairs. Before he got to the bottom, Noa saw Anwei stiffen from the corner of her eye, her friend’s nostrils flaring. She turned toward the stairs as if she expected an assassin to emerge with Cylus’s severed head hung on his fist, but the Beildan emerged intact, two heavily reinforced bags made from oilcloth in his hands. He passed Noa with a smile.

“Paran is a wonder, isn’t he?” Tual dug in his pockets and came up with five silver rounds that clattered on the counter when he dropped them. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“He said we’ll have it in the next few days. Send a pigeon, and we’ll meet you at the docks?”

Tual replaced his hat with a flourish. “As always, a pleasure doing business with you. Miracle workers, both of you.”

“The miracles are all yours.” Cylus took up his mortar and pestle once again.

“I hope you find the cream to your liking.” Tual gave Noa a friendly bow, stuffed the jar under his arm, and picked up the two packets. “I hope you’ll be safe in your travels. The rumors about boats sinking on the river are enough to curdle blood much stronger than mine.” He turned to point at Cylus. “Did you hear about the three boys—”

“That went missing.” Cylus’s brow furrowed. “Yes, and it wasn’t river pirates that did it. Kids disappear every year.”

“Well.” Tual gave one last bow before heading to the shop’s entrance. “Both of you stay safe.”

When the door banged shut, Cylus turned back to the workroom, eagerly looking toward Anwei. “What do you think of my stores? Do I pass muster? Some of it I get from suppliers, but all the basic stuff I harvest myself.”

“I’m actually quite impressed.” Anwei had switched her panicked miming for a shy smile. “It’s so good to see someone else from the island, and I’m so intrigued by this… compound?”

“You disappeared quick enough.” Cylus spread his hands. “You could have asked the man himself. I can’t tell you any more than you can see for yourself. It’s like magic.”

“Magic? Don’t let any Devoted hear you say that.” Anwei gathered her medicine bag. “Best of luck with your shipments and… fixing all the problems.”

“You don’t need any herbs now? Or to talk to Paran now that you know he’s here?” A warning sparked inside Noa when Cylus leaned on the table, his lips pursed. “You mentioned that your father has boats in port right now, miss? Because we just received word the boat our shipment was supposed to go out on got marked by pirates not ten minutes ago—the pigeon came just as I went up to get that customer’s supplies.”

“Marked?” Noa stood up from the table, wondering if Cylus had mentioned the two of them to Paran.

“Sorry about Paran.” He shrugged apologetically toward Anwei. “He’s not usually so busy, and normally I know he’d want to talk to one of Yaru’s messengers. But maybe if we could come to an arrangement that could get our shipment out on time, I could get Paran to come down for you?” He looked at Noa. “What was your father’s name?”

Noa couldn’t speak. She didn’t want to give her real name. Didn’t have a fake one to provide. She looked at Anwei for help, who shook her head regretfully. “Not possible, I’m afraid.”

Cylus nodded, but his expression didn’t change. He turned back to Noa. “Well, let me get you some of the cream, like you said.” He went to one of the cabinets and took out a little glass jar, then spooned in something jiggly and white. He seemed to be going slowly now, drawing out each word he spoke. Maybe Paran wanted to get a look at Anwei? Or there was something else afoot, Tual and Paran working together to…what? Drain Anwei and Noa dry right there in the shop? He could have already done it if he’d recognized them. “I haven’t seen new braids in Kingsol in years. Not since the ships stopped. Which town are you from?”

“Instav?” Anwei walked back out into the shop, not a single crinkle on her forehead. Maybe there was nothing to worry about. Noa followed her around the counter, trying to remember the town Anwei had mentioned before, fairly certain it hadn’t been Instav.

“Instav?” Cylus followed them out of the workroom. “It’s been abandoned for half a decade.”

“Abandoned?” Noa asked just as Anwei said, “What do you mean?”

Cylus stopped, eyeing the both of them with something that looked like surprise. But then his face paled, and he sat back down on his stool, something like pity clouding his face. “You don’t know about the massacre. Belash Point?”

“What?” Anwei’s hand snaked down to grab hold of Noa’s.

Belash Point. Recognition bled through Noa’s thoughts. That was the name of Anwei’s town. Noa’s stomach churned at her friend’s look, Anwei’s eyes just a little too wide.

There could be a thousand reasons for Anwei to pretend she didn’t know what Cylus was talking about, but Noa could see in her face that she knew. She knew about this massacre.

“Eight years ago. I thought everyone clear to Lasei knew. Forge and Elantia were up to their ears in Devoted. I was already here in Kingsol by then, but it wasn’t the kind of mystery anyone could just ignore. We all know what happens to those kids who disappear looking for treasure up the waterways—those old caves aren’t kind to anyone. But a whole town just… disappearing in the middle of a storm? All their clothing still in their closets, meals laid out to eat. The apothecary a mess, herb jars all smashed on the ground. Some of the buildings looked damaged from the storm, but there was no blood. No bodies. Every person in Belash Point was just… gone.”

A million possibilities burst in bright colors through Noa’s head. Ghosts. Sea monsters. Pirates. The shapeshifter…

“I’ve been on the mainland for a very, very long time,” Anwei said faintly. “But my family . . Belash Point is miles from Instav. Whatever happened there couldn’t have—”

That wasn’t the right question, and Noa knew it “What happened?”

“People within a few miles of the Point started getting sick. They’d forget things—where they lived, who their children were, their own names. It happened in Lanat, Ventum.” Cylus set the little jar of cream down on the counter next to the mortar bowl and pulled over a set of scales, glancing at Anwei. “Instav. Went on for more than a year before—” He put up his hands, eyes going wide. “Gods above and beneath, I’m telling this all wrong. I’m sure your family is fine. Most everyone was all right once they put some distance between themselves and the coast.”

“Oh, thank Calsta,” Anwei breathed.

Her family wasn’t, though. Noa could feel it.

“You said massacre. How do you know they were killed if there weren’t any bodies?” Noa asked, watching as he brought out a little set of tongs and pulled the mortar bowl close. He was moving so slowly.

“If it happened now, I’d say pirates, what with the Warlord pulling her Devoted back farther every year.” Cylus carefully dropped a measure of powder onto the scale, then a bit more. “They’ve gotten bold these days, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve started trading in people outside the Commonwealth.” He shook his head, carefully setting more weights in the opposite cup. “Back then all the stories said monsters must have come up out of the ocean and eaten them. Or a plague turned them to ash. Or maybe Calsta herself sent a burning chariot to ferry people into the sky.”

“Hard to tell the difference between gods and monsters sometimes.” Anwei’s smile squeezed out like the last dregs of oil from a cloth. “We have another appointment, so I’ll try Paran again in a few days. Noa can come back for her cream.”

“Patience now, only a moment more and I’ll be done. And I’ve got to finish my story before your little friend explodes, don’t I?” Cylus shot Noa a smile as he tipped the powder into the little jar and started stirring. “The Warlord was certain it was a shapeshifter, but the proof didn’t come until they started looking at the trees.” Cylus tapped the spoon on the side of the jar, then clamped it shut. “Three copper rounds’ll do it.”

Anwei fumbled for money in her medicine bag, practically throwing the coins down once she’d extracted them, then started for the door. Noa took the cream, not sure where to put it. She wasn’t a pockets person. “Trees aren’t so deadly, are they?” she said. “They just stand there. And if you don’t like them, you can light them on fire.”

“Trees had sprouted up all over town—in the middle of the street, growing through porches, blocking fields, through the docks. People who went in to investigate didn’t realize they were new until they found bones sticking out of one of the trunks.”

“Bones?” Noa couldn’t find her voice. A real ghost story. A real shapeshifter, who had really murdered people. And trees, flowers, vines, a whole summer’s worth of seeds growing up out of nowhere, like that day at the tomb.

Anwei had pushed open the door. “Are you coming, Noa?” she called.

“It was a hand and arm coming from inside the tree trunk, as if it had clawed its way out. They cut down the trees and instead of rings, they had skeletons inside of them.”

“Skeletons,” the word whispered out of Noa cold and hard. “Trapped inside the trees.”

“That’s why the ferries stopped, why Beildans haven’t been letting anyone across the strait. Who could have done any of that except a dirt witch?” He leaned back, squinting at Noa. “Now, don’t play the idiot with me. You and your friend here have got a few too many questions for girls looking for face cream. No names, dropping Yaru’s like nothing, and you go haring off out of sight the moment our highest-paying customer walks in?” He cocked his head. “I’ve heard the requests for information, same as Paran.” He edged out from behind the counter to look at Anwei where she stood by the door. “You think we don’t know who you are? What exactly do you want with Tual Montanne, Yaru?”