Chasm of Fire

by Michael Wallace

  “I thought about that, too. It could be, I suppose. Not as likely as the alternative, that she’s a power-hungry, grasping, murderous—”

  Iliana interrupted. “In the end, does it matter? She’s murderous either way.”

  “I think it does matter,” he said. “Either she’s the legitimate head of the Luminoso, or she’s not. If she is, it’s going to be harder to stop her, because she’s likely to have more allies.”

  She took his arm. “Thiego, we have to stop her. It doesn’t matter if she’s legitimate or not. If we don’t, everything falls apart, whether His Grace convinces Lady Mercado or not.”

  Thiego gave a solemn nod. “The first thing is to cut her off from the vaults—we can’t have her handling any more artifacts. And we can do that now.” He gave the ring another full turn. “The way is clear, let’s go.”

  “I thought you were hiding.”

  “Actually, I was seeing if she was hiding from us.” He held up his hand to show the ring. “This can peer through her illusion egg.”

  “Got any spares?” she asked, smiling at the funny look he gave her in return. “Should I stay here, or what?”

  “No, you’re coming inside.”

  “Into the temple? A charge of blasphemy isn’t going to help us any.”

  “It’s not blasphemy for a cabalist’s acolyte to enter the temple.”

  “But I’m nothing of the kind.”

  “My acolyte is whoever I say she is.” He pressed a thumb to her forehead. “There, you’ve been initiated. You are now my acolyte.”

  Iliana let out a short laugh. “I’m not going to be your acolyte. I’m loyal to Lord Carbón—I’ve taken oaths.”

  “Since we now have the same exact goals, how is that a problem? This helps us achieve that much more quickly. Anyway, I need you inside. Will you come, please?”

  She couldn’t think of a serious objection. Knowing how Carbón had dismissed trivial concerns about code violations in the past, how he, Grosst, and Thiego were openly discussing the overthrow of the hierarchy that had served Quintana for hundreds of years in an attempt to bring on the Fourth Plenty, she was sure her master would agree to Thiego’s offer. But there were still practical considerations.

  “I’m recognized in the city,” she said. “And not as a member of the Luminoso. It’s going to look like you’re bringing in a chancellor of the Quinta to show off your secrets. I’m still wearing my chain of office, for that matter, and I don’t plan to take it off.”

  “Point taken. We need to make you look the part, at least.” He eyed her. “Give me your hand.”

  He slipped the brass ring off his hand and placed it on her middle finger. It felt unusually cool, but there was no strange tingling sensation as she’d been expecting. Then he removed an object from his satchel that looked like a horseshoe with glowing blue points.

  “Hold the mentabacus as we go inside, so everyone can see you’ve got it, but don’t lift it to your head. You can ask Kessie if you want to know why not.”

  “Lift it to my head? The thought never would have occurred to me.”

  “You never know—these objects have a mind of their own. Come on.”

  As they crossed the plaza, they soon pushed through enough residents of the Thousand to see that the cabalists on the steps of the temple weren’t simply milling around enjoying the last light of a warm spring day, arguing points of code. They had the look of people who’d been sent outside to wait.

  “There’s a problem in the temple,” a man in a gray robe told Thiego when questioned. He gave Iliana a curious look before continuing. “The Master of Whispers sent us out. There was a watchman who entered—”

  “Entered the temple?” Thiego said, voice sharp. “Naila let a watchman enter? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, and more men came later to haul away crates.”

  Thiego cursed. “Who were these men?”

  The cabalist shook his head. “More watchmen. I didn’t recognize them.”

  Suspicion bloomed as Iliana thought about the fighting last fall, when Lord de Armas’s lieutenant seized command of the upper watch. “Former military? That kind of watchmen?”

  “I don’t know. Some geometers went inside after the first man entered and—”

  Iliana turned to Thiego. “We have to stop them. If de Armas’s men are trying to take artifacts out of the city . . . I need to find Pedro and tell him to close the bridge. To warn my master.”

  It was a long hike through the Forty to the Quinta terrace, and she’d have to run the whole way on legs already shaky from the exhausting climb in and out of the Rift. She turned to go.

  Thiego grabbed her arm. “No, I need you here.” He addressed the cabalist. “Dorano, isn’t it? I need a message carried to the Torre estate.”

  “But you didn’t hear everything, Master,” Dorano said. “It’s not what you think. There was trouble in the temple—that’s why Naila sent us out. Two geometers got into something they shouldn’t have.”

  “What are you talking about?” Thiego demanded. “Which geometers?”

  “I tried to tell you. Kara and Maralisa—they triggered an artifact and it exploded. It killed Kara,” Dorano added.

  “By the Elders,” Thiego said, eyes bugging. “And Maralisa?”

  “She ran for her life. We couldn’t stop her—nobody knows where she’s gone off to, but the master thinks the artifact scrambled her brain. Maralisa could be dangerous to herself and others, and she might have taken artifacts with her. So Naila boxed the artifacts that caused the problem and sent them down to the watchtowers for safekeeping until she can be sure it’s no longer a danger. We’re scouring the city for Maralisa to bring her back and see what can be done for her.”

  Thiego groaned. “And you believed this story?”

  Dorano blinked. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because she’s a liar, that’s why.”

  “Where is Naila now?” Iliana asked.

  “Still in the temple. Clearing out more exploding artifacts.” Dorano eyed her again. “What are you doing here anyway, and why do you have an artifact?”

  Iliana ignored the question and breathed a sigh of relief that Naila was in the temple, instead of outside creating mischief. “We can still get a message through if we hurry,” she told Thiego.

  Thiego addressed the other cabalist. “I’ll explain everything later. Run to the Torre estate and deliver a message to Lord Carbón. Tell him exactly this: artifacts have been stolen from the temple, and I need the bridge closed.”

  Dorano looked confused. “You mean the Great Span? Tell Lord Torre, you mean.”

  “No,” Thiego said sharply. “Tell Daniel Torre nothing. Tell Lord Carbón. He will be at the Torre estate, but give the message straight to him, not to anyone else. Do you understand?”

  Dorano still seemed baffled, and Iliana had to remind herself that she and Thiego had been sharing all their doubts, but a lower-level cabalist or acolyte—whatever the man was—would have no reason to doubt Naila’s word about what had happened to Kara and Maralisa. In any event, Dorano didn’t seem to be panicking, but made off at a swift pace. That was good. All the same, she was glad their enemy was inside the temple, and not setting off after Dorano to waylay him from delivering the message.

  “I can’t believe Kara is dead,” Thiego said when Dorano was gone. “My God, why did I leave my friends alone with that monster?”

  Iliana remembered that Kara had been with him at the mines the night the artifact emerged. Losing her would be a serious blow. Something close to rage was burning on his face.

  “We don’t know for sure,” Iliana said. “Probably another one of Naila’s lies. More likely Naila attacked the geometers when they questioned her about the artifacts. Maralisa escaped and Kara is in there facing who knows what.”

  “If Naila is harming her . . . by the Elders.”

  Iliana put a hand on his arm to let him know where she stood. “What do you say we go in and rescue her?”
/>   Chapter Seventeen

  Iliana nervously played with the heavy ring on her finger as she followed Thiego up the stairs to the temple, wishing she had something better than the dagger she’d worn into the Rift—really more of a long knife than a serious weapon. Thiego had his hand in his satchel, and she could only hope he had some device of the Elders that could immobilize Naila if she refused to leave voluntarily.

  An unpleasant odor filled her nostrils as they pushed open the doors. The first whiff reminded her of the foul-smelling alley where her brother had been murdered. The murderer had stuffed Rafael’s body into one of the tanks that collected waste from the upper terraces to be shoveled out by night soil collectors. That initial smell was followed a moment later by a sharper and more durable odor that reminded her of rain puddling in a filthy coal car.

  Moving in the darkness, she stepped in something soft and slippery. She moved away and wiped her boot on the flagstone.

  “Ugh, what is that?”

  Thiego went around the front room, turning up gaslights, and Iliana looked at what she’d stepped in. On the ground near the door was a puddle of what looked like dead, eviscerated eels, looking as if they’d been wrapped with twine and cooked into a single, sloppy mass. Iliana had smeared some of it across the floor in a bloody streak.

  She bent over for a closer look, and immediately withdrew in shock. There was part of a face, clumps of hair, an eye that had melted off and drifted away in a puddle of the slime. But no bones, only rubbery flesh and organs.

  “What is it?” Thiego asked, returning.

  “Stay back. No, don’t look.”

  Thiego drew up short. “Oh my God. It’s Kara. No!”

  Even as the sickening realization sank in that Iliana had stepped on Thiego’s friend and fellow geometer, apparently melted into a slurry, something moving around the perimeter of the room caught her eye. There was a flicker of light and what was almost, but not quite, a shadow. It appeared, then vanished.

  “There’s something here.” She pointed.

  “Hurry,” he said quickly. “Turn the ring upside down, right to left, and then back again.”

  She obeyed. The gaslights turned green and cast everything in a sickly light. Something was slithering along the flagstones where the floor met the wall, coming their direction, indigo-blue in contrast to the yellow-green light.

  “What is it?” Thiego demanded. “What do you see? Where?”

  Iliana pointed. “There, on the ground. I don’t know what it is. A witherer?” She glanced behind her to the temple doors, which were still ajar, wanting to run for it.

  Thiego pulled out an oblong object the size and color of a tomato and squeezed it. Drops of black liquid fell to the floor and puffed into smoke. He rolled the object across the floor to where Iliana had indicated movement.

  “Look away!” he warned.

  She did so just as a bright flash filled the room and coalesced around a figure that appeared first as a shadow and finally as Naila, who sneered when she noticed that she’d been exposed.

  The Master of Whispers carried a tube-like object that could only be a gun, though with a curious shape and sheen to the barrel and gunstock. Naila’s other hand grasped something that spilled tendrils of shadow and must have been concealing her as she crept around the room. She wore a red cape over trousers and a linen shirt, much like the way she’d dressed while still a member of the Torre household.

  Naila slipped the shadowy object into a pocket of her pants and gestured at the slop of melted body parts that had once been Kara. “I told your friend to stay outside, that it was too dangerous in here. So sad.” Her tone was oily and insincere. “If only she’d listened to me, poor woman—I’m afraid she died unnecessarily. What a tragic accident.”

  “You lying, filthy blasphemer,” Thiego said. “You killed her.”

  “I never said I didn’t. And it was a pleasure to do it. I’d have melted Maralisa, too, if she hadn’t escaped while I was admiring my work.”

  “What kind of monster are you?” Iliana said.

  A long, slow smile spread across Naila’s face, so smug and self-satisfied that Iliana wanted to tear it off her face. “You should have seen Kara—it was amusing. Hilarious. The bones dissolved out of her legs, and she fell screaming to the ground. The next time I fired my gun, her whole face melted.”

  Naila made a grotesque expression, eyes rolled back in their sockets, mouth agape, and shuddered like she was having a seizure. “Ooh, ah! Help me!” She laughed.

  “You’ll die for that,” Thiego said. “I swear to God I’ll do it myself.”

  Naila’s face expressed a fake sort of sorrow as she lifted her weapon and pointed it at his chest. “Someone is going to die, but it won’t be me.”

  “Wait!” Iliana cried.

  “You’ll die too, cousin,” Naila said without taking her eye from Thiego. “But I’ll give you a chance to run if you want. Go for the temple stairs, if you can. It will be entertaining to watch your legs turn to jelly, to hear your screams as you slide down to the plaza. You’ll have a few moments to think about how I offered you a chance to be my acolyte before I liquefy your brains.”

  Iliana let the words spill out, knowing she might only have seconds. “Something has happened. You have to know about that before you do anything. Listen to me. We went into the Rift, saw the artifact, learned things.”

  “Who is we?”

  “The two of us. And Lord Carbón. The Basdeenian engineer.”

  “You took a foreigner? Fools. It’s a shame the artifact didn’t kill you all to save me the trouble.”

  “It’s not going to kill anyone,” Iliana said. “We know how to control it, how to take the dynamic fire it generates and use it to run dynamos and all manner of engines.”

  “I have no idea what any of that means, and I don’t particularly care. What good are engines?”

  “Because of the Elders,” Thiego said. “Because of the Fourth Plenty.”

  “There is no Fourth Plenty.”

  “But there will be,” he said. “That’s what we’re trying to tell you. It will change everything, bring about peace and prosperity. Magic and science like we can only dream of. For us, for Basdeen, for the Dianans and anyone else who will join us peacefully, even the Scoti.”

  “You’re a bigger idiot than I thought,” Naila said. “I won’t be sharing the artifact with Basdeen or anyone else. It will stay in the Rift where it belongs, untouched and unvisited. That is the new code, as of now. Nobody goes into the Rift under pain of death, not even members of the Luminoso.”

  “Haven’t you heard anything we’ve said?” Iliana cried. “This is the dawn of a new plenty. By the Elders, don’t you see?”

  “The Fourth Plenty? Who wants that? I have everything I need right here. Once de Armas melts the armies of the Scoti, he’ll come back, and we’ll flush the Quinta, the watch, anyone who stands in our way. The Luminoso will command the city, with de Armas’s forces to enforce my rule.” Something changed in her voice. “But you won’t be here to see it.”

  “Hold out the ring!” Thiego cried.

  Naila tightened her finger on the trigger of her gun, and there was a slight buzzing sound. Thiego flinched. At the same time, Iliana lifted her hand and leaped in front of the gun barrel.

  The buzzing sound increased until it sounded like a thousand angry wasps. Horror dropped into her stomach like a fistful of lead discs, and she readied herself to be melted.

  The buzzing stopped, and Iliana gaped, stunned to discover she was still alive. The middle finger of her left hand throbbed as if hit by a hammer, but she was otherwise unharmed. The metal of the ring had turned black.

  Naila shook her weapon, her expression blossoming into rage. “Out of my way, you worthless bitch.” She squeezed the trigger again, and cursed when it didn’t immediately discharge.

  Thiego groped in his satchel. “Move back!” he told Iliana. “The ring only works once.”

  He yanked out one
of the thin, shiny blankets he’d passed out in the Rift and flapped the ends to spread it out. Iliana ducked behind it and they backed their way toward the door while Naila, cursing, turned over the weapon and flipped at nobs on the stock, as if trying to figure out how to reload it.

  They pushed through the door and fled down the stairs. Naila came after them, and let out a cry of triumph. Iliana and Thiego turned, blanket between them, and held the flimsy thing up like a shield just as the woman aimed the gun and fired a second time. The material fluttered as if caught by a breeze, but nothing got through. Moments later, Thiego was crumpling the metallic sheet and stuffing it into his satchel while they pushed through the gawking acolytes, and on through the crowd of residents who had stopped their movement to stare up at the commotion on the temple steps.

  Once Iliana and Thiego had escaped the plaza, they fled up through the alleys and staircases of the Forty, took one of the lanes that led past the Diamante house, and then went along a winding pathway of stone steps that carried them onto the Quinta. Finally, after passing through a cut in the stone that gave better shelter, they stopped to catch their breath from the heart-pounding climb.

  Iliana bent over double to catch her breath, then rose moments later, ready to go again, her burning calves be damned. Thiego was still heaving, and shook his head no, gasping, unable to speak for several seconds.

  “The Elders save me,” Thiego said. More gasps. “I still can’t believe it. She melted Kara . . . why?”

  His shoulders shuddered, and Iliana pulled him to her as he broke down, half-crying, half-wheezing for air.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I know how you must feel.”

  Her guts clenched as she thought of her own brother that day they’d pulled him from the sewage tank. And then she remembered the stricken look on Pedro’s face when they’d fed his beloved uncle’s body to the crows. Naila had much to answer for.