Chapter 19
Elver stood for a moment looking at her hands, which were trembling still, faint wisps of steam or smoke rising from them.
Dalesh had released her from the manacles with a small silver key, taking care not to brush her fingers against her hands.
The light of Trilot the Faceless had been agonizing, but worse than that had been the emanation of the god’s will: she had felt clearly how much the god of purity and truth had wanted the essence of her gone, wiped away like a dirty smudge on a glass.
The poison blood inside her, given to her by the Queen of Serpents, had boiled in response.
She thought of the jih spirit the priests had destroyed, Trilot’s light leaving a small dead animal in its wake.
‘You are around a mile outside of Ashingdown,’ Dalesh was saying.
‘I imagine Isnere will come looking for you first at the magistrate’s offices and then at the Bloody Claw’s temple, since he knows I spend much of my time there.
But I’ve no doubt he’ll send faceless priests beyond the city walls to look for you too, so you’ll want to get moving soon.
And I believe this also belongs to you.’
She stepped aside to reveal the cub, who was worrying at a large haunch of roasted meat. He spared them one quick glance before going back to licking his chops.
‘Thank you,’ said Artair, nearly breathless with gratitude. ‘I thought that perhaps…’
Dalesh pursed her lips with distaste as the cub rolled over to show his belly.
‘The guards found it. Luckily, they brought it to me first.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Artair was looking at the black token in his hand, which was smeared with blood. ‘How did that work?’
‘You gave me the link I needed with the sacrifice of your blood. And I fuelled the spells from my end.’ Dalesh looked faintly smug. ‘Easy enough, if you are skilled.’
‘What will you do?’ asked Artair. ‘The priests of Trilot looked angry.’
Elver dropped her hands. ‘Never mind her,’ she snarled.
‘What about the poor soul who paid the price for that portal? Who did you kill to fuel your spells, Dalesh?’ She turned to Artair.
‘Your saviour here is an apprentice to Mother Maura, the same bloody magpie that took your friends and murdered your monks.’
Artair’s eyes widened.
‘Maura has done what?’ The mage pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers.
‘Listen. Yes, Elver is correct. For many years I studied under the mage known as Mother Maura. I learned a great deal from her. And… did many things that were questionable in the name of our god, including what happened to you, Elver. The Bloody Claw demands a great deal for his magic, and because of this his magic is uniquely powerful.’
‘He demands blood,’ said Elver. ‘He demands lives .’ Being in Dalesh’s presence was making her feel feverish.
‘If you’ve fallen into Maura’s orbit, then you have my sympathy.’ Dalesh sighed. ‘I left her service a few years ago. It wasn’t easy, but she had done things I couldn’t abide.’
‘Worse than throwing orphans into the sea?’
‘Ouch. Okay. I deserve that. But yes, the price we were paying seemed higher than ever, and the plans she had were, for want of a better word, unhinged. Maura’s dreams are blood-soaked and strange, and in my opinion, not achievable.
You know, when we dedicated this town to the Bloody Claw and raised the stones that circle it, part of the wall kept falling down.
We couldn’t figure out why, until one of the masons dug down deeper than the foundations and found that the roots of a tree had crept through the bedrock, making it unstable.
Looking at the surface, you’d never have been able to tell those fractures were there. ’
‘What do you mean? What are you talking about?’ snapped Elver.
Dalesh sighed. ‘When she was younger, Maura had a family, and through a quirk of fate, she lost them. It changed her. And it wasn’t immediately obvious.
That’s what I mean. We were throwing away lives not for some higher purpose, but for a lunatic’s ravings.
’ She pursed her lips, her already stern face growing harsher lines.
‘I remain dedicated to my god, Elver, and I won’t apologize for that.
But I owe you this much for what happened to you.
And I wonder if you can understand better, now that you bear the mark of a god yourself. ’
Dalesh’s eyes moved over Elver’s yellow eyes, her blue scars, and white hair.
‘There’s no missing to whom you belong now, at least. For what it’s worth, I’m glad that you survived.
Very few people do once the Bloody Claw has set his eye on them.
’ She sighed. ‘Elver, I summoned the portal with a soul globe. We keep them handy in case we need to power a spell unexpectedly, so technically no blood was spilled. Save for a few drops from your young man here.’
‘No blood was spilled today , you mean.’
Elver considered leaping at the mage, circling her hands around her throat and delivering her to her god early. But Dalesh was already turning away, gesturing at a pack she had left leaning against a tree, and somehow the moment passed.
‘You can’t return to Ashingdown—and I’d prefer it if you never did, frankly—so here are some supplies for you.
About two miles east, there’s an inn, although…
’ She shot a look at Artair. ‘You may find it a little strange, Sleepless. It’s dedicated to the god Enos, the one who watches over sleep, dreams and forgetting. ’
‘I have heard of her,’ said Artair. ‘We’re taught about her at the Golden Tower. It’s said she has a unique dislike for the Sleepless, who are forever outside of her web.’
‘It seems you’re just endlessly popular wherever you go,’ said Dalesh dryly.
‘And what are you going to do?’ asked Elver. Somehow, she felt like this wasn’t enough. She wanted something else from Dalesh, something beyond an apology or even a rescue, but couldn’t have said what it was. ‘You’ve stolen from Trilot.’
‘I’ll figure something out.’ For the first time, the corner of the mage’s mouth quirked into a bitter smile. ‘Now get out of here before I change my mind.’
‘… and they just threw you into the sea?’
Elver nodded briefly, her eyes on the road ahead.
‘Then you have just as much reason to hate Maura as me. More, even.’ Artair thought of that fierce woman with the red hair throwing a child to their death. It wasn’t hard to imagine.
‘I didn’t know it was her you were dealing with at first,’ Elver continued. ‘Maybe you were meant to cross my path, Artair. If anyone was going to help you defeat her, it would be me.’ He glanced at her and she looked away, as though embarrassed by this admission.
‘She really is ruthless. To buy an orphan just to take their life…’
‘And they call me a monster. But the Queen of Serpents gave me a new life. She snapped me up and replaced my blood with poison, making me one of her children.’
‘Forgive me, but that doesn’t sound like an especially kind thing to do either.’ She shot him a dangerous look that promised a knife in the dark, or at the very least a kick in the shins. ‘Your queen could have caught you, taken you to the shore somewhere. Still alive. Still human.’
Elver made a disgusted noise. It was a quiet night, the moon like a beacon overhead.
They were walking along the edge of the road, ready to dive into cover should they hear someone coming; the faceless priests could still be looking for them, after all.
Even on the uneven road, Elver walked without a sound, grace softening her every movement.
‘And what? Return to the humans who thought so little of my life they sacrificed it to save their own skins?’ The cub was trotting along by her feet, and at the sound of her voice he lifted his nose. ‘No. I was better off in the forest, living alongside monsters. At least they’re honest.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Artair. ‘I mean, I’m sorry that happened to you.’
The monster girl was quiet for a while. Somewhere in the woods to their left, an owl called, a ghostly, sad sound.
‘Well I’m not,’ she said eventually. ‘And I don’t need your sympathy. Save it for the monster that Trilot burned down to nothing.’
‘That was a terrible thing,’ said Artair. ‘The Bloody Claw isn’t the only cruel god.’
She glanced up at him with narrowed eyes, seemed about to say something, then shook her head slightly.
‘Ashingdown has delayed us a bit, I reckon. We’ll have to hurry if we want to get to this Tisk mage in time.
’ And then she added, ‘the sooner this is done, the sooner I can get back to the Jih Forest where I belong.’
The Inn of Enos, when they reached it, was a curious building.
It was built of wood and ranged over three floors and a depiction of the god herself sat on the roof, her eight spidery legs running down the walls to clasp the inn beneath her.
Soft orange and pink lights glowed from behind the windows.
Looking at it, Artair felt a surge of different emotions: it looked like a welcoming, calm place, in stark contrast to Ashingdown and the Temple of Trilot, yet the face of Enos, beaming beatifically from the roof, only served to remind him of who and what he was.
His body knew only the illusion of sleep, after all, and since becoming Sleepless he’d not had a single dream.
‘Do you want to stay here?’ asked Elver. ‘We can always risk the woods.’
But as she was speaking, a woman came out of the door of the inn. She wore a shapeless lavender dress with wide sleeves and a soft cap over her hair. She bowed to them both, and spoke softly.
‘Welcome to the Inn of Enos. The best night’s sleep of your life awaits you.’