Page 16 of The Isles of the Gods
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It’s a half hour later when I see Jude standing by the door with the bouncers. He looks like Dasriel found him in a ditch, his black hair mussed, a smear of dark red blood across the light tan of his cheek. One of the suited man-mountains twists around to scan the club, and when he catches my eye, I shake my head a fraction. He pushes Jude back out the front door, and I only get a glimpse of his scowl before he’s gone.
I duck under the divide and behind the bar, shooting the pretty bartender a grin of thanks as I set down my empty glass behind the counter, to make clear the champagne thing didn’t matter. Then it’s back through to the kitchens, the dimly lit, velvet-soft feeling of the club abruptly replaced with bright lights and the bang and clatter of pans, the shouts of the Fontesquan chef and his assistants.
By the time I reach the back door—which leads onto a nastier, dirtier alleyway—and slide the bolt across, Jude’s waiting outside for me, arms crossed, glowering. Dasriel stands behind him, huge arms folded in just the way that shows off his magician’s marks, scarred face as blank as ever. Sometimes I wonder what it would take to make Dasriel change his expression.
I make a point of looking Jude up and down—his clothes have seen much better days, and right now he’s sweaty and bloodied—and step back to wordlessly invite him in. We haven’ttalked much, Jude and I, but I know a lot more about him than he thinks. He’s part of my plan, after all.
Our footsteps are soft on the thick carpet lining the hallway to Ruby’s rooms, and I hear his breath catch as he almost speaks. He wants to ask me what’s happening, but he’s too smart to admit he has no idea. Dasriel follows silently, probably daydreaming about breaking something.
“Good fight?” I ask Jude, glancing over my shoulder.
His hand goes immediately to his hair, raking it back from his face in a vain attempt to restore order. “Don’t know.” His crisp Alinorish accent rounds out his vowels, adding an air of class to his grumpiness. “Missed the end.”
There’s a black-clad woman with a ruby pin at her lapel waiting outside Ruby’s door, and she silently opens it, then silently closes it behind the three of us. My sister’s rooms are like an extension of the club—red velvet couches, thick carpet, wood-paneled walls, glimmers of gold on the chandeliers. She has half a dozen locations in the city, and they all have this in common, the red and gold.
I don’t see Ruby at first, but Sister Beris is waiting on one of her sofas, clad as always in her neatly tailored robes, hands folded in her lap. Her black hair is pulled back into a no-nonsense and not particularly flattering plait at the back of her neck, skin as pale as ever.
Technically, our elected government runs life in Mellacea. It’s possible there are even a few people who believe that. But most of us—including First Councilor Tariden and his advisers—know events are now being pushed along by other forces. One of those forces is Sister Beris and her decision to be here tonight, on this couch, having this conversation.
She looks hard-edged, but I know there’s more to her than most ever see. I know that behind her reserve lies devotion, lies faith that has persisted when so many others have fallen away.
Sister Beris dresses no differently from an acolyte, but she’s third in command within Macean’s church. I listened to her speak at services for years before we ever talked, but over time she’s taught me more than anyone but Ruby. And she was the first one I confided in when I cooked up this plan of mine.
I hadn’t seen her smile until then.
“It’s his time,” she said quietly. “And it’s yours, Laskia. Your faith is so strong, and it will raise up both of you.” I know she’s right—my act of faith will serve my godandyield the reward I want most.
Now she nods a solemn greeting, and in return I lift my hands, pressing my fingertips to my forehead and covering my eyes.Our god’s mind awaits us, though his eyes are closed,the traditional greeting says.
A door on the far side of the room opens to reveal my sister, a wide, shallow glass of champagne in one hand. The stem is hollow, the bubbles zinging up and down inside it in an endless cycle.
Ruby’s dark brown curls fall artfully around her face, and her golden headband—not that far from a crown—is studded with tiny red gems across her forehead. Her gold-sequined dress glows against her rich brown skin, rippling and shimmering with the smallest of movements.
“There you are,” she says, lifting one hand to beckon us over as she crosses to the couch, her voice as warm as if Jude comes to call on her every day, and the two of them share all their secrets. “Come, sit.”
Dasriel stays by the door, and I slow my breath as I walk over to take my place on the couch opposite Ruby and Sister Beris.Calm body, calm head, calm voice. Ignore that drink. Soon enough you’ll have one too.
Jude takes his place next to me, perched on the very edge of the couch, back straight.
“It’s good to see you, Jude,” Ruby says, lifting her glass for a slow sip. I should have poured myself something before I sat. It would have kept my hands busy. “The doctor came by for your mother?”
Jude nods stiffly. “He did, thank you.”
Ruby turns her head to address Sister Beris, all smiles and softness, allwe’re all friends here.“His Lordship’s mother is sick—we’re hoping there’s something we can do for her.”
“His Lordship?” Sister Beris asks as Jude shifts his weight a fraction, jaw tightening.
“No,” he says, carefully controlled. “That was my father.”
True indeed. And Jude, his son by his mistress, was left with nothing when his father died. So the mistress brought her son home to Port Naranda. And now, to keep the doctor coming for her, he wears a ruby pin at his lapel—though it’s not there today—and when Ruby tells him to jump, he grits his teeth and asks how high.
“I’m sorry to hear your mother’s unwell,” Sister Beris says politely. “I will appeal to Macean on her behalf.”
Jude nods warily, which she seems to interpret as thanks, though it’s probably not. He was raised in Alinor, worshipping Barrica. He left his faith behind when his prayers went unanswered, but I haven’t found any evidence he now asks Macean to help him and his mother. I think he learned after his fatherdied that he can’t afford to rely on anyone but himself. His eyes shift across to Ruby once more, looking for a cue. He’s not usually addressed at meetings like these. He’s not usuallyatmeetings like these.
“So,” Ruby says in response, and we all turn to her. “Jude, here is what I would like you to do. You’re aware Alinor is sending Prince Leander on a progress to visit Trallia, Beinhof, and so on? You will have seen it in the newspapers, I’m sure.”
