by Peter Newman
‘You say “ask”, I hear “demand”.’
She did not rise to its petulance. ‘We agreed upon fair terms, remember? And one of those terms was that you would lift the curse on Fiya, Glider, and the rest of the pack.’
It mumbled something incoherent.
‘You gave your word as a Prince of the Wild.’ The trees rumbled agreement.
‘A prince, bah! What use is being a prince when I am standing before a queen?’
‘When the pack’s year of servitude is at an end, you will return them to their original forms, hale and hearty. That is my decree.’
‘But then who will serve poor Kennelgrove?’
‘That is my decree,’ she repeated, this time with a stronger note of finality.
The demon bowed and slunk away, bemoaning its fate.
After it had left, Crowflies swooped low through the branches to land on her outstretched arm. She stroked its head lovingly. The two of them had a bond: Both loved Sa-at and both had been beloved of Murderkind. And both of them wanted revenge.
‘Have you found it?’
Crowflies nodded. There was a smugness to the puff of its chest that suggested more.
‘Have you caught it?’
This time when Crowflies nodded it left its head down, inviting her to scratch.
Chandni complied. ‘Well done. Bring it to me.’
Crowflies shrieked a command. Not long afterwards Glider and Rayen arrived, along with a cluster of Birdkin. Between them all, they dragged a ragged, spindly demon. A Whispercage, but not just any Whispercage.
My Whispercage. The one that took Satyendra from me all those years ago.
She could still remember the first time she saw it, the way it had glided across the long grass towards her. The Chandni then had been terrified and a part of her had carried that fear ever since, like a splinter in her heart.
Beaks and paws pinned the Whispercage down, allowing her to study it.
Away from the shadows it was a strange and miserable thing. Strung out and hollow. It hissed piteously, unable to move nor free itself. Chandni took in every detail of the demon. From the elongated bones, to the split face and tongue that extended, too long, too far, slashing wildly back and forth.
I will remember this moment, she thought. I will make this the memory that comes when I think of you.
She took a deep breath and made herself stare at it. Stare directly at her fear. And then, with a simple gesture, she ordered her followers to destroy it.
There was a flash of movement, a flurry of biting, and pecking, and stabbing, and rending.
And it was done.
The Whispercage was no more.
Chandni’s fear was no more.
She swept out into the rain without a backwards glance, her pack and flock falling in behind, a living train of white and black, of fur and feather.
The trees bowed as she passed.
Not a single rain drop touched her.
EPILOGUE
Vasinidra woke up.
He had been drifting, dreaming. Oblivious. But there was something that felt like it was important. Someone had said something to him while he was between lives. He’d had similar experiences before but this time the words he’d heard had been clearer and delivered by a familiar, and fairly blunt voice.
He found himself picturing Lady Pari, diving past him in her armour. A bright light among many stranger, smaller ones. With the memory came her message:
‘This is all on you again until I come back. Don’t fuck it up.’
He opened his eyes to be presented with the well-worn sight of the Rebirthing Chamber. Straps bound him fast to a cold stone slab and two Bringers loomed over him, masked, dressed in their robes.
‘One man is welcome here,’ said the first. ‘Are you that man?’
Vasinidra frowned. Something isn’t right. He still felt groggy from his time between lives and his brain was struggling to keep up. Experience told him that he’d better recover quickly if he was to convince the Bringers of Endless Order that he wasn’t an abomination.
‘I am Vasinidra, High Lord of House Sapphire.’
‘High Lord Vasinidra is welcome,’ said the first Bringer. ‘If you are he.’
Wait. I know that voice. But it can’t be …
‘If,’ echoed the second.
He turned to look at the other Bringer and noticed they only had one arm. I think I know that voice too. And why are there only two of them? What is going on?
‘If you are he,’ continued the first Bringer, you will prove your humanity.’
‘Gada?’
There was a pause, then the Bringer added. ‘E-examine yourself, and tell us what you find.’
Vasinidra tried to sit up but the straps held him firmly. ‘Gada, I know it’s you. Take off that mask and tell me what’s going on.’
The two figures looked at each other, and then the first, the one that sounded like Gada, said again, ‘Examine yourself, and tell us what you find.’
He looked down at his body and saw a slender, adolescent frame. One of mine and Mia’s sons. The body is still young, so I can’t have been away for more than a year or two. The usual marks were there, golden tattoos that still glistened in their newness. Now that he attended to it, he felt another mark on his forehead that had not been there in previous lifecycles. But that makes no sense. Only the High Lord of a house could add to the legend of a Deathless, and I am High Lord!
‘I find my body as expected. You, however, do not hold up to scrutiny. Your robes hang in the wrong fashion. Your demeanour is off for a Bringer. There should be seven, one for each of the houses. There are always seven and none of them has ever sounded like my brother!’
The second Bringer chuckled in a most unlikely way. ‘I don’t know about you, Lord Gada, but I’m convinced it’s him.’ They pulled back their mask and hood to reveal the face of Lord Arkav Tanzanite. ‘How about we release you, High Lord Sapphire, and then we explain everything?’
‘And the Bringers agreed to that?’ asked Vasinidra, reclining in his throne.
Gada nodded like he still couldn’t believe it either.
‘They did,’ agreed Arkav. ‘It was that or rot here with the rest of us.’
Vasinidra looked through the glazed windows at the familiar view of the sky. Despite the skittering clouds, it remained, unchanging. ‘Lady Pari made all of this happen?’
Arkav’s eyes sparkled. ‘She did.’
‘And the Bringers themselves … are gone?’
‘Yes. They taught Lord Gada and me the secrets of their rituals and left. Now that you’re back we need to travel to the other houses and bring back those Deathless that have fallen. High Lord Spinel is trapped between lives by the Scuttling Corpseman. We don’t know where he is or if we’ll ever get him back. But we can restore High Lords Ruby, Jet, Peridot, Opal, and Tanzanite.’
Vasinidra shook his head in amazement. ‘I hope your second rebirth ceremony is more convincing than mine was.’
‘Actually,’ said Gada, ‘you were our second ceremony.’
His eyes widened. ‘Do you mean?’
‘Yes.’ For once, Gada’s smile was full of vigour. Behind him, a woman’s voice sang for entrance.
Mother!
As Vasinidra stood up, he saw her. Paint gave her an ageless look, but she was in a body in its middle years, lean and strong. He’d met the vessel before many times. Her name had been Yi, and she was Nidra’s agent and messenger.
He rushed forward to embrace her, but she bowed low, forcing him to pause.
‘I welcome you back to our world, High Lord Sapphire, and recognize your authority in all things.’
She’s making a statement to my brother and Lord Arkav Tanzanite. I should make one too.
He straightened, nodded. ‘And I welcome you home, Lady Nidra, returned child of the Sapphire Everlasting. You come back to us at a time of difficulty and we welcome your strength and counsel.’
She came forward then and clasped
his wrists. He felt small next to her, and it had little to do with his half-grown body. ‘My High Lord, my son. Your new legend suits you well.’
My what? He suddenly recalled the new tattoo on his forehead. In all the excitement he’d not yet examined it. ‘Please, Mother, describe it to me.’
‘You bear the golden disc of Fortune’s Eye, greatest of our three suns. Like it, you have protected those beneath you, and lead us from dark places. Like it, you will continue to do so, day after day, cycle after cycle.’
He felt the burden land in his chest with a thump.
‘But, like Fortune’s Eye, you will not be alone in the sky.’
Vasinidra gave a half smile. He had his family around him and good friends in the other houses. He had Mia and a land full of the best people he could hope for. They were wounded, but they would recover, and perhaps salvage some good from the senseless horrors caused by Rochant Un-Sapphire.
But Lady Pari was right, in the end it was all on him.
He vowed not to fuck it up before she returned.
Acknowledgements
I’ve had the pleasure of not one but two editors working on the Boundless, Natasha and Jack, who have aided the process in many unseen ways. Special thanks to Jack who endured several calls with me and helped bring the book more tightly into focus.
They are not alone, and as ever a big thanks to the team at HarperVoyager who work so hard to make our books the best that they can be. And a special thanks to Chris Tulloch McCabe for yet another fab cover.
Of course, a massive thanks has to go to Juliet, my superhero agent who has been there for me in the bad times as well as the good. You are the best!
And lastly, thank you for reading. It means the world that you do. See you in the next lifecycle!
Also by Peter Newman
The Deathless
The Ruthless
The Vagrant
The Malice
The Seven
Short Stories
The Hammer and the Goat
The Vagrant and the City
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