Frazzled, the scholar looked up. “Y-yes. It must have,” he stuttered, wrapping my shoulder tightly.
I winced as the bandage squeezed the gash. “That should do for now.” He said. “I would rather stitch you up somewhere. . .cleaner.” Taking my hand, he gently helped me to my feet.
The world spun. Maybe it was blood loss or shock; I couldn’t tell. I took one step through the brackish mud and fell against something soft.
A bed, maybe? No, too much to hope for. But if death had removed the wretched smell rising from the marsh, I welcomed the darkness with open arms.
* * *
I roused from a nightmare, but couldn’t remember it upon waking.
I sat bolt upright, panting. Pain flared through my arm, and I flinched, remembering claws digging into my shoulder as I gazed into the abyss.
The marsh was gone. Dry grass surrounded my bedroll, not muddy water. A dappled mare grazed nearby, and a pair of boots approached.
Still groggy, I looked up to see an entire woman attached to the boots. Red hair swung down her back in a thick braid. Faint lines framed her pale-blue eyes.
“There she is.” Seraphim knelt beside me. “Took long enough.”
Everything came back to me at once—the Empty, the dead sea, the keres, and the glowing stone.
“You know,” I pointed out. “I’m already proving I won’t be much help on this quest.”
“Nonsense. I think there’s plenty of use in keeping you around.” She pulled a waterskin from her belt and offered it. “You’ll heal just fine. Eleos is brilliant. I’d trust him if he told me I was dead and just hadn’t realized it yet.”
My arm protested as I lifted the waterskin and drank. “I’ve never met a healer who was also a criminal.”
“Eleos is talented in many ways.” Seraphim stood. “Our Bloodstone works. Seems our faith in the Maiden will pay off.”
“I guess I shouldn’t have skipped church.” I grimaced, dragging myself to my feet. “Where are we?”
“Halfway to the Isthmus trade post.” Seraphim folded her arms, watching me as I took a few shaky steps. “You’re in debt, right?”
“Yes. I thought you already knew everything about me.”
“I don’t know the details.” Seraphim narrowed her eyes. “Did you cross the Guild?”
No sense pretending otherwise. “. . . in a sense.”
“Sounds like you need coin, then.” Seraphim dropped her arms. “If we succeed, the law will look the other way, but the Guild won’t forget. There’ll be coin in this for you. Something to raise your spirits.”
“Mm.” I sat back down. “The Archon mentioned that. He’s offering a lot—this job must be more dangerous than you’ve implied.”
“If all goes to plan, we’ll be doing much worse than brushing the edge of the abyss. We’ll be diving into its source.”
Source? Did the Emptyhavea source?
As if reading my mind, Eleos walked up behind me and answered. “Supposedly, it’s in Duath Nun. A river leads into the original sea from which all pockets of the abyss are born.”
“Oh,” I pressed a hand to my aching head. “But Duath Nun’s-”
“Forbidden.” Eleos finished my sentence.
Rubbing my eyes, I remembered what Ainwir had taught me about the country of Duath Nun: almost nothing. Centuries ago, it had sealed itself away, threatening death to any foreigners who trespassed.
A lethal strait separated our two countries, encouraging the divide. My eyes darted around, observing Seraphim, before lingering on Eleos. These people wanted to invade a country that would stick our heads on pikes?
“We don’t know that,” Eleos said. “Duath Nun could be perfectly civilized. We haven’t spoken to them in centuries.”
