Fiery Edge of Steel (A NOON ONYX NOVEL)

by Archer, Jill

Ebony’s final resting place had been the Elbow. According to legends, that’s just where she succumbed. The legends were always vague about what she’d succumbed to. But couldn’t it have been a hellcnight bite? But if so, why hadn’t Grimasca been with her? If he’d bitten her, why wouldn’t he have been with her at the end?

  But then I thought about the wandering part again. The fact that Ebony’s lover had been a wanderer. And that she’d given him her memory of home so that he could find his way back to her. Well, had he? Had Grimasca found Ebony before she died? Ebony’s legends say she died alone.

  And then it hit me. What the quote might mean and what the powder might be. An antidote. A cure for Grimasca’s bite. Maybe Grimasca had been wandering, looking for a cure, but when he finally found it, he didn’t make it back in time to use it. Maybe that’s what “Better late than never” is a lie meant.

  I ran out of the shed, found Rafe and Fara, and told them my theory. They both thought it was at least worth seeing what Meghan, Stillwater, and Russ thought of it. Depending on what their take was, we could decide whether we wanted to try it out on Delgato. It took us the better part of an hour to round them up (scattered as they were in various parts of the camp), but when we were all assembled outside of the med shack, I once again explained my theory. That the white powder was really an antidote to a hellcnight bite. That the silver spice box had been Grimasca’s and he’d found the cure for his lover Ebony but he’d been too late to use it.

  Frankly, they all thought it was pretty far-fetched. Russ didn’t believe in Grimasca at all. But the fact that I’d tested the powder already on myself, and no harm had come to me, impressed Meghan mightily. She asked us if we thought Delgato would rather die sleeping in his cot after Luck knew how many years lying like that, be floated out into the river and given to Estes (Rafe cleared his throat, narrowed his eyes, and shook his head at Meghan over that option, making his position clear), or take a chance on this mysterious powder. To a person, we all agreed that Captain Delgato would rather take his chances with the powder. We had nothing to lose. If it didn’t work, nothing would happen.

  Late that night, Meghan mixed a small amount of the powder with warm water and managed to get most of it down Delgato’s throat. He was still for so long after, I feared we’d failed, that my theory was bunk, and I was no closer to figuring out the mystery of the powder, the box, or the quote than before. But then he coughed. The first real movement he’d made since the night the hellcnight attacked us on board Cnawlece. And I knew I’d been right. And I knew then that we could save everyone, or at least the twelve settlers we’d pulled out of the keep. After that, everything happened fairly quickly. It took half the night and the rest of the powder to wake everyone up, but we did. By the darkest hour in the Shallows, not a single person was sleeping.

  * * *

  A few days later nearly everyone in the Shallows was gathered for breakfast on the Blandjan dock. We’d been gathering here for meals since the keep had fallen. No one in the camp wanted to eat their meals (even if those meals consisted of bloodfish, bonemeal and/or other various and sundry “edible” marshland offerings) while looking at the pile of debris that had almost become a tomb for at least a dozen of them. In the dirt next to the dock were small campfires here and there where settlers were frying or roasting fish. The dock itself was covered with people, kids especially, who sat at its edge, legs dangling over the water, with makeshift poles and lines. Athalie, who’d turned out to be a precocious eight-year-old with wide brown eyes and wild, corkscrew curly hair, sat off to one side on a blanket with Zella, Antony, and her new niece, Nona. Stillwater, Meghan, and Russ were standing at the very end of the dock looking east toward the mouth of the Lethe and the sea. At dinner last night, Antony had casually suggested that the group relocate once a new patron was found. The idea had met with immediate resistance from a few folks, including Stillwater. I smiled to myself. Those two would likely continue their feud long after I was gone, but it didn’t involve demons or seem anything more than two men who had differing views on what was best for their community. A healthy sort of problem, in my opinion. And one their new patron could deal with.

  The morning was already hot and humid, but without a cloud in the sky. The rising sun on the Blandjan had been blinding, which I thought fitting since Blandjan meant “blind.” Rafe had been continually casting Demon Net so we’d know if anything tried to sneak up on us, either on land or from underneath the water. But he’d felt nothing. Nor had I, not even Ari. I had no idea whether I’d see him again in New Babylon when we finally made it back or not, but I was determined not to think of it. Besides, I had enough to keep my body busy and my mind occupied. Like convincing Delgato he should become the new Patron Demon of the Shallows.

  Delgato had been told about Cnawlece’s sinking and Burr’s death. He was more grief stricken over Burr, which I found touching. Apparently, Delgato had appreciated Burr as much as I’d started to during our brief voyage. We filled Delgato in on recent events in the Shallows, Beetiennik and Biviennik, the rescue and revival of their victims, and the collapse of the keep. He was told about Ari. Delgato seemed less surprised by that revelation than by the tales of my heroism. I tried not to be insulted about either.

  Fara outdid herself on her glamour that morning. I think she knew her time in the Shallows was almost up and so she had a limited number of further opportunities to create lasting dramatic impressions. Inspired by tales of Lethe sirens, she chose to appear in a glimmering sheath of oyster shells. Freshwater pearls adorned her lustrously wavy hair and glitter sparkled on her eyelashes like sunlight sparkling on the surface of the river. She’d even gone so far as to “grow” webbing between her fingers and toes. Soon every young girl at the docks had a fish tail or iridescent scaled skin. The boys then asked to be turned into giant toads, snails, or lizards. Within minutes, Virtus was left alone at the edge of the dock, peering into the sun-flecked water, hungrily eyeing its surface for any evidence of the fish lurking beneath. Sometimes his ears would twitch. Sometimes his tail. Sometimes his eyes would grow big as saucers and his haunches would wriggle in anticipation . . . But he stayed out of the water.

  And so it was when I asked Delgato that fateful question one sunny summer morning during Haita, Halja’s seventh month (which was named after what it felt like, hot) while standing on a wooden dock halfway between New Babylon and the sea.

  “So what do you say, Captain Delgato? Would you like to be Lord Delgato and look after these people?” I asked him.

  What demon would say no to that?

  But he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked around and carefully considered each of the settlers, assessing them as he’d once assessed me. He made a sound that was half-grunt, half-growl. Delgato’s catlike characteristics (the pointy ears, furry paws, and sharp teeth) had all come back with his consciousness.

  “Not sure what the Council would have to say about it,” he said.

  “The Council’s back in New Babylon. You’re here; the settlers are here. You’ve got no boat and they’ve got no patron. It makes perfect sense so long as everyone’s in agreement.”

  “What do you think their take on it will be?” Delgato asked, making a gesture that included everyone on the docks and in the dirt behind it.

  I shrugged. “You’ll have to ask them how they would feel about following the Patron Demon of Shadows, Stealth, and Hiding. Course, you could always become the patron of something else,” I said, grinning. “Like rainbows, sunshine, and wide-open spaces.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” Rafe said quietly.

  Delgato looked at him queerly. “What do you mean?” he growled.

  “I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve reinvented yourself.”

  The two stared at each other and I realized I’d missed something important. “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Delgato is Grimasca,” Rafe said.

  To my shock, Delgato didn’t deny it. I
turned to him in dismay. “You’re Grimasca? Grimasca actually exists?”

  “No,” Delgato said emphatically. “Grimasca does not exist. Grimasca died a long time ago. I killed myself—drowned myself in the Elbow—centuries ago.”

  “That’s impossible,” I cried. “Nobody comes back to life in Halja.”

  Again, Delgato shrugged. Clearly, he couldn’t care less whether I believed him or not. “I did. Or rather, I came back to life as someone else. After the Elbow spit me back out, I was no longer a hellcnight; I was a manticore. But I still possessed each and every one of my accursed hellcnight memories. How? Why? Beats the hell out of me. Maybe because I drowned alone. Like she did. Or maybe because Luck wants me to suffer.”

  “How did you know?” I said to Rafe.

  “It was just a guess,” he said. “Until now.”

  We all stood looking at one another for a moment. No one said anything. It was weird, though, because even though it was nice and sunny out, I suddenly felt a shadow pass over us. I looked at Delgato, and for a single second I could have sworn his eyes glowed red. I shivered and rubbed my arms.

  “Still think I’m the right demon to watch over these people?” Delgato growled, glancing back at the innocent and unknowing settlers.

  “That depends,” I said slowly, pulling out the butcher knife and the silver spice box. “Are these yours?”

  He stared at the knife and the box, transfixed. Finally, he reached for the box, waving off my offer of the knife. “Keep it,” he said peremptorily. And then, as if the box were made of the finest, most delicate blown glass, he gingerly examined it. Lovingly, he caressed the words “For Ebony” and then scowled at the quote he’d engraved on the back. “‘Better late than never’ is a lie.”

  I found his actions telling. He’d rejected his old butcher knife, instead reaching for a momento of lost love.

  “When we met, you said you both adored and abhorred secrets. Want to swap answers? I want to know what happened with Ebony. And you want . . . well, an answer limited only by your question, I imagine. I can give you the answer to any question about anyone, anyplace, or anything in Halja.”

  “Any question?” he asked. I nodded.

  “You’ve still got it, don’t you?” he said. “The black onion.”

  I smiled and pulled it out of my pocket. “I told you it was yours at the end of this trip.”

  “You said it was mine if everyone made it back safely. Burr died, and you’re still here.”

  I shrugged. “It’s mine to use as I choose.”

  “Don’t you want to ask it a question?” he said, eyeing me closely. “You’ve certainly earned the right. Sounds like you’ve done far more than just sail the Lethe on this trip.”

  I thought about what I might ask. When was the Boatman coming? Would we make it back alive? Where was Ari? Did he still love me? When would I be able to forget him? Who should become the new patron demon of these people? Was Delgato the right choice?

  I realized, though, that some of my questions could be answered with time, not magic, and that others probably shouldn’t be asked. I might have welcomed some help with the last two if I knew I could trust the black onion to provide helpful information. But, the truth was, I’d never known magic to work straightforwardly or exactly as one wished it to. And hadn’t I told Ari just a few nights ago that I believed in living, breathing people more than magic? That I wanted my own head and heart to determine someone’s fate, not things like waerwater and black onions?

  “You can have it,” I said, never meaning anything more. But he didn’t accept it.

  “What do you want to know about Ebony?”

  Once again, I thought of all my unanswered questions. Had he really loved her? Had he bitten her? Had it been an accident? How had it happened? I didn’t believe for a single second that he’d eaten her, as Burr had believed. That embellishment was Grimasca/Delgato’s punishment for having been such a horrible creature to begin with. But he wasn’t anymore. I knew he wasn’t. And really the only reason I wanted to know about Ebony was because I wanted to ask him how he did it. How did he keep on living without her? But how would his answer help me? I had to find my own answer.

  “Never mind,” I said. I grabbed Delgato’s paw and pressed the black onion into it. “Keep your painful memories. I’ve got my own.”

  * * *

  A little over a week later the Boatman came in a small, narrow riverboat. By that time, I was unbelievably sick of bloodfish and bonemeal. But I’d miss everyone in the Shallows. Delgato had agreed to stay on as patron. The people had willingly embraced him. Stillwater and Antony Rust were still at it, with Stillwater advocating that they stay in the Shallows and rebuild the keep and Antony pressing for the sea. Russ chose to stay with Delgato. Our parting gift to the people of the Shallows was the Mederi-blessed package of seeds we’d brought. The night Cnawlece had sank, that was what Rafe had gone back for. He presented them to Russ to hold as our official farewell gift. I had never meant any sentiment more.

  Fare well, I thought so fiercely, it was almost a prayer. As we rounded the bend in the Blandjan that would take us out of sight of the Shallows, I turned to ask Fara if she remembered any farewell blessings from the Book of Joshua but her face was buried in Virtus’ fur. She was weeping. I glanced over at Rafe. His carefully carefree look was back.

  It took us two months to get home. By the time I set foot on campus the weather had completely changed. During our trip back, Haita had become Draugr, the month of dryness, and then Ciele, the month of frost. The leaves on the trees changed color. There weren’t any trees at St. Luck’s, but here and there, scattered around the city sidewalks in tree wells, were a few elm, birch, and beech trees. After all the drab iron, moss, and sage of the swamp and lower Lethe, their blazing golds and sanguine reds were as bracing as the cool wind that blew us back to the New Babylon docks.

  In time Ciele, the month of frost, turned to Fyr, the month of fire. The crimson and canary-colored leaves fell from the trees, the days grew darker, and the nights colder. Apples were harvested and the smell of bonfires filled the air. Ari did not return. I gave Rochester a full report on what happened in the Shallows, but I “modified” the facts for two of the most significant events. I told Rochester that Ari had disappeared during the investigation. It was technically true (I had no idea where he was) but I also knew it was a lie by omission. I didn’t care. While I couldn’t forgive Ari for his deception, I didn’t feel it was my place to reveal his secret. And I told Rochester that my alembic had been lost the night Cnawlece sank. Another lie? Yes, undoubtedly. But I’d made my peace with that earlier, after Beetiennik’s trial by waerwater when I executed him despite Luck’s pardon. If I was a sinner, so be it. At least I was a sinner who could look herself in the mirror while brushing her teeth.

  Rafe was admitted back into the Joshua School. Typical of Rafe, he’d shrugged and said it made no difference to him where he slept. Freidrich was still deciding whether he would be allowed to continue training as my Guardian. I’d heard that relations between Friedrich and my father had become strained. But since Karanos wasn’t in the habit of cultivating close relationships, I didn’t read into it overmuch. Fara was going to be assigned to someone new. I would miss working with her. Thanks to the time I’d spent with her studying in the library on board Cnawlece and the massive cram sessions with Ivy and Fitz upon my return, I passed all of my classes.

  Over drinks one night at Marduk’s, I introduced Fara and Rafe to Ivy and Fitz. It was awkward at first, only because I had so much shared history among all of them, but not together. But I think they realized how important it was to me to feel like my closest friends got along so they tried extra hard. Before long (and a few boilermakers later) no one was trying anymore. Fitz was egging Fara on to pull off increasingly outrageous illusions, put on ever more outlandish glamours, and asking if he could “borrow” Virtus for some insane future purpose. Ivy offered to redraft Rafe’s CV for him. She was intensely curio
us about all of the spells he’d made up. Since Rafe had proven he could cast the likes of hottie Holden Pierce under the table, Ivy thought Rafe’s ridiculously titled spells were exceptionally charming and effortlessly inventive.

  I took a few days off and went back to Etincelle. I visited my mother’s black garden. It was a blackened area just outside my bedroom window that my mother had torched with a can of gasoline and a match the day after my brother and I were born. I knew (because my mother had told me of things she’d done in the garden and because in nearly twenty-two years the garden had never grown back) that there was magic in it. But I thought it best not to dwell on what kind. The place didn’t feel malignant. It just felt hazy, slow, and muted, like a dream with no color.

  I knelt in the ashes and took out Burr’s filleting knife and Grimasca’s butcher knife. I carved each of their names on the handles and then plunged them deep into the ground, side by side, so they looked like miniature tomb markers. Among the black ash, cinders, broken glass, shards of splintered wood, and other debris in the garden, the two knives looked right at home. Burr was dead, as was Grimasca. But Delgato lived, the people of the Shallows lived, and I lived and would continue living. Every day it got a little easier to breathe.

  A few days later, to celebrate the end of the semester, I met Ivy, Fitz, Fara, and Rafe at the Black Onion. I’d been worried I might not feel like eating there anymore, but then I surprised myself by ordering the fish special. (It was charred red snapper. How could I not?) Midway through the meal, I pulled Alba aside and told her about Burr. I expressed my deepest sympathies. She expressed her deepest gratitude. She’d expected nothing less from Nouiomo Onyx than a swift execution of the demon that was responsible. I was just about to give her the three black onions I’d found for her in my mother’s garden when Aurelia herself walked in. But infinitely more surprising than seeing her was seeing who was with her—my father. They almost never went anywhere together anymore.