Chapter 9
MERI
M eri walked through the great doors of the Noviodunam compound on Gallmau’s arm.
Her friend cleaned up rather nicely, as it turned out.
He wore an emerald-green brocade vest under a black silk jacket with a high collar, and she caught more than a few admiring glances thrown in his direction.
If she hadn’t been so on edge about entering a compound full of witches, she might have found the pining looks amusing.
Meri also liked her own outfit, made in the Continental style of a corseted waist over a wide skirt, as opposed to the tunic and loose trousers favored in the harem.
She did have a pair of those pants underneath, in case she ran into a serious fight.
The satin fabric of the dress fell in stiff folds that looked like molten gold, and the wide sleeves flared at her elbows.
She was thin enough—despite her boundless appetite, her speed ability meant she would never have a lush figure—that the laced-up bodice wasn’t confining.
Best of all were the special pockets sewn into the back of the dress, which concealed her two sword blades while their elaborate pommels served as a dramatic feature of the dress itself.
The queen had sent a small army of maids and seamstresses to Meri’s spacious guest rooms to help her dress for the event, and the women had worked wonders in a short period of time.
As the Noviodunam had official status as a separate state, only two royal guards had accompanied Queen Xiaolian when she entered through the massive scarlet gates ahead of them.
Sorcerers dressed in robes with the colors corresponding to their magical affinity lined each side of the pathway leading from the gates toward the Palais de Feu.
Meri had learned the domed building housed the Synod meeting chamber, along with various other offices, and even a ballroom, where the party to honor those who had come to help Soissons during this crisis was being held.
The pathway was well lit, both with electromantic lanterns—orbs of crackling white, like lightning imprisoned in small spheres—and incensori torches featuring flowing molten fire.
She had seen such melding of engineering and magic before, but never in such extravagant quantities.
The Noviodunam itself made this display easy to put on.
Like all the centers of magical education and administration throughout the world, it had been built around a Witch Stone, like the one Karabil and Tharin had died next to.
The Noviodunam’s Witch Stone—Meri refused to call it an Artifact—particularly enhanced fire magic, much as the one in the university for witches in her home city of Abdju amplified the water magic of aquamancy.
The scent of magic was everywhere. Meri had to try and block it out—the clean, sharp smell of electricity from fulgari sorcerers wearing amber and silver, and whiffs of sulfur from their red-and-black fire mage colleagues.
This much witchcraft, so close and powerful, sent a rush of panic through her strong enough to make her light-headed.
She waited for her curse to strike, for the agony in her back to start up again, but she felt only a crawling sensation between her shoulder blades from the undead necromancer who lurked there.
Afraid of your enemies’ magic?
If her dead foe could understand her mocking thoughts, he gave no sign.
Meri knew her show of bravado was meaningless.
Zhang Jue, the Sorcier du Roi she had reluctantly agreed to see about the Bone Lord who possessed her, had been murdered before she and Gallmau could even ask for his help.
Her curse had struck in the middle of her fight with the Death Hounds and only Gallmau’s quick intervention had saved her.
And the three years of life she had been told she had left were coming to an end.
But this wasn’t the time to let a choking sense of dread overcome her.
Even if the chances of ridding herself of the curse were now slim, she had work to do.
She had promised the Queen, and more importantly, Gallmau, that she would do everything in her power to save Rixende.
Her confident appearance at the Noviodunam was the first step.
She breathed in and out, forcing herself to keep her head high and an enigmatic smile on her face as she and Gallmau came closer to the Palais de Feu.
As they approached the stone steps leading up to the columned exterior of the building, a man dressed much like Gallmau, but in colors of scarlet and charcoal, approached them.
A silk scarf outlined with gold sigils hung over his courtier’s outfit, but the aroma of wood smoke around him already told Meri the man was an incensor.
“Good evening, Monsieur de Rohan.” The fire witch was tall, with dark blonde hair and pale eyes.
His accent and mannerisms marked him as an aristocrat who happened to be born with magical talents, and Meri had already guessed his name without Gallmau confirming it.
“I’m sorry you were out when I called upon you earlier this evening. ”
“You’re awfully formal tonight, Jacques.” Gallmau gave Meri a ‘this is the asshole I was telling you about’ look. “Since we’re all pretending to be polite, allow me to introduce Mademoiselle Meritamun d’Abdju.”
“The lady’s reputation precedes her.” Jacques Collin de Plancy added cold derision to his words, as if he didn’t expect Meri to even understand Soissons, much less grasp the insult.
“As does yours, monsieur, or magus, if you prefer.” Meri’s command of the Soissons language was near flawless, thanks to years of instruction in the Sultana’s harem, and she enjoyed watching Jacques stiffen at her retort.
She had little patience for spoiled nobles in general, and for snooty witches in particular.
“I’ve heard you’ve already accosted Magus Valentina in the palace.” Jacques studied her for a moment, biting down on his lower lip. “I trust you’re aware you accept a magical contract to behave nonviolently while you’re inside the Noviodunam.”
“I’m usually quite peaceable, monsieur.” Meri didn’t stop smiling, even if she felt like shoving one of her stilettos between his ribs. “Except when witches such as yourself don’t act the same toward me. Alas, that has already been the case since I’ve entered your fair country.”
“You were attacked by necromancers near a maladanti Artifact.” The outrage in Jacques’s voice indicated how touchy he was about being compared to those who practiced the wrong kind of magic.
He gave up on the verbal battle with Meri and turned to Gallmau.
“I need to know what happened. The Queen is not willing to divulge anything, and I have little to go on but the gossip of soldiers. You’d be doing yourself a favor by giving me information that could keep us all safe. ”
“I’ll be doing myself a favor by having a cider and not talking to you at all.” Gallmau steered Meri away from the incensor and up the stairs.
“It was Sinan of Karakoncolos, wasn’t it?” Jacques shouted the question at their backs. Gallmau kept going, but Meri turned her head to see the fire mage shaking, his facade of diplomacy slipping away. “The Prince of Shadows is in Soissons.”
They both fell silent for the rest of their walk into the Palais de Feu as the implications of Jacques’s words sunk in.
Sinan wasn’t only a powerful necromancer who had fought off an assassin from the Order of Katil, then left them disarmed and helpless.
He was the Prince of Shadows, the Bone Lord whose mere name evoked panic from regular people and witches alike.
Gallmau spoke first, breaking the tension as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “That was the best put-down of Jacques I’ve seen since Valentina threw a glass of wine in his face when he broke off their engagement.”
Jokes about her verbal sparring with the incensor were all well and good, but Meri needed to know more about Sinan and why he was here. The necromancer’s words—“ I’d assumed you and the prince of Soissons were here for the same crisis that prompted my visit ”—came back to her.
“Even the Prince of Shadows can’t take on the entire Noviodunam.
” She turned over the events of the violent confrontation on the road to Lutecia in her mind, trying to understand why the most notorious Bone Lord in the world had let her and Gallmau live, then joined his undead necromancer mother in funeral rites for Tharin and Karabil.
“Why would Sinan risk coming to Soissons, if the city of monsters is behind the abduction?”
“I suppose he’s the best death witch they have in Karakoncolos, so they picked him.” Gallmau frowned, as if a thought had occurred to him. “Is Sinan really a necromancer prince, do you think?”
Her friend, sweet though he was, was as hopelessly focused on royal lineage as the other Continentals Meri had encountered.
For her part, she didn’t think much of kings or queens, or for that matter, even sultans or sultanas.
Being born into money and power wasn’t particularly difficult.
Holding on to it, on the other hand, was an impressive skill.
That was one reason Meri did respect her Sultana.
They stepped through a smaller set of doors into the ballroom, and Meri stopped wondering if Bone Lords had their own royalty or favored the anarchy espoused by radicals and freethinkers.
It was quite the display.