White Heart of Justice (30 page)

“Noon, where will you keep a barghest at St. Luck's?” Rafe asked. We stared at one another. The trail had aged Rafe. Or maybe it was the beard. Either way, he looked like a man in his midthirties now. I worried that I'd never see the carefree side of him again. That silly, ridiculous side.
Where was the spellcaster who'd created spells called Flame Resistant Blanket and Chillax? I guess that person was as gone as the girl who had needed them.

“I won't be staying at St. Luck's for long. I'll be sailing on board the
Alliance
as its new sentry,” I reminded him, partly to show Linnaea and Night I was serious about my intention to provide the whelp a good home, but partly because I was wondering what Rafe's response would be.

Was he
really
going to abandon me so that he could become an Ophanim knight?

But Rafe said nothing. I suppose he might have clenched his jaw.
How would anyone know with that beard?
If I were a more selfish person, or a less proud one, I might have made a mental note to grumble to him in private later about the fact that he'd said just a few weeks ago that
I
would be the one deciding whether we worked together next year or not. But of course I wouldn't. There was no way I was going to ask Rafe to stay with me if he didn't want to.

“So what are you going to name her?” Linnaea asked, finally capitulating.

“Nova,” I said, grinning at the grinning beast who was now mine.

*   *   *

L
ater that night in the Demeter springhouse surgery room, Night grew my tooth back. It was a dreadful experience. I guess I'd naively thought that since I'd survived the Old Trail, a
monstrum metallum
, a swarm of ice basilisks, the
Suffoca Ignem
curse, the
mortem animae
, Orcus,
and
Brunus Olivine, the classmate who'd been trying to kill me since last year, that having my loving, caring brother grow a single, solitary tooth back wouldn't hurt that bad. But Night explained before he started that neither Rafe nor any of the other Mederies would be able to use their magic to alleviate my pain during the event. Apparently, what Night was attempting was still relatively new territory for the Mederies.

In fact, no less than half a dozen of them showed up to observe him do it. Which meant that no less than half a dozen lady healers got to watch Nightshade's sister—this year's possible Laureate—scream like a kid and bawl like a baby when he started growing that itty, bitty thing back. I tried to stop him once, but Linnaea, good dental assistant that she was, slapped my hands away from my mouth. In the end, there was an embarrassingly little amount of blood.

Rafe came over after it was all over and leaned in close. Right before he started murmuring the words to a numbing spell, he whispered, “Luck, Onyx, you do make it hard to leave you.” And then he laughed and the blissfully numb feeling in my mouth made it impossible to respond. So I narrowed my tear-filled eyes, lightly pinched his arm, and gave him a lopsided smile instead.

*   *   *

A
few minutes before daybreak the next morning, we stood on the Maize train platform waiting for the North-South Express. Rafe and I were pretty much suited up as we had been for the past three weeks, with heavy cloaks and our backpacks, but Rafe's beard was gone, I carried the White Heart, and Nova now trotted at my heels. I'd be lying if I didn't say her menacing presence gave me the slightest bit of a confidence boost. I didn't know what everyone in New Babylon would think of her, but I was determined that, whatever the future held for us, I would take good care of her. Insult me, but don't insult my dog and all that. And besides I
dared
anyone to insult a would-be Laureate and her barghest.

With unbelievable ease, Rafe and I secured our own railcar and the three of us sprawled across the seats and floor in relative comfort for the next five hours or so that it took us to travel via train back to New Babylon. When I stepped out of the railcar onto the docks at the New Babylon train station the weirdest feeling passed over me.

Nothing
would ever be the same again. And that damned bell wasn't responsible for all of it. I took a deep breath of city air, truly happy to be back and then—wasting no time because I had so very little of it if I was going to be the one to claim the top prize for twenty-two-year-old waning magic users in New Babylon—I asked Rafe to cast a cloaking spell over Nova and me. The last thing I needed as I raced to Timothy's Square was people stopping me because I had a huge, beastly dog in tow. I had the feeling it was the last cast Rafe would perform at my request but I refused to get teary-eyed at this point.

I asked Rafe if he wanted to accompany me to Timothy's Square. In his defense, he seemed genuinely torn, but then demurred, saying there was no way someone of my experience would be waylaid by anything this city had to offer up as resistance.

Part of me rejoiced at the fact that I was back in New Babylon. I couldn't wait to get a hot shower, eat real food, read a newspaper, have lunch with my friends—even see my parents. But there was another, tinier part of me that could admit now that New Babylon proper was . . . well, just a little bit boring.

I shook my head, amused by my own thoughts, as Nova and I sprinted up an empty alley on our way to Timothy's Square. Just before I got to the corner of Rickard Building and ran out into the square, I stopped. I held out my hand to stop Nova too and the two of us huddled in the alley between Rickard and an old warehouse building. This was the alley where I'd first let Ari touch my demon mark. It had caused a small explosion of waning magic but luckily no one else had been around to be hurt. It was deserted now as well.

I peeked around the corner.

Why the hell had I stopped? A painful zing started in my stomach and spread out to my chest, hands, and feet.

It was still there. No one had claimed it yet.

The gold leaf Laurel Crown was still hanging from the lamppost. I glanced around the square's perimeter and expanded my signature. There were two waning magic users in the square, but none that I recognized, and none that were agitated enough to be a potential Laureate.

That meant I was the first one back. I could walk right into the square and claim my prize. I could take that Laurel Crown off the lamppost and claim it as my own. I would no longer be a would-be Laureate. I would be
the
Laureate. I could choose my own residency next year. I could work for the Jayneses—or anyone else. I could work with any Guardian I wanted (except apparently Rafe, but I refused to let this moment be spoiled by that thought).

It should have been a moment of unbridled joy. A moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. A moment of complete and utter vindication.

But still I crouched behind the wall of Rickard, eyeing the prize instead of taking it.

Could I really walk away from the Maegester's life I'd trained for with my last assignment being the recovery of a sword?

Even if the White Heart was capable of reversing time, turning demons into Angels, or bringing people back from the dead, it was still just a sword. In fact, that's all it was now. I'd risked my life for a
sword
—a target, an object—not a person or an ideal. Crouching there unseen in the alley behind Rickard Building, I realized the Laurel Crown Race had given me very little satisfaction. And the things that had given me satisfaction during the race (like curing the
mortem animae
) had nothing to do with finding and retrieving my race target. Sure, I'd beat no less than seven different adversaries (a personal record) and I'd won the race. But I didn't want the rest of my life to be defined by the fact that I'd beaten everyone and won. I wanted it to be about making the right choices. And doing the right thing. I wanted it to be about helping those who needed it. As many of them as possible. I hated to admit it, but my father had probably been right. Working for the Jayneses would be wasteful and self-indulgent. They didn't need a Maegester's services. Even less an almost-Laureate's.

And then there was the problem of my Bounty Hunter's Oath—no small thing. I'd promised to use best efforts to find, retrieve, and deliver the White Heart into the hands of its
rightful owner
. Joy Carmine was the rightful owner of the White Heart. The letters of her ancestor, Kaspar Bialas, were convincing proof of that. Maybe it wasn't proof that would stand up in a court of law, but hadn't I said just last semester that I wanted my head and my heart to determine someone's fate?

Well, by not giving the White Heart to Friedrich, I was certainly determining my own fate. I may have thought I had no control over my future if I didn't win the Laurel Crown, but actually, I did. In choosing
not
to win, I was intentionally agreeing to go where the Demon Council needed me to go. Yes, I desperately hoped it wouldn't be the New Babylon Gaol, working for the horrid Adikia, Patron Demon of Abuse, Injustice, and Oppression, but I guess if that's where Karanos really needed me to go . . . well, I'd make the best of it and figure something out. After all, hadn't I figured it out with respect to the White Heart?

So, even before I felt the other racer approach, I'd made my decision. I wasn't going to collect the prize. I'd earned it, but someone else could have it. I didn't want it.

The second racer to make it to Timothy's Square was only minutes behind me—Tiberius Charnockite. From what I knew of him, he was good and honorable. If I had to lose to someone, he would do. I watched as Charnockite walked into the square from the southeast. On his arm was a woman with arresting beauty (wide-set eyes, high cheekbones, full lips, and an even fuller figure), semi-scandalous clothing (a rich-looking cobalt-colored robe draped over a jewel-adorned chemise paired with thigh-high satin boots and a whimsical three-cornered hat), and a haughty, almost amused look on her face. Her hands were tied behind her back and yet she walked into the square as if onto a stage.

Gou Nan Jounen An.
Charnockite's target. Somehow he'd managed to track down and capture the Hyrke double agent who had been on the Council's “Most Wanted” list since 1997.

When Charnockite reached the lamppost upon which the Laurel Crown had been hung, he jumped victoriously into the air and snatched it from its perch. Because he hadn't cloaked his signature, he was then immediately surrounded by a wave of other students alerted to his presence by the other two waning magic users in the square. Whoops and hollers, cheers and shouts erupted. I knew Nova and I would be discovered any minute. And I did not want to be discovered with the White Heart.

Very slowly, we crept back through the alley and away from the square. Just before I turned toward Bradbury in the distance, I felt an emotion in a signature I'd never felt before.

Tranquility.

Ari had once told me that waning magic users often experience tranquility in the presence of their family members. I looked around the alley.

Was Karanos here? I'd never felt his signature before, why now?

It didn't matter. I couldn't see him and I had to get away. The crowning of a new Laureate would mean a huge gathering in Timothy's Square tonight. The farther away I could get from here, the better.

Chapter 28

O
rdinarily, I would have taken a cab from St. Luck's to Bradbury, but obviously Nova wouldn't fit in a cab, and even if she did, it would take too much time to find a cabdriver willing to take her. And it wasn't as if walking was foreign to me. That's all I'd been doing for the past two weeks or so. Luckily, Rafe's cloaking spell held out until midafternoon, which was when we finally arrived at the doorstep of the Carmine residence in Bradbury.

I hadn't been here since Beltane Break my first semester. At the time, I'd been brought in unconscious because my demon client had tried to kill me. After I'd recovered, I'd still been reluctant to use my magic in any way, even to light a celebratory bonfire. It was hard to imagine now.

I knocked on the door, hoping that Joy was home. I knew Steve, Ari's father, would be down at the docks, and Matt, his younger brother, would be away at school, but as conspicuous as Nova and I were now that Rafe's spell had worn off, I didn't relish hanging out on Joy's stoop waiting for her if she wasn't home. Thankfully, a few moments later, the door opened.

Joy stood there in canvas pants and an orange-, purple-, and red-striped sweater. Her white hair was tied back and small rubelite earrings dangled from her ears. Her gaze swept over my sunburned face, the sword between my pack and my back, and the barghest sitting on the sidewalk next to me. Nova's tongue hung out of her mouth as she panted beside me, her breath puffing in and out like smoke. She licked her lips, grimaced, and stood up. Anyone else not used to seeing such a beast surely would have fled.

“The barghest I did not
see
,” Joy said with a slightly bemused look on her face. She glanced up and down the street to see if anyone else was watching. “Would she like to wait out back while we talk? I don't think she'll fit through the doorway.”

I smiled my thanks and led Nova down the narrow sidewalk in between the Carmines' house and their neighbor's. Their backyard was smaller than the servant's dining room at the Onyx estate—Nova would take up at least a quarter of it—but it was a safe area for her to wait in while I went inside and spoke with Joy.

The Carmines' kitchen hadn't changed since I'd been here last. There was a scarred but polished wooden table in its center with matching benches and a cheerful table runner along its top. A cast-iron stove with all sorts of copper pots hanging above it stood in one corner, and in the opposite a desk surrounded by built-in shelves packed with recipe books. I tensed slightly upon entering the house, unconsciously preparing for Ari's presence. But the room was empty and I sensed the rest of the house was too.

Joy shut the back door and turned to me.

I stood stiffly before her, clad in everything I'd been traveling with—the heavy cloak, the pack, and the sword. It all felt beyond heavy now and I couldn't wait to be rid of it. I pulled the sword out from behind my back and laid it on the table. Joy walked over to it and stared.

“What's wrong with it?” she said.

“How do you know there's something wrong with it?” I asked. “I thought you didn't have any magic.”
Well, except for that bit about being
immune
to magic and
seeing
things. But why mention that?

“I don't have any magic,” she said. “But that doesn't mean I can't feel magic. Or its absence.”

Oh.
I cleared my throat. I had intended to tell her the truth anyway. It was just that I thought I'd be able to lead up to the truth slowly. Apparently not.

“The White Heart's magic is gone. This is the sword that Kaspar Bialas hid, but it's no longer the famed
Album Cor Iustitiae
.”

I told Joy everything then. All of it. Except for the part about Rafe, which was none of her business anyway. I shed my cloak and my pack and slid onto a bench. Joy poured mugs of beer for us and then sat across from me, patiently listening as I told her the story of how I broke into Hell. She asked few questions, but expressed myriad emotions. And then she stopped me right after I'd told her I'd used Aurelia's gardening scythe to free the
mortem animae
from their curse. She was relieved to hear it but then said abruptly:

“I don't want to hear anymore.”

I frowned. “Don't you want to know how the White Heart lost its magic?”

“No,” she said emphatically. “I didn't see that and I don't want to hear about it either. It's safer that way. All that matters is that
you
know how the sword lost its magic. Because that means you can put it back.”

I opened my mouth to argue—
aside from the fact that I never wanted to take a trip to Tartarus again, where would I get another iron arrow tip that had been: (1) cursed with the
Suffoca Ignem
curse; (2) shot almost directly into my heart; and then (3) removed by someone skilled enough to remove it without killing me?
—but the look on Joy's face prevented it.

She really did
not
want to know.

“Do you still have the box of letters from Kaspar Bialas?” she asked.

I nodded and pulled them out of my pack. Joy reached across the table, picked up the box, and took out the letters. When she only found three, she looked up at me, clearly questioning where the fourth letter—the one from Ari—was. I looked sheepish for a moment and then my expression hardened. Why should I feel guilty?

“I burned it.”

Joy gave me an undecipherable look.

“Then you can burn these too.”

“What?” I said, mildly alarmed. “Why would I do that?” I wasn't about to become an Angel archeologist but even I could appreciate the historical and sentimental value these letters had.

“Perennial magic works like a switch,” she said.

Huh. Aurelia had said the same thing.

“Yeah, something like that,” I agreed.

You turn it on; you turn it off.

“Read the last line of Kaspar's third letter again, Noon.”

I unfolded the letters and found the line she was referring to.

The sole reason I don't burn these letters is that they are the thread that holds the sword suspended . . .

“If you don't burn them, I will,” Joy threatened.

Luck below, had Joy Carmine and Aurelia Onyx been having lunch together while I was out battling metal monsters and fire-breathing ice demons?

I wasn't going to force her to get up and get a match. They were her letters. Hell, it was her sword. That's why I'd come back here. I shrugged and burned them. It was as easy for me as blinking. In less time than it took to say
red, orange, yellow
they were gone, ashes and all.

Joy smiled and then said:

“You
were
the White Heart hunter. Now you are its keeper.
You
are the thread that holds the sword suspended now.”

I stared at Joy feeling all manner of emotions, although mostly I felt that I'd been tricked and that what Joy was asking me to take on was too weighty, too extreme, just too
everything
. But then she got up, unsheathed the White Heart, and set the scabbard on the table. She walked over to a small door in the hallway we'd walked down earlier and opened it. Behind the door was an ordinary closet. And then she slipped the sword into an umbrella stand.

An umbrella stand.

I glanced back and forth between her and the scabbard, getting angry.

“Was anything to do with the sword ever real?” I asked, my throat tight, my magic tighter, and my voice hoarse.

“All of it was. And is still. But since the White Heart's magic is absent, hiding it in plain sight will raise less suspicion here than building a strong room for it, don't you think?” When I didn't answer what was obviously a rhetorical question she said, “Take the scabbard and give it to the Divinity. They'll make a fuss, but believe me, most of them will back down when they see how valuable the treasure you've brought them is.”

“Most of them? I'll bet I can guess who won't back down or stop searching for the sword this scabbard was made for.” And, oddly, it wasn't Friedrich, the person who'd been the most incensed about my destroying the statue of Justica last semester. I had a feeling Friedrich would consider the scabbard fair reparations.

But Valda wouldn't.

“The Amanita and the Bialases have been at odds for centuries. And, if all goes well, we will continue to be at odds for centuries more.”

“You're not really going to keep the sword in an umbrella stand, are you?”

“No,
you
are.” And then she laughed and clinked mugs with me, looking as if all her cares in the world had been lifted, whereas I groaned inwardly, clinked mugs with her, and refused to be baited.

I left soon after. Before fetching Nova from the backyard, however, I did ask Joy one final question.

“Do you know where Ari is?”

She nodded and then told me.

“He's the new Demon Patron of Rockthorn Gorge.”

*   *   *

I
n a way, I was glad Nova and I had to walk all the way back to St. Luck's. Because that gave me lots of time to think.
The Demon Patron of Rockthorn Gorge, huh?
So that meant that Ari was one of the demons who had offered me a residency position for next year. He was the one who was trying to build the hydroelectric dam—the one who wanted to meet with me before I accepted his offer so that he could outline the project particulars, the
rogare
threat, and
other matters that might affect my desire to accept his offer
.

I swear, if I didn't know how painful growing in a new tooth was, I would have cracked a molar right then and there. But by the time I made it back to Timothy's Square, I'd calmed down. Obviously, Ari had meant to tell me who he was and what he was up to before I accepted the position. That's why he'd made the offer conditional upon meeting me first. Karanos had said that, if I didn't win the Laurel Crown, I'd likely be placed in a residency with one of the two demon patrons who had made me an offer: Adikia, the Patron Demon of Abuse, Injustice, and Oppression, who'd wanted me to help her torture
rogare
prisoners at the New Babylon Gaol, and the heretofore unnamed Demon Patron of Rockthorn Gorge. So the only two questions now were:

1. Which residency would Karanos place me in next year?

2. If it was Rockthorn Gorge, what would I say?

*   *   *

T
he impromptu coronation celebration was well under way when Nova and I stepped into the square. As it had during the Festival of Frivolity, Timothy's Square now boasted numerous tents and vendor kiosks, as well as a large bonfire off to one side. The snow demons were missing though, although I couldn't say I was sorry about that. I'd had enough of snow and ice demons for a while. Lit up by the moon, the fire, and the lampposts, the gently falling snow served as a sparkling, silent backdrop for the denser, more boisterous human elements that were present in the square. At least a hundred students milled about, eating, drinking, shouting, and singing. Of course all of it stopped when I showed up with Nova in tow.

I had to admit, especially since I hadn't won and couldn't revel in any victor's glory, that it was more than a little satisfying when the crowds parted for me. I could tell from their faces that they were giving way out of respect, admiration, and possibly even awe, but not fear. These were my classmates. They knew me, if not personally, then at least by reputation. The fact that none of them ran when I brought a barghest with me into Timothy's Square was a huge compliment to me, and I suddenly wished I could buy them all a beer.

But first things first.

It wasn't hard to locate Karanos, Friedrich, and Valda. They were seated at a table on a raised dais overlooking the square, literally above it all. I walked up to the dais, snapped at Nova to indicate she should stay put, and then ascended the stairs. I gave my father a short bow and nodded at Friedrich and Valda, who sat to his right and left, respectively. I'd no sooner thought how odd it must look that I'd shown up without the Guardian I'd fought so hard for when Rafe bounded up the stairs and stood next to me. He too gave a short bow to Karanos, a nod to the Angels, and then grinned at me. I grinned back.

Karanos' signature was cloaked, and it wasn't as if his face was full of emotion, but he nodded back and his expression was tinged with approval, possibly even pride. I stepped forward and placed the scabbard on the table in front of him. Friedrich and Valda leaned toward it. Friedrich's eyes twinkled and Valda's narrowed.

“That's just a fancy scabbard,” she said. “Where is the sword? Where is your target,
Album Cor Iustitiae
?”

“
Album Cor Iustitiae
is no more,” I said with a clear conscience. I'd perfected the art of tempering the truth for good cause at the end of my last assignment, although I hoped it wouldn't become a habit for me. I then proceeded to tell them a shortened version of everything I'd just told Joy, including the fact that Brunus and Peter were the ones responsible for shooting me in the chest with the arrow that almost killed me—the arrow that had been cursed with a
Suffoca Ignem
curse. Their reactions to that were gratifying. Even Valda seemed surprised. And then I told them about the perennial magic spell I'd used to defeat Orcus.
Tempus edax rerum.
Time devours all things.
Etiam eorum qui vivificarentur per magicas perennis.
Even those kept alive through perennial magic.
But I told them the White Heart disappeared along with Orcus and that all that was left was the scabbard. Valda seemed unconvinced.