Page 33 of The Grip of Death
Someone with a spell of concealment, then, and someone powerful. But that could be anyone! The guild masters were among the strongest mages in the entire Black Market, but there were plenty more among the citizenry, not to mention those who lived in the rest of the known cosmos.
“Where would we even begin to look?” I asked, my head in my hands. “I’m lost, Hecate. Someone has it out for us. I don’t want Xander to ever go through this again.”
She rose from the sofa, gliding as she crossed the floor. “Perhaps you can start by consulting one of your crystalline oracles.” Her midnight robes pooled by her feet as she knelt by the large hunk of crystal on the floor. “Hello there, little one. And what manner of creation are you?”
The crystal pulsed with a bashful pink light. “Whitby, ma’am. I mean, my name is Whitby, Your Royal Goddessness.”
Hecate laughed. “There’s really no need for honorifics. You may call me friend. Did you know, little Whitby, that wizards of old have always used gemstones and crystals to store all kinds ofinformation? It’s a way to put away spells and enchantments for later use.”
“Yes ma’am, Ms. Goddess Friend. I believe that the practice is still common today. Why, it’s the binding premise behind the entire guild of jewelers right here in the Black Market. Marquise & Empress draw much of their power from ensorcelled jewelry.”
“Ah, but those are mere trinkets and baubles. You, dear Whitby, are far more special, quite like your little friend Lore.”
Hovering nearby, Lore’s crystal body performed a quick, proud, sparkling pirouette. “Brought sentience and intellectual independence by the Prydes. Quite a marvelous feat of artificing.”
I folded my arms, wondering where this was going, but also feeling a swell of pride for the Prydes. What was Hecate up to, fluffing up our entire clan like this?
“With your permission, Whitby, we would like to examine your wealth of information to see whether there is something that might help your good friends Jackson and Xander. Perhaps there is something we’ve missed.”
There it was. Good old Hecate, thinking in our favor even when it seemed initially sinister and creepy.
“Absolutely,” Whitby said, his mainframe twinkling with pinkish trust.
Hecate whispered to herself as she pressed one hand against the hunk of crystal. Within seconds Whitby had begun projecting holograms into the air: glimmers of the echo he once showed us, the exact same sketches from the schematics we’d printed, and sped-up recordings of Whitby’s voice bank. But nothing new, or nothing we’d overlooked.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” I told the goddess.
She shrugged. “Neither did we.”
“It was worth a shot. Thanks for trying, Hecate.”
“Nothing appears to be amiss, fleshling. Perhaps this was all accidental after all. ‘To err is human,’ isn’t that what they say? ‘To forgive is divine.’ Though this goddess, in truth, is not very quick to forgive. Our brightest student and one of our favorite fleshlings nearly obliterated in the same mechanical mishap.”
I really was one of her favorites, then? I sucked in my cheeks, inhaling my smile and trying not to look so pleased with myself. “I appreciate the vengeful sentiment, Hecate.”
“But of course. And this isn’t to say that Hecate will stop looking. A culprit, if there is one, should meet all the appropriate consequences. Punishment is still due.”
Occam’s Razor, right? Maybe the simplest explanation actually was the correct one. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Hecate was right. Faulty wires, a loose screw. Failure was only human, and as much as I loved and looked up to them, Octavian and Luciana Pryde were as capable of failing as anyone. It was just unfortunate that their failure happened to be so very catastrophic. I choked down the bitterness, stowing it away in a small, shadowy part of myself to deal with later.
Hecate stroked the tips of her fingers along the top of Whitby’s mainframe. She was so gentle with him. I’d never really seen this side of her. “But allow us to thank you for your efforts all the same, little one.”
“Oh, that really won’t be necessary, ma’am. I’m always happy to — oh. Oh, my goodness.”
The surface of Whitby’s mainframe rippled wherever Hecate touched, as if transformed into liquid. Her fingers moved in a blur, infused with eldritch grace as they mapped out a spell. Something shifted in the room, the air tingling with divine magic. Out of the liquid mainframe rose a crystal, pointed at the bottom and the top, a perfect, translucent copy of Lore’s tiny crystalline body.
I gasped. Lore gasped. From the base of the stairs, Xander, who’d apparently felt left out, also gasped.
“My body,” Whitby said. “It’s down there, but I’m also up here. I’m free! I’m flying. Oh, my goddess. Thank you. Thank you, Hecate!”
Hecate flipped her hand at the wrist. “Think nothing of it. This was always within your power, little one. You only needed the right nudge.”
As it was with Lore, except that Lore’s awakening had involved a Chrysanthemyst-related possession that almost demolished the entire Pryde house. This was way better.
“Thank you, Hecate,” I whispered, my chest so full.
She shook her head, a rare genuine smile on her lips. “A small gift for the little one, and a small gift for you.”
Xander slipped himself between us, his arm draping over my shoulder. “What makes the AIs happy makes us happy. Thanks, Madame Cathee. I mean Hecate. I mean — you know what I mean.”
