The faint glow of moonlight left her. Unseen bodies bumped her shins—whole or in pieces, she’d never know—and she sloshed on ahead, stumbling suddenly over the rising floor.
At least she wasn’t wading through filth any more. She picked herself up, waving a hand overhead. The tunnel widened, and as she climbed through the darkness she stood straighter, seeing a glow far ahead.
She opened her mouth.
A match flared in a recess beside her.
She whirled around in surprise.
“Oi there!” came a voice. “Who’s that, now?”
The tunnel behind her brightened, a blue glow that seemed to burst from everywhere at once.
Voices rose in excitement, at least four of them, deep and as similar as echoes.
Ashlan tore down the incline—and tripped over a loose stone.
She sprawled twenty feet away from the muck. “I’m down!” she shouted, hearing the guards at her back, cursing herself. The plan had been to lure them out, not give herself up.
“Damn right you are,” came a voice from behind her. Something swung down and smashed her in the ribs.
She groaned. They’d broken a few, and kept on swinging.
“There’s more outside,” called another. “She’s called ’em. Rucks, get the bottle, bruh—we’ll take ’em out where they stand.”
She looked up, drawing breath.
The guards all had the same face—bald heads, bulbous noses, thick necks.
One swung a boot into her stomach before she could get a word of warning out.
Winded, she twisted her head around. The one called Rucks was dashing, whooping in excitement, toward whatever nasty surprise they had in store.
What a treat this must be. It wasn’t often they got to uncork an enchantment.
If he gets to that bottle, she thought as the truncheon swung down at her face—
Then stopped.
The guard above her was hanging in the air.
His three brothers looked up, gaping, then joined him.
Rucks called out, caught by the ankle himself.
Then all five of them whipped past her, helmets banging against the walls and floor, hollering as they were dragged, splashing, through the slurry.
They weren’t screaming long. As Ashlan pulled herself up, wondering at the silence, she heard a deep, gurgling rumble, followed by a raspy giggling.
She staggered out through the mire, holding her side as she ducked into the moonlight.
It shone on the glossy, black bark of the gazing-tree that had burst from the open lid of the silver-buckled trunk. Its spores must have been roiling in there for all these miles, held at bay by the force of Tanka’s will. Now each guard was caught by one of its branches, which were wound, tight as snakes, around their bodies, filling their open mouths with smooth darkness.
Umber the bear, letting out a bone-deep rumbling, grasped tight to one of the guards with its claws. Pawing his belly open, it dipped its wide, wet jaws inside—where it gave a bubbling roar, shaking its hoary head.
“Long after the ability to take sustenance departs,” said Tanka softly, “the hunger still remains.”
Ashlan sighed, her ribs aching. Tanka’s arms were extended, her fingers twisted, her hands sweeping through the air—and the tree responded, keeping every terrified wriggle of the guards under wraps.
“He is, after all, a predator,” she breathed. “We mustn’t begrudge him his nature.”
Umber had moved on, its empty ribs gleaming and red. At a safe distance, Jassa gave trembling praise, while Rafe breathed between his knees, overcome. The bear took another guard, gnashing through his abdomen, as Hollis danced in the slimy carnage beneath—pretending, no doubt, that these were the workings of his own creator.
“The bear’s nature, or yours?” muttered Ashlan.
Tanka seemed not to have heard her. When the last guard fell still, she worked her fingers as if she were massaging lather into wet hair. The gazing-tree strode out onto solid ground, its roots writhing along the surface like tentacles.
Rafe stumbled back, staring with a peculiar intensity at the carcasses of the guards as they dropped to the earth like half-eaten fruit.
“Gather their helmets,” said Tanka, “and anything else that might identify them. We’ll pack their things in the trunk, where the spores will keep them hid. The bodies we’ll sink in the muck, where they’ll soon be indistinguishable from the rest.”
“You’re taking trophies,” said Ashlan.
Tanka turned, furrowing her brow. “Lady Ley, are you displeased?”
Ashlan couldn’t stop staring at the faces of the men they’d killed.
Five of them, all the same. The other two in their brood were probably gone already. These ones would have joined them before long, anyway, during one overthrow or another. It was rare for a city guard to see thirty.
But they’d died tonight instead.
This is what you’ve done, she thought. This is what you are.
“Guess I can’t help but think of my own brothers.”
Tanka hummed. “They were city guards?”
“Wanted to be. They died in the killing fields before they had the chance.”
“My brothers died here,” Tanka murmured, “along with the rest of my relatives, all at the hands of men like these, who dragged them through this very hole.”
Ashlan decided to leave it alone. “How long do you think we have before anyone notices they’re missing?”
“Until the next change of guard, probably at dawn. We can press on at our leisure.”
Jassa was looting the corpses, singing as she worked. Hollis had put an oversized helmet on his head and was drumming gleefully along, his palms slapping something he’d retrieved from the muck, where Umber’s jaws had tossed it.
“See, this right here,” Ashlan muttered, turning, “is why I keep to myself.”
Ashlan shoveled spiced lamb and rice into her mouth, swallowed, and repeated, taking no time to savor the taste.
The girl carving meat for the next dish looked up, eyes wide.
“Lady, you have to breathe.”
“Piece of advice, kid.” Ashlan wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “As long as I survive the meal, eating like a pig just makes me a better customer.” She dumped the rest of the meal down her throat and tossed the bowl onto the counter. “See? Quickest turnover you’ll have all night.”
As Ashlan rose, letting the heat in her bones surge out into her chest, the girl’s father upbraided her.
“Poppa, she didn’t even chew!”
Two broken ribs popped back into place, and Ashlan sighed with relief, scratching her stomach as she walked on.
Hollis, hidden in the handbag she held close to her stomach, wriggled in dismay. “This,” he whispered, “has been one of the most disgusting experiences of my life, and I changed diapers for three broods at once.”
Ashlan let out a belch that turned heads all the way back at the cook stall. “Three broods, all in diapers? Sounds like they had a terrible nanny.”
“Feh. They resisted the chamber pot just to spite me.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Ashlan said, scanning the crowd. Closing time had come and gone, and the place was thronged with raucous drunkards. Among this company, they were filthy enough to blend right in, and a blood-streaked bear was just another story. Unfortunately, it was now so busy that she had no idea where the others had gotten to.
“Ooh, honey cakes,” she murmured, stopping before a stall full of baked goods. “Let me get two of those? Better make it three.”
“How can you still be hungry?” Hollis whispered as she handed over the rest of her coin.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, pushing the third cake into her mouth and swallowing. She wished he wouldn’t keep talking to her about food. “It’s comforting, maybe. The food’s the only thing in this town that hasn’t changed.”
She wasn’t sure why she’d expected anything to be where she’d le
ft it. Banks, bookstores, even entire streets had shifted. She’d stepped into the Lidless Market—which used to be between Nuchal and Coracoid, and had since taken over half of Iliac Square—and started haggling over a handmade gammon board, just to make sure she still had what it took. Only after the vendor had tossed her out of his shop had she bothered listening to Rafe. According to him, Lady Such-and-Such of the Vermilion Rutabagas had long ago decreed that selling wares for anything but the advertised price was an abomination in the eyes of the Goddess of Fictitious Deities, so now there was no more haggling. Or something along those lines.
Ashlan couldn’t keep up, and she’d stopped trying. She didn’t stand a chance of tearing this city down, or getting anywhere near the Uni, even if she’d set her mind on it. That was just the old her flaring up, always trying to change things. This trip wasn’t about her, she had to remind herself, and never had been.
They’d made it inside the city walls, and if the kid wanted to lead, she’d let him lead.
She spotted him at a bend in the sprawling, canvas-ceilinged market. Ashlan ducked around produce stands and carts full of clothing. She’d almost trampled a display of clockwork toys on a blanket when Hollis jabbed her in the gut, hard.
“Easy, killer.”
“Stop,” he growled, not even bothering to whisper.
The woman on the blanket looked up, her brow furrowed.
“Sorry,” Ashlan said in her gruffest voice, “not you.” She turned her back. “Okay, I stopped.”
“I’ll have that, Ashlan Ley.”
She glanced back. “The clapping monkey or the waltzing babies?”
“Across the way. The knife.”
Ashlan sidled up to a wide island of conjoined stalls, one of which overflowed with kitchenwares. Nodding through the vendor’s speech, she followed Hollis’ abdominal prods until she found what he wanted—a thin-bladed boning knife with a curved wooden handle.
“This? Comes with a nice leather case.” The vendor slid it into the world’s smallest scabbard, snapping it shut and smiling. “Your husband likes your cooking?”
“You know. Always stuffing his face, that guy.” She dug a hand into her bag, then remembered that she’d spent the last of her coin. All she had left was the chunk of gold Hollis had given her at the farmhouse, and she couldn’t wave that around here.
“We have spices aplenty, here at our sister shop. What’s his favorite dish?”
“Uh.” Hollis pushed a coin into her palm, and she passed it to the vendor. “Chitterlings.”
The man stopped his pitch, staring at what he’d been handed. “I’ll make change!”
Ashlan sucked her teeth. She’d just given him a solid-gold button from Hollis’ waistcoat, emblazoned with a dancing mannikin.
“Subtle,” she murmured.
“I’ll have that knife.”
“I got it, Runt.”
She let out a long, purse-lipped breath as the vendor returned. He gave her a brown paper package, but no change. “These others, madam,” he said with a backward gesture, “at our other sister shop, they say they are with you. Is that correct? Will you settle up all at once?”
Jassa and Rafe stood on the other side of the island, Tanka and Umber lurking behind them.
Rafe was staring at her, his head cocked, daring her to object.
“I don’t think my husband would like me spending all his—uff.”
Hollis had thumped her again from inside the bag.
“Never mind. What he doesn’t know, right?”
“Have a look, though,” whispered Hollis.
“Right. I’ll just, ah, have a look at what they’re getting first.”
Ashlan came around to the other side of the island, passing Tanka, who seemed more interested in the crowds pouring out of the public houses than anything Rafe and Jassa were doing. She looked tired, thought Ashlan—less full somehow, as if the city was slowly sapping her.
The two of them had made a small pile of equipment on a clear stretch of counter. “What’s all this?” said Ashlan.
“Things we’ll need,” said Rafe.
He’d picked out an awl, a thick needle, and a spool of sturdy thread. Jassa had cupped her hands around a set of elaborate ivory dice and a devotional carving that stood nearly a foot tall.
“We’re sewing our way in?”
Rafe sucked his teeth. “The plan involves mending.”
“It’s fine,” whispered Hollis.
Ashlan nodded to the vendor, who started wrapping things up. “I think it’s time you explained what we’re doing.”
“I will,” he said, looking pointedly away. “When we get where we’re going.” The vendor handed him a packet, giving Ashlan what little was left of the change, and Rafe was off without another word.
Inside Eth, it was Rafe’s show—that was the deal. She’d meant to follow him without question, as even Tanka was doing. Only he and Jassa had any idea what they were getting into, and Jassa only barely.
Why, then, was Ashlan thinking of absconding with Hollis and ditching the rest of them in the crowd?
“Trust in him,” Jassa murmured, right in Ashlan’s ear. “The boy is favored!”
Ashlan shuddered. She hadn’t even known Jassa was behind her. “I hope to hell you’re right.”
Jassa knelt, setting her sack on the ground as she tore open the brown paper packet with her teeth. “Your feet,” she grunted, tugging her devotional statue free. “Are they feeling better?”
“Uh. Yeah, I guess. They don’t itch any more.”
“Good. Good! All is as it should be, in Her eyes.” Jassa hefted the statue with her left hand.
The carven woman had one arm, too. She wore a beggar’s robes and looked vaguely maniacal.
“Left-Handed Luce,” purred Jassa. “An aspect of Fortune. See? She’s smiling!”
“She’s a statue,” muttered Ashlan. “That’s all she can do.”
But Jassa had run off, purring to her inanimate friend about their tremendous luck.
At least one of them was feeling optimistic.
Dwarfed by the tall, clustered buildings outlined in moonlight, Ashlan wondered if Eth had always been this grimy. It had seemed so imposing to her once, so full of power and possibility. Now all she noticed were the gouges of artless graffiti and the reek of inadequate sewage.
Years ago, this city had been her home. She’d shared meals and stories with the students who’d lived around her, in these very buildings. Back then, it felt like they had a common past, or enough of one to fake it, and that they’d share a future, too.
But none of the others had lived to see twenty-five.
Ashlan was exhausted. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept. Neighborhoods melted by as they walked, each one clotted with memories she’d prefer to avoid, mostly succeeding. Once, though, Rafe spotted a group of guards, their backs turned, their prey cornered. Swiftly, noiselessly, he turned down an alley, leading them all into a neighborhood known as the Lower ’Ninges.
Ashlan stumbled. Above her stood the unchanged façade of a flat she’d rented downtown, on her second attempt at her degree, once she’d confirmed that she was the last living Ley. She took up a fake name and played the role of a student she’d known before, a funny girl who was drunk all the time.
Now she stood staring through the open archway on the second floor at the same old staircase where she’d taken a spill one night, breaking a tooth in her fall. The story spread of how she’d spit out blood and enamel and stood up cackling, laughing too hard and for too long, like the pain itself was funny to her. For months after, she had to hold back the heat in her bones, keeping it from rushing toward the ache. She’d always had insomnia, but that’s when she nearly stopped sleeping altogether, for fear she’d wake up and the tooth would be healed—and she’d have to break it again, by hand, before anyone noticed.
Later, when a coup wiped out her Reparative Anatomy class, she’d been relieved to withdraw to the forest—because o
f the tooth, but also because exhaustion had caused her to test dead last.
The memory receded as they turned again.
“Just around this corner,” called Rafe, slipping out of sight with Jassa in tow.
Ashlan hadn’t noticed them getting so far ahead. Even the bear seemed to be dragging his paws. The only sounds on that dark street were their footfalls and the insistent squeak of the silver-buckled trunk.
“We’ll leave you here,” said Tanka softly, “Umber and I. Now that we know where to meet you.”
Ashlan stared at her. “You’re—leaving?”
Tanka frowned. “You sound so sad, Lady Ley. But there are other preparations we must make while here in Eth.” She seemed uncomfortable discussing it on the street, and Ashlan was too tired to press her. “And there is no room for me in Mister Davin’s plan.”
“She has a point,” said Hollis from below, startling Ashlan. “The time for grand gestures has ended. We must be precise.”
She’d drifted so far out that she’d forgotten he was even in the bag.
It was good that she’d been reduced to an accessory in all of this. She was coming unraveled—or maybe that had happened long ago, and only her solitude had kept it hidden from sight. How else could she have grown so different from the girl who once lived here?
“When the job is done,” said Tanka, stepping into the shadows as they rounded the corner, “I’ll meet you near here. A fragment of the tree will keep watch for your return, and I’ll be along soon after. Best of luck, Lady Ley.”
“Right. You too.”
Ashlan found Rafe standing stock-still in the middle of the street, Jassa slouching behind. Before him was a crooked green door atop a wide stone step so worn that it looked like it had melted. Face covered in a sheen of sweat, Rafe was staring up at a fresh-painted sign that read THE KING GUV.
“Something wrong?” said Ashlan, approaching.
“No,” said Rafe.
“What’s happening?” whispered Hollis.
“Everything’s fine,” said Rafe, sniffling. “Other than withdrawal.” He flung open the door, and Jassa followed him in.
“I don’t know, Runt,” she whispered into her bag. “I’m having second thoughts about following this kid around. He’s looking even shiftier than usual, and that’s saying something. You don’t think he’d sell us out the first chance he got?”
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