Chapter 16 | Sephania
Sephania
“Before he . . .” My mother chokes back and tries again. “Endolf showed me how much silver to balance with the Loreblood, and the other properties involved in the tincture.”
We’ve left the main alchemical room and retreated to a smaller offshoot deeper into the labyrinth. I know it’s difficult for Jinneth to speak about Old Endolf, the surly old Grimson alchemist who met his end defending her against Alacine Mortis.
There was one-sided love Endolf felt toward my mother in their earlier years, before I was around. I’m not sure if my mother forswore all men after my drug-addled, gang-running father Lenaro died, or what transpired to make Jinneth seek the fairer sex.
Whatever the case, she found Keffa, she helped found the Chained Sisters, and now the Iron Sister and Jinneth share true love.
I see it in their eyes, and who am I to tell someone what love is supposed to look like?
I’m stomach-deep in numerous vampire cocks more often than I’d like to admit.
My mates aren’t exactly the model for true love.
Vallan and Garroway have been gone hours. I’ve eaten scraps with the Sisters, talked and reminisced with some of the younger crowd and senior women, and now Jinneth and I have had some alone time for the past hour.
My mother seems obsessed with the Silverblood elixir. I’m glad she has something to incite her ambitions. She’s hardly looked at me, working with her single hand to pour mercury and other foul smelling liquids into the small plate of melted silver and brown-red blood.
Shortly after eating, I provided the Chained Sisters with another offering of blood. Just a bit—not enough to make me woozy as the succor trickled from the cut on my forearm. While it drip-drip-dripped into the vial, Jinneth stared at it like it was liquid gold.
“More priceless than gold, certainly,” she said once I mentioned her bug-eyed stare.
Now she’s teaching me what Old Endolf taught her. I keep getting distracted, peering out the open door and down the drafty, dank hall, beginning to worry that Vallan and Garroway got into some trouble on the Floorboards.
Here, under the Floorboards, the Sisters live like rats packed together on a sinking ship. Kep provides them with occasional intelligence about what’s happening above, but they’re mostly kept in the dark. Literally.
No place for humans to be living.
Then again, I lived like this for years. Caged, taught to fight and fend for myself. If it wasn’t the House of the Broken, it was the Diplomats. If it wasn’t the Firehold, it was Sutlis Spire.
Antones has seemed to do well with the Grimsons, turning them into a pacifist enclave, so perhaps my judgment is wrong and humans don’t need sunlight after all.
“It takes much more silver than you’d think to get the right balance for the tincture,” Jinneth says, nodding along.
The mixed solution on the plate sizzles when my blood makes contact with the silver, coalescing until the liquid becomes a dirty brown color.
“Our stores are running low on not just Loreblood, dear, but also silver.”
“Hopefully Vall and Garro can help with that.” I worry my lip. “Speaking of, they’ve been gone quite a while, don’t you think?”
Jinneth chuckles and runs a gentle hand across the back of my arm.
“Those two bloodsuckers are my favorite of yours,” she says.
Because one of them isn’t even a full-fledged vampire, and you see how the other one works endlessly to protect me.
“They can take care of themselves. I’d be more worried with you out there. ”
My head tilts. I grew up here. Why would she be worried about me?
“Your small handsome friend. Rirth? He’s become quite . . . conceited in his efforts to quell the city of rotten scoundrels.”
Taking a seat and tossing my leg over my knee, I drum my thigh. “Conceited how, Mother?”
She winces as she sits, and I wonder if it’s the phantom pain from her missing hand, or the fact she doesn’t want to speak ill of my friends to my face and is embarrassed by what she must say.
“The Silverknights have grown in number and urgency. First it was the flesh-traders. Then it was the trading houses they raided and looted. Now it’s the Bronzes they fight, turning the city against their own protectors. ”
I bark a humorless laugh. “As if the Bronzes ever truly protected us. You know they’re a farce, kept on a leash by the forgotten council of this city and their overlords in Olhav.”
“Still. It’s not my place to get political with you—you are the young revolutionary, I am just an old bag. But if you could speak to your friend . . .”
Sighing, I lean my head back on the rickety seat. “If only Rirth still considered me his friend, perhaps I could. What would I say? He’s only doing what he thinks is right. It doesn’t sound like the people he’s targeting deserve his mercy.”
My mother’s face grows hard, her wobbling double-chin firming. “What of the citizens caught in the middle? The women and children who lose their husbands to Rirth’s reckless, lawless activities?”
I’m alarmed at her tone and the substance of what she’s suggesting. “Surely you can’t be saying he’s becoming the very wickedness he’s fighting against? Rirth has always had strong opinions and virtues, even when I knew him well in the Firehold. He wouldn’t betray himself.”
“All I’m saying, dear daughter, is the man needs a leash. Direction. Someone to guide him the right way.”
She leans forward. I start to pick up what she’s saying. Averting my gaze, I let out a huff of annoyance. “You think I can be that guide.”
“I’m telling you you can. And should.”
“And I’m telling you I can’t.” I stand from the seat abruptly, pacing to the other side of the small room so I don’t have to face my mother head-on.
With my hand gripping the back of the chair, I squeeze it hard.
“I don’t have control over Rirth or the Silverknights anymore than I have control over my own mates.
Besides, I have my own revolution to fight in Olhav. Cut the head off the snake.”
She doubles back, shaking her head furiously. “You do have control over your mates, Sephania. They see a guiding star in you. Rirth could be the same!”
Her loud words bounce off the walls and sit in the air, lingering once they’ve long spilled from her mouth.
Cautiously, my mother speaks while lifting one of the murky Silverblood vials, until we’re both looking at it.
“This is your control, whether you want it or not. This is the means to end the conflicts at both ends of the Olhavian Peaks. It will break the binds that keep thralls under their vampire masters. And it will be done without affecting you.”
Her words make me nervous. “If it works. There’s still a hefty trial period to embark upon before we can say the Silverblood is the battle-changer we think it is.”
“Which is why I’m glad you’re here, daughter.” Jinneth stands and heads for the door, glancing over her shoulder in the hope I’ll follow. “Because we have our first willing test subject, and I’d like you to observe the healing so you can give us insight.”
When she leaves the room, I begrudgingly follow.
My curiosity won’t let me do otherwise. Shuffling up beside her as she marches down the dark hall, I ask, “Who do you have in mind? One of the Chained Sisters?” There’s a hint of alarm to my voice.
Don’t destroy your own people for the sake of a “test,” Mother. It’s not worth the potential heartache.
“A particular vampiress, yes.” We come to another room and she gently pushes open the door. In a lower voice, Jinneth says, “She’s become even more erratic and strange than when you left.”
Inside, Sister Cyprilis sits on a small bed, staring at the stone wall like it’s a prison cell keeping her trapped. But my mother didn’t undo any locks to get in here. Cy has always been free to leave the Chained Sisters.
The girl I grew up with in the House of the Broken, under Father Cullard’s misguided hand, has a blank expression in her red eyes when she turns to me, like she’s been entranced by something not of this world.
She is as skinny and veiny as ever, putting on the appearance of someone who is halfway to death’s door. Again.
Jinneth stays near the door. She lets me pass her and holds a hand out. “Cyprilis, dear? Surely you remember Sephania, your friend?”
“Is it you, Mistress?” the girl creaks through chattering teeth. There’s something diabolical about the expression on her haunted face. She was turned only months ago, has lost three children, and has since referred to me as “Mistress” after sipping my Loreblood.
“Hello, Cy,” I say with a warm smile, entering the room with my shoulders raised high. “Is what me?”
“Did you find my children? Did you steal them from me, Mistress?” She chuckles to herself, shaking her head. “I know you would never do something like that. But the voices . . . they’re telling me not to trust you.”
I glance at Jinneth with a worried expression. My look says, She truly has been gods-touched, hasn’t she? Vampirism is more difficult for her to navigate than it is for, say, Palacia.
Jinneth creeps forward cautiously. She wags the vial, putting her hands out in surrender, and it gives off the impression Cyprilis has become unwieldy and violent in her time away from human society. Surely the tunnels and the darkness can’t help.
“Are you ready for the drink we talked about, dear?” Jinneth asks.
I feel a presence behind me: Iron Sister Keffa, quietly melding in. This is potentially a major milestone for our revolt. Of course the leader of the Chained Sisters has to be here, witnessing it.
“Does it taste yummy, Mistress?” Cyprilis asks, reverting to her childlike attitude. She leans forward on the bed, sinking it as she puts her hands down.
“It tastes like blood,” I say frankly.
Cy smiles. “Lovely.” She curls her hand at Jinneth and the vial. “Bring it here, old hag. Corrupt me with your treachery. I don’t care, witch woman.”
Her words make it seem like she does care. Like she’s given up. Like my mother has been coercing her to this decision to drink the Silverblood potion.
I sit on the side of the bed with her, taking the potion from Jinneth’s hand, giving it to Cyprilis. She looks so small and quaint next to me, but I know she’s a dangerous individual ever since her turning.
Quite swiftly, Cyprilis upturns the vial and drinks its contents. A line of red and silver trickles down her chin. With a belch, she hands back the empty vial. “Well? Now what? Am I cured?”
Jinneth fidgets in front of her rotund belly. “Old Endolf made me realize the effects are not instant. You must have patience, young Sister. Sephania and I will return.”
Behind us, Keffa says, “You hear those voices? Men, down the hall,” and takes off with a determined gait.
My heart drums in my throat. Vall and Garro? Are they back?
“We’ll be back soon, Cy,” I say with another weak smile.
Down the hall, Vallan and Garroway come into view. Lyroan, the dhampiress in love with Vall, lingers behind him with big doe-eyes.
I sigh to myself and pinch the bridge of my nose. Both my mates look scuffed, like they’ve been wrestling in the mud.
“Apologies for our tardiness, silverblood,” Vallan grunts. He reaches into his buttoned coat and withdraws three fragments of silver.
“What took you so long?” I ask.
Garroway cuts in. “Oh, you know, the occasional riot, the hanging of citizens, the battle with the elemental lawmen roaming the town. Two sects these days, with two ideals, both the Bronzes and Silverknights thinking they’re in the right.”
I run my hand through my hair with exasperation. “Aye, except that first group is exploiting the townspeople, and the second group is fighting against tyranny.”
Jinneth scoffs. “Have I taught you nothing?”
Vallan reaches into his tunic and pulls out another few slivers of glistening bars.
Jinneth’s eyes light up . . . shortly before her smile becomes confusion. “Where’s the rest of the silver?”
Garroway blows a raspberry, drawing our attention. “Well, you see, that’s just it. We found Vanison Shirin after a tireless search spanning great lengths of the city. He was in his third hideout.”
“And?”
He runs a hand over his head. “Between providing the Silverknights weapons, supplies for secret citizen smiths, and some for the Chained Sisters’ manufacturing of the elixir . . . turns out Vanison’s silver stores are nearly dried up.”
With a curse, Jinneth wheels around, snatching the slivers of the stuff from Vallan’s big hand. “Disgraceful! What’s a silversmith without silver?”
“An attractive man who has the personality of a viper?” Garroway offers, throwing his arms up.
Keffa comes up beside me as my mother storms off toward Cy’s room to check on her.
The Iron Sister pulls at my sleeve. She has a frightened expression—the first I’ve seen of that look since we lost Jinneth to Alacine Mortis.
“What will we do, child?” she asks me, as if I have all the answers.
“The Silverblood is the only thing keeping the Chained Sisters useful and safe.”
My voice is dreary, because I only see one option. “Looks like we’re going to have to find some way to break into the North Mines and gather the damned silver for ourselves, Iron Sister.”