Off in the distance, a clock chimed half past the hour – the second time it had done so since we'd left the Tower of Stars.
"We'd better get to the palace," said Constans. "We don't want Ari waiting for us. She'll only worry."
For a wonder, all of Quintus' alert constables were clearly in another part of the city that night, and we passed from street to alley to street without – so far as I could tell – even a suspicious glance in our direction. Quickly reaching the Silverway River we followed it east, then cut back through the Merchant District's tangle of warehouses.
We'd just crossed into an alleyway running behind a crescent of townhouses, when I was struck by an absolute certainty that we were being followed. There was no sight or sound to justify my instinct, yet I was convinced danger waited nearby.
"What's wrong?" asked Constans.
"I don't think we're alone." I quickened my pace.
Constans matched his speed to mine, and glanced surreptitiously around. "I can't see anyone."
"Nor can I. But I'm certain we're being followed."
"Well, if you're right, we can't lead them to Arianwyn." He smiled. "We'll just have to give them the opportunity to catch up and then give them suitable discouragement, won't we?"
We entered a gloomy courtyard. Constans led me to a spot so heavily in shadow we'd be invisible.
"This will do nicely," he whispered approvingly.
We didn't have long to wait. Only a handful of seconds since Constans and I had hidden ourselves, I heard the noises of pursuit. Unfortunately, these were not the sounds of footsteps on cobbles, nor even the murmur of voices. Rather, they were the scraping sounds of branches on stone and the rustling, cracking noise that I'd lately heard altogether too often.
I swore silently. With everything that had gone on, I'd completely forgotten about the deadline Jack had set. A deadline I had now, apparently, broken.
The strawjack shambled into the courtyard at a disturbingly swift pace, its head bobbing from side to side with every uneven step. Its blazing green eyes scoured the courtyard for sign of its prey. We crouched silent and still as the creature's gaze swept across our hiding place, hoping that the combination of immobility and shadow would preserve us from its sight.
Unfortunately, such was not to be. With a crackle of triumph, the strawjack loped towards us.
Predictably, Constans was the first to react. Drawing a pair of daggers, he moved quickly and sure-footedly to block the creature's path. The strawjack didn't even notice him. It collided with Constans, knocking him winded to the ground. For a moment, the creature stood there in apparent confusion, then advanced with thudding steps over the prone body. I winced as the not-inconsiderable mass trampled Constans' unconscious form, drew my sword and advanced to meet the strawjack.
I lost the fight at once. The strawjack's left hand split apart into a mass of writhing tendrils. I swept my blade upward and severed a half-dozen of the flailing branches, but others tore the sword from my grasp and hurled it into the darkness. Yet more tendrils wove around my torso, lifted me high above the ground and slammed me against the wall.
The strawjack held me there for a moment. I wondered, as dispassionately as I could – which was not very – if I was about to feel its branches burrowing into my brain. But the creature just stood there, leaving me to ponder my fate.
Constans was alive, I could see that much, but I assumed he was so wounded that I couldn't hope for any help. I struggled against the strawjack's grip, but to no avail. For every tendril I pulled free, another came forward to take its place.
The creature raised its upturned right palm. I watched as the hand reshaped itself into the robed and masked marionette of Jack I'd seen before. The strawjack's crackling faded to a whisper, but unfortunately the creature's dormancy didn't loosen its grip any.
{{Mortal, your allotted time is ended,}} Jack buzzed. {{You will surrender the portalstone.}}
"You keep your bargains by attacking without warning?"
Part of me recoiled in horror at addressing one of the great powers in such a manner, but the larger – and angrier – part of me had already decided I wasn't leaving this courtyard alive, so where was the harm?
Jack cocked his head to one side. {{It was you who attacked. My servant merely defended itself.}}
I glanced at the now-twitching Constans. "My friend would disagree. Will you at least let me help him?"
The marionette followed my gaze. {{Desperation has addled your wits. Surrender the portalstone.}}
"I can't. I no longer have it."
{{I know. My servant would sense it about your person.}}
"Then why..."
{{You will tell me where it is, so my servant may retrieve it.}} Jack spoke as if to a small child. {{Time grows short. I no longer have the luxury of indulging mortal foolishness.}} The tendrils around my midriff squeezed tighter. {{Tell me where it is.}}
I thought of the fragment, still presumably safe within the Tower of Stars, a fortress which I'd been assured no unwelcome creature could enter. Could Jack breach its bounds? For that matter, how would the sentinels fare in battle with the strawjack? I knew little about either party, but if I had to guess, I'd have assumed the strawjack would be torn apart in short order.
Buoyed by this assumption, I was for a moment tempted to tell Jack what he wanted to know. Then I realised I had no real idea what forces Jack could muster if he was called upon to do so, or even whether he would leave me alive if I gave him the answers he sought. With a hollow feeling, I realised all I could do was hope Jack was bluffing or that Constans could somehow get his wits back and effect a rescue – neither of which seemed likely.
I shot Jack as defiant a look as I could manage.
{{You sadden me.}} The strawjack's grip tightened. {{I had hoped you would be reasonable. Still, if you require more motivation, you may have it.}} Several tendrils disengaged from my torso and skittered across my face. I could feel them probing at my ears, nose and mouth. {{I'm afraid that this will hurt a very great deal, but it can end whenever you choose.}}
I cast my mind back to the gruesome death that the strawjack had inflicted on one of Solomon's heavies. That had, at least, been reasonably swift.
{{I could have my servant burrow into your brain, but I don't want to risk damaging you so much that you can't give me the information I need. Instead, I think we'll start with your eyes. You don't need to see; just listen and talk.}} Two branches arched level with my eyes. {{Or perhaps we'll dismantle you from inside out, tear at your innards with thorn and stem.}}
Shoots writhing in my nostrils and ears. More tendrils pried my jaws apart, and clawed their way into my mouth.
{{It's curious,}} Jack droned, {{but some mortals forced to drink the sap of a strawjack slowly become a strawjack themselves. A great many others perish in the transformation. It is certainly agonising, but those that remain are stronger, and more obedient, than they ever were before. Something to try later, if we have to.}}
That had to be a bluff. If Jack needed the information so badly, he couldn't risk killing me. I gagged as more tendrils forced their way down my throat. Shoots writhed across my gums. I could still breathe, but just barely. The pain would begin soon, I knew, when the tiny branches scratched and burrowed at my flesh. Or would Jack take my eyes first, as he'd promised?
"What an interesting tableau." The tendrils paused as the unfamiliar voice sounded.
I opened my eyes. A small, dark-haired boy stared up at me. He looked no more than eight years old and was dressed head-to-foot in formal attire. Every detail was perfect, from the brilliant white shirt to the perfectly pinned cravat. Everything else about the boy, save the shirt and his pale skin, was a heavy black, and almost invisible in the shadowy courtyard. He seemed completely unafraid. It was this, as much as his unexpected appearance, that warned me he was no ordinary child.
"What are you doing in this city, Thorn? Surely you find its cold stones uncomfortable? Wouldn't you rather be out the
re in the wider world..." The boy waved an expansive arm. "...terrifying superstitious pagans? That is how you spend most of your time, after all."
{{You know why I am here,}} Jack hissed. Without relinquishing its grip, the strawjack turned so that the marionette in its palm could face the newcomer. {{You must be stopped.}}
The boy laughed. "You can't even interrogate a terrified mortal. Look at him; he'll die of fright long before he tells you anything useful." He smiled menacingly. "Well, he would if I permit this farce to continue, which I won't."
{{You propose to fight?}} buzzed Jack. {{Such things are forbidden by the highest law.}}
"Ah, but I wouldn't be fighting you, would I? You're not really here. You're just projecting through this brittle cadaver. I can destroy that and our siblings won't even bat an eyelid."
{{Even so, it would be open war. My servants against yours.}}
"Yes, but open war is coming, sooner or later. You've seen to that. Why worry about sooner? In any case, my legions are ready. You'd be surprised what a soul will do to avoid punishment."
I struggled to focus. The strawjack's tendrils were interfering with my breathing more than I'd thought; I was starting to pass out. The edges of my vision were blurring, and the boy had become little more than a shadow set against a dark background.
{{Why do you care about this mortal?}} Jack demanded.
"Because it pleases me to, of course. He's proved quite entertaining these last few days." With a croaking cry and a flutter of wings, a raven alighted on the boy's shoulder and peered at the strawjack. The boy's tone darkened. "So what's it to be, Thorn? You can go back to your forest and gird your... whatever it is that you gird... or we can give this sleeping city a spectacle it's not likely to forget. Oh... except you can't, can you? You're not here. It'll be me against your servant then." The boy rubbed his hands together with glee and then gave a mock look of concern. "I do hope it's sturdier than it looks."
Jack hissed. The marionette drew back into the strawjack's palm. The creature dropped me, its tendrils whipping out of my throat as it did so. With a last look in the boy's direction, the strawjack stalked off into the night, leaving me lying on the ground, gasping for breath and consciousness. In the first, at least, I was successful, but I had lost any hope of the second – the world was already beginning to spin and fade.
My last memory was of the boy standing over me with an amused look on his face. "Don't worry. You're not going to die. Not yet. Besides, you've been doing so well; it'd be a shame to stop now."
Then came darkness.
Seventeen
Constans roused me from unconsciousness. "Come on, wake up," he hissed. "The bells have just rung for midnight. We're late."
Privately observing that I felt incredibly lucky even to be alive, I hauled myself into a sitting position. As I did so, the stars spun rather more than they should have. "I'll be a little while yet."
Constans stared at me, gauging whether or not I could be chivvied. He clearly decided that I couldn't and propped himself against a wall. "Fine. I could use a little rest myself." He didn't sound at all pleased.
"Sorry, my head feels packed with wool. It'll pass in a minute."
"It's these late night alley-parties," Constans smiled, his good humour apparently restored. "You should cut down."
My head was starting to clear. A little of the pain went with it. "I can't seem to stay away. It's the company I keep."
"It could be, at that. Personally, I wouldn't trust me as far as I could throw me." He winced, and shifted painfully against the wall. I belatedly remembered to be surprised that he was moving around at all.
"How are you? That strawjack hit you hard."
"It wasn't so much the hitting, as the stamping all over me with thorned, woody feet. No bones broken, but everything feels mangled. I rather think my part in tonight's excitement is over. Once I've shown you to the rendezvous, anyway."
I couldn't blame him for that. I couldn't see any blood, but I wouldn't have expected much to show on dark clothes in such poor light. "I must admit, I was expecting to have to carry you out of here."
"We can both be glad that wasn't necessary. I can't see how that wouldn't have attracted a mass of unwanted attention. Fortunately, it would seem that I'm a lot tougher than I look – or at least a little luckier than I deserve."
A thought struck me. "How much of it were you awake for?"
"I was in and out for most of it." Constans shook his head. "Probably similar to how you feel now. I couldn't understand much of what Jerack was saying – his voice and semi-consciousness aren't a good combination – but I got the gist."
"You saw my rescuer?"
"Sensed, rather than saw. I was fading pretty badly at that point. Besides, I'm not sure rescuer would be a proper term. I had the distinct impression he was more interested in saving you for something else. I'm not sure being saved from a fate worse than death by, well, Death, is something that should warm the heart."
So he knew. "That was Malgyne?"
"I'd say so," Constans replied. "An avatar of life and an avatar of death, both looking for us… Well, for you at least. You should feel honoured."
"Whatever I feel at the moment, it certainly isn't honoured."
*******
As soon as my vision returned to somethings serviceable, and the pain in my head faded to a dull ache, I let Constans lead me the rest of the way to the palace grounds. It wasn't a particularly swift journey as he was limping heavily and refused all assistance.
He spoke little, limiting himself to directions and, on one occasion, a warning about a nearby patrol. Unlike the others we'd seen, this patrol wasn't a group of Quintus' constables, but a trio of praetorians. Whatever I'd fallen into, the stakes were rising – as if I needed a reminder of that, given recent experience.
Finally, we arrived at the palace, all four sprawling storeys of it. By day, this building was the city's beating heart of governance, its corridors thronged with politicians, clerks, petitioners, merchants, servants and flunkies of all kinds. It was my profound hope that it was a far quieter place at night.
Even at this hour, there were a half-dozen praetorians at the main gate – though I noticed the Sidarists of two nights ago were nowhere in evidence. Fortunately, we'd no intention of approaching the main building – not yet anyway. The palace's gardens were large, unwalled and, Arianwyn had assured me, seldom patrolled.
Constans led me through an immaculate topiary archway and into a maze of flowerbeds, lawns and hedgerows beyond. In a city like Tressia, where most signs of the natural world had been torn down or flagged over, it was incredible to see so much greenery in one place. But there was more to the gardens than vegetation alone. There were covered walkways and wooden gazebos, pools, ponds, trailing ivy and trickling water features fed by one of the Silverway's tributaries. Even at this hour, lanterns were alight at every junction, casting arrays of light and shadow that made the place seem all the more enchanting and sinister all at once.
"I can find my way from here," I said. "Go get some rest."
Teeth gleamed beneath Constans' hood. "If you're certain? I don't want you getting lost just to spare me a little discomfort."
"Arianwyn said she'd met us at the Karnev memorial. I can see the top of it over that hedge. I'll be fine from here."
"If you insist. Did you want me to take the rings back?"
I'd been thinking of asking him exactly that, but had come to the conclusion I wouldn't have properly borne the burden of if I didn't personally place the remembrance rings in Jamar's hand. "I'll keep them. It's something I have to do for myself. I don't know if you understand."
"I understand very well," Constans replied, with uncharacteristic solemnity. "I'll see you back at the tower." With a slightly pained bow, he headed back through the grounds.
The Karnev memorial was a hideously overwrought construction of white marble arches, polished basalt plinths and thousands of hand-high statuettes. Vanya Karnev had led the
armies of Tressia for a four full decades before infirmity – and a well-placed arrow – had finally ended his glorious career. His was the only full-size statue on the memorial. The others, split equally between heroic Tressians and sneering Hadari, were locked in silent battle about his feet.
The memorial was only a few hundred yards away, but it seemed much further. My route took me through an artificial grove of gnarled yews. In the half-light of the gardens' lanterns, every single tree conspired to take on a threatening shape. Without the comfort of Constans' presence, my mind wandered into dark places. It occurred to me that, if Jack had been insincere about leaving me alone, he'd find no better place to have his strawjack ambush me than in these very grounds.
"You're late." Arianwyn leaned against one of the monument's arches, far enough back to be concealed from prying eyes. "Where's Constans?"
"He's fine," I said. "He's gone back to the tower. I'm afraid we had a little trouble on the way here."
"Quintus?"
I shook my head. "The strawjack."
Her eyes widened, just a little. "I'm sorry Edric. We should have been better prepared."
"Probably. It doesn't matter now."
"Why? Has Jerack given up on the fragment?"
"I doubt it. After he finished mauling Constans, he threatened to turn me into a strawjack if I didn't cooperate."
She looked at me warily. "You told him about the tower?"
"No."
She exhaled slowly. "Good. I'm not sure... Wait, why did he let you go?"
"He didn't. I had help from an unexpected source."
I told Arianwyn of Malgyne's intervention in as much detail as I could remember. She took two faltering steps, then half-sat, half-collapsed onto a wooden bench and buried her head in her hands. I took a seat at the other end of the bench and was still trying to decide what the proper response was when Arianwyn looked up at me, her eyes dry but her hands shaking.
"I'm alright, honestly I am. It's just that to hear someone tell you they've literally had a brush with Death..."
Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1) Page 19