Broken Shadow

by Jaine Fenn

  The rabbit came up against the red-and-orange cloth. This was a higher barrier than the plank, but flimsier; it put its head down and started to scrabble underneath. Dej threw herself forward and caught fur and warm flesh. The rabbit, pinned to the ground, kicked back hard. Dej pressed down on it, flinching when a claw scratched her arm. She eased the net over the panicking creature. To her relief, it froze.

  She looked across to Etyan. He was picking himself up off the ground, empty-handed.

  Holding her prize, Dej stepped over the cloth barrier. Although these rabbits didn’t communicate head-to-head like some creatures in the skyland, the fuss might have alerted the others.

  Etyan strode across and grabbed her arm. “Why’d you go off like that?”

  “Because that was our best chance! Let’s get clear of the warren and stay quiet. Maybe they’ll come back.”

  “What about that?” He gestured at the netted rabbit.

  “Well, we’ll have to kill it if we don’t want it scaring the others off.” She looked at his expression. “Which I’m guessing you want me to do.”

  He looked away. “Please.”

  She stepped over the final plank, holding her prize high. She could see, hear and feel its terror. Just get it over with. Once she was clear of the warren she dropped to one knee and laid the bag on the ground. The rabbit burst back into life, twisting and kicking in the netting. “Etyan! Can you hold the bag steady?”

  He nodded and crouched down to pull the other end of the net’s drawstring. The rabbit was stretched out, wide-eyed and panting. She’d brought her paring knife but the short flint blade would more likely cut the net than the rabbit. Something less subtle then. As she brought her foot down Etyan looked away. The first blow crunched fur and bone. The rabbit spasmed and gasped; in agony, but still alive. As Dej stamped on its head again, a weird combination of revulsion and elation coursed through her. The rabbit went limp and silent. She felt the life leave it.

  To hide the warm, dizzy rush the small death had triggered, she spoke brusquely. “Right. We’ll need the net to carry it back, so if we want to catch another we should use…” Her voice trailed away. “Where’s the stew pot?’

  “I tripped on a rabbit-hole and fell. It broke.”

  “You broke it.” She’d said using a clay pot was a dumb idea, but he’d talked her into it.

  Etyan gestured airily. “It’s all right, we’ll get another one from Ree next time we visit the estate.”

  The twisted warmth flared into annoyance. “Of course. If all else fails, ask your big sister. Why don’t we just get some rabbits and a few deer from her as well? Oh, and I’m sure she’ll offer more lovely embroidered blankets. And while I think of it, how about a proper wife!” She spat the last two words.

  For a moment they stared at each other over the body of the dead rabbit. Had she gone too far? Maybe, but right now she was full of fire.

  Then Etyan said, “You know you’re all I need, all I’ll ever need.” He smiled. She knew that smile: it destroyed her. Or rather, it destroyed her will, made her want just one thing. And he wanted it too… The ire was gone; the fire remained.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her upright. She let him.

  She stepped over the animal she’d just killed to stand toe-to-toe with him. She pushed him backwards, and he fell, pulling her with him onto the bare, scented earth.

  CHAPTER 3

  “You brought the treatise. Marvellous!” Duke Francin clapped his hands, startling the miniature dog dozing on his lap.

  “I did.” The latest delivery of writings from the enquirers’ network had arrived this morning, a small consolation after a sleepless night worrying and waiting for Francin to get in contact. When a messenger arrived around noon to say the duke would see her, Rhia had decided to bring this new paper with her.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten my request. Not that I’m complaining.” He slid the tray of tisane and biscuits to one side, making space on the lacquered table between them. They were in one of the palace’s smaller drawing rooms, alone save the ubiquitous footman by the door.

  As Rhia put the parchment bundle down she said, “I did warn you this one might take a while. Durn is some distance from Shen.”

  “Of course, of course. Thank you again for asking your learned friend in Durn about this ‘blue iron’. If we can master the technique it could make all the difference!”

  “All the difference to what, Francin?” When he first mentioned having problems smelting the iron from the skyland he had been characteristically vague about uses for the metal. She would like some iron for her own projects but although the duke had been processing the rocks from the red valley for over a year now she had yet to see so much as an iron nail.

  “To… everything!” He favoured her with his infectious smile. The dog settled again.

  She hadn’t expected him to tell her. Despite their kinship, friendship and her use as a natural enquirer, he rarely shared his business with her unless forced by circumstance – such as when she had threatened to withhold the location of the red valley unless he arrested his traitorous wife.

  Oh, Alharet. The betrayal by the one person she had thought of as her true friend still cut like a shard of flint.

  “But these writings are not why you wanted to see me so urgently, are they?” Francin was staring at her with apparent sympathy, one hand on the papers. “It’s this heresy business.”

  Of course he knew. He had probably known before she did. “Yes. That.”

  “I assume the Church has issues with your Sun-centred universe?”

  Rhia had shared her theory with her royal cousin: once perfected she had planned to release the detailed theory publicly, disseminating it to the nobles and guildmasters of Shen all at once and with the duke’s blessing, at which point the Church would not dare to speak against it. “They do. Not that it is much more than an idea as yet.”

  “Hmm. Do you know how the cardinals found out?” Not from him: Francin would never betray her. She was too useful.

  “I believe I do.”

  “Ah. And do you need any assistance in that regard?”

  “No. It’s… my business. What I need help with is the situation I’m in now. Will there really have to be a trial?”

  “Unless you recant, yes.”

  “That’s ‘recant’ as in say I’m deluded, and that despite discovering how the universe really works I’m going to pretend I didn’t, and cover it all up?”

  “From your tone I surmise you will not be recanting.”

  “You surmise correctly, cousin.” She experienced a stab of apprehension at the possible consequences of sticking to her principles. But this revelation was what she had been born for. “So, a trial then? How will that work?”

  “As the Church rarely holds heresy trials – the last time was in my grandfather’s day, and that was a forbidden artefact – they must use the processes of our civil judiciary, even though they are trying to prove you have committed an offence against the First.”

  “Meaning, the trial will be secular?” That was good news.

  “Its form will be. However, the cardinals will want to sit in judgement.”

  “Ah.” Not so good. “So how does that help me?”

  “Well, I was mulling this over during my morning toilette. This is a trial about a dangerous idea. The less people get to hear about the idea the better, from the Church’s point of view. So I’m pretty sure they’ll want a closed hearing.”

  “Is that what happened with the enquiry about Etyan and the girl?” Derry: the dead girl’s name had been Derry. She needed to name her, to remember that Derry had been someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, before the duchess’s scheming had ended her life.

  “Quite so.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do!” Etyan’s own hearing had turned out better than she’d hoped. Better, in fact, than her brother deserved.

  “A closed hearing is the, ahem, quick and
dirty solution. You will not be allowed to argue your case beyond incontrovertible facts, and your fate will be swiftly determined by a single judge – a judge that, in this case, the Church has appointed.”

  “In other words, a cardinal. Right. Well he’s unlikely to find in my favour.”

  “I fear so.” Francin ran a finger along the outstretched neck of his lapdog. The animal sighed in its sleep. “The preferred option would be an open session allowing the matter to be explored fully in the public eye. The Church would never accept that, given they want this idea buried, not publicly discussed.”

  “So I must dance to their tune?”

  “Not necessarily. Your noble status gives you the right to a grand trial. This is still a closed session but with a proper chance for evidence, argument, appeals and suchlike. More importantly, there are three judges: one appointed by the party bringing the action – the Church – but the others a member of the nobility and a respected member of the populace, chosen by lot.”

  “The noble… could it be anyone?”

  “The appointment is made by the judiciary administrators but I have final oversight.”

  “It couldn’t actually be you though?”

  “Alas no. I must maintain neutrality. The cardinals cannot thrive without my support but I cannot rule well without theirs. I must play my hand with care. Especially now, with that damn wandering star glaring down at us out of a cloudless sky.” He frowned. “And you need to be aware of the consequences of a grand trial: there is no limit to the penalty that can be imposed.”

  “So I could… They could… If I’m found guilty I could be sentenced to death?” She was so busy worrying about the Church confiscating her papers she had not considered what might happen to her, personally.

  “We must acknowledge the possibility.”

  “Ah. Right.” So her choice came down to a foregone conclusion, or to risk everything. “Cardinal Marsan said he’d let me know what was happening, implying I didn’t have any choice.”

  “He wanted you to think that. But you do, if you are willing to risk the penalty.”

  “I… I believe I am.”

  “Then you must write to Marsan at once. Oh, and make sure you ask for the full year to prepare for the trial.”

  “A year to prepare?” For the first time since the cardinal’s summons, Rhia felt hope. Surely she could perfect her theory in a year.

  “Up to a year. In practice they will not grant that long, but you must ask.” Francin frowned. “Oh, and best not mention I advised you in this.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Now the tension within had unclenched a fraction, Rhia found herself considering a further matter, not entirely unrelated. “I think I need to ask you another favour.”

  “You think you do?”

  “It’s… something I’ve been considering for a while but, well, it’s become unavoidable.” She took a deep breath. “I need a husband.”

  “Ah. I must say you’ve changed your tune. When we last discussed matters matrimonial you made it clear you did not wish to be married off.”

  “I still don’t. But I need to think about the future of my House.” And of the enquirers’ papers.

  “Of course. I assume your little brother has shown no sign of facing up to his duties?”

  “No.” She must write to him too. “If he does see sense and return to the city then I will be asking you to find him a wife instead.”

  “Not really my area of expertise.” The duke grimaced, no doubt thinking of the duchess’s talents in that direction. “But I will make sure the other Houses’ major are aware of your desire for a spouse. Or Etyan’s should he decide to come home.”

  “One more thing, Francin. Whoever I marry must undertake not to interfere in my work. I will be subject to a husband in matters of the House but not in matters of enquiry.”

  “When you say ‘undertake’…”

  “In writing, before we are married.”

  Francin laughed. “Ah, my presumptuous cousin. It is fortunate I both like and value you.”

  CHAPTER 4

  If only they never had to leave the bed. Or floor, or ground, or wherever they ended up. Not that they screwed as often these days. But when they did… when they did Dej could forget everything else for a while.

  It wasn’t just the sex. When she woke up before him, she would watch Etyan sleep and feel her chest and belly fill with warmth. In those moments, he was the centre of everything. It was the two of them against the world. In those moments, she would kill, would die, would do anything for him.

  But those moments didn’t last.

  They’d only caught the one rabbit; by the time they were done with each other it’d been dark, and all the rabbits were back in their burrows. When they got home they’d tried to rig up a spit, but the rabbit had ended up falling into the fire. That, combined with the fact neither of them really knew how to deal with the fur and guts, meant they only got a couple of mouthfuls of edible meat each. They’d eaten in silence, neither wanting to be the one to start the next argument.

  “I’ll go dig for honey-grubs later,” said Dej the next morning, when Etyan came back from taking a dump farther in the woods.

  “Honey-grubs. Yum.” He’d been gone a while; perhaps the rabbit meat had disagreed with him. She wasn’t feeling too good herself. “Thought you said there weren’t any.”

  “No, just that I’ve dug up all the nearby burrows so I’ll have to go farther out to find them.” She hazarded a smile. “You can come with me if you like, see what we can find together.”

  He shook his head. “No thanks. All we’ll find out there is wastelands and weird critters and maybe some real skykin who’ll chase us off.”

  She ignored the jibe about real skykin. “It’s not that bad. And the skyland’s huge.” When they’d first got together they’d planned to explore the skyland together. But, other than the odd foraging foray, it hadn’t happened. “There’s loads of interesting stuff out there.”

  “Stuff that’s interested in eating us, you mean. You go if you want.” He shrugged and brushed past her into the shack.

  She sighed. If she’d suggested going the other way, east into the shadowland, he’d probably have jumped at the chance.

  She pulled her flute out of her belt. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so against visiting the Harlyn family estate. After all, she’d picked up this old ironwood flute on their first visit – and been allowed to keep it – and they never went hungry there. But not being able to see the Sun properly made her feel nervy, trapped, incomplete. On the estate, or even worse, in the city, she felt the sky bearing down on her, the people all around suffocating her.

  And she hated having to take charity from Etyan’s sister. The Countess always stressed how welcome they were to visit, at any time. Whenever they were in Shen, Dej was on edge, scared that, despite saying he’d never live in the city and was only here to see Rhia, Etyan might decide he liked having servants and decent food more than he liked living in the umbral with her in their ramshackle home.

  She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, enjoying what little dappled and diffuse sunlight made its way through the immature trees. Then she put her flute to her lips and began to play. Etyan wasn’t all that musical, but she loved to play for him. She would’ve loved to sing for him too, if her animus hadn’t taken that ability from her. Today, she didn’t look back inside to check whether he was enjoying the music or not. She was soon too thirsty to play anyway. She opened her eyes and reached back for the waterskin.

  When she twisted round to return the near-empty skin to its hook she saw Etyan sitting on their straw-stuffed pallet, looking at her. All he had to do was smile now, and she’d go over. But instead he said, “Let’s go to the estate early.”

  Her heart sank. “We’re not due for another week.”

  “Six days actually.” Etyan insisted on keeping a tally of days by carving notches on sticks. “If we go early it would just be the two of us.”


  He was right; the Countess only visited her estate when they were due there. But that wasn’t the point. “Etyan, it’s not that I don’t like your sister, I just find her hard to cope with. Especially last time, when she started going on about whoever-it-was’s lovely daughter, and how their House was looking for a good marriage for her, and she had tits like melons and all her own teeth.”

  “I don’t remember the bits about the tits and teeth. Perhaps I should have paid more attention… Ow!” He ducked the thrown waterskin. “Anyway she can hint all she likes; I’m not getting married.”

  She nearly said: not even to me? But that would break an unspoken rule. Getting married was what normal people did. “I still don’t see why Rhia can’t find a husband for herself, assuming anyone’ll have her at her age.” Given Etyan’s sister was more than a decade older than him, Dej sometimes thought of her as more like his mother. She certainly acted like it.

  “That’s harsh.”

  “But true.”

  “You know why Ree won’t marry.”

  “Because a husband would stop her doing her ‘work’. I don’t see what’s so important about staring at the sky all night then spending all day scribbling.”

  “Neither do I. But that won’t stop her. So, are we going?”

  She was tempted. But she gave into him too much. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d given in to her, outside of bed. She came over, waiting for the cue to forget reality for a while. But he wasn’t smiling, and he didn’t meet her eyes. She grabbed the waterskin and trowel. “We need more water. We’ll talk about it when I get back.”

  “Fine.” He gestured at the air without looking at her. “See you later.”

  She headed east; despite the drought, the best chance of finding standing water was in the shadowland – with or without Etyan. After a while the trees thinned, diffuse golden light visible between the wide, straight trunks. Beyond the ironwoods bleached brown crops wilted in the fields. The clouds that hovered on the skyland side of the umbral sometimes spilled over into Shen itself and dropped their rain on the farmland nearest the umbral, but that hadn’t happened in months.