The Kingdoms of Dust (28 page)

W
ith sleep came dreams.

She lay not in her bed but on a red salt table, motionless and aware. Nerium bent over her, opening her chest with a shining scalpel while Kash stood by like a midwife’s attendant, ready to receive her dripping heart when Nerium cut it free.

“She won’t need this,” Nerium said, and now Qais was replaced by an examination theater in the Arcanost, the seats filled by a faceless crowd. “What should we replace it with?”

“This,” said Moth, standing beside the coffin-table. Blood smeared her smock and clung in a flaking line across her nose. She held the black diamond ring. “This is all she needs.”

“Very good. Yes.” Nerium took the ring with one bloody hand and fit it into Isyllt’s gaping chest. “Would you care to do the stitching?”

Light shattered off the tip of Moth’s needle.

She woke before the first stitch. Normally such a dream would leave her breathless and sweating, but she was calm now. Her heart beat slow and soft. The surgery must have been a success.

And thinking of Moth, bloodstained and beringed, she knew what she had to do.

Isyllt went downstairs in the afternoon, after another awkward one-armed bath, and joined Nerium for tea. The other woman looked happier than Isyllt had seen before—nothing effusive, but her eyes were brighter and less strained, the crisp tones of her voice less caustic.

She had known this woman for three days, she realized with a start. The timeless air of Qais made it feel much longer.

“Now what?” she asked, blowing on the surface of her tea. The dry air stole even the moisture of steam, making it too easy to burn a careless tongue.

“Now…” Nerium tilted her cup, as if reading their future in the leaves. “It won’t be long before Ahmar realizes what’s happened. As fond as I’ve been of antagonizing her, I don’t look forward to that confrontation. But it will have to come before we can continue our work here. I’ll need your help.” If the admission pained her, she hid it well—or perhaps it was merely a command. “And,” she added, sliding a plate of cakes across the table, “I need you strong. Eat. Rest. I’ll look at your shoulder again tomorrow and see if I can’t speed the healing.”

“I am tired,” Isyllt admitted. Denying that would be ridiculous; she’d seen her face in the mirror. The desert and sleepless nights had left her hollow-eyed and hollow-cheeked, a sunburned death’s head.

“Rest,” Nerium said again. “You’ll need all your wits and strength if we have to face Ahmar, not to mention Al-Jodâ’im.”

“I will.” She took a dutiful bite of pastry, though honey and poppy seeds felt like scorched earth in her mouth.

She spent the rest of the evening in her room, lying with her eyes closed and pretending to nap, building a spell layer by careful layer. She emerged after dinner, drained but clearheaded.

Adam and Asheris were nowhere to be found. That was still for the best, but as the numbness wore off their avoidance pained her. Moth, however, was in her room, and opened the door at Isyllt’s knock.

“Are you happy,” Moth asked, “now that you’ve chosen? I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Not happy, no.” That much was perfectly true. “But I think I made the right decision.” Of that she was nowhere as sure, but she’d find out soon enough. “I have something for you.” She took a silk-wrapped ring from her pocket: a pigeon’s blood ruby, cushion-cut and set in white gold. It sat like a bloodstain on the white handkerchief, a reminder of her dream.

Moth swallowed. “This was
hers
.”

Phaedra Severos, she meant. The haematurge’s sorcerous plague had nearly killed Moth, along with dozens of others in Erisín.

“It was. It deserves to be worn again.” She hesitated. “We never spoke of it, but I know…the flavor of your magic. You could be a strong haematurge some day, with proper teaching.”

“I’m nowhere close to deserving a stone like this.”

Isyllt smiled crookedly. “That’s because I’ve been a horrible teacher. You’ll grow into it.” She pressed the ring onto Moth’s palm and folded the girl’s fingers around it.

“There’s something in here,” Moth said, frowning.

“A present.” She winked. “You just have to learn how to open it.”

Moth’s frown deepened. “You’re saying good-bye.”

Despite all her careful emptiness, pain still slivered between her ribs. “I don’t want to. Please believe that. But I would rather not leave it unsaid, just in case. You’re bright and clever and resourceful—you’ll do well no matter where you end up. I haven’t been half of what you deserve, and I hope you can forgive me for that.”

The crease between the girl’s brows eased. “You have been a lousy teacher, and not much fun to be around. But I asked you for choices and for change, and I can’t say you haven’t delivered.” Her mouth hooked sideways. “Next time I’ll know to ask for choices that aren’t terrible.”

Isyllt turned away before her face could betray her. “Anyone who offers you that is a liar.”

Isyllt lay awake after midnight, stretching out her senses—quietly, carefully, light as a thief. She touched Moth, still awake, and brushed across Melantha, sleeping fitfully. She wanted to linger as she found Adam, wanted to say something, but there was nothing to say, and it would only make things worse. Next she felt Nerium, and held her metaphorical breath against discovery; the sorceress slept as well, if only lightly, and Isyllt hurried on. She found the sleepers in the library, and a guard dozing at his post at the side door. Of Asheris there was no sign, and she couldn’t extend herself past the walls of the Chanterie.

Hours later, she wrapped herself in robes and silence and slunk out of her room. The hour of the wolf, this was called in Selafai; the Assari felt the same, though here it was the jackal. The hall was dark and still, and nothing stirred as she crept down the corridors and out an unwatched door.

She breathed in dust and myrrh, reaching out once more. Asheris had passed this way some time ago; the familiar warmth of his magic cooled in the night, a faint trail nearly gone. Swallowing a curse at the delay, she followed it north.

“Where are you skulking, witch?” Kash’s voice came from behind her, but she didn’t startle; she’d been expecting him. “Oh, forgive me. Where are you skulking,
mistress
?” His voice was vitriol, burning to the bone.

“Is it skulking if this is home? I’m looking for Asheris—have you seen him?”

“I see everything in Qais.”

Isyllt sighed as he fell silent. “Will you tell me where he is, please?”

“Spare me your courtesy.” His beak snapped, and she wondered how he made the sound so scathing. “You made your loyalties plain. Your jinni feels the same way.”

“Where is he?”

“Near the boundary of Qais.” He tilted his head northward. “And very close to crossing it.”

An indrawn breath hissed between her teeth. “Stop him!”

“So sorry, mistress, but Lady Kerah hasn’t yet rescinded her orders.”

“You don’t have to speak with him, damn you, just don’t let him leave!”

“I’m already damned, and if you think I’ll stop another jinni from fleeing this place, you’re a fool. You may command me, oathsworn, but I can fight you long enough to buy him time.”

“Damn you both,” she spat. “Your fiery hearts have burned up your brains. Take me to him, Kash.” She made his name a lash, sharpening it with will and magic. He flinched, and an angry spark woke in his dull dead eyes. “Now!”

“As you wish.” One hand closed on her wrist like a steel band and yanked her forward into nothing.

It was the same rending of the world that had brought them to Qais, but this time he wasn’t gentle. She gasped and choked as blackness flooded her lungs. If he let go she would drown in shadows. But his grip held and the void spat them out again. Kash released her as though her skin fouled him and she fell to her knees on stony ground. As her vision stopped spinning, she recognized the narrow pass that led from Qais’s valley back to the endless waste of Al-Reshara.

“Isyllt?”

Asheris knelt beside her. He reached out, but didn’t touch her. Since he was reaching for her left shoulder, she didn’t complain.

“Don’t,” she wheezed, her lungs still aching. “Don’t you dare run away.”

“I told you I couldn’t stay here.” He touched her now, helping her stand, but his grip was as cool and distant as his eyes. “Especially now. You’re my friend, Isyllt, one of the dearest I’ve had. Let me remember you that way. Not like this.”

Her hands ached, clenched at her sides to stop her from shaking him till he rattled. “Did flesh dull your wits, or have you always been this stupid? I need your help, damn you. I’m going into the oubliette tonight. You’re the only one strong enough to go with me and have a chance in hell of bringing me out again if I fall. And no matter what you and Adam seem to think, this isn’t my way of committing suicide.”

His mouth opened and closed again, and Isyllt spun away with an exasperated curse. “I’ve sworn the vows, Kash, and I can command you, but I don’t want to. So please, please,
please
, take us to the thrice-damned oubliette.”

His bald head swiveled, regarding her from each eye in turn. Both eyes pearled as he blinked. “Yes, mistress.” Kash took her arm again, and she barely had time to catch Asheris’s sleeve and pull him after. They emerged on the top of the temple stairs. All of Qais spread out around them, dark and silent.

“This is as far as I can take you,” Kash said, gesturing to the warded door. “I am forbidden the oubliette unless Nerium herself summons me. You may command me, but she holds my prison. You’re free to enter, but if you tamper with anything I’ll know, and so will she. If that were to happen, you would have very little time.” He vanished—to spare himself knowledge that he would be forced to divulge.

Isyllt lifted a finger to forestall Asheris’s questions and took his hand again. Nerves scalded her cheeks as she stepped forward. The wards licked at her, tasting her magic, tasting the oaths she had sworn, and parted for her. The door beyond was unlocked. She called no light till it was safely shut behind them, and then only a pinprick.

“What are you doing?” Asheris asked as they descended the stair. A whisper, but the sound rose like a wave through the well.

“Going into the oubliette. It’s Nerium’s idea. She wants to bond a mage to Al-Jodâ’im, a human mind to command the power of the void.”

He recoiled. “Abomination.”

“Maybe, but it’s clever. If any human can survive it. She seems to think I can.”

“As a demon? As something twisted like Kash?” He caught her shoulder as they reached the bottom and turned her to face him. “Isyllt, is this really what you want?”

She grinned; in the mirror of his eyes she looked like a demon already. “I wanted a purpose. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it will have to do.”

Even the smallest witchlight was enough to ignite the diamonds set in the walls. Walking into the round room was like floating in the night sky, close enough to touch the firmament. The sight caught in Isyllt’s throat—so much beauty wasted on a prison.

“This is a very bad idea,” Asheris said.

“I know. That’s why I need you here.” She leaned close to kiss his cheek. “If this fails, it may fail spectacularly. Be ready to run, just in case.”

“What about the others?”

“Moth will know what to do.” If she’d solved the riddle-spell on the ring in time, and understood the message inside. If she knew how to use it. Isyllt rarely bothered to pray, but she prayed now:
Black Mother, keep them safe
.

Praying for her own safety would be ridiculous, under the circumstances.

“Isyllt—”

He reached for her but she turned away, turned toward the pit. She didn’t look back or slow her stride as she stepped over the edge.

If she fell and broke her leg—

She didn’t fall.

She fell forever.

The nothing cradled her, drew her down into a black embrace. Its song slid inside her, under her skin and through bone, crawling between the seams of her skull and echoing inside her head. She was too small to hold it—it would shatter her.

The song wove pictures in the darkness, dressed her in alien memories. She saw Al-Jodâ’im, sailing the seas between stars, at home in the frozen abyss. She was them. Stars sang in voices of fire and crystal; the dust of dead worlds whispered in sidereal winds; hollow drumbeats tolled the failing hearts of suns. And Al-Jodâ’im sang to them all, and to one another, a dozen voices and one.

Then came the other song, an insistent whisper pulling them in, dragging them from their course. Pulling them down. Then the fall, into heat and light and screaming. A harsh, hot place trapped in form and flesh, and that welcoming song became shrieks and curses. The creatures who had summoned them fled, dissolving at every desperate touch. The weight of the world crushed them and their craft was shattered, their home far from reach.

Next came the chains, frail form-bound shapes standing against them, binding them with stone and spell, caging them in darkness. And the darkness was soothing after the fury of the world, but it was still a prison, and they wept within its walls for all they had lost.

She watched the failed experiments of Quietus, mages lost for knowledge and control. She saw too the experiments that hadn’t failed: how the quiet men siphoned entropy out of the oubliette to fuel their own magic and keep themselves strong, even as that entropy crept into all their workings and soured their hearts. All around her brighter shadows fluttered in the dark—bits and pieces of all the mortals and spirits consumed throughout the centuries. Kash was here, and a child whose name had been forgotten, and a hundred others, all trapped within these narrow walls.

The darkness dissolved her; she became nothing. Nerium was right—with the right timing, the right strength and will and understanding, she could rise from the pit changed, inhumanly strong. But that would do nothing but repeat the sins of the past for another thousand years.