Of the Abyss (25 page)

“Not worth eating,” Alizarin proclaimed, seeing the direction of her gaze. “Too much bone and shell, and the meat is dry.”

The circle of life in the Abyss,
Cadmia thought, and then they started uphill to the high court.

As they walked, the stone dunes on their left rose higher and became sharper. Dagger-­sharp stones pierced the soft black sand with increasing frequency, making the footing treacherous for all but Alizarin, who avoided them with ease.

Stepping on a sharp rock wasn't the only hazard. Tiny crabs with bodies the color of fresh blood scuttled forward aggressively, snapping hooked claws if one stepped too close, and long-­legged white spiders with sharp mandibles that glistened with venom perched in flat, sticky nests. Occasionally they passed old, dry bones, or newer carcasses, these latter wrapped in spider's silk or covered in the Abyss's other scavengers.

The trip
should
have taken Alizarin's promised “less than an hour,” but at their careful pace it seemed to last for days. Even Cadmia didn't have the energy or attention to hold a conversation, and no one else seemed to want to try.

Alizarin often bounded ahead, impatient, and circled back. Xaz minced in the front of their group, with Cadmia next and Hansa and Umber lagging behind. They walked close to each other, touching whenever they could.

Alizarin was on one of his jaunts when they topped a rise and saw a man kneeling on the ground to butcher a . . . Cadmia had no idea what it had once been, except that it seemed to have far too many legs, each tipped with a nasty-­looking barbed claw. The man was using an irregular gray blade to deftly remove each claw without touching it. He looked up without surprise as they approached, used a handful of black sand to wipe the knife clean, then sheathed the knife in a boot and stood.

Unlike the shades at the camp, whose clothes had been cobbled together from frequently-­mended scraps, this man was dressed in well-­fitted soft leather and fine fabric with the pulled look of raw silk. His ashy-­black boots stopped just below his knees, and his forearms were protected by gauntlets of speckled gray leather. Under a tough vest of the same material, reinforced by glistening, plum-­violet scales, he wore a burgundy shirt that laced at the throat. His skin was fair but had none of the ghastly pallor of the shades, and instead of being fogged and colorless his eyes were bright, coppery brown.

In case any doubt remained, the knives—­the one he had just tucked in his boot and another she could see on his right thigh—­made it clear what he was.

Instinctively, Cadmia looked for Alizarin, who was frustratingly out of sight. Based on her understanding of the Abyss's rules, it should have been up to Umber to speak for their group when Alizarin was absent, but the spawn had halted and seemed to have no intention of moving any closer to the stranger.

Cadmia cleared her throat. “Are you Naples, the Abyssumancer?” She sounded more confident than she felt.

“Yes?” His gaze flicked dispassionately down her body as if to assess—­and dismiss—­her worth before turning to the others. Umber had taken another step backward, but Naples didn't attempt to close the awkward distance. Instead, his brows lifted as he saw Xaz. “I cannot begin to imagine the circumstances that bring a Numenmancer into the Abyss.”

Xaz took a deep breath. Her voice was steady as she answered, “Alizarin, of the third-­level court. He—­”

Xaz didn't have a chance to finish before the Abyssumancer twisted to look behind him a heartbeat before Cadmia's eyes caught the distant, distinctive sheen of blue approaching rapidly from the direction of the court.

She tensed, wondering how Naples would respond. Alizarin had known of Naples, but she didn't know how well informed an Abyssumancer would be. Did he know about Baryte's death and Antioch's grudge? Would he be concerned about the tension between Alizarin and the high court?

Naples' expression brightened and he shouted, “Alizarin!”

Alizarin vaulted up to the mancer, who reached out confidently as if to embrace the blue Abyssi. Alizarin had implied earlier that he had a relationship with this mancer, but Cadmia hadn't imagined it to be this friendly.

When the mancer tried to lean against the Abyssi, however, Alizarin pushed him back, saying, “You're hungry. You haven't been hunting?”

It seemed an odd question, since that was exactly what Cadmia assumed Naples had been doing before their approach. The Abyssumancer shrugged and changed the subject. “You know I always look forward to your visits, and your companions are of course welcome as well. Let's get inside where it's more comfortable. I'll send someone back for this.” He gestured dismissively to the half-­butchered carcass beside him. He led the way to the crest of the dune over which Alizarin had bounded with ease, then paused at the top. With a sweeping gesture before him, he said, “Welcome, all, to the high court of the Abyss.”

For the first time in what felt like months, Cadmia lifted her gaze instead of cautiously watching her step.

“Oh,” she whispered, as she beheld the edge of the court.

Slices of stone, like those along the beach but hundreds of times taller, formed walls with razor-­edges that glistened, transparent, where they caught the light. Cadmia couldn't see over them except for the irregular obelisk-­like structures that towered on the other side, some so tall they seemed to merge with the smoke-­gray sky. The towers' positions appeared haphazard and they leaned crookedly, a few seeming in danger of collapse at any moment. Had they been built? Did Abyssi
build
? Or had they grown on their own, like crystals?

Outside the wall, the dark sand clumped and solidified into glass, as if the buildings had been formed through magnificent heat.

Naples led them around the wall until they found a fissure where the vertical stone had cracked, leaving a gap wide enough to allow them all to enter side by side with room to spare. There were no gates or guards, and the opening in the wall appeared to be a natural formation instead of an intentional doorway, but beyond it were signs of cultivation. An amber-­colored, mosslike plant with tiny, trumpet-­shaped flowers defended by fine black needles bordered the path.

The building Naples led them to—­if it was a building—­was blocky, with no apparent doors or windows. A sphere of cinnamon-­colored light floated near the blank wall. Cadmia gave it a wide berth, remembering the wisps, but Naples seemed unconcerned as he approached. He reached up and a section of the wall dissolved like smoke caught by the wind, revealing an open doorway.

Xaz had used her power in front of Cadmia more than once, but it had been subtle and quiet. This was the first obvious
magic
Cadmia had observed since Alizarin opened the rift from Kavet. Was the shiver that passed over her skin fear, an instinctive reaction caused by a lifetime of being told mancers were dangerous, or excitement?

Alizarin took the lead, passing through the doorway and into an interior that was either as dark as the caves in which they had first appeared or hidden by magic. Cadmia started to follow, then hesitated, because the others looked like they might balk.

Naples shook his head at their wary looks. “From the outside, the doorways only respond to me, Azo, or the other true Abyssi. From the inside, they respond to anyone. If you honestly feel safer
outside,
you will be able to get out at any time.”

Without waiting for them to respond, he walked inside.

Cadmia understood their reasonable fear of putting themselves at an Abyssumancer's mercy, but did they really feel safer out
here
? She followed Alizarin.

Inside, what had been a cavelike chamber had been turned into a welcoming parlor. Woven wall hangings softened the black walls and the floor was warmed by furs and leathers that had been dyed and set out as area rugs. The light was provided by orbs of flickering, ghostly flames hovering near the ceiling.

“Pardon me a moment,” Naples said, as he started unlacing his bracers. “I'm a bit overdressed for company at home. Alizarin, I assume you'll want to greet Azo, then utilize the baths?”

Alizarin didn't hesitate—­he loped off through one of the two doors in the opposite wall. Cadmia hoped that meant he trusted the Abyssumancer, and not that he didn't care about the rest of them.

For the first time, Naples' gaze focused on Cadmia. “The third level of the Abyss is hot, and steaming seas cover much of it. Rin hates the constant grime of this level.”

“You know him well,” Cadmia observed, noticing the affectionate nickname Naples used for the Abyssi.

Despite where they were, it was hard to remember he was supposedly an Abyssumancer. He appeared younger than she was, probably by almost a decade, though the poise and manners with which he presented himself made him seem older.

His wistful smile also seemed to hold too many years for his face. “It isn't hard to know an Abyssi well,” he said, “as long as you don't mind blood.”

 

CHAPTER 29

“O
ur other option is staying outside at the edge of the Abyssal high court,” Hansa said. He couldn't help remembering the shack where he and Jenkins had found Baryte. Gore and chaos were standard for Abyssumancers' lairs. He didn't want to imagine how much worse one
here,
where the mancer had no reason to fear discovery, might be.

For a moment, he thought Umber might say staying outside was better. If he did, Hansa might agree. Then the spawn released Hansa's hand and was gone from sight, leaving Hansa hurrying after.

He emerged in a warm, brightly lit parlor. It would never be mistaken for a home in Kavet, but compared to what Hansa was expecting it was dizzying in its normalcy.

Alizarin was nowhere to be seen, and Naples was in the process of removing his armor. As Umber, Hansa, and Xaz entered, he was hanging his vest on a peg by the door. The burgundy shirt beneath clung to his skin, revealing a body muscled like a wolf's, long and lean without a hint of extra softness. When he leaned down to take the knife out of his boot, Hansa heard Umber's voice clearly in his mind:
Close your mouth, Hansa.

Hansa jerked his gaze away just as the Abyssumancer dropped both knives onto a table next to the entryway, then turned to greet a middle-­aged woman who had just entered the room. Based on her pallor and the strange, clouded color of her eyes, Hansa assumed she must be a shade.

Naples conferred with her briefly, then said, “I assume you will all want to clean up before you meet Azo, the mistress of this household. Ladies, Aurelian here will see to your needs. She is better equipped than I am to identify clothes that might fit you. You two gentlemen . . .” He paused. Uncertain?

No, politely questioning. Umber caught on first. “Umber,” the spawn said. “My bond is Hansa.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Naples said. He didn't offer to shake hands. Maybe he knew neither of them would want to accept. Lightly teasing, he said, “If you're willing to follow the scary Abyssumancer upstairs, I'll show you to a guest room and find you clean clothes as well.”

Once again he didn't wait for them to make up their minds, but turned and led the way.

He was young, Hansa realized, or at least appeared to be—­twenty at most. The realization made Hansa's stomach turn as he considered the way he had been staring a moment ago.

As they followed Naples up a steep, winding staircase, Hansa made a point to keep his gaze anywhere but on the most obvious view. Umber had warned him that the bond might cause him to be attracted to others with Abyssal power, but he refused to let that be an excuse to be vulgar.

He kept his focus on the places where the wall was recessed to accommodate orbs like the one that had illuminated the front door. These were smaller, each about the size of an egg, and varied in brightness and hue.

“Who makes the foxfire?” Umber asked.

“I do,” Naples replied. “Azo likes the colors.” When the Abyssumancer mentioned the woman who apparently owned this household, his voice lifted and his expression softened. The obvious fondness he held for her, whoever she was, made Hansa strengthen his resolve to keep Naples from noticing his irrepressible fascination.

“That takes quite a bit of talent,” Umber said.

Naples shrugged, then pushed open a doorway. Like the others, Hansa hadn't seen the door before it opened; he wasn't entirely convinced it had
been
there. It reminded him eerily of the way Abyssumancers were able to produce weapons from apparently nowhere, though of the two, he far preferred a door.

They stepped into another parlor, this one comfortable, but holding an anonymous quality.

“You may use these rooms as long as you're here,” Naples said. “We chose this spot for the hot spring beneath it, so all the bathing rooms have hot running water. I'll find you some fresh clothes and have one of the servants drop them off before I go wash up.”

Water; clean clothes. That promise was sufficient to overcome Hansa's hesitation to accept the Abyssumancer's hospitality.

It
wasn't
enough to make him forget what he had told Umber.
If we ever get somewhere where we're alone—­

At the time, that “if” had seemed impossibly far off. Now it was too close.

Past the parlor was a bedroom, and then a washroom more luxurious than any Hansa had ever seen. After some fiddling, Umber located the lever that let in a stream of hot water that started to fill the deep marble tub. While the water was running, one of Naples' servants dropped off cakes of soap, lavishly soft towels, and a pile of clothes.

Then it was just Hansa and Umber again. Umber kept his back to Hansa as he stripped and bent to check the water. Hansa suspected the spawn was specifically not looking at him, the way one would try to avoid spooking a timid animal. Watching that golden body move, Hansa felt his mouth go dry, but he couldn't make himself close the distance between them.

He had accepted his bond to Umber as a reality, but that didn't mean he was emotionally ready to embrace it—­or him—­fully. Knowing he was being an idiot and a coward, he backed away.

When he reached the far wall, the stone faded away, turning into an open archway. He stepped into the hall, telling himself he wouldn't go far. He just needed to be somewhere he couldn't hear water splashing, couldn't see Umber's body—­so lithe and relaxed and confident—­couldn't feel the bond between them pulsing, drawing him closer . . .

He squeezed his eyes closed and drew a deep breath, berating himself mentally. Umber didn't understand . . . Hansa couldn't find the words to tell him . . . this wasn't—­

“Hansa? Do you need something?” He jumped, lifting his head to see Naples descending the stairs toward him.

Naples had replaced the sweat-­slicked burgundy shirt with an indigo-­blue one. The neck was loosely laced, revealing a chain with an amethyst pendant beneath, and the bottom had been tucked into snug black pants. His waist was cinched in a wide belt that accented his narrow hips and flat stomach.

Stop it, Hansa!

“No, I'm—­” He lost track of what he was saying in the effort of not staring.

This time, Naples noticed. Their eyes met for the first time, leaving Hansa momentarily disoriented by irises too bright to be called brown. Was that a natural color, or did his power lend the flame-­touched brightness to his gaze?

“Exactly how long have you and Umber been bonded?” Naples asked.

Hansa thought back, couldn't come up with an exact span of time in his apparently addled mind, and said, “A ­couple days.”

Naples nodded thoughtfully. “It's overwhelming at first,” he said. “You'll learn to manage it better over time.”

Naples' position in the household and the way he spoke of the woman who owned it came abruptly clear. “You and Azo?” Hansa asked.

“For a very long time now.” Naples looked up and down the stairs with a grimace. “There are more comfortable places to have this conversation. Let's step out on the balcony for a few minutes?”

This time, when he pressed a hand to the wall, it didn't mist away; there was a shimmer and shiver in the stone, perhaps as the Abyssumancer summoned the doorway he wanted instead of using one already in place.

The casual example of power made Hansa hesitate, but given he was already alone with the man, moving to a different room didn't seem any
more
stupid. The temptation to talk to someone who had been through what Hansa was now experiencing was overpowering.

A moment later they were on a balcony overlooking the dried ocean. Night had fallen, so the balcony was lit only by two subtle orbs of lavender foxfire. The bleak sky was heavy like earth, while the luminescent creatures in the dried sea made it look like a vast, starry sky. Hansa fought a sudden sense of vertigo, brought on by the seeming inversion.

Naples leaned against the railing. Hansa did the same, if only for the excuse to hold onto something—­one, to fight the disorientation, and two, to fight the urge to reach out and see if Naples' hair was as soft as it looked. “Tell me about Umber?”

“I don't know him well,” Hansa admitted.

“He's mortal-­born?” At Hansa's confused expression, Naples rephrased the question. “He was born on the mortal plane?”

“I . . . don't know. I don't think he has been to the Abyss before,” Hansa answered. Then he remembered some of the things Umber had said since they arrived. “Maybe he has. He knows a lot about it.”

“Spawn inherit memories from their parents,” Naples explained. “A mortal-­born spawn wouldn't be able to make sense of all his Abyssi sire's memories, but they're there. He probably has some from his mother, too.” He suddenly frowned, and said with a more cautious tone, “I should have asked if he's possessive before I asked you here alone.”

Hansa shook his head, recalling the assurances Umber had given him. “He isn't the jealous type.”

“Good. Azo will be furious if I offend a guest, especially one brought to us by Alizarin. His patronage is one of the reasons Azo and I are able to have as fine a lifestyle as we do.” Hansa jumped as the Abyssumancer put a hand over his on the rail, slender fingers tapping along the back of Hansa's knuckles, which were white from gripping so tightly. “Do you realize you're leaking power?”

“I don't even know what that means.” His voice shook. With the Abyssumancer this close it was hard to draw a steady breath, but Hansa couldn't make himself step away either.

“I'm guessing an unfulfilled boon,” Naples said. “Is that what brings you to the Abyss?”

Hansa nodded. “You can tell?”

“The moment I saw you. The boon . . . whispers? No, that isn't the right word. It's constantly reaching out and seeking fulfillment. No one who can feel Abyssal power could miss it.”

“I'm sorry.” Did that response make any sense?

“It's okay,” Naples crooned, moving closer. He gently lifted Hansa's hand from the balcony rail. “You're bonded to the Abyss without any idea how to control it. You can't help sweating magic, and you can't help craving it. Luckily for you, I can help us both.”

Freed of its death-­grip on the rail, Hansa's hand inexorably sought the Abyssumancer. His palm on Naples' chest, he could feel the other man's heart pounding rapidly.

“Azo,” Hansa said, invoking the other spawn's name in an effort to make sense of a situation that had rapidly moved beyond his control.

Naples flinched at the spawn's name, but didn't pull back. “She understands,” he said.

Abyssumancer,
the last of Hansa's beleaguered common sense reminded him. He recalled Umber's lesson on the four coins of the Abyss, flesh among them, and Alizarin's first words to Naples:
You're hungry. You haven't been hunting?

Naples grabbed Hansa's belt with his free hand and pulled him forward, clearly done talking. Hansa groaned, couldn't help it, and couldn't seem to turn his head away from a kiss that made Umber's seem chaste and gentle. It was as if the last of his willpower had been exhausted when he ran away from Umber, and now his body had no intention of responding to the frantic yapping of his better judgement.

“What—­”
he managed to gasp as Naples pulled back, not going far but rather dragging Hansa with him away from the rail.

“I don't believe anyone is
that
naïve,” Naples answered. He leaned back, taking them both through another doorway and into a room lit only by a single, candle-­bright globe of flickering red foxfire.
Bedroom,
Hansa realized, as Naples shoved him against a post that seemed grown from the black stone floor, one of four delineating the massive, fur, and blanket-­piled bed that dominated the room. “You've been staring at me since we met.”

“I didn't mean—­”

Once again Naples cut him off, this time with a finger across his lips that turned into a caress over his cheek, down his neck and to his chest. “Trust me,” the Abyssumancer said, “I don't mind.” Deft hands untied the laces holding the neck of Hansa's shirt closed, then dropped to slide under the bottom of it.

“I
mind,” Hansa managed to say.

“You can't mind much.” Naples' voice was almost lost in cloth and skin as he pulled the shirt over Hansa's head and tossed it away, then started licking and nibbling his way down Hansa's chest. “You haven't asked me to stop.”

There was a flaw in that logic somewhere, but Hansa couldn't put it into words as pale fingers slid down his skin and the world dissolved except for the feel of flesh on flesh.

Then it was gone. Naples reeled back; in the absence of his heat, Hansa's flesh raised in gooseflesh. He blinked eyes that didn't seem to want to work correctly in the dim light and identified Umber, who had slammed the Abyssumancer against the wall.

“Damn it,” Naples growled. “He
told
me you weren't the jealous type.”

“He probably also told you ‘
no,'
” Umber spat. “Not that I'd expect an Abyssumancer to give a damn about anyone's preference but his own.”

Hansa leaned against the bedpost, trying to get his spinning mind back under his control. This was worse than the constant, gnawing craving for Umber. Getting words out was difficult, but he managed to say, “My fault. I should have . . .” He lost the thought as his eyes finally focused on the two men, both dark-­haired and shirtless, Umber's broader-­shouldered form pinning Naples' leaner one against the wall.

Umber glanced back when Hansa spoke, and Naples took that opportunity to shove him away.

“Hear that? He didn't—­”

“Didn't fight and protest?” Umber looked like he wanted to shake the Abyssumancer again but didn't quite dare. “You know he's a fleshbond. I'm sure you can read how new the bond is, and since you're in one yourself, you know how overwhelming those first days can be. You can't even make the excuse that you're an adolescent mancer who's helpless to resist the whims of the Abyss. You're powerful enough that—­”