The Immortal Heights (22 page)

“Was it a deliberate choice on his part to keep sacrificing younger
and younger children?” Fairfax asked at almost the same time.

“Have any of you ever heard of a book called”—Mrs. Hancock hesitated, as if reluctant to even let the words pass her lips—“
A Chronicle of Blood and Bones
?”

Everyone shook their heads, except Haywood, who said, “That's the best-known manual on sacrificial magic, isn't it? I thought all the copies had been destroyed.”

“I had to dig deep into the library's records. Apparently, days before the fall of the last king, a copy was confiscated in Lucidias and set aside for destruction. Then it was lost in the subsequent chaos.”

“That would have been around the time the Bane was born.”

“Correct. I don't have positive evidence on whether he ever came into that copy or how, but during my research, I did read about a young man of Lucidias, by the name of Pyrrhos Plouton, who was miraculously cured of a deadly disease that was within days of killing him. And I came across his story by searching for people who had disappeared without a trace. In his story, it was mentioned that his recovery was bittersweet, as his best friend was believed to have been one of the curious onlookers who got too close to the newly appeared maelstrom of Atlantis and were swept in.”

Mrs. Hancock looked at Fairfax. “Remember what you said about the elemental mage who created the maelstrom having probably been the Bane's first instance of sacrifice? You were exactly right. And decades later he moved across the breadth of Atlantis—no mean feat in those days—to become Palaemon Zephyrus.”
²

“What happened after the baby was taken away?” asked Aramia, her voice low and tight.

“The curse on the family seemed to lift after that—no more unnatural misfortunes. And then came Delius, who changed from a rather mediocre boy to an immensely accomplished young man almost overnight. Oh, I do want to mention that Delius had a twin, who is said to have died in one of the battles. Buried. Once the Bane took power over all of Atlantis, he put many of his ancestors and relatives on one huge pyre and finally offered their ashes to the angels.”

All evidence destroyed, in other words.

“To sacrifice your greatest enemy is evil enough. To practice sacrificial magic on those who love, trust, and respect you—that is despicable beyond words. Especially”—Fairfax briefly clamped her teeth over her lower lip, as if trying to control a bout of nausea—“especially since he knows exactly what sacrificial magic entails, the unspeakable agony the victims must endure, the extraction of brains and marrows and goodness knows what else while their hearts still beat.”

Aramia covered her own mouth, as if she feared she would vomit otherwise.

“Sorry about that,” said Fairfax. “It is what it is.”

“I got completely distracted, didn't I?” said Mrs. Hancock to Kashkari. “All you asked was how best to get to the Commander's Palace, and here I wouldn't shut up about everything that happened decades ago.”

“No, no, of course. It always helps to know what we are
dealing with,” answered Kashkari. “And you did mention that the no-vaulting zone around the Commander's Palace is a hundred miles in radius. Do Atlanteans never have cause to go into the area?”

“Our population has always been concentrated in the coastal regions. The interior of the realm is largely empty of inhabitants, especially the region around the Commander's Palace. The terrain is ill-suited for just about everything—the land mass is too young and the volcanic rock hasn't had enough time to become rich volcanic ash. Some places you can scarcely walk. The land beneath your feet is like a forest of knives.”

Obsidian flows sometimes produced such landscapes, the volcanic glass, upon cooling, fracturing to produce blade-sharp edges.

“Would you happen to have a map?” Titus asked.

“Maps are to be had everywhere. But none of them will have the location of the Commander's Palace marked. You can, however, have a guess as to its general area. It would be the sector in the northwest quadrant of the island that is entirely covered by wilderness preserves.”

Mrs. Hancock moved to a desk and opened a drawer. “Here are two maps. One of Lucidias and one of the entire realm. I've marked them where I thought there might be inaccuracies or information you could use.”

Titus took the maps and offered his thanks.

“Now you just have to get out of Lucidias.”

“Via the tunnels?” asked Amara.

“The tunnels have their uses, but are hardly necessary for you: I still have freedom of movement. Tomorrow morning I will take the Crucible, with all of you inside, for an outing in the country. There are a couple of designated recreational nature areas not far from here. Once you are there, you can proceed with far fewer eyes on you. And I bought some simple tunics and cloaks for all of you, so that your clothes won't stand out.”

Kashkari leaned forward in his chair. “Can you not vault out of Lucidias directly? That would make it safer for everyone.”

Mrs. Hancock shook her head. “The entire city is a no-vaulting zone.”

This was not welcome news.

“Will we stand out?” Amara gestured at Kashkari and herself.

“Somewhat, but we do have a small population of mages who moved to Atlantis from realms in the Indian Ocean. So your appearance alone won't get you dragged off to be interrogated.” She rose. “If anyone is still hungry, I have some eggs in the kitchen and I can make omelets. Would that be all right?”

“That does sound good,” said Haywood. “I will not mind a fresh omelet at all. Thank you.”

“When you've eaten,” Mrs. Hancock went on, “we'll see how we can bed down everyone as comfortably as possible. You'll need a good night's rest.”

It might be their last.

Titus was accustomed to late nights and little sleep. But it had
been a long day, both physically demanding and emotionally draining. And the thought of a few hours of uninterrupted sleep sounded more tempting than he wanted to admit, for someone who really ought not to waste any more time sleeping.

He moved closer to Fairfax, intending to ask how she was holding up.

“No!” Aramia screamed.

Every single person stopped mid-motion.

“Don't eat. Don't sleep. You must leave this house now! Go to the tunnels, get out of Lucidias this minute.”

Titus stared at her. Suddenly he knew what she was about to say next.

“I'm carrying a tracer. I entrusted the other half to Uncle Alectus to give to the new Inquisitor. It would take them a while to find us, but we have been here a while.”

Of course.
If all she wanted was to free Lady Callista, it would be much easier to help the Bane than to defeat the Bane. Titus could have throttled himself. Aramia had the uncanny talent to portray herself as a victim, a girl too weak to matter, someone who would never intentionally serve as an accessory to murder.

Was
this
what would lead to Fairfax's death?

“No!” Fairfax shouted, clamping her hand on him and pushing his arm down.

Belatedly he realized that he had his wand pointed at Aramia, with every intention of completing an execution curse.

The room turned dark all at once. He blinked before he realized that Kashkari had extinguished the light, in order to look outside without attracting notice. As he drew back the shutters, a bright-blue light rushed in.

“Hurting her now would serve no purpose whatsoever,” said Fairfax.

“I didn't know that's why the Bane wanted her,” whimpered Aramia. “I didn't know that it was to use her in sacrificial magic.”

“So it was quite all right for you when you did not know that specific fact?” Titus growled. “What did you think was going to happen? That the Bane would treat her to a nice afternoon tea and let her go?”

Fairfax's hand tightened on his arm. “Stop wasting time. We have to leave.” She turned to Aramia. “Hand over your tracer.”

Aramia dug under the folds of her overrobe and surrendered a small round disk.

“Get started on the password to the Crucible. I'll send the tracer as far away as possible.”

“We won't have enough time to get into the Crucible,” said Kashkari, from the window. “They are coming.”

CHAPTER
18

IOLANTHE RAN TO THE WINDOW.
In the clear, cool light of the streetlamps, it was all too easy to see the swarm of armored pods, the kind that had chased her in Cairo and Eton, speeding toward them.

She swore and threw down the tracer.

“I've a half portal!” cried Mrs. Hancock. “Quick. This way.”

A fully functional portal required a starting enclosure and an end enclosure. A half portal, on the other hand, could send a mage a certain distance, but there was no telling just how far one would be dislocated, or even in which direction.

They grabbed their emergency bags. Mrs. Hancock urged everyone into a closet in her bedroom, packed as tightly as if they were spectators at a parade.

“What about me?” cried Aramia. “If Atlantis interrogates me now, they'll learn that I'd helped you after all.”

“Then you had better make sure they don't interrogate you,” said Mrs. Hancock as she closed the door in Aramia's face, shutting her out.

The next moment, they found themselves standing in a garden of some kind, surrounded by low, burbling fountains and parterres made of dwarf shrubs. The city spread out to the south—a thin, dense strip. And in the distance, the sea, the foam of its choppy waves a strange shade of blue-green under the light of the floating fortress—Titus had told them it was big, but her imagination had been no match for the size of the colossus in the sky.

Mrs. Hancock looked about. The garden was as brightly lit as everywhere else in Lucidias. “We are in River Terrace Park,” she said, a name that meant nothing to the non-Atlanteans, “about three miles from my house.”

“Is it safe here?” asked Kashkari. “And are there any tunnels around?”

“There are no tunnels nearby,” said Mrs. Hancock, waving at them to follow her as she walked toward the west. “Public spaces in Lucidias are carefully watched during the day and even more so during curfew hours, because they might have features that can offer places of concealment. We need to get out of the park.”

“And then what?” demanded Titus.

Even if they could find someplace to hide until morning, the original plan of being carried out of the city in the Crucible by Mrs. Hancock was no longer feasible—Mrs. Hancock herself would now
be considered a fugitive from the law.

Mrs. Hancock led them closer to a high retaining wall, above which was another terrace like the one they were traversing—the park had been carved out of a hillside. And if Iolanthe listened carefully, she could almost hear the roar of the river referenced in the name of the park.

“There are some colleges in this direction,” said Mrs. Hancock. “Usually colleges are allowed to police their own campuses. The Interrealm Institute of Languages and Cultures is said to be lax about enforcing the curfew. I hope we can stay there until sunrise.”

“There are actually places on Atlantis where mages are interested in the languages and cultures of other lands?”

Mrs. Hancock stopped. “Your Highness, with all due respect,
of course
. Just because you have met a few philistines who happen to be Atlanteans doesn't mean the rest of us are all ignorant and incurious. It means that we live in conditions hostile to our way of thinking and we are less inclined to join the bureaucracy that sends mages abroad because we tend to disagree with the official position of disdain and brutality.”

A moment of silence. Iolanthe felt ashamed of herself: she hadn't said it aloud but she'd thought the same thing.

“My apologies, ma'am,” said Titus. “I will remember your admonishment.”

Mrs. Hancock resumed her hurried walk. “Apology accepted, Your Highness. And thank you for—”

A thump. Iolanthe glanced up as Titus took hold of her arm. A fraction of a second later, two uniformed guards fell at Mrs. Hancock's feet. She leaped back, her hand clasped over her mouth.

“I might have stunned the guards too late,” said Amara, cool and unflappable. “They could have already spread the word.”

Mrs. Hancock's jaw worked. “There's a flight of steps ahead. Let's move the guards there.”

The flight of steps had been cut into the retaining wall to permit access from the lower terrace to the upper terrace. The steps were broad and shallow—again, designed to offer as little place to hide as possible. But at the edges of the steps they were less likely to be seen, unless from directly overhead.

They pushed the unconscious Atlanteans beneath the handrails. Titus peered out from the top of the steps; Kashkari and Amara did the same at the bottom. Mrs. Hancock had her hand over her heart, catching her breath. Master Haywood leaned against the stone wall that held back the hillside from the steps, his hand in a fist and the flat of the fist against his forehead.

Iolanthe took his hand. “It's all right. We might be luckier than we think. If those guards had already informed their superiors or sent for reinforcements, they'd be here by now.”

But his shoulders only slumped farther. “If only I hadn't failed to suppress Miss Tiberius's memories. If only I had managed that . . .”

She gaped at him. At the back of her mind, bits and pieces of information that had refused to come together to make sense did
just that in an avalanche of insight. Her grip on his hand tightened. “You never could have done it, because she wasn't the one you held for hours and hours. It was
me
. I'm not Lady Callista's daughter—I am the real Iolanthe Seabourne.”

Master Haywood stared at her. “But that's impossible. I switched the two of you myself.”

In her excitement she grabbed Titus by the back of his tunic and pulled him toward her. “Remember when we encountered the blood circle in the Sahara? We each sent a drop of blood toward the blood circle. Yours reacted with the blood circle, if weakly; mine didn't at all.”

Now he too was slack-jawed. “Fortune shield me. My blood reacted with the blood circle because Lady Callista and I are distantly related. But yours . . . and hers . . .”

“Exactly! I should have put two and two together the moment I remembered everything. But we were so busy with the battle and everything that followed—there was no time to stop and think.”

She was giddy: the supremely selfish Lady Callista and the supremely cowardly Baron Wintervale were
not
her parents.

“I still don't understand what happened,” said Master Haywood dazedly.

“The explanation is obvious. By the time Aramia was born, I'd been in that hospital nursery for six weeks. The night nurses might not recognize Aramia, but they must have recognized me, figured
that I'd been somehow put in the wrong bassinet, and switched us back.”

“So there is nothing deceptive about my memories after all,” Master Haywood said slowly. “I was a man raising my schoolmates' daughter, whom I loved above all else. That was all true, every bit of it.”

She squeezed his hand. “Yes, that was us. That
is
us.”

He squeezed her hand back. “I can't tell you how thrilled I am for Jason and Delphine Seabourne, that their daughter has turned out to be everything they could have possibly wanted in a child.”

“Because you did everything right by me. Never forget that.”

A watery light shone in his eyes. “I didn't. But I will never forget you said that—it makes everything worthwhile.
Everything.
”

Her vision too was growing misty. She leaned forward and kissed him on his cheek. “We'll—”

She whimpered at the hard pressure Titus's hand exerted on her shoulder. He was staring at Mrs. Hancock, who was—who was—

Mrs. Hancock glowed, as if she had turned into a giant lightning bug. She gaped at her hands with their faintly poison-green luminescence, her mouth wide open, her eyes terrified.

Master Haywood scrambled to his feet. “I don't think it was just truth serum Atlantis gave her. This looks like the work of a beacon elixir.”

He gripped Iolanthe by the arm. “Get out your carpet! You must get as far away from—”

Mrs. Hancock erupted into a beacon of light that shot high into the sky, glaringly visible even against the bright background illumination of the Lucidian night. The same light swirled about her, encasing her as if in a tube. Her face was frozen in a scream of horror.

“Go! Go now, all of you!” cried Master Haywood. “She is already dead. Move!”

“But where?” shouted Amara.

Kashkari shook open his carpet. “Away from that!”

“That” was a floating fortress, charging toward them with the speed of an armored chariot.

They fled in the opposite direction from where they had been headed, the sanctuary of the security-lax college now a hopeless mirage. Iolanthe's carpet had been subordinated to Amara's, the latter being the fastest and most experienced flyer among them. But even with their carpets advancing at a dizzying speed, the floating fortress was already on top of them.

Worse, its edges were extending downward. It was going to physically confine them in a place where they could not vault, where once penned in, they had no way of getting out.

Her heart pounded like the pistons of a steam engine that was about to overheat. Was this it? Was this the beginning of the end?

She ripped off chunks of the hillside and aimed them at the floating fortress. Volcanic rock produced very satisfactory thunks
against the underbelly of the juggernaut, but had no practical effects whatsoever.

The floating fortress was now exactly above them, its speed identical to theirs, its edges halfway to the ground. Amara banked hard and reversed their direction. But the floating fortress, the size of a city district, matched their movements without the least hesitation.

“Kashkari, head in a different direction!” Titus ordered. “I will do the same.”

The floating fortress ignored their attempts at creating confusion and stuck with Amara, Iolanthe, and Master Haywood.

Iolanthe jerked at the sudden pressure she felt on the strap on her shoulder. But it was only Master Haywood digging in her emergency satchel. He shook open her spare carpet, embraced her with one arm, and kissed her on her cheek. “I love you.” To Amara he shouted, “Get out from underneath the fortress!”

Then he was on the spare carpet, dashing up toward the floating fortress itself.

“What are you doing?” Iolanthe screamed.

Whatever he intended would only get him killed.

His receding figure began to glow, much as Mrs. Hancock's had done. “No!” Iolanthe screamed again. What had Atlantis given
him
during his time in the Inquisitory?

Impossibly, the flying fortress too began to glow. For a moment, her mind refused to comprehend what she was seeing: a
last-mage-standing spell, enormously destructive because it was powered by a voluntarily given life.

Master Haywood's voluntarily given life.

The entire floating fortress glowed orange, with cracks of red showing through. It wobbled and slowed, even as its edges continued to descend. Iolanthe forced herself to concentrate. The tailwind she summoned flung them forward; Amara barely hung on to her control of the carpets. They spun as they slid out from underneath the fortress's enclosure.

The flying fortress broke apart and plummeted. A tide of debris crashed toward them. Iolanthe called for the strongest shields she knew and sent a strong countervailing current of air—still she had to raise her emergency satchel to her head to shield herself from the smattering of small fragments that pelted down.

Out of the cloud of smoke and dust appeared Kashkari and Titus. But there was no time to inquire after their well-being, not even to catch her breath. Beneath the din of the floating fortress's destruction there came slithering sounds in the grass. Hunting ropes, hundreds, perhaps thousands in quantity.

Hunting ropes that knew the scents of their quarries, if they had been first taken to Mrs. Hancock's house. And traveling by flying carpet would not deter the hunting ropes from following their scents.

But hunting ropes, thankfully, had one imperfection: they only worked on dry land.

“To the river. Now!” Iolanthe commanded.

The river was only a stone's throw ahead. The debris cloud was beginning to clear; Titus called for a large, powerful smoke screen. Under different conditions something like that would have been a dead giveaway of their location. But as it was, their location was already known, and all they needed was for Atlantis not to know their next move.

The river was far more swollen than Iolanthe had anticipated, the currents dark and swift. She inhaled deeply and made a motion with her hand, as if she were yanking apart a stuck window.

The water parted, revealing an irregular-looking riverbed, the kind where there was no good place for setting foot. And while the channel wasn't too steep, there was a noticeable incline.

“Get down and crouch low.” Due to the slope, the river wasn't too deep, at most eight feet.