Page 80 of House of Dusk

SEPHRE

I t was strange, being back in Stara Bron.

Sephre would have preferred to go straight to the garden, to spend the afternoon with Timeus, to collect seeds and roots, and to make sure he remembered to trim back the gauzebloom now that it was going past. Then maybe a stop in the infirmary, to share a cup of medicinal wine with Abas and make sure they had plenty of tonic.

She wasn’t sure when she might next return.

That was partly up to the agia. Which was the main reason Sephre was not in the garden or the infirmary, but here, in the small office with sunlight streaming in to gild the agia’s mantle, making the pale cloth shimmer.

No doubt Beroe had positioned herself intending just such an effect.

“Agia,” said Sephre, dipping her head slightly.

“Sister Sephre.” Beroe’s politeness was frosty, though that was understandable, given the circumstances. “Please. Sit.” She gestured to the couch beside the window. It was new, and she had moved Halimede’s desk into the other corner.

Sephre sat, smoothing the hem of her blue habit. She noticed Beroe eyeing the green ripples along her sleeves. “Thank you for inviting me.”

The corners of Beroe’s mouth pinched. “Of course,” she said. “We’re in your debt. You saved the Phoenix.”

Sephre hadn’t expected that. But then, she hadn’t expected Beroe to head-butt her either. She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t need to play games with me. Tell me what you want.”

Beroe rolled her eyes. “You’re going to have to learn to play games if you’re to be the agia of the House of Dusk.”

“There is no House of Dusk,” said Sephre.

“Maybe not yet. But there will be. King Ichos has recognized you. And the stories are already spreading. About the wicked Ember King and the Faithful Maiden’s return.”

Now it was Sephre’s turn to roll her eyes. “I’m not the Faithful Maiden.” Not in the way Beroe meant it, at least.

Beroe gave her a weary look. “Stories matter, Sephre. What people believe can be as important as what truly is.”

“You mean like when they believe that the Serpent was an evil death god and that they need to summon the Phoenix incarnate to stop him?”

“Yes,” said Beroe, frostily. “Exactly like that. I was wrong, Sephre. I understand that now. I believed the wrong stories. Which is why we need to work together now. To make certain it doesn’t happen again.”

Sephre chewed the inside of her cheek. She thought of the last words Sinoe had spoken, infused with the god of flame. This trial is past. But there will be others.

She had unmade Lacheron, the Ember King.

But he had been only a man, in service to a greater power.

One she still did not entirely comprehend.

The First One. An ancient god, bound within the abyss by his siblings, the four other children of Chaos.

Except that one of the seals had already been broken.

And no doubt the First One would continue to try to break the rest.

“We of the House of Dawn will continue our work in this world,” said Beroe. “But there are other worlds. Other dangers. And you are...only one woman.”

Sephre shook her head. “Speak plainly.”

“I will send some of the ashdancers to help you,” said Beroe. “Until your own numbers grow larger. We will...work together. An alliance. As we did in the days before the cataclysm. Maybe in time we can even reach out to the others. The Houses of Noon and Midnight.”

She knew she should accept the offer. There were still many skotoi loose within the labyrinth, and while the Serpent was no doubt hunting them, best to ensure they were dealt with quickly. And...and it would be nice to have some company.

“Can you spare them?” she asked.

“Our numbers are small, yes.” Beroe looked away, frowning at the small shrine, the golden Phoenix glimmering there. “Especially since...since the attack.”

Her jaw worked. “I didn’t know it was Lacheron who summoned them. That he killed Agia Halimede. I never would have—” She caught herself, cutting her gaze back to Sephre. “You probably don’t believe me, but I truly didn’t know.”

“I believe you.” Sephre breathed deep. Released the breath. Then she stood. “I accept your offer, Agia Beroe.”

Then she turned, and set off for the gardens.

· · ·

It was another week before she made her way back to Stara Sidea.

She arrived midmorning, and spent several hours planting the bits of root and tubers she’d brought with her from the garden at Stara Bron.

She had discovered a small cloister within the canyon, walled by stone but open to the sky.

Overgrown, disused, but with rich soil beneath the weeds.

There was even a well. She imagined it blooming, tangled with vines.

Maybe even an apprentice, carefully sorting through last season’s bindweed.

When that work was done, she washed, and changed into a clean habit, and combed her hair. It meant nothing, except that she didn’t want to present herself a dusty, disheveled mess to the god of death. Assuming that he would be there.

I’ll wait for you at the undying shore.

By then it was nearly dusk. She lit a lamp and took it with her, descending the same winding stair. She had not come this way since Nilos had first brought her here. Her heart thudded loud, echoing each step at first, then quickening, drumming faster as she emerged into the cavern.

He stood at the edge of the water. The barge was there as well, drawn up onto the sand, the pole laid neatly across the keel. She thought of the last time they had stood here, together, and heat bloomed up her throat. But that had been Nilos. The man.

This was the Serpent.

She paced up to him. Hesitated, still uncertain what sort of greeting was appropriate.

Strangely, he looked just as uncertain. “Sephre.” The word was a sigh, a release. “I’m glad...you came.”

Had he been going to say something else? She was still debating how to respond when he spoke again. “I’ve been waiting.”

Another flush of heat. She could have come sooner.

But there had been business. Accounts to give, scribes to record her words, a meeting with the new king, who had fortunately forgiven her for throwing a sword at his head the last time they’d met.

Royal advisors insisting that she be properly attired for various public events to reassure the people of Helisson that there was no looming cataclysm, that the danger of the skotoi and the Ember King was past. Or at least, under control.

And then Stara Bron, Beroe and Timeus and Dolon and Abas.

And another visit, strange and awkward and beautiful, to see an old man and an old woman and a little girl who was full of stories about her uncle.

And a dog who had earned her name because she had a trick of pulling a blanket over herself during thunderstorms.

“I...I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.”

“Ah. Yes. Busy saving the world.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. He wasn’t angry.

But the words plucked at the wound, the one she’d been carrying since that day. She touched a hand to the hilt of the dark blade that hung from her waist in a plain leather scabbard. Sephre had not taken it off. Even when she slept or bathed it was in her sight, within her grasp.

“I shattered the Ember King’s spirit,” she said. “Will he come back? Like you did?”

“I don’t know,” said the Serpent. “He was a mortal. But he had been given power from the First One. Only time will tell.”

She nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek.

“He was dangerous,” said the Serpent. “He had the chance to be something better, but he became something terrible. You removed that danger from the world. But...it wasn’t a decision you should have had to make.”

It wasn’t a decision she ever wanted to make again. “I can’t keep this,” she said, starting to unbuckle the dagger. “You should—”

He jerked back from her, heels splashing into the water, setting free a lacy web of ripples. “No. I can’t.”

“Why?”

“It holds too much power.”

“You’re a god.”

A strange mix of humor and sadness crossed his face. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” She rocked back on her heels. “What does that mean?”

“I...”

“Nilos?”

She hadn’t meant to say his name. But the seed had been planted, and had grown, for all the lack of sun.

“Sometimes, yes.”

She stepped closer, watching his face like a sailor watched the skies, hoping for the wind to send her home, but fearing the storm.

“It’s never happened before,” he said. “A god, bound for so long in mortal form.”

“You took mortal form long enough to get stabbed and scattered into bits.”

He glanced away. “That was different. And...painful. Being Nilos was...not painful.”

“Not painful,” she repeated, wryly. “Just what every girl wants to hear.”

His lips curved. His smile broke open a tight knot in her chest.

“Come with me,” he said then, reaching for her hand, pulling her toward the barge. “I want to show you something.”

She let him draw her closer. The boat creaked as she stepped into it. “What?”

He took up the pole, sliding it into the silt, shoving them out into the waters. His grin gleamed wickedly. “I’ve started to make some changes to the labyrinth. I was hoping you might approve. I know you have strong aesthetic opinions about the netherworld.”

She settled herself into the prow. “Bloody waterfalls and towers of skulls?”

“All in good time. For now, I thought I’d start with the guard dog.”

Sephre cast her mind back, scouring for the conversation. “With three heads and horns?”

“Oh, something much better than that. He’s just a pup now, but I think he shows great promise. So. Would you like to meet him?”

“Yes,” she told the god of death. “I would.”