“Very good,” Basel said. “I expect great things of you, Maya.”
She forced her head up, meeting his gaze. “I won’t disappoint you, Kyriliarch.”
The red eyes glittered unsettlingly. “I know you won’t.”
“I should … prepare.” Maya blinked away tears, determined not to show weakness. She couldn’t look at Jaedia. “If you’ll excuse me?”
Basel nodded, already looking down at the papers on his desk. Maya turned away and swallowed hard.
“Maya—” Jaedia said.
Maya hurried out before she could finish. She managed to keep her composure until she turned the first corner, wiping furiously at her eyes.
*
Jaedia found her on a balcony, chin in her hands, looking out across the lake at the distant spires of Skyreach. Mist rising from the water made the city look unreal, shimmering like a mirage. Maya sat on a stone bench between great round planters, listening to the leaves of the potted trees swaying overhead and trying not to think.
“There you are,” Jaedia said. Maya didn’t look up.
Her mentor came and sat beside her in silence. The midday sun caught the angled glass of Skyreach’s towers, making them gleam like liquid gold. Kilometers-long swathes of reflected light shimmered on the waters of the lake.
“I thought you would be happy,” Jaedia said after a while.
Maya gritted her teeth and said nothing.
“You’ll be on a mission with a group of other trainees, under a senior agathios but with no other supervision. It’s an important step forward.” Jaedia touched her shoulder tentatively. “You said you wanted to get your cognomen—”
“You don’t have to pretend.” Maya shifted away. “The Council is sending you to do something important, and you don’t think I’m strong enough to help, so you’re leaving me behind.”
“Oh,” Jaedia said, and there was a moment of silence. “You heard.”
“I heard,” Maya said bitterly. “I wish you could just be honest with me.”
“It isn’t like that,” Jaedia said gently. “Truly. If I was concerned with keeping you out of danger, would I bring Marn with me?”
“You’re bringing Marn?” Maya looked at her mentor incredulously.
“Marn is going to spend a lot of time stuck in his room reading the Inheritance,” Jaedia said. “And if I could have you with me, Maya, I would. I swear to you.”
Maya blinked away tears and rubbed her eyes with her sleeve. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I. Not completely.” Jaedia took a deep breath. “It’s the Council. They have … strongly suggested that you get this assignment while I’m away.”
“What? Why?”
“Politics,” Jaedia said, as though it were something scatological. “I’ve tried to keep us out of it. But Basel is a Pragmatic, and you and I are associated with him. He says this came from the Dogmatics on the Council.”
Though the details of Council politics were a mystery to Maya, she at least understood the basic sides. All members of the Order were sworn to exterminate dhak and dhakim and protect humanity from unsanctioned arcana, plaguespawn, and other threats; the difference of opinion was on how they should focus their efforts. The Pragmatics believed that by turning a blind eye to small transgressions, the Order could maintain its standing with the people and focus on the really dangerous problems. The Dogmatics insisted that any such indulgence was heresy, and deviations were responsible for the gradual decline in Order power. They wanted strict enforcement and swift punishment.
“What do the Dogmatics want with me?” Maya said.
“I don’t know,” Jaedia said. “I think Basel suspects, but he’s not saying, the secretive old shit. But things must be worse than I thought.” She sighed. “It may be that they simply want you to fail.”
“Fail?”
“Maybe they think that would embarrass Basel. Or maybe it would make one of their own look good by comparison. I don’t know.” Jaedia’s expression was a mask of frustration. “I stayed away for so long because I wanted to keep out of this dhak.”
Maya sat for a long moment.
“All right,” she said. “So what do we do about it?”
“Oh, Maya.” Jaedia looked down at her and smiled. “It’s your greatest gift, do you know that? Nothing slows you down for long.” She sighed. “I won’t pretend this is exactly what I wanted for you. But you are equal to whatever challenge they set, I swear to you. You understand?”
“I understand,” Maya said. The knot in her chest softened a little.
“They may expect you to fail. I expect you to disappoint them. And when you come back, they’ll have no choice but to give you your cognomen.”
“I will.” Maya’s voice faltered. “But …”
“What?”
Her jaw clenched. “Will I see you again? Afterward?”
Jaedia’s eyes widened. “Is that what you’re worried about?” She grinned and looked suddenly more like her old self. “Once you’re a centarch, you’ll be able to go where you like, on your own authority. Nothing to say that you and I can’t travel together for as long as we fancy. Somebody is going to have to keep Marn from getting too big for his boots.”
Maya let out a long, shaky breath and gave a weak grin.
“Where are they sending you?” she said. “How long will you be away?”
“I can’t say. But it is important,” Jaedia said. “Basel was right on that count.”
“Does it have something to do with Hollis and that black spider?”
“Clever girl.” Jaedia gave a half smile. “Once you’re a centarch, I’ll be able to tell you everything.”
Chapter 4
From above, the Pit looked like a knife wound carved into the granite of the mountain, a crevasse a kilometer long and several hundred meters across. Legend said that it had originally been cut as neat as a surgeon’s incision with an unmetal scalpel, but four hundred years of caustic fog rising from the depths had eaten away at the rock. The edges crumbled, bit by bit, breaking loose to bounce down the cliff face into the glowing fog that shrouded the depths where the Chosen weapon still gnawed at the earth.
This erosion had been uneven. Outcrops of tougher rock remained as freestanding peninsulas and even islands, balanced precariously on ever-narrowing bases until they finally gave way and toppled into the deeps. As a rule, the wealthiest districts of Deepfire were those closest to the Pit, with the Spike on the east side and the great palaces of the merchant combines lining the west. But only a madman would build on the very edge, where the rock crumbled a little more each day, and only the maddest would try to use the islands themselves.
Deepfire being what it was, there was no shortage of madmen willing to gamble that the inevitable collapse would come just a little later. One such entrepreneur had thrown a spindly wood-and-cable bridge from the east bank to one of the larger islands and constructed a rambling, three-story wooden structure that seemed to less stand on its rocky base than cling to it desperately. It was a bar, a brothel, and a gambling den all rolled together, catering to the soldiers and servants of the Republic nobles who lived in the shadow of the Spike. The owner, foresightedly, had named it the Smoking Wreckage.