Queen of faces, p.22
Queen of Faces, page 22
‘Yes.’ Korin’s face fell. ‘I was their prisoner.’
‘You found something for her. Something important. And now you wish you hadn’t.’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Korin, ‘I’ll tell you all about it. But it’s not a pleasant conversation. For now, let’s get you settled in.’
After we ate, he led us up the ladder to the bedroom, a wooden chamber flush with the pointed roof of the clock tower, lit by stained-glass windows in the corners. He welded two bedframes out of scrap, sparks flying over his long white hair, and then he stuffed a pair of mattresses for us.
‘You’re a Humdrum, right?’
Korin nodded.
Ana gaped at him. ‘You did all of this without magic? This entire apartment?’
‘We Humdrums don’t have the luxury of magic,’ said Korin. ‘We have to make do with our craft.’ He nodded again. ‘It’s a bit cramped. But the view is gorgeous, and I whip up a mean pot of jasmine in the mornings.’
‘He snores is what he does,’ said Nima. ‘He’s lucky I love his tea so much.’
A slow, steady smile grew on Gage’s face. She dived forward and hugged Korin.
‘This is – gracious,’ I said. I never would have expected this from an ex-Commonplace thug and a bombmaker. And it beat my Lowtown shack. With a steel hammer.
‘No one’s ever done something like this for me,’ said Gage. ‘I’ve – I’ve never had anything like this.’
I’d grown up on feather beds and silk sheets. She’d been living in a basement for years. I felt a twinge of something; something like sympathy.
‘I thought you made bombs,’ I said. ‘Not beds.’
Korin and Gage broke off. ‘More beds than bombs nowadays,’ said Korin. ‘I left Commonplace years ago in Shenten. My boss didn’t like that, so he threw me in a cell. Khaiovhe bought me for a hefty sum. I was her prisoner for a year before Nima rescued me.’
‘A cell,’ said Ana. ‘You mean like a redemption camp?’
The room went dead silent.
‘No.’ Korin swallowed. ‘Those were shut down after the war, after the emperor died. If it had been a redemption camp, I promise you, I would not be standing here alive.’
I shuddered. Shenten’s redemption camps were notorious. During the war, there had been dozens of them, used to hold dissidents, the homeless and anyone else the Shenti emperor deemed a burden on the State. I’d got my hands on a photo once, and it had kept me awake all night.
‘And how’d you end up in your grandmother’s body?’ I said.
‘Ah,’ said Korin. ‘An excellent question.’
He returned to his welding, and didn’t answer me. I scowled at him.
Ana glanced at the bathroom. ‘Is that—’
‘A shower,’ said Korin. ‘With unlimited hot water.’
Gage’s eyes widened.
‘It was a devil to set up, but the trick was—’
Gage and I sprinted for the bathroom. The girl beat me by half a step and slammed the door behind her. ‘Me first!’ she said through the door. ‘Please?’ The capsule hotel lacked a water heater, as did my Lowtown hovel. Neither of us had taken a hot shower in months.
‘Fine,’ I grumbled.
The shower turned on inside. Seconds later, Gage made a sound that was half a groan, half a sigh of relief. I smiled, despite myself.
After our showers, Korin went out for a run, and Gage passed out on her sheets, half-naked in her towel.
On the way to my bed, I passed a thick wool blanket draped over a chair. A sudden, foolish impulse latched on to my mind like a flea.
I glanced round the bedroom, making sure no one was watching.
Then I leaned down, grabbed the blanket and tossed it over the sleeping girl.
‘marvellous,’ said carriwitch, leaning over the painted bar. Rain pattered on our umbrellas. ‘I ask for Korin Nameless, and here he is, sampling my shortbread. Your talents continue to impress.’
Wes and I sat at the dark counter, Korin and Left-Nima beside us.
After last night’s violence, I’d woken up at midday with a strange sense of spaciousness. I had my own bed, not a mattress in a basement, and when my eyes fluttered open, I could sit up all the way, without hitting the ceiling of a sleeping pod. Korin did snore, yes, but it was a gentle sound, barely discernible unless you listened for it. I’d climbed down the ladder and eaten a quick meal with the others. Then, remembering Cardamom, I’d raced across Lowtown in a panic and picked him up from the capsule hotel. After I’d settled him into his new home in the loft, we’d hiked across the Flooded District to the pier, and our new hires had explained the situation to Carriwitch, leaving out Nima’s second, masculine body, which was currently napping back at the loft. Nima had wanted to leave that card up their sleeve.
Carriwitch floated a stack of money on to the counter. Split four ways, it wasn’t nearly enough. The grey was spreading on my body, and I was no closer to a new one. I still had fewer than ten thousand pounds, of the hundred thousand I needed by my summer deadline.
‘We killed six Commonplace mages,’ said Left-Nima, toying with her earring. ‘We defected to join your little hit squad. No bonus?’
‘Atonement is always delightful, Miss Qasemi,’ said Carriwitch. ‘But you did kill two police officers. I might say it’s quite a bonus not to be arrested right now.’
Nima flipped him a rude gesture.
Carriwitch cleared his throat. ‘If you insist on working together, consider this your first job.’ He leaned towards Korin. ‘What did you find for the Black Wraith?’
Lightning flared in the distance, far across the ocean. Korin swallowed. ‘I don’t know what she’s planning, and I don’t know what she’ll do with it. She kept me blindfolded, most of the time. I don’t know where she took me, and I don’t know where she is.’
‘What did you find?’ Carriwitch repeated.
‘I don’t know for sure,’ said Korin. ‘I just built something to help her find it. I helped make her a submarine that could withstand extremely low temperatures and extremely high depths.’
‘Low temperatures?’ I said.
Korin nodded. ‘And the ability to punch through ice.’ He stood up from his stool. The wind blew through his damp white hair, and he gazed out of the ruined wall of the restaurant. ‘I think she was looking for something up north. Far north, in the ocean.’
‘What’s in the ocean?’ I said.
Korin stiffened. ‘What do you know of the Star Prophets’ demise?’
‘The water rose,’ I said. ‘Thousands of years ago. The stars vanished. And the Star Prophets drowned.’
‘A storm to end all storms,’ said Korin. ‘A tempest that filled eight oceans and swallowed the heavens. That kind of devastation isn’t natural. And for the last thousand years, if you go too deep underwater, or fly at too high an altitude, you vanish. Deep-dive submersibles, research balloons. All gone without a trace.’ He lowered his voice. ‘The Star Prophets didn’t just drown. Something drowned them. Ate all the stars and spat out the oceans.’ He pointed up, then down. ‘Locked from above, locked from below. Humanity is in a cage. And the bars are closing.’
A dark wave crashed against the pier outside, and I flinched.
‘Fifty years ago,’ said Korin, ‘the water started rising again. Every day, it goes up a little faster. There are more storms, more hurricanes. And more ships go missing. Old patterns are repeating themselves.’
‘Where does Commonplace come in?’ I said.
‘Khaiovhe was trying to wake something up, under the ice,’ said Korin. ‘Something ancient. And she plans to use it.’ He wrapped his jacket tighter round himself. ‘But that’s all I know. If you want more, you’ll have to find someone on that sub. She spends mountains of time on that ship.’
‘The ship,’ said Wes, ‘that’s how we catch her. Find the ship, and we find her.’
‘You know her crew?’ I said. ‘Where she stations the sub? Can you get us on to it?’
Korin shook his head. ‘Not exactly. But I have the next best thing.’ He scribbled names on to a cocktail napkin. ‘These are the five men and two women who tortured me. High-ranking members of Commonplace, close to the witch.’ He jabbed the napkin with a wrinkled finger. ‘If anyone knows where Khaiovhe is, they do.’
Korin slid the napkin across the counter. Carriwitch studied it for a while, then gave us our next job.
We would start with Arnold Warren, a Commonplace financier. We were to break into his fortified mansion and kidnap him. Our trial run of working with Korin and Nima.
Carriwitch seemed nervous at the prospect of hiring such wanted criminals. ‘If the Guard finds out, they’ll give me a rather unpleasant time. Rowyna Ebbridge has wanted me out of Paragon for years.’
‘Rowyna Ebbridge,’ I said. ‘The admiral of the Home Fleet?’ Ori’s new mother. And the richest woman in Caimor. Not a good enemy to have.
Wes glanced at Carriwitch, biting his lip.
‘Her husband, Tybalt, died under my command while hunting Khaiovhe,’ said Carriwitch. ‘That tends to leave a scar. And nobody holds a grudge like Row. She won’t care that we’re hunting her husband’s killer. We’re law-breakers. If she learns what we’ve been up to, she may look for some heads on a platter. Starting with yours.’
‘Then I guess she’d better not learn,’ I said.
We stood up to leave, and Carriwitch nodded. ‘Miss Qasemi?’
‘Yeah,’ said Nima.
‘If you hurt my mages, I’ll turn you into a teacake.’
‘Yeah.’
When we got back to the loft, I sat everyone down in the common area. ‘A smart mage will keep her Codex hidden, to ensure the element of surprise. But we’re fighting together now. It’s time to share.’ I showed them Rainbow Veil, explaining how my illusions worked.
The two Nimas grinned at me, and Left-Nima spoke. ‘How did a meek little farm girl grow a Codex like that?’ Both bodies were here, but usually, only one of them spoke at a time.
I shrugged. ‘When everyone sees the wrong face, you get good at lying. And when you look like this, you spend loads of time in your imagination.’
Nima nodded, putting their boots on the coffee table. Wes unfolded his sword, tossed an apple in front of him, and sliced it in half. I flinched at the whistling noise of his blade in the air. ‘I call it Folding Edge. It’s a Physical Codex that makes paper sharper than steel. Sharper than anything. Only works when I’m touching it, though.’
‘Mm,’ said Nima. ‘Sounds a bit useless.’
‘I could cut off your tongue,’ said Wes. ‘Would that demonstrate its value?’
Nima rolled their eyes. ‘Korin has no Codex, seeing as he’s a Humdrum, but I’m a Praxis Specialist. I call my Codex Copycat. Like you, Gage, I have two branches. You already know the first one: it connects the halves of my Pith in different bodies. As long as they’re within six miles of each other.’
‘What happens if they’re not?’ said Wes.
‘What would happen if I cut your brain in two? Don’t ask stupid questions.’
‘Stupid questions?’ said Wes. ‘Like “What self-respecting mage walks round with a gun?”’
‘What did you expect – a wand and a pointy hat?’
‘Hey!’ I said. They fell silent. ‘Nima, what do the other branches of Copycat do?’
Nima cracked their two necks. ‘Let me show you.’
That evening, Queen Sulphur took a tiny, puttering boat down the coast to our target’s mansion, huddled under umbrellas as rain drizzled at our feet. Korin gave Nima a lunchbox with puppies painted on it. Both their bodies slid off their raincoats, rolled up their trouser legs, and dived into the water. We watched through binoculars as they swam two miles through the fog, climbed up a cliff face, and picked the lock on the back porch. So many talents, I thought. Was there anything they weren’t good at?
Five minutes later, Nima came out with a man dragged beside them, his arms and legs cuffed, bruises covering his face. Arnold Warren. Our target, one of Korin’s elusive torturers. Right-Nima strapped a backpack to his torso, while Left-Nima filled it with rocks from the cliffside.
Both bodies lifted him into the air.
‘Are they—’ I said.
Nima tossed him off the edge of the cliff.
Warren dropped through the air, head first, and slapped into the water below. There was a soft splash as his body vanished beneath the waves, swallowed by the yawning ocean.
He never surfaced.
Nima dived in soon after, and swam back to us. When their bodies clambered on to the boat, Korin’s puppy lunchbox was gone. Nima shrugged. ‘He didn’t know what we wanted.’
‘What happened to the lunchbox?’ said Wes.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Nima.
A low boom echoed in the distance, and the mansion’s windows exploded. An orange fireball blossomed on the cliff, lighting up the rain. Covering our tracks.
Back at the pier, the headmaster looked even more surprised than before. Even though we’d killed our target, not kidnapped him, he still floated a black envelope of cash on to the bar counter.
After he departed Left-Nima turned to us. ‘Guess,’ she said. ‘What does the second branch of Copycat do?’
I shrugged.
‘There’s chemistry homework in your bag,’ she said. ‘Give it to me.’
I shrugged, then unzipped my bag. ‘Be my guest. Won’t be easy, though. I’ll be working on that all weekend.’
‘No, you won’t.’ Left-Nima snatched the paper from my hand and bent over the bar counter. She scrawled on it for a minute. Then she tossed it to me. I glanced at it.
Nima had finished the whole thing. All the answers looked right, and she’d even shown her work.
I blinked rapidly. ‘How—’ I’d expected those problems to take days. And Nima was a Praxis Specialist, not Physical. Chemistry wasn’t supposed to be their forte.
Then Nima pulled a violin out of their bag, and proceeded to play a flawless solo for three minutes. Afterwards, they grabbed a bag of darts and flung them at the wall, drawing a perfect circle on the soft wood. ‘What,’ they said, ‘is my second branch?’
Wes shrugged. ‘You’re insufferable at talent shows?’
‘Not quite,’ said Nima. ‘These aren’t my talents. I stole them. The second branch of Copycat can replicate someone’s skills.’ Her hands glowed purple. ‘For example, I copied Korin’s and Wes’s skills to do your chemistry homework.’
‘What’s the range?’ I said.
‘It works on anyone closer than forty yards, as long as I can see them. I get their ID passwords too, if they use them enough. Anything in their procedural memory. But I lose the skills after twenty-four hours, and it’s not always obvious what they are. It often takes trial and error to figure them out.’
‘And for the job earlier today?’ I said. ‘Who’d you copy from?’
‘The usual,’ said Right-Nima. ‘An ex-spy, a retired commando, and a martial arts champion. All of whom shop at the same grocery store in Midtown. Plus, this time, a world-record swimmer, an acrobat and a free climber.’
‘How do you find these people?’ I said.
‘I keep an address book,’ he said. ‘And I use my Codex on everyone I meet. You’d be surprised how lethal your neighbours can be, especially when you stitch their skills together.’
‘Prophets.’ Wes shook his head. ‘Bloody Praxis Specialists.’
I thought of Ori, and her endless trove of knowledge, the dozens of books she read each day. Then I nodded.
After that, Korin and Nima were hired for good.
When we returned to the clock tower, Korin had set the table with plates, chopsticks and a steaming platter of glass noodles, dyed black with squid ink.
‘I made dinner!’ he said, beaming with his wrinkled face. ‘It only took three hours to prep the sauce!’
‘Why?’ said Nima.
‘It’s a celebration! For our first job together. We’re teammates now!’
Wes and Nima stared at him blankly. Nima had already bought five cutlet burgers from their number-one fast food joint, Tonkatsu Cat. Praxis Specialists needed a lot of calories.
‘I’m good,’ said Nima.
‘No, thanks,’ said Wes.
They both started to climb to the bedroom.
‘Or,’ said Korin, ‘I could turn off the hot water for a month.’
Wes and Nima froze.
Left-Nima slid down the ladder. ‘You are so ancient sometimes,’ she grumbled.
‘I’m six months older than you,’ said Korin. ‘Now sit down and eat your vegetables.’
We all sat and dug into the noodles. After a few bites, Wes’s and Nima’s eyes lit up. ‘Old man,’ said Nima, ‘why haven’t you been cooking for me this whole time?’
Korin blushed. ‘It’s my grandmother’s recipe.’
I thought of my own mother’s home cooking. Her yellow egg tarts that I might never get to taste again. That old twinge of homesickness plucked in my belly, but it felt softer this time. Because this dinner was different, even if I couldn’t taste it. I wasn’t eating on a mattress in a basement, or in a sleeping pod. I was eating with friends. And that alone made it a banquet.
When we finished eating, Nima put a lively swing tune on the gramophone. While the rest of us fidgeted in our chairs, their two bodies danced to the beat, twirling and dipping each other with the blinding speed of professionals. More copied skills. Left-Nima spun in the air, lifted by Right-Nima’s arms. Korin stared at them, enraptured.
‘You’re luminous,’ he said, ‘you know that?’
Nima’s bodies pointed to each other. ‘Which one?’
Korin snorted. ‘What a silly question.’
A rare smile blossomed on two parallel faces.
The next name on our target list was Henry Lamber, an arms dealer who smuggled weapons to Commonplace and met with Khaiovhe once a month. We tracked him down, got hold of his schedule, and waited for him in a Midtown crab restaurant. Using illusions, I guided the conversation with his dinner guests, tricking him into giving up secrets.
‘Where is Khaiovhe?’ I said, pretending to be his friend.
A dark look came over his face. ‘Never where you think she is.’
