“Those who walk the path of power
Wear the gift of mortal skin:
They shall owe no gift of service,
But only that which lies within.”
Richard looked at the creature with dislike. “Can’t you do anything but talk in riddles? Still, doesn’t matter. A child could solve it.This light bestows a power that only a mortal may wield. They ‘owe no service,’ because it gives them command over all. The Night City, bargains, that kind of thing. But this is only for a certain, worthy mortal: judged by ‘that which lies within.’ Do I have it?”
“Not allowed to give clues.” The creature stared up with barely concealed venom.
He had missed every warning in the words. Every hint of danger. Just as Emma hoped, Richard stretched out his hand for the blazing ball. His fingers closed around it.
And the Night City seized him. She saw it happen. Power streamed down his arms, the fire of life and thought and soul. His face grayed.
What’s within a mortal, then?Emma heard her voice echo, from long ago.Oh. Mortality. You give what you contain. Everything that you are. And you’re gone.
The ball of light drank deeply, growing brighter and fiercer. It was just what he had planned to do to her. What Turnbulls had done to victims for centuries. A full draining.
The ball burned unbearably bright. Richard crumpled to his knees. And a vision flared behind Emma’s eyes. A rune blazed green against the darkness of her eyelids. A knot of cruel lines, a sunburst of shards. The rune of the Turnbulls’ blood jar and its victims: the rune affixed to her soul. With a blinding pulse of green light, she saw it shatter. The rune’s debt had been paid: the essence of one mortal soul drained into the Night City. But not hers. Because she had tricked Richard into giving his own soul to the Night City instead. For the first time, one of the Turnbulls had been the sacrifice for their own Society’s bargain. And so Emmawas free of them. Of their rune, of their debt, of their greed. Free. The light behind her eyes cleared. She blinked them open.
Richard looked up at her, a perfectly animate man. But his face was empty. Even his body looked diminished, like dough collapsing on itself. He gazed without interest, without fear. Without anything. The ball of light dropped from his hand, rolling into a corner.
“All drained.” The creature kicked him and chuckled, a rasp like a cricket rubbing over a rusty chain. “I have not seen one take the ball in some decades. I do enjoy it.”
“Can I have him?” It would cause fewer questions in the outside world.
“As you please. The Night City has no use for the shell.” The creature rustled its knife-nails over her hand in the softest of touches. “But you, I may miss. Farewell, little once-a-mortal.”
The room began the queasy process of folding in on itself. Teeth clenched against the nausea, Emma pulled Richard to the passage. He quivered in her hold like a soft animal. She pushed him through the tapestry, into the dark of the reading room. As the tapestry fluttered to stillness, the passage behind became a plain stone wall.
It was done. She let Richard slump against a desk. He would make no more rituals. He would wield no more knives. By her own hand, she was free of the Turnbulls and their debt. Their mark on her was gone. In comparison, her hundred years of promised service were a speck in the balance. She would find a way around them. She had done this. She could do more.
“Hullo, lady fox.”
A figure in green velvet lounged against a pillar.
Robin looked at Emma. He twinkled, the infuriating creature. “You’ve been busy, I see. I thought I heard you here earlier, but would you know, I had the Night’s own time getting in.”
“What are you doing here?” she scolded, to hide how happy she was to see him.
Robin raised a brow. “I was at the Midsummer revels at Court, freshly returned from my posting, and heard the trouble my own dear lady fox was in. I came, of course, on the instant.”
“You heard about me—about this”—Emma indicated the splintered mess of the Library beyond the reading room—“at Court?”
“Well, my dewdrop, your fox maidens stormed the Court celebrations for your sake. Quite trod over the musicians. They were almost dragged away to the cells for interrupting the revels, but they stood their ground. I have never seen the jaws of the Upper House lords so slack. It was delicious.” He grinned. “They told of the Boars attacking the Library. You cannot imagine the chaos. The Judge stepped in to create order, and gave his commands. The Boars will be held for judgment in a very unpleasant part of the Court, charged with high treason. He comes here himself, to see the damage. But I, along with your fox maidens, was most anxious to see you safe, and so we sped together to the Library. I left them tending to the Librarian.”
“They’re here?” Emma said, her eyes flooding. “And they did all that, braving the Court, for me?”
A handkerchief unfurled under her nose with a flourish. “You inspire loyalty, my lady.”
“Oh, you.” Emma flicked it at Robin with a watery grin. “Thanks.”
“Do not thank me yet,” Robin replied. “I may well need it back.The Judge will soon be here, and in no kind mood. Somehow, this humble creature always ends up at the lash end of his tongue. It quite oversets my tender feelings.”
Before Emma could spare a thought for Robin’s tender feelings, a shiver ran through the air of the Library.
Robin looked grim. “That would be him. Come, lady. We should find the mortals and bring them. The Judge will command our presence.”
