Chapter 24 - Reap and Sow

Lich had not given Eda any way of contacting him. He’d only implied that his people would be waiting to hear from her, which she supposed to mean that she must go to him.

“The sewer system? Truly? Bit on the nose for a seedy crime lord. Where does he get off calling himself a lord, anyhow?”

Kit’s righteous indignation was almost funny. Eda gingerly lowered herself into the sewer grate he’d so effortlessly ripped out. “It’s just a silly honorific his people use to stroke his ego. Er. Don’t mention I said that.”

Once they had the Gateway, the Shaws could call on Mr. Night and fulfill their debt—Ben’s years or someone else’s, Eda wasn’t yet sure. She didn’t care to know what happened to the mirror after she and her brothers were free of it, but Tenelle would want it destroyed. Lich wanted it for himself. Deliver it to the former, buy our freedom. To the latter, avoid a crime lord’s wrath. Please one, piss off the other.

There was, she’d realized, a third option. But it meant playing puppet master when she’d only ever acted the puppet.

Eda descended the rickety ladder, cringing as damp metal slid against her palms. It was cool and dark as pitch down here. Hillock had brought her to the surface this way, but Eda was sure there must be other, less grim routes. She doubted that Severin Lich crawled through filthy sewer grates in his finery.

Kit flew down as a bird. Eda expected him to offer his hand when he transformed at the bottom; instead he grabbed her around the middle. She squawked as he set her down upon the narrow walkway, closer than necessary.

“Rather familiar of you,” she said, flustered.

“I can be more familiar, if you like.” His grip tightened. Eyes like beacons glowed in the dark.

“Tempting…but the current surrounds aren’t my idea of romantic.” It was a weak protest at best.

“I stopped listening after tempting,” Kit murmured, bowing toward her—

“We need to go!”

He sighed against her brow. “Dir lhaesan van mir’hisak ek mir’tarez.”

A harsh, guttural language, but in Kit’s mouth it sounded almost sensual. “What does that mean?”

She didn’t expect a straight answer. Flushed when he whispered in her ear, “Your whim is my delight and my torture.”

“Oh.” Eda floundered. She was unused to being the subject of such unapologetic admiration. Wymond had been almost shy, but shy Kit was not. “We should…This way.”

She took the lead as they wound their way down the channel. Everything looked the same. Lich’s headquarters were somewhere beneath the streets of Crowgate, Eda knew, and they were in nearby Pitchford now. It was a good walk between the two. If she took a wrong turn, they could be circling forever like lost rats.

She heard them—the rats. Little squeaks and pattering feet over stone. In the dim shafts of light from an overhead grate, two of them scurried into view only to immediately turn and flee. The rodents of Blackbridge were more likely to bite you than not, in Eda’s experience, but perhaps they sensed the demon’s presence.

“They must know you can turn into a cat,” she joked, groping along the wall. “They obviously—”

Kit stopped her. “We have company.”

At first, she didn’t understand what he meant. There was nothing but the sloshing water and sounds of rodents. Then she heard it. Footsteps, echoing languidly in the dark. A moment later light appeared from a side passage ahead.

A familiar face peered at them, ghastly in the jaundiced glow of an oil lamp. His eyes struggled to focus on her. “Ah. Good t’ see you again, Miss Shaw.”

“Hillock?” She approached cautiously. “You knew we were coming?” Kit hovered so closely at her back she could’ve worn him as a coat.

“Lord Lich and yourself ’ave an accord, young lady. Since you’re here, I’ll take it you haven’t forgotten.”

“Not sure how I could. You’ve been watching me.”

“Hn.” The burly man’s eyes flickered to Kit. “You’ve been busy.”

“I want to talk to Mr. Lich about our agreement.”

Hillock gestured down the tunnel. “Then follow me.”

He led them along several routes until they finally came to the sprawling cavern with its moat of fresh water. Lich’s guildhall was unchanged: men taking bets, street children running to and fro. This time, Eda did not avoid their gaze. She didn’t feel quite so daunted with Kit beside her. He’d insisted on accompanying her, and now she was glad of it.

On the office balcony, Hillock swept aside the arras and bid them enter.

“Miss Shaw.” Severin Lich did not stand.

Eda took a seat. There was none for Kit, but he appeared content to simply hover like an ominous shadow. As Hillock closed the arras, another decorating the wall behind Lich stirred in the ensuring breeze. The one detailing a unicorn amidst a green forest. It was not fastened down like the others. Nothing, perhaps, but Eda’s mind latched onto it like a fishhook, oddly certain it wasn’t. She averted her gaze.

The crime lord puffed at his pipe. The room bloomed with a sweet, woodsy scent strong enough to choke on. “The mystery resident from Harecourt Road, I take it. Wolfram made a Pact after all.” Lich fixated upon Kit in a way that made her feel rather invisible. If he was unnerved by a demon in his office, he did not show it. “Fascinatin’, truly. I’ve never known your kind to care for our world beyond the years they can siphon from it. Yet here you are, a resident of twenty years. Mr. …?”

“Kit’rath.”

“No family name?”

Kit bared his teeth. “None I’d share with you.”

Lich was unruffled. “All right. My business isn’t with yerself, after all.” He looked again at Eda. “Seems you found the help you needed to set your brothers free, Miss Shaw. Well done. But that isn’t why you’re here.”

“I’m close to finding the Gateway. It’s here, in the inner city,” Eda said. “Once I know where, I need a way to alert you so that you might extract it before the bishop gets wind of anything.”

“Someone can be made available to you at the Knight and Knave, on Farthin’ Street. They will wait for word of the mirror’s location there. But you’ll need to be quick.”

“Worry not,” Kit crooned. “I shall play messenger, and I can be very efficient.”

“Hm.” Lich’s dark eyes pinned Eda to her chair. “I expect you to be present when we retrieve the Gateway, young lady. Wouldn’t want you sendin’ us on a wild-goose chase while you and your family slip away in the night.” He smiled, unfriendly. “Not that you’d be so foolish.”

Something bristling and dangerous ran through Kit as he leaned over her, staring at Lich with renewed focus. “What an interesting thing to say. It almost sounded like a threat.” His eyes flashed. “Not that you’d be so foolish.”

By the wall, Hillock’s hand twitched.

Lich stopped smiling, but he did not take back his words.

“I understand,” Eda said. “Wherever the mirror is, I’ll remain with it once it’s found, until your people arrive. The Gateway will be yours.” A promise like dirt in her mouth. “Can we agree that our business will then be done?”

Lich inclined his head. He smiled, closemouthed. “I don’t see why not.” Neither a confirmation nor a denial.

Hillock escorted them back through the darkness of the tunnels, leaving them where he found them. His lamp bobbed away through the dark until it was swallowed whole.

“Just to clarify,” Kit murmured, “you’re still planning on calling in the Blades when you find the Gateway.”

“That’s how we condemn Fane, so yes. Once we find the mirror, it’s only a matter of time before he returns to it. Tenelle need only be ready to catch him.”

“And you mean to also call in Lich’s men, like you promised him.”

“If Tenelle is lying in wait and happens to catch Lich’s people along with Fane…well. I suppose she’ll just have to make extra room in her cells.”

It was too dark to see his expression, but Eda heard Kit’s soft huff of glee. His nose brushed her hair. “All of them bagged up at once. You naughty minx. It’s positively unscrupulous.”

“You were the one who said I should forget honor and mercy when dealing with powerful people.”

“And I was right. Don’t mistake me, darling.” His breath tickled her nape. “I do so adore it when you scheme.”

* * *

They waited for darkness to fall over the city like a mourner’s veil. The moon was waning but bright enough to gild the riblike buttresses of the Great Templehouse and reflect off windows like sheets of ice. Within the high walls of the Botanic Gardens, it was dark and wild. Little ponds and flower beds hid beneath the tresses of pale willow trees. Leaves littered the ground in the swath of golden brown. The tangled branches overhead gleamed bare as bone.

These gardens were some of the best-kept parts of Blackbridge, patronized by its wealthiest denizens. But in the dark, it might have been some untamed forest rather than a walled garden, where any manner of creature prowled the undergrowth.

Eda would not be unnerved. She had Kit.

“Keep close,” he whispered before transforming in a rush of shadow. The black cat weaved silently over trickling streams and wilting flowers. Eda followed, wincing with every crunch and snap underfoot. She saw no reason to delay their search for the mirror when they were already in the city. Yet now that they were here, the prospect of failure tightened like a noose about her throat, threatened to choke her. They needed to find that Gateway and inform Tenelle. Time was already running short to fulfill her Pact with Mr. Night, and she would never be free of Lich nor Fane unless she could use the mirror to prove their guilt. Only the latter could lead her to it.

Ahead, the bishop in question walked along the garden trail. He was a pale specter in the night, sharing friendly conversation with the groundskeeper.

The short, aging man had been closing the southern gate when Fane turned up. He’d let the bishop through before locking it behind them. Eda and Kit had watched from atop the wall, having waited for Fane to leave the Great Templehouse. He must have meant to make his way back to Crowgate after the day’s sermon, but Eda did not expect him to cut through the Botanic Gardens like this. It wasn’t the most direct route.

“And why do we think that is?” Kit had pondered dryly.

To observe him now, the bishop seemed in no great hurry. They followed him for minutes more before reaching the northern gate. Fane turned to the groundsman. They spoke in low voices; then the bishop carried on alone. The groundsman closed the gate behind him.

“He’s leaving?” She shook her head, confused. “What did they say?”

Kit transformed and rolled his shoulders. “Fane asked the groundsman to be extra vigilant when checking the gardens in the coming evenings. Said he’s paying him enough. The man assured him he would.”

Eda pulse jumped. “He’s hiding it here.”

“Could be.”

“But Commander Tenelle must have noticed Fane coming through this way late at night. She has people watching him.”

“What does it prove? That he likes to take the scenic route home?” Kit took her hand as though it were his due, pulling her along after the groundsman. “He goes in one way, comes out another. Tenelle’s little spies can’t follow him closely without being caught snooping.”

Anticipation had her guts all in knots. “But we can.” The Blades might have already dismissed the gardens as a dead end, but Fane was wily enough to misdirect them. It remained to be seen if a magic mantle and a shape-shifting demon could go better undetected.

Kit’s thumb ran the seam between their clasped hands. “If we do find the Gateway, we should celebrate.”

Eda wondered where this was going. “I suppose…”

“Will you let me do unspeakable things to you in the flower beds?”

She nearly tripped. “You—you can’t just say things like that!”

“You’re right.” He tugged her closer as they walked, sparing her a wicked look. “Will you let me do unspeakable things to you in the flower beds, please?”

“This is hardly the time,” Eda said automatically, even as her head spun with incandescent visions. She discovered a newfound level of resentment for her circumstances, without which she might have hauled him into the chrysanthemums herself.

Kit sighed dramatically.

The groundskeeper was stooped with age and bore a slow, uneven gait. He didn’t go very far. Following a side path through tall yew trees, he approached a mausoleum nestled against the garden wall.

It was like a templehouse in miniature, no bigger than a one-room abode. Passing centuries had rendered it dirty and black between the stones. There was a pitched roof of overlapping tiles, green as fish scales, and a door set into a pointed archway. Above it, an elaborate relief was carved into the masonry—a small figure in robes. A saint. Eda wasn’t sure which. There were four mausoleums in the gardens, one for each patron saint of the city.

The groundsman paused. He tried the iron lock hanging from a chain about the door handle. It rattled but held. Clearly satisfied, he continued down the winding side path and disappeared through the trees.

Eda and Kit glanced at one another from behind a nearby maple, then made for the door. If the mirror was here, it was a sound place to hide it. Audacious, though, to hide a Gateway quite literally beneath the Blades’ noses. To keep it in the burial place of a patron saint…it was difficult to imagine any servant of the Faith sinking to such vulgar measures. Perhaps the idea hadn’t even occurred to Tenelle.

Eda fingered the aged lock and withdrew her knife. “I know keys would be quicker, but maybe you could use this—”

Kit swiped it from her. Checking the groundsman was out of sight, he quickly bashed the blunt end against the lock. It popped open at once, dented by sheer brute force. Such a casual display of strength was enthralling, muscles contracting beneath his sleeve, tendons bulging in his neck. Eda stared.

She’d kissed that neck. Felt those veins race hot beneath her lips, those strong hands trace her skin like a painter outlining his magnum opus. The sudden bolt of desire that splintered through her was nearly painful.

Kit cleared his throat. He was waiting for her to take the knife back.

Eda averted her eyes and did. “That works, too, I suppose.”

She pushed the door open. It swung wide under its own weight, and they were rewarded with an impenetrable archway of shadow.

No more room for fear. You’ve gotten this far despite it.

She made to enter; an urgent grip held her back. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s here,” Kit breathed.

Her heart skipped. “Don’t tell me the great Lord Ansellis is scared of a little mirror?”

Eda’s poor attempt at joviality went unheard. Kit had a nauseous mien, as though being confronted with the Gateway again had unmoored him—a long-forgotten nightmare returned to disturb his peace. Twenty years since he’d seen it last. Since he used it to escape Mr. Night.

Eda gently prized his fingers off her arm. “Go to Wolfram. He’ll alert Tenelle. Then find Lich’s contact at the Knight and Knave. With any luck, when his men come, Tenelle and the Blades will be waiting. All that remains is Fane.”

Kit turned one of those looks upon her again, indecipherable and piercing. She realized why with a cold lash.

Our Pact.

Eda had asked for his help in finding the Gateway; here it was. That meant it was over. Their deal done. Perhaps Kit’s ill countenance had as much to do with this as anything else.

Her years were his for good.

They stared at one another. Neither was wont to speak the truth of it aloud. “I’ll be fine until you come back,” Eda managed weakly. “I have the mantle.”

Kit accepted the sidestep. “You mean to contact Baelion. Tonight.”

“I—yes. I might not get another chance. You know this.”

Without sufficient years of her own to offer, and with autumn harvest looming, Eda hoped that Mr. Night would agree to meet the Shaws again in the days to come. To accept his final due. Tonight was her only chance to ask. Once the Blades came, the mirror would be lost to her forever.

Kit’s expression darkened. “You still haven’t explained how you mean to get him those final years.”

“Ben is prepared to give ten of his own. I hope we’ll figure something else out beforehand, but if not…”

He stepped into her space, eyes glowing. “Then your fool brother should be here instead. Your dealings with Baelion could be over tonight.”

“Ben isn’t here,” she said, “but I am. Mr. Night clearly doesn’t mean to help us fulfill our Pact, but he can’t hinder us, either. If I wish to make arrangements to pay him his final sum, he will honor it.”

“You cannot trust his word.”

“I trust his greed. All demons are covetous, didn’t you say? I know him well enough to know he’d rather take ten years than not. He gains nothing by denying me.”

To this, Kit did not argue.

“Go. You needn’t be here when I call on him.” His ruby ring was cold where she clutched his hand. It would conceal his presence from Mr. Night, and part of her wished he’d use it—insist on staying nearby. Would he? If she asked?

But Kit only squared his shoulders and nodded, tight-lipped. He pulled away from her. Numbly, Eda watched him go. Our Pact is done. He doesn’t have to come back.

Three steps, and then he paused. His shoulders fell. Suddenly he whirled about and stormed back toward her, face lined with a tortured sort of surrender.

The kiss was fierce. Greedy. Eda could do nothing but rise to meet the onslaught. It was not at all like the soft, aching touches of before. Those had been pleas, sweet and exhilarating kisses meant to convince her of something. Now Kit’s mouth on hers felt like a desperate act. It demanded. Claws ran through her hair. He swayed into her with each kiss, as though he meant to somehow get closer than skin allowed. Eda fisted her hands in his tunic so that she didn’t soar away. Gone was the breeze and the skittering leaves and the watchful moonlight. For a moment, nothing existed beyond the places where they touched.

She retreated with a gasp for air. He followed in a heavy-lidded daze, catching her lip again. Kit had transformed without her notice—and perhaps his. Ashen skin, sweeping horns. Eyes fierce and bright as magma. The sight made her want to drag him to the ground right then and there, but common sense won out.

Eda cupped his face. “What was that?” she breathed bemusedly.

He stared as though he’d never seen her before. “Nothing,” he whispered. “Everything.” With visible effort, Kit pulled away from her, clearly trying to wrest back some measure of self-control. “I’ll return, mir’han.”

He was gone in a whirl of feathers before she could ask what mir’han meant.

Standing alone with the mausoleum at her back like a dark, gaping maw, Eda steeled herself.

It took her a moment to adjust to the darkness within. Tiny clerestory windows lined the arched ceiling. They let in meager light, sufficient only to bring the room’s basic features into relief. There wasn’t much to see. A paved floor, plastered walls. Old Weslic inscriptions running about the crumbling cornice, incomprehensible in the darkness.

There was nothing here at all, save for a large stone casket raised proudly in the center of the room. Lying recumbent atop it, Saint Leoric’s effigy had been engraved from the lid’s pale stone. Eda crept closer, noting his distinctive forked beard and rippling burial shroud. One hand lay flat atop his breast, the other turned outward placatingly.

So busy studying the faded pink and blue pigments, she almost didn’t notice that he lay slightly askew. A narrow wedge-like gap between the sarcophagus lid and its innards, just big enough for fingers to curl around.

Eda sucked in a breath, for there were gouges in the stone like scratch marks. She thought of the fiends and their sharp claws. So this is where he keeps you.

She traced the marks, rough and cold. Planting her feet, Eda tried to quell her skittish heart. Then she pushed.

The lid moved, but it was slow and difficult. She grunted with the effort. Should have bullied Kit into doing this bit. She paused twice to reset, but soon enough she could slide it no farther without tipping the effigy onto the floor. Breathing heavily, Eda drew back to look.

Where the bones of a patron saint should have rested undisturbed, a black fathomless mirror yawned beneath her like a void. Recognition jarred her. Eda gripped the edges of the sarcophagus as though she might fall straight in. Translucent moonlight struggled to reveal the hissing serpents and thorny flowers she knew lined the mirror’s frame, but she spotted the fanged horse at once. It had always been one of the more unnerving reliefs. Now it reminded her of Kit.

Eda’s stomach roiled, knots upon knots. It was here. She’d found it.

But will he come?

Gingerly, she reached down and touched smooth obsidian. It was warm as ever, as though left beneath a midday sun.

“Mr. Night, I summon you.” After a brief hesitation: “Please.”

She feared the mirror would not recognize her. That their time apart and Florian’s interference had made strangers of them. But the surface rippled beneath her fingers at once, tar-like and familiar.

Eda sighed in relief, then stiffened.

Voices.

She spun to face the door. No. Not now!

Panic kicked her heart into a fury. She rounded the sarcophagus and ducked behind it, knees tucked to her chin. A heartbeat later, the door slammed open. Eda clapped a hand over her mouth. Blood roared in her ears. Shit. It would be obvious that someone had been here—or still was. And she’d nowhere to run.

Silence. Then a voice she despised above all others: “Do not make me drag you out, Miss Shaw. It will be humiliating for you alone.”

He left the gardens. We saw him leave. Eda squeezed her eyes shut. The mantle. The mantle would hide her. Perhaps they’d only spare the place a cursory check. If she just stayed still enough, quiet enough…

Fane sighed. “Seize her.”

Eda’s breath caught. Footsteps echoed around the little chamber. She drew her knife just as shadows fell over her. White and brown robes, the flash of a sword, reaching hands.

She sprang.

Eda caught the nearest hand with her knife and earned a curse in return. No fewer than four men surrounded her, all dressed in cleric’s clothing. All armed. Eda had never seen men of the Faith wielding weapons as soldiers did, but perhaps they were not clerics at all.

She lashed out again at the looming faces. A fist to the stomach doubled her over with pain. Eda coughed in shock.

They hauled her upright, a man on each arm. Another bore a crossbow. He kept her in his sights as they dragged her around the sarcophagus and dumped her before Fane like a sacrificial lamb. On her knees, Eda cursed her wet eyes as she heaved, gripping her aching middle. She made herself glare up at him.

Fane took a moment to focus on her. He blinked. “A clever trick. Did you make that little cape yourself, I wonder? Perhaps you really are a witch.” He gestured, and the men ripped the mantle from her shoulders. Two of them moved to guard the doorway behind Fane, hands upon their concealed knives.

“You’re even more sacrilegious than I thought,” Eda wheezed. “Disturbing a patron saint and dressing paid soldiers as the Faithful? If you weren’t setting monsters on innocent children, I’d be shocked.”

Fane’s smile grew tight. He thumbed at his golden ring. “What a meddlesome little rat you are. Brazen too. You really thought to make deals with men like Severin Lich in an effort to outwit me? An insult, I thought, but he seemed amused by it.”

Eda’s blood ran cold. Lich…and Fane?

No. That doesn’t make any sense. Lich wants the mirror for himself!

“He told you I was looking for the mirror?”

“Just in the nick of time, it seems. You move fast.”

Her mind raced. This meant that Lich had no intention of coming for the Gateway. There was likely no one waiting for Kit at the Knight and Knave. Lich had chosen to warn Fane about Eda’s plan instead, giving the bishop a chance to protect the Gateway. But why?

“Don’t look so confounded, Miss Shaw. You’re not as clever as you suppose.” He crouched and grabbed her roughly by the jaw. Eda huffed in shock, tried to jerk away—the crossbowman poked her in warning. “When your demon returns to you, whore, we will be waiting for him.”

Eda’s heart sank. She remembered now. Mr. Night had offered Fane a great boon if he could kill Kit for him. Think, Eda, think! Lich might be a lost cause, but if she could keep Fane here just a little longer, Tenelle could arrest him still.

“You couldn’t kill him if you tried,” she hissed.

“Oh, I disagree. Even demons fear fiends, I hear, and the beasts answer my command.”

“With power that isn’t yours.” Eda bared her teeth. “You call me a whore, but I bet you’d bend over the instant Mr. Night told you—”

The slap took her breath away. Her cheek seethed with pain, but Eda found herself laughing at him. Guess I hit a nerve.

Fane’s blue eyes were wide and hateful. He raised his hand again.

A clawed hand snared him by the wrist. Fane jerked in shock.

Mr. Night’s eyes were just as she remembered, cold and bright as quicksilver. “Hello again,” the demon crooned, “sweet Eda.”