Chapter 29 - Reap and Sow

Eda couldn’t bear returning to that bedchamber. She set about lighting a fire in the solar instead, hoping to banish the chill and the dark. A costly expense to light hearths so often. But not hers.

Ben hovered in the doorway. “Whose house is this?”

“I don’t know.”

He wordlessly took the tinderbox and flint. Sparks caught and flamed with only two good strikes.

There was nothing much they could do until sundown, when Eda would meet with Tenelle. It didn’t stop her feeling restless to know her brother was ailing, and autumn harvest growing ever closer. She sensed it in Ben, too, as he prodded excessively at the logs in the fire.

Eda’s mouth ran dry. The last time I saw him with a fire poker, he was beating a man to death with it. Ben must have thought the same, for he paused and stared at his own hand as though it were a stranger to him. “Remind me why meeting with Commander Tenelle is a good idea?” he said.

She recounted her run-in with Fane and Tenelle as succinctly as she could, knowing that if she paused for breath Ben would rage at her foolhardy choices.

But he only listened in silence as he took off his cloak, hanging it over a chair to dry. He was wearing the same ill-fitting Blade uniform beneath, cleaner than the last time she’s seen him. The matching silver sword was looped clumsily through his belt. He propped that up, too, and ran fingers through his damp hair. It was a subconscious action that both her brothers shared.

Eda thought of Lawrie and wanted to cry.

When she finished, Ben loosed a shaky breath. “So, if Lich’s mirror is destroyed…”

“Then Mr. Night’s only way home is through our mirror. There’s no way he’ll just stand aside and let it be destroyed.”

“And the Blades have it.”

There was furniture in the solar—a glossy coffer, a walnut bench, two padded chairs set around a refreshments table—but neither she nor Ben made use of them. They sat instead on the horsehair rug within the glow of the fire, warmth settling into stiff bones.

Eda said, “Tenelle agreed to the plan. I destroy Lich’s Gateway, and she’ll use the remaining mirror to expose the bishop publicly at the Clerics’ Conclave. With enough Blades there, it’d be the perfect chance to draw out Mr. Night.”

“You think she’ll want to risk drawing the fury of a demon on her soldiers?”

“It’s her duty to protect this city from the demonic. She’s no coward.” Eda had to hope that was enough.

Ben grimaced. “A lot of hypothesizing.”

“It’s all we’ve got.”

“You know that tomorrow isn’t just the Conclave? It’s autumn harvest. If Mr. Night isn’t killed by sundown—”

“It’s all we’ve got,” she said again forcefully.

He rubbed his eyes. “Tenelle’s happy enough to let you do the dirty work. What’s her plan, if you fail in destroying Lich’s mirror? If you’re caught?”

“I doubt she’d care overmuch if Lich caught me, so long as I destroyed his Gateway first. And if I don’t manage it…I’m not sure. Maybe she’d finally storm his bloody rat warren and do it herself. But using me keeps her nose clean, doesn’t it?” Eda pressed her forehead to her knees. “This would have been so much easier with Kit’s help.”

“We don’t need him.”

“We?”

“You don’t actually think I’d let you do this alone.”

She was warmed by his overbearing gruffness. “I thought you’d disapprove of it all as a fool’s errand.”

“It is a fool’s errand, and I do disapprove. But it seems the world’s no kinder to the well intentioned than the risk takers, so what do I know? If this is how we save Lawrie and get free of that damned Pact once and for all, so be it.”

Eda only nodded, staring into the fire. Rain pattered against the window.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said suddenly.

She blinked. “For what?”

“For the way I spoke to you, before the Blades came. For treating you like a child. For…I don’t know. Everything.”

“I should be the one apologizing. I got you and Lawrie into this mess. I’m the reason he’s—”

“No. You made mistakes, but you’re not responsible for what happened. That’s the bishop’s doing. If it weren’t for you, we’d both still be in that cell, waiting for the noose. I know which fate Lawrie would prefer.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry for never thanking you properly. You’re braver and better than I ever gave you credit for. So I won’t have you wallowing. Understand?”

Even while being affectionate he managed to sound bossy. Eda picked at her nails, unmoored by the gruff praise. “Okay.”

Silence fell again—a more comfortable sort. Ben was the one to break it. “You care about him. Kit.”

Was there any point in denying it? “Yes.”

“…How much?”

Please don’t make me say it. It hurt like an open wound. She couldn’t admit her feelings even to herself. “It doesn’t matter. If you mean to chastise me for being foolish, get it over with.”

“You were always slow to fear. Lawrie and I…we despised Mr. Night. But you were fascinated by him. So willing to see humanity where there was none.”

She bristled. “I take your point, Ben. You don’t need to—”

“You found a demon with a human heart after all.” His eyes gleamed like pennies in the firelight. “I see the way he looks at you.”

Eda’s face flushed hot, even as her chest echoed with cold pangs of misery. “What would you know of it?” she mumbled.

A long pause. “There’s a woman.”

Eda’s head snapped up. Ben’s cheeks were uncharacteristically pink. “A woman?”

“She’s a trainee in the Order’s mounted regiment. Still too junior to patrol. I see her practicing in the bailey and carrying equipment, but she’s often in the stables. Helps tack up the horses. She likes them. I catch her speaking to them sometimes when she thinks no one is listening.” He rubbed his neck.

Ben’s gruff, blunt voice had taken on a softness Eda rarely heard. Realization came like wind blowing away clouds. “Do you love her?”

“She hardly knows I exist.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, throwing her own deflection back at her. “I just mean to say that I do know something of the heart and its…longings. If you’re a fool, so am I.”

“You never told me about her.”

“What good would it have done?”

“I hear burdens feel lighter when shared.”

He said nothing. At times like this, Ben seemed much older than his years, weighed down by responsibilities to everyone but himself. Eda wanted to see the millstone lifted. She wanted him to find that girl in the Order and tell her how he felt. Maybe, if he was lucky, the girl would love him in return.

The fire popped. Ben prodded it needlessly. “Is he coming back this time?”

She didn’t need to ask who he meant. Eda closed her eyes so that he wouldn’t see them watering. “I don’t think so.”

“Then we’re on our own.”

She curled her fingers in her trousers, afraid she might blow apart like a dandelion puff in the wind. She couldn’t think about Kit, but it was hard when she’d relied on him so much. Without his powers and the Mantle of Concealment, Eda was as helpless as she’d been at the start of all this.

No. Not helpless. Not alone.

Eda studied Ben’s stubbled face. He had raised her. Had been the one to help her dress, comb her hair, cut her meat—and all that while their father still lived. Later, when she’d woken one morning to find her first blood staining her nightdress, she went to Ben in shame. Her tears of embarrassment had flowed as he found fresh clothes, without a word of complaint. He gave her the last of the sweetbread that day.

Many times, Eda had felt that Lawrie loved her better. Lawrie who played with her, who indulged her mischief, who was free with his hugs and sympathetic words. Lawrie told her he loved her as often as he teased her about her hair: a true brother. But Ben had been brother and mother and father all because he’d had no choice. His siblings had needed him. His love was like the earth beneath their feet—solid, unyielding. Easily trodden on and taken for granted.

Eda snared his hand and squeezed, a lump in her throat. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He squeezed back.

A floorboard creaked.

Eda jumped. Ben was reaching for his sword before they realized it was Tripp, lurking in the open doorway.

“How long have you been eavesdropping?” she spluttered. Then the strangeness of his presence caught up with her. “Wait. Why didn’t you leave with…”

Tripp scuttled closer. It was an unnerving sight. Ben looked about one wrong move away from stomping the imp into the carpet.

He stopped by Eda’s knee and flexed his bony little fingers, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. Something shrewd lurked in those black eyes. “My lord is the greatest of demons, but even one such as he might…falter. You spoke true, Eda Shaw. He should not hide from his brother. He should stand and fight.”

“So that he might reclaim his family seat, you mean.”

“So that he might finally be happy.” Tripp glowered. “Lord Kit has not been happy his whole life, methinks, with Lord Baelion’s shadow looming over him. Until you.”

Her chest ached. Painfully aware of Ben’s silent observation, Eda cleared her throat. “You protested vehemently enough when you visited us, earlier. Do you reserve your ire for all the humans he’s been close with?”

Ben choked.

Tripp seemed surprised. “There have not been so many. Tripp did not protest, for they were passing fancies of hours or less. But you…I do not like the way m’lord forgets himself around you.”

“You were protecting him?” From me.

“Tripp will always protect his patron! But now I see. Eda Shaw makes him happy—undeserving though you are. And Lord Kit will never be happy again if you perish, even if he will not admit so. Tripp cannot let that be.”

“He left, Tripp. I’m not sure he cares as much as you think.”

“Then you are stupid as well as ugly,” the imp sneered, “but what else can be expected of mortals? This is why Tripp will help you. You may now express your gratitude.”

Eda’s mouth fell open. She and Ben shared a perplexed glance. “You…you’ll help us to destroy Lich’s mirror?”

“That is what I have said, is it not? Blessed Suns, your puny mind is slower than I—eck!”

Eda scooped him into her arms, hugging him fiercely. His skin was coarse and leathery against her cheek, but she did not mind. This ornery creature loved Kit, and for all his faults, he had a selfless heart. She’d never felt closer to him.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the curve of his wing.

Tripp relaxed just a fraction. Then he smacked her viciously on the head.

“Ow!”

“Release my person at once, mortal, or else I must burn this tunic to ash! At once, I say!”

* * *

The Botanic Gardens were darker and wilder than Eda recalled—full of shadows that threatened to swallow her whole. The sun was all but set. Ruddy dusk light spilled through the boughs and painted the ground, much like the blood that had soaked into the gravel two nights prior.

At least she had Ben at her side, hand on the hilt of his sword. Tripp scurried ahead. Without the mantle, Eda felt doubly exposed. Much as she’d bemoaned living as a shadow her whole life, the mantle had been undeniably thrilling in its usefulness. She missed it sorely.

“Ahead, humans,” Tripp hissed. Sure enough, a yellow glow appeared around the next bend. Eda slowed, squinting into the dark. What if Tenelle had decided to throw Eda to the hounds after all? What if this meeting was a trap?

But Tripp did not seem alarmed. As they drew close, it became clear that only one lone figure awaited them, oil lamp in hand. They stepped off the gravel path and through a familiar silvery line of trees. Eda nodded in greeting. “Commander.”

Martine Tenelle looked tired around the eyes, but she stood with a straight back. Her lips thinned at the sight of them. “Benjamin Shaw. Some might call it bold, for you to come here.”

“No bolder than my sister.”

“And where is the demon?”

Eda steeled herself. “Not here.”

Tenelle’s expression only hardened when she noticed Tripp. “Is that…an imp?”

Saints.

Tripp bared needlelike teeth. Eda prodded him with her boot. “Apologies, Commander. Tripp is helping us with Lich’s Gateway. Assuming you still mean to see it done.”

“I am here, no?”

“As am I. But I’d know your plan for the Conclave before I do anything more.”

Tenelle’s brow arched. “You’re hardly in a position to negotiate, Miss Shaw. Not if you want your freedom.”

“Freedom is one thing. I need to know that the demon Fane consorts with will be killed tomorrow night.” Haltingly, she explained Lawrie’s injury and the necessity of Mr. Night’s death.

Tenelle listened with a face of stone. “I see. Then you rely on my men and I entirely.”

“As you rely on me to destroy Lich’s mirror without involving yourself. I will do it, if you agree to kill the demon called Baelion Ansellis.”

A pause. Then laughter. It was deep and surprisingly hearty—not at all how Eda had imagined. If she’d thought the woman capable of laughter at all. “You think I require a service rendered in return for destroying a demon? That is my life’s duty. I would slay him whether you asked it or not.” Tenelle’s eyes gleamed. “I will reveal the bishop’s Gateway at the Conclave. I will accuse him, and he will deny it. When I threaten to destroy it, he may confess to save himself from this Baelion’s wrath. But if he does not, I cannot say that the Patriarch won’t trust his word over mine. We need the demon to show his face and prove Florian’s guilt. How do we know he will come to defend the mirror?”

“The Conclave falls on autumn harvest. The last of our Pact is due to Mr.—Baelion, by then. If he won’t come for the mirror, he still must come for us.” She clutched Ben’s hand.

“Hm.” Tenelle shrugged a bag off her shoulder Eda hadn’t paid much attention to. Rooted around inside. “If he comes, we will be ready for him.”

“He’s not just any demon. He’s powerful. He’s fast, strong, can walk through shadow—”

“A challenge, then. Good.” Tenelle grinned up at her. “There are ways to trap and incapacitate creatures of the Otherworld, Miss Shaw, and I mean to use them.”

Beyond the garden wall, the last of the sunlight sank beneath a darkening sky. Tenelle straightened. She held out something weighty and gleaming.

Hesitantly, Eda accepted. “What’s this?”

“This is how you destroy a Gateway.”