by Caitlin Seal
Naya spun away from the corpse and walked numbly toward the front room. There she found the girl’s parents waiting in a set of chairs by the door. The girl’s father rose as soon as he saw Naya. “What does she say? Can she bring Jesla back?”
Naya stared at them. The girl’s mother clutched a handkerchief in her white-knuckled grip. The father stood tall and stern, but there was an unhealthy pallor to his features. In their eyes shone a strange mix of grief and hope. “Miss Lucia thinks there are still enough bones to make a bond, but it will take a couple of days.”
“Should we…Should we go back there?” the woman asked.
Naya’s mind conjured images of the tools she’d tried so hard to ignore, the knives and scrapers and jars of acid. “It would probably be better if you didn’t.” She kept the shake out of her voice, but only just.
The man licked his lips. “Of course.” All the bluster had gone out of him. “When it happened, we wanted to go with something less extreme. But Master Essuran said with the damage to her head he couldn’t hope to bind her soul and body back together.”
“Not that we have anything against wraiths,” the woman said, giving Naya a look that suggested she at least guessed what she was. Naya could only nod in reply. They were both staring at her now, silently, like they expected some sort of answer from her. But she had nothing to give them.
“I think maybe it would be better if you waited at home.” The girl’s parents shared a hesitant glance, so Naya added, “If you leave your address, Miss Lucia can send someone to get you when she’s done.”
“Shouldn’t we…” the woman began, but her husband was already standing.
“No, Silvia, the girl is right.”
Naya retrieved a pen and paper from the reception desk and recorded the address.
“Two days, you said?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
Finally they left. Even after they were gone, the aether in the room still stank of their guilt and worry. Naya wrapped her arms around her chest, her mind filled with the vision of the girl’s foot dangling from the blanket. It was the first time she’d ever seen anyone dead. How absurd. She lived in a city full of resurrected. She was dead herself. She shouldn’t be bothered by a corpse. But there had been something so obviously missing from the girl. Without it she’d just been meat and bones. Had Naya looked like that when Valn brought her to Lucia?
“Blue, come here. I need your help,” Lucia said through the door.
Naya thought again about the knives. She imagined them cutting into the dead girl, prying out the bones that would remake her. She couldn’t go back into that room. She couldn’t watch it happen.
Naya fled the necromancer’s shop. She stumbled into blissful sunlight, sucking in deep breaths of aether and smothering her terror under the flood of mundane life. The afternoon looked exactly like every other she’d seen since waking in this strange city. People went about their days smiling, or frowning at their troubles, oblivious to the dark work going on just steps away.
Naya started walking and her feet eventually carried her to the oak-shadowed plaza across from Corten’s shop. She couldn’t remember deciding to come here. But the familiar sight of heat shimmering from the vents above the workroom eased the tight pain in her throat. The bell on the door chimed as she stepped inside. Naya blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. The runes from the furnace tugged at her bond, but this time it didn’t seem so bad. Maybe it could purge her of the grieving family’s aether. Maybe if she stayed long enough, it would suck away the memory of the dead girl’s mangled skull.
“Blue?”
Corten stepped out from behind the counter. His smile fell, replaced by a look of concern. Naya’s lip trembled and her eyes burned with tears she couldn’t shed. She dropped to a crouch, wrapping her arms around her knees and hiding her face. She tried to breathe, tried to push the image away.
She heard the soft brush of a footstep, and then Corten’s hand was on her shoulder. His touch was hot, even through her shirt, as though his hands were made of the molten glass he shaped. The tightness in her throat doubled. She leaned forward until her forehead rested on his shoulder. Corten tensed, but after a moment his arms wrapped around her. He smelled of singed cloth and orange-scented soap.
“Talk to me. What happened?” Corten asked softly.
“Lucia’s doing a resurrection.”
A long pause. “That is her job.”
“I know, but I couldn’t stay. She’s just a little girl, and I couldn’t watch it.” She pressed her lips tight to hold back a sob. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I don’t know why I came here.” She broke from his embrace and turned away. She thought she’d finally gotten used to Ceramor’s strangeness. That she’d shaken off the horror of her own death. Apparently not.
“Would you look at me?” Corten asked.
Naya drew from the quiet swirl of the shop’s aether, sensing the tug of the furnace and the subtle gap of Corten’s presence behind her. When she turned he was standing close enough that she could see the little flecks of gold in his dark eyes. Those eyes caught hers and held them, and Naya was struck again by a sudden urge to tell him everything. Maybe if she explained it just right, she could make him understand. She knew it was madness, but still the thought left her giddy.
Corten took her hand. His grip was gentle, as though he worried she might shatter. “I know things are complicated between you and Lucia. After what she did, I’m not surprised you didn’t want to watch another resurrection.”
Naya rubbed her stinging eyes. “It isn’t that.” She hadn’t been thinking about the reaper binding when she’d run. Now a shudder passed through her. “You don’t think she’d do it again?” Perhaps she should have confronted Lucia before now. If Lucia tried to resurrect more reapers, someone would surely notice.
“No,” Corten said quickly, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes. “She wouldn’t do that to a little girl. She’s not…She’s always been cautious. I still think there’s something else going on here.”
That was not a conversation she wanted to have. Naya stood a little straighter and tried to wrestle her face into a smile. “You’re probably right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in like this.”
“Right. Because you can see how terribly busy I was,” Corten said with an exaggerated wave at the otherwise empty shop.
Naya glanced around. “Where’s Matius?”
“In the back. He got a commission for a pair of custom statues and made it clear I wasn’t to bother him until he’s done.” Corten rubbed the back of his neck. “If you wanted to stay for a while, I wouldn’t mind the company.”
“I do want to stay.” The words slipped out before she could remind herself of all the reasons why it was a bad idea.
Corten’s smile brightened. “Great.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So, uh, what do you want to do?”
She thought about the way his arms had felt encircling her, and the clean smell of heat and soap on his clothes. His hand was warm and smooth in hers, and she could feel the strength lurking behind his gentle grip. She imagined him pulling her close. What would it feel like to bury her fingers in his hair, to wrap herself around him and never let go?
“Blue, I…” A question lurked in Corten’s eyes, one so big it made her feel like she was teetering on the edge of a vast cliff.
Naya squeezed her eyes shut. Blue. The name hit her like a wave of cold seawater, bringing reality in its wake. Blue was the one he wanted to comfort. She was the ghost who could make him grin as they danced across the rooftops. She was also a lie. Naya stepped back and let go of Corten’s hand. “You said Matius is working on a sculpture?” she asked, latching on to the first safe topic she could come up with. “Are all of these his?” She gestured at the glass figures lining the walls.
Corten blinked, then looked quickly
away. Naya told herself it was only her imagination that painted the shadow of disappointment across his eyes. “Most of them. Do you want to take a closer look?”
Naya nodded. She’d been to the shop more than a dozen times since she’d met him, but usually they’d spent their time out in the city, or in Corten’s small room on the second floor. At first glance the sculptures looked nonsensical. But as Naya examined them she saw the way their curves came together, the light runes carved in the bases illuminating the flowing shapes. “Are any of them yours?”
“A couple,” Corten said after a pause.
“Could I see them?”
He turned away. “If you want. Just…don’t expect too much.” He led her to the back of the room and gestured at two smaller sculptures sitting on a shelf. The first was a simple sphere with blurs of colored glass in the middle that looked vaguely like a flower. The second was a bird, its half-furled wings tinted blue.
“That one’s nice,” Naya said, pointing at the bird. “Is it a duck?”
Corten let out a humorless laugh. “It was supposed to be a gull, but I guess it doesn’t look much like one. And you don’t have to lie. I know they’re awful.”
“They’re not…” Naya started to say, then stopped when she saw the tension in his jaw. “If you hate them so much, then why have them out here?”
“Matius insisted. He’s got this speech about how I need to develop my own style and celebrate my successes.” His voice had deepened in approximation of Matius’s. “And I’m trying, but some days I feel like my mother was right. Maybe I should stick to plates and glasses.”
Silence fell as they stared at the duck-gull. “What’s she like?” Naya asked.
“Who?”
“Your mother. I’ve never heard you talk about your family. They’re not…?”
“Dead?” Corten snorted. “No. But they’ve been distant ever since I lost my apprenticeship with Lucia.”
Naya frowned. “That’s horrible.”
Corten picked up the bird, running his fingers over the glass. “It’s complicated.”
“Sorry.” Naya looked away. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” She recognized all too well the careful lack of inflection in his tone. Her family had never been simple either.
“It’s all right.” Corten said. “My parents aren’t cruel. I just couldn’t be what they wanted anymore after I died.”
“What do you mean?”
Corten shrugged. “My family can trace their bloodlines back to the founding of Ceramor. I’m their eldest son, so I was supposed to carry on that bloodline as soon as they found me a suitable heiress to wed.”
“Oh,” Naya said, realizing the implications. Corten had lost not just his ability to sing souls back when he died, but also any chance he had at children. “But still, you’re their son.”
“It’s not as though they disowned me. And in a way it was a relief not having to live up to all that anymore. My parents named my brother Bernel the family heir. Ever since, my mother’s been sending letters hinting how lovely it would be if I would just come home. I think she sees me having a wonderful future as Bernel’s secretary. I still don’t really know what I want to do, but I know I’d rather die again than spend the rest of my life managing Bernel’s appointments. So I decided to stay in Belavine, find something else I could be good at.” He flicked the sculpture’s beak. “Or try to be good at, anyway.”
Naya leaned toward him, bumping his shoulder gently. She smiled when his eyes met hers. “Well,” she said, “I’m sure if a duck and a gull ever had a chick, it would look exactly like that. Perhaps you’re just ahead of your time.”
Corten’s laugh sounded a little forced, but it helped lessen the tight feeling in Naya’s chest. “I’ll keep that in mind.” After a moment his expression grew serious. “I know you aren’t comfortable with necromancy. But whatever you saw back at the shop, you have to know that Lucia is doing it to help that little girl.”
“Like she was helping me?” Naya couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone.
Corten rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve watched Lucia resurrect dozens of people. I don’t know why she used those runes on you, but she didn’t just do it on a whim. Unless she’s become a different person since I worked with her, the only thing on her mind right now is how she can get that girl back to her family.”
“I know,” Naya said. That much had been clear from the look in Lucia’s eyes.
Nothing in Ceramor was as simple as she’d once thought. Naya still wasn’t sure why Lucia had made her a reaper. But Lucia obviously cared deeply for her other patients. And Corten and Matius were nothing like the monsters she’d once feared. Still, that didn’t mean her father and Valn were wrong to protect the treaty. The last war had proved how dangerous necromancy could be when a country treated its dead like weapons. If Lucia was willing to experiment with reaper bindings right under the nose of the Talmiran ambassador, then how many others would do the same? How much worse would it get if the treaty restrictions were lifted?
The furnace room door opened and Matius strode out. “Corten! That back rune plate finally gave out. I’m going to need you to go talk to Anessa and see if the replacement is ready yet.” He noticed Naya and smiled. “Well hello, Blue. How are you?”
“I’m well,” Naya said, relieved at the interruption.
“Good. What brings you our way this fine afternoon?” His eyes flickered to Corten as he spoke. Something about his tone brought a flush to Naya’s cheeks. The memory of Corten’s arms around her resurfaced, and she was suddenly very glad Matius hadn’t come out any earlier.
“She was just—” Corten began.
“I came to look at the sculptures,” Naya finished quickly.
“Oh?” Matius’s brows rose. “Did you see anything you like?”
“I…Yes, actually.” Naya took the bird from Corten’s hands. “This one.”
“I see.” Matius’s face broke into a wide grin.
“You don’t have to do that,” Corten said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Bah. My apprentice is a terrible salesman. Don’t listen to him.” Matius plucked the sculpture from Naya’s hands. “Give me a moment and I’ll wrap this for you.”
“How much is it?” Naya pulled out her small coin purse, painfully aware of how light it was. She’d only had a few tin bits on her when she’d fled the shop.
“No charge,” Corten said, not meeting her eyes. “If you really want it, then take it. Call it a gift.”
Matius pulled a sheet of brown paper from under the counter. “Corten, I will still be needing you to go ask after that rune plate.”
“I should get back to Lucia,” Naya said in response to Corten’s glance. She tried to keep a smile on her face even though her insides rolled at the thought of going back.
Matius finished wrapping the bird and handed it to her. “Well, hopefully we’ll be seeing you again soon.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Corten asked as he walked her to the door.
“No, but running away won’t help. Besides, you have work to do.” And she still felt dizzy and uncertain from what had happened—what had almost happened—when they’d been alone. She imagined Celia scowling, and some of her calm returned. She couldn’t let herself get distracted. In just a few hours she would need to be ready for whatever the old spy had planned.
“I’ll see you later?” Corten asked.
“Yes. And thank you,” Naya said, gesturing to the paper-wrapped bird. “Whatever you think, I really do like it.”
“You’re welcome.” Corten looked like he wanted to say more. Instead he ducked his head and shoved his hands back in his pockets. “When you get back, make sure Lucia eats something. She always forgets when she’s carving a new bond.”
“I will.”
Naya took her time getting back t
o the shop. She wandered the neighborhood until the light began to fade, trying hard not to think about Corten and all the lies she’d told him, or about the doubts that threatened to spread like cracks through her soul.
Before returning, she armed herself with a bag of fresh rolls from Lucia’s favorite bakery, a wedge of cheese, and a pair of oranges. She steeled herself at the door, half expecting to find the workroom drenched in blood and bits of cut-up flesh. But it looked mostly the same as when she’d left. Lucia had covered the girl’s body with a blanket. Naya skirted past it to where Lucia sat on a stool at the back counter.
Papers covered in runes and diagrams were spread around Lucia. At their center lay a bone that looked like it might have come from the girl’s leg. Lucia’s tools made tiny scraping noises as she cut the runes layer by layer. Naya set the package of food outside the circle of documents. “Would you like me to make you some tea?” she asked.
Lucia spared neither Naya nor the food a glance. “No.”
“Then should I—”
“Please, I’m in no mood for your charade. You can’t help. It was foolish of me to ask earlier. For a moment I forgot our situation. All I ask is that you stay away until the singing is done. This girl’s life has nothing to do with your master’s schemes.”
Naya’s smile disappeared and her insides went cold. She hadn’t seen Lucia like this since the night at the café. “Corten said you’d need food. It’s over there.”
“Corten. So that’s where you went. I told you not to drag him into this mess. He’s suffered enough.”
The cold in Naya’s stomach flashed hot. This was what she got for trying to be nice? “I didn’t drag him into anything. You sent me to him. I only went back because you wouldn’t teach me what I needed to know. Oh, and by the way, he figured out your little secret. He knows what you did to my bond, and he wants to help me.”
The scrape of Lucia’s knife stopped, and silence filled the room. “Just go,” Lucia said softly.
Naya ran back to her room. Lucia’s words burned at her, all the worse for the twisted scraps of truth in them.
