The Chasing Graves Trilogy Box Set

by Ben Galley

  Kalid’s throat bobbed as he swallowed his pride. ‘Yes, Mistress. We will be ready and waiting.’

  ‘You had better,’ she croaked. Before he turned away, she caught him with a crooked finger. ‘And Kalid?’

  ‘Yes, Mistress?’

  ‘Make sure the empress-in-waiting stays breathing, if you can. I would like a word with her.’

  Chapter 5

  A Day For Betrayal

  Watch he who is without shades throw the first stone.

  Old Arctian Proverb

  The late morning sunlight fell in streaks across Sisine’s face, tanned red by the painted glass. It must have been a fitting hue. The storm may have passed, but its fury lived on in the empress-in-waiting.

  ‘How dare he! Who in Araxes does that half-life think he is? Offering me a proposal, like some common trader!’ Sisine stabbed a yellow plum with her dagger, driving the point to the marble of the bowl beneath. She stared again at the gold-rimmed papyrus note that lay on the table beside it. Etane had delivered it barely an hour ago; already she had read its glyphs fifty times, and still the message refused to change. Boon had called a meeting of the Cloud Court without her approval. The message was a polite invite. The pure cheek of it.

  ‘Maybe he wants to discuss something,’ offered Etane, still unmoving from his spot by the door to her bedchamber. Irritatingly, his eyes were fixed on a point somewhere above her head. ‘Like a truce.’

  Boon had been a constant thorn in Sisine’s side since Magistrate Ghoor had been killed. Not only had the Cult put shades on the streets of the outer districts despite her – or the emperor’s – decrees, but the serek challenged every word that came from her mouth. Boon was not a shade. He was a huge, pompous mosquito, constantly buzzing around her.

  Vexed, Sisine flung the plum at Etane’s face. Ochre juice spattered his robes though the fruit flew straight through him. It burst apart on the far wall, redecorating a mosaic.

  ‘A truce? Boon would not have spent so long berating me only to fold like bed linens! No, more likely he and his allies in the Court are planning to overthrow me. To get to Father. Did you think of that?’ Another plum lost its life, skewered by her silver blade. ‘It has something to do with the fucking Cult. I know it. My spies see more and more of them all the time. Cult priests preaching on street corners, and some swear they have seen Cult soldiers. Rebene should be keeping them under control, not allowing them to spread like the crimson fungus they are!’

  ‘With all due respect, Your Wonderfulness, I think Rebene’s got enough on his plate without chasing after the Cult. I reckon he’s one more murder away from slicing his own throat open. You wanted chaos. You seem to have it.’

  She launched another plum at him. ‘Do not tell me what I want!’ Sisine shrieked, breathing hard. ‘If Rebene dares to take the coward’s way out, I’ll have him bound and put to work in a quarry. Let’s see how the chamberlain likes that. Time!’

  Etane moved to an hourglass, marking the notches where the sand reached. ‘Almost there, Princess.’

  Sisine screeched, squashing another of the fruits in her bare hand. Its juice stained the papyrus an amber yellow. ‘How dare he call the court to gather! This is my Cloudpiercer. My city! Nobody but my father holds more coins than I do! My father saw to it for this very purpose.’

  ‘I—’

  ‘The very cheek of it! Does he think me some lowly tal to be bartered with? It is my Cloud Court. I call the gatherings. I give the decrees. He does not dictate to me!’ Sisine hissed, her voice cold with venom. One last plum succumbed to her wrath before she rose from her chair and clicked her fingers. ‘Robe!’

  Etane disappeared into another chamber and came back with a purple satin robe, trimmed with sable fur and gold tassels. Sisine wiped the plum juice from the dagger and thrust it into her belt, making sure it was front and centre for all to see.

  ‘Sword!’ she ordered. ‘You may need it.’

  Etane vanished again, eagerly rubbing his hands. This time he returned wearing a fine suit of mail. His massive sword, Pereceph, rested against his shoulder. Faint wisps of grey smoke emanated from its steel edge.

  ‘Door!’

  Fifty Royal Guards waited in the polished hallway, all lined up like statues against the grand walls. As Etane and the empress-in-waiting passed, they peeled away one by one and formed a double column that marched in perfect unison.

  Sisine held her tongue, building up all manner of menacing words behind it, ready to unleash them on Boon and the rest of the recalcitrant sereks.

  Temsa had been hard at work. So far – quite infuriatingly – he had ignored her list, but he was still inducing the same amount of panic she had hoped for. However, instead of gathering to support her, the sereks had begun looking to other places for solutions. Boon’s suggestion of assistance from the Cult, for instance. Or calls for her father’s army to be called back from the Scatter Isles. After all Sisine had done to distance the sereks from the nonsense of her father’s babbling decrees, they still had no trust in her. No respect.

  It made her blood boil daily. Sleep evaded her. She had almost worn a rut in her chambers from incessant pacing. Makeup and swirling dye tattoos covered it, but she had worn her fingertips to callouses by wringing her hands. Where once confidence had clad her will in iron, doubt now rusted it.

  As the shade-drawn lift came to a halt, she realised she had spent the short journey cursing under her breath.

  ‘Did you say something, Majesty?’ Etane whispered, leaning in.

  Sisine waved him aside irritably. ‘Nothing, shade.’

  When the great gold doors of the Cloud Court were pulled open and she emerged under the wide arch, she was deeply surprised to see the gilded benches of the court empty. The sky was streaked with clouds, and the sunlight fell in ever-moving patches. They moved lazily across the marble, like adventurous smears of mould. Silence hung in the room. Every footstep or clink of armour echoed brazenly. She stared at the empty throne, half-caught in a sunbeam, one side turquoise, one side a deep ocean blue.

  ‘Boon!’ Sisine screeched. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

  A young, finely-dressed shade waited on the far side of the hall, peeking out from a door that led to feasting chambers. When he saw Sisine, he quickly disappeared behind the jamb. The sound of marching rang out as soldiers appeared in his place. They were shades, clad in silver armour polished to a mirror state. Their blue glow shone through at the joints and narrow face-guards. The shades held no spears but their hands were firmly clasped on their sword handles.

  Sisine could have spat when she saw Boon, draped in gold and silver finery. A necklace of carnelian glyphs hung around his neck. His dark, once-charred face held a smile for her. He looked less like a serek and more like a gaudy merchant in a bazaar. She longed to don a copper glove and smack that smile clean off.

  Her guards bristled as Boon’s entourage met them at the centre of the hall. Spears and broad shields formed two opposing walls. A good distance was kept between them, as was customary for such meetings between rival tors, tals or sereks. It was simply not the kind of meeting she had been expecting.

  Sisine stepped forwards so she could look the blue bastard in the face, making sure she was the one to speak first. This was her Cloud Court.

  ‘You think too much of yourself, Serek Boon, to treat your empress-in-waiting so disrespectfully as to summon her to a gathering, and then leave her waiting. What, might I ask, have you done with my Cloud Court? Is this some guise to get an audience with me? One might assume foul intentions.’ She could feel her guards tensing around her.

  Boon shook his head sadly, as if he was the bearer of bad news. ‘I mean no disrespect, Your Majesty, and my intentions are pure. I am but a messenger. The sereks would like me to inform you that they are unwilling to leave their towers for fear of their lives. The attack on Serek Finel – one of our own – has sealed their doors. As such, they will not be gathering for court. Not today, nor any time soon.’
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  Sisine flashed a murderous glance at Etane. ‘What attack?’

  The serek had the gall to looked surprised. ‘Why, Majesty, I thought you were the beating heart of this city, aware of its every move! Is that not the case?’

  ‘Speak, half-life!’

  She saw the flicker of hatred in the corner of Boon’s scabbed mouth. Such a term was reserved for the bound dead, not a free shade, and especially not a serek.

  Boon paced along his wall of guards, speaking between the gaps in armour. ‘Serek Finel’s home was attacked last night in a brazen assault, the like of which this city has not seen for five centuries. The attack then spilled into the streets and raged for almost an hour before Finel’s guards and some intrepid independent keepers of the peace turned the tide. Unfortunately, the Chamber’s proctors and scrutinisers arrived too late. As did your soldiers – the shades you so graciously donated. They were too thinly spread over the districts to be of any help. I’m afraid Serek Finel has been murdered and his body stolen.’

  ‘Your point, Boon?’

  ‘The city is in disarray, Majesty. There is bedlam in the streets. To add to the situation, your mother has still not returned, and your father still refuses to come out of his Sanctuary. In their stead you seem unable to protect us, and we have grown tired of living in fear.’

  Sisine bubbled with anger, but she tried to keep it contained. ‘We? Who is “we”?’

  ‘The sereks, and several influential nobles.’

  ‘And you, Serek Boon, have decided this for the entire city, have you? When you have no right of coin to make such decisions? I wonder how much silver you spent poisoning so many minds against me.’

  Boon spread his hands wide. She saw the tortured whorls of vapour there, where his palms had melted before he died. ‘I have been nominated merely as a spokesperson. This is the sereks’ decision and therefore the city’s. As a result, we have decided to take matters into our own hands. Time is a river, Empress-in-Waiting. We must move with it to avoid drowning.’

  ‘This is treason!’ Sisine yelled, her restraint dissolved by the shade’s audacity. ‘Utterly against the Code!’ The word was like a command. Her guards snapped into an attack position, ready to spring forwards. Etane took his sword from his shoulder and spun it in his hand. His blue vapour began to wrap around its grip and crossguard.

  Boon’s guards made no countermove. Instead, the serek raised hands, scarred palms flat and empty, as though Sisine had a triggerbow and copper bolts trained on him. Oh, how she wished she did.

  ‘This is nothing so dire as treason, Majesty.’ A smug look came over his face. ‘As you have been acting for the good of the emperor, we believe we can too.’

  ‘You have no right! You do not outrank my father, or me! Those who rule make the rules, as we always have.’

  Boon winked. ‘Perhaps individually, we do not. Together, however, we just might. Did you ever think of that? Perhaps these are times for change.’

  ‘That is not how the Code works!’ Sisine wrapped a hand around her dagger.

  ‘Be that as it may, we have simply accepted an offer of assistance on your father’s behalf.’

  ‘What offer of assistance? What have you done?’

  Boon knitted his fingers together. ‘Why, the offer from the Church of Sesh, of course.’

  ‘The Cult!’ Sisine corrected him. Again, she saw that flicker of anger.

  ‘You’ll find that the Church is not what it used to be, Majesty. They can patrol the streets alongside the Chamber and your soldier shades, help to bring peace to our chaotic streets. They have the ability, the willingness and the resources to help hunt down this wanton murderer.’

  Sisine felt the cavernous chamber tilting on its side, felt her grip slipping. The doubt had grown into something with teeth and claws and was now sizing her up for a meal. ‘I do not accept!’ she bellowed.

  ‘It is not for you to worry yourself with, Majesty. As I said, the offer has already been accepted on the emperor’s behalf,’ said the shade.

  ‘I will have you all stoned for treason! You will find scrutinisers at your doors by sundown!’ Sisine had half a mind to order Boon arrested that very moment.

  ‘I think not.’ The serek’s smile was sickly. ‘Rebene is busy enough. And with all the murders, imagine how it would look if the emperor and his daughter turned upon their own? The nobles might lose faith in you altogether. The districts will follow. The Code won’t matter, not a button. Neither will your tower, and you can add riots to your list of problems. Instead, let me make Your Majesty an offer.’

  ‘Speak quickly, Boon, or I’ll make sure you never speak again.’

  He stepped forwards, soldiers wrapping tighter around him, so that he looked like a sapphire stuck in a silver hedgehog. ‘Don’t stand in the way of this. Accept this change. The murderer will be found, and the Cloud Court will reconvene. You can play the magnanimous victor and normality will resume. At least, what counts for normal in this city.’ Boon’s voice held a simpering tone. ‘Busy yourself with matters that are within your grasp, Majesty. Leave this murderer to the Court, the Church and the Chamber. There are trade issues to worry about. Your father’s wars in the Scatter Isles, perhaps. And let’s not forget the dire supplies of Nyxwater, which I imagine hasn’t entered your mind in days, Majesty. I hear of riots in the Outsprawls. Why not accept the Church’s help? You can carry on playing empress while your mother is away and your father is in hiding.’

  Sisine drew her lips back into a snarl. Her words were guttural, fierce. She wished her gaze was a spear on which to impale Boon. The order to have him arrested hovered on her tongue.

  Etane moved closer to her, his whisper almost indiscernible. ‘Not here, Princess. Not now. You’re smarter than that.’

  The shade gestured with his eyes, and she saw Boon’s guards as still as when they had first halted. Their blades remained in their scabbards. It was almost as if the serek wanted her to attack.

  Etane lifted his blade onto his shoulder once more. Sisine managed to unclench her fists. She distracted the serek with a compromise.

  ‘You tread on quicksand, Boon, and too heavily at that,’ she said. ‘The Cult are not allowed in the Core Districts. That decree remains final. Understand?’

  Boon raised an eyebrow. ‘I will relay your message—’

  ‘UNDERSTAND?’

  Boon let the echoes of her screech die before continuing, ‘—to the rest of the Cloud Court.’

  With a loud chorus of clanging metal, his guards stepped backwards until their master had reached the door. The Royal Guard moved forwards to ensure their exit. Sisine waited until she heard the slam of the doors.

  Etane was opening his mouth to speak when Sisine filled it with a fist. Her copper and gold rings gave her enough weight to strike him, and he reeled backwards. He was hardly ever caught off-guard, and Sisine saw the indignation in his eyes as he looked up.

  ‘That’s for not telling me about the attack on Serek Finel,’ she spat, before sweeping from the chamber. Her guards jogged to keep up with her. Etane was left standing, rubbing his chin and muttering something to himself.

  Sisine turned at a violent angle, making her guards slide on the marble. Once again they corralled her, spears out like an urchin’s spines. When she came to her father’s Sanctuary door, Sisine threw open the unlocked doors and slammed them behind her with an echoing bang. Lip curled, she took a measured walk around the bench and saw the pile of scrolls lying at the door’s foot. She counted them. Seven lay there, and one rolled halfway under the bench.

  She chose that one to look at and unfurled it snippily. It was the same old shit. Rambling orders with nothing to do with the murders, the failing Nyx, nor the fact this city was slowly slipping into chaos, and not quite the kind Sisine had planned on. She hadn’t predicted the most self-centred people in the city banding together against her. That was a failing, but it would not be her failure.

  Turning a shaking hand on the door, she made i
t a promise. ‘I will pry you out, Father. I will pry you out of there if it’s the last thing I do.’

  The empress-in-waiting dropped the scroll at her feet, and crushed it with her sole.

  ‘Bad news never arrives alone,’ so they said, and it was certainly true that day. Sisine had barely reached her balcony and taken a moment to breathe in the cool air when the message arrived.

  This scroll came by a ragged old rook. The decrepit thing wheezed as it struggled to reach the marble railing. The bird looked like it had been trying to reach the peak of the Piercer for some time. As she snatched the papyrus from its leg, it sprawled on the stone to catch its breath. It was so tired it didn’t protest as Sisine’s trembling hand closed around its neck. The snap of its spine came at the same time she finished the message, and read its scrawled anonymous “X”.

  Letting the black carcass tumble down to the city, Sisine scrunched up the papyrus in her fists and stood there with shoulders quivering, watching the clouds tumble across the blue sky.

  First Boon, and now this. The betrayals were mounting, and with it the pressure in her skull. The inklings of another headache were starting. They had grown more frequent in the past weeks, pulsing behind her eyes for hours at a time. She winced as pain lanced through her head. With a growl, she threw open the balcony curtains.

  Etane sat on a chair of antelope horn, his head down, clearly hoping her scorching gaze wouldn’t find him. Pereceph was lying flat on his lap.

  Sisine’s eyes bored into his bald, scarred pate.

  ‘Did you know of this?’