The Mask of Mirrors by M. Carrick; (different e readers txt) 📕

to separate their spirit from their body and walk the many realms of the cosmos. I’ve read the accounts of Mirscellis’s experiments, which suggest this technique can be used for the realm of mind, too—the place where part of Renata’s spirit is trapped.”

She glanced around the room. “Giuna wasn’t entirely wrong. Someone needs to retrieve it… but not Renata.”

“I’ll go,” Tess blurted. “I’ve been with the alta the longest. I know her better than anyone.”

“Your loyalty is commendable,” Fienola said, “but an understanding of meditative practices would make success much more likely—”

“I’m a fair hand at imbuing—”

Era Traementis broke in, not unkindly. “If we were sewing a dress, you would be the first we’d ask for help. But I believe—I hope—that Tanaquis was suggesting she be the one to do it.” She gave Fienola a pleading look. “You were, weren’t you?”

“It would be fascinating,” Fienola said slowly, gaze wandering as she became lost in the possibility. Then she shook herself back to the present. “But no. What I’m proposing involves changing the numinat after the seeker’s soul has separated, in order to call it back. I wouldn’t trust another inscriptor to do it correctly.”

Sedge knew why Tess had volunteered. In Ažerais’s Dream, who could say what Ren would look like? Tess and him were the only ones safe to go. But before he could find a good argument for it, Captain Serrado leaned over and whispered something to Era Traementis.

She pulled back, brows rising. “You?”

Serrado spoke for them all to hear. “I’ve had enough aža to be familiar with Ažerais’s Dream. And I was spun during the Night of Bells, so I have some notion of what to expect—not just for myself, but for what the ash may have done to Alta Renata. Besides, sending me wouldn’t put Tess or your family at risk.”

Fuck that. Half of Ren’s hallucinations featured Captain Serrado bursting through their door with a flight of hawks at his back. But Sedge couldn’t very well say so.

Then inspiration struck. “If we’re deciding who’s expendable and knows aža, might as well be me who goes after her. Wager I got twice the experience of a hawk.” His lip curled as he looked Serrado over. “Even a Vraszenian one.”

Sedge pretended not to notice the suspicious shift from Vargo. Sedge had taken aža all of twice in his life: once to tie himself in with the Fingers, and once to do the same when he joined the Fog Spiders. Part of the reason he’d climbed so high in Vargo’s knot was that he never touched aža again, and everyone knew it. He gave Tess his most sappy, lovelorn look, and hoped it didn’t look like indigestion.

“I’m certain Alta Renata would be flattered that even strangers are concerned for her well-being,” Vargo said, his voice dry. He folded his hands and studied Fienola. “But there might be a simpler way to decide. You’ve performed calculations; would it be possible to calculate our birth trines to see who’s most likely to find Renata’s spirit and return safely?”

“I could,” Fienola said thoughtfully.

“Then let the cosmos determine who’s best. Captain Serrado, what’s your birthday?”

The hawk arched a skeptical brow, but said, “The fourteenth of Lepilun. At night.”

“Sedge?”

Fucking Vargo. Sedge wished he understood enough of astrology to give a date that would meet Fienola’s needs, but Vargo would know it for a lie anyway. “Will the year do?” Sedge asked grudgingly. “Think I can guess at that.”

“Let’s not leave it to guesswork. Tess?”

“We don’t measure dates the same in Ganllech, but I once worked it out to be the twenty-fourth of Suilun. Daytime.”

After Era Traementis and Alta Giuna gave their dates, Vargo said, “And I’m the twentieth of Colbrilun, during the day. Will any of us do?”

Sedge stared down at his boss, who was deceptively relaxed in his chair. Vargo, who did understand astrology. Vargo, who didn’t do anything without a plan.

Fucking Vargo, a motherless river rat who didn’t know the date of his birth no more than Sedge did. What the fuck was he up to?

Fienola had scribbled down each date and was now muttering to herself and making notes. The room fell silent save for the scratching of her pencil and an unearthly hum from Ren.

“Prime in Illi, influenced by Uniat. Alter in Tuat, influenced by Tricat,” Fienola said at last. “Congratulations, Master Vargo. It seems the cosmos favors you.”

He gave a seated bow. “I’m honored by its trust.”

“I still don’t like it.” Fienola frowned at her calculations as though they’d betrayed her, then at Captain Serrado. “If there’s anything to this business of Ažerais’s Dream, a Vraszenian might be better.”

Sedge’s hands curled into helpless fists. He hated problems he couldn’t punch his way out of. Serrado would be even worse than Vargo—but he couldn’t think of a way to stop either one.

“I understand your hesitation,” Vargo said. “Could we speak alone for a moment?”

A wave of his hand stopped Sedge from following as Vargo and Fienola slipped out of the room. All Sedge could do was stand there and trade worried looks with Tess—until he caught Serrado watching, and then he was forced to spread his glowers about equally.

When the other two returned, one look at Fienola’s face told Sedge all he needed to know. The boss spider had wrapped up this one but good.

“After further consideration, I believe my calculations were correct,” she said, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “Master Vargo will be assisting me with the ritual.”

With everyone else agreeing to it, there was nothing but for Sedge to carry Ren down to a large chamber lit with normal lamps—not imbued, not numinata. A platinum circle was permanently embedded in the smooth slate floor, with the spiral Vargo called a spira aurea looping inside. Fienola had been at work with her chalks; clean white lines and circles cut across the slate in confident sweeps. Mostly circles, the overlapping kind that Vargo chalked out at the start of every numinat Sedge had ever seen him draw.

At Fienola’s instruction, Sedge crossed