by Matthew Ward
Calenne sat opposite. [[I won’t believe that. For you, the change has been gradual, across years. To me it’s plain that Viktor’s not the same man, however much he pretends otherwise. I don’t know that he’s even a wicked man, though he’s certainly adrift. As you and I were adrift when we first met him.]]
Josiri shook his head. “We were proud. Selfish. He’s killed, and worse than killed. He’s treated those he called friends like puppets. There’s no comparison.”
[[And what if that’s only because you and I lacked the ability?]] asked Calenne. [[You yearned so much to finish our mother’s work and see the Southshires freed. Could you have resisted the temptation to make things right, no matter the cost?]]
He scowled and hid his face in his hands. “You’re supposed to find peace in the mists, little sister, not wisdom. It’s impolite.”
Calenne would have smiled, had she been able. [[What’s to happen now?]]
“That’s for the Council.” Josiri sighed. “No one much cares that Viktor murdered his father or Kasvin, both of which could be said to be justified. The last year or so of his protectorship borders on tyranny, but tyranny is unremarkable enough in our fine Republic, so long as it’s legal. Too many would find no fault in him pressing his invasion of the Empire against orders… But the rest? It doesn’t look good. We’d be fools to believe that Rosa, Apara and I were the only ones whose memory and will he violated.”
He stared into the fire, fingers working restlessly and his brow knotted. A full minute passed before he spoke again, the words crackling with emotion.
“We have the vranastone Viktor used to bring you back. It’s locked away in Duskvigil Church, alongside a series of texts that Ana went pale to behold. She’s been working with Shalamoh, offering him snippets about her life on Astarria in exchange for cooperation. Meaningless scraps, she says, but you should see his eyes light up.” Josiri snorted in weary amusement. “Even with Tzila missing, there’s damning proof enough.”
[[That’s not her name. Call her Revekah.]]
He grimaced. “But she’s not Revekah. Only the part of Revekah Halvor Viktor stole from the Raven. The rest of her is the Dark, so Shalamoh said. Mad, as all born of the Dark are mad.”
Calenne shuddered at the reminder of what so easily could have been her fate.
“Shalamoh said she was meant to lead an army of the dead,” said Josiri. “And Viktor’s actions since have proven he’d have done more with it than secure our borders. Malatriant’s heir raising an undead army fixed on conquest? Jezek’s already talking about sending Viktor to the pyre.”
Cold gathered at the core of Calenne’s being. For all that she abhorred Viktor’s recent actions, the prospect of his death provoked dread. [[Of course he is!]] she spat. [[He’s a churchman. Makrov was the same.]]
“Jezek isn’t his predecessor. He’s gone out of his way to help set things right, marshalling every church under his authority – and a few others besides – to distribute rations to the needy, and offer shelter to those who have none. A bright spark in dark days. But he’s afraid. They’re all afraid.” Josiri glanced at her, his eyes empty. “I’m afraid too, when I’m not angry. Which isn’t often.”
Irritation flared. [[Let me speak to them.]]
“That’s not a good idea.”
[[So you don’t trust me?]]
“It’s not you I don’t trust. You’re part of Viktor’s guilt. I argued long and hard to save you from the consequences. Without Sevaka and Ana backing me up, I don’t know that I’d have prevailed.” He scowled. “They call me their First Councillor, but they’re watching me closely. I’m tainted, you see. Too close to Viktor. If you involve yourself, I don’t know how it will end.”
Calenne read the lie in his eyes. He knew, all right. She calmed herself. Arguing with Josiri came naturally – a peculiar thing to have missed, though she had – but it wouldn’t keep Viktor from the flames.
[[Do you want to save him?]]
His face flushed. “What I want doesn’t matter,” he snapped.
[[That’s the old Josiri talking. The one who hid in Branghall while the Southshires burned.]]
He glared at her. “Fine. Do you want to save him, knowing what you do?”
[[I once thought Viktor my future. The Black Knight become my saviour. Now? I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know how I feel about almost anything. The world’s so distant without sensation.]] Calenne heard self-pity crowd her singsong voice. She forced it back. On this topic, at least, her feelings were clear. [[I’d save the man who saved me. I believe he’s still in there, though he’s lost his way. Do you want to save him? Can you forgive him?]]
He hesitated. “I don’t know.”
[[You need to be sure. You need to know what he deserves. For your sake, if not Viktor’s.]]
And for hers. For if Josiri couldn’t save Viktor from his mistakes, Calenne had little chance of doing so. She who’d surely stand beside him on the pyre. The prospect of death renewed should have awoken something. Fear, at the least. Maybe the Raven was right. She didn’t belong to the ephemeral world any longer, save for when she chose to.
Josiri nodded and forced a smile. “Two morsels of wisdom in one day? I’m honoured.”
[[I offered little enough when I was alive,]] she replied primly, relieved to have broken through his malaise, if only for a moment. [[I’m trying to correct the shortfall.]]
“And you do.” Rising, he kissed her brow. “Thank you. I’ll return when I can.”
Then he was gone, and Calenne again alone with the tantalising flames.
Fifty-Six
The walk to King’s Gate had taken every inch of courage. Every step a mile, every breath labouring beneath the weight of events to come. Only anger had kept Josiri moving, one foot in front of the other. He’d clung to it, used its strength in place of his own. The walk to the palace was worse, because even anger needed fuel to burn, and his was all but spent. There was only a terrible, enervating weariness of body and soul, one that well surpassed fatigue.
Drained, he wanted nothing more than to sleep, to open his eyes only when the matter was settled. Not that he could. Haunted by the dead of Argatha Bridge, he’d managed barely a wink for two nights, though he’d striven to hide that fact from anyone but Anastacia. He knew it’d only get worse when an official tally of the slain came in. Deaths that would for ever linger on his conscience, for all that he’d not truly been their architect.
Worse was the ineluctable truth lying foursquare in his path. Even at King’s Gate, he’d had the luxury of pretence. He could live in a world where this was all tragic misunderstanding. Once in the clocktower, that world would be gone.
If it had ever existed.
And so Josiri trudged on through the deepening dusk, barely acknowledging wary glances from Brass and Kelver. There were only the cobbles beneath his feet, and the mocking visage of the future gazing back.
Once inside the palace, they passed through Viktor’s quarters without challenge. Four Knights Essamere stood guard at the clocktower door. Silver sigils glinted on lintel and threshold, swirling patterns that dizzied the eye. Anastacia’s work. The heavy bolts had been fixed by a steelsmith to supplement the heavy lock. No chances taken.
The knights’ captain exchanged a glance with his companions, and met Josiri on the stairs. “Can I help you, Lord Trelan?”
Josiri unbuckled his sword and held it out. “I want to speak to him.”
A careful note crept into his tone. “The Council say Lord Droshna’s to have no visitors until his fate’s decided.”
Prudent. Even welcome, save for the fact that it was the first Josiri had heard of it. Evidence of events moving further beyond his control? “I’m the First Councillor.” The title lent further degree of nauseating unreality to events. “You may consider that decree overruled.”
The captain offered a slow nod. Unconvinced, but unwilling to make a challenge of it. Josiri almost wished he would. Anything for an excuse to turn aside and
return to Stonecrest.
“As you say, my lord.” The captain took Josiri’s sword. Another knight set about the process of unlocking and unbolting. “We’ll be right here, should anything go amiss.”
Josiri nodded, heeding the double meaning. “Thank you.”
Leaving Brass and Kelver behind, he approached the gloomy threshold.
And hesitated.
The sense of standing on a precipice returned, stronger than ever. Still not too late. He could walk away, leave the matter for another day, another person.
But Calenne had been right. He had to know, if only for himself.
He stepped inside.
The door swung shut behind, the bright lanterns of the corridor banished. A sole lamp suspended from the rafters took up their labours, so dull as to leave as much in shadow. Silver sigils gleamed about the barred windows, and in great concentric circles spiralling out from the centre of the floor. Anastacia had been busy indeed. The furnishings of Calenne’s confinement had long since been removed. Only an iron bedstead remained, and a plain chair beside – both of them at the centre of the silver wards.
Viktor sat on the latter, eyes closed and head bowed. Silvered shackles bound his wrists, and were in turn secured by chain to a heavy eyebolt in the floor. He wore no armour, only simple black garb that blurred where it touched shadow.
“Brother. Have you come to set me free? Or perhaps you’re here to kill me?”
Josiri stifled a chill and stepped closer. Viktor was the prisoner, so why did he feel trapped? “I’m trying to save your life. Jezek and the others, they think you should go to the pyre. And here am I, fool that I am—” He lowered his voice and strove for calm. “I came to talk. Lumestra knows I didn’t want to. Calenne suggested I should.”
His lip twitched. “How is she?”
“Better for being free of this place.”
Viktor sighed and opened his eyes. “I only ever wanted to keep her safe.”
“From me? She is, at any rate, better off than that thing you’ve made of Revekah, so I suppose I should thank you for that.”
For a long moment, Viktor said nothing. Then he nodded slowly. “I wish that had gone otherwise. But the Republic needed defenders, and I needed someone who knew a soldier’s trade. Someone I trusted.”
“Someone to be the first of an army? Shalamoh told me. Only I know it’s a lie. If you’d been certain of it working, you’d have brought back Calenne right from the start. But you weren’t, and Revekah was expendable, wasn’t she? Now she’s trapped, one foot in both worlds, drowning in the madness of the Dark.”
“And without that, I’d never have learned enough to rescue Calenne,” said Viktor. “The Revekah I knew would gladly have taken the risk.”
“Maybe she would,” Josiri bit out. “Had you asked.”
They stared at one another in silence, eyes locked in the gloom.
“What did you want to discuss?” said Viktor at last. “Can it be that you no longer possess the courage of your convictions?”
Josiri hesitated. “I honestly don’t know.”
“You should fix that. A usurper needs confidence to keep what he’s stolen.” Bitterness welled beneath the words. “You should be prepared for what you’ve set in motion.”
Josiri’s blood ran cold. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s simply what will be. Your allies will turn on you, as you turned on me.”
“You really consider yourself the victim in all this?”
“I’m the one manacled to the floor.”
Josiri grimaced. “You made it necessary.”
“By restoring a fractured realm to peace and prosperity? I don’t expect you to understand what it costs. From our very first meeting you’ve always left the difficult decisions to me.”
“That’s not true,” snapped Josiri.
“Isn’t it? You spent years watching the Council oppress the Southshires, but did nothing until I forced the issue.” Viktor cocked his head. “Again and again, you’ve let me bear the brunt of what must be done, then quibbled about my methods. You know nothing of sacrifice.”
“Nothing of sacrifice?” Josiri strode closer, his voice rising to a shout. “How do you suppose the Hadari knew you meant to march on Tregard?”
Viktor’s eyes hardened. His voice, unfriendly from the first, shaded darker still. Nothing compared to the guilt Josiri felt for his part in the deaths at Argatha Bridge. “Rann. I should have torn her apart when I had the chance.”
“You did more than enough to her.”
“Did I? And here I thought it was only me you’d betrayed.” Viktor sprang to his feet. Too late, Josiri realised he’d stepped within the chain’s extent. As he made to back away, Viktor’s hands clamped about his throat, choking off any attempt at raising the alarm. “I should break your neck!”
Dark eyes burned into Josiri’s. He met them unblinking. “Do it,” he rasped. “You think those deaths don’t haunt me? The only reason I’ve hope of ever sleeping again is because I know that if I’d said nothing, more would have died.”
He gasped for breath that wouldn’t come. The room mottled and turned darker still.
Snarling, Viktor shoved him away. “You were my friend! My brother!”
His shoulders heaved, the chain taut between shackles and eyebolt.
Josiri doubled over, one hand outflung for balance, the other rubbing at his throat. “Was I?” he gasped. “You twisted me inside out! Made sure I did what you wanted, when you wanted it, and drowned the memory in shadow so I wouldn’t remember. Are those a brother’s deeds? You say I betrayed you? You betrayed me first.”
The chain went slack. The fury in Viktor’s expression turned wary. “Explain.”
He needed no notes for this. Betrayal had seared the memories into his soul.
“I’ve found my signature on so many decrees. Some I remember refusing. Others I’ve no recollection of at all, though it’s there, right alongside Izack’s.” He faltered. How many of Izack’s choices had been his own in recent months? Izack, whose death would for ever stain both their consciences… assuming Viktor had one. “Ana worried my memory was failing. I stared into the future and beheld dotage before my time. And then I learned what you did to Rosa after Darkmere. I got to wondering how many thoughts and deeds in recent years have truly been ours.”
Viktor’s face crumbled. “I never broke your trust, Josiri. At least… I didn’t mean to.” He sank heavily on the chair. “I was tempted, so many times. Just a nudge, here or there. Overcome that cursed stubbornness of yours so you’d for once do the right thing without argument. I don’t know, maybe… Maybe I did.”
Caught off guard by the confession, Josiri watched him closely, wondering how much, if anything, he should believe. Hope flared, a part of him yearning that there might, even now, be a way back. “How can you not know?”
“Sometimes my shadow acts on my desires and leaves me none the wiser,” growled Viktor. “You know this. You’ve seen it. Raven’s Eyes, but I’ve despaired of changing your mind often enough. I don’t think there’s any way to know, not for certain.”
Josiri nodded, recalling fleeting memories of Calenne Akadra. The woman Viktor had woven from the Dark without knowing. “And Rosa?”
Viktor grunted. “The Raven turned her against me at Darkmere. It was that or kill her. I’d no choice.”
Hope stuttered and faded. “You say that a lot, Viktor.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I’ve done a lot of thinking in your absence.” Josiri thrust his hands into his pockets. “There’s a pattern, stretching back through the years I’ve known you. A problem arises – one no other can solve. And while everyone is in disarray, in strides Viktor Akadra, head high and voice firm.”
Josiri jabbed a finger at Viktor, but eyes always wary of the chain’s extent. “He’s a man who doesn’t lose. Who can’t be swayed by circumstance or counsel. He does precisely as he wishes, and snatches victory from the jaws of defeat. But the
re’s always a price. Oh, never to you, though you play the victim in aftermath. You do remorse so terribly well. But I’m not buying it any longer.”
Viktor sat back, face immobile. “I’ve only ever done what’s necessary.”
“You do as you please, with not a thought to the consequences!”
“Untrue.”
Josiri held up a bunched hand and extended his thumb. “Seven years ago, Malachi would have brought Ebigail and your father to trial, had you not taken it upon yourself to kill them. Who knows how much easier a time he’d have had with the Council had their crimes been laid bare?” Forefinger joined the thumb. “The following year, during the Avitra Briganda, you lied to me about Calenne Akadra.”
“I didn’t know what she was!”
“No. You thought she was my sister, and still you hid her from me. When the Dark overtook her and she started killing—”
“I dealt with the matter.”
“You destroyed her.”
“I had—”
“No choice?” Josiri shook his head. “I beheld a terrified woman, struggling with the notion that her life was a lie. Perhaps we could have helped her, but you did what you always do when those you love prove inconvenient – you forge on, Raven take the consequences and the hindmost.”
“You dare suggest you knew that creature better than I?” rumbled Viktor.
“I might not, had we discussed the matter, but you always refused.” The index finger joined the others. “Malachi wanted me to replace him as First Councillor. Konor Zarn knew. Did you?”
“I… suspected.”
Renewed anger drove back surprise. “But instead, you pressured me into supporting your ascension to Lord Protector. Was even that my choice, or another of your necessities?”
Viktor gave no response, and thus offered deafening reply.
Josiri breathed deep on a failed search for calm. “And Constans? Lumestra knows he was never that likeable, but what you’ve done to him…?”