“I haven’t—”
“Now!”
She jumped. Then she leaned forward and opened a drawer concealed under the table. Pressed a bottle into Rime’s hand. The same as the one she’d had before. Black glass with an etched pattern that made it rough to the touch. With a silver cork and an intricate locking mechanism.
“You have to bind,” she said. “Draw upon the Might, then take three drops. No more. Then she’ll find you.”
“She? You mean he, don’t you?”
She lowered her eyes, knowing she’d lost. That was what happened when you played games with someone born and raised in Eisvaldr. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Damayanti? That I still expect to find Hirka on the other side of this beak?”
He drew upon the Might, opened the bottle, and let three drops fall down his throat. A moment passed, then his throat started to tingle. The beak was moving. Writhing. He fought to stay calm. He may not have been able to control his body, but at least he could control his reactions. Svarteld had taught him that.
A sound forced its way up from his throat. The voice of a man. Strange. Guttural. Completely at odds with nature. Fear erupted in his chest, but Rime contained it. Forced himself to sit. To listen.
“She said she could bring you to me, Rime An-Elderin. After everything I’ve heard about you, I admit I had my doubts, but here you are. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Rime readied himself for pain. A lot of pain. He had something to say and he was going to say it. Regardless of the consequences.
“Graal …” Rime stared into the fire between him and Damayanti. The flames were dancing, taunting him. Daring him to continue. “I only have one thing to say to you. If you touch her … if you so much as lay a hand on her, in any way, it will be the last thing you do. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise. I’ll destroy you.”
Damayanti’s eyes widened. Her hand flew to her open mouth. He held up his own to keep her from speaking. The silence was suffocating. Then Graal’s voice returned.
“You’ve taken the beak. You are mine. A slave to my blood. I could take your life right now if I wanted to.”
“I know,” Rime snarled. “I’ve found the books. I know what I’ve done. And I know it can’t be undone. There is no limit to how much pain you can inflict on me. But I promise you, it won’t compare to the pain you’ll feel if anything happens to her.”
“You knew?” Graal couldn’t hide his surprise.
“Yes.”
“Yet still you did it?”
“Yes.”
Graal sighed, and Rime felt it catch in his throat. “What I wouldn’t give to have men like you here, Rime An-Elderin. I have no desire to cause you pain, though I don’t blame you for doubting me. We’re natural enemies, you and I. You’re an ymling, and I’m Dreyri. You call us deadborn. We call you cows. It’s been like that for longer than either of us can remember. You with your nineteen years, and me with my two thousand eight hundred. Yet here we are, talking, because we have a common interest.”
“Where is she?”
“Well, that’s the problem, you see. She’s with my brother.”
“The Seer …”
“Oh, there are far more suitable names for him than that. But whatever you want to call him, she isn’t safe. He’s poisoned her with lies. She’s afraid of me. And that will only continue as long as she’s with him. She has to choose to come to me, and as things stand, that seems highly unlikely. It would take a miracle. Unless, of course, I had something she cares about.”
Rime started to laugh, but the burning in his throat stopped him. “You want to use me as bait?”
“Rime An-Elderin, let me assure you that I would not have sunk so low had there been any other way. And she’s more important to me than you are. Still, I’d like to ask for your permission.”
Rime blinked. Had he heard right? “My permission?”
“Will you help me wrest her from my brother’s claws? I was bracing myself to explain, but somehow you’ve grasped who the real enemy is. She has not. Where does this conviction stem from, Rime An-Elderin?”
Rime remembered Eirik’s words in Ravnhov.
“A wise man taught me that the enemy with the most to lose is the one to fear. Not the one who has already lost everything.”
It was quiet for a moment. Rime could have sworn he felt Graal smile.
“I can see how you became Ravenbearer. So you’ll help me?”
“Send me to the human world, and I promise you’ll have his head.”
Graal laughed. It vibrated in Rime’s throat, but he no longer felt any pain.
“You’ve got fire, I’ll give you that. You think you know what you’re asking for, but you’d never understand this place, or survive it. It’s like … well, like another world. And even if you made good on your promise, even if you found him and killed him, you’d still thirst for blood. How much would our agreement be worth then? After my brother, it would be my turn. There’s no point denying it. You can’t see past what you need right now. Desperation makes it easy to promise such things. No, Rime An-Elderin, having you in Ym is the insurance I need.”
Rime couldn’t contain his anger. “If you aren’t able to keep your word, Graal—if you can’t protect her from your brother, then no gateways, no raven rings in the world will hold me back.”
“Is it really necessary to sully this agreement with threats?”
“So why do you want her? Because she can help you use the gateways?”
“You know better than that.”
Rime remembered what he’d heard and read. “They punished you. You can’t use them yourself. You’re trapped where you are.”
“Nice of him, don’t you think? A true brother.”
“Then why? What is she to you?”
Another sigh caught in his throat. “She’s my daughter, Rime An-Elderin.”
Rime looked at Damayanti. Her jaw dropped. Involuntarily revealing that she hadn’t known either.
She’s one of the blind. Hirka is deadborn. Nábyrn.
It couldn’t be true. She looked nothing like them. But Rime felt dangerously uncertain. All the same, he tried to protest. “She’s like us! She hasn’t … she isn’t …”
“She’s half-blood. Human on the outside, Dreyri on the inside,” Graal said with obvious pride.
“She’s a blindling?”
“She is Dreyri. She has blood of the first.”
Rime’s throat was burning. He swallowed. “So you don’t want to hurt her?”
“No more than you do, Rime An-Elderin. Naiell is another story. But he’s afraid of me. Hirka is all that stands between us, and he knows it. She’s safe as long as he isn’t backed into a corner, which means direct confrontation isn’t an option. That’s why I have to get her to come to me on her own. Without him, and of her own volition. But you should rest now, Rime An-Elderin. This is your first time with the beak, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Wait! The bl—The others that are here. Your people.”
“Yes, forgive me, I understand that creates problems. It’s the Might. When you haven’t had a taste of it in a thousand years, it’s easy to get a little … overexcited. But since we have an arrangement now, I’ll do my best, Rime An-Elderin. And you have my word that Damayanti won’t open the raven rings. No more of our kind will come to your world. Not before our arrangement comes to an end.”
The voice disappeared. Not just the sound, but the feeling of someone else’s presence. Rime sat looking at his hands. They were shaking. It should have been out of fear, but it wasn’t. It was anger. Resolve.
Damayanti got up and moved toward him. Control over the gateways was closer than he’d thought. It had been within his grasp the entire time.
“You took the beak,” she whispered. “You knew it would put your life in his hands, but you did it anyway?”
He looked up at her. Hated every word she said, every word she’d ever spoken. Hated that he’d been forced to let her stab him in the
back.
The fear in her eyes turned to shame. Her eyes welled up, the tears running down her cheeks and dripping from her chin. She dropped to her knees and rested her hands on his thighs.
He wrapped a hand around her neck. All he wanted was to press down with his thumb and watch her suffocate, but he contented himself with wiping away her tears. Who knew treachery could be so tempting? So bare. So ripe with desire. What drove her? Why would a dancer willingly wake the deadborn and lead them here through the stone doors? Whatever the reason, he knew she’d put it behind her now.
“You’re going to tell me everything you know,” he said. “Everything you can do. And you’re going to break open the raven rings for me.”
“He’ll kill me if I do what you’re asking, Rime.”
“Yes, he will. But you’re still going to do it.”
Equal measures of hope and disbelief filled her eyes. “Do you think you can stop him?”
“I don’t know. But that’s not why you’re going to help me.” He could see that she wanted to ask, but she didn’t. He explained anyway.
“You came to me like waves crashing on rocks, Damayanti. Fierce. Strong. Intoxicated by your own ability to bend people to your will. But you’ve forgotten that now. Because every time I look into your eyes, I see less and less of you, and more and more of me. You will help me now. Because you love me.”
“You’re just a boy …” Her mask of contempt shattered as soon as she tried to put it on. She closed her eyes. “You’re just a boy,” she repeated. It passed her swollen lips as barely a whisper. She buried her face in his lap and sobbed like a child.
SPIDER’S WEB
Hirka sat quietly on a tall stool by the window. She felt trapped, trapped among people, thousands of people, both inside and outside the café. London was a monster. The biggest and most terrifying monster she had ever seen. The buildings were so tall that she was sure they would topple over at any moment. Cars and buses tore past in every direction, rumbling, squealing, and whistling. Music was being pumped out of a box in the corner above her, but even so, people kept chattering. Two big screens showed moving pictures of people on bicycles. She’d never ridden a bicycle.
She tried to make herself as small as she could. She felt an intense urge to run, but she’d promised Stefan she’d stay put, and she knew she’d never get back to York without him. For some reason he thought she would be safer among people, but what did he know?
She sipped the hot chocolate that Stefan had bought her. It was cold. They ought to have been back by now. Both him and Naiell. How long could it take to get another car? They were all over the place. Maybe it was her fault, since she’d asked him not to steal one.
Her bag was wedged between the stool and the window. Her entire life, in one small bag. A bulge revealed where the book was, its soft cover pressed up against the side. It looked like it was trying to push its way out. Like it was reaching out to her. Hirka glanced around before pulling it out. The book none of them had managed to make any sense of. She was the only one still trying.
There was something about it, something strange and familiar all at once. The black leather was faded and scratched. It had no title. No author. Just the symbol stamped into it. Two lines, each the width of a finger, sloping downward. Hirka opened it and flicked through the pale pages. It had to be some sort of joke. So many pages, so little content. Just small circles. Randomly positioned, and with a random number of lines. No coherence. No writing.
Stefan had suggested that it might be some sort of film. That if you flicked rapidly through the pages, the drawings might come to life, but there didn’t seem to be any real order to them. Maybe if …
Hirka glanced up at the window. She felt like she was being watched, like someone she knew was close by.
Outside, people walked past. None of them looked at her. She looked around. A beggar stood on the other side of the street. He held out a paper cup every time someone walked past, but no one gave him anything. No one looked at him. He was young and gaunt. His gloves didn’t have fingers.
Hirka put the book back in her bag, shouldered it, and went outside. The street seemed to grow. The cars seemed angrier. She knew she ought to go back inside. Wait for Stefan and Naiell.
You’re going to have to get the hang of this world at some point.
Hirka crossed the street. The smell hit her before she was anywhere near him—a faint odor of rot. She stopped. Their eyes met. She waited for a reaction. Recognition. Maybe even for him to attack. He was one of them. One of the forgotten. But he didn’t recognize her.
Hirka rummaged in her pockets, found a money note, and put it in his cup. His fingers were chapped and unwashed. He nodded, thanking her profusely. His cheeks were hollow and his eyes seemed distant, as if he wasn’t really seeing her.
“How long have you been forgotten?” she asked.
He took the money out of the cup and shoved it in his pocket. “Everyone’s forgotten here,” he replied. She wasn’t sure he knew what she meant. She took a step closer. He looked around and she suddenly realized that he was more scared of her than she was of him. Maybe he thought she was trying to trick him.
“How long were you friends? Before he forgot you?”
His eyes grew sharper. He leaned against the wall. Someone had drawn a skull on it. “You new? You’re a young ’un.”
She smiled. “I hear that a lot. But I’m not one of you.”
He looked around again. Wary. Jittery. “Listen, I don’t get involved with kids, and I don’t know what you’ve heard, but you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Hirka turned to leave. “Graal,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m talking about Graal.”
The beggar grabbed her wrist, his eyes suddenly big and wild. Had he realized who she was, what kind of blood ran through her veins? A man walked past and gave the beggar a sharp look. He let go of her as if he’d been burned, reminded of his place at the bottom of the pecking order. He was forgotten, in every way. He wouldn’t stand a chance if the situation escalated.
If only he knew. Hirka was just as forgotten, just as small a part of the world they both lived in. Like a ghost, on the outside of everything.
“How many of you are there?” she asked. “Do you ever see him again, after …?”
The beggar shook his head. He had beautiful eyes. Or at least they had been, once upon a time. “No one knows. I haven’t met that many. We’re too different. We come from all over, from all times. He’s the only thing we have in common. How do you know about this, Red? Do you know him? Could you …?”
Hirka shook her head. She was in no position to help. If what Stefan said was true, this man was doomed to lose his mind, to descend into madness, to attack people. Stefan would have killed him then and there. Pulled his teeth out and sold them. All without remorse, without feeling he’d done anything wrong. But what gave him the right? How could he condemn people to death for wrongs they were yet to commit?
Hirka found another note in her pocket. One of only two she had left. She tried to put it in his cup, but he put his hand over it. “Don’t spend it all on me, Red. We can’t help each other.”
She moved his hand and stuffed the note inside. “That’s not why I’m giving it to you,” she said. “Anyway, you don’t know that for sure. Maybe you will be able to do something for me someday.”
She left him, crossing the street and heading back into the café. She sat down by the window again and looked out. He was gone. Only the skull remained.
“Where’ve you been?!”
Hirka jumped. Stefan was standing behind her with his phone pressed to his ear, his bag over his shoulder, and a stack of papers in his hand. “Hold on, hold on,” he said into the phone, tucking it between his ear and shoulder as he tried to pay for a coffee. He spilled some and swore before taking what was left and heading for the door. He motioned for her to follow.
“Did you go for a walk? Christ, you don’t know who might be out there! Yo
u were supposed to sit quietly and wait!” He downed his coffee and threw the cup away before tapping his phone and looking at her. “Listen, Allegra’s on the phone. She’s called three times. I had to answer in the end. Everything’s going to hell. She’s not stupid. She knows we’re up to something. She wants to talk to you. Just make sure it’s not about anything other than hair and nails and stuff like that. And say you don’t know where we are. Okay?”
He was walking so fast that Hirka was having trouble keeping up. He handed her the phone and she lifted it to her ear. “Hello?” she said, feeling a bit silly.
“Hirka, sweetheart, finally! Lord knows you’re not easy to get hold of. Where are you?”
“I … I’m not sure.” Hirka jogged after Stefan. Allegra lowered her voice, making it difficult to hear her.
“Can you speak freely? Can Stefan hear what you’re saying?”
“I doubt it. He’s a bit stressed.”
“Well, that’s par for the course. Darling, I don’t know where to start. I’ve received a letter from someone claiming to have contacts where you’re from. There’s news from Mann … Mannfalla. Forgive the pronunciation. I promised I’d pass it along on the condition that Stefan doesn’t hear it. I must say, it puts me in something of an awkward position, because I want to keep my promise, but I also want you to hear the news. So what am I to do, my dear?”
Hirka slowed down. All the same, her heart started pounding. She’d never told Allegra where she came from. She said what she knew Allegra wanted to hear.
“I won’t tell him anything.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! Now, you must excuse me, I don’t know who on earth these people are or what this is really about, but …”
Hirka didn’t bother pointing out that it wasn’t from anyone on Earth. Not if it was news from Ym.
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