Page 43 of House of the Beast

Chapter

T he next day, the sky remained dark and livid even as the sun rose, and the pampered dogs in the noblemen’s district had not stopped braying since dawn.

The Pilgrimage began tomorrow at noon—and before then I was going to try to familiarize myself with a whole city, enough to survive its terror-infested reflection on the other side of the umbral gate.

I awoke determined to put the events of last night behind me and focus only on what was ahead.

Sevelie was still sleeping, but her maids made quick work of producing for me a quick breakfast of silken eggs sprinkled with chives and a bowl of fresh fruit before I exited her home.

As soon as I stepped outside, the foreboding sea wind whipped at my hair and bit at my cheeks.

In the sky, the Wanderer of Still Waters had finally journeyed close enough to be seen, shining bright on its ominous approach.

Even from here, I could sense its power.

There was an energy in the air—perhaps that was why the city was so frenzied with celebration.

Revelers in their best raiments sang and marched in the cobbled streets.

On the corners of these streets, vendors had set up shop to loudly hawk trinkets and ribbons in different House colors.

People stumbled around like they were drunk, and I doubted it was all from the wine practically spilling out of nearby hotel lounges.

There was something about the approaching star that was stirring their spirits to restlessness.

If it could have this effect from so far off in the sky, I wondered what sort of power one could take from it. I wondered if it would drive one mad. Slaying the last fallen star certainly seemed to have had that effect on my Uncle Maximus. Would I become like him?

“What’s got you so twisted up?” said Aster, rocking back on his heels.

He peered past my shoulder at the celebrations and, without warning, darted a few steps forward to pluck a flower off a vendor’s cart.

He practically skipped back to me and offered it with a flourish. “Here—to brighten your mood.”

I accepted it with a bemused quirk of my mouth. He seemed happy to spend time together after our fight last night—a silly notion to expect of an elder god, but it pleased me to think it all the same.

“The star’s got the whole city restless,” I replied as I twirled the stem between my fingers. “I wonder what it might do to me when I kill it.”

“You’re worried you won’t be able to handle it?” said Aster, amused.

“The last Pilgrimage didn’t seem to do my uncle any favors.”

He waved a hand through the air with pointed nonchalance. “Your uncle didn’t have me around. Our connection is already stronger than anyone else’s. What’s a little more? You’ll be fine, Alma.”

Even if I wasn’t, I decided that was a price worth paying. My father would not be the one to claim this power. House Avera would have no choice but to accept me as its leader—I would prove all of them wrong, and then, once everything belonged to me, I could lay my ghosts to rest.

But first, I had to prepare.

I started my tour of Sorrowsend with the most notable landmark of all: the Church of the Weeping Lady.

Located at the center of the city, the great cathedral would be a convenient lodestar in the dark mirrored world of the umbral plane.

Sorrowsend was an orderly city constructed in neat quadrants and concentric rings, which meant that it was easy enough to navigate without losing direction.

I knew there was a canal from the eastern district where Sevelie lived that I could follow to the centermost ring, and from there it was a simple affair to find the masses of churchgoers moving like a river toward their worship and to slip into their ranks, following them up the grand stairs and through the towering Church doors.

The sounds of the city and the chatter of people around me fell into a hush as I entered.

Where sanctuaries dedicated to the Dread Beast were all dark and foreboding, the Church of the Weeping Lady instead was quiet, peaceful—full of a different kind of power.

I craned my neck to look up at the high vaulted ceilings of white stone and felt sufficiently small and, at the same time, safe.

Blocks of colored sunlight fell across the walls, encasing the church in a dim but beautiful gloom.

I turned my attention to the windows, each adorned with intricate panels of stained glass depicting the elder gods of Kugara.

There was the Lady, of course, haloed in golden light with one eye open and the other perpetually closed in sorrow.

There was the Heavenseer’s great eye, and the Odious Tinkerer hunched over a beautiful clockwork kingdom.

And then there was my Beast, with his three eyes and six arms and his pelt of shadows, standing triumphantly over a conquered city.

The quiet reverence in the air was broken by the murmured beginnings of a prayer, and I looked toward the altar, where worshippers were congregating for morning service.

A great statue of the Lady sat before them, watching over her subjects.

Water trickled from her one closed eye, down her stone body, and onto the carvings of praying wretches at her feet before pooling in a reservoir around her.

Canals had been dug out of the stone floor so that her holy tears flowed from this reservoir and gently along every pathway.

I did not consider myself a follower of the Church, but still I took my time to simply soak in all this beauty.

“They really spared no expense. It’s a little gaudy, if I’m honest,” sniffed Aster at my side.

Pulled out of my reverie, I snorted softly. “So are the Avera temples.”

“Why, I never! Insulting your own holy temples? Clearly this place is a bad influence on you. We should leave at once.”

“I’m exploring,” I answered languidly.

He huffed. “The Church is sealed up in the umbral plane, anyway.”

He was right. Though the Weeping Lady welcomed all into her mortal abode, no one was allowed inside it in the mirrored world of Sorrowsend.

It was protected by wards designed by ancient scions of all Four High Houses that no man, even if he were a vessel of the Four, would be able to break through.

We would not be venturing up into it at any point.

I shrugged. “Yes, but it is nice to look at.”

Aster’s gaze snapped to the statue of the Lady. “What the—now you’re looking at other gods!” he gasped in mock offense, crowding into my space. “Aren’t I enough for you?”

I rolled my eyes at him—but underneath his playful exterior, there was true distaste in his expression. He didn’t like it here. Perhaps elder gods were more squeamish about being in the domain of another’s power than I thought. I relented and let him lead me back outside to continue my exploration.

From there I tried to keep my assessment of the city clinical, but I could not help stopping at several points to simply stare at the celebrations as music and laughter wrapped around me.

Clouds gathered as the day wore on and the wind grew ominous and oppressive, but it did nothing to detract from the beauty of Sorrowsend’s characteristic white stone buildings and elegant spires.

Everything was so different compared to the quiet, dark Avera estate I had been holed up in for the past eight years.

Every street was hung with lights that flickered even in the daytime, and stepping beneath them felt like a dream.

Eventually, I pulled myself away from the festivities long enough to follow the path I had mapped for myself to the edge of the southern quadrant, leaving behind the Church’s towers.

We passed by several storefronts laden with ornaments and bouquets in the Lady’s white, or paper stars in House Metia’s blue and silver, or glittering banners in Goldmercy colors, as well as performers providing entertainment for the people.

One of them, which we stopped to watch, was a reenactment of the last Pilgrimage with the Heavenseer’s vessels as its heroes.

A lovingly crafted puppet representation of Carnus Metia pranced around onstage, slinging celestial magic left and right, butchering shadowy monsters, and splitting buildings in half.

It was a childish show, obviously not made with artistry in mind, but nonetheless had drawn some bystanders.

“They forgot to add in all the blood and dead soldiers who sacrificed themselves for the cause,” said Aster, clearly still affecting a petty mood.

“It’s entertainment,” I pointed out, though I knew he was already aware.

“Ah, of course,” he said with great exaggeration. “The Pilgrims must look powerful, so that the people will continue to worship the Four.”

I shot him a sidelong glance. “Don’t you want them to? Worship feeds the gods, and their strength in turn benefits the people,” I recited.

He rounded on me with a suave smile, one hand landing on my waist and another cupping my cheek. “You’re the only one I need, Alma.”

I elbowed him away, fighting off a grin at his theatrics.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s quite the reassurance the people need.

They want to know the Pilgrims will keep them safe from that .

” I craned my head back to look up at the falling star, shining even brighter than it had this morning.

Anywhere else in the world, it would have been considered a sign of disaster, a herald of the end of days.

In Kugara, it was a cause for celebration because the people believed the Four would protect them.

I had to admire this blind trust, and the effort that must have gone into cultivating it.

There was no panic, no carriages ferrying people away from this looming monster in the sky. Only puppet shows and music.

“Well, if they made a show about you after this Pilgrimage, I would watch it,” said Aster.

I wrinkled my nose. “I hope they never do.”