But what had happened to him after that, I can’t remember.
And then I remind myself that isn’t the point anyway. I’m hanging upside down in a xiren meat locker, probably to be fed to their queen as a toothsome treat once they fill me full of their venom. If they haven’t already.
Something clicks and hisses along the corridor outside. From my position it looks like something comes crawling in on the ceiling, even though I know it’s the floor. It’s about the size of a large dog or small pony. It walks on eight legs and looks mostly like a spider, except that it has a human face. Or what passes for it. I can see too that bits of it are welded together; hoses and soldered pipes connect the head to the spider body. They are making hybrids.
My stomach rumbles again, and a vile taste hits the back of my throat.
I shut my eyes, hoping it won’t notice that I’m awake.
I feel it poke at me with a metallic foot. “I know you’re awake, Tinker,” it says. “You can’t fool me.”
Still I keep my eyes closed.
“Doesn’t matter,” the thing mutters. Its voice bubbles and hisses as if it can’t quite get control of it. I hear it hack and spit out a gob of something on the floor. I swallow the bile in my mouth.
It pokes at me harder, and I can’t help but twist, helpless in my cocoon. I can smell its poisonous breath.
“You aren’t done yet,” it says. “The Queen has special plans for you.”
I crack open an eye. It’s all I can do not to scream at the slobbering face pressed close to mine. “Special plans?” I choke. I feel like I could soil myself in terror, except the idea of what would happen if I did that upside down is just unpleasant enough to give me the control not to.
“Yes. Your uncle has spoken highly of you to Her Majesty. You will be fed only on her venom so that you may tell her whether the army she is raising has a chance of victory.”
“Well, I don’t really need her venom for that, thanks. The answer is yes.”
The hybrid-thing cuffs me in the face with one of its whip-steel legs. I feel a slash open on my cheek.
“We are not talking of your puny Empress across the River. Ximu will take New London easily. We are talking of the army that sits in the north.”
“Army in the north? What army in the north?”
The thing puts its face so close to mine that when it speaks, acidic spittle burns my face. “You will know soon enough. Or else you will be little more than meat for the Queen’s brood.”
There’s a sharp pain in my neck, and I descend into nightmares—a flaming dirigible, white halls made of bone, a forlorn woman sweeping tombs under a dark sky.
But there is one dream. Olivia, sweet Olivia, in my arms.
My next visitor is even more unpleasant.
“Cut him down.” It’s my uncle, and at first I’m confused because he is dead. I remember him dying. And then I realize that I don’t remember that at all, that my dreams have been so full of death that I don’t know what’s real anymore.
Then I’m being cut down, and thin spider arms are carrying me, sitting me upright against a wall. I’m still bound, so I can’t really move much, but the relief of not being upside down almost makes me want to weep.
My neck aches terribly, and nausea rumbles through my stomach. I have no idea when I last ate, but I feel as though something has slowly been digesting me for days. A very unsettling thought.
“Syrus.”
I open my eyes. I didn’t realize I’d closed them.
“Listen to me, waisheng. I know how wrong this must seem to you, but believe me that I had no choice. We were taken from the Refinery during the chaos by xiren agents. The Manticore’s death and the Heart’s freedom lowered the wards and allowed them through.”
“I don’t understand.” It’s very hard to speak. My tongue is thick either with thirst or poison.
“Just know this—we had no choice. It was either do as the xiren bid or die.”
I squint at him because everything has suddenly gone fuzzy. “Oh, I think you had a choice. And you made the wrong one.”
“Queen Ximu has a plan for us. When the choice is offered and you see what you can become, I think you’ll change your mind,” Gen says.
“I already am what I want to be,” I say.
“We shall see,” he says. He turns to one of the hybrids waiting near him. “Truss him back up. He’s not ready yet.”
I hear his boots crunching on the cave floor as he walks away. “Gen!” I shout, but it comes out more like a croak. My throat is lined with cotton. “Gen! Don’t leave me! Don’t—”
The hybrids seal my mouth shut with their sticky threads.
CHAPTER 10
It was close to morning when Doctor Parnassus arrived. The satyr came with dryads and servants and a heavily-armed escort; there was even a Minotaur among them who sported a wicked-looking axe.
Vespa ushered them in without preamble. Except the Minotaur, of course, who stationed himself outside the door.
Bayne came to greet the doctor, shaking his hairy hand.
“I received your letter, Pedant,” the satyr said. “We have much to discuss.”
“So it would seem.”
The satyr looked around him, swinging his horned head as if trying to catch a scent. “I suspect the patient is upstairs?”
So the rumors were true, Vespa thought. Satyrs did indeed have an excellent sense of smell, which was probably why they’d once been used as poison tasters in the former court of the Emperor before they’d gotten so scarce.
“This way, sir,” she said. She led them upstairs. The dryads and the doctor filed in, but before Vespa could join them, one of the dryads closed the door gently in her face.
Downstairs, Bayne was musing over tea in the parlor while Truffler warmed himself by the fire.
“I think it’s time we went after Syrus,” Bayne said.
“But what about Olivia?” Vespa asked.
“I doubt anything is getting through that Minotaur in broad daylight.”
Vespa hesitated. “Shouldn’t we seek Her Majesty’s permission this time?” She didn’t want to remind him what had almost happened last time they’d gone off on their own.
Then she heard the satyr’s hooves on the stairs. One of his dryad attendants helped him on with his coat, and another handed him his cane.
“Doctor?” Vespa said, taking a step toward him.
He looked down his mulish nose at her. “Pedants,” he said to her and Bayne, “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do.”
“What do you mean?” Vespa said. A deep shudder began inside her. She was torn between being paralyzed by fear and wanting to run up the stairs.
“I cannot treat this. I think that perhaps you’d be better served to get yourself an Artificer.”
“An Artificer?” Bayne asked, frowning as he rose from the settee. “Whatever do you mean?”
Doctor Parnassus looked around. “Haven’t you got a Tinker about? I think he’d be far more help with your problem than I would be.”
“He’s been taken captive by the xiren,” Vespa said.
“All the gods help us, then,” the satyr said. He finished adjusting his coat and perched his little bowler hat between his horns.
“Doctor—” Bayne began.
The satyr held up a dark palm. “Now I must say no more, Pedant. Her Majesty asked for my confidence, and I’ve given you more information than I should have. Retrieve your Artificer. He will help more than I can.”
He shook his head then, muttering about what had happened to education and etiquette in these dreadful times.
Vespa wished Syrus was here. Would the doctor have spoken more freely to him? Why had the doctor said Syrus would be of more help than he could?
“I shall see you both on the morrow at Council, I hope,” Doctor Parnassus said. “Good morning.” He nodded briskly and was out the door. His dryads followed, casting them embarrassed looks and dropping leaves over the threshold as they departed
.
Bayne and Vespa looked at each other and both hurried up the stairs as quickly as they could.
Olivia was sitting upright in bed, drinking a cup of tea. The bite had been covered with a bandage. She looked pale and a bit feverish but otherwise fully herself.
“Pedants, good morning,” she said, smiling.
Vespa and Bayne looked at each other. What in the world had the doctor meant?
“It is indeed a good morning, Your Majesty,” Bayne said, bowing.
Olivia glanced at the maid who was hovering. The maid took the message and shut the door behind her as she went out on the landing.
“What’s happened? Where is Syrus?” Olivia looked back and forth between them, fear creeping into her expression.
“What do you remember, Majesty?”
She touched the bandage at her throat before saying, “Something—spider-beings—fell upon my guard and slaughtered them. I was bitten, but Syrus and Truffler saved me. Is he . . . ?”
“We don’t know,” Vespa said. “Truffler believes him to still be alive. With your permission, we plan to find out.” She carefully avoided looking at Bayne. They still hadn’t mentioned their failed attempt at spying. She doubted now that there was any need.
“Granted.” Olivia nodded and then winced at the pain. “But first, Syrus said there was a message hidden in the Phoenix. What was it? Did you find anything further?”
Bayne shook his head. “We can’t yet read it. It’s written in the sacred language of Saint Boole. We’ve done a few preliminary spells. We’ve examined the type of writing paper and the graphology. We need someone who is good at ciphers.”
“I love ciphers!” Olivia said. “Let me see it. It will give me something to do while you’re gone.”
Bayne took the tiny scroll from his pocket and unfurled it for Olivia. She took it, spreading it on the coverlet between her hands.
“Interesting,” Olivia said. “I suspected there was more to the envoy’s visit than a simple invitation.”
“We will happily do more to solve it when we return,” Bayne said. “I think you will be well enough here; there are guards and servants aplenty, and we have put a heavy charm on the house to protect you.”
“Yes, please go and find Syrus. And all of you return in one piece,” Olivia said. She held out her hands to them. Vespa took the hand proffered her and squeezed it before letting go and bowing. Bayne did the same.
“Be well and bring Syrus home to us,” Olivia said.
“Your Majesty,” they both said.
Despite the danger, Bayne wanted to use the cover of night to sneak into the old City. “We’ve lost any advantage we already had. They’ll expect something. Night and the dark powers may hide us better than the tides of day will help. We can take glamours once we’re inside.”
Vespa frowned at this. “Are you certain?” They had never really tried anything like this before. The closest thing she could recall was when they’d discovered the secret entrance to the Tower Refinery and nearly gotten themselves captured by the Raven Guard. They’d had a better idea then of what they were walking into. This time, they knew nothing.
He smoothed the old map of New London on the table. “I’ve tested as well as I can where the field is weakest—”
“How?” Vespa interrupted.
“Very delicate, prodding magic,” Bayne said. He continued, “I think if we go up along the River to the shallower parts near the Tower, we should be able to cross without incident. I want to use as little magic as possible until we need it most.”
“Cross the River? We’re going to swim it? In the dark?”
Bayne nodded. “It’s risky, I’ll admit. And if you don’t want to go . . .”
Vespa rubbed her arms for warmth. The library was chilly with the memory of the freezing River. “No, I’ll go. Just . . . don’t get rid of my clothes again.”
He smiled. “I’ll try not to, so long as you aren’t intent on drowning.”
Bayne had lost the satchel of magical items in the River. All he had left were a few fireglobes and smoke mirrors, which he placed in his pockets. “These will have to do,” he said.
Vespa sensed the trepidation in his voice. It mirrored her own, even if she wouldn’t admit to it. She felt vastly underprepared without the Heart to steady her. Bayne’s earlier offer of training smarted all the more because she knew she needed it, even though she was unwilling to say so. She had been trying to limp along with books and her own private practice sessions when she and Bayne were not out investigating some Unnatural event, but something was still missing. For all that she had been told of her potential, she didn’t feel she was anywhere near meeting it.
“Well, that’s that, then,” Bayne said. Twilight had fallen outside. It was time.
Vespa could only nod. She didn’t want to give voice to the thousand fears bubbling up in her chest.
Truffler was curled on the hearth when they approached him, but he sat up as he heard their footsteps. Piskel peeped out of his basket.
“We’re going to try to find Syrus,” Vespa said. “Do either of you want to come along? There’s absolutely no shame if you don’t.”
Truffler came and took Vespa’s hand. “Bring him back.” It felt almost like a blessing; a little zing of magic went up her arm.
Piskel crawled from his basket and floated over to Vespa. He flew up to perch on her chignon, and she felt him nestle there. It reminded her of the way she’d nestled into the Heavenly Dragon’s side after Syrus returned his Heart. And now, apparently, Syrus was the one who needed rescuing.
“Right,” Bayne said.
He strongly warded the door as they left, Vespa lending him her energy to do so.
“There,” he said. “Not even a Minotaur should be able to get through that now.”
The Minotaur on guard looked down at him and snorted. “No offense,” he said.
“Shall we, then?” Bayne asked. He put out his arm and Vespa took it.
Next she felt herself melting from the street. The relief at the dissolution of her body and all her worries was so great that for a timeless moment, she wished she could stay this way forever.
They came to form on the River bank, and her heart was just as heavy out in the moonless night as it had been in the candlelit room. Would they be able to free Syrus or were they just walking straight to their own deaths? What would happen to Olivia if they failed? And what had Doctor Parnassus meant about needing an Artificer to help her?
Vespa wrestled with the questions as Bayne went to the River’s edge and stared across it. If possible, it looked even darker over there, as if a void had swallowed everything, even the stars from the sky.
“You still want us to swim this?” Vespa asked.
“We need to save all the power we can,” Bayne said.
Vespa didn’t relish being in the icy River again, nor was she happy about the prospect of slogging through the dark City in wet clothes. “Piskel, do you think you can carry our clothes across for us?” Piskel grumbled and sighed at such a menial task, but he nodded.
A long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
“Well, then,” Vespa said. “Now or never, Pedant!”
She began unbuttoning her dress and slipped out of it in the chilly night air. She hoped Piskel could carry the weight of her corset and that he’d deign to carry her drawers and chemise. Relacing the corset might be a little difficult without the doorknob, but she’d figure that out if she made it across the River intact.
She heard Bayne sliding out of his shirt and jacket—the only one he possessed now—and saw the faint gleam of his skin under the stars. He muttered about how magicking up a boat would have been easier and quicker, but he made no other complaint.
The only sound besides the occasional skezink of autumn katydids was that of Vespa’s laces being pulled from their eyelets.
Eventually they both stood in the dark, shivering. Piskel picked up one item at a time and slowly huffed and puffed i
t over to the other side.
“Now or never,” Bayne said. His grin could be heard if not seen.
Then she saw the pale flash of him running toward the water and the splash as he dove in.
She followed a bit more gingerly. She wasn’t keen on being in the River again after yesterday’s adventure, especially not in the dark.
The icy water nearly stopped her heart as she stepped from the shallows into the current. She pushed as hard as she could against the rushing water, remembering to swim across it as Syrus had tried to show her. It carried her a little downstream, but at last she was bumping up against the steeper bank and pulling herself out by the edges of slick rocks she could see in the starlight.
Bayne gripped her wrists then and pulled her up. He was wearing his trousers and shirt, but the shirt was still unbuttoned. She felt the edges of it sweep against her and she shuddered, whether from the touch of fabric or the chill, she wasn’t sure.
It took every ounce of strength she possessed not to let the force of it carry her body into him. Just the circling of his hands around her wrists made every hair stand on end with the energy of it. She could only imagine what would happen if she fell into him, if skin touched skin. A spell waited to ignite between them. It needed only the proper spark.
She lifted her head and caught the gleam of his gaze, the shadow of a wistful expression on his face.
“Your chemise, Pedant,” he said, releasing her and thrusting the garment into her hands. His voice was as icy as the River they’d just crossed.
He turned his back, ostensibly to give her privacy. Vespa wriggled into the chemise, disliking the way it clung to her damp skin. She scrambled painfully across the rocks barefoot, feeling around in the dark for the items Piskel was still lugging across the stream.
The one good thing about this, as far as she could tell, was that she was wide awake.
Piskel collapsed on a nearby rock with the delivery of her second boot. He was nearly the same color as the rock and very hard to see.
“Thank you,” she said. She tugged her damp stocking up over her knee and shoved her foot into the worn boot. She longed for the little dancing boots she’d had when she worked for Lucy Virulen, not that she’d gotten to use them much.
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