The Drowning City: The Necromancer Chronicles Book One (28 page)

“I won’t offer you men to eat.” The image of Marat’s body rose behind her eyes, wrapped in sheets and spells, weighed with
garden stones, sinking into the canal. She forced it down. “But if you let me and my friends come and go tonight unharmed,
I’ll treat with you however I can.”

You’ll speak with us here, below?

“I swear, by the River Mother.”

The nakh cocked her head, eyes flashing white as she blinked.
Very well, river-daughter. You and yours may pass freely tonight, and you’ll come to us again.
She patted the shark on the head and it turned, gliding silently toward deeper water.
We know the taste of your blood, if you lie.

The nakh twisted away, vanishing into the black. Zhirin knew she should wait, make sure it wasn’t a trick, but her chest ached
too fiercely. She kicked up, broke the surface with a choking gasp. She floated for a moment, spitting bitter water and letting
the pain in her lungs ease. Then she swam for shore.

It was a nice night for a swim through shark-infested waters. The water was cool but not icy, the tides gentle this far into
the bay. Isyllt concentrated on swimming quietly and following the tug of the stone, trying to ignore the blackness all around
her, the memory of the nakh’s cold touch.

She whispered spells of silence but winced each time her arms broke the surface too loudly. Her breath rasped in her ears,
and she didn’t know how anyone could fail to hear them coming. Even Adam’s stealthy grace deserted him in the water. She forced
herself to swim with both arms, though instinct wanted to cradle her injured hand against her chest; the real damage was bad
enough, without letting the working muscles stiffen. Her hand throbbed and the stitches burned, but numbness would cost her
precious reaction time.

She felt her diamond clearly now. Its presence shivered sharp and cold in her head—someone was using it.

The boat’s lights came into view—lanterns hooded and shutters drawn, but drips and scraps still escaped. A low wide-bottomed
craft, the deck mostly enclosed. Figures moved in the shadows of the eaves.

“How many?” Adam asked, treading water beside her.

She listened for heartbeats, felt several. The effort of keeping her head above water distracted her too much for an accurate
count.

“At least seven, but probably more.” He swore softly. “This is where you’re supposed to tell me that you’ve faced worse odds
before,” she whispered.

Adam snorted. “I have, and usually ended up half-dead.”

“As long as it’s only half.”

Vienh swam closer. “The sentries aren’t patrolling, just standing on the deck. Whoever’s in charge should flog them. If you
can be quiet, we’ll go up the anchor chain.”

“You’ve done this before,” Adam said.

“Of course not.” Vienh’s grin flashed in the darkness. “I’m an honest smuggler.” She glided toward the ship, and Isyllt and
Adam followed as quietly as they could.

They found the anchor on the far side of the boat—Isyllt could never remember port from starboard—its chain descending from
a gap in the railing. The rail was only a yard or so above the water, but the slick, curving hull would be nearly impossible
to climb without being heard.

With barely a splash, Vienh hauled herself up the chain and eased over the rail. When no one raised the alarm, Adam followed.
Isyllt hooked bare toes into the links, keeping her weight on her legs and steadying herself with her good hand. Rust scraped
her palm, tore a fingernail; the chain pinched an already blistered toe and she grimaced. She nearly lost her balance at the
top, but Adam caught her arm and heaved her over the railing.

They crouched in the shadows for a moment to catch their breath and listen. The walls were tightly woven wicker on wooden
frames, the roof thatched. Shards of light glowed in a golden filigree. Without the distraction of the water, Isyllt felt
the sentries nearby, and the cold pulse of her ring. And the bitter chill of the dead.

“Three guards on each side,” she said, “and at least three others inside. And ghosts.”

The diamond throbbed against her chest, tugging gently sideways. After a heartbeat Isyllt realized her ring wasn’t moving,
but a new diamond had entered the range of her spell. Another mage was coming.

“Hurry,” she whispered. “We’ll have company soon.”

Something cold brushed her cheek and she started, but it was only a drop of water. A moment later the clouds opened and rain
sighed down, rattling against the roof.

“At least we’re already wet,” Adam muttered.

“Somebody’s coming,” hissed Vienh an instant later.

Isyllt wrapped them in shadows just as a man stepped around the corner, humming softly to himself. It didn’t seem these Dai
Tranh expected trouble.

Adam’s knife gleamed as it left its sheath and Isyllt caught his wrist. “Don’t kill.” If whoever had her ring knew how to
use it, death would alert them immediately.

He nodded, uncoiled from his crouch as the guard turned away. Three strides and he crossed the deck, reversing the knife as
he brought it down. The pommel struck the man’s skull with a dull thump and his knees buckled. Adam caught him as he fell,
dragged him against the rail.

They slid down the wall facing the bay. The drumming rain covered the slap of wet cloth against flesh. The sentry at the far
end of the deck didn’t notice as they slipped inside the first unlocked door. It led to the helm and an open sitting room.

“The cabins will be in the back,” Vienh said, nodding toward the hall on the right. She drew her knife and took a lantern
off its hook.

The floor swayed gently beneath them as the wind gusted. Vienh went first, Adam watching their backs. Vasilios’s diamond all
but hummed as they drew nearer to its sister-stone. This close, Isyllt could feel the ghosts in her ring moving restlessly
in their prison. And another ghost, free of the stone. Deilin.

“Be careful,” she murmured to Vienh. “Your grandmother is here.”

The smuggler cursed under her breath.

Light spilled from under a cabin door, along with a woman’s voice. Vienh’s shoulders stiffened.

“It’s Kaeru.”

The woman spoke in Sivahran, too low for Isyllt to follow. It sounded like a one-sided argument; then she heard Deilin’s death-hollowed
voice answer.

“What are they saying?” she asked.

“Kaeru’s talking about a girl, and about how they need someone. Whoever she’s talking to. I can’t hear the response.”

Beyond the door, Isyllt felt the old woman’s heart, still strong, and Deilin’s icy presence. And someone else, alive but not
strong.

The voices rose. “It’s not right,” Deilin said.

“You must. We need you.”

“She’s a child—” She broke off, and Isyllt sensed the dead woman’s attention turning toward them.

Isyllt’s jaw tightened. “Murai’s in there. Let’s go.”

Vienh nodded, passing the lantern to Isyllt as she drew back. The door cracked under the force of her kick, flying inward
and rebounding against the wall. The smuggler caught it as she stepped inside.

The scene was all too familiar. Murai lay still, wan and feverish, and Deilin stood at the foot of the bed. Kaeru sprang back
as the door opened, the black diamond gleaming on her gnarled hand.

“It was you all along, wasn’t it?” Vienh said. Lamplight rippled along the length of her blade. “You let her through the wards.
You let her take my daughter.”

“Better than wasting Xian blood in another generation of collaborators and mongrels.”

“We took you in!” Vienh gasped, sagging against the door, one hand rising to her throat. The ring glowed in Kaeru’s hand.

“Don’t—” Deilin said, but the old woman ignored her.

Isyllt pushed Vienh aside, forced her way into the cabin.

“Company’s coming,” Adam called from the hall.

The lantern kept her from reaching her knife, so Isyllt swung it instead. Distracted by her magic, Kaeru didn’t dodge fast
enough; the lamp struck her jaw with a wet crack and slipped from Isyllt’s hand to shatter on the floor. Tendrils of burning
oil licked across the wood.

The old woman fell, clutching her face. Vienh coughed and moaned; someone shouted in the corridor. Isyllt crouched, prying
Kaeru’s hand away from her bloody mouth and twisting the ring off her finger. Deilin lunged just in time to vanish into the
stone.

Isyllt fumbled her ring onto her right hand, sighing as its comforting chill swept through her. Fire crackled at the walls,
singed the bottom of the bedsheet. Murai tossed but didn’t wake.

“So the child is a Xian as well?”

“Her mother was, before she became an Assari whore.” The words came out ugly and slurred and Kaeru spat blood. Her jaw was
already swelling. A knife flickered into her hand as she sat up and Isyllt rocked backward. “We won’t let them take any more
of our children.”

Vienh’s boot caught the woman’s wrist, sent the knife spinning.

“No. I won’t let you take any more of ours.” The smuggler’s blade sank into Kaeru’s throat. With a twist, she pulled it free.
A crimson bubble burst on the old woman’s lips as she sank to the floor.

Steel clashed in the hallway. “Can I kill them yet?” Adam shouted.

“As many as you like.” Isyllt pushed herself up; the swaying of the deck rippled her stomach uneasily.

Vienh wiped her blade on her wet trousers and sheathed it. Dodging around the spreading flames, she scooped Murai into her
arms. “Bastards,” she hissed. “They dosed her with laudanum.” She glanced at the door, where Adam fought someone in the narrow
corridor, then nodded toward the shuttered window. “That way.”

Isyllt ripped the shutters open and tore aside the net curtains. The stink of scorched blood filled the air as the flames
spread toward Kaeru’s body. Clumsy and cursing, she clambered out the window, conjuring witchlight against the dark. Vienh
passed Murai’s limp form through, then turned to help Adam. By the time both of them scrambled out, the flames were high enough
to hold the Dai Tranh at bay.

“Company,” Vienh said, pointing toward the bay, where ship lights approached. “The Khas?”

“Probably.”

The smuggler slipped over the side, surfacing to take Murai. As she dropped into the water, Isyllt prayed that Zhirin had
taken care of the nakh.

The ship burned slowly in the rain, but it burned. By the time they neared the shore, the flames scattered gold and orange
across the bay. Isyllt stumbled through the root-choked shallows, stubbing toes and scraping ankles as she hunted for her
shirt and shoes.

“Here.”

Light flared and Isyllt threw up a hand. Through her fingers, she saw Zhirin holding the lantern. The girl hooded it again
quickly.

“Someone’s coming.” She nodded toward the innermost end of the inlet, where light flickered amid the trees.

Both diamonds shivered, and Isyllt clenched her hand around her ring. A mage was coming, and she could guess which one.

“Is she all right?” Zhirin asked as Vienh emerged, Murai in her arms.

“She will be, I think, but she needs to be warm and dry.”

“Let’s go,” Isyllt said, tugging on her shoes. Lights shone nearer now, and footsteps rustled the weeds.

They hurried into the trees, but they’d gone only a few yards when Isyllt stopped with a gasp. Pressure like an iron band
circled her chest, tightening as she tried to move. It eased as she stumbled back a pace.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked.

“A spell.” She swallowed when she wanted to spit. Something this strong needed a physical component, but doubtless she’d left
enough stray hairs on pillows at the Khas. “I can fight it, but I’ll slow you down. Easier to go back and face the caster.
Go on.”

Adam’s eyebrows rose. “Lousy time to get yourself killed.”

Isyllt ignored him and turned around, drawing in a grateful breath as the tightness in her chest eased. Vasilios’s diamond
thrummed against her chest, then lay still as she banished the finding with a thought. Cold rushed through her as she drew
power from her ring, leeching strength from the trapped dead. The night became sharp-edged and clear, all her aches and blisters
fading away.

Asheris waited at the far end of the inlet, golden witchlights hovering around him like a second entourage. The first wore
Khas uniforms and aimed their weapons at her.

“Is that your doing?” he asked, gesturing toward the burning boat. “You’ve saved us some work, then. Though I’d have liked
more survivors to question.” His spell closed around her and she couldn’t move as he crossed the muddy ground and caught her
arm. His hand burned her bare skin and his diamond glowed against the dark like a captive star. Maybe it was. “Where’s Murai?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not a very good liar.”

“Not like you,” she said, lips curling.

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

She wanted to slap the look of honest confusion off his face. Instead she focused her power, preparing to strike at him. But
if she broke free, could she dodge the soldiers’ bullets? “When you said you didn’t believe in binding spirits. I actually
thought it was true.”

His grip tightened and she couldn’t stop a squeak of pain. “What makes you think,” he whispered, “that I was the one who did
the binding?”

Light gleamed in his eyes like flame behind crystal, and a shadow flared around him, black and burning. The strength of it
nearly staggered her.

“What are you?”

The light dimmed until only the man remained, rain-drenched and regretful. “Not free. I’m sorry—this is not my choice.”

Isyllt rallied her wits and her magic, but before she could strike a voice carried through the damp air.

“Asheris!”

His grip didn’t loosen, but he turned toward Zhirin. The girl paused at the edge of the light, Murai cradled in her arms.

“Which do you want more—Isyllt, or your master’s daughter? She’s drugged and half-drowned. She needs help.”

His chest hitched sharply. His magelights flickered, and shadows twisted across his face. Isyllt gasped as he let go.

“You keep dangerous company, Miss Laii. Set the girl down and get out of here. Let them go,” he told the soldiers. The compulsion
on Isyllt crumbled and she stumbled away, clutching her scalded arm to her chest.