The Infinite

by Lori M. Lee

  Avan’s voice rang out: “Stop.”

  His command reverberated through the room, riding the billows of smoke out into the street. Avan’s magic swooped down on me, gouging hooks into my skin. I gritted my teeth and pushed away the oppressive force. His voice echoed around me in hypnotic whispers, but I shook it off.

  The sentinels had gone still. A moment later, their stiff bodies seemed to thaw as their heads swiveled left and right, their unfocused eyes following something I couldn’t see. Confusion clouded their faces.

  I pushed to my feet and shouted through the shield of my sleeve, “What are you doing to them?”

  Avan wasn’t listening.

  “Collect the rebels,” Irra ordered. He didn’t have Avan’s invasive power, but I still felt his voice echo inside me, opening up an emptiness in my chest that made me want to curl into myself.

  A rush of activity sped past me as Irra’s hollows dashed in to round up the sentinels. The sentinels’ confusion had given way to blank acceptance. They appeared unaware of what was happening. Their glazed expressions looked far too much like when their collars had been active.

  For sentinel and hollow alike, the collars were a permanent reminder of Ninu’s touch. He had seared the magic into the backs of their necks, allowing him to control them. The only reason they’d survived being branded with a collar was because they were all mahjo, human descendants of the Infinite. Before the Mahjo War, before the Infinite had stripped them of their magic, mahjo had been worshipped for their abilities.

  I coughed harshly, my lungs burning, but I pushed forward. “Avan, stop it,” I rasped, grabbing his arm. “Stop it!”

  His eyes rested on me, blazing with unnatural light. “They must be controlled,” he said, his voice soft but piercing.

  “No one should be controlled.”

  More hollows had filed in, carrying buckets of water and hoses to put out the fire, which appeared to have been contained to the lobby. The added steam made it impossible to breathe. Coughs racked my chest. I left Avan behind, making my way out into the fresh air.

  Once outside, I bent over, bracing my palms against my knees as another round of coughing rattled me. Pain jabbed my lungs.

  “Ow,” I muttered.

  A quick look around revealed that the hollows had corralled the rebel sentinels and bound their arms. I was surprised to see less than a dozen sentinels. In the tumult of smoke and fighting, they had seemed countless.

  Where was Reev? He must have seen the smoke. Mason sat farther down the path on a boulder, glowering at the proceedings. He looked unharmed.

  The clop of metal hooves sounded from the building. I straightened as Avan rode his Gray into my path.

  “Irra has asked for you,” he said.

  I turned away without acknowledging him, heading toward the doors. But I wasn’t going back inside, so if Irra wanted to talk, we could do it out here. Avan dropped from his Gray.

  His fingers brushed my hand, but I twisted away. “The hollows could have handled them,” I snapped. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “You would have rather risked their lives when I could easily spare them all?”

  “Look at them!” I gestured wildly at the glassy-eyed sentinels not ten feet away. “How can you justify this? How is this any different than what Ninu did to them? To Reev?”

  He said nothing, but I could see that he wouldn’t relent. I made a sound of disgust and strode away.

  Irra had emerged from the building. Tall, gaunt, and dressed in a tattered black robe, he looked part shadow and smoke himself, as if he had materialized from the dark plumes. Maybe he had. His magic could enfold all of Etu Gahl in shawls of mist, concealing the fortress from detection. I would put nothing past him. When he caught my eye, he nodded to his left before heading around the side of the building. I ran to catch up with him.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To see Kalla.”

  “But the stairs—”

  “You didn’t think that was the only way up, did you?”

  I guess I had. We went in through a locked entrance in the back. Inside was a simple foyer with a door in the opposite wall. Irra slid open the door to reveal a tiny room, empty except for a metal lever sticking out from the floor. He stepped inside and then motioned for me to follow.

  “What is this?” I warily joined him. The room was barely five feet wide.

  “A pulley system,” Irra said, shutting the door. He grabbed the lever and swung it forward.

  The room shuddered. My stomach lurched, and I slapped my palm against the wall to stabilize my legs. From somewhere far above us, the clank and clangor of gears and cables and who knew what else vibrated beneath my palm and through my feet.

  “Are we . . . moving?” My fingers clenched against the wall, trying to find something to grip.

  “The technology was lost after Rebirth, but Kalla’s penchant for tall buildings forced her to revive it.”

  I swallowed down my nervousness and then winced at my painfully dry throat. I swallowed again, gingerly this time. “You should install this in Etu Gahl.”

  “The gargoyles prefer the stairs.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was joking. The room shuddered again, and I flattened myself against the wall, glaring at Irra’s nonchalance.

  “It’s quite safe,” Irra said mildly. The top of his wild black-and-gray hair dusted the ceiling, but he had yet to lose his balance as the room jostled upward.

  I’d have to take his word for it. But I didn’t move from my spot against the wall. “Why were the sentinels attacking the tower?”

  “Why do you think?”

  I rolled my eyes. Why did the Infinite always have to skirt around a straight answer? “To get to Kalla.”

  “Yes.” He didn’t elaborate.

  “Again—why?” And what did Kalla and Irra want with me now?

  “Because they don’t like us.”

  I stared at the frayed sleeve of his robe. He fit into the beauty and opulence of the White Court about as well as I did. Even though he’d been here as long as I had, I’d never seen him wear anything but his usual threadbare black, still hanging too loosely from his unnervingly thin shoulders. The fire hadn’t caused more damage to him or his robe than what was already there.

  Before meeting Irra, I’d known him only as the Black Rider—an old name originating from a time when people still worshipped the Infinite. Back then, the statues erected in his image had portrayed a rider cloaked in black. These days, his appearance was far less intimidating. At least until you looked into his eyes. Then there was no mistaking his power.

  I surveyed the state of my own clothes. The brocade gown was ruined. Smoke had blackened the green, and there were holes in the sleeve and front skirt where the heat and stray embers had singed the fabric.

  “Then they’re going to be really mad when they wake up from whatever Avan did to them.”

  “I imagine so,” he said. He rummaged in the deep pockets of his robe before withdrawing a couple of cream-colored bread bites. He popped both into his mouth.

  I was glad Irra hadn’t changed. My anger with him for deceiving me in Etu Gahl had faded somewhat, although I knew now not to trust everything he said.

  “What did Avan do?” I asked.

  Irra took his time chewing his bread bites before answering. “The Infinite Conquest will always have certain unique abilities. But when the position must be passed to a successor, those abilities may alter somewhat. Avan’s particular power is not one I’ve seen before with Conquest.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. Avan’s power had felt different from Ninu’s. It had been a much stronger presence. “So he can control people more easily?”

  “In a way. Ninu could manipulate emotion and thought, but Avan seems able to transform his will into actual sensory images.”

  “He can create illusions.” That would explain the glazed looks and the confusion.

  I let that knowledge settle inside me, where
it grew and twisted into something too overwhelming and horrible to consider.

  Then I closed my eyes and sealed away the fear.

  CHAPTER 5

  KALLA WORE A familiar face. With the ability to alter her physical appearance—except the color of her skin, eyes, and hair—she rarely met me with the same features. But today, she looked as she had the first day we’d met. At the time, I’d thought she was an Alley kid.

  Instead of the stained and ragged tunic she’d worn then, satin robes draped her porcelain shoulders and framed her corseted gown. Her lips were still that slick shade of blood red, and her eyes were the color of polished metal. Her powder white hair with its single black streak had been styled into the same Mohawk she’d worn that day months ago in the garbage-strewn alley. The Mohawk was an unusual combination with the elegance of her gown, but the severe hair did very little to distract from her unnatural beauty.

  She stood by the windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. Smoke from far below obscured parts of the city, but not enough to ruin the view. This was the highest point in all of Ninurta, and I could see clear to the rusty boxes of the Labyrinth and beyond.

  For as brief a time as I’d spent here, this tower held a lot of unpleasant memories. All of which tried to surge forward the moment my boot touched the mosaic tiles.

  A settee and two armchairs were placed around a low table at the center of the expansive room. In one of the armchairs was Miraya, the sentinel that Kalla had chosen as our next Kahl. Miraya sat hunched over, her forearms resting on her thighs and her hands lacing and unlacing in agitation. Her head jerked up at our arrival.

  “It’s been taken care of,” Irra said, sinking onto the settee and arranging his robes over his long legs and sharp knees. He moved fluidly, without any of the awkwardness you might expect from such a skinny man.

  Miraya rubbed her palms rapidly over her thighs. “I should have been down there.”

  “A Kahl does not engage in trivial disputes,” Kalla said casually.

  My brows rose. “Trivial disputes? They were trying to burn down a government building.”

  “No,” Kalla said, “they were trying, rather clumsily, to force me down from this tower.” Through her reflection in the window, I saw her red lips curve.

  I could imagine how that would have ended. Fighting Death would result in only one possible outcome.

  “Because they don’t like you,” I said, repeating Irra’s words with a sigh of exasperation. “Can you be more specific?”

  “The rebels want to eject us from the city, and assert their own control,” she said.

  My gaze shifted from Kalla to Irra before settling on Miraya.

  “Well,” I said tentatively, “we’ve got Miraya. All she needs is a proper coronation, and she’ll officially be Kahl. If we can persuade the sentinels to unite under her rule, then everyone would get what they want.” When only silence followed my statement, I added, “Right?”

  “They killed two of my hollows,” Irra said.

  Anger underscored his voice, quivering in the air around him. I felt it in my gut like a pain clawing outward. It lasted only half a second, but I clutched at my stomach and barely kept from gasping. The way Miraya tensed meant she’d felt it, too. I’d hate to know what would happen if the Infinite ever truly lost control of their emotions. Or at least, whatever emotions they were capable of feeling.

  “They cannot be allowed a hand in the governing of the city,” Kalla said, turning away from the window to face us. “Such bitter vengeance would do no good for Ninurta.”

  She seemed to be ignoring the role that she and the Infinite had played in inciting the sentinels’ anger. “They spent years of their lives as mindless soldiers under Ninu, with you as his second in command. They have good reason to hate you,” I pointed out.

  “Yes,” Kalla said simply, “but they have also refused to follow Miraya.”

  Miraya straightened and tugged at her tunic as if it didn’t quite fit right, even though it must have been tailored for her. A couple of months ago, she had been just another sentinel trying to make sense of her newfound freedom. Then, Kalla had plucked her out of the ranks and convinced her to take the title of Kahl.

  What little I knew about Miraya, I’d learned from Avan. Ninu put a collar on her when she was sixteen. Most sentinels gradually lost their sense of self while under Ninu’s control, but Miraya had somehow retained her self-awareness even through repeated attempts to cleanse her mind. Kalla had watched her for years. How this contributed to whatever qualifications Kalla must have been looking for was a mystery to me, but Miraya seemed cautious of the political power given her, which I thought was an intelligent reaction.

  Now, instead of sturdy leather armor, she wore a silver tunic with billowy sleeves and a flowing train that trailed behind her when she walked. Impractical for a soldier, but fitting for a Kahl. Although Miraya still appeared unaccustomed to the new clothes, she wore them well. The silver contrasted beautifully with her dark skin. When she grew more comfortable in her position, I hoped she would also wear its power well.

  “They won’t have someone the Infinite picked sitting on the throne.” Miraya raked her fingers through her short black hair. “They think I’m a puppet. And they want all the ministers replaced as well. They won’t take any chances that one of them might have been originally planted by Ninu or Kalla.”

  “They’ve selected their own leader,” Irra said. “Someone with the rebels’ loyalty. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve been trying to gauge their plans for weeks, but nothing hinted at an attack.”

  “Talk to them,” I said. Had they even considered actually hearing these sentinels out? “Tell them they’re wrong about Miraya.”

  “We’re beyond talking,” Kalla said.

  I crumpled my ruined gown in my hands. “Why am I here? What did you want me for?”

  “Miraya is the one who requested you,” she said. Her slender fingers played with the glass beading that crawled in icy swirls across her corseted waist.

  Miraya stood and clasped her hands behind her back. “I wanted to ask if you would consider becoming my adviser.”

  It took a moment for her meaning to sink in. Kalla had always been the Kahl’s adviser, a position higher than any of the ministers. “Adviser?” I repeated. “Why would you want me?”

  “You defeated Kahl Ninu. You freed the sentinels. They owe you a great debt. And the hollows respect you as well. But more than that, you went to great lengths to rescue your brother. I can’t imagine anyone more suited to advise me in leading the city.”

  My face grew hot. I tried not to fidget. She made me sound like a hero, but I wasn’t. I didn’t kill Ninu to save Ninurta or any of the other sentinels. I’d done it only for Reev and Avan. I hadn’t even planned to stick around after he was gone. I’d wanted to take Reev back to Etu Gahl or somewhere else and leave Ninurta to its fate, whatever that might be.

  That was no longer an option now that Avan was Infinite. Leaving meant giving up on him.

  “I can’t,” I said. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I had enough worries without adding the whole of Ninurta to them. “Besides, I don’t know how much time I have left.”

  “Should you consent to becoming Miraya’s adviser, I will see to it that Kronos extends his absence,” Kalla said.

  I looked at her warily. “Why would you do that for me?”

  She lowered her snowy lashes. “Is it so wrong of me to wish that my brother remain a while longer? When you succeed him as the Keeper of Time, Kronos will fade into the River.”

  The River—the current through which all of time flowed, and the place to which Ninu had wanted access in order to alter his past. Kalla’s words surprised me, but they also made sense. She and Irra had both said the number of Infinite was fixed. Once I took my father’s place, he would be gone.

  Of course, no one knew yet that I couldn’t see the threads anymore.

  “Is this not what you wanted?” Kalla asked. Although she spoke
quietly, her voice always commanded attention. “To remain here with the humans?”

  It was, but not burdened by what Miraya was asking of me. “I’ll think about it,” I said. “I can’t give you an answer right now.”

  “Certainly,” Miraya said, nodding. “Take as much time as you need.”

  Irra flicked lint from his sleeve and said, “Sooner rather than later.”

  CHAPTER 6

  BACK IN THE lobby, the fire appeared to have been put out, although smoke still trailed out the glass doors in gray wisps. The rebel sentinels were gone, presumably herded away to cells until Miraya—and Kalla—decided what would be done with them.

  Most of the hollows had cleared out as well, although a few lingered, deep in discussion with sentinels who hadn’t been involved with the attack. The sentinels were easy to pick out among the hollows because they wore the black leather tunics of their rank.

  I hoped this incident wouldn’t cause a rift between them. So many of the hollows had been happy to return home.

  Farther up the path, Avan was lounging on the same boulder that Mason had been sitting on earlier. My steps slowed and I debated taking another route. But that would be too much trouble, so I picked up my pace, determined to ignore him.

  He called out as he stood. A moment later, he fell into step beside me. “Kai—”

  “I don’t want to talk to you right now, especially if you’re going to try to justify what you did.”

  Avan drew a slow breath. I sneaked a glance at him. He looked contemplative.

  “I’m sorry I upset you,” he said.

  “I don’t need an apology.” How could I make him see that what he’d done was wrong? That the old Avan would never have allowed himself to use such a power?

  We had reached the front steps of the palace, and he followed me inside. Since I wasn’t about to let him walk me all the way to my room, I stopped alongside a white pillar at the back of the throne room.

  “What do you need?” he asked evenly.

  Probably some water. My throat was killing me. But that wasn’t what Avan meant, so I said, “Promise me that you won’t do it again.”