Zayn found an apartment complex and scaled the outside wall, using the windowsills. He went past a woman in one apartment with a cigarette hanging from her lips while she was performing Tai Chi.
From the rooftop, he could see the cupola at the center of the building sticking up about thirty feet above the rest of the structure. Only wisps of smoke trickled from the black opening at the top. When the wind blew his direction, he caught the scent of sulphur and formaldehyde.
Behind the hall was a series of courtyards and slanted metal roofs. He hadn't realized they were part of the hall until he saw how they connected to the main circular building. When he concentrated his sensing towards that area, he picked up the hum again.
Zayn moved down the other side of the building, being careful not to rush and fall to his death. He dropped down on a lower roof, sprinted across it, and leapt a gap to the next building. The jumps were easy, not even blue course level, and he could easily do the purple course.
When Zayn reached the slanted metal roofs, he went slow, not for safety but for silence. Corrugated metal had a tendency to flex and pop, and that would give him away if he stepped wrong. He used the peak, where the structure was strongest, to nimbly reach the courtyard behind the hall.
He couldn't see anyone, but he felt the humming in his gut. The scent of faez was stronger here, overcoming even the metallic smells from the many foundries inside.
Someone was moving beneath the roof he was standing on. Using his heightened hearing, he could tell they were tall, and though each step was made lightly, the individual was not small. It could easily be the Gurken lurking outside, waiting for its intended victim.
Zayn pulled out a tracking disc and let it rest in his palm. It would only take the flick of a wrist to place it on the Gurken before he sounded the alarm and escaped as quickly as possible. He crept down the edge with his heart pumping hard in his chest.
He'd made it halfway down when something hard slammed into the bottom of the metal roof, knocking him off his feet. Normally, he could have flipped himself right back up, but a second impact shook the structure with a jarring hum that made his teeth rattle in his mouth and turned the slick roof into a slide.
Zayn went right off the edge, landing directly on his back, which knocked the air from his lungs. He flooded his limbs with faez so he could bounce back to his feet and flee the area, but a girl with a giant hammer in her fists stood over him.
"What are you doing on my roof?" she asked, holding the head of the hammer against his chest. It felt like a truck had parked on him.
The pain from the impact was still reverberating through Zayn, so he could only muster a groan.
Recognition dawned on both him and the girl. She was the redheaded librarian who had messed with him outside the restricted section.
"You," she said, her face crinkling with displeasure. "Are you trying to get some sort of sick revenge?"
He coughed out a "no" and held his hands up to show that he was harmless. As quick as he was, the hammer could do some damage before he could slide out of the way.
"I didn't know you were under here," he rasped.
"Then what the hell are you doing creeping across our roof?" she asked.
"I can explain, but I'd like to get up first. I think there's a rock in my back," he said.
"Fine," she said, backing away, setting the hammer handle first on the ground and holding it right beneath the head.
As he climbed to his feet, he got a good look at her. She was built more powerfully than he'd noticed before. It helped her shirt was sleeveless. She looked like she'd thrown the hammer in track and field, and her red hair was tamed into a functional braid that hung over her shoulder.
She was undeniably beautiful. He had to remind himself not to stare, and that she'd just asked a question a moment before.
"Wow, that's a big one," she said, glancing downward momentarily.
"What?"
He couldn't believe what she'd just said, and his mouth hung open in surprise.
"The rock you were lying on," she said, pointing behind him.
"Oh, right."
She pursed her generous lips together. "You were explaining?"
"I was..."
He paused when he noticed the low hum again, then looking to his left realized where the vibration was coming from. Sitting on a table, connected to a strange octagonal motor that emitted a pale blue light, was a sheet of metal set across a forge.
"I was...I thought I heard something troubling, and came to investigate," he said.
She glanced back to the humming motor. "That caused you concern?" Her face screwed up with anger. "What are you trying to pull? You're lying to me, aren't you? I don't even know your name, or what hall you come from, but here you are, climbing over my roof and spying on me."
"I know, I know. This doesn't look good," he said, coughing.
"Then start explaining. Like start with your name." When he paused, she added, "Don't forget I can find out from the library."
"It's Zayn Carter. I'm from the Academy," he said.
The skin around her eyes creased for a moment, before smoothing out as her eyes widened with recognition.
"I see. That explains why you're wearing a Newtown Fish Market apron and you stink like cod," she said.
Zayn wrinkled his nose at himself. He wished he was meeting her again under different circumstances. Less smelly ones.
"What are you, undercover or something?" she asked.
"It's for class. We take jobs in the city to learn how to blend in," he said, feeling guilty that he was explaining hall methods. "Nothing special. What's your name?"
"Tallion Vadalia," she said. "But everyone calls me Tally."
"Like the onion?" he asked.
"Yeah, it's a smelly plant," she said, clearly exasperated by years of comments.
"And it's layered, delicious, and tastes sweet when you cook it down," he said, thinking about how Neveah used them in the kitchen.
She paused as if she were trying to decide what he meant by his comment.
"Sorry, my sister's a cook," he said.
"You still haven't explained why you freaked out about a little humming."
"What are you making?" he asked.
"Trying to devise a metal that strains toxins from the air while still keeping its resilient properties," she said, then her green eyes flicked back to him. "Stop stalling."
Zayn looked around trying to figure out a reason why the humming motor had caused him concern. Every answer he conceived would result in more questions from her. Eventually, she would figure out that he was spying on her hall.
When he looked back to her, seeing the constellation of freckles across her nose, the intelligent cast to her gaze, the shapely curve to her hips—his face grew warm.
"I was practicing silent movement on difficult surfaces. I'm on my break, and I heard the humming and thought I'd use investigating as an excuse," he said.
The mien of disappointment crossing her face was a dagger to his pride.
"Not very silent," she said.
"Clearly not." He squinted. "How did you even hear me? I was moving without sound."
Tally pointed to a patch of faded shadow from the roof. "I didn't hear you at all."
"Oh, crap," he said, checking back at the overcast sky. There was enough sun to give him away. "Good thing my instructors aren't here to see that. I'm sorry about interrupting your work."
Her expression softened. "You guys really sneak around and do magical ninja stuff?"
"That's only a small part of the hall. I mean, we are magical ninjas, but we're also much more than that. I spend a lot of my time learning about other cultures and their etiquette. For diplomacy stuff." He paused. "So why do you work as a librarian if you're a hall student?"
"Because books," said Tally, as if that should explain itself. "If I could live in a library I would. It's filled with knowledge, you never get bored. It's the perfect home."
Her green eyes spa
rkled as she looked him up and down. "So you must have a long break?"
Panic set in. If he got fired, it would ruin his surveillance—more than he already had.
He glanced around. "Look. Would you please keep this quiet? I really don't want to get in trouble. This would look bad to my instructors."
A mischievous smile lurked on her lips. "What's in it for me?"
"Name your price," he said.
"A date," she said. "I pick. You buy."
The request was like a velvet uppercut. He didn't know what to say, as much as he knew exactly what he wanted to say, which was an emphatic yes. But Amber's prophecy came boiling back into his mind, burning away the pictures of them pressed against each other. If he truly liked her, the best thing he could do was to stay away.
Her eager smile deflated. "I can tell by that look on your face that you're not going to give me the answer I'm looking for."
"I would, trust me, I would, but there are complications."
"A girlfriend? A boyfriend? Both? Celibate?"
"I'm sorry, I can't explain. If things change, I would, but I don't expect it to." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Name something else."
She lifted her massive hammer easily. "Nah. But don't worry. I'll keep this quiet. It's not like I'm friends with Academy professors or anything. I wouldn't even know who to tell."
"Great. Thank you," he said as he walked away from her. "I really appreciate it. And good luck with your project."
"Good luck with your magical ninja stuff. Don't forget about shadows."
She winked at him. His face grew tingly.
The whole way back to the fish market, he thought about the prophecy and if there was any way around it, but he knew that was a fool's errand. He was destined to be alone.
Chapter Fourteen
The Honeycomb, January 2015
Blackjack might have been a better choice
Zayn was on his way to a class with Instructor Allgood on feigning death, when Priyanka stopped him in the hallway. She was wearing a flowery sundress, a blinding white hat with a huge bow on it, and white high heels, and she held a clutch purse made of what appeared to be bone. She shoved a black clothing bag into his chest.
"Put this on and meet me at the portal," she said.
He hurried back to his room and unzipped the bag to find a pastel colored suit that fit perfectly when he put it on. When he met her at the portal, she removed his tie, unhitched the top two buttons, spread his shirt to expose his chest more, and then stepped back to take a look at him with her hand resting on her chin.
"I think you'll do," she said.
"Do for what?" he asked.
Priyanka dug into her bone purse and pulled out a tube of lipstick. To Zayn's surprise, she placed the cool lipstick against his face and drew bold lines across it. Her surety kept him from questioning the odd behavior.
When she was finished, she said, "Go look in that mirror."
Zayn let out a noise of surprise when he stepped in front of the reflective surface. The change was subtle, but he didn't look like himself. His cheekbones were sharper, and his lips thicker. In his tight-fitting suit, he felt like a fashion model. No one, even his teammates, would recognize him.
"How does that even..."
The words died in his throat. The woman before him was no longer Priyanka Sai, the patron of the Academy. Instead, she had the smoky-pale complexion of a maetrie, a city elf. Many of the facial features were the same, yet no one would ever confuse the two.
"Are you up on your studies about the maetrie?" He nodded. "Good. I am Sebella, an old consort of the Diamond Queen. You are Fabrii, my current lover. She is well known for seducing humans. Try not to be noticed, but if you are, you'll have to improvise details about our relationship. Any questions?"
"How can you be a former consort? Don't they only mix with others of royal blood?" he asked.
"The real Sebella is retired to a realm far from the maetrie's. Queen Zaire has a capricious side, and she thought it was best to move on if she wanted to live a long life. I get to use her persona from time to time with the promise of giving her warning if the Diamond Queen ever decides to harm her." She paused, then dug back into her bone purse. "I almost forgot. Real maetrie have a strong effect on mortals. It wears off after a few decades, but I can't have you standing around staring blankly at them. Hold out your tongue."
Zayn felt like he was receiving communion when she squeezed an eyedropper's worth of clear liquid onto his tongue. It tasted like almonds at first, then grew increasingly bitter.
"Yuck," he said. "So are we going to the Eternal City?"
"Yes, unfortunately," she said with a heavy sigh. "The maetrie's realm is the closest one to ours, and easiest to reach. They are cold-hearted under the best of circumstances. While they tend not to meddle in our affairs, their conflicts sometimes bleed into our realm.
"In this case, we are going to find out who might have hired the Gurken, or what information they might have desired from those heads. We will be attending a party thrown by one of the Diamond Court in honor of the queen. It will be in a casino, but not one you are used to. If you're curious enough to try any games, keep to the small stakes. You can draw from Sebella's account." She threw him an ornate bracelet made of bone with gold etchings. "This will be enough to get you access and is proof of your relationship to me if you decide to experiment."
"What is my job?" he asked.
"Mostly as my arm candy. Lady Sebella is never seen without her lovers. Use this as a good first experience of the maetrie. In our profession, we frequently encounter them, due to that aforementioned closeness of realms, and because they are an excellent resource for morally questionable services."
The journey through the portal was much shorter than when they'd visited the Black Council. They arrived in a gilded octagonal room. Through an open archway came a cacophony of sound: laughing, rattling, shouting.
The ceiling of the vast hall beyond the archway was held up by massive columns, their pale surfaces etched in golden runes. It took a moment for Zayn to recognize the structures as bone, but what gargantuan creature they could have come from staggered his imagination.
Across the room, various games were in progress, and though they used familiar accouterments like tables, dice, and spinning wheels, there were other stranger contraptions that made his guts squirm.
Like himself and Priyanka, the other nearby guests were dressed in blinding white and soft pastels. The majority in attendance were maetrie, though he saw enough humans and humanoid beings to not feel completely out of place.
Zayn caught the side-eye glances at Priyanka—or Sebella—as she surveyed the crowd with detached amusement. She turned to him, offered her hand, and said, "Amuse yourself, my dear Fabrii, I must pay my respects to the queen."
He took her hand and kissed the back of it. Once she was gone, he headed towards the many side rooms off the main one, relieved that their faux relationship hadn't required a more intimate public display. He chuckled to himself that he was prepared to impersonate people, manipulate them, or outright steal from them, but the thought of making out with his patron gave him the cold sweats.
Zayn moved amid the people, keeping a bored expression as if he'd been to the casino many times and was unimpressed by the decadence. And while he understood the general structure of maetrie life—he could easily pick out if they were from the diamond, ruby, or jade courts—he wasn't as up on the finer points of their social stratifications, nor his place as an adjunct to the former lover to the queen.
At times, he felt whiffs of adoration, as if he wanted to throw himself at the feet of the nearest maetrie, but the loss of control faded quickly. The liquid Priyanka had given him was working as intended.
He stopped at the various games, trying to get a sense of their rules. At one table, each of the participants had their hand in a box at the center of the table. A wager of coins—made of bone and etched with gold, a common theme of the room—was pushed
forward. Upon a wheel was a series of symbols that Zayn recognized as the maetrie's pictograph written language, though he only knew a few symbols. After the spinning wheel came to rest on a symbol he thought had to do with fire, the eight participants' faces went through various stages of grimacing. One by one, each removed their hands, holding it against their chest as if they'd been burned—the skin was unmarred, suggesting the flames were only in their head—until only one remained. The winner, a maetrie wearing a three-piece white suit and having his jet-black hair slicked back like a gangster, collected his pile of coins from the attendant.
"Wheel of Hazards is a gruesome game, don't you think?" asked a human woman next to him, who was clearly drawn to him because he was a fellow human. She had a short, ample figure, and wore what amounted to a white bikini. Her generous bosom was practically falling out of the "dress."
"Only if you lose," said Zayn, wandering away from the table.
He kept moving through the room, listening to conversations, watching the games. Unlike in a human casino, there were no pure games of chance. In the maetrie games, they played with pain or pleasure frequently. He watched as one table of participants held onto an octopus-like creature in a tank, their eyes rolling into the back of their heads, tongues lolling with ecstasy. The winner in this case was decided by who released the tentacle first. He considered playing that game, since the price of losing wasn't all that bad, but the tentacled creature in the tank made him uneasy.
The successive oddity of each new game drew him forward until he was in a distant section of the casino, populated by the lesser class of maetrie. The theme of whites and pastels was supplanted by darker colors, signifying they came from the lower classes.
Zayn was busy watching a group of six maetrie, one human, and a woman who wasn't quite human by her pebble black eyes inhale swirling smoke through a hookah, when he saw a familiar face out of the corner of his eye.
He silently swore it was the maetrie from the Black Council, Tamako, slipping into a side room that was guarded by a casino worker in a white jacket.
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