The thing in the canyon that killed the god . . . that’s a demon too?
Nines asked.A demon that can destroy other demons?
I think so. I need to see it for myself.
A long while passed in silence. It might have been hours as they both struggled to think of a way out of this predicament.
When Nines reached out again, it was in fear.What was that?
Jacen had to concentrate for a time before he sensed what she did. A disturbance on the fringes on his consciousness. Itwas subtle, but he had sensed such a thing before and knew it for what it was: a herald of tragedy.
When he was a novitiate, a tavern in the Knots had caught fire and collapsed. Dozens had been trapped inside, and their deaths—some sudden, some long and painful—had caused a ripple. People smelled the smoke, heard the screams. They shouted in the streets, alerting others in their homes. Rodents and insects fled the area. Pain, fear, and horror spread like sparks on the wind, touching everything that lived. The ripple had reached Jacen all the way in the Inner City, asleep in Brother Marez’s chapel. He had awoken with his heart pounding, drenched in sweat.
This time, whatever had happened was much worse.
He tried to stand, as though he might peer outside his cell and see something, but his legs had gone weak. He waited for the lightheadedness to pass, then said through the shock,I have no idea.He asked Nines,Can you sense outside?
Only in the Cathedral. They’re blocking off entrances.She paused.
People are trying to get in.
Eventually, they heard it too. A rumble overhead as the Cathedral itself trembled.
“Fuck this,” said one of the guards.
“Where do you think you’re going?” said another.
“I’m not just going to wait in this pit for relief that isn’t coming. I’m getting out of here, and so should you.”
“There’s nowhere safer than the Cathedral,” said the third guard. “Don’t be stupid.”
The first guard hesitated. Slow and subtle, Jacen nudged his mind. He had to be cautious. If he was too obvious about it, one of the others would put an arrow through his neck. He settled for a whisper of a thought, enhanced by the man’s own rising fear:
You’ll die here if you stay.
“Fuckthis,” the guard said again, and began to pace away.
The door to the labyrinth creaked open. Footsteps halted. Another guard started to speak—but the words caught in his throat.
“Evening, friends,” came a deep voice that, unless Jacen was hallucinating again, belonged to Seth Semira. It echoed in the pit, the loudest noise in days. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“My lord.” The guard seemed unsure whether he wanted to salute or sound the alarm. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Shit, you’re right,” said Seth. “I must have taken a wrong turn.” There was a shuffle of footsteps. A ring of metal striking stone.
Someone shouted and dashed from his post over Jacen’s cell.
After a very short time, the fighting ceased, leaving only the sound of someone’s heavy breathing. The lock clicked open. Seth appeared overhead as he hauled the grate aside—winded, his bearded face flecked with blood, but unharmed. He wore his knight’s armor without the white cloak, sword still sheathed at his hip. Jacen had never heard him draw it.
“Time to go.” Seth extended a hand. He hauled Jacen out of the cell. The guards’ bodies lay motionless around him.
With sudden softness, Seth’s fingers grazed Jacen’s face. “What did they do to you?”
On instinct, Jacen pulled away. “Broke my nose.” His voice was hoarse. “Sobered up.”
Seth gave him a look that was half horror, half exasperation. “That is not what I meant.”
Jacen shook his head. “I Later. We have to find Nines.”
