above her wrist and a pair of loose pants, also black—and fed, it was almost noon, and Cyrielle had gathered them all and was taking them to the Hall of Summons for what she called their “orientation.”
Sloane took one look at Esther and groaned. As Sloane should have anticipated, Esther had taken to Genetrix’s extravagant fashion immediately. She was swathed in layers of muted pink, cream, and beige. Her shoes—also beige—came to a sharp point. Her face had been restored to its former made-up glory, her skin dusted with powder, lips stained the color of wine, eyeliner winged to her temples.
“All dressed up and no one to see it,” Esther said with a sigh.
Matt walked beside Cyrielle, smiling and asking questions. He had not opted for the dramatic cape or voluminous cowl of the Genetrixae men they had seen the night before, but the jacket he wore was snug around his broad shoulders, and Cyrielle obviously approved, judging by the way her eyes lingered on him.
He hadn’t so much as looked in Sloane’s direction that morning. Sloane felt like something in the center of her had hardened into a tight knot of muscle. Esther hadn’t given her much acknowledgment either. It was as if Sloane were someone Esther recognized but she couldn’t remember from where.
But dealing with situations like these, Sloane knew, was just a matter of knowing the right procedures. She had learned how to disappear after Cameron died and her mother burrowed into her bed and never came out again. You dealt with it the same way you dealt with the cold when you didn’t have the right jacket: you let the chill pass through you, digging deep into your bones, until you could no longer feel it.
The Hall of Summons was huge and empty. The walls, concentric circles of stone, curved up to a covered oculus at the highest point of its domed ceiling. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, casting bright spots of blue and green on a far wall, where there was a rusted door.
Directly beneath the oculus, set into the floor, there was a metal plate, a little like a drain cover but larger, maybe six feet in diameter. There were decorative flourishes in the plate, curlicues twisting together like vines. Sloane thought back to what Nero had said about there being a powerful siphon fortis in Chicago. This had to be it. The room felt strange, like the air was too close.
When they walked in, Aelia was using her siphon and a whistle to guide a large stone table to the center of the room. Nero was at her shoulder, showing her a page from a book that barely fit in the cradle of his arm, it was so large.
“Ah,” Aelia said when she had set the table down. “Thank you, Cyrielle. Good morning to the rest of you. I can’t stay long, but I stopped by to make sure that your accommodations were satisfactory.”
“Well,” Sloane said, “it’s hard to be satisfied with what is essentially a prison cell, but sure. Great pillows.”
Esther gave her a sideways look, familiar. Then she seemed to realize she wasn’t supposed to do that and angled her body away so Sloane couldn’t see her face.
Sloane let that pass through her. Soon she wouldn’t even feel it.
Aelia pursed her lips. “Well. As you may have observed, it is essential that you be able to do small workings with a siphon in order to get by in this building, let alone to pursue your mission. Therefore Nero will be teaching you how to do some things with the siphons before we move forward with your mission. Nero will be—”
“Actually,” Matt said, “before we start, I have a request.”
Aelia’s mouth puckered like she had just tasted something sour. “Yes?”
“I want to know more about this connection between our universes,” Matt said. Sloane had told Esther and Matt about the article she found in the library, and they agreed that it was enough to tentatively trust what Nero and Aelia had claimed but not enough for them to risk their lives. “Everything you know, basically.”
“Also,” Esther added, “no offense, but if there isn’t a connection, then it’ll feel like you’re lying to us to get us to risk our asses for people and a place we don’t even know. And I, personally, have done enough risking of my ass for one lifetime.”