by D. P. Prior
‘Such as?’ Cadman asked.
‘Well I don’t know, I’m not a member. Even if I applied I expect they’d blackball me. But my point is that Shader’s a knight of the Elect and he won the tournament this year.’
‘I see,’ Cadman said. ‘Then that explains the sword and how he was able to wound Callixus.’ He flicked at his bottom lip with his finger. With a decisive nod, he clapped his hands together and turned to leave.
‘Of course,’ Elias blustered, ‘there’s a whole lot more I can tell you.’
‘Thank you. You’ve given me what I need.’ Cadman took hold of the door handle.
‘But you need to hear about the skull.’ Elias was clutching at straws. ‘Remember the legend of how Blightey’s skull escaped from the casket and made its way through the Abyss? His old pupil, Sektis Gandaw, built some contraption to bring him home…’
‘We’ve finished,’ Cadman said.
‘No.’ Elias was shaking now. ‘The skull resurfaces in the legend of Jaspar Paris. It lures Paris into the forest by assuming the form of a beautiful woman…’
Cadman was no longer listening. The door opened onto the armoured cadavers outside.
‘Jaspar Paris was saved only by the intervention of his spurned lover, Renna Cordelia,’ Elias said. ‘Don’t you want to hear how it ends?’
Cadman paused for a moment, as if considering.
‘The skull drank her soul.’ Elias said.
‘And?’
‘It rose into the air, flames spewing from its eye-sockets, and sucked her life force up! That’s what it does!’ Elias said. ‘He’ll come for you!’ Elias had no way of knowing that, but it never hurt to put the frighteners on a liche—or so he’d heard.
‘I know.’ Cadman left the room, slamming the door behind him.
‘But I can help you! There’s so much more to tell! So much!’
There was no response. The office had taken on the feel of a tomb. Elias buried his head in his hands and emitted a loud sob.
He started as someone coughed.
Zara Gen’s eyes were bulging and he rocked the chair from side to side. Elias frowned, wiping the tears from his cheeks, but then he realized what the Governor wanted, and it definitely wasn’t the pan this time. He set about untying Zara Gen with trembling fingers. No point being the obedient prisoner now. He’d told Cadman everything he knew and it surely wouldn’t be long before the liche realized keeping him alive was a risk he no longer needed to take.
***
Lallia watched as Cadman left the office with his hulking bodyguard and headed for the stairs. Pausing at the top, Cadman turned to the skeleton guard that remained outside Zara Gen’s door.
‘I think I’m finished with them,’ he said. ‘Best not leave wagging tongues behind.’ He waved a cigarette towards the door and then started down the stairs beside the big death-knight, chatting away amiably and completely unbothered by the lack of response.
The remaining skeleton lurched to attention, took hold of the doorknob, and stalked inside.
Lallia cast about from side to side until she spotted a broom. Snatching it up, she dashed across the corridor to Zara Gen’s office. She slipped through the open door and gasped as the skeleton raised its sword and advanced upon a raggedy little man in a rabbit skin coat. There was a flash of red that caused Lallia to turn her head. Zara Gen barged past her and out into the corridor.
The skeleton turned at the noise, but Lallia leapt forward and clobbered it with the broom, sending it clattering and crashing into the desk. She threw down the broom and grabbed the scruffy man, dragging him out into the corridor and slamming the door.
‘Typical bloody politician!’ the scruffy man shouted at the back of the fleeing Governor.
‘Shut it!’ Lallia said. ‘This way!’
The skeleton’s sword splintered the wood of the door and Lallia put her tail between her legs and scarpered.
‘Elias, by the way,’ the raggedy man said. ‘Bard of Broken Bridge. And you are?’
‘Shut your bleeding trap.’
As Lallia reached the bottom of the stairwell, there was a loud crash from behind. The skeleton leapt into the corridor and ran at them with frightening speed.
‘Quick!’ Lallia said, taking the steps two at a time. She led the way through twisting passageways that were known to few save the council’s serving staff. As she reached another stairway, she cast a look over her shoulder and saw that the skeleton was gaining on them. ‘Out of the way!’ She pushed a discarded tea trolley down the stairs. Elias jumped to the side and the trolley hit the skeleton square in the ribs, slamming it to the floor below. ‘Keep running!’
She made for a metal ladder that led to a trap in the roof and chanced a look behind. The skeleton struggled up, ribcage smashed, one leg snapped. Its eye-sockets flared crimson, and then it continued to lurch towards them. Elias scrabbled up the ladder behind Lallia as she bashed at the trapdoor.
‘Come on!’ he said. The skeleton was already on the first rung.
Lallia threw her shoulder against the trap repeatedly until it gave. She climbed onto the roof, where the reddening sun was starting to dip below the horizon. Elias followed her out and slammed the trapdoor shut.
‘How do we lock it?’ he said.
‘You could always sit on it.’ Lallia looked around for something heavy she could put on it instead, but already the skeleton was bashing at it from below.
‘And get a sword up my jacksie? Sounds more like your sort of thing.’
‘Forget it,’ Lallia said. ‘Let’s go.’
They ran to the far side, looking in vain for somewhere to hide. Three storeys down, Lallia could see hundreds of undead surrounding the building. ‘Shit! We’re trapped.’
The splintering of wood made them turn back to the trapdoor. The skeleton emerged onto the rooftop and limped towards them, the bone of its broken leg grating against the stone.
Lallia shoved Elias behind her and raised her fists. The skeleton lunged and Elias screamed. He pushed past Lallia, caught the skeleton’s sword arm and heaved. The rotting ligaments held firm and the skeleton fought back with shocking strength, forcing the bard to his knees. Lallia grabbed it from behind, wrenching at its neck. The skeleton struck her with the back of its hand and sent her reeling. She hit her head and came up groggy. She saw Elias snap off the skeleton’s leg at the knee. It tottered about with its arms spread wide, and then Elias shoulder-charged it, sending it plummeting to the ground below.
Lallia peered over the edge of the building and saw the shattered remains scrabbling around like frenzied insects. A ripple passed through the horde of undead pressed around Arnbrook House.
‘Look,’ Elias said, panting for breath.
The swell of corpses parted and Cadman’s black carriage clattered off to the east with a group of skeletal knights riding escort.
‘What’s happening?’ Lallia asked.
‘Buggered if I know,’ Elias said. ‘But for now I think we’ll be safer up here.’
Lallia nodded, flopped down on the parapet and ran her fingers through the knots in her hair.
‘End of the world,’ Elias chuckled, ‘but still time for personal grooming. My kind of girl.’
Lallia slapped him playfully on the arm. She considered him for a moment, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the lank greasy hair, the eyes set so close together that he looked like a startled chicken.
‘What?’ Elias asked, mouth gaping with feigned shock and showing yellow teeth that hadn’t seen a brush in days.
Lallia creased up with laughter. She might have been scared, tired, and desperate, but even she had her limits.
THE FATE OF THE GHOST
‘Thought you were in Gladelvi,’ Shader shouted above the din in the bar.
The Green Man was heaving with dockworkers celebrating the completion of a galleon—the first of many judging by the conversation. Nothing like an Emperor’s fears to bolster employment. Port Sarum had probably never had i
t so good.
Amidio Podesta’s head slipped from his hand and crashed into his soup. He spluttered and cursed, came bolt upright, and wrung out his moustache.
‘Cold.’ He wrinkled his nose, licking the broth from his lips and mopping his face with a sleeve. ‘What? Gladelvi? Bloody bastard wasn’t there. Now I’ve a hold stuffed with Aeterna-tech and no one to sell it to.’
‘Where’s the crew?’ Shader seated himself opposite.
‘Boozing and screwing, like they always do. A pox on the lot of them. A pox on Jarmin the Anchorite’s radiant arse too. Don’t even have the docking fees. Probably lose the ship now.’ Podesta sighed theatrically and picked up an empty glass. ‘Don’t suppose you could stretch to a beer, eh?’
Shader slammed a purse of coins under his nose. ‘Half now, the rest when we get back.’ Podesta’s eyes came into focus and he straightened the tricorn on his head. ‘Where are we going?’ ‘The Anglesh Isles.’
***
Dead man’s money might not be the Nousian way of conducting business, but Ain would understand. After all, you can’t take coin with you and if he hadn’t rifled the bodies on the plague carts someone else would have. At least his purpose served the greater good, Shader told himself, and no harm had been done.
It was a remarkable thing how quickly a profligate crew of drunks and rakes could be assembled when the price was right. Shader drew in his lips, leaning on the rails of the aftcastle of the Aura Placida, watching the lights of Port Sarum recede until they resembled fallen stars.
‘Hoist those squares and catch us some breeze!’ yelled Podesta into the night air. ‘And give me some lateens on the mizzen, boys.’
He took a swig of rum and hollered up at Shader. ‘Ain must love you, my friend. The tide’s with us, and there’s a west wind blowing.’
Shader leapt down the steps two at a time and joined Podesta on the quarterdeck. He pulled off his hat and threw his head back, letting his hair billow out behind him. The salt spray on his face, the biting air in his lungs, quickened his pulse with more life than any sham resurrection. It felt good to be away from Sahul and back on the open sea.
‘They can’t have more than a couple of hours on us,’ Podesta said, offering Shader the bottle. ‘But no one knows these waters like I do. Can’t imagine too many ships heading to the Anglesh Isles. Your pale-faced midget must be very rich, or very frightening, eh?’
Shader assumed it was the latter. He took a glug of rum and handed the bottle back. There were a hundred other ways a ship’s crew could make money, all of them with a lot less risk. He looked at Podesta out of the corner of his eye. What would have happened if Shadrak had approached him first? Would the Aura Placida have taken the job?
Podesta saw him watching and stoppered the rum, a sudden look of sobriety falling over his ruddy face. ‘These are hard times, my friend. A man must take work where he finds it, eh?’ He slapped Shader on the back and drew him into a hug. ‘But Ain is good to you, eh? And to me, I think. Just when I thought I was going to lose the Placida my good friend comes looking for a ship. Trust me, Shader, your money has bought you the best. Say one thing for Amidio Podesta: say he’s favoured by the gods.’
Shader frowned at that and eased his way free of the embrace. 120
‘Slip of the tongue,’ Podesta said. ‘But you know what I mean, eh? Ain loves us, my friend. Don’t worry. We’ll catch this Shadrak. They’ll have to slow down when they reach the Makara Reef, and I’ve a little surprise for them.’
Shader narrowed his eyes, but Podesta simply gave a gap-toothed smile.
‘You’ll see. When a customer doesn’t turn up to claim his goods they become mine by default. That’s why I love this business. There’s always a silver lining, uh?’
Podesta made a beeline for the starboard rail and peered into the darkness. Shader joined him and saw a hazy yellow glow swaying in the wind.
‘Here they come,’ Podesta said. ‘How do I look?’
He made a show of straightening his tricorn and fastening the buttons on his coat. Shader was spellbound by the approaching light, unable to work out what it was or why it swung from side to side. Podesta chuckled.
‘Lantern on an Imperial galleon,’ he said. ‘There is a blockade, you know. There’s another up front, and I wouldn’t be surprised if a third was taking a wide berth to our stern.’
Shader stood back from the rail. This venture seemed about to end even before they’d gotten underway. ‘You don’t exactly look worried,’ he said.
‘I’m Amidio Podesta.’ The Captain shrugged. ‘When you’ve wrestled with bull sharks, ridden waves as high as mountains, and emptied the wine cellars of Crown Prince Raoul of Quilonia right under his nose worry seems to serve no purpose. Let’s leave the worrying to lesser men, eh?’
Podesta strode to the mainmast and hollered up at the crow’s nest. ‘Send the Imperial signal, Elpidio.’
‘Aye Captain,’ the boy shouted back.
Shader peered up into the heights and a few minutes later saw a spark of light that winked on and off at different intervals. He’d seen something similar on campaign when they’d used a hooded lantern to send messages.
‘Cleto,’ Podesta shouted. ‘Make sure our cargo’s secure.’
Shader tensed at mention of the name and then jumped as the swarthy sailor stepped out of the shadows.
‘You mean the special cargo, Captain? Already taken care of. They won’t find it ’less they rip the ship apart plank by plank.’
‘Good man,’ Podesta said as Cleto slunk back into the darkness. ‘Not in the moral sense,’ he offered as an aside to Shader, ‘but he’s a handy old sea dog, no?’
The black hulk of a ship was now visible off the bow and another was coming alongside. Shader ran back to the aftcastle and saw a third light trailing them at a distance. It seemed Podesta was fully conversant with Imperial tactics.
‘Sabas!’ The Captain’s call was scattered by the wind.
Shader strolled back down to the quarterdeck with his fingers stroking the hilt of the gladius.
‘Captain?’ the black man’s deep voice rolled up from the galley.
‘Cheesy bread. All this excitement’s making me hungry.’ Podesta gave Shader a half-smile. For all his bravado, the Captain was clearly anxious.
Grapples were thrown from the starboard galleon, and after a few minutes of barked orders the Aura Placida was boarded by a surly looking officer in a Sahulian bicorn, light breeches, and a heavily brocaded tailcoat. He was flanked by four troops in leather armour with cutlasses hanging from their belts. Behind them Shader could see a long line of crossbows resting on the galleon’s rail, lamplight glinting from the tips of quarrels.
Shader’s eyes darted about in an attempt to locate the best cover. He shuffled in the direction of the mainmast. More lamps burst into light about the deck as the crew of the Aura Placida emerged to gauge the threat.
The officer swept off his bicorn and gave a formal bow. Podesta did the same, with an elaborate flourish of his tricorn. The officer lunged and Shader half-drew his gladius, but stopped himself when Podesta’s arms opened wide and he crushed the man in a huge bear hug.
‘Benson, you old lubber! What are you doing onboard ship?’
Benson pulled back and held Podesta at arm’s length.
‘Amidio Podesta, you salty old scallywag. All this fresh sea air and you still smell like a cow’s arse.’
Podesta made a show of sniffing his armpits. ‘Well, my friend, you would be the expert on such things, eh?’
Podesta’s hand moved behind his back and he made a twisting gesture with his wrist that could only have been intended for Shader. Suddenly getting his meaning, Shader buttoned his coat to conceal his Nousian tabard.
‘Bit late for setting sail,’ Benson said.
‘Ah, my friend,’ Podesta put an arm around his shoulder and led him towards the galley, ‘this is why you’re not a sailor. You don’t understand these things. What did you do wrong for Hagal
le to send you to sea?’
Benson chuckled. ‘If he builds any more ships I reckon we’ll all be sailors. Someone needs to crew them.’
The two passed from sight into the galley. Sabas’s booming voice sounded in greeting. Clearly Podesta wasn’t the only one who knew the officer. Benson’s guards visibly relaxed and the Aura Placida’s crew stepped forward to greet them. The crossbowmen stood down and muffled voices came from the galleon to mingle with the lapping of the waves.
***
Prayer was getting tough again.
Shader shut the Liber and threw it on top of his folded coat. His knees hurt from sitting cross-legged on the deck, and his eyes were sore from reading in the dim lamplight.
Podesta had worked his magic with Benson and the Aura Placida was granted passage unhampered as she rode the waves towards the Anglesh Isles. It had taken Benson’s men over an hour to load all the food, wine, and tobacco Podesta had gifted him. Shader shook his head and let the tiniest curl of a smile touch his lips. Podesta must have been playing both sides for years: smuggling for the Templum and supplying what the Sahulian navy lacked. It was a dangerous game; everybody apparently knew what was going on, but nobody cared. It reminded Shader of what they used to say in Gallia when he was on campaign: cheating on your wife was OK, providing you didn’t get caught. He’d not seen the funny side at the time, but travelling with Podesta was giving him a whole new perspective.
Shader sighed and pulled the knotted prayer cord over his head. His own problem was fidelity to rules, not people. He wasn’t so much concerned with others finding out; he was more worried about his own reaction. No matter how he justified it, he still couldn’t quite see himself as holy unless he followed the Templum’s moral code. Most of the other knights he’d known mitigated the Rule. It was common knowledge that even the priests took lovers, but Shader wasn’t that kind of man. And that was a bloody nuisance as far as he was concerned.
It had been difficult seeing Rhiannon again at the templum. The white robes hadn’t quite suited her. It was like covering a beautiful painting with an old sheet. He was sure it wouldn’t last. Rhiannon was as much suited to the life of a priest as he was. The difference was that she already had a natural goodness, an easy way of being simply whatever it was Ain had made her. Shader knew he had to work at it, just as he’d had to work at everything else—all the philosophy with Aristodeus, the conduct becoming to an Elect knight, and especially unquestioning obedience to his superiors. The only thing that came naturally to him was killing, but that was perhaps to be expected, being raised by one of the hardest men in Britannia.