Alizarin shrugged.
Cadmia conjectured, “Some combination of Numini and Abyssi?” Like the world Alizarin had described, it seemed hard to imagine. “And these lesser creatures—they’re humans?”
“I always thought so,” Alizarin answered.
Scheveningen and the Gressi fought against the Numini for the lesser creatures’ lives. The Abyssi fought some on each side, but mostly they fed. And that was the beginning of the old war. Some of the creatures took up arms on each side. Many of them died.
At last Scheveningen set his claws into the sand and ripped the world into two. He fell into the chasm between, and he and the Gressi created the veils between the worlds. They put the Abyssi onto one side and the Numini onto the other and gave their lives to keep the third world—where they put the other beasts—protected.
“Wait—what?” Hansa asked incredulously. “These creatures created the different realms, just like that?”
“It was probably more complicated than the story makes it sound,” Ginger suggested. “This is a legend passed down by creatures who barely even keep an oral history, much less a written one.”
Then there was the time soon-after.
Some of the humans kept their marks of favor from their former masters. Some stayed loyal, but others used those marks to gain power over their patrons, so the Abyssi and Numini slew them.
But once those were destroyed and brought home, the last connection between the three realms was gone. The Abyssi stayed in the Abyss. The Numini stayed in the Numen. The humans stayed in the mortal plane as long as their flesh shells survived, after which some crossed the veil one way and some the other.
“The mark of favor,” Lydie asked, “is what makes someone a mancer?”
Naples nodded. “Abyssumancers or Numenmancers, anyway. Necromancers and animamancers are infected by the remains of the Gressi in this world.”
“How does what is happening in Kavet fit into this narration?” Umber asked.
“Or what happened when the Terre died?” Ginger added.
“In the time-after, the Abyssi and Numini slew the mancers, only to find themselves stranded on their own planes,” Naples said. “For most, that was fine, but others either wanted to regain the power their mancers gave them or—in the case of some of the Numini—they wanted to ‘protect’ the humans the way they had before, by imposing their own standards of order and safety.” He shook his head and made a disgusted sound at the back of his throat, making it clear how he felt about that. “They started with the sorcerers, most of them nurturing lines of power for centuries just to get a foothold in the mortal realm. Then, at last . . . some succeeded.”
His voice fell on the last words, as if with shame.
“The other Abyssi and Numini panicked. They saw true mancers walking the mortal realm for the first time since the old war, and they feared one of their rivals would gain control over that realm. Some feared the Numini would conquer the mortal realm and then make war against the Abyss as well. They scrambled to finish their mancers, shoving power recklessly into flesh that wasn’t ready to accept it. Most of them succeeded only in tearing their chosen ones apart.”
He paused, sipping his whiskey, the expression in his gaze speaking of horrors Cadmia was glad she had not been the one to see.
Ginger was obviously there with him, in a memory of the same time. “And Terre Verte was one of these?” she asked.
“No, actually. No,” Naples answered, his gaze still held by memory. “I was. And Celadon Cremnitz. One of the Numini tried for generations to claim the Terre line, and might have succeeded with Terre Verte if an Abyssi named Antioch hadn’t made a claim through the king’s new, foreign wife, tainting the bloodline. Verte got power from both those sides, but it’s too mixed for him to ever be a true Abyssumancer or Numenmancer, and none of the Others claim him directly now.”
“We were told Antioch wants to distance himself from all this,” Cadmia said, remembering what Alizarin had reported about the Abyssi that had once tried to claim Hansa. “If he’s Verte’s patron, shouldn’t that weaken Verte?”
Naples shook his head. “I told you, the Terre was never a true Abyssumancer. His connection to the Other realms relies on his having died—twice—and crossed into that realm, only to be brought back by powerful sorcery. He doesn’t have a Numini patron, either . . . which is part of the problem.
“I’ve spoken to Modigliani a lot in the last few weeks. He believes that, freed, Terre Verte will declare war against the Numini who had forsaken him. Should he gather enough power, he has the capacity to destroy the veils the Gressi built and break the boundary between the three realms.”
Naples pushed his chair back, wobbled slightly as if dizzy, and caught himself on the table. When he turned as if to leave, Ginger exclaimed, “Where are you going? You can’t just walk out after a statement like that.”
“I need a walk. Or a roll in the back room. If I’m not back in five minutes you might want to ask for another waiter. Discuss amongst yourselves while I’m gone.”
He walked out, ignoring their protests and leaving silence behind him.
At last Hansa said, “And here we were worried Verte might attempt a civil war here in Kavet.”
“Could he do it?” Cadmia asked Alizarin. “One man couldn’t possibly unmake the boundary between the realms. Could he?”
Alizarin lashed his tail and shrugged, and dipped one claw in the honeyed oil in the center of the table. He contemplated it as he spoke. “If Modigliani believes it is possible, it probably is. He is centuries older than I am, and knows many things I do not know.”
“Don’t—” Umber didn’t finish the warning before Alizarin licked the honey off his claw. He and Hansa both flinched.
Cadmia held her breath, fearing a repeat of the apple incident—though surely even an Abyssi couldn’t choke on a drop of ground almonds, oil, and honey?
Alizarin’s eyes widened, and Cadmia breathed again as he let out a brief purr of approval.
Then the purr turned to a cough. Alizarin’s fur rippled all over his body, crawling and rising in uneven hackles that lost their shimmer in patches and turned gray-green instead of turquoise and cobalt. He sneezed, and Cadmia jumped back from a gob of phlegm that sizzled as it struck the wood floor.
“Rin?” she asked, panicking slightly. “Do you need—?”
The world around him blackened, and he stumbled into a rift and disappeared.
“Rin!” she shouted, stupidly, belatedly, before turning toward Umber to demand, “Can you tell where he’s gone?”
“Probably hunting again,” Umber answered.
“In the mortal realm?” Alizarin was able to open a rift to the Abyss, where the hunting was better, but if he crossed there in his distressed state, he wouldn’t be able to get back without a mancer’s help.
Umber nodded. “That rift didn’t cross the planes.”
Cadmia turned toward a thunk as Ginger dropped her head on the table and grumbled, “This is who I choose to ally myself with. What was I thinking?”
“I ask myself that daily,” Lydie replied.
“He was all right last time,” Hansa said, though he sounded only as certain as Cadmia felt.
Why was he suddenly interested in human food?
“Has he always been this way?” Lydie asked.
“I—” Cadmia broke off, realizing she had no idea. She hadn’t known Alizarin before they were together in the Abyss. She looked at Hansa and Umber and they both shrugged. Then her stomach rumbled, reminding her she had skipped the official dinner at the Cobalt Hall and the hour was growing late. “I’m going to order food for the table while we wait for Naples.”
“Is everyone at this table so tightly tied to the Abyss they can only think with their stomach and dicks?” Ginger asked waspishly.
Lydie lifted her hand. “Um, necromancer? But I still vote for food.”
Ginger sighed, then waved to Cadmia as if to grant permission. She couldn’t find t
heir original waiter, but managed to track down another to order the night’s special for the table. She returned just as Naples was stalking back in.
“How am I supposed to get laid if the Quinacridone has intimidated everyone in Kavet? I mean, I could manage it, but getting that guy to roll over in timely fashion would require a little more force than anyone in this room tends to approve of.”
“Since when have you cared?” Umber challenged.
Naples collapsed into a chair. “Since I need allies, for one. Also, I’m not desperate enough yet for him to be worth it. Though I hear Terre Verte has some power on his side I bet no one here would mind my having some fun with. Incidentally, with the boons between you and Cupric as old and frayed as they are, I can break them.” As if the words had reminded him, Naples asked, “Where is Alizarin?”
“His food disagreed with him,” Hansa said shortly. “He left to hunt. You can break the bond?”
“Not a full one like you and Umber have, but the partial one left by two boons, yes,” Naples answered. “It would require my getting a little more up close and personal than you two probably trust me to be, but I can free you of him.”
Trust, Cadmia suspected, was the key word. Umber and Hansa would need to decide that for themselves. In the meantime, she had remembered that Naples had been Alizarin’s friend long before any of the rest of them. “Do you know what is going on with Alizarin? His behavior has been odd.”
Naples gave Cadmia the same long, searching look Hansa was giving him—evaluating whether or not it was worth trusting her, she suspected—before he answered, “Alizarin wants a natural connection to the Numen. He has for as long as I’ve known him. So far he has managed only a link to a Numenmancer, which Terre Verte could break at any moment.”
“We were talking about foods that Numini and Numenmancers eat,” Cadmia recalled aloud, finally making the connection. “That’s what made him want the apple. And the honey. Is there some way we can help him?”
“I did help him, remember?” Naples snapped. “I made the knife he used to bond with Dioxazine. It worked so well and he was so grateful, he ate me.” He stood and began to pace restlessly, swallowing a growl. “I would help him if I could. I don’t know what more he can do, and I don’t think he does, either.”
Chapter 26
Lydie
Lydie was trying to find a polite way to return the conversation to something more immediate when Ginger let out a frustrated “huff!” and asked, “Can we discuss a plan? Because if I’ve understood right, the Terre is planning a coup that might undo existence as we know it. We—”
She broke off in mid-tirade as there was a knock on the door, followed this time by the admittance of a middle-aged waitress with a bored look on her face, who brought two large loaves of bread braided around fire-roasted chicken and vegetables. They all sat in tense, irritated silence, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong and no one in the room had anything to hide.
After she left, Umber said, “All right. Let’s brainstorm. We know Verte is gathering mancers and other magic users. He insists this is a ‘first step’ toward some unspecified goal. If he is planning to attack the Numen, then what’s the point of the gathering?”
“There’s nothing to say that is his only goal, or even his preeminent goal,” Cadmia said. “I don’t think we should assume what the Abyssi think a human will do is what he will do.”
Even Naples nodded to that.
“We’re talking about Terre Verte,” Ginger said. “He won’t set his sights low. If he isn’t planning to attack the Numen, he will go after the Quin in an attempt to take back Kavet.”
After years of keeping to the shadows, it felt unnatural to break into a conversation between such assertive figures, but there was a question no one else had acknowledged. Lydie started to raise her hand as she had once upon a time in a classroom, realized that was foolish, then asked, “I agree we don’t want Terre Verte to destroy the world, but what if he could take back Kavet? One-Twenty-Six was written at a time when we faced different threats, ones modern mancers are able to control. What if Terre Verte could undo it?”
“Our young protégé has a point,” Naples said. When he turned those eerie copper eyes her way, she wanted to sink under the table, but forced herself to hold her ground. “If Terre Verte plans to take over Kavet, do we want to stop him?”
“What was his Kavet like, really?” Lydie asked, looking between Naples and Ginger. “No one talks about it now. Obviously sorcery was legal. What else was different?”
“Everything,” Ginger sighed.
“The Order of Napthol was made up of sorcerers?” Cadmia prompted. “That’s what the manuscript Verte asked for suggested.”
“The Order of Napthol was dedicated to identifying and training those born with power,” Naples answered. “They also provided healing services—real ones, not just herbal medicine and the like—as well as exotic services and goods that were traded around the world.”
Lydie tried to imagine what that would have been like, if instead of spending her childhood fighting madness and her adolescence struggling to survive and stay hidden, she could have gone to a place that would have helped her, guided her, and provided for her.
She couldn’t.
“And occasionally those sorcerers and aristocrats and royals even remembered the rest of the country existed,” Ginger chimed in ironically. “There’s a reason the Quin rose to power even before the magic went mad and started killing people. I’m not saying it was all a good change,” she added hastily, when Naples raised his voice to talk over her. “I’ve watched freedom erode for everyone, and especially for women, since the Quin took power. But I won’t let you sit there and pretend everything was perfect with the Terre in control, either.”
“It’s irrelevant what it used to be like,” Umber said, cutting off the argument. “It’s not like Verte can step up and say ‘hello everyone, I’m home, move out of the way.’ His taking Kavet would mean civil war. In that case, the magic users he is gathering will be his army.”
Naples looked at Ginger. “You’re here. Is anyone else still alive? Henna, maybe?”
Ginger shook her head and said, “I don’t know. She left Kavet when it became obvious that One-Twenty-Six was going to pass.”
Lydie groped after the unfamiliar name, but it evoked nothing from her power. If the woman was dead, it was too old a death or too far away for Lydie to hear.
“What about Clay?” After a glance at the confused faces around the table, Naples explained, “Clay was . . . is . . . Terre Verte’s half brother. He was less than two years old when everything happened. If he is still alive, or he has children, they have Terre blood. They might be able to appeal to Terre Verte for a peaceful solution.”
“Henna took custody of Clay when Madder passed away,” Ginger said. Lydie had still been searching for Henna until that moment, which was when Naples’ reaction struck her. Ginger seemed to realize the same a moment later, as she said, “He left with—Oh. Naples, I’m so—”
Naples waved a hand dismissively, but Lydie noticed he was careful not to meet anyone’s eyes.
“Madder?” Lydie asked, though she probably didn’t have to. The woman had died at an age that wasn’t old enough to be considered golden, but wasn’t young enough to be a tragedy . . . unless she was family, as she clearly had been to Naples.
Naples shook his head sharply, almost like a spasm. “One of the strongest of the cold-magic users among the Order of the Napthol,” he said. “After her husband passed away, she was Terre Jaune’s mistress for several years.”
“And she was your mother,” Ginger said, softly, but Naples had re-gathered his composure. If it hadn’t been for Lydie’s power, which was still humming from the sense of loss, she might have assumed he genuinely didn’t care.
“You gave me up for dead,” he said flatly, “and I gave all you up for dead a long, long time ago. I buried my mother in my mind after I took the third boon. What I didn’t bur
y was Kavet. So let’s focus on what’s important.”
Hansa cleared his throat, uncomfortably trying to do just that. He said, “Lydie, I don’t know if it’s the kind of thing your power could tell you, but we’ve had several guards disappear from the One-Twenty-Six. It would be good to know if Verte responded when they got in his way, or deliberately hunted them down. It might give us a sense of how aggressive he plans to be. Assuming they’re dead . . . unfortunately, I’m assuming they’re dead . . . can you tell the circumstances of their deaths?”
Lydie tried to keep her face blank, and not express so clearly how she felt about checking up on members of the 126. Hansa was right that anything they could learn about Verte’s plans was for the best, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable with it.
Nevertheless, she spread her power. She was about to ask the guards’ names when she remembered that Naples had also mentioned another name, one she had been distracted from while searching for Henna and then responding to Madder.
Clay—
The resulting hiss of icy voices stole her breath.
Lydie coughed around the frigid air in her lungs. “Clay was a Numenmancer?” she gasped.
Naples and Ginger exchanged a look. Ginger said to Naples, “You said he couldn’t be because Antioch tainted the line?”
“Antioch claimed the Terre line,” Naples rephrased. Despite his obvious attempt to sound calm and businesslike, his voice had a fragile edge to it as he said, “but Clay was a bastard. My mother—his mother—used almost entirely cold magic. Is he alive?”
“No,” Lydie answered firmly, rubbing gooseflesh from her arms.
“Well then,” Naples said, a touch too loudly. “Does his being a Numenmancer change our situation, if he’s dead?”
“I . . . don’t know,” Lydie answered. The shades had tried to tell her something else, but she hadn’t caught it. Later, she could cast a circle and try again. For now, it was hard enough to make her eyes focus on the living.
“Then let’s consider our options,” Naples said. “Hansa, we can get back to the question of the guards in a bit. I understand you want to protect your friends in arms and all, but I don’t see how it’s relevant to the larger issue.”