Mia’s belly churned at the mention of the altar. Remus knew the Mountain. Which meant he knew its layout, its workings. How else could the Luminatii know all this, unless there was a traitor amid the Church’s number?
But Drusilla had tested them all! Every acolyte in the crop had chosen to die rather than give up the Porkery’s location. Who’d suffer torture at the hands of Lord Cassius’s confessors, only to sell the Church to the Luminatii afterward?
Someone who knew Cassius’s confessional was only a test …
Realization danced a sickening jig through Mia’s belly.
Ashlinn shrugged, scoffed another mouthful. “Wuh vwat wunugd mufuh.”
“… What?”
The girl swallowed, licked her lips. “I said, well, that’s what you’ve got me for. Da told me and my brother everything about this place. Everything he knew, anyway.”
“Ash and Oz’s father …”
“… what of him …?”
“Ash told me he’d raised his children to replace him.”
She looked to the shadow lurking beside her.
“What if he raised them to avenge him?”
“… to attack the darkin lord of the world’s finest assassins in a place of perpetual darkness? with a few hundred men? best of luck, dear justicus …”
“He won’t need luck,” Mia whispered. “The Swoon, don’t you see? The measurements in Carlotta’s notes were enough to knock dozens dreaming. If Ashlinn or Oz slip it into the initiation feast, Cassius will drop like anyone else, darkin or no.”
“… but tric will be at the feast. he would smell the poison, surely …?”
Mia’s heart surged. Her belly turning cold.
“’Byss and blood …”
She was down off the rafters before Mister Kindly could utter another whisper. Dropping to the mezzanine, shrouded once more in her cloak of shadows; just a dark blur against the Porkery walls. Second Century were marching up to the mezzanine, followed by Remus and his primus. The men tromped down the stair to the blood pool, two abreast.
Mia stole down behind them, hidden beneath her shadowcloak, the world about her dim and black. Arkemical lamps dotted the stairwell, and she followed their light down to the Porkery’s belly, the slick tang of blood hanging in the air. She heard sloshing, churning, burbling. Moving quiet, pawing her way along the wall past the rows of waiting soldiers going into the blood pool. The glyphs on the stone were humming faintly, power singing in the air as Centurion Alberius barked his orders. Not a one of them would’ve seen Ashkahi bloodwerking before, but to their credit, each Luminatii waded out into Adonai’s pool as commanded. Closing their eyes and muttering their prayers and with a surge of Ashkahi magik, disappearing, one by one.
All eyes were on the swirling vortex. The glyphs scrawled in gore across the walls. Mia contemplated waiting until the Second Century had all crossed; surely there’d be a chance to take Remus down in all this. But she thought of Tric. The poison. The feast. If Ashlinn and Osrik had betrayed the Church, they had every reason to kill him, and that thought filled her with a fear that even Mister Kindly couldn’t quite devour.
Black Mother, I’ve been so blind …
The blood swirled and surged. Soldiers dragged down into the flow. Despite his arrogance, Mia couldn’t imagine Adonai would turn on the Church; he had to have been coerced. Regardless, she needed to know what was going on. Revenge could wait.
The people she cared about were more important.
She couldn’t help but admire the irony. If she’d become the monster the Church intended, if she’d killed that nameless boy and been accepted for initiation, she’d be none the wiser about Ashlinn and Osrik’s plot. She’d be seated at the feast right now, being poisoned with the acolytes and the rest of the Ministry.
Instead, she was the only one who could save them.
Mia stole along the blood chamber’s wall, slipped down into the pool, waist-deep in sickening warmth. She’d no idea if two people could make the Walk simultaneously. But she knew Adonai’s blood was mixed into this pool, that the speaker would be able to sense her along with the soldier who now waded in beside her.
Would the speaker know her for a friend? Would he even be able to— The red surged. The floor fell away from Mia’s feet. She found herself sucked down, down into the flow, spinning and twisting, blood in her mouth. That awful undertow, threatening to drag her down into forever. Swimming up toward the light. Chest bursting. Heart pounding. Until finally …
She felt stone beneath her feet. Pushing herself up slowly, head breaking the surface, blood dripping in her eyes. A Luminatii legionary burst out of the flow beside her, sputtering and coughing, his fellows dragging him up and setting him on his feet. The men in the chamber were painted head to toe in scarlet, quiet horror on every face. Adonai’s blood-drenched chamber could only be confirming every gruesome story they’d ever heard about Niah’s worshippers. It was easy to see how they’d think the Church a heresy. Easy to see how Scaeva and Duomo could sell them as an enemy.
From the outside, I’d think the same of us.
Mia blinked, wiped the blood from her eyes.
… Us.
Cloak of shadows still wrapped about her shoulders, she kept herself submerged, only lifting her head high enough to breathe. As always, Adonai was knelt at the head of the pool. Beside him stood a dozen gore-soaked Luminatii, ironwood cudgels in hand. Mia’s pulse quickened as she sensed a familiar shadow at the speaker’s back.
Osrik …
The boy was crouched on the stone, a long, serrated blade in his hand. At his feet, Mia saw another figure, stripped of her traditional black robes. Twisted and piteous, skin split and rotten, trussed up like a hog ready for slaughter. Her hands were bound, her fingers all broken, pink eyes closed. But the steady rise and fall of her shadow’s breast told Mia that the weaver wasn’t dead—and it was the threat of Osrik’s blade at Marielle’s throat that was driving Adonai to this madness.
The speaker’s with us. That’s something, at least …
The girl’s mind was awhirl, the puzzle playing out in her head.
Though it wracked her with guilt, there was no sense rushing upstairs—whatever was unfolding at the Sky Altar had already happened. At least the poison Ash and Osrik were using was only Swoon; nobody would be killed outright. The Luminatii obviously wanted captives. Torture. Interrogation. Public crucifixion. All this awaited the Red Church hierarchy down the road. But at this moment, Lord Cassius and the Ministry were a long way from dead. That meant Tric might be, too …
She looked at Adonai, singing over the churning pool. She could kill him, she realized. Just slit his throat right here, cut off the troops already within the Mountain, seal the others outside. But that would end the most valuable asset the Red Church had in its arsenal. Without the Blood Walk, the Church would be gutted, its chapels isolated.
But still, should she care?
Wasn’t saving Tric and Naev worth that loss?
Beneath the blood, she reached into her sleeve, drew out her gravebone dagger. Watching as Adonai stiffened, glanced in her direction.
He knows I’m here.
Continuing his song, bringing more and more of the sputtering, horrified Luminatii across, Adonai turned his eyes back to the pool. But Mia swore she saw him shake his head. And with a faint hand gesture she recognized as Tongueless, the speaker made his thoughts plain.
Don’t try, he signed.
That settled that. She’d no chance of stealthing the kill, and if Adonai was intent on fighting her, he could give her away the second she moved against him. True to form, the speaker valued his own skin above anyone else inside these walls.
Right, then. Nothing for it.
Mia hunkered down in the blood, watching as dozens more legionaries made the Walk. When the group was assembled, a hundred men in total, Centurion Alberius ordered them to fan out across the level. Securing stairs, doorways, passages. With his men on the move, the centurion turned to one of his younger recruits.