A woman. Most of one, anyway. A torso clad in a simple white shift, a graceful neck, a beautiful face framed by cascading black hair. She looked normal enough, from the waist up. But where her legs should be, there were clusters of spider limbs, longer than the woman was tall. When she smiled, her teeth were sharp, and her eyes gleamed multifaceted in the firelight.
Neve’s mouth dried, but she was a queen, and the formal way Solmir had greeted the creature at the door told her she should show the same deference to the Seamstress as she would to any other dignitary. So instead of screaming and running out the door, she inclined her head. “Thank you for your welcome.”
The Seamstress’s grin widened, amused. “The little Shadow Queen, at last.” The whisper seemed layered, as if this creature had as many voices as she did limbs, all of them pressed together and tuned to one key. The Seamstress moved forward, so graceful on her spider’s legs that it looked like she floated, the torso of a woman in a writhing sea of black. “We’ve heard of you. Yes, we’ve heard so much of you and all you’ve done. The doorway you made and then closed.” She nodded, suddenly solemn. “As you should have. There are no shortcuts through this, no matter how Solmir would like there to be. Someone must be a vessel.”
Shadow Queen. The title felt familiar, though Neve couldn’t put her finger on how.
“Someone is a vessel.” Solmir closed the door and held his arms behind his back, voice nonchalant despite the stiff line of his posture. “Didn’t you say you smelled it? I’m holding all the magic for our little queen here. She doesn’t want to end up a monster.”
“Why not?” The Seamstress cocked her head at Neve, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. “You’ve gotten close already, up in your own world. It’s not so different down here. Just harder to hide.”
“She didn’t like the pain,” Solmir said. “Or the changes.” He almost sounded amused. Neve didn’t look back to see if he was wearing that cruel smile again, because if he was, she might not be able to resist clawing it off.
“Oh, that.” The Seamstress waved her hand. “Well. Power is pain, Shadow Queen, and monster in the eye of the beholder. You’ll learn.”
A rumble shook through the floor, enough to make the insect remains on the ceiling sway and the cupboard rattle.
“Tremors,” the Seamstress said softly. “Death throes of a dying place.”
“They’re getting worse.” Solmir came to stand beside Neve, his arms crossed over his chest. “We felt two coming here from the tower.”
The creature nodded. “This world frays at the seams with each Old One that dies, dissolving further, becoming more unstable. Magic shaking loose as the gods fall. Only three left now.”
For the first time since Neve had seen him in his true form, Solmir looked almost uncomfortable. Almost sympathetic. “And I assume yours is not one of the three.”
“No.” The Seamstress’s eyes closed, a shiver of grief working through her human shoulders and down her spider limbs. “No. My Weaver is gone.”
Solmir sighed, rubbing at his eyes with thumb and forefinger. The silver on his hands glinted, and when his hair fell back, Neve noticed a ring glimmering in his earlobe, too. “My heart aches as yours does.”
“My sorrow is lessened by the presence of yours.” Archaic phrases, platitudes from out of time, keeping Neve on the outside of the conversation.
“Do you mind speaking in terms I can understand?” Neve’s voice came out thin but regal. “I’m made to believe our time is limited, and I’d like to get back to my own world as soon as possible.”
A pause. Then the Seamstress threw back her head and gave a full-throated laugh—a beautiful, musical sound wholly at odds with her frightful appearance. “You may not hold the magic, little queen, but I don’t think that will slow you down at all. You walk through the world like it will rise to your feet and bend to your fist.” The Seamstress opened the bag Solmir had given her and began sorting the contents with her spider legs, keeping her human arms casually crossed. “It was always going to come down to the Shadow Queen and the Golden-Veined, to a vessel and a door. I told Solmir that; I told him twice—first, when he tried to bring through a queen that was not his own, then when he found a way to the surface. This place changed me utterly, but I still have a talent for future-telling. The stars I once read haven’t changed, and they aren’t beholden to the desires of a King who never wanted what he was given.”