Star Eater

by Kerstin Hall

  I slipped past her and returned to the base of the shaft. The light pitter of falling dirt fell quiet again.

  “I’m beginning to think blasting through the South Gate might have been the easier option,” I said.

  Finn snorted.

  “Are you okay? I should have taken this into account.”

  “It’s fine.” He descended another rung; I heard his shoe against the metal. “Did you do this? The darkness?”

  “Not intentionally. But I think so.”

  “A product of your visions?”

  “Kind of.”

  “And they’re why the Reverends are so interested in you.”

  Sharp as ever. “A part of it, yes.”

  A longer pause.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m taking too long, aren’t I?”

  “It isn’t much further.”

  “I really am fine. It’s just the dark, you know? Makes it feel smaller.”

  “Of course.” I reached out and touched his ankle to let him know where I was standing. “Take it easy.”

  “It really isn’t a problem.”

  He had stopped moving.

  “Finn? You’re doing well, I promise.”

  “No, I’m not,” he muttered. “Shit, why do I have to be so stupid about this?”

  “You can’t help it.”

  “Yeah, but I wish you weren’t here to see it. Eater, it’s like the walls are closing in around me.”

  I wanted to reassure him, but I didn’t know where to start. The image of the cellar door in the basement was burned into my mind.

  “If it’s any consolation, I can’t actually see you,” I said.

  He scoffed.

  “Can I do anything?” I asked.

  “No. I’ll manage, it’s just … difficult.”

  “I know.”

  It had taken two years before he was able to talk about the cellar. The space where he had been locked up for hours, sometimes full days, hungry and alone, until his grandfather released him. Lightless, airless, cramped. He had never really recovered from those childhood years, and they haunted him even now in small, irrepressible ways. He hated the smell of wine. He couldn’t stand closed spaces. He always left a light burning at night.

  Finn descended a few more feet.

  “You’re almost here,” I said gently. “Come on.”

  I caught the barest yellow gleam as he turned his head my way. Against the blackness all around, his irises glowed. I swallowed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  He can hear everything. “Just worried about you, that’s all.”

  He shuffled down another rung.

  “Do I scare you?” he asked.

  “No. Except when you do stupid things.”

  “Frequently then.”

  “More often than I’d prefer. But we’ll get through this, I promise.”

  His feet touched the ground.

  “And after that?” There was a raw vulnerability in his voice, fear tangled up in hope, and hearing it made my heart ache. I reached out and found his hand.

  “I’ll think of something,” I said.

  His ice-cold palms were sweating. To my surprise, he pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. His heart beat right beside my ear.

  “Thank you,” he muttered.

  I returned his embrace. I was still unused to his new height, but he smelled the same and sounded the same, and my feelings for him continued unchanged, quiet and fierce and warm. Then, because it felt like the right thing to do and because no one would see, I tilted my head upwards and kissed his cheek.

  “You mean the world to me,” I whispered. “You know that, don’t you?”

  He buried his face in my hair.

  “I can feel myself changing,” he said. “It’s happening faster now.”

  “We’ll fix it.”

  He gripped me tighter, like I was all that was keeping him from drowning. “What if I hurt you? Or Millie? What if—”

  “It won’t come to that.”

  He shuddered. I drew back from him a little, still holding his hand. The chill of his body lingered on my skin.

  “Come on,” I said. “We have to keep moving.”

  He breathed out shakily.

  “Compulse me,” he said.

  I stiffened.

  “I can’t do this.” He let go of my hand, defeated. “I’m not going to be able to crawl through there. Compulse me.”

  My arm burned, and I found myself shaking my head. No. No, I would never do that to him. Verje’s eyes, shining with delight. That helpless, all-consuming terror as I took the scalpel from her. For me to do that to Finn—no. Never.

  “El, please.”

  My voice was distant. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  Celane, Verje, they had already hurt him. Compulses belonged to them, to the Renewal Wards.

  “If it’s you, I don’t care.” He sounded broken. “The Reverends already did it to me, right? If I could handle that—”

  “No.” I took another step away from him, and my back hit the wall. “I won’t.”

  “If it’s you,” he repeated, softer, “then it’s okay.”

  I screwed up my face. It was a violation, it was crossing a line between us. He did not understand; he could not grasp what it meant to compulse another person. Not only for him, but for me. In bending his mind to my will, in doing this to him, I would prove myself to be just as monstrous as the Resistance believed.

  “I trust you,” he said, so exposed and so crushingly sincere. “Help me.”

  “You don’t want this. If you understood—”

  “El, I know what I’m asking for.”

  Stupid, obstinate, reckless idiot! With a cry of anger, I stepped forward and stretched my lace toward him. But instead of meeting resistance, my power melted into him; he welcomed it, he let me in. We stood in the dark, and although I could see nothing, I could see him.

  “Finn,” I breathed.

  He was smiling. Scared, but smiling.

  “Told you,” he said.

  It felt so different. I moved tentatively, barely letting my lace touch him at all, but he leaned into the compulse, impatient, as if he wanted me to hurry up, like he was pulling me in. This was Finn, familiar but so strange, and I was blisteringly aware that he was looking right back at me.

  “Everything okay over there?” Millie’s voice drifted out from the far side of the crawlspace.

  “Yes,” I replied, flustered. I felt my way over to the tunnel. It seemed that Millie had managed to drag Lariel through to the other side. “Just fine.”

  Finn knelt beside me. His breathing was unsteady. I gently increased the compulse, my power washing over his fear like ripples on the surface of water.

  “You go first,” I murmured. “I’m right behind you.”

  The tunnel was short; I could hear the rhythmic metal clangs of Millie’s shoes on the rungs of the far shaft. My lace tied me to Finn, I let my feelings brush against his mind, and his echoed back to me—trust and anxiety and concern; even now, he was concerned about me. Don’t be afraid, I willed, crawling forward on my hands and knees. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.

  He reached the end of the tunnel, and the space opened up around the base of the second shaft. His relief flooded my mind, and I smiled to myself. Wiping dirt off my hands, I straightened and let go of my lace.

  “You made it seem easy,” I said.

  Finn laughed. My sense of connection faded, and I experienced a strange pang. I wanted to remain joined to him a little longer.

  “I think the hatch is locked,” called Millie from above us. “I can’t get it open.”

  I snapped out of my distraction. “Let me try, then.”

  Millie returned to the bottom of the shaft, and I sidled around her, almost tripping over Lariel.

  “Good job,” she muttered.

  “Mill, for the last time, I can hear you.”

  She huffed in irritation.

&nbs
p; The air grew colder as I climbed the ladder; outside, I could hear the wind howling. The weather had changed swiftly; it sounded like a storm. Maybe that would work to our advantage. The cold rungs prickled under my hands, rusted and slick with moisture. I extended my hand overhead, and my nails scratched the underside of the wooden hatch.

  I channelled my lace upwards. With a splintering crack, the trapdoor flew open.

  Instantly, rain lashed my face. The water was driven sideways in the high wind, fat drops stinging my skin. I pulled myself out of the shaft. Even though the moon was low and dim through the clouds, the darkness here was ordinary. I could finally see again.

  The smugglers’ tunnel emerged at the border of the Fields. Behind me, the lights on the city wall floated like yellow beads on a string. Maize tossed drunkenly from side to side. In the storm, we would be invisible to the night watch.

  I wiped rain off my face and smiled. They would pursue us: Celane, her associates. Their hunt had scarcely begun, I knew that. But by the time they caught up, it would be too late to stop me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  THE HANDLER AT the Cat stables was surprisingly cooperative.

  “Right away,” she said, nodding vigorously.

  I had demanded the use of two Cats. The young Oblate had heard the emergency muster, she knew there was a crisis—if I was here at a time like this, it could only be with the approval of the highest authorities in the Sisterhood. After all, the gates were locked. Anyone leaving the city would need express permission and a very good reason. I name-dropped liberally.

  She lapped up every word with wide-eyed alarm, then hurried to organise my request.

  “Why two Cats, though?” she asked, as she brought the saddled animals to the door of the shelter.

  “I’m meeting a superior in Halowith; she’ll need one too,” I said. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you more than that.”

  “Understood.” She offered me a leg up.

  “Thank you so much for your help,” I said with sincerity. I found myself thinking of the dead Acolyte outside the Martyrium, and couldn’t help adding, “There’s a lot happening in the city. Keep yourself safe, keep your head down.”

  “Yes, Acolyte.”

  She walked the Cats out into the rain. They were not impressed by the weather. My animal, a short-haired female with a black coat, skipped from paw to paw. Her brother yapped. The handler smacked his rump, and he settled into a sulk.

  “May the Star shine on you,” she called, over the hissing rain.

  “And on you.”

  I met Millie and Finn a few hundred feet down the road. We were all soaked; the downpour continued to flood the Fields and path, gushing over the baked soil. An end, finally, to the drought. Lariel hung across Finn’s shoulders, her short hair stuck to her forehead. I didn’t know what we were going to do when she woke up. I hadn’t really planned for that.

  The Cats growled when they smelled Finn.

  “Easy,” I said, digging my heels into the female’s ribs. Millie grabbed the male’s harness and made soothing noises. The animals knew the scent of a Haunt.

  “I’ll take Lariel,” I said. “You two ride together.”

  Finn slowly edged around the Cat’s huge jaws. The fur at the scruff of the animal’s neck stood on end, and his head swung around suspiciously. Finn patted him. Confused and already miserable, the Cat shivered and mewed plaintively.

  “You sure?” he asked. “I could ride with her.”

  “You take care of the bolts. I can bind her if necessary.”

  Finn set Lariel down and hoisted himself into the saddle before offering a hand to Millie. She swung up in front of him. They paced a few feet forward, and I used my lace to lift up Lariel.

  We made swift progress through the dark. Beyond the Fields, I could see the blurred lights of the fishing towns in the distance, and the deeper black shadow of the hills beyond Malas Lake.

  Lariel’s head jolted drunkenly in front of me as we rode. Her hair was matted with blood above her left ear, and the rain washed red streaks down her neck. At least her body helped to keep me warm; I could feel my hands and feet growing numb, my back chilled from the rain. In spite of my discomfort, I felt drowsy; the swaying strides of the Cat and the relentless cold dulled my brain.

  How strange and terrible to think that Finn’s execution had occurred less than a day ago. When my eyes drifted closed, frozen images flashed through my mind. Verje bringing my flesh to her lips, Lariel pulling the trigger on the crossbow. Finn burned and dead, the Renewal Wards, Declan Lars and Finn merging into one pale, shambling …

  I forced myself awake.

  “Millie?” I called.

  She turned her head toward me.

  “It’s too cold. Don’t doze off, okay?”

  “No risk there,” she said. “Not with this ice block stuck to my back anyway.”

  “I resent that,” said Finn.

  We had reached the top of the hill. Below lay the orchards, and the Moon Pillar woods. I strained my eyes. I couldn’t see any light ahead; the valley was buried in shadow. My teeth chattered.

  “It’ll be better under the trees,” I said. “At least they’ll offer a break from the wind.”

  My mount padded down the muddy road, and I nudged her toward the woods with my knees. The wind whipped over my skin. Although she joked, Millie looked a mess; her lip was split, and her face had turned wan and bloodless. Finn might be impervious to the cold, but it was obvious that we needed shelter, or at least more warmth. The Cats would help; even wet, their bodies remained hot. If we could escape the wind and the worst of the rain, we would be okay. I hoped. Sunrise was only a few hours away.

  We came to the edge of the woods. The trees groaned and dripped. I lifted Lariel down and climbed off my Cat, rubbing my arms to restore circulation. My hands had stiffened gripping the saddle. I grimaced and stretched my cramping fingers. Finn helped Millie to the ground.

  “I don’t think we’ve been followed,” I said. “If we’re lucky, the Order will focus their attention on the city for now. Buy us some time.”

  “Time for what?” asked Finn.

  I made a vague gesture. He leaned down and picked up Lariel, easy as lifting a small child. Her head moved, and she moaned.

  “Back with us so soon?” he asked.

  She did not answer.

  I led my Cat deeper beneath the trees, and the wind eased. I was shivering violently. The Cat nudged me with her snout, and I stroked her head.

  “El?” said Millie.

  “Find a place to shelter, and keep Lariel quiet,” I said. “There’s something I need to do.”

  “We should stay together,” said Finn.

  I wrung water from my shirt. “I won’t take long. But I really do need to be alone for this.”

  “You won’t even tell us what you’re doing?”

  “It’s … personal, I guess. A decision I want to make on my own.”

  He looked unhappy. “Be careful.”

  The ground was soft and slick, sucking at my boots with each step. Droplets of water trickled down the back of my neck. The gloom made it difficult to see, but I kept to the path, winding my way deeper into the woods.

  As I walked, I played out the arguments in my head. My mind was sluggish, and my thoughts got caught in familiar ruts. The rain lightened; the sound quietened to an even hush on the canopy roof.

  We can be better than this.

  Could we? Could I? Maybe Celane, for all the terrible things that she had done, held the right line of thinking. She wanted to protect the Order. The Order protected Aytrium. There was a balance at play, and who was I to upset it?

  The trees opened up to the clearing. The moon hung overhead, spreading a feeble white glow through the clouds. The platinum-bright names carved into the Pillar gleamed and faded, gleamed and faded, in time with my breath.

  Long grass brushed my legs as I approached. I touched the granite surface of the monument. Warm. A susurration of power
flowed from the rock, responded to my own. My fingers tingled and I withdrew them. The clouds shifted, causing the boughs of the Anchor Tree to glow white.

  “So I hear you are the Renewer.”

  I spun around and flung a net of lace. It tangled around Reverend Shaelean Cyde, fixing her to the spot.

  She did not struggle. She stood at the entrance of the grove, her expression calm.

  “I wish I had known sooner,” she continued.

  “Don’t you all?” I snarled.

  “Commander Asan managed to pass a message to me a few days ago,” she said. “She indicated that you were safe, but I gather circumstances have changed since then.”

  Cyde remained composed, despite her paralysis. I was unnerved. I glanced around the clearing.

  “I’m alone,” she said, reading my mind. “Elfreda, I’m not here to hurt you.”

  “You’re working with the Commander?”

  A faint smile. “You have been staying in my house for the past week. What happened? Is Asan in trouble?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “At least, I don’t think so. The mansion was yours?”

  “Yes. I lived there while I was Chief Archivist, and the property remains under my name.” She frowned. “Were you discovered?”

  “Not exactly, but it seemed wise to leave.”

  “Wise to leave on a night like this?”

  I said nothing.

  “You do not trust me.” She nodded to herself. “I understand that.”

  “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “The Pillars are better defended than most Sisters are aware. Your presence triggered certain alarms.”

  I should have anticipated that. “And yet you came alone.”

  “Not all of my subordinates can be trusted. Until I knew who you were, it seemed better to be discreet.”

  I did not release my binding. Cyde simply stood and watched me; her eyes glinted in the moonlight. She had been a friend to my mother, but still. I could not let my guard down.

  “Do you know why I’m here?” I asked.

  “I can guess.”

  “But you aren’t … scared?”

  She weighed the question. “Would it matter if I was?”

  “I don’t know. I’m about to do something terrible. If you were scared, I think I might lose my nerve.”