“Hello, Hush,” she said.
The boy, of course, said nothing. Walking quietly across the hall to stand in front of Mia. He watched her through the glassware, lips pressed together.
His hands were behind his back.
Mia was tense as a mekwerk spring. This was the room Lotti had been killed in, after all. Mister Kindly had warned her Jessamine and Diamo might not be the culprits. Hush had been caught wandering after ninebells, but no one had ever explained exactly what he’d been doing when he was discovered, and here he was, out of his chambers after ninebells again. And nobody had ever found out what happened to Floodcaller …
The boy’s silence was utter; not just his lips, but his entire person. He made no sound as he walked. As he breathed. When he moved, even the fabric of his clothes was voiceless. And his damned hands were still behind his back.
“You shouldn’t be out after curfew,” Mia said.
Hush simply smiled.
“… Can I help you with something?”
The boy slowly shook his head.
Mister Kindly coalesced behind Hush, watching. Every muscle in Mia’s body was wound tight. The shadows around her rippling as her fingers twitched. Her own shadow began to bend, snaking across the floor, longer and darker than it should have been. And Hush took his hands out from behind his back and showed them empty.
Mia sighed. Released her knife. Hush began to speak in Tongueless, his fingers moving so rapidly Mia had trouble following.
help you
Mia signed back, a little clumsier than the boy.
help me with what?
The boy motioned to the bubbling mixtures, the phials and condensers and jars. Mia recalled the sight of him at the scourging. Those toothless gums exposed as he silently screamed. Her hands moved quickly, eyes never leaving his.
why?
Hush paused at that. A faint frown marring that perfect brow.
i’ve been watching
you don’t belong here
It was Mia’s turn to frown now. Confused. Insulted.
what does that mean?
The boy’s hands swayed, deft fingers crafting words from the silence.
after the scourging
you were the only one
to ask if i was all right
no one else cared
Hush shook his head.
you don’t belong here
Mia scowled.
and you do?
The boy nodded.
ugly like the rest of them
Mia found herself confounded. She walked around the spires of bubbling glass, the sweet smell of death. Stood before the boy and took his hands, whispering.
“Hush, what are you talking about? You’re nothing close to ugly.”
The boy actually laughed at that. His vocal chords were atrophied from disuse, the guffaw emerging as little more than a squeak. He clapped his hands to his mouth and convulsed, but she still caught a glimpse of the toothless gums behind those bow-shaped lips. The cracks behind his eyes.
“What happened to you?” she breathed.
The boy’s gaze was intense. Eyes like a sunsburned sky.
slaved
“But you’ve got no slavemark.”
The boy shook his head.
they kept us pretty
“… They?”
pleasure house
Mia’s stomach ran cold as she watched him sign the words. She knew immediately what the boy meant. Where he’d come from. Who had owned him before this, and why they’d knocked out every one of his teeth.
“O, Goddess,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry, Hush.”
you see?
The boy’s lips twisted in what might have been a smile.
you don’t belong here
He looked around the room, the boiling liquid and dead rats, rot and rust in the air.
but kindness should reap kindness
even in a field like this
The boy reached into his britches, and for a moment Mia found her hand straying to her sleeve again. The dark about them trembling. But rather than some hidden shiv, the boy produced a notebook, bound in black leather. He opened to a random page. Mia saw notes in code—a variant of the Elberti sequence mixed with some homebrew. Recognizing the handwriting. The cipher itself.
“That’s Carlotta’s notebook,” she breathed.
The boy nodded.
“Where did you get it?”
The boy tilted his head.
told you
i’ve been watching
Mia’s heart beat faster. She flipped through the pages, saw more than a few were spattered with dried blood. A page near the back had been torn out completely. Slow rage boiled beneath her skin, but she found herself pulling it into check. No sense going off without cause. Hush was offering to help her. He could’ve got Carlotta’s notes without having killed her—he’d been skulking about the Church since he arrived. But still, the simple answer was often the right one …
“Hush,” she whispered, slow and careful. “… Did you murder Lotti?”
The boy looked down at her shadow. Up into her eyes.
what does it matter?
Hands to fists. Red in her eyes.
“It matters because she was my friend!”
The boy shook his head. Looked almost sad.
you have one friend inside these walls
not carlotta
not tric or ashlinn
and not me
Hush stared at her, unblinking. He was no ally, she realized. This was no mark of respect or token of grudging friendship from this O, so strange boy. A debt repaid, was all. Kindness for kindness. Even in a field such as this. And though Hush’s fingers moved not at all, his words swum plain in his eyes.
Take it or leave it.
Mia lifted the book from the boy’s hands. Hush inclined his head in a bow, ever so slight, fringe tumbling over haunted blue eyes. Then he turned on his heel and walked from the room, soundless as a sunsbeam. He reached the double doors, pushed them open with one hand, Mia’s voice stopping him in his tracks.
“Hush.”
The boy turned. Waited.
“Why not use these notes yourself? Don’t you want to finish top of hall?”
Hush tilted his head. Gave her a knowing smile.
And without a whisper, he was gone.
It took hours to crack Carlotta’s code. Hours more to piece together the scraps from the scrawl, the ghostly choir her only company. The missing page was a mystery, but it didn’t matter in the end. The thought occurred that Hush might be trying the same ruse on Mia as she’d run on Diamo. But truth was, Mia had been close enough to the solution to taste it already, perhaps only a few hours from solving the puzzle by herself. She doubted Hush would be stupid enough to grift her at her own game. And there amid Carlotta’s neat handwritten thoughts, she found the single missing piece—the last key to break the lock that had still eluded her.
She was sure of it.
Mia distilled her solution into three phials. Spent two on a pair of rats, saved the third for herself. Her furry companions were snoozing in their cages two hours later when Spiderkiller pushed open the doors and found Mia sitting amid palaces of glittering glass.
“You are here early, Acolyte,” the Shahiid said. “Or is it late?”
The girl held up a glass phial in answer, filled with a cloudy liquid. Spiderkiller crossed the floor, jade-green robes whispering. Tossing her saltlocks off her shoulder, she glanced at the glass in Mia’s hand. Black, paintstick lips twisted in a curious smile.
“And what is that you have?”
“An answer to the impossible.”
“Are you certain?”
Mia glanced at her feet. Knowing without a doubt that even if Mister Kindly were not with her, at that moment, she’d have still been unafraid.
She looked at Spiderkiller and smiled.
“There’s only one way to be certain, Shahiid.”
The announcement was made at mornmeal. Typical of Spiderkiller, there was no fanfare, no real accolade. The Shahiid simply waited until the Ministry and acolytes were assembled, walked softly to where Mia was seated, and pinned a brooch to her chest. The piece was small, carved of ironwood, buffed to a dark sheen.
A wolfspider.
Murmurs passed among the acolytes. Spiderkiller leaned down and placed a black kiss on Mia’s brow.
“My blessings,” she said.