City of Keys, page 50
“Would you like to see my new room?”
He pretended to think about it. “Any skulls?”
“Not one.”
“Then yes. Saints, yes.”
There actually was a cure for maudlin moods, he reflected, as they hurried through a fresh drizzle. Clearly, Kasia was of like mind. Her new rooms were one of the guest houses at the Arx. A tiny cottage near the kennels. He wondered if Alice had gone there. She’d disappeared after a cursory sniff of Natalya’s boots.
There was a large, handsome hound from Kvengard with a notched ear he’d seen her running with on several occasions. Now he wondered what he’d do with a litter of Markpups. They chewed anything that hit the floor.
This minor concern evaporated when they got inside and closed the door. He itched to pull her into his arms, but her expression was serious as she peeled off her short jacket and sat down on the fold-out bed. “Come here, Bryce.”
Alexei approached and sat down next to her.
“I just want to be clear,” Kasia said, her brows furrowing. “It’s a peculiar situation we find ourselves in. You already know all the knotty details, so I won’t rehash them. But I think that since we’ve already managed to overcome a number of obstacles, we should persevere.”
He suppressed a smile. “I agree.”
She drew a deep breath. “Good. I have given it much thought. We are supremely unsuitable for each other in some ways, but most are no fault of our own. They should therefore be dismissed from consideration.” Her chin lifted. “In the ways that matter, we are very compatible.”
He couldn’t help tweaking her. “What are those?”
Kasia opened her mouth, then closed it again. She reached into her pocket. He knew she gripped the cards. Was she about to give him a reading? If so, by all the Saints and Martyrs, let it be one that pleased her.
“I love you,” she said, searching his face. “The thought of losing you again makes me deeply unhappy. So I hope we can work together to—”
The rest was lost as he leaned in and kissed her, dizzy with joy. “I love you, too, Kasia Novak,” he whispered in her ear. “More than life itself.”
She laughed at his tickling breath. “Stop!”
“So yes, we should work most diligently to overcome—“
The words died as Kasia stood and hoisted the dress over her head. Alexei drank in the lines of her body. The slight crease where stockings met silken skin.
“Most diligently,” she muttered, sinking down in his lap. “Without rest—”
“If it kills the both of us,” he finished, tumbling back to the bed.
Kasia covered him in kisses and for a time, the world melted away as they energetically strove to reconcile their differences. The shadows were lengthening when she rolled to her side to face him, dark hair fanned across his chest.
“I’ll help your brother if I can,” she said. “But he must be willing.”
“What about Malach? Are you sure he can’t remove the Mark?”
“I’ll ask him. If he can’t, I’ll try myself.” Her gaze turned inward. “The ley works differently with cards. It interacts with basic archetypes. Most of the time these archetypes never change, but on very rare occasions they do. Your brother used to be The Mage, inverted. It represented what Malach had done to him. But after he saved Lezarius, he became the Knight of Storms. A one-eyed card revealing his dual nature.”
She frowned in thought. “If I could somehow change his archetype again, it might affect the Nightmark. Remove it or render it harmless. But I’ve never attempted such a thing. I’m not sure it’s possible.”
“But it did change once.”
“The ley changed it. Not I.”
“No one knows about the Mark. Only Spassov and Natalya. Lezarius, of course.” He paused. “And your brother.”
He was getting used to saying it now.
“He’s still sleeping it off,” she said. “The death ley nearly finished him.”
Alexei made a noncommittal noise.
“I know you hate him. I would too, if I were you.”
“But you don’t.” The words were out before he could rethink them.
“I won’t lie. I certainly don’t love him like a sibling, but I no longer feel hatred. More of a neutral sensation. I . . . I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He frowned. “It’s not my business how you feel. And my grudges are not yours.”
“But they are, aren’t they? If I love you?”
“It doesn’t have to work like that,” he said gently. “Unless you plan on donning a red robe and moving to Bal Kirith, I can live with whatever choice you make.”
“No chance of that.” She waved a hand mysteriously. “I am Katarzynka, cartomancer and fortune-teller extraordinaire. A fancy cape might be in order, but no clerical garments for me, thank you.”
“Hmmmm. Can you tell me what I’ll be doing in thirty seconds?” he wondered, stroking her thigh.
“The path is clear!” She laughed. He liked the breathless edge to it. “But oh . . . I did not foresee that, though the ley commands you to continue . . . .”
Chapter Forty-Five
Malach slept like the dead.
He woke in a soft bed, morning sun streaming through the windows. Not his own apartments. These had peacocks painted on the walls. Rachel curled up next to him. One thumb was tucked into her mouth. The tiny Raven was half-hidden by her shoulder, but he could see the tip of a beak, the sweep of a wing.
He shifted and her eyes opened. She gazed at him with that solemn expression she had. He feared to say anything. Then she smiled. “You woke up.”
He touched her strip of curly hair. “It’s tangled.”
“Will you fix it?”
“Yes.” He pulled her to his chest, felt the small heart beating against his own. “I’ll fix everything.”
He felt weak as tap water, but he was alive. The kaldurite had saved him after all.
“Have you seen Nikola?” he asked.
“She brought me. I waited, but you didn’t wake up. Guess I fell asleep, too.”
“You weren’t hurt?”
She was quiet for a long time. “The pontifex tried to Mark me. He got mad when it didn’t work.”
Malach pulled back to study her face. “What happened?”
She touched the Raven. “It wouldn’t let the red ley come inside.”
A vise around his chest loosened. “I’m glad.”
“Is he dead?”
“I think so.”
“I want to go home now,” Rachel said softly.
Home. The word was supposed to conjure feelings of safety. Belonging and small comforts. Malach had never known any of those things, but he wanted them all for her.
“Do you mean Novostopol?”
She shook her head with a puzzled frown. “I don’t know where it is.”
“Do you . . . do you wish I had never come to the Arx? I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
She was silent again. “You came because you loved me?”
“Yes.” His voice was hoarse. “More than anything.”
“Then I’m glad. But I don’t want to hurt anybody else.”
“Never again,” he vowed. “I only want you to be happy.”
“It would make me happy to stay with Syd and Trist.” Rachel looked up at him. “Can I?”
“Of course. We will all live together at Bal Kirith. I’ll make it beautiful for you, Rachel.”
“Will Nikola Thorn come, too?”
Malach hesitated. “I don’t know. I’ll ask her. I hope she does.”
A frank look. “She is my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Does she love me, too?”
“Without a doubt. She came back to save us, didn’t she?” How to explain without hurting her? “But Nikola is a witch. That’s not a bad thing. It makes her very powerful. But it comes with responsibilities.”
“Where do witches live?”
“A place called Dur-Athaara. We’ll visit someday, together. There are children I’d like you to meet.”
“Brothers and sisters?” she asked hopefully.
“Not by blood. But I still care for them very much.”
She seemed to accept this. “Will they like me?”
“They’ll adore you. I’ll tell you about them.”
He prattled on about Ealish and Roseen, Lonan and Inry and Cristory. Rachel had been kept apart from other young children at the Arx and she listened intently. Talking about them made Malach realize how much he missed them all, but it wasn’t the same soul-devouring ache he’d felt when he’d thought about Rachel before he found her. Did their parents ever regret giving them up?
And what did Nikola feel when she looked at their daughter? Some selfish part of him hoped she did feel anguish. It might bind her to him. Bind her to them both.
“You have a lot of Marks,” Rachel said, eyeing his bare chest.
“You could have more someday, if you want them. I leave the choice to you.”
Malach turned at a knock on the door. It cracked open and Nikola stuck her head through. She smiled, but there was a distance in it. “You’re awake.”
Rachel looked at her warily. Malach gave her a quick hug and set her on her feet.
“Can I go play now?” she asked.
“Where?”
She shrugged. “Around.”
The fear was instantaneous and crushing. He shook his head, trying to keep the panic from his voice. “It’s not safe, Rachel. You must stay with me.”
“But I’m bored! I want my cousins!”
“I’ll play a game with you,” he said quickly. “Let me just speak to Nikola first, okay?”
She gave him a mutinous look and ran out to the balcony. He had a vision of her broken body on the flagstones below.
“No climbing!” Malach shouted after her.
“I won’t!”
He dragged his eyes to Nikola, though they kept flicking back to the balcony.
“Is the Arx secure?” he asked.
“Searched top to bottom.” A pointed look. “And everywhere in between. How do you feel?”
“Terrible.” He grinned. “But it’ll pass. Tell me everything.”
He hoped she might come over to the bed, but Nikola sank into a chair. She wore one of those complicated witch dresses, the kind that wrapped down one arm, leaving the other bare. The serpent’s eye nestled at the juncture of her collarbone. She looked thin.
Also more beautiful than any woman had a right to be.
“What about Falke?” Malach chewed a thumbnail, then thought of Rachel’s thumb-sucking and forced himself to stop. “Will he try to take her back?”
Nikola gave him a level look. “After what just happened to her? Falke knows it would make him a monster.”
“He never cared about that before.”
“Yes, he did. But he managed to justify it to himself.” She paused. “I spoke with Kasia. She told me you’re her brother. That Falke spared her life.”
“For his own ends.”
“That’s not the point. She’s alive. It must be strange.”
Malach laced his hands behind his head. “Strange barely scratches the surface.”
Her silver tooth flashed. “I bet you’re glad now I made you promise not to kill her.”
He scowled. “I wasn’t going to.”
“Sure you weren’t.” She held up a hand at his irritated expression. “Well, I like her. We both oversaw the disposal of Balaur’s remains. She seemed to think he might come back.”
“Balaur was an alchemist. He knew all kinds of crazy shit. Where are his ashes?”
“We scrubbed the room down with buckets of lye. A few bones were left. Kasia smashed them to dust. Then we scrubbed everything again and dumped the buckets in the sea. The bastard is gone, Malach.”
“Good.”
“I searched Rachel for Marks. Just in case.”
He wanted to be angry. The child had been through enough. But he knew it had to be done.
“There were none. I mean, no new ones.”
“What about Falke?”
Nikola tilted her head. “Are you asking if I examined the Pontifex of Novostopol’s naked body? Because the answer is no.”
“Someone has to,” Malach muttered. “He was in Balaur’s custody.”
“You can tell him to strip down yourself.”
“I will. What about the rest of Balaur’s entourage?”
“The Perditae? All dead.”
A sudden realization hit him. Malach sat up. It made his head spin. “The Masdari woman!”
“Was caught trying to flee. They have her in custody.”
“Who’s they?”
“The Arx is under the control of the Nants again. And a legion of Kvens who follow Bishop Morvana Ziegler. You slept for a full day.”
Malach considered this. “Where do I stand, Nikola?”
“I suppose that’s to be determined. But you’re not a prisoner.” A pause. “You’ll have to meet with them.”
“All I want is Bal Kirith.” His lips thinned. “And Falke had better give it to me.”
She was silent for a minute, twisting the rings on her fingers. “I told you the truth, Malach. I didn’t abandon you at the Arx. The witches summoned me back.” A flash of anger. “And they were royally pissed. They took my namestone and threw me in a hole for a week.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
He looked away. “If you had chosen any other moment to arrive unannounced, I might have listened. But your timing was poor, to say the least.”
“I know,” she conceded. “From what I hear about Luk, you did everyone a favor.”
Malach wondered if Paarjini’s offer had been real. He still didn’t trust them, but he was desperate to get the ley back—and a spell was by far the easiest way to do it.
“I want the kaldurite gone, Nikola. Do you know I don’t even dream anymore? It’s like a barren place in my head. A black hole.”
“I will ask the Mahadeva.”
“She’s here?”
“Her ship is still anchored offshore, but I have no idea if she’s pleased with me or intends to flay me alive. I came back without her authorization.”
“You defied her?” he asked in surprise.
Nikola nodded. “She saw something in the stones, Malach. She wouldn’t tell me what it was, but I feared it was your death. She said your path had changed, but it made no difference. She refused to intervene. So I used a spell to trace the kaldurite.” A smile touched her lips. “Did you like my illusion?”
“Headless Luk?” He grinned back. “It was a nice touch. You had me fooled.”
“I figured it would buy a few seconds of distraction.”
She fell silent. Malach gathered his courage. There was so much he needed to say to her. “Nikola—”
“I will go speak to the Mahadeva.” She stood up. “She owes it to you to remove the stone.”
“Thank you. But I won’t go out to that ship. Not a chance, you understand?”
She didn’t seem surprised. “You want them to come to you?”
“A humble request. Do you think she’d agree?”
“Maybe. I think the Mahadeva wants to see you very much. Not to drag you back. But you’re . . . important to her. She knows she handled you badly.”
“They must come in secret. I can make arrangements.” He found a pen and paper in the bedside table. Malach scribbled a number. “This goes to the main switchboard of the Arx. If you call, they’ll put it through to me.”
Nikola took the paper. Their fingers brushed.
“And I’m truly sorry,” he said, holding her eyes. “Sorry I doubted you—”
“That’s the funny thing.” There was sadness in her voice. “Because I never doubted you, Malach.”
She was gone before he could respond.
Malach stared at the door. Nikola’s eyes had changed. A full witch now.
It wasn’t the drab gray they’d forced her to wear as a char. The irises were a bright, metallic hue like polished steel. It suited her.
He turned to the balcony, unnerved by the sudden silence. He couldn’t see his daughter.
“Rachel?” he called, pulse thumping.
A moment of unbridled terror. Then she galloped into the room.
She was at the far end, he realized. A blind spot.
“I saw pigeons! Will you play with me now?”
He cast about for something that didn’t require standing up. A dim memory stirred of his own father. He must have been very young, only three or so. Kasia had not yet been born. A patchwork quilt and the steady drip of rain at an open window. The humid, alive smell of the jungle.
“I know a game,” he said. “It’s called Counterpane. Are you ready?”
She nodded eagerly. He patted the bed. “Come up here.”
Malach shook out the blanket, then drew it up over his knees and folded it into hills and valleys. He patted his bent knees. “These are the mountains. That’s the town down there. And the lake. Do you see it?”
She nodded and walked her fingers up his leg to the top of his knee.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“An explorer. She just planted a flag. She’s also the pontifex.”
“Ah. That means she gets to name everything. What shall we call the mountain?”
Rachel thought for a moment. “Skytop.”
“Good one.” He walked his fingers up her chubby arm.
Rachel giggled. “That tickles.”
Malach dug into her armpit. “What’s inside this dark cave? I think there might be treasure—”
She wheezed, breathless. “No treasure in there—”
“I can feel it.” He frowned seriously and found her ribs. “Gold bullion. The dragon must have stashed it . . . .”
He trailed off as her young cousins crowded through the door. Syd leapt on his chest, knocking him back to the bed. She planted a moist kiss on his forehead.
“We freed the prisoners! Will you give us Marks now? Really vicious ones?”
He fended her off, laughing. “Yes. Now go away.”
Syd interpreted this as an invitation to start jumping on the bed.
