Threats are all well and good, but not even you and your pet azi can conjure enough runes to force me. But I will help you. I have my own grudges against Usij that need repaying…
Quick flashes of memory cross my mind—a burning town, the edges of it sweeping out to sea. A younger Aenah, her face tearstained and grieving, holding a still baby in her arms as she watches her world burn.
I’ll have that back, thank you. Just as swiftly, the image was gone and Aenah’s presence returned, angry and melancholy and cold. You have had practice to eavesdrop on my memories so easily.
I’m sure you can understand why.
I will tell you more about shadowglass. The book I gave you was deliberately vague on the matter. The Great Prince had many reasons to keep his secrets.
Are you saying Hollow Knife himself wrote this book?!
My book is a descendant of the original, which has since been lost to time. The shadowglass is his promise to us for immortality, but its ingredients come at a price.
The sleeping sickness? You’re dooming these people to death!
Death? They sleep, peaceful and happy, surrounded by memories of loved ones and better times until the end of their natural lives. I would call it a gift, Aenah said.
I drew on Compulsion without thinking, but nothing happened. Her throaty chuckle was proof of my failure.
Did I strike a nerve, Tea? Perhaps Prince Kance prefers endless sleep over the stress of ruling a kingdom. Who knows? Mayhap he dreams of you. I presume Usij has the pieces of their heartsglass. It has been a stalemate between us for the better part of ten years—we all strive for the same goal, but the shadowglass can only accommodate one, and we have always found it difficult to share among ourselves.
Get to the point.
It is a simple recipe. Blade that Soars and Hollow Knife were two halves of the Great Creator’s heart. When he formed the world, it was necessary for him to divide his heart to bring a balance of light and dark into it. That is why Hollow Knife needed to take Blade that Soars’s heartsglass for his own, to become truly immortal. To create a facsimile of Blade that Soars’s heart, we gather the Five Great Heroes from where his blood flows down and forge it anew into a pure heartsglass. But to achieve Hollow Knife’s heart, it is necessary to turn one’s own silver heartsglass black.
And how is that possible?
There are many paths that lead to a black heartsglass. Hollow Knife’s requires a corruption of self. I have found killing to be the easiest method. And not simple commonplace murder—one must delight in it.
Quick visions blurred through my mind: blood and desires, deaths and unholy rites. She laughed when I reeled back from her, my disgust clear. It gets better with every killing, I assure you.
You vile, disgusting—
That may be so. I make no pretense of sainthood. Unlike your fellow asha, I do not claim to be what I am not. It is a shame, really, that you fled Odalia so quickly that you had little time to conduct a thorough investigation of your own elders. Oh, the atrocities you can find there!
Tell me more about what they did.
But her thoughts were already fading. Try as I might, I was too weak to wrest them back.
Thwarted for now, I took stock of what I knew. If Aenah was right, then the sleeping sicknesses were Usij’s doing. The other Faceless leader either knew of Aenah’s book or had his own copy and sought to create the lightsglass spell himself. But was this endless sleep a permanent consequence? Nothing in the book talked of a cure.
But to create the lightsglass, Usij would also need a Heartforger. And only two came to mind. Kance wasn’t the only one in danger. Khalad and the old Forger were too.
I tried again, but all my attempts at Scrying failed. How had I gotten past the barrier to Aenah? I reached out desperately and found nothing but darkness—a darkness that slithered, waiting.
Visions of forests and streams burned into my head. The azi was somewhere upriver, circling the sky. Even with the strongest wards keeping me in place, even across the long miles, it could find me.
Something curled along the edges of my thoughts. The azi did not think the way humans do, but there was a faint question in its mind, one I understood.
I could bind no spells in this room, but the azi was here. How could I use it? How could I control it? The thought of merging minds with a creature so grotesque, a daeva whose kind caused my own brother’s death, once horrified me.
I took a deep breath and plunged willingly into the azi’s mind.
It was thick and cloying; if I could have breathed in the abscesses of its soul, I would have suffocated. Consciousness slid around me like thick molasses, and its thoughts were primal, simple. It desired freedom. People hunted it, so it hunted them. It yearned for solitude, food and sunlight its only pleasures. The old scar on my thigh burned.
Master?
Yes!
There was a rush of wings, and my stomach plummeted as the azi swooped down, so low that its tail grazed the ground. With a loud cry, it soared back up, picking up speed as it shot through the air, a new destination in mind.
The walls of my room shook. It was close, far closer than I realized. I had a bird’s-eye view of rooftops, roads, and the familiar towers of the Odalian palace before the world shifted again. The azi dove down, straight into the heart of the city.
No! I yelled, grabbing at the shadows, and the beast rose at the last second, nearly missing a house. Its three heads screamed at the sky, tongues weaving, and somewhere in the palace, I could hear glass shattering.
I pulled again, and the azi complied, goaded into circling the city. At that distance, it had little chance for mischief, though I suspected that made little difference to the fears of the people below.
I tried to pierce through the wards around the room again. How could I remain linked to the daeva yet still be unable to channel the smallest spells?
On impulse, I drew Scrying and burrowed back into the azi’s mind, guiding my magic through it like a culvert so the rune poured out through it instead of through me. It purred its assent, and then Fox’s voice broke through, faint but clear.
Tea?
“Fox!” I sank to my knees, relief making the room spin. Where are you? Are you hurt?
Nothing I won’t survive. I thought they warded your room.
I found a loophole. Already shouts were coming from outside the door along with the sounds of running feet. Where are you?
There was a heavy thump outside, like someone ran into a brick wall, followed by several hard thuds. There was a quick choking sound that was abruptly cut off. And then came a tap on the door.
“Right outside. Stand back.”
The door was no obstacle for Fox’s sword. The air crackled with energy as the wards in the room were forcibly drawn back like curtains and quickly dispatched.
Men littered the hallway, Deathseekers and soldiers alike. Zoya and Likh were laying an unconscious man on the floor. “Govan’s a friend,” Zoya said ruefully. “I hope Zahid will forgive us for knocking out some of his Deathseekers. Good work on the wards, Likh.”
“You can dispel wards?” I asked.
The boy asha grinned. “I guess I have a knack for it.”
“We need to get out of here.” My brother’s shirt was torn, and painful-looking lashes along his back and shoulders were testament to his “interrogation.”
“I am going to kill Holsrath,” I snarled, taking Fox’s hand and making a small nick on my finger with his sword before he could stop me. The Bloodletting rune shone, settling around Fox like a warm blanket. The wounds along his chest thinned into white lines before disappearing completely, leaving only the horrible scars inflicted by the savul.
“I don’t feel pain, Tea,” Fox reminded me, flexing his left foot experimentally. “The only thing I wasted was their time. I could have managed without healing until we were out of the city.”
“We’re leaving?”
“Was there any doubt? There’s a daeva flying overhead, and the army is busy with it.” Fox’s glance was quizzical, and I could feel the question forming in his mind.