Regelbrott had died last night. The lack of food and frigid temperatures, combined with the polar fever that was working its way through the camp, had been too much for her. Her comrades had buried her with full military honors. Her grave was one of over fifty that now dotted the seafloor at the edge of the Black Fins’ camp.
As the last notes of the dirge faded, another sound was heard—high, manic laughter. Sera raised her eyes. She knew what was making the sound, even before she saw them—skavveners.
They’d assembled high above the camp, on a broad ridge on Bleak Mount. Their clothing, ripped from corpses, was ragged and full of holes. Pillaged jewels dangled from their necks and earlobes. Their hair hung in their faces, dirty and lank.
“Shoot them if they come any closer,” she told Garstig as she left the grave.
As she made her way back to camp, Alítheia by her side, she clapped her gloved hands together to warm them. The cold of the Southern Sea was like nothing she’d ever known. It was a predator circling for a kill.
The Black Fins had reached the Carceron a week ago and still hadn’t sighted Abbadon; they’d only heard an occasional growl or echoing laughter.
They’d set up camp in a semicircle facing the Carceron but well back from its gates. Sentries had been stationed along the camp’s perimeter, to watch for Astrid, or an enemy’s approach. More had been posted at the prison’s gate with orders to report any movement from inside.
But the monster didn’t show itself.
It was eerily quiet, and there was nothing to do but watch and wait.
Dusk began to fall as Sera moved through the camp. Goblins and mer, hooded in sealskin, hunched against the cold, warmed themselves at waterfires, or gathered around the lava pond.
Thankfully, the goblins had found a seam, and had opened it wide. The Black Fins could at least warm themselves at the bubbling pool of molten rock now. Sera heard more coughing as she swam past her troops. Antoine and Gervais, two of Manon Laveau’s alligators, were sneezing, even though they’d been enchanted against the cold. The swamp queen and her retinue had joined forces with Sera, too.
Even Alítheia was suffering in the Antarctic climate. Her usual quick scuttle had slowed markedly. The frigid temperatures had thickened the oil in her metal joints.
The cold, the uncertainty, the waiting…they had become the Black Fins’ enemies, too. They frayed tempers, wore nerves thin, made Sera and her soldiers grim and tense.
Sera headed to the Carceron now. She went there several times a day to see if Abbadon had decided to show itself. As she approached the prison, she saw that she had company this evening. Ava was floating by its gates, her hands wrapped around the iron bars.
“Any sign of life?” Sera asked as she swam up to her.
Ava shook her head. “It’s still in hiding. I can hear it, though, if I listen hard.”
“I don’t get it,” Sera said, frowning. “The last time we saw it, in the Iele’s caves, it broke right through the witches’ protective spell and tried to kill us all. Why isn’t it doing that now?”
“I think Orfeo told it to hide.”
Sera’s frown deepened. “Is he coming, Ava? Can you see him?”
Ava shook her head.
“What about Astrid?”
“Nothing there, either.”
“Nothing at all? Are you sure?”
“Yes, and it doesn’t make any sense,” Ava said, frustration in her voice. “If Astrid got the two talismans and made it out of Shadow Manse, he’d go after her. He’d be chasing her down here. And if she didn’t get the talismans, he’d still be on his way down here. Because he’s no fool. He’ll have found out by now that we’re here with the other four talismans.”
Sera nodded. “If he knows we’re here, he’ll know we have an army. A big one. He wouldn’t come without troops of his own. He doesn’t have the soldiers he thought he’d have, but there are always mercenaries to be found.”
“If he was coming with an army, I’d know. All those soldiers, mina…I’d sense something. I’d feel all those dark hearts getting closer. Unless…” She hesitated, uncertainty in her voice. “Unless I can’t. Sera, I’m scared I’m losing my ability to sense things. I mean, I sure didn’t see Traho coming, back in the Spiderlair.”
“That was only because you’d just escaped the Okwa Naholo. It took all you had to outsmart those things. No one would have seen Traho coming,” Sera said, trying to reassure her. “Your inner sight is still sharp, Ava. When we first arrived here, you sensed that Abbadon was hiding deep inside the Carceron, didn’t you?”
Ava didn’t reply, but she didn’t need to. Sera could see in her face that she wasn’t convinced. Ava’s sadness, and her self-doubt, hadn’t lifted.
Ava turned her face to the gate again. Listening. Sensing.
“Why don’t the gods answer, Sera? Why won’t they tell us how to kill Abbadon?”
“They haven’t answered yet,” Sera said, trying to sound hopeful. “They’re the gods. They tend to do things on their own schedule.”