Of the Abyss

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  “Can we rescue Terre Verte?” Cadmia asked, twisting to look at Alizarin as the obvious solution came to her. Surely the word of a third-­level prince of the Abyss would be enough to convince Umber or Hansa this boon couldn’t be fulfilled. “Without you, we have no chance of surviving the court, much less stealing someone from it. And you don’t need to help. If you make it impossible for them, Umber and Hansa don’t have to do this.”

  Alizarin’s fur flattened and his body sagged. “Even if I refuse, the Numini will force Xaz to try.”

  His obvious frustration and disappointment struck her. She hadn’t realized she meant to pet him until she felt his soft black hair trickling through her fingers and saw his head tilt toward the caress.

  “If we’re going through with this madness,” Xaz said, her voice a bit too high as she considered it, “how do we go about it? Even if Alizarin is powerful enough to help us get this sorcerer away from the court, that won’t help us if we’re trapped in the Abyss.”

  Alizarin looked at Umber apologetically before he said, “An Abyssumancer would be able to open a rift.”

  It seemed a simpler solution in words than the others’ expressions made it out to be. Umber in particular looked pained, as if he recognized the logic of Alizarin’s suggestion, but still wished he hadn’t made it.

  “Clearly much of what I’ve been taught is misconception and propaganda,” Cadmia said, considering the Numenmancer, Abyss-­spawn, and Abyssi who were her current companions. “Are Abyssumancers as dangerous as we’re told?”

  “Yes,” the others answered, almost in unison, voices ranging from shocked to horrified. Even Hansa joined the chorus.

  Umber was the one who explained. “Mancers spend their lives fighting to balance their humanity with the demands of their power, which ultimately only wants one thing: to feed.”

  Cadmia looked doubtfully to Xaz, who tensed and said, “Numini don’t use their mancers the way Abyssi do, so we don’t lose control the same way.”

  The huffy reply seemed to prod Hansa out of his distracted state. He protested, “Tell that to the twenty-­eight ­people killed in Fuscio last year when the summer temperature dropped so abruptly in the market square that they froze where they stood, or the three guards struck by lightning when we tried to apprehend the Numenmancer responsible.”

  Cadmia wasn’t familiar with the event, but Xaz’s livid expression made it clear she was. “Of course, blame the mancer,” she spat. “Did you even look at the scene when you arrived? Did you see the noose those twenty-­eight ­people had thrown over the chapel’s balcony rail? It was a lynch mob!”

  “Enough!” Cadmia shouted, interrupting the argument before the two could come to blows. Given Hansa and Xaz had effectively tried to kill each other only a few days ago, it was amazing they had made it this long without conflict, but the topic under discussion was Abyssumancers. “We don’t have time for this.” The conversation had made it clear that even Xaz was biased on the subject, so Cadmia asked Umber bluntly, “If a tie to the Abyss makes one so irredeemable, why aren’t you a monster?”

  “I’m not a human bound magically to an Abyssi,” he answered, apparently unoffended. “I am part Abyssi. I don’t have one using me as a valuable—­but ultimately disposable—­source of food. Unless,” he continued, frustration leaking into his tone, “we find an Abyssumancer who sees me as just that.”

  That explained why he so clearly wished there was another way.

  “Can we do this without an Abyssumancer?” Cadmia asked Alizarin.

  “I do not believe so,” he answered.

  “Then how do we find one?”

  “I normally follow the trail of corpses.” Hansa set aside his half-­eaten food. “Even if an Abyssumancer can help us, do we have a reason to expect one will?”

  “There is an Abyssumancer named Naples attached to the high court,” Alizarin said. “He will help as a favor to me.”

  “If we need to go to such a person,” Xaz said grudgingly, “I advise that we don’t mention the Numini. Even if he wants to help you, Alizarin, an Abyssumancer might be contrary enough to refuse any request that might please the Numini.”

  Alizarin shrugged, as if he hadn’t considered that point but didn’t intend to dispute it.

  “No offense, Alizarin,” Umber said, “but you’ve been accused of getting the last mancer who helped you killed. Will this Naples trust you?”

  Alizarin shifted uneasily behind Cadmia. “He will help.”

  “Won’t his Abyssi object?” Hansa asked.

  “He never has before.”

  “Do we have any other ideas?” Cadmia asked one last time. No one responded, or seemed inclined to meet her eye, so she said, “Then this is our plan. Alizarin, how far are we from this Abyssumancer?”

  She imagined trekking through this dangerous wilderness for days, eating the kills Alizarin brought back and engaging in battle with whatever enemies challenged them.

  Alizarin rolled onto his back, thought, and said, “At your speed, not far. Less than an hour.”

  Cadmia did some mental geography, considered their earlier conversation about the analogous nature of the Abyss to the mortal realm, and asked incredulously, “The Abyssal high court is directly under the city of Mars?”

  “That’s . . . mighty convenient.” Umber spoke with his customary suspicion.

  Xaz rolled her eyes to the sky, or what would be the sky if there were anything but a sooty darkness above, and said in long-­suffering tones, “The palace of the Numini is the same, or so I have been told. It isn’t surprising, really. Kavet is the only country in the world with mancers. Perhaps that’s because it is so close to the strongest Abyssi and Numini.”

  “That might explain the country,” Cadmia agreed, “but what explains the capital city being exactly above—­and below, I suppose—­the Other courts?”

  “The royal house.” Hansa sounded uncharacteristically impatient. “They were accused of sorcery in the revolution, and they’re the ones who first established the city of Mars. What’s to say they didn’t build it there intentionally?” All record of the royal house had been destroyed during the revolution, but it seemed as sound a theory as any. He moved as if to stand, then hesitated. “Are we going?”

  “We’re going,” Umber answered, abandoning his half-­eaten food and pushing to his feet.

  As if noticing that the rest of them were hastily using black sand to clean their hands, Hansa said, “I don’t think it’s a good plan, but it’s what we need to do.”

  Cadmia understood the need for haste, or thought she did, until she saw the way Hansa kept shifting his weight like a man whose muscles have gone to pins and needles. He was trying, and failing, to conceal the signs of his physical discomfort.

  Umber was doing a better job. Cadmia might not have interpreted his stone-­faced expression as anything but laconic disinterest if she didn’t know the situation.

  Like slitting a wrist then trying to row a boat.

  She’d had enough to eat. When she stood, Xaz and Alizarin followed.

  A flickering glow out of the corner of her eye drew Cadmia’s attention to the butchered snake Alizarin had left a few yards off. The shining creatures that normally hung from the trees flowed over the carcass like phosphorescent slugs. Another scavenger, a trundling creature the size of Cadmia’s palm with a dense shell like a turtle’s, had buried its muzzle in the snake’s eye. Occasionally one of the wisps slapped at it with a gleaming tendril, but though the blow let off a hiss of steam, it didn’t seem able to penetrate the beast’s shell.

  “Not worth eating,” Alizarin proclaimed, seeing the direction of her gaze. “Too much bone and shell, and the meat is dry.”

  The circle of life in the Abyss, Cadmia thought, and then they started uphill to the high court.

  As they walked, the stone dunes on their left rose hi
gher and became sharper. Dagger-­sharp stones pierced the soft black sand with increasing frequency, making the footing treacherous for all but Alizarin, who avoided them with ease.

  Stepping on a sharp rock wasn’t the only hazard. Tiny crabs with bodies the color of fresh blood scuttled forward aggressively, snapping hooked claws if one stepped too close, and long-­legged white spiders with sharp mandibles that glistened with venom perched in flat, sticky nests. Occasionally they passed old, dry bones, or newer carcasses, these latter wrapped in spider’s silk or covered in the Abyss’s other scavengers.

  The trip should have taken Alizarin’s promised “less than an hour,” but at their careful pace it seemed to last for days. Even Cadmia didn’t have the energy or attention to hold a conversation, and no one else seemed to want to try.

  Alizarin often bounded ahead, impatient, and circled back. Xaz minced in the front of their group, with Cadmia next and Hansa and Umber lagging behind. They walked close to each other, touching whenever they could.

  Alizarin was on one of his jaunts when they topped a rise and saw a man kneeling on the ground to butcher a . . . Cadmia had no idea what it had once been, except that it seemed to have far too many legs, each tipped with a nasty-­looking barbed claw. The man was using an irregular gray blade to deftly remove each claw without touching it. He looked up without surprise as they approached, used a handful of black sand to wipe the knife clean, then sheathed the knife in a boot and stood.

  Unlike the shades at the camp, whose clothes had been cobbled together from frequently-­mended scraps, this man was dressed in well-­fitted soft leather and fine fabric with the pulled look of raw silk. His ashy-­black boots stopped just below his knees, and his forearms were protected by gauntlets of speckled gray leather. Under a tough vest of the same material, reinforced by glistening, plum-­violet scales, he wore a burgundy shirt that laced at the throat. His skin was fair but had none of the ghastly pallor of the shades, and instead of being fogged and colorless his eyes were bright, coppery brown.

  In case any doubt remained, the knives—­the one he had just tucked in his boot and another she could see on his right thigh—­made it clear what he was.

  Instinctively, Cadmia looked for Alizarin, who was frustratingly out of sight. Based on her understanding of the Abyss’s rules, it should have been up to Umber to speak for their group when Alizarin was absent, but the spawn had halted and seemed to have no intention of moving any closer to the stranger.

  Cadmia cleared her throat. “Are you Naples, the Abyssumancer?” She sounded more confident than she felt.

  “Yes?” His gaze flicked dispassionately down her body as if to assess—­and dismiss—­her worth before turning to the others. Umber had taken another step backward, but Naples didn’t attempt to close the awkward distance. Instead, his brows lifted as he saw Xaz. “I cannot begin to imagine the circumstances that bring a Numenmancer into the Abyss.”

  Xaz took a deep breath. Her voice was steady as she answered, “Alizarin, of the third-­level court. He—­”

  Xaz didn’t have a chance to finish before the Abyssumancer twisted to look behind him a heartbeat before Cadmia’s eyes caught the distant, distinctive sheen of blue approaching rapidly from the direction of the court.

  She tensed, wondering how Naples would respond. Alizarin had known of Naples, but she didn’t know how well informed an Abyssumancer would be. Did he know about Baryte’s death and Antioch’s grudge? Would he be concerned about the tension between Alizarin and the high court?

  Naples’ expression brightened and he shouted, “Alizarin!”

  Alizarin vaulted up to the mancer, who reached out confidently as if to embrace the blue Abyssi. Alizarin had implied earlier that he had a relationship with this mancer, but Cadmia hadn’t imagined it to be this friendly.

  When the mancer tried to lean against the Abyssi, however, Alizarin pushed him back, saying, “You’re hungry. You haven’t been hunting?”

  It seemed an odd question, since that was exactly what Cadmia assumed Naples had been doing before their approach. The Abyssumancer shrugged and changed the subject. “You know I always look forward to your visits, and your companions are of course welcome as well. Let’s get inside where it’s more comfortable. I’ll send someone back for this.” He gestured dismissively to the half-­butchered carcass beside him. He led the way to the crest of the dune over which Alizarin had bounded with ease, then paused at the top. With a sweeping gesture before him, he said, “Welcome, all, to the high court of the Abyss.”

  For the first time in what felt like months, Cadmia lifted her gaze instead of cautiously watching her step.

  “Oh,” she whispered, as she beheld the edge of the court.

  Slices of stone, like those along the beach but hundreds of times taller, formed walls with razor-­edges that glistened, transparent, where they caught the light. Cadmia couldn’t see over them except for the irregular obelisk-­like structures that towered on the other side, some so tall they seemed to merge with the smoke-­gray sky. The towers’ positions appeared haphazard and they leaned crookedly, a few seeming in danger of collapse at any moment. Had they been built? Did Abyssi build? Or had they grown on their own, like crystals?

  Outside the wall, the dark sand clumped and solidified into glass, as if the buildings had been formed through magnificent heat.

  Naples led them around the wall until they found a fissure where the vertical stone had cracked, leaving a gap wide enough to allow them all to enter side by side with room to spare. There were no gates or guards, and the opening in the wall appeared to be a natural formation instead of an intentional doorway, but beyond it were signs of cultivation. An amber-­colored, mosslike plant with tiny, trumpet-­shaped flowers defended by fine black needles bordered the path.

  The building Naples led them to—­if it was a building—­was blocky, with no apparent doors or windows. A sphere of cinnamon-­colored light floated near the blank wall. Cadmia gave it a wide berth, remembering the wisps, but Naples seemed unconcerned as he approached. He reached up and a section of the wall dissolved like smoke caught by the wind, revealing an open doorway.

  Xaz had used her power in front of Cadmia more than once, but it had been subtle and quiet. This was the first obvious magic Cadmia had observed since Alizarin opened the rift from Kavet. Was the shiver that passed over her skin fear, an instinctive reaction caused by a lifetime of being told mancers were dangerous, or excitement?

  Alizarin took the lead, passing through the doorway and into an interior that was either as dark as the caves in which they had first appeared or hidden by magic. Cadmia started to follow, then hesitated, because the others looked like they might balk.

  Naples shook his head at their wary looks. “From the outside, the doorways only respond to me, Azo, or the other true Abyssi. From the inside, they respond to anyone. If you honestly feel safer outside, you will be able to get out at any time.”

  Without waiting for them to respond, he walked inside.

  Cadmia understood their reasonable fear of putting themselves at an Abyssumancer’s mercy, but did they really feel safer out here? She followed Alizarin.

  Inside, what had been a cavelike chamber had been turned into a welcoming parlor. Woven wall hangings softened the black walls and the floor was warmed by furs and leathers that had been dyed and set out as area rugs. The light was provided by orbs of flickering, ghostly flames hovering near the ceiling.

  “Pardon me a moment,” Naples said, as he started unlacing his bracers. “I’m a bit overdressed for company at home. Alizarin, I assume you’ll want to greet Azo, then utilize the baths?”

  Alizarin didn’t hesitate—­he loped off through one of the two doors in the opposite wall. Cadmia hoped that meant he trusted the Abyssumancer, and not that he didn’t care about the rest of them.

  For the first time, Naples’ gaze focused on Cadmia. “The third
level of the Abyss is hot, and steaming seas cover much of it. Rin hates the constant grime of this level.”

  “You know him well,” Cadmia observed, noticing the affectionate nickname Naples used for the Abyssi.

  Despite where they were, it was hard to remember he was supposedly an Abyssumancer. He appeared younger than she was, probably by almost a decade, though the poise and manners with which he presented himself made him seem older.

  His wistful smile also seemed to hold too many years for his face. “It isn’t hard to know an Abyssi well,” he said, “as long as you don’t mind blood.”

  CHAPTER 29

  “Our other option is staying outside at the edge of the Abyssal high court,” Hansa said. He couldn’t help remembering the shack where he and Jenkins had found Baryte. Gore and chaos were standard for Abyssumancers’ lairs. He didn’t want to imagine how much worse one here, where the mancer had no reason to fear discovery, might be.

  For a moment, he thought Umber might say staying outside was better. If he did, Hansa might agree. Then the spawn released Hansa’s hand and was gone from sight, leaving Hansa hurrying after.

  He emerged in a warm, brightly lit parlor. It would never be mistaken for a home in Kavet, but compared to what Hansa was expecting it was dizzying in its normalcy.

  Alizarin was nowhere to be seen, and Naples was in the process of removing his armor. As Umber, Hansa, and Xaz entered, he was hanging his vest on a peg by the door. The burgundy shirt beneath clung to his skin, revealing a body muscled like a wolf’s, long and lean without a hint of extra softness. When he leaned down to take the knife out of his boot, Hansa heard Umber’s voice clearly in his mind: Close your mouth, Hansa.

  Hansa jerked his gaze away just as the Abyssumancer dropped both knives onto a table next to the entryway, then turned to greet a middle-­aged woman who had just entered the room. Based on her pallor and the strange, clouded color of her eyes, Hansa assumed she must be a shade.

  Naples conferred with her briefly, then said, “I assume you will all want to clean up before you meet Azo, the mistress of this household. Ladies, Aurelian here will see to your needs. She is better equipped than I am to identify clothes that might fit you. You two gentlemen . . .” He paused. Uncertain?