"I know. We are running out of time. I know what to do, Paimon, but before I do it, I just want to be sure that is the only solution. Is there no way for me to simply strengthen Georgiana Segunda’s Working?”
"I am sorry, Madama Haðraaða, but it is too late. Even a great magician would need time to strengthen the Sigils. And, alas—”
"I’m not a great magician. I know, I know. But, Paimon, why didn’t you tell me before what was going on? I mean, I was here, and you could have said something. It would have saved me a lot of trouble. Saved us all a lot of trouble.”
Paimon looked at me woefully. "Ayah so, perhaps, but it was not my place, madama. I only serve the family; I cannot interfere directly in family matters. I did what I could, but, I fear I only made matters worse by the way I handled the situation when you were affected by the Anima Enervation. When I sent you to Lord Axacaya those months ago, I thought that revealing your connection to Bilskinir House would make him think twice about harming you for fear of alienating this House further. Instead, I gave him a clue to your identity. I did not realize that the situation with the Loliga was deteriorating so quickly I am sorry. I should have been more careful. I can only excuse myself by saying that my long isolation had me out of touch with events within the City”
"Well, we all make mistakes, Paimon. I can hardly blame anyone for screwing up, when I think about my record. All that doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that I have to free the Loliga, and there’s only one way to do that.”
Paimon closed his eyes and shuddered deeply. His ears quivered. I heard the distant sound of thunder, and then a bright purple light filled the room. I ran to the window; the sky was a roil of yellow-white clouds, like raw scrambled eggs. As I watched, a bolt of galvanic black lightning split the egg-sky and hit the sheep-sheltering oak tree, which disappeared into a burst of black smoke and flickering flames. The sheep burst out of the smoke cloud and ran, bleating, across the grass, which now lay flattened.
Paimon moaned, and I rushed back over to the bed. “Paimon, Paimon, are you all right?”
He didn’t answer, and I didn’t know what to do. Make him a cold compress? Shake him? Get him a drink? The cat stared at me disdainfully. When in doubt, wait and see, said Nini Mo. After a few seconds, Paimon’s fringed blue eyes opened, and his tusks lifted as he grinned weakly.
“I cry your pardon. Axacaya, but he didn’t get in. Not this time.”
“Can I get you something, Paimon? Do you want some Anima? Will that help you?”
He said weakly, “You can help me best, Madama Haðraaða, by taking care of the Loliga.”
“Don’t you worry about that. Can you keep Axacaya busy until I get into place? Once he gets a sniff of me, I wager he’ll leave you alone and will come my way He wants me. I’m sorry I made you vulnerable to him, Paimon.”
"Perhaps our policy of allowing you to remain in ignorance was not the best, but there’s no point in stepping in spilled paint. The Haðraaða family has a private entrance to the Baths. You may access it via the Ostium. Alfonzo shall go with you to assist if you require it.”
At the sound of his name, the merman crawled out of the water jug, flapped his feathery koi-tail, and adjusted his jacket before bowing briefly.
Paimon continued, "You already have the Key. I can offer you nothing else.”
I glanced down at my left hand, where the Key still encircled my index finger. It itched horribly, I guessed because it was made of hair. I hoped I didn’t have to wear it all the time from here on out; the scratching would drive me mad. But for now, I’d just have to try to stand it.
"Thanks, Paimon.” He enveloped my hand in his own massive hand, which made mine look pudgy and doll-like in comparison. He squeezed his grip and a galvanic flare went from him to me, a nicely energetic glow, like the buzz of strong coffee.
"Be careful, Flora.”
"Dare, win, or disappear,” I said, and went off to die.
Forty-Seven
The Baited Hook. The Cold Plunge.
WHEN UDO AND I tried to open the Ostium into Bilskinir Baths, the door opened an inch and no more. On the other side, rubble held the door closed. It took several minutes of pushing and straining before we could force it open any more, and even then we only managed a few more inches. But it would be enough to squeeze through.
"I will check the way,” Alfonzo said, and zipped through the crack.
Udo and I looked at each other. While I’d been talking to Paimon, Udo had raided the Closet, and now he was dressed splendidly in a purple frock coat well-festooned with gold braid, and a red-and-purple wool kilt. The Greatcoat of Impenetrability he had found while raiding the Closet was draped over his arm. He had also raided the maquillage, but he’d applied it with a light hand (he surely hadn’t learned that from Jack) and looked subtly, handsomely enhanced, not garishly painted. He looked less childish. Grown-up.
“It’s a good plan, Flora,” he said. “Nini Mo couldn’t have come up with better.”
“She came up with this one,” I pointed out, for indeed our plan was entirely lifted from Nini Mo vs. the Ice Weasels, except for the very first part.
“Then that makes it the best plan ever,” Udo said confidently, but he looked pale. He should have used more rouge after all.
“You won’t be late, will you?”
“I will be right on time. Never fear.”
Alfonzo peeked around the door. “It is clear, hija! Come along!”
“Dare, win, or disappear,” I said, but before I could squeeze through the gap, Udo grabbed my wrist.
“First, now we’ve come to the part where the heroine gives the hero a big wet one and she promises to plight her troth if they come back alive. So plight me, baby!”
My stomach flipped over. “What are you saying, Udo?”
He looked dead serious. “Will you walk with me? Be my girl?”
For one heart-pausing moment, I had thought he meant something else. Something a whole lot more serious. Now I was thankful (disappointed?) he had not. “What about the Zu-Zu?”
"Aww, her. Kid stuff. What is glamour compared to stalwartness?”
"Are you saying I’m not glamorous? The best I can do is be stalwart?”
"That’s not what I meant!”
"That’s what you said!”
"What I meant to say, Flora, is that I love you. No, don’t say anything, forget I asked. Come on.”
"Udo! Wait a minute!” But Udo had already put on the Greatcoat of Impenetrability and vanished. "Udo! Come back here!” I hissed, but he didn’t return. Blast Udo—of all the times to be romantic.
"This way!” Alfonzo appeared before me, waving in excitement. "This way! He is coming!”
The Bilskinir Baths were now a disaster of twisted steel, piled rubble, crushed marble. It was hard to believe that this had once been a place of fun and frolic.
I followed, picking my way through the rubble, hoping that Udo was being careful. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if the whole thing was ended by me and Udo both getting crushed by a falling marble slab? Or skidding on a loose piece of rubble and banging our brains out on a broken statue? The Goddess does love her jokes, Nini Mo said.
Well, today she’d have to find something else to laugh about, because I managed to climb my way to the Cold Plunge without killing myself. And since I didn’t hear any sounds of falling or landing, I assumed that Udo was all right, as well. So far, so good; the easiest part of our plan was done.
The Cold Plunge was a blind white eye set in a sweeping expanse of dark blue cracked mosaic. Thankfully for our plan the Plunge was intact, surrounded by rubble but free of debris itself. That would have been another joke, if I’d arrived to find the Cold Plunge thawed. Why anyone would want to swim in water that frigid was beyond me—the Pacifica is too cold for me. But there is supposed to be a health benefit from jumping into cold water, then flinging oneself out to jump in the superhot water of the Hot Plunge. Well, we’d see about that.
“Good luck
, Madama Haðraaða,” Alfonzo said. “And I crave your pardon for the little joke I played upon you before, pretending you were a snack. I do hope you shall forgive me.”
He bent in a low courtesy, Abasing Before a Goddess, and I said, “You are forgiven, and you should get going, before Axacaya shows.”
“Besos!” Alfonzo said, and zipped.
Something brushed in front of my vision; it was wispy like cobwebs. I waved at the air with my hand but didn’t feel anything. Then the blur came again and I realized it wasn’t outside of my vision but inside, in my head, a quiet touch.
Axacaya, trying to rifle through my thoughts in a most rude manner. I let despair and fear well up inside me: Poor pitiful me, to die so young, to be betrayed by my own mamma, why had the goddess picked on me, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair. A sob choked me and I wiped at the snivelly tears now trailing down my cheeks. Axacaya’s touch withdrew, satisfied, no doubt, that I was a harmless mooncalf.
"Flora, brave girl.” He was behind me.
"I don’t want to die,” I said, not turning around.
"We all must die eventually.”
"But I’ve hardly even lived.”
"The Goddess plans for us all, and we shall not question her plans,” Axacaya answered, and I turned to look at him. A ray of sun arrowed through the gloom, touched him with gold. But now I found that his beauty had no power to move me. Now I knew that while his face was fair, his heart was false, and his glamour an illusion. Facing him, my feigned fear vanished in a surge of fury He was smiling at me so kindly and gently; he thought I was a real sucker. Well, we’d see who the sucker was soon enough.
"I am sorry that it has to be this way, pequeña, truly I am. But sometimes we must sacrifice for the greater good. And is not the City, your family, the greater good?”
"I know you are right, Your Grace. I know. Will you help me, Your Holiness? I know that I must die; it’s the only way to save the City, and the City is more important than me. But I’m afraid.” The quiver in my voice was from nervousness, but I’m sure he thought it was fear.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, pequeña. Of course, I will help you. Death is not an end, it is a new beginning. We must all face Death eventually, and embrace her.”
“I know, Your Grace. Still, I am afraid, but I don’t want anything to happen to Buck, and Hotspur, or my friends. If I have to die to save them, then I will do it.” Now I was stalwart, but a little teary.
“Brave girl. The courage must be the Fyrdraaca in you, but the pragmatism is all Haðraaða. I would have thought that the combination would be fatally flawed. But I must say, Flora, the two strains seem to temper each other in a most positive way. It is a pity that your career must be cut so short. You have potential.”
The ground swelled under our feet, and the ice squeaked and cracked. I said quickly, “But, Your Grace, later I read Georgiana’s Diario all the way through. If the Sigil cannot be strengthened, it is not enough for the last Haðraaða to simply die. Georgiana was clever. She didn’t want to lose her advantage just because some Haðraaða fell off a horse, or was killed in a duel, or ate a bad oyster. Or that someone tried assassination. So she added a stipulation.”
“Which was?” Axacaya had come closer and now loomed over me, but I stood my ground.
Here came the big fat lie. I turned my face into a horrified grimace and said, “That the death must be by drowning.”
Axacaya smiled, his lip plug winking. "Clever. And appropriate. Well, there’s no shortage of water here. I think we can accommodate you.”
My internal organs stopped quivering. He had bought it! Praise Nini Mo, he had bought it! I flung myself forward, and he caught me with a surprised grunt, as I wailed, "But I’m afraid to die. I don’t want to drown—dreadful noise in my ears, gasping for breath. Please help me, Your Holiness, help me make it easier, please.”
"Now, now,” Axacaya said soothingly "I shall give you an easy death, Flora. Let that be my gift to you. It is the least I can do to award your bravery.”
I looked up at him in the most sickeningly sweet fashion I could manage, fluttered my eyelashes, and pursed my lips into my cutest wistful pout. Wait for it, Udo, wait for it! "Oh, thank you, Your Holiness, thank you.”
Lord Axacaya spoke a Gramatica Word. As it crackled from his lips, I felt the heat of it whiz by my head, and then heard the snap of ice breaking.
"This water is ice cold, my darling. So cold, you will feel nothing. It will be like falling into a deep sleep. Painless and easy.”
"Oh, thank you, Your Grace. I knew you would not fail me. And—I almost forgot, Your Holiness—Tiny Doom left me a letter. There was a message in it for you.”
"Really? Dear Azota. What did she say?” He sounded pleased that the woman he had betrayed still thought of him, even as she had died. He probably thought that was a compliment.
She said keep your stinking hands off my daughter, I thought, but I said, breathlessly, “She said to tell you that she is coming for you.”
While Axacaya had been holding me, I had finagled my arms up and around his neck, and now I grabbed two great sheaves of his hair and pulled his head down. Surprised by my sudden grip, he barely flinched when I kissed him. Indeed, he started to kiss me back—yucky tongue—and then he stiffened.
I let go and sprang back. Axacaya stood there, looking extremely surprised. His lips were stained bright red by my zombified lip rouge. His eyes wobbled in their sockets, and his head bobbed. Fike, he was fighting it. The only thing magickal about Jack had been his boots; they were strong but no match for the powder. But Axacaya was an adept, and there hadn’t been much of the powder left—apparently not enough.
A good ranger, Nini Mo said, always has a fail-safe. Mine was Udo and his Greatcoat of Impenetrability, and his legendary bowling arm, which had led the Sanctuary bowling league to victory on more than one occasion. Axacaya took one jerky step toward me, and his lips struggled to pronounce a Gramatica Word that would no doubt negate the zombie powder.
“Hit him, Udo!” I shouted. “Hit him hard!”
Thanks to the Greatcoat, I saw neither Udo nor the blow, but Lord Axacaya staggered and half turned, and then staggered again, as Udo hit him another time. The lacrosse stick (taken from a case of sporting equipment in one of Bilskinir’s hallways) made a wet thunking noise, and Lord Axacaya went down. He did not get back up again.
Get it over with, Mamma always says. Axacaya lay crumbled on the rubble, darkness slicking his hair. I couldn’t see Udo, but I could hear him shouting my name. I tore at the lacings on my boots, kicking them off, and flung my dispatch case aside. Udo appeared before me, breathless and disheveled. I thrust the buckskin jacket at him; he took it, saying, "Flora, are you sure?”
"Ayah.”
I took one last look at his face, and before I could lose my nerve, turned around and jumped into the Cold Plunge. For a moment I felt only the slap of impact, but then, like a knife through my entrails, the cold cut in. I rolled, floundering, my bones feeling like they were splintering. Teeth chattering, I bit my lip and the hot spurt of blood was only a tiny spark in the giant void of coldness.
"Flora!” Dimly, I heard Udo shouting. "Flora!”
Axacaya had lied, of course; freezing to death was not easy, like falling asleep. Instead, it felt as though my flesh was being cut in ribbons with a razor blade. I tried to give in, to let go, but the instinct to live would not let me quit flailing.
“Is ... he ... still ... down?” I gasped. My tongue could barely move, but my teeth were chattering like crickets. Udo’s warm grip fastened onto my head, and his voice echoed from somewhere in the freezing void. “He’s down and he ain’t getting back up again. I’ll see you in a few minutes, Flora. Don’t go far—”
His words faded to noise that faded into freezing cold. Pressure on my head, pushing down hard. Sputtering, I went under the ice, and my chattering thoughts of Mamma, Poppy, Idden, Flynnie, even silly Valefor, cracked and fell away.
Forty-
Eight
In the Current.
I LOOK UPWARD and see the body of a girl drifting in the center of a black circle. Her arms and legs are outstretched, lifeless, and red hair wafts like seaweed around her slack blue face. Her eyes, frosted white marbles, stare down at me blankly. Her head jerks suddenly and her limbs flail; someone is hauling her up out of the water. Her feet are the last to disappear, red socks winking.
Good-bye, Waking World.
Rolling over, I jackknife down, swimming through a rocky tunnel, its walls bristling with lavender and emerald sea urchins, encrusted with crimson coral. I emerge from the tunnel into a shadowy green world. Flat strands of kelp rise from the seabed, tangle on the surface above my head. Narrow silvery fish dart through the kelp forest, their pink bellies flashing as they pass through the shafts of sunlight that stream down from above. The landscape is peaceful and calm, and I am springy and buoyant, as though a heavy weight has been lifted from me. Now that I am dead, I have been released from the prison of my physical body. I do not need to breathe; I cannot drown. Reveling in my freedom, I drift boneless in the water.
Not water, but the Current.
This underwater world is an illusion. My body is dead, but my Anima survives, and it is translating Elsewhere into images I recognize and understand. I know the salmon are really elementals, the kelp is really ^theric energy, the coral is really fragments of old sigils, broken and encased with time. But the illusion is beautiful and I wish with all my Will that I could enjoy it, drift through the Current forever, give in to its pull, allow it to carry me away.
But I cannot.
I must find the Loliga—make sure she has been freed from her prison. Afterward, perhaps there will be time to play You can’t enjoy the lemonade until you’ve squeezed the lemons, says Nini Mo.
So I glide through the Current like an otter or a dolphin, though when I look down at myself, I see that my Anima has retained the familiar Flora form. I am disappointed; I would rather be an otter or a dolphin, but I remain trapped as myself. The seabed slopes and drops away, and I leave the sunlit shallows, the kelp forest, the salmon, the coral reef, behind. I swim through a brief twilight and into a darkness pinpricked with firefly phosphorescent lights. As I draw near them, the lights coalesce into fantastic creatures, strangely luminescent, transparent glowing ghosts against the Current’s darkness. A shoal of jellylike creatures, fat as blancmanges, each trailing a plume of glassy filaments. A cloud of tiny crimson shrimp, sparking like embers. A long gleaming strand, thicker than my waist, its length strung with glowing pearls. A sinuous gunmetal-gray eel with bulbous crimson eyes and fangs protruding so far that it cannot close its jaws, with a long fleshy lure, pulsating with a lemon-yellow light, protruding from its forehead tip.
Flora's Dare: How a Girl of Spirit Gambles All to Expand Her Vocabulary, Confront a Bouncing Boy Terror, and Try to Save Califa from a Shaky Doom (Despite Being Confined to Her Room) Page 31