Page 9 of The Weaver

“We are needed in Kaldarak,” said Telok. “Diego said Ivy will birth her broodling soon.”

Urkot hummed thoughtfully. “We mean to be there to do all we can to aid them.”

“Would that I could be there myself,” she replied, voice low and raw.

“We understand, Ahnset,” Rekosh said. “I know Ketahn would have you there were it possible, but your responsibility is to Takarahl. And between yourself and Korahla, this city is well cared for. The two of you are more than capable of doing what must be done.”

Ahnset turned her head, glancing toward the statues deeper within the cavern. The tallest were the eight stone pillars standing in a circle, each inlaid with eight gemstones—representations of the gods of the vrix, the Eight. At their center was the founding queen, Takari. The new statues were being carved around the base of that monument.

Rekosh knew which of those statues Ahnset was staring at,knew it by the wistful light in her eyes. He followed her gaze with his own.

A couple of the newest statues were unlike any others in Takarahl, and they stood side-by-side. Two arms, two legs, two eyes. No mandibles, hindquarters, or headcrests. Humans. When Rekosh and his companions had arrived in the city two eightdays ago, the faces of those statues had been featureless, but now they truly resembled the beings they were meant to depict.

The first was the female who’d been dubbed the Once-Queen, whose rein had been the shortest but most impactful in Takarahl’s history. Ivy Foster. She who had slain Zurvashi, she who had freed the vrix of this city. She stood with a spear in hand, legs apart, her stance powerful despite her odd shape.

Beside her was the sweet, sickly human who’d been slaughtered by Zurvashi in this very chamber. Ella. She stood tall now, free from the ravages of her illness. Free from the horrors she’d faced here. Hers was the statue Ahnset stared at now.

While Rekosh had worked at the loom, Urkot had spent his time here, shaping those stone faces, correcting the stone bodies, instilling life into the statues. Ahnset had requested his aid in the task not because the stoneshapers of Takarahl lacked the necessary skill, but because none of them had ever seen a human.

Even after that tragic night, the number of vrix in Takarahl who had seen a human could be counted on four hands.

And that was not likely to change any time soon. There’d been talk of bringing some humans to Takarahl during this visit, but though Zurvashi’s remaining supporters were few, there was no way to guess how the other vrix would react to seeing the strange little beings.

The first and only human to enter Takarahl had been Ella, and the end she’d met here…

A pang struck Rekosh’s chest. Even now, with Zurvashigone, no one had fully escaped the effects of her cruelty. Her spirit still haunted the darkest corridors of Takarahl. It would be a long while before she was truly banished, but Ahnset was working hard to accomplish it, and she had already stridden far along that path.

“Would that I could agree, Rekosh,” Ahnset said softly.

Korahla shifted closer to her, pressing a leg against Ahnset’s hindquarters. “Do not speak so, my queen.”

“That you doubt and yet stride onward is exactly why you are Takarahl’s best hope,” said Telok.

Ahnset let out a heavy breath. “I want Ella’s death to have meaning. That is the only way I know to honor her. The only way I know to show how sorry I am, and to claw some good out of Zurvashi’s horrid legacy.”

Rekosh studied the human statues. It was strange to see them depicted this way—so large and solid, so stiff and unmoving. So silent.

“Ella’s spirit is here with you, Ahnset,” Urkot said gently. “She knows.”

“Such is my hope. I will work to ensure Takarahl will become a place where she would have felt welcomed and safe. It will become a place for everyone.”

The hard light in Korahla’s green eyes—the light of a veteran warrior protecting her queen—softened as she watched Ahnset. “And you will succeed, my heartsthread.”

Ahnset’s mandibles rose as she turned toward her mate and leaned close. The females gently touched their headcrests, and their eyes fluttered shut.

The weight of Rekosh’s bag was suddenly greater. He had not yet made such a connection, had not yet secured those ties with Ahmya. He had not yet claimed his mate. Now, the dress in his bag seemed more like the tangled threads of fate his sire had mentioned—every moment of his life caught in a jumble, impossibly heavy, impossible to unravel.

When the females separated, Ahnset faced Rekosh and the others. She looked them each in their eyes, finally settling her attention on Rekosh. “I have asked Telok to serve as Prime Claw and Urkot as the queen’s stoneshaper. They have refused.”

To either side of Rekosh, his friends bowed, gesturing apologetically.

Ahnset waved for them to rise. “I expected nothing different. And though I know you will refuse my request as well, I must ask you, Rekosh.”

“I do not believe myself the best choice for either Prime Claw or queen’s stoneshaper, Ahnset,” Rekosh said.

She chittered and extended her foreleg, playfully bumping Rekosh’s. “I would have you as my advisor, Rekosh. You have ever been aware of what the vrix of this city think and feel, and your web of whispers would be of great aid in righting Zurvashi’s wrongs.”

The weight of fate still dragged down on him. He did not know what those threads would lead him through, but he did know where they would take him in the end—back to Kaldarak.

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