The Obsidian Tower

by Melissa Caruso

  He grimaced. “She’s from an opposing faction, so I’ve kept it quiet. But the Zenith Society isn’t some sinister cabal—we’re dedicated solely to the advancement of magical knowledge and the protection of the Serene Empire.”

  “Pure altruists, I’m sure,” I said, letting the irony drip from my voice.

  “Everything in Raverra is political. There’s not one altruist in the whole city. But we’ve read the signs: border raids in Callamorne, Vaskandran forests that creep a few feet farther onto imperial soil every day, domains like Alevar building up standing armies, chimeras found deep in imperial territory, Lamiel’s magical land-grabbing stunt on Windhome Island—the list goes on. We see war on the wind. We just want to ensure that the Serene Empire will never fall to Vaskandar, no matter how many Witch Lords unite their terrible power against us.” He took a deep breath. “And for that, we need the gate.”

  “Look, I don’t want to see anyone invade the Serene Empire, either,” I hissed, struggling to keep my voice low as anger bubbled up in me. “But this isn’t how we do it.”

  “Then how?” He sounded genuinely desperate, like he’d love to know. His eyes pleaded with me. “You’re no fool, Ryx. You know Vaskandar will always keep trying to expand. We have hundreds of years of wars to prove it. This peace has been exceptional, but it can’t last forever. We’re seeing the beginning of the end right now, with these aggressions from the Shrike Lord; there are a handful of other Witch Lords beginning to push boundaries, too, seeking domains for their children and spouses and friends. And the Serene Empire has to be ready. Morgrain has to be ready.”

  “There’s an ocean of difference between being ready to deal with invaders and using a gate to the Hells as a weapon,” I said, frustrated. “You think the Witch Lords are bad because they use their connection to the land to oppress those without magic? Well, how will it be any better if your Zenith Society takes power using the strength of the Nine Demons? That’s even worse!”

  Aurelio stared at me, shadows passing through his eyes. “That’s what I’m worried about,” he said, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. “That’s what I tried to tell Lord Urso. But he says that we’re wise enough to use it only for good, and I—I have to believe him, Ryx.”

  Uneasy memories of Bastian’s story stirred in my mind, and suddenly I was very afraid for Aurelio. “No you don’t,” I urged him. “Listen, I’ve heard stories about the Zenith Society finding bright and promising protégés from poor families and just… using them up. Lord Urso is using you, Aurelio.”

  His eyes dropped to the floor. “I know that,” he said. “Do you think I don’t know that?”

  “Then leave him! You don’t need him. You can—”

  “Yes I do.” He raised his eyes to meet mine, and there was anger in them. “You don’t know, Ryx, because you were born to a powerful family. Sure, they treat you like garbage, but they feed you. You’re the lady of a castle, for Graces’ sake.” He shook his head. “I owe Lord Urso everything. My father owes him everything. We were sleeping on a tenement floor when he started running errands for the Zenith Society and Lord Urso decided he had promise. I still remember what it was like, being hungry and having no food or any idea when I’d get any. I can’t go back to that, Ryx. I can’t send my father back to that.”

  “You’ll just let him use you?” I asked, incredulous. “You know he’s out for power, and treating you and your father as tools that can be cast aside, and you’ll still do whatever he tells you?”

  “What choice do I have?” Aurelio’s voice cracked, and he turned his face away. “And besides, he’s not wrong. Vaskandar is an existential threat to the Empire, and war is coming. I need to believe in him, Ryx. I have to work for him anyway, so I want—no, I do believe he’s right.”

  “You have other choices.” I reached out toward him. “You don’t have to stay with him. You’re not going to starve, Aurelio. You’ve got your own career, and you’ve got friends and connections who can help you.”

  He caught my extended hand in both of his. “You owe him, too, Ryx.” Aurelio turned my wrist so the jess gleamed on it. “He’s the one who used his connections to get me the authorization to give you this. If you act against the Zenith Society, he might pull the same strings to revoke that authorization and take it back.”

  He said it as a warning, not a threat, his voice anxious. Still, I snatched my hand back, struggling to hide my anger.

  “I am the Warden of Gloamingard. I choose my actions for the good of the people of Morgrain.”

  “Then think carefully about where that good lies.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, as if they needed warming after how quickly I’d dropped them. “Don’t overreact out of fear of old stories. Turn my words over in your mind for a while. And I beg you, when you step up to make your speech at the Rite of Blood and Water, make the right choice.”

  “I will do my best to do so,” I said, my stomach sinking. I could lose him tonight—as an ally, as a friend. “I can only hope you do the same.”

  We gathered for the Rite of Blood and Water in the orchard at dusk, as long gray shadows enfolded the hill. It was a time of beginnings and endings, when the muted fires of sunset kindled and died in the west, but the cold light of the stars had yet to waken in the velvet sky. The door of day closed, the door of night opened, and only human hands could lift a steady light against the changing of the tide to darkness.

  The rite demanded witness of earth and sky, and so we stood in the orchard, the living breath of the trees around us, the insects singing their tense song to the evening. Electric whispers raced around among the gathered people, punctuated by silences that hummed with possibility.

  If Aurelio was to be believed, I held the evening’s potential in my hands. It was a terrifying idea, given my record for catastrophes.

  He stood with Lady Celia and her aides, all of them looking somewhat nervous at participating in a Vaskandran rite, the last light of sunset painting harsh shadows on their faces. He caught me watching him and returned my stare with one that burned with a silent plea; I glanced away first.

  I was half inclined to report him to Lady Celia. I doubted she’d be happy to find out the Falconer advising her was a member of the Zenith Society, no matter what Aurelio said—though if opposing factions had appointed him her adviser, she might not be able to do much about it. I should tell the Rookery, at least. But he’d trusted me to keep his secret, and I couldn’t bring myself to immediately turn around and break that trust. If he really was part of some harmless scholarly branch of the Zenith Society—or more likely, had been tricked into thinking so—I’d be a poor friend if I got him demoted or worse. Not to mention that denouncing him now would throw the rite into chaos, destroying my chances of achieving a consensus here. This called for delicacy I could best bring to bear after the rite. One crisis at a time.

  Odan set up a small table and placed a goblet on it, one sculpted by magic from bone with delicate scenes of misty mountain lakes and trees trailing falling blossoms. I should have created the table myself on the spot as the host, drawing it up from the tree roots with magic—but Odan, being Odan, had thought ahead and brought one.

  I stepped forward into the dying light and raised my arms. A hush fell on the orchard, with dozens of eyes turned on me as night shadows crept up the hill from the valleys below us. I am the guard at the gloaming.

  “Exalted Severin has invoked the Rite of Blood and Water, on behalf of his brother, the Shrike Lord,” I said. “We stand now at the falling of night to find a path that will bring us through to face the dawn as allies, not enemies. It has never been more important to do so, for the dawn that’s coming may be terrible indeed—if we allow it to be.” I paused, sweeping my gaze across the serious faces gathered around me, relying on my mage mark to grant my stare intensity. I envied my family’s ability to rouse their magic like a lifting of hackles, so that all could feel it in the air.

  “I, for one, have no intention of allowing it,” I s
aid firmly.

  They strained to believe me; I could see it in their eyes, feel it in the air. They wanted peace, nearly every one of them. They wanted someone to tell them they could be safe.

  My heart contracted in my chest. One of the Nine Demons walked the world once more, and none of us were safe. Any peace we forged here would be fragile as a bubble floating on a river. This hope was an illusion, and I knew it.

  If it could avert war, it was an illusion that could save thousands of lives—at least for a little while.

  “The issues before us are the disposition of the gate to the Nine Hells discovered under my family’s ward in the Black Tower, and the resolution of the Shrike Lord’s claim of grievance over Exalted Lamiel’s death. Let all who have an interest in these matters drink from the goblet and propose their solution. In the end we will bind ourselves to a course of action, by blood or by water.”

  I stepped back from the table to make room for whoever would speak first. There came a brief pause; Severin conferred quietly with Voreth, and Ardith simply grinned, their hands stuffed in their pockets.

  Lady Celia seized the waiting moment. She swept up to the table and took a neat, decisive sip from the clear water in the goblet before lifting her chin to address the gathering.

  “We stand at the cusp of a crisis,” she declared, her strong voice resonating through the orchard. “The Graces have given us a chance to avert the same fate that scarred our people’s memory for millennia. We must seal this gate forever, and lock away the horror that has become synonymous in all our cultures with suffering and evil. To do anything else is rank madness. I propose on behalf of the Serene Empire that we follow the plan the Rookery has presented to us, and destroy the gate permanently.”

  She dipped a curt bow to the assembly and returned to her place in the rough half circle gathered around the table. I noticed that she didn’t mention the fleet of warships that Jannah’s birds reported was now in position off the coast of Morgrain, poised to rain destruction upon us if the Serene Empire didn’t get its way.

  A silence fell. For one brief moment, the wild hope kindled in my chest that no one would disagree, and we could resolve this simply and easily.

  Then Severin took an audible breath, cutting like a sword across the quiet of the evening. When he strode forward, however, there was no hesitation in his pace, and no weakness or doubt in the gaze with which he raked the assembly after taking his ceremonial draft from the cup.

  “I stand before you as a representative of my brother, the Shrike Lord,” he said, with careful emphasis, as if to disavow any personal stake in the matter. “Know that there are only two settlements he will accept: either delivery of Exalted Lamiel’s murderer into his hands, or ceding control of the gate to Alevar.” A murmur of protest ran through the Raverran delegation, but he raised his voice over it. “If Morgrain can provide neither, then he and his allies will make war upon them to obtain his satisfaction. I offer you this path to peace: I propose that dominion over the gate be given to the Shrike Lord, who claims it in recompense for his beloved’s death.” Severin caught my eyes. “Unless, of course, Exalted Lamiel’s murderer can be found and turned over to the Shrike Lord for justice, in which case I gladly withdraw this proposal.”

  He stepped back from the table with no more than a curt nod, and kept his eyes trained straight ahead as he walked back to his place at Voreth’s side. A bitter taste lingered at the back of my mouth. He was going to play the part his brother had given him to the end, it would seem—and to be fair, with Voreth ready to step up in his place, to do otherwise would bring down the Shrike Lord’s wrath upon him without accomplishing much.

  “Does anyone else have a proposal for a solution?” I called out.

  My eyes slid to Ardith, anticipating what they might say with something approaching dread. I almost missed it when Aurelio stepped forward, slow and deliberate, from his place at Lady Celia’s side.

  Celia’s brows climbed her forehead as he approached the table; whatever he was about to do, he hadn’t warned her. My middle tightened. Don’t do it, I willed him silently. This is enough of a mess already without you sticking your hand in it.

  He picked up the cup, regarded it a moment, and took a long sip. At last he turned to face his audience.

  “No doubt I do my career no favors by saying this,” he began, flashing an apologetic smile at the incredulous Lady Celia, “but there is a third option we must in good conscience consider. And as a Falconer—a steward of the Serene Empire’s magical knowledge and might—it’s my duty to lay it before you.”

  You mean Lord Urso told you to lay it before us. Lady Celia shook her head, jaw set. Next to me, Foxglove and Bastian exchanged glances.

  Aurelio forged ahead. “When I joined the Falconers, I often found myself in the vicinity of artificers and alchemists and their projects. And my mentors taught me a very important lesson: if you don’t understand something magical, don’t touch it.” That drew scattered chuckles, and he grinned briefly before pulling his expression into something more stern and sober. “Never has Eruvia seen a more dangerous artifact than this gate. And while the Rookery’s skills and knowledge are legendary, they’ve only had a few days to examine it. We need to be extremely careful, my friends, because the consequences of making a mistake could be dire indeed.”

  Hells. He was making too much sense. Some of the Raverran delegation were nodding, and Ardith listened attentively, their eyes bright.

  Aurelio, to my horror, flung an arm in my direction. “Lady Ryxander is too modest to mention it, but her family has protected this gate without incident for four thousand years. Leaving it in their care is literally the only course of action proven not to lead to a recurrence of the Dark Days.” He gripped the edges of the table like a podium, drawing himself up. “Instead of leaping to drastic and immediate action, I propose that we let Morgrain continue peacefully in their capacity as its guardians—but that we also put together an international team to study the gate. With all due caution, of course, and with the intent to share our discoveries for the benefit of all.”

  Fair words, but the last thing we needed was a parade of people coming close enough to the gate to hear the whispering voices of the demons. Especially since I had no doubt half of them would bring their own agendas and secret orders. My teeth ground together at the thought.

  Aurelio spread his hands wide. “For the safety of Eruvia, we must not destroy this gate. Not until we understand it better, and know the consequences of our actions. Thank you.”

  He offered us all a deep bow and returned to his place. Lady Celia stood stiff and furious.

  The sky had gone purple with dusk, and the lights I’d had Odan hang in the trees around us twinkled to life, bathing faces with the pale glow of luminaries and phosphorescent flowers. It was a thinner light, like old brittle ice, and it made everyone’s faces tired and afraid.

  I stepped forward, clearing my throat. “If there are no more proposals, then now is the time when any who would speak on this issue may do so, whether to back a proposal, argue against one, or bring up new considerations.”

  Ardith sauntered to the front without hesitation, smirking. Oh Hells. Here it comes.

  “Well, looks like I’m the only one here officially undecided,” they said. “Let the bribes roll in!”

  Ashe chuckled. Voreth glared. I held my breath and waited to see where this was going; Ardith was no more undecided than I was.

  “Alas, I fear it’s time to lay down my cards,” they sighed. “I may be officially undecided, but unofficially I’m here to represent a mixed assortment of Witch Lords who’ve asked me to be their eyes here. And they have a whole list of concerns.” Ardith produced a square of paper from their pocket, unfolded it with a flourish, and began to read. “Where is the Lady of Owls during all this? How can we be certain the enchantment to destroy the gate won’t have horrific and spectacular magical backlash that kills us all?” They paused and looked up. “I have to admit I’m conc
erned about that one myself.”

  “Please. We are professionals,” Foxglove murmured beside me, sounding mildly offended.

  “There was that time in Callamorne,” Ashe whispered. “That was pretty spectacular.”

  Foxglove brushed imaginary dust off his cuffs. “We agreed never to speak of that.”

  Ardith kept going. “What will happen to the flow of magic in this world if we seal the gate? Why—oh, anyway, it goes on.” They crumpled up the paper. “The point is, they have questions. Some of them even have good questions! While they don’t all agree on a course of action, there’s a general consensus of alarm that one domain could make this sky-shaking revelation and then propose to wipe it out forever virtually in the same breath. They think it smells suspicious, like something is being covered up, and I have to agree.” They grimaced in my direction. “Sorry, Ryx.”

  Feeling the crowd’s eyes on me, I offered Ardith a stiff nod. Curse them for being too perceptive.

  Ardith took a deep breath. “Suffice to say they want to call a Conclave to talk about this before we do anything too permanent. Whether they’re willing to throw some power around to enforce it or not, I’ll leave to your imagination.”

  They swept a cocky bow and all but strutted back to their place. Despair settled over me like falling snow; only Lady Celia seemed to back destroying the gate immediately, and Aurelio’s speech made it clear that the Serene Empire was divided.

  Foxglove smoothed his cravat and stepped forward, Bastian at his side. They took turns carefully and seriously presenting everything they’d been attempting to pound into the heads of the diplomats all night: the threat the gate presented, the Rookery’s recommendation to destroy it, and the plan for doing so.

  The crowd remained restless. In the thin, pale light, they looked concerned, but not convinced. Foxglove could see it, too; worry flickered in his amber-brown eyes. They weren’t lining up on our side. They wouldn’t let us destroy the gate.

  That meant it was my turn to play my secret ace. Seasons witness, I didn’t want to do this.