“Hence, Inheritor,” said Lila.
Rhy swallowed. “And it actually worked?”
“Well, no,” said Tieren. “The spell killed him instantly. But”—he brightened—“his niece, Nadina, had a rather brilliant mind. She perfected the design, and the first Inheritor was made.”
Kell shook his head. “Why have I never heard of this? And if they worked, why aren’t they still used?”
“Power does not like being forced into lines,” said Tieren pointedly. “Nadina Loreni’s Inheritor worked. But it worked on anyone. For anyone. There was no way to control who claimed the contents of an Inheritor. Magicians could be persuaded to relinquish the entirety of their power to the device, and once it was surrendered to the Inheritor, it was anyone’s to claim. As you can imagine, things got … messy. In the end, most of the Inheritors were destroyed.”
“But if we could find the Loreni designs,” said Lila, “if we could re-create one—”
“We don’t need to,” said Alucard, speaking up at last. “I know exactly where to find one.”
VII
“What do you mean you sold it?” Kell snapped at the captain.
“I didn’t know what it was.”
This had been going on for several minutes now, and Lila poured herself a fresh drink as the room around her hummed with Kell’s anger, the king’s frustration, Alucard’s annoyance.
“I didn’t recognize the magic,” Alucard was saying for the third time. “I’d never seen anything like it before. I knew it was rare, but that was all.”
“You sold an Inheritor,” repeated Kell, drawing out the words.
“Technically,” said Alucard, defensively, “I didn’t sell it. I offered it in trade.”
Everyone groaned at that.
“Who did you give it to?” demanded Maxim. The king didn’t look well—dark bruises stood out beneath his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept in days. Not that any of them had, but Lila liked to think she wore fatigue rather well, given her sheer amount of practice.
“Maris Patrol,” answered Alucard.
The king reddened at the name. No one else seemed to notice. Lila did. “You know them.”
The king’s attention snapped toward her. “What? No. Only by reputation.”
Lila knew a lie, especially a bad one, but Rhy cut in.
“And what reputation is that?”
The king wasn’t the one to answer. Lila noticed that, too.
“Maris runs the Ferase Stras,” said Alucard.
“The Going Waters?” translated Kell, assuming Lila didn’t know the words. She did. “I’ve never heard of it,” he added.
“I’m not surprised,” said the captain.
“Er an merst …” started Lenos, speaking up for the first time. It’s a market. Alucard shot the man a look, but the shipmate kept going, his voice soft, the accent rural Arnesian. “It caters to sailors of a special sort, looking to trade in …” He finally caught the captain’s look and trailed off.
“You mean a black market,” offered Lila, tipping her drink toward the captain. “Like Sasenroche.”
The king raised a brow at that.
“Your Majesty,” started Alucard. “It was before I served the crown—”
The king held up a hand, clearly not interested in excuses. “You believe the Inheritor is still there?”
Alucard nodded once. “The head of the market took a shine to it. Last I saw, it was around Maris’s neck.”
“And where is this Ferase Stras?” asked Tieren, pushing a piece of parchment toward them. On it, he’d outlined a rough map of the empire. No labels, just the drawn borders of land. The sight tickled something in the back of Lila’s mind.
“That’s the thing,” said Alucard, running a hand through his messy brown curls. “It moves around.”
“Can you find it?” demanded Maxim.
“With a pirate’s cipher, sure,” answered Alucard, “but I don’t have one anymore. On the honor of Arnes, I swear—”
“You mean it was confiscated when you were arrested,” said Kell.
Alucard shot him a venomous look.
“A pirate’s cipher?” asked Lila. “Is that a kind of sea map?”
Alucard nodded. “Not all sea maps are made equal, though. They all have the ports, the paths to avoid, the best places and times for making deals. But a pirate’s cipher is designed to keep secrets. To the passing eye, the cipher’s practically useless, nothing but lines. Not even a city named.” He glanced at Tieren’s rough map. “Like that.”
Lila frowned. There it was again, that tickle, only now it took shape. Behind her eyes, another room in another London in another life. A map with no markings spread across the table in the attic of the Stone’s Throw, weighted down by the night’s take.
She must have lowered her guard, let the memory show in her face, because Kell touched her arm. “What is it?”
She drew a finger around the rim of her glass, trying not to betray the emotion in her voice. “I had a map like that once. Nicked it from a shop when I was fifteen. Didn’t even know what it was—the parchment was all rolled up, bound with string—but it just kind of … pulled at me, so I took it. Weird thing was, after all that, I never thought to sell the thing. I suppose I liked the idea of a map with no names, no places, nothing but land and sea and promise. My map to anywhere, that’s what I called it….”