Page 65 of House of the Beast

Chapter

B y the growing ache of hunger in my stomach, I guessed that it was around late evening when Fion announced, “We’re almost there.”

“Thank fuck,” Kaim muttered. We had been walking for some time; he’d grown steadily slower as we went, clearly troubled by his wound.

A wound that had been my doing. Though Fion had tied a tourniquet around his upper arm and expertly bandaged the open stump, with strips torn off his own robes wadded up beneath them, Kaim’s blood still left a dripping trail on the street.

If he died here, after we finally made amends, I did not know if I would laugh at the awful irony or curse myself for the rest of my life.

My only comfort was that he still stubbornly refused to be carried by any of his men. If he was well enough to be haughty, he was well enough to survive. Or so I hoped.

I had been relegated to guard duty and been told to keep the streets clear as we advanced.

It was a task I took to gladly, for otherwise I would have been too busy wallowing in Aster’s sudden disappearance or worrying over my cousin.

There had been a fair share of terrors along the way, drawn in by the scent of blood, though thankfully none as fearsome as the mimic.

I secretly hoped, too, that my own taking of ichor would soothe some of my monster’s ire and return him to my side.

No such luck.

Now we were finally drawing close to the Court Library of Sorrowsend, another established waystation, and presumably where Carnus Metia had decided to set up camp for the night.

Unlike at the Carrine statehouse, there were no torches outside to welcome weary Pilgrims. It was only as we drew close that I caught the glimmer of lamplight between gaps in the curtains.

Whoever was inside had planned to lay low, most likely in preparation for the night.

Or perhaps they simply did not care to open their arms to potential competitors.

Fion helped Kaim to the front door, and together they banged the heavy brass knocker, shaped like the Heavenseer’s great eye.

It was a moment before anyone answered. A voice came muffled through the door, “This waystation has been claimed for House Metia’s use. Identify yourself.”

“I am Kaim of House Avera, Fifth Hand of the Dread Beast,” my cousin answered. “I’m here to see my uncle Lord Carnus.”

A pause. Then the scrape of a heavy lock.

The door swung open, and warm yellow light spilled over the street.

I could see Kaim’s men relaxing as it illuminated their faces; though they had not complained once of their duty, they were only mortals, and had already spent hours in the strange, starlit gloom of the umbral plane.

I found myself relaxing as well. The light was familiar—safe.

It was shelter from the glow of the stars, and haven from the terrors that lurked nearby.

A House Metia guard, dressed in blue fatigues with a spear at the ready, poked his head out to greet us. “Lord Kaim. Please, come in. Lord Carnus would be glad to see you safe.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a Sorrowless Disciple in here, would you?” asked Fion as he dragged my cousin’s weary body past the threshold.

The guard frowned at my cousin’s arm. In proper light, I could see now that the bandages were heavy with blood, dripping slowly onto the floral carpet beneath our feet.

“I’m afraid we don’t,” the guard responded. “Priestess Aulia took station here earlier, but followed Lady Agatha out on an expedition, and they have not yet returned. Only Lord Carnus and Lord Lynel are here right now.”

“No healer. We’ll have to cauterize it,” Kaim said, not sounding at all excited by the prospect. “Where’s my uncle?”

“Lord Carnus is in the librarian’s study on the second floor.”

My cousin dismissed his men for the night before motioning for me to join him up the stairs.

Climbing them was an ordeal. By the time we reached the top, he was gray in the face and panting like a dog.

I had only a second of warning before he tilted dangerously to the side.

Fion cried out in surprise. I managed to grab my cousin before he went tumbling back down the stairs.

“Don’t die,” I grunted, planting my weight against him to hold him up. “I’d feel really bad if you do.”

“I hope the guilt haunts you to your grave,” he grunted in response, but managed to get his feet back under him.

The librarian’s study was thankfully only a short walk farther.

Between myself and Fion, we managed to get Kaim there, and at that point we were too exhausted for propriety.

Fion fairly kicked the door open, not even caring to knock.

Inside, Carnus and Lynel Metia were gathered before a roaring fireplace, talking quietly.

As the door banged open, they both turned—and as soon as Lord Carnus laid his milky eyes upon his nephew, he hissed, “Heavens, Kaim, what happened?”

He rushed over to help prop Kaim up. Lynel Metia stood from the armchair he had been lounging in, eyes wide. Together, we dragged my cousin over to the fire and deposited him onto the chair.

“We need to cauterize his wound,” I said, repeating Kaim’s words as my cousin didn’t seem in any shape to do so himself. Fion unsheathed one of his daggers and stuck it into the fire. Then he came back and patted Kaim on the cheek.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t go to sleep. Stay awake.”

“Don’t want to,” my cousin mumbled. “Tired.”

“Tough luck. Come on, Kaim, this can’t be worse than Master Vuong’s poetry lessons.”

My cousin gave a weak chuckle, but dutifully sat up straighter, shaking his head as if to clear the fuzz from it.

“Your eye,” said Carnus Metia accusingly, looking at Fion.

Fion shrugged, sheepish.

Lord Carnus’s penetrating stare was then directed at me.

I tensed, unsure if I should begin to explain my reason for being here.

Though we were all Pilgrims save Fion, there was no doubt that Carnus Metia was the senior member of all of us.

He wore authority like a well-fitted suit, and I felt the inexplicable urge to lower my head and defer to that piercing gaze.

I was a stranger encroaching upon his territory, and suddenly the idea of asking for his help against my father seemed laughable.

“I suppose there’s a good explanation for this,” he said after a beat. “But it will have to wait until after we take care of my nephew.”

I felt my shoulders relax just the slightest as he finally turned away to approach the fire with Lynel Metia. Both of them watched in silence as it heated up the dagger’s blade. After a couple of tense minutes, Lynel waved at us and made a few quick motions with his hands.

“It’s ready,” translated Lord Carnus, and wrapped his hands in the ends of his robe to grab the heated dagger himself. “Give him something to bite on.”

Fion quickly stripped off his own belt, then folded it twice over to create a suitable gag.

Kaim bit down on it without complaint. His eyes were a little wild as he watched his uncle come closer, the blade of the dagger not yet glowing but certainly hot enough to burn. His hand shot out to grasp at Fion’s.

“Hold him down,” Lord Carnus ordered.

Lynel and I both scrambled behind the armchair to pin Kaim in place by his shoulders. Fion gingerly unwrapped the bandages to expose Kaim’s stump, throwing them onto the ground with a wet plop.

Without further ado, Carnus Metia pressed the hot metal onto his nephew’s open wound.

Kaim was too proud to scream. But his breathing quickened painfully until his gasps almost sounded like whimpers, and his knuckles turned white as he held on to Fion’s hand, making Fion wince.

His whole body lurched against the chair as if trying to escape; it was only due to our efforts that he did not fling himself onto the floor completely.

An awful, nauseating smell like charred meat filled the room. I fought not to gag.

Carnus Metia held the blade against one side of the wound for two seconds precisely, then flipped it and held it against the other.

As soon as he withdrew, Kaim collapsed backward, chest heaving and tears streaming silently down his cheeks.

The belt fell from his slack mouth. Fion was already there, carding fingers through his sweat-soaked hair and murmuring gentle assurances.

My cousin leaned his forehead against Fion’s shoulder, slumped in exhaustion. The bleeding had finally stopped.

Seeing them brought to my heart another wave of gladness.

I was thankful that we had somehow made it to this point, the both of them battered but safe.

But it also brought a pang of regret as their easy closeness reminded me of Aster.

I could not help but wish that he were here, and that he weren’t upset with me.

I was in a strange place with people who were not quite allies and not quite enemies and would have appreciated a familiar presence.

I stepped away from the armchair, allowing my cousin and Fion their space. Lynel Metia hastily did the same, looking a little embarrassed as he rejoined the leader of House Metia by the fire. Lord Carnus dropped the knife onto the stone tiles beside the hearth, and then he approached me.

“Lady Alma,” he said. “You are the last person I expected to see with my nephew, after all your efforts to take his position away. I would like an explanation of why you are here, and why my nephew is missing that which marks him as Fifth Hand of the Beast.”