Mia nodded. Though she hid it behind the jests and smiles, Ash was a proud one. Proud of her skills. Of her father and his legacy. Mia could understand why she’d not want to be initiated on someone else’s coattails. And so she rose off the bed, put her arms around her friend and squeezed her tight.
“Goddess go with you. Be careful.”
Ash squeezed Mia back, tight enough to make her wince.
“You know, folk around here have got you figured for a ruthless bitch after that stunt with Diamo. But I know better. Someone hurts those you love, you’ll not forgive it. But underneath it all, you’re a good sort, Corvere.”
Mia kissed Ash’s cheek, smiling. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve a reputation to uphold.”
“I mean it. Sometimes I wonder what you’re doing in a place like this, Mia.”
“… Since when do you call me Mia?”
“I’m serious,” Ash said. “You should be sure.”
“… Of what?”
Ash searched her eyes. All trace of her smile gone.
“If you really want to be here tomorrow eve.”
“Where else would I be?”
Ash seemed set to say more, but her stare hardened, and she caught herself before she spoke. She hung a moment longer, arms still around Mia’s waist. Lips parted. Pupils wide. And then Ash let go, slipped out through the door and disappeared down the hallway in search of the speaker. Mia closed the door behind her, slunk back to her bed. Watching the cigarillo burning down in her hand.
What was Ash on about? This was everything she’d worked for. Everything she wanted. All the years, the miles, the struggle. The things she’d done to get here, the lives she’d taken on this bloody road. Hands dipped in red. But now she was just one step away from initiation.
One step closer to Remus’s throat.
Duomo’s heart.
Scaeva’s head.
Then it would all be worth it, wouldn’t it?
Wouldn’t it?
A black shape coalesced at her feet. Whispering like wind through winter trees.
“… tomorrow …,” it said.
Mia nodded.
“Tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 31
BECOMING
Mia slept like the righteous dead that eve. A soft knocking woke her sometime before midmeal, and she heard the low voice of a Hand on the other side of her door.
“Be in the Hall of Eulogies in one hour, Acolyte.”
Mia dressed slowly, made her way to the Sky Altar. The benches and chairs were deserted, the Quiet Mountain quieter than she ever remembered it. The thought of initiation filled her mind. She’d finished top of Truths, but the Revered Mother had hinted more trials awaited. She’d no clue what she might face in the Hall of Eulogies, or the final hurdles she’d need to overcome.
She stopped by the athenaeum on her way to the hall. Chronicler Aelius was loitering on the threshold as always, sorting through the RETURNS trolley. Wordlessly, he pulled his ever-present spare cigarillo from behind his ear and handed it to Mia. The pair leaned against the wall, staring out over the sea of shelves below. How many lifetimes could she spend down there if she let herself? How much easier would it be to get lost in those endless pages, and leave this road of shadows and blood behind?
“Initiation soon, eh?” Aelius asked.
Mia nodded, blew a perfect smoke ring in strawberry-scented gray.
“Well,” Aelius shrugged. “All good things …”
Mia licked the sugar from her lips. “You never found the book I was asking for?”
The chronicler shook his head. “I discovered a whole new wing out there yesterturn, though. Thousands of books. Millions of words. Maybe something about darkin in there.”
She looked out over the words below. Sighed.
“It’s a beautiful place, this. Part of me wishes I could stay here forever.”
“Careful what you wish for, lass.”
“I know,” Mia nodded. “The grass is always greener. Still, I envy you, Aelius.”
“The living don’t envy the dead.”
Mia looked at the old man. A slow frown forming on her brow. She realized she’d never seen him leave the athenaeum. Never seen him eat a meal in the Sky Altar or cross this threshold out into the Church proper even once. The girl stared at her cigarillo. The maker’s mark she’d never seen before.
“They don’t make them like this anymore.”
The library of Our Lady of Blessed Murder.
A library of the dead.
“You …”
“The Mother keeps only what she needs,” the old man said.
Mia simply stared, a chill in her belly. Horror and sorrow in her heart.
“You remember what I said that turn you met the bookworm?” Aelius asked.
“You said maybe here’s not where I’m supposed to be.”
Aelius drew hard on his cigarillo. Blew a series of smoke rings that chased each other through the quiet dark. “I’ll take a look in that new wing. If I find anything of the darkin, I’ll have someone leave it in your chambers. Or somewhere else. If that’s where you want to be.”
Mia frowned through a cloud of shifting gray.
“Good luck in the Hall of Eulogies, lass,” Aelius said. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“… My thanks, Chronicler.”
Aelius stubbed out his smoke against the wall and put the remains in his pocket.
“I’d best be off. Too many books.”
“Too few centuries.”
He looked at her then. Something empty and awful in that milky-blue stare. But with a shrug, he limped off down the stairs, out into the endless shelves.
The darkness swallowed him whole.
Three acolytes stood in a goddess’s shadow.
The Mother of Night loomed above them, staring down with stone eyes.
Tric and Hush had been waiting when Mia arrived, several Hands hovering on the edge of the stained-glass light. As the ghostly choir sung out in the dark, a robed figure escorted Mia to the dais. Glancing sideways, she glimpsed strawberry curls.
“Friend Naev,” Mia whispered.
The woman squeezed her hand. “Good fortune. Hold fast.”
Mia took her place beside Tric. Noted the boy was studiously ignoring her. Hearing the voice of a shadow echoing in her head.
“… it is for the best, mia …”
Three acolytes assembled. The victors in Truths, Songs, and Pockets. Mia wondered who had finally won in Aalea’s hall, what kind of secret they must have stolen to gain the Shahiid’s favor. She heard soft footsteps behind her. Found herself praying that she’d not turn and see Jessamine. Taking a deep breath, Mia glanced over her shoulder. And there, standing on the edge of the light, she saw Ashlinn. Hair in fresh warbraids, eyes twinkling in the dark. A small ironwood brooch was pinned to her shirt. A smiling harlequin’s masque.
“Sorry I’m late,” the girl smirked.
Winking to Mia, Ash stepped up to the dais, taking her place at Hush’s side. Mia was amazed. What kind of secret had the girl dredged up? What must it— “Acolytes.”
Mia straightened, eyes front. The double doors leading into the antechamber had swung silently open. A Hand shrouded in long black robes was waiting on the threshold, a scroll unfurled before her. Beside her stood Revered Mother Drusilla.
“My congratulations to you all,” the old woman said. “Each of you have demonstrated a mastery in one of the four halls of this Church, and considerable proficiency in other areas of study. Of every acolyte in this year’s flock, you stand closest to initiation as Blades. But before Lord Cassius inducts you fully into the secrets of this circle, one final trial remains.”
The old woman turned, disappeared through the double doors in a swirl of black cloth. The Hand carrying the scroll stepped forward, consulted the parchment.
“Acolyte Tric?”
Tric took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Aye.”
“Walk with me.”