Fiery Edge of Steel (A NOON ONYX NOVEL) (48 page)

“The Council’s back in New Babylon. You’re here; the settlers are here. You’ve got no boat and they’ve got no patron. It makes perfect sense so long as everyone’s in agreement.”

“What do you think their take on it will be?” Delgato asked, making a gesture that included everyone on the docks and in the dirt behind it.

I shrugged. “You’ll have to ask them how they would feel about following the Patron Demon of Shadows, Stealth, and Hiding. Course, you could always become the patron of something else,” I said, grinning. “Like rainbows, sunshine, and wide-open spaces.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” Rafe said quietly.

Delgato looked at him queerly. “What do you mean?” he growled.

“I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve reinvented yourself.”

The two stared at each other and I realized I’d missed something important. “What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Delgato is Grimasca,” Rafe said.

To my shock, Delgato didn’t deny it. I turned to him in dismay. “
You’re
Grimasca? Grimasca actually exists?”

“No,” Delgato said emphatically. “Grimasca does
not
exist. Grimasca died a long time ago. I killed myself—drowned myself in the Elbow—centuries ago.”

“That’s impossible,” I cried. “Nobody comes back to life in Halja.”

Again, Delgato shrugged. Clearly, he couldn’t care less whether I believed him or not. “I did. Or rather, I came back to life as someone else. After the Elbow spit me back out, I was no longer a hellcnight; I was a manticore. But I still possessed each and every one of my accursed hellcnight memories. How? Why? Beats the hell out of me. Maybe because I drowned alone. Like she did. Or maybe because Luck wants me to suffer.”

“How did you know?” I said to Rafe.

“It was just a guess,” he said. “Until now.”

We all stood looking at one another for a moment. No one said anything. It was weird, though, because even though it was nice and sunny out, I suddenly felt a shadow pass over us. I looked at Delgato, and for a single second I could have sworn his eyes glowed red. I shivered and rubbed my arms.

“Still think I’m the right demon to watch over these people?” Delgato growled, glancing back at the innocent and unknowing settlers.

“That depends,” I said slowly, pulling out the butcher knife and the silver spice box. “Are these yours?”

He stared at the knife and the box, transfixed. Finally, he reached for the box, waving off my offer of the knife. “Keep it,” he said peremptorily. And then, as if the box were made of the finest, most delicate blown glass, he gingerly examined it. Lovingly, he caressed the words “For Ebony” and then scowled at the quote he’d engraved on the back.
“‘Better late than never’ is a
lie.”

I found his actions telling. He’d rejected his old butcher knife, instead reaching for a momento of lost love.

“When we met, you said you both adored and abhorred secrets. Want to swap answers? I want to know what happened with Ebony. And you want . . . well, an answer limited only by your question, I imagine. I can give you the answer to
any
question about anyone, anyplace, or anything in Halja.”

“
Any
question?” he asked. I nodded.

“You’ve still got it, don’t you?” he said. “The black onion.”

I smiled and pulled it out of my pocket. “I told you it was yours at the end of this trip.”

“You said it was mine if everyone made it back safely. Burr died, and you’re still here.”

I shrugged. “It’s mine to use as I choose.”

“Don’t
you
want to ask it a question?” he said, eyeing me closely. “You’ve certainly earned the right. Sounds like you’ve done far more than just sail the Lethe on this trip.”

I thought about what I might ask.
When was the Boatman coming? Would we make it back alive? Where was Ari? Did he still love me? When would I be able to forget him? Who should become the new patron demon of these people? Was Delgato the right choice?

I realized, though, that some of my questions could be answered with time, not magic, and that others probably shouldn’t be asked. I might have welcomed some help with the last two
if
I knew I could trust the black onion to provide helpful information. But, the truth was, I’d never known magic to work straightforwardly or exactly as one wished it to. And hadn’t I told Ari just a few nights ago that I believed in living, breathing people more than magic? That I wanted my own head and heart to determine someone’s fate, not things like waerwater and black onions?

“You can have it,” I said, never meaning anything more. But he didn’t accept it.

“What do you want to know about Ebony?”

Once again, I thought of all my unanswered questions. Had he really loved her? Had he bitten her? Had it been an accident? How had it happened? I didn’t believe for a single second that he’d eaten her, as Burr had believed. That embellishment was Grimasca/Delgato’s punishment for having been such a horrible creature to begin with. But he wasn’t anymore. I
knew
he wasn’t. And really the only reason I wanted to know about Ebony was because I wanted to ask him how he did it. How did he keep on living without her? But how would
his
answer help
me
? I had to find my own answer.

“Never mind,” I said. I grabbed Delgato’s paw and pressed the black onion into it. “Keep your painful memories. I’ve got my own.”

*   *   *

A
little over a week later the Boatman came in a small, narrow riverboat. By that time, I was unbelievably sick of bloodfish and bonemeal. But I’d miss everyone in the Shallows. Delgato had agreed to stay on as patron. The people had willingly embraced him. Stillwater and Antony Rust were still at it, with Stillwater advocating that they stay in the Shallows and rebuild the keep and Antony pressing for the sea. Russ chose to stay with Delgato. Our parting gift to the people of the Shallows was the Mederi-blessed package of seeds we’d brought. The night
Cnawlece
had sank,
that
was what Rafe had gone back for. He presented them to Russ to hold as our official farewell gift. I had never meant any sentiment more.

Fare well,
I thought so fiercely, it was almost a prayer. As we rounded the bend in the Blandjan that would take us out of sight of the Shallows, I turned to ask Fara if she remembered any farewell blessings from the Book of Joshua but her face was buried in Virtus’ fur. She was weeping. I glanced over at Rafe. His carefully carefree look was back.

It took us two months to get home. By the time I set foot on campus the weather had completely changed. During our trip back, Haita had become Draugr, the month of dryness, and then Ciele, the month of frost. The leaves on the trees changed color. There weren’t any trees at St. Luck’s, but here and there, scattered around the city sidewalks in tree wells, were a few elm, birch, and beech trees. After all the drab iron, moss, and sage of the swamp and lower Lethe, their blazing golds and sanguine reds were as bracing as the cool wind that blew us back to the New Babylon docks.

In time Ciele, the month of frost, turned to Fyr, the month of fire. The crimson and canary-colored leaves fell from the trees, the days grew darker, and the nights colder. Apples were harvested and the smell of bonfires filled the air. Ari did not return. I gave Rochester a full report on what happened in the Shallows, but I “modified” the facts for two of the most significant events. I told Rochester that Ari had disappeared during the investigation. It was technically true (I had no idea where he was) but I also knew it was a lie by omission. I didn’t care. While I couldn’t forgive Ari for his deception, I didn’t feel it was my place to reveal his secret. And I told Rochester that my alembic had been lost the night
Cnawlece
sank. Another lie? Yes, undoubtedly. But I’d made my peace with that earlier, after Beetiennik’s trial by waerwater when I executed him despite Luck’s pardon. If I was a sinner, so be it. At least I was a sinner who could look herself in the mirror while brushing her teeth.

Rafe was admitted back into the Joshua School. Typical of Rafe, he’d shrugged and said it made no difference to him where he slept. Freidrich was still deciding whether he would be allowed to continue training as my Guardian. I’d heard that relations between Friedrich and my father had become strained. But since Karanos wasn’t in the habit of cultivating close relationships, I didn’t read into it overmuch. Fara was going to be assigned to someone new. I would miss working with her. Thanks to the time I’d spent with her studying in the library on board
Cnawlece
and the massive cram sessions with Ivy and Fitz upon my return, I passed all of my classes.

Over drinks one night at Marduk’s, I introduced Fara and Rafe to Ivy and Fitz. It was awkward at first, only because I had so much shared history among all of them, but not together. But I think they realized how important it was to me to feel like my closest friends got along so they tried extra hard. Before long (and a few boilermakers later) no one was trying anymore. Fitz was egging Fara on to pull off increasingly outrageous illusions, put on ever more outlandish glamours, and asking if he could “borrow” Virtus for some insane future purpose. Ivy offered to redraft Rafe’s CV for him. She was intensely curious about all of the spells he’d made up. Since Rafe had proven he could cast the likes of hottie Holden Pierce under the table, Ivy thought Rafe’s ridiculously titled spells were
exceptionally charming
and
effortlessly inventive
.

I took a few days off and went back to Etincelle. I visited my mother’s black garden. It was a blackened area just outside my bedroom window that my mother had torched with a can of gasoline and a match the day after my brother and I were born. I knew (because my mother had told me of things she’d done in the garden and because in nearly twenty-two years the garden had never grown back) that there was magic in it. But I thought it best not to dwell on what kind. The place didn’t feel malignant. It just felt hazy, slow, and muted, like a dream with no color.

I knelt in the ashes and took out Burr’s filleting knife and Grimasca’s butcher knife. I carved each of their names on the handles and then plunged them deep into the ground, side by side, so they looked like miniature tomb markers. Among the black ash, cinders, broken glass, shards of splintered wood, and other debris in the garden, the two knives looked right at home. Burr was dead, as was Grimasca. But Delgato lived, the people of the Shallows lived, and
I
lived and would continue living. Every day it got a little easier to breathe.

A few days later, to celebrate the end of the semester, I met Ivy, Fitz, Fara, and Rafe at the Black Onion. I’d been worried I might not feel like eating there anymore, but then I surprised myself by ordering the fish special. (It was charred red snapper. How could I not?) Midway through the meal, I pulled Alba aside and told her about Burr. I expressed my deepest sympathies. She expressed her deepest gratitude. She’d expected nothing less from Nouiomo Onyx than a swift execution of the demon that was responsible. I was just about to give her the three black onions I’d found for her in my mother’s garden when Aurelia herself walked in. But infinitely more surprising than seeing
her
was seeing who was with her—my father. They almost never went anywhere together anymore.

As before when Karanos Onyx entered the Black Onion, the din stopped and all eyes turned toward him. But then he cleared his throat and everyone got back to the business of eating and talking. My parents walked over to where Alba and I were standing.

“You’ve been digging in my garden, Nouiomo,” Aurelia said.

Alba narrowed her eyes at me.
Who would want to be caught stealing vegetables from the executive’s wife’s garden?

But then my mother said to Alba, “Next time you need something, let me know. I can’t promise you anything
fresh
, but black onions shouldn’t be a problem. In fact, I think I saw some black garlic and black shallots out there last week . . .” Alba couldn’t get my mother into the corner fast enough to discuss the terms of their future partnership. Which left me standing alone for a moment with Karanos, who spared no time, per his usual, on idle chitchat.

“Did Aristos really disappear in the Shallows, Nouiomo?”

I looked into his eerie, unreflective eyes.

Did he know about Ari? If he didn’t, did I trust him enough to tell him the truth? How much trouble would Ari be in if the Council found out that he’d been a drakon training to be a Maegester? Karanos was my father and the executive . . . But something made me hesitate (natural caution? misplaced loyalty?) and I merely said, “I haven’t seen him since then. What other explanation could there be?”

We stared at each other. “And the alembic?” Karanos asked. “Rochester said you never used the waerwater. That you lost it at the Elbow . . .”

The best lies were the truth in disguise . . .

“That’s right,” I said, chin up, gaze steady. To my utter shock, Karanos laughed then. It was little more than a cough, really, that happened coincidentally while he was smirking. But that’s what it was.

“Well then,” he said, nodding, “looks like you’re ready for a new assignment.”

Afterward, Rafe walked me back to Megiddo. On the way, he sang me the
silliest
song. It was about a cat who was sitting on a roof when he discovers that his true love has been unfaithful to him. In his madness, after having discovered her betrayal, he falls off the roof and breaks his solar plexus—