Abaddon's Call

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Alena had spotted the chain among Trild's things as Kal stripped him. She recognized the item by description.

Guillotines were fine silver chains normally worn by the woman of a house. They were heirlooms from the time of arch mages, as most magical items were.

Most of the good heirlooms were created by arch mages. They liked to make items do other things, magical things. Like the books that could copy themselves, archives that could expand on their own.

Yet somehow not a library that could keep itself.

The original creator of the guillotine meant for it to be worn and used by women to protect themselves and their children in the event of a mage attack. The women had, over the generations, forgotten or simply ignored the purpose of their fine chains, but one black chain was kept by the Seven, passed between executioners.

The position was normally assigned to a second son or the heir of a secondary family. She didn't understand why, but she did know some sought the position. Her husband had chosen to take an assignment. He wanted to be an executioner but had gone after Mander Salord.

The man who once referred to her as a table.

"Show you who's a fucking table," she muttered as she strode toward the teleportation office.

Kal flitted onto the path in front of her for the second time. She scowled at him and went around, leaving the first year standing on the path with his hands up as if that would stop her.

"You can help or get out of the way," she snapped.

She heard him turn and rush to catch up with her. Kal fell in beside her, his expression plaintive.

"How do you think it will look when he wakes in the morning and you are splattered across the lands?" Kal demanded as she huffed at him.

Her breath came out in a little cloud due to the time of the night and winter's encroaching spread. Alena only noticed the chill because of her breath. She felt none of it, instead finding the air brisk, making her more determined.

"Salord doesn't splatter, thank you very much," she said.

He muttered something beside her that sounded like what she said but in a higher voice.

Alena turned to him and planted her feet.

The first year stopped a step ahead of her but then stepped back and met her gaze.

"Or you could take me there so that you could get me out if I need it," she said.

"Feeling," Kal said, his hands on one side, then moving to the other, "bad. We stepped onto his land—"

"There were pickaxes, shovels, and a mess," she said. "They were digging out spells. You don't take Salord. Salord takes you. And they don't take prisoners. Every estate, every big building, has so many more spells than you might think. This is one of them. Now, you know it's there. You know what it feels like. You could find it again."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

Alena shrugged as Nillon and Maeno passed them.

"Triplets," Nillon protested. "I didn't even think we'd have one so soon. And they'll be the same age as their own great-uncles. That's madness."

"Uh, only legally their great-uncles," Maeno said as they walked further down the path. "Technically, they're uncles. Technically, if someone got off their ass and ordered the execution, their uncles would be the heirs, and you would be like three, four? Steps away."