She shouldered her way through the open doors in the wall of the Agriont, nearly tripping over the doorman, sitting against the wall where she had left him with one hand clasped to his head. She sprang over him as he cringed away, flew down the steps three at a time, across the crumbling courtyard, down the dusty corridors, sparing no thought for masked figures or for anyone else. They seemed a pitiful, everyday sort of threat, now. She could still feel the icy breath on her neck.
Nothing mattered but to put it far behind her.
She slid up to the door, fumbled at the bolt with the heel of her broken hand, burst out into the drizzle and pounded down the wet streets the way she had come. The people in the lanes and squares stumbled back out of her way, shocked at the sight of her, desperate and bloody. Angry voices echoed after her but she ignored them, turned a corner onto a wide street between grey buildings and nearly slid right over on the wet stones.
A great crowd of dishevelled people were choking the road. Women, children, old men, dirty and shambling.
Out of my way! she screamed, and started to force a path through. Move! The story Bayaz had told on the endless plain nagged at the back of her mind. How the soldiers had found the Seed in the ruins of Aulcus. How they had withered and died. She pushed and kicked and shouldered her way through the press. Move! She tore free of them and sprinted off down the empty street, her broken arm held against her body, against the thing inside her shirt.
She ran across the park, leaves fluttering down from the trees with each chilly gust. The high wall of the palace rose up where the lawns ended and Ferro made for the gate. The two guards still flanked it just as they always did, and she knew they were watching her. They might have let her out, but they were not so keen on letting her in, especially filthy, bloody, covered in dirt and sweat, and running as if she had a devil at her heels.
Wait, you! Ferro made to duck past them but one grabbed hold of her.
Let me go you fucking pink fools! she hissed. You dont understand! She tried to twist away, and a gilded halberd fell to the ground as one of the guards wrapped his arms around her.
Explain it, then! snapped out from behind the visor of the other. Why the hurry? His gauntleted fist reached out towards the bulge in her shirt. What have you got
No! Ferro hissed and squirmed, stumbled against the wall bearing one guard clanking back into the archway. The halberd of the other swung down smoothly, its glittering point levelled at Ferros chest.
Hold still! he growled, before I
Let her in! Now! Sulfur stood on the other side of the gates, and for once he was not smiling. The guards head turned doubtfully towards him. Now! he roared, in the name of Lord Bayaz!
They let her free and Ferro tore away, cursing. She ran through the gardens, into the palace, boots echoing in the hallways, servants and guards moving suspiciously out of her way. She found the door of Bayaz rooms and fumbled it open, stumbled through. The box sat open on a table near the window, an unremarkable block of dark metal. She strode across to it, unbuttoned her shirt and pulled out the thing inside.
A dark, heavy stone, the size of a fist. Its dull surface was still cold, no warmer than when she had first picked it up. Her hand tingled pleasantly, as if at the touch of an old friend. It made her angry, somehow, to even think of letting go.
So this, at last, was the Seed. The Other Side, made flesh. The very stuff of magic. She remembered the blighted ruins of Aulcus. The dead expanse of the land around it, for a hundred miles in every direction. Power enough to send the Emperor, and the Prophet, and his cursed Eaters, and the whole nation of Gurkhul to hell, and more besides. Power so terrible that it should have belonged to God alone, held now, in her frail fist. She stared down at it for a long time. Then, slowly, Ferro began to smile.
Now she would have vengeance.
The sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor outside brought her suddenly to her senses. She dropped the Seed into its resting place, jerked her hand away with an effort and snapped the lid of the box closed. As if a candle flame had been suddenly blown out in a darkened room, the world seemed dimmer, weaker, robbed of excitement. It was only then that she realised her hand was whole. She frowned down at it, working her fingers. They moved as easily as ever, not the slightest swelling around knuckles she had been sure were shattered. Her other arm too, the forearm straight and smooth, no sign of a mark where Tolomeis freezing fingers had crushed it. Ferro looked towards the box. She had always healed quickly. But bones set, within an hour?
That was not right.
Bayaz dragged himself grimacing through the doorway. There was dry blood caked to his beard, a sheen of sweat across his bald head. He was breathing hard, skin pale and twitching, one arm pressed to his side. He looked like a man who had spent the afternoon fighting a devil, and had only just survived.
Where is Yulwei?
The First of the Magi stared back at her. You know where he is.
Ferro remembered the echoing bang as she ran from the tower. Like the sound of a door being shut. A door that no blade, no fire, no magic could open. Bayaz alone had the key. You did not go back. You sealed the gates with them inside.
Sacrifices must be made, Ferro, you know this. I have made a great sacrifice today. My own brother. The First of the Magi hobbled across the room towards her. Tolomei broke the First Law. She struck a deal with the Tellers of Secrets. She meant to use the Seed to open the gates to the world below. She could be more dangerous than all of Khaluls Eaters. The House of the Maker must remain sealed. Until the end of time, if need be. An outcome not without irony. She began her life imprisoned in that tower. Now she has returned. History moves in circles, just as Juvens always said.
Ferro frowned. Fuck your circles, pink. You lied to me. About Tolomei. About the Maker. About everything.
And?
She frowned even harder. Yulwei was a good man. He helped me in the desert. He saved my life.
And mine, more than once. But good men will only go so far along dark paths. Bayaz bright eyes slid down to rest on the cube of dark metal under Ferros hand. Others must walk the rest of the way.
Sulfur stepped through the doorway, and Bayaz pulled the weapon he had brought from the House of the Maker from under his coat, grey metal glinting in the soft light from the windows. A relic of the Old Time. A weapon that Ferro had seen cut stone as if it was butter. Sulfur took it from him with a nervous respect, wrapped it carefully in an old oilskin. Then he nipped open his satchel and slid out the old black book that Ferro had seen once before. Now? he muttered.
Now. Bayaz took it from him, placed his hand gently on the scarred cover, closed his eyes and took a long breath. When he opened them he was looking straight at Ferro. The paths we must walk now, you and I, are dark indeed. You have seen it.
She had no answer. Yulwei had been a good man, but the gate of the Makers House was sealed, and he was gone to heaven, or to hell. Ferro had buried many men, in many ways. One more pile of dirt in the desert was nothing to remark upon. She was sick of stealing her revenge one grain at a time. Dark paths did not scare her. She had been walking them all her life. Even through the metal of the box, she thought that she heard the barest hint of a whisper, calling to her. All I want is vengeance.
And you shall have it, just as I promised.
She stood face to face with Bayaz, and she shrugged. Then what does it matter now, who killed who a thousand years ago?
The First of the Magi smiled a sickly smile, his eyes bright in his pale and bloody face. You speak my very thoughts.