by Beth Revis
Another necromancer.
It could have been Governor Adelaide, of course. She had found Bennum Wellebourne’s old crucible, after all, and even if it had been cracked, she’d been able to use it to create the plague. But it didn’t seem likely she would have worked with a network of rebels.
Master Ostrum? No—he couldn’t have opened the crucible, only a necromancer’s blood could open the sanga loggia lock.
There really must be another necromancer. Someone who had sent this crucible to the shop. Maybe that necromancer intended to return for this—perhaps when the plague hit, that necromancer had recognized what caused it and run away before he or she could be accused of creating the Wasting Death.
Maybe . . . I looked down at the paper, whispering last the word, “Miraband.” Finding a skilled, practicing necromancer would be more valuable than finding a book. Someone who could actually teach me.
The bell on the outside door jangled as someone entered the shop. Bunchen’s head shot up. In one smooth motion, Bunchen snatched the book from my hand, dropped it and the other contents back inside the copper crucible, and swiped away the melting remains of the key of blood in the bottom of the crucible. The contents disappeared, leaving nothing but a smear of red at the base.
“Hello?” a voice called.
“A southerner,” Bunchen said, rolling her eyes at the accent.
“It’s just Grey—he’s a friend of mine,” I said, already standing up.
“You trust him?” Bunchen asked, gripping my arm so tightly it hurt.
I hesitated. There were moments that lingered in my heart, reminding me of the way I used to fall into Grey’s warmth. Nessie always made fun of me for being so slow to show the way I felt. All it ever took was a kiss for her to confess her love. Our entire lives at the village, I never once told someone outside my family that I loved them. That word felt—important. And when Grey and I started to grow close, when I actually did tell him that I loved him, it was more than just romance that swept through my blood. There was trust there, too, and faith in him. In us.
I didn’t know what the future held. I only knew that when I’d seen him at the quarantine hospital yesterday morning, I realized that I could not simply turn my emotions off. I could not stop caring for him simply because I wanted to.
“I think I do,” I said.
TWENTY-FOUR
Grey
“HELLO?” THE DUSTY shelves were labyrinthine. I could hear muted voices near the back, but I wasn’t sure how to get to them.
“Back here,” Nedra called.
Once I reached her, I sighed in relief. Finally, a friendly face.
I looked curiously at the large copper crucible Nedra carried, but she ignored my questioning eyes. She introduced me to the tall, severe-looking woman she stood beside, and I recognized the name as the owner of the shop. She did not look overly pleased to see me as she led the way to the store’s counter.
“I’m Greggori Astor,” I said, stepping forward and holding out my hand despite the cool welcome.
Bunchen’s eyes widened. “Astor? Related to Linden Astor?”
Something about the way she said it put me on edge. “How do you know my father?”
Bunchen’s entire attitude shifted. She no longer seemed wary of me; instead, she seemed almost sympathetic. “Shame about what happened,” she said.
“My parents made their choice,” I answered evenly.
“As do we all.” Bunchen’s eyes were sad. “Still, to have to flee like that . . . How can the Emperor issue orders to seize people without trial and not expect citizens to rise up against him?”
“I—er,” I stammered. I knew my father’s arrest warrant had been issued, and even if it made me sick to think of my father as a traitor, I had been a witness to his violation of the law. Saying he wouldn’t get a fair trial was patently untrue, but what did I expect someone in such a remote city as Hart to believe? She likely heard only rumors; of course the Emperor would try the men accused of treachery.
“At least you had a chance to say farewell,” Bunchen muttered. “He’s a good man.”
My head jerked back in shock. I wasn’t sure which was more disorientating, that this woman thought I’d said farewell, or that she thought he was good.
“My father left in the dead of night,” I said coldly, drawing out the words. “He’s halfway to Doisha by now.” I shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
Bunchen paused. “No,” she said, eyeing me warily. Her hand drifted to a small bowl on the counter, filled with iron rings made of horseshoe nails. Nedra’s gaze focused on them, her eyes narrowing.
Bunchen selected one of the iron circles and handed it to me. I held it in my palm until she grew impatient, snatching my hand and pulling it over the counter, roughly pushing the ring over my knuckle. “You need to be more observant,” she said. Her eyes flicked to a row of antique clocks hanging on the wall over the door to her store. “If you go now, you’ll probably see them.”
“Go?” I turned to Nedra, lost. She looked quizzically back at me.
“Go!” Bunchen insisted, shooing us toward the door. She stepped around the counter, holding Nedra’s arm as she steered us out of her shop. “Check with the Adamant first, I think,” she told me.
“The Adamant?” I repeated.
“The ship. Linden Astor has spent the past several days here in Hart, hiding, but he’s scheduled to move this afternoon. I’m not sure which ship—the Adamant, probably, but if he’s not there, the Croque or maybe the Roc Flyer. Any ship heading away from the Empire.”
“My father’s here,” I said aloud. “He’s here. In Hart.” Realization sank into me slowly, and I was overwhelmed with unexpected emotion at the idea. I had spent so much of my life pushing my father away from me that I had thought myself immune to any childish longings for my parents, but I couldn’t deny the hope and fear rising in my throat—hope that they would regret leaving me, fear that they would not. And, beneath that, an even deeper fear of regret if I did not seize this chance to say goodbye. “I have to see him!” I exclaimed, my eyes darting between Nedra and Bunchen. “I have to say—”
“Exactly,” Bunchen said, letting out a sigh. I turned, looking out at the city, my heart pounding, my feet ready to go.
Nedra started to follow me, but Bunchen grabbed her shoulder, her fingers pressing into Nedra’s cloak. Her voice was too low for me to hear, but Nedra’s grip on the leather strap of the copper crucible tightened, and she nodded, her jaw set, before Bunchen pushed her toward me.
“Don’t forget,” Bunchen told Nedra.
“I won’t,” she promised.
The door shut in our faces.
“Come on,” Nedra said, turning to me. She set a fast pace, and when she stumbled on a loose cobblestone, I offered to carry the cumbersome copper crucible she held or the knapsack on her back. Nedra refused.
Going downhill with Nedra as my guide through the old city of Hart was far easier than going uphill on my own, and we reached the docks in less than half an hour. It was far less busy this time of day—mostly ships arrived in the morning, with only a handful of ferries and passenger ships making anchor.
“Oi, Astor!” a voice shouted through the thinning crowd. I whirled around and saw the captain of the Emperor’s cruiser ship waving at me.
“What is it?” I asked impatiently.
“We’re stocked early, and I’ve stowed the cargo you purchased and sent to the ship,” the captain said. He eyed me curiously. “We can leave ahead of schedule, if you are prepared.” He subtly emphasized the word you, glancing at Nedra before looking quickly away.
I nodded, distracted. “But first, I have to—”
“Your things at the tavern?” the captain asked. “I can send a man to collect ’em.”
“Yes, fine,” I said, turning about. I saw a small caravel, with letters pa
inted in black. The Adamant. Nedra followed at my heels as I pushed past the captain, racing over to the smaller ship.
A few crew members were loading crates on board—apples, which traveled well for the months-long journey, and barrels of water. “Excuse me,” I said, reaching for a crew member, who shook me off. “Can you help me?” I asked, turning to another.
“No,” he said gruffly, not even looking up. I whirled on my heel, desperation evident on my face. Nedra grabbed my hand.
“Calm down,” she said, rubbing the skin on the back of my hand with her thumb.
My heart was racing. I hadn’t been expecting a chance to see my parents. Ever since I’d discovered my home was empty, I’d tried not to think of them at all. They had made their choices.
“Ready?” a voice bellowed from the deck.
“No!” I whirled around. Without thinking of the repercussions of my actions, I jerked free from Nedra and bounded up the wooden gangplank before crew members could pull it up.
“What’s the meaning of this?” a woman shouted, striding toward me. Her epaulettes labeled her the captain of the ship.
“Do you have any passengers on board?” I asked. “Please, I’m looking for my parents.”
“We’re a cargo ship.” She spat the words out, glaring at me. “Disembark.” Her finger thrust toward the gangplank.
“I—” I stopped, taking a deep, shaking breath.
The captain sucked at her teeth, her eyes on the iron ring around my middle finger. “Come with me,” she muttered before turning to one of the crew and shouting, “Hold the stays!”
The captain led me down into the cargo hold, tapping a unique rhythm on the supporting beams as she went. Two figures slowly emerged from behind a row of crates where they had been hiding.
“Mama,” I said, my voice barely audible. I hadn’t called my mother by that pet name for years, not since I was a little boy, but it was the word that broke free from my throat in that moment.
Mother rushed forward, wrapping her hands around my face and pulling me closer to her. Tears welled in her eyes.
“Son,” Father said when Mother released me. I thought for a moment he was going to shake my hand, but instead, he pulled me into a gruff hug, clapping me on the back before letting me go.
“What are you—?” I asked, staring around me with wide eyes.
“We had to go,” Mother said. “And I’m sorry—” She turned to Father. “We thought it best . . .”
“You were safe,” Father said. His gaze was somewhere just above my eyebrows. He didn’t want to look me in the eye, and I wasn’t sure why. “My informants said you were there, with the Emperor. No blame would fall on you for my actions. If we left . . .”
“If we didn’t tell you,” Mother added in a small voice.
“. . . you would be safe. You’d inherit everything.”
“I’m so glad you found us,” Mother said. She reached over and grabbed me again, pulling me closer. “We’ve been funneling money to Doisha for years, Greggori, you’ll like it there.”
Mother didn’t notice the way I stiffened, but Father did.
“You’re not coming with us,” Father said.
Mother’s eyes grew wide and round, a silent “no” already forming on her lips.
“I found out you were leaving by chance,” I said. “I just came to say goodbye. But, Father.” I turned to him, unable to bear Mother’s heartbroken look any longer. “The Emperor—he’s not bent on revenge. Governor Adelaide’s death is enough. Come back now, and you’ll get a fair trial. You might be sentenced to a fine, but I’m sure he wouldn’t . . .” I stopped. Father shook his head, his lips quirked in disappointment.
“There is no going back,” Father said. “Not as long as that boy-king claims to be Emperor and rules our colony with an iron fist.”
“Emperor Auguste isn’t like that,” I insisted. “He wants to see change here; he wants to help Lunar Island.”
Father’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak again, even when I looked away. Heat rose in my cheeks. No matter what I thought of the Emperor, I couldn’t be certain of my parents’ fate if they stayed. They had acted as traitors. And even if Emperor Auguste had no wish to cut a swath of blood through Lunar Island, he couldn’t ignore treason. Just as he couldn’t ignore necromancy. Not forever.
Father put his hands behind his back and took a step away from me. “I do not know whether to pray that you never know the truth,” he said slowly, “or to hope that, one day, you do.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Nedra
AS WE LEFT the Adamant, Grey held on to my hand so tightly that it hurt, but I didn’t try to pull away even as the strap on the heavy copper crucible slipped on my shoulder uncomfortably. He licked his lips, nervous. “The ironic thing,” he said without a trace of irony in his voice, “is that I wanted my parents to stay. Face their trial and then come home. And . . .” He tugged my arm, pulling me closer. His voice was almost a whisper, meant only for me, not the bustling crowd of workers and sailors around us. “And while I wish I could be with you, I want you to go.”
“We’ve discussed this,” I started, but Grey cut me off.
“They’re right to go!” Grey said so loudly that a few people nearby stopped to stare. He looked over his shoulder as the Adamant sailed into the bay. “It’s safer.”
I squeezed Grey’s hand. “I don’t care about safe.”
I reached out mentally for my revenants. Silence.
I stopped in my tracks. “Nedra?” Grey asked. I shook my head tightly, teeth clenched, eyes shut, concentrating as hard as I could.
Ollah? I screamed silently. Ronan? Kessel? Anyone?
Several heartbeats later, images flashed in my mind—different views around the quarantine hospital. My brow creased in worry before I realized what was happening.
My revenants couldn’t transmit their words to me any longer, though they could still show me what they were seeing. I choked back a sob. It was worse than I’d thought—they were fading so rapidly. If I didn’t act now, soon there would be nothing left of them.
I swallowed down the fear rising within me, straightened, and looked Grey dead in the eye. “I’m going to Miraband,” I said. Somewhere out there, there was another necromancer. Someone who might be able to train me, help me restore my revenants fully. Help me save Nessie.
Grey knew better than to argue with me. We headed toward the Emperor’s cruiser. I was glad I carried my belongings with me. When I’d gone home after Yūgen closed, I had left behind several things in my dormitory, including the map my father had given me. By the time I returned to campus, there was no time to go back to my room and reclaim the items. I had learned the hard way to carry everything I needed with me wherever I went.
Before we reached the ship, Grey grabbed my shoulder, holding me back. I whirled around to protest, but he silenced me with a look. “The deal was that the captain would take you to Hart, but no farther.” I hefted my bag onto my shoulder. “But I think I might know a way around it.”
I stood behind a mooring as I watched Grey dart up the gangway, looking for the captain. They talked quickly, heads bowed, then disappeared into the captain’s quarters. Enough time passed for me to grow nervous before Grey raced back down the gangway toward me.
“Can you lose the cloak?” he asked me, somewhat breathless.
“My cloak?” I touched the silk cords at my throat. Mama had woven the wool for me, and my sister had sewn it as a present when we found out I’d be attending Yūgen last year. It had taken her a week to embroider the tiny, almost invisible little flowers along the hem.
“It’s the only way,” Grey said, shooting a look back at the ship. “It won’t be cold in Miraband.”
“The captain wants my cloak?” I asked.
Grey shook his head. “No, no—you’ll see.” He held his hand out.
>
“I suppose,” I said, still unsure of whatever plan Grey had come up with.
“Great. Come on.” Grey hurried back up to the ship, as if he was nervous the captain would change his mind if we didn’t act soon enough. As we strode across the deck, I heard the voices of the crew following us, questioning loudly why I was allowed back on board the cruiser. We went straight to a room on the opposite side of the captain’s quarters—spacious for a ship, but still rather small.
I gazed around the room, then nearly gasped in surprise—in the far corner, mostly hidden from view, stood a tall, slender boy I’d never seen before, his wide eyes fixed on me.
“Who—?” I started, but Grey grabbed my arm, squeezing hard.
“Astor!” The captain stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, glowering at Grey.
“But, sir,” Grey started, a pleading tone in his voice.
“I told you we weren’t taking passengers, least of all a witch!”
“I can pay,” Grey started, jangling the coins in his purse, tied to his belt.
“It’s not about payment!” the captain’s voice rose, and I could see through the doorway that some crew members had stopped what they were doing, watching us. The captain stomped into the room, slamming the door behind him.
“You are under the Emperor’s authority!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. But rather than protest, Grey turned to me.
“Quickly,” he said, reaching for the silk cords of my cloak. He fumbled with the knot, then whipped the material off my shoulders, crossing the room to where the boy stood.
“And I expect you to fully obey all my orders!” The captain was still shouting, loudly. So the crew can hear, I thought as Grey wrapped my cloak over the boy’s shoulders. He adjusted the hood, lowering it well over the boy’s face.
The boy was half a head taller than me, but he hunched over, keeping the cloak low.
“The Emperor may have saddled me with your dead weight on this journey, but you’d best stay out of our way!” The captain was practically hollering, the wooden walls vibrating with his loud voice. “Just stay in your room and don’t bother my men!”