“Ballroom. They seem to be searching for something. Hunting almost.”
Searching for what? Ashe wondered. Or whom?
Vicars of the Scattered Shards at a nobleborn gala in Drenth made little sense. The holy church of the Pentax typically steered clear of the affairs of the Houses across the Mistlands, let alone those living within the Imperium of the Fallen. The untainted warriors of the Shards rarely left the mega-city of Kalderim, and only on official missions. She knew those rules all too well.
No, this was wrong. Apprehension crept up her backside.
Elian’s job was marketed as a quick grab-and-flee gig. Proper quadrans paid where hands needed to be greased. But with vicars present, this reeked of a set-up.
Would Elian set us up? His own brother? Or me? He did say I might learn something about my parents with this job. But what? She wasn’t about to wait and find out. “Bloody Nocturne,” she breathed. “I’ll go first.”
Taking the steps as quickly and quietly as she could, Ashe descended to the second level, keenly slipping past the conversing guards—who didn’t bother to look up, ignorant navy auras highlighting their aloofness. A small puddle of mist huddled beneath the train of her pleated stola, tickling her legs, almost as if begging for the guards to show interest in the small girl skulking in their midst. She paused; ear turned toward the hushed voices threading the music on the level below. Crouched behind the thick banister post, she scanned the nobleborn prancing through the soiree. Most wore stolae of extravagant flow or tailored suits, but she spied dark blue cassocks.
Vicar cassocks.
Ashe made to slink down the stairs but stopped when she heard a soft growl from behind. Freezing, she glanced over her shoulder to find a brindle-colored mastiff with its tail up and ears turned forward. The dog was up to her waist and powerfully built, and, worse, twitched its muzzle inquisitively, for it clearly must’ve smelt the blood on her gown. Its aura beat garnet.
“Easy, boy,” she soothed in a measured tone and urged the aether in the mist from under her stola toward the animal. The mist enveloped the vigilant canine, and the dog’s ears went flat when she plucked the Tenet of Terris tattooed into her wrist and sent a calming spell of earthen nature through the haze. Its tail began to wag in slow beats until it became fast. She held out her hand for the dog to sniff. “There’s a good boy.”
“He likes you. Virgil typically doesn’t like anyone.”
Ashe stiffened and summoned the aetheric mist back as she flattened her stola. Snuffing her aetheurgy, she stood straight, hoping the dried blood wasn’t visible under the cloak. As she turned toward a nobleborn couple watching her, she forced a smile through the searing flames in her gut as her aetheurgy wreaked its havoc in a fight to her death with the nigrum pulmonem. “I’ve a kindred spirit with animals.”
“Forgive me, miss.” The speaker was closer to the everlasting eternity of the Meadows than that of a young buck. Rings of gold and silver cordoned fleshy fingers on hands spotted with age. Saggy bags under his dark eyes, a bowl of salt-grey hair receding ringed his pate. His aura was a ruby tint full of lust. “But I don’t think I’ve the pleasure.”
He looked like a proper bastard.
His companion was infinitely younger, still in child-bearing years. She was beautiful, with porcelain skin, bee-stung lips, and a look of unfortunate thrill toward her marriage to an old prick worn about her like a tattered robe as her aura blinked bored sapphire.
“A beauty with the eyes of a sheet of ice across the VVinter Expanse,” he said graciously, lifting Ashe’s hand and kissing the back of it. “I’ve never seen such in all my years. Prien Soabin, you may address me, host of this gala.”
A small cough escaped her lips, a deeper one building. The nobleborn flinched, as did his companion. “Forgive me, Master Soabin.” Ashe tried to appear contrite. “Demrae has so little mist compared to Drenth, all this travel across the Sea of Mist has made me delicate.” She smiled the sincerest smile she could muster, hoping it was convincing all while trying not to retch.
“Demrae! You’ve come all the way from Altreyia?” the predator in noble clothing asked, raising her hand once more to kiss it while his wife frowned. “What brings you here, miss? My lovely wife is also of Demrae.”
“A lovely happenstance, no doubt.” Mistress Soabin sipped from the cup in her graceful hand. She truly was comely. “O Prien, I wish I’d have known some little girl from Demrae was here. I’d have pulled out Altreyian cinnamon sweets in welcome.” The bored woman, with her switch of a tongue, swirled her wine as an image of her lying naked in bed flashed in Ashe’s mind before she stashed it away.
“Isla cares so little of Altreyia, isn’t that so, love?” The woman swallowed her wine and marched off. Prien squeezed Ashe’s hand, rubbing her knuckles. “She’s but a trifle, that wife of mine. I’d soon as see those exquisite eyes of yours waking next to me every day.”
“Master, that’s presumptuous.” She extricated her hand from his, plucking a golden ring from the man’s pinky, while feigning another cough. “If you’ll excuse me, I best see to getting some fresh air. It helps with my cough, you see.”
“Come far for this party, miss?” came a silky voice ascending the stairway.
The mist prodded her calves forcefully. It was warning her.
Prien Soabin clapped his spotted hands together. “Ah, Solanine, I wondered if you’d make my party. And so lovely as always.” While the old man greeted the newcomer, Ashe looked for a way to slip away but found no such luck. She was trapped. “With all those vicars about, I was hoping they wouldn’t scare away my guests.”
Wait, Solanine?
The newcomer was slight and short and wore a pleated stola of soft rouge that trailed down the stair gracefully. Light brown, almost blonde hair was pinned up over a heart-shaped face that was delicately contoured. A pendant of obsidian adorned the soft curvature of her neck, a crimson rune within the crystal, unlike any rune of Shard Form.
But it was the eyes that pulled Ashe in, and not in the inviting, flirtatious way. No, Solanine’s eyes were completely black, like the void. From pupil to iris to sclera. All black. Only those who used Void Form aetheurgy had eyes such as that.
O void.
Ashe’s innards railed within. It was the same person from the mirrored world in the catacombs, but here in the flesh. Of all the villas in all the Mistlands. Her hands fought the urge to draw her dagger, but what would a dagger do against one of the most dangerous aetheurgists alive?
“The presence of the Scattered Shards has no bearing on me, Prien. Kalderim’s foibles reach us not in the Imperium.” Solanine’s crow gaze bore into her, not just through her, but deep down into Ashe’s very soul. There was a reassurance, one of knowledge in a serene sapphiric aura. Of mysteries and magic. “Nothing could’ve possibly stopped me from passing up the opportunity to view the artifacts in your collection. Life aboard Gargantua gets quite boring at times. From Eminence some of your collection, aren’t they?”
The satyr mask was one such. Ashe cursed Elian. She’d thought this villa belonged to some simple nobleborn House, not one of the most powerful men in Drenth.
“You humor me, Solanine. Just admit you enjoy my company.”
“I confess.” A humorless tone. “Though it’s odd for vicars to be here, don’t you think? Almost as if sent here to watch us.” They had to see Ashe’s heart nearly bursting from her ribs. Solanine’s lips curled upward. “Vicars wouldn’t be after your newly arrived guest, would they?” A jest, but deadly serious.
Stay calm, Ashe. “Why yes, only just arrived with my brother and his wife.”
“And lucky enough to be a guest of House Soabin. Fortuitous indeed. Who is your father, child?” The aetheurgist didn’t blink, head slightly tilted. Prien disappeared in Ashe’s vision, leaving only Solanine. “A Guilder, by chance?” A pulsing began in Ashe’s chest. Tentative at first, but promising safety, of learning. “I see the rune of Terris upon your wrist. Not of the Scattered Shards, I hope. Old blood is he?“
Ashe hastily drew the cloak over her exposed arm. “I…”
The mist along her calf pressed against her, but there was more than just alarm. There was yearning. Urging. Growing need. Aether ready to burn.
“Old blood, hmm? With the blood of Eminence, you could be anything you wanted. They say you might be able to break the Seals protecting the city. You’ve heard of the Seals of Eminence, have you not?”
The very air around Solanine began to shimmer dark red, the same as the aetheurgist’s ever-shifting aura. The world stood frozen, not moving, not breathing.
As if time had stopped.
