The Boundless

by Peter Newman

  She had cut her arm on purpose. Three cuts for the three times she’d dealt with the Wild. One would have been enough to see her exiled but, for her child and her lord and the future of House Sapphire, Chandni had sold her honour again and again. Now her duty had been fulfilled. Lord Rochant’s soul had taken residence in her son’s body – My poor, sweet, Satyendra! – taken control of his castle once more. She was no longer an Honoured Mother, no longer required to run the castle, no longer needed. All that was left was for her to account for her sins.

  Though she was afraid, she held her head up high, like a true Sapphire. That was how she had lived and it was how she intended to die. With dignity.

  It felt as if she had been walking forever. Surely she should have reached the demon by now? Was it toying with her? Perhaps it wanted to crush her spirit before consuming it. Well, if that was the case, Chandni would happily disappoint.

  For I will neither bend nor break.

  She could no longer hear Glider’s barking. The Dogkin had been left behind some time ago, along with Varg, and she prayed they were both safe. Her loyal friends had opted to come with her, even knowing she sought death. Even knowing it could mean their own.

  I do not deserve their love, she thought, but it warmed her all the same.

  Drip, went her blood, as it splashed on the earth and the roots. Drip, went her blood, into the gullet of something hopping alongside, invisible. Drip, went her blood.

  Thud, answered the heart of the thing before her. Right before her now.

  Too close!

  She walked smack into it, was caught by long rustling limbs, wrapped in a cocoon of feathers. Darkness within darkness.

  Thud-thud-thud-thud, went her heart, beating crazily against her chest. She was afraid. Terrified! But she would not show it. Not to this thing. It would have her life and nothing more.

  Thud, went its heart, its chest warm against hers.

  The Birdkin above and around them opened their beaks wide, and a voice, richer than she’d expected, issued from them: ‘Be hushed, Iron Purebird. Be hushed and be welcome once more.’

  Though she had been in the Wild before and met many terrible things, she was certain this had not been one of them. And yet, it did seem … familiar in some way. ‘I think you may have mistaken me for someone else. I … My name is Hon-Chandni. I was once—’ she shook her head and felt feather tips brush her cheek. ‘It doesn’t matter what I was.’ She dug deep and summoned all her courage. The words she had to say were hard enough without being in the embrace of some kind of bird demon. Nevertheless, she managed them: ‘I have come here to die. Will you help me?’

  There was a pause, then a chorus of squawks, then:

  ‘No.’

  She blinked in surprise. ‘What?’

  ‘I may take your life as my own, but I will not end it.’

  A thought occurred to her then. I am here because I have traded with the Wild before. This is not some mindless beast here to kill me. It is a power of the Wild come to make a pact. She suddenly realized there was much more than death to fear. ‘If we are to negotiate for my life, what will you give me in return?’

  ‘Whatever you desire.’

  A chill ran down her spine. If it were just her alone, she would refute the demon. Thoughts of Varg and Glider ran through her mind. They had given so much to her, and she wouldn’t allow them to suffer. So easily do I consider a fourth deal.

  ‘Firstly,’ she said, somehow keeping her voice even, ‘and this is not part of the deal, I would have your name.’

  ‘Yes,’ it replied. ‘You bear my mark, you have my favour, why not my name as well?’ It was strange having this conversation. Though its words sounded all around her, like a chorus, she felt that the demon was right in front of her, that whatever it had for eyes were only inches away from hers. ‘I am Murderkind, a Prince of this place, and we have dealt before, you and I. It was I who listened when you called out to the Wild. I who accepted your gift of blood and bone. And it was I who saw your child safe and strong. From babe to man.’

  ‘That cannot be true,’ she retorted, irritation suppressing her fear. ‘I took my Satyendra with me when I left here and raised him myself, in a place beyond your power.’

  ‘You speak true.’ The Birdkin all paused to laugh. She wasn’t sure if they were laughing or Murderkind was, but the laughter was unpleasant and aimed at her. ‘Though your heart is deceived.’ She felt it shift slightly, as if puffing out its chest. ‘I raised your child. Here. In my domain. Raised and re-named, guided and armed, held and healed. All as promised.’

  It was lying. It had to be lying. Then why do I believe it?

  ‘You believe because your blood is in my beak and our hearts press too close for lies to slip between them.’

  How does it know what I’m thinking?

  The Birdkin all laughed again.

  ‘You believe because you know the thing you took from the Wild was not truly yours.’

  A memory came to her then, of the day Lord Vasin had brought her home in his carriage. As soon as they’d got onto the Godroad, Satyendra had started to scream. His skin had lost its colour, had bubbled, and his face … by the Thrice Blessed Suns, his other face! All these years, I’d thought he’d been cursed by the Wild. But no. I gave my love to a … a thing?

  ‘A demon. A Whisper’s echo.’

  ‘But Lord Rochant has been reborn into it! What will become of him?’

  ‘Again, your heart is deceived. The one you call Rochant, who is known to me as Bane-friend, is already in a man’s body.’

  ‘Wait, you’re telling me that Lord Rochant does not dwell in the body of my son? That he has not just undergone a rebirthing in his castle?’ The ramifications of this whirled through her mind. ‘So the man who sent me to my death is not my Deathless Lord. And the boy I’ve given the best years of my life to is not my son.’ She shook her head. ‘He’s not even human!’

  It was her turn to laugh. She laughed and laughed, the sound bursting from her indecorously, which only caused her to laugh more. After a while, the Birdkin joined in. They get it, she thought.

  Suddenly, the Birdkin stopped laughing, and her skin felt cold.

  ‘This matters not,’ said Murderkind, ‘it is not the question that must be answered. Tell me, Iron Purebird, what is your desire?’

  ‘I barely know any more. To … to make something good out of this mess and for my life to mean something. I want to keep my son, my real son, safe. And I want to help Varg find happiness. I want to redeem my soul.’

  She felt herself being pulled deeper into an embrace. The scent of Murderkind was in her nose, musky and earthy, its feathers pressing on her lips. ‘Be hushed, be hushed. Listen. How is it you cannot hear your own heart? Its tune clashes with your words, painfully.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You want your son. You want to see him and hold him. You want to know what he has become.’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  ‘You want Varg, as your mate and companion.’

  Her cheeks blazed, but she did not deny it.

  ‘You do not think of your house. You think of yourself.’

  She nodded into its chest.

  ‘You are angry.’

  She nodded again.

  ‘And you desire revenge.’

  There were tears on her cheeks now. She rubbed them away on the demon’s feathers.

  Around her, wings rustled and Birdkin shrieked. Though she couldn’t feel it, she was aware that her arm was still bleeding, the blood leeching slowly from her.

  Murderkind rested its head against hers. ‘Yes,’ it said. ‘We have an accord. Be angry. Be passionate. Be vengeful. And then, in return, your blood will be mine. Your body, mine. Your soul and all else within your flesh, mine.’

  Chandni didn’t say anything. She wanted to refuse, but she knew there was no point. Her heart had already said yes.

  I am in a room, thought Sa-at.

  In a castle.
/>   In the sky.

  Since his arrival in the dead of night, Sa-at had been through several rooms of different sizes and shapes. There was the kitchen where they’d arrived. Which was a lovely hot room full of wonderful smells. A stairwell, or as he thought of it, a twisting pile of rocks stacked most strangely upon each other. Several corridors, which were very long rooms that did not seem to be for anything at all, and lastly, the old cook’s quarters.

  This was smaller and colder than the kitchen. There was no food here and it smelled musty. In fact, the room was worse than the kitchen in every conceivable way Sa-at could think of. Despite this, it kept the wind out and them hidden from their enemies.

  The cook, Roh, had left them here some hours ago to prepare breakfast for the inhabitants of the castle. There were many people here to celebrate the fake Lord Rochant’s arrival. More than Sa-at could count. More than he could even imagine counting. Hunters, traders, servants, guests – including other Sapphire Deathless. It made his toes wriggle with excitement. All his life, he’d wished to know more people, and now it seemed that he would get that wish. Rochant had promised that, after they had got his castle back for him, he would introduce Sa-at to them all.

  But there was much to do before that could happen. Sa-at didn’t fully understand what, but he knew enough to know that it would be dangerous. He also knew that there would be bloodshed. Normally this would upset him but he was still too angry to be upset. The people who he would have to fight had killed his father and his cousins, robbed him of the chance even to get to know them. They had stolen Rochant’s name and castle, and done terrible things to the man’s body. Sa-at remembered finding Rochant, half-starved, half-dead, and shuddered.

  Despite Sa-at’s best efforts, Rochant was still too thin, his frail body swaddled in thick layers of clothing and buried under several blankets. As if sensing his thoughts, the man turned his head towards Sa-at. The second of the suns, Vexation, was rising outside the window, giving Rochant a red tinged smile.

  ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Hello,’ replied Sa-at.

  ‘Have you been awake long?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s hard to sleep when your mind is full.’ Rochant glanced at Tal, who was curled up next to Sa-at, snoring peacefully. He gave another smile.

  Sa-at returned it. ‘How does he sleep so much?’

  ‘Rest will be a precious commodity for us. In his own way, Tal is wise.’

  ‘What’s going to happen now?’

  ‘I’m going to think, Tal is going to sleep, and you’re going to be quiet and enjoy the sunsrise.’

  At first, Sa-at was frustrated. He didn’t want to be quiet. He wanted to ask questions. So many questions! But when he went to the window and looked out, they blew away like petals in a breeze. He’d never been so close to the sky before. Instead of being above him, it was all around him. And the three suns were huge. Even Wrath’s Tear, which was just coming up after Vexation, seemed to have grown. The walls of the castle glimmered wherever the sapphire veins peeked through, and when he rested his hands on the windowsill, he felt the stone thrum softly against his fingers.

  He watched as the three suns rose together, the two red ones chasing the golden one higher and higher. Gradually he became aware that the castle was becoming noisy with the sound of people. Morning greetings, the bustle of many feet, it was all just out of view. Sa-at pressed his face against the glass but was unable to see anything below the tent tops that packed the main courtyard. These too were interesting.

  It is called a tent.

  It is made of hide.

  A tent is a room made of hide.

  Time passed. The initial buzz of people waking settled into a quiet hum of industry. Sa-at marvelled at all the different voices and wished he could make out what they were saying. More questions began to bubble in the back of his brain.

  The snoring behind him became a snuffle, and then a yawn, and he turned back to see Tal stretching. The boy was taller than him, with pale skin and a noticeable lack of earlobes. Every time he saw them he was reminded of the day he’d saved Tal’s life and Crowflies had eaten them.

  Crowflies! He thought with a pang of panic. I will come back for you. I will. But that did not shake the memory of the Birdkin’s distress nor the feeling of guilt.

  Tal came over to stand next to him. ‘You all right?’

  ‘I’m sad.’

  The boy put a finger to his lips. ‘Ssh. Lord Rochant is still asleep.’

  Sa-at glanced over. Though his eyes were closed, Rochant was most definitely not asleep. He could tell. He didn’t contradict Tal though. Somehow it would feel like a betrayal of his secret understanding with Rochant. Instead he said, ‘I’m thinking about Crowflies.’

  ‘Ah.’ Tal pulled a face. He’d never really liked Crowflies very much. ‘How’s your hand?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Can I see?’

  ‘Okay.’ He held out his right hand and turned it over. In the centre of his palm there was a circle of raised white skin, completely smooth. Yesterday, a piece of a demon had been there, but when he’d stepped foot onto the Godroad, it had burned all traces of it from him.

  It was already hard to remember how much it had hurt. The pain had been so intense it had become unreal in his mind, like a dream.

  Tal frowned at the injury. ‘Well … it doesn’t look any worse.’

  ‘You do.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look worse.’

  ‘Oh, I’m tired. And my shoulders ache. And my arms. Well, all of me aches.’

  ‘But you slept for aaages.’

  ‘Doesn’t feel like it.’

  Rochant spoke quietly, but they both heard him clearly. ‘Tal. Make sure my hood is covering my tattoo, then both of you hide.’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ replied Tal, rushing forward. Each Deathless bore golden tattoos bearing their legend, and each set were unique, relating to their previous lives and deaths of note.

  ‘Why hide?’ asked Sa-at.

  ‘Because Roh will be back soon, and she may not be alone.’

  They had barely carried out his commands when the door opened and Roh stepped inside. She was brawny and old and slow, her brown skin full of wrinkles, her remaining teeth yellowed by time. But there was something about her that was not slow. Like Rochant, she often seemed to be one thing while really being another.

  She carried a fragrant sack in one hand, and a heavy bottle in the other, knocking the door closed with her bottom. ‘And how are we this morning, my good lord?’

  ‘I’m well, thank you, Roh. What news?’

  ‘Oh, lots of news. Lots of comings and goings. Everyone’s always busy. Busy, busy.’ She came over to his bedside, setting the bottle down. ‘I’ll tell you all about it as soon as you’ve had something to eat.’ He looked as if he might protest but she kept talking, the pause so brief Sa-at wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. ‘We need to get some flesh on those bones and some muscle under that skin.’

  ‘Is that supposed to be some sort of joke, Roh?’ He glanced down at himself. ‘What use are muscles to me now?’

  The old woman chuckled. ‘Ah, well, that’s one of me bits of news.’ She took a steaming bowl from the sack and spooned out a portion. ‘I’ll tell you just as soon as you’ve had some of my Kinmix stew.’

  Rochant’s expression gave nothing away, but he opened his mouth and allowed himself to be fed.

  Sa-at was confused. When he’d found Rochant, his torturers had taken away the use of his arms and legs. Poor Tal had carried him from down in the Wild, all the way up the mountainside, and up, through a secret gap in the walls to get here.

  It seemed to take an age for Rochant to finish the stew. Roh attended him patiently as he chewed, always ready with the next spoonful. When they were done, she handed the half-full bowl to him and Tal, who set to emptying it with gusto.

  ‘Bad news first,’ said Roh. ‘Honoured Mother Chandni’s gone. I thought it was odd when
she didn’t come to see me yesterday. She always comes, same time every morning. As reliable as death, that one. Always comes when I ask, too. And be sure that I asked for her, made one of my lads send the message. Wanted to warn her about the imposter, I did.’ Roh shook her head. ‘But she’d already gone. Just walked out, so I’m told. No carriage, no bags. Like she was taking a stroll. Didn’t tell a soul she was going neither.’ Roh shook her head again. ‘Not one soul. That’s not like her. Normally she does it all proper,’ she waggled a finger at Rochant, ‘just like you. Oh, that imposter’s behind it. I know it in my bones. He’s weeding out the loyal ones. And old Roh will be next.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ said Rochant, and both he and Roh looked at Sa-at.

  ‘What? Why are you staring like that?’

  ‘I was hoping to be able to introduce you,’ Rochant replied. ‘To keep my promise.’

  When Sa-at continued to look confused, Roh came over and put a gnarled hand on his shoulder. ‘She’s your mother, boy. One of the good ones.’

  ‘My … mother?’

  ‘I can see her in you, clear as day.’ She glanced back to Rochant and tapped the side of her head. ‘Takes after his father though.’

  A look passed between them and Sa-at realized that they too, had some kind of secret understanding. This made him feel odd inside.

  Chandni.

  My mother’s name is Chandni.

  He’d never had a mother before. Never thought too much about it. But now he knew that he’d lost her, he suddenly wanted to see her. Does she want to see me? Does she even know about me? The absence felt keener because it had been hidden so long.

  Rochant closed his eyes again. ‘You said you had other news?’

  ‘Oh yes, there’s good as well as bad. Ever since the night of the attack, when Honoured Mother Chandni was poisoned, I been thinking about it. I kept some of that poison and tested it. Nasty stuff, it is. Severs the connection between body and soul. Might be a rebirth would see you right as rain.’