by Ben Galley
‘Y—yes, Serek?’ he said, fidgeting with his hands.
‘He and his scrutinisers have been fighting a losing battle for centuries. We are all aware of that. It is what gave rise to such danger in the first instance.’
Rebene somehow managed to look personally responsible.
Boon continued. ‘But with the Church’s help, we have managed to put an end to this campaign of violence. Last evening, my tower became the target of the infamous murderer that has brought havoc to this city. Who should come to my aid in my hour of need but the Church of Sesh? They managed to succeed where all others have failed, and were personally responsible for catching and punishing this murderer, this man responsible for every butchered tor, tal, magistrate and serek over the past weeks.’
The bundle of robes was thrust forwards at the same time as the cords on it were loosed. It slumped to a heap, wriggling awkwardly. I heard a muffled voice from within.
Boon dragged the wrappings back and a blue glow poured across the stone, turning slightly green in the sunlight. ‘I present to the Cloud Court Tor Boran Temsa.’
I had seen few sights as pitiful as this one, and yet I still found it hard to feel sorry for the man.
Curled over a missing leg and his own severed head, the naked ghost of Boran Temsa slouched on the floor. A stump of a neck remained where Ani had beheaded him. Gone was the eagle claw of gold and copper. A scarred and twisted thigh remained, now drawn in faint cyan vapour instead of flesh. The mumbling was coming from Temsa as he struggled to make his fingers grab his own goggle-eyed head. I saw its lips twitch on every other word. He was a fresh shade, and barely functional yet. I knew that feeling too well.
I met Temsa’s white eyes as he manhandled his head under his arm. It might have been separate from his body, but the mind in that skull was still sharp, and clearly boiling with rage. He looked half mad.
I tried to gauge Sisine’s reaction. All I saw was a swallow in her slender throat. Her eyes remained unblinking, her regal pose uninterrupted. There was a slight tremble in the great crest of feathers, if I looked closely.
The empress-in-waiting stepped forwards, her guards shifting with her. She looked down at the glowing figure before her, and the disdain deepened.
‘This is the man?’ she asked. I knew full well she was sure it was.
Temsa mouthed something, but it was lost in the susurrus of conversation between the sereks.
Boon bowed again. ‘The very same. A soulstealer, murderer, blackmailer, forger and thief. He was behind the deaths of Askeu, Yeera, Merlec, Kanus, Urma, Busk, Kheyu-Nebra, Ghoor, Finel, and countless others. The man was betrayed at the end by one of his mercenaries. Hence…’ Boon gestured at the head in the crook of Temsa’s elbow. It looked like it didn’t want to stay in place.
‘Justice has been served,’ replied Sisine, half the volume gone from her voice.
‘That it has, Majesty.’ I saw Boon’s wink as he held out a half-coin for all to witness. ‘And as such, we present to you a gift to mark the occasion!’
A soldier took it for him, and passed it to Etane. The empress-in-waiting sighed as she grabbed it, turning it over and over in her hands. Her reply took some time to come.
‘I recognise and acknowledge the Chamber for its work in bringing this man to justice. The emperor will be pleased. Will that be all?’ Sisine asked. Nearby, Rebene wiped sweat from his forehead.
Boon deflated a little, clearly feeling his moment had been trodden on. ‘Perhaps it would be proper to recognise the Church for what they have done, Highness?’
Many murmurs of agreement came from high above. Sisine met them with a scowl.
‘A small effort, really, to repay the debt the Cult owes to this city,’ she said. ‘You are lucky I even tolerate your presence in this building, Sisters.’
Liria and Yaridin both stepped forwards, flanking Boon.
‘We admit the mistakes of our predecessors, Your Highness, and beg forgiveness for them. We seek nothing more than to heal this city,’ said Liria.
Yaridin chirped up. ‘More than simply bringing one murderer to his knees.’
‘To that end, the Church of Sesh offers another gift to the empress-in-waiting.’
I had been too busy staring at Temsa, and had almost zoned out when cold and vaporous hands ushered me forwards.
Me.
Boon looked befuddled. ‘We do?’
Sisine’s golden gaze turned on me and I endured the full weight of her anger. I noticed other looks, too; from the sereks above; from every soldier around us. Even this chamberlain fellow stared. Etane watched me with narrowed eyes. It was an unusual and altogether disturbing feeling for a thief.
‘Another gift, Boon?’ asked the empress-in-waiting.
‘I… It appears so, Your Highness.’ The serek was looking questioningly at the sisters. They ignored him, and spoke anyway.
‘A man waylaid by Temsa several weeks ago after stepping off a ship from Krass. A man of great importance to you, we understand,’ said Yaridin.
Sisine examined me, from my shining neck wound to my simple grey robe. No doubt the ample belly that hid behind it. I pulled back my hood to bare my face. If they wanted to look, then fine; they could look. Let them stare at the greatest locksmith in the Reaches. I said this over and over in my mind as I felt the weight of all the attention. I remembered it being a hot, prickly feeling in life. In death it was just as prickly, but colder.
‘OUT!’ shrieked Sisine.
Silence and inaction answered her.
‘I said get OUT! All of you! Every serek, every soldier!’
The soldiers began to file from the hall in lines. In the tiers above, others forcefully ushered the sereks from their seats and benches. There was a fair amount of grumbling and shouts, but it was hard to argue with a wall of spears, no matter how powerful your name was.
‘You stay,’ Sisine said to me and the members of the Cult by my side. Her guards crept closer, and I stared down at a spear blade, banded with copper, wiggling near my throat. The sisters didn’t move. Only Boon protested, but Sisine ignored him. I saw in her then a darker bitterness than I had seen in Horix, perhaps even Temsa. There was a cold calculation behind those piercing eyes. I could only imagine what manner of employer she would have been. Perhaps my throat was always destined for a knife in this city. Perhaps everybody’s was, eventually, the longer they stayed in Araxes. If it wasn’t one of steel, it was one of betrayal and rancour. One that cut the soul instead of the flesh.
When the sereks had filed from the hall, and unseen doors had been locked, Sisine waltzed up and down her line of remaining soldiers. Ghosts, every single one of them, glowing through gold helms. Thirty still stood around her and Etane and his smoking blade. I doubted I could even lift his sword, never mind swing it with any accuracy. He was still looking at me.
‘It’s some game you’re playing, Boon. Giving me the locksmith, for dead gods’ sake. What do you hope to achieve from this?’
‘It was not… I…’ He flashed a fierce look to Liria, then Yaridin. They still only had eyes for the empress-in-waiting.
Liria stepped forwards, bringing her throat barely an inch from Sisine’s row of spears. She clasped her hands at her waist. ‘Serek Boon is a member of our Church, your Highness, but he is not a leader of it. We are, and as such, we lead it in the direction of peace, unity and prosperity. Ambition is a dangerous thing in this city, as I’m sure you are aware, but it can also be powerful. Altering. Dangerous. We have watched enough emperors and empresses of Araxes sit on the throne, and we know who displays the right kind of ambition. We see it in you, Your Majesty. You are one who does not hide herself away, but stands here, facing your problems. Allow us to remove one more for you.’
The blade sprang from her sleeve, just above her wrist. It was barely the length of a writing reed and double the width, made of a burnished copper. With a darting strike, it pierced Boon’s blue cheek and kept going until it exited through his ear, causing him t
o convulse. With a screech and a crackle of white light, his vapours lost themselves. He trickled away, fading in the sunlight. His rich silks and ornaments fell to the floor, ownerless.
The guards closed up without a word uttered, shield meeting shield with a succession of confrontational bangs, spears forcing the sisters back. I realised my mouth was hanging agape and promptly shut it.
Liria allowed two of the guards to wrench the spring-blade from her wrist and force her to her knees. Danib grunted, but the sister held up a hand.
‘Boon was of the dangerous kind, Your Highness,’ she said, incredibly calmly. I would have been needing to piss had I been alive. ‘He wanted the throne for himself. He thought we could promise it to him. Instead, we put our faith in somebody else. You, Highness. A better heir to the throne than Boon would have ever made. Or your mother, wherever she may be. The Cult of Seshh wants you to be remembered for a thousand years. To make Araxes, and the Arc, the greatest kingdom in the Reaches. An empire in its own right.’
Sisine weighed every word; I could see it in her eyes. The silence was long and awkward, weighed with danger. The sisters had played a gamble, leaving themselves completely at the mercy of the empress-in-waiting, and she looked far from the merciful sort. She could have clicked her fingers and had us all put to death. Except me, that is, and that took some of the chill out of the situation.
It appeared we shared the same conclusion, Sisine and I. Slaying the sisters now would be like cutting the head off a snake that had ninety-nine more heads. It would also be costly taking Danib down. I had seen her eyes creeping to the big ghost more than once. Just like Etane’s.
‘Why?’ It was all Sisine said, in a tone colder and flatter than a slab of marble.
Yaridin answered. ‘The city is sick. We need a ruler who can heal it. Boon would never have been that. You might.’
‘Might?’
‘With our help. And that is why we offer you Caltro Basalt.’
I did not like the sound of myself as something to be offered up, like a morsel of meat or cheese on a platter. I decided I wanted a say in all of this. ‘I would have come sooner, but a certain somebody delayed me.’ At my feet, Temsa just made an empty sound. ‘The Cult were kind enough to free me from Widow Horix and bring me here.’
Sisine was looking at me as if I had laid a turd on her marble floor. ‘And you’d just give him up?’ she snapped. ‘Him? The locksmith everybody has been fighting over?’
I raised a hand, though I liked the compliment. ‘Erm. I came here of my own free—’
Liria cut across me. ‘Yes.’
‘We would,’ affirmed Yaridin.
‘And what of this Tal Horix?’
‘Dead,’ Liria responded quickly. ‘The last we saw of her, her flying machine was crashing into the desert, aflame.’
‘You are either idiots, liars…’ Sisine paused, apparently hating her next words. ‘Or telling the truth.’
I heard Etane mutter something, but the princess shushed him.
Liria spread her arms. ‘Despite the Code, the city and the court are not likely to accept a shade as emperor. Your mother is gone. Your father inept. Who else is there?’
A far-off shout answered her. It was barely discernible, more a noise than words, but it was loud enough to make every soul present look about.
‘Etane…’ Sisine began.
More shouts now, from the corridors behind us. I heard a multitude of boots sprinting across stone. Metal clangs sounded. Orders began to beat out the pace of the activity. I heard a distant, ‘Loose!’ come once, followed by the applause of loosed bowstrings. A great thud of a ballista, too. Royal Guards began to flood into the Court chamber once again. I saw sereks gathered outside in the corridor, flapping their hands and silken sleeves, raucous in their complaints. Sisine stayed where she was, though she let Etane step close to her, sword held like a spear.
‘It’s her, Majesty!’ bellowed a heavily-armoured ghost amongst Sisine’s guards.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a dark shadow passed across the hall. I barely had time to look up at the sky before the Vengeance came into view, her envelope bristling with arrows and out of control. The sound of her hull colliding with the glass was ear-splitting: a deep boom that would have shamed a thunderstorm, combined with a rending shatter. As diamond shards of glass rained down, the flying machine kept going, her momentum driving her past the columns and into the sereks’ seats. Chairs flew apart in splinters. Marble broke and fell in wagon-sized chunks. I clapped my hands to my ears as the Vengeance collided with one of the great pillars with an almighty crack. Reeling, the craft came spinning towards us. Her envelope was in tatters now, encrusted with glass shards and leaking something that made the air ripple behind it.
Even in that moment of panic, even as I sprinted out of the way, I caught a glimpse of her through the shattered glass window. Horix, clinging on for dear life in the cockpit of her great creation, a mask of blood and madness on her face. Her grin was terrifying.
With another deafening bang, the Vengeance met the marble, crushing several Royal Guard to bent steel and crimson paste. One man practically exploded out of his armour. Sparks flew, and just as the craft was beginning to slow, fire bloomed over our heads. It was inexplicable: one moment the blue sky was full of shattered glass and dust. The next, a yellow firestorm billowed into the upper reaches of the hall. The remaining windows exploded with the burst of heat. Whatever was made of wood caught light immediately. The envelope of the Vengeance fell in smoking tatters alongside shards and cinders. As quickly as it had bloomed, the firestorm sputtered out, leaving smoke and dust to descend.
I had found my place on the floor, curled up in a ball several feet away from where the crumpled nose of the airship had come to rest. A wall was propping up my right shoulder. Abhorred by my almost-crushing, I sprang up and stumbled over the rubble to be clear of the infernal machine.
I was not the only one whose head whirled. Royal Guards tottered this way and that, picking up lost pieces of armour and broken spears, their turquoise cloaks painted white in the dust. Several bodies lay in pools of blood, impaled by enormous glass shards. A few guards were trying to form up into lines, but were too busy falling against each other. Even the soldiers pouring out of the Vengeance staggered this way and that.
Soldiers.
What few had escaped the guard’s blades or death in the crash now set about painting the marble with more blood. Horix screeched over the tumult, bleating something about time and how it was nigh. I kept out of sight of the old witch, hunkering down behind a chunk of marble. Liria and Yaridin were standing firm with Danib in the centre of the hall. The big shade had found a sword and half a spear and was twirling them both.
In a few very short moments, the hall descended into a madness of which I had never seen the like. I didn’t know where to look; whether to move or stay still; whether to holler for help or huddle down further and wait.
‘Sisine!’ shrieked the old widow.
The empress-in-waiting was standing behind a phalanx of guards near the back of the hall. There was blood on her brow and smeared across her white silk gown, and half her swan feathers had been torn away. There was a black gash across one cheek. ‘Widow Horix!’ she yelled.
The fighting found a lull as lines were drawn: Sisine on one side, Horix on the other, the Cult in the middle, and me somehow stuck in between all of them.
Wonderful, I sighed. Just wonderful.
Chapter 17
The Sanctuary
Took a woman aboard yesterday. Ageing, grey of hair. Had an ex-soldier or three with her. Wise, considering she’s bound for Araxes. One a big chap by the name of Kalim, or Kalid. Strange thing was, she wanted to be on the ship before anyone else and get off after everybody had disembarked. That went for my sailors, too. Maybe some strange tradition these Arctians have, but fuck, they paid me enough. I was happy to oblige.
From a letter to the wife of Irin Svisgar, Skol captain,
written in the year 986
How I ended up in Horix’s arms was my own fault.
Haunting had sprung to mind easily enough, but I’d forgotten about the copper lining the breastplate of the nearby soldier. He had been too busy menacing an enemy with his spear to notice me running at him.
Across the smashed and smoking Cloud Court, a muted thud and fizz could be heard as I bounced off him and landed in the rubble. Very dignified indeed. I hadn’t been trying to flee; simply to hide until all the blood had been spilt and somebody needed me to open a door. Or I could slip out unnoticed. I was still deciding.
All eyes were on me as the soldier scooped me up in a stranglehold and dragged me to Horix. There was copper in his armour all right. It was sizzling against my shoulders and enough to make me wriggle.
‘Ha!’ Horix barked. Her throat sounded as if she’d swallowed a bag of nails. ‘The locksmith is mine!’
‘You’re supposed to be dead, Tal Horix!’ Sisine yelled, visibly trembling with rage. She levelled a finger at the sisters in accusation. I could see in Sisine’s face she had expected this day to go a completely different way. As had I. The old bat had done it again. She refused to die. I was almost impressed.
Horix smiled wickedly at the sisters. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a scowl on their faces. Temsa wriggled in the grasp of one of their shades, his head still under one arm, blinking owlishly. Horix saw him, and smirked with contempt.
‘The Cult tried their best, my dear Sisine, but they made the mistake of not finishing the job. That is not the first time that has occurred.’
‘How dare you…’ It took a moment for the princess to compose herself. Etane was trying to whisper in her ear again, seeming urgent now, but she swatted him away. ‘You will address me as Empress-in-Waiting, or Your Highness! Who do you think you are?!’
‘Ahh,’ Horix sighed, looking about the ruin she had made of the Court. She swaggered this way and that, taking in every inch of broken marble and crushed glass. She raised her hands to the shattered roof. ‘Many years have I waited to stand in this hall again. Many years, it has been, and not much has changed. There was blood on the floor last time I was here, too.’