by Ken Scholes
They had the sound of lovers about them. Their tone spoke of it, and Rudolfo suspected they lay in bed together in postcoital embrace, tangled in the sheets and one another. The mumbled words were clear now.
“Things moved faster than we planned for on the Delta,” the man said. “Erlund was in a hurry to have done with the matter. Our man there tells us the Last Son will be at Windwir ahead of schedule. We need to conclude our work here and move on.”
“Then I will dispatch Vlad before I sail,” the girl said. There was a bit of sadness in her voice that bordered on the edge of love. “I think our guest is as ready as he’ll ever be. And we were never promised more than forty years.”
“It is sufficient.” Rudolfo heard the bed creak, heard soft footfalls. “I should see to the children,” he said. “We need to start loading them.”
Rudolfo crept closer to the door, peeking into the room. A candle guttered, and in its dim light, he saw a nude woman on the bed. She was twenty perhaps, long-limbed with brown hair that cascaded down over her breasts. She stretched again, and Rudolfo admired the line of her briefly. Flitting in and out of his view, a lithe man with long red hair moved about picking up articles of clothing. “I should see to Vlad, then,” she said, sitting up. “Do you want to speak with him before I finish?”
The young man chuckled. “I don’t see what I could gain from that. And he’ll have had plenty of anguish by then.”
“He’s your grandfather, regardless of what else he’s done.”
“He was a Whymer lap-whore.” Rudolfo heard bitterness creep into the man’s voice and shifted his position to get a better look. The young man looked vaguely familiar, but he could not place him. Still, the red hair and finely chiseled features bore the look of a Tam.
But the girl looked familiar, too. She looked at the man now, and Rudolfo saw love upon her face. “Mal,” she said, “even the Whymers served House Y’Zir in the end. All things do, whether or not they know it. Are you certain you don’t want to speak with him before I finish?”
When he looked to her, his eyes were hard. “I’m certain, Ria. You need not ask again. Nor will I speak with any of them. They are no longer my kin.” He thought for a moment. “Still, they need not suffer beyond what is necessary.”
He’d dressed now and slipped his sandals on near the door. The girl, Ria, stood, and Rudolfo was struck by the wild, coltish beauty of her.
“We’ll dispatch them quickly once we’re certain we have what we need.” She walked to Mal and folded her arms around him before kissing him. “Safe travels, love,” she said, “that bring you home to me soon.”
He returned the kiss. “I will be home when I can. We’ve not sailed these waters before. Be careful,” he told her. “We’re close now.”
“Care or not,” she said, her voice muffled in his neck, “the Crimson Empress will establish her throne and make all things right by her grace.”
They disentangled and then the man left. Rudolfo watched as she moved across the room, light on her toes and humming an unfamiliar song. She went to a vanity in the corner and studied herself in the mirror for a moment before sitting down to dip her fingers into the various jars that lay open there.
Rudolfo continued to watch, realizing with each passing minute that he needed to exit this room and continue his work. But the girl held him hostage. As her fingers moved over her skin, he found himself transfixed as she first painted lines of color into her face and neck and forearms-shades of gray and deep green and brown.
A Marsher then, he realized. Though the lines were more carefully drawn and the colors more intentionally blended. And when she moved just so before the mirror, he could see the pink lines of the scar upon her heart like a seal. It was just off center and marring the side of her left breast.
“Dear Vlad,” she said, looking into the mirror and applying a paint to her lips that was the color of pooled blood. “Tonight your kin is finally healed, and soon that healing will save us all.”
Rudolfo waited as she pulled a thin robe over her naked form and watched her move to the door. After she’d slipped through it, he counted to five before following her out of the room.
Then, he moved quickly down the corridor to catch up with her, hoping for shadows to hide him as he ghosted along behind. Stretching out a hand, he lay his fingers along a blood pipe as he went and felt the warm pulse of language in it. The others were ready, Rae Li Tam tapped, and their enemy had not been alerted as yet. The children were located, and House Li Tam lay in wait, armed with what could be found easily. A few choice taps of his fingernail and Rudolfo gave the word for them to execute their orders.
Now the sound of the screams grew in his ears as they approached a wide stairwell that ended at a dark pair of ornately carved doors. They swung open at a whistle from the girl, and Rudolfo picked up his pace to slip into the observation deck behind her.
What he saw there nearly took his wind despite hours spent sipping wine while his own Physicians of Penitent Torture did their redemptive work.
Rudolfo stifled a roar and loosened the scout knives within their sheaths.
Vlad Li Tam
He could not remember the last time he’d slept or how long he’d been strapped into the viewing rack. He dimly remembered Ria leaving him in the care of a dark-robed blood-letter who continued her cuttings with more confidence than compassion, and he remembered longing for her hands and blade upon him, moving slowly and with love over-
No. This is not love, he told himself. It is a peculiar fixation that develops between captive and captor-a product of desperation and twisted hope. But it was a tempting fantasy to fall into.
I will grow my pain into an army.
But now, Vlad Li Tam knew there was no army coming from his pain. They’d run his children and grandchildren past him now in a seemingly endless stream, no longer taking their time with the knives but moving with machinelike precision.
He felt a soft hand on his shoulder, and his breath caught in his throat. “I’m back, Vlad,” Ria whispered.
He said nothing but twisted in the rack enough to see her feet and the beginnings of her calves peeking out from beneath the thin robes she wore.
He heard her fingers moving over the collection of knives as she selected one. “This will be our last night together,” she told him in a low, husky voice. “Tonight, all of this pain and suffering ends for you, and your kinship with House Y’Zir will be healed. Are you ready to take the mark of your last master upon you?”
He tried to speak and found his words garbled. But he knew what he meant to say, gods help him, and he knew it was the answer she hoped it would be. Yes. Anything. Just stop. Spare what little remains of my family and have your way with me.
But nothing so intelligible came out of him.
Then muffled explosions reached his ear, followed by the shrill whistle of Third Alarm. He twisted himself to watch her drop the knife and look up quickly, her eyes narrow. She jerked suddenly and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. A low and magicked voice whispered hoarsely, and Vlad Li Tam knew it but could not place it.
“Unbind him,” the voice said. “This dark work is ended tonight.”
Kill her, he willed the invisible intruder. Do not speak, do not request, simply slide the blade into her kidney and twist it hard. But at the same time he willed it, he willed that she escape, that she might lay her hand upon him again and gently teach him love and kinship beneath the blade.
Vlad Li Tam watched her struggle against her captor and saw a dot of blood well up on her dark-painted neck. “Unbind him now or I add your blood to rest you’ve spilled in this place.”
Below them, they heard the noise of fighting. The assailant let his hand off of her mouth. “Release him,” she told the guards.
Vlad Li Tam felt the table spinning upright and felt hands at the straps and buckles. When he fell from the rack, he landed heavily upon the marble floor with a gasp.
The voice spoke again. “Can you st
and, Tam?”
And suddenly he knew that voice but could not believe his ears. He found the name and croaked it. “Rudolfo?”
The girl gasped her surprise. “Rudolfo, Shepherd of the Light? Father of Jakob, the Child of Promise?”
“I am Rudolfo, yes,” Rudolfo said in a low and bitter voice.
She raised her voice to the others. “Do not harm him. We know the cost of that.”
Vlad Li Tam gathered his strength on the floor and pushed against it with shaking arms. He raised himself somewhat, then slipped and fell facefirst into his own blood. He pushed with his feet and hands, groaning, until he crawled from the sticky mess at the foot of the rack.
“What cost?” he heard Rudolfo ask.
But the girl did not answer. “What does he look like?” she asked instead. “The Child of Promise? Is he pink? Does he glow with life and health? With his mother’s blue eyes and his father’s dark hair? Does he laugh? Or is he gray and mottled, gasping like a fish on the bank for his very life?”
Vlad Li Tam heard the growl in Rudolfo’s voice. “What do you know of my son, Marsh girl?”
She laughed, and it was music. “You came looking for his salvation, but there is none to be found upon the path you have chosen.”
Now Rudolfo ignored her. “Can you stand?” he again asked.
Vlad Li Tam gathered his strength again and pushed himself up, turning so he could sit. The girl stood awkwardly bent backwards, her robe now open as Rudolfo held her from behind. The guards stood near with hands upon their knives, eyes moving from the girl to Vlad Li Tam to the closed doors and the sounds of fighting outside.
Struggling to push himself up, he lost his footing again and slid down, his body shaking from the effort.
Then, the doors burst open and a tornado of violence swept into the observation deck.
He felt hands upon him and heard a voice whispering in his ear. “I will carry you, Father.”
He was lifted up then, cradled like a child in strong, sure arms, and he found himself suddenly weeping. The spasms of grief and relief washed over him and racked his body with great sobs as he clung to the neck of a son he could no longer recognize. Once, before this place, he’d known his children by their voice, their smell, the sound of their approach. But now all he smelled was blood and all he heard were the last poems of his fallen family ringing in his ears.
He became vaguely aware of the fighting around them, aware that Rudolfo stayed near him, holding the girl as a shield and clacking his tongue against the top of his mouth. And then they were fighting their way down the stairs and into the corridor he’d measured so carefully during his early days within this place. He heard the whisper and rasp of blades spinning around him.
Twice his son fell, spilling Vlad onto the ground but covering him with his own body as he did. Each time, the man hefted Vlad up into his arms, finally slinging him over his shoulder like a bag of oranges so that he could better keep his feet with a blade in his left hand.
They fought their way to the ground floor and burst outside into the warm night. The iron vessels were building steam, and one of the schooners was sinking in the harbor. The second wooden ship smoked but still floated, and a band of unmagicked men fought at its gangway on the dock. Vlad could not see the flagship but thought he heard the barking of its cannon.
A wave of invisible force met them on the path down to the dock. These soldiers had been waiting and had had the time to prepare themselves. Vlad felt the power of it, heard the muffled sounds of attack but saw nothing. Still, he rocked backward when that wall hit the son who carried him and toppled them to the ground. He felt a white searing pain as the sea-salted sand ground its way into his open cuts, and he cried out even though he did not want to.
Invisible boots kicked at him and his son, and he heard the crunch of bones breaking nearby.
Then he heard a cry as more of his children fell upon the assailant and drove him down beneath their blades.
Strong hands scooped him up as another son spoke. “I will carry you, Father.”
Pressing forward, they reached the bottom of the stairs. The docks stretched out ahead, dust and sand whirling at the magicked soldiers that fought there.
Another solid push back, and Vlad Li Tam once more fell to the ground. This time, even Rudolfo and the girl he held hostage were knocked down. Vlad couldn’t see what happened next, but he heard Rudolfo’s heavy gasp as the wind left him. Around them, boots and bare feet vied for solid footing as House Li Tam’s front guard fought its way through the resurgence’s soldiers.
“Get up, old man,” Rudolfo whispered in his ear, breathing heavy from exertion. “I can’t carry you and hold this feral cat at the same time.”
Vlad Li Tam rolled to his hands and knees and tried to push himself up. More strong hands lifted him, and he saw these were unmagicked hands. The rear guard-armed with what weapons they could find-now raced along behind them, followed by the young children in white robes still bloodstained from the mark they’d been forced to take.
A low whistle reached his ears. Then, he heard Rudolfo return it. He felt another wind approach on his left and heard the familiar clacking of a scout on the run.
Vlad Li Tam closed his eyes for a moment, suddenly aware of the fear that saturated him. But not fear for himself; fear for his family. Already, so many had died, and the notion that more died now broke what few unbroken pieces of him remained.
He did not see the flash from the flagship, though he heard the blast. Then, a whistling that built until the world erupted into heat and light that forced him to the ground. From where he fell, he saw that the cannon blast had landed in the midst of the rear guard, desolating more than a third of it. The children cowered.
“Stop,” a voice boomed out, enhanced by magicks, and he knew that voice. It was his grandson, Mal Li Tam. “I don’t mind killing the children, though I prefer not to. Release the woman.”
Rudolfo hesitated. “Do it,” Vlad Li Tam said, his voice more pleading than he intended it to be. “I’ll not risk my family further.”
The girl fell forward, then picked herself up, closing her robe. She turned to Vlad and smiled.
Mal Li Tam’s voice called out to them again. “Have your pirate stand down, Rudolfo, and clear the mouth. Ria, bring Vlad Li Tam to his flagship. It seems our plans have changed.”
Vlad looked to her, still surprised at the reasoned tone of his own voice. “If I come with you, will you leave the others in peace?”
She nodded. “Yes, Vlad,” she said. “You have purchased propitiation for your family’s sins.” Her smile widened, and he saw love shining in her eyes. “I will give you the mark of Home and send you to your rest, your blood let and your kin healed.”
She reached out her hand to him, and he knew then that taking it was the most important thing he could do. “I will even carry you if you need it,” she told him.
“I will walk to it,” he said. I will grow my pain into an army.
He forced himself to unsteady feet and trembled at the effort of it. Then, he forced first one foot and then another as his family watched him walk. Ria walked beside him, and when they reached the gangway to the flagship, she waited until he climbed it. Then, she followed.
Mal Li Tam waited for him at the top, standing within view of his cannoneers. Vlad walked to him. “You will keep your word, Mal? You will spare the others in exchange for me?”
Mal inclined his head. “I will, Grandfather.”
“Walk me to the railing then, that I might share my last words with them.”
Mal Li Tam’s eyebrows furrowed. “You will have to be quick. We’re leaving.”
I will grow my pain into an army.
Vlad took the young man’s offered arm and walked slowly to the bow of the flagship. He looked out over his sons and daughters and grandchildren, and his eyes found Rae Li Tam’s. “You will be the Lady Tam,” he told her.
And then, using every bit of strength, he threw his arms around hi
s First Grandson and toppled them over the railing. He felt the solid thud as some part of his adversary struck the dock on the way down, and then they were plunged into the warm harbor. The pain of the salt in his wounds built a scream in lungs he dared not empty of air as he clung to his grandson. His hands wandered over the thrashing form he held in search of Mal’s windpipe. He entwined the younger man with his legs, now riding his back and strangling him as they sank.
He let the sea burn his flayed skin, and the burning built his pain. He grew that pain into an army and bent that army toward the destruction of one man.
And suddenly, Vlad Li Tam was not alone beneath the water. A radiant blue-green light engulfed him, shimmering around him in the water, and his ears were suddenly filled with song. The stark power and beauty of it overwhelmed him, and even clutching at his grandson’s throat he felt the urge to weep and cry out. Then suddenly, the light was gone and hands were reaching for him, pulling him back toward the surface. Hands that he could not see.
He resisted, twisting away and retaining his hold on Mal Li Tam with one arm while the other hand groped his loose clothing. Mal Li Tam struggled and kicked in a sudden resurgence of energy.
It must be here.
The hands were back again just as his fingers slipped over the cover of the book, tucked in a hidden pocket. He shook them off one more time, finally expelling the air in his lungs to force him down. Fumbling, he found the slender volume and drew it out just as the invisible hands, one last time, grabbed at him and pulled him toward the surface.
Mal Li Tam thrashed away into the deeper waters, gradually fading from view as Vlad neared the surface.
“Stop fighting me, Father,” Rae Li Tam whispered. He heard sadness in her voice but did not comprehend it. And when had she magicked herself?
“I will,” he said. Behind them, his flagship steamed for the mouth of the harbor under Ria’s control. Five of his iron vessels and the two schooners were awash and rolling listlessly as they burned and sank. On the docks, his family waited as the remaining vessels approached.