by Lori M. Lee
The rest of us followed her, single file, into the darkness. Our scouts’ steps echoed faintly in the cavernous space. Specks of light high up on the walls held off the darkness. I squinted to try to make them out. They looked like crystals, similar to the ones that Emryn was holding.
We traveled in silence for several minutes, the light from inside the mountain growing brighter as we neared what I could only assume was the city.
Up ahead, more soldiers stood guard at another pair of doors, these ones already open. When I peered through, my eyes widened.
We emerged on a path that led down into the city. From this vantage point, the city lay sprawled before us, so vast that I could barely see to the other side. The rocky ceiling rose high above, obscured by mist.
A glance at my companions showed that they were as speechless as I was.
Roads had been chiseled out of the stone, dissecting the city in perpendicular lines. Two- and three-story buildings with paneless windows rose on either side of us. They were stocky and uniformly built from the same gray stone as the mountain. Except some had been personalized with patterned sheets suspended from windows or splashes of colorful paint.
Lampposts lined the roads, but instead of firelight, they were topped by crystals. I peered up at one as we passed, studying its glass-smooth facets. They were bright enough to illuminate a sizable area, with subtle hints of blue and green at their cores.
“Is that magic?” I asked Yara, gesturing to the crystals.
She shook her head. “Even before the Mahjo War, glimmer glass was one of Lanathrill’s most prized exports. The crystals have been mined from our mountains for centuries. Now, they’re less decorative and more functional.” She smiled. “Still pretty, though, right?”
“Yes,” I said, craning my neck back to take in as much as I could. Enormous glimmer glass crystals jutted out from the stone that enclosed the city. They had to be a hundred times the size of the ones that lit the street, and they blazed as brightly as the sky during the Week of Sun. Undertones of violet and yellow shimmered beneath their wide facets.
People gathered alongside the road to watch us, and horse-drawn carriages and wagons filled with barrels pulled to the side until we’d passed. The people wore sleeveless dresses and slim tunics with leggings. They looked clean and healthy and in good spirits, a far cry from the people in the North District.
All of them bowed to Emryn, before gawking at the rest of us. They didn’t really look at us, though. They were transfixed by our scouts, watching their metal bodies move with the same fascination that I felt observing their mountain city.
“Look,” Mason said, pointing down.
Remarkably, plants sprouted from the ground. They grew in ribbons across the road and between houses. Fronds and skinny green leaves and brilliant purple blossoms as big as both my hands cupped together. Cave blossoms, just as Yara had said. I didn’t know how they could exist down here, but like the glimmer glass, sometimes nature could be more mysterious and magical than anything the Infinite could do.
“The roots,” Yara said. She’d noticed us staring at the plants.
Mason and I leaned over our scouts and tilted our heads to get a better look. Sure enough, the plants were growing not out of the mountain itself but from roots that snaked through the stone like veins.
“From the ancient grandfather trees aboveground,” Yara said. “They’ve survived for this long because their far-reaching roots have found stability in the mountain and nourishment from Hiyamun, the burning waterfall.” She pointed to our right.
Great clouds of water vapor rose from some indistinguishable point beyond the stretch of buildings. I couldn’t see the waterfall, but the evidence was there. That must have been why the ceiling of the city was covered in mist.
I realized then that it was quite warm. I tugged at the collar of my tunic. The burning waterfall—whatever that was—kept away the chill of being underground.
“This place is incredible,” Mason said, and the rest of us murmured various forms of agreement. I wished Reev had come with us. He would’ve loved to see this.
We passed beneath a tall arch, which had horses carved into the stone. The arch seemed to mark a border of sorts, not unlike the train station in the Alley, because once we passed through, the buildings became noticeably larger and more elaborately sculpted. Curling roofs were adorned by whimsical, winged stone creatures. The windows of a three-story building were braced with bright-blue shutters. Elegant vines and flowers were carved into front doors.
The people here wore clothes that were clearly more finely constructed. Women in colorful gowns that billowed as they walked and men in tailored tunics all bowed as Emryn passed. Many of them were accompanied by servants. The servants were dressed more plainly, and they remained a step behind their masters. They were marked by a blue starburst tattoo beneath their left eyes.
I looked at Yara. I had initially thought the tattoo was a personal choice, like Avan’s. I hadn’t realized it was a mark of servitude. I wondered how she felt about being forced to wear her rank on her face. That wasn’t much different from a collar.
We traveled farther into the city until the ground began to slope upward. At the end of the road stood a wall, about ten feet high, and iron gates. Beyond was a black palace that rose high into the mist like a shroud looming over the city.
“The citadel,” Yara said, her voice hushed with reverence.
“What is it made of?” Mason asked.
“Shadow glass,” she said. “It’s what glimmer glass becomes after its light has faded. It darkens into a glossy black crystal that can be melted and reformed like metal.”
The citadel was made up of several wings with pointed dome roofs and towers capped in glimmer glass. It was a beautiful structure, like something that might have emerged from the enchanted fog that veiled Etu Gahl. I couldn’t imagine how much work went into constructing it.
Soldiers swung open the gates, which arched into spiked peaks at the center. We passed through into a courtyard. Emryn swung down from his horse, and a servant rushed up to take the reins from him. The rest of his soldiers fanned out around us.
He addressed Yara: “You were supposed to bring back an army.”
Yara flushed and dipped into another low bow. “Please forgive me, Your Eminence.” She gestured to me. “This is—”
“Do these people need a medic?” he asked Mason brusquely with a nod at the sentinels.
Mason looked at me, allowing me the chance to respond as our party’s leader.
“They’re fine,” I said. “My name is—”
“Who’s in charge of this sorry lot?” he barked, looking past me.
I ground my teeth together and slid off my mount. His soldiers gripped the hilts of their sheathed swords. In response, Mason and the sentinels went for their torch blades. I wasn’t worried. The sentinels had taken down two chimera. These people didn’t stand a chance.
I stalked up to Emryn, so close that he had to look at me. Or rather, try to glare me into submission.
I spoke very carefully. “Talk over me again, and I will take my ‘sorry lot’ and leave your country to the chimera.”
I’d had enough of people in power trying to manipulate me, to subdue me, to threaten me. I didn’t care that he was Kahl or that he didn’t seem to like me, but he would damn well listen to me.
“Y-your Eminence,” Yara stuttered, aghast. “She meant no offense.”
I absolutely meant to offend him. They needed our help. I wouldn’t have us treated as if they had to suffer our presence.
Emryn stared at me, his green eyes as hard as the mountain. A closely trimmed beard framed thin lips, which had flattened with contempt.
I didn’t intimidate him. He was a Kahl, and I was just some foreigner in whose hands he was supposed to place the future of his country. I tried to sympathize, but mostly I was annoyed.
“Very well,” he said, voice tight with restraint. “We’ll see what use you are agains
t those beasts.” He pivoted on his heel and marched away, barking orders to have us housed in the citadel.
I stared at his retreating back, drawing slow breaths to calm my anger. Around us, his soldiers broke away, still wary but no longer prepared for a fight. The sentinels relaxed and dismounted from their scouts. It was a rather inauspicious start to our visit.
Mason clapped a hand on my shoulder. “That was beautiful,” he said proudly. I blushed at the compliment.
“I can’t believe you spoke to him like that,” Yara said, wringing her hands. She glanced nervously in the direction Emryn had gone.
It struck me then that Yara could be held responsible for my rudeness. “He’s not going to punish you for what I said, is he?”
“Oh no!” Yara said, dropping her hands to her sides. “He would never. I’ve just never heard anyone speak to him that way. It’s unheard of.” She sounded incensed.
“Well, maybe someone should,” I muttered.
“I volunteer Kai,” Winnifer said, and the sentinels all snickered.
Yara frowned. “You must forgive him,” she said sternly. “He is a fair and kind Kahl. But he loses more soldiers every time there’s an attack. He’s had to bury both his best friend and his uncle, the former captain of the guard.” She lowered her voice, as if worried someone might overhear. “I think he has lost hope.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to put up with his drek.”
Yara grimaced but didn’t say anything else.
We parked our scouts along the inside of the citadel’s walls, across from the stables. Real stables with more real horses. And real smells too. I wrinkled my nose. The novelty would soon wear off, I was sure.
Then we gathered up our things, and the servants showed us where we’d be staying. We were on the second floor, our party taking up almost the entire wing. The guest rooms were stunning. I could see my reflection in the glossy shadow glass walls. Glimmer glass grew from the walls and ceiling, seemingly without pattern. A bundle of crystals even jutted out from the floor beside the bed, casting a gentle glow across the canopy drapes. Colorful rugs lay scattered across the floor to cushion bare feet. The furniture was clean and polished, but the slightly puckered corners of the damask upholstery revealed its age. I’d bet these had been recovered from the ruins of the original Vethe.
A single window in my room overlooked the courtyard and the front gates. It also provided a magnificent view of the city. I could see the great clouds of steam from the waterfall and even the distant rock face with the open doors through which we’d arrived. Giant glimmer glass protruded from the mountain walls, extending in all directions like crystal netting.
In the courtyard below, Kahl Emryn stood watch over his soldiers as they ran through drills, not unlike what Mason used to do with me and Avan. His arms were crossed, his back straight, as he growled corrections. He was a very hands-on Kahl, I’d give him that.
As if sensing my irritation, his head turned and our eyes met. The corners of his mouth turned downward.
I held his gaze a moment longer, so he’d know I wasn’t embarrassed to be caught staring—although maybe I was—and then moved away from the window.
I didn’t bother unpacking. I hadn’t brought much, just a few changes of clothes aside from the provisions. I left my bag beside my bed. I wanted to be able to leave at a moment’s notice.
Even though the city outside these black walls begged to be explored, exhaustion from the long hours of riding crept into my legs and back. I spread out on the bed, the pillow cool against my cheek. I could release the canopy drapes to shut out the light from the glimmer glass, but I liked looking at the muted colors shifting beneath the facets.
I reached into my pocket and took out the leaf brooch that Avan had given me. Riding a scout for hours on end hadn’t provided much opportunity to examine it. The leaf was beautifully detailed and finely crafted. Tiny veins had been etched into the silver. The translucent green gave the leaf a subtle gleam.
This was Avan’s fourth leaf, and he had given it to me. I didn’t know what to do with that fact.
I drew whorls across the leaf’s surface with the tip of my finger, imagining the threads twining around the bit of metal as if to keep it safe. I sighed, feeling that hole inside gape ever wider.
I pinned the brooch to my shirt and rolled onto my side. The comfort of a soft bed beckoned me into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER 14
I STARTLED AWAKE from a new nightmare.
I’d been in the arena again, with Avan standing over me, shielding me. Instead of Reev delivering the killing blow, however, it had been a chimera. Its claws had ripped through Avan, slicing him open. Without my powers, I could do nothing but watch. I had denied the threads, and so they had abandoned me.
I threw my arms up over my head. This is getting ridiculous, I told myself. Stop it. I didn’t think talking to my subconscious would actually work, but I was exasperated enough to try.
A clock above the mantel indicated it was still early, so I dragged the armchair over to the window and watched the streets beyond the citadel’s wall gradually fill with activity: servants carrying baskets of bread, rattling carriages, wagons laden with vegetables. There was even a whole section far from the citadel that looked like pens for livestock.
I had an adjacent washroom, so I ran the bath and soaked my sore muscles until the morning reached a more reasonable hour. Then I finished cleaning up and changed. As I was tying a belt at my waist, a servant arrived to escort me to the guest dining hall for breakfast.
Apparently, we were the only guests in the citadel, because the guest dining hall was otherwise empty. I wondered where the important people ate.
Mason and I sat in front of a platter of fresh rolls and cream-stuffed pastries. Fruit drizzled in honey was arranged artfully on a silver tray. The sentinels eagerly piled their plates with mounds of egg, cheese, and bread.
Aylis poured himself a cup of an amber sweet-smelling drink. “It must get depressing having to sleep and eat surrounded by shadow glass,” he remarked.
Possibly, but I thought there was something soothing and elegant about it. Besides, all the rooms were well lit by the glimmer glass that grew randomly from the walls and ceilings, providing both function and beauty.
I watched with a critical eye as Mason slathered a heap of golden butter onto his roll.
He took a bite. His lashes fluttered shut. “Okay, that’s good.”
“Better than Rennard’s?” I asked. Rennard was the chef in Etu Gahl. He kept its army of hollows exceptionally well fed.
“Not quite,” Mason admitted, “but this is close.”
I selected a cream pastry and bit down on the flaky dough. Sweet cream and buttery crust filled my mouth. Delicious. I swiped some cream from the corner of my lips with my thumb and then licked the sweetness from my finger.
Mason made a choking sound. I glanced at him, but he’d quickly looked away.
“Um,” I said, uncertain.
He cleared his throat. “You slept through dinner last night.”
I grabbed a linen napkin this time to wipe my mouth. “So that’s why I was the only one who needed an escort down here.”
He dipped a spongy-looking cake into honey. “I considered waking you, but I think you must have needed the rest.”
I did, but I wished my subconscious had felt the same and left me to sleep in peace.
I devoured two buns and a bowl of honeyed peaches before I washed it all down with a glass of cider. I had become way too accustomed to filling meals, and it always made me feel a little guilty, with people starving in the North District.
After those first few weeks in Ninurta’s palace, I had tried to convince the chef to prepare less elaborate meals, but the suggestion didn’t go over well. So instead, I asked Avan to tell Kalla to order the Minister of Law to instruct the Watchmen to deliver our untouched leftovers to the Labyrinth. I heard back through the line of communication that the Minister of Law thought I w
as a meddling status leech—the ministers hadn’t known why I was staying in the palace or that Kahl Ninu hadn’t died in a tragic accident—and that I should be dumped back in the gutters where I belonged.
I didn’t really care what the minister had to say as long as he followed through with Kalla’s orders, and he had. The man was allowed his opinions, even if they made me want to strangle him. Now that I was adviser to the Kahl, however, I wasn’t sure how much good a man like that would do for Ninurta, considering his disregard for how the Watchmen operated in the North District. That would have to be revisited later.
As expected, the people of the Labyrinth had refused the food. The first few times, they’d tossed it back at the Watchmen. Pride and distrust for the White Court went deep there. I refused to stop trying, though, and after a while, some kids gave in. It had created a ripple effect, and now the Watchmen were practically welcomed at their daily drop-offs. I had even convinced the chef to prepare larger meals so there’d be more to hand out.
But there were many inside the Labyrinth who still refused assistance from the White Court, and I didn’t blame them. Still, a bridge, however minor, had formed between the East Quarter and the Watchmen, when before there had been only hostility and hatred.
It was a beginning, and that was something.
“I was talking with some of the soldiers last night,” Mason said, buttering his sixth bun. “They have an interesting social system here. The wealthiest people in the city are the farmers, because they provide the majority of the food and—”
A loud knock interrupted him. A woman stood in the doorway, scanning the room. She was dressed in a servant’s gray tunic and marked with a blue tattoo on her face. Her eyes rested on me, and she walked over.
She bobbed her head and said, “His Eminence, Kahl Emryn of Lanathrill, will see you now.”
I wondered if that was how Ninu used to make people introduce him.
“Should I come with you?” Mason asked. The others murmured their agreement that I shouldn’t go alone.
We’d witnessed firsthand that Lanathrill needed our help. And after I’d pressed that point yesterday, I didn’t think Emryn would risk doing anything else to lose Ninurta’s support.
