Page 73 of The Lost Reliquary
“By way of the Goddess, you mean,” says Nolan.
Tychus leaps to his feet, spinning so fast he nearly topples before catching the back of his chair, which splinters in his grasp. Pushing it away, he stumbles toward the sconces in the wall, blinking and grinning as if the flickering oil lamps are the most beautiful things in the world. “Unbelievable.Unbelievable.” He raises his hand, waggles his rings so that they glint and glitter. “The light… the colors…”
“The rush of divinity.” Nolan smirks. “Strength and sensations like you’ve never experienced before.”
I stifle a snort. We are clearly past the sell here—Tychus might as well be a fish writhing on a hook.
“Magnificent.” Tychus stumbles back and collapses into the remains of his chair. “My heart… beating so fast…”
“It will wear off in a few hours.”
Tychus looks as if he isn’t sure that’s what he wants. “How much can you get?”
“Like I said, more. But for the right sort of buyers. In Cyprene, well…”
“I understand.” Tychus finishes his drink, which feels like his way of sayingWe can deal.“Even with my connections, it’s a delicate endeavor.”
“When?” demands Nolan.
For a moment, Tychus doesn’t reply, and I’m afraid we’ve lost him to the seductive pull of divinity. Then he blinks rapidly, gaze filling with clear, voracious desire. “I’ll need a few days. I expect you can enjoy the charms of Cyprene for that much longer?”
Nolan smiles, satisfaction limning his eyes as thickly as kohl. “I think we can manage that.”
Thirty-one
A lightning gasp cracked from their lips. “Tempestra…”
“Shhh… shhh…” they ordered as they ran their fingertips, warm as embers, over the smooth swell of skin, tracing promises and temptations as they moved down, down, to where a different sort of clouds gathered, ready to let loose a different sort of deluge…
—EXCERPT FROMTHE ASHES OF DESIRE(AUTHOR UNKNOWN)
NOLAN’S STEP IS LIGHTERon our return to the Petrel, and though I sense a hint of impatience at having to wait for Tychus to contact us, he is presently soothed by progress.
After that, all there is to do is wait. I pass the following morning with the Renderers’ book, pouring over the pages and their strange markings, until visions of Prior Fedic’s final hours begin to build themselves in gruesome detail within my mind. The rubbery slickness of fat being cut away. The papery sensation of skin peeling loose from muscle. The crack and pop that comes as a blade digs deep to split a joint.
There are no Chosen in Cyprene. No reason for the Renderers to have their hounds here. That is what I tell myself. And then, as a comfort, remind myself of the hundred other ways I could more easily die in this city.
But fantasizing about death only passes the time for so long. And Nolan isn’t the only one being stretched thin by the Goddess’s distance.I may not be as cranky, but my body has begun to ache in a way I’ve only felt once before: when the effects of my divine baptism first set in. It leaves me restless, wishing for a task, a distraction, anything. I consider pushing Nolan to comb the city again, but I already know what he’ll say: We need to wait for Tychus.
Well, it doesn’t take two of us to do that. And while I may not be truly free of the Goddess in Cyprene, it’s the closest I’ve ever been. Might as well take advantage.
Outside, I find Hiram sweeping the cobblestones. He dips his head in silent greeting.
“Hiram, can you point me toward Rion’s bookshop?”
It’s not far, but I let myself wander slowly, really taking in the details that make up the city: the people, its grand buildings, the peek of grander cliffs between them. I eavesdrop on gossip, listening for tidbits from the mainland. I buy a bag of sweets from a boy who scurries away at the sight of a Caerula, no doubt to avoid handing over free wares or paying a bribe. The candies are cloying and too chewy, with a flavor like licorice glazed, inexplicably, with salt.Disgusting.But I eat every one, simply because I have never had them before, while perched on a curve of cliff that overlooks the port below. I watch the ships as they sail in, sail out, as they raise and lower their many-colored sails. A breeze comes up and I take a deep breath, holding it, knowing this exact scent may never come again.
Eventually, I continue on to the bookshop, which is tucked into the curving crook of a narrow side street. A large paned window makes up the front, the tall shelves within filled to bursting, with more books piled on every surface. The afternoon light glazes some of their leather spines; others look so dull with age and worn down that I’d be afraid they’d fall to pieces in my hands.
A bell sings as I enter, summoning Rion from a curtained-off room at the back of the space. There’s a hint of mint in the air. “Lys! A pleasant surprise.”
“I had some time to kill. And how could I resist a visit, when you offer such tempting tomes?”
He chuckles. “I just brewed tea. Please, come join me.”
Rion slides the curtain aside to reveal another room filled witheven more books. There’s a table in the center and I take a seat as he retrieves a porcelain pot and two cups.
“I hope your employer’s business is going well,” he says, pouring the steaming liquid.
