Nazafareen peered up at the palace wall, one boot tapping out a jittery rhythm on the carpet of pine needles. It seemed like hours since Darius had clambered over.
“What if they caught him?” she whispered to Megaera, who sat cross-legged on the ground, unconcerned by the gentle rain pattering around them.
The Maenad shot her a look. “Darius? He makes a mouse sound like a rampaging bull.”
Nazafareen knew she was right, but it didn’t stop her worrying. He’d already suffered unknown tortures at the hands of the Pythia. The psychic wounds of his captivity lingered, though Darius did his best to bury them. When their bond was weak or absent—as it was now, in the shadow of the Umbra—Nazafareen felt a fierce protectiveness and hated to let him out of her sight.
Finally, a head popped over the edge and a coil of rope tumbled down. Nazafareen realized her fist was clenched tight and loosened it, the fingers stiff.
“All clear,” Darius called softly.
She grabbed the rope with her left hand and used her toes to dig for purchase as he hauled her up. She rolled over the top and dropped to the earth. It was soft from the rain, but she still felt a hard jolt in her knees.
“That hurt,” she muttered, limping into the concealment of a bamboo grove.
They were in the Garden of the Golden Valley, which lay in a remote part of the palace grounds at the edge of the Umbra. Nazafareen peeked through the tall stalks. Velvety twilight cloaked a landscape of artificial mountains and lakes, circled by gravel pathways. Their graceful curves drew the eye to a series of miniature gardens, each scene artfully composed of unique trees and flowers. Small viewing pavilions with wooden benches enticed visitors to pass the time in serene contemplation of nature.
It was the sort of place Nazafareen would have enjoyed wandering through with Darius, while they talked of inconsequential things. But now she kept thinking about how weak she was in this half-light. Her breaking power flickered like a dying torch. She wondered uneasily if the Vatra knew, too.
A moment later, Herodotus landed inside the wall—he had the sense to keep hold of the rope, Nazafareen noticed—followed a moment later by Megaera. Katsu made his own way over without aid, landing on his feet as light as a cat.
They all huddled together in the shelter of the bamboo.
“A patrol just passed,” Darius whispered. He turned to the Stygian. “Which way now?”
“Check the globe first,” Katsu replied.
Darius took it out and blew on the runes. Immediately, the Vatra appeared. He stood in the center of a large chamber, cluttered with objects of every description. There was an intense, predatory stillness to his posture.
“Oh dear,” Herodotus muttered into his beard. “He’s hunting her.”
Darius released the flows and the image disappeared.
“He’s still down there, all right,” Katsu said. “But the only way inside is through the palace itself. We’ll get as close as we can, then split up. I know the routes the patrols usually take. We should be able to avoid them.”
They crept deeper into the grounds, keeping to the shadows. The gentle rain helped, muffling sound and raising a fine mist in the hollows. Once, they startled a doe nibbling on some bushes. It stared at them and bounded into the woods, white tail flashing. The peaceful beauty of the scenery seemed at odds with the company’s dire purpose, and Nazafareen felt a growing sense of unreality, as if she had slipped into a pleasant dream. They passed through the Garden of Solitary Joy, and the Garden of the South, and the Valley of the Blue Wave. Several times, Katsu led them to a hiding place moments before a patrol passed—but even that felt almost like a game.
The imperial gardens had their own magic, she thought. The sort that lulled you into complacency with droning bees and petal-strewn ponds. Luckily, the Stygian seemed immune, perhaps because he was familiar with it. She’d worried he might back out at the last moment, but Katsu was as good as his word. Nazafareen could tell he didn’t like the idea of betraying the emperor, but he wanted the globe even more.
At last, the imperial palace appeared through the trees, not nearly as large as the Rock of Ariamazes but much more pleasing to the eye. It was made of red-lacquered wood, with three tiers and a pointed roof that curved upward at the corners like a boat. Not a single tree or shrub stood within five hundred paces of its walls.
They followed Katsu to a bridge arching over a meandering stream and studied the palace from the concealment of the supports. Two dozen soldiers in belted black robes stood rigidly before the main entrance.
“You’re sure about this?” Katsu asked doubtfully.
Megaera merely grinned and handed her staff to Darius.
“Give it back in one piece,” she said. “You carry the honor of the Maenads now.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you, dáskalos,” he murmured, a Greek word which meant teacher or master, and she nodded in satisfaction.
Megaera slipped some distance away with Herodotus, who carried an unlit oil lamp. He upended the contents over her head.
“Even if this works, we won’t have much time,” Katsu said. “A minute perhaps. I hope you can run fast.”
Darius smiled. Nazafareen drew a deep breath. She made a sign to Herodotus.
He took a flint from his pocket and struck it. Once, twice. A spark flew from the stone, arcing through the air like a firefly. With a whoosh, Megaera erupted in flames. Nazafareen tensed. She’d seen Rhea hold a tiny flame to her arm once with no effect, but that was very different.
Megaera turned to them, a blazing torch from head to toe. She gave a little wave.
Herodotus lifted his robes and started running for the palace, skinny legs pumping.
“Vatras!” he hollered at the top of his lungs. “The Vatras are here!”
Megaera followed at a leisurely pace, arms swinging by her sides.
Nazafareen poked Katsu in the ribs. He stood there with his mouth hanging open.
“Go!” she urged.
The Stygian shook himself. The ranks of imperial guards in front of the palace were running forward now, shouting the alarm. They wore a sort of long, belted black dress, with scaled leather coats on top. Herodotus veered away to the left, towards the aquarium, and the guards followed.
“By Babana, the oyster king, I’ve never seen the like,” Katsu murmured. He began to run, leading them in the opposite direction. They turned the corner of the palace unseen and had nearly reached a side door when it burst open and more guards poured out. They held wickedly curved blades and moved more like daēvas than humans, with fluid, predatory grace.
“No killing blows,” Katsu growled. “They’re good men.”
“Well, that makes it trickier,” Darius muttered, blue eyes coolly assessing the armed horde running toward them.
“They’re not our enemies,” the Stygian insisted, dropping into a loose-limbed fighting stance. “Their duty is to protect the emperor. They would fight on our side if they knew the truth. It’s dishonorable to take an innocent life.”
Darius and Nazafareen exchanged a look. “He’s right,” Darius muttered. “Use the flat of your blade.”
Darius met the first one with a flurry of cracks from Megaera’s staff that ended moments later with the man’s sword in his own hand. He looked at it with longing for an instant, then tossed it aside.
“To me, Nazafareen!” he cried.
She swept her own blade from the scabbard and the melee began.
Meb crawled through a narrow tunnel between two heaped piles of junk. Decades worth of dust lay on the objects, tickling her nose and coating her palms. Nico’s voice was distant now, though he’d nearly found her the last time. He was getting angry. But she’d never come out. Never. And someone would come looking eventually, wouldn’t they?
Or maybe they wouldn’t. No one knew she’d gone with him. And it didn’t seem like people came down here much. She wiped a filthy hand across her nose, then pinched it hard to stifle a sneeze.
Well, there had to be a way out. She tried to remember what she’d seen when he brought her, but she’d been crawling around in circles and it was all running together in her mind.
“Meb!”
He was definitely in the next gallery. His voice echoed hollowly through the spaces.
“Do you know what a lich is?”
She peered between two crates. His back was to her, but she could see his face in profile. A flame danced over his open palm, casting wild shadows on the ceiling. She quickly retreated.
“They’re very nasty. Shades of the Undead whose touch means death. Several of them live inside the talisman I have in my pocket right now.”
A long silence.
“I don’t want to summon them, Meb. Once freed…. Well, they’re not easy to unknit. But liches have a special talent. They can sniff out living flesh.”
Lying. He’s a liar, she thought. He just wants to trick me into coming out.
“It would be much easier if you cooperated, Meb.”
The voice was moving away now and she took the opportunity to squeeze into a crooked space flanked by tall headless statues. Clay masks leered down at her from a glass cabinet beyond, the faces contorted in grimaces of laughter or pain, she couldn’t tell which.
“Tell you what. I’ll count to ten. If you haven’t come out, I’ll have to free the liches.”
She moved backwards, retracing her path deeper into the collection.
Nicodemus started to count.
I’ve never even heard of no liches, she thought. They ain’t real. Just some made-up thing. And who’s to say they wouldn’t get him, anyway?
She moved faster now, her surroundings looking more familiar. She was sure she’d seen that jade dragon before. And that funny gourd-shaped instrument with strings, half of them snapped. But when? Was it when she first came in? Or after?
“Seven…six…five…”
Meb skittered like a beetle underneath a table piled high with tottering tea sets. Her shoulder brushed a leg and she heard the pile shift, ever so slightly. Her heart froze. Then it settled again.
“Two…and one. Well, that’s it then.” He almost sounded sorry, which made it worse. “Here come the liches, Meb!”
She gritted her teeth and pushed onward. And then, by some miracle, she saw a door ahead. It was just across the room. Twenty paces. She bit her lip.
Don’t go belly up now, she thought. You’re fast. Just do it.
She burst from her hiding place and rushed toward the door. Then she caught movement in the corner of her eye. A shadow, but darker than those surrounding it. Darker than the darkest starless night. Darker than the bottom of the Great Green. A low moan came from her throat.
It drifted along, trailing ragged streamers at the edges. She wanted to run but her legs wouldn’t move. A feeling of dread stole over her. The lich had no face, but she could feel its gaze fix on her.
Meb screamed. She screamed and screamed.
A wind rose, tearing at her hair. With a hideous cry just on the edge of hearing, the lich blew apart like smoke.
“Ah fuck,” Nicodemus muttered behind her. “That was close.”
More were coming. Meb could see them. The Shades of the Undead.
She didn’t resist when he seized her arm and dragged her through the door.
Many centuries before, the grounds surrounding the palace of Xun Lai Xiang, the Son of Heaven, Keeper of the Nine Ecstatic Mysteries, and thirty-third emperor of the island-state of Tjanjin, had been razed of all vegetation that might offer concealment for an assassin. A special kind of grass was planted, a gift of the Avas Danai. It was plush as a Susan carpet and only grew two inches high. Many picnics and games were enjoyed on this vast emerald lawn, including a form of badminton where the shuttlecock was a clever mechanical bird.
Unfortunately, the current emperor’s great-grandfather turned out to be allergic to the grass, so he’d torn it up and ordered five hundred cartloads of crushed pink and white seashells to be hauled up from the shore and raked into pleasing patterns.
They crunched under Nazafareen’s boots as she parried an overhead blow from one of Xiang’s imperial guards. She floated serenely in the Nexus, which sharpened her senses to a deadly degree. Although the guardsman was formidable, she had little trouble anticipating his strategy.
Behind her, Megaera’s staff whirled in Darius’s hands, stunning his opponents and breaking a few bones, though he seemed to be keeping his word to Katsu. A few lay unconscious, others moaned weakly, but none appeared dead.
Nazafareen’s guard feinted to the right, trying to draw her off-balance. She swept her blade around, aiming for his sword arm, and drew first blood. The man didn’t even flinch. He redoubled his attack with a flurry of blows and though she managed to skip out of reach, her left arm trembled with effort. That was the problem with fighting one-handed against a two-handed opponent.
If she could knock him off balance for an instant….
It was time to cheat, she decided, letting her awareness roam into the earth even as she parried another vicious blow that nearly took her head off. She felt the roots of the grass below the layer of shells, sleeping but alive, and the blind creatures delving in the soil, and the echo of the humble beings who had built the shells and called them home.
She put aside thoughts of how weak she was in earth power. Don’t snatch at it, Darius always told her. Let it flow into you naturally.
So Nazafareen did that and the shells trembled, rippling outward in gentle waves like a pebble thrown into a still pond. The guard wasn’t knocked down, the effect was more subtle, but his eyes widened in confusion and Nazafareen punched him in the temple with the hilt of her sword—though not quite quickly enough.
He was right-handed and saw it coming. As she stretched forward, his blade slipped into her, just beneath the armpit. Then her own devastating blow connected and he dropped like a stone.
Nazafareen turned her back to Darius and Katsu, fingers quickly probing the cut. The blade had nicked a rib. It didn’t feel deep, but wetness soaked her side. She pressed her palm against the wound and let her cloak fall closed. She didn’t want the others to know, especially Darius. They needed her. And there was no time to fuss over an injury.
She sheathed her sword and looked around. The rain had stopped. She saw no sign of Megaera or Herodotus. In fact, the grounds were eerily quiet. To her relief, neither Katsu nor Darius appeared to have taken a single scratch. How the Stygian managed it without any weapon besides hands and feet was something she intended to ask him about later. But now she felt time seeping away with every heartbeat.
“That was you?” Darius asked, leaning on Megaera’s staff.
Nazafareen nodded.
“You’re learning,” he said dryly.
“Move,” Katsu barked, starting for the door to the palace. “More guards will be here any minute. I can lead us down to the collection, but we have to get inside before we’re seen.”
“Wait!” Nazafareen cried. “See exactly where the Vatra is first,” she told Darius. “Quickly.”
He pulled out the globe and the runes ignited in blue fire. The scene inside changed instantly, but it wasn’t the gloomy galleries of the emperor’s talisman collection. Sunlight painted the Vatra’s copper hair. He was dragging Meb across a rope bridge. Statues of frolicking porpoises ringed the turquoise pool beneath them.
“He got past us,” Darius growled. “They’re in the aquarium.”
“I recognize the place,” Katsu said. He paused. “There’s a gate nearby.”
Nazafareen seized a handful of Katsu’s coat. “You never mentioned that!”
“And you never said he might use it,” Katsu replied flatly.
“How close are they to the gate?” Darius asked.
He shook his head. “Very. We won’t—”
“Don’t you dare say it,” Nazafareen pressed harder against the wound. “Just show us the way.”
They took off running for the western wall. Nazafareen was grateful her bond with Darius lay dormant else he’d know she was leaking like a sieve. She fixed her eyes on the wall ahead, stoking her anger and hatred.
Sometimes that was all you had left.