Of the Abyss

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  Cadmia flung herself back and tripped over something behind her. She pushed herself up, turning to see what she had tripped on.

  Pearl was locked in the Quin dungeon.

  “She’s a monster,” one of the guards said.

  “Let’s keep this between us, all right?” the monster in the market said. He flipped something in the air, something that glimmered in the light: a key, which Cadmia knew went to Pearl’s shackles.

  “Let her go,” Cadmia begged.

  “She’s safer here.” He flipped the key at her, hard, and she flinched.

  Cadmia woke with a gasp from jumbled dreams, some of her childhood, and some of her fears. She shook herself as she walked to the window, trying to make sense of the images. Her trip to the docks had probably inspired the dream of her childhood, and her anxiety about Pearl explained much of the rest, but what of the blind woman?

  The Order taught its initiates to consider their dreams carefully because the Others sometimes spoke through them, but if this one had a message, it was lost to her.

  Maybe it was just meant to horrify me awake, she thought, as she saw the two figures picking their way through the darkened street. One was carrying a large bundle.

  Heart pounding as she imagined the worst, Cadmia drew on her robe and then dashed down the stairs, not even bothering to light a lamp. She reached the foyer, which was open to the public at all hours, just as Hansa crossed the threshold. His arms trembled and his face was flushed with the effort of carrying Pearl, but if he had difficulty entering this place he hid it well.

  “She’s all right,” he said in response to Cadmia’s panicked expression. “Just exhausted. If I can figure out how to catch the mancer who kidnapped her I will, but in the meantime you should keep her here. I don’t know why they want her or if this will make them give up.”

  “Thank you,” Cadmia breathed. She started to reach to take Pearl, and caught sight of the other man lingering outside the doorway. Unlike Hansa, he clearly had no intention of crossing the threshold. Pitching her voice low, she asked, “Are you all right? I know I’m probably the last person you’re inclined to trust right now, but if you’re in trouble—­”

  Hansa shook his head. “Everything I told you before was true. I’m with him now only because he needed my help to rescue Pearl. After this, I’m going back to my normal life, and he’s getting out of it.”

  Cadmia nodded, but the chill that ran down her back as she took Pearl from Hansa warned her it might not be that easy.

  Cadmia wasn’t strong enough to carry Pearl all the way to her bed, but the girl roused only enough to sleepily walk there and say good-­night before closing her eyes as Cadmia tucked her in.

  Cadmia, unfortunately, was now wide awake. A cool bath and a hot cup of coffee rubbed the grogginess from her mind, and she went to the temple, where a young woman was kneeling in the meditation area reserved for those waiting for an audience.

  “Are you seeking guidance?” she asked.

  When the woman looked up, Cadmia recognized her tearstained face as that of Hansa’s fiancée. They must have barely missed each other on the street.

  “Yes,” she said. “Please. Can we go somewhere private?”

  Cadmia led them into her office. The shivering woman accepted tea, but seemed more interested in holding it in her hands than actually drinking it. Cadmia waited patiently, trying not to make assumptions about the woman’s reason for being here.

  “I’m such a fool,” Ruby sighed.

  “Why do you say that?” Cadmia had enough practice to keep her face neutral and attentive as she considered how she would react to questions about Hansa. She was almost certain now that he had been set up and had told her the truth, but she still didn’t understand exactly what had happened or who was responsible. All her education said this puzzle couldn’t fit together the way it seemed to.

  If Abyssi had suddenly learned to plan, they were all in trouble.

  “Hansa was a family friend almost since birth,” Ruby said, staring down at the ring on her finger. Cadmia’s upbringing in the Order A’hknet made her instinctively calculate its value, and decide it was either a family heirloom or evidence of months of saved wages at a guard’s salary. “Our fathers work together and he and Jenkins were close to the same age. I don’t even know when we started dating. At some point, Jenkins just didn’t come along as often so it was just me and Hansa and everything . . .”

  She trailed off. The eyes she lifted to Cadmia were sparkling with tears.

  “I love him. He loves me. We’re the perfect little—­” She broke off, blushing.

  Cadmia said it for her. She had heard the phrase a million times, usually by her mother’s ­people. “Perfect little Quin ­couple?” she suggested. The phrase implied so many things. Some of the more devout used it as a compliment when they saw a ­couple they felt were well-­matched, living well, and prepared to raise the next generation of Followers of the Quinacridone. More often, it was a jab at a ­couple who seemed too pure, too honest, too naïve to be true.

  Ruby looked back at her tea. “I can’t believe I . . .” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m hotheaded. I know that. My parents disowned me when I was sixteen after I tried to join the Order of A’hknet. Jenkins had an apprenticeship lined up to a ship carpenter who was willing to take him on despite his having the sight, but it would have left him financially dependent on our parents and they would have told him to cut ties to me, so he applied to join the One-­Twenty-­Six. And I can’t help thinking . . .” When she looked back up, the tears were streaming down her face. “It’s my fault he’s dead. I killed him by being stupid and impulsive. Nearly killed Hansa, too. And Xaz! She was my friend. She never let me be a close friend, but I liked her.”

  Ruby’s tears started in earnest then.

  “None of this is your fault,” Cadmia said, reaching out to take the tea from Ruby’s trembling hand before the other woman burned herself. “You aren’t responsible for the decisions other ­people—­”

  “Do you think Xaz used magic to make me like her?” Ruby interrupted. ­“People say mancers can do that. How can anyone trust anything if—­” She broke off with a strangled sound, half curse and half sob. “Any other day, I would have gone to Jenkins if I felt this way. He would have made some stupid joke and cheered me up.”

  Cadmia normally had conversations like this with ­people crippled by guilt because they actually had murdered someone, which made her perhaps not the best confidant for someone struggling with Ruby’s concerns. She knew the answer to Ruby’s question about Dioxazine—­yes, Numenmancers were capable of manipulating ­people that way—­but Ruby was looking for comfort, not a lecture on mancers’ powers.

  Cadmia suggested gently, “I can stay if you prefer, but you should know that there are Brothers and Sisters here who specialize in guiding ­people through loss and grief. It isn’t my area of expertise. Would you rather—­”

  “I want to talk to you,” Ruby interrupted. She flinched from her own raised voice, then added more quietly, “If that’s all right, I mean. They say you advise the One-­Twenty-­Six, and work with soldiers and even sorcerers. I know you’re the one Hansa spoke to when he was arrested. They’re talking about making him a captain now . . . now that it’s been cleared up.” She frowned as she said it.

  Did Ruby doubt her beau’s innocence? Had she noticed how the pieces of his arrest and exoneration didn’t quite fit together? Not wanting her own bias to lead Ruby away from what she wanted to discuss, Cadmia kept her response simple. “Oh?”

  “I felt so ashamed of how I acted when he was arrested, when I realized he was innocent I put on his ring. I decided on the spot, yes, this is the man I want to marry. I was going to tell him so as soon as he noticed . . .” She trailed off. Cadmia suspected that Hansa either hadn’t seen or hadn’t acknowledged the ring on Ruby’s finger. “I went to t
he compound to ask what happened, after he—­well, he wanted to be alone for a while,” Ruby admitted. “I received dozens of condolences about Jenkins and as many congratulations about Hansa’s expected promotion, just like I was him instead of me. He hadn’t gone back yet, but I was Hansa’s girl so . . .”

  This time when Ruby paused, Cadmia thought she understood. “How do you feel about being Hansa’s girl?”

  Ruby sniffed. Instead of directly answering the question, she asked, “Did you know in Tamar it’s considered perfectly normal for a woman to own and captain a ship? She might choose to marry and have a family, but she isn’t expected to settle down to do it. And if she doesn’t want the man around anymore, she just kicks him off the ship. They don’t think of marriage the way we do.”

  Cadmia tried to make sense of the shift from Ruby’s grief about her brother to these seemingly less-­important pre-­marriage jitters. “It must have been hard to be offered condolences for Hansa’s sake instead of your own.”

  “Hard,” Ruby echoed. “But not new. And if I marry him, it’s something I’m going to have to face the rest of my life. Dear Numen, Jenkins would be horrified to hear me talking this way. He thinks—­he thought we should have married years ago.” Cadmia could tell there was more to come, so she waited, and slowly Ruby gathered her nerve. “Hansa will be a captain in the most elite position in the country,” she said. “I should be honored, but all I see is a future where I’m nothing but an extension of him. Hansa Viridian’s wife. The only thing that scares me more is knowing it probably won’t be long before I’m . . . before I’m Hansa Viridian’s widow. I’ve been going through the motions because I do love him and I am proud of him, but I don’t know if I can stand to give up everything and settle down in a proper Quin life as his sweetly supportive wife just to lose him. It was easier to accept he was a mancer—­I could be furious and end it fast and not wait for the day someone comes to my door again to say . . . and it will be soon, because Hansa never backs down or lets someone else take a risk he feels is his responsibility.”

  Cadmia couldn’t argue. She didn’t know exactly what Pearl’s rescue had entailed, but she suspected it was something few other men would have done.

  “I think you need to talk to Hansa,” she said. This kind of issue wasn’t her specialty, but “talk to him” was usually good advice for relationship questions. “You’ve both just lost someone dear to you, and faced a hard truth about someone you considered a friend. Give yourselves time to heal and support each other before you do anything drastic either way. Don’t let fear drive you to any decision you’re not ready for.”

  “You’re right.” Ruby sighed. “I’ll talk to him. I will.” She drained her tea like a shot of whiskey. “He’s been so busy since he was promoted to lieutenant, and I’ve been so focused on finishing my master work at the herbaria, we haven’t really had a serious conversation in a long time. That’s all we need. To talk.” She stood, gathering herself visibly. “Thank you, Sister. I’m sorry if I wasted your time.”

  “Time in counsel is never wasted.” At least this was a break from murderers and mancers, Cadmia thought as she kissed Ruby on the forehead and whispered the traditional blessing, “May the Numen hold you and light your path.”

  She escorted Ruby out, and immediately turned her thoughts to a harder and less pleasant task: preparing for that evening’s mourning ser­vice for the eleven guards who had been killed by the Abyssi. Quin monks would perform the moving-­on ceremony. Her job would be comforting the living and turning thoughts and conversations away from how they had died. Lore said that souls slain by the denizens of the Abyss would dwell in the Abyss after, so it was a good thing that she was not expected to share comforting words about the next world those near-­dozen would find after death.

  CHAPTER 17

  Hansa found the chattering of birds, mixed only with the sound of the horses’ hooves, a remarkably peaceful experience, especially when compared to the events of recent days. It also felt good to see Pearl safely home.

  It wasn’t until they were nearly back at his apartment that it occurred to him to ask Umber, Why did you need me for this? Though the silent communication was not his favorite form of speech, he didn’t want to risk words that could be overheard by passersby. As the sun rose, so did the ­people of Kavet. You certainly didn’t have any trouble handling that Abyssi.

  The denizens of the Abyss are simple-­minded and easily dealt with, Umber demurred. Even Numini are not much of a threat, since they have no interest in one of my kind. Mancers, on the other hand, are dangerous. You were safe in the temple, because it was made by mancers for ­people with power; they can’t be held or hurt within that sphere of magic. My kind on the other hand . . . if I run afoul of an Abyssumancer, especially somewhere like the temple where my powers to defend myself are limited, I’m little more than meat.

  And Pearl? Hansa asked. Why would the mancers want her? I didn’t . . . see . . . any power on her.

  It felt strange to say that, but that was the best he could put it. With the borrowed magic from Umber, Hansa could once again see the glow to the half-­Abyssi’s eyes, and the veil of power wrapped around him. The Abyssi by the temple had seeped energy, which crackled like heat lightning. Pearl was just a girl. She had barely been visible amidst the magic of the temple.

  You wouldn’t, Umber answered as they reached Hansa’s front door. Aloud, he added, “Ready?”

  “Never,” Hansa replied, letting them both in. He would have preferred a brief “goodbye” and maybe a firm handshake—­though he could do without even that—­but Umber had made it clear the power Hansa had borrowed would be visible to sighted guards and wouldn’t naturally fade fast enough for him to just ignore it.

  The process by which Umber had infused Hansa with enough power for him to impersonate a mancer had been terrifying and disgusting, but short and simple. Umber had greeted Hansa at Hansa’s home. He had confirmed that there was no one else in the house, and then had grabbed Hansa’s hand, and slit his forearm open from his wrist to his elbow.

  While Hansa had been shouting obscenities, convinced the crossbreed had gone mad and was trying to kill him, Umber had matter-­of-­factly drawn his knife across his own palm, and then grabbed Hansa’s hand again in order to let his own Abyssal blood drip into Hansa’s.

  Hansa couldn’t remember passing out—­did one ever?—­but when he woke, he had been shocked again to find himself alive, not covered with blood, and unmarked where Umber had cut him. Once he had finished cursing at Umber, the half-­Abyssi had said only, “There’s a horse waiting for you at the stables at the edge of the city.”

  Hansa hoped returning the power would be less . . .

  Titillating? Umber suggested.

  “Have I mentioned how much I despise the fact that you can read my mind?” Hansa groused.

  “You would hardly need to mention it, now would you?” Umber said. “Your fiancée would be pleased to realize how constantly you think of her. You don’t even notice it most of the time; you’re thinking about something completely different, and then suddenly it’s—­”

  —­Ruby. . .

  “It’s kind of nauseating. Oh,” he added, as if in afterthought, “and, returning the power? Not nearly so easy, unless I’m willing to kill you, since just ripping the power out of you would certainly make you combust.”

  “You couldn’t have mentioned this sooner?” Hansa sighed as he unlocked his front door.

  “I could have,” he said, “but then you would have wanted details, and once I gave them to you, you would have chickened out. Take off your shirt, will you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No use getting blood on it needlessly.” Umber’s words made Hansa freeze just inside the front door. Umber, ignoring his hesitation, slipped past Hansa and added, “Oh, and lock the door. We don’t want unexpected company.”

  Though he followe
d the suggestion about the door, Hansa was still fully dressed when he followed the half-­breed into the kitchen to find Umber prodding at the coals at the bottom of the hearth.

  Much as Hansa didn’t like the idea of listening to an Abyssi, he trusted it no less than he trusted Umber. “The Abyssi said something about other options, which didn’t involve, well, bleeding. To do this.”

  “Nice to hear you two had a fun little chat,” Umber said dryly. “Yes, there are options, if that’s your preference.”

  “My preference is not to have to see the sharp end of that knife you wear ever again, if that’s all right with you,” Hansa sighed, relieved. “What is it with you ­people and blood?”

  “Coin of the Abyss,” Umber said vaguely. “Blood, pain, fire—­”

  As he imagined all the other ways this could go, Hansa added hastily, “My preference for ‘no blood’ does not extend into a preference for pain and fire instead.”

  “We’ll work something out.” Umber chuckled. “Fire’s no good for this kind of work anyway. Fire’s for destruction. Yes, I could burn away your flesh and the power would come back to me, but given our current bond, that wouldn’t end well for me either. I’m building up the fire because it’s cold in here,” he continued. “Nothing likes the cold but the Numini and the righ­teous dead. Since we are neither divine nor deceased . . .” He snapped his fingers, and suddenly the coals caught, as did the new log he had added. They burned merrily, as if perfectly kindled.

  Only then did Umber address the actual concern. “No blood, no fire, no pain. Do you actually expect a solution here that suits you?”

  Hansa collapsed into one of the chairs in front of the fire as his hopes fell—­though not too far. The demon’s word had never been enough to lift them high.

  “So, the Abyssi was lying. Probably just trying to make trouble,” he said.

  “Oh, no,” Umber answered, as he moved from the fire to lounge against the counter. “Abyssi and Numini have a few things in common, one of those being that they can’t lie. Not outright at least. Occasionally they will present their own misconceptions as the truth, but they cannot deliberately lie.”