by R. Lee Smith
“I don’t blame you at all, brother. Were I certain that Azkeloth could be engaged elsewhere, I think I’d have a ride myself.”
The High Table began again to laugh. The students, in anxious sycophancy, joined in. And all Mara could do was leave.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kazuul’s demonstration in the dining hall may not have had its intended effect, if he truly intended it to send her running into his arms, but at least he didn’t compound his error by coming after her again. Or perhaps he’d set out to do just that countless times, but turned himself back, smart enough to know that if he got in arm’s reach of her as angry as he was, he’d kill her. Mara didn’t know and didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, the game between them was over. Unless he showed up with Connie in his open hands, she meant to have nothing more to do with him, or with any of the rest of them. She was here to find her friend, and by God, that was all she was going to do.
For two days, Mara searched the ephebeum for a girl she already knew was not there. She opened every door boldly, invading each occupied cell whether its resident student were at class or not, blasting free every sealed lockplate just in case the uninhabited cell beyond should hide her target. She had to hurt a lot of angry people and she didn’t care about that either.
Using a Malleating touch, she found she could see all the hidden pockets of space around the tiny cells, and she trained herself to use Sight to detect whether the rock had been Malleated before. Of course it all had, but the recent touches burned the brightest, and that was what she used as she went from cell to cell, pulling walls open. She found cups, robes, slippers, candles. She found hoarded food and stolen ewers of unwatered wine. She found six bodies, and dragged each one up into the lyceum for Horuseps to identify, even if they were nothing more than robes and bones. He tried to speak to her at first, but soon simply sent for the archivist’s book and kept it with him. At the end of each day, she returned to her cell exhausted, knowing it was useless but unable to think of what else to do. And on the third day, she ran out of cells to search.
Standing there in the last one, above the unconscious figure of the man who’d tried to stop her from entering his personal space, Mara indulged herself in a few poisonous fantasies mainly concerned with this mountain and a couple crates of high-explosives. Then she walked out into the ephebeum’s main cavern, found a bench, and sat.
There were always a few students milling around here, more now that everyone knew she was poking around in their rooms, but no one came near her. A wise precaution, considering her mood. Right now, it took all of her self-control not to mindslap everyone in sight or Malleate their heads on backwards or…
But she had to be calm now, had to be. Mara had never been the sort of person who dealt with anger well, which was why she worked so hard not to get angry at all. Anger was a useless emotion. It clouded reason and confused judgment, and she didn’t have either one in abundance. She had to keep focus, remember why she was here, and above all, stay calm.
The day must be nearly over by now. It was easy to lose track of time when using the Sight, but Mara’s stomach told her it had been many hours since first-bell and her sorry breakfast of roots and gruel. Too late, in other words, to begin another prolonged search. Tomorrow was soon enough to start over, in the Nave this time, and then…the lyceum again, she supposed.
And after that?
After that, she’d open the Black Door.
For a moment, even her thoughts stilled, as if some part of her were shocked by the idea, but what was there to be shocked about, really? It was the only place left, the only door she could think of that she hadn’t opened.
So, what if she did get it open? She’d be judged, wouldn’t she? She’d be counted towards the Tenth. And even if she survived and the way out were revealed to her, what if Connie wasn’t there? Where would she be but back out of this stupid goddamned mountain, looking for a way back in?
She couldn’t think like this.
Did she really think she could get that door open from the other side? Did she think she could open it at all? Maybe it only opened for demons.
But maybe not. After all, who was stupid enough to want to try?
“Who indeed?” muttered Mara, and stood up.
She climbed the stairs into the Nave as students moved wide around her, tapping at each one by habit, scarcely aware of them. The Nave was noisy, crowded with students fresh from class who waited for third-bell and their second meal. She felt them noticing her, saw their little sparks lighting up the Mindstorm as she passed them by, but ignored them as much as she could ignore anyone.
The Black Door.
She could see herself approaching in the dark mirror of its face, growing pale and grimly distinct one step at a time. The stone was cool to the touch, as smooth as glass. When she flexed her mind into Sight, she Saw nothing; the magic that had made it, unchanged since the founding days, had faded entirely from even this sphere. She willed the door to open, and thought she Saw a flicker of response deep in the hidden fathoms of its reflection, but it did not move beneath her hand.
Mara thought a moment.
“Malleate,” she said.
“You mustn’t do that.”
Sight shattered. Mara pulled back her hand, releasing the Word’s power, but didn’t turn around. She already knew it was Horuseps. “I want to open it.”
“It is forbidden for students to cross the threshold before their time.”
“You never said that at the tribunal.”
“I shouldn’t have to.” He joined her at the door. His reflection was much clearer than hers, as if it gave off its own light. “You think she’s behind it, don’t you?”
“Can you swear she isn’t?”
He gave her a hard, cold stare. “I shouldn’t have to do that either. I have sworn upon my life to you once already. I should think that would merit a modicum of trust now.”
“Sorry,” said Mara. She wasn’t.
“Hm.” His glittering eyes returned to the door. He watched her there, gradually losing his irritation to an expression that was merely thoughtful. “You’re lucky I happened along when I did, precious. Only those whom you call demons may open this door, and of those, only those of the high blood may do it safely. All others are repelled. Violently.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Is the door open?” he asked gently.
She clenched her jaw. “No.”
“Then consider yourself fortunate. Failure may be a bitter wine for you to swallow, but you are alive to swallow it.”
“How nice to know you’re looking out for me.”
Horuseps said nothing, and the longer that silence stretched out, the snottier those last words seemed. Mara touched the door again, stroking her fingertips just once across its glossy surface. She glanced at him, the real him, and not just his reflection. “Are you okay?” she asked.
His surprise was not manufactured. Then he understood, and his next smile was somewhat softer. “We aren’t human,” he said. “Mending our flesh is no more than a thought. And a Word.”
“I really didn’t think he’d do that.”
Horuseps shrugged. “I did.”
“I hope it didn’t ruin your night with Proteus.”
“Proteus.” Horuseps started a theatric sigh and ended with one of his ugly, spidery laughs. “Oh, I couldn’t go through with it. I looked at him…I remembered you.” He made a few passes with his fingers through her hair, then patted her shoulder. “You really need to go to him.”
She didn’t even bother asking who.
“No.”
“Mara—”
“He humiliated me in front of a roomful of people. He can kiss my ass, but he’ll never get it in bed again.”
“Kazuul—”
“Is your lord, not mine.” She glared at the door, seeing it all over again. “He’s done nothing but waste my time. I’m done with him.”
“You can’t—”
Mara yanked her
shoulder out from under his hand. “And I’m done with you too, if all you’re going to do is pimp me out!”
Horuseps stepped back, bowing to her in sarcastic servility. “My only desire is to answer your every need. You wish to Malleate the threshold? So be it. You! Come here.”
Horuseps beckoned, and from the uneasy crowd watching them came a familiar man in a black robe. “Venice,” the demon said, patting the man’s shoulder. “A master of Malleation, specializing in stone.”
“We’ve met,” said Mara.
“Have you?” Horuseps murmured, too casually. He drew the silent Venice with him towards the door and pointed. “An opening, if you please. Mara, dearest, you may want to stand back.”
Venice stared at the Black Door without moving as Horuseps removed himself to a deliberate distance. The Nave was very quiet now. After a moment, the man looked at Mara. He hadn’t been sleeping well, she thought, or eating much. He’d lost a lot of that easy, handsome charm he thought served him so well in his business, and now, with his eyes glassy and unblinking and his lips pressed whitely together, he looked like a man pulled too early from his sickbed. Or his deathbed.
“Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear.” Horuseps crossed his arms to rest his long hands on his shoulders. He wasn’t blinking either. “I command you to Malleate that door.”
“Please…”
“Oh, but you like to open holes in rock, don’t you?” The demon’s smile was a razor beneath his sparking eyes. “Show me how it’s done.”
Venice raised his hand and put it on the glossy stone face of the door. His mind was a tangle of wordless fear—of Horuseps, Mara and Connie all torn together into terrible new shapes. He knew he was about to die.
Mara moved back, looking warily from man to demon. “You don’t have to do this,” she said, and even she didn’t know who she was telling.
“Malleate,” said Venice, but there was no will behind it, and the Word was just a harmless sound.
“There are so many worse fates to suffer than death,” said Horuseps softly. His fingers curled over his shoulders slowly, like the legs of a dying spider. “And we are about to explore them, you and I.”
One tear, only one, overspilled the man’s right eye. His hand shook, leaving sweaty smears on the rock. “Malleate!” Venice shouted, and this time, Mara felt it when he pushed that power into the door.
She almost couldn’t see what happened next. An explosion of some sort, soundless, blastless. Venice was thrown back too fast for the eye to easily follow, but he didn’t fall right away. It took Mara a second or two to see the black spears that impaled him, not just once or twice, but everywhere. They held him in place, supported him, gave the blood something to trickle along, but they didn’t kill him. As many as there were, as awful as it was, it didn’t kill him.
Then they exploded again, erupting out of his twitching body like a spray of black fireworks and taking little bits of him away on their needle-like points: a shred of robe, a clot of flesh, one pierced and leaking eye. A third explosion, and they were all so silent, that was the worst thing, it robbed the violence of any reality. Venice, now a mass of black and red at the center of a stone sea urchin, had stopped moving but still breathed, losing bubbles from dozens of openings in his chest, throat, and sides. He thought of Connie again, the way she’d been on the aerie he’d made for her, with the sun behind her hair, and it occurred to him in a confused way that she’d looked beautiful, if only for that moment.
Then the spears withdrew, torpidly pouring themselves back into the Threshold and taking the body with them, until Venice was scraped off against the unfeeling door to land in a meaty heap at their feet, dead.
“How did you know about him?” Mara asked. Her voice was even. She thought that would be hard, but it wasn’t.
“Not from you, if that’s what concerns you. But you really should take care what company you keep. You have rather a knack of attracting companions who can’t keep their thoughts to themselves.”
Devlin.
Mara looked up and into the demon’s narrow smile.
“Calm yourself,” he said, patting her head. “I left your pet scampering freely in the lyceum. It’s not a crime not to report the escape attempts of the past. Merely to facilitate them.”
“If this is your way of telling me—”
“When I want to tell you something, precious, I’ll speak plainly. Subtlety is not among your many talents, as so recently you’ve reminded me. Ah, Master Suti’ok!”
Mara swung around, expecting to see the demon and his hounds just entering the Nave, and instead saw him less than three meters away. She flinched, flared immediately into anger, and swiftly suppressed both. She hated this place, hated not being able to see the minds around her, but her hatred was irrelevant and distracting. She ducked her head in a stiff nod instead.
The Master of the Hounds chuckled and bowed low. His gaze shifted to the mess on the floor. “One of thine?” he asked, brows rising. “Impressive.”
“He’s speaking to you,” Horuseps murmured, inspecting his fingers.
Mara frowned, actually stepping away from the corpse as if to further distance herself from responsibility. “He was Malleating the door,” she said.
“Ah.” Suti’ok turned his wry smile on Horuseps. “One of thine, then.”
Horuseps stroked one of his long eyebrows. “And you’re not as impressed, are you?”
“I’ve seen the trick too often out of thee.” He turned and raked his eyes across the students still gathered by the dining hall doors. “Clear the Nave!” he bellowed. “None may witness the rites of the dead! To thy cells!”
Some of the students retreated, but to Mara’s mild surprise, only some. The greater number merely shuffled on their feet, looking at one another until one of them worked up the courage to say, “But the bell’s about to ring.”
Mara turned on her heel and would have left, but for Horuseps closing one hand quietly over her shoulder. “I don’t need to watch this,” she said.
Suti’ok cast her an amused glance. “Lady?”
“She thinks you’re about to release the hounds,” Horuseps supplied.
The other demon chuckled. “As tempting a thought as it be, no Master is permitted so to slaughter our sheep without our lord’s consent.”
“Do they know that?” Mara asked.
The demons exchanged thoughtful glances.
“Hounds!” roared Suti’ok. “Feast thou on human meat! Te ha’vok! To every moving form, savage!”
The hounds set up an immediate and bloodthirsty baying, and students scattered in mind-blistering panic. Suti’ok burst out laughing, and a few of his hounds, eager to please, gave frolicking chase as far as the wide stair, ripping at robes and biting playfully at hands and feet. They crawled back on their bellies, tongues lolling, and Suti’ok hunkered low to rub their hideous heads and praise them in that coarse, guttural tongue.
For Mara, one hand pressed to her throbbing temple, it seemed an eternity before the Nave fully emptied, but intellectually, she knew it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two. And still, Horuseps kept her under his hand.
“I suspect you’ve added some to your reputation,” he observed, looking toward the stair where echoes of fear and pain still wafted up from the ephebeum.
“Me? How the hell was that my fault?!” Something brushed at her fingers. She looked down and saw a hound sidling up close, a rapt and hopeful expression stretched across its skinned-wolf face. She made herself give it a pat. It rolled onto its back at once, displaying its naked belly and throat, and whined pleasure. In its excitement, it had begun to grow an erection, but it wasn’t yet aware of it. She decided it was best to ease away before it did.
“Ska,” said Suti’ok, straightening. He saw the hound at her side and frowned. “Kor’vek!” he snapped, and the hound sprang up, head and tail tucked low, drooling blood on Mara’s robe. The demon called commands, and his hounds leapt away, some running to guard the
stair and every other door in the Nave, while others went to work on the body. Suti’ok grunted, then glanced up as third-bell sounded. He chuckled again. “So many empty bellies. Aye, they shall remember who it was stood close when they were sent hungry to their beds.”
“And who it was at my side,” Horuseps agreed, “when the unfortunate Venice was set against the door. How many of them know, do you suppose, that it was Venice who last had dealings with your little lost lamb?”
“I wouldn’t have killed him,” Mara said.
“That isn’t what Astregon remembers.”
“Astregon’s an idiot!” she snapped. “I don’t kill people and I don’t force them to commit suicide by making them mess with a magic door that I know is going to kill them just to prove a point to someone else!”
“One wonders how long you expected him to live with the seeds you planted eating up his brain.”
“My seeds don’t last that long!” Mara said, but she could feel herself frowning. It had been days since she’d spoken to Venice. Days. And he’d looked…awful.
“You may find that your boundaries have shifted, precious. But no matter.” Horuseps smiled at her. “No one forced him to use his arts to open secret escape passages either, but he did, and was punished. And if I can use that punishment to clarify the dangers of messing with magic doors to my darling Mara, what harm does that do, really? As you are so quick to observe, you aren’t here to make friends.”
Suti’ok grunted again, but all his attention was on his hounds. Not the three who worked to sew Venice’s robe back together and not the sentries who occasionally lunged out snapping at late-arriving students, but the rest of them, the ones scraping the meatier remains into a single heap and the ones who crawled along the floor, lapping up blood. The jovial boredom she remembered when he’d cleaned up after the woman in the bath was gone. His gaze raked back and forth, taking a constant count of his charges, but the usual pride with which he viewed them had been dimmed by an unmistakable wariness.