by Ben Galley
Etane had remained outside in the hallway, waiting for Temsa to ascend to the highest reaches of the Piercer. Even with colossal clockwork lifts and a thousand shades winding levers above and below, it took an age.
When finally Etane appeared at the door, Sisine put on a pleasant smile; one she had tailored over the years. The trick was to reveal just the right amount of teeth. She wanted to appear warm yet aloof. Confident yet disarming. But as Boss Boran Temsa entered her chambers, she found it a struggle to maintain any kind of smile at all.
The man must have been two thirds her height, bent of back and leaning on an ornate onyx cane. Her eyes roved from his greased hair to the sharp beard framing thin lips and a gold-speckled smile; from the wrinkles of his years to his clothes of fine black and grey silk; and finally, to the source of the strange clanging noise.
His leg.
It was an eagle’s foot, cast in gold and copper and attached just below the knee. Four talons spread out from the ankle, curled and sharp, and scratching at the marble with every step. What had happened to the customary ebony or mahogany leg, she had no clue.
Her mother had once told her that short people should always choose short guards in order to appear taller. It was a matter of fashion in Araxes, yet Temsa had thrown that to the wind.
He was dwarfed by his companions, looking like the river at the gutter of a canyon. They loomed at each of his shoulders. One was a paler woman with tight braids and broad, tattooed shoulders to match her height. The other was a shade in full battle armour, standing almost seven feet tall.
This must be Danib. Now he stood before her, she did find something familiar about him. She pondered if she had seen him during her grandfather’s flight of fancy with the Cult, when she had been just a tiny girl.
‘Your Highness,’ Temsa said in a voice aged with smoke and drink and harsh words. He bowed deeply, and stayed in that position so long Sisine wondered if he was having trouble coming back up. But he did, and she nodded her thanks.
Unlike most visitors to her chambers, Temsa’s eyes didn’t once creep to the grand balcony, or the silken drapes, or the gilded arches hanging above them. They were fixed on hers, unblinking and curiously confident. Almost excited. Usually her guests were more prostrate and quivering.
‘Allow me to first say what an honour it is to be invited to your royal chambers, and to be in your presence,’ he said.
She waved a hand at a matching couch. ‘Boss Boran Temsa, it is a pleasure also. Please, sit. I’ll have my chamber-shade, Etane, fetch you some wine.’
‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Temsa removed his long coat and handed it to Ani with a flourish. Etane moved past Danib, keeping his eyes low even though the big shade watched his every movement. He poured Temsa a glass and returned to the adjoining room.
Temsa sipped the wine daintily, but his breeding showed through him smacking his lips. ‘A fine drop. Skol?’
‘You know your grapes. Irenna. Ten years old.’
‘I believe one needs to if they intend to spend coin on their juices.’
Sisine was struggling to keep her gaze from straying to the leg. Instead she gestured to the two giants. ‘Won’t you introduce me to your companions?’
‘Of course. Might I present Miss Ani Jexebel, one of the finest warriors the Scatter Isles ever birthed. And Danib, a very old and close associate of mine. With no disrespect to Miss Jexebel, he is quite possibly the finest warrior in all of the Arc.’
Sisine watched their reactions. Jexebel seemed to have trouble understanding, but the gist was enough to make her frown. Danib was featureless; a glowing blank canvas.
‘Bold claims, Boss Temsa,’ she said. ‘Might I ask why they are not out fighting for their emperor against the Scatter Princes with the rest of our fine warriors?’
Temsa grinned, showing off several gold-capped teeth. ‘Ani, because I pay her better, and Danib because I am his master. Through silver and copper they are devoted to me and I feel safer for it. Dangerous days in this city, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Indeed.’
A silence fell, pregnant with polite shuffling and sipping of wine. Sisine decided to lead.
‘You may be wondering why I invited you here.’
‘For mutual gain, or so your shade informed me.’
‘That is true, in broad terms. Advancement, evolution; these terms would be more accurate. I can tell you are a man who is a forward thinker. Not one for normality.’ She motioned towards the leg. She had to know. Even if it was merely morbid curiosity.
Temsa played dumb for a moment, looking at his glass before his lap. ‘Oh! The leg. Of course. Quite the conversation piece, wouldn’t you agree?’
He was more confident and – dare she think it without shuddering – charming than she had expected. Temsa had swaggered into her rooms as if he dined with royalty every other week. He was no serek, no tor, and yet here he was, sipping wine with the empress-in-waiting and no sign of a tremor in him. Sisine wondered whether the royal reputation had slipped, or if this man thought far too much of himself.
‘It is not a glamorous story, I’m afraid, Highness. Simply an accident of my own causing. As a lad I worked as a whale-fisher on a proud and honest boat. We made a killing two ways, we used to say. First at sea, then at land when the silver was divided up. Problem was, such work gave me a thirst for gambling, and I spent most of my pay in card-dens and fight-pits. You must be aware of what it’s like in the outer districts, where the Chamber of the Code’s power is fainter than here in the Core. I fell into debt with a man named Roph Khanet. A dangerous man. Sold weapons to anyone with a purse big enough, regardless of loyalty. As I couldn’t pay what I owed in silver, I had to pay with my flesh. He sent a man named the Butcher to me one night, and he left with one more leg than he arrived with.’
Sisine leaned forward, wine hovering at her lips. She knew that learning a man’s past could tell a lot about his present, and more importantly, his future. ‘Surely that is not the end of the story? Etane tells me you are a wealthy businessman, and growing wealthier every day. How does one grow such an empire from such poor beginnings?’
Temsa shook his head. ‘How else does one succeed? I dusted myself off and improved. I learned the cards. I learned the cups. It took me a year to start running my own rackets, taking cuts on games. I used the winnings to buy property. Buy and sell, buy and sell. That was my trick. Three years later I took my vengeance on Roph Khanet and his Butcher by buying and burning his prized card-den to the dust in the space of an hour. They just happened to be inside it at the time. A decade later, I have turned from trickery to honesty. I am proud to run a tavern and a profitable – and very legal – soultrading business in Bes District. The leg is now a reminder that from loss comes strength.’
‘To strength, then.’ Sisine held out her glass, and he touched his to it with a clink. ‘Leave us!’
Temsa flinched ever so slightly as she barked her order. The shining guards hesitated. Etane appeared around the corner.
‘Your Highness?’ he asked.
‘Guards! Leave us!’
They left at a creeping pace, wary of the company they were leaving their empress-in-waiting in. Sure enough, they filed out. The door lingered open behind them.
Etane pursed his lips. ‘And me?’
She beckoned the shade to her side. ‘Stay. As can your companions, Master Temsa, if you trust them?’
‘With my life.’
The door was locked, and Sisine turned to face Temsa. Danib and Jexebel moved forwards to stand behind his half of the couch.
Something heavy and metallic grated in the next room, and Etane appeared with his huge greatsword. Not a curved Arctian sword, but a straight, double-bladed weapon of the Scatter. One side was sharp steel, the other dipped in copper. Its weight did not seem to bother him. Sisine knew it to be called Pereceph; something to do with a dead mother or wife. She couldn’t remember, let alone understand why anybody saw the need to name a weapon.
; Etane took up a position by her side and rested the sword’s point between his feet. He stared at Danib, then Jexebel, and waited for his mistress to speak.
‘A hundred years dead amounts to a lot of spare time. Before he was killed in a coup between my ancestors, the Talin and Renala houses, Etane here was a prince by all rights, and a champion of the sword. He still is in death. Practices every day, don’t you, Etane?’
There was a whoosh as the shade swung his sword in an arc. She could have sworn she heard its metal whisper.
Temsa’s smile had hardened. ‘Why the warning, Highness? I thought it was business we were talking?’
‘No warning. Business it is. However, I thought it might be useful to point out Etane’s history, seeing as it intertwines with your Danib’s. It seems they were both members of the insidious Cult of Sesh at one time, which I believe you are aware of. I cannot help but question whether there is still a connection there. Before I speak further, I must know if you have had any dealings with the Cult. If so, then Etane here will be happy to escort you from the Piercer.’
Temsa held her gaze. ‘And here I was thinking nobles and royals never talked straight.’ He finished his drink and returned the glass to the table. He crossed his leg, letting it shine in the bright lamplight. ‘Rest assured, Empress-in-Waiting, that my dealings with the Cult amount to selling them a few shades and trinkets here and there. Sometimes they pay me in tips for good sources of shades.’
‘Legal sources.’
‘Of course. Poor-houses, building collapses. Hospitals and the like.’
Sisine smoothed out her skirts, humming. ‘As you likely know, the Cult are far from favoured by the Talin Renalas and the Cloud Court. Not after they weaselled into my family and turned my grandfather Emperor Milizan to religious madness. It took his death and my grandmother’s banishment to see the royal line put right again. I will not stand for a repeat of history.’
‘I’m aware, Highness. I remember applauding the rumours of the Cult’s culling, and when I heard how swiftly your father introduced their backsides to the flagstones. I know your proud line, descended from the bones of the dead gods, would never stoop so low as to consort with fanatics and madmen again. Or criminals, for that matter.’
Sisine raised her glass. ‘Speaking of criminals, I hear other rumours of tals and tors going missing. Of them dying suddenly. Of guards posted at empty mansions and towers, with no explanation besides scant letters. Most strange is that no claims have been made on their fortunes as yet, not by family nor associates. What half-coins they kept in their own vaults have gone. Those they kept with banks linger in their vaults, yet to be legally transferred. It smacks of criminality to say the least, but unlike any Araxes has experienced before. What have you heard of such things, Boss Temsa?’
He sucked air through his teeth. ‘Well, to tell the truth, Your Highness, not much. We soultraders and businessmen keep our ears to the washing lines. I have heard of the disappearances, but nothing as to who’s responsible. I would have heard of it sharpish. So far, the washing lines have been quiet.’
Sisine bowed her head in disappointment. ‘A pity.’
‘I imagine it has the Court ruffled.’
‘That is not the pity of it.’
‘No? What is?’
She sighed. ‘Araxes is diseased at its core, and yet the ones with the power to change it pretend nothing is wrong. The sereks prefer to spend their time bickering, my father still refuses to leave his Sanctuary, and my mother has seen fit to flee. As shameful as it may sound, the murders have turned heads when nothing else could. This level of chaos might actually be good for the city, if it were to continue. Even escalate. I am keen to congratulate the man or woman behind it.’
Temsa clearly tried to hide his smirk, but the glint in his tiny eyes betrayed him. He thought on her words for a moment. ‘It’s a sad time for a grand city such as ours when its redemption requires murder to achieve.’
‘Indeed. But these are flights of fancy in any case. Surely such a task would be impossible. Bold though this man or woman might be, I would wager it has been luck so far. I doubt they have the reach, the information, or even the resources to keep up such work.’
‘You might be surprised, Majesty.’
‘How so?’
Temsa cleared his throat, leaning to the edge of his seat. ‘Even after binding a few tors and tals, ransacking several towers, I would wager this enterprising person – likely a person of the lower hierarchies – won’t be rich enough for their liking. They’ll want more. But more means greater danger and more attention from the scrutinisers and the Chamber of the Code. If they’re wise, they will play it safe and slow, or call it a day altogether. Unless…’
Despite her love of theatre, Sisine had never been one for blatant fishing. Such a practise was below her. However, she knew the meaning of a wriggle on the line, and gave in. ‘Yes?’
‘Unless such a person had a benefactor. An equal-minded person in the upper reaches of the city. Somebody of importance and clout.’
Sisine nodded slowly. ‘How interesting.’
‘I find it so.’ Temsa waggled his glass. ‘More wine, Etane?’
Sword kept firm in hand, Etane poured out another measure for both him and Sisine.
‘How would a benefactor help such a person?’
The man held out a stubby finger, counting. ‘They would provide names. Addresses. Information on the stepping stones to causing the necessary… chaos. Names that are known for relying on their own vaults and locks, rather than the banks’.’
‘Easy for somebody in a high enough position. There is a saying in the Piercer: it is everybody’s business to know everybody’s business.’
‘A wise motto, Your Highness.’ Temsa thumbed his goatee. ‘And of course, assurances would be needed.’
‘Absolutely. These sorts of things need to be protected, kept quiet.’
‘Indeed. And trust. And free rein.’
‘Not to mention compensation.’
That stopped Temsa with his mouth half-open. ‘Compensation.’
‘On both sides, I would imagine. Shades for the one party, perhaps, in return for information. And for the other, for dirtying their hands, well, they can keep whatever else they claim.’
‘A Weighing.’
Sisine had to swill her wine back into her flute. ‘Excuse me?’ She saw a slight dip in Ani Jexebel’s forehead.
‘What better disguise is there? Surely a person taking such dark and dangerous strides would stay in the dark, not assume his – or her – place in the order of things. No tor or tal would be so bold and daring. You nobles love to play your games far too much.’
Sisine waited, thinking hard about which strings could be pulled, which mouths might be silenced. For days she had planned this out in her mind, but Temsa’s proposal was an uneven flagstone, and it had tripped her.
‘I believe it would be far more dangerous. A higher profile brings higher scrutiny. Such a sudden rise would be subject to investigation.’
Temsa snorted. ‘Psh. Forgive me, Majesty, but the Chamber is paralysed by processes and backlog. The Chamber is a toothless wolf. It looks the part but it lacks the bite. Most tors and tals have yet to realise this, and so they still believe that bold, hostile takeovers will result in punishment. At least public shaming. With the right sigil and the right bank, depositing stolen half-coins that weren’t already banked isn’t a problem. Small deposits attract no attention; neither do certain transfers with the right documents. Weighing them and making them official isn’t the problem either. Neither would a few transactions here and there. It’s keeping the rumours from spreading. That’s what’ll bring the Chamber crashing through a door. That’s where the benefactor comes in, and it’s less suspicious to protect a fellow noble than somebody lowly.’
That was how he was doing it. Forgery and blackmail. Banking in increments to avoid attention. It also explained why he hadn’t already claimed the dead nobles’ half-coins fr
om their bank vaults. He had been waiting for protection. Sisine wasn’t sure whether he had slipped or was simply being honest, but she gladly took it in her stride. She couldn’t help but imagine the stacks of half-coins no doubt stashed beneath his tavern, waiting to be banked.
‘It sounds needless to me.’ She tapped the spine of her flute with her copper nail.
‘What is the point in building an empire without enjoying it?’
In that moment, Sisine understood the man. He was no different from the sereks of the Cloud Court. He wanted what all in Araxes longed for: more. He wanted to have a name. A title. A tower of his own.
‘Should this be the case, complete separation would be a wise idea,’ she said.
‘I would agree.’
‘No public contact nor conversation.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Temsa chuckled between sips. ‘If the person in question makes serek, a public argument could be useful to prove the opposite.’
Sisine almost choked on her wine, but she covered it well. She decided to reel in her catch. ‘Well?’
Temsa looked between her and Etane. ‘Well, what?’
‘Do you know of such a person who would be willing to take such a chance? Hypothetically speaking, of course.’
He shrugged, a gesture she had always hated. It was neither yes nor no, and as such not an answer. ‘I would have to ask around.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Ask around? I imagined you to be discreet.’
Temsa got to his feet abruptly. ‘I might know a man. Owns a tavern. Successful soultrader. He might be of use to you. Hypothetically speaking.’
With that, he drained his glass and reached for the coat hanging from Jexebel’s hands.
‘I thank you for the wine and glorious company, Highness, and bid you a good evening,’ he said loudly, with another deep bow. ‘I will be in touch soon.’
Sisine watched him go with a mouth that didn’t know whether to hang or clamp shut. Danib looked back over his shoulder with a blank look. It was for Etane, not her.