35

“YOU WENT TO SKY PLAZA YESTERDAY.”

Code nodded, standing at attention. Kosarin faced him from across the great table at the center of the Heart of the Void.

“I did,” Code said. After the Eye fell, he’d spent the entire day at Sky Plaza, recovering the injured and dead, clearing the rubble—both of which it seemed they had only faintly scratched the surface of.

And you weren’t there, Code wanted to say. He refrained— Kosarin was his superior, after all.

“I trust you didn’t use psimancy to help?”

“Of course not, sir.” The Nazaniin were forbidden to use their powers for public use—for money or otherwise. But helping yesterday, Code had seriously thought about forgetting that rule completely. His telenic tendra could lift far more and far heavier things than he ever could on his own. If the Nazaniin donated a dozen telenics to the clean-up effort, it might only take months instead of years.

Code shivered. Years, months, all of those terms were meaningless. The fall of the Eye had changed everything. The next moment would come if they all survived this one. Code would go back to Sky Plaza again today, damn whatever it was Kosarin was about to say.

Which is why what Kosarin said next surprised Code so much.

“Good,” Kosarin said, nodding. He finally saluted Code in return, and Code stood at ease. Kosarin slumped down in a chair at the large table. “That is good work you are doing,” Kosarin said. “And I think you should keep doing it. I’ll send some other Nazaniin to Sky Plaza today, and release all Citadel students from their classes and nonessential duties so they can help with the effort. We need solidarity more than anything else at a time like this.”

Code tried to keep his shock under control. The old man could still surprise him, apparently.

“You understand that you still cannot use psimancy to help?”

Code managed a nod. “Yes, sir.” The fact that Kosarin was willing to spare anyone at all was a miracle; he’d take what he could get.

Silence rested between them, and Code was about to ask Kosarin’s permission to go when the Triadin spoke up again.

“While you’re down there,” Kosarin said, his eyes meeting Code’s, “I have a small mission for you.”

Code cleared his throat, willing himself to stop the frown that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

A small mission. Of course there was something.

“What is it, sir?”

“It won’t interfere with your clean-up; in fact, it should go right along with it,” Kosarin said slowly. “A rihnemin powered the Eye. One of the smallest rihnemin on record, but one of the only stones that had proved to exert power—until the Chaos Queen came around.”

Code had suspected as much. Rumors circulated through the Nazaniin—especially since the Eye had demonstrated its power, in a relatively cloudy sky, no less—of what exactly it was that powered the weapon.

A part of him wanted to refuse Kosarin’s order outright. Code was helping at Sky Plaza because people needed him— not because there was something to be gained.

“You think me callous,” Kosarin said. Before Code could respond, he continued, “You may be right. But I will tell you one thing: we cannot let that rihnemin fall into the hands of the Cordier woman. Carrieri may have lost his edge, but removing all the rihnemin from the area was not a mistake. We must keep this artifact safe from the Chaos Queen until we can find a new home for it, or rebuild the Eye.”

Code hated to admit it, but Kosarin had a point. Everyone in the Nazaniin had heard about what Winter did at the battle against the Daemon Mefiston; after what she had done to the Eye with nothing more than a big trebuchet, he did not want to see her get her hands on another rihnemin.

“And take the couple from Maven Kol with you,” Kosarin said, waving his hand. “What are their names? Alain and Morayne?”

Code’s eyes narrowed. “You sent for them.”

Kosarin nodded. “Of course I did. The world is collapsing, Code, if you haven’t noticed, and it’s collapsing on Triah. We need as much power here as we can muster.”

Code masked his anger as best he could. “Why not send for them in your own name? Or ask me to do so?”

“I was not sure they would respond to my summons,” Kosarin said. “And I know you are fond of them, Code. You are a good agent, and a powerful psimancer, but emotion tends to cloud your judgment.”

Inside, Code was boiling with rage. So you went behind my back, deceiving all of us. Just to get your way.

Code was under no illusions. Kosarin was the Venerato of the Citadel, the Triadin of the Nazaniin. He was one of the most powerful men in the world, and Code happened to work for him. For all Code knew, Kosarin was delving him right now, perceiving his every thought. His thoughts he could more or less keep in check, but he could not mask the anger seething beneath the surface.

“Very well, I’ll take them,” Code said, forcing a smile. “Next time, sir, do me a favor and just ask me first. I’m a Nazaniin, after all. I’ll obey orders.”

Kosarin smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. “Yes, Code,” he said. “I have no doubt you will.”

* * *

Sky Plaza had become a tomb, and Code, Morayne, and Alain helped to excavate it. The sheer immensity and force of the debris as the Eye collapsed had blown away the four smaller towers around it, and a large portion of the other closest buildings; only skeletal ruins remained; broken walls, defeated but still reaching upward; cracked foundations beneath mounds of crumbled stone, melted metal, and splintered, charred wood.

The destruction twisted Code’s gut in on itself, as if his insides had turned to stone and now ground continually against themselves. The sick feeling had made it almost impossible to move, let alone help, yesterday when he’d arrived at the plaza shortly after the fall. Today, the sick feeling seemed partially alleviated, but Code hated the great, gaping emptiness that took its place even more.

He could not believe this had happened. And yet it had. He could not believe someone would do this, and yet someone had.

In a way, the impossible work of cleaning up was a welcome distraction from the thoughts that otherwise threatened to overwhelm.

They assisted all day long at Sky Plaza, lifting rubble, dealing with yet another unidentified, and often unidentifiable, corpse. Code wasn’t sure what was worse: finding them individually, dead and alone, or in groups, dead and together. No more survivors had been found, and a feeling echoed around the plaza that they had likely found their last. They could not hear anyone shouting for help, and were rapidly approaching the point at which a person could no longer survive without water.

But retrieving the sunstone, however, was not as difficult as Code would have feared. As the sun sank lower in the sky, people began to return to their homes. By nightfall, only a few other people remained besides the three of them. And, by midnight, Code—with his gilded dragon piece—had made sure they were the only ones around.

Morayne’s ability to move earth certainly helped in the search, as did Code’s telesis, but what helped more than anything was the tug Code felt shortly after he took faltira, just as they began the search. As if something in the debris called to him, sought him out.

The pull made Code uncomfortable. He had ascended the Eye numerous times, and never remembered feeling anything like that tug. But he followed it anyway, and sure enough after a few moments, with their combined powers, they had unearthed a rune-covered amber stone from the rubble.

“That can’t be it,” Code said, staring at the thing. But this fit the description Kosarin had given: an amber stone just larger than a human head, covered in runes, and unexpectedly light. Very different from every other rihnemin Code had ever seen.

“What a strange thing,” Morayne said, her eyes wide. Code wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the stone glow faintly as she regarded it.

“And now what?” Alain asked. “We take it back to your superior? The one who summoned us here?”

Code scoffed. “Not a chance.”

Arro had sparked something in him, and that spark had become a fire in Mavenil. After returning to Triah, that fire consumed him. There were things in this world that mattered more than the coin and power he got from the Nazaniin.

He’d watched the Odenites, Cinzia among them, heal countless people over the last few days. He’d even seen them raise a few people from the dead, for Canta’s sake. Those actions stood in stark contrast to Kosarin’s orders, and Kosarin’s deceit.

Code was nothing but a tool for Kosarin; Alain and Morayne had now become tools in that bastard’s hands, too. And while Code agreed that he didn’t want the Chaos Queen getting a hold of a rihnemin, he had also realized, as he walked to Sky Plaza that day, that he didn’t want Kosarin’s hands on it, either.

“If we’re not going to give it to him, then what are we going to...?” Alain’s voice trailed off, and Code turned to see his friend glowering at three newcomers in Sky Plaza: a full cotir, approaching from the south. Code knew them well: Anthris, a lanky young woman, an acumen; Tarbin, the telenic, a thickly muscled man; and Methasticah, an elderly voyant, and one of the first psimancers on record in recent history. This cotir, in particular, was known for completing many of Kosarin’s personal, most secret assignments. Which, more often than not, included hefty dirty work.

Code could hold his own against any one of them individually, but he knew he couldn’t possibly take them all at once.

“Code...”

Glancing at Alain, Code saw sparks dancing around the man. He cursed. The last thing they needed was another explosion in Sky Plaza.

“Keep calm,” Code said, speaking low and smoothly, “and let me handle this.”

If it came to a fight, he feared his friends would have no choice but to step in. But he hoped to avoid that.

“Give the stone to us, Code,” Tarbin said, stepping forward.

“Afraid not,” Code said, flashing his most winning grin back at them. “I’m under Kosarin’s orders, you see, to bring it back to him. That’s what my friends and I were just about to do before your little interruption.”

“We know you weren’t going to take the stone back, lad,” Methasticah said, his voice high and jittery. “And Kosarin knew it, too. That’s why he sent us.”

Code looked down at the sunstone, teeth clenched through his smile. “You know, I haven’t heard anything about passing the stone on to anyone else.” There are things more important than coin and power from the Nazaniin. “But if you want it that badly, I’d be happy to hand it over.”

With a grin of his own, Tarbin stepped forward, but Code continued. “If you let my friends and me go.” He realized he didn’t have much to bargain with, but he needed to at least make the appearance that he did.

Unfortunately, Tarbin’s response was a soft chuckle, which didn’t help their chances.

“Can’t really grant you that either, I’m afraid. We need those two,” he said, nodding to Alain and Morayne, “just as much as the rihnemin. Kosarin wants to add them to his collection.”

The same boiling rage Code had felt in Kosarin’s presence came rushing back. He knew that bastard had been up to something. Alain and Morayne were special; they controlled a form of magic the Sfaera had never seen before. Of course Kosarin would want to know more about them. He didn’t know what Tarbin meant exactly by “collection,” but he’d be damned if he was going to find out.

“Did Kosarin know about me?”

Another figure—the source of the new voice—walked out of the shadows and into the moonlight. A young tiellan man, with light, straw-colored hair and bright eyes.

Code tilted his head to one side. He’d never seen this lad before in his life, he was certain of that, and yet there was something oddly familiar about him.

Methasticah stepped forward, his movement urgent. “Tarbin, she’s a—” He stopped speaking in mid-sentence as his head snapped backwards, and he collapsed to the ground.

She? What in Oblivion was Methasticah talking about? Code squinted. He’d been quite sure the tiellan was a man.

“You,” Tarbin growled, but his head was shuddering violently.

Acumency. Code had suspected it with Methasticah, but someone—the tiellan man, it seemed—was killing the cotir with unrestrained psionic bursts, rupturing their brains inside their skulls.

Still gripping the sunstone in both hands, Code took a step back, glad to see Alain and Morayne do the same with him. They stood atop one of the smaller mounds of rubble, and had no solid cover to get to one of the street entrances to the plaza.

“We’ll have to run for it,” Code said. “I’ll distract them as best I can, and you two get to safety. I’ll meet you at the Blessed Storm.”

This could not be the Chaos Queen—her description didn’t match this young man at all. Then again, Methasticah had called the lad a she, so what did Code know?

“I am not sure running for it is in our best interests,” Morayne whispered.

A half-dozen tendra exploded forward from Anthris, but she met the same fate as her companions, collapsing to the ground.

“It’s our only chance,” Code said.

Code.

Code blinked as the voice echoed in his mind. He knew that voice. A woman’s voice, one he’d heard before. But it was still the young tiellan man staring at him.

Give me the rihnemin, the voice said, and I will spare you and your friends. My quarrel is not with you, Code.

And then, Code knew. Kali and Nash had been two of the most famous—and, among some circles, infamous—field operatives among the Nazaniin. Nash a telenic to be reckoned with—he’d taught Code everything he knew—and Kali a force rumored to be making even Kosarin nervous with her rising power. She’d even managed to transfer her sift into the body of another. But they had both died in Roden, on a mission to deal with Lathe and the tiellan girl.

But now it was Kali’s voice Code heard in his head.

Give me the rihnemin, she repeated. Do not try my patience.

Code dropped the amber stone. It landed with a soft crunch on the debris at his feet.

“It’s yours,” Code said out loud, taking another step back. He didn’t know what in Oblivion Kali wanted with it, but there was a delicious irony in her taking the stone instead of Kosarin. How she was still alive, and why she’d taken the body of a young tiellan man, were mysteries for another day.

“Let’s go,” Code said, walking as quickly as he could away from the rihnemin, while maintaining some level of dignity. “Before she changes her mind.”

“Why is everyone calling him a she?” Morayne asked.

Code ignored her. His mind was already racing to think of how to avoid Kosarin—the master of the greatest spy network in history.