by Jaine Fenn
No: definitely not liking the sound of that. “Why? What’s so special about Etyan anyway?”
“He is unique.”
“Yes, he is. And you made him that way, didn’t you?”
Sadakh spread his hands. “I did. And I need to know how that happened and what it means.”
“Which you think you can work out by studying my daughter.”
“I don’t wish to harm her, Dej.”
“So what will you do with her?”
“Forgive me for saying this, but until you were waylaid your plan was to leave your child at a crèche.”
“Yes. Maybe.”
“So you would be no better or worse off if you left her with me instead.”
“I need to know she’ll be safe.”
“I would like to give you my word on that.”
But, she noted, he hadn’t. He sat back on his heels and said, “I need to rest, and think. I suggest you do the same.”
“And you’re just leaving me here in this…” she looked around “…storeroom.”
“For the moment, yes. I will provide food and what other comforts I can.”
“And when the baby comes?”
“By then I hope you and I will have reached some sort of agreement.”
“But if not? She’s about ready to meet the world.”
“Shout if you feel the baby coming and assistance will be provided.” He stood up.
Dej had her back to the door, so she didn’t see him go out, but the guard followed him.
She ate another handful of rice and a couple of plums, then stood and examined her not-prison. Only one door of course. And one window, high and narrow. She might reach it by standing on something, though the shelves held mainly soft stuff, folded tunics and robes and bed-linen; the un-lidded boxes contained more of the same. And even if she managed to squeeze through the window, this wasn’t the ground floor.
She stood still, hand going to her belly without thought, and extended her awareness.
Yes, another room below. Water nearby. All around in fact, though this building was big, bigger than any she’d ever been in. Big building, water all around. Not good. Even if she escaped this room she’d have to avoid being spotted, and then find a boat. As for getting out of here… “Hey!” she called.
The door opened and the guard stuck his head in. Beyond him, she saw another figure, just as she’d suspected; a woman, but she looked like a guard too. Sending one guard for the midwife and then running off wouldn’t work. She smiled at the man. “Can I have some more water please? And maybe a bucket to pee in?”
He nodded, and withdrew.
Dej waited meekly on the floor for the guard’s return. It was the woman guard this time. She nodded at Dej, but didn’t smile.
So: guards on the door, no accessible window. Which left… the walls.
She pressed a hand to the outside wall, the only one without shelves up against it. It gave a little: just plaster over straw. But a two-storey building made of straw didn’t sound like it’d stay up long. She extended her senses, getting a feel for the construction materials around her much as she might feel out the land. There was wood here, big beams, closely set.
She moved over to the side wall, pulled out a stack of blankets and put her palm on it. It felt less solid; thin wooden supports, quite far apart, just straw and mud packed between them and a covering of plaster. She smiled.
“I reckon we can work with this.”
CHAPTER 59
The next morning there was more traffic on the road. That meant more curious glances at their foreign looks and lack of transport. But no one stopped them. Rhia estimated they should reach Mirror by late afternoon; exhausted, filthy and travel-worn, they made a sorry diplomatic delegation. But they dare not delay.
Francin had gone over the plan, such as it was, the previous night, but the shroud was still upon her, and in order to fully understand what might happen, she needed to know what should have happened. As they plodded along between rice-fields she asked how Francin had hoped matters would unfold, had the shade not fallen and Captain Sorne not killed the wrong person.
“You know most of it. After the young caliarch died, I would have waited a respectable time then suggested that my son married Shirakeph’s younger sister. After all Temlain is half Zekti by blood.”
“And Mekteph would have accepted this?”
“He would already be caliarch, and have what he wanted. He might well have considered such a placatory move, to keep the eunuchs happy and ensure a successor. And to be reunited with his sister.”
“But once Alharet she saw her brother again, you’d lose her.”
“If I ever had her.” Francin sounded wistful. “Her love for Mekteph is beyond rational. She never took other lovers, you know. And it wasn’t for fear of hurting me, given my own peccadillos. She always expected to be reunited with her brother one day.”
“And now that he’s dead?”
“I suspect she has lost what little sanity remained. If she finds succour in Mirror then I can only hope that the, hmm, contingency I had in place for Mekteph will deal with her instead.”
“When you say ‘contingency’, you mean another assassin, don’t you?”
“A food taster, actually. Her mother was Shenese, though her looks come from her late Zekti father, whose memory she curses. It took some time to get her into the trusted position she now holds, but happily the poison she has hidden is well preserved; she even has the antidote, to take herself, in advance.”
“Right.” Once she would have been appalled at such heartless scheming… The shroud had its uses. “Wouldn’t it have been better to just kill Mekteph?”
“That would have thrown the Zektis in chaos, and caused widespread panic. Probably has, in fact. And killing Mekteph was the obvious thing a foreign power might do, so when I conveniently made my approaches to marry my son to Princess Desemet, then suspicions would no doubt have been aroused.” Francin frowned. “Much better to discredit the prince with the slur about killing his own son. In a court with subtle but deep factions, each side blames the other when such mysterious deaths occur. Obviously at some later point, after the marriage was agreed, he too would die; poison would be suspected but never proved. He might have had thoughts about children with Alharet but neither of them would have lived long enough for that.”
“All these deaths, Francin.”
“They give me no joy. But this matter is – was, even before the shade fell – the fate of nations. Once both twins were dead, the eunuchs’ only logical choice would be to call me in as regent; after all, my half-Zekti son would be betrothed to the only surviving royal, who is also my niece by marriage. One day they would produce offspring, and order would be restored. Temlain would remain heir to Shen. When he succeeded me as duke then Shen and Zekt, already brought closer by the regular use of the tunnel, would finally be united.”
“You had everything covered.”
“Insofar as I could, from Shen, yes I did.” Francin gave her a tight, humourless smile. “Unfortunately I failed to allow for the end of the world.”
Despite the need for haste, they took a break around noon. The soldiers could have carried on, but she and Francin were worn down. It rained as they sat and recovered on the bare ground, a sudden sharp shower that no one had the energy to care about and which left the air misty and damp. Now she was wet through in addition to being exhausted, hungry, footsore and afraid.
Deviock was just helping her up when she thought she heard someone call her name. The cry came again, “Ree!”
Sorne and Grithim were on their feet, facing the direction the call had come from. A figure emerged from the mist.
“Etyan! What are you doing here?”
The guards relaxed a fraction, though Sorne still covered the duke.
“I followed you, of course.” He rushed up, ignoring the others, and gave her a fierce hug which she returned. He felt solid, hale, healthy.
“But why?”
>
“Because you’re my sister. My only family.”
The conversation was setting off odd echoes. “How did you know where I was?”
“I went to the townhouse, and Markave told me you’d–”
“How is he? How are they all?”
“Kerne died. Nerilyn wasn’t there. Markave and Brynan were making the best of it, staying in with the shutters closed. They had enough food, but water was a problem.”
Poor Kerne. And poor Nerilyn. She might have stood a chance, at the townhouse. But it was too late now. “Markave will do the sensible thing.”
“Yes, he always does. Except… didn’t you marry him?”
“Yes. We’ll talk about that later. When were you… there?” She wanted to say “at home” but it hurt too much.
“A week or so ago. I came as fast as I could.”
“Through the tunnel?”
“What tunnel? I followed the caravan route.”
Of course, he didn’t need a tunnel. He was fine in the skyland. “Right. How did you know I was in Zekt?”
“When Markave said you’d gone somewhere with the duke, I went to the palace to find out where. Funny story really…” For the first time his gaze went to the duke, “… maybe not that funny. Things are a bit crazy there.” He nodded, “Your Grace.”
Francin nodded back. “I would appreciate any updates you are able to give once you’ve caught your breath, Lord Harlyn.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” He turned back to Rhia. “Anyway, a girl I knew who knew a militiaman told me the duke had gone to Zekt.” He gave her his infectious, open smile, then added, “I was sorry to hear about the trial, about losing your work.” His grin faded. “Though I guess you’ve been proved right now.”
“Yes,” she said grimly, “I have, haven’t I?”
Etyan’s confidence was a front; she saw how tired he was, tired and scared. Just like them. His gaze flicked between her and the duke. “So what’s the plan now?”
“Diplomacy,” said the duke. “Backed up by force if necessary.” He favoured Etyan with his own distinctive smile. “We did not come alone.”
Etyan looked puzzled. “I didn’t pass anyone else from Shen.”
“We have militia support to call on. Just not immediately.” He nodded. “So for now it’s just you. Us.” He spread his hands, “What can I do to help?”
Rhia was not sure she had ever heard her brother ask that before.
CHAPTER 60
What a peculiar creature she was.
He had known Dej was clanless because Cal, their excuse for a seer, had told him. Dej and Cal had some history, which Sadakh had not pried into. He had initially viewed her as a route to his missing test subject. But when he met her, he realised there was far more to her than those pathetic creatures who did his will in the skyland. It could be the effect of the child she carried; if so, it was even more vital he got his hands on the baby, in lieu of its missing father. But there was something else, something not unlike the feeling he got from the clanless’ seer, although more fascination than revulsion. Yet she was just a pathfinder; Cal had implied as much, and she had pointed unerringly north when asked.
His morning was taken up with necessary duties, mainly related to the appointment of the new poliarch. Still no news from the palace. He would probably have to wait until restday. He excused himself as soon as he plausibly could to visit the strange pregnant clanless.
Dej was sitting next to the table, staring at the half empty bowls. She looked up as he entered. He smiled at her. “The child has not come yet then.”
“Well spotted.” She sat with one hand on her belly, and waited.
As he lowered himself to sit across from her she frowned and said, “Don’t you have chairs here?”
“Actually no. They sink into the soft ground.”
“Oh. I see. So, once I’ve had my girl, do I just get to walk away?”
“Absolutely. But she stays.” That was another thing; an ordinary clanless would not be so sure of the gender of her child. “Dej, what happened to you?”
“I fell in love with a pretty fool and now I’m having his baby.” Which wasn’t what he meant, but they could come back to that. “So you have no feelings for Lord Harlyn now.”
“None I’d share.”
“And him for you?”
“If you mean, would he come and rescue me if he knew I was here, then I doubt it.” Sadakh wasn’t sure how she knew that, given how long it was since she had seen her lover. She continued, “Not that I need rescuing, because I’m not your prisoner, am I?”
“You are not. But I would be interested in hearing more about the father of your child.”
“Ask away. I’ve nothing else to do while I wait to give birth.”
“So Lord Harlyn… Etyan, how long were you with him for?”
“Nearly two years.”
“And in that time, did you see any changes in him?”
“Changes? Like what?”
“Physical changes. Did he, ah, age?”
“He got a bit taller. And hairier in places, if you must know.”
Not good. Indeed: it implied the serum did not arrest the ageing process. Then again, he had been a boy, barely older than a skykin at their bonding; he had not reached full maturity. Perhaps it had still worked. But he did not have the boy here. He did have this peculiar, intriguing skykin, and her unique child. He reached into his robe and produced the object he had found at the bottom of the girl’s pack. “Dej, what is this?”
Her expression turned shifty.
She’s about to lie to you, warned his ghost.
But then she met his eye and raised her chin. “It’s tech.” She grinned. “Which means, as the head of your Church, you really shouldn’t be playing with it.”
He turned the moss over in his hands. “I’ve decided to be honest with you, and I’d appreciate a little honesty in return. Where did you get cleansing-moss from?”
Her brows went up at hearing him name the heretical stuff. “From some skykin. Real skykin, up north.”
“I doubt they gave it to you.”
“No. I took it.” Her tone was more puzzled than contrite. “How do you know so much about skykin?”
“Because of who I was. I grew up in the skyland.” Only one other person knew this; as with Counsellor of Zekt, he offered up the truth as a token of trust. He found he wanted her trust.
Dej thought for a moment, then said, “You’re a seer! I knew there was something odd about you. But you never bonded, did you?”
So quick-minded! He decided, on impulse, to give her the full truth, kept hidden for so long. “I was, and I didn’t. I… had failings. I developed, ah…” He paused at the sudden pain in his head; someone wasn’t happy at being revealed. He carried on in a rush against growing discomfort. “I developed an unsuitable attachment to the seer in charge of my tutoring. The bonding was disrupted by a nightwing and she… ahhh.” He ground his palm between his eyes.
“Are you all right?”
“I… yes. Damn you!” His loud cry, mental as much as physical, made his ghost back off. “She was putting my animus into me when the nightwing attacked. I should have stayed down but I tried to defend her. I failed. She died. Not just her body.” It had been his fault; picking up a rock to defend them, then in his confusion and pain hitting her instead, smashing her skull and accidentally killing her animus. Destroying the only person he’d ever loved.
He heard the door open behind him, then Dalent called, “Holiness, is everything all right?”
He waved a hand without looking. “Yes. Don’t be alarmed.” The pain was subsiding. He’d said it now. The terrible truth was spoken. When the door closed he continued, “My animus died in me, though I wasn’t really aware of that. I was unconscious for some time. Everyone else was dead. But when I awoke some combination of my dead animus and the spirit of the dead seer remained, combined, in me.” He managed a twisted grin. “You could say I have been haunted by her ever sinc
e.”
Dej stared at him, frowned, then said, “Now that is seriously freaky.”
“Isn’t it just.” He felt exhausted, as though he’d fought some great mental battle. His ghost, the dead seer he had loved but killed, was still there, deep inside. Sulking. Let her. He was master of his own mind.
“I was getting a weird feeling off you but I thought it was just… me. Turns out it’s both of us.”
“Yes. So what happened to you, Dej?”
“Happened?” The evasiveness was back. “What do you mean?”
“You’re a clanless pathfinder but you… It’s as though you have the echo of a seer in you too.”
She looked at the table for a moment, then said, “I can see how you’d think that. I sort of have.”
Sadakh said nothing. Let her come to it in her own time. Deep in his head he felt changes happening, his ghost receding now her existence was revealed, the poisonous wound of his old guilt lanced.
Dej raised her head. “I ate a seer’s animus.”
“Ah. With ze’s permission?”
“Oh yes. He was dying in an abandoned city by the sea, and he was eager to tell me things I didn’t want to hear that he didn’t have time to tell. Some of it he told me, the rest I… well, I know it now.”
“And what he knew is… something beyond what a seer is taught?”
“Something you don’t know, you mean? I reckon so, yes.”
“Something you would share, perhaps.”
“I need to know you won’t hurt my child.”
“Dej, I don’t want to hurt your child, but I won’t lie to you: my work is more important than any one life.”
“And what exactly are you working on? What were you trying to do when you did whatever you did to Etyan?”
“Animuses live for a very long time.”
“I know.”
“Their skykin hosts, however, live shorter lives than shadowkin. Perhaps two-thirds the span. I am not young. As a skykin, I cannot expect to live much longer. I was trying to prolong my life, at the very least to the full span a shadowkin can expect but perhaps, I hoped, for far longer.”