Beth Wonders's Arc

Chapter 18 of 29

Elijah kept his hand under Beth's elbow until she waved him off. She crossed to the black scrying mirror and touched it. The glass cleared. The star merchant stood at the tree line beyond the barrier, close enough that she could count the buttons on his coat. He was writing in his little book again. Her stomach dropped. Her magic was back, thin but real, and he had felt it the moment it lit. He was walking a slow circle, looking for the seam. "He knows I'm awake," Beth said. "He'll find the window the spiders made. We have hours. Maybe less." Elijah looked at the mirror. "Then we move you." "I can't move the cathedral. It's anchored." Her voice went sharp. "If I run he takes everything I've built. Every piece. He'll pick the walls apart." She braced her hands on the vanity. Her knees shook. She had not eaten in a day. Her hands would not hold a rune. The air by the window folded. A striped canopy pushed through nothing and became a small wooden stall with a wide dark order window. The Midnight Cafe sat in her cathedral like it had always been there. The void chef poured itself through the empty window frame, star-eyes bright, worm-body coiling onto the counter. It bobbed at her once. "You already owe me a favor," Beth said. "I can't pay again." The creature tipped its head. It laid two star-shaped eyes on Elijah, then on the six-toed cat winding around Beth's ankles, then on Beth. It did not open a mouth. It did not need to. No coin, it meant. Friends. Beth's throat locked. She sat down hard on the bench in front of the stall. The cat climbed into her lap. Elijah stood at her shoulder, watching the mirror. "Soup," Beth said. "Bread. Whatever you have." The void chef went to work behind the counter. She could not see how. Steam rose. It set down a bowl for her, a cup of something dark and hot for Elijah, a small plate for the cat. She ate. The warmth reached her hands first. Her fingers steadied. The low warmth under her sternum grew. Elijah drank without taking his eyes off the mirror. "He's at the north stone," he said. "Let him look." Beth set the spoon down. "I have a plan." She pulled the tall prism vase from the shelf beside her. She had one dose of star magic left inside it, saved from the tower. Enough to seed a lie. She would pour it into the far ridge through the spider bridge and let the scent bloom there. He would chase it. She would use the hours he wasted to move her anchor tree deeper into the sealed half of the cathedral, past the ice, where he could not follow. She stood. Her knees held this time. "Now," she said.