Chapter 78
The gods liked a laugh.
Black House’s location just outside the Collegium had once been a subtle slight by the Lords Rector but it had now become the reason the Watch headquarters in Tratheke hadn’t dropped in a hole. It had suffered attacks, but besides some broken windows and doors there was hardly a mark on Black House while most of the city’s heart was gone, disappeared into the dark below.
Tristan had read the reports, and despite how much worse it had seemed in the moment the corpse-god had only shattered about third of the Collegium grounds while breaking out. But, as was to be expected of a gaping hole in the ground over a cavern, the sinkhole had then continued to widen. Five days had passed, but word had it that this morning a street had still fallen with hardly any warning.
Not that he’d gotten to see any of it. He’d been unconscious the better part of a day after his little jaunt across the void, and woken up blind after – and with Fortuna nowhere in sight. That’d not even been the worst of it, for Song and Angharad had needed to pull out his fingernails. The odd nacre they had turned into was fusing with his flesh, turning into something like claws. As for the locks of his hair that had turned into solid gold, cutting them off had not been difficult.
Only a streak of his hair had then turned golden, and no number of dye bottles or haircuts could change that. A dangerous thing, for a thief to have such a recognizable mark.
He’d still been blind when their day and a half as ‘guests’ of the palace ended, but at least he could dimly make out Fortuna’s words by then. He’d been better off than Maryam, anyway, who only emerged from her feverish slumber to erupt in fits of screaming mania. When they were finally allowed back in the city the Thirteenth was whisked away by the Watch, shoved into a carriage that’d rolled down one of the few streets still connecting Fort Archelean to the city and then kept inside Black House.
Endless hours of debriefing ensued as the senior officers in the capital tried to get a handle on what exactly had happened and, once it was established it shouldn’t cost them anything, what they could get out of Asphodel for it. At least by the third day he could see again – and see Fortuna as well - while Maryam only woke up groggy instead of screaming. Lieutenant Mitra had assured them she would live, though she would need to purge herself regularly until she could return to Scholomance – where a ritual would stabilize her for good.
Tristan almost envied her the sleep for everyone wanted a piece of them, of what they had done, and that meant his waking hours were swallowed up by the demands of diplomats. Captain Wen, thankfully, proved a bulwark against Brigadier Chilaca’s wildest ideas as well their main source of news about what was going on in the city.
“The civil war’s been averted,” Wen told them as early as the fourth day. “Apollonia Floros being held prisoner cut the grass under the feet of the ministers. The valley nobles rushed to reinforce Palliades and together with the lictors they were able to take back the Lordsport this morning.”