The Infinite

by Lori M. Lee

  “Sounds like you don’t really need an adviser.” I brushed bread crumbs off my fingers and settled back into the armchair.

  “Actually, I do.” She smoothed her fingers along the hem of her tunic. “If you’re to be my adviser, then I have my first task for you: I need you to accompany Yara and the sentinels to Lanathrill.”

  I stared at her. Her gaze was steady. She was serious.

  “The sentinels are going only as your guard. You will be my official liaison.”

  I straightened against the cushions. This was one drek of a first test for a new adviser. “Wouldn’t one of the ministers be better qualified?”

  “I can’t trust them to make the right decisions for Ninurta. They’ve held their positions for too long. Some of them might view associating with Lanathrill as a threat rather than progress.” She looked down into her lap, and the mask of confidence cracked. She seemed uncomfortable again with the power she’d been given. “I’m still working on earning their full trust.” She shook her head. “I can’t send any of them. It has to be you.”

  I rubbed my forehead—so many questions and doubts. She wanted me to represent Ninurta, and to make the call on whether Lanathrill needed our help. I could be the deciding factor in the formation of the first political alliance in two centuries.

  I stood. I felt Miraya’s eyes on me as I paced along the side of the room.

  What if I decided that Lanathrill was fine? What then?

  Although I didn’t think Yara would risk her life crossing the Outlands if they didn’t truly need help, it was still possible that they’d simply panicked at the sight of demonic-looking creatures on their land. If that was the case, then it should be easy enough to help them rally and strategize their defense. Not that I knew anything about that, but surely the sentinels would?

  I couldn’t believe I was even considering this. Hadn’t I determined that I didn’t want Ninurta’s problems heaped on top of my own? But I couldn’t deny that a part of me liked the idea of going north—that same part of me that had enjoyed mentally mapping the streets of the Lower Alley by getting lost and then navigating my way back to familiar paths, the part that had fallen in love with the forest and the promise of discovery in all its unexplored corners.

  But going to Lanathrill meant leaving behind Reev. And Avan.

  I swallowed at the reminder of my last conversations with both of them.

  “Kai?” Miraya said.

  The rug was a blur of colors beneath my feet. I forced myself to stop pacing. She looked as anxious for my answer as I felt. Kalla was, as usual, the picture of poise.

  Maybe . . . Maybe leaving could be a good thing. An opportunity to give me and Avan the space we needed as well as a chance to figure out how to reach Reev without constantly questioning our every interaction.

  “Do you agree?” Miraya asked.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I said, “Yes. I’ll go.”

  Preparations for our departure began immediately. We would give Yara a couple more days to recuperate before setting out. Having a small contingent of sentinels with us should be enough to deter the gargoyles, but we would also be riding scouts, which were fast enough to outpace them. Yara’s horse would have to stay behind. The beast would never be able to keep up.

  I’d never ridden or operated a Gray by myself. Unless I wanted to ruin the entire journey by falling off my scout and breaking my neck right out the door, I decided I should probably learn.

  The day before our departure, I met with Mason by the stable. It wasn’t a stable in the traditional sense—not in the way they were described in the history texts. This stable was a pavilion with no walls, the roof held up by sturdy wooden corner and support beams. The scouts rested in a long line of stalls on one side. They were identical: sleek and catlike, their metal bodies shining from polish and the servants’ care. Their construction was more rigorous than the normal Grays, needing to withstand more than the typical deterioration from use. They were compact in size, but they ran on two energy stones to enhance speed and performance.

  Mason walked me over to a scout that was lying on its stomach, its head pillowed on its paws. Despite the metal body, it was eerily lifelike. Mason leaned down to touch the controls on the scout’s neck.

  Its silver eyelids sprang open. I jumped. Mason looked amused by my reaction as he straightened. The scout’s luminous eyes had the same red light as the energy stones emanating from the vents in its chest. I stepped back as the scout rose to its feet. It followed Mason out of its stall. The scout only reached Mason’s chest. Its length, however, was at least six feet, excluding its tail, which was currently curled around one of its hind legs.

  “Scouts are designed for ease of operation in case, you know, we’re being chased by gargoyles and don’t have time to fiddle with a bunch of dials,” Mason said. He motioned for me to move in closer so I could examine the control panel.

  I lifted one eyebrow at his instructor tone. Months ago, Mason had trained me and Avan in Etu Gahl in order to prepare us to infiltrate the White Court and rescue Reev. Although his demeanor in the training circle was the opposite of his usual affable self, he had proved to be a demanding but effective instructor.

  The control panel was sparse, nothing like the controls on Avan’s Gray. There was only a button and a lever.

  “Here’s the starter. Self-explanatory. Press it again to switch it off. When the lever is in this position, the scout is either at rest or a slow walk. Flip it over one, and you can move the scout into a run. Last setting is only for when you’re being chased by gargoyles. That kind of speed burns up too much energy. Everything else is intuitive. The scouts have the most advanced system of all the Grays. It works seamlessly with the magic from the energy stones.”

  He rubbed his palm up the scout’s neck to its ears, and I swear its metal body rippled with pleasure. A contoured leather seat was affixed to the scout’s back, along with footrests. Mason slipped his foot in the notch and swung his leg over the scout, settling into the padded seat. He touched both hands to palm-shaped grips on either side of the scout’s neck, right above its shoulders.

  “Hold your hands here to keep from falling off and to activate the sensors. The scout will monitor your body’s signals for where to move and how fast to run. There are two more sensors by your legs. There’s also a brake by your footrest for emergencies, but otherwise, that’s about it. These things are magic and metal harmony. Anyone could operate them.”

  “Looks easy enough,” I said.

  “I’ll show you, and then you can try on your own.” He adjusted the lever on the scout’s neck, and flashed me a grin, his sandy hair falling over his brow. I returned his smile and moved back to give him space.

  The scout stepped forward, slowly at first, but then Mason smirked, and the scout leaped into a sprint. Its metal paws barely seemed to touch the floor as it made a wide circle around the stable. It took a corner at breathtaking speed. I expected Mason to crash, but he didn’t. They flew past me in a blur of metal and blue tunic as they turned into another lap.

  Mason circled back around and brought the scout to a stop in the same place they’d begun. He looked mussed but elated, his blue eyes bright. His enthusiasm was catching.

  He slid off the seat and motioned for me to take his place. Heart thudding, I approached the scout. Mason’s hands brushed over my waist as I put my leg over the scout and sank down onto the seat. It was warm from Mason’s body heat, a pleasant contrast to the cool metal.

  His fingers positioned mine on the sensors, his touch featherlight. I adjusted my legs, resting the balls of my feet on the footrests. Backing away, he gave a nod of approval.

  “Lean forward a bit to get it moving,” he said.

  My pulse drummed loudly as I took a steadying breath and leaned forward. The scout stirred beneath me, the motion startling at first but only because I was unsure of what to expect. The scout operated much more smoothly than Avan’s Gray. It hardly jostled me, unlike the w
ay I sometimes felt bouncing in the saddle behind Avan. I grinned and leaned in more, my thighs tightening around the metal, urging it to go faster.

  The scout sped up, taking great leaping strides down the length of the stable. My hair flapped behind me as I let out a laugh. The ground was much closer than it had been on the Gray, and it was a brown smear as we flew around a corner. The scout adjusted to my body’s commands like we were one creature, one mind in shared motion.

  We made two laps around the stable, and then I eased back, digging my feet in. The scout slowed, loping forward until it came to stop beside Mason. I flicked the lever to its first setting and hopped off.

  “That was amazing!” I said. I felt winded, my limbs vibrating with energy as if I had been the one running.

  “You’re a natural,” Mason said. He rested his hand on one of the sensors and guided the scout into its stall.

  “Thank you for showing me. I . . .” As my pulse slowed to a normal pace, the reality of my leaving crept into the space between us, making me nervous all over again. Mason was always such a bright spot amid all the uncertainties around me. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Will you?” he asked with a pleased twist of his mouth. He brushed a strand of hair off my cheek. “Even though I’ll be right next to you?”

  My eyes widened. “You’re coming?” I flung my arms around him. The journey felt suddenly less daunting.

  He laughed and lifted me off my feet with a squeeze before setting me down. “I was hoping you’d be glad.”

  “You volunteered, didn’t you?”

  He gave a shrug and a half smile that meant he did.

  I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

  His smile had faltered. His eyes watched me with a cautious tenderness. “Careful,” he said. “I might let this go to my head.”

  I let go of his shoulders. My cheeks felt hot. “Sorry.”

  He put up his hands. “I wasn’t complaining.”

  With a laugh, I brushed back my windblown hair. “I need to go talk to Reev. I’ll see you later.”

  CHAPTER 10

  THE THRILL OF riding the scout soon faded as I searched for Reev.

  Reev had yet to confront me about my part in the journey, or about my new position as the Kahl’s adviser. He might have been avoiding me. It hurt, and while it underscored how the time apart might do us both some good, I wasn’t about to leave Ninurta without talking about it.

  I eventually tracked him down to Irra’s lab on one of the lower levels of Kalla’s tower. He’d been here often over the past weeks. I pounded against the thick stone door with the flat of my hand so he would hear me.

  When no one answered, I pressed both palms against the door and shoved. It opened with the rumble of stone on stone and the screech of old hinges. Steam blasted my face. I wrinkled my nose and waved frantically at the vapors as I peered into the room. Inside was a flurry of cables, levers, and cogs, all of which were obscured by the steam spewing from some hissing contraption in the middle of the room. The diffused glow from several lamps didn’t help much, nor did the two vents above the door.

  Standing near the steam contraption was Irra, his tall form a sliver of shadow in the hazy room. He was writing on a pad of paper, his head bowed, his face a stark contrast of dark and light. He looked like a madman overseeing his invention.

  Reev was fiddling with wires off to the side, his back to me. His damp hair clung to his scalp and his tunic molded wetly to his skin, outlining the muscles in his shoulders and back. He leaned over a control panel not unlike what I’d seen on the Grays, and the angle gave me a clear view of his collar. He still tried to hide it even though we now both knew what it meant.

  Neither of them seemed concerned about the damp or the heat. They didn’t even look up at me when the door loudly announced my arrival.

  “Um,” I said, raising my voice above the hiss of machinery. “Busy?”

  Irra finished whatever he was writing with a flourish and set his pad and quill pen on a counter. How was he writing on wet paper?

  He smiled at me, his brown eyes liquid pools in the soupy light. “All packed for your journey?”

  “Yep.” I didn’t have much to pack. Miraya would see to it that we had enough provisions.

  “Thinking about coming along?” I asked, only half joking. Having an Infinite in the party would probably be an asset, and I wasn’t about to ask Avan.

  “No,” Irra said, joining me by the door where it wasn’t so steamy. The cool air from the hallway was a relief.

  Reev continued working. He had yet to acknowledge me. I had the urge to march up behind him and give him a good shake. Or a kick.

  “My role in Ninurta’s conflicts has ended now that Ninu is gone. Once I’ve provided Miraya with an alternative power source for the city that isn’t reliant upon magic, I will return to Etu Gahl. When I do, it is unlikely I will come back.”

  The prospect of never seeing him again hit me with a shock of sadness. When had I begun to like Irra, much less care for him? It had crept up on me, and I hadn’t even noticed.

  “But I can visit, right?” I felt foolish for needing to ask. “In the Void. You’ll open your gates for me?”

  Irra smiled. “Etu Gahl will always welcome you.”

  The tightness in my chest eased. I told myself it was because Hina lived in Etu Gahl, and I wanted to see her again.

  “And when you are the Keeper of Time, you will not need me to show you the way,” he said.

  His words reminded me of Kalla’s promise to keep Kronos away so long as I was Miraya’s adviser.

  “I was wondering . . . If the position of Conquest can be passed to an unexpected successor, can the same be done for Kronos?” Not that I wanted some unfortunate soul plucked out from his or her life the way Ninu had been when he was made Conquest, but it was an alternative I had at least briefly entertained.

  Irra smiled at my question. “Theoretically, yes. But as his position is of vital importance, Kronos took strides to prevent such a necessity. He wanted to ensure that he would be present to guide his heir in her duties rather than to allow a newly made Infinite to flounder in her sudden responsibilities.”

  “But how would you even begin to learn the kind of things the Infinite do?”

  “Kronos will teach you,” he said patiently, which made me want to roll my eyes.

  “Yes, but I mean if I was in Avan’s position. Newly made.”

  “Much of it is inherent. Istar, for example, took up her mantle with ease. She’d been an assassin in her mortal life, so Strife was hardly a foreign concept to her. Stirring the humans to battle and war was a skill she enjoyed honing.” He spoke of her with distaste, with which I could only agree. “Avan’s disposition is yet to be seen. Conquest was . . . Well, Ninu aside, like most of us, Conquest must learn to exist within his own balance, although the scale could—and often does—tip one way or the other depending on the situation.”

  I rubbed at my neck, where moisture was beginning to collect from the heat. “Are you talking about good and evil?”

  Irra smiled. “A conqueror may become either a benevolent ruler or a hated tyrant.”

  “I suppose, although it depends on where you’re standing. No one ever really wants to be conquered.”

  He nodded, conceding the point. “Enough talk of the Infinite. When does your party leave?”

  “In the morning. And what about you? Will you stay until the rebels are dealt with? Miraya might need your help again.”

  “Perhaps, but the conflict with the sentinels is not my concern.” He flicked at a droplet of water that had condensed at the tip of his nose. The steam made his hair stick out from his head even more wildly than usual. “And if I’m not mistaken, it is my presence to which the rebels object. My leaving might mollify them.”

  “Or give them an opening to attack Miraya again,” I said.

  Irra shrugged, and the soft spot in my chest for him was elbowed aside by annoyance. Sometimes I forgot tha
t the Infinite—those who’d always been Infinite, like Irra and Kalla—weren’t capable of the same depth of emotion as humans. Not that I’d seen anyway. Fortunately, they were good at reminding me.

  “Well, if you can spare him, I want to talk to Reev.”

  Over by the control panel, Reev stilled. “Give me a minute,” he said quietly.

  Irra walked past me, his damp robes making a squelching sound as they slapped against the door. “You may talk here. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  I watched him leave. Then as I waited for Reev to stop stalling, I wandered cautiously around the room. I didn’t know what any of the objects did. A metal tube ran from the steam contraption across the floor into the wall where, through a vent, I could see the red coals of a furnace. I stepped over wires and stray cogs, listening to the hiss of hot water and the well-oiled tinker of turning gears. There was a spark here and there, like the beginnings of a flame except blue instead of red.

  I fanned myself, but it was useless. This was worse than being in the bathhouse in Etu Gahl. My clothes had begun to suction unpleasantly onto my skin.

  “We’re working on a replacement power source for the Grays,” Reev said. He finally looked at me. “The Grays will have to be completely redesigned, and the finished model won’t be nearly as smooth, but it should work. We’re just modifying the same technology that used to move the trains.”

  “I see,” I said, although I didn’t. His face was fuzzy through the mist, so I moved closer until only a few feet of space was between us. I felt hot and uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to dance around the topic now that we were talking. “Why haven’t you said anything about my leaving?”

  Reev tilted his head back, running his fingers through his wet hair. “Would anything I say change your mind?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then.”

  “So you say nothing at all?” The frustration boiled over. Maybe it was the heat. Or the fact I was leaving soon and I wouldn’t have to face the consequences of my words, but I couldn’t stand the awkwardness between us anymore. “Why won’t you talk to me? If . . . If you want to be free of your responsibility to me, then—”