“Then he’s gathering sorcerers in one place, leaving them vulnerable to attack,” Hansa replied instantly. “Verte has said sorcery was different in his day. That means he probably doesn’t know the methods we use to fight it, either. If I go back to the compound, maybe I can avoid a slaughter if the One-Twenty-Six hear about Verte’s plans and decide to march on Amaranth.”
Umber nodded, agreeing, then added, “Tomorrow. You’re exhausted.”
“I’ve only been up a few hours,” Hansa protested.
“Lydie’s spell must have used your power to fuel the connection to the Abyss,” Umber said. “If you try to go to the Quin Compound in this condition you’ll never make it there, much less keep the veil over your power long enough to accomplish anything.”
They returned to their room. That left Cadmia as the only one still standing—more than awake, she was buzzing with anxious energy. She wanted to act, to move, to accomplish something.
She paused to remove the knife sheath from her waist and, though it hurt her heart to do so, tuck it under her pillow in the guest room. Unfortunately, the Abyss-bone tool could never be mistaken for a simple work knife, and Umber hadn’t taught her whatever spell he used to keep his own weapons hidden. Alizarin would sense its power and find it when he returned. He would keep it safe for her.
She used one of Umber’s kitchen knives instead to draw blood and veil her power. It was harder to do with the simple steel blade than it had been with the more powerful knife, but she wanted to make sure she could replace the veils with mundane tools if she needed to do so before she returned.
Once she felt safely hidden, she turned her feet toward the city, intending to be Cadmia Paynes—Sister of Napthol, counselor to the ones who scrabbled, fell, fought, and lost as they sought to survive in this world—for the first time in several weeks.
After weeks in the Abyss, Kavet’s central market at midday felt oppressively crowded, yet strangely vacant. She hadn’t had the ability to sense magic long, but had already become accustomed to feeling the feral, Abyssal energy of the creatures around her. To see such a press of bodies with her eyes yet feel no power gave her vertigo.
She focused her eyes on the crowd, keeping her expression calm and welcoming while she slowed her breathing and reminded herself, This is what the mortal realm is like. This is home.
At this hour, the sprawling cobblestone plaza between the Quin Compound and the Cobalt Hall was full of merchants. In a centuries-old tradition, they sold their wares from brightly-colored carpets, wheelbarrows, and small wagons, and called out to passers-by in jovial voices that proclaimed their goods and services. This time of year, they came early to clear snow from the cobbles and stake their claims in the most advantageous spots, creating a wagon-wheel pattern around the plaza’s central fountain.
Guards patrolled the plaza regularly, ensuring the walkways remained wide and clear enough for commercial traffic to make its way through them—and, of course, looking for sorcery, as were the two soldiers of the 126 stationed at the front door of the Quinacridone Compound. Cadmia hitched her disguising spell tighter around herself, aware that this was where she was most likely to find someone with the sight.
She started to pick her way across the plaza, keeping a generic, welcoming smile on her face to respond to anyone who made eye contact, and rehearsing the excuses she had prepared for anyone who asked her where she had been. She briefly acknowledged several familiar faces before she spotted the child launching herself across the plaza like a shooting star.
Ribboned hair only half-up and streaming behind her, Pearl dashed between and occasionally over merchants’ wares until Cadmia caught her up in a laughing hug.
“Where have you been?” Pearl demanded breathlessly. “I—” Her words broke off abruptly, and she froze in Cadmia’s arms. Her eyes widened.
The first time Cadmia had met Umber had been just after Pearl had been kidnapped by a Numenmancer. When Cadmia had wanted to alert the guards, Umber had cautioned her against it—specifically, he had said they didn’t want sighted guards looking for Pearl, implying she had some power of her own.
Cadmia still couldn’t see any magic on Pearl, but it was obvious that even with the disguising spell in place, Pearl could see something on Cadmia. Perhaps physical contact had allowed her to see past Cadmia’s veils.
Why did the Numenmancer kidnap her? That question had seemed unimportant in the scope of everything else that happened, but now it reoccurred to Cadmia.
“Are you all right?” Pearl asked, with a discretion that seemed unnatural in a seven-year-old child.
“I’m fine,” Cadmia answered, hoping Pearl wouldn’t ask questions in the middle of the marketplace.
There were a few people who would be sympathetic to her recent shift in views, but far more would report any suspicions to the 126.
“Let’s get inside,” Cadmia said. “I need to get into my own clothes and let everyone know I’m back.”
“And tell them where you’ve been,” Pearl said. “What are you going to tell them?”
She didn’t ask again, Where have you been? She knew Cadmia was going to lie.
“While I was at the docks, I ran into an old friend in crisis,” Cadmia answered. “I traveled with her to a family funeral. I sent a letter to give my whereabouts, but it must have been waylaid in the storm.” The first flurries had been starting to fly when Cadmia had stepped into the Abyss.
Pearl rolled her eyes, apparently seven-years-old going on thirteen. “Sienna says kids say too much when asked a question,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “That’s how she knows when they’re lying.”
Cadmia smiled, and hugged Pearl to her side. “I’ll do a better job when Sienna asks.” She was actually quite good at lying. She had given Pearl the whole manufactured story at once because the child already knew it wasn’t true.
Like Lydie, whatever power Pearl had was probably why she already knew so much about being sneaky. Sadly, at seven years old, she already had to hide to survive.
Chapter 14
Umber
Hansa had lost enough power to the necromancer’s spell that Umber would have been worried, if they didn’t have such a convenient and pleasant way to generate more. They went back to bed at mid-morning, where the sex was lazy and tender, in deference to Hansa’s exhausted body and fragile emotions. Afterwards, Hansa fell asleep with his head tucked down against Umber’s chest.
Once he was confident he wouldn’t wake his Quin bond, Umber slipped away long enough to check the wards around the house, tend to some worn patches in the protective spells, and reacquaint himself with the horses. There was a local A’hknet woman who dropped by regularly to feed and exercise them in exchange for a nominal salary, access to the animals when she wanted or needed to ride, and the right to sleep in the hay barn when she needed to get away from home for a few hours, so they were in good condition despite his long absence. The only sign in the stables of the time that had passed was an invoice and a note from the woman telling him she had bought the last sack of feed on credit because the money he had left was gone—and when did he plan to pay her salary again?
He refilled the coffer where he left funds for supplies and the groom’s payment and brushed down the horses and gave them apple-core treats. But though he longed for a ride, he knew now wasn’t the time.
Instead, shaking his head in recognition of his own folly, he climbed the stairs back to the second floor and the master suite where Hansa was still sprawled naked on his stomach on top of the blankets. It was a nearly irresistible image, and Umber had never been much about resisting temptation, but Hansa needed this sleep. Since they had come back from the Abyss, Hansa’s nights had been infected with nightmares, keeping true rest far away. Combined with his magical exertions, his body had been battered by overuse.
Gently so as not to disturb him, Umber climbed back into bed and wrapped an arm around Hansa’s waist. The other man’s body should have been soft and relaxed in sle
ep, but his muscles were tense and his heart was beating quickly. His eyelids flickered as Umber spooned against his back, and Umber caught a brief image that was most certainly not a nightmare.
He stopped to consider, letting Hansa’s mind brush against his own. The dream was Abyssal, hot and sensual but dark. The sensations of fire and fur and claws were at the edge of everything, and the center of the dream was lust and blood. The second-hand experience was enough to make Umber press himself closer to his lover, but he tried to think how it would seem to Hansa. He might enjoy the dream as it was going on, but upon waking maybe it would seem like a nightmare.
Hansa was bonded to the Abyss, but he didn’t understand all that implied. What Umber wanted to do was roll Hansa back onto his stomach and make love to him, letting the dream and reality slip together, but Hansa had responded to his recent dreams with panicked awakenings, and even with the fleshbond, Umber’s attentions would be unwelcome while he was trapped in that fear.
If these were the dreams finding their way into Hansa’s mind and disturbing him so deeply, though, there needed to be a conversation. Hansa might not be ready to accept these fantasies, but if he kept fighting them the way he had so far, they would rip him apart.
Later, though.
For that moment, Umber let his own eyes half close. One hand drifting down Hansa’s chest, he submerged himself in Hansa’s fantasies.
One way or another, when Hansa woke, Umber would be there for him.
Then, abruptly, the dream shifted. Instead of being wrapped in shadows, he was being held by pale arms. He was staring into copper eyes. Naples. Umber wanted to reach out and fight, but in Hansa’s dreamscape the Abyssumancer was all-powerful.
What have I done? he thought with horror. He had deliberately let Hansa go off alone with this monster, thinking that it would be better for him to learn the dangers of Abyssumancers and of the fleshbond in a situation where Umber could step in and stop it before too much harm was done. It had taken only the barest push of power—and a classic Abyssumancer’s disdain for others’ preferences—for Naples to seduce Hansa. He hadn’t needed to use physical force, because the newly-formed fleshbond had been starving for Abyssal power. But lack of force did not equal consent.
In the dream, the magical coercion and the helplessness Hansa must have felt at the time manifested as shackles holding his wrists in place above his head. There was a flash of blade, and then the Abyssumancer was leaning over him, licking blood from a fresh wound on his chest.
That had never happened. Not with Naples. Not to Hansa.
No. No. No, no, NO.
Umber ripped himself from the dream, throwing himself back from Hansa so violently that he tumbled from the bed and struck the ground. He should wake Hansa—
He fell when he tried to stand. His limbs were shaking too badly to support him. Still on the scuffed wooden floor, he drew his knees to his chest and dropped his head onto them, drawing deep breath after deep breath and trying desperately to get himself under control. Hansa couldn’t see him this way.
He needed to be able to stand up, to wake Hansa, to comfort him.
Comfort him how?
Umber finally managed to stand. And like a coward, he fled the room. There was one thing he could do. After all he had inflicted upon this poor man, it was the only thing he should do. He left a brief note, then rode as hard as he could while still reaching his destination with himself and his horse intact.
Outside the city, cobbled paths gave way to dirt roads, which wound into the first of the farming communities. This close to the city, the farms were still relatively small, a few acres at a time.
He thundered across the bridge into Amaranth at midday and was not surprised when three people immediately appeared to intercept him. They seemed more surprised to see him, especially the auburn-haired woman at the front. The others dropped back as she stepped forward.
“You’re looking well, Xaz,” Umber commented. He didn’t have time for pleasantries, but neither did he want to appear as desperate as he felt.
Unlike Hansa or Cadmia, whose Abyssal power also came from an external source, Umber could usually faintly see the shimmer of divine magic when it was present. Until now, though, he had never been able to see Xaz’s under the brighter halo of the Abyssal taint she had gained from Alizarin. But as she stood before him on the bridge, both auras blazed bright with pride and confidence.
“You’re looking . . . alone,” she said, sounding surprised. “Where’s Hansa? He’s all right, I hope?”
Umber shrugged. “As all right as we all are. I was hoping to speak to Terre Verte on just that subject.”
When Hansa had demanded a third boon and cemented the bond between them, Umber had resigned himself to his fate, such as it was. Everything Umber had ever learned about other spawn from illicit texts, covert conversations with scholars—sanctioned and not—and even full-blood Abyssi had told him a bond like the one he had with Hansa could be broken only by death. Even that was chancy; when Naples died, Umber hadn’t known for sure whether Azo, the spawn to whom he had a heartbond, would survive, and if she did, whether the false emotions caused by the bond would remain or dissipate.
At the time, Umber had simply been grateful the consequences weren’t worse.
“Verte is in the middle of a fairly complex ritual,” Xaz said, “but I am sure he will be happy to speak to you once he’s done. Let me show you where you can keep your horse. Can I get you anything to eat?”
Xaz had never been this solicitous. Umber knew some of the personality change could be explained by her increased comfort; she was surrounded by other mancers here instead of individuals who would turn her over to arrest and death if they knew what she was, and she seemed to have a leadership role. Even so, the shift was unsettling.
He dismounted to walk with her to the stables, though his skin crawled to put the other two guards—almost certainly mancers, though their powers were more tightly suppressed than Xaz’s and therefore harder to identify at a brief glance—behind him.
“What are you really doing here?” Xaz asked once they were alone. “Even if you want the bond with Hansa gone, it’s not a threat to you right now, and I know your feelings about mancers.” She paused, and then amended her words. “In general. You seem willing to ally with some of them, when it works for you. We were all surprised that you let Arylide stay with you.”
“She’s a kid,” Umber replied, dismounting and beginning the process of tending to the horse, who was sweating and breathing heavily. “And just a necromancer. She isn’t a threat. I should cool Olive down before I stable her,” he added. He didn’t want to spend more time here than necessary, but he had pushed the horse hard.
“I’ll get the stable hand to tend to your horse. He’s an animamancer. She’ll have the best care of her life,” Xaz replied, waving to a young man who had been lingering politely out of earshot. “Do Hansa and Cadmia know you’re here?”
“You’re chatty today,” he observed.
She scowled. “I told Verte I would be nice to you. Don’t be a bastard and make it difficult for me, all right?” He actually smiled at that; there was the Xaz he knew.
She led the way to the main farmhouse, revealing a parlor more in the style of a manor in the Abyss than a cabin in Kavet. “You can wait for the Terre in here,” Xaz said, ushering him before her. “You’ll even have company. I believe you and Cupric are . . . familiar?”
She said the last word very flatly, as if it was a struggle to keep the judgment out of her voice. He wondered vaguely if she disapproved of the fact that Cupric was a man, or that he was an Abyssumancer, or if the distaste was more personal. He didn’t care enough to ask.
“Who have you brought me, Xaz?”
Cupric’s voice was exactly the same as it always had been. It made Umber’s heart tighten and skip a beat before the other man even looked up. Then those sky-blue eyes met his, capturing his attention so firmly that Umber didn’t even hear Xaz say farewell before
she left.
“Umber!” Cupric said brightly. He was lounging on a sofa with his legs crossed and propped up on its arm. He rotated, setting his feet to the floor and clearing space for Umber to join him. “Did you come to visit me?”
“I came to visit the Terre,” Umber said, leaning back against the doorway. Back at his own home, they had all chosen to drop Terre Verte’s title from their speech, but here it seemed better to be polite and humor the once-prince’s pride. Especially because he was here to ask the man a favor.
“He’s trying to scry into the Cobalt Hall,” Cupric said. “He’s curious about what magic protects it. I always assumed it was Numen in nature but he says he doesn’t recognize it at all. This is his second attempt and he just started, so we probably have a while to wait.”
“Maybe I’ll take Xaz up on that meal, then,” Umber said, preparing to go.
“Hansa’s not with you, is he?” Cupric asked. Umber shook his head. Those long legs uncrossed and Cupric sat forward, lifting one hand in invitation. “Come here.”
“I really should—”
“Should,” Cupric interrupted, laughing. “You sound like some kind of Numenmancer. Come here, Umber.” More softly, he added the name he had known Umber by so many years ago. “Attish. Whatever you’re answering to these days. Get over here so I can do things to you your Quin bond would run screaming from.”
Chapter 15
Hansa
Hansa stretched, waking without screaming for the first time in—he didn’t know how long. He knew the nightmares had come and gone, but he had sunk into a deeper, dreamless sleep after them. The brief respite felt glorious, even if he hadn’t slept long enough to feel truly refreshed. He considered rolling over and going back to sleep, but he was hungry.
Bleary-eyed, he put on pants and made his way down the stairs only to discover that he seemed to be alone. Lydie’s and Cadmia’s doors had both been closed, so they might be in their own rooms, but where was Umber? Hansa wasn’t surprised that Umber had gotten up while he was sleeping, since it appeared to be early afternoon, but he hadn’t thought he would go far without telling anyone his plans.