This is the twenty-second chapter of Wealthgiver, an alternate history serial romance about nationalism and cave-Thracians. For the back-of-the-book description and an index of chapters, click here. For the beginning, click here. For the previous chapter, click here.
The sun-drenched air hit Andrei like two fingers of vodka. The smell of the soil under his feet rose impossibly far. His eyes ached at the sight of the town in the valley so far below and the sky so much father above. Andrei felt as if he could leap off this mountainside and land, days later, in China.
For weeks he'd been rattling around inside the mountain like a rat in a trap. He'd plotted one escape attempt after another, failing and failing again as the walls closed in around him. Now, he wanted to run up behind Kori and throw his arms around her. Tumble her to the ground.
"It's like being drunk," he whispered, then realized he didn't have to whisper anymore and raised his voice so it bounced off the valley. "Drunk on sunshine!"
"Fool that you are," said Kori, but she was smiling, too. God be praised, Andrei could see her smiling. Andrei watched her as she turned slowly, arms out as if under a warm shower, face turned to a sun like a hole burned through a plate of blue glass. His wife.
The sky glowed pale lilac over the still-snowy peaks to the east, deepening to violet directly overhead. Around the sun, it turned silver. Why had he never noticed before? Had it never occurred to Andrei in all his life to just look up?
"Now you see how Apollo and Dionysus are not so different," said Kori.
Andrei laughed like a struck bell. "I'd never given much thought to either. And," he grinned as a fresh breeze ruffled his hair, "I don't ever have to again. Ha! Ha ha!"
Andrei had just made love to the most beautiful—the most miraculous—woman he'd ever met. She'd wanted him so much she'd pulled him into the mountain, but now, now, Andrei had pulled her out!
"Come on, My Maiden, let's go."
"Mistress, now. And you are the Master." She was still smiling at him, chin raised, brows hawkish.
And Andrei could see them! He grinned at her and she grinned back as they shared the thought. He had to take her in his arms. They were still wearing nothing but their robes.
"What would he do with you now, I wonder." Andrei bent to kiss Kori's ear and she pushed at him.
"Why shouldn't I?" he growled. "Nobody else is here. There are no walls to have ears, there is no darkness to know itself."
Kori pointed down. "The Earth still protects us."
As far as Andrei could tell, this alpine meadow was deserted. Wind brushed the blades of the new, green grass. The narcissus had become fat, green seedpods among the nodding tulips. A hooded crow walked between a pair of mole hills. And there was another under Kori's pointing finger. Yes, there were an awful lot of mole hills here, weren't there? The hole at center of the closest looked very dark and deep.
Andrei's arms tightened around Kori. He brought his mouth to her ear. "I'll take you away from all this," he whispered.
"No," she whispered back.
Andrei drew away to stare at her. "What?" he said. "Still?"
"Shhht!"
Andrei wanted to shake her. He wanted to run and turn somersaults. "You!" he said, pressing his cheek against hers and hissing like a kettle. "You were the one who wanted to escape."
She reached for his hands and he pulled them away. "Talk to me!"
"Not escape," she sighed in his ear. "Leave the Depths."
"And then what? Play Persephone and frolic around the countryside until autumn and the start of yet another bloody war?"
She swelled against him with an in-drawn breath and Andrei held her close. "We don't have until autumn. Our work begins now."
"Yes," said Andrei. "Step one, get to the coast and find a ship that will take us as far away as—"
Kori pulled herself out of Andrei's embrace and cast a suspicious look at the molehills. "Come on. We cannot let them see us talking."
"Talking about what?" Andrei said in a normal voice. "You haven't told me anything."
Kori frowned, not at Andrei but, chin raised, up at the sun. "Surely you would be more used to His influence than I. How is it you got so sun-drunk so quickly?"
"I'm acting entirely reasonably."
"Exactly my point."
Andrei looked at the ground, like a sulky child. The vision of himself made him angry, which made him act the part more. "Whoever is spying on us now, let him know this Vas—"
"Don't," said Kori. "Not under the Sky. Not where Fools might hear."
"What Fools, Kori? Some other wandering Russian? I am Hades, and if any death-worshiping cave-Thracian tells me to do anything other than take you away to a good life as my wife, I'll—"
"Welcome!" said the man who had materialized behind Andrei. "Welcome to the surface of the Earth."
Andrei spun around to face a mustachioed grin. "Who the hell are you?"
The intruder was tall and soldierly in the green uniform and black fur cap of a Bulgarian volunteer soldier. His dark eyes sparkled with humor, as if at a joke he might or might not share with Andrei. "Surely you recognize me, My Master."
Andrei closed his eyes. He had never seen this man before, he was sure, but…
"My Mistress, welcome."
Andrei recognized the voice. "You're the man from the ritual. The one who played that minor god suspiciously like Hermes."
The soldier just watched at him and asked, "What does the water warm?"
"The curved dagger," said Kori.
It was a code. Here were two cave-Thracians less than a hundred yards from the cavern entrance to their terrifying domain, but they exchanged code phrases for fear of eavesdroppers. These poor people.
The false Bulgarian turned to Andrei and grinned, his mustaches bristling. "Now that was what I call a prophecy!"
Andrei cleared his throat. His blush would be visible out here. "Thank you. I assume you're not about to carry my wife off into the sky?"
"Only metaphorically, My Master." The man bowed. "Captain Cenk at your service."
"Cenk? That's a Turkish name."
"Until recently, that was the best sort of name to have around here, My Master." He kept looking at Andrei as if he expected something.
"What is it?"
"I can't resist asking. There are so few chances like this. Are you sure you don't recognize my face?"
"Why?" asked Andrei. "Should I?"
"Ha!" Captain Cenk looked very pleased with himself. "I did follow you all the way from San Stefano, you know."
Andrei stepped back, folding his arms over his chest as if to protect himself. He glanced wide-eyed at Kori.
"You had people following me even then? How could you know?"
"You mean could we see the promise of Death rushing behind your earthly face like a river underground? No. But my attention was attracted when a humble Junior Physician was summoned to the Simeonoglou House.
"The Turkish horseman!" Andrei gasped.
Cenk tipped back his head and laughed. "The Russian soldier! For the valor and bravery I invented in my cover story, I was given the honor of guarding the First Assistant to the Chief of Staff during his work at the Simeonoglou House. I stood at the door behind you during a very interesting interview.
Andrei's blush had begun with the spy's laughter. During the long, self-congratulatory explanation, the red heat both rose and deepened.
"So," he said, hands reaching as if to seize the braggart by his lapels and wrestle him to the ground. "It was all of it wasted."
Cenk drew himself up and took a prudent step back and out of reach. "You knew that it was, My Master."
Andrei did know it. The sacrifice of the Junior Unteroffizier had kept no secrets. That was why Andrei had fled, to escape such brutal meaninglessness. Now, he looked at Kori, and considered how much more fleeing he still had to do.
Kori shaded her eyes. "It is too bright out here. Shall we go, Captain?"
Cenk straightened, scratching his chin. "I have to say I didn't expect you to come out of the Earth with the Mistress." He bowed to Kori and she curtsied back. "I have clothes for you, My Mistress. But you, My Master, will have to do with those robes until we find a man your size." He swept his arm out toward the valley and its slow, dark patches of cloud-shadow. "Shall we?"
Andrei darted a look at Kori. Could they trust this man? She looked back at him with an expression of innocence.
The mask is the truest face, thought Andrei, and followed her lead.
The spy who called himself Cenk ushered them way down the path. The skirts of the mountains showed patches of pale green and white where trees budded or bloomed. Chimney smoke rose from scattered houses. And, much closer, stood a pair of horses.
The animals raised their heads, swiveling their ears toward the newcomers.
"My Master will be pleased to ride," said Cenk. "His name is Comet, and he won't do a thing to you that I don't want him to."
Andrei grunted at that. No galloping off with Kori in tow. At least not yet.
He and Cenk helped Kori onto her steed, and Andrei managed to mount his without help despite his awkward robes and his lack of undergarments.
"Where are we going?" Andrei asked, once astride and not too utterly stupid-looking.
"Traditionally, the Maiden begins her tour in Peshtera."
"I've seen it," said Andrei. "Its name means 'cave,' doesn't it? Lots of Good there?"
Kori clicked her tongue and spoke earnestly to the spy. "It may be that the vessel of the Unseen has not learned of the details of our great plan."
Andrei frowned at her. He appreciated her attempt to protect him, but not while he was trying to protect her. "Surely," he said, "whatever your people had planned, those plans are now open to change, right?"
Kori just looked at him.
Cenk cleared his throat. "I wouldn't know anything about that, but the mayor of Peshtera will be eager to discuss all details of the Rising."
"What's rising?" asked Andrei, thinking of religious rituals, Kori's eyes, and bride-stealing.
She smiled at him as Cenk said, "The Hadean Empire."
***
Nikolai spun away from the antechamber, head buzzing like a wasp nest.
The other priests flapped around him, but whatever they squeaked, Nikolai didn't hear it. He stumbled forward blindly, fingers writhing against his ears, refusing to accept this—this horror.
Nikolai had thought he'd mastered himself. He thought he'd put his passions aside. Now, though, he felt as if he would drown from the inside out, burst with a flood of bile with nowhere to drain.
It was all Nikolai could do to not turn and drive his fists into the rock wall. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear off his clothes and run ululating down the hall, there to rip his dagger through the first person he met.
Earth, protect me!
Nikolai held himself still, body shaking. He needed to find a pool. A pool and a trance. Nikolai spun toward a corridor.
The voice of the wall just barely stopped him from bashing his nose in. Nikolai slapped his hands against the stone. Where was the corridor entrance? Where was he?
Nikolai stopped, blinking his eyes uselessly in the dark. It had been years since he'd lost himself. What was wrong with him? He wasn't really one of the Good, that was what was wrong. He didn't belong here.
What if someone found out? Were they waiting for him, back up the corridor? Waiting for their "high priest" to sheepishly retrace his footsteps? Or were they closer? Was one of them waiting silently right now, in the darkness right behind him?
The hairs on Nikolai's arms rose. He brushed them back down. Shook his head, smoothed his hair.
Nikolai slapped the wall again, clutched at the waysigns carved there. The turn-off that should be here was five strides behind him. The other brothers had walked down it, but Nikolai had passed right by, blind with something worse than darkness. He had forgotten where he was. The other priests would think Nikolai was an idiot.
No, he realized with a chill, worse. They would think him insane. They would think he didn't belong here.
The Good—the real Good—did not let their passions run so wild. They were not overcome by envy as Andrei slobbered over Kori as he—he!
Nikolai slapped his hands against his mouth and forced the scream back down. His body bent double, and something popped behind his left eye. Nikolai looked up at the red lights blooming in the blackness like roses. Like blood around knife wounds. Like wine vomiting from the mouth of the God of Madness.
"Be gone!" Nikolai had to grab himself by the throat, squeeze until the roar became a hiss. "Be. Gone. Bacchus! You have no. Power here." His head spun, but Nikolai straightened. "The Earth protects me."
He turned, and there was Brother Bogdan.
How had Nikolai not heard him approach?
"Elder Brother?" came the question. "Elder Brother Nikolai? Have you lost your way?"
Nikolai snapped his spine straight. Of course that scheming old son of a bitch would be the first to seize on Nikolai's weakness.
"No," said Nikolai. "I am not lost. I…" He consulted his mental map of the Sacred Depths. "Why do you think I chose to continue down this corridor?"
"I don't know, Elder Brother. The only major chamber in that direction is the Hall of Apollo."
"Of course," said Nikolai. Apollo? What did that mean? But he could not say that he was mistaken. "The Hall of Apollo. Yes. The Hall of Apollo has many speaking tubes." He seized the idea. "We will call all the brothers."
"Ah, I understand," said Brother Bogdan, and chuckled. "Congratulations are in order."
Was the old fool thinking Nikolai wanted to send out wedding invitations? "No!" he snapped. "We will call the brothers once we are ready to begin."
"Elder Brother, begin what?"
What strategy? Nikolai stared into blackness. He breathed in through his nose out through his mouth.
The old man's robes smelled of sweat and urine. Disgusting! His face, if Nikolai could see it, would be as wrinkled as a bat's.
"Elder Brother," said Bogdan, "Your breath is far out of rhythm. You've had a terrible shock. The other brothers and I were about to withdraw to the library for tea. Won't you join us?"
Meaningless scratchings. Nikolai focused on the sensation of the Mountain's breath on his skin. The weight of his robes on his shoulders. The pressure of his slippers against the soles of his feet. And the Earth below them, holding him up.
May Madness never take me. Nikolai wrenched his voice back down to a murmur. "What plan, you asked. We have seen a great and terrible omen."
Bogdan's voice turned sly in Nikolai's ears. "Oh, I'm not sure I agree with your interpretation, Older Brother. Aren't you glad to see such a thorough possession?"
Nikolai pressed his jaws together, relishing the pain in his teeth.
"Possession of the novitiate by the Unseen One. The Wealthgiver. Host of Many."
"Do not stand there listing his epithets at me," Nikolai spat. "I translated the tablets that revealed their true meanings." He raised his voice for the benefit of the other brothers no doubt lurking behind the corner. "What did we see down there? Possession. Yes. The Host of Many stands behind the Mistress of the Mountain, does he not? The Unseen One takes what he wants, does he not?" Nikolai realized his voice had risen. He smoothed a hand over his mouth. "Then so must we."
"What should we do?" called one of the other priests. Was that insolence in his voice?
Was Bogdan not the traitor? Was it someone else, and Bogdan had been warning him? Who were these people around him? What did they feel? Too late for that now.
"The greatest lie is the truth." Nikolai panted. His plans were falling into place. It felt like deciphering an ancient tablet, when one conclusion leads to the next and a previously nonsensical sentence snaps into clarity. Like receiving secret orders. Whispers. Echoes. Gifts.
The blackness rose up around him, poured out of him. It filled him and surrounded him, holding him deep and cold and slow. Nikolai understood now. He did not kick or scream. He exhaled his living breath and allowed the Unseen to fill him.
Wealthy One, I accept what You give.
"What we should do, my brothers, is exactly what our Maiden demands."
Bogdan patted Nikolai's shoulder. "Elder brother, she is no longer a maiden."
Nikolai's head twitched to the side as if slapped. "Then," he said through numb lips. "She is…the Mistress. Mistress of the House of the Dead." The red spots were gone from Nikolai's vision. His heartbeat slowed. The madness completed itself, drying and scattering like autumn grape leaves before the freezing truth. "Dread Queen of Tartarus. The Fasting One." Or a better translation: "She who Hungers."
"Yes," said Bogdan. "A fitting title for an empress."
END OF BOOK I
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Chapter 23: The Hadean Empire