Smoke and Summons (Numina Book 1)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

  Gaping, she flipped the file open. It was all right there, with her parents and grandparents and Talbur listed above her. No mention of Anon. But this was hers. They had taken it.

  Here was the proof that she existed. She was a legal resident.

  But . . . Kazen hadn’t kidnapped her. He’d purchased her from slavers.

  So why did he have her citizen record?

  Sandis’s grip on the file loosened. Two papers fell out from the small stack.

  A gunshot in the hallway pierced her ears. The shouting fell silent.

  Galt was going to come back.

  She scooped up the papers and shoved them into the file, but a name caught her eye. A name she recognized easily and without struggle: Gwenwig.

  She froze. Pulled free the grayish paper. The top margin read, Gold Exchange, and beneath it, Elvita Bank and Trust.

  This was the paper. The one that had started it all.

  It shook in her hands as she found Talbur Gwenwig’s name, three lines from the top. District Three, Fourteen Magdara.

  An address.

  The door burst open. Sandis shoved the files and the key into the drawer but didn’t have time to put the drawer back into the desk.

  “What are you doing?” Galt asked, red faced from whatever had happened in the hallway. He grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and heaved her upward, forgetting he’d cuffed her to the drawer. The steel cuff bit into her wrist when he tried to shove her into the wall. He spat a nasty string of words, fumbled for the cuff key, and freed her from the weight.

  He shoved her into the wall. Pressed his forearm into her neck.

  “Trying to be sneaky?” His voice was low, and his breath smelled like meat. “Do you think you have any power here?”

  Galt’s other hand came up and squeezed her breast. Sandis flinched; Galt smiled. “You know,” he whispered, more to her mouth than to her ear, “I could have my way with you and tell Kazen that rat of yours did it.”

  Her breakfast boiled in her stomach. She met his eyes. “He’s already summoned on me. He’d flay you from crotch to eye socket if you tried.”

  Galt’s face darkened.

  “I do hope,” Kazen’s voice began, and Galt instantly released Sandis and reeled back like she was a snake, “that you’re treating my vessel well, Galt.” Kazen strode in and removed his hat from his head. He pulled a handkerchief from his vest pocket and used it to wipe off a splatter of blood on his cheek.

  Galt glued his gaze to the floor. “Just keeping her in her place.”

  Sandis hugged herself.

  “Hmm.” Kazen paused beside Galt and dropped his handkerchief, letting it fall at his assistant’s feet. “Do see that I don’t have to keep you in yours.”

  Galt nodded mutely and picked up the cloth, shoving it into his pocket.

  When Sandis pulled her gaze away from the handkerchief, she saw Kazen looking at her almost . . . cheerfully. “Don’t worry about that ruckus, my dear. I had to finish procuring your replacement, and his owner didn’t approve of my method of bargaining. It’s been dealt with.”

  Sandis blinked, the words churning through her head too slowly. “My replacement?”

  His meaning hit her like a gunshot. Chills coursed down her cheeks, neck, arms, thighs. Her skeleton seemed to disappear from within her. Her fingers numbed; her tongue thickened.

  Why hadn’t she realized it before? Replacement. Kazen wanted to use her to summon Kolosos, but her body could not be used for any other numen so long as it was bound to Ireth.

  A hard sob ripped up her throat. She backed away from Kazen, from Galt, until she hit the table in the back of the room. “No, please, no,” she begged, but her words sounded broken and small. “Please, Kazen.” She dropped to her knees. Reached behind her neck to the name inked at its base, as if she could shield it. “Please don’t do this!”

  Kazen sighed. “See what you can do, Galt. I’d like to get this done now, without reinforcements.”

  Galt reached for her.

  “No!” she screamed, and she struck out at him with her arms and legs. She tried to reach for her forehead to summon Ireth, but Galt seized her wrist. She attempted the move Arnae had taught her, but Galt’s strength far exceeded her own. He hauled her upright and grabbed her in the vise of his arms. “No!” Her throat bled with the volume of her shouts. “No! Kazen, no! Stop!”

  Not Ireth. Not Ireth.

  Ireth was all she had left.

  Galt slammed her onto the table, belly down. She hit her chin, and her canine pierced her bottom lip.

  She flailed, tried to push herself up. Galt pressed his weight into her until she couldn’t breathe. Until her body threatened to snap from the pressure. She didn’t feel Kazen strap down her legs until the cloth pulled tight across her calves.

  Tears puddled on the tabletop. “Listen to me, please!” she begged. “Kazen, listen! You can’t do this! Galt! Stop!”

  Kazen pulled straps over her shoulders and, as he cinched them, said, “This is for a greater purpose, Sandis. You’ll understand soon enough. I’ll expose their lies to everyone.” He leaned toward her ear. “I’ll show them I was right.”

  Galt moved behind her, grabbing something from that cupboard. He handed a bottle to Kazen, who dumped the contents onto the base of Sandis’s exposed neck.

  She pulled at the restraints, and actually managed to move one of them.

  “Galt.” Kazen’s bland tone reeked of disappointment.

  Galt climbed onto the table and sat on her, straddling her, pinning her hands with his legs.

  Sandis tried to scream, but Galt’s weight pushed all the air out of her lungs. She tried to move, but she was utterly and completely trapped.

  Kazen lifted some sort of scraper, maybe a razor, crafted out of obsidian. Pressed it to her skin.

  Ireth? Ireth, can you hear me? Are you there? I’m so sorry, I—

  The blade dragged across her skin, pinching like a fingernail. Only a small section of it; the corner of the fire horse’s name. That was all it took; a simple mistake in his name, and the magic disintegrated.

  Sandis’s core shrunk in on itself, cold, dark, and empty.

  Kazen pulled back, looking pleased. When Galt lifted himself from her, Sandis didn’t move. Didn’t scream. Barely breathed.

  Just like that. Ireth was gone.

  Gone.

  Gone.

  Now she was truly, purely, and absolutely alone.

  Chapter 24

  His mother looked so much better. Almost like herself.

  Though her apartment had been ransacked, Rone had the money to buy her a house. He’d decided on an inn room on the south side of Dresberg, where he’d proceeded to order his mother anything she could possibly want and had four new dresses delivered to her. She was regaining her health quickly, though the cough she’d developed in Gerech still stuck with her.

  She just needs good air, he told himself as their hired carriage rocked back and forth on the uneven road. Apparently not enough people came to the pass in the Fortitude Mountains for the government to put any money into keeping it up. Some good air and sunshine and she’ll heal right up.

  It was this pollution. This grime. This place. They were a long ways from Dresberg and its soot-spewing factories, but the sky was still gray and overcast. The land was dreary. His stomach bled with the constant rolling of that damnable ball.

  His mother looked so much better. He clung to that fact.

  She held a book in her hands, something she’d been eyeing in the gift shop outside the inn, so Rone had bought it for her. She was near the end now, but her gaze looked out the window at the passing landscape: jagged hills, few trees, little green. Even in the summer, everything looked gray and brown and sad.

  Rone pressed his fingers into his eyes, his thoughts drifting back to Dresberg. What did her smile look like? God’s tower, he couldn’t remember her smile . . .

  “Rone?”

  He dropped his hand and blinked spots from
his eyes. “Hm?”

  His mother frowned at him. “Did you drink that tea?”

  The medicinal garbage she’d gotten at the last inn? “Yeah.”

  Her head shook like she didn’t believe him. “You look terrible.”

  She’d told him that more than once. How sick he looked. How pale.

  Half-consciously rubbing his stomach, Rone said, “I’m fine. Just travel sick.”

  He saw the same question in her eyes. How did you get the papers? She’d wept upon first seeing them, but he’d avoided answering her every question about how he’d obtained them, how he’d freed her. Even after living her own personal horror, his mother was smart enough to recognize his evasion. She hadn’t pushed it. But over the last few days, some skepticism had crept in. Maybe because Rone should have been more excited.

  The ball dug in hard, making him jump. The rocking of the carriage masked the action. His mother looked back to her book.

  “What’s happening now?” he asked.

  She offered a small smile and talked about how the Serranese duke in the novel had finally realized his mistake and was riding hard to beat a bad storm and profess his love for the duchess.

  Rone pressed a thumb into his stomach to stop that ball. They had almost reached the border. It was almost over.

  And his mother looked so much better.

  Rone had thought he understood the enormity of the wall of mountains separating Kolingrad from the rest of the world.

  How wrong he had been.

  As the carriage pulled closer and closer to the behemoths, and Rone leaned more and more out the window, he realized he couldn’t see the sky. Only the mountains, steep and relentless and reaching up until the clouds swallowed their peaks. The carriage slowed as its horses struggled to pull it up the incline. The snapping of the driver’s whip echoed in his ears.

  They won’t hurt her, he told himself. She said so herself.

  He clenched his teeth together to keep from throwing up.

  It felt like eternity before the driver called, “Whoa!” and Rone was able to open the door to his carriage—cage—and stretch his legs and back. He offered a hand to his mother, who held her book under one arm. As soon as she had her feet under her, Rone went to the back of the carriage and grabbed their single trunk. Everything else they needed they could get once they were through the pass.

  It wasn’t much to look at. The Fortitude Mountains stood as impenetrable sentinels, free of flora of any kind. They parted for a narrow gap manned by a cluster of bored guards. A smattering of tents a ways off held more guards, one of whom roasted some sort of bird on a cooking spit over a small fire. About half a mile northeast was a single-story trading post and, beside it, a two-story inn with an attached immigration office. Directly ahead of them, to the side of the pass, was a small corral of mules and horses and a shed the size of Rone’s bedroom, with a large window cut into the door.

  “See there.” The driver indicated two small carriages next to the corral. “Those will take you through. At least another day until you reach Godobia. Got your papers?”

  Rone checked his jacket pocket, but he didn’t need to. He’d felt for those papers dozens of times since receiving them. He hadn’t taken the jacket off once, even to sleep.

  He absently checked for the amarinth as well, then nodded.

  The driver offered a close-lipped smile, an expression of well-wishing and envy at the same time. He patted Rone’s back, then returned to the carriage to tend to his horses.

  Fingers slipped into his, and for half a heartbeat, he was sure they were Sandis’s.

  “We’re here,” his mother said, a grin pulling up her lips. It was the happiest he’d seen her in a while. Maybe even since his father left. She squeezed his hand. “Or, we’re almost there.”

  Rone offered her a smile and led her toward the corral. She was positively beaming, yet he couldn’t match her mood. He cursed God in his thoughts for preventing even this simple happiness. Cursed himself.

  They didn’t get far up the road before two armored men wearing sail-less boats on their breastplates approached and asked them for documentation. He handed it over, looking past them to the small army guarding the pass.

  The guards appeared content—impressed, even—and handed the paper back. A breath Rone had held deep in his gut rushed from his mouth. The paperwork had seemed legitimate, but until now a worry had wriggled in the back of his mind that Kazen had screwed him over.

  The bastard had likely thought his goons would be successful in stealing them—and the amarinth—from Rone’s corpse. At least Rone had been able to thwart him there.

  Handing back the paperwork, the guard said, “It will be inspected a second time at the pass, and stamped. If you want to return, you’ll have to do it in the next five weeks.”

  “Why is that?” asked his mother.

  The guard tapped his finger on the upper-left corner of the paper. An expiration date. Because nothing in Kolingrad could be absolute, could it?

  His mother shook her head. “That’s all right. I don’t think we’ll be coming back.”

  The guard nodded his understanding. “If you’re riding, you’ll need to see the stable master.” He gestured toward the corral. “Walking, come with me.”

  “Riding, thanks.” Rone didn’t think his mother could walk the entire pass, and the sooner she got to Godobia, the better.

  The sooner they got to Godobia.

  He offered his mother his arm and helped her up the growing incline. Talked to the stable master, who owned the two small cabs they’d noticed earlier. Only two were needed, the man explained, since they didn’t get a lot of coming and going this way outside of exportation, and merchants always brought their own vehicles. Rone paid the rent for a cab and horses and waited impatiently as the animals were hooked up.

  He glanced north, toward Dresberg.

  “Here.” His mother offered him some crackers from her bag. “You look terrible. Maybe you should eat something. Or there’s a water pump over there.”

  Rone folded his arms. “I’m fine.” The ball in his gut doubled in size, making him lean forward in pain.

  She frowned. Tucked the crackers back into her bag. “You just need fresh air, I’ll bet.” She shivered at the sentiment. She hadn’t even gotten stale air while caged in her prison cell. Underground, where she had no hope of escape—

  Oh God, he thought. She’s never going to see the stars again.

  The ball bit into his flesh. Rone leaned forward and groaned.

  “Rone?” His mother pressed a hand to the back of his head. “Rone? What’s wrong? Excuse me!” she called to someone else. “Could I please get some water? For . . . yes, thank you.”

  Rone shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

  “What was that?”

  Rone stood, his mother’s touch slowly pulling from him as he did so. “It’s my fault.”

  Her brows pinched together. “What is?”

  “You. Gerech.” He pushed his hands into his hair, nearly tearing it from his scalp. He turned away, then back. “I did it, Mom. The headpiece. I’m the one who stole it.”

  He expected her eyes to widen or her face to pale, but she merely pressed her lips together and nodded. “I had wondered.”

  She might as well have punched him in the gut.

  Tears stung the back of his eyes. He gripped his mother’s shoulders. “Mom, I never blamed you. It was a setup. I didn’t know they knew my real name, and—”

  “Oh, Rone.” She cupped his face in her hands. “I forgave you the moment the thought passed through my mind.”

  He hung his head. He couldn’t handle this. Any of this. He might as well sink into the ground and never come up for air.

  “What I don’t understand is the papers, and how you got me out. They told me I had no bail—”

  Rone lifted his head. “It’s . . . a long story. Too long to tell you right now.” The stable master led the horses and cab up to them, oblivious to th
eir conversation. Rone sucked in a deep breath to stoke his courage. “Needless to say I did something bad to get you in there, but I did something even worse to get you out.”

  She finally gave him the expression he’d been waiting for. The whites of her eyes were bright against the tawny rings of her irises.

  Rone pulled the documents out of his coat and counted them, twice, to make sure he hadn’t missed a single page. Handed his mother’s to her. “Go. Settle wherever you want.” He handed her half the contents of his bulging wallet. “And write to me. If you write to me, I’ll explain everything.”

  She gaped at the money. “What? Rone.” She grabbed his shirtsleeve. “I don’t understand.”

  He clasped her shoulders and pressed his forehead to hers. “There are sentries all along the path. No bandits. You have enough money to hire an assistant if you’d like. I have to go back. I can’t stall. She’s been there for too long already.”

  Was he already too late?

  Tears brimmed his mother’s eyes. “She? I don’t understand.”

  “I know.” The ball trundled, but it was smaller now, and it sat higher in his stomach. “I know. I’m so sorry. But you’ll get your freedom, and you’ll write to me, and I’ll come to you. I am not leaving you, do you understand?” He pulled her into his embrace. “As long as I’m alive, I will never leave you. I’m so sorry. I should have . . .”

  He didn’t know what he should have done. All he knew was that he hadn’t done it.

  “Please trust me,” he whispered.

  After a moment, his mother pulled back, examining his face like he was a stranger. The lines between her eyebrows softened. “You’ve been so different lately.” Yet she nodded. “I’ll go. I’ll write to the same address?”

  “Write to yours,” he said.

  She placed a hand over his heart, a glint of uncertainty still in her brown eyes. “Don’t hurt yourself, Rone.”

  Slipping his hand into his pocket, Rone tangled his fingers with the loops of the amarinth. “I won’t.”