Page 76 of The Dark Mirror

‘Thanks for having us,’ I said.

‘This is Nick, mollisher supreme,’ Verca said. Federico bestowed his kisses on Nick. ‘Federì, chesta è ’a guagliona mia, se chiamma Maria. Maruška, this is Federico.’

‘Salve.’ Maria smiled. ‘Fire and water. I hear we’re natural enemies in Naples.’

Federico took the measure of her. ‘Mo t ’a faie cu na piromante, Verò?’

‘Ué, ’a puo’ fernì. Nun tene niente ’a spàrtere cu ’e Vesuviane,’ Verca said, her tone sharp. ‘Nun ce ’a faccio cchiù a stà mmiezo a sti ttarantelle inutile.’

‘Vabbuò. Pe te fà piacere nun ce rico niente.’ Federico kissed Maria. ‘Welcome, Maria, and the rest of you. Welcome to the ruins of Cumae. Please, come into the cave.’

‘I’ll wait for the Ranthen,’ I said to the others. They entered the cave, leaving me to roast.

I found a spot in the shade. The sun had toasted the grass, though bright wild flowers still grew strong. The sun and scents, the clement wind, the chirr of insects in the trees – it was all so different from anything I knew, I might as well have landed in the Netherworld.

When four Rephs approached from the north, I stood. Even though they might be older than the ruins, they could not have looked more out of place. Terebell gave me a curt nod.

‘Underqueen,’ Lucida said.

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘It’s been a while.’

Errai turned his nose up. Always a pleasure.

‘Indeed,’ Lucida said. ‘Terebell told us where you have been. We are pleased that you escaped your captor, and that you have returned to the fight.’

I blinked. Either Lucida had softened since I had last seen her, or the Ranthen were learning to be diplomatic.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘It’s good to be back.’ I looked up at the stranger. ‘Sorry, I don’t think I know you.’

‘Lesath Mesarthim,’ came the deep reply.

Most of the Mesarthim had perished in the civil war. I had only met two others. Lesath bore such a strong resemblance to Arcturus, it hurt to look at him.

‘Paige,’ I said. ‘Where have you been living for the past two centuries?’

‘Scotland, for the most part,’ Lesath said. ‘There was a small community of exiles in Knoydart, under the command of Cursa Sarin. We chose to reject the Sargas amnesty and eschew the safety of Oxford. Now we have moved to the Hálendið, the wilderness of Iceland.’

He spoke with a distinct Scottish burr, which surprised me. Every other Reph I knew had an Inquisitorial English accent.

‘I have come here for the rightful Warden of the Mesarthim,’ he went on. ‘The sovereign-elect believes you can assist us. Given your victories against Scion, Cursa has confidence in you, Paige Mahoney. I choose to trust her judgement, and that of my Warden.’

‘That’s … refreshing. Thanks, Lesath.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Let’s get him back, shall we?’

The footprints led us to an artificial gallery, lined with green moss and lichen. Federico and his people had mounted lanterns on the walls. By their wavering light, we made our way down the gallery, following the others’ voices. They had gathered in a chamber at the end.

‘Ah, the Ranthen,’ Maria called. ‘Welcome, friends. Long time no see.’

‘Maria,’ Lucida said. ‘We are pleased you are alive.’

She sounded like an automaton. Terebell must have told them all to be courteous, for some reason.

‘Of course you are,’ Maria said. ‘I’m fantastic.’

Federico peered at the newcomers, lips parting. We had agreed that we wouldn’t tell him what the Ranthen were, even if he was curious. He would have to draw his own conclusions.

‘Please sit down,’ Verca said. ‘Thank you for joining us.’

Errai glowered at her. ‘Who are you?’

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