by Jay Lake
I could hardly blame Jessup for not taking sides. Which had been his strategy since the fall of the Duke in any case. Still, somebody could certainly show some spine around here. “Two women ran off eight men attacking your offices. Surely your own could do better?”
He sighed. “I should have hoped. No matter now. Ostrakan and the bankers are sitting this out, protecting their money and waiting to see who they’ll bow to on the morrow. I don’t know where Kohlmann is. The Reformed Council is carrying the day by sheer default.”
Leaning close, I spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t give a pickled fig for your councils, Jeschonek. Surali attacked me, tried to kidnap and tried to kill me. She has injured and murdered my friends, snatched a child I’m sworn to protect, brought my baby nearly to harm, and threatens my patron goddess. She even burned down my favorite bakery, and slew the baker. I will take care of her. And I will take care of the city in the process. But what happens to you…”
I let my voice trail off. He could take that as a threat or not. Mother Argai tugged at my elbow. I realized I’d placed the point of my short knife into Jeschonek’s chest once again. Where is my long knife, anyway? In someone’s ribs? Then I realized by the weight on my thigh that I still had the weapon. Mother Argai had just resheathed it for me. Focus. I needed badly to focus. I pulled the short knife away from the councilor and wiped the bead of blood off the tip, using the folds of his robe to clean it.
“I can’t—” he began, but I interrupted. “We’re not working for you anymore. I will address these problems. But the bill is coming to you. If I burn down any more buildings, if any weregeld is claimed, I will send the complainants to Mr. Nast for compensation. And when I’m done, we are done. If you are very lucky, I’ll have rescued you in the process.”
“Yes,” Jeschonek said.
I hadn’t actually asked him a question.
“Are we finished?” Mother Argai, in Seliu.
“I think so. I believe I’ve made my point.”
She spat at Jeschonek’s feet. “Fool,” she said in reasonable Petraean, to everyone’s surprise.
We walked out of the Interim Council’s meeting room.
* * *
I expected further trouble in the street. For one, Surali had more men in the city. The embassy grounds had been nearly empty when I’d been there in the morning, and she’d had less than a dozen swords with her here at the Textile Bourse.
The sleet had let off, brightening the day, but the street was a mess of blood and ice and water. No thugs, though. Even the severed bits and corpses were gone. Wherever they happened to be at the moment, the Street Guild muscle were not showing themselves on Lyme Street.
I glanced toward the ruined teahouse. People still milled about. I could do nothing for that poor little family except seek some justice. I could do nothing for Corinthia Anastasia until I’d cut Surali further down to size. Preferably bite-sized chunks. I could try a raid to grab the child when they moved her out of the embassy compound, if I found no greater success before then.
Mother Argai and I scuttled away to locate a quiet rooftop where we could talk. It wasn’t snowing today, at least, but the slushy, cold night had left its spoor on the buildings of Copper Downs. Misery fit my mood. We crouched among the copper domes and long clerestories of the Musicians’ Hall. The wind plucked at us both, which made me realize that we would need very different attire for winter running. If there ever were a resident Blade handle in Copper Downs, the women would need seasonal wool linings to their working clothes, at the least.
Surali burned bright in my hatred, but she was not my sole focus. Spider at the center of the web, surely, but the web stretched far and wide. Of the problems left to me to solve, Iso and Osi were the more difficult. Even Archimandrix and whatever strange mechanical magics he brought forth were likely to be insufficient to them. I’d warned the god Blackblood as well. But I needed another approach.
Samma might be a more tractable trouble. I owed her goodwill, for what I’d done to her over the matter of the Eyes of the Hills. Turning that thought over, I said, “We know where Mother Vajpai is.”
“Was,” Mother Argai corrected me.
“Was,” I admitted grudgingly. “Where is Samma, though?”
“Now you want to return for her?” Something hard and shrewd burned in her eyes.
“I would have gone for her before,” I said, exasperated. “We were pressed for time.”
“You will hardly get in there again.”
“I promise you they have sewers.” Though in truth I still thought that a most unlikely avenue.
That gave her a moment’s pause. Then: “Your eagerness to roll in shit is commendable. You might have the beginnings of a plan. But I doubt even your ability to make this happen.”
“Where is she?” I kept my voice mild. There was no threat I could bring against Mother Argai, nor cajoling.
“Locked in an attic of the house, I believe.” Another long stare. “Not convenient to the sewers,” she added helpfully.
If they’d put Samma in the basement, we would have a chance. Fighting up three floors against an enemy already disturbed was another question entirely. And there was no way over the roofs into the Velviere District, as I knew far too well.
“Fine,” I said angrily. “It does not matter where she is. We’ll get her out when we rescue Mother Vajpai.”
“You are the leader.” Mother Argai’s tone was simple, final.
And she had the right of it. Under Blade discipline, on a run specifically, the leader was the sole authority. Every handle belonged to one woman and one woman only. If this wasn’t a Blade run—albeit overextended, badly understrength, beleaguered and troubled—then I didn’t know what was.
The discipline applied to me as well. I was responsible. Solve what could be solved, run from what could not be fought, and always clean up the mess afterward.
Besides, most things could be fought.
“We need to find you a robe or some such,” I said as I reached a decision. “I want you to join the men I have outside the gates of the embassy. They’re not likely to be reliable, especially if Surali goes on a rampage. But even the weather will be driving them away before long.”
Mother Argai snorted with amusement. “You are setting a rabble on her and the Prince of the City?”
“I had nothing else to put there. My stones on this board are poor.”
“You play Prince-and-Assassin without either your warriors or your walls.”
It was my turn to laugh. That game relied on two basic strategies—fast-moving attacks, or stolid defense. The handicap she described would be like baking without an oven or a pan. “Indeed. I am asking you to be a wall for me. There are other worries, other tasks, but you do not have enough Petraean to perform them. And I don’t want to be having you drag some stranded sailor around for a translator.”
“I will do as you have bade me.” She rose from her crouch.
Touching her arm, I stopped Mother Argai for a moment. “You are needed. Badly. This is where I need you, until I find you again. You know the Tavernkeep’s place?”
“I have heard of it.”
“If you must leave the area of the embassy, meet me at the tavern. We will find our way from there as required. Otherwise I will return to you.”
“And Samma.” There was that grim set in her eyes.
“And Samma. And Mother Vajpai.” My feet ached in sympathetic pain at the mere mention of her name. “And Corinthia Anastasia.” Most of all.
Mother Argai grabbed my wrist with her hand, then leaned low for a kiss. It was long and slow, with probing tongues, as we had done when we had been lovers back in the Temple of the Silver Lily. After that she was up and gone without asking further directions.
She’d come here from the embassy. She’d find her way back. Still, I wondered a moment how she’d fare among the streets of Copper Downs. I wondered a moment more how the streets would fare with her loose upon them.
&
nbsp; I was no longer the single most dangerous human in this city. Not with both Mother Argai and Mother Vajpai around.
Even considering all that troubled me, the thought made me smile.
* * *
Climbing down, I went to make some purchases. I found my funds once more depleted except for a pair of corroded copper taels. That would not do. It was a serious problem, in fact.
Walking slowly, I considered my options. This was the last of the money I’d been given by Mr. Nast and his clerks. A private subscription, so to speak. In the past here in Copper Downs, what little I had needed had flowed from the Dancing Mistress, and thus ultimately from Federo when his writ had still run in the city. Jeschonek was unlikely to help me further at this point. That meant additional funds from the Interim Council were out of the question.
Chowdry might give me money, if I asked, but already he was chronically short of resources with his construction project and the general busyness of running a temple. And besides, I would be forced to listen to a long lecture about this thing or that if I approached him so.
I didn’t feel up to a simple mugging. It wasn’t my style. Besides, too much could go wrong. Housebreaking was more in it for me if I needed money in a hurry. With that thought in mind, I stole a robe from the rack just inside a tavern entrance and made off before anyone realized what I’d done. My borrowed clothing cloaked, and my body rather more comfortably warmed, I turned my feet toward the Velviere District. I didn’t want to visit the Selistani embassy, or even approach too near it, but if I was to steal outright from someone, I’d much rather it be someone who could afford the loss.
I toyed with being ashamed of my decision. My life was too busy for such emotions just then. Someday soon I’d concern myself with turning an honest tael, but this didn’t seem to be the time to begin.
Ghosting through the Velviere District, I soon realized how many optimists believed themselves protected by an eight-foot wall. Mindful of my earlier experiences breaking into the Selistani embassy, once I’d selected a likely residence I was very careful going over the top of my target.
Within, it was the work of twenty minutes to slip into the house, find the bedrooms, and liberate a modest amount of jewelry. On further deliberation, I took some silk smallclothes from the rooms of the lady of the house, and also a cut rose from a crystal vase on her dressing stand. That would save me the trouble of shopping for what I planned next.
On the way out I was forced to kick a butler, hard. I leaned over and whispered that the household should apply to Councilman Jeschonek for reparations. After that I strode through the garden and passed over the wall once more.
The hit had almost been easy. The effort and thrill put a bounce into my step. My spoils safely tucked away, I patted the baby bulging ever more and hummed a happy tune until I’d reached the Temple Quarter.
Sometimes, it was good just to be at work.
* * *
Marya’s ruined temple was even more forlorn under the night’s slush and ice. Older snow had lingered here as well, now glazed in glittering, frigid armor. Ragged offerings of food and children’s clothing had been scattered by weather, dogs, and scavengers. The place had already taken on the air of a midden.
I climbed over the masonry chunk that had hosted me before and leaned against it. From one of my robe’s inner pockets I removed some of the jewels, along with the flower and the silken smallclothes, and laid them out before me. Desire was a woman’s goddess. Her greatest power lay within Her name. I had before me the conventional trappings of desire—wealth, beauty, sex.
To that, I added three drops of blood squeezed from a tiny cut in the ball of my right thumb. The goddess Desire had sought my service, had looked to elevate me through a private theophany. I was Her object of desire.
“You are everywhere women can be found,” I said to the empty air. “You have been drawn to me as a bee is drawn to a new blossom.” At my feet, the blood stained the dirty snow a strange crimson-black. “You asked something of me, and I refused. Now I would ask something of You, for You to refuse or not as it pleases You.”
My only answer was the wind, which blew heavy and damp. A cat trotted across a nearby roof. It spared me a single, incurious glance. Even the birds had given up on the day, hiding wherever it was they went when the weather grew too raw to contemplate.
I stared at my offerings. A few green shoots poked frosty-tipped through the snow. Had they been present moments ago when I’d arrived at this place?
That made no sense.
Then I noticed the metal tang of the snow in my mouth. No, not the snow. The divine.
I looked up to see a woman looking back at me. Soulful eyes, hair that had been flowing until someone had hacked at it. With a start, I recognized her. The wounded priestess I’d rescued from this temple on its destruction.
What was her name…? Laria? Raisa?
Laris.
“You are not the goddess,” I said, more sharply than I’d intended.
“Do not be so certain.” The voice was human this time, without that world-spanning scale of the divine I’d previously heard in Desire’s words. But her eyes were doors into other years, longer than any human life could encompass.
“Welcome.” I made my tone as simple as possible. “I am shamed that I did not know You.”
“You did not know my vessel,” Desire said. “Though you should have.”
“Yes.” I could give no more answer than that.
“You were told I would not make my offer again.”
My head tilted back. I could not swallow down all of my pride. “I do not return to petition for Your offer.”
Amusement, now, and a hint of the horizon-wide divine even in this woman’s voice. “You would bargain with me? You truly are one of my daughters.”
“A great-granddaughter, at the most,” I replied. “But I come to tell You something, and ask You a thing in return for that gift of knowledge. I know who slew Marya. They aim to destroy more gods and goddesses. Blackblood here in Copper Downs. Then Your daughter the Lily Goddess in Kalimpura, to my certain understanding. They will shake the foundations of the world to serve their petty interests.” And their petty god, I thought, whoever he might be, but I was not prepared to say that aloud.
She regarded me for a long, slow moment. Even in those human eyes, Her regard was a smoldering light that should have burned my skin from my flesh and my flesh from my bones. Then: “What of it?”
This was my moment, my time to reach for the entire prize. “If I tell You all, will You lend Your titanic might to stand against the agents of destruction here, before they can move on?”
The priestess reached a hand for me. In that instant, I saw not a woman’s palm but something huge, the size of countries, with a map of all our lives graven upon it. I quailed to be struck down then and there with no more purpose to my life than what I’d brought to this meeting with the goddess.
But Her fingers rested on my arm. A deep spark passed through me, finding its way to the earth at my feet. Everything was warm, then hot, then screaming pain, then normal once more.
If you were truly one of My daughters, Desire said, with more of that soul-crushing sadness I’d heard before, you would tell Me this thing and hold no hostages at all in the bargaining.
Now Her voice had taken on that bone-wrenching solidity. Somewhere I found the strength to stand before this goddess. “I am a woman. But I am not Yours. Otherwise I would have taken Your offer. This is why I present a bargain between us rather than an offering.”
Another of those long, slow goddess-smiles. You misunderstand so much.
“I misunderstand everything far too often.” My baby moved within my belly, until I rested my hands there and calmed her. Something caught at my eye. I glanced away from the goddess Desire for a moment to see one of the twins’ chalk marks high on a ruined wall, glowing with a faint spark.
With a dizzying suddenness, the true plot that was afoot became clear to me.
“You,” I whispered in a slowly dawning horror. My gut threatened to spew. “They are hunting You.” Surali might be playing a game of cities, but the twins were playing a much deeper game of time. And the fall of a titanic now, this titanic, would betray women across the plate of the world.
Now you begin to see it.
Someone nearby shouted. The voice caught at me. What would happen next? “I have been the bait in a trap for You,” I told the goddess, almost driven to my knees by my sense of loathing for myself, for the enormity in play. “I have led them to You.”
Green, the goddess replied gently. I have been pursued across all the time of this world. They slay My daughters for the same reason one might kill the priests of a god: to weaken Me. Always I raise more daughters, but always they take from Me.
Another shout. Was that a chase, coming closer? “I am ashamed of my bargain now,” I blurted. “Watch for the twins, Iso and Osi. They may be with the Rectifier. But remove Yourself.”
I cannot. The woman whose body the goddess had inhabited sagged so suddenly that I was forced to leap to catch her before she collapsed upon the ground. Once more merely human, she tried to stand. I could feel the weakness in her, as if all her power had fled with her patroness.
“We must move on swiftly,” I whispered, my lips so close to her ear I might have kissed her.
The woman looked at me, her eyes soft and brown, pain lines etched upon her freckled face. “Leave,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Not without you.” Having rescued Laris once, I could not abandon her this time. Though she was most of a foot taller than me, I swung her arm across my shoulder and walked her away like a Blade aspirant being taken drunkenly to a corner sleeping mat.
Whatever the noise behind us, it did not catch up before we found a new alley in which to hide.
* * *
I sat her down on a bale of rotten straw that had been discarded behind some temple stable. The stuff stank, and was sticky with brownish rot, but it was relatively warm, sheltered under the eaves. The furred, thick scent of horses filled the air around us. Their nearby whickering served as counterpoint to our conversation.