“As for mancers . . . well. Like I said, spawn can feed many ways, which means they are a valuable power source.” Abyssi created Abyssumancers to heighten their own strength. They used their mancers like lamp oil, burning through them, which meant mancers constantly craved power. They could raise that power through fire, through blood, through sex or through pain—the four coins of the Abyss—but the kind of sacrifices that met their needs also drew the attention of Quin guards. Spawn could raise power in those same ways, but also produced it as a natural body process, just as pure humans generated body heat.
Cadmia set her jaw as if preparing for a fight. Hansa attempted to look casual as he avoided looking at Umber.
Hansa had stumbled into trouble with an Abyssumancer named Naples in the Abyss. The strange laws of the Abyss had kept Umber safe from the mancer, but hadn’t afforded the same protection to his human bond. Half-starved due to circumstance and as blind to the thought of right or wrong as most Abyssumancers eventually became, Naples had identified Hansa as an easy target the moment he had walked in the door.
As for the other danger, Hansa was exactly the kind of bond most spawn tried to avoid.
Well, not exactly the type. A fleshbond with a handsome individual of one’s preferred gender was hardly a catastrophe. Speaking—or thinking of—it had been a while . . .
“I know that look,” Hansa said, startling Umber from his thoughts.
“What?”
“That’s the ‘thinking of sex on the table’ look,” the Quin elaborated. “If you’re trying to change the subject, you can just say you don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Are you objecting to sex on the table?”
“Not in concept, but—”
Cadmia waved a hand to cut him off. “Can I object to sex on the table? This room is good enough for sleeping, but not large enough for privacy.” She cleared her throat, and met Umber’s gaze squarely as she added, “Thank you for sharing what you have. I know I’ll have questions in the future, but I don’t want to force you to tell more than you’re comfortable with, especially all at once.”
Umber nodded. “I’ll answer what I can.” Before Hansa could decide again to feel guilty for mentioning sex, he silently half teased, half assured the guard, Don’t worry, I know plenty of secluded spots we can use tonight.
“What’s our next step, anyway?” Hansa asked, a little too loudly. “We sleep here tonight, and then what? We’ve set a crazy sorcerer prince loose in the city.”
Hansa’s description seemed to give them a good deal more agency and responsibility than Umber recalled their having in the matter, but that was a bridge for another day.
“Tomorrow we need to teach you both how to veil your power,” Umber said. “With effort, you should be able to hide yourselves from sighted guards, and hopefully Abyssumancers.” He slid the last package he had picked up in the market across the table to Hansa. “Happy birthday.”
“It’s not my birthday,” Hansa said, skeptically, as he opened the felt-wrapped satchel to reveal a belt-knife in a simple leather sheath. He drew it with a look of horror, the words clear on his face even if Umber hadn’t been able to read his mind: Why does it always have to involve blood?
“It’s sturdy, not fine steel but good enough for now, and simple enough no one will remark on it if you wear it openly,” Umber said. Hansa knew enough about Abyssal power by now that he didn’t need further explanation, but Umber continued for Cadmia’s benefit. “There are four coins of power in the Abyssal realm: blood, fire, flesh, and pain. Blood is the easiest to use and manipulate. Neither of you has a natural tie to the Abyss, but as long as you’re bound to it, you should be able to use it at least a little.” He met Hansa’s gaze as he said, “Anything else you want to accomplish starts with this. You have power. You need to know how to use it.”
Chapter 5
Cadmia
Cadmia had a thousand more questions about the spawn, but followed Umber’s lead and let him change the subject. She didn’t know yet how she felt about his assertion that she needed to learn how to use Abyssal magic—while she had plenty of academic knowledge, she had less experience with it practically than even Hansa—but if it was necessary, she would cope.
But Alizarin was right. The first thing they all needed was rest.
Hansa and Umber insisted that Cadmia should have the room’s one bed, and after several minutes of pointless arguing she capitulated. She didn’t like being treated like spun glass just because she was pregnant, but it would be stupid for them all to refuse the bed on principle.
The two men snuggled together on the floor near the fire, a blanket under them and Hansa’s cloak spread across them both, while Cadmia lay sleeplessly on the bed. The mattress wasn’t new, and had never been excellent quality, but it was clean and her nose suggested the hay stuffing was relatively fresh.
Given what she knew of the Fens, she had expected the familiar reek of misery and indulgence: drug-smoke, sex sweat, vomit, and human waste, as one often found in the pockets of this world kept for those who had been driven from society.
There are places here like the ones you imagine, Umber said, responding to her thoughts in the occasionally-irritating way the spawn had. There are people here who make their livelihoods on the addictions and weaknesses of others, and they make sure they always have a steady supply of misery. There are more people who come here because they have no other choices. They take care of their spaces, little as they are. Even here, we’re among the lucky. House’s rooms don’t come cheap.
Cadmia had the sudden image of dealing with a child or adolescent who could actually read her mind. Oh dear.
Umber chuckled, then smoothed a hand over Hansa’s shoulder when the guard shifted and murmured something too soft for Cadmia to hear.
Cadmia sat back up, giving up on pretending to sleep. There was a cold spot at her back that Alizarin was supposed to occupy. She would sleep once he returned from hunting.
Umber patted Hansa’s shoulder again, then sat up as well. He eased away from Hansa, stood and stretched. Shirtless for sleep, he cut a handsome figure—lean body, dark hair that had grown unfashionably long since it was last trimmed, and those brilliantly blue eyes.
“I’ve decided I will go back to the Cobalt Hall as you suggested,” Cadmia said, keeping her voice soft to keep from disturbing Hansa, “but not for the reasons you think. I’m not going to hide.”
For reasons no one understood, mancers were unable to cross the threshold of the Cobalt Hall, which would keep her and her child safe from that threat—but not from the continual, eroding wear that came from living a lie and hiding who and what you were from the world.
Umber nodded, holding his tongue as he awaited her next words.
“If I return to my customary tasks at the Hall, I’ll be in a position to hear rumors from both the Quinacridone Compound and the sorts who live at the edges of society. If Terre Verte starts stirring unrest, I’ll know.”
“And in the meantime you’ll be warm, well fed and as safe as any of us,” Umber said approvingly. “I don’t experience the kind of debilitating discomfort mancers do when they approach the Hall, but the only time I slept there I had disturbingly vivid dreams. I don’t know if that was a result of what I am, or the situation I was in at the time, but I’ll warn you anyway. I’m also not sure if Alizarin will be able to follow you there, or if the power that holds mancers at bay will also keep him out.”
“No! What did I—” Hansa shouted, and reached out in his sleep. Umber moved swiftly, and caught the other man’s grasping hand.
Before Hansa had settled again, Alizarin appeared in a waft of spicy smoke that coated Cadmia’s tongue with the smells of the Abyss, and consequently made her stomach rumble with hunger. At Umber’s urging, she had eaten a bit of the fish and cheese, but she hadn’t been able to tolerate more than a bite of bread, and what food she had taken was now sitting oddly in her stomach.
She tried not to look disappoin
ted when she realized Alizarin hadn’t brought anything back for her.
“How was the hunting?” she asked.
“I have to range far to find large prey that won’t be missed,” Alizarin replied apologetically. “I saw the big wings in the sky.”
“The Osei?” Umber sounded incredulous. “You hunted them?”
Everyone in Kavet knew about the Osei, though here in the city no one thought much about them. The dragon-like creatures claimed territory off the southern and eastern shores of the country, but never flew above it and rarely interacted with the population except through trade.
Alizarin lashed his tail in a way Cadmia knew indicated discomfort. Had he been afraid of the massive beasts? Cadmia hadn’t realized there was anything on the mortal plane that could intimidate an Abyssi, but she also hadn’t seen any creatures near the massive bulk of the Osei in Alizarin’s native realm.
“Of course not,” Alizarin said, fluffing his impossibly-soft fur. “I just looked at them. I’ve heard stories, and wanted to know if they are true.” He shrugged, as if his curiosity was inconsequential. “I could not tell. You’re hungry?”
“Yes,” Cadmia admitted. She bit her tongue to ask if looking at the Osei had distracted him from bringing meat back for her.
“Here.” He tucked his tail tightly around her waist and pulled her against his chest. Under the fur, his body was that of a well-muscled man, and her own body always gave an appreciative shiver when she pressed against it.
Alizarin drew a claw down the underside of his forearm, which, like his palms, was covered only with fine, suede-like fur. The blood that welled to the surface was thick, inky violet with an iridescent blue shine. Cadmia started to pull back, but Alizarin’s tail tightened.
“It will feed you better than dirt,” he said in his practical way. To the Abyssi, all food that didn’t still run with hot blood was inedible dirt.
“But you—”
He put a finger on her mouth. The tip of one claw rested on her upper lip, but she trusted him not to hurt her. “I can hunt here, but I cannot bring prey back through town without being noticed and I cannot carry it through a rift. This is the best way.” He licked her cheek affectionately.
She should have been disgusted. She expected to need to brace herself and force her mouth to that wound, but it was easy to lean forward and set her lips to his arm. The blood tasted like fire and smoke, and satisfied in a way human food—dirt—never could. She closed her eyes and Alizarin wrapped her in his arms while she fed.
In another world, another life, the concept would have horrified her. Drinking blood would have been beyond any acceptable notion, and even if she could have stomached that, the idea of feeding off her lover would have undone her.
Except that he was her lover. And she was carrying his child. And the Abyss was a very practical place. Turning his offer down over Numen concepts of should was silly.
She snuggled closer. She wasn’t sure when she stopped drinking, and her arms weren’t just holding on to him but caressing him.
She heard the door open, and Umber’s words floated through her head—We’ll give you some privacy, and seek some ourselves.
Priorities of the Abyss-tainted, Cadmia thought with wry amusement. There had been absolutely no judgment in Umber’s tone, no irritation that—despite their close quarters and dire situation—she and Alizarin would choose now to be intimate.
The first time she and Alizarin had made love, weeks ago in the Abyss, Umber had pulled her aside the next day to make sure she was all right. His concern, combined with things she had learned from their half-Abyssi host Azo, had made it clear that what most Abyssi considered sex was brutal and bloody.
Cadmia understood that Alizarin’s connection to the divine realm through Xaz was what had supposedly given him the capacity for deeper emotions and complex reasoning, but that didn’t seem enough. Humans had that aptitude, too, but Cadmia had known plenty of men and women who didn’t show it.
“Who taught you to be gentle?” she wondered aloud, as Alizarin’s palms skimmed down her body with the softest of caresses. Claws capable of rending stone tickled her skin so lightly they raised no weal, drew no blood, and hands strong enough to snap bones eased her gently to the mattress.
“A Numini,” Rin answered. “Veronese. He came to the Abyss.” He paused and tilted his head as he considered, causing his long black hair to slide silkily across her chest. She might have forgotten the subject entirely right then, but he said as if realizing for the first time, “He must have been the one who tried to rescue Terre Verte, the one who failed. He didn’t tell me that, but it makes sense.”
“Mm.” She didn’t want to talk about Terre Verte right then. “He was your lover?” She had always imagined the Numini as sexless creatures, but perhaps that was a Quin conceit.
Alizarin nodded, then continued with a dreamy voice. “He used to tell me stories. And he gave me a feather.” He tucked himself against her body and tickled her stomach with his tail as he spoke. “It was pink and yellow and white and black. But I lost it. I hid it somewhere, but . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t remember where. I was different then.”
She had never heard Alizarin speak with such awe in his voice. She wished she could meet this Numini, Veronese. Surely he had been different than the rest, if he had befriended an Abyssi.
“Is he what made you want a tie to the Numen?”
Had Alizarin hoped that, through his link to Dioxazine, he could see Veronese again?
Alizarin nodded, then snuggled his face against her chest, hiding the glow of his cobalt eyes an instant after she glimpsed pain in them. “Modigliani destroyed him,” he murmured in a tight voice. “I was prince of the third level then, and might have won if I fought for the fourth, but Modigliani was already lord of the low court. I couldn’t protect Veronese there.”
She felt warm wetness on her breasts, and realized it must be tears.
She hadn’t known an Abyssi could cry.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, stroking his hair.
She felt the tickle of his eyelashes against her skin as he blinked rapidly, and then the barest brush of his teeth, a gentle nibble that shot sparks down her body and made her catch her breath. In response, she ran her fingers though the thick fur on his upper arms and shoulders, urging him up so she could kiss him.
When they made love, it was solace and passion, release and connection. Perhaps Alizarin had learned from the divine how to be a considerate and gentle lover, but it was with an Abyssal immediacy that they put aside their fears, hurts, and concerns for a little while and found comfort and pleasure in each other.
Chapter 6
Hansa
The details of the nightmare had slipped from Hansa’s mind before he and Umber had left the room, but he still felt shaken by it. Had he been back in the Abyss? Back at the fifth level court? In reality, he had only glimpsed the Abyssi of the low court before Umber had covered his eyes, shielding him from a sight capable of driving a mortal mad. In the dream—
Perhaps turn your thoughts away from that, Umber suggested quietly as they ghosted through the halls of the Fens. He gave Hansa a half hug with the guiding arm around his waist. You saw more than was healthy down there.
Is it safe to talk out loud? Hansa asked. He was getting used to this form of silent communication, but still didn’t prefer it.
“As long as we keep our voices low and mind what topics we discuss,” Umber murmured. With a sidelong glance, he asked, “Did you bring me out here to talk?”
“I thought you brought me.”
“We brought each other,” Umber suggested.
“It seemed like Cadmia and Alizarin could use some privacy.”
“I assumed you would want some, too, for the things I’m hoping to do to you,” Umber teased, pausing to spin Hansa toward himself so they were eye to eye. Before the bond, Hansa hadn’t been able to see the glow in those indigo depths. Now it was hard to imagine that the average man on th
e street couldn’t see the flickering Abyss all around him.
“You’re suddenly so serious,” Umber said when the silence between them stretched too long. “What’s wrong?” He caught himself, and amended, “Specifically, right now.”
“How can you stand to live this way?”
Umber tensed, his expression going steely. “Which . . . way?”
That cool, deep voice used to frighten Hansa. Now he recognized it as Umber’s defensive tone, the one he put on when Hansa had just said something arrogant and judgmental, tainted by Quin prejudice and fear.
Hansa shook his head, realizing he had offended the other man and struggling to clarify his meaning. “Not this way,” he said, gesturing to the dilapidated building around him. “I mean . . . all of it.” That wasn’t any clearer. “You’ve told us the spawn are among the most powerful creatures in Kavet. When I was arrested, you waved your hand or something and I went from being a condemned traitor to the hero of Kavet. Winsor Indathrone shook my hand and—” He choked off, remembering that Indathrone was dead, and it was at least partially his fault. “Kavet is broken, and you live in it, which means you’re forced to hide everything, from what you are to who you like to bed. How can you stand to live like that and do nothing?”
Umber drew a long, slow breath. His fingers drummed on Hansa’s back, an idle caress, as he thought.
“I don’t have the kind of power you’re thinking of. To get your charges dropped, I had to push several carefully-cultivated contacts and burn most of the influence I had in the Quin Compound. I can’t sway a country.”
“I’m sorry,” Hansa sighed. “I didn’t realize. You acted like it was easy.” And I didn’t care, at the time, if it caused you trouble, he thought.
Umber had granted the first boon willingly when he saved Hansa’s life, and it had put him in a position where he couldn’t refuse when Hansa demanded a second. That was the way a spawn’s power worked. Hansa hadn’t known anything about him except that he was half-demon and he had the power to save Hansa’s life.