A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(62)

I wish he’d taken up carpentry instead. I could have at least got a nice bird feeder out of that.

“Youth is wasted on people who annoy me,” I grumble as we finally get down to the matter at hand. I pull out the rune chart William nicked from that fellow in Whitechapel, a rough deal made in a rougher place. William even got stabbed in the arm for his trouble, and who had to patch him up so Helena never found out? I’m entirely too good a friend.

Still, we should remember why the man who sold it to us panicked, why he went for the knife. He thought we’d use the runes. Terrified, he wanted the chart back. When William didn’t oblige, the man grew stabby. Kept shouting “Witness the smile” over and over again. Quite troubling, really.

The runes look like a bunch of rude squiggles. “You’re sure this is correct, Will?”

“You can trust it, Howard. I got it from a book, after all.” Ah yes, William does love his books. Most of the world’s agony comes from what people misinterpret in books, the rest from pampered house cats.

The three of us paint the runes onto the surface of the deck in black ink. The basic design is a circle, then undulating lines of runes emanate outward, so it looks like a crude sun. Charles groans to see his pristine ship marked with heretical images. That’s why we didn’t carve them; he wants to varnish over it when we’re done.

Charles’s involvement makes me rather uneasy, if I’m honest. What does one of the Order’s most esteemed sorcerers hope to gain by trespassing on the wildest frontiers of magician practice? I know what William wants—proof of our power’s origin, and justice. Justice for poor Henry, his unfortunate brother. That all makes sense. But Charles? He admires our strange abilities. Rather, he envies them.

Perhaps he’s looking for a way toward greater power. Why, not even Imperator Whitechurch could stand against him then.

I’ve got to stop thinking like this. It’s ruining the mood.

Finally, our circle is complete, the paint gleaming wet beneath the sun.

Is it wrong to say that part of me is afraid?

It’s almost midday, which means we’re out of time. Charles sets the ax to his right and tosses a rope to each of us.

“We should anchor ourselves, on the off chance something happens.” He ties his rope about his waist and fastens it to the side of the ship, yanking twice to make sure it’s secure. I do as he suggests, and so does William. We’re now a triangle of idiots tied to a boat.

William is directly across from me and looks up into the bright sun, squinting. “When the shadows disappear, my lord,” he yells.

I know what this summoning means to him. Ralph Strangewayes had a pet named Azureus from some other world. We saw his picture, William and I, when we made our pilgrimage to Strangewayes’s home. Well, what if Azureus can be our new pet? What if we can prop him up in a gilded cage before the king and prove, once and for all, that our power is not satanic in nature. Merely different.

It’s the least we can do for Henry. Poor bugger.

The sun hits its zenith, and my neck is sweating.

Charles takes out his sorcerer stick-thingy and holds it up, a crease of concern on his face. He’s no idea what to do. Neither do I, for that matter.

“Azureus,” William says, cutting his hand and bleeding onto the edges of the circle. “We summon thee. Traffick with us now.”

When his blood touches them, the runes…hiss.

No, that’s not it. They hum with energy while the newly dried paint bubbles before us as if boiling.

I feel magic thrumming in my bones, down into my liver and spleen. The circle is waking up, for lack of a better word. A thrill electrifies my blood. I say I’m here to support William, but I can’t help my desire to know, to see where our magic comes from.

In the air above the circle, a cloud begins to form, a spot of violent weather in an otherwise pristine day. The cloud purples and churns, and then it…

Cracks. The air above the circle cracks as though it’s a mirror.

“Is this supposed to happen?” Charles calls, keeping his stave up.

William shakes his head slowly.

“I don’t think so,” I add, clutching the railing behind me so hard it might break off in my hand.

The cracks grow, forming fissures. Something is wrong, horribly wrong.

“We have to stop,” I shout to William, but he doesn’t hear me, or he won’t listen. He steps forward, entranced by what he sees. Damned fool. He looks so young when he’s mystified, like the boy he was when I first knew him. He trails his fingers through the tendrils of vapor leaking from the other side.

“I can feel it,” he calls, ecstasy lacing his voice.

The air ruptures, and a gaping vortex of midnight opens in the bright blue summer sky. Screaming voices, banshee wails, insane gibberish come pouring out into our world. Charles screams. I scream.

“Run!” I shout. William takes two steps back to the safety of his post, but it’s too late. His feet lift off the deck, and he hangs suspended in the air, tethered only by his rope. He shrieks, legs flailing behind him like a doll’s.

The vortex has reached the limit of the runes. Fissures are appearing in the air outside the circle. This other world, this monstrous dimension, is opening into ours.

No. It’s going to swallow ours.

The maw is open, hungry. It wants a sacrifice. It wants flesh.