Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) (50 page)

“My god. Are you joking?”

She recalled the horrifying sketch Mist had found in Daniel’s abandoned studio: a monk twisting in flames, burning, melting in agony. Had Daniel intended to paint the scene?

“Fortunately, I’d hidden the book most carefully before they came for me. And when I returned to a further life—as Aetherials do, when we have unfinished business—I was able to retrieve it from the monastery’s ruins and place it in Aurata’s safe place in Venice while I sought the lost pieces of the Felixatus.”

Stevie was shocked into horrified sympathy.
No wonder he’s deranged
, she thought.
And I thought I’d had a difficult time!

“So you, er … heard Aurata’s call?”

His face took on a narrow, knowing expression. “Loud and clear. I served her father in the glory days, but I confess a deeper devotion to my lady Aurata. I always saw that
she
was our future. Of course I went to her. Our reunion was inevitable: fate, if you believe in such things. I admit, I was shocked that her own brothers were deaf to her summons. Do we even need them?” He sighed through his nose. “If it’s her wish to have them here, so be it.”

Stevie didn’t respond. It didn’t take a psychologist to work out that Oliver would prefer to have Aurata entirely to himself. And would he like to reverse their roles? Did he see himself as the rightful leader, with Aurata as
his
aide? Stevie couldn’t see it working the other way around, because Aurata was the natural goddess, and he the instinctive priest. Still … the smallest trace of resentment might give Oliver a reason to take his frustrations out on Daniel instead.

Resisting a strong desire to punch him, she said coolly, “So you’re trying to reassemble the Felixatus?”

“It’s a process that can’t be rushed. It must be perfect. I’m afraid the diagrams I made from memory aren’t as accurate as they could have been. If I’d made the instrument myself, it would be easier. But it was made by one of the Felynx founders, an Aetherial craftsman long gone. I was a mere custodian.”

“He didn’t leave a blueprint, then?”

“Sadly not.” Oliver gave a slight smile, which helped her see why Daniel had become enraptured by him. “Daniel’s images are more artistic than accurate.”

“It’s a beautiful object. So strange.” Quickly she checked herself, thinking,
I’m not meant to know what it is, certainly not meant to have seen it.

Oliver gave her a deep look; she turned away. Someone was going to see Fela in her, sooner or later, and she didn’t trust Oliver one millimeter.

“The Felixatus connected Azantios to the stars. Some say it gave a view of a different sky altogether, the one that graces the Spiral itself.”

“And did it? You were its keeper, so I’ve been told. You should know.”

He sidestepped the question. “It is our Grail, in the purest sense. A stone, a dish, a ciborium: a cup filled not with blood but with pulsating Aetheric energy. The symbol of our heart’s desire; to become our true selves, the Aurym Felynx.”

Oliver fell quiet, fiddling with the lathe. She guessed he would like her to leave, which gave her a perverse urge to stay, if only to show him how to operate the equipment properly.

“Can you remember being Veropardus?”

The question was impertinent, but she took the risk. The unnatural atmosphere of the Dusklands pressed on her. Certainty crept over her that she had no chance of leaving Aurata’s house alive. The feeling made her defiant. The more frightened she was, the stronger she would become.

That was what Persephone had taught Fela.

“Not every detail,” he answered. “It’s dreamlike, in some ways. I remember the important things. Aurata and I are the only ones who held true, all this time, to the essential nature of the Felynx. You? I’d be interested to know how you are so well informed. You are a woman of mystery, Miss Silverwood. Fascinating, the hold you have had on Daniel and Mistangamesh both.”

“It’s not a hold. We’re close friends, that’s all. What about Mr. Slahvin?” she asked, eager to change the subject. “Did he find Aurata at the same time?”

Oliver went tight-lipped. Stevie held her breath, aware she was asking too many questions. Perhaps she’d gone too far.

Then he said, “Shortly after me. He was bound to appear. In Azantios, Slahvin was my close assistant. A man of few words but complete obedience.”

Stevie frowned. Her Fela-memories did not contain Slahvin … except as one of many palace officials, a dark silent figure in the background. She said, “Are you friends with him?”

Oliver looked sideways at her with cold expression. “What odd questions you ask. He’s useful, that’s all. Why?”

“Because he’s dangerous. I did not appreciate being knocked unconscious. How does he do that ‘slithering all over the world’ trick?”

Oliver shrugged. “All Aetherials have unique talents. He is able to send out his Otherworld form as a kind of astral projection, I believe. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Her insides tightened. She glanced around and saw Slahvin standing in the doorway.

Over his human shape hung his sinister translucent form; eel-like, black and darkest red, sheened with scales that leaked fire. She caught the dreary, metallic stink of ash … felt herself shrink from the memory of his attack in the museum, his circling presence in Frances’s house, and Mist’s desperate fight with him in the hotel …

There was an ambiguous quality to Aurata, Oliver, even Rufus. Any of them might contain a hidden, decent side. Slahvin, though, seemed to be nothing but pure malevolence. So, he’d once served Veropardus, Keeper of the Felixatus, and here he still was. That showed loyalty, but to what? She could hardly bear to stay in his presence.

Was this a trap? Slahvin and Oliver could easily hold her like pincers to interrogate the truth out of her. Unimportant people who knew too much were disposable. Like Fela, like Daniel.

“Everything okay, boss?” Slahvin asked smoothly.

“Excellent,” said Oliver. “Miss Silverwood is interested in the workings of the Felixatus, although I’m sure it’s as dull as watching someone trying to put an old clock back together. Oh—and she would like to ask you a question.”

“Oh, would she?” Slahvin gave her an impassive yet knowing look. Spiders of ice ran over her skin.

“No,” she said, with a huge struggle to keep terror out of her voice. “No, not at all, it’s nothing. I mustn’t take up any more of your time. Excuse me, I should go back to bed.”

As if negotiating rattlesnakes, she backed away from Oliver, squeezed past Slahvin and fled. To her complete amazement, they let her go. Behind her, she heard what sounded like faint, mocking laughter.

*   *   *

She was first back to the bedroom and, although she tried to stay awake, fell asleep until long past sunrise. She awoke to find herself alone, but Mist’s warmth was on the sheets, and she could hear the shower running.

“Well?” she said, peeling herself off the bed as he reappeared, toweling his hair. Naked, he was like a sculpture, so beautiful that she couldn’t keep herself from staring and smiling. “How did things go with your brother?”

“We may have a problem.” He sat on the end of the bed. His eyes were softly grey and distant.

“Only one?”

“Yesterday, Aurata offered to help us against Albin, on condition that we help her. I used to think she was the most down-to-earth of us. Passionate and forceful, but sensible.”

“If you say so. I was in awe of her, but you know her better than I do.”

“Do I, though? According to Rufus, her scheme to create new portals is going to rip the Earth apart.”

He recounted his talk with Rufus while she sat hugging her knees, wondering.

“Mist, I don’t know what to say. So either we help and risk her destroying the world, or we
don’t
help and leave our friends to Albin’s mercy? This is … god, this is a nightmare.”

“I have to talk to her.”

“How? Won’t it make things more difficult, if she knows Rufus has betrayed her? I know you don’t want to think ill of her, but, Mist, there’s something really bad here. As I keep pointing out, Oliver effectively abducted Daniel, and sent Slahvin to rob us. Aurata approved all that. This is more than her supporters being overzealous. They’re not our friends. They won’t
let
us interfere with Aurata’s plan. There’s a big clue in the fact that her offer to join forces against Albin was conditional. If she cared, she’d have said, ‘Yes, of course we’ll help you, right now.’ No strings attached. Like Rosie, Sam and Luc did. And they didn’t even know us. She’s your sister.”

Mist let go of a heavy breath. “I know. I’m trying to understand her.”

“They’re not going to let us go.”

His gaze came back into focus on her, grave. “How are you so sure?”

She told him about her encounter with Oliver. He gripped her hand.

“Stevie, you shouldn’t have risked talking to him. I’m not blind, I know there’s danger here. I’ll speak to Aurata. In the hierarchy of people she will listen to, surely she wouldn’t set a subordinate like Oliver above me?”

“You’d better be right.” She let out a soft groan. “I hate to bring this up again, but in my Fela days, she … Aurata was a restless sleeper, muttering about being trapped and breaking through barriers. So, perhaps not as cool as she appeared on the surface.”

“But she didn’t tell you the reason?”

Stevie shook her head. “It wasn’t my place to ask. But it all adds weight to the idea that she was making dangerous plans, plotting with Veropardus, even while your parents were still in power. I’m embarrassed talking about this, because of … the, er, fact that she and Fela … But that was Fela, not me.”

“You thought I’d be jealous?”

Stevie frowned. “I should hope so, at least a little bit. Aren’t you?”

“That depends. Could she do this?” He slid his arms around her and touched his lips lightly all over her face, working his way to her mouth and kissing her with tender, playful hunger until she dissolved.

“Well, that’s not enough to decide,” she gasped, when he paused for breath. “Continue. In order to make a full and fair assessment, I need a demonstration of
all
your skills.”

*   *   *

Aurata had arranged an intimate breakfast on an outside deck with a spectacular view of the canyon. There was a small table with four chairs; on the table was fresh orange juice, eggs and ham, coffee and croissants.

Looking southwards, Stevie saw a drift of steam that reminded her of the red buddhas, a sight to send echoes of sexual bliss through her. She felt her face flush and hoped no one noticed. Not that it was any secret. Mist’s subtly affectionate body language pleased her, but also reminded her that, however hard he tried, he was not very good at acting aloof.

Stevie was surprised to be included at breakfast—she’d assumed the three siblings would want to meet alone—but Mist had refused to leave her out. Aurata was relaxed, leaning back in her chair with her robe falling open to reveal a long, lightly suntanned leg. Rufus looked tired and restless, his eyes very bright.

“So you both managed to make it through the night alive,” she remarked to her brothers. “Is this a truce?”

“Apparently,” Rufus said with a thin smile.

“I can’t forget the past,” said Mist. “It’s not my place to forgive, because it wasn’t just me he hurt. He knows that. But yes, a sort of truce. It’s the best we can do.”

“
He
would appreciate if you didn’t refer to him in the third person,” Rufus retorted.

“You must have had quite a talk,” said Aurata, pouring coffee into Stevie’s cup. “So, Mist, what’s Rufus been saying about me?”

Both men went still, caught in a freeze-frame. Stevie held her breath.

“Nothing,” said Mist. “Well, apart from gushing admiration for your scientific achievements. And digging people out of earthquakes. All impressive stuff.”

“Really?”

“No, he’s lying to cover for me.” Rufus fixed his restless eyes on his sister. “I said all that, yes, but I also told him that you’re intending to blast chasms in the Earth’s crust through to the Otherworld, which will turn both realms to a molten blob, and that you don’t care and won’t listen to me, because you’ve gone power-crazy. Or just plain crazy.”

Aurata put down the piece of croissant she was buttering. “I see.”

Mist said calmly, “I didn’t believe him. I don’t know what to believe.”

“It’s all right.” Aurata sat back in her chair, one bare foot tapping the air. “I’m not surprised. Disappointed, of course, that Rufus keeps arguing with me, but that’s my fault for not explaining properly.”

“Your explanation was fine,” said Rufus. “It’s the consequences I’m worried about. But with my age-old record of lying and mischief—who’s going to listen to me?”

Aurata shrugged. “It’s natural to have doubts, Rufe, but I’d prefer that you don’t go spilling them behind my back. Mist, you’re the rational one, able to balance different viewpoints. You should be a Spiral Court judge. What do you think?”

“Tell me the options,” he said, resting one hand on the back of Stevie’s chair. “And the potential consequences.”

“The Earth’s boundaries are fascinating places,” said Aurata, “where continental plates grind against each other, and molten heat leaks out—the elemental heat of Qesoth that first created us. Human settlements formed along those cracks because they gave underground water in the desert, rare minerals, all kinds of riches. But the greatest barriers of all are invisible. The walls that separate Earth and Spiral used to be porous. Aetherials could wander freely in and out … but by the time of the Felynx, that had begun to change. We were exiles. The existence of portals was hidden from us, and that was wrong. Rufus, do you disagree with anything I’ve said?”

“Not so far, but…”

“In the earliest days, the separation was no more than rippling air, like the Dusklands. Then like a web, more solid but full of holes. Later—through the activities of Aetherials changing the Spiral, and other forces changing the Earth—the boundaries became denser, riddled with ways through like a rabbit warren. And later still, that barrier was made solid and all portals placed under strict control by the creation of the Great Gates. And that was wrong.”