by Den Patrick
‘I didn’t want to kill anyone again.’
‘None of us do, child,’ said Mistress Kamalov in a tender whisper. ‘None of us do.’ They were last words Kjellrunn heard before she passed out.
Pain. Kjellrunn’s eyes snapped open just as Mistress Kamalov pulled the crossbow bolt out of her side. Blood pooled and Sundra pressed a bandage to the site of the wound. Kjellrunn groaned before she had the sense to look away and the room spun slightly as her vision swam. Maxim was kneeling at the doorway and the other novices had crowded in behind him to watch the gory spectacle.
‘How that bolt did not go through you at such close range is a miracle.’ Mistress Kamalov held up the offending bolt, slick with blood, then threw it in a bucket. ‘Foolish girl. You could have turned your skin to stone. I have seen you do this before!’
‘Not now,’ whispered Sundra. ‘She’s lost a lot of blood. You can scold her later.’
‘I didn’t want to lose control,’ whispered Kjellrunn. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Mistress Kamalov. ‘You would not have hurt me.’
‘Before. In Cinderfell. When the Okhrana came.’ Kjellrunn’s vision darkened and she knew she was close to passing out. Or death. ‘Before. I nearly killed you. I lost control of the arcane and the cottage collapsed. You were unconscious. I nearly killed you.’
‘That’s enough,’ said Sundra, standing in front of Mistress Kamalov. ‘She needs to rest.’
The room turned black.
Kjellrunn drifted in and out of consciousness. Faces blurred and the room darkened, but there was always someone beside her, holding her hand. The pain was a constant companion and the iron tang of blood filled her senses.
‘What time is it?’ she mumbled, her eyes still closed.
‘It is night. Now sleep, dear child. Sleep.’ Mistress Kamalov’s voice, soft and soothing in the darkness. Kjellrunn blinked a few times and found herself staring at Maxim, sitting beside the renegade Vigilant with an earnest look. Sundra sat in the corner of the room, dozing on a rickety stool.
‘All this time you have been too scared to use your powers because of what happened in Cinderfell,’ said the renegade Vigilant with a sad smile. ‘Why did you not tell me?’
‘I was …’ Kjellrunn struggled to find the word. ‘I was ashamed. I tried to tell you the night you found me asleep at the altar.’ She felt the hot sting of tears as she said the words, but also a relief to have finally said them.
‘You have saved my life on two occasions now,’ said Mistress Kamalov, squeezing her hand.
‘And I almost killed you,’ added Kjellrunn, feeling as miserable as she could remember.
‘But here I am.’ Mistress Kamalov bent forward and kissed Kjellrunn on the forehead. ‘I have missed you, Kjellrunn. I miss teaching you and I miss your company. We will speak of this again in the morning, but know that you have nothing to feel ashamed of. Nothing.’
The old woman rose from the bedside and left the room. Kjellrunn watched her go with a feeling of deep calm. Trine waited in the doorway with a murderous look on her narrow face. She glared at Kjellrunn before Mistress Kamalov put an arm around the dark-haired girl’s shoulders and ushered her away. Kjellrunn continued to stare at the doorway where a grey cat stared with a serious expression.
‘Kjellrunn?’ said Maxim. ‘Are you …?’
‘Still alive?’ replied Kjellrunn. ‘Yes.’
‘What are you staring at?’
‘There’s a grey cat in the doorway. I didn’t know the temple had a cat.’ Maxim rose from his stool and approached the doorway, then stepped into the corridor beyond and looked around. He looked back at Kjellrunn over his shoulder with an expression of concern.
‘There’s no cat here, Kjellrunn.’
‘Of course there is,’ she replied, starting to fall asleep again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Silverdust
The vast chamber of the Imperial Court was heavy with silence. The first rays of sun had yet to venture through the windows and halos of light broke the gloom; trios of candles in tall candelabras stood watch over the scene. The court was empty save for the four old women who polished the floor, hunting down scuffs, stains and imperfections. Streig and Silverdust watched all of this from the gallery, high up on the side of the chamber. The shock of the previous night’s attack had passed but many questions needed answers.
‘All this time?’ said Streig in a hushed voice. The Exarch nodded.
All of this time and for many years before. It is why I do not sleep and why I do not eat.
‘The last cinderwraith in all of Vinterkveld.’
Quite possibly.
‘Why didn’t you pass on why Steiner set the others free?’
In part, because I wanted to buy Steiner some time with lies and misdirection. As time went on I realised that there was something left undone. A wrong I should have righted long ago.
‘Why tell all of this to me now?’ Streig rubbed his face and blinked away the tiredness.
We have come all this way together, Streig. It feels wrong to keep this last truth from you. Besides, you saw me fall off the roof of the inn. Only a Vigilant of Academy Zemlya could prevent their demise from such a fall.
‘You could have lied,’ said Streig. ‘I’m a soldier, what do I know?’
You are not just a soldier, Streig. You are my friend, perhaps my only friend, and honesty is good currency between friends.
‘Friends.’ Streig said the word as if trying on a new garment for size. ‘Not too much opportunity for friendship in the Empire.’
It is how the Emperor likes it. People fighting among themselves rarely unite to topple their leader.
Streig thought on this, seeing the sense of it. He turned his eyes to the women scrubbing the floor and spoke quietly. ‘I was shocked when I learned the Empire lies to everyone about the arcane. Any soldier that serves alongside a Vigilant is told and sworn to secrecy on pain of death.’ Streig shook his head. ‘All this fear and hatred about witchsign, and here you are setting people on fire in the capital city. There will be consequences.’
There are always consequences. But they were Okhrana and I was unarmed. They would have killed you too.
‘No witnesses.’ Streig massaged his forehead and sighed. There hadn’t been much chance to sleep since the assassins had come for them.
This has always been the Emperor’s way. Kill the truth, kill those who know the truth, destroy anything that supports a different view, then tell people what they want to hear to hold on to power.
‘And today you’ll kill him and make it all stop.’ It hardly needed saying. Silverdust had made his intent clear. ‘You’re all I have now,’ said Streig after a pause. ‘The other soldiers don’t speak to me. I have no section, no troop, only you. And after today …’
I must kill him, Streig. It is the only way. His grip on the Empire is absolute.
‘But do you have to die with him?’
I will need to gain a private audience; only there might he relax his defences. If fortune smiles upon me I may be able to catch him off guard. Even if I survive killing the Emperor there will be scores of loyal Vigilants in the palace. Escape will be far from certain.
The doors at the back of the court boomed open and Semyonovsky guards stalked in. A pause in their stride indicated they were not used to such early visitors. One of their number marched across the polished tiles and made a perfunctory bow to the Exarch, a nod at best. Silverdust let it pass.
‘You must come down from there,’ said the Semyonovsky guard to Silverdust. ‘And you must leave at once,’ he said to Streig. ‘Soldiers are not permitted here.’
Silverdust held up a hand. He is not a soldier, but my aide. His mace waits by the doors outside. Go now and trouble us no more. The Exarch waved the man away as if he were a serving wench. The guard looked from Silverdust to Streig, then turned on his heel and marched away.
If only the rest of the
day passes so smoothly.
‘What should I do?’ asked Streig.
Go back to the inn. I have left a significant sum of money for you. From there I want you to return home to Virolanti Province. Learn to be a farmer. Take a new name and live a new life.
‘A farmer?’ Silverdust could sense Streig’s shock. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’
Which is why the money will help.
‘I want to stay. I want to help you set things right …’ Silverdust held up one hand to silence Streig’s protests.
Farmers make things grow. You should make something of your life that does not depend on death and secrets.
‘Like the Empire.’
Like me, thought Silverdust, but he kept these words to himself. Yes. Like the Empire. Get away from here. Should I fail they will seek you out. They will have questions. Questions, whips, and knives.
It was another hour before the courtiers filed into the vast court in dribs and drabs. In twos and threes they came, high-ranking generals and Vigilants of various standing. A few nobles joined their number, splendid in their finery. Silverdust could sense their reluctance, given the recent fate of Dimitri Sokolov. ‘What now?’ said Streig.
It is time. Go back to the inn. Take the money. Silverdust stood up and placed one hand on the young soldier’s shoulder. Neither said anything, knowing that this might be the last time they ever spoke. Thank you for being my friend, Streig.
Silverdust exited the gallery and descended the steps to the court. He drifted across the polished tiles and stood directly before the throne, head bowed as if in contemplation. Latecomers joined the huddle of three dozen courtiers, but Father Orlov and Envoy de Vries were the last to enter. The Envoy, who made it her life’s work to appear poised and beguiling, had the beginnings of dark rings beneath her eyes. She walked slowly with one arm crossed over her stomach, her other hand pressed against her mouth. She approached Silverdust with a look of dread.
Good morning, Envoy de Vries. I gather by now you have heard the fate of the Okhrana sent to kill me.
Envoy de Vries said nothing. Silverdust probed at her mind and found only shocked turmoil. Her thoughts spun and twisted, too fast to concentrate on or make sense of.
Father Orlov. You are well, I trust? Orlov’s expression remained hidden behind his mask, but Silverdust could sense the man’s stomach tightening with a dread born of disbelief. Silverdust projected his words into the minds of everyone present.
Thank you for the gift of Okhrana last night. Unfortunately they were not up to the task you set them. How unfortunate. For them and for you.
The courtiers broke out in a frenzy of barely whispered outrage. Envoy de Vries grimaced through a smile of pure fear.
‘I have no idea what you are suggesting, Exarch. Only the Emperor and few trusted lieutenants have the authority to dispatch the Okhrana for an assassination.’
Silverdust stepped closer to the woman so they were within arm’s reach of each other.
I did not say they had been sent to assassinate me, Envoy.
‘Half of Khlystburg is talking about it. My people brought me news a few hours ago.’ The Emperor entered the court before Silverdust could reply and all assembled dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. He wore his customary black and his pale eyes slid across the many courtiers with a cold indifference. An unfurled scroll dangled from one hand, while the other traced the sheath containing the Ashen Blade. Four Semyonovsky guards escorted him, taking up places either side of the throne.
‘You may stand,’ he said in his quiet voice. The courtiers rose and a feeling of dread crept along the necks and spines of everyone like a frost in spring. ‘Exarch.’ The Emperor looked down at the scroll and returned his gaze to Silverdust. ‘I have reports that you slew a handful of Okhrana in the Voronin District last night, even going so far as to use the arcane in public.’
Your reports are almost correct, your Imperial highness. The Okhrana were seven in number.
‘Seven.’ The Emperor sat on the throne and took a moment to roll the scroll up, his pale eyes fixed on Silverdust, his expression serious. The court waited, barely daring to breathe. ‘Perhaps you could illuminate us why you took it upon yourself to kill my servants in such a way?’
My best guess is that the Okhrana had been sent by Envoy de Vries to kill me before I could testify before you today, your Imperial highness.
‘Your best guess?’ repeated the Emperor, nodding thoughtfully. ‘Who else might want you dead, Exarch?’
Perhaps you sent them, Your Imperial Highness, to punish me for Vladibogdan.
Silverdust knew the latter wasn’t true, but he also knew the Emperor was attracted to boldness and intrigue. If he could win the Emperor over he might be granted an audience in private.
‘This is quite the accusation, Exarch.’ The Emperor gave a chilly smile and drew the Ashen Blade from its sheath. ‘As it is well known at court that Envoy de Vries is a favourite of mine.’
A shame, Your Imperial Highness. She is no favourite of mine.
The courtiers standing near Silverdust wore such looks of sickly anguish it was almost comical. The Emperor looked at Envoy de Vries, then regarded the tip of the Ashen Blade. Flakes of pale grey ash fluttered to the floor.
‘Your Imperial Highness …’ she began to say but the Emperor gave her a look of such reproach she fell silent immediately.
‘We killed fifty people in the Voronin District this morning,’ said the Emperor. There was no expression in his voice, save perhaps boredom. His eyes drifted to the tip of the enchanted dagger. ‘In order to suppress last night’s … altercation.’
Silverdust felt a pang of remorse. He had known there would be consequences for such a public display, but he had not considered the consequences would not be his and his alone.
‘Not that it matters, of course.’ The Emperor stood up and descended the steps from the throne. ‘Rumours of people using the arcane are spreading across the whole continent and I can’t very well kill everyone.’ He took a moment to stare at the Ashen Blade then once more looked up sharply and fixed his pale gaze on the Envoy. ‘Is this true, de Vries? Did you use my Okhrana without correct authority?’
‘Your Imperial Highness. I grew frustrated. I know this man to be an enemy of the Empire. He consorted with the ringleader of the uprising on Vladibogdan and—’
‘You decided to send my Okhrana to kill him in the middle of the night?’ The Emperor’s calm expression had changed to something darker, hinting at the anger deep below the surface. For a moment Silverdust wondered if he might use the Ashen Blade on de Vries to make an example of her.
‘And you have proof I assume?’ said the Emperor. ‘Of this consorting.’
‘Your Imperial Highness.’ Father Orlov stepped forward and bowed deeply. ‘I was on Vladibogdan during the fall—’
It has hardly fallen. Unless the island has sunk beneath the Sommerende Ocean since we left.
Silverdust’s riposte drew a smirk from the Emperor before he nodded to Orlov to continue.
‘Go on, Ordinary.’
‘I am Father Orlov, Your Imperial Highness.’ The courtiers were absolutely silent, keen to hear the words that would damn the upstart Exarch. ‘Silverdust was absent during the fighting; he did not come to the defence of the island. And furthermore, I saw him with my own eyes, conversing with Steiner Vartiainen himself days later.’
The courtiers whispered to one another at the mention of Steiner’s name. The boy’s fame preceded him. Silverdust could feel some satisfaction from that at least. He had bought Steiner time, just as he said he would.
‘Is this true, Exarch?’ said the Emperor, keeping his tone level.
I did speak with the Vartiainen boy, but only to secure the safety of the remaining novices on Vladibogdan. Many were slain during the fighting, and many fled afterwards.
The Emperor stared at the Exarch and moved closer. Silverdust felt the immense pressure of the Emperor’s regard as the man trie
d to read his mind. A look of irritation crossed the Emperor’s face for a fleeting moment. Silverdust’s mind remained impregnable.
‘And you were in charge when all of this took place?’ said the Emperor, his gaze flickering between Father Orlov and Silverdust.
No, Your Imperial Highness. That responsibility fell to Ordinary Shirinov, who was carrying out Envoy de Vries’ wishes after Matriarch-Commissar Felgenhauer left us.
‘Another link of treachery, Your Imperial Highness,’ said the Envoy. ‘The Exarch is a known conspirator with the renegade Felgenhauer.’
‘What stopped you from slaying Steiner Vartiainen?’ said the Emperor. ‘I’m curious how you can kill seven Okhrana when they come for you in the middle of the night, but one peasant boy can cow you into obedience.’
He carries a weapon of immense power, Your Imperial Highness, and wears boots of steadfastness. His allies are numerous and powerful, channelling the powers of the old gods. It felt good to build Steiner’s myth here in the Imperial Court. Let them fear him. Let them know the end was coming.
‘You didn’t even try to kill him?’ said the Emperor with an icy calm.
I thought negotiation would be best. And let us not forget, he carries the blood of the Vartiainen family in his veins.
‘The Vartiainen family,’ breathed the Emperor. ‘It seems I’ll never be free of them.’ The Emperor walked away, regarding his courtiers with tight smiles and small nods, though they shrank back from him with barely concealed terror. The Ashen Blade dangled from his hand. Silverdust saw his chances of gaining a private audience dwindle as the Emperor approached an old, high-ranking soldier.
‘Dragons have been sighted all along the west coast of the continent, Your Imperial Highness,’ said the elderly general. ‘Ships attacked, goods lost, and there is panic in the port cities along the western coast.’
‘All of our secrets are undone, it seems,’ replied the Emperor.
‘There’s no telling how many people have seen them by now, Your Imperial Highness,’ continued the general.