The Mask of Mirrors by M. Carrick; (lightest ebook reader txt) 📗

it, that he’d done this sort of thing before. The lid slammed shut over her, a lock clicked into place, and a rattling to either side told her poles were being slid through the brackets so it could be carried. After that there was a long, swaying walk, then the sloshing of water as they journeyed by skiff, then more walking. Ren’s best guess was that she’d been taken somewhere on the Point, because toward the end it felt like they were walking uphill. But blind, suffocating, nauseous with terror, she couldn’t be sure of anything.

When they finally let her out, it was in a cold, stone-carved room with one other occupant.

“The fuck are you?” the girl snarled as the door clanged shut behind Ren. Her hair was limp with oil, her face streaked with dirt. Newly crusted scabs covered her knuckles, and a bruise blossomed around one of her narrowed eyes. She stood with her back pressed into a corner, brandishing a bit of stone chipped from the wall, baring her teeth like she meant to use those as weapons, too.

“Ren.” A sudden, hysterical laugh bubbled up. “So this is what he meant when he said I was the spare.”

The stone chip wavered, as did the girl’s bravado. Not much; just a subtle curling of her shoulders, a tremor in her voice. “You mean you en’t one of them?” She dragged her scowl back into place. “Why’re you laughing, then?”

Ren slid to the floor. “Because I’m fucked.”

Palming the chip, the girl did the same, wrapping her arms around her knees until she huddled like a sparrow in the cold. “You and me both, Ren. I figure we’re for the slave marts in Ommainit. The hawks say anything when they nicked you?”

“Hawks took you?” Ren tipped her head against the stone. “Of course. Indestor.”

A gobbet of spit hit the ground between them. “Slug-cock. Drew him nekkid once, and that’s a crime to sell me for?”

“No. That is not why he wants us. How old are you—twelve? Born in Equilun?”

“Yeah. Why? You gonna read my stars all Liganti-like? ’Cause I’m betting they’ll say, ‘Yer fucked, Arkady Bones.’”

Ren couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the girl. “Do I look Liganti to you?”

Arkady’s chin burrowed farther into her knees. “Guess not,” she mumbled before pressing her face to them. Ren thought she might be crying, but when Arkady lifted her head, the tears that had been threatening were blotted away. “So what, then? What’s he want with us?”

How could she explain? The familiar terror of slavery had been less frightening to Arkady than the unknown void of what her true fate might be. And Ren had ripped that last shred of comfort away.

“I was conceived on the night of the Great Dream,” she said. “I suspect you were, too. How Mettore Indestor found out, I know not, but he needs us—one of us, at least. If I’m right…”

She pushed herself to her feet and began to prowl the edges of the room. Only one barred window for air and light, and it was too high for her to reach. But the walls were chiseled out of solid rock, not built from blocks, and the window also let through the faint echoes of revelry, which suggested her guess was correct. “I think we’re up on the Point. One of the chambers around the amphitheatre. He plans something with the wellspring.”

“En’t it the wrong year for that?”

“Yes,” Ren said softly, arranging pieces in her mind. Gammer Lindworm. Zlyzen. Ash. “But in the dream the wellspring is always present—I saw it.” In her nightmare it had been an empty pit… but when she climbed out, the waters had been there, at the same time as the empty pit.

Ash made it possible to touch things of dream. Fed to someone conceived on the Great Dream, it sent them there bodily.

Had Mettore known that when he dosed her? Maybe that was what he’d been testing for, on the Night of Hells. He clearly knew that Gammer Lindworm could step in and out at will.

Maybe Mettore didn’t need to wait for the Great Dream to do whatever he had planned.

Unfortunately, whoever chose their cell had chosen wisely. The window was too small for Arkady to fit through, even if they could find some way to remove the bars. And when Ren boosted the girl onto her shoulders, all Arkady saw was fog.

When she heard approaching footsteps and jangling keys, she readied herself to fight. She didn’t like her odds against a guard, armed with nothing more than a throwing knife and a belligerent twelve-year-old. But it was better than lying down and waiting for the end. At least Arkady might—

“No, you don’t.” A clawlike hand clamped down on Ren’s shoulder. Gammer Lindworm had stepped through from the dream layer—behind them. Moist, meat-foul breath caressed Ren’s cheek. “You think I don’t know every one of your tricks?”

In that moment of distraction, the door opened and light flooded the room. Arkady’s howl echoed as she launched herself at the shadows on the threshold, slashing wildly with her chip of stone.

Ren kept her revulsion in check and the knife tight against her wrist. Against Gammer Lindworm’s strength, there was no point in using it—not right now. Better to wait for an opening.

The guards knocked Arkady down. Her chip of stone skittered across the floor and was lost. Gammer Lindworm made a disapproving sound. “Disgusting little maggot. Doesn’t even have your looks to recommend her. Maybe I’ll let the zlyzen have her, after you’ve served your purpose.”

Arkady whimpered and scrambled for the questionable safety of the wall. Ren kept her own voice as steady as she could. “Assuming any of us survive. I know Mettore; he’ll never restore your beauty. He will kill you. After he kills me and Arkady.”

“No,” Gammer Lindworm snarled, arm curling around Ren like a liver-spotted shield. “You’re not dying, little Renyi. That wouldn’t be adequate punishment for what you did to me. A good mother punishes her daughter.”

Ren