“Instructor,” said Scorio.
“No longer.” Helminth stopped before them, hands on her hips. Apart from her worn robes and lines of fatigue carved into her face she appeared almost exactly the same. “Though you already knew that.”
There were a handful of other figures within the cavern; some emerged from the ancient ship’s hull by means of an improvised doorway; another two rose from hammocks strung between stalagmites. Scorio recognized none of them.
“Found him as you guessed,” said Nissa. “Walking around taking in the sights.”
“Bastion’s changed since last you were here,” said Helminth softly, gauging him. “I doubt you’d say it’s for the better.”
“Would you?”
“This is a grave of my House’s own making. I’ve no room to complain. Though I never favored Eira’s plan.” Helminth’s smile was hard. “But what can you do? Here we are. Your arrival has made much possible.”
The other Basilisk members had formed a loose semi-circle about them. Scorio didn’t feel threatened, but nor did he like the way they all stared at him with hungry eyes. One a large, soft looking man with a face like it had been stepped on by a horse, large freckles scattered across his brown face. Another man would have been handsome if his skin wasn’t dry and prematurely aged. The third was a creepy looking young woman, her round face chalk-white, her lips set in a pout, her eyes jet black like holes into the void.
“You’ve got a plan?”
“When do I not?” Helminth gave a bark of laughter. “You’re aware of my Dread Blaze power?”
“I remember the White Queen depending on it during Imogen’s attack.”
“You’re too kind. That was mostly Desiree. She has a more… practical power, you could say. Broader scope. My own scales with the complexity of the problem at hand. Up until now our challenge has been too simple and overwhelming for my power to be of much use, but your arrival changes that equation, introduces all manner of interesting complexities.”
“We’re glad to be of service,” said Naomi dourly.
“Oh come, don’t pout. This is life in Hell, children. A never-ending sequence of disasters that we must manage with aplomb. But before we get started: are you amenable to working together?”
Scorio looked about the small cavern once more. “This it? All you’ve got?”
Helminth turned to survey the same sight. “It is. Two years of being hunted has taken its toll, especially when we were all told we could escape Bastion if we did so with no intention of ever returning. Eira’s departure clinched a veritable exodus. But those of us who’ve remained are dedicated, united, if nothing else, by the power of our conviction.”
“And hate,” smiled the weirdly aged youth, his dirty blond hair framing his face in a wild mane, his manner affable.
“And hate,” allowed Helminth. She smiled. “So. Shall we get to work?”
“What do you need from us?”
Helminth’s smile widened to a grin. “Information. The more you can give me, the better. Come. Sit over here. Someone bring a new pot of mushroom tea. It’s a new dawn, people. This could be what we’ve been waiting for.”
The small crowd gathered stools or sat on tumbled rocks. Scorio sat uneasily on a rickety chair and watched Helminth lean back in hers and set her feet on the table. Memories assailed him: Helminth escorting him out of the basilica on his first day to throw him through the Final Door. Helminth working with the White Queen and Desiree to craft an emergency plan to foil Imogen. Helminth exercising and covered in a sheen of sweat as he asked to enter the tournament.
Now here she was, dressed in rags but as confident and leonine as ever.
The Dread Blaze held his gaze with dark amusement. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we, Scorio.”
“You better make Pyre Lady soon.” His voice was soft. “I’m nipping at your heels.”
She smirked. “I’m not worried. You’re an exception to every rule. I’m not taking it personally.”
“So what do you need to know?”
“Oh, just about everything. Begin with when you declined Praximar’s offer and leave nothing out. The more data I have, the better my plans will become.”
“Everything?” asked Naomi skeptically.
“We’re up against stupendously bad odds. Do you think this is the time to keep cards close to your chest?”
Naomi crossed her arms and sat back.
“Everything,” said Scorio softly. He cast his mind back to that shining moment in the basilica, his moment of triumph and defiance. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”
Helminth nodded encouragingly.
So he told them. About their flight from the Academy, their running battles and eventual killing of the Enforcer. Going to ground, negotiating with the rebellion, enlisting with Evelyn, and escaping out onto the Rascor Plains. The White Queen’s rescue, their time at the Fiery Shoals, Moira, The Celestial Coffer, and the following meeting. Their return to Bastion, his meeting with Ravenna.
“Really?” Helminth’s voice became a delighted drawl. “Octavia used a new recruit to fish for your favor? I love that woman. She’s so refreshingly frank about her skullduggery. What did Ravenna tell you?”
“Octavia reports to Charnel Duke Plassus, who reports to Broic the Brawler in Deep Hell. She said something was wrong with Plassus. That Octavia was frustrated with him. That he was acting constrained, or… checked, in some way, like in a game of chess.”
Helminth considered. “Yes. I can see that. Go on.”
Nissa’s own refusal to warn him, their journey to the Chasm, his and Naomi’s six months of demolishing rocks.
“Excuse me?” Helminth arched a brow. “Dameon had you pound dirt for six months?”
Naomi glowered.
“We had to wring out the Coal mana,” said Scorio. “And I guess he needed to wait for Kraken to assume control of The Fiery Shoals.”
“What a bastard,” said Helminth, delighted. “Conserving his resources while watching you undertake a futile cleansing. Impressive.”
“He’s come to regret it,” hissed Naomi.
“So I can sense. I’m eager to learn what happened next. How you both came to be so… impressive. Continue.”
Scorio relayed the rest quickly. Druanna’s arrival, the con, his enlistment to escort her to the Fiery Shoals, the betrayal. How he was cast into the Crucible.
“I was down there two years. When I emerged—”
“You’re skipping details.”
“I know.”
Helminth studied him. “You were encased in Ydrielle’s prism. It preserves the body while allowing the mind to wander. It precludes your using mana, which means that foreign mana should also be kept out. Unless during its last moments of decay that hermetic seal broke. Which means Gold would seep in while you were still trapped. But Gold, even in small amounts, should have killed you. So some latent property of the prism must have refracted it, allowed you to handle it safely. Remarkable. And no doubt torturous. To be held captive and forced to process mana far above your pay grade for—what—a year? Months, at the very least? But your Heart.”
Scorio felt her reach out to him with her senses, the lightest of brushing.
Her eyes widened. “My, my, but you have grown, Scorio. Flame Vault and with a remarkable Heart. Its weaknesses are gone. Completely gone. And I’ve never sensed its like.” She dropped her feet to the ground and leaned forward. “The Gold must have seeped in continuously, seeing as you were in the Crucible itself. You must have remained Ignited the whole time you were down there. How could you not? To gutter would mean allowing the mana to overwhelm you.” Her gaze sharpened. “How? How did you maintain Ignition the entire time you were there? The prism explains part of it, providing a medium that aided in your processing, but for your Heart to be so large, so perfect… remarkable.”
“If you’re done drooling?” asked Naomi.