She threw her hood over her head, skidded off the main drag and down a twisting side alley, bolting over the refuse and drunks, the sugargirls and sweetboys. More footsteps behind her, more whistles, more men. Buckled cobbles under her feet, narrow walls closing in about her. She bolted into a tiny piazza, barely ten feet at a side, an old bubbling fountain at its heart. The goddess Trelene stood atop it, her gown made of crashing waves, surrounded by candles and bloody offerings. Pushing herself back into a little doorway, Mia dragged her cloak of shadows about her shoulders, all the world dropping into gloom and darkness.
Footsteps coming. Heavy boots. Through her cloak, she caught the dim impression of a dozen Luminatii, sunsteel blades drawn and blazing, dashing into the piazza. Seeing no sign of her, they split up and thundered off in all directions. Mia stayed still, Mister Kindly at her feet, the pair just a smudge in the doorway. She waited as another group of soldiers rushed past, shouting and shoving.
Finally, silence.
She stole away slowly, feeling her way along the wall beneath her cloak. At a time like this, it was hard to fault the Mother for marking her—if, indeed, that’s what she’d done. But as far as magik went, being able to stumble about near blind and almost invisible seemed a far cry from Adonai or Marielle’s brand of sorcery. Everyone paid a price, she supposed. Adonai thirsted for what he controlled. Marielle wove the flesh of others and corrupted her own. And Mia could remain unseen, but hardly see while doing it …
She pawed her way through the maze of back streets, but she didn’t know Shield Arm as well as Little Liis. Even with Mister Kindly roaming ahead, it’d take hours to find her way back to the Porkery at this rate. So finally, she threw aside her shadows and made for the nearest thoroughfare. Out onto the main drag, crossing three bridges to the Heart, then down to the Nethers, dodging any Luminatii who came within a block. Running into the puppy-choker had unnerved her. Filled her mind with memories. Her mother in chains. Her baby brother crying. The turn her whole world came apart. She needed to get back to the Mountain, away from these bastard sun-botherers.
A moment to think.
A moment to breathe.
If she weren’t so intent on spotting large groups of men in gleaming white armor waving burning swords, she might have noticed a slender figure dressed all in mortar gray, picking up her trail as she entered the harbor district. She might have noticed the gang of young bucks trudging down the boardwalk toward her, nodding to the figure shadowing behind. She might’ve noticed they wore soldiers’ boots. That they had rather suspicious truncheon-shaped lumps beneath their cloaks.
She might have noticed all this before it was too late.
But then it was too late.
CHAPTER 17
STEEL
A hard slap.
Water dashed in her face.
A sputtering gasp.
“Wake up, my lovely love.”
Mia opened her eyes, immediately regretting it. Blinding pain arced across her brow, all the way to the base of her skull. Fragmented memories. A group of men. Cudgels. Repeated blows. Cursing. Her knife flashing. Blood in her mouth.
Then blackness.
Wincing, she looked about her. Stone walls. A metal door with a barred window. She was sat in a heavy, iron chair. Hands manacled behind her back. Mister Kindly lurked in her shadow, drinking down her fear. Not alone.
Never alone.
“Wake up.”
Another slap landed on her face, whipping her head sideways. Lank and dripping hair stuck to her skin. She tried to lash out with her feet, found they were manacled too.
“I’m awake, you fucking whoreson!”
Mia looked up at the man who’d slapped her. A hulk of pure muscle, six feet tall and almost as wide. More scar on his face than there was face. Another fellow stood behind him, clean cut and well built with dead, empty eyes. Both were wearing white robes. Copies of Aa’s gospels strung on heavy iron chains about their necks. Tiny flecks of blood at their cuffs.
“O, shit,” Mia breathed.
Confessors …1
“Indeed,” said the man with dead eyes. “And you are bound by book and chain to answer our questions true.”
The scarred man walked slowly around the room until he stood behind Mia. Craning her neck, the girl saw a long table, lined with tools. Pliers. Snips. Thumbscrews. A brazier full of burning coal. At least five different flavors of hammer.
No fear in her belly. No quaver in her voice. Looking the second man in his dead eyes.
“What would you like to know, good Brother?”
“You are Mia Corvere.”
How do they know my name?
“… Aye.”
“Daughter of Darius Corvere. Hung by order of the Senate six years past.”
That centurion … Alberius … surely he couldn’t have got word out to Scaeva already?
“… Aye.”
Heavy hands landed on both her shoulders, squeezing tight.
“The Kingmaker’s sprog,” came the scarred man’s voice behind her. “Bounce my bollocks on the boardwalk, is that not a treat, Brother Micheletto?”
The dead-eyed man smiled, his eyes never leaving Mia’s.
“O, a rare treat, Brother Santino. My belly’s all a-flutter, it is.”
“I’ve committed no crime,” Mia said. “I am a god-fearing daughter of Aa, Brother.”
The one called Micheletto stopped smiling. His slap brought the stars out from the dark inside Mia’s skull. Her head hung loose on her shoulders, Micheletto’s growl cutting through the ringing in her ears.
“Speak His name again, girl, and I shall hack out your godsless tongue with a fucking butter knife and cook it with my tea.”
Mia breathed deep. Waited for the pain to subside. Mind racing. Bound. Outnumbered. No idea where she was. No help coming. Not the worst scrape she’d been in, true. But, Daughters, it was racing hard for second …
She tossed her hair from her eyes, looked at the confessor looming above her.
“Tell us where you were earlier this eve,” he said. “Before you arrived in Godsgrave.”
“Arrived?” The girl shook her head. “Brother, I’ve lived here my whole—”
Mia hissed in pain as Santino grabbed her by the scruff and squeezed. She felt his lips brushing her ear as he spoke, stale wine and tobacco on his breath.
“Brother Micheletto asked you a question, my lovely love. And before you wrap that tongue around another lie, I’d best tell you I can still smell blood in your hair …”
Mia’s heart skipped a beat at that. She felt her shadow shiver, Mister Kindly chewing hard at her fear. Could they possibly know she was from the Red Church? Had they some inkling of how disciples moved from the Mountain and back? Justicus Remus had long vowed to destroy the assassins, even before the Truedark Massacre. It made sense he’d recruit the Confessionate to route them out. But could they— “Tell us where you were earlier this eve. Before you arrived in Godsgrave.”
“I’ve not left Godsgrave since I was eight ye—”
Crack. A bright red handprint etched on her face.
“Tell us where you were earlier this eve. Before you arrived in Godsgrave.”
“Nowhere, Brother, I—”
Her chair was dragged backward, the awful sound of iron grating on stone ringing in her ears. Mia saw a barrel filled with dark, tepid water in a corner of the room. Rough hands seized a fistful of her hair, dunked her head and held her down. She thrashed, bucked, but the manacles had her pinned, the hand holding her tight. She roared, bubbles bursting from her mouth into the brackish dark. Harbor water, she realized. Probably fished straight from the Bay of Butchers. Blood, bilge, and shit.
And they’re drowning me in it.
Black spots swimming in her eyes. Lungs burning. The hand hauled her up out of the water and she dragged in a desperate, sputtering lungful.
“Tell us where you were earlier this eve. Before you arrived in Godsgrave.”
“Please, sto—”
Down beneath the water again. The pain and the dark. Her shadow seethed around her feet, helpless and desperate. But there was no cloak of darkness that could hide her here. No sense pinning her captors’ feet to the floor. Chosen of the Mother? Fat lot of good it was doing her. Why couldn’t the goddess have let her breathe underwater?
Lungs almost bursting, she was dragged up into the light again. Chest heaving. Legs trembling. Coughing. Gasping. The fear was breaking loose now, Mister Kindly unable to drink it all. But still, she stamped it down. Kicked it in the teeth and spat on it.
“Tell us where you were earlier this eve. Before you arrived in Godsgrave.”