Sara’s slight grimace didn’t alter her beauty one whit.“You’ll have some trouble with the notion.It’s natural.”
“None of this is natural, ma’am.”Was she taking refuge in sarcasm?Maybe.“I want Erik.I don’t trust you.”
“That’s wise.I think it’s quite possible he’ll be cleared and will build your trios, but we have to make sure.Will you at least agree to take quarters here, and learn what you’ve landed in?”Sara leaned forward slightly, and she was right—there was something around her eyes that saidI’ve seen it all, disliked most of it.Not lines, and not dark circles, though the rumpled velvet-choked bed had to be hers.
“Like I could go anywhere else.”At least Ignatius had respected Liv’s intelligence, or it felt like he had.Even if he didn’t like her much personally—but to be fair, that feeling had been overwhelmingly mutual.“Like you’dletme go anywhere else.”
“That’s fair.”Sara smiled, and extended her hand again over the table.“It’s not a bad life, all things considered.You’ve had a rather… nonstandard introduction to it, and for that I’m sorry.But we’re not the enemy, Ms.Stellack.”
“We are a lesser evil, my lady.”Albert dropped his gaze to the floor when the women both looked at him.
“Funny.”Liv reached across the table, clasped Sara’s hand.A strange, champagne-fizzing sensation slid down her back; Sara’s necklace brightened, the white stone filling with vivid colors.Her own was probably doing the same.“That’s what Ignatius said.”
“If he’s alive, we’ll find him.And the Younger Brother, too.”Sara shook hands the way women used to a lot of men did—quickly, with an almost apologetic half-smile, taking her touch away as soon as possible.“You seem in remarkably good shape for aliraiwho has endured what you have, which speaks well of this Erik.Daniel—he’s one of us—is checking him now, and if the elder’s cleared you’ll see him again soon.In the meantime, perhaps something to eat?Yourliraimis being readied, and you’ll have at least two temporary trios while we sort this out.”
That means absolutely nothing to me, thanks.“I’m fine.I just want Erik.”She sounded like a dippy teenager, Liv realized, and dropped her hands into her lap.At least the surf-sound of the city outside didn’t penetrate this place, but she didn’t trust the quiet, either.“But I suppose you’d like to go back to bed.”
Sara shook her head again, a slight, graceful movement.“I doubt there will be any more sleep for me tonight.Or for you, just yet.Shall I order some coffee?”
Oh, for God’s sake.“Sure.Knock yourself out.”
“We’ll be civilized, then.”Sara paused.“It will be nice to have another woman here,” she added, finally.“Daniel’slirai, of course.But I miss girl talk.”
I don’t feel really friendly right now.“Girl talk is my specialty,” Liv lied.
It would, after all, be good to have an ally.And she couldn’t help but wonder what else Ignatius—and even Erik—hadn’t told her.
Trust Us or Yourself
The storm taperedoff during early morning hours while Erik lay in a deathly doze, stretched motionless on a narrow cot in the dormitory.He felt the weather system shift, a malevolent claw easing its grasp and natural forces reasserting primacy.
It had been a long time since he’d been in an active temple.When full consciousness returned he lay very still, his breathing keeping its sleep-pattern, every inch of his skin alive with attention and anticipation.
Where is she?The thought was soft, entirely natural, and it was time for him to admit a few things to himself.
First, though, he listened.
Footsteps.A subaudible hum, both electric and sorcerous.Cloth moving, soft breathing very much like his own.The dormitory was usually dim even on a summer afternoon, a restful cave for those who were, after all, night creatures.Further away, there was chiming, slipslither of metal against metal, exhalations of effort.
That would be the sparring halls; this place probably had more than one.He hadn’t realized how much he missed the reminder of community, of collective endeavor.Many Sons meant many eyes, and also meant a better chance of staying on the rails.
A shifting, soft, unbearably sweet singing far beneath this room was the Flame.This place would have unfettered, active access.At least oneliraihere, probably more if the warmth teasing and tickling along his skin was any indication.Above, in the shifting grey where his unphysical senses turned into insubstantial fringe, there were breathless-crackling accumulations of force, shielding layered hard and durable around glowing pearls.
That’s where she’ll be, then.
The relief was indescribable.He wasn’t in a cell, chained to stone walls while the god ran rampant through his head.If he was in the dormitory, he was clear, and even if they didn’t let him near her, even if she hated the one who had betrayed her to the Flame, she was safe.
Unless Control was a traitor.This is the closest active temple.Is it one of them?Or…
There was a spot of suspicious silence to his right.Erik kept his breathing to the rhythm of deep sleep, and continued turning over terrible thoughts.
“You can stop pretending,” a fellow Son said, softly.
Erik’s eyes drifted open.He examined the man in the chair pulled to the cot’s side; this was a regular Sons’ dormitory, one he’d seen versions of too many times to count.High stone walls, ribbed and vaulted ceilings, round golden light fixtures—it used to be gaslight, Ignatius always said, and Erik felt his age for a few moments before studying the Father at his bedside.
“Grigori.”He found the man’s name, let it slide between cracked lips.He needed hydration, and some plain old calories wouldn’t go amiss even if he’d had enough bloodshed lately to keep him charged for a long while.“Right?”
“Indeed.”The Father’s hairline was just as pointedly pristine as it had been yesterday; it also looked like cassocks were out of fashion in this temple.Grigori sat ramrod-straight but with his legs stretched out, probably weary after a long night of excitement and quite possibly patrol as well.“And you are Erik.Very spry for a dead man.”
