33
“Myria. Quickly.”
Lysander pressed his hands atop hers on the thrumming box, and her mind plunged down into a different world—a world of blazing copper-red, where streaks of power dashed about like sprites.
They chittered with something close to human voices, flashed with the mirage-like hint of human faces.
Silvery gossamer sheets floated at the edges of her vision.
She flinched, fighting to make sense of what she saw.
Then Lysander’s turquoise power came flitting in about her like a needle drawing stitches. Focus, came his voice. Think of them. Find them.
All of a sudden, she was careening down lanes spun of copper light, sifting through the sprites that bounced madly around her. An amber spark dashed by, and she heard the edge of Leo’s voice. She snatched it without thinking.
Something warm and honeyed dashed up through her hand into her blood. She called her friend’s name and reached out. His hand closed around hers. The power flooded from her fingertips and into his.
She ricocheted on down the alleys, then crashed into a coal-black blaze. She felt Cassia and caught on hard. The arcana bolted through her, and a second hand took hers.
Then, she reached the edge and ran headlong into that wavering wall of silver sheets. The turquoise dashed around her. The needle weaved back and forth, binding her to the light. She recognized the touch of it a moment later.
The silver lining.
It turned solid in her mind’s eye, like curtains she could draw at will, and if she threw them open—
She fell back to the world and landed with a soft oh on the stone. It took her reeling wits a good half minute to follow her. When they did, she found Lysander at her elbow and the others clustered anxiously around her. Cassia held the shattered remnants of a glass sphere in her hands.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. Against all reason, laughter bubbled up inside Myria like shaken champagne.
“Pantheon above, you look like you just crashed a Cordilon Seraph,” she said breathlessly, giving her friend an unsteady pat on the shoulder. “I’ll live. Excellent timing, Leo.”
“Are you alri—”
“Blossoming. Did it work?”
Cassia set down the broken glass, slid her hands into her hair and tugged. A hesitant smile spread across her face, before she turned her curls a shocking white.
Leo cleared his throat, then hummed an arpeggio. Myria raised her eyebrows to hear a lovely tenor, rich and smooth as honey. He smiled in pure self-satisfaction at the sound.
That? she thought incredulously. That’s what Vixius took?
Cassia scoffed and poked her friend in the chest.
“You silly blighter, why didn’t you just say what he’d nicked?” she exclaimed.
“Because we’d mock him for it till the end of time?” Myria suggested. Cassia shrugged, nodded fairly, then crouched beside Vixius’s body and reached inside his coat.
“What’re you doing?” Leo asked, edging back in evident distaste.
“Checking he’s dead!”
“Checking his pockets, more like.”
Lysander eyed the corpse impassively. She fancied he was etching the sight into his memory. Leo nudged the body with the toe of his boot.
“So much for leaving him regretting what he did to us for a damn sight longer than it takes to bleed to death,” he said.
A wry smile crossed Myria’s face.
“Mmm.” She looked at the shattered remnants of the sphere. “Still, you can’t have everything.”
Then, Felix pricked up like a hound catching a scent.
“Myria. She’s coming.”
“Gloriana? Perfect timing,” said Myria, coming to her feet and sweeping up the box. “Leo, if you please . . .”
“Of course,” said Leo, still grinning himself silly at the sound of his own voice. He slashed the air, took the box and thrust it into the silver lining. Lysander set down the simulacrum in its place.
“Now, Ly, make that poxing device secure. Leo, Cass . . . the crowds up there are properly stirred up. Set ’em ablaze, won’t you? As we discussed.”
“With pleasure,” Leo said, then offered Cassia his arm. With that, the three of them slipped into the silver lining. Not a moment later, the door crashed open.
Felix stepped into place as the centurion came storming in. She pulled up short at the sight of him. Her eyes flicked to Vixius’s body, and her mouth fell open by a fraction.
“Aurelias, what . . .” she began, then summarized the question with a violent gesture to the scene.
“Change of plans, ma’am,” he said. “Is that the prefecture I hear?”
“You know, I think it is,” said Myria, coming to his side.
There was no time for Valora’s confusion to turn to suspicion before a dozen officers of the law marched in, a rank of Praetorium guards on their heels. A smallish birdlike man took up the head. He strode to meet Felix, sizing up the corpse as he went.
“Aurelias. I read your message. Would I be a dullard if I asked what the devil’s happening? The guards say they saw Praetor Evander down here.”
“Commissioner Regis. Thank you for coming,” said Felix. “The truth is, I’m afraid no one’s seen the praetor for a long while. He’s been dead for three years. That man there”—he gestured to Vixius’s corpse—“is . . . or, rather, was the arcani who stole his face.”
“I see,” said Regis, frowning at the body. “Well . . . no, I don’t. What’s going on?”
“What’s going on, sir, is that Prima Gloriana uncovered one of the gravest threats Carintheum’s seen this century,” said Myria, sweeping forward. She heard a noise from the centurion, swiftly stifled. She looked at the woman and drew a smile like a saber.
Come on, old girl, cotton on, she thought, a cool, hard message in her eyes. Wouldn’t want to miss the wind of opportunity.
And there—the sails angled to the breeze. Gloriana inclined her head, and Myria turned back to the deputy commissioner.
“Miss Juventa, sir. The centurion’s special investigator,” she added.
“You know her, Aurelias?” said Regis, frowning at his junior. Felix nodded solemnly.
“Yes, sir. We’ve been working on a crime together.”
Myria suppressed a snort. Well done, old boy, she thought, delighted at the double meaning.
“Perhaps you’ve heard of a man named Vixius,” she went on. “The fifth lord of the grayside.”
“The fifth—” Regis began in high alarm, then cut himself short. “Yes, I have. That’s him?”
“Show the corpse to any of the more notorious graysiders in Haideum, and they’ll confirm it.”
The man strode to the body and crouched down. His quick eyes flicked between the knife, the blood and the box. He ran a hand through the air above the device.
“I say. This looks familiar. That’s never . . .”
“The depraedeon,” said Felix. “From the Elysius Vault.”
“Pantheon above,” Regis murmured. Myria almost smiled as she saw the puzzle pieces snapping together in his mind. “He used it to steal Evander’s face?”
“Not long after the theft. I’m afraid there’s a great deal to explain. He came to our attention when he broke into Haideum Castle and took that thericist.”
“Arkadios? From the Elysius theft?” asked Regis, looking to the centurion. “I see. Though I must confess, ma’am, I’m surprised you’re involved. It’s a prefecture matter.”
“The lord of the grayside?” Gloriana frowned. “I think not. It called for the Arcani Corps, and nothing less.”
Well done, Myria thought with an inner smirk.
“Well, it looks as though he had a therical job for the man,” Regis went on, turning back to the box. “What did he do? Wire it into the generators?”
“A last resort, I gather, in case he lost the election,” said Myria. “It’d drain the Praetorium’s protections, leaving the graysiders free to break in and kill Valorus. We defused it. It’s safe to impound.”
“Excellent,” he said, fingertips hovering a hair above the device. “And Arkadios?”
“Dealt with. He was under a dominius curse. Same as everyone at the Elysius Vault, it turns out. It’s a damn shame we didn’t know about it sooner.”
“But that was all therically analyzed at the time. They didn’t find enough evidence for a dominius defense.”
“No, indeed,” she sighed, patting the box. “Courtesy of this old thing. It extracts arcanic power. I expect he used it to obliterate the trace, so it wouldn’t lead back to him. The Magister-General’s looking into it.”
“He’s going to be a busy fellow,” Regis muttered, rising with a crack of knee joints. “Well, well. I appreciate you stopping him, but best you leave. The prefecture ought to handle it from here.” He added a quick nod to the centurion. “With respect, ma’am.”
“Of course,” said Gloriana, stepping between Myria and Felix. “Come. We’ve much to discuss.”
The centurion set hands as strong as shackles on their shoulders, then pressed them through the crowd of guards and prefects. In moments, Gloriana was marching them down the corridors as if she were driving them to the gallows.
If the centurion had meant to blast them to ash the moment they were out of sight, though, she was thwarted.
The lower corridors were swarming with guards.
The arrival of a score of men in uniform must’ve caused a stir, too, for a rank of revelers had gathered at the top of the stairs.
They craned around the prefecture cordon to watch, clamoring and pointing.
The moment Gloriana swept into view, a mighty cheer went up.
“She caught him! Did you hear?”
“The master of the grayside!”
“Pantheon above, they say he murdered Evander!”
“Three years ago? How could he have managed it?”
Well, Cassia and Leo had made quick work of that. The crowds hustled close about them as they crossed the public halls. The centurion’s grip tightened on her shoulder.
“What’s going on?” said Gloriana, low and hostile. Myria answered with a sunny smile.
“Never happy, are you? Vixius dead, and listen to them! Practically cheering you on.”
“If you so much as think of exposing my part in this—”
“Betraying you? Wouldn’t dream of it. We defeated the blighter, and you get all the credit. Just the way you like it.”
“Miss Cadessa, I think we need to speak in private.”