No Earthly Treason (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 2)

by Genevra Black

  Throughout history, the Shadowborne had usually been allied with the Reach. Apparently not anymore, though, as Satara had never heard of them. Their turning to the Gloaming still didn’t seem likely, though. What elf, comfortably employed and protected by nobility, would take orders from the Gloaming? There was no reason. Humans’ worship was no longer vital to their survival; they had all the power they could ever want.

  But if all that was true, who were they working for?

  A knock at the back door of her apartment startled Satara from her train of thought. She looked up from the massive volume with a frown. Usually, people came in through the front door of the shop. The only people who used the fire escape entrance were people who specifically came to see her, and those visits were extremely few and far between.

  She stood uneasily and went to the door, peeking through the blinds. A second later, she opened the door to Edie standing there.

  “Hello,” Satara said, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.

  The necromancer was shuffling from foot to foot, seemingly nervous. “Hi.”

  Satara glanced beyond her, right to left. “Is something wrong?”

  “I didn’t want to come in the front … just in case.”

  Warily, the shieldmaiden stepped aside to let her in.

  Edie pointed at her chest. “I like your shirt.”

  Satara had barely noticed her clothing as she was getting dressed. She looked down at her T-shirt, a graphic of three jolly cartoon evergreens with the words Happy Little Trees under them. Embarrassed, she mumbled a thank you.

  “You know who Bob Ross is?” Edie asked.

  “I have a television, remember?” Satara nodded to it and closed the door softly behind Edie, adding sarcastically, “I even know about horseless carriages and moving pictures.”

  Edie ran a hand through her ponytail. “Right. Sorry.”

  Satara longed to sit back down in her chair, but she felt awkward. She wasn’t used to sharing this space with anyone. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a month. What are you doing here?”

  It came out a bit more accusatory than she had meant it to be, but really, the way Edie had practically shooed her off after the breathstealer incident, it was clear that something was wrong. After Indriði had already waited two months to contact them, it was annoying to have to wait for her answer. Edie was lucky she’d reappeared before Astrid could come after her.

  Edie took a note out of her backpack. “I have a letter for Astrid. From Indriði.”

  Satara tilted her head. Better late than never, she supposed. She swept her braids over one shoulder, fingering them thoughtfully. “That’s good. She’ll be happy about that. Come on.”

  Edie followed closely as she made her way down to the shop, but it was empty save for a couple of customers milling around, Kier behind the counter, and the orange tabby, Meowlnir. Astrid was nowhere to be seen.

  Satara went to the back room instead and knocked on the door. When no one answered, she opened it anyway. Now she could hear buzzing coming from Astrid’s workshop. With Edie close at her heels, she walked down the hall and into the small room.

  Astrid sat under the workshop’s one window on the far side of the room, head bent over what she was doing. On the wooden bench next to her was a lacquered black horn tankard, and she was carefully working away at a block of pewter, carving decorations for it. She wore safety glasses and earplugs, but took them out when she sensed Satara and Edie’s presence.

  “I hope you’ve come back to finally update me on what’s been happening, Edith. I do not like being left out of the loop.”

  Beside Satara, Edie shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah. Sorry it took so long. It wasn’t very easy to convince Indriði to even talk to me after I told her what I wanted.”

  “And?” Astrid turned her power chisel off and finally turned, taking off her glasses. “What was her answer?”

  The necromancer hesitated for a moment before holding out the letter in her hand. “She told me to give you this.”

  Astrid stood and took the letter from Edie. She discarded the envelope on the floor in front of her, eyes glued to the page the second it was unfolded. Satara could see it was a short letter, only one sheet of paper, but her battlemother was rapt. The shieldmaiden frowned, wondering why. She knew Indriði had been an old friend, but Astrid read this letter like a parched man drank water.

  It took her a long time to read the entire thing, longer than it should have. Then she lowered it, looking at Edie like she had just come out of a stupor. Slowly, her expression became normal again, and her brow furrowed. “Where is Calcifer?”

  “Oh….” Edie seemed even more uncomfortable with that question. Satara observed closely, as always. “He’s— he’s, uh, busy.”

  A lie. Satara looked to Astrid, hoping to catch her eye, but the valkyrie was completely distracted by the letter. As she looked it over once last time, she seemed pleased, almost hopeful, if a bit shocked. Satara watched as Astrid folded the letter and tucked it in her back pocket.

  “So,” the valkyrie said after a moment, “she’s … she has finally come to her senses. This is good.” She cleared her throat, her tone becoming more businesslike and terse. “She has agreed to join the Reach. She wants us to come to her home for an official meeting.”

  Dread snaked its way through Satara’s body. She wasn’t really one for meeting new people, even if she was good at the diplomatic part. At least it was likely that Astrid would do most of the talking, and Satara was sure neither she nor the Norn would be in the mood for lengthy introductions.

  Satara looked to Edie, who seemed as wary as she did. Seeing the two ancient women interact was bound to be an awkward experience; she assumed that was what the necromancer was worried about.

  “Well?” Astrid brushed past them to the workshop door. “What are you waiting for? Satara, dress in your ceremonial armor.”

  She turned. “My ceremonial armor? Why?”

  Satara and Edie followed the valkyrie out of the room, watching as she took Skuld’s shield and spear down from the wall. “We have to make an impression. We must project a certain eminence, even though there are so few of us. Indriði will respond to it.”

  Her ceremonial armor certainly was eminent. And old-fashioned, and stiff, and pinchy. She preferred her more flexible gear. Nonetheless, she nodded. “What about you, Battlemother?”

  Astrid sighed, pushing back her mane of blond waves and braids. Her cheeks and forehead were pink, though Satara couldn’t imagine why. “I will be wearing mine, too.”

  Satara exchanged a look with Edie. This was sure to be interesting.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The air outside the Alderdeen townhouse shifted. A red tear opened in midair, bringing with it the heavy scent of a grisly battlefield. Astrid’s huge gray wolf bounded into existence, along with the three women riding it like the weirdest, bloodiest Uber ever.

  Well— Edie thought back to a cab she’d taken last New Year’s Eve. Second bloodiest.

  The smell reminded Edie of her battle with Sárr, which made riding this thing even worse. As she slipped from the wolf’s back, she looked at her shaking hands, which were even paler than usual.

  It had only taken her a few minutes to call Indriði and let her know they were coming soon; it had taken Astrid and Satara almost two hours to put on their armor, with copious amounts of help from one another.

  Astrid’s armor had been the most difficult. She was in a full suit of it, a formidable figure in a winged helmet, looking not unlike her true valkyrie form. The armor was silver-white, polished to such a shine that she almost looked like she was wearing mirrors. The blue from the sky and the yellow from the honeylocusts, reflected in the armor, gave it an almost opalescent sheen, and if she hadn’t been wearing a blue cape, she might have almost blended into the background.

  Her cuirass was intricately engraved with feather patterns and an ornamental peak just under the breastbone, extending down the
stomach in subtle tiers like a spine. Her tasset flared dramatically, with a blue sash and a sturdy triangle of chainmail in the center, covering her crotch and barely touching the cuisses. In her hands were her spear and shield, which, despite their simplicity next to the complex armor, still awed Edie with their strange energy.

  Satara was dressed similarly, though her armor was leather. Instead of full arm coverage, she wore only a mantle and vambraces, trimmed with falcon feathers. Under her cuirass and chainmail, she had donned a shirt and a scarlet overdress that split in the center, revealing leather breeches. She had wound her braids into a thick bun, and she held a spear and shield of her own, considerably less ancient than her battlemother’s.

  Edie wore a T-shirt with a faded image of Garfield on it.

  Astrid held her spear tight, looking up at the building before her like it was some great beast she was here to conquer. Her expression was hard, almost unreadable, but Edie detected something startlingly vulnerable. Fear, hope? Maybe a little of both. She looked like she’d just traveled through a wasteland and was seeing civilization for the first time, unsure if it was a mirage or not.

  Satara was the one to break the silence. “We should go inside before someone sees us.”

  With the frequent Aurora-Gloaming clashes, seeing someone in armor was no longer uncommon in Anster. But they weren’t the Aurora; it was best that they didn’t call attention to themselves.

  With Astrid leading, they ascended the steps to Indriði’s home. The doorman didn’t even bother to stop them. He simply reached over and opened the door, eyeing the two armored women fearfully. When they entered the vestibule, the attendants at the security desk had pretty much the same reaction. One of them picked the office phone from its cradle and began mumbling into it; the others stared as Astrid came to a stop in the middle of the room, stalwartly waiting to be acknowledged. Without having ever met her, Edie assumed, these people knew full well who Astrid was.

  A particularly brave security guard cleared his throat and said, “Just a moment, ma’am,” his voice sounding comically small in the big room.

  Astrid nodded at him, and he averted his eyes. Edie looked on from behind Satara, conflicted. Being feared came with advantages, as she was reminded every time she invoked her father’s name. On the other hand, you were seen as a monster. What were the odds that you would turn into one?

  After a few moments, the platinum elevator opened. Roggvi stepped out, hands folded behind his back. Unlike the others, he didn’t seem a bit scared of Astrid, his expression passive and unimpressed as ever.

  He bowed. “Astrid, valmey. We are honored to receive you.”

  Astrid bowed her head in turn. “Blessings of the fjord-bone be with your house. How does your mistress fare?”

  “She awaits,” he replied gruffly, turning on his heel and thumping back into the elevator.

  With the weird Norse greetings out of the way, the three women followed without another word. Edie’s heart was thudding hard, though she wasn’t sure why. What if Indriði said something Astrid didn’t like, or vice versa? What were the chances that a fight would break out, and Edie would be caught in the middle? And if she survived being stuck in the middle of that, where would she stand then? She shoved her hands in her pockets and began ripping up a cough drop wrapper she had in there, trying to focus her anxiety.

  The elevator ride up to the Norn’s living quarters felt like it took a million years. Once the doors opened again, the three followed Roggvi as he navigated the disorienting corridors. This time, Edie was able to keep up; thankfully, there was no Augustus to be seen. Indriði had probably locked him up again so he wouldn’t eat her visitors.

  When she was sure she wouldn’t fall behind again, Edie mumbled to Satara, “What are they even going to talk about that involves bringing weapons?”

  “Astrid is standing on ceremony. More so than usual,” Satara replied in the barest whisper. She pursed her lips, looking as unsure as Edie felt. “There’s something she isn’t telling us. She’s nervous about this.”

  “But Indriði already agreed to join. She doesn’t have anything to be nervous about.”

  Satara shrugged and faced forward again, eyeing her battlemother. Edie did, too. What exactly was going on here?

  There was no time to stop the presses and ask. They were already in front of the doors to Indriði’s living area, and Roggvi was pulling them open.

  Indriði stood at the other end of the room, her back to them. She looked like an angel in her white pantsuit, hair like fire against the afternoon sun pouring in from the huge windows. Astrid took a few tentative steps inside, then stopped, stiff as a statue. Satara and Edie waited off to the side behind her. Roggvi shut the doors, leaving them alone.

  Eventually, Indriði turned her head to glance over her shoulder. “You came.”

  “Are you surprised?” asked Astrid.

  “No. I knew you would come.”

  The valkyrie barely smiled. “Of course you did. You know everything.”

  Indriði turned, wearing an expression Edie had never seen before. Her lip was curled, eyes hard, nostrils flared. Even her tone was different, no hons or babys. It was like having Astrid in her presence put a bad taste in her mouth.

  After a moment, she looked away, adopting a softer expression when her gaze met Edie’s. She nodded in greeting, then looked to Satara. “We haven’t been introduced.”

  “My shieldmaiden of the past ten years,” Astrid explained, turning slightly to present her. “Satara Izem of Mare Island. Satara, Indriði.”

  The Norn didn’t even glance at Astrid. “Mare Island is a beautiful sanctuary. I believe I met the woman you were named for. She was a battle-healer, wasn’t she?”

  Satara curtsied deeply, her expression one of surprise. “My great grandmother, my lady.”

  “Excellent. She was a fine woman.” The smile left the Norn’s eyes as she looked at Astrid again. “You didn’t have to dress for battle, but I’m not surprised you did. Nothing’s worth doing in half-measures, is it?”

  Astrid flexed her jaw.

  “I guess we should sit down and discuss the terms of our agreement,” Indriði said. She came away from the window and settled in one of the white armchairs, crossing one leg over the other.

  Astrid didn’t sit, didn’t come closer. Edie closed her eyes and silently begged the valkyrie not to start any shit … but no such luck.

  “It’s been eighty years and you have nothing to say to me?” Her tone was terse, like she was trying to rein her emotions in.

  Indriði fixed her with a warning gaze. “I have plenty to say to you, Astrid, but despite everything, I’ve agreed to help the Reach. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Why aren’t you satisfied?”

  The reins snapped. Astrid’s tone shifted, but she didn’t shout. On the contrary, much to Edie’s surprise, she sounded small and hurt. “I thought time would have soothed your ill will for me.”

  “You were wrong.”

  Please, let this conversation be over, Edie thought. Astrid said that she wanted Indriði’s help, but she seemed to be doing everything she could think of to derail her own progress. She just had to bring up the one topic that would collapse the whole meeting. Typical. Edie was starting to wonder if Astrid liked having screaming fights.

  The valkyrie stood up a little straighter, tone still uncertain. “I was doing my duty.”

  “I don’t care why you did it,” Indriði said dismissively, hands clamped tightly in her lap. “Let’s not talk about it. I’m doing what you wanted. I’m submitting to your request, helping you after eighty years of radio silence. Not even a single apology.”

  “I have nothing to apologize for.” Astrid huffed, almost a laugh.

  The Norn finally stood from her seat. For a split second, Edie thought she saw the world billowing around her, almost, like waves of heat coming off hot tarmac. “Kolya!” seemed to be the only word she could manage, and she spat it at Astrid.

  “Kolya
was dying. I had no choice.”

  “I defy that logic, Chooser of the Slain.”

  Astrid banged the butt of her spear on the tiled floor, impassioned, shouting all of a sudden. “You of all people should know Fate guides my sword, not my own will! You’re not the only being in the Nine Worlds who’s ever lost something.”

  All at once, Indriði’s shoulders relaxed. When she looked at Astrid now, she no longer looked angry as Edie understood the word. She was bright-eyed, almost amused; her body was unnaturally still, like a predator about to strike its prey from the bushes. Her voice was a cool river of ice as she said, “Oh, I’m going to enjoy doing this even more than I thought I would.”

  Edie realized how apt the description of a predator was a second too late.

  The Norn raised her hands, bringing them together as if to clap, and the world rippled again.

  A sizzling snap filled the air, like a firecracker had gone off. The next second, Indriði was a couple of steps closer, and the room was full of a strange smoke.

  Another snap.

  Astrid was gone—there one second and gone the next. Satara was on her knees, hacking, compulsively inhaling more smoke as she did.

  Indriði brought her hands together again. Snap.

  Edie had taken half a step toward Satara, but now she was sitting slumped against one of the windows. Her body stung and ached all over. Smoke filled her lungs. She coughed, throat spasming as she inhaled desperately, but there was no air to inhale.

  Snap.

  Familiar figures in black and silver armor had converged on Satara, each wearing an opal amulet around their necks.

  Snap.

  Gone.

  It was as though someone had turned on a cosmic strobe light. When it went dark, Edie, her friends, her life, nothing existed; when it flashed on, they did again. On and off, rendering everything choppy, like a series of photos taken in quick succession, with nothing happening in the order it should.

  It took Edie a moment to realize what was happening. The world seemed to stop because it was stopping—for everyone but Indriði and the New Gloaming warriors. The Norn was bending the tapestry of time to her advantage, navigating the creases they couldn’t to catch them off guard.