by Jeff Wheeler
Sera tried to sit up again, her heart wrenching in pain as she witnessed yet another round of Cettie’s suffering. Hers was an empire to command. Yet she felt powerless.
Help me, she pleaded to the Mysteries. Do not make me endure this. Send aid. Please!
As Sera watched Christina reach into the bag again, she felt a slight tremble in her heart. A feeling, from the Mysteries, that she was not alone, that her plight was not unnoticed.
But it wasn’t over yet either.
As Christina withdrew a bag of powder, it struck Sera that while Jevin was a heartless villain who would no doubt allow Cettie to die, Christina was her mother. Surely that meant something. Was this task so easy for her, despite the cold look in her eyes?
“Christina,” Sera said. Then her voice choked off, the invisible lash around her neck tightening.
Free me, she begged in her mind. Let me speak.
The strangling feeling began to loosen. Jevin’s brow twisted with surprise. Beads of sweat trickled down the side of his face.
“You are her mother,” Sera said hoarsely, her voice panting. “Why do you let them control you like this?”
“She is not under our control,” Jevin said with disdain. “She is a hetaera! She rules us all.”
“You are their slave,” Sera said, fixing her eyes on Christina’s. She strained to rise again on her knees. “Can you not see that? Every woman in this room is in bondage. Even your queen.”
“Be silent,” Jevin warned.
“You were taken from someone who loved you. Someone who searched for you for years. Mrs. Pullman sent you to the Fells. Do you not remember who you once were? Who you truly are?” Sera felt power pulse within her as she spoke. The words came to her, unrehearsed, revealing information to her as she said them. It reminded her of the Gifting she had pronounced on Lord Fitzroy before his death. “Your love of music. Don’t you remember it? How you would watch him play the cembalo? Music connected you. Music does that.”
Christina was staring at her, eyes widening. The small leather bag in her hand hung in the air.
“He never betrayed you, Christina. He was true. No, you betrayed him. He knew you would come to him. I understand it now. I gave him his last Gifting.” The memory of it would never leave her. You will see her face before the end. “Even at the end, he was concerned about you. You were the one who drove a dagger into his heart, but he forgave you with his dying breath.”
“Be silent!” Jevin shouted, backhanding Sera across the face. The blow rocked her on her knees.
It must have cut Sera’s lip, for she tasted blood in her mouth, but she didn’t flinch. She turned her gaze back to Jevin. “You cannot abide the truth, can you?”
“It isn’t the truth!”
Sera turned back to Christina. “You are surrounded by kishion,” she said. “You’re too strong for them. They never meant for you to survive this day. Your part in their plan is ending. And you will be murdered just as they have murdered your sisters. Is that not the consequence of defying the kishion? Obey or die.”
Christina was staring at Sera, her mouth a frown. “I die either way,” she said. “I cannot expect mercy from you.”
“You can,” Sera said.
“It’s you who’ve killed my sisters,” Christina said. “Those you’ve caught.”
“I haven’t. All are imprisoned, yes. But I’ve not executed any. Any who say otherwise have lied.”
A quirk of a smile wavered on Christina’s mouth. “Imprisonment. Like our queen.”
Sera tried again to wrench free of her bonds. “There must be consequences, Christina.”
“There are,” Jevin said, looming over Sera with fists clenched. “You have a silver tongue, Your Highness.”
“Yours is forked.”
“You think to turn her heart? It’s not possible. She is one of us.”
“Only because you made her that way,” Sera said. “She obeys because of threats. Because you’ve warped her mind to obey your will. I will not yield, you black-hearted villain. You can make her kill her own daughter. And me. But what will that do? As long as Ereshkigal remains in her prison, I am content to die. I know the same is true of Cettie.” Then she turned back to Christina. “You are just as helpless as I am. I can prove it. Command them as you will, Christina. Watch the last illusion fail.”
Silence.
Jevin’s eyes smoldered with fury.
Christina looked up and saw what Sera did—the kishion were walking closer, surrounding her, their eyes full of menace. Cettie wept silently on the ground, the convulsions growing less and less.
There were too many of them, Sera saw. They had brought enough to best her.
Christina’s eyes looked haunted. If she’d tried to invoke her kystrel, she had failed. No power came to save her. No ability to sway emotions. No inhuman strength. She was alone, stripped of her power, in front of her foes who had presented themselves as friends.
“Do you understand now?” Sera said sadly, gazing at Christina. “They didn’t come to free Ereshkigal, only to bind her once again. To force her to do their bidding. You were their tool.”
Christina looked around in growing panic, watching the kishion surround her. No doubt the poisoner’s mind reeled at the prospect of facing so many enemies. There was no way she could win. No way she could survive the trap they’d set for her.
Sera watched Christina draw a dagger. No doubt it was poisoned.
“Kill her,” Jevin said flatly, unconcerned.
Christina whirled and threw the dagger at him. Sera watched the blade go straight for his chest, only to stop in midair a few inches in front of him. It hung, suspended, then struck the stone floor, making a jarring sound as it settled.
Not just a kishion—a Wizr.
Jevin looked indifferent.
One of the kishion fired a pistol, and Christina lurched forward. Blood stained the front of her gown. Smoke filled the room, and the echoes of the blast nearly deafened Sera as several other pistols were fired. Haze filled the space, bringing with it the stench of the fumes. Sera’s ears rang painfully.
When the smoke had cleared, she saw Cettie kneeling over her mother’s body. Christina’s eyes were still open. Blood oozed from the corner of her mouth.
Jevin walked over and grabbed a fistful of Cettie’s hair, yanking her back and shoving her toward Sera. Blood dripped from Cettie’s ear. She looked at Sera with grieving eyes, but she did not look surprised.
“I’m so sorry,” Sera whispered, her own ears aching in sympathy. She didn’t know what the poison had done, or if Cettie could even understand her.
“You haven’t ruined my plans,” Jevin said, pacing in front of them. “She was going to die anyway. As you said.”
Sera closed her eyes. The pieces were fitting together in her mind now. “You could never trust her. Not fully.”
“No,” Jevin agreed. “Hetaera cannot be trusted. But they can be controlled.”
“And what do you want to use that demon queen for?” Sera snapped. “Do you not see the risk in freeing such a being? Will she not turn on you next, Wizr?”
“Turn on us, you mean?” Jevin said, gesturing to the other kishion who had gathered around. “I think not. We have power over the kystrels, my dear. They cannot harm us. So yes, we wish to set her loose on the world. To remake it after our own order.”
“She does not make, she destroys!” Sera said.
“Yes, she is like fire!” Jevin said, eyes gleaming. “Fire purges. Allows new life to be born from its ashes. Fire can be controlled, and so, too, can her power, once you understand the principles of how it burns.” He smirked. “And I understand it.”
“You’ll destroy the world,” Sera muttered.
“There are other worlds to visit,” he said slyly. “Other cankers to spread. The Knowing obeys the strongest wills.” He stood over her once more, glaring down at her. “Yours is no match for mine.”
Sera glared back at him. “We will see.”
> “If the death of the sewer children doesn’t rack your conscience, what about the deaths of fellow believers? You know from your cursed tomes that Ereshkigal has power over fire. She’s burned Cruix Abbey before. How fitting that the empress’s heir should be here when it burns again!”
Sera closed her eyes.
“You will yield!” Jevin shouted at her. “Every student, every woman, every child, every servant, every tome will be destroyed unless you obey me! I will burn them all to ashes while you watch.” Smothering darkness emanated from his words as he yelled at her. She wanted to cower, to flinch, as the blackness attempted to subvert her will. “You think you are strong, Empress? You cannot stop me! The Mysteries and the Fountain are mine to command. What power do you have?” he asked, crouching before her. “Nothing! You have nothing. You are nothing!” She felt spittle strike her face.
You are my daughter.
She heard the words in her mind, felt the tender throb of the Mysteries.
Sera looked him in the eye. “I will not yield,” she whispered.
Jevin’s face contorted with rage. He grabbed Cettie and hauled her up. Her body was so ravaged by the poison she couldn’t stand. He held a dagger to her neck, his eyes wild and fierce. “I’ll shed her blood and make you drink it!”
Sera believed he would. She felt the vortex of pure evil inside him. But even though the dark energy raged around her, she felt the quiet stillness in her heart.
Sera bowed her head and closed her eyes, refusing to watch. Cettie was prepared to die. So was she.
“I will only release the Leering if the Mysteries command me to. Not you.”
“I am the Mysteries!” he bellowed at her. There was bitterness and misery in his voice. And anger unlike anything she’d experienced. The furnace door of his wrath was open now, and Sera could feel it. He would do as he said he would do. There were no feelings that would soften him. It wasn’t anger that drove this man. It was pure, malevolent hatred.
Sera squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, pleading with the Mysteries to know their will. She would do what they wanted from her. No matter what happened.
She heard a gasp of breath, and then a body fell next to where she knelt.
“Go up to the abbey and gather them,” Jevin raged. “Every last one of them. Put them inside the sanctuary. Bar the doors. We’ll burn them all. Kill any who resist.”
“So be it,” they said in a collective whisper. There was a gleeful emotion behind the words that made Sera’s stomach wrench.
CHAPTER TWENTY−NINE
THE DOOM OF CRUIX
The kishion had all left the Leering chamber, leaving Jevin alone with Sera and Cettie. He paced in front of the Leering itself, then reached out his palm and touched the stone, bowing his head in deep concentration. Was he communing with Ereshkigal? Then he dropped his hand and pulled out his musical instrument. He began to play it, and a strange power wove through the room. His melody was haunting, foreboding, and it sent a chill through Sera’s heart. A loud cracking noise emanated from the Leering.
“Can you hear me, Cettie?” Sera whispered, shifting despite her discomfort to get closer to her prostrate friend. “Are you alive?”
Cettie’s head lifted slightly, her pale, drawn face revealing the anguish she felt. She nodded slowly and moved one arm toward Sera. She started to drag herself closer. “Let me try to free you.”
“I don’t think we can make it out of here,” Sera said, keeping her gaze fixed on Jevin.
“Help is coming,” Cettie said.
“But will it come in time?” Sera wondered. “They’re going to murder everyone here at the abbey. I cannot stop it. Even if my arms were loosed. I won’t release her, Cettie. Even to save the innocent. There are many more lives at stake.” Sera sighed. “I cannot bear this much longer. I may die of a broken heart before they kill me.”
“No,” Cettie said. “You will rule and reign. I’ve seen it, Sera. Believe me.”
Sera bit her lip. “It’s hard to believe right now. So much suffering. So much death. How could the Knowing want this? How could it allow it?”
Cettie was staring at her sympathetically. “I had my crisis of faith too, Sera. I failed, but you must be stronger than I was. Even now, I serve the Knowing’s will. It knows what will happen, Sera, it always knows. It knew I would choose to forsake it. But it also knew my most desperate hour and sent help. I don’t understand it . . . but I’ve come to trust it. It will not lead us astray.”
Sera felt a small throb at the words. She nodded her head slowly. “I’m so grateful you’re here with me, Cettie.”
Cettie smiled. “I will do everything in my power to ensure you survive this, Sera Fitzempress.” She had pulled herself so close that her arms were nearly touching Sera’s lap. “I’m going to cut your bonds. My mother has a pouch. It will be damp to the touch. Hidden in a secret pocket. There is moss inside it . . . a powerful magic. It can heal us. Get it. I lack the strength.”
Sera slowly turned, trying to shift so that her back was to Cettie. But she kept her gaze fixed on Jevin, who still stood by the Leering, head bowed as if in some sort of trance as he played the hautboie.
Cettie started to work on the bonds. The pressure of tugging on them made her wrists hurt all the more, but Sera bit her lip and endured it.
“It’s growing louder,” Cettie said.
“What?” Sera asked, straining to hear over the sound of Jevin’s song.
“The music.”
That confused her. “I don’t understand.”
“Not the song Jevin is playing. Remember our days in Vicar’s Close? I hear the magic as music, Sera. Chords . . . strains . . . measures . . . it’s beautiful. It’s growing louder. It’s stronger than the magic Jevin is weaving. There’s singing this time too.”
“I hear nothing,” Sera said. Were the students at the abbey singing?
“It’s not from this world,” Cettie said, grunting. “I’m so tired. Almost finished.”
“What does it say?” Sera asked.
“It’s not in our tongue. The words, I mean. I can’t explain it. It’s been so soft, but now it’s louder. They’re coming, Sera. They’re coming.”
The bonds fells away from Sera’s wrists, and she gasped with the relief from the constricting pain. Blood flowed back into her fingertips, causing pinpricks of agony, but she knew the pain would lessen. Sera started to crawl toward Christina’s body, making her movements deliberately slow.
Sera felt hope flare to life inside her. Jevin had the Tay al-Ard in his pocket. She’d seen him stuff it there. The other kishion were gone. With Cettie healed, they’d stand a chance to overpower him together.
She licked her dry lips again, arriving at the corpse. She quickly began her search, rifling through Christina’s skirts.
At first she thought the dampness seeping through the gown was blood, but she had discovered the wet pouch. She carefully withdrew it from the pocket.
Then a voice startled her.
“You forget that Leerings have eyes,” Jevin said coldly, turning around, his own eyes glowing silver as he put his instrument down on the floor.
Sera quickly tried to untie the knot on the pouch, but an invisible force yanked her off her feet and dragged her across the floor by her ankles. Jevin closed the remaining distance between them with a few quick strides. He yanked the pouch out of her hand, his face mocking her.
“Still you resist,” he said, looming over her, squeezing the pouch in his hand. A look of fury blazed in his silver eyes. He threw the bag aside and dropped down, grabbing her throat with his hands and squeezing. She couldn’t breathe.
Sera tried to bat his arms away, but he was impossibly strong, more so than such a slight man should be. His fingers dug into her skin. She arched her back, trying to claw at him with her fingers. As spots of blackness began to dance in her eyes, he finally let go, and she twisted away, gasping for breath. He walked over to Christina’s body and fetched a small vial from her poison
er’s bag. Cettie was crawling toward her, on her knees, but she slumped to the ground, exhausted.
“You don’t know true pain until you’ve swallowed Kyanos,” he said, strolling back as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “It tastes a little like almonds. Have a bit!”
He knelt by her, twisting off the cap of the vial, and grabbed her by the back of the neck. Sera grabbed his wrists and tried to make him drop the vial, but he overpowered her and forced it to her lips. She jerked her head to the side, smelling the odor he’d described.
“Drink it!” he snarled. “I won’t let it kill you. You’ll only wish you were dead!”
As he tried to force the contents of the vial down her throat, she bit his hand so hard he flinched and jerked away, dropping it. The pasty ichor drained out. “You can’t make me!” Sera shouted at him. “I won’t give in, no matter what you do.”
He nursed his hand, massaging the bite marks with his thumb, staring at her balefully.
“You . . . cannot . . . force me to do as you’d like,” she said, trying to scoot back toward Cettie. “I’m not a puppet dancing on strings as you are. Those things inside you, squirming about, filling you with hate. They control you, Jevin. This is not who you really are.”
He rose, still massaging his hand. “But you are a puppet, Empress. Only you do not see the hand controlling your strings. The invisible hand.” He said it mockingly. “The intelligence behind the Mysteries . . . that is what controls you.” He glared at her, his eyes full of wrath. “You trust it blindly, Sera Fitzempress. You cannot question it. You cannot make demands of it. How sorry I am for you, to follow something so blindly. In such ignorance.”
Sera glared back at him.
“You put your trust in vapor. A shadow. It never reveals itself, yet it murders innocents just as we do. How many have been put to death for not following it blindly? You believe the Knowing cares about you, about the world, but we are nothing more than particles of eternity. Playthings that live and then die. Existence is meaningless. This shell I wear,” he said, gesturing to his body, “it goes to the worms. The Knowing cannot stop us from murdering the people we’ve gathered in the abbey. It’s not because it chooses not to interfere. It’s because it cannot! It is victim to its own laws. It cannot intervene against free will. I will prove my words with fire, and you will see that I speak the truth. The Knowing will not stop me from destroying Cruix Abbey. It didn’t stop her then,” he said slyly, looking back at the Leering, “and it cannot stop me now.”
