He shot her a look that said he hadn’t been born yesterday. “It’s you, Cyrene. Nothing ever goes as planned.”
“You said I was bad at delegating. I’m delegating Ahlvie to your responsibility,” she said with a smug smile.
“Sometimes, you’re insufferable. You know that, right?”
“Obviously.”
“Come back to me in one piece, okay?”
She nodded. “That’s the plan.”
Cyrene hurried toward the portal before he convinced her otherwise. She repositioned the talisman and then directed it toward the opening. The great portal shimmered iridescently before opening to an underground cellar. She stepped through and looked hopefully. Orden had said he would wait here if all had gone well.
But of course, he was not here.
She shut the portal behind her, lit a Doma flame, and investigated the large room. Even knowing that Bienco had flooded and the city had been built on top of the older city, it was surprising to see the portal essentially underground.
She made a slow circuit around the room. It was pretty normal, all things considered. Food stores, wine, a few barrels of what looked to be Biencan gin. She frowned and retreated to the portal. There, tucked under a bucket, was a slip of paper. Aha!
She picked it up from where Orden had clearly left it and read.
* * *
C—
* * *
It didn’t go as planned.
Staying at Birdie’s place while I wait for you.
* * *
—Orden
* * *
Cyrene grumbled under her breath. Of course he was staying with Birdie in the most disreputable part of the city of sin. Well, she didn’t have much of a choice. She stuffed the letter in her pocket along with the coin and then trekked carefully out of the cellar. It opened up to an enormous kitchen. But not large enough for a castle. It must have just been a nobleman of some sort. She received a few strange looks for her clothing, which was still the white in the Byern style. Hardly fitting for hot and humid Bienco. But no one questioned her as she hurried toward the exit.
When she was on the streets, she saw the next obstacle. “Creator,” she breathed.
A storm was coming in off of the coast as strong as almost anything she had ever dealt with. She had no chance of halting its progress. Which meant she had only two options. Head back to the portal or race to Birdie’s and hope they could get out in time.
Cyrene took off at a run. Luckily, the storm had also cleared the streets, so she didn’t have to explain her haste or muscle through a crowd of street parties. Bienco was known for the debauchery that occurred on their streets at night. But not tonight.
She turned the corner that she thought led to Birdie’s house and then cursed when she found it was a dead end. A map would have been nice for him to leave. She had only been to see the mystic once, and it had been nearly a year ago.
She backtracked and tried the next route. She hit three more dead ends when the rain began. She cursed viciously and then thankfully stumbled upon the correct street. The rain went from a gentle mist to shattering intensity in the span of a few minutes. And, by the time she was banging on the door to Birdie’s place, she was soaked through.
The door burst open, and Orden’s towering figure appeared. “Creator, girl, get inside!”
Cyrene pushed her way into the small house and shivered from head to toe at her sodden clothing. “Good to see you, too,” she muttered through chattering teeth.
“I thought you’d have been here weeks ago, and you would have missed the storm entirely.”
“Just my luck,” she muttered.
Orden grabbed a cloak and threw it around her shoulders, but it did basically nothing.
“We…need…to go,” she told him, wringing out her long, dark hair.
“Go? In this? There’s no way we would make it back. We’ve seen that thing rolling in for days. Everyone predicted flooding and headed for higher ground.”
“We could use the portal coin.”
He frowned. “You know Vera said to only use it from the portal doors themselves if at all possible. They’re more stable.”
Cyrene groaned. “Fine. Why are you still here?”
“Birdie said it wouldn’t flood here.”
Cyrene just tried to wring some more water out of her skirts. “Well, she’d know, I guess. Still, we have a bigger problem to deal with.”
“The beast,” Birdie said, appearing in the common room. She was incredibly short and hunched over with rheumy, unseeing eyes. She had a bundle in her hands and set it down on the table. She was Gwynora’s grandmother and easily one of the most interesting people Cyrene had met on her travels. She was blind but could read auras and knew if someone had Doma magic. A very useful skill indeed.
“The beast?” Orden asked. His eyes shot to Cyrene. “Ahlvie?”
“Yes, he’s back, and we’re trying to fix him. I left him with Dean back in the Pass. That’s why it’s kind of urgent that we make it back tonight.”
Birdie tapped the bundle. “You won’t make it back tonight. I knew you’d get caught in the storm. I think these are about your size. Gwynora left them behind. Go change out of those clothes, and I’ll dry them for you.”
“I’d listen to her,” Orden said. “Then we’ll talk about what’s going on with Ahlvie. Seems we’re stuck here until this passes.”
Cyrene sighed. Then she took the bundle with a murmured, “Thank you.”
She changed quickly. The clothes nearly did fit. Gwynora was taller than her, so the skirts hung long. But she could knot them, and that was good enough for now. Her clothing would be dry tomorrow.
“So, Ahlvie,” Cyrene said when she returned to the common room, “he’s under Malysa’s influence, but he’s figured out how to shift back to himself. But, if he returns to the Indres form, then she can control him again. Dean and I are working on stopping him from shifting or dampening her influence or something. So far, nothing has worked.”
“We can’t bring him back to camp if Malysa can still get to him,” Orden said.
“I know. It’d be too dangerous. But I just don’t know how to fix him.”
Birdie shuffled forward with a rather familiar leather pouch. “Come, come. The bones will tell you what you need to know.”
Cyrene skeptically looked at Orden.
He just shrugged. “That’s how we found our way across the ocean.”
“I guess so.” She just remembered how Gwynora had said that her grandmother had already known that she had crossed the ocean. That it wasn’t a real reading. But really, it was worth a try. Nothing else had worked.
Cyrene sat.
“Tell me what you wish to know,” Birdie said.
“I wish to know if there is a way to separate Ahlvie from the beast within.”
Birdie tilted her head. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes. I want to stop Malysa from accessing him. Otherwise, he’s a liability.”
“Two different things,” Birdie said. “But it will do.”
She shook the bag and then dumped the bones onto a flat bowl. Cyrene could discern nothing from what she saw. She had no idea how bones were supposed to tell her anything. Matilde and Vera had said that mystics were quacks. But, if Birdie believed it, then who was Cyrene to disagree with her? Belief was half the battle.