“If Terre Verte is systematically eliminating captains, then that would imply he plans to go after the Quin,” Hansa explained, his voice seeming far away as Lydie still struggled to breathe. She shouldn’t have tried this with a circle; the resulting hiss of voices shouting at her was too much, too overwhelming. “I can’t imagine why he would bother if he weren’t planning a local coup first.”
“He also wanted that manuscript,” Cadmia said, drumming her fingers on the table thoughtfully. “That wouldn’t help him take on the Numen, but it would help him understand the modern followers of the Quinacridone. That also suggests he is preparing to move against the Quin. Lydie, are you all right?”
“Give her a minute,” Naples said, his tone as almost idle as it had been when he discussed his mother’s death. He was the only other mancer at the table. If anyone, he surely understood what it was to be overwhelmed by your power.
She managed to ground her power again enough that she was able to follow the conversation as it continued with increasingly obvious levels of frustration.
“If the Terre is planning to break into the Numen, it’s a fair bet he is gathering magic users in order to boost his power. Abyssi don’t guard their boundaries very well, but the Numini are very specific about who they allow to cross their territory. Or so I’ve heard,” Naples added, with a shrug. “It’s not like I’m on the guest list, or ever will be.”
“If that’s the plan, we should not only not attend the meeting, we should stop as many people—especially Numenmancers—from going as we can,” Cadmia said.
“If that’s the plan,” Hansa echoed tiredly. “If he plans to attack the Quin, then we do want to be at the meeting. We need to gain influence among his followers, gain his trust, and know his next move.”
“Flip a coin,” Umber grumbled.
There is a third option.
A voice whispered in her head, one of the mortal shades who always lingered near, and suddenly an obvious solution occurred to Lydie. So obvious, she waited a few moments for someone else to bring it up. When no one did, but instead they spent several long seconds staring at each other despondently, she said, “Hansa should run for President.”
Hansa gasped, “Excuse me?”
“Think about it,” Lydie continued. “The Quin love you, and every magic user in Kavet either suspects or knows you’re involved with one of the spawn, and otherwise allied with mancers. I could walk into the Quinacridone Compound tomorrow and move for an emergency election for a temporary acting President—just until Winsor Indathrone returns, of course—and Hansa Viridian, hero of Mars, would win by a landslide.” She paused, biting her lower lip. “Well, I couldn’t, since I’m not of age. But Cadmia could.”
“You’re mad,” Hansa gasped, but as Lydie looked around the table, she saw expressions of contemplation on all the other faces.
“Maybe not,” Ginger said. “I could put word in for you with the Order of A’hknet, which would earn you most of the votes in that sect. If you were in power, you could smooth the way for a Terre return, or at least a shift in the laws, in a way that wouldn’t mean war.”
“Or I could end up with a broken neck when Terre Verte decides I’m in the way.”
Ginger let out a dismissive “Psha. If we make sure you’re in favor with the mancer community, Terre Verte wouldn’t dare move directly against you. Especially if he thinks you’re doing this for him.”
Lydie picked up on Ginger’s thread. “We can show up at Verte’s meeting and show our support for the Terre, and turn his meeting into a campaign point.”
“No, no, no,” Hansa objected. “I’m twenty-seven, for one thing. I’m a soldier. I’m not leadership material.”
“You wouldn’t need to keep the position long,” Lydie argued. I’m twenty-seven, he had the gall to say, talking to a fourteen-year-old who would have loved the choice to opt out of the oncoming war—whether civil or sorceral. Hansa had chosen to be a soldier, chosen to be a leader and supposedly a protector. He could damn well do his job. “Just long enough for us to have a chance to understand and either counter or support anything Verte tries.”
Ginger and Naples exchanged a significant look, which had Hansa nearly shouting, “What now?”
“I was just thinking, I’m pretty sure someone said the same thing to Dahlia Indathrone,” Ginger said.
“And she was probably murdered,” Hansa retorted. “I make my case.”
His objections seemed to be having absolutely no effect, as the others continued to plan around him. “I think we should have someone—not one of us, but some nice, loyal Quin—make the nomination,” Naples said. “Then we can go to Terre Verte and say, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know how this happened, but what do you think we should do?’”
“And if he says, ‘Back off’?” Hansa asked.
“Then we know more than we did before: that he is definitely going after the Quin first, and nothing short of bloodshed will satisfy him,” Ginger answered flatly. “In that case, we need to dispose of him, because the Terre Verte I knew—the one I would be willing to see rule Kavet again—would never chose the slaughter of his people over a quiet, civilized revolution. He’s ruthless, but he’s practical.”
“Naples is right—we don’t want to make the nomination ourselves,” Cadmia said. “We don’t want Hansa to look responsible. But if we start rumors about the President being gone, someone is sure to call for an interim, emergency replacement. We don’t have a lot of time, so if we are even considering this plan, then we need to start immediately.”
“What if I’m not considering this plan?” Hansa said. He looked at Umber, who had been quiet so far.
“I think . . .” Umber hesitated, giving Hansa a long look. Lydie held her breath, recognizing that Umber probably had the most power in the room to sway Hansa. “I think we should consider it. It’s the best plan we have so far.”
“Kind of like our plan to leap into the Abyss searching for a necromancer, with no supplies, no idea how to find a necromancer once we’re there, and no idea how to get back?” Hansa challenged. “Or do you mean like our plan to walk into the deepest dungeon in the lowest level of the Abyss in order to resurrect someone who is now trying to destroy Kavet? As I remember it, both those plans were terrible, ended badly, and resulted from our being manipulated. Naples, who exactly did come up with those plans?”
Naples sighed. “Modigliani. And one or more of the Numini.”
“Modigliani, who resurrected you and sent you up here,” Hansa said, “and who is responsible for giving you all the information you’ve shared with us, and therefore is just as likely to be pulling our strings now as then.”
“Maybe,” Naples admitted.
Lydie sighed. There was no way of knowing if the Numini or the Abyssi were manipulating them at that moment. That would be true no matter what they decided.
“Based on everything you know,” she asked, “who would you rather try to take the Quinacridone: Terre Verte, or you?”
“I would like a better source of information.”
“Imagine you didn’t know a thing about Terre Verte and his history,” Lydie challenged. “You know Indathrone is dead. Sooner or later someone is going to call for a replacement. Who would you like to see take his place?”
Hansa stared at her, and she watched the last of his objections drain away. Given his previous position in the 126, he probably knew better than she did the people who would run if an election were called for.
“It looks like we’re decided, then,” Naples announced with a tired smile. “Nice job, Necromancer.” He stood, abandoning a plate he had barely picked at. “For now, it’s late, and we all have a busy day tomorrow. Hansa needs to get to the Quinacridone, Umber and I need to break a bond, and Lydie, Cadmia and Ginger need to start campaigning. If everyone is finished eating, I move we conclude this little meeting and go home to bed. And Umber . . . invite me or don’t, but don’t fool yourself into thinking I don’t know where you live. Or for that
matter that Cupric doesn’t, or that Terre Verte doesn’t. I’m going to the temple to catch up on rumors, and then I’m going to knock on your door. If you let me in, at least you’ll know where I am.”
Lydie wasn’t sure if that last was supposed to sound like a threat or a flirt, but she was glad it—and the direct, copper stare and raised brow that accompanied it—weren’t directed at her.
Chapter 27
Cupric
Cupric lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing he were asleep but not quite daring to close his eyes again and risk it. Terre Verte had ordered him to drop by sometime this evening after the supper hour—right after he told him to stay away from Umber and Hansa. Cupric had expected that order eventually, but was disappointed by how soon it had come.
He stretched and frowned, realizing he couldn’t remember the name of the woman sleeping next to him. She was an animamancer, which had been a new experience for him. A disappointing one, in the end; he had expected something more exciting from someone tied to life itself.
He had briefly debated trying to seduce Keppel, but one look at her while she was working reminded him that you had to be an idiot to willingly bed an Abyssumancer.
“I’ve got to go,” he announced, shaking the woman next to him.
She opened wide doe-eyes and yawned. “Do you have to?”
I just said that I did. “I have a meeting with the Terre and Xaz.”
She stretched. “That man does keep odd hours, doesn’t he?” Then she adjusted her grip on the pillow, closed her eyes again, and murmured, “Sleep late tomorrow. I’ll make breakfast.”
Cupric stared at her for a full five seconds before deciding she was serious. “I don’t think so.”
“Hmm. Maybe lunch.” Her eyes were still closed.
“You can’t stay here,” he said. Shouldn’t that have been clear already? “I’m leaving. You have to leave.” She was attractive, but she hadn’t been nearly good enough in bed for him to want to have her waiting when he got back.
“Oh!” Her eyes opened at last and she sat up, raking hair back from her face. “Well, I’ll just . . .” She blinked and frowned up at him, obviously still fighting sleep. “I’ll get to my own bed. Thanks for the good time earlier, I guess, even if you are an asshole afterwards.”
After the woman left, Cupric quickly washed up and dressed, then walked toward Terre Verte’s claimed home, where he found the prince in his sitting room looking over the manuscript that Umber had sent his necromancer to bring with a grave expression. Cupric had glanced at it briefly before handing it over, but hadn’t understood why it was important.
“Have you learned anything interesting from that?” he asked now.
Terre Verte nodded. His words as he set the manuscript down on the table next to him, however, were not about the writing inside. “I need you to assist me in opening a rift.”
Cupric was sure he must have misheard. “Excuse me?”
The Terre looked up, and for the first time, Cupric noticed the shadows under his eyes. Was scrying into the Cobalt Hall going badly? Or, just perhaps, could such a man still suffer human ailments such as anxiety?
“I need to open a rift to the Abyss,” Terre Verte said, as if his first request had been unclear and that was the only reason for Cupric’s surprise.
To ask, or to not ask. Cupric couldn’t necessarily trust any answer he received, anyway . . .
But he asked.
“Forgive me if this is impertinent,” Cupric said, “but my understanding was that you opened the rift from the Abyss to this plane with ease. You are certainly a more powerful sorcerer than I am.” It galled Cupric to admit that, but he was sane enough not to deny it. “I will gladly assist you, but I am surprised that it is necessary. Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” Terre Verte said coldly. “My energies are directed elsewhere. Can you do it or not?”
Could he open a rift to the Abyss? Yes, certainly. Theoretically. He was an Abyssumancer and a powerful one, but so far he had been sane enough not to meddle with beings that could eat him in an instant of lost control.
“It should be within my power,” he said slowly. His heart was pounding, and his hands had started to tremble. “Where are you going?”
Terre Verte shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere. I need you to assist my sister in crossing to this plane. If it is easier for you, you can cross and then return after you have rested, as long as you are back in time for the meeting.”
He was speaking as if he was asking for something easy.
“It’s . . . not something I’ve ever done before,” Cupric admitted. He should be able to do it, but there was still the possibility of his being trapped in the Abyss if he stepped across and then his power failed. “Can she be summoned across, like one of the Abyssi?”
“In order to summon one of the Abyssi across, you need to use their power as a bridge. The spawn can’t link to you like that.” The air of distraction cleared from Terre Verte’s gaze, and suddenly his gray eyes bored into Cupric’s. “I am giving you this assignment because you have the kind of power necessary, but you should know that if you touch my sister in any way that is not with her complete and fully-informed consent, I will tear you apart. Do you believe me?”
At first, Cupric thought the sensation of ice running down his spine was a result of very rational fear, but then he realized the air had dropped in temperature. He wrapped his arms across his chest and shivered. “I believe you.”
The Terre smiled, and the room warmed again. “Excellent. Let’s begin.”
“Now?”
Terre Verte nodded sharply. “Yes, now. If I had wanted it tomorrow, I would have asked you tomorrow.”
“I’m not prepared,” Cupric objected. “I need to gather tools, visit the temple, find a—”
The Terre cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I’ve found you an escort, and the tools you will need. Do you have any more excuses you would like to waste my time with?”
Again the temperature dropped. Bastard.
“Fine,” Cupric said. “Who is this ‘escort’?” Keppel might be able to lend power, but Cupric hoped Terre Verte didn’t expect her to be trustworthy. Or maybe the prince would send him with some Numenmancer, to make him behave.
Terre Verte led the way into the next room. Cupric had assumed it was a bedroom, and maybe it once had been, but it wasn’t anymore. It was a soft spot—not quite a temple, but somewhere the planes had been breached, repeatedly. The bed had been shoved to the side, and covered with a white silk cloth and other tools for working with the Numini. Cupric gave it a wide berth. On the other side of the room, a bookcase and low chest had been covered with leather and glass and held more familiar tools.
Cupric frowned. Where in the Abyss had the Terre been sleeping—with or without his Numenmancer? He looked at the bed with its silk cover, but decided no, there was no way the Numini would tolerate sex on what had obviously been transformed into an altar to them.
The white bed and the thick veil of magic had briefly distracted Cupric from one of the sources of power in the room, but at last his eyes fixed on blue. “Alizarin,” he greeted the Abyssi prince. “You’re my escort?”
The Abyssi nodded, his tail swishing. Cupric didn’t know it well enough to translate the creature’s mood, but he knew at least that a prince of the third level of the Abyss was powerful enough to make this trip not only more possible, but more pleasant.
“Alizarin will help you find your way in the Abyss, and defend you from some of the dangers there,” Terre Verte said. “He will also eat you if you cross the line with Azo.”
“Does Umber know you’re here?” Cupric asked. It was hard to imagine that the spawn’s little crew would tolerate their Abyssi running errands for Terre Verte.
The Abyssi’s tail swayed again, and this time Cupric was almost certain it was an expression of discomfort.
“Cupric,” Terre Verte said warningly.
Cautious i
n the face of both the Abyssi’s and the prince’s irritation, Cupric asked instead, “How is Umber?”
The Abyssi smiled. It didn’t look like a friendly expression. “He and Hansa have lots of sex. Loudly. You can taste the power all through the house. You must miss it.”
The animamancer’s face flashed through Cupric’s mind, followed shortly after by the memory of Umber’s skin, or more specifically, of his blood and the flavor of his power.
“Yes, I do,” he answered.
Alizarin crossed the room in a lithe slink of beautiful blue fur, the heat in his eyes enough to make Cupric’s skin tingle. “How much?” he purred, standing close.
Equally powerful instincts told Cupric to step forward, and to step backward. He ended up keeping his feet solid on the floor, doing neither. “I’m not sure I understand the question,” he managed to say, his throat tight.
The Abyssi leaned forward, balancing on the balls of his feet at an angle that brought him closer to Cupric, and which would have made a human topple forward. “You’re an Abyssumancer,” the Abyssi said, clearly. “I’ve had an Abyssumancer before. They taste good.”
Sweet Numen, the kind of power the creature was offering, if Cupric was near-suicidal enough to essentially roll over and take it. He knew what the Abyssi considered sex was brutal, but . . .
“We could work something out,” he said in a voice that was so soft and breathy it didn’t sound like his.
Alizarin licked his cheek, then bounced to an upright position and turned around, saying, “Good. If I get hungry, I’ll eat you. Or if you ever come near Umber or Hansa. Or Caddy.” The last name was practically a growl.
Cupric turned to Terre Verte, his heart now pounding not with anticipation but genuine fear. “May I have a different escort?”
“I’m sending you to pick up my sister,” the Terre replied. “Alizarin is a perfect chaperone.”
To the Abyss with all this, the Terre and his grand plans. Cupric would do this one more thing, but after that he was getting out of the way. Out of Kavet if he could. The only reason he didn’t walk out of the house that instant was that, from the moment the Terre had brought up the subject, he had been able to practically taste the Abyss. This was exactly what his power was driven every moment to do, even if his common sense usually kept him from doing it.