“Meet me in the void,” Solanine said. “Seek Ness’ soul.”
Evander sought the darkness, the cold. The pleasure of crossing the veil jogged through him, the gateway came with naught but a thought. A soul awaited him, of Killian Ness in the non-light of the void. One soul waiting from the depths of the great slumber.
“The soul of this man, Evander, has led you to the void on your own,” Solanine announced when the newly christened Evander came near in the Meadows, the souls of the dead wailing all around him. “No longer will you need the souls of the dead to guide you. You are master of the void now. It has claimed you. Noctis is yours to master. In time, you’ll be able to move about this realm with ease.”
He reached out to run his hands through the gossamer form of Killian Ness, stroking it as his deathly aura beamed in his freedom of sorrow. “What now?”
“I must now see to opening the gates of Eminence for the Fallen. The stage has been set. The girl will do her part. Now we bring her to the Fallen. To her destiny.”
“And me?”
Solanine put a hand that felt like a claw to his chest, the fresh scar was warm, the true sign he owned the void and its aetheurgy. “Together we will deal the final push, the final column that is keeping this city upright. As does your precious girl with pearl eyes. But first we play.”
XXVII
Ashe
ALTHOUGH THE EXPANSIVE room aboard Gargantua was finely decorated and filled with ornate furniture, it felt like a prison all the same.
After being bested by that scourge (unfairly because the assassin had cheated when she’d tossed that helpless woman out of the gondola), Ashe had been taken to the room and locked inside, accompanied by only a fraction of an inch of mist clinging to her ankles. Barely enough to do more than give her gooseflesh and an aching set of lungs.
The chitter-chatter of guards outside the doors tickled her ears as she pressed against the oak. Even if she used the set of lockpicks hidden in her boot heel, she’d have to deal with Pentax-only-knows how many Imperium soldiers or scourges. Without access to the mist, her aetheurgy was as useless as a one-legged gladiator in an ass-kicking fight.
Two decanters full of wine—one a dark burgundy, the other a white—perspired upon a golden side table. Ashe hurried over and lifted the red. O Zenith, did the flow of grape taste good going down, soothing not only her throat, but also her frayed nerves. Before she took another breath, half the decanter was empty.
The oaken door of her sumptuous prison squealed open, a lapin entering. The little creature was adorable and had chestnut colored fur. Her nose was petite, her delicately long ears lowered in deference.
“Pardons, mistress, but the masters bid me help you wash for the party.” In her furry paws was what looked like a stola with long flowing sleeves.
Another sip. “Pink? They had to pick godsdamned pink. I’ll look like a walking cu—” the wine decanter at her lips muted the rest of her sentence.
“You don’t like the color?” The lapin’s aura told Ashe she hadn’t understood the verbiage. “I can bring another if you wish. Pink fits you, mistress.” Nervous as… well, a rabbit surrounded by predators, the lapin laid the pink stola upon the massive bed. “If you’ll follow me, mistress.” She grabbed Ashe’s hand with her furred paw.
She followed the stuffed doll-like servant toward the far end of the room where a narrow wooden door was found hidden behind a large painting, but not until she finished the red and hoisted the white wine decanter. Beyond the painting and door was a small, domed bath with a basin-like tub in the center.
The lapin smiled. “Let me help you with those… clothes,” she said as she moved to help Ashe undo the laces of her dirty outfit. “If you want, I can have these cleaned for you.”
“Burn ‘em. Can’t wash out shit and piss.” As she began to undress, her flask fell to the floor. “I’ll keep the flask if you don’t mind.” That small liquor container and she had seen much together. No way in the void was she giving that up without a fight.
Ashe couldn’t recall the last time she’d taken a proper bath, so as soon as the hot water touched her skin, she allowed relaxation to take over. If Solanine was going to afford her this moment, she sure as Nocturne’s Pit was going to take it. Besides, it was better than being in that bedroom staring at the ceiling and smelling like she’d rolled about a pigsty. Drunk and clean was a far better prospect.
The lapin servant helped Ashe clean the dirt from under her fingernails and commented on how pretty her golden bangle was, then poured hot water over her head and began to wash her hair, wringing things out Ashe certainly hoped wasn’t lice. Sweet rose wafted in the steamy water. For the moment, Ashe forgot all her worries. Forgot about Solanine, void, her father, even.
“What’s your name?” Ashe’s head rested upon the lip of the tub, a rag covering her eyes as she sipped the wine while the lapin drained the dirty water and replaced it with clean, hotter water.
“Ancantha, mistress.”
“Call me Ashe. Nobody’s ever confused me with being a mistress.” Ancantha then scrubbed Ashe’s underarm with a bar of soap with a sweet, subtle aroma. “Except this one time when I was trying to steal this one ring from… nevermind. Been here long?”
“Ashe, that’s an unusual name for someone. Both me and my sister been here since we was taken from Dervin.”
“What’s wrong with the name Ashe?” Chilled wine melted the miniscule, affronted ire. It’s not like that was her true name anyway. “You don’t think Lu Har will let me free after this party of his, do you?”
“I… Master Lu Har wouldn’t allow it, mis—er… Ashe.”
Ashe pushed up the rag and peered at the lapin. “Couldn’t hurt to try, eh?”
After Ancantha massaged oils into her scalp, the servant retreated to the bed chamber to allow her to soak. Bending her knees, Ashe slipped under the water. But a ripple across the water’s placid surface broke her trance.
Above, when she opened her eyes, was Solanine, the aetheurgist’s hand brushing the water between them. “Godsblood.”
Ashe sucked in her breath and rose from the bath, frantically pawing the wet from her vision, coughing violently, trying to spew the water filling her airways. Water cascaded over the lip of the tub. Ashe spun, searching for Solanine, but no one was there.
Ancantha rushed in. “Mistress Ashe, what is it?”
What in Zenith’s cock? One hand went to her racing heart, the other reached for the wine.
“Mistress Ashe, are you a’right?”
Leaning back, Ashe nodded as she drank. “Just some water in my lungs. Fell asleep for a moment there. Just tired, Ancantha. That’s all.”
“Then let me help you relax, love.”
Ashe peered around the lapin to see her little bird standing in the doorway. “Wren?”
Instead of answering, Wren motioned toward Ancantha. “You may go, servant.”
