“Where are we going?” the girl demanded, stumbling to keep up as Nico hauled her across the rope bridge.
He didn’t reply. Summoning the liches had left a bad taste in his mouth. When he used the talisman, he could feel the veil tearing open to some forsaken abyss of the Dominion where the restless dead clung to a crude semblance of existence. Nine-tenths of the emperor’s collection was junk, but that last tenth… There were objects whose purpose even Nico couldn’t divine, though he felt their power.
“I ain’t walking if you don’t tell me,” Meb said stubbornly, dragging her feet as they neared the end of the bridge.
A little pavilion sat on the island beyond, with a bench carved to resemble a giant clam shell. A nice middle-class family from Chang’an sat on the bench, enjoying the view of the harbor. The mother wore a silk robe with an elegant crimson sash. Her lustrous black hair was swept into a loose bun held in place by four jade dragonfly pins. The children, a boy and a girl in matching silk coats and trousers, looked over with curiosity. The girl, who was about Meb’s age, tugged at her father’s sleeve.
“Help!” Meb cried, trying to yank herself free of Nico’s grip. “He’s a child stealer!”
The father stood up, frowning. He was a distinguished gentleman, probably a merchant, with exquisite posture and diction. “Excuse me, sir, but I think you ought to—”
Nico sighed. He raised a hand and flicked it. A swarm of yellow sparks cascaded from his fingertips. They guttered in the grass like dying fireflies. The mother gasped, her perfectly painted lips forming an oval of surprise.
“I can do worse,” Nico told them.
Beside him, Meb stiffened. “Yeah,” she muttered. “He can. I seen it. Better run away.”
The father hesitated, but when Nico glanced at his wide-eyed children, he hunched his shoulders. The family hurried off and Nico dragged a somber Meb to the island.
He could see the gate just ahead. It sat at the bottom of one of the pools, marked by a stone pillar with weathered engravings. Most were in languages long dead, including his own. According to the scholars of Tjanjin, the gates were incredibly ancient, perhaps tens of thousands of years old. No one knew who made them, not even Gaius. Most of the markers had been lost to the ravages of time. But the mortal culture here was the oldest in the world, predating both the Greeks and Persians, and they had preserved their gate—though its existence was a closely held secret. He could see the glow of it in the water like a fallen star.
“Why won’t you say anything?” Meb persisted. “Just tell me. It’s worse not knowing. I’ll go along quiet if you tell me.”
Nico glanced at her. Grime streaked her face and her eyes were red, but she wasn’t crying or whining. If she had, it would have been easier to despise her. But she was tough. Maybe even tough enough to survive the Kiln. So Nico decided he wouldn’t lie to her. He’d give her that much.
“You’re wrong there, Meb,” he said. “In this case, knowing would be worse.”
She bit her lip and yanked with surprising strength, unbalancing him. His other hand held a leather script filled with talismans—the cream of the emperor’s collection. Nicodemus had no intention of returning to Tjanjin and during his studies of the talismans, he had noted those that could be of future use. The one to summon liches, for example, and others of a similarly dark nature.
He had to let go of her or drop the bag in the water. So he let go. But it only took an instant to steady himself on the guide rope. He caught her again within two strides. She kicked him in the shin and Nico laughed.
He shouldn’t have. His earlier instinct about her pride turned out to be entirely correct. A maniacal light entered Meb’s eyes. Quick as a sand snake, she sunk her teeth into the back of his hand. Nico let out a mighty roar of pain. Meb dodged past and raced ahead.
Straight for the gate.
Nazafareen stumbled up to the wall. It looked very high. Much higher than the last time she climbed it. Katsu was already halfway up. She pulled her hand out from underneath the cloak and examined it. It was stained crimson.
“You’re hurt,” Darius said reproachfully.
She waved the hand, trying to catch her breath. “Not really,” she said, and the ground tilted and she found herself staring up at him. “Well, shit.”
“Holy Father, how bad?” he demanded. Darius pulled her cloak aside and gave a sharp hiss.
“Don’t think it punctured anything important,” she protested weakly. “Just a little blood loss.”
“More than a little,” he growled, his eyes searching her face. “Keep pressure on it.”
Nazafareen obeyed, ignoring the dull ache in her ribs.
“Can you hold onto me?”
She nodded and sat up. The world spun for a long moment, then righted itself. Darius helped her to stand and used one end of the rope to tie them together around the waist. Then he tossed the other end to Katsu. The Stygian caught it and dropped down on the other side. Nazafareen laid her head against Darius’s back.
She felt him climbing and the tension of the rope as Katsu reeled it in from his side. Things greyed out for a moment. When she came back to herself, she stood on a gravel pathway facing the placid pools of the aquarium. Darius untied the rope, peering at her with a worried expression.
“Katsu says it’s not far now. Can you walk?”
They must be near the edge of the Umbra for she saw brightness ahead. This part of the aquarium was nearly all water, with little islands connected by rope bridges. It sat on the highest point and all of Tjanjin spread out below. She could see the tall Marakai ships lying at anchor alongside the stone piers. A patchwork of jaunty red and blue rooftops descended in terraces down the hill. Beyond it all lay the White Sea, undulating in long, slow swells that broke against the harbor mouth.
The whole world seemed to stretch out before her, vast and unknowable. It made Nazafareen afraid. If Nicodemus took Meb into the Dominion, she would be lost forever. They would vanish without a trace. Nazafareen knew this in her bones.
She drew a shallow breath. “I can do better,” she said to Darius. “I can run.”
Before he replied, she dashed toward the first bridge, clumsy and tired but too stubborn to quit. A fresh breeze struck her face and her head cleared a bit. Katsu was already at the next island.
“Hurry!” he yelled back. “They’re at the gate!”
She could feel her power stirring as the glow on the horizon brightened. It gave her strength to cross the bridge. And then she saw them, a hundred paces away. The Vatra and his prisoner. They were wading through waist-high water toward a tall stone pillar. Meb dodged to the side and Nicodemus leaped for her, snagging her hair. She cried out as he wrenched her head back.
Nazafareen reached for her breaking power but it slid away. Not strong enough yet.
“Help me over the line,” she cried to Darius.
He understood instantly, scooping her up and sprinting in a mad blur across the next rope bridge. A molten sliver of sun broke the horizon. The moment its warmth touched her face, Nazafareen’s bond with Darius came to life. She felt the deep reservoir of his elemental magic churning in a corner of her mind. At the same instant, her own power broke loose of its fetters. She lashed out wildly, without thought, throwing it all at the gate. It left her in a sheet of black lightning that seemed to bleed the color from the world.
In the moment before it struck, some instinct made the Vatra turn. His eyes widened. He shoved Meb away—directly into the crackling lance of negatory magic. Her back arched in a ghastly bow. One arm flung out, the fingers splayed wide. Terrible pain etched her face, but then it softened. The whiplash of power dissipated, releasing its hold on her, and she slipped beneath the waters.
It all happened in the barest instant. Nazafareen stared at the spot where Meb had vanished, unwilling to believe what she’d just done. She felt Darius’s shock, like a slap to the face.
I’ve killed the talisman, she thought, the anger that fed her power turning instantly to horror and grief. I’ve killed a child.
The Vatra turned on her and unleashed a gout of flame. Katsu threw himself to the ground. Nazafareen barely managed to clamp down on the bond before it seared past them, inches away, like the door to a white-hot forge had been thrown wide. Seconds later, the rope bridge caught fire.
Darius dragged her away from the flames to the next island, his face a grim mask. He couldn’t touch his own power. She couldn’t let him. But she could sever the Vatra’s flows. She could finish it. Finish him.
“Wait here,” she told Darius, and something in her voice made him obey. He stepped aside without a word.
Nazafareen couldn’t meet his eyes. She was too afraid of what she might find there.
Perhaps it takes a monster to fight a monster, she thought bleakly, dropping into the pool and wading forward.
Nicodemus backed toward the gate as the Breaker bore down, her amber eyes fixed on him with single-minded intent. He couldn’t sense her magic at all. It was a void in the world, tangible only by its devastating effects. Every time he reached for fire, the power fizzled and died.
He hadn’t meant to push Meb into the path of it. His reaction was purely instinctual. In fact, he’d been trying to protect her.
And now she was gone.
He fumbled in the script and took out the clay scarab to summon the liches, but it splintered to fragments in his hand. And then she was on him, her sword whistling through the air. He dodged right, shocked at her speed. It blurred past his face and bit into his arm. Nicodemus spun away, a thread of heat stinging his flesh.
Her face was expressionless, her eyes empty of any recognizable emotion.
The blade slashed again, two strokes in rapid succession, and he knew he was bleeding freely now, he could see it swirling in the water, though he didn’t yet feel the pain. Nicodemus howled and lunged forward, hoping to use his size and strength to overwhelm her. He’d taken half a step when a vise closed around his heart. The pain made his eyes water. Every muscle seized.
“Do you see now?” she asked softly.
The pressure eased for a moment, and he drew a shuddering breath, but then it increased again. Squeezing and releasing. Making him suffer, like a child tearing the legs from a bug.
Her face changed, and a kind of sick joy came into it. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks.
Nico knew that look. He’d seen it before.
The day Gaius threw the wyrm’s head at his feet.
Nico felt a hot jet of urine trickle down his leg. The agony was so bad he would’ve begged her for death if he had breath, not that he expected it to do much good.
And then a dark shadow passed over the sun. Her pupils dilated. She blinked rapidly, the cruel light fading to confusion.
The vise fell away and Nico fell with it.
Meb drifted like a ragdoll. Water poured inside her nose and mouth. Crept deep into her lungs. But for some reason, she wasn’t afraid. She let it fill her. If this was death, it came to her peacefully, as a friend.
Deeper she went, toward the greenish glow. Tall gray reeds swayed in an invisible current. And then Meb saw a doorway, standing alone. It was giving off the light. A woman waited just inside, dark hair fanning out around her. She was corpse-pale and Meb could see the water filled her too. She beckoned with open arms.
Meb’s toes dragged through soft mud as she drifted forward. It felt pleasantly cool and squishy. She hadn’t thought much about dying before. The Marakai returned their dead to the sea, and this wasn’t exactly the sea, but it was water so maybe that was proper enough. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d died, but she’d felt something break inside her. Like a whole other set of bones she didn’t even know she had. They’d snapped, and that part hurt for an instant, but it passed. And then she was in the water and the water was in her. So yeah, drowning, most likely. Except she hadn’t choked or spluttered or ached for a breath of air, which did seem odd.
Done is done, Meb thought. I’m dead. Best get used to it.
She thought she would pass straight through the doorway but the woman blocked her way.
“Mebetimmunedjem of the Selk Marakai,” she said, though to be precise, Meb heard the words in her head because nothing came out of the woman’s mouth except a small silver fish.
She drew Meb close and gave her a kiss on her forehead. Her lips were cold.
“Who’re you?” Meb asked, and a fizz of tiny bubbles drifted upwards.
“Some call me the Drowned Lady.”
Meb nodded. “Guess I’m coming with you.”
A school of minnows darted from the Lady’s mouth, which Meb knew was laughter.
“You ain’t dead, Meb,” she said. “Not for a long while.” Her dark eyes turned up to the surface far overhead. “You have to go back up there. Give ‘em a show.” Her mouth curved in a sly smile. “Go on.”
The Lady gave her a little push.
Meb drifted up and up, lazily. She was glad not to be dead, but Nicodemus was up there. The water felt safe. But the Lady said she had to and Meb wasn’t about to cross her. She’d be back someday, even if it was a long time from now, and she had a feeling the Lady would remember if she’d done what she promised.
When her head broke the surface, she saw people. Meb watched, feeling curiously disconnected, as a naked mortal ran up the hill, an older bearded man in a robe at her side. They were followed by a large number of the imperial guard.
Across the pool, she saw the one-handed woman standing over Nicodemus with an expression Meb didn’t much like. It was real mean—even though he probably deserved it.
Meb opened her mouth and the water poured out. It didn’t hurt. The water was part of her now, but up here she would breathe air. She paused for a moment, listening to the song of the ocean all around. She’d never been able to hear it before. Or she had, very faintly, but it was in a language she didn’t understand.
Now she did. The song wasn’t a single melody, but many woven together. She heard the shimmering notes of tidal pools and the deep resonance of riptides and the breathy whisper of spindrift and a thousand other subtle sounds. Like a great orchestra playing just for her.
Then she spoke to it.
The waters began to rise, playfully at first but growing in power. The ships in harbor sank lower and lower, until their hulls rested on the mud. And still Meb spoke to the sea, calling it to her for a thousand leagues, until a wave bigger than the tallest mountain in the world trembled over Tjanjin, casting all of the isle in its shadow. Meb held it there, pleased at her handiwork.
She thought this was what the Lady wanted her to do.
Or did she want more?
The people all stood frozen, gazing up at the wave, except for one. The woman with a missing hand. She stared at Meb for a long moment and Meb felt a twinge of unease, but then she rubbed her stump with bloody fingers and that seemed to calm her. She waded forward, keeping an arm pressed against her side as if she had an injury there.
The woman stopped a few feet away and regarded her.
“Hello, Meb,” she said quietly.
“Who are you?” Meb asked.
“My name is Nazafareen.” She glanced up at the wave, poised on the very brink of surrender. Fish swam up and down the face of it, but they didn’t fall out. “That’s impressive. But maybe you should put it back.”
Meb frowned. “Why?”
“Because if it falls, it will kill a lot of people.”
“I won’t let it fall.”
The woman nodded. “I have power too, Meb. I don’t understand it and I’ll confess, it scares me sometimes.”
“I’m not scared.”
But Meb was scared now. Just a bit. All the people were staring at her, and the old Meb, Meb the Mouse, Meb the Shadow, who was still in there, itched to skulk away.
“Do you think you can put it back carefully?” the woman asked.
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Do that then,” she said firmly.
Meb whispered to the sea again, telling it to behave itself and go where it belonged without a fuss, like Captain Kasaika might have done. The wave trembled, then slid back on its haunches, surging into the harbor with the liquid thunder of a waterfall. She did try to be careful, though many of the mooring ropes snapped and some of the smaller vessels capsized.
“Well done,” the woman pronounced in a pleased tone. “Very well done.” She glanced around and frowned. “He’s gone,” she murmured.
A Danai waded toward them now. The one with the withered arm. He had a kind face and bright blue eyes and Meb liked him instantly. He broke into a wide grin, kissing the woman on the mouth and then cupping his gentle hands around Meb’s face.
“Are you all right?” he asked her, his voice a little hoarse.
Normally, Meb wouldn’t suffer to be grabbed by a stranger. But she knew he meant well.
“I’m okay.” Meb glanced at the soldiers, who were on their knees, staring at her in fear and awe. “Can I go back to the Asperta now? Captain Kasaika will have my hide for this.”
The woman—Nazafareen—gave a fragile smile. “Sure, Meb. We’ll go together.”