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That was smart. I wasn’t sure Wendel had the strength left in him for the stairs. Predictably, Wendel grimaced at this acknowledgment of his weakness, but I didn’t give a damn about his pride at the moment.
We ascended to the city above.
I tilted my head skyward. “It’s snowing.”
Snowflakes fell like goose feathers from the clouds and hushed the nighttime sounds of the city. Beautiful. I appreciated it in a detached way, since I still felt so dead inside. Shivering, I followed close behind Konstantin. Wendel trudged alongside me without even looking up from his boots.
We walked for two blocks before stopping outside a tidy apartment building. From the lobby, we took the stairs to the second level. Wendel clung to the railing with his head bowed. Every step betrayed the depths of his exhaustion.
Konstantin unlocked the door. “Let me get the lights.”
He flicked on a switch, and electric lamps blinked awake. Curious, I looked around the archmage’s apartment. Small and cluttered, it had overflowing bookcases and glowingtechnomancy apparatuses that looked like they belonged in the laboratory. The corner of my mouth curled in a smile. How much luggage had he brought to Vienna, and how chaotic had it been when he unpacked? Wendel lingered by the door, like he didn’t trust so much technomancy in such a little space.
Konstantin patted the back of a couch. “Please, make yourselves at home.”
“Wendel,” I said. “Sit down before you fall down.”
He looked mildly insulted, though my comment motivated him enough to walk to the couch. Konstantin bustled off to the kitchen. While the archmage was out of sight, Wendel dropped onto the couch and sank into the cushions. He closed his eyes, some of the tension leaving his muscles.
“Tea?” Konstantin called from the kitchen.
Wendel nodded without opening his eyes.
“Yes, please.” I settled in a battered old chair. “For two.”
A clock with gleaming naked gears caught my eye. This was bizarre—teatime at two o’clock in the morning with a necromancer and an archmage. I laughed, feeling the drunkenness of extreme fatigue.
Wendel cracked open an eye and tried to speak, then thought better of it.
“Are you hungry?” Konstantin asked.
“A little,” I admitted.
“Good!” He sounded happy to have guests.
Konstantin returned to the living room, balancing a platter piled with sausage, half a loaf of dark bread, a stick of butter, and a little jar of mustard. He delivered it all to the coffee table, ducked back into the kitchen, and brought mismatched plates and silverware. He arranged everything precisely in front of us.
“Here you are,” Konstantin said. “Now you can refuel.”
I glanced heavenward. Of course he would think of it that way.
Konstantin sat on the couch beside Wendel without touching him. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight. Wendel pantomimed writing in the air. Konstantin jumped to his feet and fetched a notebook.
I tilted my head so I could read his words.
Wendel wrote,Thank you for saving me.
Konstantin blushed to the roots of his hair. “We couldn’t leave you there in the laboratory. Or in the coffin factory, for that matter.”
Wendel arched one eyebrow.You could have.
“Please,” I scoffed. “Who do you think we are?”
A smile shadowed Wendel’s mouth.
“And thank you for inviting us here, Konstantin,” I said. “It was very kind of you.”
“You’re most welcome.”
