Of the Abyss

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  Hansa looked puzzled. “I know the doctors didn’t think she would live at first,” he said. “She never walked again. She chose to leave the city, and the guard paid for a home in . . . mm, I don’t remember the name of the town. She died not long after. Does that answer your question?”

  “I suppose,” Cadmia said. “Do you know how she died?” And how many months later?

  “She never fully recovered from her injuries,” Hansa said. The topic disturbed him, but it was also clearly history, a dark lesson he had been taught and was now reciting. “It was always implied that her death was from long-­term complications of those wounds, but I heard rumors she killed herself. It was before my time.”

  “Shortly before you were born, I’d guess.” Unless spawn aged differently than humans, a fact she had never previously considered, Umber seemed to be about Hansa’s age.

  Hansa nodded, confirming the timing.

  “Why ask about an old soldier?”

  If Umber wanted Hansa to know, he would tell him. Cadmia settled her expression into her professional mask. “The conversation where her name came up was private. I shouldn’t disclose details.”

  “All right.” He knew better than to press a Sister of the Napthol to break a confidence, no matter how curious he was.

  Damn Umber. Cadmia wished she hadn’t asked for more information. It had been easier to momentarily assume that, like Hansa, or like Azo’s mother, Umber’s mother had had an illicit, sorcery-­enabled affair. The chill that settled into her bones as she considered the violent reality refused to dissipate.

  When Alizarin returned, she put herself into his arms, soaking in his heat. His comforting purr and confused queries about why she was upset reminded her how different he was from the rest of his kind. How unique. And how beautiful, like all the dangerous, predatory lights in the Abyss.

  CHAPTER 41

  “No. No.” Terre Verte recoiled from Hansa’s touch, startling Hansa from a near-­doze. Terre Verte said he would use Hansa’s connection to Ruby to find her shade, but he hadn’t felt a thing beyond the sorcerer’s cool hands on his as they sat facing each other in Azo’s dining room chairs.

  His eyes opened to reveal gray irises filled with sparkling snow.

  “Are you all right?” Cadmia asked. Though uninvolved in the simple ritual, she had asked to observe.

  It had taken Terre Verte almost two weeks of rest and ritual before he felt strong enough to attempt this task. Had he overestimated his abilities now? Hansa said, “If you’re still too weak—­”

  He broke off as Terre Verte closed his eyes and raked his fingers down his cheeks, leaving white trails that swiftly turned pink, then faded.

  “Are you with us?” Umber asked, when Terre Verte didn’t respond to Cadmia’s or Hansa’s words.

  In one of their many late-­night conversations, Umber had admitted to Hansa that he was unable to read any thoughts from Terre Verte. The man was a mystery—­even more so since he evaded most questions about his past, and Azo had respected his wishes by refusing to share anything she might know.

  Cadmia, unsurprisingly, had been able to get the most from the strange sorcerer, but when she pressed him about the specifics of where he had come from or how he had ended up in the Abyss, he had bluntly told her, “I am grateful to you all for bringing me out of that cell, but I am under no obligation to detail events I have every wish to put from my mind and memory. Please pass on to your companions my sincerest wish that they stop interrogating me about a life and circumstance that is saturated with blood and despair.”

  Cadmia had indeed passed on those words, almost two weeks ago now. After that, they had all stopped asking questions.

  “I’m here,” Terre Verte said hoarsely. He opened his eyes again. They had returned to their previous slate-­gray. “I found your shade. I should have known where I would find her. Idiot.” The last word was snarled, as if to himself.

  Hansa looked around instinctively, as if Ruby might materialize in their midst.

  “Where?” Umber asked.

  “When an Abyssi slays a mortal, the shade falls to the Abyss.” Terre Verte’s voice was barely a whisper. “The Numini slew Ruby. Of course they brought her to their realm after.”

  Of course. Because she had killed herself, Hansa had assumed Ruby would fall to the Abyss. Even with everything he had learned in the last few weeks about the nature of both the Numen and the Abyss, he had never paused to reconsider that assumption. Surely they couldn’t be expected to drag her soul back from the Numen to—­

  The thought made Hansa’s chest tight, his horror mingling with the magic’s insistence that, yes, they would do anything they needed to or else face the consequences.

  “The walls around the Numen are crystal and silver.” Terre Verte continued as if in a daze, as if arguing with unspoken words. “They are too high to scale and too strong to breach.”

  “You can’t do it?” Hansa breathed.

  “It is irrelevant if I can.” Finally Terre Verte’s gaze focused. “I will not. I have seen it done. It was a horror. To pull a soul from that place—­” He stood so abruptly his chair wobbled and Umber had to grab it to keep it from crashing to the floor. “Never. I am sorry. I cannot help you. No one can help you.”

  Hansa had started to stand, but gripped the back of his own chair for balance as his head spun. Their last option had just clearly declared itself impossible. A vise relaxed around his body, letting air pass in and out of his lungs and the blood rush about more freely than it had in weeks.

  “I’m sorry the search was so painful for you,” Umber said, his voice sounding steadier than Hansa felt, but just barely.

  Terre Verte shook his head sharply, as if offended by the suggestion of weakness. “I apologize for my discomposure. It was . . . unexpected, to reach for a soul I assumed would be in the Abyss or the mortal realm, and suddenly find myself standing magically before the Numen’s shining gate.” He shivered, and ran his hands over his arms to settle himself. “Have I given you the information you need to resolve the boon?”

  “Yes,” Umber sighed.

  “I could sense the bond as well while we were connected,” Terre Verte reported. “I did not dare try to manipulate it, though. I am not strong enough to control the severing, and having seen how Azo was affected by the sudden loss of her Abyssumancer, I do not think it is wise to act rashly.”

  Light-­headed from the boon’s release, Hansa struggled to process what he felt at Terre Verte’s words. A sense of reprieve, he decided.

  Questions, decisions, put off until another day.

  Part of the feeling was cowardice, not wanting to face the truth of who he might be, once the bond was removed. Even so, he was grateful for the delay.

  “Not strong enough, ever,” Cadmia asked, breaking in when neither Umber nor Hansa asked the obvious question, “or not strong enough for now?”

  “For now.” Terre Verte shuddered and rubbed his palms over his arms. “I was in that cell for—­I don’t know how long, actually. I’m weak, and being here in the Abyss makes the bond stronger.”

  “What about after we return to the human plane?”

  He nodded. “I need some time to recover my strength first—­a few weeks breathing mortal air—­but after that I will be able to help you. I am certain of it.”

  Umber’s breath let out in a long, slow exhalation that seemed to let a world of tension out of his body.

  Hansa asked, “And when do you think we can return to the human plane?”

  “Tomorrow,” Terre Verte answered. “I’ve been working on the ritual to open a rift. It is nearly complete. I wanted to search for your shade before crossing because you all assumed she was in the Abyss, but that was the last task I needed to accomplish here.”

  “What about Xaz and Rin?” Cadmia asked, uncharacteristically hesitantly. She didn’t quite cross
her arms as she spoke, but her posture closed, as if she had started to flinch for a knife at her waist but then stopped.

  Xaz hadn’t discussed her desire to break her bond to the Abyssi much since their trek into the prison at the heart of the Abyss, but Hansa doubted she had forgotten it.

  “That may be more difficult,” Terre Verte answered. “The bond between you and Umber is solid. Concrete. The connection between Dioxazine and Alizarin is harder to understand. His power has seeped into her, and hers has seeped into him. With time and study I’m sure I can unravel it, but it may be more a slow process instead of a clean cut.”

  “How will it affect Alizarin?” Cadmia’s voice was carefully even, as it had been when she spoke to Baryte and later Hansa in the cells under the Quin Compound. “I know Xaz has a right to her freedom, but Alizarin fought for this tie to the Numen. In my understanding, it’s what allows him to reason and empathize, and makes him so different from the rest of his kind. What will happen if you break his tie to Xaz?”

  “That’s part of why I need to be careful.” Terre Verte glanced down, looking Cadmia over assessingly. “I’m not particularly fond of the Numini, but it’s not a good idea to cross them until I understand their plans, and I don’t want to anger a third-­level prince of the Abyss in the process. If I can free Dioxazine while allowing Alizarin to maintain a tie to the Numen, I will.”

  Cadmia tensed in response to the frank gaze, and didn’t continue her questions, so Hansa responded instead. “The Numini put a lot of effort into freeing you from the Abyss. Why aren’t you fond of them?” Beyond Terre Verte’s words just now, his reaction at glimpsing the Numen had seemed one of revulsion, not awe or gratitude.

  The words had been spoken before Hansa realized they probably fell in the realm of things they had all agreed not to ask.

  Terre Verte’s gray eyes went cold. “I did a favor for the Numini once. As Xaz may have told you, their gratitude leaves much to be desired. Freeing me from that box was the least they could do to put things right.” He shook his head, and some of the life returned to his expression. “I am sorry the Numini dragged you all into their mess, but at least I can help free you from it and allow you to return to your own realm.” He settled another heavy glance on Cadmia before adding, “Unless you would rather remain here. I’m sure Azo would let you stay with her for a few months, if you want.”

  Hansa felt like he had walked into a play while missing a page of the script. He glanced to Umber, wondering if he had been privy to a conversation Hansa had missed.

  “Do you want to stay here?” Umber asked Cadmia. “If not, I am happy to offer any assistance you need when you return to Kavet.”

  Cadmia tensed, bristling like an angry cat in the face of the two solicitous gazes. It was not the look of a woman who had idly considered staying in the Abyss to, what?

  Be with Alizarin? Get to know Azo? Practice her hunting?

  “Thank you for your offer of support.” Her words contained more grit than gratitude. “If they cast me out of the Cobalt Hall, I can go to the Order of A’hknet. I might go anyway. I’m feeling a little disenchanted with Kavet right now.”

  “You would be better off in the Cobalt Hall,” Umber argued. “Every Abyssumancer in Kavet will want that child. Alizarin can offer some protection, as long as severing his bond to Dioxazine doesn’t make him forget he cares about it, but a strong enough Abyssumancer will be a threat to him, too.”

  That child. The Cobalt Hall, the one place in Kavet where mancers could not go. And Alizarin could be protection if he doesn’t forget he cares about . . . it.

  “You’re pregnant?” The words tumbled out, astonished, before he could contain them.

  “I suspected, but didn’t know for sure yet,” Cadmia growled back. “Incidentally, boys, that’s the kind of thing a woman prefers to learn for herself and share when she chooses to, not be told.” Umber looked chastened, but if Terre Verte felt any guilt, it didn’t show. Neither argued with her. “Fine. I’ll stay at the Cobalt Hall—­for now. I’ll accept your help, Umber, anyone’s help, to teach me what I need to know to protect myself and my child.”

  The Cobalt Hall would keep Cadmia and her child safer from mancers, but it was across the street from the Quin Compound and the barracks for the 126, the most likely place in Kavet to find trained men and women with the sight.

  “It isn’t just Abyssumancers you need to worry about,” Hansa said. “You can excuse a lot of study as a Sister of the Napthol, but if someone notices an Abyssal taint on you—­”

  “Then I will change Kavet,” Cadmia declared.

  Was it Hansa’s imagination, or did he see a flash of blue light in the depths of her eyes? She stared at Hansa as if waiting for him to argue. He didn’t dare.

  He didn’t want to.

  “I’ll help you,” he said instead.

  Umber sighed heavily, an expression Hansa knew usually came before something worldly and at least borderline patronizing.

  “Both of you should wait to risk your lives to change the world until after your link to the Abyss is gone. Power—­”

  “Easily and often overrides preference,” Hansa interrupted. The words had been indelibly etched in his brain during his first serious conversation with Umber about the boon. “I know. You think I’ll change my mind. I refuse to live under the assumption that the person I am right now will die once Terre Verte is strong enough to break our bond.”

  In the meantime, he had come to realize how ignorant and marred the laws of Kavet and her ­people were. How could he serve as a guard whose one duty was to enforce those errant regulations? At the same time, how could he, who had chosen to join the 126 from a genuine desire to protect the ­people of Kavet, and who had been raised to believe that the democratic system was a vehicle for right, walk away from what was so obviously wrong?

  Just don’t get us killed, Umber whispered in his mind.

  “I’ve heard of women whose personalities changed while they were pregnant,” Cadmia conceded, “but I made the decision to have this child. I’m not a victim of the Abyss. I’m a scholar, a lover, and now soon to be a mother, and if I have to remake the world in an image of my choosing, I will.”

  That was the end of the discussion.

  The next day, they returned to the well at the back of the high court.

  “There is already a rift to the human plane there,” Terre Verte explained when he told them his plan. “It has been mostly closed through disuse, but it will be easier to push through there than somewhere new.”

  Hansa found himself strangely unaffected by the prospect of having to cross the court again. Compared to the fifth-­level Abyssi court, walking across the high court proved almost dull. Alizarin led the way again, with his tail around Cadmia’s waist as usual.

  No other Abyssi challenged them, though many cast speculative or wary glances their way. Was it Hansa’s imagination, or did many of them seem to stare with more anxiety at Terre Verte than they did at Alizarin?

  Once they reached the well, Terre Verte put his hands to the smooth wall, his brow tensing with concentration.

  “Do you need anything?” Xaz asked. She was wearing the pack Naples had provided her with a Numenmancer’s tools inside; she patted it gently as if to confirm it was secure.

  The rest of them had small bags containing a few foodstuffs and extra clothing, since they didn’t know exactly where they would end up or what their first steps would be once they arrived. Umber had claimed the bone blade Naples had previously wielded, saying it was too valuable a tool to be lost in the Abyss. Having seen that blade up close and personal twice already, Hansa wasn’t looking forward to the next time Umber wielded it.

  Cadmia wore a weapon now, as well. She had blanched when Alizarin had first presented the dagger to her—­the one forged of his own bone—­but he had insisted that she keep it, saying it would act as a warnin
g to others who might try to harm her, as well as a weapon she could wield in her own defense.

  “I’m fine,” Terre Verte replied, his eyes closed. “It’s . . .” He stopped speaking for a few seconds, and then breathed, “Here.”

  The portal he opened was not black like those Alizarin made, but glistening silver. It came into existence with a whiff of sweet, smoky aroma, like incense.

  Terre Verte stepped back from the portal and gestured for them to go ahead.

  Umber moved forward first, and Hansa followed. He emerged with a shiver, brushing flakes of frost from his skin as the others stepped through behind him.

  “Where are we?” he asked, looking around pointlessly. The light from the portal was just enough to give the impression of clutter and perhaps walls, but no other details of the room around them.

  “Somewhere dark.” Cadmia sneezed, and added, “And dusty.”

  Terre Verte emerged from the portal last. As it closed behind him, he lifted a hand and summoned an orb of silver-­white foxfire, which illuminated a vast, windowless room which had once been elegant but now showed years of disuse.

  A long couch hugged one wall, which looked like it had been softly elegant long ago; now it was impossible to even tell what fabric upholstered it. Bookcases laden with texts made unreadable by time and grime filled another wall, and a round table at knee height that appeared to have been an altar dominated the center of the floor. It was draped with cloth and set with odds and ends that were hard to identify under the dust of ages, which coated every surface in the room and billowed when they moved.

  Xaz started to move forward as if to examine the altar, then seemed to think better of it. She put a hand in front of her nose to keep from inhaling the musty particles that grew thicker in the air each time one of them took a step. “Is there a door?” she asked.

  It was a reasonable question. The foxfire Terre Verte had summoned was bright enough to illuminate the entirety of the small room, but Hansa couldn’t see any exit.