Sandis crept back to the side of her bed. Sat on her heels. Stared at the door.
Vessels weren’t allowed to leave their room at night unescorted, even to eliminate. The bucket in the corner was for that.
The second, distant scream, despite being quieter this time, made Sandis jump.
“You’re his favorite.”
Sandis hoped that would play in her favor if she got caught wandering. The heavy door sang her disobedience as she pulled it open and slipped through.
The hallways were empty. They usually were, even during the day. Grafters kept to themselves in their little colonies, only merging together when it was time to storm another’s nest. But Sandis didn’t need to go far. She knew where Kazen would be, if he was experimenting again.
The ceiling in the corridor was low, the walls close together, making the passageway narrow enough that two grown men passing each other would brush shoulders. It curved slightly, like a sickle. Yellow light flowed feebly from beneath two of the closed doorways—one to her left and one at the end.
Sandis hugged the wall, avoiding that light as though it were red-hot iron. She paused as she passed the first lit doorway, Kazen’s office. Zelna muttered to herself inside. Whisking past on slippered feet, Sandis tiptoed to the door at the end of the corridor, the one that led to the summoning room.
Pressure built under her skull. Ireth? But of course the numen couldn’t answer. Never once had the fire horse spoken to her directly.
She touched the knob, turned it as quietly as she could, and inched the door open to a crack. The room beyond was the largest in the lair, roughly the size of a small warehouse. She saw Galt first; he was probably in and out, fetching whatever Kazen needed like a good little dog. Likely why the door wasn’t locked. Galt was a stocky man, perhaps in his late thirties. Might have been attractive if he weren’t hopped up on brain dust every evening, and if his soul weren’t both blacker and slicker than spent oil.
“He’s ready.” Kazen’s voice was low and soft, yet pierced through the air like lightning. Sandis flinched from it and, one finger at a time, removed her hand from the door. Ready to flee in an instant. Or make an excuse. She wasn’t known as a rule breaker—a good excuse might be believed. Maybe. If she acted sleepy, pretended she thought Kazen had summoned her . . .
The click of horse hooves brought her attention back to the crack. Galt had vanished from view, but he returned a moment later, tugging a rope lead on a well-muscled horse. A mare, Sandis guessed. She’d never known much of horseflesh, though her mother had loved the creatures. They passed out of her line of sight again and didn’t return.
Sandis bit her lip. They were going to kill the poor thing, weren’t they? Sacrifice was necessary for an unbound summons, but to her knowledge, Kazen had never killed something as large as a horse before. Sandis wanted to cover her ears, but it would prevent her from hearing them if they came close to the door . . . and she couldn’t bring herself to leave.
She thanked the Celestial when the horse only made a small noise as its throat was slit. The floor shuddered when its body hit.
The light wavered. Sandis dared inch the door open, just a little more, with her toe. She choked down a gasp.
Heath. Kneeling, not standing, in the growing crimson puddle beside the fallen animal. He looked out of sorts, like he was drugged or . . . like he’d given up. Kazen had written Noscon script all over Heath’s limbs. Sandis couldn’t decipher it, but she knew it wasn’t part of a usual summoning.
The pressure returned to her skull. She pressed her cheek to the doorjamb, straining to see.
Kazen stepped into the blood and pressed his palm to Heath’s head. As he pulled back, he chanted familiar words that still lanced cold into Sandis’s core.
Vre en nestu a carnath Ii mem entre I amar Vre en nestu a carnath Kolosos epsi gradenid She mouthed the unfamiliar name Kolosos just before a burst of red light blinded her.
She stumbled back from the door, hand rushing up to her tearing eyes on instinct. She rubbed them, smearing the salt water. Opened her eyes to spots, and tried to blink them away. All the while, she thought, No, it should be white light. It’s always white light.
The sound that poured from that crack was unlike anything she’d ever heard before. A mix of soggy boots squelching, leather tearing. A throat choking on water without any air. A bug crushed underfoot.
Though a few spots lingered in her sight, Sandis leaned toward the door, nearly gagging on the smell of meat.
The pool of blood was twice as large now, and— Bile rushed up her throat. Afraid that her retching would give her away, Sandis rushed from the door on the balls of her feet. Biting her tongue and swallowing to keep half-digested food in her stomach.
The blood. The meat. That was Heath.
Had been Heath.
She paused near the vessels’ room, pressing her moist forehead to the cold wall outside the door. She breathed hard, too agitated to worry about the sound. Stared into nothing.
Heath.
Vessels had died in summonings before. She’d witnessed it happen. Either someone was consecrated for it who didn’t meet all the requirements or a master summoned too strong a creature into too weak a vessel. There was always a flash of light, and then the body crumpled, dead. Sometimes blood leaked from the lips, nose, or eyes. That was it.
Heath . . . Heath had turned inside out.
She’d seen so much evil, so much darkness, since coming into Kazen’s acquaintance. But never this. Never this. What was he planning? Why would he attempt to summon such a thing?
She swallowed, her stomach protesting. The pressure in her skull grew until she thought her head would split. Did Ireth build it, or her own horror?
Kolosos. Sandis mouthed the long, low syllables. Kolosos. That was the name of the creature Kazen had attempted to summon into Heath. Heath, who could hold a numen with the power of seven, like Sandis.
That could have been her.
Sandis’s mind turned over, her decision made as swiftly as the striking of a firing pin. She had to leave. Now. If she didn’t act immediately, it wouldn’t happen. She’d lose her courage, or she wouldn’t succeed. But she’d have to do it alone, with no money in her pockets, no roof over her head, no guarantees— A sound echoed down the hallway. Without turning, Sandis slipped into the darkness of the sleeping chamber. Held her breath long enough to listen for sounds of wakefulness among her peers. They slept on.
Maybe, hope whispered to her. Maybe you’re not as alone as you think.
Talbur Gwenwig. She’d seen his name at the bank. Anyone with that surname had to be related to her, one way or another. But would he take her in? If she hid the truth about what she’d become, if she pleaded with him and followed all the rules . . .
She bit down on her first knuckle, the smell of Heath and his failed summoning still clinging to her nostrils, encouraging her to run.
The sound had faded from the hallway. Now. It has to happen now. She could take nothing with her. No extra clothes, no provisions, no weapons. Kazen’s men would suspect her if she tried. But should she warn the other vessels? Part of her felt a duty to do so, but they might not believe her. Might not wake in time. And they couldn’t all walk out without raising suspicion. No, Sandis couldn’t take anything with her, even her comrades.
The thought pressed thorns into her heart. She looked up at the sleeping forms. She had to tell them. They wouldn’t say anything, would they? Or would someone give her away, getting her caught before she had a chance to run? Maybe Kazen would beat the information out of them . . . or simply beat them out of frustration.