26 #3
“Good. The flames broke the curses,” he murmured, levering up the lid. “Contents . . . untouched. Protected by the emberyn.”
“Right, then!” said Cassia. “Gloves on. Start unloading.”
Felix watched in growing amazement as they emptied the chests.
Some of them were full of treasures any fool could recognize—gold and jewels, the fruits of the numberless vaults emptied by the master of the grayside.
Others were stranger: a violin, eldritch twists of metal, hourglasses filled with blood and spindly skeletons of long-dead creatures.
Then, Cassia let out a low whistle, and they all turned.
“Got it,” she said, marching to the workbench.
She set down a brass box inlaid with clockwork wheels, about a foot across.
Leo kept his distance, eyeing the thing like a wild beast that might break its bonds at any moment.
Cassia gave it a filthy look. Only Lysander leaned closer, donning his spectacles and examining it with fascinated eyes.
“Well, well, Myria, you crafty devil,” he murmured, then glanced to his friends. “Best keep watch, you two. Don’t want Aurelias coming back too soon and wondering where we’ve got to. I’ll set to work.”
They nodded, and Leo drew his quill. He watched the box sidelong until they were through the gateway.
The spell blinked out. Felix plunged back to the surface, staggering slightly as his mind emerged into the cupboard.
What was all that about? he thought. Of all the treasures they’d taken from Vixius, why had they fixed on that dull-looking box? Stranger still, why had they tried to hide it, when Gloriana had already said they could keep whatever they stole?
Knowing that lot, there was no innocent reason. He closed his eyes, imprinting the image of the box on his memory. Gloriana would need to know.
And it’s time you told her.
He checked that the corridor was clear, then hastened for the servants’ door.
If there was an edge of uncertainty in his mind—of guilt—he ignored it.
They’d stolen half the treasures of the grayside.
Goodness knew what dangers lay in that hoard.
He couldn’t leave it in the hands of a pack of criminals.
Not even if you’re starting to like them.
Your first loyalty’s to Carintheum, his mind shot back. To the centurion.
But is she loyal to you?
There’s an explanation. You know there is. You have to tell her everything.
Quietly, firmly, Felix closed the gates to his mind. He had his orders. His duty. He raised his head and set off to the north.
“I know what it is.”
Gloriana lifted her fingers from his temples and stepped back. Her face was set, but her eyes were lit with a battle-horse gleam. She turned to her desk and whipped a scroll from the drawer.
“There,” she said. “That’s what I saw in your head.”
“That’s it,” said Felix, gazing down at a sketch of the box. “Do the records say what it is?”
“They called it the depraedeon. The army took it during the sacking of Eremus Magna. Asara, as it was back then, in Isra.”
She frowned at the illustration and drummed her fingers on the desk.
“They never gave it more than superficial study. They couldn’t unlock it. It seems it won’t work until it’s bonded to a single master, after which it won’t answer to anyone else. None of them dared try it, so they moved on to something else, and . . . well, out of sight, out of mind.”
“But the name’s enough,” Felix murmured. “Depraedeon. Ancient Carinth for plunderer. I’d bet my casting hand it plunders magic.”
The pieces slid together in his mind. It was just as they’d speculated. Vixius had stolen a device from the Elysius Vault that could transfer arcanic power—and now, Myria had stolen it back.
“Yes. You were right,” said Gloriana. “This must be how Vixius controls that . . . silver lining, did you call it? Pantheon above, it’s probably how he stole Evander’s identity. Just imagine. He could take the powers of a mementori, a warrior . . .”
Or a mercurial, he thought distantly. That’s how he took Cassia’s powers.
“Did they say what they mean to do with it?” the centurion went on.
Unease coiled in his gut. Oh, he could well imagine. Steal back Cassia’s mercuria. Rip every drop of arcana from Vixius’s corpse. Take their revenge.
But then, without quite knowing why, he shook his head. The centurion nodded slowly and set her hands on the desk.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “We’ll take it. Damned thing is, I can’t do it myself. Cross them, and I break the vow.”
The vow. What does it count for?
“You could try it,” he said impassively, watching for her reaction from the corner of his eye. Her raised eyebrow was answer enough.
A jest. Beyond the pale. It set a scaffold around his swaying spirit.
“Could you steal it?” she asked. “If it’s in this silver lining, could you force your way back in?”
And there it was. Not an order, not quite yet, but it would be in half a minute. Could he do it? Take away Myria’s means of revenge? Destroy Cassia’s chance of regaining her powers—and that, when Myria had finally, finally given him the hope of regaining his own?
Don’t be a fool, a hard voice answered in his mind. A weapon like that could topple Carintheum. You can’t leave it with a pack of grayside criminals.
His conscience cramped. Then, duty took its old grip about his throat. He steeled himself and spoke.
“Perhaps,” he said. “They’ll have closed the gateway in the Claritas, but the one we took the phaeton through this morning . . . in the rush, I don’t think their silverwalker sealed it.”
“Silverwalker? Listen to you. Graysider in training,” Gloriana chuckled. “Well, that’ll do, to begin with. We’ll secure the rest of the hoard later.”
“Of course,” said Felix. “If I might ask, though, ma’am, what do you mean to do with the depraedeon?”
“Not hand it over to the Ministry of War,” she said with a shrewd expression. “Pantheon knows what those splitwits would do with it. No . . . if it does what we think, I’ve a mind to cut this Vixius back down to size, then lay it by for study.”
Study. A week ago, he’d have believed it, but now . . .
She stole a reputation for unfathomable power. Give her that box, and she could make it real.
Quiet.
What if she knew about the depraedeon all along? Guessed that Vixius had it? Perhaps that’s why she leapt at the chance to bring him down . . .
Felix flinched and severed the reel of awful thoughts. Whatever Gloriana did with the depraedeon, surely it was better in her hands than Myria’s.
“Of course,” he managed to say. “We’ll need a replacement, though, or they’ll know.”
“Yes. Come here.”
She put two fingers to his left temple. Silver arcana flowed from her other hand, flooding into the shape of a box poured straight from his memories. Moments later, a flawless replica sat on the table before him.
“A good likeness?” she asked, taking it up and turning it in the light.
“Perfect.”
“Excellent. Tell them to report to me tomorrow evening, then. I’ll be with my brother at the election debates, so it’ll get them out of the way while you’re at work.”
She conjured a sack and thrust the box inside. When she drew the cord at the neck, the package shrunk with every inch she pulled, until it was small enough to fit in his pocket.
“Here,” she said. “As for the rest . . . once the news breaks that Evander’s been robbed, Cadessa ought to think that I’ll believe the work’s finished. We’ll release you from the vows as a parting gift. Then I’ll be free to act.”
Free to act. The words had an unpleasant aftertaste.
“Of course, ma’am,” he said, “but if any loose ends need snipping . . .”
“I wouldn’t prevail on you,” said Gloriana, setting a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’ve done a fine job, Felix Aurelias. Thank you.”
Something clunked unpleasantly inside him. Whatever the centurion meant to do to the thieves, she didn’t want him to see it.
They broke the law. They earned the penalty. They can’t run free, not after this . . .
“It’s my honor to serve, ma’am,” he said, offering her the Seventh Company salute. “Tomorrow night.”