Page 100 of City of Stone and Silence

“I spoke with Gragant,” I say, crossing the room to stand in front of her. “And Shiara. I know … how you feel about Silvoa.”

“I very much doubt that,” Catoria says. “Silvoa betrayed me, and she died. There’s little else to say about it now.”

“I don’t think she betrayed you,” I say. “And…”

“Don’t tell me she isn’t dead,” Catoria says. Her voice is thick. “Prime sent us her head.”

Rotting scumsucker. I grimace. “She’s dead. But she … was … an Eddica adept, and so is Prime. Silvoa’s … still here.” I shake my head. “I know it sounds crazy.”

“It is crazy,” Catoria snaps. “Dead is dead. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“I said that, when I came aboard Soliton. But Eddica is the Well of Spirits, and I can’t deny that it has power.” I take a deep breath. “She wants to talk to you.”

Catoria’s expression hardens. “I believe I will scream after all.”

“Please. Just … give me a moment.” I dig in my pocket, and produce a jagged length of broken conduit.

Silvoa herself had promised me this would work. Eddica energy runs through the conduits, tying them to the Harbor system. That energy is … sticky, for lack of a better word. Break off a piece of conduit, and it remains part of the system, at least for a while, its connection slowly fading away. It should be enough.

Rot, I hope it’s enough.

There’s a shimmer in the air. Silvoa’s translucent form materializes, wavering like fog in a strong breeze. It’s blurrier than I would like, her face the vaguest smear of features. Her voice, when she speaks, comes as though from a great distance.

“Hurry, please,” she says. “This takes a lot of effort, and Prime will find me soon.” The figure glances around. “Catoria? Oh, spirits of the ice. You’ve grown.”

Catoria blinks. She’s looking at Silvoa, but her eyes are still narrowed. Eddica energy is harder to see for those who can’t touch the Well, and I don’t know if she can make out more than an outline. She gives no sign she’s heard the projection’s quiet words.

“She says you’ve grown,” I fill in.

“So only you can hear her?” Catoria says. “Very convenient.”

“You can see her, can’t you?”

“I see something. You’re an Eddica adept, too. I’m sure this is only a parlor trick for you.”

Actually, this kind of parlor trick is well beyond my capabilities, but I can’t convince her of that. I look at Silvoa, who pauses, thoughtfully.

“Tell her,” she says, “that I remember what Gragant said to me, the first time we met.”

I repeat this, and Catoria’s brow furrows. “And?” she says.

I listen. “He said, ‘Are you going to eat that?’”

Catoria’s lips twitch in a half-smile. “We were fighting a blueshell. It had nearly gotten the better of us before he joined in, and once it was dead we were all lying around on the deck gasping for breath. And he…” She shakes her head. “He told you that.”

“He didn’t,” I say, despairing. “Please. Ask something only Silvoa would know. We don’t have much time.”

“I…” Catoria turns away from me, hugging herself tightly, and she’s quiet for a long moment. Without turning, she says, “When did she and I first kiss?”

Silvoa looks down at her. Even in her blurred form, I can see her pain. When she answers, it’s barely audible.

“In this room,” I say. “The night before she died. Just before she promised you she wouldn’t go off on her own.” I swallow. “She says she’s sorry about that. So sorry. She thought—”

“I don’t care what she thought,” Catoria says, choking back a sob. “She promised me she would stay. That we would be together. And she left me.”

“I did,” Silvoa says. “I was certain Prime would listen to me. I was … not stupid. Hoping to talk instead of fight is never stupid. But maybe … not careful enough.”

“You sound like Meroe,” I say, with a slight smile.