by Aaron Crash
Their mouths fell open in surprise. All of their wings fluttered. Candied gold dust swirled around him.
Ymir laughed. “No time for your memory tricks. Give me the staff now, and I won’t tell. Try to take away my memories, and you’ll regret it.”
The fairies weren’t giggling, and they weren’t speaking Pidgin. They chattered in a speedy language too fast to catch even a single syllable.
The fairies floated over, tipped the staff up, and let it fall into Ymir’s left hand. He carried his bloody ax in his right.
Ziziva fluttered near his face. “Not a word, Ymir. Not one word.”
He nodded. Then he whirled and raced back outside.
“Ymir, no!” Della screamed when she saw what he carried.
The clansman threw her a warning look. “Princept, you’ll trust me today. You might never trust me again, but you’ll trust me today. It’s this staff or Tori’s life.”
The doctor wasn’t alone kneeling beside the brave little dwab’s body. Gatha was sobbing over the little woman, as was Lillee. Even Jenny was there, free from her prison of ice. Worry paled the swamp woman’s face.
Ymir held the strange staff in his left hand, the same hand that bore the Yellow Scorch Ring. That ring liked the staff. Ymir felt the machinations of the clock, understanding its innermost workings. He felt his dusza empty, but the Black Ice Ring stopped him from emptying it completely.
He felt faint, but he hid it perfectly. He wanted to puke, but instead he chuckled. “They call it the Fractal Clock. You’d think staff would be a better name for it.”
Marrib snatched it away. “I don’t know what you know and what you don’t, barbarian. But you will keep your lying fish hole closed about the Red Tide Massacre. Or I’ll come back. You would’ve lost today. You do know that, correct?”
Ymir smirked though he felt like elkshit. “I didn’t want to sacrifice my friend. I didn’t see the need. Don’t take this morning as a victory, fish man, because it’s not.”
Marrib laughed and showed his fangs. His tentacles shivered and morphed into legs once more, covered in black scales. He pointed his trident to the Sea Stair. “Delphino family! We leave victorious!”
The merfolk, what was left of them, collected their dead and wounded, and followed their leader across the courtyard and down the Sea Stair.
Ymir was surprised to see Charibda standing on the edge of the courtyard. She hadn’t been there before—she must’ve come from the Zoo in the last few minutes. It was clear from the shock on her face that she’d heard what Ymir had said about her uncle. Perhaps she wouldn’t hate humans quite so much now. Her mother was nowhere to be seen, but then, Beryl Delphino was probably holed up in the Form college with most of the scholars. The woman hadn’t been part of any conspiracy. Della needed to know that.
Ymir squeezed his eyes shut. He dropped his ax, trying to stay conscious. He wanted to see this. He stumbled. Jennybelle Josen caught him.
“How’s Tori?” he asked, coughing.
“We don’t know yet,” Jenny said in a weak voice. “She’s not dead, though. And the doctor said dwarven bones are tough. That’s the only reason she’s still alive. That trident didn’t pierce her heart.”
“Thank the Shieldmaiden because the Axman doesn’t give a damn.” Ymir smiled, glad he hadn’t puked yet. “Help me get to the top of the Sea Stair.”
She led him over. Della was stomping toward him. Her ire was up, nearly as palpable as the mist in the air. It had such a pretty glow, still floating there. That was some powerful magic there, and Ymir couldn’t help but be impressed.
Leaning on Jennybelle, he slipped both of his new rings off his fingers and stuck them in a pouch. Their magic was done for now.
“What in the fuck were you thinking?” the Princept shrieked. She moved with such speed in her magic armor. One of her swords was shattered near the hilt. The other was long and blood smeared.
“Sorry, Della, I lost track of the minutes. I thought I would remember, but working with that Fractal Clock took a lot out of me.” Ymir winced. “Princept, most Honored Princept. Not Della. You’re lucky I like you, or I wouldn’t give a shit when I hurt your feelings.”
“What are you talking about? What minutes?”
He’d seen Della upset before, but never as furious as she was then. She was a hateful mess, and he really did think she might follow through on her threat to murder him.
He pointed. “I’d guess we slaughtered half of them. Less than a hundred are left.”
“And they fucking left with the Fractal Clock!” the Princept screamed.
“Let’s try this,” Ymir said. “Three, two, one...”
He got lucky. When the last number left his mouth, a blinding white fire winked on down below, too bright to look upon. A bit of eerie silence followed, and then came the blast, the thunder of a hundred souls dying in an explosion that leveled the buildings at the bottom of the Sea Stair. Ymir hoped the Wolf hadn’t just pissed on him because the clansman had a fortune in processed xoca powder in his sea cell.
The white flame below was lost in a cloud of smoke, ash, and rock turned to powder. Above them, the water droplets suspended in the air came splashing down in a single gush. Everyone not already soaked was drenched. The downpour cleaned some of the blood off Della’s armor and weapons.
She blinked, half smiling. “You knew how to work the Fractal Clock? How could you know? How did you get it? What sort of shenanigans have you been up to?”
A crowd ran to join them, and not just defenders, but those who had been watching, and that included Charibda and her mother. The doctor had taken Tori to the infirmary. Lillee and Gatha had gone with them. Ymir continued to lean on Jenny. The west wind caught the smoke and debris, smelling of rock dust, hot air, and cooked flesh. The cloud boiled up the steps and into their faces.
Truth be told, the smell of the meat made Ymir hungry for fish.
“You wily cocksucker!” Gharam pulled Ymir away from Jenny. The old orc hugged him until the clansman’s bones groaned. “You saved Gatha. By the Pits, you saved me. I think you saved us all, you fucking asshole bastard!”
Della stood nearby, wide-eyed and blinking.
Jenny laughed. “I think Gharam wants to join your harem, Ymir.”
The old orc stepped back, slurping. “That I do. I’d fuck the taste out of your mouth, clansman. I’ve never seen such a thing as today. I’ve never seen such a gambit.”
Ymir shook his head. “No, Gharam, I only like the women of your race. The rest of you fuckers are far too ugly. Now I have something I need to do.”
After the explosion, he was feeling better. All of that energy must’ve put a little zing back in his dusza. He took the Sapphire Fang out of Jenny’s sheath, turned, and pushed his way through the crowd.
He found Brandmunli Ironcoat kneeling next to his wife. The pallor of her face confirmed that she hadn’t survived her fight with the merman. The dwarf wasn’t crying. He seemed to be in deep thought, pondering the dead dwab.
He glanced up at Ymir. “You sure tricked that fish fuck. He killed my Ibeliah. Not sure what I’m going to do without her. But I thank you, lad.”
Ymir stared down at the man. “She tried to kill me. You tried to kill me. You were biding your time, waiting, because you weren’t too worried about me as long as I was at this school. You were, though, curious about what I’d do after I graduated. Better I was dead, right, dwarf? You’re going to tell me about the Midnight Guild. You’re going to tell me about Unger.”
It probably wasn’t the right time for this, but Ymir was too tired for any more games. He was weary of the subterfuge and scheming.
The Princept wasn’t about to leave Ymir alone. She tromped after him in her magical armor. She had all of her many questions, and Ymir wasn’t going to give her many answers. He didn’t need to. He’d saved them all and ended the merfolk threat.
Brandmunli laughed at the accusation. He leapt to his feet. “May the night never end, and may the
day never begin.”
“That is the wrong answer!” Ymir went for him, but the dwarf ducked, shockingly quick. Ymir felt the fists hit his head. He grunted and got a hand on the dwarf, but Brandmunli threw an elbow, smacking the clansman’s nose.
“May the night never end, and may the day never begin!” Brand repeated and danced back. He had a vial in his hand.
“What is this business, Brandmunli?” Della asked. “Ymir, what is going on now?”
The dwarf smiled, an evil glint in his eye. “May the night never end, and may the day never begin.” He said those words a third time before drinking the contents of the vial down.
Choking, his hands went to his throat.
Della stood next to Ymir as they watched the poison take the dwarf, turning his face purple and his lips black. His eyes widened and bulged until bloody tears ran down his face.
“Bloodcross mushroom extract,” she said. “I’ve seen it before. So he and his wife were the assassins sent by the Midnight Guild to kill you.”
Ymir sighed, but he still found a smile. “What do you mean, you’ve seen it before?”
The Princept didn’t hide her amusement. “You aren’t going to answer any of my questions about what happened here today. I know that. So I won’t answer a single one of yours.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know if you are a part of the Midnight Guild, but if you are, let them know every assassin they send I’ll send back dead. I don’t think you are, Honored Princept, and no, I won’t tell you much about what happened. I do think the Fractal Staff survived the blast.”
“It’s the Fractal Clock,” the Princept said, smiling.
“It’s a fucking staff.”
Jenny hurried over and took his hand.
They walked together to the infirmary to check on Tori. If the little woman died, Ymir knew a piece of him would die as well. He thought of praying to his fickle gods, but it seemed pointless. His prayer would be his touch. His prayer would be his kiss. And he would catch her soul with his love before it could flutter away.
Besides, Tori was too cheerful and stubborn to die.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
TWO WEEKS LATER, THE Honored Princept Della Pennez walked down the Sea Stair to see how the renovation was going. The Paradise Tree was open, and there were customers. The Librarium Annex had weathered the destruction well. And really, the only major reconstruction was along the covered walkway that led to the hidden docks. Several buildings had been destroyed, and that included a few scholar rooms, but not many. And thankfully, no scholars had been in there. All in all, Ymir’s plan had worked perfectly.
The Fractal Clock had been made to survive such explosions, and it was back in the Illuminates Spire, safe and protected.
Della had gone over the staff. There didn’t seem to be any visible way of filling it with power, though the clockwork nature of the mechanism did allow it to have a delayed reaction. So many questions shrouded the strange nature of that day. How did Ymir get the staff? How did he fill it with power? And how could she have missed that the Ironcoats had been sent by the Midnight Guild?
There was something else nagging Della. She thought she’d heard Ymir say a name, the name of the man who had turned her into a master assassin for the Silent Scream. Unger.
She couldn’t very well ask him because he would not answer and he would then research the man, and the Princept didn’t want that. She wanted the past to stay in the past. Was Unger dead? He was if he was human, which might not be the case. He’d used some sort of Form sorcery to change her ears, and he might have done something similar to himself.
Maybe he was elven? Unlikely. Della remembered sex with him had thrilled, and she’d felt some kind of connection to him in her dusza. It had been strange. And his smell had been unique...sweet, somewhat smoky. Strangest of all? He had red-and-yellow eyes, burning in the scorched flesh of his face, as if his eyes were too hot to be held in his skull.
No, she didn’t want to mention the name Unger to Ymir. She’d do her own research on the master assassin herself.
Della walked down the new rock being molded into patterns on the right side of the walkway. Brodor Bootblack was doing well with the repairs, though he was as surly as ever. The Ironcoats had not been the only two casualties of the attack. Others had fallen as well. The Morbuskor professor, however, took the death of his new friends hard, though he didn’t want to admit it. Once again, Della found herself covering up an unfortunate death. This time it wasn’t murder, but suicide, but she could still blame Brand’s death on the battle. Warfare made hiding deaths very convenient.
The Third Exam had been pushed back a week, which meant another week of school for the scholars come June. They weren’t complaining. Most were simply glad that most of their friends and teachers weren’t dead.
The Princept walked to the new docks, which were still in the process of being secured to the ocean floor. The hidden cave where they had their school ships had come through the explosion unmarked. She remembered taking a ship out to retrieve Ymir from the AngelTeeth Islands the night Siteev was killed. To think, he was nearly done with his second year. It certainly had been dramatic. Two faculty had died his imprudens year, and now two more were dead his sophist year. Would Ymir cause more mischief as a judician? The answer was evident.
She found someone unexpected standing at the edge of the freshly cut wood of the dock. The very tall, very slender woman had her eyes on the horizon, where the sun was sinking down into the water. Her bright blue hair had a single purple stripe running down the right side of her head.
Charibda Delphino turned at the sound of Della’s boots on the wood. The Princept wore her Sunfire robes over a light spring dress.
The mermaid was in a thin gown, barefoot, and her own robes from Moons lay in a heap at her feet. She was regarding the water with her dark green eyes, so dark as to be almost brown. She had tiny nipples that poked through the dress.
Della wasn’t going to stare, nor would she give the sexuality of this girl another thought. Not only was she a scholar at Della’s school, she was the daughter of Della’s lover. Beryl had returned to Delphine City, to take over as the active Ocean Mother Divine now that Marrib was dead and the truth about his treachery had been exposed.
And yet, Della couldn’t help but notice the beautiful body of the slender mermaid. It would be so taboo to fantasize about her, but didn’t taboos find their homes in fantasies? The Princept swept away those forbidden thoughts.
Charibda sighed. “I miss my mother, Princept. She might come back to visit, but only if she finds someone to rule our family. I’m afraid with all the chaos no one is excited about the idea.”
“No, all of the normal politics of the merfolk have been disrupted.” Della remembered her long conversations with the girl’s mother. With Marrib dead, and the factions loyal to him scattered, the Princept had invited Beryl to her room. They made love on her bed, slept in each other’s arms, and woke to sweetened kaif in the morning.
Della slept so well with the warm body of her lover there. The Princept would wake in the middle of the night with those cute tentacles holding her. Beryl had been as shocked as anyone by the actions of her brother-in-law. She was a good woman, and Della was glad that they’d have their time together. She didn’t know how much Charibda knew about them. Perhaps it didn’t matter. No one else knew, except for Ymir, and he wasn’t about to tell anyone.
Once again, Yannc Winslo would be coming for another investigation. The Alumni Consortium was thinking of putting the old woman up in the Imperial Palace permanently to save on travel expenses.
“Your mother is a fine person,” Della said. “We talked a great deal.”
“I was glad my mother had a friend here,” the mermaid said wistfully. “Everyone hates me now. They blame me for the attack, like I represent all merfolk or whatever. It’s not even what we call ourselves. I hate all those words...merfolk and merman, but mermaid is the worst of all. I am not a maiden. I am a grown w
oman.”
“Not everyone hates you.” Della kept her voice gentle. “I know for a fact you have at least one friend. You could have more, Charibda, if you allowed people to get close to you.”
The girl’s lips disappeared into a frown. “I hated all you dirt worms because of my father...because of the Red Tide Massacre. The truth was kept hidden with spells, using the magic of our people.”
Della had seen that strange magic in the Flow courtyard. A dozen women, holding hands, had cast spells using their combined strength. Della and her professors had been powerless against it. Della had talked with Phoebe Amalbeub, who said she couldn’t reveal the secrets of that sorcery. However, the Princept had hope they might unlock its secrets.
“So, Charibda,” Della said. “You hated us when you thought the Sorrow Coast Kingdom was behind the massacre. And now?”
“Now I don’t know what to think. I’m nicer to Tori. I know that. And her stupid boyfriend, only it’s not just a boyfriend, it’s like her husband. It’s so stupid that Ymir has his harem. All the girls talk about them. They think they’re so important and powerful.”
Listening to the girl complain made Della want to smile. She couldn’t, of course. Ymir had indeed collected four of the best women at Old Ironbound—that couldn’t be denied. They were important and powerful, and there was every indication the five would complete the Fourth Exam just fine and go on to be upperclassmen.
Della was glad that Ymir had given up this ring-making business. Yes, he had the Black Ice Ring, but he had stopped there. His dusza was very powerful, and he might have been able to charge up the Fractal Clock with his own spirit. How he got it? Well, most likely, he had his allies, and he didn’t want to give them up. Agneeyeshka had been on guard duty outside the sixth-floor entrance to her chambers. She said she smelled something sweet, and then she lost consciousness. She woke up not knowing a thing.
