Justice

by Ian Irvine

  “He wasn’t ready to come back, but I’ve been talkin’ to him about Tali, and how she’s waitin’ for him. Tali’s here, ain’t she?” Rannilt said anxiously, and she looked like a little girl again, fretting about whether she had done the right thing.

  Rix felt a sudden, indefinable unease. Tali had also been here last time Tobry had come back from the dead. Why was history repeating itself?

  “Yes, she’s here,” said Glynnie. “She’s out looking for… something at the moment, but I expect she’ll be back tonight.”

  A shadow passed across Rannilt’s face but Rix paid no notice. He was too overcome.

  “Come in to the warm,” he said. “You need feeding up, both of you.”

  There was some muttering among the servants when they learned that the shifter was back, though it died away when they saw how well Rannilt worked with Tobry, and how different he was. Besides, the rabblerousers who had so feared him before were dead—either killed in the mutiny at Garramide months ago, or executed for their part in it.

  Late in the afternoon, after they had bathed, fed and rested, Rannilt brought Tobry up to Rix’s salon. Tobry would not sit by the fire with the others, but prowled back and forth.

  “He don’t like bein’ inside,” said Rannilt. She smirked. “Or bein’ bathed.”

  After some minutes she cajoled him into sitting in an armchair well back from the fire in the unlit shadows, and she perched beside him. Rix and Glynnie took chairs on the other side of the fire and Rannilt went on with her tale, telling it backwards.

  “I told Lyf about the circlet,” she confessed. She leaned away from Rix, afraid of his reaction.

  “I wasn’t aware you knew about it,” said Rix.

  “I hear things… Aren’t you angry?”

  “After all you’ve done for Tobry? What did Lyf do?”

  “I followed him and Errek, watchin’ and listenin’. They took a gate—the Sacred Gate, they called it—to Caulderon. But they came back an hour later and went the other way. He was headin’ to a place he called Tur-Turgur Thross.”

  “Old Cythian ruins,” said Rix. “About four miles north of here.”

  “And then he was plannin’ to hang around Garramide and watch for Grandys to go after the circlet—so he could get to it first.”

  “Was he now? That’s very interesting.”

  Rannilt told them how badly Tobry had relapsed after Lyf’s interrogation, and how much healing she’d had to do in the following days to get him to the docile state he was in now.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” said Rix. “The whole world seems to be gathering outside our walls. It won’t be long now until… the end.”

  “Is that what the wyverin means?” said Rannilt, wide-eyed. “The end of the world?”

  She glanced at Tobry, who let out a muted howl, although very loud in the small space.

  “What do you know about the wyverin?” said Rix, glancing towards the table by the window.

  “The winged terror,” said Rannilt. “We went underground for ages—maybe a week—and Tobry sniffed it out in its lair.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You shoulda seen it. It’s gigantic!”

  Rix went to the table, then returned with his first sketch, which he held up so the firelight fell on it. “Like this?”

  Rannilt started. Tobry let out a wild cry and sprang to his feet, reaching out with both arms to the image.

  “It’s just a picture, Tobry,” Rannilt said. She snatched the sketch, folded it over so only the blank surface on the other side of the paper showed, then unfolded it again. “Just a picture. It ain’t real.”

  The tension slowly drained out of him. He gave a great shudder, drooped, and she dropped the sketch and helped him back to his chair.

  “It looks exactly like that.” Rannilt sat, laid her head on the arm of the chair and closed her eyes. “So tired.”

  “How did you do it?” said Glynnie.

  Rannilt blinked at her. “Do what?”

  “Heal Tobry when everyone said it couldn’t be done. I’ve been helping in the healery for ages, trying to save wounded men and women, and I do everything I possibly can, yet still they die before my eyes, day after day. How do you manage it?”

  Rannilt shrugged. “I’ve wanted to heal since I was a little girl.”

  Rix smiled. “Some might say you’re still a little girl.”

  Rannilt bristled. “I’m nearly eleven! I drove off the evil facinore. And fought wicked old Lyf.”

  “Some might say it,” Rix said hastily. “But I wouldn’t be one of them. Thank you for bringing Tobry back, Rannilt. Thank you from the depths of my heart.”

  She stared at him.

  “And for finding a way to do what no one else in the world could have,” he added.

  “He ain’t healed yet,” she said quietly. “There’s miles to go. I haven’t even touched the hardest bit—the shifter curse.” She bit her lip, and suddenly she was a little girl again, struggling to do something beyond her comprehension. “I don’t know how I’m goin’ to heal him of that…”

  She frowned up at Rix. “Don’t you dare tell me I can’t,” she said fiercely. “Tali was always sayin’ that. I can heal Tobry. I can!”

  “I believe you,” said Rix. “No one wants Tobry healed more than I do.”

  She snorted, then turned and took Tobry by the hand. “Time for us to do some more work.”

  When the door had closed behind them, Rix took up the wyverin sketch and went to throw it into the fire.

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” said Glynnie.

  “Why not?”

  “You drew it, and then the wyverin turned up.”

  “If we believe Rannilt’s story, and I see no reason not to, it was the other way around. Tobry found the wyverin—and sometime after that, I drew it. Besides, judging by those statues Rannilt described, it’s been there thousands of years.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The statues—those elderly, female Defenders—must be Cythian, which means they date back before the time of the First Fleet.”

  “What kind of a beast eats rock, breathes out sulphur and pees quicksilver, anyway?”

  “And what else does it breathe and pee?” said Rix.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Rannilt said the wyverin was eating a bright red ore called cinnabar. I know about cinnabar, as it happens, because House Ricinus used to own a cinnabar mine.”

  “What’s cinnabar?”

  “Quicksilver ore, and it’s easy to get the quicksilver out. We just heated the ore on an iron plate until it gave off sulphur and left behind globules of quicksilver. Very quick. And very deadly. Hardly any of our miners or smelter workers lived to old age, and most of those who did went mad. They used to call it madman’s ore.”

  He fetched the other sketches he had made and spread them on the floor—the wyverin rising; the wyverin falling on a great city, consuming it fire and fume; the land where wyverin flocked, devouring all. Finally that bleak, empty land lit by a gelid moon. As the firelight played on the sketches, he imagined that the beasts were rising, flying, feeding.

  “Why am I painting the end?” said Rix. “The end’s no use to me. I need the beginning.”

  “Your divinatory gift has been wrong before,” said Glynnie. “Why do you let it bother you so?”

  “It’s also been right before, and you have no idea how much I hate it!” He rose abruptly, trampling the sketches and kicking them aside. “I don’t want to know anything about the future.”

  “Good, because every time you talk about getting your father’s portrait back—”

  “Father’s portrait!” said Rix. “That’s it! What if it’s changed, as my mural of Grandys did?”

  “Why do you think the portrait would change?”

  “When I was painting it, every time I looked at it I saw something different.”

  “That was a desperate time,” said Glynnie. “The war had just started, Caulde
ron was besieged and the chancellor was threatening to bring down House Ricinus. It wasn’t the portrait that was different—it was you. You were changing, so you kept seeing new things in it.”

  “How would you know?” said Rix. “You weren’t there.”

  “As it happens, I was.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Around the time you started the portrait, I wangled a shift in my roster. I was one of the housemaids who cleaned your chambers when you and Tobry were out, or asleep. I saw the portrait every time I was there.”

  “And I never knew,” sighed Rix.

  “Lords who live in palaces never notice the servants,” she said acidly.

  “Why did you wangle a shift in your roster? Why were you so interested in Father’s portrait?”

  “I didn’t give a damn about the portrait. I was interested in you.”

  “But you—” Rix bit the rest off. He wasn’t that stupid. Not quite.

  “Were just a maidservant?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about getting you,” she said hastily. “That wasn’t even a dream. But I liked you, and you’d always treated me and Benn kindly. I—I just wanted to be near you.”

  He reached out to her. “And now we are with each other.”

  She squeezed into the armchair next to him and he put his arms around her.

  “You’re not going to go after it, are you?” said Glynnie.

  “The portrait?” He knew she was talking about it. He just wasn’t ready to answer.

  “Yes, the damned portrait.”

  “I might have to.”

  She stiffened in his arms, then propelled herself violently out of the chair.

  “You couldn’t come to Caulderon to help me find Benn,” she said with icy fury, “but you’ll neglect your responsibilities to us and your army and Garramide, and risk your life, to get back a painting you loathe?”

  “What happens if the wyverin—this otherworldly beast that feeds on the earth itself—does wake? Does it signify the end of everything? We have to know, Glynnie.”

  “If we can’t hold Grandys out when he brings his army up the mountain tomorrow, or the next day, the wyverin won’t matter.”

  CHAPTER 62

  Tali crept into Rix’s rooms late that night as if she had been trying to avoid meeting anyone. She probably had—all Garramide knew about her argument with Radl, who had only been here a week but was already far more popular than Tali.

  “Any luck with the circlet?” said Rix.

  She shook her head. “Tell me something that’s not about Lyf or Grandys. Anything at all.”

  Should he tell her that Tobry and Rannilt were here? How would Tali react to the news that Tobry was alive? If she tried to take over his healing—and Tali might well feel it was her right—there would be big trouble, and Rix did not have the energy to deal with any more trouble right now.

  He decided to introduce the matter obliquely. “The wyverin has been seen.”

  “The wyverin?” she said with odd emphasis. “Like the one in your father’s portrait.”

  “More or less—though it’s ten times as big, apparently. Almost too big for the world, I’ve heard. It’s not a good omen.”

  “It certainly isn’t for Grandys,” said Tali. She sat up, bright-eyed.

  “How do you mean?” said Rix.

  “He’s got a superstitious fear of it.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s some kind of Herovian nemesis, for his family.”

  “Really?” said Rix. “How do you know that?”

  “When they held me prisoner on Red Mesa, I happened to mention it to him—”

  “How come you didn’t tell me this before?”

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

  “No doubt,” he said drily.

  “Anyway, on Red Mesa, Grandys was boasting that he was your greatest fear, and that he was going to destroy you. I had to wipe the smirk off his face somehow, so I said he wasn’t your greatest fear—the wyverin was. Or at least, your nightmares about it rising up. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Rix said roughly. “What did he say?”

  “As soon as I mentioned the wyverin rising, Grandys reared up. He was shaken, Rix, absolutely shaken. I asked why and Lirriam said it was the doom of his family’s line—the one thing he truly feared. She kept taunting him about it until he knocked her down and broke her jaw.”

  Rix whistled. “When thieves fall out…”

  “The other Heroes were shocked to the core, and Lirriam swore she would get revenge. After that she began wearing Incarnate openly.”

  “What’s Incarnate?”

  “Haven’t I told you?”

  “No.”

  “It’s an ancient stone. It was powerful once but it’s been dead an awfully long time. Lirriam is trying to wake it and that really bothers Grandys, though I’m not sure why. But getting back to the wyverin—”

  “My nightmares about it always involve Father’s portrait,” Rix said thoughtfully. “But it’s different each time. And the wyverin is definitely rising.”

  “If you still had the portrait, it’d be interesting to see if it’s changed. It was destroyed, wasn’t it?”

  “Lyf ordered it destroyed, but the Cythonian soldier who found it thought it was a masterpiece, and hid it. So Tobry said.”

  At the mention of Tobry’s name a spasm crossed her face and she clenched her hands in her lap. Then she rose. “I’m so tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Wait a moment,” said Rix. “I’ve got something to show you.”

  He went to the door and sent a servant to bring Rannilt and Tobry up. Rix sat down.

  “What is it?” Tali said dully.

  “Just something you might be interested in,” Rix said vaguely.

  She stared into the fire, hunched up in the chair. Shortly the door opened and closed, and he heard them come in.

  “Tali? ” said Rannilt in that small, high voice.

  Tali sprang up and embraced her. “How did you get here? Where have you been? I was so worried when I met Glynnie and heard you were still lost. I was sure that you… you know.”

  “I’ve been off,” said Rannilt. “Wanderin’. Healin’.”

  Tali smiled, but did not say anything. “You look good. Though too thin.”

  “I am good.” Rannilt was beaming. She looked back around the corner, then gestured.

  Tali frowned, evidently wondering what was going on. Tobry came around the corner and stopped, staring at her, and there was such desperate yearning in his eyes that it sent shivers up Rix’s spine. He glanced from Tobry to Tali, and saw the blood drain from her face.

  “T—T—Tali,” Tobry whispered. “Tali.” He reached out to her with both arms.

  “No!” she gasped.

  “Tali, it’s Tobry,” said Rannilt, her smile fading.

  “I can’t do this,” Tali said in a cracked, breathless voice.

  “But it’s Tobry,” said Rannilt, unable to comprehend what the matter was. “I’ve been healin’ him with the thought of you, the love of you…”

  “I’ve seen him go to his death, twice.” Tali’s voice rose, becoming shrill.

  “Tali,” said Rix, “calm down.”

  But, clearly, Tali could not calm down. She was shaking, gasping, on the edge of hysteria.

  “I’ve ached for Tobry; I’ve wept for him,” she wailed. “I’ve grieved for him twice, and I can’t do it again. I can’t look into those caitsthe eyes and try to find one tiny speck of the man I loved. It just—hurts—too—much.”

  Tobry’s arms dropped to his sides. Something died in his eyes. He let out a howl of anguish, then relapsed into gibbering madness.

  “You’re a mean, nasty woman.” Rannilt ran at Tali and slapped her about the face five or six times, knocking her head from side to side, then shoved her so hard in the chest that she fell over backwards.


  “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” Rannilt shrieked. “You’ve ruined everythin’.”

  Sobbing desperately, Rannilt dragged Tobry, now shambling and dribbling, from the room.

  CHAPTER 63

  Rix prowled the long outside wall of the fortress, checking for chinks in the defences. He did not need to—everything had been checked and rechecked days ago, but he needed to get away. The atmosphere in Garramide, formerly so good, was poisonous, and he did not see how he could fix it.

  He thrust the point of his sword into the gap between two stones. It was as solid as everywhere else, fortunately. He eased it out and looked out of the plateau, trying to find a solution for the insoluble.

  Glynnie was angry with him because he wanted to leave the fortress at such a dangerous time, to recover the portrait. Everyone was furious with Tali for her betrayal of Tobry and Rannilt. And down in the lowest level of Garramide, in the Black Hole where he had slept the last time he was here and had now returned to, Tobry howled like the tormented beast he was.

  “Damn you, Tali!” Rix bellowed, hacking through the green turf again and again. “What’s the matter with you?”

  For most of the war she had been a tower of solidity and determination, seemingly able to overcome any obstacle, including inciting the Pale to that miraculous rebellion in Cython. She had escaped from Grandys and—he could never repay her for this—saved Glynnie from the noose and brought her safely home, along with Benn. Tali had done the job Rix had been unable to do; she had been his rock for so long that he could not come to terms with her sudden collapse. It was as if her adamantine shell had finally been breached to reveal that she was empty inside—as empty as the thin-walled pearl inside her.

  She had locked herself in her room and rarely came out. Whenever Rix saw her she looked smaller than ever, thinner and frailer, and the food left outside her door was taken away untouched. He began to think she was dying of guilt, but he did not know how to bring her out of it.

  Grandys was still camped at the base of the escarpment, rapidly rebuilding his army with new recruits and sending up deadly raiding parties every night. Rix’s spies said that he had nearly three thousand men now, more than enough to overwhelm the walls, and surely he must attack any day. When it came, though Rix had strengthened the defences in every way he could, he did not see how he could keep the enemy out for as much as a day.