The Necromancer's Rogue

by Icy Sedgwick

  The sliver in his mind let out a squeal, and Jyx halted outside a cell at the bottom of the hallway. Dizziness clenched his stomach and threw a black curtain across his vision. Jyx reached out to steady himself against the wall. The stone was ice cold yet pulsed beneath his touch, and Jyx snatched back his hand.

  “Yeuch, the wall feels like it’s alive,” he said.

  “What?”

  “It’s like there are a million souls writhing around inside the stone. Oh no! This whole place…it’s made of prisoners!”

  Vyolet jumped away from the wall and planted herself in the centre of the corridor. She eyed the wall, as if expecting hands to reach from the stone and pull her into the fabric of the building.

  “Come on then, let’s go!”

  “I’d really rather you didn’t.” A voice, both familiar and cold, floated out of the cell before them. The words skated along the edge of a rusty razor, leaving flakes of sarcasm in their wake.

  “It’s her!” Jyx hurried to the gate. Without thinking, he stuck both hands through the bars. The same waterfall sensation seized his forearms as they passed through the black curtain beyond the cell door, yet his hands remained dry.

  “Greetings, Master Faire. You took your time but I’m impressed that you’re here,” said the person inside the cell. A cold hand grasped his own and shook it.

  “Miss Delsenza! Validus sent us in here to get you.”

  “Us?”

  “I’m here with Vyolet. She’s a Shadowkin!”

  “Oh really?” Genuine surprise coloured Eufame’s reply. “Well send her in then! Let me get a look at her.”

  “I can’t pass through the curtain, ma’am. There are no shadows on this side of the cell,” replied Vyolet, still unwilling to approach the door or the walls.

  “Nonsense, of course you can. I’m sure Jyx here will find a way. He’s rather fond of commanding shadows.” Amusement crept into Eufame’s tone, and Jyx blushed to remember his experiments with Shadow magick. He’d managed to command the shadow of a Wolfkin back at the House of the Long Dead, and even though it proved fruitless in the end, he was still proud of the achievement. That same spell had gotten them out of the House, hadn’t it?

  “Is he now.” Vyolet pursed her lips and a cold glare flittered across her face.

  “There’s nothing to cast a shadow, Miss Delsenza. It’s like the walls themselves are illuminating everything from all angles,” replied Jyx.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Jyx, call me Eufame. I think we’re past the point of formality now, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Urgh, remind me to teach you to develop some confidence when you get me out of here. Now think. Do you have anything with you that might cast a shadow? You don’t need a lot, just enough to connect with the cell door so Vyolet can cross through.”

  “What about that square the Wolfkin gave you? If you held it just right, it might give me enough of a shadow,” said Vyolet.

  “What square, Jyx?” Eufame said.

  Jyx took the tile from his pocket and turned it over in his hands. Its dull surface reflected no light, instead absorbing it within the bubbles inside the glass. He described it to Eufame.

  “You’re holding an Umbra Quadratum, Jyx.”

  “A shadow square! I didn’t think they were real! But how does it work?”

  “Try one of the incantations that you know.”

  Jyx didn’t know any specific incantations, so he flipped through the pages of the Dominantur Umbras that he’d memorised. He held the square in his hands and spoke aloud. “Conjuro umbras Quadratum!”

  Nothing happened. The square continued to absorb the peculiar illumination in the corridor, but no shadows appeared.

  “Try again, Jyx.”

  Jyx scowled. Of all the times that Eufame could choose to play the teacher, surely now was not one of them. He turned the square over and tried again.

  “Convertere lucem in tenebras, faciat quadratum tenebricosum!”

  The square pulsed in his hands, absorbing more of the illumination from the hallway and emitting it as thick black shadows that drifted like smoke out of the glass tile.

  “It’s working!” cried Jyx. A smile broke out across his face.

  “Of course it’s working. What else did you expect?” said Eufame.

  Jyx positioned the tile to cast a shadow across the floor and the bars, the darkness bleeding into the black curtain beyond the gate. Vyolet stepped into the shade and disappeared.

  “Why hello there, young lady. You must be Vyolet,” said Eufame.

  “It’s a great honour to meet you, ma’am,” replied Vyolet.

  Jyx shuddered, feeling like the worse sort of eavesdropper.

  “Never mind any of that. Do you know how to cloak others?”

  “Sort of.”

  A rustling came from beyond the gate, and Jyx thought of giant sails flapping in the wind. A moment later, Vyolet reappeared within the shadow in the corridor. She stepped out of it, and helped Eufame step out of it too.

  Eufame flexed her shoulders and straightened, standing taller than Jyx and Vyolet. No bone held her long black hair pinned on her head this time, and instead her hair hung loose about her shoulders. She still wore her black robes and her usual expression of bored indifference. She was terrifying and fascinating in equal measure, but Jyx had never been so pleased to see her. She could take over now.

  “Hello there, young Jyx. Many thanks for your help in springing me from that cursed cell,” said Eufame.

  “Was it really very bad?” Jyx had heard the stories of the torture chambers, and the awful dungeons in the depths of the House. Eufame didn’t look gaunt, or injured, as he’d expected. She looked remarkably well, all things considered.

  “Just boring. They gave me nothing to do, which I suppose is hardly surprising. But enough chit-chat, we must be away. What are the intentions?”

  “Validus said you’d have a plan,” replied Jyx, suddenly uneasy.

  “Did he indeed. The closest we have to a plan for now is to get out of here. I do not doubt that my sister is aware that things are afoot, and I imagine she will want to act. Vyolet, we will need your abilities to cloak us,” said Eufame.

  “But there are no shadows, apart from the one Jyx made.”

  For the first time, Eufame seemed to notice where she was. She looked up and down the corridor and frowned.

  “A Shadow Square requires someone to hold it,” she said. “They won’t let me walk out the front door, and they’ll expect that Jyx is already in a cell. They certainly won’t let you simply walk out, Vyolet.”

  Jyx swallowed the burning bubble of nausea growing in his throat.

  “That must be why they put me in this wing, to prevent the use of Shadowkin. Oh, they’ve been very clever.”

  “There weren’t even enough shadows in the atrium either,” said Vyolet. “I had a tough time staying hidden in Jyx’s hood.”

  “I wonder why their sensors didn’t go off. They screen entrants for magickal concealment. I’m even surprised you managed to get the Shadow Square through.”

  “I wasn’t concealed through magick. It’s just what I do, what I am,” replied Vyolet, a hurt tone colouring her words.

  “Indeed,” replied Eufame, raising one eyebrow. Jyx thought a suppressed smile hovered at the corners of her mouth.

  “A Wolfkin at the door gave me the square,” replied Jyx, to prevent Vyolet from making any more outbursts.

  “One of the guards? Interesting. And they allowed Validus inside?”

  “Yes, but then another Wolfkin told him to leave, and he brought us down here, but then he just disappeared.”

  “This simply gets more and more strange. I did expect that Validus might attempt a rescue, but from here on in it’s up to us,” replied Eufame. “Still, I don’t imagine we can get across the atrium undetected. It was difficult enough for me to cloak my thoughts to speak to you when you were outside.”

  “They ha
d Dreadguards too,” said Jyx.

  “Oh damn it all, really? Well we’ll have to avoid the main atrium then, and we need somewhere with shadows so that Vyolet may be of assistance. If we cannot go through…then we go under.”

  “Under what?”

  “The House itself. The dungeons are dark places that you should not wish to see, but where there is darkness…”

  “…there is shadow,” finished Vyolet.

  “Precisely! Come along, this way.” Eufame turned and strode away along the corridor. Even the inexplicable illumination shrank back from her presence, and she created a dark wave along the passageway. Jyx lamented that it was not dark enough to be considered a shadow, and broke into a trot to follow her. As much as he had no desire to enter the dungeons, it looked as if he had no choice.

  12

  Chapter 12

  The dying woman lay on a narrow cot in a sickroom at the edge of the warehouse district. Mr Gondavere sat at her side, his book open in his lap, as usual. Monte stood at the foot of the cot. The silent sisters kept passing them, gliding instead of walking, and gazing at him with their large, black eyes. Monte knew of the existence of these strange creatures, part spectre and part wraith, but he’d never seen one before. Cloaked in black, they administered care where they could to the dying who didn’t have the means to reach a specific chapel at the temple. The silent sisters represented no deity, only an ignominious end in a backwater sickroom. They took no payment for their services, though Monte wondered what became of the souls of those who died within their hall. Is that their payment?

  “I wondered when you’d come,” said the old woman. She peered at Mr Gondavere with rheumy eyes.

  “You know of me?”

  “We all do, sir. We all await your arrival.” The old woman tried to nod, and worked herself into a coughing fit. Mr Gondavere held up a cautioning hand before Monte could dart forward to help her. Monte stared at his employer, brows knit in confusion, and Mr Gondavere gave him an expression that seemed to say, ‘She’s dying, who knows who she thinks I am?’

  “Good, good. Well I am here now. Do you have anything to wish to make known, any message to pass on to a loved one, perhaps? Something you wish you’d gotten off your chest?”

  “There’s no absolution here, sir. No, I know why you’re here. I know what you want me to tell you,” replied the old woman.

  “You do?” Mr Gondavere frowned. He sat back slightly, as if the woman were possibly poisonous.

  “You want to know where the Heart is.”

  “Do I, indeed.”

  “Yes. Well, you’re in the right place,” said the old woman.

  “I am?” Mr Gondavere looked around at the shabby walls and damp floor of the sickroom.

  “It’s in the Underground City. It always was. It never left.” She reached out and clamped her hand around Mr Gondavere’s arm. Monte darted forward but the old woman turned a vicious glare in his direction, and he froze.

  “Where is it?” asked Mr Gondavere.

  “It’s no use, it’s broken. Did you not hear the crack? The Almighty Crack?”

  “What has that to do with the Heart?”

  “Her Heart broke, you fool.”

  “Why? What happened?” asked Monte.

  “Neither of the Cities has turned out right. It’s not what she fought for.”

  Monte’s gaze travelled along the old woman’s arm and he spotted a tattoo on her pale skin, distorted by the wrinkles in her skin and faded by time. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he realised the tattoo was that of an owl. The old woman was a priestess of Beseda.

  “The Heart can’t break, or it would be useless.”

  “Exactly. Far beyond the reach of your sort! You think I don’t know what you are? Get out of here and stop preying on the dead and dying!” The old woman’s ferocity scared Monte, and he backed away from her cot. She glared at Mr Gondavere and he leaped out of his seat as if she’d slapped him.

  Two of the silent sisters drifted across the room, coming between the old woman and Mr Gondavere. Their peaceful black eyes glittered with animosity, and Monte turned to flee across the sickroom. He stumbled over a footstool and sprawled across the floor. His hand skidded across a stinking puddle, and he cried out when his nose made contact with the hard stone.

  Mr Gondavere swept by him, hurrying towards the door. The silent sisters glided after him, and Monte noticed they ignored him in their quest to get Mr Gondavere away from the old woman.

  Monte turned to look at her. She sat up on the cot, her face pale but defiant. Her hands shook where she gripped the edge of her blanket. She looked at him and her expression softened.

  “I know you’re just doing your job, child. While I’d rather you didn’t, you’ll follow him as long as you can, and it will be best for all of us. You have a part to play in this now, like it or not. You could try to leave, but you’d be sucked back in. Go to the City Above; get him away from here. He can’t use the Heart anyway, but he’s not the only one looking for it now.”

  Monte nodded, even though he’d understood little of what she’d said, and scrambled to his feet. He ran out of the sickroom without a backward glance.

  He found Mr Gondavere standing outside, smoking a cheroot. Monte didn’t know Mr Gondavere smoked, but given the way his hands shook and his lips trembled every time he sucked smoke into his lungs, Monte understood his sudden need. The silent sisters might have spooked him, but they’d genuinely unnerved Mr Gondavere.

  “Did she say anything else to you?” he asked when he saw Monte.

  “She told us to go to the City Above.” Monte wiped his wet hand on his trousers. He pursed his lips when he realised the material was already damp. Monte didn’t want to think about what that puddle had been.

  “Why would she tell us to go there?”

  Monte shrugged, not wanting to pass on the rest of the priestess’s message. Beseda, the owl goddess and patron saint of wronged women, was not a deity to be trifled with, and nor were her priestesses.

  “Hm. Well we would have gone there anyway, for we must locate this wizard friend of Mr Daye’s. I suspect she does not realise that she is helping us on our quest,” said Mr Gondavere.

  “People keep confusing you with the dead –” The words slipped out before Monte could stop himself, and he clapped his hand over his mouth as though he could reclaim what he’d said, scrabbling at the syllables as they hung in the silent air between himself and Mr Gondavere.

  His employer said nothing, apparently lost in thought. Monte heaved a sigh of relief and busied himself with straightening his threadbare coat, although he did wonder exactly what the connection was between Mr Gondavere and the dead. How was it that he knew when a person was lying on their deathbed, and why specific people might have something to tell him?

  “I see that we have no choice. We must go Above.”

  “Crompton said his friend was at Bucklebeard’s Antiques.”

  “Well remembered, Monte. You continue to impress me. Now, if this Bucklebeard has made a lifelong study of the Heart, then we can mine that knowledge for clues. It will be quicker, and perhaps less tedious, than collecting the last words of simpletons.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Then we shall journey to the City Above. It is late now, and will take some time to cross the Underground City to reach Lockevar’s Gate. Perhaps we should secure transport.”

  Monte nodded. His feet ached from all the walking, and the mention of transport made his sore knee sing. Maybe he’d even be able to sneak in a nap. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been in Mr Gondavere’s company but it must have been almost a full day, and he could do with some sleep, even if his employer apparently didn’t.

  They walked to the edge of the warehouse district, ignoring the workers who carried goods on hand carts up to the stations where drivers waited with carts and huge shire horses. Monte wondered if they would catch a lift on a goods cart, but Mr Gondavere took them into the lower re
aches of the next district, the Rookery, a network of tenements and drinking dens. A cabman leaned against a wall, enjoying a brief break outside a suspicious looking doorway daubed with red symbols.

  “Hello, my good man, are you for hire?” asked Mr Gondavere, gesturing to the hackney cab parked several feet away. The jet black horse snorted in their direction.

  “Waitin’ fer someone, in’t I?” replied the cabman.

  “I pay handsomely.” A gold coin flitted across Mr Gondavere’s knuckles, and the cabman’s eyes lit up.

  “Well ’op in, sir! Where are you two fine gentlemen goin’ then?”

  Mr Gondavere clambered up into the cab, leaving Monte to climb in himself.

  “Lockevar’s Gate, or as near as you can get to it.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  The cabman snapped the reins, and the horse set off, the cab lurching behind it. It swayed and bounced on its springs, clattering across the cobbles. Monte gripped the side nearest to him and fought the urge to be sick. It would be a long ride indeed.

  13

  Chapter 13

  Jyx and Vyolet caught up with Eufame at a crossroads in the corridors. Within moments of stepping into the low atrium, Jyx realised he couldn’t remember which corridor they’d followed to get there. All the passages looked the same, hewn from that same blank stone and lit with the same eerie illumination.

  “Which way now?” Vyolet clung to Jyx’s arm.

  “There’s only one thing to do when you get lost. Ask for directions,” replied Eufame.

  “From whom?” asked Jyx.

  Eufame crossed to the next corridor and placed one white hand on the wall. Jyx’s stomach churned as he realised what she was going to do. She whispered to the wall, her dark lips forming words Jyx couldn’t hear. The wall erupted outwards in a sea of flailing arms and grasping hands. Eufame stepped back out of their reach.

  “Now-now, behave yourselves.”