by Caitlin Seal
“Sir, this isn’t any of your business,” the guard said. He tried to wrench his arm free, but the old man’s grip held. The younger guard was looking uncertainly between him and Naya, while the third guard approached from the left. Past him, Naya couldn’t see any sign of Corten. Hopefully he was already inside.
Naya drew in more aether, trying to ignore the growing pain in her hand. She shoved herself to her feet. The younger guard reached for her, but his movements were hesitant and slow. Naya ducked under his arm and ran. After a few steps she glanced back over her shoulder and was relieved to see the guards following, shoving through the growing crowd of onlookers. The baker shifted her weight, knocking one of the guards with her hip and causing him to stumble. A tiny smile touched Naya’s lips despite her pain.
She knew that with her bond damaged she couldn’t outrun the guards for long. She wove through the neighborhood’s now-familiar streets. She could still hear the commotion of the guards chasing her when her strength wavered. She squeezed into a narrow alley and collapsed into a shadowed doorway. She tucked herself into a ball, letting her limbs fade to wispy aether and trying to be as tiny and silent as possible. When the pain in her hand lessened, she extended her senses through the aether. The energy around her still felt bright and sharp with excitement, but no one nearby seemed to have spotted her. Naya leaned her head against the splintered wood of the doorway and breathed a silent prayer of thanks. Her limbs felt heavy, but she knew she had to keep moving. Once she had changed her face back to Blue’s, she hurried out of the alley and headed toward the café.
She found Corten lingering near one of the outdoor tables in front of the little café. He had a bulging satchel slung over one arm that looked like the one Lucia had carried with her whenever she’d gone out. The look on his face was one of barely suppressed panic. Was he worried she’d been caught, or did he think she’d used the chance to run?
The glare he gave her when she approached didn’t tell her which it was. Naya was too tired to argue when he grabbed her elbow and steered her into the shadow of the café’s small awning.
“What in creation were you thinking?” Corten whispered.
“You said you wanted a distraction. It worked, didn’t it?”
“Only because you got lucky. If they’d caught you…”
“But they didn’t.” Still, his words jarred her. He wasn’t wrong. A month ago she’d never have attempted anything that risky. “Just tell me you got what we need.”
“I did. Not that it makes what you did any less insane.”
Naya smiled. She still felt tired, but the stabbing pain radiating from her hand had lessened to a dull throb now that she’d stopped moving. She let the calm of the café’s patrons wash over her. They’d actually done it. They’d gotten her bones out of Lucia’s shop, right under the noses of Valn’s men. She stared at the innocent-seeming bag. “They’re in there?” she asked.
Corten nodded, looking uneasy. Then his focus shifted to something behind her. “I think we should get moving.”
Naya followed his gaze. Two women were sitting at one of the outside tables, whispering and stealing glances in their direction. She caught the word wraith and felt a chill. “Did they recognize us?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
Corten shook his head. “I don’t think so, but look at your skin.”
“My skin?” Naya looked down at her hands. Her skin was still the caramel brown she’d chosen for Blue. Except…She drew in a sharp breath. As she watched, the color shifted subtly, patches lighting to its old hue and becoming faintly transparent. She concentrated and the patches vanished. The sense of being watched felt like a sunburn tightening her skin. “What’s going on?”
“It’s called fading,” Corten said. “Common side effect of a damaged bond.” He grabbed her wrist and tugged her back onto the street. “Try to keep your head down. We need to get you to Jalance before those guards catch up with us.”
Naya let him pull her along. She glanced again at the two women and saw them scowling back at her. Her stomach twisted like she’d eaten something foul. “Why are they looking at us like that?”
“They saw you fade. They know you’re a wraith.” Corten tugged her down a side street and out of view of the two women.
“Oh, right.” Naya looked down at the paving stones. The suspicion and fear in their eyes probably weren’t so different from the way she’d stared at the undead when she’d first come to Ceramor. Wraiths could change their faces. They could look like anyone. These people knew a wraith had kidnapped Delence, and apparently that was all it took to make her suspect. “Maybe we should go back to your shop. You said you can’t sing souls back anymore, but couldn’t you carve me a new bone?”
“No.” Corten shook his head. “It would take me at least a week to pick through Lucia’s notes, and even then I don’t know if I could re-create her work. Jalance has more experience than me, and he should be willing to help once we explain what’s going on.”
“Are you sure we can trust him? What if he decides he’s better off turning us in?”
“He’s part of the Council. Even if he refused to fix your bond, he wouldn’t give us up to the Talmirans.”
“But—”
Corten spun on her, and Naya nearly crashed into him. “Look,” he said, his voice almost a growl, “I agreed to help you. But if you’re going to second-guess everything I say, then I’ll warn the Council myself and you can find someone else to fix you.”
Naya took a step back. “I’m just trying to help.” She couldn’t blame Corten for his anger. But she also couldn’t follow him blindly. She’d done more than enough of that with Valn and her father.
“Fine,” Corten said. “But unless you have a better idea, this is what we’re doing.”
They could try rescuing Lucia on their own, but even Naya knew that was twice as crazy as going to Jalance. Even if they could figure out where Lucia was, she doubted the two of them alone could rescue her. Not to mention they’d still have to find a place to hide while Lucia did her work. For now Corten’s plan was the best they had. That didn’t mean she had to like it.
Naya tried to keep up as Corten led her toward the palace district. But even moving downhill, her feet dragged. After a few blocks, Corten gave up on her. They waited at the next tram stop, where Corten exchanged a pair of coins for two seats near the back of the small car. As the tram started down the hill, Naya closed her eyes and focused on keeping her body solid. Every bump and jolt rattled up from the wood bench to shake her aching hand.
“Are you all right?” Corten asked as they rounded a tight turn.
She was not all right. She was starting to think capture by the city guard and a hasty execution would be far preferable to another second on this cursed tram. “I’m fine.”
Corten looked like he wanted to say something else, but he only snapped his mouth shut and turned back to the window.
“I’m sorry,” Naya said after a moment of silence.
“For what?”
“Helping them, lying to you, all of it. I know it doesn’t change anything. But still I…” Her throat closed around the words.
Corten’s shoulders stiffened, and his continued silence hurt almost as much as her fractured bone.
By the time they reached their stop and walked the last few blocks to Jalance’s house, Naya was dizzy with pain. She had to lean on Corten just to keep upright.
“Ready?” Corten asked when they reached the door.
His plan was simple. They would ring the bell and claim to be patients. When they were alone with Jalance, they would explain the truth behind Lucia’s capture. There wouldn’t be any hiding what Naya was once the necromancer started work on her bond. But Corten seemed convinced Jalance would keep her secret for Lucia’s sake.
“I’m ready.”
Jalance’s house was two stories, painted pale yel
low with white trim. It had not two but three major rune bindings around the front door. More runes protected the upstairs windows and balconies. Doubt slowed Naya’s steps as she recalled Celia’s warning about the necromancers and their supporters increasing their defenses. The men and women of the Necromantic Council were bound to have their own plots. Was it wise to give herself up to the people who, only a week ago, she’d been trying to undermine? What was to say this stranger wouldn’t use her exactly as Valn and her father had?
Corten pulled the bell rope and a servant answered after the first ring. She looked a couple of years older than they were and wore an immaculate white-and-black uniform cut to show the rune tattoos circling her wrist and neck. Her dark hair was pulled up in a tight bun that accented the sharp angles of her face. “Are you here to call on Lord Jalance?” the servant asked, her eyes widening a little as she looked at Naya.
“Yes, please, my friend’s bond is fractured. She needs help.” Corten’s tone held an impressive mix of desperation and near panic.
“Is she a patient of His Lordship?”
“No. She was visiting the city from Riorrica, but there isn’t any time to send her home. Can’t you see how badly injured she is? We need to get her inside.”
“Oh, well. This is a bit unusual. I’ll need to consult with Lord Jalance,” the servant said. “You can wait in the parlor if you like.”
The parlor was richly furnished, with a deep-blue couch to one side and a handful of portraits hanging on the walls. Blue-and-white upholstered armchairs guarded two of the corners, and a stately writing desk sat under a curtained window looking out to the street. Everything looked expensive, but as Naya sat she noticed the colors were faded and the fabric worn thin from years of use.
Corten caught Naya surveying the room. “Jalance’s family owns a small silver mine to the east. He’s registered as a necromancer, but he hardly ever performs resurrections. Most people who don’t know him well think he studied necromancy just because he enjoys being controversial.”
“That could explain why Celia didn’t connect him to the Council,” Naya said.
“Maybe. Or maybe your friends just aren’t as good as they think.”
Naya turned away. “They’re not my friends.”
Silence fell between them, interrupted a moment later when a man strode into the room. He was unusually tall for a Ceramoran, almost as tall as Naya’s father. Unlike Hal Garth, though, he had a thin frame emphasized by the hard lines of his black suit. He was perhaps in his late forties, with dark-brown hair swept back over his head and a neatly trimmed mustache on his upper lip. He carried a dark wood case under one arm.
“Corten?” The man paused and looked Corten up and down. “What in creation are you doing here? I was told I had a patient waiting.”
“It’s my friend, sir. Her bond’s been badly damaged.”
“I can see that.” The man offered Naya a shallow bow. “I am Earon Jalance.”
“Blue,” Naya said with a nod.
“A pleasure, Miss Blue. Who did you say performed your original carving?”
“We didn’t.” Corten said. “Is there someplace more private the three of us could speak?”
Jalance’s frown deepened. “She shouldn’t be moving unnecessarily. You know that.”
“I’m not that bad,” Naya said.
Jalance raised one eyebrow. “Well, you still seem to have some fire in you at least. However—”
“Please, sir.” Corten shot a warning glance at Naya. “My friend was resurrected only recently. She’s still adjusting, and I’m sure she’d be more comfortable if we could do this somewhere private.”
Naya nodded, trying to look meek. The servant had left them alone in the parlor, but the big double doors were open and it wouldn’t be hard for someone to peek through the windows and see them. “If that’s all right?” Naya asked.
Jalance tilted his head to the side in an almost birdlike gesture. “Well, of course we can move to my office, if that will make you more comfortable. Though I can assure you none of the house staff will bother us regardless of the room.”
He led them upstairs to a much smaller, more sparsely furnished room. The desk, unlike the one downstairs, was battered from long years of use. It seemed ready to collapse under the heavy books stacked haphazardly on top of it. “Please have a seat.” Jalance shut the door and motioned to a set of plain wooden chairs. Naya sat down in one, her unease growing as the necromancer set his case next to the desk and turned to face her. “Now then, I’m going to need a full description of how the bond was damaged and who carved the original bones. If the damage isn’t too severe, then we really must see to transporting you home.”
“That isn’t an option,” Corten said.
“What do you mean?”
Corten shifted so he stood between Jalance and the door. “We haven’t been entirely honest with you, sir. For that I’m sorry, but the situation is dangerous and I wasn’t sure what else to do.”
“What are you talking about?” Jalance’s previously worried expression darkened. “If this is some sort of prank, I can assure you it isn’t the least bit amusing.”
Corten glanced at Naya, and she saw his fingers tremble before he closed them into fists. But his voice was steady when he spoke. “I wish this were only a joke. Believe me. I think once you hear who wrote this girl’s bond, you’ll understand.”
Jalance licked his lips. “Who?”
“Lucia Laroke.”
Naya expected Jalance to look scared, or for the clouds of anger growing behind his eyes to darken still further. Instead he just appeared confused. “Lucia? I thought you said her binding was done in Riorrica. If Lucia performed the binding, then why haven’t you taken the girl to her?”
“Wait—you mean you don’t know yet?” Corten asked.
“I cannot say what I know or don’t know, since you’ve yet to give me any clear indication what this conversation is about.”
Was Valn intentionally keeping Lucia’s arrest a secret? Why? “Lucia’s been taken by the guards. They’ll say it has to do with Delence’s kidnapping, but it’s a lie. She wasn’t involved,” Naya said.
“Absurd. Should Lucia have been arrested, I’m certain I would have been informed.” Jalance’s tone was stiff, his eyes hard.
Naya prayed the silence didn’t mean Lucia was already dead.
“It’s true, sir,” Corten said. “I was in her shop just this morning. There were guards standing watch outside, and the front door was splintered, like someone had forced it open.”
Jalance’s expression stilled. “You’re sure?”
A knock at the door cut off Corten’s reply.
“What?” Jalance shouted.
“My Lord?” It was the servant who had let them in. “There’s a message for you. They say it’s very urgent, but if you’re busy…”
“No, give it here.” Jalance stood and brushed past Corten to open the door. The servant handed him an unmarked white envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. Jalance’s eyes widened as he read it. He stared at the note, then up at Naya and Corten. His steps were almost mechanical as he crossed the room and sat down on the chair in front of the desk. “This is absurd,” he muttered.
“Sir? Is that about Lucia?” Corten asked.
“No, not Lucia. Some mad Talmiran petitioned the king, claiming necromancers kidnapped his daughter. As if any necromancer would be so foolish.”
Naya’s body went rigid. “Is the man’s name Hal Garth?”
“How would you know that?” Jalance asked sharply.
Naya clenched her fists, physical pain smothering the stab of hearing her father’s name confirmed. Whatever sorrow he felt over her death obviously wasn’t enough to stop him from using her to further his plans.
She met Jalance’s eyes. “My real name is Naya Garth. Hal Garth is m
y father.”
“Your father?” Jalance stood up and looked between her and Corten. “What is going on here?”
Naya repeated the story of how Valn had used her death and manipulated her into helping him kidnap Delence. She explained her suspicions about what Valn intended, and Lucia’s claim that the ambassador was trying to start another war. Halfway through her story, Jalance slumped back in his chair, his fingers twitching to brush at his already smooth mustache.
“And you trust her? You believe this…this account?” Jalance asked Corten when she’d finished.
Corten didn’t answer right away. He sat staring at his hands, making Naya wish she could read his aether like she could that of the living. “I didn’t at first,” he admitted. “I didn’t want any of it to be true. But there were signs I should have noticed, and when I saw Lucia’s shop ransacked I couldn’t keep pretending.”
“Well, this is something. There is certainly something going on here.” Jalance tossed the now-crumpled note onto his desk. “This business with the kidnapping…I don’t suppose you can tell me where Delence is, or if he is even still alive?”
“No, I don’t know if he’s still alive. But I don’t think they would have done things that way if they meant to kill him,” Naya said.
Jalance shook his head. “I suppose whether or not he’s alive matters little at the moment. The palace has been in an uproar ever since he vanished.” He rubbed his temples. “The timing of this Hal Garth’s proposal isn’t accidental. He means to take advantage of our weakness.”
Naya’s fingers drifted toward the pendant on her neck. By some miracle she hadn’t lost it in the fight with the assassin. “I heard my father and Valn saying something about making sure the king was blamed. I think they were talking about the missing Talmirans. They said they had all the evidence in place.”