Julia Unbound

by Catherine Egan

  “You’re all right, then?” she asks me.

  “I am,” I say, which isn’t true but feels it at the moment. “Is Wyn here too? He met up with you?”

  “He did,” says Esme. “He’s staying at a pub in the Edge. We only got back to the city last week.”

  Gennady is hulking behind us, looking miserable. I try to draw him into the foyer with us. “This is Gennady. Theo’s father.” Like I’m in the habit of introducing strange, enormous immortals to my gang.

  “Good,” says Esme briskly. “Come meet the others.”

  I don’t have time to ask who the others are. She takes us into the front parlor. Professor Baranyi is there, and Princess Zara, who we rescued from Yongguo, with little Strig in her lap—the owlet Bianka turned into a cat, now stuck somewhere between the two, a feathery, squashed-face, owl-eyed little kitty. But my eyes go straight to the two strangers in the room.

  One of them is a young man with coal-black eyes and skin nearly as dark, dressed in a rather dandy dinner suit and ruffled cravat. He is sitting on the sofa, folding squares of colored paper into complicated little three-dimensional animals, but he offers a distant smile. Next to him is a fair-complexioned woman in a fashionable gown. She is older than the man, perhaps in her fifties, her black hair shot through with silver, but there is a youthful vigor in the way she holds herself. She is smoking a cigarette in a long pearl-handled holder, which she puts down in an ashtray when we come in, waving the smoke away and crossing the room with a quick, limping gait to greet us.

  “Julia!” she cries, and her voice is rich and warm. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to meet you at last.”

  But here she is, her head still attached to her neck after all.

  The woman clasps my hand and kisses my cheek, the corners of her dark eyes curling up with her smile. She has an upper-class accent. Her hands are warm and soft. She smells of cigarettes and brandy and expensive soap. I stare at her with my mouth open while she moves smoothly on to Dek.

  “And you must be Benedek. You look very well—both of you. Better than we’d feared!”

  In fact, we look very confused. Princess Zara gives me a wave.

  “I’d get up to say hello,” she says, “but I hate to disturb the cat!”

  “It’s not really a cat,” I say.

  “Oh, I know. I heard about that.”

  “Zor Gen!” says the elegant lady—not kissing Gennady. “I am glad to see you also. Please, sit, all of you. You must be tired! I’ll have the cook bring something to eat and drink. Will you speak to her, Csilla?”

  Csilla nods and goes out.

  Dek and I are standing there gaping like fools, but Gennady is unimpressed. “Do I know you?” he rumbles—which is just what I am thinking.

  “We haven’t met,” she says. “But I have heard a great deal about all three of you, and I’m sure you have heard some mention of me too. At least, I hope so. I am Ariane Laroche.”

  “Lady Laroche?” Dek gives me a startled look.

  “I’d heard you were…well, we were told you were…dead,” I say, not finding a polite way to come to this point.

  Lady Laroche—leader of the Sidhar Coven. The coven my mother was once a part of. The coven that brutalized Pia and sent her to kill Casimir. In Tianshi, I heard Agoston Horthy’s lackey claim she’d been caught and executed. He was promising to send the grand librarian of Yongguo her head. But here she is, her head still attached to her neck after all.

  “Not dead,” she says, holding her arms out and executing a startling twirl, as if to prove the point. She picks up her cigarette. Indeed, she is tremendously jaunty for someone supposedly executed over a month ago. “Not dead at all, though I was captured and taken to Hostorak. A low point in my career. What a dreadful place!”

  There is a short pause, and then the man on the sofa drawls, “She’s waiting for you to ask how she escaped.”

  She laughs, swooping the hand with the cigarette in the direction of the young stranger and his paper animals. “Excuse my rudeness. May I introduce Mr. Idir Faruk?”

  He rises to shake my hand as if I were a man, then Dek’s, then Gennady’s before returning to the sofa. Idir Faruk: there is no explanation of him beyond that.

  “How did you get out of Hostorak?” asks Dek obligingly. The dreaded prison for witches and folklore practitioners is reputed to be impenetrable.

  “Idir is tired of the story, so I’ll be brief. I keep a needle in my dress, always. I knew I would be searched, so I stuck it into my heel and it went unnoticed. I went to my cell with it. The cells in Hostorak are coated with silver, to impede magic being worked inside them, but not all of us are strongly affected by silver. I used the needle to write a spell on my own flesh. When my captors returned to take me to the river and drown me, I turned into a bat and escaped. Would you believe, though, that of all the possible dangers involved, my heel became infected! I nearly lost my foot!”

  Dek and I exchange a look at turned into a bat. What kind of witch is this?

  “And now you’re all staying here?” I ask Esme. “The old place is empty.”

  “We weren’t sure it was safe,” she says. “But I am staying in the Edge. We’re here for a strategy meeting tonight.”

  “Welcome to the revolution,” says Lady Laroche, with a slightly lunatic grin, and I finally sit down next to Mr. Faruk. Dek sits with me.

  In comes Mrs. Freeley, the cook when I was posing as a housemaid here, with Csilla behind her. Mrs. Freeley is unchanged—a mountain of a woman with shrewd little eyes. She rather frightened me when I ostensibly worked for her, but her expression now is more amused than anything else.

  “You look a mite different from the last time I saw you,” she says, putting a platter of biscuits and coffee down on the table. “Julia, is it, now? I’ve been telling myself I should’ve known that no maid with any training could’ve been as incompetent as you were in the kitchen. It’s quite a mixed bag of tales I’ve been hearing about you.”

  I attempt a smile.

  “Where is Mrs. Och?” asks Professor Baranyi, hunched on the settee near the princess and watching me guardedly. “Where are Frederick and Bianka and Theo?”

  My mouth goes dry. Might as well get it over with.

  “Mrs. Och and Bianka are both dead.”

  A stunned silence follows. Lady Laroche alone doesn’t look terribly shocked. She sucks on her cigarette and blows a plume of smoke out into the room. Mrs. Freeley sits down in the one empty chair—not like a servant at all, and I suppose I had gathered by the end of my performance as housemaid here that she was not really—or not merely—a servant. They are all staring at me, waiting, and so I tell them.

  “Mrs. Och killed Bianka. Threw her into the Dongnan Canal in Tianshi. She meant to kill Theo too—she was going for him with a knife—so…I killed Mrs. Och. Or, I hurt her badly, and she died later.”

  At first my voice is shaking, but I pull myself together. I did what I had to do. I still believe that. I refuse to be some simpering girl wracked with guilt.

  The princess has stopped stroking Strig, her lips parted in horror. Csilla bursts out, “Oh, Julia!” and then covers her mouth. I daren’t look at Professor Baranyi.

  “I rather think you’re bringing us in at the end of the story,” says Lady Laroche. “Your friends have told me about your journey to Yongguo—how you hoped to find the monk Ko Dan. But I thought Mrs. Och was protecting the witch and her son.”

  “She was,” I say. “Until she wasn’t.”

  I explain it stumblingly—how Mrs. Och lost all hope of helping Theo, and Si Tan persuaded her to destroy Theo and that dangerous text fragment. I tell again, my voice hollow, how she drained Frederick of his strength, took Bianka and Theo on the water. How she tossed them into the canal and swung her blade at Theo when I fished him out.

  “And I
stopped her,” I say. “I killed her.”

  “Pray, how?” asks Lady Laroche. “My understanding is that immortals are rather difficult to kill.”

  Gennady answers for me: “She took my sister to Kahge and plunged her into the fire there until she was burnt to nearly nothing. It might not have killed her if she were not already dying. But it hastened her end.”

  I allow myself a glance at Esme. I should have told them before now what I can do. Well, now they know. She meets my eyes steadily, and I realize that she already knows a fair bit when Lady Laroche says, “Kahge! Incredible! Professor Baranyi told us about this remarkable ability you have. I confess, I wasn’t sure whether I believed it, but if the Xianren say it is true…”

  I wonder what else the professor told them. If they know about Lidari. I wonder what Esme thinks. But she kissed me at the door like I was just Julia.

  “I’ve known Mrs. Och for more than twenty years,” says Mrs. Freeley. There are tears in her eyes, but her voice doesn’t waver. “She would never have done such a thing if she’d had a choice. This girl…last time she was here she kidnapped the little boy. Now she’s back to say his mother’s dead and claiming Mrs. Och’s responsible for it. How do we know she’s telling the truth?”

  “Careful,” says Esme, her voice dropping a pitch to that dangerous place that sometimes precedes violence.

  “You weren’t with us in Yongguo, Mrs. Freeley,” says Gregor, more diplomatically. “We all respected Mrs. Och, but I don’t doubt Julia’s telling. Professor—it has the ring of truth, does it not? We all know Mrs. Och was entirely capable of—”

  Professor Baranyi stands up and goes out without looking at me.

  “We understand that you were left with few choices, Julia,” says Lady Laroche. She glances at Mrs. Freeley, who presses her lips together and says nothing. “And where is the child now?”

  “With Frederick,” I say. “I don’t know where.”

  Princess Zara is watching me closely, stroking the owl-cat. With a nasty jolt I remember that she can tell when somebody is lying. So she knows I know where Theo is. But she says nothing.

  Dek takes over to tell his part—being captured in Tianshi, the surgery and the sac of poison slowly deteriorating next to his heart. He tells them about the contract in my wrist, the thing that will crawl toward my brain over the coming days and conquer my mind entirely. The parlor is quiet as a tomb while he talks. We certainly know how to bring the fun to a party.

  “I’ve heard rumors about Casimir’s contracts,” says Lady Laroche. “Show us, Julia.”

  I roll the sleeve of Pia’s shirt up and pull off the bandage to reveal the red streak running from the metal disk in my wrist to the little itching lump that has nearly reached the inside of my elbow now. It’s moving, and alarmingly fast too. Lady Laroche clenches her jaw around her cigarette holder.

  “Why not just pluck it out now?” she asks.

  “I’ll pull it out as soon as we find a way of getting the poison out of Dek,” I say. “Given how fast it’s moving, I’d say I’ve got a week tops to figure something out.”

  Lady Laroche kneels before the sofa, skirts rustling, and takes my wrist in her hand to examine the little lump. “It’s alive, isn’t it?”

  I shrug, feeling queasy.

  “The Xianren can tell us about the nuyi,” says Mr. Faruk, directing his words to Gennady. “Once upon a time they posed a terrible threat, and the Xianren joined together to destroy them, is that not so?”

  “What is it?” asks Esme. “Let’s get that straight first.”

  “A kind of parasite,” says Gennady. “Each nest has a queen, and only the queen is truly intelligent. Her soldiers execute her will, however far they may roam from the nest. The queen herself is too large to enter the brain without killing the carrier, but her small soldiers burrow into living beings, take over their will, and serve the queen through the body they have come to dominate. At first we didn’t know what was happening. Once-benevolent kings, generals, coven leaders would turn ruthless and power-hungry. It had been going on for centuries before we discovered the nuyi. We destroyed all the nests we could find, killing the queens and thus releasing the many tribes and kingdoms that had fallen under their power. If they are not quite extinct, they are not nearly the threat they used to be.” He gives a snort that might be laughter. “Trust Casimir to keep a few as pets.”

  “Yes, he’s really one for the hijinks, isn’t he,” says Dek dryly. “A regular barrel of monkeys, that brother of yours.”

  “So where is the nuyi queen?” I ask.

  “Casimir is the queen,” says Gennady. “I do not know how he maintains his control over the nuyi, but he functions as the queen of his own nest. They are linked to his will, and they obey it. He keeps the soldiers alive and puts them inside anyone he wants to control.”

  “So all our problems end if we kill Casimir,” I say bitterly.

  “Easier said than done, my dear,” says Lady Laroche. “We’ve tried that. Still, it is a worthy goal, and I would like to help you.”

  “As will I, if I can,” says Gennady. “I am ready for the end of the Xianren. Including myself.”

  Lady Laroche gives him an appraising glance. “I think we can be of use to each other, Zor Gen.”

  “Perhaps I can be of use to you,” he replies. “You are no use to me.”

  “Don’t be so sure. My goodness, what a lot to think about. Julia, you’ve really no idea where the little boy is? We could help keep him safe.”

  I shake my head, avoiding Zara’s gaze. I don’t know this woman, and I’m not going to trust her with Theo’s life.

  Lady Laroche grinds her cigarette out. “Pity. So, Casimir wants you spying on the Fraynish court.”

  “He doesn’t trust Agoston Horthy,” I say.

  “Indeed no, and nor should he,” says Lady Laroche. Her eyes are bright. She looks like she’s about to suggest a picnic at the seaside. “How do you feel about being a sort of double agent, Julia? If you are able to pass along information to us as well, it could be very useful.”

  “As long as Casimir doesn’t figure it out, I feel fine,” I say.

  “Good. In the meantime, we must see what we can do for Benedek. It may be that the right surgeon and the right witch together can help us. If we cannot take the poison out, perhaps we could prevent the sac from deteriorating, or counter the poison somehow. I will send a telegram first thing in the morning to a friend who might be able to help. We need expert opinions.”

  I start to warm to her a little. She sounds so assured that I wonder if she might really be able to help us after all. There are powerful people in the world other than Casimir, and she probably knows them.

  The night grows deeper as we talk. Mrs. Freeley says nothing but glowers at me while the others fill us in on the nascent revolution. Gregor and Csilla have taken a house in West Spira, just north of the university, where they are throwing illicit parties with the purpose of wooing members of the upper classes unhappy with Agoston Horthy’s regime. Esme is working with a group of revolutionaries stationed in the Edge and sounding out allies in other parts of the country. When the grandfather clock on the third-floor landing strikes one, we are all still gathered in the parlor, the owl-cat asleep on the princess’s lap now. Professor Baranyi has not come back.

  “It’s late,” says Lady Laroche with a theatrical yawn.

  “Mr. Gennady, you’re welcome to stay here,” says Mrs. Freeley, pointedly excluding me and Dek from the invitation. “I know Mrs. Och would’ve wanted her brother to be comfortable. I’ll make up the room in the cellar for you. We had a nobleman staying there before, and it’ll afford you the most privacy.”

  She must mean the room Sir Victor stayed in, struggling with his nocturnal wolfism. I think after his long imprisonment, Gennady might prefer a room that didn’t have chains on the walls, bu
t at least he won’t have to wear them. Lady Laroche looks vaguely surprised at Mrs. Freeley’s offer but doesn’t argue. I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell Gennady he’s not welcome either.

  “Julia and Benedek have traveled a long way,” she begins.

  Mrs. Freeley locks eyes with her, and to head off the conflict I say quickly, “I’m to stay at the West Spira Grand Hotel with Pia. Speaking of which, Csilla, d’you suppose you could come there tomorrow morning, first thing? Tenth floor. I need somebody to help me dress up like a noble girl.”

  Csilla is leaning against Gregor on the settee—either that or propping him up. She assents immediately, smiling away the tension in the room: “Of course. I’ve always wanted to dress you up a bit. This latest outfit of yours is ghastly.”

  “I’d like to see Wyn,” says Dek, rising. “He’s a night owl—I reckon he’s still up. Where’s this pub he’s staying at?”

  “It’s called the Marrow, in Rat’s Row,” says Esme. “I’ve another meeting tonight, down in Forrestal, but if you’re going to the Marrow, perhaps you can take a message for me to a fellow named Torne.”

  “Hang on, who?” I cry.

  “Torne,” says Esme, frowning at me. “He’s one of the few surviving leaders of the Lorian Uprising.”

  “At the Marrow?”

  “Yes.”

  I feel an odd little quiver of…what? It starts out queasy, but there’s something else in it too. Anticipation?

  “I know the place,” I say.

  East Spira—more commonly known as the Edge—is like the grimy hem of the city, trailing in the dust. It is a desolate place, reeking of desperation. Beyond it, Limory Cemetery climbs the foothills toward the jagged Ender Mountains. The Marrow has a street-level door with no number, and no one answers our knock. Dek picks the lock, and we go down the narrow staircase toward the voices at the bottom.