by Tom Lloyd
She paused and nodded to Teshen as a sense of alarm welled up inside Lynx. Before he could move or call out, the Knight of Stars put his gun to the kabat’s head and pulled the trigger. A cloud of pink and white exploded into the light of the skyriver, the kabat hurled sideways by the icer’s force.
Lynx looked at the guards and the faces at the windows. Several had flinched, some even looked away, but none appeared even remotely surprised.
Just me who didn’t see this coming, he realised. Shit.
Teshen said something more out loud then reloaded his mage-pistol and turned away, leaving two guards to hesitantly advance on the body. Toil nodded to them and the pair set about taking the kabat away before the dark knife-winged shapes circling above could descend.
‘So it ends,’ Toil said in the same tone as Teshen, but more to herself than any others.
She spared Lynx one brief glance that he couldn’t interpret then turned and headed back the way she’d come.
As easy as that? Lynx asked himself. Certainly from the faces around him, it truly did seem over. The Siym knew when they were beaten.
Is this how business is done round here? Everyone gets on with life again once victory is declared?
He stood there a long while, until the small tysarn ventured down to the ground to lap at the blood on the dusty floor. Feeling a knot in his gut, Lynx left too.
Chapter 18
(now – two mornings later)
Lynx opened his eyes and immediately regretted it as something landed in one. Blinking and cursing, he tried to roll over, but his body was less than cooperative. One arm was pinned to his body by the tangle of bedsheets, the other was numb and ungainly. More thumps came from the ceiling, another scattering of dust drifted down.
He flopped around until his arm was free, then did his best to get the dust out of his eye while a growling Toil yanked the sheet back over her body.
‘Fuck’s that noise?’ he muttered, to himself as much as Toil.
‘Reft an’ Deern,’ came the muffled reply.
‘Eh? Oh.’
Lynx shook his head gently, dismay momentarily overcoming the hot thump of hangover. The pair had the room above them and apparently the ceiling was struggling to contain them.
‘Don’t get any ideas,’ Toil added a few moments later. She emerged briefly from the covers and squinted up at him, red hair plastered by sweat across half her face.
‘Already got ’em.’
She hesitated. ‘Are they about food or coffee?’
‘Yup.’
‘Good puss, now bugger off and let me sleep.’
Lynx eased himself around on to the side of the bed and fumbled at the discarded clothes. He could feel the warmth in the air already, bright lines picking out the slats of the window shutter. The room lurched around him as he stood to pull up his britches, but a steadying hand against the wall was enough to fix that. He spared a glance for Toil, but she was already snoring faintly despite the continued enthusiasm upstairs.
The lodgings Teshen had found them were typical of the city from what Lynx could see – tall stacks of narrow rooms around a central courtyard. It was on high ground at the seaward side of Auferno district so there were no south-facing windows but, as Lynx emerged from his small room, he could feel there was little breeze that day anyway.
Instead, a sparkling blue sky peered down through the ropes strung between the four towers of mage-cast stone. Through it all was the faint white line of the skyriver, marred by a single grey spot the name of which escaped Lynx.
The calls of seabirds and deep croaks of tysarn echoed around the courtyard as he leaned on the rail and blinked away the throb behind his eyes. The sun was up, but once Lynx could see properly he realised it was still early. The buildings blocked the worst of its glare. Judging by the light and the pair of old women tugging on the ropes to pull an awning across, the sun’s full force would soon be cast down into the courtyard.
Lynx headed down a narrow stone stair that headed away from the rising sun, pausing only to test the door to Llaith’s room. The greying mercenary was fast asleep. He just grunted in his sleep as Lynx lifted the man’s tobacco pouch, while Himbel in the other bed only opened one eye long enough to roll over and fart noisily. Lynx retreated and made his way to a wide terrace that faced the sea.
To his surprise, however, he wasn’t the first there. Teshen sat on a bench in one corner, leaning on the surrounding wall’s smooth top and staring out at the open water. There was a battered tin samovar on a table behind him, steaming gently though the small bowls beside it were all empty.
Lynx poured a bowl of tea and sat on the next bench, cradling it in his lap as he started to fumble with the tobacco pouch.
‘Anything to eat round here?’ he said conversationally as he started to roll thin cigarettes, knowing Llaith would expect to see some waiting once Himbel’s stink drove him from the room.
‘Go whistle at one of ’em,’ came the reply.
Teshen didn’t bother to turn as he spoke which made Lynx hesitate. Normally, Teshen was always wary, always alert, so clearly there was something wrong. Lynx’s priorities kicked in first and he set the tobacco aside to go and catch the attention of one of the old women unfurling the awning. He pantomimed eating at her and her prune face split into a gap-toothed grin as she nodded.
Lynx retreated to the terrace where Teshen still hadn’t moved.
‘She grinned,’ he complained as he resumed his hesitant rolling of cigarettes.
‘So?’
‘Makes me suspicious.’
‘Probably Uver for breakfast.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Spiced fish in fried bread.’
Lynx’s heart fell. ‘Fish?’ Normally he had no objections, but the previous night’s victory celebration had been enthusiastic and stretched well into the early hours. His stomach was less than impressed with fish for breakfast anyway, throwing in spices and a towering hangover wasn’t going to improve matters.
‘Uver means “fist”,’ Teshen continued. ‘Shaped like one and it packs a punch.’
‘Shattered gods,’ Lynx sighed. ‘That’s all I need.’
‘You ask her nicely, mebbe there’ll be some baked gull eggs with rice.’
‘Nicely? I can’t even say a word she understands.’
‘Wave money around, she’ll get the message.’
Teshen rose so abruptly Lynx thought for a moment he was going to take a swing at him. Instead, the shaven-headed mercenary headed for the samovar and poured himself a bowl of tea. Lynx watched him do so and offered over a cigarette as Teshen retook his seat. The Knight of Stars shook his head and went back to his contemplation of the sea. Two dozen small fishing boats were already out, hauling in their catch off a sandbar, while the sails of several larger ships could be seen on the horizon.
From this angle Lynx could see the half-dozen islands that made up the western chain of the Mage Islands. There was one settlement of white buildings crowded around the sloped sides of a bay, but most of the islands were smears of green and brown. The great jagged line of the Etrel Cliffs loomed behind them, stretching as far as Lynx could see.
‘The woman?’ Lynx ventured after a few more minutes fumbling with the cigarettes.
Realising he’d forgotten to find a coal to light them off, Lynx drank some tea to fortify him for more pantomiming to the old lady. Thin with a yellow-green tint, it was basically bloody hot water but right now he couldn’t care. It was safe to drink and made him feel a tiny bit better, so that would have to do.
‘The woman,’ Teshen confirmed eventually.
‘I don’t remember you ever talking about women,’ Lynx said. ‘Or men, or anything. I’d kinda assumed you weren’t interested in the subject.’
‘There’ve been a few.’
‘But none like her, eh?’
‘You met any like Toil?’
‘Good point.’
They lapsed into silence for a while, during which the
old woman brought a wide bowl of golden-brown Uver. He sniffed at them while Teshen spoke to her in the local language. They smelled both delicious and revolting at the same time, his stomach caught between growling and lurching. He left them well alone, keeping a suspicious eye on the bowl until the woman returned with a clay pot that smoked fitfully. Inside was a coal from the fire, hot enough to light a cigarette off. Between that and the tea, Lynx found himself finally able to appreciate the view.
‘She going to try and kill us?’ he asked after he’d finished his cigarette.
Teshen shrugged. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘Did you shaft her when you left?’
‘Tried to.’
‘Despite whatever was between you?’
‘Ambition and pride can get in the way of most things.’
Lynx snorted. ‘Never found much use for ’em, myself.’
‘One of them sent you to prison,’ Teshen pointed out. ‘So there’s that.’
‘Aye,’ he said after a pause. ‘I guess there’s that.’
Lynx drained his tea and went to fetch more. ‘Anatin was talking about moving the company to the Siym Holding,’ he said as he did so. ‘It’s sounding more sensible now.’
‘Wouldn’t stop her.’
‘Shattered gods, just how badly did you screw this woman over?’
Teshen shifted in his seat, a discomforted action Lynx had never seen from him before – and one that worried him far more than the smell of spiced fish. ‘Enough. Looks like she’s kaboto of the Vi No Le crews though, basically the general of the army. The kaboto don’t act on a whim or pick up old grudges.’
‘That’s good, right?’
‘Sure, but it wasn’t personal what I did. I don’t know what’s gone on in the district since I left. That’s why I didn’t want to be recognised. Always a risk it would stir up old arguments.’
‘You didn’t even see her when you followed her out?’
Teshen paused then shook his head. ‘She didn’t want to be seen, means nothing.’
Lynx lit another cigarette as voices began to echo down the passageway behind them, the inimitable bickering of hungover and hungry Cards.
‘It’s all enough to make a man stock up on cartridges, whatever the prices down this way.’
‘Aye.’
‘O’ course, that might also get interpreted the wrong way.’
‘Aye.’
‘Bugger.’
Kabat Jo-Sarl was a large man whose presence filled the room. Unlike his peers and the lesser kabats of the four districts, he dressed simply. A gold chain, bearing the symbol of Veraimin, around his neck was the only symbol of wealth he displayed, a plain tunic of dark blue silk all the luxury he permitted himself.
Broad-backed with a lion’s mane of dark hair, he had been quite the fighter in his day despite his size and privileged background. His time on a Masts crew had been short because he was destined for greater things, but Jo-Sarl had embraced it with the same ferocity he met every challenge. Sanshir had been too young to spar against him, but she knew even the man now calling himself Teshen would have struggled against that power.
She kept quiet, leaving the kabat to his musing. From the window came the sound of a baby crying, rising up from the lower levels of this great round tower at the heart of Vi No Le. This was a small and private office he kept, well away from prying eyes and ears of the Jo-Sarl court.
‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ he said eventually. There was no anger in his voice, just a question despite the difficult subject. Sanshir knew the trust between them ran deep, in part because of who they were discussing.
‘They were drunk, it was no ruse.’
‘So?’
‘So whatever they have planned – if they have something planned – it wasn’t happening last night. I’ve seen enough drunks in my time. That crew won’t have been able to walk in a straight line before dawn.’
‘And of course you’d just seen him. The element of surprise had been lost.’
‘Exactly. I made sure the crews and guards were bolstered, but no need to disturb you.’
‘What did he say? He calls himself Teshen now? Hah.’
Sanshir nodded and related Teshen’s words again.
‘Believe him?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s been a long time. People change. He was never easy to read anyway.’
‘But you did, didn’t you?’
‘I saw no lies.’ She hesitated. ‘But it’s him. My judgement may not be sound.’
Jo-Sarl leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. Sanshir saw a grin appear on his face, the hunger of a man who perhaps had been a little bored in his comfortable life. A kabat’s lot was far from simple but it was mostly business, rarely a challenge.
‘So, the Bloody Pauper comes back to town.’
‘I’ve made enquiries. No one has disappeared, no sign of messages coming into the compound overnight.’
‘And they’re staying in Auferno?’
‘For the time being. An anonymous lodging, defensible but what mercenary company would choose otherwise?’
‘The Siym Holding brings them much closer,’ he said, still looking up. ‘Safer for them, but more aggressive towards us. If you were in his position, and you meant to cause mischief, what would you do?’
‘With Mastrunners I could cross the city faster than any news of my coming, but they’re outsiders. Auferno is too far to be effective.’
‘No doubt the Siym would have said the same.’
‘We are not the Siym.’
‘Just so. All the same, we must take precautions.’
‘Do you want certain people confined?’
Jo-Sarl gave a snort. ‘And send the message that I’ve gone soft?’
‘I understand.’
He held up a hand. ‘Best not to send the message I’m paranoid, however.’
Sanshir ventured a smile there. ‘I shall exercise restraint.’
‘Good. And the man himself? You said he was looking like some Silkland pirate?’
‘It rather suited him actually, except for the eyebrows.’
‘Veraimin’s breath! That’s hard to picture, my memory of him is more wild, hair and headscarf flying in the breeze.’
‘We’ve all got old and tired,’ Sanshir said. ‘I guess it even had to happen to the Bloody Pauper.’
‘I never thought it would.’
She paused. ‘No. Perhaps disgrace and exile was the best thing for him. We’d have come to blows one day. I knew I would be kaboto one day, but he’d have seen it as coming second …’
‘And that was something he’d never have lived with,’ Jo-Sarl finished for her. ‘Do you think that’s why he did it? Threw his lot in with my cousin?’
Sanshir nodded. ‘Doubt he saw it that way, but yes. He was never a Mastrunner though, not truly. He liked to fight too much.’
‘The Bloody Rose says this?’ Jo-Sarl laughed, incredulous. ‘You were quite the pair as I recall.’
‘I like to fight, I like to win. Him? Fighting was more than that to him. The other crews fear to go up against me because I win – because I take the fastest route to victory no matter who’s in my path. If he didn’t kill everyone in his path, it was only because he was in a hurry.’
‘I’m sure the years have mellowed him,’ the principal kabat of all Caldaire allowed. ‘But a few quick deaths within my family would be only prudent. To make sure.’
Chapter 19
While the rest of the Cards slowly roused themselves, Sitain stayed in bed. She shared a room with Lastani, the magic at their fingertips apparently making them natural roommates. While Lastani heaved herself up and set about dressing, Sitain lay quiet. It wasn’t that she disliked the bookish young mage, but Sitain found herself resenting the woman too.
The bonds of gender, age and magic made some things easier, but Lastani was at once fiercely intelligent and utterly brainless. There was so much Sitain could learn from her, but for some reason she shied
away from doing so.
‘Are you feeling ill?’ Lastani asked, catching sight of Sitain’s open eye.
‘No.’
‘Do you want me to bring you some food?’
‘I’m fine.’
Lastani sighed and sat on her own bed, across from Sitain. ‘Then what is it?’
‘Who says there’s something wrong?’
‘I do. I may not be some fierce mercenary, but I’m still a person with eyes.’
Sitain scowled and rolled over. She lay facing the wall for a moment then sat up. ‘It’s nothing you can fix,’ she said, wincing slightly at her hangover.
Lastani’s voice softened. ‘I never said I could, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here. I … Look, you’re not the only one who got uprooted and tethered to these fools.’
‘And still, it looks like you belong here,’ Sitain said, gesturing around generally. ‘The Mage Islands I mean. You’ll be a guildmaster soon enough, got the pedigree and such. Me, I’m just a curiosity to them.’
‘You think I’m staying in Caldaire?’
‘Well aren’t you? No Knights-Charnel here. Cold hells, you’ll become Shard in ten years.’
‘Don’t you want that?’ Lastani asked.
Sitain grabbed her clothes and started to get dressed while Lastani stared at her in confusion. ‘I want my family,’ she said at last. ‘Or rather, I don’t. Village life wasn’t much, but at least I belonged there. Not saying I want to live out my life there, but the thought I can never go home is eating away at me.’
‘There’s a life for you here too, if there’s one for me,’ Lastani said. ‘It’s your magic that’s valuable, not how many books you’ve read. The healing guilds will teach you, they’ll throw money at you most likely. Yes, they might prod and poke at your tattoos from time to time but digging in fields year in year out gets dull too.’
‘And get caught up in their games for the rest of my life? Get talked down to by educated folk all the time and run in circles when I try to think for myself?’