Chapter 28

They gathered in the abandoned cellar below, and as Leonis pressed the secret door closed, Scorio raked his hands through his hair and began to pace.

“What was that?” He reached the far wall, turned, and glared at his friends. “Jova Spike? What’s her name doing up there?”

“An autograph?” suggested Leonis weakly.

“Did she take all my history?” Scorio resumed pacing. “Leave her name behind to mock me? Were we enemies in a past life?”

“Doesn’t seem like her,” said Lianshi pensively, moving to crouch down, back to a large crate. “She’s quiet, composed, very intense. Close to a few friends but treats everyone else like strangers. If she made a move like that, I’ve the feeling she’d take your belongings and leave. Not take the time to carve her name on the wall.”

“And that wasn’t just a simple scrawl,” said Leonis. “You see how deep those letters were etched? And how carefully? Whoever did that wanted that name to survive the test of time.”

“Then…” Scorio stopped and stared blankly at the wall. “Then what am I to make of it?”

“Maybe whoever took your stuff wanted to aim you at her,” said Leonis uneasily. “Misdirect you. Start a fight.”

“Maybe,” said Scorio, and then with a sigh he let the tension go and dropped his hands to his sides. “But why?”

Lianshi was tapping her chin, eyes unfocused, deep in thought.

“What are the facts?” Leonis crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Your belongings are gone, and the name of the most dangerous Great Soul in our cohort was carefully carved into the wall. Carefully and cleanly carved. Whoever did that had time and firm intent.”

“How do people open other Great Souls’ lockers, anyway?” asked Scorio. “Do they manipulate the gem?”

“Shockingly, we’ve not yet been instructed on how to break into each other’s lockers,” said Leonis.

“We know more than just those two pieces of information,” said Lianshi quietly. “The locker belongs to one Scorio, a Red Lister who has reborn only six times.”

“Great,” said Leonis. “I approve of the completionist approach. What other basic facts can we establish? That we all tend to go to the bathroom approximately eight hours after a meal?”

Lianshi scowled at him. “We know that lockers can be raided by the sufficiently powerful. Scorio reached Blood Baron. That’s enough to warrant notice, besides his being a Red Lister. What are the odds that any treasure or memento he’d leave in his locker would go unmolested?”

Leonis smoothed down his short beard. “Practically none. They’d break in the moment he died.”

Lianshi smiled. “Correct. And who else would have known this?”

“I would have,” said Scorio slowly. “Wait. Are you suggesting I left the locker empty on purpose?”

Leonis pushed off the wall. “And that he wrote Jova’s name there himself?”

Lianshi shrugged. “Who knows? But Scorio is not obviously criminally stupid. If he’d reached a high rank and knew death was upon him, why would he gift his belongings to the Academy by leaving them in a soon-to-be raided locker?”

“She likes you,” said Leonis, smiling at Scorio. “’Not obviously criminally stupid’? That’s genuinely high praise.”

Scorio bit his lower lip, staring out into middle distance, mind racing. “That makes sense. I’d know the Academy would raid my belongings. The last thing I’d do would be to make an indirect donation.”

“But say you wanted to communicate something to your next incarnation. That’s what the lockers are for,” continued Lianshi. “We leave ourselves journals, directives, treasure. Things to help and guide our future selves. Say you wanted to do the same for yourself, but knew your locker would be raided. What would you do?”

“What would I do?” asked Scorio, eager to hear her opinion.

“No,” said Lianshi impatiently. “I’m asking you. You’re the one who did it. What would you do?”

Scorio cupped his hands over his mouth and nose and slid down the wall into a crouch. Pondered. “My locker would be of no use. There’d be no point in creating a hidden cache somewhere in Bastion, because how would I tell the new me how to find it? Any obvious clue would be followed up on by my locker raiders.”

Leonis grinned. “Perhaps you’d leave the clue or your information with someone nobody would mess with in their right mind.”

“Jova Spike,” they all said in unison.

A frisson of excitement passed through Scorio. “You think she might have something of mine in her locker?”

Lianshi was brushing the tip of her nose with a lock of hair. “Perhaps.”

“Problem.” Leonis grimaced. “Jova’s not exactly the approachable type.”

“True.” Lianshi bit the corner of her thumbnail. “And asking her would reveal that you’ve escaped the Final Door.”

“Do you think we could break into her locker?” asked Scorio.

His friends both stared at him.

“Not a good idea. At least, not yet. Fine.” He pondered further. “What if I approached her in the Graveyard? Made my case?”

“She doesn’t go to the Graveyard,” said Lianshi. “She spends that time training.”

“Oh. Well—what if I found a way to speak with her, or had a message delivered? How could I convince her to speak with me, to help me out?”

Lianshi and Leonis exchanged a look.

“What?” asked Scorio. “That bad?”

“She’s only friends with Juniper and Zala, that I know of,” said Lianshi at last. “Her roommates. Lots of other people have tried to get close to her, though. She has hangers-on. The Houses court her at all hours of the day and night. And she created a lot of controversy when she refused House Hydra’s offer of patronage.”

“She refused?” Scorio blinked. “But she came first out of the entire cohort. They must have offered her… everything.”

“She refused,” said Leonis flatly. “And hasn’t deigned to explain why. She’s not the talkative type.”

“So I’m starting to gather,” said Scorio. “So what does she do? Just train all the time by herself?”

“Or with Zala and Juniper, yes,” said Leonis. “And eat more than Lianshi and I combined. I mean, the amount of meat and vegetables she puts away is frankly—”

“Leonis,” said Lianshi. “But yes. She seems to live for training and fighting. Some people are speculating that her will is so strong that she’ll make Tomb Spark before most of us even get to Emberling. But there’s one other thing.”

“What’s that?” asked Scorio.

“She takes the Academy’s rules very seriously. I mean, we all do, but she’s on another level.”

“Made waves when she returned an Apotheosis pill to the pharmacy,” said Leonis. “The winner of the first Gauntlet run gets one every week. Apparently, she was accidentally given two. Some think it was a ploy by one of the Houses to show her how much better her situation could be if she accepted patronage. Anyway, Grevelar was there when she returned it. Saw Emelos blanch and stutter as she just stared him down.”

“Not good,” said Scorio. “For me, at least.”

“No,” agreed Leonis reluctantly. “She’s not the type to engage in this kind of behind-the-scenes activity.”

“If anything,” said Lianshi, “she’d turn you in immediately.”

“Great.” Scorio leaned his head back against the wall. “Why did the dead me from two hundred years ago think it was a good idea to rope her into his plans?”

His friends just looked at him in helpless commiseration.

“Well, I’ll think on it,” sighed Scorio. “I had to have had a reason. An expectation that I’d figure something out.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Leonis. “Speaking of which, we should get out of this cellar before another band of nefarious ne’er-do-wells comes along and rumbles us.”

Lianshi rose smoothly to her feet. “True. Ready, Scorio?”

He accepted her outstretched hand and stood. He felt worn, tired, beaten.

“We can’t take him back to our rooms,” said Leonis, moving toward the cellar’s archway. “The Hell Whip might be looking for him.”

“Right,” said Lianshi. “Might have to take you to an exit so you can slip out unnoticed. Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he said, trying not to let his words reflect his disappointment. “You’ve both already done so much. Thank you.”

They moved through the basement chambers carefully, then up the stairs and down a sequence of corridors till they reached a square chamber whose walls were decorated with depictions of the Archspire under the different glows of the sun-wire.

“You’d best go on the rest of the way without us,” said Leonis. “We’d draw too much attention in the servant’s quarters.”

“Right. Right.” Scorio felt strangely light-headed, his emotions numb. “Great. Well. I’ll be seeing you guys around.”

“Scorio, wait.” Lianshi stepped up. “This doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to just continue meeting up for lunches as we continue to benefit from the Academy’s resources, and you’re forced to struggle out in the ruins.”

“Not much we can do about that though, is there?” asked Scorio, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“Well, there might be.” She glanced to Leonis. “What if we accompanied him on his ruin runs?”

“Accompanied him?” Leonis rubbed at his beard thoughtfully. “You mean each Eighthday?”

“Right,” said Lianshi. “We could leave as soon as First Bronze began, and if we hurried, we could reach the ruins in—what do you think, Scorio—a quarter of a cycle?”

“Wait, come with me on my ruin runs?”

Leonis was mulling it over. “That would leave most of First Bronze, Amber, and Second Bronze to explore. We’d have to leave a little time at the end to make it back and clean up.”

Scorio looked from one of them to the next. “Hold up, are you even allowed to go to the ruins?”

They exchanged glances.

“Nobody’s ever told us not to,” said Lianshi at last.

“In the same way that nobody’s ever told us not to do flayleaf, but no. We’re expected to remain in the Graveyard, but there’s an understanding that the more adventurous amongst us might range a little farther.”

“The ruins are more than a little farther,” said Scorio.

Leonis grinned. “What the instructors don’t know can’t hurt us.”

“What do you think?” Lianshi smiled at him. “There room on your sojourns for a couple more?”

Scorio didn’t know what to say. “Are you sure? It’s dangerous.”

Leonis’s expression went deadpan. “You do understand that we’re also Great Souls, don’t you?”

“It would be an excellent way to train,” said Lianshi excitedly. “The best way to progress is to engage in actual fighting. This way we’d gain an edge on everyone else, including Jova Spike.”

Leonis inhaled strongly. “And see more of the world than the same collection of hallways and rooms and arenas. Sounds like a plan to me.”

Scorio looked from one of them to the other. It was too much—he didn’t know what to feel, could only marvel at how quickly he’d gone from despondent to euphoric. “If you’re sure—”

“Scorio.” Lianshi reached out and took his hand. “We’re sure. It would be good for us. It would be good for you. We all benefit.”

Leonis nodded. “Plus it’s dangerous to keep meeting at the same place in town. Someone’s bound to notice the pattern and spot you eventually.”

“Well—all right then.” Scorio grinned. “Next Eighthday. I’ll wait for you at the entrance to the restaurant’s courtyard, and guide you south.”

“Excellent.” Leonis grinned, the expression exuding warmth, enthusiasm, and encouragement. He clasped Scorio’s free hand and squeezed it hard. “The ruins won’t know what hit them.”

Lianshi rolled her eyes. “Won’t know because they won’t notice. Three Cinders will hardly make a mark. But yes. Next Eighthday it is.”

Scorio drew a deep, shuddering breath, smiled at them, and they all moved instinctively into a hug, holding each other tightly for a moment before breaking apart.

“Straight through that door,” said Leonis, nodding in the direction he had to go. “Leads to the kitchens. You should be able to get out easily.”

“I will. Thank you.” Scorio started walking backward, not wanting to take his eyes off his friends. “Be seeing you soon then, Nun of the Red. Golden King.”

“Yeah, yeah, take it easy, Quencher of Hope and Unmaker of Joy,” said Leonis, turning to return to their quarters. His grin was leonine. “And save some of that energy for us. You’ll need it if you want to keep up.”

“Take care, Scorio!” Lianshi waved, and then the pair of them left the chamber and were gone.

Heart pounding, feeling elated, Scorio passed through the indicated door and moved toward the kitchens, quickly joining the rest of the foot traffic. He pulled his hood down low over his face, clasped the golden chit in his free hand, and had to restrain himself from whistling.

The next Eighthday couldn’t come quickly enough.