Nevernight

‘Thirty-six,’ he said.

Thirty-six murders? At the hands of a blind man?

‘Aalea, Shahiid of Masks, pray for us.’

Another woman padded into the soft light, swaying as she came, all curves and alabaster skin. Mia found her jaw agape – the newcomer was easily the most beautiful woman she’d laid eyes on. Thick black hair cascading to her waist, dark eyes smeared with kohl, lips painted bloody red. She was unarmed. Apparently.

‘Thirty-nine,’ she said, with a voice like sweet smoke.

‘Revered Mother Drusilla, pray for us.’

A woman slipped out of the darkness, soundless as cot death. She was elderly, curling grey hair bound in braids. An obsidian key hung about her throat on a silver chain. She seemed a kindly old thing, eyes twinkling as she looked over the group. Mia would’ve expected to find her in a rocking chair beside a happy hearth, grandchildren on her knee and a cup of tea by her elbow. This couldn’t be the chief minister of the deadliest band of—

‘Eighty-three,’ the old woman said, taking her place on the dais.

Maw take me, eighty-three …

The Revered Mother looked over the group, a gentle smile on her lips.

‘I bid you welcome to the Red Church, children,’ she said. ‘You have travelled miles and years to be here. You have miles and years to go. But at journey’s end, you will be Blades, wielded for the glory of the goddess in the most sacred of sacraments.

‘Those who survive, of course.’

The old woman gestured to the four figures around her.

‘Heed the words of your Shahiid. Know that everything you were prior to this moment is dead. That once you pledge yourself to the Maw, you are hers and hers alone.’ A robed figure with a silver bowl stepped up beside the Revered Mother, and she beckoned Mia. ‘Bring forth your tithe. The remnants of a killer, killed in turn and offered to Our Lady of Blessed Murder in this, the hour of your baptism.’

Mia stepped forward, purse in hand. Her stomach was turning flips, but her hands were steady as stone. She took her place before the old woman and her gentle smile, looked deep into pale blue eyes. Felt herself being weighed. Wondered if she’d been found wanting.

‘My tithe,’ she managed to say. ‘For the Maw.’

‘I accept it in her name with her thanks upon my lips.’

Mia sighed as she heard the response, almost falling to her knees as the Revered Mother embraced her, kissed one cheek after another with ice-cold lips. She squeezed Mia tight as the girl breathed deep, blinking back hot tears. And turning to the silver bowl, the old woman dipped one stick-thin hand inside and drew it back, dripping red.

Blood.

‘Speak your name.’

‘Mia Corvere.’

‘Do you vow to serve the Mother of Night? Will you learn death in all its colours, bring it to the deserving and undeserving in her name? Will you become an Acolyte of Niah, and an earthly instrument of the dark between the stars?’

Mia found herself struggling to inhale.

The deep breath before the plunge.

‘I will.’

The Revered Mother pressed her palm to Mia’s cheek, smearing the blood down her skin. It was still warm, the scent of salt and copper filling the girl’s lungs. The old woman marked one cheek, then the other, finally smudging a long streak down Mia’s lips and chin. The girl felt the gravity of that moment in her bones, dragging her belly to her boots. The Mother nodded and Mia backed away, hugging herself, licking the blood from her lips, near weeping, laughing. One step closer to avenging her familia. One step closer to standing on Scaeva’s tomb.

She was here, she realised.

I’m here.

The ritual was repeated, each acolyte bringing forth their tithes one by one. Some brought teeth, others eyes – the tall boy with the sledgehammer hands brought a rotting heart, wrapped in black velvet. Mia realised there wasn’t a single one of them who wasn’t a murderer. That of all the rooms in the Republic there was probably none more dangerous than the one she stood in, right at that moment.fn6

‘Your studies begin on the morrow,’ the Revered Mother said. ‘Evemeal will be served in the Sky Altar in a half-hour.’ She indicated the row of robed figures. ‘Hands will be available should you need guidance, and I would suggest you avail yourselves until you find your bearings. The Mountain can be difficult to navigate at first, and getting lost within these halls can have … unfortunate consequences.’ Blue eyes glittered in the dark. ‘Walk softly. Learn well. May Our Lady be late when she finds you. And when she does, may she greet you with a kiss.’

The old woman bowed, stepped back into the gloom. The other Ministry members left one by one. Tric wandered over to Mia, greeted her with a smile, his cheeks red with blood. He’d been bathed and scrubbed, and even his saltlocks looked a little less sentient.

‘You shaved,’ she smirked.

‘Don’t get used to it. Happens twice a year.’ He squinted at Naev, recognition slowly widening in his eyes. ‘How in the name of the Lady …’

‘We meet again.’ The thin woman bowed low. ‘Naev gives thanks for his assistance in the deep desert. The debt shall not be forgot.’

‘How are you still walking and breathing?’

‘Secrets within secrets in this place,’ Mia said.

‘Corvere?’ said a soft voice behind her.

Mia turned to the speaker. It was the girl she’d noted; the pretty one with a jagged red bob and green, hunter’s eyes. She was studying Mia intently, head tilted. The tall Itreyan boy with sledgehammer hands loomed beside her like an angry shadow.

‘In the ceremony,’ the girl said. ‘You said your name was Corvere?’

‘Aye,’ Mia said.

‘Are you by chance related to Darius Corvere? The former justicus?’

Mia weighed up the girl in her mind. Fit. Fast. Hard as wood. But whoever she was, Mia was certain Scaeva and his cronies would have no allies within these walls; Remus and his Luminatii had vowed to do away with the Red Church since the Truedark Massacre, after all. Even so, Mercurio had urged Mia to leave her name behind when she crossed this threshold. It was one of the few things they’d argued about. Stupid perhaps. But her father’s death was the whole reason she’d begun walking this road. The name Corvere had been erased from the histories by Scaeva and his lackeys – she’d not leave it behind in the dust, no matter what it cost her.

‘I’m Darius Corvere’s daughter,’ Mia finally replied. ‘And you are?’

‘Jessamine, daughter of Marcinus Gratianus.’

‘Apologies. Is that someone I should have heard of?’

‘First centurion of the Luminatii Legion,’ the girl scowled. ‘Executed by order of the Itreyan Senate after the Kingmaker Rebellion.’

Mia’s frown softened. Black Mother, this was the daughter of one of her father’s centurions. A girl just like her – orphaned by Consul Scaeva and Justicus Remus and the rest of those bastards. Someone who knew the taste of injustice as well as she did.

Mia offered her hand. ‘Well met, sister. My—’

Jessamine slapped the hand away, eyes flashing. ‘You’re no sister to me, bitch.’

Mia felt Tric bristle beside her, Mister Kindly’s hackles rise in the shadow at her feet. She rubbed her slapped knuckles, speaking carefully.

‘I grieve your loss. Truly, I do. My fath—’

‘Your father was a fucking traitor,’ Jessamine snarled. ‘His men died because they honoured their oaths to a fool justicus, and their skulls now pave the steps to the Senate House. Because of the mighty Darius Corvere.’

‘My father was loyal to General Antonius,’ Mia said. ‘He had oaths to honour too.’

‘Your father was a fucking lapdog,’ Jessamine spat. ‘Everyone knows why he followed Antonius, and it had nothing to do with honour. My father and brother were crucified because of him. My mother dead of grief in Godsgrave Asylum. All of them, unavenged.’ The girl stepped closer, eyes narrowed. ‘But not much longer. You’d best grow some eyes in the back of your head, Corvere. You’d best start sleeping light.’

Mia stared the girl down, unblinking, Mister Kindly swelling beneath her feet. Naev drifted closer to the red-headed girl, lisping in her ear.

‘She will step away. Or she will be stepped upon.’

Jessamine glanced at the woman, jaw clenched. After a staring contest that stretched for miles, the girl spun on her heel and stalked off, the big Itreyan boy trailing behind. Mia realised her nails were cutting her palms.

‘You surely do know how to make friends, Pale Daughter.’

Mia turned to Tric, found him smiling, though his hand was also up his sleeve. She relaxed a touch, allowed herself a smile too. Bad as she was at making them, at least she had one friend within these walls.

‘Come on,’ the boy said. ‘We going to evemeal or not?’

Mia looked after the retreating Jessamine. Glanced around at the other acolytes. The reality of where she was sank home deeper. A school of killers. Surrounded by novices or masters in the art of murder. She was here. This was it.

Time to get to work.

‘Evemeal sounds good,’ she nodded. ‘I can’t think of a better place to start scouting.’

‘Scouting? For what?’

‘You’ve heard the saying the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?’

‘I always wondered about that,’ Tric frowned. ‘Ribcage seems much quicker to me.’

‘True enough. But still, you can learn a lot about animals. Watching them eat.’

‘… You’re a little frightening sometimes, Pale Daughter.’

She gave him a wry smile. ‘Only a little?’

‘Well, most times, you’re just plain terrifying.’

‘Come on,’ she said, slapping his arm. ‘I’ll buy you a drink.’

CHAPTER 9

DARK

The old man straightened her nose out as best he could, wiped the blood from her face with a rag soaked in something that smelled sharp and metallic. And sitting her down at a little table in the back of his shop, he’d made her tea.

The room was somewhere between a kitchen and a library. All was swathed in shadow, the shutters drawn against the sunslight outside.fn1 A single arkemical lamp illuminated stacks of dirty crockery and great, wobbling piles of books. Mia’s pain slipped away as she sipped Mercurio’s brew, the throbbing mess in the middle of her face rendered mercifully numb. He gave her honeyseed cake and watched her wolf down three slices, like a spider watches a fly. And when she pushed the plate aside, he finally spoke.

‘How’s the beak?’

‘Doesn’t hurt any more.’

‘Good tea, neh?’ He smiled. ‘How’d it get broken?’

‘The big boy. Shivs. I put my knife to his privates and he hit me for it.’

‘Who told you to go for a boy’s cods in a scrap?’

‘My father. He said the quickest way to beat a boy is to make him wish he was a girl.’

Mercurio chuckled. ‘Duum’a.’

‘What does that mean?’ Mia blinked.

‘… You don’t speak Liisian?’

‘Why would I?’

‘I thought your ma would’ve taught you. She was from these parts.’

Mia blinked. ‘She was?’

The old man nodded. ‘Long time back, now. Before she got hitched and became a dona.’

‘She … never spoke of it.’

‘Not much reason to, I s’pose. I imagine she thought she’d left these streets behind for ever.’ He shrugged. ‘Anyways, closest translation of “duum’a” would be “is wise”.You say it when you hear agreeable words. As you might say “hear, hear” or suchlike.’

‘What does “Neh diis …”’ Mia frowned, struggling with the pronunciation. ‘“Neh diis lus’a … lus diis’a”? What does that mean?’

Mercurio raised an eyebrow. ‘Where’d you hear that?’

‘Consul Scaeva said it to my mother. When he told her to beg for my life.’

Mercurio stroked his stubble. ‘It’s an old Liisian saying.’

‘What does it mean?’

‘When all is blood, blood is all.’

Mia nodded, thinking perhaps she understood. They sat in silence for a time, the old man lighting one of his clove-scented cigarillos and drawing deep. Finally, Mia spoke again.

‘You said my mother was from here? Little Liis?’

‘Aye. Long time past.’

‘Did she have familia here? Someone I could …’

Mercurio shook his head. ‘They’re gone, child. Or dead. Both, mostly.’

‘Like Father.’

Mercurio cleared his throat, sucked on his cigarillo.

‘… It was a shame. What they did to him.’

‘They said he was a traitor.’

A shrug. ‘A traitor’s just a patriot on the wrong side of winning.’

Mia brushed her fringe from her eyes, looked hopeful. ‘He was a patriot, then?’

‘No, little Crow,’ the old man said. ‘He lost.’

‘And they killed him.’ Hate rose up in her belly, curled her hands to fists. ‘The consul. That fat priest. The new justicus. They killed him.’

Mercurio exhaled a thin grey ring, watching her closely. ‘He and General Antonius wanted to overthrow the Senate, girl. They’d mustered a bloody army and were set to march against their own capital. Think of all the death that would’ve unfolded if they’d not been captured before the war began in truth. Maybe they should’ve hung your da. Maybe he deserved it.’

Mia’s eyes widened and she kicked back her chair, reaching for the knife that wasn’t there. The rage resurfaced then, all the pain and anger of the last twenty-four hours flaring inside her, the anger flooding so thick it made her arms and legs tremble.

And the shadows in the room began trembling too.

The black writhed. At her feet. Behind her eyes. She clenched her fists. Spat through gritted teeth. ‘My father was a good man. And he didn’t deserve to die like that.’

The teapot slipped off the counter with a crash. Cupboard doors shook on their hinges, cups danced on their saucers. Towers of books toppled and sprawled across the floor. Mia’s shadow stretched out towards the old man’s, clawing across the splintering boards, the nails popping free as it drew ever closer. Mister Kindly coalesced at her feet, translucent hackles raised, hissing and spitting. Mercurio backed across the room quicker than she’d imagine an old fellow might have stepped, hands raised in supplication, cigarillo hanging from bone-dry lips.

‘Peace, peace, little Crow,’ he said. ‘A test is all, a test. No offence meant.’

As the crockery stopped trembling and the cupboards fell silent, Mia sagged in place, tears fighting with the anger. It was all crashing down on her. The sight of her father swinging, her mother’s screams, sleeping in alleys, robbed and beaten … all of it. Too much.

Too much.

Mister Kindly circled her feet, purring and prowling just like a real cat might. Her shadow slipped back across the floor, puddling into its regular shape, just a shade too dark for one. Mercurio pointed to it.

‘How long has it listened?’

‘… What?’

‘The Dark. How long has it listened when you call?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

She curled up on her haunches, trying to hold it inside. Screw it up and push it all the way down into her shoes. Her shoulders shook. Her belly ached. And softly, she began to sob.

O, Daughters, how she hated herself, then …

The old man reached into his greatcoat. Pulled out a mostly clean handkerchief and held it out to her. Watching as she snatched it away, dabbed as best she could at her broken nose, the hateful tears in her lashes. And finally he knelt on the boards in front of her, looked at her with eyes as sharp and blue as raw sapphires.

‘I don’t know what any of this means,’ she whispered.

The old man’s eyes twinkled as he smiled. With a glance towards the cat made of shadows, Mercurio drew out her mother’s stiletto from his coat, stabbed it into the floorboards between them. The polished gravebone gleamed in the lantern light.

‘Would you like to learn?’ he asked.

Mia eyed the knife, nodded slow. ‘Yes, I would, sir.’

‘There’s no sirs ’round here, little Crow. No donas or dons. Just you and me.’

Mia chewed her lip, tempted to just grab the blade and run for it.

But where would she go? What would she do?

‘What should I call you, then?’ she finally asked.

‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘If you want to take back what’s yours from them what took it. If you’re the kind who doesn’t forget, and doesn’t forgive. Who wants to understand why the Mother has marked you.’

Mia stared back. Unblinking. Her shadow rippled at her feet.

‘And if I am?’

‘Then you call me “Shahiid”. Until the turn I call you “Mia”’.

‘What’s “Shahiid” mean?’

‘It’s an old Ashkahi word. It means “Honoured Master”.’

‘What will you call me in the meantime?’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.