Mikhail leaned forwards, elbows on the table and hands clasped before him—partially to stop them shaking—as Dominik began.

  “I only met your mother two months ago. She was in a great deal of pain—the extract she was testing had disagreed with her. By disagreed, I mean literally disagreed. Well, all right, that’s not quite accurate. It wasn’t the telepathy extract that disagreed, it was the uzhas.”

  “What the depths are you talking about?” Mikhail asked.

  “Uzhas, the gas that Alchemist sculptors bond with to sculpt and turn into uzhasgart—”

  “I know what uzhas is,” Mikhail said. “What do you mean it disagreed Mother?”

  “Oh, I see. Well, it’s alive.”

  “Alive?” Mikhail rubbed a hand across his eyes. This was a mistake, Dominik was crazy. Why had Mother sent him here?

  “Yes. You know, living, breathing, thinking,” Dominik said, ticking the points off on his fingers. “Though I’m not sure about the breathing part… But it definitely thinks—according to Elana.”

  Mikhail shunted his chair back and stood. “You’re crazy. I didn’t come here for you to make fun of me.”

  “Sit down, boy,” Dominik said, a hard fire lighting in his eyes. “You will not come in here and force me to talk, then accuse me of lies. Understood?”

  Mikhail sat, abashed, his stomach in knots. Uzhas couldn’t be alive, could it?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Dominik said. “Nearly every piece of Alchemtek we export to Machtvoll and South Serovnya contains uzhasgart. The economical—and, of course, moral—implications of the uzhas being alive are devastating. We’ve massacred the uzhas in order to thrive. Not to mention that the Sentinels rely on Alchemtek to defend the gates. And the strength extract itself contains uzhas. It’s quite the pile of muck we’ve landed in. Which is why I’m here. We need to develop new weapons that don’t use uzhas or uzhasgart if we’re going to keep the dragons at bay.”

  Mikhail dragged a hand through his hair, overwhelmed. He couldn’t think about the uzhas now. First, find Mother. Then worry about uzhas. “All right, but what happened to my mother?”

  “She stole… freed? All the uzhas from the Alchemist Guild and fled Kosgrad.”

  “So she’s alive?” Mikhail asked, not daring to hope.

  “Look,” Dominik said, “Elana bonded with an enormous amount of uzhas. I don’t know the effect it had on her mind. Unless she took a healing extract within a few hours of their bonding, any change that might have happened is permanent. Elana may not be Elana anymore. There’s no telling what she remembers, or which personality is dominant—hers or the uzhas’s.”

  “Mother’s strong-willed. She’ll still be her.”

  “I admire your faith.”

  Questions flooded Mikhail’s mind, questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answers to. “So Mother bonded with the uzhas, but why does the Alchemist Guild want to replicate that? At least, I assume that’s why they want me to decode her journal.”

  “Because, Mikhail, her bond with the uzhas allowed her to escape Chernov Commander and a dozen of his soldiers.”

  “And? I’ve escaped his soldiers before,” Mikhail said with a shrug.

  “You don’t understand. They trapped her in the uzhas vault and she killed them. Every. Single. One. Then they sent an army after her, which she evaded.”

  Mikhail baulked. Kill? Mother? Not possible. Yet Idalie had told Klara some story about a siege on the uzhas vault… “How do you know it was her in the vault?”

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  “Because she asked me to help her break in. Next thing I know, the Guild is rocked by huge explosions. Two hours later, I hear Chernov Commander is dead. Very dead. Along with twelve of his best, and…” Dominik drifted into silence and stared at the glass clutched in his hands.

  Mikhail tried to swallow the sour taste coating his mouth. “And?”

  “They said she also murdered Sofia Sculptor, her supervisor.”

  Mikhail clenched his fists. “No. No that’s a lie.”

  “I wish it was, Mikhail, but I saw her body. I’m sorry.”

  His mother was a murderer? How was that possible? It had to be a lie. Dominik was poisoning his mind against her. Mikhail clutched his head and groaned. Nothing made sense.

  “Whatever your mother did, it’s too late for her. But if you run, head to Machtvoll. You can start a new life there. Depths, I might just do the same thing. If they decode Elana’s journal, they’ll want to see me. And I really don’t want to see them…”

  Run? A new life? Mikhail stood, his head spinning. “Thanks, I guess,” he said and staggered out.

  Dominik made no move to follow.

  Mikhail stepped into the street and took a deep breath as he tried to clear his head. Why had his mother sent him on this wild chase to find Dominik? Somewhere he must have missed a crucial piece of information. Information that’s probably in her journal, which the Grand Master has.

  He wandered along the street, heading back to the Sentinel Quarter. In the distance, the warning gong clanged again, and some small voice told Mikhail a second Nishkuk was attacking. He couldn’t remember why that was important.

  “Mikhail!”

  Mikhail blinked, focusing ahead. He’d nearly reached the Arena, and Zinaida jogged through the crowded street towards him. He frowned, wasn’t she with Klara? And where had the crowd come from?

  “There you are,” she said as she slowed. “Klara and I ran when the Nishkuk invaded. She’s waiting on Vera’s Revenge. Come on, we need to skedaddle before they try get us fighting Nishkuks.” She hurried him along, pushing him through the busy street towards the stairs. As they drew close, Mikhail noted the place had turned into a maddened hive of activity. Sentinels sprinted too and fro while yelled orders filled the air. Someone kicked the wasp nest.

  “What happened?” Mikhail asked.

  “Didn’t you hear the warning gongs? Two Nishkuks attacked.”

  “Oh.”

  The Sentinels ignored them, each too busy with their own tasks to worry about two watchers also hurrying along.

  “Get what you needed?” Zinaida asked as they jogged up the stairs to the surface.

  Mikhail shrugged. “Dominik said my mother is a murderer. I didn’t need that.”

  “Did he know anything else?”

  “Why does it matter? My mother’s a murderer.”

  Zin gripped his shoulder, offering him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure there’s an explanation, and I bet Dominik has it. You go on ahead and make sure you keep out of sight.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to convince Dominik to help us find Elana and uncover what really happened.”

  “We’ll never find her. She’s gone.”

  Zinaida slapped Mikhail across the cheek. “Snap out of it! Your mother’s out there, and we will find her.”

  Mikhail massaged his stinging jaw as his eyes watered.

  “Now get your butt to Vera’s Revenge,” Zinaida said, turning and descending into the bowels of Katavsk.

  Mikhail watched her go, still rubbing his jaw. She was right, he had to assume the best. He had to find Mother and get the truth from her. Jaw set, he resumed the climb while fastening his half-mask in place and pulling his hood up.

  The air rapidly dropped in temperature as he approached the surface, and a minute later, he stood on the frigid, snow-covered airfield. The moon still lit the man-made plateau with its cool white light and cast deep shadows beneath the airships. Mikhail looked around. The only person he’d seen was the guard hiding from the wind in the building behind him. No one else was insane enough to be outside. Still, Zinaida said stay hidden.

  Shoulders hunched, he pushed through the snow and wind to head behind the row of airships as he hiked back to Vera’s Revenge. The airships’ dense black mainframes stood in stark contrast to the star-studded sky.

  He made it halfway when five dark figures, all hooded and masked, materialised from the shadows and converged on him.

  “Help—”

  A fist sank into his stomach, connecting with his broken rib and sending an explosion of pain lancing through his body. Mikhail gasped, trying in vain to suck air into his lungs.

  While he fought for breath, one of the half-masked figures yanked Mikhail’s mask off and stared at him.

  “Mikhail Koskov,” the man said in a sing-song voice. “Good of you to stop by.”

  Mikhail’s blood turned to ice. He knew that voice.

  Anton Voronin.