by Caitlin Seal
“Thanks for the advice, but I think I’ll wait a while.” Some part of Corten knew he was being stupid. He was dead, and if anyone had ever managed to come back from this deep into death, he was pretty sure he would have heard about it during his training with Lucia. It would be better to give himself up to whatever lurked on the other side of the door than to go slowly mad waiting for a rescue that might never come. For all he knew, Lucia had already given up and boxed up his bones for transport to the family crypt.
Scraps of the Dawning Chant echoed through Corten’s memory. People in Ceramor and Talmir both followed the guidance of the chant, even if the Talmiran keepers interpreted it differently. Both sides agreed that beyond death peace and comfort waited for all those who had lived a good life. It was just the details of what those lives should look like that they quarreled over.
Had he lived a good life? The Talmiran keepers would say he’d damned himself by practicing necromancy. But he’d never understood their arguments. How could it be wrong to reunite a dead child with their family, or to call back the soul of a mother stolen away by some illness?
Go through, the door seemed to whisper. All answers wait just beyond the threshold.
Corten shuddered. Someday he would walk through that doorway, but not yet. Lucia might still come for him. And besides, he’d always hated being told what to do. Everything about this place, the wind and the monsters and the light peeking under the crack of the door, it all felt like one giant setup designed to drive him into taking that last step he could never retrace. He wouldn’t go that way. Not yet.
The Gallant sailed for a week and a half before Naya spotted the white cliffs of Lith Lor rising from the eastern horizon. She stood on deck with Felicia in the late-afternoon light as the Gallant and the Lady navigated into the wide harbor. They’d gotten lucky with the weather after that first night. Though there’d been a couple of days of fitful winds, they’d had clear skies for the rest of the journey.
Francisco had eventually gotten over his seasickness, though he’d remained distant whenever Naya tried to speak to him. She’d spent her days watching Cervacaro at his work and her nights practicing at manipulating aether and puzzling through the cipher in her father’s logbook. All the while she’d tried not to worry about the things she couldn’t control, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind that whispered like a ticking clock.
No hope. He’s gone. Too late. Too late.
Lucia had warned Naya that even if they managed to successfully perform the shadow walk ritual, there might be nothing left of Corten to find. No one knew exactly what happened to souls that weren’t resurrected. Most necromantic theories agreed that death would somehow seek to claim a soul after it had been separated from its body. If a necromancer tried and failed to pull a soul back, it meant the soul was truly gone. Maybe that was what had happened to Corten. But Naya remembered those last seconds before Lucia’s portal had closed. She was certain she’d seen Corten struggling to reach her. If something really did exist on the other side that tried to keep souls away from life’s borders, then Naya had to believe Corten would fight it. Meanwhile, she would do everything she could to help him.
Naya squinted at the shimmering water of the bay as a rowboat broke off from one of the docks and started toward the Lady. That would be the harbormaster. She felt a shiver of unease as she watched the little boat approach. There’d been no turning back for her ever since the Gallant set sail. But with the city looming over her, everything felt more real than it had before.
Fabric rustled as Felicia leaned against the rail next to Naya. “Why did they build atop the cliffs like that?” Felicia asked. “It must be hard bringing anything up from the docks.”
Naya forced aside her worries. Since the night of the storm, Felicia had seemed determined to prove herself. She’d sorted Naya’s clothes, explaining the various fashions that were popular among the different courts, then helped drill Naya in the names of different ranking officials who’d be attending the Congress. Perhaps most importantly, she’d never hesitated when Naya asked to be left alone, and Naya hadn’t seen any sign that Felicia had tried to go through her bags again. It didn’t prove anything, but it did make Naya wonder if she’d read too much into what she’d seen.
Naya followed Felicia’s gaze up to the white cliffs of Lith Lor. “They say the founders wandered for decades during the Chaos Years before the Creator sent Gaen Lus a vision of Lith Lor. He saw a city that would never fall, and then followed the vision’s clues here. The cliffs make it impossible to take the city by sea. Anyone who wanted to assault Lith Lor would have to come from the east or the south, which means they’d have to bring their army over the plains, where they’d be vulnerable for miles.”
“Still, it seems terribly inconvenient,” Felicia said.
“That’s what the freight lifts are for. The Academy of Magics has rune scribes find ways to improve them every year. The systems work so well now that it’s barely any slower than loading at other docks.”
Felicia squinted. “What about those people climbing?”
Naya looked where Felicia was pointing. After a moment she spotted the tiny figures. “There’s a fee to use the lifts. The stairs are there for anyone who doesn’t want to pay it.”
“I hope they won’t make us climb,” Felicia muttered.
“Of course not,” Naya said. But a thread of doubt twisted through her chest. Relations between Talmir and Ceramor were as tense as they’d ever been since the war. Whatever reception Queen Lial had planned for the Ceramoran delegation, Naya doubted it would be a warm one.
Her suspicions were confirmed as they were made to wait one hour, then three. Apparently, all the docks were either full or reserved for merchants carrying critical shipments for the city. Naya didn’t get to hear the details of the argument between Delence and the harbormaster. But in the end, the Gallant and the Lady anchored off to the side of the main docks, and the delegation and their luggage were rowed ashore in smaller boats.
It was not an auspicious start.
Waves lapped against wood as Naya stepped from the rowboat onto the dock. The sun had set while they waited. The night air was cool and damp and rich with the scents of brine and rotting seaweed. The moon rose fat and yellow behind her, illuminating the sheer white cliffs looming just beyond the shoreline. Naya touched her mother’s silver pendant.
“Welcome home,” she muttered to herself.
At the edge of her senses, she could feel the city’s pulse, aether churning with the mingled emotions of thousands of lives lived so close together. It was one more reminder of what she’d become. Naya shivered, imagining the person she’d been a year ago standing on the cliffs and glaring down at her. That Naya had known so much less about the world beyond her home. She’d been terrified of even meeting one of the undead, much less becoming undead herself. She’d trusted blindly and put all her faith in Talmir, and in her father. Both had betrayed her.
But I changed. Maybe the people here can change too. The Congress wasn’t just an opportunity to return and search for Lucia’s journals. This was also a chance to show her countrymen how wrong they were about the undead. She didn’t know if that was even possible. But if things stayed the way they were, people like Valn and her father would keep pushing for war and more innocents would die in their pointless conflicts. If she could do anything to stop that, she had to try.
The dock where they disembarked bustled with soldiers, delegates, and sailors, but beyond that the well-lit shore was conspicuously still. Naya’s eyes narrowed when she spotted a man in heavy shackles being half led, half carried by a team of nervous-looking Ceramoran guards. The man’s back was stooped, and his head was covered by a black hood, but Naya doubted anyone on the dock could mistake his identity. The Ceramoran guards handed the former ambassador Dalith Valn off to a squad of Talmiran soldiers, who promptly escorted him toward the lifts.
Th
e Ceramoran guards then retreated to the rowboats and started back to the Lady. The rules of the Congress dictated that the host nation was responsible for security. All others were forbidden from bringing their own armed escorts to the event. That rule was meant to stop arguments from escalating to violence. But the hostility Naya felt in the aether made her wish the Ceramoran guards were coming with them to the palace.
As soon as Valn was out of sight, the delegates were ushered forward by a tall, thin man in a formal uniform and shining black boots. “Welcome to Lith Lor,” he said. “I am Grand Marshal Palrak, head of the Talmiran delegation and representative of Her Majesty Queen Lial, second of her name, ruler of Talmir, and protector of the true word of the Creator. My men and I have the honor of escorting you to the palace.”
Delence returned Palrak’s bow. “Grand Marshal, it’s good to see you again. I trust Her Majesty is well?”
“She is,” Palrak said. “She sends her thanks to you for returning the traitor Valn. We are eager to see him brought to justice.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t come herself to see him,” the woman standing next to Delence said. Naya had never met her, but she recognized her by her description. King Allence’s aunt, Dresdrie Briello, was an older woman with broad shoulders and narrow eyes. She was dressed in an elaborate gown that looked more suited to a ballroom than a dock.
“Her Majesty has entrusted me with the task of securing the traitor,” Palrak said. “She sends her apologies that she could not greet you personally upon your arrival. If you’ll follow me, the carriages wait above.”
Lady Briello sniffed at that but made no further comment. Most members of the delegation were experts in something—trade or shipping or the legal systems of the Powers and the Congress. Lady Briello was listed as an expert on the history of the Ceramoran royal family. It didn’t seem like the most important of roles. But by the way Lady Briello carried herself, one would think she was the heart and soul of the delegation and all the rest were mere scribes and hangers-on.
At Palrak’s urging, the group started toward one of the waiting freight lifts. The servants had been sent ahead with the luggage while secure transport was organized for Valn and the delegation.
Lucia fell into step beside Naya as they walked.
“I never thought I’d be so glad to see land, much less that belonging to Talmir,” Lucia muttered by way of greeting.
Naya smiled, more than a little relieved to see Lucia after the long journey. “I take it the ocean didn’t agree with you?”
Lucia shook her head. “If I never set foot on another one of those floating death traps, it will be too soon. Honestly, I don’t know how the merchants manage it, going back and forth like that all the time, spending weeks with nothing but a few layers of tarred wood between you and the depths.”
“You get used to it after a while.” Naya’s smile faded as they waited for the lift. “I’m sorry I couldn’t contact you.” Short of stopping both ships and sending someone across, the only way to send a message would have been by the signal flags. As much as she’d wanted to speak to Lucia, Naya hadn’t wanted her words spelled out for anyone watching to read. “I don’t suppose you got a chance to see Valn while we were at sea?”
Lucia glanced around nervously, then shook her head. “No,” she said very softly. “But let’s not talk about that here.”
“Move along,” one of the Talmiran soldiers escorting them said. Emotions thickened in the aether. Impatience prickled the back of Naya’s neck and anger settled like smoke on her tongue. Naya shuddered and hurried to join the others in the lift.
Naya steeled herself as she stepped from the cramped lift and onto the wide cliffside street. It was exactly as she’d remembered, and her throat tightened painfully at the familiar sights. The street in front of the lifts opened into a large plaza, allowing room for wagons to load or unload cargo. Beyond that taverns, inns, and shops lined the streets. Every building boasted the white-painted walls and red roofs required for structures in the cliffside and palace districts. Tall aether lamps stood in orderly rows, but the light spilling from nearby windows bore the yellow glow of candles and oil.
“This way.” A soldier directed Naya and Lucia toward one of the five black carriages waiting by the lift. Naya walked quickly, hoping for a chance to speak privately with Lucia during the ride. That hope was ruined when she found Francisco already waiting inside. Naya tried to catch Lucia’s eye as they took their seats. Lucia only shook her head before turning to stare out the window.
They rode in silence for a few minutes. Francisco sat across from Naya, his expression distant as he watched the city roll past. Again, Naya wondered what Delence had been thinking when he’d asked her and Francisco to work together. There were other undead who surely could have joined the delegation and who would have been more willing to work with her.
Something Francisco had said tugged at her memory. Naya frowned. “Back on the ship, you said that your father brought us here as a distraction. What did you mean?”
Francisco’s shoulders tensed, but he kept his eyes fixed on the street outside. “Nothing. It was a poor choice of words.”
“It sounded like more than that. If there’s something else going on here, don’t you think it would be better if you told me? Maybe I can help.”
“I already told you. I’m not interested in—”
“I’m not asking you to be my friend,” Naya cut him off. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t come here to make friends. I came to help the undead and to protect the peace between Talmir and Ceramor.” She was surprised by how true the words felt. Yes, she’d come to find a way to save Corten. But she also wanted to fight back against the hate and anger that had gotten him killed in the first place.
Francisco met her eyes. “Are you questioning my loyalty to our cause? You of all people?”
“No! But I’m tired of you treating me like we’re on opposite sides. I’m sorry for what happened to your family. I wish I could take back that night, but I can’t.” She leaned forward, meeting Francisco’s glare. “I understand if you can’t forgive me. But your father invited me here because he thinks I can do some good for Ceramor. If you decide to cut me out, keep in mind it’s his plans you’re blocking.”
Francisco looked away. Bodied undead like him were harder to read than the living, but this close Naya could sense the dark anger in the aether leaking off his tattoos. It settled against the back of her throat like the stench of burning pepper, bitter and sharp all at once. “Why do you care?” he finally asked. “You must know that anything we gain here will likely come at a cost to Talmir. And you already switched sides once. How am I supposed to trust you’d stay loyal to us now?”
Naya glanced at Lucia, who was listening to the exchange with obvious curiosity. “I switched sides because I realized what Valn was doing was wrong.” She paused, the words sticking in her throat. “I was wrong about the undead. I was scared to question what Valn and my father told me, and because of that people got hurt. I want to make up for that, and I want to prove that Talmir and Ceramor don’t have to be enemies.”
Francisco let out a snort that might have been a laugh. “Is that all? You just want to make peace between two countries who’ve been at each other’s throats for decades? I can’t tell if you’re an outrageous liar or just tragically optimistic.”
“I’m telling the truth,” Naya said, more than a little annoyed with his amused tone.
Francisco met her eyes, watching her for a moment. “In that case, I have a question for you. Do you think you would have changed your mind about the undead if you hadn’t become one?”
Naya’s first instinct was to snap at him. Of course she would have seen the truth. But something in the careful way Francisco had asked the question made her pause. She thought about the horror she’d felt when she first realized what she’d become, and about the cold and spiteful way sh
e’d treated Lucia. Shame sent a rush of heat to her face. “I don’t know,” she said reluctantly. “But it shouldn’t take dying to realize that sort of hate is wrong.”
“It shouldn’t,” Francisco agreed. His expression was intense, somehow captivating. Then he looked away and slumped back against the seat of the carriage. “Maybe someday other people will see that too. But right now my father doesn’t think necromancy is our biggest problem. Ceramor and Talmir fought each other even before the Mad King’s War. So even if we could somehow agree about necromancy, we’d find something else to argue over. My father thinks the only true path to peace is to make the cost of war too high for any leader to risk.”
“That sounds ominous,” Naya said.
“It’s practical. But strengthening Ceramor will mean making sacrifices.”
“Sacrifices?” Lucia asked.
Francisco nodded. “My father brought us here because he knew the Talmirans would be furious about having to allow undead at the Congress. He wants them to think he’s trying to revoke the bans on necromancy. That way when they block us on those issues, it will make them think they’re winning. Meanwhile, my father will be working to convince the Banian delegates to forgive Ceramor’s debts and to propose lifting the restrictions on our army and trade. If they agree, the Silmarans will follow. Talmir alone won’t be able to stop the vote from passing, and Ceramor will be one step closer to regaining its former power.”
“That can’t be right,” Lucia said sharply. “The Necromantic Council helped rescue Lord Delence and the king. They wouldn’t throw our interests aside after that.”
“My father will,” Francisco said with blunt certainty. “Even if the other Powers don’t hate necromancy as much as Talmir, they’ll still be more comfortable working with us while the restrictions are in place. We have to prove to them that Ceramor is a trustworthy ally, and that they’ll be safer and more prosperous if they help us thrive.”
