Heart thumping, my breath coming in gasps, I searched the top of the outcropping. “The compass … we should scour the cliffs!”
Tabaar-KeSun landed and opened their other claw. The compass rolled out, and I snatched it up. Before I could thank them, the Haunted Man took my hand and stared at me with intense, desperate eyes. Given his usual scowl, this new expression was as foreign on him as cheap perfume would be on me.
“My dearest Nicelle,” he said, gifting me a rare smile.
“What is it?” I asked, inspecting myself for wounds. Though I’d lost a few buttons from my blouse, at least I hadn’t lost the whole shirt, which always happened to Jak at this point in his stories. “I’m fine. I promise.”
“You almost fell,” he said, cupping my cheek in one of his large, rough hands.
Heat boiled up from my heart, and I couldn’t help but smile back. How far we had come from our first meeting!
“You silly man. You’ll never get rid of me that easily,” I said. “It’s you and me exploring the cosmere together forever. Just like we promised.”
I let him pull me close, his familiar scent of hellfire and cedar filling me. With the knuckle of his finger, he lifted my chin so that I looked into his stormy eyes.
Was he going to kiss me? Did I want him to? By Harmony, yes. In that moment, I realized I’d wanted this for the last six years, every time he’d appeared and (inevitably) upended my life.
“Nicelle…” he said, his voice low and breathy.
“Yes?” I rolled up onto my toes and leaned into him.
“I am so very sorry.” He lifted the Compass of Spirits, inserted the aluminum key, and turned it. The little rings spun until they flowed with ethereal light, which inverted in on itself with a giant pop I felt in my soul more than heard with my ears.
I fell forward onto my knees, the Haunted Man’s presence no longer there to hold me up, though the afterimage of him activating the device hung in the air for a moment until it puffed away like smoke from a burnt match.
He had done it. He’d finally entered the ghostly dimension.
And he’d done it without me.
He’d bloody betrayed me. Rusting used me.
I will spare you the ugly details of my following tantrum, though I did yell some of the delicious curses I’d learned in my time with him. At the end of my fit, my immaculate makeup was smeared, my hat and its raven feathers lay in tatters, and Tabaar and KeSun were suddenly there in their human forms.
“He’s gone!” I shouted. “Along with the only way to finish the job, and now we’re stuck a thousand miles from home in the space between continents!”
I thought he’d cared for me. He knew a betrayal like this would hurt me, and he’d done it anyway. Rust and Ruin, I hope he arrived too late to save the world. He and his bloody employer could burn for all I cared.
“He’s lucky I can’t follow him.” I clenched my fist around the metal knuckles until the edges bit into my palm.
The two Faceless Immortals shared a glance before KeSun nodded as if deciding something. Then Tabaar spoke.
“Actually,” he said. “There is another way.”
A note from Handerwym:
It’s been two weeks since Nicelle’s last letter. (You know how intermittent her correspondence can be.) I can only assume she succeeded in entering the ghostly realm and, Harmony willing, we’ll soon know the end of her adventure.
— Continued next week? —
NICKI SAVAGE
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44
Marasi led the others toward their target. It proved easy to sneak around underneath the train tracks; the buildings down here in this urban twilight were cramped, the streets narrow. Almost like the stories of the old Luthadel slums.
Crowded tenements were crammed up beside factories, refineries, and warehouses. All in the shadow of the tracks — a symbol of progress and unity upon which stormed past every few minutes a tooth-rattling reminder: Wasn’t it so nice to live in such a modern city? With a beacon of advancement like the high-speed rail? It cast such a progressive shadow.
She was all for progress in general, but far too often it seemed to stratify society rather than unite it. A high-speed rail was good, but could it be afforded by those who would most benefit? Nice apartments were great, but if they drove those who couldn’t live in them to darkness under the tracks, then that made some lives worse while making others better.
She’d been forced to confront this herself as she sought for reform. Good intentions had to be coupled with a realistic look at the effects of your actions. It was entirely too easy to make things worse while trying to make them better.
Is that why I’ve focused more on the detective side of my job over the years? she wondered. I was going to change things. But the day-to-day work is so demanding, and the big problems are just so big …
Thoughts for another time. The three of them crept ever closer to the tire factory, using the back alleys. TwinSoul made good on his promise, keeping up — though they didn’t have to move quickly, and there was always a wall for him to rest his hand against to keep his balance. Marasi still worried about bringing an octogenarian to what might soon be a battle zone, but bit her tongue on the matter.
As they drew close — only one street away — Moonlight halted the group. Marasi was curious what had prompted the stop, until she noticed a bulbous black motorcar with tinted windows pulling up to the factory.
The lord mayor of Bilming climbed out — accompanied by several tough-looking bodyguards. Entrone hurried through the bay doors, shouting at the few remaining trucks there and waving for them to get moving. Marasi was almost certain she heard the name “Dawnshot” among his shouts.
He soon vanished into the structure.
“Well,” Marasi whispered, “he’s agitated.”
“Probably doesn’t appreciate his home being burned down,” TwinSoul whispered.
Marasi nodded. “Come on. His arrival seems to confirm that we’ve found the right location.”
They took the long way around, briefly dipping out of the shade cast by the railway before diving back in, swimming through shadows until they reached the back wall of the factory. Here they slunk along until they found an old window, boarded up. Marasi had hoped to be able to peek through and find an empty room, but it was boarded up on the other side as well.
“Hmmm,” TwinSoul said, resting his aged, bony hand on the bricks. Crystals grew from his palm, creeping along the surface and between boards. “Yes, they really should have sealed this with pitch…”
“What do you see?” Moonlight whispered.
“I don’t see anything,” he said. “But Silajana? Well, he senses a small room cluttered with shelves and small objects. No one is inside, and the wall to the right of the window bears no shelving.”
He broke his hand free, leaving a crust of crystals on the wall — which began disintegrating, dropping to dust that in turn burned away into rose-colored mist. Moonlight dug in her rucksack — briefly exposing the glowing jars within — and took out something made of leather. Like a very large billfold, or a toolbelt, it unclipped to reveal three stone stamps.