“Why did you want serve them?”
‘It’s easier than chopping wood’, I thought, but bit back the words. Dahra moved away, but I felt her sharp eyes glaring at me from behind her veil. “I just always… felt like I had no choice.”
“Are all the young ladies of Yanget so devoted?”
“Only the ones on the island.” I said, and then backtracked hastily. “I could see it from my window. I heard the singing, and smelled the perfume, and knew that I had to be there. That’s all.”
“And why cut off your hand? Why not a foot, or an ear?”
“I’d look lopsided.” I said automatically, and then bit my tongue. The prince made a decidedly un-regal chuckle.
“Put your veil on, girl. I promise I’ll take good care of your mistresses.”
“Neither of them need your help.” I raised my chin haughtily, “If they tell you that they do, then you should be wary.”
He leaned closer and smirked, “Then I might take care of you, instead.”
“Then you’ll be forever known as the man who was offered a goddess and settled for her maid.” I snapped, caught off-balance by his flirting. It was innocent enough – well, enough for a man who was used to getting any woman he wanted – but I did not know how to react. Until a month ago the only man I had ever been close to was poisoned by my mother ten minutes after I was conceived.
The prince lowered my veil from my braided crown to my throat. “Still, they would all agree that it was a very pretty little maid.” he whispered, and then laughed and turned away. I sensed that he had already forgotten about me, while I was sweating so much I was afraid my dress would turn dark.
Mistress Dahra did not say anything, but I knew what faces she was pulling behind her veil. When we were alone I was either going to be scolded or advised. I hoped like hell that it was the former. I was used to the Siren yelling at me. I could just imagine their syrupy smiles as they pushed me into this womaniser’s sticky hands.
“Don’t fret. He’s only interested in Clay.” The woman murmured as she walked past. I caught my breath, and then let it out in a laugh.
When I caught up with my Mistress she was elegantly irate. The guard had started letting his hands wander the moment the door had closed. I had dusted her skin with shimmering powder which had been smeared by his greedy hands. I saw the problem in a moment, and ran up to her with my cosmetics bag ready.
“My lady!” I squeaked, “You cannot let the king see you in such a state.”
Clay pretended she had only just noticed her crumpled dress. She tweaked the guard’s nose playfully. “You made me forget myself!”
“You could walk in there naked, and be the most glorious woman in the room.” he replied in a comically grand voice. My Mistress hid a smile at his posturing, and pecked him on the cheek.
“If I walked in there naked all of the other women would leave! A crone could be the most glorious woman if she was alone!”
While he was puzzling that out, Mistress Clay gripped my arm and steered me down a hallway. We found a small room – alright, we hid in a closet – and did our best to repair the damage. We were close enough to the court room to find our own way, and the guard would not be admitted into it without the Siren’s blessing. I knew, looking into the woman’s impatient green eyes, that she would rather poison him than spare another sweet word.
When we arrived Dahra eyed her apprentice. I don’t know why the Siren always tried to keep secrets from each other. Perhaps they spent all of their arts reading their victims, and had no time to look at the women around them. Dahra prided herself on being unreadable, but I could see through her like the yellow plasma in sour, separated milk. I had heard so much about her in the servant’s kitchen that she was utterly transparent.
The beauty of our suite was nothing compared to the glorious reception hall, let alone the throne room. Instead of jewels the dark blue walls was adorned with murals, painted to look like windows. There was one on each wall. To the East there was a sunrise over a mountain that looked like the border into the Mainland. Our looming barricade looked soft and tempting. The Western wall showed a sunset over rolling tundra. The billowing grass looked so real I expected it to move, and the gentle curves of the land were lovingly traced out. On the northern door which we had come through was a golden desert under the stars. Finally, the Southern door showed the ocean at noon. The sun made the water sparkle, and the distant islands were nothing but tiny silhouettes, afterthoughts amongst the glory. A loud murmur of voices seeped through. It sounded as though every nobleman in the country was inside the throne room.
How were we supposed to convince these people that they should fear us? My Mistress seemed confident. I don’t think she was clever enough to look beyond the petty devices she always used. They had always worked for her before, and in her blunt way she must have thought the same tricks would work here. She had tried to ensnare the prince. Now, she was waiting to see if it would work. Nothing else mattered to her. Then I saw her hands smoothing down her corset and fiddling with her rings. She was nervous, after all.
I pulled my veil all the way down and pinned the edges to my collar. I was suddenly aware that the soft anonymity of my cloak was gone. When I had worn it on the journey I was a faceless creature. Without it, I was as soft and shapely as any other woman. Even Miette could pass for a beauty with her hunched back held up by stays and her withered face shrouded in lace. I was struck by the tremulous certainty that people would be looking at me. My missing hand would be far more jarring if they thought I was beautiful.
The prince took Mistress Clay’s arm. “Have you lost your paramour, my lady?”
“Their affections are always so fleeting.”
“Very fleeting! Poor Richard will have to tell his men that he only lasted for a few minutes.”
“It is longer than many men.” she said smoothly, and I blushed as I suddenly knew what they were talking about. Clay raised her veil a little, revealing carmine lips and wicked green eyes. “Are you sure you want to raise the subject, your highness? Untested men should never underestimate the battlefield.”
“If their steel is keen, they have no reason to be afraid.” he returned in the same laconic tone. Clay grinned, and the man looked taken aback by the catlike shift in her character. The tension between them faded like smoke, and once again the prince had nothing to cling to apart from the woman’s devious tongue.
The noise from the next room hushed, and a brash fanfare rang out. The doors were thrown open so quickly that the light half-blinded me. Thousands of candles spilled their glow onto the two creatures who were made of folk-lore, not flesh. It was time to begin.
CHAPTER 5
The room was a blaze of light, colour and endless seething bodies.
The Siren did not hold large gatherings on the island. There wasn’t much point. Most of the men were so addled that if we had a theatre they would have walked into the walls. Besides, the Siren wanted each of their victims to feel like he was the only one who mattered. I had seen small parties of ten or twenty people on the pier, but never more than that. Outside of the dining hall I don’t think I had ever shared a room with more than ten adults in my life. There had to be two hundred people in the throne room. I have no idea how the others stopped themselves from trembling. I was shaking like a leaf.
The throng parted in front of us and we walked towards the throne. It was so quiet that I could hear everybody breathing. My heart thudded, and I giddily thought I was hearing their hearts beating, too. Skirts and slippers whispered against the floor as the nobles moved out of the way, but apart from that the room was completely silent.
Fashions changed rapidly on the island, since decorating the Siren took up so much of our minds. They were constantly trying to find ways to outshine each other. Hair stylists changed braids for curls and then ironed them down into straight sheafs in the space of a year. The jewelers designed long earrings to sway with, and glimmering opal studs to twinkle in the firelight.<
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I was sure that the Altissis had dressed in their finest garments to try to outshine the Siren. I could see little beauty in them, only garish displays of wealth. Many women were wearing large pendants which rarely matched the colours of their gowns. I guessed that those ornaments must be expensive, but in my (admittedly biased) eyes they looked crass. The women slathered thick makeup onto their necks as well as their faces, and many golden chains were caked in crumbling flakes.
As if painting their skin was not enough, the women dusted their hair. Their pastel wigs looked like whipped meringues. I had a horrible feeling that the hair was real. Did these barbarians shear their peasants like sheep?
There was a fashion for patterned gowns with huge swathes of fabric in the skirts. The artificially widened hips made the women’s corseted waists look fragile, but the bouncing bustles made their hind parts so much like those of a horse that I wanted to laugh. The dresses disguised their bodies completely. While they looked and sounded human, they might as well have been a chicken in a wig.
Their filthy habits were written on their flesh. Some were fat and riddled with white-headed spots from eating greasy meals. Others had dried their skin out from smoking tobacco. I could have told them that most of our beauty came from being in good health, but the courtiers would have shrugged it off. They delighted in their indulgences. But I am being unfair. Perhaps they looked at us and saw the ugly marks of drinking and drug use, which we were as blind to as the Altissi were of their gluttony
The Siren looked emaciated beside them, with their softly contoured bodices and layers of slippery silk. The Altissi women seemed rooted to the ground; both Mistress Clay and Dahra turned their feet like dancers and swayed from step to step. Perhaps, to the Altissi, my Mistress looked as peculiar as they did to me. Still, once she raised her veil, everyone would be able to see the bright eyes and healthy skin, the cheeks which only needed a little colour, and the white teeth between her soft lips. She was no more beautiful than the other Siren, but now that I was surrounded by these courtiers I understood how remarkable the islanders truly were. No wonder half of the sailors thought they were surrounded by goddesses!
Four girls in matching golden dresses stood on the dais. Two of the princesses couldn’t have been older than seven, but the wide skirts and corseted waists made them look like miniature adults. Did the Altissi see little girls that way? I shivered, and then remembered that there had been no other children in the throne room. The princesses were dressed to match one another, and doubtless the oldest girl had chosen the costume. She glowered at us with wide eyes. Her mouth tightened in a jealous scowl. A small tiara was sewn into her towering wig. It made her look like she had an elongated skull. I think I stared at her with as much wonder as she stared at us.
I glanced at the king without much interest. He was dressed plainly. His grey hair was so thick that his crown had been crammed on, making the curls puff out like wisps of smoke. He had a nick on his chin from shaving.
Miette and I knelt down, pressing our hands together in respect to the odd little man. He lowered his head a little, but his attention was fixed on the Siren. It was a silent battle of wills, and one that Dahra had prepared us for. Miette had suggested kissing the stones at the women’s feet, but I had refused. I wasn’t about to put my lips anywhere near Clay; I knew where she had been! While we humbled ourselves, both of the women swept their arms out and curtseyed. The movement was uncannily synchronized. I heard the court murmuring behind us.
The Siren had still made no sound. Their silence was utterly provoking.
The king struggled to his feet. He moved as if every bone in his body was made of glass. He ducked his head down in a bow, while his daughters curtseyed. They were graceful enough, but they gaped at the Siren and it looked comical. The oldest fixed her face in a petulant moue. There was so much hostility in her glare that I could taste it.
Coluber’s sister poked him in the ribs. He smiled thinly as he bowed. He need not have bothered being coy; as soon as they stepped into the throne room the Siren forgot about him. They had taken what they wanted. At least Clay had sheathed her claws for long enough to take his arm. It was a nod towards Altissi custom.
The king finally spoke. “Gracious ladies, welcome to my court.”
“Your royal highness.” Dahra replied, in a voice as sweet as honey. The court fell completely silent as everyone strained to hear the goddess speak, but she said nothing else. Finally, King Shay cleared his throat.
“Which one of you is the Lady Dahra?”
“I am, my lord.” she opened her hands in a gesture of goodwill. “I gladly give you leave to use my name. Consider it a gift.”
“Then I must be Shay.” His smile was crooked, a little pained. “Is that right?”
“My lord, my name is my gift to you. You have no need to return it.”
She was a clever woman. The king was bound, by the watching eyes of his people, to return the courtesy. If he let Dahra use his name and not his title, then he was declaring them to be his equals. He didn’t believed that the Siren were goddesses, but they demanded respect nonetheless. They had as much power in Yanget as he had in Altissi. I wondered how he would act if he knew that Dahra was the spawn of a herring-town whore, and that Clay was a peasant.
The thought made me smother a giggle. I had nobler blood than either of them. At least my mother had belonged to the island.
The king bowed his head a little. I could just imagine Dahra’s smirk. He agreed before the rest of the women gave him the same ‘gift’. At least he was only equal with our leader, and not with the maids.
“I must give you a gift, too.” Mistress Clay’s voice was stronger than her teacher’s, but no less musical. She paused for a moment, and then raised her hands to her veil. A silver clasp held it to the front of her bodice, and I raced forwards to catch it when she let it fall. I fumbled the heavy twist of metal and fought not to glare at her. Even from behind my veil, my anger would have been obvious. We hadn’t planned this. It was just typical of Clay to ignore anyone else’s plans but her own.
She slowly raised the veil, and draped the silk back over her red curls. It framed her face, making the thin cheeks look shapely and casting her eyes into striking shadow. She lowered her lashes and stood still as the fabric settled. It was as if she were floating under crystalline water. When she opened her eyes I felt as if she had surfaced, and we could all breathe again.
Dahra stroked a red curl out of Clay’s eyes, and then caressed her cheek. I ground my teeth together. They had planned this. No-one had bothered to tell me. I could feel smugness radiating off Miette as Clay began to speak.
“The Siren obey strict laws and protocol. We can do so much harm without them. You have your armies, and your machines. You can crush your foes. We can break their spirits. Our arts are softer, but no less lethal. Our sorcery is as carefully guarded as your armaments.”
Clay waited for the king to nod his head, and then continued: “My Mistress, Lady Dahra, has given me permission to show my face. In our tradition it is a mark of trust. We don’t want you to fear us, and it is too easy to fear the unknown.” she smiled a little and looked around at the court, speaking to every one of them. “Know me, now, and don’t be afraid. I give my oath that I shall not use my magic to harm a single person on Altissi soil.” she drew a deep breath, as if she had seen a wondrous sunset, and then spread her hands towards the king, “That, my lord, is the gift I give to you.”
Dahra had made no such promise, I thought. The same notion was doubtless going through others’ minds, but they looked a little comforted that Clay had promised to behave herself. Well, the twisted shrew had them all fooled. She had sworn not to use her magic. The Altissi had no idea that she did not have any. Clay could do anything she wanted without breaking her vow.
The pretty speech worked. The courtiers’ feet whispered on the floor as they moved closer. They craned their heads to look at my Mistress. The woman had a way of looking through he
r lashes and half-smiling that made her striking, but Dahra was the truly beautiful one. If she had raised her veil the people would have backed away.
“Who are your companions?” The King asked, gesturing to myself and Miette.
“My sister.” Clay grabbed me and kissed me the same way that Dahra had. Her lips were softer – more tender. Nobody could mistake the affection in her voice, not even me. “As I said, my lord, we have our own traditions. Even the servants of Siren share our secrets.”
“But not your arts.” Coluber pressed.
“If you wish to test her, your highness, I’m sure that lady Harriet will be happy to please you. She can sew you the most beautiful gown in Altissi!”
A titter ran through the courtroom. I curtseyed obediently to the prince. His face grew red, and then the king let out a bellow of laughter.
“It serves you right.” he told his son, and then waved a hand at the back of the hall. An orchestra began to play, and he looked down at us. His eyes were soft and clear. “You are welcome here.”
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