Duskfall (28 page)

Nash thought of Kali, of the time she had been spending with Winter. Kali would do her duty, to be sure. She was not one to exploit others, not of her own accord. But if her duty required it…

And, suddenly, Nash knew. For Kali, Winter was only a mission. She would do whatever was required of her, whatever her orders dictated. No matter the collateral.

Nash could not allow that. The Harbinger was too important. Someone needed to teach her, nurture her. Someone needed to protect her until she could protect herself.

“The purest
faltira
comes from our own facilities,” Nash said, resolved. “Where the best alchemists in the world produce it. Although bastardized forms of the drug have become as popular as hero and devil’s dust in some cities. Almost any dealer sells frost these days, although it’s expensive. And the dealers are cautious.”

“Why?”

Nash grunted. “Because we aren’t very happy if we catch them selling it. And we don’t give warnings.”

“But you can just… buy it off the street?”

Nash nodded. “It’s dangerous, but if necessary, yes. Street
faltira
can be unstable. It can make you sick, or worse. And the dealers don’t sell frost to just anyone. They usually look for a set of key words. If you tell them you are looking for something to make you ‘burn,’ for instance, or something that will give you ‘chills,’ they’ll usually catch on.”

Winter nodded. Again she seemed lost in thought. Curiosity was good. It was an important aspect in a psimancer; curiosity led to new ways of using psimantic abilities.

Winter’s hand moved back to the pouch at her belt.

“So this is a full dose?”

“More or less. Each psimancer is different. A full dose for you may be an overdose for someone else, or vice versa. But what you have now is a pretty standard amount.”

“And the stronger the dose, the more powerful the abilities?”

“Not necessarily,” Nash said. “Each variant’s power is limited, and a maximum dose reaches that limit. Beyond that, it doesn’t matter how much frost the variant takes. Although a variant rarely ingests their full amount of frost. That much power tends to… cloud judgment.”

“What happens if you take more than the maximum dose?”

“Impaired judgment, certainly. It really depends on the variant, until you get into
extremely
high doses. The power a variant wields does increase slightly beyond their maximum dosage, but the small increase in power is never worth the risks. In a few cases, variants kill themselves by ingesting too much of the stuff.”

“Like a hero overdose?”

Nash nodded. Winter seemed to have at least some familiarity with street narcotics. An overdose of hero or devil’s dust would shut a person’s body down; their heart would cease to beat, their lungs would cease to work.

“Similar,” Nash said. “A variant’s body essentially numbs itself as the desire for more frost increases. The more you take, the less you feel, and the more you want. Eventually, your body can’t handle it anymore.”

Beside him, Winter shivered. He remembered wondering why anyone would want to take more than one dose of
faltira
. But then he saw the recovery ward beneath the Citadel in Triah, and he’d understood. Those people had been willing to do anything—
anything
—for another hit, and as many hits as possible. There was no reasoning with that kind of desperation.

Suddenly, Nash felt the slightest tug on his mind—it was as if someone had grabbed the end of one of his
tendra
and was giving it a good yank.

Kali was voking him.

Nash reached into a pocket of his coat, pulling out his voidstone. The stone glowed, a faint red light emanating from it.

“What is—”

Nash held up a hand as he gripped the voidstone, and sent a
tendron
into the artifact. Immediately, he was connected with Kali.

What is it?
Nash asked. The question was in his mind; Winter would not hear it. Only Kali, wherever she was, would hear the words.

You both need to come to the Circle Square. Now.

Very well.
Nash knew Kali’s tone. It was the tone one didn’t question.

“We need to meet the others,” Nash said. “Something isn’t right. I’ll answer your questions in time. I still have much to tell you. But for now, you need to trust me.” He looked Winter in the eye. “Do you trust me?”

Winter hesitated, then nodded.

She’s a good liar
, Nash thought to himself.

W
INTER
’
S EARS PRICKED UP
as she picked up a low murmur coming from the north. The sound of a crowd, coming from Navone’s city center. She and Nash turned a corner, and the sound grew louder.

At the end of the street Winter saw a wall of people. The anxious buzz of anticipation was thick in the air.

Nash had asked Winter to hold off on her questions, so she did, despite having a great many. Winter liked Nash. He was kind to her. There was something about him that Winter trusted, which was more than she could say for Kali. She didn’t mind Kali, but for very different reasons. They both had their use.

Two City Watchmen stood at the edge of the crowd. They didn’t seem to care who passed in and out; their attention was on the center, just as everyone else’s seemed to be. As they approached, Winter saw a large fountain shaped like a globe looming over the crowd. At the westernmost edge of the circle stood a dais, about as tall as a man, with several people standing on it. All around her, tiny snowflakes began to fall. Clouds covered most of the sky, though the sun shone through a line of blue in the distance. It would make a beautiful sunset, Winter thought, especially with the snowfall.

They found Kali, Elsi, and Lian in the crowd. The others greeted them silently before turning back to the dais. Around her, Winter saw mostly humans, although towards the back of the crowd a few pockets of
siaras
and
araifs
huddled together in the cold. And, as Winter looked more closely ahead of her, she realized the platform wasn’t a dais at all.

It was a gallows.

“An execution?” Winter whispered.

Kali nodded.

Lian cursed under his breath. “I’ve seen enough death the last few weeks.”

“This is to our advantage,” Kali said. “It gives us time to understand what’s going on. A Crucible and her forces are not something we have time to deal with, right now.”

“Why would you care what a Crucible does?” Winter asked. Given the powers Nash and Kali wielded, she did not think they would have to fear anything.

“We don’t have a monopoly on psimancy. The Denomination is powerful; they have their own uses for such abilities. Their powers of discernment aren’t as Goddess-given as they would like everyone to think.”

Of course
, Winter thought. No wonder people were so afraid of Holy Crucibles.

Four people stood on the gallows, their faces covered by cloth sacks, each standing beneath a noose. To one side of the four was a shifting bundle of heavy burlap. Half a dozen Goddessguards and at least ten Sons stood around the pile of cloth. A group of women dressed in Cantic livery stood on the other side of the platform accompanied by at least half a dozen more Goddessguards in full shining armor, and behind them stood a group of men in rich robes.

“Who are they?” Winter pointed at the men.

Nash peered at the group. “Probably the magistrate and Navone’s city council.”

“They’ve already found heretics, after four days.” Kali spoke softly, almost to herself.

“Not unheard of,” Nash muttered. “Some Crucibles are more effective than others.”

“What is that?” Winter asked, glancing at Nash. “Underneath the cloth? It’s moving.”

“I’m not sure.” Nash’s eyes did not leave the strange bundle.

Winter turned back to the gallows. She counted at least two dozen more Sons of Canta patrolling the perimeter of the platform.

“No wonder they found the heretics so fast,” Winter said. “They brought every soldier in the Denomination to Navone.”

“The contingent
is
unusually large,” Kali muttered. She, too, stared at the bundle of cloth with narrowed eyes.

Winter felt the rhythm of the crowd around her, heard the whispers and murmurings. A pregnant hush had settled on the massive group. Winter looked more closely at the four hooded figures. Two women, two men, all in dirty, torn clothing.

“Don’t seem like the type of people who’d start a religious rebellion,” Lian said beside her.

Winter nodded, still looking at one of the captured men, focusing on the rough burlap sack covering his face.

“Get a lot of heretics in Pranna, do you?” Nash grinned. Lian smirked.

Winter was glad to see the two getting along. She worried about Lian. Seeing him even attempt to smile again—even if it was nothing more than a smirk, something she knew wasn’t genuine—made her miss him.

Odd to miss him when he has been traveling beside me for weeks.

One of the women in Cantic robes stepped forward, addressing the crowd in a loud voice. It was one of the younger women, and she was very short—perhaps as short as Winter herself, even though the woman was human. She wore her pale blond hair in a loose bun over her head, and had a small, heart-shaped face.

“We thank you for cooperating as we purge the evil from this city,” the woman said.

“That’s the Crucible,” Nash whispered behind her. “See the white flame behind her Trinacrya?”

Winter nodded. The bright white flames embroidered on the woman’s dress behind the circle and triangle were clear, even from a distance.

“That’s the symbol of the Arm of Inquisition. They say that for all the peace that the Trinacrya has brought to the world, the Trinacrya on fire has brought just as much violence.”

“She is so young,” Winter said. “I thought one of the older women would be the Crucible.”

“It is… odd. Not unheard of, but odd.”

“Have confidence in knowing,” the Crucible continued, “that after today your city will be clean, purged through Canta’s fire. You will have nothing to fear, and Canta’s light will once again shine down upon you.”

The magistrate and the small council behind the woman applauded vigorously, and the rest of the crowd eventually joined in, although they seemed far less enthusiastic. Winter’s hands remained at her side. She suspected that, whether a Holy Crucible said Canta’s light would shine down on them or not, these people’s lives would carry on quite normally.

“You will be relieved to know that we captured an ancient evil lurking in your city,” the Crucible said. A ripple of whispers flowed through the crowd. “Among the associates of the heretic and her followers, we found a true daemon. Beneath the cloth,” and here the Crucible pointed dramatically towards the bundle to her left, “is a Ventus.”

Winter felt nervous energy radiating from the crowd, but she doubted what the Crucible said was true. Vampires had been extinct for hundreds of years. One of the only creatures left over from the Age of Marvels, apart from humans and tiellans, they had eventually been hunted down and exterminated—assuming they ever existed in the first place. What did the Crucible think she could gain by pretending to have found one?

Winter was about to ask Nash when she saw his face. He was pale. The way his eyes widened unnerved her.

Winter looked back at the gallows, an icy claw of fear gripping her insides.

“You will have the privilege, in a few moments, to see such a daemon firsthand. Unfortunately we cannot execute it, as we need to take it back to Canta’s Fane for exorcism and study. But you will all stand witness to its daemonic presence.”

The Holy Crucible turned to the Sons who stood near the other captives on the gallows.

“Now, one of your own, Priestess Cinzia Oden, will address you. Let her tell you of the dangers of heresy, and her feelings on this
rebellion
.” The Holy Crucible looked back at the priestesses. One of them, also very young, stepped forward, and the Holy Crucible turned back towards the crowd, a smile on her face. “But first,” she shouted, “unveil the prisoners!”

Winter was vaguely aware of a whispered conversation between Kali and Nash. She heard snippets of the words “vampire” and “heretic,” and Knot’s other name—Lathe—but Winter couldn’t concentrate well enough to focus. She was looking at the man in drab, worn clothing at the end of the gallows line.

One of the Sons walked up behind the prisoner, lifting the burlap sack. Winter felt her knees buckle beneath her.

It was Knot.

He was bound and gagged, and stood quite calmly, facing the crowd. Some of the other prisoners struggled, muffled sounds coming from beneath their hoods as they worked futilely against their bonds. Knot stood still. His face was dirty and bruised, his hair longer than she remembered. He had grown a short beard since Winter had seen him last. Since their wedding night.

Kali turned to Winter, but Winter didn’t care. Without a second thought, she reached into the pouch she carried at her waist, pulling out the frost crystal Nash had given her a few days earlier. The full dose.

“
Winter, no!
” Kali whispered.

It was too late. In a few short moments Winter felt
faltira
’s power surge through her body, fire in her veins, ice on her skin.

There
was
more power here than anything she had felt before, more than she had taken the morning of the attack on their camp, more than any power she had felt in her sessions with Nash.

Her vision darkened, but the power held her up, rapt and rigid. How pleasure and pain could be so beautifully intertwined was a mystery.

Then she screamed.

S
NOWFLAKES DRIFTED DOWN, FALLING
on Knot’s face. The small blade Kovac had smuggled to him had nearly sliced through the bonds that held his wrists.

An eerie scream cut through the silence, and Knot felt a whoosh of air above his head. He blinked as the severed end of his own noose fell loosely around his neck.

The crowd gasped, but Knot was already moving. Someone had given him a chance, and he’d take advantage of it. The crowd wouldn’t know how to react, and the Sons would be torn between keeping the crowd under control and securing the prisoners.