“Oh, you really shouldn’t have,” he said, looking into the rosewood box. Lifting the coat had revealed, on velvet, a hammered, heavy copper chain with links the size of fists. There were two gloves inside as well. Big Leo looked at Andross, who nodded.
Leo put on the gloves and lifted the heavy chain. Each link had a black stripe around its burnished circumference. Then he looked at the tips of the thumbs of his gloves. “Oh, hell, yes!” he said, and flicked his thumb against the chain.
Nothing happened.
“Chain’s copper so you don’t throw a spark accidentally when it’s wrapped around your own body,” Andross said. “Forefinger and thumb.”
Kip didn’t know what he was talking about. But Big Leo looked down at his gloves. He held the chain out and flicked his thumb against his forefinger, throwing a spark.
The entire chain caught fire as the atasifusta wood in each link whooshed into flame.
“Holy shit,” Ferkudi said.
Big Leo whipped the fiery chain in frippering circles, passing it over his arms, around his back, striking one end out like a spear, whipping it down like a hammer, and then winding it around an arm.
Then he sort of spoiled the terrifying effect when he giggled like a little kid.
That actually made it more terrifying.
“I know I just said this, but holy shit,” Ferkudi said.
However, the chain on his arm continued to burn. Atasifusta, the ever-burning.
Ah, thus the leather. Still . . .
Andross said, “When you’re done, do this.” He laid a hand on Big Leo’s arm. Red luxin poured from his hand, coating the burning chain. First it flared up into fire, red luxin being flammable, but then the luxin crusted over, blackened in every place, extinguishing itself and the chain.
When Big Leo moved his arm again, the red luxin broke to dust with the smell of tea leaves and tobacco, his arm and the chain unharmed. He was also given a helm: naturally, it was a lion with a mane like fire.
Andross motioned for the young man to step back. “Don’t say thanks. Express your thanks by keeping Kip alive.”
“Yes, my lord,” Big Leo said.
“Ferkudi del’Angelos,” Andross said. Ferkudi stepped forward. “I hear you’re a grappler.” His armor was the same, albeit without the covering of leather, and thus much lighter. But his, too, was black and adorned with the Mighty’s sigil: the man with head bowed, arms out, radiating power. His weapons were twin double-bladed hand axes, each with one blade of steel and the other blade of a single wavering obsidian edge. Each obsidian stone itself could have purchased a castle. Nothing could cut through luxin like those. He, too, was given gloves, with hellstone points at the knuckles.
Andross said, “Wights will either flee in terror or seek you out especially. I order you to kill at least one of their petty gods, understood?”
“With pleasure, High Lord,” Ferkudi said.
The hand axes were completed with sword-breaking hafts and an ingenious back sheath. Ferkudi took a bear helm.
For Winsen, there was the lightest armor, befitting the archer’s small size. His helm was a snake. And there was a short bow inside. It was beautifully wrought with horses in some ancient art style, but at first Winsen sneered at it. He did admire the arrows, two quivers full, half of them tipped with obsidian. He looked at them in the light. “Flawless, best fletching I’ve seen, too. But as for the bow, it’s beautiful, but . . . a short bow? And it’s got a sight? I think I’ll keep my—”
“It’ll pierce armor at three hundred paces. Test it if you don’t believe me. My man will instruct you on its care.”
Winsen couldn’t help himself. He lifted the bow and drew the string, his broad back knotting with the effort. It was clearly harder than he’d been expecting. Then he walked away with it, muttering obscenities in appreciation.
“Ben-hadad,” Andross said.
Ben was, surprisingly, little the worse for wear. A servant had found him around noon, tied up, and since then he’d been more fixated on Cruxer’s death than on his own narrow escape from it. He’d quietly told Kip of Teia’s kidnapping and the work he’d been doing but that his door code was wrong, and when they’d cut through a wall to get in, it was to the wrong room. Sharp would be holding Teia somewhere else. Maybe nearby, which meant Ben-hadad had to revisit his earlier work searching for hidden rooms: he’d missed something.
But that work would take him hours if not days. Teia would be dead by then, if she wasn’t already. Ben had told Kip he instead needed to concentrate his efforts on checking the siege defenses and all the various machinae that were going to be used in the Jaspers’ defense.
With anguish, Kip had agreed. The battle hadn’t even begun, and two of his Mighty were already dead.
He wanted to make the Order pay dearly for that, but he knew he wasn’t going to. He was going to die before he could do anything about them.
Andross gave Ben-hadad a coat that was similar to Ferkudi’s.
Ben felt it and said, “What’s layered underneath this?”
“Mirrored steel scale, like all of them,” Andross said. “It’s not as strong as plate, but not nearly as heavy, either. Try not to test its effectiveness too much.”
Beneath the coat there wasn’t a weapon. Instead, there was a pair knee braces.
“I, uh, am actually almost finished with my backup brace,” Ben-hadad said, gesturing to his current, solid brace. Kip had broken the other when he’d raised the Great Mirror. “Parallel discovery, I guess? But thank you? Definitely will save me some hours tonight.”
“These are Commander Finer’s own knee braces,” Andross said. “Before he went wight and tried to kill his Prism, he developed these. Instead of using open luxin, he reinforced the joints with sea-demon bone. I think you’ll also find that wearing two of them, you can do much, much more than you did with one.”
“Two? And sea-demon . . . ?” Ben-hadad’s eyes widened. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? This is—thank you! Thank you very, very much!”
“While you’re at it, you may also take the sharana ru I’d intended for Cruxer,” Andross said.
“No, I can’t,” Ben said, though the curiosity in his eyes was plain. A tygre striper?
“It’s not going to do him any good,” Andross said.
An uneasy silence descended on them.
“I can’t,” Ben-hadad said finally.
“Don’t be a damned fool. Cruxer died because he couldn’t adjust to realities shifting under his feet. Don’t follow his example in this.” Andross drew a tygre striper shaped like a white spear from Cruxer’s box and veritably threw it at Ben-hadad. “Kill a god for me.”
Looking to the rest of the Mighty, who nodded their approval, Ben-hadad kept the thing. The spear was long and thin, with a steel spike at the foot and a graceful steel blade at the top, below which were embedded jagged obsidian teeth in the haft.
Turning to Kip, Andross said, “We’ll have the appropriate funerals, if we live so long. Now, where is your stubborn bride?”
Kip said, “I guess she’s not that eager to see you again. Strangely enough.”
“Strangely enough, I’m tempted not to give her her gift, then. But whatever. Take it.”