Page 145 of House of Dusk
The corners of Beroe’s mouth pinched. “Of course,” she said. “We’re in your debt. You saved the Phoenix.”
Sephre hadn’t expected that. But then, she hadn’t expected Beroe to head-butt her either. She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t need to play games with me. Tell me what you want.”
Beroe rolled her eyes. “You’re going to have to learn to play games if you’re to be the agia of the House of Dusk.”
“There is no House of Dusk,” said Sephre.
“Maybe not yet. But there will be. King Ichos has recognized you. And the stories are already spreading. About the wicked Ember King and the Faithful Maiden’s return.”
Now it was Sephre’s turn to roll her eyes. “I’m not the Faithful Maiden.” Not in the way Beroe meant it, at least.
Beroe gave her a weary look. “Stories matter, Sephre. What people believe can be as important as what truly is.”
“You mean like when they believe that the Serpent was an evil death god and that they need to summon the Phoenix incarnate to stop him?”
“Yes,” said Beroe, frostily. “Exactly like that. I was wrong, Sephre. I understand that now. I believed the wrong stories. Which is why we need to work together now. To make certain it doesn’t happen again.”
Sephre chewed the inside of her cheek. She thought of the last words Sinoe had spoken, infused with the god of flame.This trial is past. But there will be others.
She had unmade Lacheron, the Ember King. But he had been only a man, in service to a greater power. One she still did not entirely comprehend. The First One. An ancient god, bound within the abyss by his siblings, the four other children of Chaos. Except that one of the seals had already been broken. And no doubt the First One would continue to try to break the rest.
“We of the House of Dawn will continue our work in this world,” said Beroe. “But there are other worlds. Other dangers. And you are...only one woman.”
Sephre shook her head. “Speak plainly.”
“I will send some of the ashdancers to help you,” said Beroe. “Until your own numbers grow larger. We will...work together. An alliance. As we did in the days before the cataclysm. Maybe in time we can even reach out to the others. The Houses of Noon and Midnight.”
She knew she should accept the offer. There were still many skotoi loose within the labyrinth, and while the Serpent was no doubt hunting them, best to ensure they were dealt with quickly. And...and it would be nice to have some company.
“Can you spare them?” she asked.
“Our numbers are small, yes.” Beroe looked away, frowning at the small shrine, the golden Phoenix glimmering there. “Especially since...since the attack.”
Her jaw worked. “I didn’t know it was Lacheron who summoned them. That he killed Agia Halimede. I never would have—” She caught herself, cutting her gaze back to Sephre. “You probably don’t believe me, but I truly didn’t know.”
“I believe you.” Sephre breathed deep. Released the breath. Then she stood. “I accept your offer, Agia Beroe.”
Then she turned, and set off for the gardens.
• • •
It was another week before she made her way back to Stara Sidea. She arrived midmorning, and spent several hours planting the bits of root and tubers she’d brought with her from the garden at Stara Bron. She had discovered a small cloister within the canyon, walled by stone but open to the sky. Overgrown, disused, but with rich soil beneath the weeds. There was even a well. She imagined it blooming, tangled with vines. Maybe even an apprentice, carefully sorting through last season’s bindweed.
When that work was done, she washed, and changed into a clean habit, and combed her hair. It meant nothing, except that she didn’t want to present herself a dusty, disheveled mess to the god of death. Assuming that he would be there.
I’ll wait for you at the undying shore.
By then it was nearly dusk. She lit a lamp and took it with her, descending the same winding stair. She had not come this way since Nilos had first brought her here. Her heart thudded loud, echoing each step at first, then quickening, drumming faster as she emerged into the cavern.
He stood at the edge of the water. The barge was there as well, drawn up onto the sand, the pole laid neatly across the keel. She thought of the last time they had stood here, together, and heat bloomed up her throat. But that had been Nilos. The man.
This was the Serpent.
She paced up to him. Hesitated, still uncertain what sort of greeting was appropriate.
Strangely, he looked just as uncertain. “Sephre.” The word was a sigh, a release. “I’m glad...you came.”
Had he been going to say something else? She was still debating how to respond when he spoke again. “I’ve been waiting.”
