by May Peterson
Neutrality from him had to be concealing something. “You don’t care?”
The lightness of his expression hardened. “My dear boy, of course I care. After all, how may I protect and guide you, should you no longer be under my wing?” His right wing fluttered briefly, as if for emphasis.
The implied threat took a full second to slide through me. Defy his wishes, and be left a nobody, stripped of the subtle charm that wafted around those who served him. I had no real idea of what life would be like here as any creature but his. But that was far from the worst he could promise. And I had already known that a price would be paid. So time to pay it.
I gulped. “Suppose we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”
Kadzuhikhan snarled with sudden ferocity. Before I could so much as flinch, he materialized with his hands on my arms, as if the air had become him, streaked with ice-cold shadows. His cat-step left his eyes and outlines briefly flaring with amber, giving him the likeness of a demon. I pushed back instinctively, but his fingers ground into my forearm. “Here’s what we’ll find out—how durable your fucking attitude proves to be when I’m tearing it out of you with my sword. Ungrateful piece of dried-out shit, making high moral demands like you have the faintest clue—”
I let myself drop, pushing my legs down to snare his ankles. It was a blur of muscle memory, trained reaction—the abruptness of his attack shook me empty of thought. His blade wasn’t in hand, and he’d apparently not considered his foothold, because he slipped back enough that he had to release me momentarily to right myself. In that moment, I leapt back, using the air current to gather speed. Let my head stay empty. Oh, god, if I started thinking—there’d been no way to prepare. Kadzuhikhan actually threatening to kill me. I should have known, should have seen—
Kadzuhikhan bared damp fangs, vapor limning them like steam. His grip went to his scabbard—and Umber stepped forward, placed one firm hand on his arm.
The chill and scarlet of his gaze was on Kadzuhikhan now, relieving me of its weight. “Have you taken leave of your senses? I commanded you to restrain yourself. Ari is mine, and I will hear him, nonsense or no.”
Mine. As though it was meant kindly, like I might like to hear it. Each syllable that passed between them was a hammer blow to the weak foundations of my self.
Who were these people?
Kadzuhikhan looked like he wanted to spit. “I put my fucking back into sheltering your miserable fucking fledgling. And he’s going to heft that self-righteous bullshit and tell me to be nicer. Fuck you, Umber. I didn’t have to help you drag him—”
A blur of motion aborted his protest, tore lines of black across him. Flashing, fragrant red followed, wrenching a cry from him. They’d been talons—shaped in an instant, drawn across his face so quickly it was like a spell. Kadzuhikhan grabbed his face, crouched back as Umber buffeted him forward.
“Listen to me.” The heatless severity of his voice felt surreal, like it was invading my mind. He wound bloody talons in Kadzuhikhan’s collar, pulled him up. The wounds were already healing, but rage illuminated Kadzuhikhan’s brow. “What you have to do is obey me. Nothing more. You’ll reserve your outrage for those I deem fit to receive it. You’ll restrain your mighty sword arm until I tell you to move it. Without me, you’d be as lost and addled as poor Ari here, and no mistake.” The twist of his attention to me was knifelike. “You have given everything to me, and I have deigned to value your freedom all the same. Nonetheless, partner, when it comes to my servants, my birds, you will heed my will without question. Are you quite capable of understanding that?”
There was no question that he meant both of us. But neither Kadzuhikhan nor I answered. Kadzuhikhan had risen to his full height, glaring defiantly into Umber’s malice, but not resisting. I sucked in breaths that suddenly felt barbed, shredding my insides. Of course, even those who didn’t formally work under Umber were tied to him. The merchant of amnesia with the drowning godhood—he was the one who shaped the new story of Serenity. Even Kadzuhikhan’s business depended on him. I was only beginning to scent on the air the extent of Umber’s influence.
Umber’s stiff posture softened after a moment, with a puff of almost-laughter. “Ah, my loyal cat. How I’ve bruised you. Forgive my outburst.” He swept a human fingertip over the sealing line his talon had drawn, slow with ghastly affection. Kadzuhikhan remained still.
I could fly. Umber could follow, but to gain advantage, he’d have to summon his flock first. And I might be able to out-fly them. Even the cat-step wouldn’t be much of an edge against air travel. Possibilities spiraled across the background of my mind, hoping I could—
—what? Survive? With less than I’d started with. With no one, and an angry crow flock at my back. And with Hei left behind.
Umber’s head was shaking, as if with sad pity. “Tell me, Ari. How should we answer Kadzuhikhan’s complaint? Surely, your will is your own. I will not force you to continue serving me. But how shall you repay all we have given you?”
I licked my lips. Nothing seemed to come to me, no force or strength by which to withstand that ruby-edged calm. I wanted to shout that I’d already given everything that had ever been mine. That I had never been anything to them but another kind of stock, another body teeming with blood and memories and vulnerabilities. But all the passion was leaking out of me. Nothing was left to push back with.
Umber relaxed his hold, and Kadzuhikhan seemed to return to life, straightening his robe and putting distance between them. But he stood only a step away from his master. For all his bile and violence, he may as well have been leashed.
“Ah.” His lordship’s lips turned up, with something like fondness. “Yes. The boy. No doubt he is the spark for this particular flame of rebellion. You find yourself offended at Kadzuhikhan’s rough manner, so you fancy yourself to have had enough. This young man no doubt seems more ally to you now than we, despite all we’ve given you. Noble, honorable Ari.”
I tried to keep myself as unmoving as Kadzuhikhan had. He had to be able to hear the throbbing of my heart, but I didn’t have to let him witness anything else happening inside me. Of course Kadzuhikhan would have told him about our little tiff—he may have even seen Hei kiss me.
It took all the resolve I could still keep a grip on to look into his cavernous eyes. “No. The spark was simply waking up.” Dammit. Light gathered at the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision with tears. I took a breath. “Where did you find me? Why did you bring me here?” I nearly screamed the question I really wanted to ask. Did I ever really want to give up my memory, or did you just take it?
Umber seemed to be searching me, as if seeking out the cause of my defection. His reply dragged over me like a chain. “So you won’t give this up. You surrendered your past to me, but still it entices you. Why does it matter? You’re here now. Who you were before death means nothing. It was another life.”
My breath shook. “If it doesn’t matter, then tell me.”
Kadzuhikhan was looking away, both hands on his sword; the scent of silver-burned skin was filling the air.
“Hm.” Umber hummed. “You are full of demands this night.”
Maybe he would let Kadzuhikhan take me apart, one limb at a time. Moon-souls could survive almost anything, provided our bodies had time to regenerate any pieces removed. Maybe he’d take my wings. Or any memory of this—of Hei, of my flailing sense of self, of anger.
Instead, he shook his head again. And a smile, sad and poisonously sympathetic, creased his eyes. “I will.”
Kadzuhikhan’s head shot up. “What?”
My heart felt like it’d stopped. I dared not speak. He would?
“Yes.” The smile was ripening into something secret, heavy with intention. “I will let you go. I will allow you to move through this city unmolested. I will even help you secure shelter. And I will tell you who you were. The person who became you upon death. All this, I
will grant. But whether you recall or not, we had a bargain when I took your memory. If I am to give a piece of it back, there must be some exchange. Only one thing I will ask in return.”
My wings folded inward, cupping the base of my body as if reflexively shielding me. “Say it.”
He leaned toward me. “Your boy. Hei. I want you to bring him to me.”
The moment he said Hei’s name it was like the tundra had opened up inside me. Everything turned to ice.
Kadzuhikhan watched me, and in the space of agonizing seconds, his stunned expression almost looked sorry for me.
My voice fumbled back into existence. “No.” It was the strongest denial I could muster.
Umber’s laughter was easy, amused. “Oh, my dear, I don’t mean throw him in a bag and drag him to me. I merely want to arrange a meeting. Simply persuade him to consider my invitation, and we can...talk.”
My head was spinning. Why Hei? “You want to make him one of your...blood stock.”
It wasn’t a question, but the force to make it an accusation had abandoned me. Umber’s brows rose. “Of course I do. Have you seen him? He must taste delicious. But it will be entirely his choice, naturally. This boy, you see, has a very intriguing purpose in this city. He’s been asking the most provocative questions, and as these streets are my pride and joy, I took notice. I would merely like to assist him in accomplishing this purpose—as compensation for his services rendered to me. It will be a business arrangement, no more. One I intend to make very amenable to him.”
His words began to lose meaning as they dug into my flesh; the haze of silver poisoning seemed to be recurring of its own power. I stepped back, knelt down to steady my head. “You have dozens of willing laborers. And none of them would cost you this. Why give me my past back for that?”
Umber’s sigh expressed mild impatience, which meant he was likely trying to just close the deal. “Because it isn’t about the boy. It’s about you. If you can prove that you will honor what I have given you, I will award you freedom. It’s that simple. That, and I find this Hei’s purpose fascinating indeed. I would very much like to see it brought to fruition.”
In the next second, I almost did it. I almost asked him what that purpose was. Knowing he was loath to volunteer knowledge. If he even would tell me—I didn’t want to hear from him. I wanted Hei to tell me, if he was ready.
If I was worth telling it to.
“Last chance, Ari.” Menace seemed to coalesce around his lordship’s shoulders, blackening the night.
I sat there, cradling myself, holding back my raw fear, grief. Self-hatred. The disgust he inspired in me.
I didn’t know either of them. I didn’t know me.
My voice sounded alien, lifeless. “I’ll do it.”
Chapter Five
Hours had to have passed, but it felt like dawn was falling toward me like an axe. The night had become too sudden, too full of change.
My first instinct after I left Umber’s tower was to fly as far as I could, until my wings could take me no further. Fly until the tundra ate me up, and I was lost in the dazzle of gray and white.
But an unseen chain bound me to Serenity, and Umber had taught me to remember its weight. So I found a furrow in a dilapidated building, a hollow under the roof from which I could see the streets. I perched there and hid myself from the night sky until the sense of eyes crawling over me diminished.
I’d expected more numbness. But the moment I was tucked under the shadows, all I could do was cry.
Quietly, in a strangled way, because so many beings here could hear me with ease. But there seemed no other way for the pain to dislodge itself. I wept into my shaking hands, and felt a terrifying weakness seep into me.
If I could call agreeing to endanger an innocent boy weakness. Even if I had only ceded out of fear. I had so wanted to be ready. To be full of fire and courage, to prove stronger than stone against the onslaught of Kadzuhikhan’s rage, of Umber’s malice. Instead I’d crumpled like damp paper, falling in on myself. Because he was going to tell me who I’d been. Who I could never become again.
What difference did my past make if I couldn’t hold on to anything that mattered to me now?
I remembered—I’d already agreed to see Hei tomorrow night. I owed it to him to at least look him in the eye and realize what I’d promised. Dragging myself into the wind, I let it carry me off.
Promised. But not done. Nothing bound me to be honest to Umber. Nothing but the threat of what he and his could do to me, which they might do anyway. My promises need mean no more than his. Especially since no way existed for me to be certain that whatever he told me about myself would be true. He might have dozens of fabricated stories in mind, written and dispensed to his various dupes and servants for the purpose of his own amusement. You were once the great prince of a far-off land, where milk and honey flowed. When one became the lord of a vast underground of clients, living and living-again, and the stock and trade was amnesia, certainly a business practice of tailor-made personal histories must emerge. It chilled me to think once again how poorly I understood the vast power that belonged to a merchant of memory. Not for the first time, I wondered if there was a way for him to sell the taken memory back for real—write it back into the blood the way it was taken, not merely describe whatever version of it that he liked. Surely that would fetch him prettier prices than even the amnesia itself.
Umber wanted Hei for some reason, one that had to be bigger than tasting his blood. Hei possessed something Umber wanted, to either possess himself or to keep others from having.
He also knew much more about Hei than I did. All of which said Hei had been lurking in Serenity for some time, and I’d never noticed him until he’d literally jumped into my arms. That wasn’t so strange. Countless faces peopled these streets, and damn if I ever noticed so much as half of them.
But this did mean two things. Each possibility wound through me like strings spiraling together, trapping my mind in their weave.
Hei may have come looking for me specifically, at least the second time we’d met. I had no idea why.
And Umber had probably been spying on Hei since he’d arrived.
This purpose must be mighty indeed.
Maybe Umber really wanted him to succeed, but it didn’t matter. That would be up to Hei. This had to be my purpose—make sure he had me on his side, no matter what. Tomorrow night, I’d tell him everything. If he decided he never wanted to see me again afterward, that’d be my fault, not his.
After dawn had landed over the roof of my home, I found my way into a tangled sleep. It sheltered my mind for a little while, until the approach of sunset roused me.
When I stirred, a crow was waiting for me, perched at my window.
Except it wasn’t a crow. It shone like it was sculpted from moon-glow, ethereal and transparent. Its head moved fractionally as it watched, but no heat or life emanated from it.
A crow specter.
The crow-souls’ virtue, to send out into the world the images of their crow spirits. They could see whatever their specters saw, though the specters themselves were easily hidden.
This crow-soul wanted me to see theirs. I stood, meeting its gaze across the room.
Not a spy, then. A message. When it flew into the air, it was plain that it wanted me to follow.
A vague intuition suggested just who might be awaiting me. Throwing on some clean clothes, I took to the air. Fucker could have let me have some breakfast first.
The path the specter traced was circuitous, which confirmed that it must be calculated to throw off anyone who was actually spying on me. The twists across the city would seem like I was simply flying around, and the specter kept its distance.
It led me to a sunward facing building just off the flow of Bare-Sky Road. A cavity appeared hollowed out in the stone walls, as if this had once been a stalwart place b
efore time had bitten a hunk out of it. As it was, dying shreds of evening light caught the edge of a frayed break in the stone, coloring the building-side orange and pink. Within the shadow, the specter perched—and vanished.
I descended. And was not surprised to find Tamueji waiting for me, crunching a plum as she leaned against the wall.
My heart began to pound. I bowed slightly in greeting, and she returned the motion. With a sniff, she discarded the plum stone and drew nearer.
“Early to rise, eh, Ari?” Her smile was weary.
I crossed arms over my chest. “Thank you for interpreting my insomnia as discipline. This—” I gestured at the building, the path behind me “—seems a little dramatic.”
She shrugged. “Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it.” Her eyes were dark in spite of her light tone, full of knives.
I stepped back, pretended to dust myself off. “Are you going to keep me in suspense, or tell me what this is about? The subterfuge is a bit ominous.”
That seemed to sober her, and she dashed a look to either side. “Indeed. I want to...” A pause, a controlled breath. She seemed unnerved, which was putting me more in the region of terrified. “You need to know something. I was asked—told, really—to leave it be, but I can’t. And I want to minimize the number of ears that are likely to hear. I know Umber spies on me as much as I spy on him. I’ve been scouting for specters and I don’t think there are any nearby.”
I tried to calm my pulse. “Should we find more cover?”
She shook her head, but the fact that a sword dangled from her waist did not escape my notice. “This will be quick; better to not be seen crawling about anywhere funny. I heard about this—” her mouth curved “—tiff, shall we say, that you and Kadzuhikhan had. About this boy. Hei.”
Merciful Heaven. Were Hei and I suddenly the only other people in the city? But Tamueji would know more than most did. “It wasn’t about him, but...why?”