by Jen Williams
‘This is where it meant me to come,’ he murmured to the flames. ‘I am sure of it. This place must mean something.’
Sitting cross-legged by his fire he saw now that the red stones were actually made of glass – great red-ruby cobbles that absorbed the firelight and cast it back in a crimson glow. Sebastian ran his fingers over them, marvelling at their smoothness – there wasn’t a scratch that he could see. He thought of the magical glass in the Secret Keeper’s house. Was this more of that? Did these glass stones also hold secrets? Or a warning?
‘Why do you trespass here, stranger?’
Sebastian looked up with a start, his hand once more reaching for the weapons that weren’t there. A tall man stood over him; he wore a robe, a shirt of mail, and leather sandals that laced up his calves. He was completely solid and real – even in the firelight Sebastian could see that his skin was a deep warm brown, and that the epaulettes at his shoulders were bright gold – but he was also the ghost. The ghost made real, finally.
15
‘I – trespassing?’
‘This isn’t the sort of place you wander idly about.’ The man came around the fire, and belatedly Sebastian realised that he had not heard him approach at all. He scrambled to his feet. ‘You are not supposed to be here.’
The man was scowling slightly. He was tall, almost as tall as Sebastian, and his hair, which appeared to be dark, was a mess of short curls. His chin was clean shaven, and from what Sebastian could see he carried no obvious weapons.
‘Who are you?’ Sebastian managed to get out. ‘What are you doing here?’
The man looked away, out into the dark. He seemed annoyed. ‘My name is Oster. That seems right. I know that much, I think. I am here because … this is where I must be.’ He turned back, scowling, and for the first time he seemed to take in Sebastian’s tense stance. ‘I belong here. The question really should be what are you doing in this place?’
‘You led me here,’ said Sebastian. He could feel the darkness inside the building behind him, the thick darkness of the jungle all over, and this one small point of light. ‘We all saw you in Two-Birds, but you were like a ghost. A ghost made of blue light.’
The man who had named himself Oster frowned and shook his head. ‘I did no such thing. You’ve imagined it. You trespass here, on the isle of the gods.’
Sebastian ran a hand over his face, and then tugged at his beard. ‘Sebastian,’ he said finally. ‘My name is Sebastian Carverson.’
‘You are the first person I have exchanged words with, Sebastian Carverson.’ He did not seem pleased about it. ‘This is all wrong. This is not as it should be.’
And with that he sat down by the small fire, staring into the flames. After a moment, and with no other choices immediately available, Sebastian joined him.
‘What else can you tell me?’ he asked.
‘This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I do not understand what has happened. I almost know things, they hang on the edge of my knowing, but I shouldn’t … the Spinner should be here.’ He scowled, as though just talking about it annoyed him. ‘There is no sense in telling you any of this. You won’t understand.’
‘I came here to find you,’ said Sebastian, feeling foolish as the words passed his lips. ‘Can you tell me why?’
Oster glared at him. ‘Why should I be able to tell you that? There are other people in this place. Did you know that?’
Sebastian blinked at the change of subject. ‘Do you mean at Two-Birds? The pirate town to the north-west of the island – surely you came from there?’
‘No, not there, in the jungle itself. In the cradle of Ede.’ Oster leaned forward, and the firelight painted his face in broad shapes. There was something unsettling yet familiar about his face, Sebastian decided, as though he’d seen it carved into a crumbling wall somewhere. It was the face of an ancient king; it did not belong to this age. ‘There shouldn’t be people here. They walk on sacred ground.’
‘The cradle of Ede,’ said Sebastian. He was over his alarm, and now he was fascinated. Oster’s eyes glittered with fierce intelligence, yet very little of what he was saying made sense to Sebastian. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘You see that building behind you?’ Sebastian turned and looked. ‘It is a temple to a god that existed on Ede long ago. They called her Effrafi, and she was a god of the sun. We sit on her fire-stones, and this was her place, when the world was young. If you were to walk beyond the temple and down the dip that parts the earth behind it, you would find a small pile of glassy black rocks. Underneath that, if you dug down deep enough, you would find the bones of both a man and a horse, buried alive for the honour of Qio, a god who was ancient before Effrafi’s name had ever been spoken. Walk north-east far enough, and there is a series of depressions in the earth, eight clear lines, one each for the Eight Mercies. Blood was spilled in those ditches once. People have come here for centuries, building their temples and their shrines, and then they left again. It was important that they left. This was never a place for humans.’
Sebastian stared at him. ‘How can you know all this?’
Oster didn’t answer immediately. For a time he looked off into the dark. When he turned back he almost looked sad. ‘This is only the surface of what I should know. Something has gone wrong.’
He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his knees in a gesture that made him look much younger. As his cloak fell away, Sebastian saw something he hadn’t noticed before; along his bare right arm was an incredibly elaborate tattoo, seemingly traced in silver ink. It was of a dragon. Sebastian caught his breath.
‘That is extraordinary work,’ he said in a low voice. Oster followed his gaze and then held his arm up as though he hadn’t seen it before himself. The dragon curled around his entire arm, from his wrist up to the top of his shoulder. Every minute scale, every curved tooth and horn, glittered with impossible detail.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ said Oster again. ‘People build their temples and shrines, and then they leave, and we have time—’
Abruptly Oster reached across the fire and shoved Sebastian hard in the chest with surprising strength. At almost the exact same moment there was a clatter against the glass stones, and Sebastian registered an arrow bouncing off into the dark, inches from his leg.
‘Enemies,’ murmured Oster. He was on his feet now, his face tense. ‘The wolves are coming.’
Sebastian stood up and looked around. There was a great deal of movement in the trees, and he thought for a moment that he saw men and women there – five or six of them at least. Their faces were oddly divided; one side black, one side white. Then there was a crackle and a smear of light to his right where Oster had been standing. A great force flung him to one side and he landed hard on the fire-stones. He rolled instinctively, bringing himself to his feet in time to see a brightly shimmering shape moving between the trees. There were screams now, shouts from the men and women he’d seen there. Sebastian rubbed his fingers across his eyes and blinked rapidly – it was difficult to make out what was going on, and that thin silvery line that linked him to the brood sisters and other dragon-kin was thrumming inside him, making his heart pound.
‘Oster? Where are you? What’s going on?’
The only answer was a shout of pain from the dark trees. Sebastian ran across the crumbling courtyard and vaulted the low wall easily, but when he reached the trees he could see no one.
‘Oster?’
There was a groan off to his left. Pushing aside the undergrowth he spotted movement on the ground. A young man, his face painted black and white, lay on his back, clutching his stomach. Sebastian could see little else in the dark, but he recognised from the way the man was moving that he had been badly hurt.
‘Who are you?’ asked Sebastian. ‘Where are the rest of you?’
The man groaned, rolling his head towards him. The white paint stood stark against the dark bristles of his beard. ‘The Emissary …’ He gritted his teeth before continuing. �
�She must be told. The Spinner …’
‘Who is the Emissary? Why did you attack us?’ When the man didn’t reply, Sebastian nudged him with his foot. ‘The man I was with. Did you see where he went?’
The injured man gave a sort of strangled laugh. ‘That was no man. The Eye of Euriale, it opens.’ He shivered all over. ‘It opens!’ The man reached out with one hand, as though to grab at Sebastian, and then he lay still.
‘Damn it. Isu give you peace.’ Sebastian stood up. Now that he listened, he could hear footsteps approaching him through the trees. He moved into a fighting stance, but it was Oster who appeared, still carrying no weapons.
‘You are alive, then.’
Sebastian shook his head slightly before replying. ‘What happened? One moment you were with me, the next—’
‘Enemies in the forest. I could smell their ill intent.’
‘I didn’t realise there were any people on the mainland of Euriale. Everyone seems to think this place is populated solely by monsters.’
For the strangest moment, Oster looked offended. When he didn’t reply, Sebastian continued, wondering what he could have said. ‘This man mentioned an emissary, and a spinner. What happened to the others?’
‘I dealt with them,’ said Oster shortly. ‘You say he mentioned the Spinner?’
‘I said he mentioned a spinner. Who is the Spinner?’
Oster ran a hand through his tightly curled hair. ‘If they have him, they must have him against his will. That would explain a lot.’
‘It doesn’t explain anything to me,’ said Sebastian, wincing faintly at the echo of Wydrin in his words. ‘Oster, who are you? Who were those people?’
Oster turned to look at him. The moonlight was like a halo, lining him in silver, and his face still held an expression of barely contained anger. Sebastian wondered what colour his eyes truly were. ‘It shames me, but I must demand that you help me, Sebastian Carverson. I must find the Spinner, and you must help me do it.’
The night was still, the heat oppressive. Sebastian looked at the strange man in front of him, sensing that he was walking into more danger; heading towards death again, death that he had left the Poison Chalice to avoid. But this was the mystery he’d been searching for; he knew it by the ghosts that had led him to the sun god’s temple, and by the powerful waking of the dragon blood inside him.
‘I will come with you,’ he said. ‘Where else do I have to go?’
16
The name of this new ship was The Piebald Knight, and Ephemeral tried to take that as a good omen, but every day her unease grew. Every day her stomach was a nest of snakes.
They travelled ever southwards and, as expected, the days grew warmer and longer. The ship sailed under an impossibly wide sky, blue from corner to corner, and hanging in it was the fiery sun. Ephemeral had come to think of it as an enemy. Only at night were they safe from its unwavering heat, and then there was the agonising wait for sunrise, dreading the strip of silvery pink light that appeared on the eastern horizon. When she had travelled across Creos and Relios with her sisters, she had barely thought about the heat – they thrived in it, born as they were in dragon fire – and in those desert lands the very clay underfoot had been uncomfortably warm, the sun touching everything like a brand. But things were different now. Terin suffered, and the sun was an enemy.
She stood on the deck, looking out across the glittering blue expanse of the sea. It was, the captain had told her, the sea known as Y’Gria’s Loss. The ship was the type known as a ‘junk’. Somewhere beyond her anxiety Ephemeral turned these new words over in her mind, marvelling at them and feeling the now familiar thrill of knowledge gained. She loved the shape of this small ship, the segmented curve of the sails. The Piebald Knight carried twenty crates full of the dried petals of a certain orchid, the captain had told her, greatly prized in the southern lands as a means to make both perfume and poison. That is what this place is, thought Ephemeral. It is perfume, and it is poison. The scent of the orchids seeped up from the hold until everything was permeated with it.
The captain approached her. She was a short woman with olive skin and black hair, her braids bundled up under a wide-brimmed brown hat, which was tied with a length of pale-green silk. She eyed Ephemeral warily, and Ephemeral pretended not to notice.
‘Madam.’ She bowed slightly, as was her custom. ‘The winds are brisk, and we make good time today.’ Around them the small crew bustled about, or took their leisure with smoking pipes. Ephemeral and Terin were the only passengers; she had learned quickly that that was the best way for them to travel. ‘Is there anything I can get for you?’
Ephemeral looked at the shorter woman. Of all the captains they had sailed with so far, Captain Lichun had been the kindest. She forced herself to smile.
‘Perhaps just a bowl of cool water, Captain Lichun, if it isn’t too much trouble. And that drink you brought us yesterday. Terin seemed to find it some comfort.’
Lichun smiled and half bowed again. ‘Of course. I had a bottle hung from the ship overnight, so that the sea might cool it for you. I will have it brought to your cabin.’
When the captain left her, Ephemeral ventured below decks. In such a small ship their quarters were very cramped indeed, but thanks to the unusual cargo they did not smell half as bad as other places they had stayed. She had covered the small porthole window over with a piece of sacking, so it was dark in the room, and she could just make out Terin’s slim figure on their narrow bunk. He lay stripped down to his underclothes, and his body was covered in sweat. At the sound of her entering the cabin, he lifted his head wearily. ‘Is that you, my love?’
She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezed it, and took it away. ‘How are you feeling?’
He smiled. ‘Good. Bad. I edge closer to true visions all the time, even as I feel it pushing my body beyond what it can take.’
There was a rickety stool next to the bunk. Ephemeral sat on it. The Narhl came from a cold land of endless snow and brief days – the sun that they saw was milky and pale, a shadow of this enemy that now pursued them. So closely tied were they with the Frozen Steps that to experience heat was actively harmful to them. Terin was a fire-seer, a Narhl who used warmth to induce visions, so he had slowly developed a higher tolerance for heat than was generally seen in his people. However, the endless warmth of these southern seas were taking their toll on him, as she had feared.
‘You must rest,’ she told him. ‘Do not seek out the visions now, Terin. You do not have the strength.’
He shook his head, barely flattening the thin pillow he lay on. ‘I must suffer it, Ephemeral. It is the place of a fire-seer. To seek further than anyone else. I …’ His voice trailed off, and she heard him take a long breath. ‘I believe I will see truths that have long been hidden.’
There was a soft knock at the door and the ship’s boy stepped in. He was a pale lad with a shock of yellow hair on his head like dandelion fluff. His eyes were very wide as he brought over the bowl of water and a tall bottle of blue glass. He looked from Ephemeral to Terin and back again, as if unsure who he was more curious about.
‘Thank you,’ said Ephemeral, taking both items from him. He looked down at the claws on the ends of her fingers, and she saw him swallow hard. All at once she felt a desperate longing for the Frozen Steps, where the brood sisters were no longer a novelty. ‘You can go.’
The boy left reluctantly, as though he wanted to watch them for a while longer. When he’d gone, Ephemeral dipped a cloth in the bowl of water, and was pleased to find that it was reasonably cold. She held it to Terin’s forehead, who sighed with pleasure.
‘I have to admit,’ he said, ‘I would give much for that bowl to be full of ice. Or to be able to put my feet into a freshly fallen mound of snow. To feel a cold wind.’
Ephemeral put the bowl down, and opened the bottle. A strong scent of alcohol rose from it. ‘Would you like some of this?’
Terin nodded, and took the bottle from her. It was a drink
the captain called turtle gin. It was very strong.
‘Does it ease the pain?’
‘It helps a little,’ said Terin, before taking a few more gulps. He passed the bottle back. ‘My body aches continually, but the liquor relaxes my muscles.’
‘We will turn back,’ said Ephemeral abruptly. ‘We will head north quickly, until the temperature drops again, and you can rest properly. I will pay the captain all the coin we have left, and if she won’t take us, I will force her.’ Ephemeral glanced to where her sword stood, propped up in the corner of their tiny cabin. ‘She is a wise woman, and will not oppose me. Not if the lives of her crew are at stake.’
‘Ephemeral, no.’ Terin took hold of her hand, and pushed himself up in the small bed. ‘We both knew the dangers of this journey when we started. I will not turn back just because it has become uncomfortable.’
‘But you could die,’ said Ephemeral. She knew she shouldn’t speak so bluntly, that a human wouldn’t have said such harsh words to one they loved, but it was not in her just then to be subtle. ‘This heat could kill you.’
‘No one knows that better than me.’ To her surprise, he grinned. ‘I am a heat-seer, remember? I have danced that line every day of my adult life, ever since I saw the ghost-lights in the northern sky and they spoke to me. Listen to me, Ephemeral. This morning, a shard of the dawn sun fell on my skin—’
‘But I covered the window!’ cried Ephemeral, horrified. ‘You should have been safe.’
‘Listen,’ said Terin again. ‘A beam of sunlight fell on my arm and I focussed all of my being on that piece of warmth. It granted me a vision. It comes easier than ever now.’