“Hush, Rev,” Cadmia chastised. “Remember your lessons on confidentiality. This is important information, but not something that should be shared in front of others.” Hansa. Unconscious. And here. If Rev suspected sorcery, or if the other soldiers from the 126 did, they would send someone with the sight to check him. That didn’t leave Cadmia much time. “Rose, I’m sorry but I—”
Rose interrupted, saying, “My specialty when I was an initiate here was the identification and treatment of malevolent sorcery, and I continue to practice healing arts—legal ones—for members of the Order of A’hknet. May I accompany you?”
“Yes, please,” Rev answered, before Cadmia glared at him again.
It wasn’t appropriate for Rose to come—she wasn’t a Sister of Napthol any more—but her words and the urgency of the situation made a good enough excuse. Cadmia nodded and said, “That would be appreciated.”
They walked together to the hospital wing of the Cobalt Hall, where Cadmia dismissed the doctor who had just arrived to check Hansa. Once the door was closed, Rose asked bluntly, “Is there any purpose in my examining him, or do you know his ailment already?”
Cadmia didn’t know exactly what was wrong. She tentatively shifted her awareness the way Umber had shown her, but wasn’t sure if Hansa’s aura of power really was significantly weaker than usual, or if she was doing something wrong. The Cobalt Hall might even be suppressing her abilities; she hadn’t tested them since she arrived.
She looked at Rose, who was looking at Hansa with curiosity, but no alarm.
“I don’t know,” Cadmia said. “Do you think you could tell?”
“Perhaps.” Rose stepped forward, then leaned down as if to listen to Hansa’s heartbeat.
Cadmia was curious to know what Rose could do, but more importantly, she had wanted the other woman to look away long enough for Cadmia to pull a hat pin out of the fold of her cloak and jab it into the pad of her own thumb. She formed an image of her Abyssi lover in her mind and whispered, “Alizarin, I could use your help.” She had already discovered that Alizarin couldn’t come into the Cobalt Hall any more than mancers could, but it was all she could think to do. She couldn’t get Hansa back to Umber’s house on her own.
Rose looked up, considered Cadmia in silence, and said, “First, you should know he seems to have stolen something.” She tugged a battered manuscript out of Hansa’s clothes. “It isn’t as shiny as most of the things children of A’hknet bring home, but I don’t know any other reason he would have concealed it. As for the more pressing matter, I am not a sorcerer, and I do not have the sight, so I cannot read power directly. I can however recognize the symptoms of power exhaustion. Either someone has been feeding on him, in which case the One-Twenty-Six can try to trace the attack to its source, or he himself has been using too much magic, in which case the One-Twenty-Six will arrest him and execute him. I can delay their inquisitors a few minutes on my way out, and leave up to you whether you want to try to move Hansa before they arrive.” She stood with a stretch, and added on her way to the door, “I am curious to see what you decide.”
And I am equally curious about you, Cadmia thought, giving a polite nod to the older woman and saying, “I hope we can continue our conversation soon.” If Cadmia failed to turn Hansa over to the 126—and of course she had no intention of doing so—it would prove to Rose that Cadmia was complicit in his magic, and not setting up a meeting to try to trick Rose into admitting to illegal actions. All things considered, Hansa could have picked a worse time to pass out.
He also could have picked a better one.
Cadmia hoped Alizarin would come, but couldn’t be sure. In the meantime, she hid the manuscript beneath a pile of papers in the corner; whatever it was, if Hansa had taken it from the Quin Compound, she couldn’t risk soldiers coming to examine him possibly noticing and recognizing it.
That done, she studied Hansa herself. She found his knife, which wasn’t as powerful a tool as her own but was far better than her pin, and nicked her fingertips again. Pressing the bloodied digits to Hansa’s brow, she focused on trying to mask his power as well as her own.
She thought she had made some progress when two guards in the 126’s black and tan uniform pushed open the door and hurried inside. Cadmia stood imperiously, inwardly praying that either these men didn’t have the sight or she had successfully hidden his power, and stepped between them and Hansa.
“This is a sickroom,” she proclaimed. “Why are you here?”
“He has been on special assignment for President Indathrone,” one of the guards explained, a disclosure that earned him a look from his partner much like the ones Cadmia had given Rev. “We have good reason to suspect sorcery as the cause of his condition.”
Cadmia nodded, but only in acknowledgement, not permission. “And you two have the sight, so you can examine him?”
The two men exchanged a look.
Cadmia breathed a discreet sigh of relief, then pressed her advantage. “He is already within the walls of the Cobalt Hall. We will examine him, and if we find evidences of malevolence we will of course report it to you. In the meantime—”
A rasping voice behind her said, “Bonnard. Poll. Thank you for your concern. I think I pushed myself too hard the last few nights trying to get back and report as soon as possible, and caught a bit of flu.” Cadmia turned toward Hansa’s voice and saw him sitting up at the edge of the bed. His clammy skin and the feverish sparkle in his gaze did make it seem like he might be struggling against a flu.
“Do you want us to stay on guard on the door?” one of the soldiers asked.
Hansa shook his head, then grabbed at the edge of the bed as if that move had made his head spin. “Mancers can’t come into the Cobalt Hall, remember? I will be safe here while I recover. Please let the others know I intend to return to work as soon as I can.” They both hesitated, until Hansa added with a voice that cracked slightly, “Dismissed.” Hansa stayed firmly upright until the door had closed behind the two doors, then collapsed back against the bed.
“Rose said you had signs of power exhaustion,” Cadmia explained swiftly, worried Hansa might not stay conscious long enough to ask or answer too many questions. “Is there any chance you can walk? I called Alizarin, but he can’t come in here to help.”
“We just need to make it outside?” Hansa asked.
“Yes,” Cadmia answered. “Hopefully after that Rin can hide us.”
Wanting to avoid the crowded mess and questions about her lack of appetite, Cadmia had deliberately scheduled her meeting with Rose to conflict with the evening meal, so they passed few Brothers or Sisters of Napthol in the hall and we able to evade too many questions. Even so, Cadmia was sure rumors would begin—Rev would make sure of that—and she would need to come up with more lies to explain why this soldier had come here, and then left again so quickly in such a state.
Hansa swooned into Alizarin’s arms the moment they crossed the threshold to meet the Abyssi in the alley behind the Hall. Cadmia looked frantically up and down to make sure no one was watching them, but the Abyssi must have successfully shielded them from sight, since the only passers-by she saw gave them no notice.
Rin meanwhile tilted his head, in the way he did when he was looking at something the rest of them couldn’t see. “What are you doing?”
“Doing?” Hansa asked groggily. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re leaking power.”
“I’m not . . . I don’t think I’m doing anything,” Hansa said, leaning against Alizarin. “I’m not trying to.”
“Is this the longest you’ve been away from Umber since the bond?” Cadmia suggested.
Alizarin pulled Hansa close enough that Hansa let out a squeak of surprise, then nuzzled his neck and bit him just hard enough to draw blood. Hansa yelped. Rin licked the blood away, looking contemplative.
Cadmia knew the Abyssi could taste the individual gradations of power the way a connoisseur could taste a wine, and then discuss the
subtle flavors of oak or tannin. The process was obviously uncomfortable for Hansa, but he bore it, understanding.
“Mancer,” Alizarin pronounced. “And Abyssi. And Umber. All pulling power from you.”
The first was problematic and unsettling; the second was downright frightening, since Alizarin was the only full Abyssi they knew; and the third had its own reason to be upsetting.
“Umber?” Hansa asked. “What does that mean?”
“It means he needs the power,” Alizarin said.
“That would seem to mean he’s in trouble,” Cadmia said.
“Then we’ll go get him,” Hansa said. “He was with—” He pushed away from Alizarin, then wobbled and would have fallen if the Abyssi hadn’t scooped him up like a child.
“You’re in no condition to travel,” Cadmia pointed out.
“I’ll be—wait, where’s the manuscript?”
Cadmia patted the bound pages tucked beneath her cloak. “What is it?”
“Something Verte wants,” Hansa answered. His color was a bit better than it had been, and Cadmia realized Alizarin must be siphoning power into him. How much was it taking just to keep him conscious and coherent? “I didn’t read much of it, but it’s from before One-Twenty-Six, and before they started with the New Reckoning, so it must have been written just after the overthrow of the monarchy. And it’s . . . weird. It refers to the Napthol Order as sorcerers.”
“We can examine it closely at home,” Cadmia said, though she couldn’t resist flipping through it as they walked.
In order to protect the populace of Kavet from the rising threat, the sorcerers of the Napthol Order have helped draft this initiative, which after much debate within the council is in final form separated into one-hundred and twenty-six provisos.
What rising threat? Mancers, maybe? Verte hadn’t known what a mancer was until they told him, but maybe it was a modern term. Clearly he and others in his line had used mancer-type magic.
She read bits and pieces aloud as she walked, trusting Alizarin to keep their path clear.
“This part is asking all sorcerers of legal age to be voluntarily branded . . . here, dropping the legal age to fifteen, with parents’ consent . . . the permanent sealing of the temple in the Cobalt Hall?” She looked up with surprise before continuing. “Cessation of all training by the Order of Napthol, and a request of similar cessation by independent parishioners . . . this is insane. It goes on and on.” She kept flipping. “Oh, this is cute: incentives for premarital chastity. Hmm, and here, fines for public swearing, including the use of terms referring to the Abyss or the Numen. Taxes on any butcher or farmer selling bone, blood, fur, or leather for use in sorcery. Nothing in here makes sorcery illegal. It just discourages it. Strongly.”
Curious, she flipped to the last page, which she also read aloud:
“Oh. Provision One-Twenty-Six: Giving this council authority to initiate and authorize future measures as necessary with a simple majority approval of the voting body.”
“Citizen’s Initiative One-Twenty-Six passed about two decades later—fifty years ago,” Hansa said slowly. “Maybe not enough people fell into line with this ‘polite’ request, so the majority decided to use this provision as a basis for stronger laws.”
Chapter 19
Lydie
Lydie chewed slowly, thoughtfully, enjoying the feel of the dense fruit bread in her mouth—such a luxury—and the quiet in her mind.
She had awoken to find herself alone in Umber’s home, as far as she could tell. If the Abyssi was around, he hadn’t made Lydie aware of his presence, so it was just her and a handful of ghosts. She had tranced to have a longer, more coherent conversation with Jenkins, which had given them both a lot to think about. She had also attempted to reach the previous owner of the house, which she should have been able to do if he were murdered anywhere nearby, but his spirit was beyond her reach. If Umber had done away with him, he had done so peacefully, or far from here.
That was good. She wanted to like Umber. Under the thick skin that anyone of a magical persuasion needed to develop to survive in Kavet, she suspected he was soft-hearted.
Then she had reset her walls even higher, because ever since that ritual, it had felt like something was scratching at her.
Reaching for a canister of mint and citrus tisanes, she noticed the bandage on her left arm and frowned at it. She had hoped she would heal instantly after the knife wound, the way all the others in the household did when they drew blood for magic, but her necromantic power remained stubbornly uncooperative.
She had just set the kettle to heat when the front door opened with too much force, accompanied by shouting voices.
“Don’t be foolish,” Cadmia snapped. “You can barely walk even with Alizarin’s help. You are in no shape to go back to Amaranth Farms.”
“If Umber is in trouble—”
“Alizarin, can you knock him out so we can stop having this argument?”
Lydie rushed to greet the others in the barren front hall. Cadmia was flushed from the cold, a brisk walk, or anger—or perhaps all three. Hansa, who was leaning on a figure Lydie couldn’t make out as more than a vague haze in the air, was gray-faced. He must have burned himself out trying to do too much. Of course he had. Unlike a mancer, he hadn’t spent most of his life learning the limits of his power. He was too ignorant to realize overuse of his magic could kill him.
Hansa looked at Lydie, as if she might be more reasonable than Cadmia. “I’m not just being stubborn. I’m not a mancer. I’m bonded to Umber,” he said. “If Umber isn’t here, coming here and resting isn’t going to help me—stop that!” he snapped at the Abyssi, in response to some provocation Lydie couldn’t see.
“Did you find Umber at Amaranth Farms?” Lydie asked. Umber clearly hadn’t broken the bond yet.
“No. Yes. It’s complicated,” Hansa said. “Cupric asked me to get something for him from the Quin Compound, something Verte wants.”
“A laundry list of provisions passed shortly after the election of Dahlia Indathrone, it looks like,” Cadmia summarized. “We already knew sorcery must have been legal or at least less vilified during Verte’s time. This gives us some insight into how the change happened. That may be all Verte wants—to understand how his world turned into ours.” She paused, considering. “I don’t see any reason it would be dangerous for him to have. I know why you want to run off immediately, Hansa, but if we take a little time to read through the rest of this and confirm it’s something we’re comfortable handing over, we can use delivering it as an excuse to visit Amaranth Farms and look for Umber. It will also suggest to Verte that we’re on his side somewhat, which might put us in a better position to understand what he might do next.”
“What makes you think Umber is in trouble now?” Lydie asked. “He went to Amaranth willingly, and it’s only been a few hours . . . hasn’t it?” When she was a child, she used to lose hours or even days at a time when her power overwhelmed her, but that hadn’t happened in years. As far as she knew. She hadn’t been around enough people to be sure.
“Alizarin says Hansa is having power pulled from him by an Abyssi, an Abyssumancer, and Umber,” Cadmia explained. There was a tone almost like a teacher’s that she fell into whenever she answered questions. “We haven’t had time to consider the first two yet because Hansa is busy panicking over the third one.”
Lydie understood, and shared, Hansa’s alarm. There was no reason for Umber to leach power from Hansa unless something was very wrong. Could the spell to sever the bond have gone awry somehow? An Abyssumancer might have been involved in a ritual like that; could he or she have accidentally or intentionally linked to Hansa? In that case, the Abyssi might be the Abyssumancer’s patron.
She didn’t bother to pose any questions to Hansa or Cadmia, who would have no better basis for speculation of that kind than Lydie herself.
“I can go to Amaranth Farms,” she offered. It would give her a chance to see Terre Verte’s operation while
also protecting her safe, comfortable spot here at Umber’s home. In the hard reality of her world, the fact that she also genuinely wanted Umber to be safe was secondary.
Cadmia looked at her with protective skepticism—that expression that was usually paired with words like, “But you’re so young.”
“Of the three of us,” Lydie said, arguing before Cadmia could, “I’m the only one who has a hare’s chance of successfully using my power to defend myself if I need to—and I’m the one least likely to need to, since I am not a walking buffet for an Abyssumancer. Besides, I know how to stay unnoticed when I need to. That makes me the logical choice.”
Cadmia nodded, though reluctantly. Hansa frowned, too dazed and distracted to follow her points. He seemed to be wilting before her eyes. Alizarin curled close to him, lending power, as Cadmia hurried to read and take brief, sloppy notes before pushing the manuscript toward Lydie and urging her to go.
It was a few miles from Umber’s home to Amaranth Farms. Lydie caught a ride for a couple miles on a pig cart going that direction, but it still took her longer than it would have taken Hansa on horseback—where had he left the poor beast, anyway?—so she arrived late enough that any good Kavetans would already be asleep.
As she approached the bridge, she stretched out her power, gently examining the gauzy spell-wall that surrounded this property. It didn’t seem harmful and wasn’t solid enough to keep anyone out, but she suspected passing through it would trigger some kind of alert. She was contemplating if she could make a hole to pass through without alerting the locals when she felt the rustling of a shade, followed by the brush of another necromancer’s power.