she coughed, Sancia could see something was different.
He knows what that is, she thought, and…and he’s thinking very hard about it…
“Gregor?” asked Crasedes. “The key, please.”
The deadness in Gregor’s eyes returned. He put the box in his pocket, then knelt and ripped open her shirt, revealing where Clef hung from her neck by a small string.
“And I’d advise you pick it up with a cloth,” said Crasedes. “It was made for my hand, but…if they’ve damaged it more, I expect that it might have some permissions that could make following my commands a little difficult for you…”
Gregor ripped off the sleeve of his shirt, bundled it around his hand, and reached out for Clef.
Sancia feebly swatted at his hand. Gregor drew back. Then he raised his fist and punched Sancia in the face, once, twice, three times, then four…
He’s going to kill me, she thought. My friend is going to beat me to death, right here in my courtyard…
The blows ended. Sancia’s consciousness was just a flickering candle lost in the vaults of her skull, but she could still hear Clef.
Then his voice was gone.
Sancia tried to put her mind back together. She blinked and groaned and opened her eyes, but one of them seemed swollen shut. It felt like hours had passed since Gregor had beaten her, but apparently it had only been seconds.
She was lying on her back on the ground, so when she looked up toward Gregor the whole world was upside down. She watched as he walked away from her, Clef gripped in a cloth in his hand, and opened the Foundryside gates, and calmly walked out…
“Gregor,” she moaned. “Please. Stop!”
But he did not stop. He walked to Crasedes and held Clef out to him.
Crasedes reached out, his black-wrapped fingers moving slowly and lovingly, and he plucked the golden key from Gregor’s grasp.
He held it high, his masked face raised in adoration.
“Finally!” said Crasedes. He raised Clef to his face, and leaned the brow of his head against the tooth of the key—a queerly sentimental posture—and when he spoke again his voice shook with emotion. “How I missed you. How I missed you.”
Then he extended Clef into the air before him, as if fitting him into a lock in an invisible door.
And then…
There was a tremendous crack, like some huge, thick stone had split in two.
Then Crasedes blurred, and he was gone.
* * *
—
All the world was silent.
Sancia blinked and stared. She’d expected something more terrifying, some bright blaze of power, but…Crasedes was just gone. And now that she noticed, Gregor had vanished as well.
“W-What?” said Sancia, stunned.
She stared at the muddy road before the Foundryside gates. It was totally empty—yet she could see footprints where Gregor had walked to Crasedes.
“Valeria?” asked Sancia. “What…What did he do? Where did he go? What’s happening?”
But Valeria was silent.
she asked.
Nothing.
Sancia slowly sat up, spat out a mouthful of blood, and looked around. There was no sign of either Crasedes or Gregor. Orso lay on the stones of the courtyard, moaning.
She crawled over to him and shook him. “Orso. Are you still alive?”
He moaned again and said, “Unfortunately.” He opened his eyes. “What…What the hell happened? Where’s Crasedes? Where’s Gregor?”
“I don’t know. They just…vanished. I don’t know how, though, but…”
She remembered his words: He would give me the permissions to slip through your reality like a minnow through river reeds…
She stared around, imagining Crasedes flitting through the strata below reality, like a cockroach scuttering behind a tapestry.
Oh God, she thought. Oh God, oh God…
“Berenice?” panted Orso. “Is she alive?”