Of the Abyss

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  CHAPTER 40

  Dawn in the Abyss came in the form of light creeping in from the distant hills, changing the vast, featureless sky from flat black to the paler, rusty gray that marked an Abyssal day.

  “Is there a sun?” Cadmia’s words masked the fact that Azo had paused again to catch her breath. The Abyss-­spawn woman was clearly exhausted, but had insisted on going out. She had taken a bow with her, but Cadmia wondered if she had the strength to pull it. Cadmia hoped she hadn’t been overestimating her abilities when she claimed that, aside from the Abyssi themselves, few truly dangerous beasts ventured so near the court.

  Azo gestured toward the source of the light. “If you travel that way for several hours, you will reach fields of parched land that burn with forest-­high flames each day. They protect the mouth of the crystal caves.”

  “Where Abyssi are born.”

  Azo nodded, and sank down to sit on a rocky outcropping with a hiss of frustration and pain.

  “Are you all right?”

  Azo growled. “I refuse to be this weak.”

  “My understanding is that you must be very strong to have survived what happened.” Cadmia was careful to keep her words frank and avoid any hint of a patronizing tone, but she also avoided referring directly to Naples. “No one thinks less of you for—­”

  “I think less of me,” Azo snapped, “and the Abyssi of the high court will think less of me. I stink like prey. I—­” She broke off, and this time Cadmia wasn’t sure if it was physical pain that had taken Azo’s breath. Her voice was a low growl when she continued. “I survived many years without Naples.” She said the word rapidly, like spitting out a mouthful of glass. “He would have been devoured by the beasts of the Abyss when he first fell into this realm if I hadn’t—­”

  She broke off, coughing spasmodically. Cadmia wrapped an arm around her to keep her from tumbling off her stone perch before she recovered.

  When she had, she said abruptly, “Terre Verte is awake.” Cadmia looked around for the sorcerer. “Not here,” Azo said. “I can sense him, his power.”

  “Do you want to go back?” Cadmia asked optimistically.

  Azo gave a feral smile. “I suppose we should.”

  They started back across the black sand toward the royal court. They didn’t have far to go, but Azo’s pace was slow. On the way out, Azo had made idle conversation about the beasts of the Abyss, including which ones it took no extraordinary power to kill. This time, she said nothing, until at last Cadmia asked, “Do you want to talk about . . . anything?”

  For some reason, the question made Azo laugh. “You’re so tactful. Why don’t you just ask: do I want to talk about the man who was not quite my lover, the man whose affection I always knew was nothing but magic’s lie but couldn’t help returning? Or do you think I should talk about the Abyssi who killed him, the one who is normally in your bed—­though he wasn’t last night. Did the blood frighten you away?”

  “He was watching Terre Verte.” She only realized how defensive the words sounded after they came to her lips.

  She had slept alone for so many years, an empty bed shouldn’t feel alien to her, but she had missed Alizarin the night before. She couldn’t help but feel he had stayed away because he wanted to give her space to decide how she felt. She had flinched at his touch when she was overwhelmed by exhaustion and the lingering memory of Naples’ blood, but the long, dark hours had made her regret the instinctive recoil.

  “Even if you had no interest in the blue prince last night, there was no need for you to sleep alone.”

  Cadmia understood now the irritation she had seen Hansa express when Umber casually responded to his thoughts. Instead of debating whether or not Alizarin would have been jealous, Cadmia said, “If I were attracted to women, I’m sure we could have had a lovely time.”

  This time, Azo’s laugh was full and rich, devoid of the bitterness Cadmia had heard before. “Lovely,” she repeated, chuckling. “If you’re ever in the mood to play, Sister, I promise to show you a time that will require better adjectives than lovely.”

  At last, Azo succeeded in making Cadmia blush. She groped mentally for a topic change, grateful now that Umber seemed to be only interested in men.

  That was odd, now that Cadmia thought to compare him to Alizarin and Azo, both of whom clearly didn’t care about their partner’s sex.

  Azo’s mirth dissipated. “Umber has a lover, or had one,” she said. “The Abyssi say that spawn imprint on their first lovers. How strong the imprint depends on how serious the relationship was. To be as exclusive as he is, Umber must have had someone quite special in his past. Or his present, I suppose.”

  Neither of them said aloud that, despite the heartbond, apparently Azo’s relationship with Naples didn’t count. Given how Abyssal power worked, Cadmia wasn’t surprised to learn that flesh mattered more than heart in a relationship.

  If Azo heard the thought, she chose not to comment before they reached the house. Azo was hungry, so they went first to the dining room, where they found the others already gathered—­including Xaz, who looked battle-­worn but proud, and Terre Verte, who had taken a seat at the far end of the table.

  “Oh,” the spawn said, gripping the back of a chair as if a moment’s surprise had been enough to nearly knock her off her feet. “I didn’t know your name, but I know your face.”

  “I’m sorry,” Terre Verte said, standing to greet their hostess. “Have we met?”

  Azo drew a steadying breath and shook her head. “You have your father’s eyes and jaw, quite clearly. I recognize them from my mother’s memories of her husband.”

  Cadmia remembered Umber’s explanation that spawn retained memories from their parents, but it still took her less time to understand what Azo had said than it apparently did Terre Verte. His brows lifted and eyes widened as he exclaimed, “Your mother—­my mother?”

  Xaz was the first of them to recover enough to ask, “Your mother had a child in the Abyss?”

  Terre Verte cleared his throat. “I knew my parents were estranged, but I never realized quite—­” Azo winced, and Terre Verte broke off, nodding as if she were saying something silently to him. More subdued, he said, “I suppose that makes sense. Please, I’m being terribly rude. You’re exhausted and made to stand at your own table. Aurelian?”

  The man had already taken charge of Azo’s servants. As Terre Verte helped Azo into a chair at the head of the table, Aurelian jumped to pour wine and serve her a plate. Cadmia slipped into an empty chair further down, not far from Alizarin.

  The space he held between them seemed cold and unnatural.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

  “For?” Alizarin asked.

  “For being a fool,” she said. She needed to get these words out, and she didn’t care if the others overheard. “For being overwhelmed by everything that happened and blaming it on you, even for an instant. You saved my life. I blamed you for killing your friend instead of saying thank you for choosing me and I’m sorry you had to choose me.”

  He hushed her with a finger over her lips, and his tail wrapped around her waist. “Time for breakfast now,” he said. “Time for talk later.”

  That was fine. She leaned against him, wishing all their problems could be solved so easily.

  “And this is Cadmia.” Cadmia gave a guilty start as Azo said her name and she belatedly realized how rude she had been to ignore Terre Verte the way she had, but the spawn and the new sorcerer both had indulgent expressions on their faces. “She’s as human as they come but might have a bit of Abyssi soul in her.”

  Cadmia stood, though the attempt at courtesy was marred by Alizarin’s tail lingering around her waist. “Cadmia Paynes, Sister of Napthol.” The title slipped out by habit, an attempt to cover her earlier informality.

  “That explains it.” Cadmia wasn’t sure what was explained how,
but Terre Verte didn’t give her a chance to question him. “Pleasure to meet you, Sister Paynes. The others have been filling me in on the rather remarkable series of events that led to this point.”

  “Including, apparently, the birth of your sister,” Xaz said, still shaking her head incredulously. “Is that how you have your connection to the Abyss, even though you otherwise work with the Numen? Your mother?”

  Terre Verte paused to consider the question. “Both my parents dabbled, my mother with the Abyss and my father with the Numen. It was common enough where I grew up.”

  “Dabbled,” Umber muttered, apparently thinking the same thing as Cadmia. What kind of dabbling led one to have a child in the Abyss?

  “Where exactly was that, if I may ask?” Cadmia could hear the longing in Xaz’s tone.

  “A very different land than yours, certainly. One without your Quinacridone strangling the populace.” Terre Verte shook his head, making a sound of disgust. “All of you are welcome to accompany me when I return to it.”

  “I would like that very much,” Xaz said instantly.

  Cadmia looked away from the sorcerers as she considered, and her gaze met Hansa’s. He had been quiet since they came in, and she saw on his expression the same thoughts she harbored. Kavet was her home. She had a life there. She didn’t want to flee.

  She wanted to fix it.

  “It will take me some time to regain enough strength to bring any of us back to the mortal realm,” Terre Verte said. He continued, speaking to Hansa and Umber as if picking up the conversation Azo and Cadmia had interrupted. “In the meantime, I will study the bond between you two and search for this Ruby you speak of, and see if I can do anything to solve either of your problems. It is the least I can do to repay your efforts to procure my release.”

  “We would appreciate that,” Umber replied.

  “Speaking of repayment,” Azo said. “I, too, feel I am in your debt.”

  Xaz spoke first. “You have given us a safe place to stay and supported our quest to get Terre Verte even when it was clear you did not wish it yourself. You have given us enough.”

  Xaz didn’t have the benefit of Cadmia’s recent conversations with Azo. She couldn’t predict the spawn’s sharp, swift retort.

  “Intentionally or not, you freed me from a magical entanglement I could not escape on my own. I survived the immediate sundering of the bond, but I might not have survived the days after if one of your companions had not been willing to share power, since in my madness immediately after Naples’ death I would have willingly starved rather than accept Alizarin’s help. Finally, almost incidentally, you have apparently freed my brother from a prison in the Abyss. I do not like unresolved debts,” she concluded. “I’m sure you understand. Cadmia, what would you have of me?”

  Cadmia didn’t care for such things herself, but Azo’s tone made it clear she was talking about more than a sense of guilt. No one had fully explained how boons and bonds worked, but Cadmia had heard enough to understand the implication.

  She looked at Hansa, considering a favor she had almost asked earlier, but had held back because like Xaz she had not realized the level of obligation Azo felt.

  They had come to the Abyss for many reasons. “Eleven guards from the One-­Twenty-­Six were killed when Dioxazine first summoned Alizarin.” She kept her words as neutral as she could. None of them were the same ­people they had been then. “We hoped to find them here in the Abyss and help them to the Numen, but have been told it can take weeks for shades to regain their memories of who they were.” She paused, remembering the pathetic encampment they had found their first day here. “Would you be willing to take them into your household? They won’t be useless. They were soldiers in life. They can probably help hunt.”

  “Do you think Quin guards killed by an Abyssi will accept help from an Abyss-­spawn?” Xaz spoke with incredulity, but also hope. The soldier’s deaths had not been her intention, but that blood was still on her soul. Knowing there was still a way to help them could be a comfort.

  “Some of them might not,” Hansa acknowledged, “but some probably will. I think Jenkins would, and some of the others, if you tell them you know me. Then, if there’s ever a way and we can help them move to the Numen, we’ll bring them over.”

  “I believe I can do as you ask,” Azo said. “I should be able to cast a beacon to draw them here, anyway, and I will offer them a place.”

  “The Numini have given permission for them to be escorted to the Numen,” Xaz said, “if we can determine how to do so.”

  “Once they are gathered in the same place, Xaz and I should be able to create a ritual to bring them over,” Terre Verte said. “Having a safe haven here will give them time to recover their memories and self-­awareness so they are strong enough for the crossing.”

  “Thank you,” Hansa breathed, relief painfully clear on his every feature. He couldn’t save his friends’ mortal lives, but he could keep them from wandering, lost and starving, for the next life. Cadmia smiled; she didn’t have Hansa’s personal attachment to these shades, but she was relieved to know they could be taken care of.

  Terre Verte rubbed at his temple. It was the first sign of weakness he had given during their conversation, but it reminded Cadmia that the man had been locked in a prison until recently. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I think I need to rest.” With a wry smile, he added, “And I imagine you all have things you would like to discuss without a stranger in your midst, such as the stranger himself. Lady Azo, by your leave?”

  Azo nodded, then rose. She hadn’t done more than pick at her food in the few minutes they had been at the table. “I will walk up with you,” she said. “My appetite is still scarce.”

  Terre Verte offered his arm with the casual ease of a man used to formal gestures. Azo leaned on it lightly as they exited together.

  “A man used to having power,” Xaz observed, the moment the doorway had closed behind the pair. “Used to having it, and having others recognize it. You would think that however long he spent down imprisoned in the Abyss would have changed that.”

  “Anyone have thoughts on why the Numini went to such lengths to rescue him?” Hansa asked, looking at Xaz.

  “As if they would explain their intentions to me,” Xaz scoffed.

  Cadmia leaned forward, trying to improve her focus by moving away from Alizarin’s warmth. “Does he seem familiar to anyone else?”

  Hansa frowned, considering, then shook his head. “You meet more ­people in Kavet than most of us do.”

  “Particularly of the unsavory sort,” Xaz added, “but he says he isn’t from Kavet. Do you think he’s lying?”

  Cadmia shook her head. “I don’t know . . . I don’t think so. His face just looks familiar. I can’t—­you’re not helping me think,” she added, batting at Alizarin’s tail, which kept tickling her cheek.

  “We could always ask Azo,” Umber suggested.

  “Was anyone else surprised by that connection?” Hansa asked.

  Cadmia nodded, and saw the others doing the same. “I’ll try to ask her next time we’re alone.”

  Umber lifted his brows suggestively. “Have fun.”

  Xaz stood with a stretch. “I’m better off than Azo and Terre Verte it seems, but I could use a nap as well. Possibly six months of hibernation.”

  Umber chuckled. “Alizarin, Azo’s stores of meat are low. I gather Naples did much of the hunting. Would you be willing to help me replenish them? I’ll be more effective with your assistance.”

  Alizarin turned to Cadmia as if to invite her to join them, but then his ears and tail drooped before he even spoke. Apologetically, he said, “I would like to help Azo, and we’ll hunt better without mortals.”

  Hansa shrugged, standing and pulling away from Umber reluctantly. “I guess that means Cadmia and I are on cleanup duty. I can’t say I’m disappointed t
o miss the hunt.”

  Cadmia was a little disappointed, but once the others were gone, she remembered the question she had wanted to ask Hansa ever since her earlier conversation with Umber about his mother.

  The servants took the dishes from their hands as soon as they tried to gather them. While they were doing so, Cadmia asked, “Do you know who Bonnie Holland is?”

  Hansa’s hand clutched spasmodically on the dish he had just lifted, nearly overturning a platter of fruit before Aurelian swooped in to take it from him.

  “Was,” he said. “Not is. Anyone in the One-­Twenty-­Six does. I gather President Indathrone had objected for years to women serving as soldiers, but after Holland . . . well, he used her as an excuse to push for official limitations, though I’ve always felt what happened to her could just as easily have happened to a man.”

  “She was a guard?” Cadmia asked. That put a new and interesting spin on Umber’s relationship with Hansa, especially given what she knew of spawn’s inherited memories.

  “A lieutenant,” Hansa said. “Her company ran afoul of an Abyssumancer and his Abyssi. It’s one of the stories used in training.” His frown became something deeper, darker. “I guess soon they’ll be telling about Company Four going to arrest a Numenmancer and facing an Abyssi. The loss of life when Lieutenant Holland went after Blakemore—­that was the mancer’s name—­was similar. Holland was one of only two who survived. She managed to kill the mancer and send the Abyssi back, but was badly hurt in the process.”

  “Hurt,” Cadmia echoed, trying not to let the horror she felt tell Hansa more than Umber wanted him to know, but suddenly understanding all too well the concern that had led Umber to check on her after her first night with Alizarin.