Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle #1) - Jay Kristoff Page 0,132

in her pants. “So. You coming mischief-making, or do you have an appointment with Tricky in the hope of earning some more bite marks?”

Mia opened her mouth to begin denials. Ashlinn’s raised eyebrow told her not to bother. And with a sigh, Mia opened the door, waved to the corridor beyond.

“That’s the spirit,” Ash grinned.

The blood stink grew heavy, the air heavier still as the girls crept into the Mountain’s depths. Mister Kindly swallowed her fear as always, but the sensible part of Mia’s brain was still screaming that this was a sensationally bad idea.

“This is a sensationally bad idea, Ash.”

“So you said. About twenty times now.”

“You remember what Marielle did to Hush?”

“Maw’s teeth, Corvere. When my da got tortured in the Thorn Towers of Elai, they chopped his bollocks off and fed them to the scabdogs. What’s your excuse?”

“For what?”

“Um, your complete lack of balls?”

Mia waved at her breasts. “Um, you do see these, don’t you?”

“All right, all right,” Ash growled. “Bad analogy.”

They reached the level of Adonai’s chambers. Mia took Ash’s hand, and just as she’d done with Tric in the athenaeum, she reached into the dark around her. A dark that had never known the touch of the suns. She could feel the power in it. The power in her. Weaving her fingers through the gloom, she pulled her cloak of shadows about the pair of them, and they faded from sight like smoke on the breeze.

“I can’t see a bloody thing under this,” Ash hissed.

“I told you, being darkin isn’t all that impressive. Just stay close.”

The pair crept slowly down the corridor, dim points of arkemical illumination their only guides. But finally, drawn to the heavy, copper stink, they found Adonai’s chamber. Lurking at the threshold, Mia and Ash squinted inside. Adonai was knelt at the head of the pool, gazing into the blood, skin scrawled with scarlet glyphs. As usual, the speaker would keep his vigil until every acolyte had returned from the ’Grave.

Aalea had explained that a few drops of Adonai’s blood were mixed into the pools at the Porkery and other Red Church chapels. Through that blood, the speaker could feel when someone entered the pool, and if he willed it, allow them to make the Walk back. He was like a spider at the center of a vast, scarlet web, his own essence serving as the threads. Mia still found herself amazed by it all—next to Adonai, her little parlor tricks with shadows seemed a feeble sort of magik indeed. If Consul Scaeva and the Luminatii ever discovered the Red Church had this kind of power …

“All right,” Ash whispered. “Here’s the plan. You go in and distract him. And while he’s dazzled by you, I hit the alcoves and snatch the Trinity.”

“Dazzled by me?” Mia hissed. “How do I manage that?”

“I don’t know, you’re the saucy one. Use your wiles, woman.”

Mia gawped, momentarily losing the power of speech.

“… Maw’s teeth, Ash. ‘Use my wiles’? That’s your plan?”

“Well, I don’t know. You’ve been studying with Aalea longer than any of us. Use that slinky walk you like so much. Get your girls out or somesuch.”

“Get my…”

Mia flapped her lips a while, flabbergasted.

“Use your words,” Ash sighed.

“Here’s some words,” Mia finally managed. “Why don’t you distract Adonai, and I—the girl who I might point out, is turning us near fucking invisible at this very second—go and snatch the Trinity instead?”

“And how are you going to touch it without spewing fountains, O, invisible one?”

Mia opened her mouth to reply. Closed it again. Sighed.

“Good point.”

Ash nodded. Waited expectantly.

“Well, go on, then.”

Mia rolled her eyes. Threw off the shadowcloak. “Fine.”

She stood, knocked on the wall and stepped into Adonai’s chamber.

“Speaker?”

Adonai didn’t open his eyes, talking like a man in a dream.

“Good eve, Acolyte. Thou art bound for the city? Shahiid Aalea sent no word.”

“No. Apologies.” Mia walked into the chamber, searching desperately for some kind of ruse. “I … wished to speak to you.”

“And what shall you speak about, pray tell?”

Mia’s eyes roamed the maps carved on the walls. The shattered isles of Godsgrave. The obsidian fortress of Carrion Hall. The port of Farrow. Glyphs were scrawled in blood among the carvings, shifting and blurring if she looked at them too long. From this room, the Red Church could touch any city in the Republic.

Her eyes settled on a map she didn’t recognize, near hidden in the shifting shadows. A great, sprawling metropolis, grander than Godsgrave, its contours and streets unlike anything she’d seen.

“Where is that?”