The Sun Summoner

East Ravka

THE SHADOW FOLD LOOMED OVER THEIR ENCAMPMENT. Thunder rumbled from deep inside, the occasional flash of blue lightning illuminating the wall of darkness. If Nonna stood too close, she could hear faint shrieks. She couldn't see more than a foot into the Fold. The volcra could be waiting just inside, stalking along the edge of the fold until a sand skiff full of victims slide their way inside. 

And Nonna Ostrovsky was going to cross it.

Once upon a time, it would have been pointless to take a healer across the fold. Not that no one got hurt. But there would be one on the opposite dry dock, waiting for the remains of any arriving skiffs.

Things had changed. West Ravka was...well, they didn't call themselves West Ravka. To the, there was only Ravka and the Old Country. It was telling. They were growing restless. East Ravka was a burden. A parasite, leeching their supplies and people for their constant wars while supplying little in return. It wasn't that East Ravkans didn't want to help. Only that they lacked resources to do so.

Still, West Ravka couldn't abandon their Eastern brethren completely. Their capital was still in Os Alta. The Lantsov dynasty was still their ruler.

It made them bitter. Whispers rose of a rebellion. A complete separation.

Of course, that would result in a civil war. The king wouldn't allow it on pure pride alone. Moreover, East Ravka needed the west to survive. Between the Fjerdans to the north and the Shu to the south, they had no friendly borders. They didn't even have neutral borders. They had no coasts, and so no navy, and no connection to possible allies across the True Sea.  Soon their two-front war would turn into a three-front one, and it was only a moment of time before their enemies realized the value of teamwork.

In short, they couldn't rely on West Ravka to supply a healer anymore. They need to bring their own.

Nonna stood alone in a sea of prepared travelers. She often felt isolated when she traveled with the Second Army. As much as she tried, her close connection were few, and unfortunately limited to people confined to the Little Palace. Sveta was only twelve years old and, even with her ever-growing heartrending talents, still a student. Juliy was a tailor, too rare and valuable to waste on military efforts, and Ebbe, who was a fabrikator. Fabrikators couldn't fight, let alone go on campaign.

It was made worse by the new additions.

Someone had burnt all maps of West Ravka. They said it was an accident, but how naïve did they think they were? Every single map of specifically, and only, West Ravka ended up in the same container? A container that, when it miraculously caught flame, was perfectly made to contain the flame without it spreading to the rest of the cartography room?

It didn't matter to her, but Nonna doubted the cartography team felt the same when they were forced out to the dry dock without warning. A group of...well, hardly soldiers. A disorganized band of teens, frazzled and confused. Only one faced the skiff with a grim determination. A Shu girl, no older than Nonna or her peers, but seems far more prepared than any of them.

Nonna wished she could have half the girl's confidence. Instead, she forced herself to think of the positive. Get a goal. Get focused.

Faint embers of an old hope began to rekindle themselves. A small spark, hardly enough to break through the piles and piles of ashen disappointment. She was going to West Ravka. They would, if they escaped the crossing alive, be spending about a week to drop off supplies and travel to the island of Kerch for trading.

Serafima crossed the fold, a faint voice said. A hopeful voice. The voice of the small child she'd been, always seeking the comfort of her older sister. That's what they always said. She'd escaped across the fold, fleeing the Little Place and the Second Army. Maybe Nonna could find her. See her. If not in West Ravka — the Second Army still got Grisha from West Ravka — but maybe Kerch. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

On a normal day, Nonna would have squashed that hope. Told herself anything else could be possible. Serafima could have returned to the Fjerdan border, where their family once lived. She could have died on the way to the Fold. The way across it.

This wasn't a normal day. Nonna needed something to believe in.

One by one, they appeared around the dry docks. Horses clattered down the muddy road. Nonna turned to find they were pitch black, drawing a coach lacquered in shadows. Grisha fathered around it as it pulled to a stop and a man stepped out. General Kirigan. The Shadow Summoner. The Black General.

The Darkling.

Whatever he was here for, he believed their crossing important. A failure or a success? Unknown.

People moved around skiff, preparing for their department. A squaller climbed up, level with the sails. Their wind would carry them across the fold. A second stood on the bow, in case their first was...incapacitated. Military speaks for "eviscerated." Eaten. Carried off into the depth of the fold by demons.

The typical fan fair, by all accounts.

Three sharp whistles cut through the air. Wood creaked as the gate began to close. Locked in. The was no escape.

An inferni made her way to the center of the deck. She clapped for their attention. "Here's how it goes. We go into the Fold, it gets dark, but we like it dark. That keeps us from drawing attention."

A boatload of fresh meat. Nonna got the feeling they'd need all the help they could get on not drawing attention.

"The only light we use is the blue one at the mast," the inferni pointed towards the light. Everyone turned to look at it. "It's weak, but safe."

"But, you're an inferni, right?" One of the cartographers asked. "Why are you here if we're supposed to keep things dark?"

"For when the dark comes to keep you."

"Where's your General? Kirigan?" Another First Army soldier asked.

The answer came from the unfurling sail. Nonna hoped the inferni felt clever about herself, because all her comment did for moral was make Nonna want to melt into a puddle more than she already did.

A sharp gust of wind came as the squaller thrust out her hands. The sail pulled them forwards, off the dock, and into the sand sea of the Fold. Instructions were given to the cartographers. Seconds later, the shadows took them.

☼ ☼ ☼

Kerch

SERAFIMA OSTROVSKY SPENT MOST OF HER TIME ON FIFTH HARBOR. Ships came and went. Sometimes carrying cargo, sometimes people. It didn't matter. As long as they arrived at Fifth Harbor, they belonged to the Crows, and it was Serafima's job to make sure that was exactly what happened. Technically, the Counsel of Tides controlled the water all around Kerch, up in their looming towers. But technically, Serafima wasn't Grisha, so technically she wasn't doing a thing at all.

It only took a twitch of a finger. A shift of a hand. Serafima wasn't a particularly talented tidemaker. That kind of finesse — to only change the water enough to move a ship without being caught — required practice, and the idea of practicing made her stomach turn. Still, she could lead one ship towards one harbor, and that was all they needed her to do.

Normally, anyway.

At the moment, Fifth Harbor was practically dead. They were between pigeon ships and no shipments were scheduled for today. So Serafima sat silently on the peer, feet swinging off the edge of it.

When it was quiet, Fifth Harbor was nice. There were plenty of places she could have gone. The Slat. The Crow Club. But all were crowded, full of chattering people and, in the case of the latter, groping men. She could go to Kooperom and get eggs. Or waffles. Except she wasn't hungry, just bored, and unfortunately on the job. So Serafima sat at Fifth Harbor and enjoyed the faint sound of the shifting sea. The waves rocked below her, brushing gently against the soles of her shoes. Sun glittered off the water. An ever-moving sea of glass.

That was when the draw started. It started as an itch. Serafima stared down at the water. A cool blue, fading from a near-transparent, through cobalt, and ending in a near black. She leaned forwards, her fingers brushing against the waves. Warm from the sun.

Like calls to like.

Serafima recoiled. The water did the same. She shoved herself to her feet. Furious, she threw a nearby rock at the waves, as if that somehow defeated the entire ocean. And she'd do it, too. Serafima scowled down at the water. She'd do it, too. She would.

"Told them, you did," a voice teased. Serafima turned to find Minke Rademaker watching over her shoulder. He pointed at the ripples slowly forming in the water. "Oh, look. It's trembling. Fear, I bet."

Serafima did her best not to shove him into the harbor. Minke had a talent for the infuriating. It was one of his most attractive qualities. That title certainly didn't go to his face, nor the wicked grin that stretched across his face. Twisted gnarled scares, from the corner of his mouth to the base of his ears. Of course, he was ugly already. Looked a bit like a horse. An overgrown, possibly nocturnal given his complexion, horse.

"What do you want?" Serafima snapped.

"I brought you something," Minke said. He held out a paper bag towards her. Just long enough for Serafima to fool herself before he added, "Not you, the fish. Buy your own waffles."

"Fish don't eat waffles," Serafima corrected.

Minke cheerfully plopped himself on the edge of the pier. He tore pieces of waffle from the bag, tossing it into the harbor. Serafima was wrong. Already fish had begun collecting under his feet. Seething, Serafima sat next to him. Of course, he had to be right. She glared down at the fish. Traitors.

"Sera, look! I think it's your cousin. Same face and everything," Minke teased, his eyes on a rather large carp.

Serafima did not smile. She most certainly scowled at him with the fury of a thousand suns. There was no smiling involved. 

"Get anything good today?" Serafima prompted.

A smile grew on Minke's face. He had a talent for pickpocketing. Actually, he had a talent for most things. Languages. Juggling. Crochet. Just about anything he tried. But pickpocketing was his thing. Undetectable, even if you expected it. It was what got him into the Crows in the first place, his pride and joy, and a strong sign of kleptomania. Either way, Serafima tried to encourage it. He got sulky when she didn't — moody bastard — and, besides, it earned them the money they lived on.

Minke thrust his bag into Serafima's hands and dug through his pockets. Coins and jewelry clattered across the pier. Fistfuls of kruge came with it, but Minke quickly shoved them back in to keep from losing them.

"Is this a button?" Serafima studying a button that had fallen out with the jewelry. "What do you plan to do with a button?"

Minke shrugged. "It's shiny."

"A button."

Another shrug. Serafima gave an exasperated sigh. Frustrated, she dug around in the paper bag she'd been handed. How many waffles did this moron buy? It felt like a rock.

In fact, only crumbs remained. A wrapped was spread along the inside, protecting what was under it from the waffle's grease. A hard, red wedge filled most of the bottom. Shining black lettering was embossed across the cover. Serafima yanked it free and held it at arm's length.

"The Complete History of Ravka," Serafima read. She wrinkled her nose. "You stole a book?"

Minke snatched the book from Serafima, cradling it against his chest like it was his baby. Maybe it was the setting sun, but Serafima was certain she caught his face redden. She scoffed. He was such a child. Minke was reading a book, not running around naked. Literacy was valued in the Barrel, where most people couldn't afford the education to learn how to read. And reading in multiple languages, and Ravkan at that, was even better.

"I nearly forgot," Minke said, clearing his throat in a poor attempt at breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Kaz wants us back at the Crow Club."

Serafima tightened her lips. She gave Minke a slight nod and started off along the pier. It was never good to keep Kaz Brekker waiting. 

☼ ☼ ☼

The Fold

FOR A MOMENT, ALL WAS SILENT. Shadows shifted around them. Even the people on the fold were reduced to mere silhouettes. Nonna held her breath. Growls and thunder mixed in the distance.

The land the Fold covered had once been rolling farmlands. People once lived here. Now all that left was a sea of black sand, craggily, leafless trees, and darkness that hung like a thick fog. No sun broke through. Everything was bathed in blue. Nonna stepped back towards the end of the dock. She muffled a yelp as she stumbled over the Shu cartographer she'd seen from before.

"Sorry," Nonna mumbled. The girl's eyes grew as she stared at Nonna.

Not at her. Past her. Nonna turned in time to see lightning flash. It illuminated the wreckage of a sand skiff in the distance.

"Marker one," The inferni said.

"How meant more are there?" The girl asked.

"Thirty-seven," Nonna answered as the inferni continued along the deck.

A shriek came from above. Nonna raised her head to watch as a winged shadow passed across the sail. Volcra. They were circling.

One came too close. The soldiers jumped, guns trained in their direction. Nonna ducked against the wall of the skiff. When the girl only stared off into the distance, Nonna dragged her down with her.

The blue light went out.

A click broke through the darkness. A lantern flared to life. It waved as the man holding it trembled.

"Blow it out! What are you doing?" The inferni hissed.

The man looked down at the lantern as if it had appeared in his hand on its own accord. It was too late. Something heavy landed behind him. A shape grew behind him. Large, leathery wing spread being his back. Lightning flashed. A glistening maw opened. The man turned to face it.

The volcra was gone in a flash. It took the man with it. Knocked from his hand, the lantern fell to the deck below. At once the fire spread along the wood. The girl threw her arm up to defend her face. Nonna scrambled back.

A scream echoed from above them. Nonna looked in time to see the squaller snatched from her post. Next went a First Army soldier. A volcra ripped him through the flames, kicking up sparks, before smashing him through the wall. A gaping hole stood next to them. Gunshots exploded through the night. Fire burst as the inferni summoned wildly. She was taken next.

Nonna froze. She knew she should try to heal someone, but every the volcra attacked was snatched away moments later. There was no one to heal.

"Alexei, no!" The girl shrieked. 

A cartographer had leaped through the hole in the wall and disappeared into the darkness. That snapped Nonna out of the daze. She grabbed the girl's arm and tried to drag her to away from the fire.

"Come on! We need to go!" Nonna ordered.

"No — Mal! Where's Mal?" The girl turned. 

Figures grappled all along the deck. Nonna could barely make out friend from foe.

A volcra lifted into the air. His claws were latched onto a soldier. Nonna recognized him from their launch. He'd asked for the General.

"Mal!"

The soldier pulled a knife. He drove it into the volcra's leg, but it did no good. The girl broke free from Nonna's grip and dove for a gun. She fired blindly. The volcra dropped him with a shriek, and the girl ran to his fallen body.

"Heal him! Please," the girl begged.

Nonna blinked. In the frenzy, she'd forgotten her kefta completely. Bulletproof, but far from volcra proof. A deep crimson, embroidered with grey.

A healer's kefta.

Nonna rushed to the girl's side. She didn't give her much room to work with, so Nonna ended up huddled over the soldier's — Mal's — head. Pushing the screams around them to the side, she focused on feeling the injuries. A fracture in his leg from the fall. Claw marks along his shoulders. Nonna pressed her thumbs together over one wound. Warm blood pooled around her hand. Still, the wound began to knit together. First, the deepest point, pulling together until the skin finally closed completely. Mal grimaced as she ran her thumbs along each cut in turn. It was tempting to rush, but doing anything too quickly could leave a poor seam or, worse, cause internal bleeding.

Wings beat above them. Nonna whipped her head around. Volcra. The girl didn't notice, entranced in Mal's words. There was barely time to warn her. She let out a gasp as the volcra's talons dug into her flesh and pulled her into the sky.

The girl began to glow.

Golden light started under her skin. Nonna leaned back, covering her eyes. A wave of light washed out from the girl, filling the air around them. Even with an arm over her face and eyes closed, Nonna could see it. Could feel it, burning against her skin.

There was a thud. The light faded. Nonna lowered her arm to see the girl had been dropped back to the deck. Unconscious. Alive. Both of them were. The volcra had fled. Only a handful of their crew was left. No time to think. At once, their second squaller, Zoya, ran to the mainsail and whipped up a wind to turn them around. Nonna stepped shakily along the deck. She went between those who were left, healing whatever was life-threatening first. All the while, she kept her eyes locked on Mal and the girl, still sprawled out where they'd fallen, hands interlocked.

☼ ☼ ☼

Kerch

THE CROW CLUB HELD LITTLE LOVE IN SERAFIMA'S HEART. She supposed she should be more grateful. They'd taken her in. Given her purpose. Without them, Serafima wouldn't have survived Ketterdam. But they always wanted more from her. Wanted to be family. No, Serafima already had enough of family to make her ill. All hers was back in the Old Country. She wasn't in search for a new one.

Being the furthest away, Minke and Serafima arrived last. Brekker was waiting in the back room. He was flanked by his Wraith and Jesper Fahey. Five of them. Brekker's closest — and Minke, of course. Whatever he was doing here.

They were given the rundown. Merchant — Dreesden. He needed a crew to cross the Fold, steal something one million kruge valuables. Technically he was taking meetings at midnight, but now they had a quicker key in. Dreesden needed a heartrender from the Orchid. They needed to be quick about it, too.

Pekka Rollins knew.

Everyone knew Pekka Rollins. Led the Dime Lions. Practically ran the Barrel, too. A name to fear, if you could. Serafima? Personally? Rollins bled. It bled, it died. It died, she'd kill it.

Serafima kept her distance from the Orchid, hanging back with the Wraith. A brothel. She'd been one wrong move from ending up in one. A young girl, speaking only Ravkan, fresh from the fold and pretty as they came. Then Minke had robbed her. She'd thrown him into the harbor. Moments later, he was showing her off to Kaz Brekker. The rest was history. Serafima was safe, but plenty of other girls like her weren't. Indentures. Slaves by another name.

Minke fawned over the heartrender as they walked. Dressed in a fine red gown, her hat adorned with long feathers, Serafima put her as someone who'd enjoy it. 

She'd was right. The heartrender calmed as Minke rambled on about the feathers in her hat, the rotten clients she'd worked with, the crime against fashion that was Kaz Brekker's haircut. Anything but the shadows slowly creeping over them and the strange mission she was being dragged on.

It didn't last forever. Soon enough she'd worked up the courage to tell Kaz, "I really appreciate new business, but you've only paid for an hour of my time, and I have to be back at the Orchid."

"The Orchid isn't safe tonight. Your life's in danger with this job," Kaz said. "Make yourself scarce for a few days afterward."

And any rational person would leave it at that. This nameless heartrender was no issue of theirs. Yet Minke, the brainless fool, patted the woman's arm and assured, "We can fix you up a room at the Crow Club, if you'd like. Only for a while, but full protection."

As expected, the heartrender was less than pleased. Not even the ever so unpleasing promise of a club room could sway her.

"Mr.Brekker, are you threatening me? Really?" The heartrender demanded. "Even if I'm nice, my boss will call the star watch on you."

Serafima gritted her teeth. Could she really be that dense? The stadwatch didn't lift fingers for Barrel rats. Kaz whipped around to face the woman, pulling them all to a halt.

"It's not me you're in danger with. It's Pekka Rollins," Kaz snapped.

"My boss would call the stadwatch on him as well."

"Then your boss is already dead," Serafima interrupted, shouldering past them both.

The heartrender's face paled. Minke took her arm and led her gently towards the gate. No one else wasted their breath. She'd better not faint, Serafima swore. Ten million kruge. More importantly, a chance into the Old Country. A chance at her family. She'd drag the damn woman in if she had to.

"You're not with Pekka's crew," a man called from the gate.

"And you're not in Pekka's pocket anymore if you don't owe him," Kaz replied. 

He tossed a bag of coin through the gate, which the man accepted gratefully. No one in the right mind wanted to be in debt in the Barrels.

"Hey, where did you get that coin?" Jesper asked as they approached the building.

"Hey! One of these has a hole in it!"

Saints, what had Jesper done now? Kaz hurried them inside. 

The building was far too nice for them. Already Serafima could see Minke's eyes wandering along the glittering mantle pieces. She grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him after the others. Dreesden wouldn't give them the job if Minke started putting his sticky little fingers all over his prized possessions. The rich sure did love their things.

Dreesden was sat at his table, a man stood behind him. A guard.

"One look and I can tell. Criminals," Dreesden said after merely a second of studying the crew.

"Is it the vest?" Minke asked, parting his jacket to study his vest. A bright patterned yellow, it stood out in the sea of merch blacks and grays. "I've been told it's a little gaudy, but it went well with the jacket."

It didn't go well with the jacket. Even less so with the blood-red tie he insisted on wearing. It made him look like he'd decided to wear stroopwafel instead of eating it. All of which Serafima had told him both willingly and often.

"I'm not meeting anyone 'til midnight," Dreesden said.

"We heard you needed a heartrender," Kaz replied simply.

"Hmm..." Dreesden pushed himself up on his knuckles to study the woman next to them. Serafima instinctively stepped to the side. As far from her as she could get. "All right, she stays, the rest of you, out."

The heartrender started forwards. Kaz's can swung out, nearly catching her in the gut.

"She stays," Kaz said. The heartrender visibly gulped. "And we have an exclusive on this job."

Dreesden shook his head. "Mr.Brekker. No businessman worth his salt hires his first applicant."

Serafima held her tongue, as she always did. As they all did when Kaz was bargaining. A struggle with merchants decided to be so obtuse, though.

"No. No, I understand," Kaz's voice dripped with false sympathy. "Of course, I'll have to report you to the guild for kidnapping and harboring a prisoner without chain of title."

Ah. There it was. The man across the room reached for his gun. Serafima felt Minke's fingers wander to her wrist. She slapped his hand away. She could use him as a human shield perfectly well on her own, his poor attempts at chilvery were just humiliating for the both of them.

Besides. They had Jesper. The man'd be dead before he blinked.

"You wouldn't," Dreesden said.

"No businessman worth his salt," Kaz quoted, "Bargains for what he can take."

Dreesden stood. He stared Kaz in the eyes. Slowly, the heartrender raised her hand.

"I have to be back in an hour," the heartrender said weakly.

They won.

Dreesden led them into another room. Empty, aside from some shelves and a chair in the center. A body was slumped over, a bag was pulled over his head. Dreesden went to stand by the chain, leaning against it. The body didn't move. Unconscious.

"Who's this?" Kaz asked.

"So you don't know everything after all," Dreesden mocked. "This..." He whipped the bag off the body's head. A boy. Battered and bruised, no older than her sister would be. "Is Alexei Stepanov."

"Ravkan," Serafima realized aloud, before she could stop herself.

"Indeed," Dreesden agreed. Serafima tensed. The boy would be dead by the end of the night. "Two weeks ago, young Alexei here crossed through the Fold on foot. Alone."

"Impossible," Serafima protested. She remembered her own trip across. The struggle it had been. And she'd been lucky — she'd had the conductor. "The volcra would sniff him out in seconds."

"Not so. They're keeping it quiet, but allegedly," Dreesden crossed the room to pour out a cup of water. Alexei watched his every move with desperation. So did Serafima. "He was one of a few witnesses to...an event."

"Water..." Alexei croaked.

Inej moved to get him a cup. He drank gratefully. Serafima only shook her head. A waste of liquid if she'd ever seen one.

"What kind of event?" Kaz asked.

"I know an expedition was swarmed by volcra. Should've been a total loss, but something happened," Dreesden said, sipping on his own water. "Some device detonated. Obliterated the volcra, lit up the dark like a forest fire."

"Couldn't be fire. It'd burn the skiff. Draw in volcra, not destroy them," Serafima stated.

"This was some invention no one had seen before," Dreesden motioned to Alexei and placed down his cup. "He knows. But he doesn't seem to be able to articulate his accounts of events. Some form of traumatic lapse."

"Ah, well, seeing people ripped to shreds will do that to a person," Minke said. "'Course, tying him up like that certainly didn't help, either."

Dreesden huffed and motioned the heartrender forwards. She obeyed.

Serafima bristled as the heartrender set to work. Her fingers slide along the man's wrist, slowly coaxing his heart to calm. Witchcraft, her father would have called it. Enchantment. What would he think now, knowing Nonna might be practicing to do the very same thing?

No. Nonna was always better at healing.

"Now you can speak," the heartrender cooed. Her soft voice alone was enough to calm anyone. "And I will just listen."

"All right..." Alexei murmured.

"Tell me what happened in the Fold. What saved you?"

"You won't believe me, but..." Alexei started, shakily. "It was a sun summoner."

Inej let out a soft gasp. Serafima turned to face her. Sun summoners meant nothing to the others around them. A Kerch lot. But Inej was Ravkan was well — Suli, if they got specific. She clung to their myths and saints as children clung to a blanket. Wrapped herself in faith to hide from her own deeds.

A sun summoner...he was lying. He must be.

Dreesden believed, at least. He gaped as he approached Alexei to ask, "Who was it?"

Alexei took a deep breath. "If I tell you, you'll set me free?"

"You have my word. I'll set you free."

Yes. Freer than he'd ever imagined. Serafima tasted a metallic tang filled her mouth. She'd broken the skin of her tongue. She muffled a curse. They all knew what was coming. All but poor, stupid Alexei.

"You're in Ketterdam now, Alexei," Dreesden assured. "You can go anywhere in the world from here. Just imagine."

Even right to hell.

"Her name is..." Alexei hesitated. The heartrender slowed his heart further. Maybe Dreesden would have her put him right to sleep. "Alina Starkov."

"Alina Starkov," Dreesden repeated. He turned and marched off to one of his goons. "Show me the manifest."

"You'll set me free now?" Alexei begged.

"Thank you. Of course."

Dreesden put a bullet between Alexei's eyes. They had until dawn.