He broke into a faster trot, shoulders shaking with the effort of his repressed laughter, and I decided to maintain my complaints for effect only.
Let the man have one last bit of fun.
CHAPTER 42
In Which I Am Puffing and Groaning and in Substantial Amounts of Pain, but In Which What I Am Doing Is Important Enough to Be Worth Any Agony.
The popping bubbles let me know that I was being summoned.
I’d been speed-marching up and down a set of stairs to maintain the tone of my calves, so it came as some relief to stop. Even still, I had to bend double and pant, slicking back sweaty hair, before I felt ready to follow.
Once certain of my attention, the bubbles picked up speed, popping and re-forming so that I had to break into a trot along the cracked pavement to keep up. I dodged past the trident-wielding statue that had so badly frightened me on that first day, skirted a pit of collapsed concrete, and circumvented an abandoned vehicle, catching only the briefest glimpse of the small, curled body within. I barely needed the bubbles now, having recognized the route to the library plaza, so I slowed, not wanting to arrive out of breath.
The mismatched dragon siblings stood before the shelves, waiting.
“See?” said the sorcerer, receiving a fully laden basket from Hydna. “He comes when called.”
I frowned at him, before clapping Hydna’s outstretched hand, her preferred method of greeting. “How’s it going?”
“The prosthetics are complete,” said Merulo, shattering my good spirits. “So I thought I’d take one last walk on my own two feet. Hydna’s even packed a meal.”
Merulo looked scared, I realized. Pale, even for him, with a forced edge to his usual scowling arrogance. His hands shook almost imperceptibly where he gripped the handle.
“And there’s no point in saying you don’t have to do this?” I reached for the basket, and he allowed me to take it; from its weight, Hydna had clearly packed something substantial.
“None whatsoever.” Merulo brandished a hand imperiously, then waited. Growling in annoyance, Hydna nevertheless obliged her brother and spoke the words to tear through space. A portal bloomed in midair, revealing the calm sands of a starlit beach beyond.
I had asked Hydna earlier why she summoned portals with spoken words, while Merulo drew elegant pentacles. Apparently, it came down to efficiency. The more direction you gave a spell, with intertwined sigils, spoken command words, and symbolic items, the easier it flowed, like a channeled river without excess leakage. Merulo had been less wasteful than I’d thought with his magic. Hydna favoured shows of brute strength.
The sorcerer stepped through first, lifting his feet high to get through the raised portal. I hopped up next, landing in soft, sinking sand on the other side. When the portal clamped shut before Hydna could join us, I raised my eyebrows at Merulo.
“My sister has some final tinkering to do. She’ll open the portal again, at a set time.” He stalked down the beach. I watched his stride, wondering how it would differ, afterward. His robe blew gently in the evening breeze, complementing the rhythmic lapping of the waves, and I felt the terrible urge to freeze this moment before anything more could change.
He sat abruptly in a black flap of cloth, having found a jutting rock that suited him. “We’ll eat here.”
I got to work disemboweling the basket. It contained a disconcerting amount of wrapped meat, two apples, paired goblets, and a flagon of dark red wine, all bundled in a finely spun blanket that I laid with a flourish on the sand.
The sorcerer groaned as I unpackaged the meat. “Hydna has been forcing chicken liver on me, for blood restoration.”
I smiled at that, and selected a tender strip, popping it into my mouth. “She’s showing her love.”
“Do not speak with your mouth full. Liver is a repulsive organ that smells like spoiled cheese. Meat shouldnot”—his voice rose in a burst of temper—“smell like cheese.”
Right, time for the wine. Holding the bottle between my knees, I pried out its cork with a loud pop. As I poured in arcing red streams, Merulo chewed on the liver with exaggerated revulsion.
He’d chosen a bright evening. The full moon shone silver on us, granting decent visibility, though the night still drained the beach of colour.
“Hydna has a theory.” Merulo sipped, and I tried not to look too eager. It’d be funny, I thought, to see the sorcerer drunk. “She’s been pilfering my books, in particular astronomy, and something bothers her.” He tilted his head, appraising theabyss that curved above us, dizzyingly deep. “The stars. They match the pre-Descent records precisely.”
“Ah, I see!” I nodded, not understanding. At Merulo’s glower, I took a deep swig from my own goblet.
“Everything is in motion, always. Orbiting, falling, spinning. Due to the vastness of space, it would take many centuries for even the slightest difference to be noticeable, but we’ve had that, and there is nothing.”
“God’s influence extends farther than you thought?” I guessed, munching on another piece of liver. Merulo had a point; the flavour took some getting used to.
“No,” said the sorcerer, after draining his own cup. “We can’t think that. Or else, all of this will be for nothing.” He held out his goblet for a refill, and I, the perfect henchman, indulged him.
“The alternative is what, that it’s fake? We’re not seeing the real sky?” The wine made my tongue feel dry and puffy, along with its usual effect of emboldening my lustful impulses. I settled for running my fingers through the sand, carving nonsensical lines.
