The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark #2)(64)

Liked her, then loved her. Then left her.

Jorek pulled him into a hug, quick and firm, before leaving Akos alone in the dark passageway.

He stopped at the corners where the walls split, feeling for the symbols he had learned from Cyra. An X for a dead end. A circle with an up arrow for stairs going up, and a circle with a down arrow for stairs going down. A number for which floor he was on.

He had gone this way when he went to free Eijeh. All he had to do was get to that part of the house again, and then he’d be near the gene-locked rooms that had confounded the renegades when they came here to kill Ryzek. Cyra’s blood hadn’t opened the locks, but Akos’s would, if Vara wasn’t screwing with them both.

Akos got to the exit he’d taken when he got Eijeh out. He knew he was tripping the same sensors that had made his escape attempt fail on that fateful day, but it didn’t really matter; he wasn’t trying to go unnoticed here. He left the panel open behind him and walked past the door that had once been Eijeh’s with a little shiver.

Even in the dark, this part of the house was grand. Dark wood, almost black, on the floor and the walls. Light fixtures packed with fenzu, sedate now as they slept through the night. Decorative vases and sculptures, made of warm metal or polished stone with veins of color running through it, or etched glass. He couldn’t imagine running through these halls as a kid, skimming the wood paneling with his fingers. He probably wouldn’t have been allowed to run, or touch walls, or fall on his brother laughing, or any of the things that had made his young years rich and warm.

He got to the secure door that he was pretty sure led to Ryzek’s old bedroom, and held up his hand over the locking mechanism. His fingers were trembling.

He stuck his hand in the lock, wincing as it pierced his finger, drawing blood.

A click, and then the door opened.

If there had been any doubt in his mind that he was a Noavek, it was gone now.





CHAPTER 35: CYRA


IT WAS, PERHAPS, NOT the best idea for Teka to approach me during breakfast, before my brain had booted up.

I was hunkered down over my bowl of grains and fruit, watching Eijeh. He sat two tables away, facing me, with his own plate of food in front of him. But there was something odd about him. He was poking at the grains with his spoon, picking out the darker ones and putting them in a line along the edge of his tray. When I first saw Eijeh a few seasons ago, snuffling in the Weapons Hall before my brother, he had been filled out and tall; he had looked sturdy, though not overweight. But this Eijeh was pecking at breakfast, and there were still hollows in his cheeks.

“Uh,” Teka said. “Why are you staring so hard at Kereseth?”

She stood in front of me, partially blocking my view of the new oracle. I didn’t look away, though, still watching Eijeh jab at his bowl.

“My mother told me, once, that she used to scold Ryzek for being a picky eater,” I said. “He ate fruit, but little else. And no matter what she put in front of him, he found something to pick at. She hoped he would grow out of it, but . . .” I shrugged. “I don’t think he ever really did.”

“Okay,” Teka said. “Did an Ogran give you some xofra venom? I’ve heard it addles the mind.”

“No. It’s nothing, never mind,” I said. I looked up at her. “You know, when you stand like that, you look even shorter.”

“Shut up,” Teka said. “I found you some volunteers. Come on over.”

I sighed, and picked up my bowl. My boots were still untied, so the laces flapped with each footstep. Teka led me to a table in the corner, where two other people sat: Yssa, and the man I had fought weeks ago, with the knot of hair on top of his head. Ettrek.

“Hey there, Scourge,” he said to me. He had the kind of face that didn’t give away his age, skin smooth but not layered with the pudge of youth, dark eyes glittering with mischief.

I didn’t like him.

“No,” I said to Teka. “I’m not working with this idiot.”

“My name is pronounced ‘Ettrek,’” he said, grinning.

“Listen, it’s not like you have a deep pool of applicants, here,” Teka said to me. “Ettrek knows people in Voa who can get us whatever supplies we need, as well as give us a place to land.”

“And you?” I said to Yssa. “You’re Ogran. Why do you want to get mixed up in all this?”

“I am a good pilot,” Yssa said. “As to why I want to be involved, well. I have lived among people affected by Lazmet Noavek for several seasons now, and if there is something I can do to help defeat him at last, I will do it.”

I looked them over. Teka, her blond hair made frizzy by the Ogran humidity. Yssa had glowing bracelets up to one elbow, and she had lined her eyes in luminous pencil, so they glowed oddly. Ettrek waggled his dark eyebrows at me. Was this the crew I would march back into Voa with, triumphant?

Well. It was the best I was going to get.

“Fine,” I said. “When do we leave?”

“I’ll check the launch schedule, but it had better be sometime this week,” Teka said. “It’ll take a few days to get to Urek. Once we’re through the atmosphere, I can send a message to Jorek in Voa, and get a better sense of the situation. And Ettrek can reach out to his contacts. But we can’t do any of that from here.”