Of the Mortal Realm

  “Alizarin isn’t a danger to you, is he?” Naples asked, his heart speeding at the fear of her being harmed.

  She shook her head, and this time her smile was wider—almost hungry. “There is nothing in this world that is a danger to me. Now go. You must get the girl before they do.”

  “Are you coming with me?”

  “I have my own errands,” she replied. “You will have enough of my attention that I will be able to come to you if you need me.” She touched his tear-stained cheek, kissed his forehead, and then the air swirled and the world went cold.

  “Wait!” he called, leaping to his feet as she stepped backward into the new rift.

  “Do this for me, and you will please me,” she said. “That will get you through my absence.”

  Then she was gone, and he was left staring at where she had been. Gone. She had left him. He reached out as if he could touch the rift, but it had closed; he couldn’t follow. He couldn’t follow. But he needed her!

  Do this for me, and you will please me.

  She was right. If he just focused on the task she had given him, and on what he needed to do to accomplish it, he could survive.

  Dear Abyss, what was wrong with him? All she had done was leave the room, but it felt like his heart was breaking. It was fake, all of it—it had to be; it was magic, the bond of a mancer to one of the Others. But even knowing that, he couldn’t stop it.

  As he left Amaranth, he passed the animamancer he had bedded before his trip to the Abyss. She smiled broadly at him, and he drew back, ashamed that he had ever touched her. That he had thought her attractive.

  Horses. Terre Verte had horses. He could take one of those, to get to the city faster. Of course, Umber also had horses; Cupric had been the one to teach him to ride and, damn it, why had he done that? So the spawn could run from him faster? So he could get to Pearl faster now?

  As Cupric rode, the despair twined into anger, both at himself and at . . . Everything, anything. Except her. He wanted to be angry at Doné, but he couldn’t be.

  How could he ever have even considered risking a third boon and a bond to Umber? Would it have been like this madness? What kind of fool had he been?

  As he crossed the crowded market square, accepting Doné’s assurance that there wouldn’t be any sighted guards and therefore not even bothering to try to hide his power, he saw more than one person step away from him—and, interestingly enough, more than one person move closer. His rapid, hostile steps could explain those who drew back, but not the others. That had to be a result of the Numini’s power drawing people to him.

  He hesitated before ascending the Cobalt Hall’s front steps, both to push back his blatant hostility so he wouldn’t scare away anyone who opened the door, and to gather his courage.

  Taking the first stair was like being slapped in the face. His muscles twitched with the impulse to run back, run away as fast as possible.

  Do this for me, and you will please me.

  He forced himself onto the second step, which brought pressure and constriction around his lungs. His heart beat rapidly enough he feared another step would bring about a heart attack.

  Yet he took it.

  He leaned against the doorframe to steady himself as he knocked.

  It felt like centuries but was probably only seconds before someone answered the door. Cupric wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to stand there, and didn’t want to know what would happen if he passed out and they took him inside.

  “Can I help you?” a young woman he didn’t recognize asked.

  “Can I talk to—” His breath ran out, and he had to try again.

  “Are you all right?” she asked kindly.

  He nodded sharply.

  “Why don’t you come inside and sit down?” she asked. “You don’t look well.”

  With the invitation, the pressure pushing against him lessened a little, as if whatever magic protected the Cobalt Hall was willing to listen to its inhabitants. It remained present; he knew he wouldn’t be able to step inside. But he was able to breathe, and now he did so before saying, “I need to speak to Pearl.”

  The woman in the doorway stiffened protectively. “Why?”

  Cupric was familiar with Pearl’s story, and now something occurred to him. She was blond, and one of those mismatched eyes was bright blue. It would work. He lifted his gaze, which had been focused somewhere near the ground, and said, “Would you tell her that her father would like to see her?”

  The novice in the doorway would make the obvious connection, and the words wouldn’t contradict what Cupric had been instructed to tell Pearl.

  Her eyes widened, and she said, “Oh! Um . . . I think she’s helping Cadmia make the morning meal. I’ll see if she wants to see you.”

  The last words held that same wary mistrust, and it occurred to him that claiming to be a father who had abandoned the girl years ago could also have drawbacks.

  “I’ll understand if she doesn’t want to,” he said. “She’s never had a father in her life, and I know her mother abandoned her here. I only learned about her recently.”

  The woman’s expression softened, and she said, “I’ll talk to her. Do you want to wait inside?”

  “I’ll wait here. I don’t want to intrude if Pearl doesn’t want to see me.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” she said once more, before turning away and disappearing into the Hall.

  Cupric turned and sat on the lowest step to wait. He had met Cadmia once. If she came to the door with Pearl and recognized him, there might be problems. Especially since Pearl was rumored to have the sight. If she cried mancer, things could get messy.

  It didn’t matter; as long as he could get Pearl to leave with him, Doné could handle the rest.

  Chapter 37

  Cadmia

  Pearl laughed, a sound that made Cadmia smile despite their dire situation.

  Predictably, Pearl had been in her own room when Cadmia returned to the Cobalt Hall late the night before. Cadmia had wanted to talk to her right away, but even at the late hour the Hall had been buzzing with rumors of Indathrone’s disappearance, the emergency election, and talk of which Sisters and Brothers had been nominated, Cadmia among them. She had been prepared to wake Pearl up to talk to her, but then in the midst of trying to calm and update Sienna she had blinked—and suddenly it was morning.

  Damn, damn her for falling asleep. Common sense and education both told her the pregnancy was partly to blame for her fatigue, compounded with the strain and anxiety of the last few days. She had scrambled up, only to find Pearl already out on her morning cider delivery to the soldiers of the 126 ending their long, cold night shifts amid softly-falling flurries of snow. Cadmia’s heart had pounded as she joined the girl and shadowed her closely, and eventually hustled her inside and convinced her to help make breakfast.

  Unfortunately, the kitchen wasn’t private. Cadmia couldn’t tell Pearl all the things she desperately needed to know while other members of the Order drifted in and out of the room. She was still trying to think of a way she could talk to the girl alone when Sienna stepped into the kitchen and said, “Cadmia, there’s a petitioner here to see you.”

  Cadmia blinked at the novice, as if the words had come out in a strange and unfamiliar language. “Excuse me?”

  Sienna looked equally confused in response—and her confusion was more justified. She repeated slowly, “A petitioner. Are you available?” Identifying the only thing Cadmia seemed to be doing, she offered, “I can help Pearl make breakfast.”

  In all the chaos of trying to save the world, it was hard to remember that other people still expected Cadmia to do her official job, which was meeting with petitioners who came to her for guidance. Her specialty was working with petty criminals and abusers to help them find a path toward a healthier—and more legal—life and livelihood. It was important work that would be pointless if Quinacridone succeeded in taking over the moral realm.

  “What was their name?” May
be it was someone she had worked with before and could reasonably refer to another Sister or Brother.

  “Arylide. I tried to get her to come in to the temple to wait for you, but she insisted on waiting out back in the garden,” Sienna answered.

  Lydie? She and the others should have been waiting at Hansa’s apartment. Had something gone wrong? Had the Numini given her another message?

  Cadmia wiped her hands on a towel and cast an anxious look at Pearl. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said. “Stay here with Sienna. I need to talk to you when I get back.” She tried to put all the weight of the situation into her voice and her eyes, hoping Pearl would pick up on it.

  The child nodded slowly, in the thoughtful way she had when she was curious about something but wasn’t sure she should ask.

  As she hurried toward the back door, Cadmia heard Sienna ask Pearl, “So, what were you and Caddy making?”

  Behind the Cobalt Hall had once been a scruffy alley providing a discreet way in and out of the building. It was still sometimes used that way, but over the years it had been transformed with trailing ivy, lanterns, and a pair of benches designed to give people a place to sit and meditate. The woman sitting on one of those benches now, who looked a few years older than Cadmia, was decidedly not Lydie.

  “Who are you?” she asked, sharply enough that the woman’s gaze shot up, startled.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re not Arylide.”

  “Yes I am,” the woman replied with a growing frown. “Arylide of the mender’s district? I tend sails and nets and—”

  “What do you want?” This could be a matter of a coincidental name similarity, since Arylide wasn’t an entirely uncommon name, but the prickle at the back of Cadmia’s neck told her otherwise.

  “I came for counsel?” the woman answered, looking unsure now. “Isn’t that . . . what people do here? I was told I should come to you, that you could help.”

  Maybe it was paranoia, but the situation was too coincidental, and the woman’s tone rang false. “I’m sorry,” Cadmia said, “but I am unavailable right now for a proper consult. If you come around the front of the building, you can make an appointment—”

  “Wait!” the woman cried, because Cadmia was already turning away as she spoke, intending to hurry inside and check on Pearl. She caught the edge of Cadmia’s sleeve and said, “Please, I need—”

  That close, Cadmia caught the whiff of Abyssal power, perhaps not from the woman, but on the woman. Maybe she was an Abyssumancer veiling her power—or maybe she had been influenced by one.

  Cadmia shook the woman off and raced back inside to the kitchen. As she did, she used the sharp barb on the ring Naples had given her to nick her opposite fingertips, then sent a mental cry out: Alizarin, get the others here, now. If she was overreacting and it was a false alarm, so be it.

  She didn’t think she was overreacting.

  Pearl and Sienna weren’t in the kitchen anymore.

  Damn. Damn! Near-running, Cadmia dashed from the kitchen to the front hall, where she saw an indulgent-looking Sienna smiling to herself in a dazed way. She, too, appeared tainted by Abyssal power.

  “Pearl’s father is here for her,” Sienna said, a little too sunnily. “Isn’t that—?”

  Cadmia ignored her and shoved open the front door, where she found Pearl standing a few steps down, facing a pale but resolute-looking Cupric.

  Cupric’s gaze flickered briefly to Cadmia, but he spoke to Pearl, saying, “Obviously, I’m not actually your father. You know he can’t come here, right?”

  Pearl nodded.

  “I also know a lot of things,” Cadmia said smoothly. “One of them being how much of a bastard you are. Pearl, come inside.”

  She tried not to look toward the plaza, to wonder how long it would be before the others arrived. They weren’t far away.

  Maybe Hansa can summon the 126, Cadmia thought dryly, though she knew the fair-minded Hansa probably wouldn’t think of calling on soldiers to dispose of a mancer while he, Umber, Alizarin, and maybe even Lydie stood by hypocritically.

  Pearl took a step back toward the door in response to Cadmia’s words and tone, then froze as Cupric pulled something from beneath his heavy winter cloak.

  At least, Cadmia thought he had taken something out. His hand looked empty, but as he knelt down to talk to Pearl, she could obviously see something, and it drew her forward again. Cadmia reached for her, but Pearl darted forward to grab whatever it was.

  “Pearl!”

  “It’s a Numini feather,” Cupric said, softly so as not to be overheard. “You would know that, if you stopped to consider why you can’t see it.”

  “Pearl’s father . . .” Cadmia hated to say it in front of Pearl, but it was better than letting her trust a man that Cadmia knew was willing to abduct and abuse one of the spawn in order to get his way. “Veronese is dead. He was slain by Modigliani. He is not the one who has been talking to you. You only want Pearl because—”

  “Alizarin was mistaken,” Cupric interrupted. “Numini are not easy to kill.”

  “I want to see him,” Pearl declared.

  “Pearl—”

  “Cadmia, can you show any faith?” Cupric snapped. “You know what I am, and worse than that, I know what I am these days. I would claw out my own heart if it would undo what I’ve done, but the point of it is that it’s done and the Numini asked me to talk to Pearl. I don’t want to disappoint it again.”

  Suddenly there were tears in the Abyssumancer’s eyes, and Cadmia was pretty sure they were genuine. Too bad for him.

  “I’m sorry,” Cupric said. “But Pearl, please, believe me. There are people who are going to hurt you.”

  “She’s safe here,” Cadmia said.

  “She is not safe here,” Cupric snapped.

  “Mancers, spawn, and Others can’t cross this threshold.”

  He gave what sounded like a nearly hysterical laugh. “No, we can’t,” he said, “but Quin guards can, and when they do, who’s going to protect her? Alizarin? Umber?”

  “Why would the Quin come for her?” Cadmia whispered. She hadn’t expected this gambit, this threat.

  Only a few more minutes, she thought desperately. She considered grabbing Pearl and trying to drag her inside, but if Cupric was able to overpower Umber magically, he would certainly be able to overpower Cadmia. She would rather keep him talking until reinforcements arrived instead of pushing him to use his magic.

  “The Quin will come for her when they learn what she is,” Cupric said, “and they will learn what she is because Terre Verte will tell them.” He drew a deep breath. “You cannot comprehend the hatred Terre Verte holds for the Numini. He has Dioxazine locked away. He will see Pearl as another source of power in his quest to open a rift to the Numen and engage them in battle.”

  The words were chilling. In all their planning, they had not stopped to wonder what Verte might think of the girl.

  “I will take her somewhere safe, then,” Cadmia said, then thought, Oh, thank Numen, as she saw the others picking their way through the crowded market square. They were slowed by the people getting in Hansa’s way, repeatedly stopping him. She was relieved to see that Hansa had also finally retrieved his sword from his apartment. He might have an imminent opportunity to use it.

  “Where?” Cupric challenged. “Umber’s house? Terre Verte has Dioxazine; that means he has his hand on Alizarin’s leash. He will be able to find Alizarin any time he wishes, and through Alizarin he will be able to find you.” Again he spoke to Pearl, whose eyes had gone wide. “Please, Pearl, trust me. Trust that feather you’re holding. You want to see your father, don’t you—” He trailed off as he noticed Cadmia’s eyes darting behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and whispered, “Oh, fu—” biting off the curse as he looked back at Pearl. “We need to go.”

  “Let’s let Hansa and Umber decide,” Cadmia declared.

  “What if I want to decide?” Pearl asked, taking a defiant step forwa
rd.

  Before Cadmia could take the two steps down to drag Pearl back again, Cupric reached forward and seized her so-close wrist. They both nearly toppled over backward as he twisted, trying to flee with the now-struggling girl, and made it almost to the bottom of the steps before Cadmia could pounce and catch Pearl’s other wrist.

  “Help!” Cadmia shouted. Mancer or not, Cupric would appear to any by-stander to be a stranger trying to drag Pearl out of the Hall against her will. What madness must have possessed him to think this was a good idea?

  She heard Hansa yelling, “Move aside. Get out of the way!”

  Naples, lean and wiry and unknown as he was, made it to them first. Over the noise, Cadmia could barely hear him growl, “Well, at least Terre Verte taught us all how to banish unwanted Numini.” He drew his knife.

  Cupric let go of Pearl and turned to face Naples.

  Cadmia saw something ruffle the girl’s hair, but that was all the warning she or any of the others had, aside from Cupric’s slow-spreading smile.

  Pearl took off, darting back toward the Cobalt Hall, moments before the world tightened, and seized—and lightning struck.

  Chapter 38

  Hansa

  Hansa coughed, and drew a breath. The air stank of ozone and burned with cold, but that at least convinced him he was alive.

  Fuck. Well, Naples was alive, too; his thought reached Hansa on their still-lingering connection.

  Umber?

  I agree with the Abyssumancer.

  Can anyone sit up?

  I can’t even see yet, Naples snarled. Or feel my hands.

  Lightning, Umber managed to say.

  Hansa thought his eyes were open, but as Naples had said, he couldn’t see. The world was nothing more than a wash of bright afterimages.