“Wait,” said Séverin, holding up his hand.
Someone had rescued them. Someone had also set a trap for them. Someone was now waiting to see their next move.
His mind whirred with names and faces and threats, but no one rose to the front of his thoughts. At the end of the alley came the sharp snap of boots against the concrete. The person’s gait was measured. Purposeful.
Séverin reached for the blade concealed in the heel of his shoe. He snuck a glance at them all—Zofia’s snow-damp hair clung to her face, her blue eyes huge. Enrique crouched in the snow. Hypnos clung to Laila, staring unblinkingly at thetroika. And Laila—Laila looked only at him. Séverin turned from her, dread cold in his heart. They were in no shape to fight. They had nothing but hats full of melted snow and a handful of weapons that slipped in their damp grasps. Still, he drew himself up, tense and waiting until the figure finally stepped into the light.
Séverin thought he had to be mistaken. But the moonlight didn’t lie. His scar pulsed, and the briefest memory—of being held close and kept safe—disappeared in a flash of blue light.
“Now… who do we have here?” said Delphine Desrosiers, the matriarch of House Kore. She lazily stroked the sable ruff of her coat. “Why, there’s the engineer with the arson charge.”
Zofia’s eyes flashed.
“A historian in need of a haircut.”
Enrique scowled and flattened his hair.
“A courtesan.”
Laila raised her chin.
Hypnos coughed loudly.
“Andyou,” said the matriarch, in an affectionately loathing voice. “And, finally, Monsieur Montagnet-Alarie… the Order’s favorite treasure hunter. Whatever are you doing so far from home?”
She smiled, and her teeth caught the light.
PART II
From the archival records of the Order of Babel
From the Hindu text,The Book of Dynastywritten by Vidyapathi Das
1821 translation by Fitzwilliam Ainsworth
Upon coronation, the new king makes offerings to the gods with bowls of spiced milk and honeycombs, gold coins wrapped in rose petals and the choicest of sweets. He must make particular obeisance to the various avatars of Saraswati, goddess of knowledge, music, art and [translator’s note: the writer of this text refers to Forging as “chhota saans,” or “the small breath” as it mimics the art of gods to breathe life into creations. Hereinafter, I shall refer to this by its proper name, Forging] Forging.*
*Archivist note:
It is most curious to see a reference to the avatars of the goddess Saraswati, whose religious purview seems most similar to the nine Muses of ancientGreece, and who is responsible for the ancient (or apocryphal, depending on one’s intellectual bias) guardian group, the Lost Muses. Perhaps an Indian trader brought back news of these Hellenistic deities and thus introduced it to the Indian continent’s consciousness? How else would they make such a connection?
12
SÉVERIN
Séverin had seven fathers, but only one brother.
His fourth father was Envy. Envy had a beautiful wife and two beautiful children, and a beautiful home with a window that looked out over a patch of violets and a murmuring creek. The first day, Envy’s wife said that he and Tristan could call her “Mother,” and Séverin wondered if he might be happy.
But it was not to be.
“I wish they had some other family!” Clotilde—who no longer wished to be called Mother—despaired.
I did, thought Séverin. Once, he had Tante FeeFee, who loved him and held him close, up until the day she told him they were no longer family. After that, she became Delphine Desrosiers, matriarch of House Kore. He said he did not love her, but every night when Tristan had gone to bed, Séverin kneeled beside his mattress and prayed. He prayed that she would come. He prayed that she would love him again. He prayed and prayed, until his eyes drooped and he could no longer hold up his chin.
One day, Delphine arrived at Envy’s home. Clotilde simpered and flattered. He and Tristan were dragged from the gardening shed where they lived and brought to the main foyer. A phantom twinge ran through Séverin’s hands, and he forced himself not to reach for her.
Delphine took one look at him and left without a word.
