by Den Patrick
‘Why is that?’
‘An old Vigilant I knew used to say people are made of water and minerals.’ The old woman cocked her head as if she half-believed it. ‘Or perhaps you are simply more tough than you look.’
The sea was choppy that day and an endless procession of waves advanced towards them. White crests flourished here and there across the Shimmer Sea. The waters crashed against the shore with a rousing susurrus while the sky was overcast with streaks of pale blue breaking up the endless grey. Kjellrunn almost felt at home.
‘What do we do now?’ she asked as they trudged through the dunes and past the stone hand.
‘We sit.’
‘That’s what Kolas asked me to do.’ Kjellrunn half-winced, half-grimaced. ‘It never goes well.’
‘Perhaps.’ Mistress Kamalov stared at the sea and pouted. ‘But I am not Kolas. Sit.’
Kjellrunn did as she was told and listened to the sea meet the shoreline as she had done so many times before.
‘Tell me now,’ said Mistress Kamalov, in a voice barely louder than the tide. ‘What do you feel?’
‘The usual dread. I want to run away. I feel … irritated?’
‘Irritation is the first step towards anger,’ said Mistress Kamalov. ‘These feelings, they come from inside you or from the sea?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Kjellrunn took an uneasy breath. ‘There’s a feeling that comes from the sea, but there’s also something in me.’
Kjellrunn started as the old woman took her hand. ‘Breathe, Kjellrunn. Close your eyes. This is not easy but I am here with you. Think of our conversation in the temple that night you fell asleep by the altar.’
They sat for a long time and finally Kjellrunn felt a shift. It was easier to sit here with Mistress Kamalov’s guidance; she could feel the woman next to her even as the presence in the sea grew steadily stronger.
‘The feelings are mine,’ said Kjellrunn. ‘The dread is for Steiner and my father. Dread that I may never see them again. The anger is for the Empire and all the suffering it’s caused us. The anxiety …’ She struggled for the words, took a breath. ‘The anxiety is that I don’t know how to change things.’
‘And the presence in the Shimmer Sea?’
‘It knows me. I can’t tell you how I know that. Whatever is out there knows me, it hears me, it feels what I feel.’
‘Yes.’ Mistress Kamalov squeezed her hand and Kjellrunn opened her eyes. The old woman was smiling at her. ‘This was my sense too.’
‘Do you know what it is?’
‘Those who study with Academy Vozdukha are able to summon birds as you have seen many times now. Also strange winds and storms, as you saw in the street the day you were wounded. Academy Plamya can conjure fire and smoke, sometimes from their own bodies, but also from thin air. Voda can move water and Zemlya practitioners have no way of summoning anything.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Kjellrunn. ‘Where does that leave me?’
‘Every now and again a student has a foot in two worlds. A Vigilant with a mastery of fire and earth could summon a dragon, given enough time.’
‘And me?’
‘You, Kjellrunn, have a mastery of earth and water far beyond your years. You can summon something far rarer than even the mighty dragon.’
Kjellrunn rose to her feet and stared out to sea, feeling the immensity of something far larger and older than herself, something that held a deep knowing.
‘I’m not sure I’m ready for that,’ she said quietly.
‘I am not sure you have a choice, Kjellrunn.’ Mistress Kamalov stood up and pulled her shawl about her. ‘You need to learn control, or your fears of hurting other people may be realised all too soon.’
‘What happens now?’
‘You are wounded, yes? Now we go back and you eat something, perhaps have a nap.’
Kjellrunn nodded. ‘But we’ll come back later?’
‘No, we will train near the temple. The sea is too much of a distraction for you, and that is the last thing we need.’
Mistress Kamalov made her way back up the beach towards Dos Khor, head bowed against the wind. Kjellrunn snatched one last look at the Shimmer Sea, searching for some clue of what waited beneath the waves.
‘You know me,’ she whispered to the sea, and the words brought some measure of relief. ‘You know me. I don’t have to be afraid of you any more.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Silverdust
The mood around the Imperial Palace was frantic as Silverdust made his way outside. Not even a fine drizzle could dampen the spirits of the soldiers, messengers, Envoys and nobles who gossiped and speculated. Everywhere, the same name was uttered with a reverence usually reserved for the Emperor.
Steiner Vartiainen.
Silverdust lingered on the steps of a side entrance. He stood in the shadow of a vast column that supported the roof, sheltering from the weather. The palace stables were close at hand and messengers arrived and departed on horseback every few minutes. A torrent of information swept by, an irresistible stream of it. Silverdust caught glimpses and flashes of thoughts and feelings, heard fragments of conversations. A messenger lurched from the doorway with a small bottle of wine. Dark circles beneath his eyes hinted that he had ridden through the night. The messenger took a moment to pull up his hood, before heading towards the stables on another errand. Silverdust stepped before the man, blocking his way.
What has happened?
‘I don’t have time for the likes of you,’ sneered the messenger.
You will make time for the likes of me. I am an Exarch and I asked you a direct question.
‘The messengers don’t answer to the Synod. Never have. You can stuff your request up your arse. I bear a message from the Emperor himse—’ The messenger, all of seventeen summers perhaps, and weighing no more than a soaking wet tabard, found himself pinned to the wall by his throat.
‘Gkk! Get off of me, you halfhead. I am—’
This will not take long.
‘Get off me. Gah! I can’t breathe!’ And just as abruptly the messenger was let down. His legs buckled as he slid down the wall and slithered to the ground. The messenger glowered at the Exarch from his seat on the floor.
Thank you. I have everything I need. Silverdust bent down until he was face to face with the messenger. You have been very useful, Andrej. Glory to the Emperor.
‘What did you just do to me? Wait …’
The Exarch drifted away, pondering on what he’d gleaned from the messenger’s mind.
‘How do you know my name?’ called the messenger, but Silverdust paid him no heed. Steiner had been true to his word, creating a string of uprisings across the continent. Silverdust had learned everything the messenger knew about the disturbances in Virag, Trystbyre, and Vostochnyye Lisy in the space of a heartbeat. The knowledge came with a darker truth: Exarch Zima hunted Steiner and Marek was in Imperial hands. Even righteous anger and a sledgehammer could get you only so far, it seemed.
Silverdust thought upon all of this as he wended his way from the Imperial Gardens. Something felt amiss and for a long time he struggled with what it might be.
Streig.
The soldier was nowhere to be seen. Silverdust felt the old loneliness return, the gentle stifling of enforced solitude. It is good that he got out now, thought Silverdust. Someone should survive. Bad enough he had lost his own life all that time ago, but if he could save just one soldier, well, that would be a glimmer of hope in the onrushing darkness.
The Voronin District was just as wretched in the drizzle as it had been in the mist. Silverdust gave thanks for waxed robes and pulled the hood into place more securely. It would not do for a cinderwraith to be caught in such weather. The rain could achieve in seconds what seven Okhrana had failed to do. The patrons of the inn grumbled at the Exarch’s passing, eyeing him warily. Silverdust was faintly surprised that the place was open, given the events of the previous night.
In time the rain ceased its
lazy descent from the steel grey sky and Silverdust resumed his place on the inn’s roof. All night he waited on the roof of the inn, keeping watch and reflecting on what had happened.
It was morning when Streig appeared, walking beside a lieutenant in the street below. The citizens of the Voronin District cleared the way with fearful looks on their faces. They had barely had the chance to recover from the earlier violence. Rumours were circulating furiously regarding the many corpses it produced. More soldiers followed behind, not merely the ten men they had travelled with from Vladibogdan, but a full troop of thirty men marching in lockstep.
‘Hoy there!’ shouted Streig from the square below. The city folk shrank away from the sudden appearance of so many armoured men. ‘I’m coming up with the lieutenant,’ shouted Streig. ‘Just to talk, nothing more.’ He held up empty hands. The thirty soldiers spread out across the square, a handful of men blocking off each exit.
‘Exarch.’ Streig bowed. He had his helm tucked under one arm and carried a letter in one hand. The lieutenant removed his helm, revealing a veteran with a shaven head and a deeply lined face. There was a hard look about him, but Silverdust could sense his fear. The lieutenant had no wish to suffer the same fate as the Okhrana the night before.
What does the letter say?
‘We are to depart for the docks immediately and set out for Arkiv Island,’ said the lieutenant. ‘We believe Steiner Vartiainen is in hiding there.’
I was led to believe I am on trial for the downfall of Vladibogdan and for fraternising with the Vartiainen boy.
‘Permission to speak freely, Exarch?’ said the lieutenant.
Silverdust nodded.
‘The Emperor is well aware that Envoy de Vries likes to foment competition among members of the Holy Synod to earn her favour.’
Not unlike the Emperor himself.
The lieutenant walked to the edge of the roof, using one hand to steady himself on the parapet.
‘The Emperor is also aware that the Envoy is trying to divest the responsibility of what happened onto someone else.’ The lieutenant stared down to the square below. Silverdust could tell the man was thinking about the dead Okhrana and how long it took to fall from such a height.
You were saying, lieutenant?
‘What? Yes. The Emperor is keen not to lose any more Vigilants, given the circumstances. The fate of Vladibogdan fell to Ordinary Shirinov. You can prove your loyalty to the Emperor by following the orders in the letter.’ Silverdust didn’t need to read the letter to know what game the Emperor had set out for him.
I am to capture Steiner Vartiainen.
‘No, Exarch. That task is for Father Orlov and Envoy de Vries. You are tasked with hunting the former Matriarch-Commissar.’
I am expected to best Felgenhauer? Her powers are considerable.
‘It’s all in the letter, Exarch. We must head for the docks at once. Time is of the essence.’
And if I refuse?
‘Then I walk away and leave you here,’ said the lieutenant in a calm voice, ignoring the fact an Exarch of the Holy Synod had suggested treason. ‘The Emperor is giving you a choice, Exarch,’ added the lieutenant softly. ‘That’s not something that happens often, especially in the Imperial Court.’ There was something in the lieutenant’s tone that gave Silverdust pause.
You refer to the Sokolov boy? Silverdust took a moment and reached out with arcane senses, working softly so as not to disturb the veteran. You are from the Vend Province, are you not?
‘I am, Exarch. I served the Sokolov family for a long time. Now if you’ll please come with us. We can speak more once we’ve boarded the ship.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Steiner
‘You’re really going to leave me tied to this mast all the way to …’ Steiner frowned. ‘Where are we going?’ He’d spent the night drowsing against the mast or shivering in the deep chill of the small hours. A soldier had approached in the night and draped an extra cloak over his shoulders. His hands were coldest and he’d bunched them into fists in an effort to retain any heat. The dawn failed to bring much-needed warmth.
‘Now you mention it,’ said the sergeant, ‘it doesn’t seem like the most civilised of methods.’ He’d taken off his helm to reveal a long face; he lacked the usual pale complexion so common to Solmindre men, and his hair was a rich brown. He chomped an apple as he walked in an unhurried circle around Steiner, looking out over the Ashen Gulf.
‘Have you got Spriggani blood in you?’ said Steiner. ‘I have friends that look just—’ The sergeant stepped in close.
‘Keep your voice down.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘Any other soldier would kill you just for thinking such a thing.’
‘Do your men know?’
‘Of course they know. It’s not my men that concern me, it’s the sailors. If you want to get off this ship alive you’ll keep your mouth shut.’ The sergeant threw the half-eaten apple over the side of the ship and put his helm back on.
‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Steiner. ‘At least tell me where we’re going?’
‘Arkiv,’ said the sergeant. ‘We’re going to Arkiv.’
Steiner was released from the mast a few hours later. A small cabin without a window was made free to him. The door had three locks and was barred from the outside. The only light crept around the gaps in the timbers of the ship. This was where he spent the rest of the journey, worrying about the fates of Marek, Kjellrunn, and Kristofine in the gloom.
‘Not long now,’ said a voice outside the door. ‘You can come up on deck if you give your word not to start any trouble.’
‘You have my word,’ croaked Steiner. He hadn’t spoken in days and his throat was dry. The locks clicked and the sound of scraping wood could be heard as the bar was lifted. The door creaked open and the sergeant waited outside, his helm under one arm and a gruff look on his face.
‘Any trouble and the girl goes to Khlystburg,’ said the sergeant, loud enough that the people on deck most likely heard him. ‘And trust me, you don’t want that.’
‘No need for threats,’ said Steiner. ‘You have my word.’
‘And no more talk of Spriggani blood either,’ said the sergeant under his breath. He led the way to the main deck where Kristofine waited. She held Steiner close when it was clear no one would stop them. Steiner bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut against her hair. For the first time in days he felt a fleeting moment of relief.
‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘I nearly got us all killed.’
‘He’s your father,’ she said, and hugged him closer. ‘Stands to reason you’d try anything.’ She looked him over and wrinkled her nose. ‘You look half dead. And you smell like it too.’
‘I feel half dead,’ replied Steiner. ‘I just haven’t decided which half yet. And you?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t get far in that rowing boat. Once the cart overturned I surrendered.’
‘There it is,’ said the sergeant, ‘Arkiv Island. Jewel of the entire continent.’
Steiner stared in disbelief. Never had he seen such architecture. Every street was lined with buildings of stone, not a wooden home among them. There was no sign of the thatched roofs or simple cottages of Nordvlast here. The city possessed a vastness that demanded attention, a grandeur of scale. The roads were not the winding lanes of Virag or the narrow alleys of Vostochnyye Lisy. Broad thoroughfares ran through the city in straight lines, wide enough for three carts side by side.
‘That’s not a row of houses in the same style, is it?’ Steiner said, nodding towards a four-storey building not far from the docks. It had been painted white, and the window frames and doors were all black-varnished wood. Sunlight reflected from window panes finer, straighter and clearer than Steiner had ever seen. ‘That’s the same building stretching all the way along that street.’
The sergeant nodded. ‘It’s the naval college. It’s like that on four sides, and the courtyard in the centre can hold two hundred men on parade
.’
The ship drew closer to the island and Steiner stared in awe at the docks. Four Imperial ships waited for fresh crew, cargo and orders. Their masts formed a loose forest against the early-morning skies.
‘The fleet is based here?’ asked Kristofine.
‘For a long time now,’ said the sergeant. ‘The Emperor wants them to relocate to Khlystburg, but there are significant bureaucratic hurdles slowing the process down.’
Steiner couldn’t decide if the sergeant sounded happy about this or not. ‘Surely the Emperor’s word is law?’ he asked.
‘Law isn’t necessarily reality,’ said the sergeant, then pointed to another part of the city. ‘That’s where we’re headed, the Great Library of Arkiv. It holds the largest collection of books and arcane artefacts in the world.’
‘Why are we being brought here?’ said Kristofine.
‘Maybe they want to know about the boots?’ said Steiner. The sergeant gave a low chuckle.
‘You ever wonder why you’re so fortunate with that hammer?’
‘I’m strong, and the sledgehammer …’ He stopped for a moment.
‘How much training have you had?’ said the sergeant. ‘Fighting, I mean.’
‘None,’ admitted Steiner. ‘But I think I’m a natural.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ said the sergeant. ‘But that’s not the whole truth of it.’
The ship put in at Arkiv docks as close as it dared to. The waters were full with all manner of fisherman’s boats. Commercial ships set sail for Slavon, Vend or Novgoruske Provinces. Steiner and Kristofine were taken to shore in a small boat with no less than six soldiers.
‘Almost there,’ said the sergeant, though Steiner wasn’t sure who the words were meant for. He stared east towards the horizon, where the choppy swell of the Ashen Gulf stretched out, seemingly forever. A desolate feeling stole over him, like a deep cold and driving rain.
‘That way lies the Midtenjord Steppe,’ said Kristofine.
‘And Khlystburg?’ he asked. She nodded with a sombre look.