Lori Lee - Gates of Thread and Stone

I kicked and pounded the door until every bone and muscle felt bruised. Avan had grown quieter, but I could still hear him. I felt his broken breaths snag in my own throat, his gasps like a knife in my ribs. I sank to my knees, forehead against the door, fingers digging into the unforgiving metal.

It went on for what felt like forever. He kept trying to tell me he was fine.

Please . Please stop. Tears scalded my cheeks. I covered my mouth before any sounds could escape. Hearing me cry would hurt him more.

“Stop,” I whispered.

The sound of a door shutting made me flinch. Avan’s ragged breaths fell silent. I scrambled to my feet, squinting through the slit. Someone had closed the entrance to the hallway. I collapsed against my door, sliding to the ground. I held my breath, straining to hear, but there was nothing.

The silence was almost worse. My imagination supplied me with endless horrific scenarios. I covered my face. This was my fault. They were hurting him to get to me.

A voice said, “Did you enjoy that? I think you’re ready to see Ninu now.”

Istar. A click , and my cell door swung open. Still pressed against it, I fell forward, sprawling across the floor in front of a pair of dainty white shoes. I wanted to spit on them.

Large hands pulled me up. A sentinel, thankfully not Reev, hauled me along behind her. Most of the doors we passed were closed, and those that weren’t showed empty rooms. I didn’t know which room Avan had been in or where he was now, but letting me listen to his torture was supposed to rattle my nerves and crush my defiance. I wouldn’t give in. Once they had what they wanted, they’d probably kill us both.

I tested the sentinel’s grip, but she held fast. I could use the threads, but what then? How was I supposed to help anyone else escape when I didn’t know how to help myself?

We climbed a short set of stairs before passing through a stone arch. The next staircase spiraled up through a circular shaft, like the stairs that led to Irra’s gargoyles. A tall window allowed natural light into the narrow stairway. As we passed the window, I realized we were high enough to see beyond the walls of the White Court to the dirty roofs and blackened chimneys of the North District.

I knew where we were. The highest point in the White Court: Death’s tower.

The home of Ninu’s executioner was the last place anyone wanted to be.

Wooden doors opened at the top of the stairs. Behind them was a broad space with dusky mosaic tiles and brocade furniture. Sheer curtains draped the high walls, which were a warm, ruddy color and climbed up and up to a glass ceiling that displayed a gradually darkening sky.

Istar entered the room ahead of us, her shoes clicking against the tiles. Windows framed the room, providing a magnificent view. Just as you could see the tower from anywhere in the city, from here you could see all the way to the stacked freight containers of the Labyrinth.

An unexpected pang of yearning hit me. I was a long way from what had once been home.

A torch in a stone sconce cast a halo over a woman standing by the windows. She wore a slim silver gown. It shimmered when she turned to face us, every angle of the dress catching the fading daylight. Her white hair was asymmetrical—jaw-length on one side and down to her collarbone on the other. The longer side had a black streak through it.

She looked familiar, but I would’ve known who she was no matter what. Ninu’s right hand.

“Leave us, Sister,” she said.

Istar pouted, but she did as she was told, taking the sentinel with her. The doors shut behind them, leaving me alone with Death.

“HELLO, KAI.”

I moved into the room. I didn’t think Istar had brought me here to die. Not yet. And I doubted Death performed her job in this room.

“I am called Kalla,” she said. Her gaze dropped to my feet. “You were supposed to be disarmed.”

The knife. It was still in my boot.

Before she could order the knife removed, I said, “ You were supposed to be Ninu.”

A hiss of air indicated a door opening.

At the far end of the room, a man entered through an alcove hidden behind the fall of curtains. He stepped into the light. He was tall enough to be imposing, although not nearly Irra’s height, and he had neatly cut graying hair. He wore a high-collared, midnight-blue tunic, trimmed in silver thread and glossy buttons. The blue matched his eyes, which took me in with only mild curiosity.

Ninu looked exactly the way I’d imagined. I straightened my shoulders, unwilling to let him intimidate me.

“I’m delighted to meet you, Kai.” His voice was clear and melodic, almost ingratiatingly sweet.

On a glass table sat two crystal goblets and a decanter partially filled with a luminous purple liquid that looked like the alcoholic drinks the hollows had served. He poured himself a portion and held the goblet up to me in salute.

I glared. I wasn’t going to engage in mock formalities.

He sipped his drink. When he turned to face me again, there was an edge to his smile. “Wonderful,” he said.

He studied my face. It made me want to back away. Instead, I held his gaze.

“You’re a coward,” I said, surprised by how steady my voice was.

“I am Kahl. What would you have me do, Kai? Barter with you?” His shoulders moved with silent laughter. “Perhaps you think your information or your abilities provide enough weight for negotiation. But you’d be wrong. I have your brother, and I have your friend. Surely you see where you stand.”

“Stop toying with me,” I said. “What do you want to know about Irra?”

I knew playing dumb at this point would be a bad idea. If I didn’t have the answers he wanted, he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt Reev and Avan. Unfortunately, he might do the same even after I told him. I didn’t know much beyond what he already did, and I didn’t think lying would be very smart. There were no choices here.

He swished the purple liquid in his goblet. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry.

“Your friend—Avan, is it? Interesting young man. No matter how many ways we cut him open, he just doesn’t die.”

The shaking started in my hands and spread to my arms.

He set his goblet on the table and clasped his hands behind his back. “And no, to answer your burning question, your friend is not of the Infinite. Isn’t that right, Kalla?”

“A most curious human,” she noted.

If Avan wasn’t a descendant—and no one knew what he was—then that only made what had happened in the arena more baffling. He was a mystery, like me. I had to find him. I had to save him.

The exit was behind me, but it was likely guarded by sentinels. There was the door Ninu had come through, but that was a good thirty feet across the room. I’d never make it in time.

But I could make time. Irra had said that even the Infinite couldn’t escape the River’s flow. If I held the threads, I could probably at least get to Ninu before time caught up. And the knife in my boot would have found his heart.

“You seem impatient,” he said. “I’m willing to indulge you. I should very much like it if you could now tell me how to find Irra’s base.”

“I’d love to,” I said. “I hope Irra welcomes you by rotting out your eyes.”

“I look forward to the hospitality.” He looked at me expectantly. His forehead was unlined. Still, he clearly seemed old, unlike Istar.

I sent a silent apology to Irra, but I wasn’t too worried. I had the feeling Etu Gahl wouldn’t be found unless Irra wanted it to be.

“It’s lost,” I said. “Beyond the Void.”

Ninu tilted his head as he glanced at Kalla. “Irra’s errand boy said something similar. But it was difficult to make out with all the screaming.”