by Stephen Deas
His reflection laughed. Who wants to see a sea lord fail? Why, everyone. .
He stopped, suddenly aware he wasn't alone. He stayed very still, listening, until he was sure that he knew who it was and then turned. ‘LaLa, a bath is a man's private personal place. I come here to be alone, not to be bothered, even by you.’ Even when I come with Kalaiya, it's not what all the rest of you all think it is. Not that I care a whit. ‘You'd better be here to tell me that Quai'Shu’s dead or something equally grave.’ I could put metal doors on my eyrie bath-house and line the walls and floors with brass to keep you out. My petty little thumb up my petty little nose to you. Shall I do that?
The Watcher lit a lamp. He bowed. ‘Sea Lord-in-Waiting, I do not come with news.’
‘That's a relief. It's been a long enough day as it is. And why do you keep calling me that when I'm not? Quai'Shu is our sea lord. I'm merely his t'varr, LaLa, and we've seen there are plenty of others equally keen to step into his shoes. One or two of them might even be better at it.’ And even if they're not, they'll certainly think it now. Well done, Tsen, well done. But who was it who set the trap? ‘They're all preening themselves, but do you know what outcome I would most like? I would most like my sea lord to recover his wits and lord it over us all for another ten years more, that's what I would like. And if he doesn't, I might still change my mind and content myself with what I have, you know. Wisdom and the desire for a long life both recommend it and I can hardly complain about the conditions of my current position. Certainly far less than I'd complain about losing it. Besides, after today I'm inclined to wonder if almost any of the others might make a better job of it. What happened in there, LaLa? We were ambushed, that's what, and I had no idea it was coming. Would you care for some apple wine?’
The Elemental Man shook his head as Tsen knew he must. Only water fresh from river or sky, untouched by the hand of any man. ‘Our master Quai'Shu chose you, Hands of the Sea Lord. Do you not wish to be master of Xican?’
Now there's a question. ‘Which one, do you suppose, will try to kill me first? Would you care for a wager?’
‘I do not wager, Hands of the Sea Lord.’
‘No.’ Tsen sighed. ‘You're really no fun at all, LaLa. And, in a way, that's why I'm not screaming for the guards outside. Fat lot of use they'd do me anyway. But which one. Pick one.’
‘None of them. I am your protector.’
‘What? And you think because of that they won't dare? How very pleasantly optimistic — but you're not my protector, LaLa. You belong to Quai'Shu.’
‘They will not see the difference now.’
‘Well I suppose I hope you're right but I can't say I don't have my doubts.’ Tsen sat upright and poured a glass for himself. He savoured the fire and the apple in his mouth and let out a heavy sigh. ‘I should have stayed where I was happy. With my orchards.’
‘Is that what you wish?’
‘Why do you keep asking me? What did you come here for anyway, LaLa? I certainly didn't invite you.’
The Watcher came closer in slow careful steps. At least inside the bathhouse he had the decency to get about like a normal man instead of simply vanishing from one place and appearing at another. Tsen gazed out into the steam-hazed gloom. They were alone. If the Elemental Man decided he was to die then that was what would happen. Nothing could stop it, yet mostly he felt annoyed at the intrusion and despondent about the day as a whole. Fear? No, no space for that any more.
‘It is important that I know.’ The Watcher stared at him, all pretence of servitude momentarily gone.
‘Why, LaLa? Why? Why is it your business at all?’
‘I am owned. I am Quai'Shu’s slave, Sea Lord-in-Waiting.’
‘Ha!’ Tsen laughed. ‘An exquisitely expensive one. Are you free when he dies?’
‘I will serve whichever sea lord follows him.’
‘Yes, well, I suppose I can see how there would be flaws in Quai'Shu’s scheme otherwise, eh? An unstoppable assassin bound as a slave but free upon his master's death? Yes, I do believe I see a weakness or two in that. Other sea lords hate us and fear us, LaLa. You make us unique and some would see us fail simply because we have you. And now the dragons. It's as though Quai'Shu has set about acquiring a menagerie of monsters. Unfortunately, the other thing that makes us unique among our peers is our debt. I could sell you, I suppose. That might steady the ship.’
‘Will you do that, Baros Tsen T'Varr?’
‘No.’ No, he knew that already. ‘You'll be the last thing I let go. Right after I let some other grasping lord have Quai'Shu’s dragons.’ He drained his glass, poured another and looked the Elemental Man hard in the eye. ‘I asked Quai'Shu several times how he managed to buy you and he wouldn't give me an answer. If I'm going to own you, LaLa, I want to know: why did your masters give you to our lord? It can't just be money otherwise the Vespinese would have gone and bought a dozen of you just because they could. Your masters wanted something in return, something only Quai'Shu could offer, and they wanted it enough to do a thing they've never done before or since, something that upsets the balance they strive so earnestly to keep. What was it, LaLa? Do you even know?’
‘Our lord bought a service from one of my kind. This one failed.’
‘No, no, LaLa. You can do better than that. Elemental Men don't fail, and if they do then another one comes to do the same work, and if needs be then another and another until it's done. And then they go away again. What did your masters want from Quai'Shu? More to the point, what are they going to want from whoever follows him?’
‘Our sea lord has a vision.’ The Watcher spoke softly. ‘We are a part of that. Where it goes, I follow.’
Tsen laughed. ‘Bringing dragons to Takei'Tarr? That's what your masters wanted?’
The Watcher bowed his head. ‘I cannot say, Hands of the Sea Lord, for I do not know.’
‘Really?’ But that's why you stand beside whoever keeps that vision and nurtures it, isn't it? And that, of course, is why I do too. ‘If that's the case then your work is largely done and so is mine. I won't sell you, LaLa, but we need the money. Can I hire you out? Is that allowed?’
‘The Elemental Masters would likely be displeased.’
‘Why? Because it would be stepping on their toes? Breaking their monopoly?’ But Quai'Shu must surely have had the same idea. He'd never done it so there was surely a good reason. Would they have had him killed? Ach, there is so much more to this than money!
Ah, but that's what makes it so spicy and unusual and interesting and why you're going to play along, even against your better judgement, isn't it?
Quiet, you. Although. . ‘I am left to wonder, LaLa, how many of us are puppets and who pulls our strings. Thoughts?’ You were a suspicious-minded old man, Quai'Shu. Did you ever wonder who was the tool and who was the craftsman here? Of course you did but you let it happen anyway. So you must have known what it was. Pity you went mad before you chose to share your thoughts.
The Watcher bowed. ‘I am but a servant.’
‘Of course you are.’ And exactly how do I go about spying on a man who can turn into the wind and the rivers and the earth again? Oh, of course! I hire another one, and from the same masters! Surely that can't possibly go wrong at all, can it? His lips settled into a wry pucker. ‘I see there'll be no answers for me today. But, LaLa, whoever takes Quai'Shu’s cape, they will need to know. Is that why you came? To see if it would be me? Well I don't know if I want it.’ Of course I do. ‘And even if I did, whether I can get it.’ Yes, a bit more to the point that.
Tsen sank back into the bath. He turned and slid across to the other side so the Watcher was behind him. ‘Since you're here, you can make yourself useful. Usually I talk to Kalaiya when I have days like today, but as she's not here I shall use you instead. Since you're nothing like her, I suggest you keep back in the shadows, and if you absolutely have to say anything, do it in a nice falsetto, and for the love of the sea please don't actually express an opinion on somethin
g I say or you'll ruin it completely. I shall call you Not Kalaiya until I'm done. Are you still there, LaLa?’
‘I am, Hands of the Sea Lord.’
‘I asked for falsetto! You didn't even try!’ He laughed. ‘Oh, then just don't speak at all, Not Kalaiya. Listen though. Whoever is sea lord must decide quickly what these dragons are worth. I want to keep them but they must be put to good use. They're tools of war, Not Kalaiya, useless without one. They must show their worth, but where is the war? My lords mocked our little hatchling today. They were turned against our scheme to use the dragons against the Ice Witch. Whoever did that turning I think must have another war in mind, perhaps a very different one and one that none of us yet see. Find out who did it for me, Not Kalaiya. Ask Jima Hsian. Find out why and what it is they want from us, for little monsters must grow into big monsters, and the bigger they are the more terrible they will become. And there is another matter: Quai'Shu, the alchemist, his dragons, that blasted slave who can ride them, even Chay-Liang. You must watch over all of them and keep us alive.’ Had he just told the Watcher that yes, he did have the will to become the next sea lord even if it meant he went to war with Chrias Kwen? But he already knew the answer to that. The little hatchling had bewitched him. His dragons would change the world, and for all he was a t'varr, fat and happy and sleepy in his bath and with his wine, he was still a crocodile. He put down his glass, sighed and stood up. There were no slaves here, no one to robe him. He preferred the solitude.
‘We have no money, Not Kalaiya. We drown in debt to half the other lords of the Great Sea Council and they all know it. They'll strangle us and starve us and bleed us until we fail; and then while we're dying but before our heart quite stops beating, they'll fall on us and carve up our corpse. That is how they will try to take my dragons. If we fight among ourselves for our sea lord's power, we only make it easier for them. That's the truth of where we are.’
The Elemental Man came closer and offered Tsen a towel. Of course it is. But we'll still fight.
‘The others won't see the debt. They'll be blind to it — a t'varr’s problem for when the dust clears. Every one of them would trade our dragons to have Quai'Shu’s cape. All of them except me because the dragons are all I have.’ Tsen wrapped the towel around himself. It was like putting on a fur. ‘So somehow we make them show their worth and start the bargaining. We must begin by putting Shrin Chrias Kwen in his place. Firmly so.’
The Watcher nodded.
‘The eyrie will be our fortress, Not Kalaiya. We'll keep the dragons close where they cannot be touched. We'll need glasships to and from the eyrie every day and that will be expensive, and that will also be how they try to get their assassins in.’ He sat on the edge of the bath and took a few great lungfuls of steam. Sweat beaded on his skin. Is this how it will be now? For the rest of my days, living in a cage of my own design? Tsen laughed. ‘How do I truly keep us safe, Not Kalaiya? How do I keep you safe, above all? Perhaps I shouldn't do this. I'd need a lot of metal to encase my whole eyrie, and Liang has far too much to do already and where will I find another enchanter who will build such a thing and know they will not — can not — be paid? But I can't say it isn't tempting. Other lords might easily afford an Elemental Man, if only for the day it would take to open my throat and see me bleed dry.’
The Watcher shrugged. Tsen shook himself. Even this stupid pretending game was making him miss Kalaiya far more than made any sense. She helped him think, that was it. He turned and poked the Watcher in the chest. ‘Very well. Yes, Elemental Man, I'll preserve Quai'Shu’s dreams. We shall have dragons, and we alone. Does that appease you?’ He thought he saw LaLa smile but it must have been a trick of his eyes in the gloomy haze since Elemental Men never smiled, and it was very dark. They never got angry either. All they ever got were whatever tasks they were set done, ruthlessly and completely. Tsen had to laugh again. Couldn't help himself. ‘Oh, they'll all try to kill me sooner or later, won't they? Dissuade them as best you can, LaLa, if you would? Now go. Oh, and have someone make the slave woman ready to receive me. My dragon-rider.’ He let his distaste bleed out into his words. Then he stopped and shook his head. ‘And why did you come and bother me in my bath again? You never gave me an answer to that.’
‘To ask you a question, Sea Lord-in-Waiting.’
‘Have I answered it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. At some point you can tell me what the question was. Just so we can both know when it turns out I was joking or otherwise didn't quite mean it.’ He took a deep breath and sighed. ‘Go on then. Run along.’
The Watcher paused. ‘Sea Lord-in-Waiting, I cannot pass the white stone walls of the eyrie. It is like metal to me. This is not known to others. You will not need your enchanter.’
They regarded one another long enough to be sure they both understood. Then the Watcher knelt and pressed his head to the floor, a thing that an Elemental Man was rarely called to do, and vanished into the warm stone floor. Tsen poured himself another glass of wine. Beautiful stuff. Far too delicate to be wasted on an Elemental Man. You had to work for years to forge a palate capable of appreciating the delicate nuances within its richness. For some reason the bathhouse steam, with its touch of Xizic, brought out the best of its flavours. Enhanced it. And that was what a sea lord did, wasn't it? Brought out the best in everything around him?
The Elemental Man had touched his head to the floor as if bowing to a master, not to an heir or a regent. Am I starting to do something right?
Outside he wrote a note to be sent by jade raven to Chay-Liang at the eyrie: ‘Doors on all the ways in from the dragon yard. On anywhere that must be safe. Not glass or wood. Sealed in iron. LaLa cannot pass through the stone.’ And she would understand, perfectly, what he meant and why.
As an afterthought, he added, ‘On my bathhouse too.’
42
A Dragon's Touch
Baros Tsen called for Zafir again that same night after she discovered she was slowly dying and there was nothing that anyone but Bellepheros could do about it. It was late, long after dark and she was already asleep, curled up on her thick rug when the black-cloaks came. Myst and Onyx did their best to dress her in the few minutes the soldiers allowed. When she walked to the balcony and stepped onto the waiting sled, she looked back at them. They were staring out through the wall, watching her. Then the sled slipped away into the starlit gloom inside the tower and rose into the darkness until it emerged into the upper space and settled on a glass roof. Tsen was already waiting, and he waved the black-cloaks away. When they were well out of earshot, his words were blunt and straightforward.
‘How long will it take for these hatchlings to grow?’ Her answer didn't please him, but he surely knew it already from Bellepheros. ‘I have one fully grown dragon,’ he'd said at last. ‘I wish to show my rivals what it can do. For that I am told I require a rider. Can you do that?’
Yes. He asked her what she needed and she told him that too: Bellepheros the alchemist. A harness. Armour. The simple truths of the matter. If she'd had her wits about her she might have asked for so much more — lied and lied and who was he to be any the wiser? But tonight all she could think of was the disease, the horrid mark on her skin that would never go away, whose spreading, above anything else, must be stopped. Right there and right then she would have given him anything if he could have promised her that.
‘Where is the alchemist?’ she asked, the only question in her head, burning away all other thought.
‘I sent him back with his monster.’ The t'varr gave her a look then. A kindly look almost like a father, although she'd only known those as monsters too. She had to bite her lip not to beg him to let her go to be there with the dragons and the alchemist whose potions she needed more than water. But she did not beg, would not. Not ever. Not to anyone, not for anything.
‘You killed my sea lord's first-born son and heir,’ Tsen said, and his face never changed. ‘You have enemies — Shrin Chrias, my lord's kwen. I don
't know what you did to him.’ He shrugged. ‘Others. I'll give you someone to watch over you. He'll keep you safe and he'll keep you to your promises, but for now he has other matters to address and I can't spare him. So you'll remain here, a slave and nothing more, until I'm ready. You will not be seen to matter. Have no fear though.’ He smiled a sad little smile. ‘My desires are not theirs. Not what a sea lord should crave. Serve me well in this and for as long as you do I'll not turn you over to them. Cross me even once, slave, and you're dead to me. I do hope you understand.’
‘I wish to be with my dragons,’ Zafir said, as close as she could bring herself to ask for what she truly wanted.
‘But for now I wish you to be here, slave.’ He sent her away and waved for the black-cloaks to take her back.
For the next few days they kept her in the brightest of cages, gleaming and gilded with bars that she never saw but sensed nonetheless. Tsen sent her more slaves, maidens to wash and clean and feed and clothe her, and Zafir sent them back. The first two, Onyx and Myst, they were enough. They'd seen her face down a dragon. They'd seen her face down Shrin Chrias Kwen who'd murdered Brightstar. She owned their souls now while the others, however skilled, were surely spies.
One day Myst and Onyx covered her with perfume and Tsen himself took her on a glasship. They drifted above the glittering spires of Khalishtor and he pointed to all its wonders. None of it mattered but she forced herself to go through the motions he wanted of her. She saw the magnificence of his world, the opulence, the richness, the sheer delights to be had at every turn for those who were close to a sea lord. This man she needed somehow to own, and yet all she ever saw when she closed her eyes was that little patch of skin, Hatchling Disease, the dragon on the ship that had given it to her and the vengeful look in its eye. She tried to rub the roughness away, rubbed it red and raw until all the flakes were gone but they were back again two days later, and there were other parts of her too now that she thought to look. Other places where she was not quite as soft as she'd once been. Little calluses, so small and slight she wouldn't even have noticed if she hadn't been looking for them.