Covenants: Anodize (Hymn of the Multiverse Book 9)

by Terra Whiteman

  Leid looked at him, bereft of expression. “You know what.”

  Beside her, I inhaled. She looked at me, but I remained quiet.

  Zira was looking over his assigned tasks. “The OSC athanasian research goes all the way to the top of the chain, Leid. Are you asking me to kill their leadership?”

  “Not an ask, Zira. But I do ask that you all be discreet. None of this should ever be traceable to us.”

  He shrugged and reclined in his seat, wearing a ‘whatever’ look.

  “The ramifications of killing leaders of civilizations under our protection could cause damage to our relations with them,” objected Aela.

  Leid stared at her.

  “The sudden death of faction leadership will cause a collapse from within. If everyone’s at war, how can they trade with us?”

  “If they kill themselves by opening an expanding rift into Eschatis, there won’t be any trade either. In fact, there won’t be a faction at all. Or a system. Or a galaxy. Must I go on?”

  Leid’s rebuttal silenced Aela. Her jaw clenched, and she nodded.

  “So, when do we start?” asked Qaira. As always, his enthusiasm toward this line of work was appalling.

  “Take a day off at least, please,” sighed Leid. “You all have two and a half Exodian weeks to complete your given tasks.”

  Zira started. “But the Poekkan rift is still there. What if TCS—?”

  “I’ve handled that already,” Leid said.

  Handled that, I mused grimly.

  “Have I answered everyone’s questions?” demanded Leid.

  No one spoke up. She gestured for me to take over.

  I took this time to assign Aela as the analytical envoy to Eschatis. Her time there would be spent observing and recording phenomena, and gathering data by interviewing the residents. By the end of the brief, Aela was beaming.

  Yahweh was furious. When the council was dismissed, he ambushed me in the hallway.

  “So I’ve been deemed unfit to participate in Leid’s genocide and your survey?” he asked, crestfallen.

  I smiled warmly. “On the contrary. I’ve deemed those tasks beneath your level of skill.”

  Yahweh hadn’t expected that answer. “What could possibly be more important than surveying a parallel dimension?”

  I wrapped an arm around his shoulder, herding him toward the courtyard. “Let’s discuss your next assignment over a smoke, yeah?”

  ***

  Qaira—;

  Things were a bit uneasy since we’d crossed the gate. Surprisingly, I hadn’t been the last one to appear on the Poekkan field—the whirlwinds of the rift still at my back, tamer than before. I’d found Leid sitting a few yards away, having made it out first. I took a seat next to her and we both stared at the blue and violet maelstrom, waiting silently.

  I’d counted two hours later when Zira appeared, pale and trembling, though doing his absolute best to save face. He joined us, and we headed for the TCS research camp where we’d left the transport obelisk. Leid had ordered us to go on ahead. The look in her eyes had also ordered us not to ask any questions. Then, she’d ‘handled it’.

  None of us ever spoke of what shadows we’d faced, and I was fine with that.

  But I wasn’t fine with Leid’s subsequent avoidance of me. She wasn’t outright obvious with it, but anytime we were in our room at the same time she’d find a reason to leave. Her smiles were no longer warm, but frosted over as if the expression itself was difficult. On a sub-level, I knew it had nothing to do with me. She was going through some shit, we all were, and whatever she needed to sort out would take time.

  But the idea that, after all this time, she’d rebuilt her walls to keep me out—me, the one who’d gone through everything with her—left a bad taste in my mouth.

  No, I wouldn’t stand for it.

  I spent a good portion of the evening in euxodia, combing through locations and personal information of those who were marked for death. By the time I’d gathered everything necessary for at least the first task, the rest of Enigmus was quiet; everyone had settled in for the night.

  The quiet was broken by the faint sounds of Leid’s cello permeating the hallway that led to our residence. I slowed to listen, because I knew it’d stop once I made myself known. She was playing our song; and as I listened, something twisted inside of me. I realized then that I’d made an error in judgment: whatever Leid was going through had everything to do with me.

  I opened the door and she looked up, flushing at the knowledge that I’d heard her. I didn’t know why she was so surprised. It was late; obviously I’d have turned in soon.

  “Hi,” said Leid, placing the bow on the bed. “Would you like to play?”

  “No,” I said, removing my coat and hanging it on the door. “Did you eat? You weren’t at dinner.”

  “I ate something after the briefing.” She began to set her cello in its case. I watched her, staring at the case with growing indignation as I remembered who’d given it to her. Leid caught my gaze after she fastened the case shut, her own wavering with slight confusion. “Is everything alright?”

  I sighed, massaging my forehead. “Why do we do this?”

  “… Do what?”

  “Act like fucking teenagers.”

  Leid said nothing, her confusion melting away.

  “We’ve been together for a thousand years.” I back-pedaled. “Well, two hundred of them. You really have the balls to ask if everything is alright, when you’ve been one stick of dynamite away from blowing the whole dam?”

  “Qaira, I—,”

  “Tell me what’s wrong, Leid.”

  She reached for me, and I entertained her until she tried to unfasten my pants. That wasn’t going to work this time. I grabbed her hands and pushed them away.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” I repeated, kneeling in front of her, searching her eyes. “Let me in.”

  And then the dam blew. Leid hugged her stomach and winced, blood tears trickling from her eyes. That sight was like a dagger to the heart. “There’s nothing you can do. The burden is mine to carry.”

  “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

  “How else can it be?” she whispered. “You saw what I am, deep down. This is what I live with.”

  So, she was ashamed that I’d seen her come undone. “Yeah, I saw. And it changes nothing. You’ve seen me, and now I’ve seen you. The end.” I cupped her face in both hands, thumbing her bottom lip. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I squinted, confused. “For what?”

  “For not… saving you. For not saving Sanctum.” Leid cringed, fresh tears brimming her eyes. “Qaira, I’m sorry. I saw something was wrong and I didn’t act soon enough. I—,”

  The image of her in the Committee hallway, screaming “I’m sorry!” over and over again, flashed through my mind.

  I pulled her into me, staring numbly at the wall as she cried into my neck, her shoulders jerking with each sob. I wanted to tell Leid she didn’t have to be sorry, but knew better than to bother with that. From experience, the kind of crushing guilt she felt couldn’t be remedied by an ‘it’s okay; there, there’ approach. It wouldn’t stop all the nightmares and re-hashings; all the what-ifs and self-deprecation.

  So I did what I asked her to do, and was honest. “I love you, and I’ll never stop loving you.” Leid pulled away, wiping her eyes. “Several hours ago, you ordered us to do what was practically done to Sanctum. It doesn’t matter. It happened. It’s happening again, just not to us this time. You aren’t crying for them. Don’t cry for me. I’m here with you, and I’m alive. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  She lowered her chin, nodding.

  “So, what can I do?” I repeated, then grinned slyly. “How can I serve my Queen?”

  Leid rolled her eyes at the ridiculous remark, which had entirely been my goal.

  “Can I kill someone for you? Maybe get you some of those new drugs Yahweh synthesized; the ones tha
t had Pariah talking to a wall?”

  She quirked a brow. I went on.

  “Should I get my violin? We could play—,”

  Leid wrenched me forward and threw me on the bed, biting her lip in fierce determination. She was atop me in a flash, one hand clamped across my mouth, the other finishing with my belt. She leaned down, brushing her lips against my ear. The feral gleam in her eyes told me this affair would be a parlous one. I was almost scared.

  Almost.

  “You can serve your Queen by keeping your mouth shut while I use you all night.”

  O

  NIBLI

  “WILL YOU LEAVE THAT ALONE AND PAY ATTENTION?”

  I ignored the sorceress’s quibbling and watched the group of rounded shards pile into the formation of a cairn all on their own. In their reflection I saw Laith frowning behind me, stirring the pot above the hearth. She was trying to teach me how to make tea. I didn’t care about that. “Why don’t you show me how to do that?” I pointed at the cairn.

  “Because you’re not a wayfarer. You’re an insolent augur.”

  “I’m a wraith, not an augur.” I stood, shuffling over to the fire. “And only wayfarers make tea, as far as I’ve seen.”

  “The ingredients for tea can be gathered by anyone,” murmured Laith, reaching into the satchel slung across her shoulder. “Wouldn’t you have liked to know this recipe back when you were in a bind?”

  “I was never in a bind,” I replied, blandly. “I don’t need to drink tea.”

  Laith showed her disapproval with a sigh. “There won’t be trespassers here forever, you know. But I will say you’re doing a standup job of taking care of them for us.”

  Sometimes the sorceress spoke in phrases I didn’t understand. The way her smile spread only halfway up, paired with the soft, green sheen of her eyes made me feel warm inside. It was nice to have someone I could stand beside for more than a second.

  I looked at the bubbling pot. “Show me how to make the tea.”

  Since the scholars had left Eschatis, I had found a home with Laith. Even though she could have made a new augur out of any of the lost and foolish trespassers we’d found (and she told me this, many times, mostly whenever I refused to do something for her), she insisted on keeping me. Her features were different than Poekkans, or even the varying types of scholars I’d seen, so I couldn’t read most of her facial expressions. I couldn’t tell if she was young or old, either. Sometimes she reminded me of Nara, which is an odd thing to say, but Laith was something like an anamorph.

  We had just returned from an antediluvian quadrant to stock up on apothecary items. It’d taken Laith ages to find the train for it, and we’d traveled very far. In fact our entire partnership so far had entailed traveling from place to place, salvaging ruined waystations or making new ones.

  As Laith pulled out a handful of herbs from her satchel, the gate she’d just instated a few moments ago lit up. Our heads both turned to see someone step through. I was excited for another trespasser, but hid my disappointment when it turned out to be someone the sorceress knew.

  At the sight of him, she clicked her tongue. “You’re back. How convenient.”

  It was a youngish man with stark black hair, streaked silver in the front. He wore robes like Laith, except grey. A wayfarer? An established wayfarer? This was the first of them I’d seen.

  “Have you found it?” he asked, not bothering to say hello. He looked into the pot, then frowned when he realized the coffer wasn’t ready. To my understanding, wayfarers survived on tea alone.

  “I can’t believe you’d dare ask,” said Laith, crossing her arms.

  He looked baffled. “How do you mean?”

  “How do I mean,” she repeated, shaking her head, forgetting about my lesson and dumping the herbs into the pot herself. “If you haven’t noticed, Cassima, there’s been a bit of a war.”

  “Of course I’ve noticed,” he said, briefly looking to me, and I found his eyes remarkably identical to Leid’s. “I hid a dozen wayfarers in my aperture while Suzerain’s acolytes rampaged across Eschatis. And I warned the scholar; I brought them here. Outside of that, I value my life.”

  “A dozen wayfarers?” asked Laith, keen. “And where are they now?”

  He must have done something that I couldn’t see, because Laith turned to look out into the distance. “They’re filling up their satchels, ready to reinstate the gates. You’re welcome.”

  “That quadrant is closer than the one we found,” mourned the sorceress, and I realized he’d shown her a train.

  “So, did you find it?” pressed Cassima.

  “Yes, yes, I found it. Right before the assemblage arrived. But you weren’t around.”

  He didn’t reply, only waited for something with big, bright eyes. Laith waved a hand and the gate turned a different shade of blue. I watched, curiously, as translucent-winged insects flitted out around the posts, evaporating thereafter.

  Cassima took both of Laith’s hands and kissed them. “Thank you. I mean it, thank you.” Then, he nodded to me and hurried toward the gate. We watched him leave, until the gate’s light receded, returning to a standard film of swirling fog.

  “Who was that?” I asked, still watching the gate.

  “My teacher,” said Laith, and I looked down at her. She smiled that signature half-smile. “But you would never know it.”

  ***

  Belial Vakkar—;

  At three in the morning, I awoke for no reason.

  The bed was stiff and cold without Samnaea. I attributed my insomnia to her absence. She’d gone to stay at Crylle with our young daughter in tow, overseeing the opening of a new university program funded by the Heaven and Hell parliaments. This was the fourth morning in a row where I’d woken well before daybreak. What a bloody mess.

  I sat up and grabbed my cane, lain against the bedpost. I finished the shot of liquor left from my glass prior to passing out. When I moved the duvet, sheets of my newest pre-production scattered across the floor. I cursed and collected them, then searched for my pack of cigarettes.

  Our maid was still asleep and I wouldn’t bother her for the likes of me. Her step was always lighter whenever Samnaea was away. My wife worked that poor girl into the ground; but at least she’d have an excellent resume coming out of this, along with a nasty case of PTSD.

  The dining room was dark. I didn’t bother turning on the lights and looked for where the coffee was kept. I snatched the canister off the counter and then—;

  Froze.

  Although my back was to the dining table, in clear view of the kitchen, I’d caught the reflection of a figure sitting in one of the chairs.

  They didn’t move; neither did I.

  “So, who thinks I owe them money now?” I grumbled, lighting a cigarette, playing it off like there wasn’t any danger present. I heard them move, and I turned just as the lights flickered on in the dining room. The cigarette nearly fell from my mouth.

  Qaira loomed in the annex between the kitchen and dining hall, leaning on the frame. I wanted to say something witty, but couldn’t think of anything. By the looks of him, he wasn’t here on good terms.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  He smirked. “Who do you owe money to?”

  “None of your business. Answer my question.”

  Qaira shrugged, then crossed his arms. “It’s been a while. Just thought I’d stop in to say hello.” He pushed off the frame and took a step into the kitchen. “So hello, Micah.”

  It was then when the world seemed to stop. All I could hear was my heart. All I could see was his eyes and the serrated look with which they regarded me, hacking away at my soul. For all the terror I felt, I wouldn’t dare show it.

  “Wonderful,” I sighed, lavender smoke expulsing from my lips. “I don’t suppose we can talk about this?”

  Qaira laughed, but it was mean. He didn’t say anything, only grinned menacingly at me, amused to watch me squirm. This must have been planned; it was
too much of a coincidence that I was here alone. Unbeknownst to him, that would be the only thing to maybe save my life.

  “Samnaea knows,” I said. “I told her in a moment of weakness. You aren’t the only one bearing burdens, here.”

  The grin faltered. He’d understood the implication of that divulgence.

  “So, are you going to find and kill her as well? What about our child—her, too? At what cost are you willing to pay to have your revenge, Qaira? Kill our family, so the demons think the angels did it, and the angels think the demons have framed them. Is that what you’re willing to have transpire for the lowly likes of me?”

  Qaira said nothing. Only stared. The scariest part was that I couldn’t read his expression anymore. The good news was that it’d already been two minutes and my guts were still in my body.

  “A small part of me was hoping you’d find out one day,” I muttered, feeling safe enough now to turn my back and continue with my coffee. It wasn’t like I would be able to defend myself against a god killer, anyway.

  “A small part of you was hoping to have your spinal cord ripped from your mouth?” asked Qaira.

  I laughed and shuddered at the same time. “Do you want some coffee? Maybe something harder?”

  “No.”

  “Then what do you want?” I said. “Clearly you aren’t going to kill me.”

  “I’m still thinking about it.”

  I dumped my façade, narrowing my eyes. “Apparently you’ve forgotten exactly why I did what I did, Regent.”

  His expression wavered. “Did he do it?”

  I didn’t understand. “Who?”

  “Raith. Did he tell you to kill me?”

  “No,” I said. “He knew nothing of it.”

  For just a moment, the anger on his face gave way to something else. Shame. He looked away, setting his jaw.

  “I will confess that I’m not proud of what I did,” I went on, “and many a night I’ve wished to go back and change it. But I’m a different man, Regent. Back then I was like you, so consumed with the need for revenge that I was willing to do whatever necessary to transfer my pain unto you. Here’s what I learned about that: it changes nothing. You never feel any better. You killed my sister, and I killed yours. The only thing tipping the scale in my favor is that I started a war over it. Will you do the same? How would Yahweh feel about that?”