by Stephen Deas
The baths were ready for him as they always were. He let Rin have a good look at them, though there wasn't much to see. The chamber at the eyrie's heart was a hemisphere of white stone that glowed too brightly in the daytime, just right at twilight and was a little too dim at night. Tsen had tried to think of ways to change it but the stone did what the stone did and it turned out there wasn't much to be done about it. Ten white stone archways ringed the centre of the room. They weren't much to look at, not ornamented in any way, just arches. Somewhere in the middle, when they'd first found this room, had been a plinth of yet more white stone. Tsen supposed it was still there but now his bath filled the space inside the arches. Black marble flecked with gold, the same as he had in Khalishtor. Shallow steps between each arch led up to the bath. He'd thought at the time it was a shame they hadn't been able dig through the white stone and set the bath into the floor as it should have been; now he knew a little more about what this white stone did, he didn't mind so much, even if it was all a bit of an ugly hodge-podge.
Vey Rin walked around the outside of the cavern and then up the steps to the bath and dipped his hand into the water. He didn't say a word, but when he came back to Tsen he nodded. They left the last of Shonda's white-cloaks and Quai'Shu’s black-cloaks outside, disrobed, then let the eyrie slaves take their clothes and close the iron doors to the bathhouse behind them. The only doors Tsen had told Chay-Liang to leave as they were.
‘My quiet place.’ Tsen smiled once they were alone. He walked up the steps and eased himself into the water. The slaves had got the temperature just right for once and his old favourite Xizic oil too. His, not Rin's. Rin preferred the subtler Xizic of Shinpai. ‘A shadow of my bathhouse in Xican and a mere speck of dirt beside your own in the Kabulingnor, but one makes do as one can.’
‘Apparently one does.’ Rin slipped into the water beside him, clearly unimpressed. Tsen gestured to the white stone of the cavern, glowing as it always did.
‘Even my enchanters cannot mark this stone. It is impenetrable to them in some way.’ He shrugged apologetically. ‘It has forced many compromises into my design.’ Ha! And there's a thing you probably didn't know when you came here and I probably shouldn't have told you at all, but there you go and now I have. Startling enough to merit a word with your lord and a small panic at Hingwal Taktse, I should have thought. I'll tell Chay Liang to expect some guests shortly, shall I? Little moments like this came between them rarely. He made sure to savour it. He could see Rin thinking, trying to decide whether he was lying. I wonder how you would take it if I told you how impenetrable my stone is to certain others too, eh? Elemental others, but I think I'll continue to keep that little jewel to myself.
‘Will your usual slave not join us?’
Yes, and thank you for that little needle-nod to my weakness. ‘Kalaiya? Do you think she should?’ Of course not, not when we're here to discuss the future of both our lords, or do you already know that I'll tell her everything anyway?
‘Perhaps not.’
Tsen nodded. ‘It is a place, after all, to be alone. For words to be spoken that will not spread.’
More slaves brought food from the abandoned feast. He told them to take the rest and to share what was left among everyone, slaves too. No reason not to be generous sometimes. The two of them ate and talked of old times. They chewed over how things were when they'd been younger men, of how things had changed over the years. Vey Rin talked for a while about his family and his many sons and daughters. Tsen stayed quiet for that, listening with little to say of his own. I envy you, in a way. All that love if only you can find the time for it and choose not to waste it. All that life. Just never what I wanted. At least Rin knew him well enough not to pry. They both knew he had his Kalaiya, that he loved her more than he loved his own lord and that he'd never taken her to his bed, not once. A mystery to everyone, even to Tsen himself.
They ate and talked until the apple wine came and the doors closed and they were alone again. Rin smiled into his glass. ‘How are you managing, Tsen? Well, I hope?’ Which could have meant almost anything, but there was the slightest change in his posture which said, Business now, and so Tsen knew exactly what he was talking about: Quai'Shu’s fleets and the money to keep them going.
‘Adequately, under the circumstances.’ Of which you are probably even more aware than I.
‘Good.’ Liar. ‘If there is any help you wish from your friends in Vespinarr, you have but to ask.’ Rin eased back into the bath, letting the water lap at his chin.
In exchange for a piece of my dragon? Tsen smiled. ‘I am ever grateful. I'm sure there is something.’ Yes, we both know there's no avoiding this, given how much I owe you. Yes, you can have a piece, and no, not as much as you want. He leaned forward. ‘The Great Sea Council's concerns regarding Aria interest me greatly. The dragon is a powerful weapon. It can be taken across the storm-dark, that much we already know.’ And push me hard enough and I might just try and go on without you, and we can both imagine how painful that would be for everyone.
‘Perhaps we should consider a cooperative proposal?’ No, I won't push you that hard. Too risky. Too uncertain.
‘Perhaps we should.’
‘The council will need to understand what else will be required.’ I want to see what your dragon can really do so we both know how much it might be worth.
‘Yes.’ Well, it's not like I didn't see that coming. ‘I was thinking of a demonstration. Bom Tark.’ And that look of shock you should be wearing on your face right now. . Except there was no such look. If anything Rin looked disappointed.
‘Bom Tark? Why?’
Tsen frowned. Rin didn't like this idea at all. Tsen had expected surprise, perhaps a little admiration for such audacity but not this, not disapproval. Was he frightened? But that wasn't the Rin who'd gone slave hunting across the dunes thirty years ago, and it left Tsen thinking he'd missed something. Enough sparring then. ‘Where else, Rin? The dragon is a monster. A weapon. Bom Tark is a city of slaves, of outlaws and renegades ruled by no one, commanded by none and outside our law. It's been a thorn in the Great Sea Council's side for a century. How many times have we contemplated getting rid of them? But each time it's just not important enough for anyone to take the risk that they'll lose more than they gain. I have nothing to lose and a great deal to gain. Bom Tark. One dragon. Even Shonda would have to pay attention.’
‘He would.’ Rin nodded. ‘But Bom Tark is. . useful. Sometimes.’
‘And now it can be useful to me. By burning. If the dragon can do it there then it can do it in Aria. One terrible beast. Let it ravage half their empire and let them wonder where it came from. We won't destroy them completely. Just enough to cripple them for another generation and pull the Ice Witch out to where the Elemental Men can finish her.’ The look on Vey Rin's face was still all wrong though. This wasn't him being appalled that Bom Tark was a city of ten thousand slaves and refugees and Tsen was talking about burning it. It wasn't about all the little uses the sea lords found for them either, the things that had kept them from being scorched off the map of Takei'Tarr in swathes of lightning long ago. For a moment Tsen was lost. What are you thinking, old friend?
‘Bom Tark would serve as a demonstration for the council, I suppose. But. .’ But? Something. . bigger? I thought to take you aback with the scope of my ambition and now you tell me that yes, you're taken aback, but by the lack of it?
Tsen raised his hands in defeat. ‘You'll have to be a little more clear, Rin. You have something on your mind but I don't see it.’
Rin leaned forward and bared his teeth. ‘There is one thing. Something that would wipe our slate clean. No debt, and Vespinarr will claim no part of your dragon or your eyrie or anything else. Your debts to others are another matter but I'm sure they're quite manageable.’
Yes. As you well know, since you've quietly bought most of them. Tsen could barely think. The enormity of what Rin was offering was staggering. All our debts? No part of my dragons? So it
cannot be anything but a trap. ‘I struggle to imagine, my friend, what could be worth so much.’ He tried to laugh. ‘You've beaten me. Enough. What share of this eyrie and these monsters do you want? Let us haggle and be done with it.’
Rin shuffled around the bath until they were sitting beside one another. ‘Do Bom Tark for the council if you like, but I'm not interested. You know what I want to see scorched? Think about it.’ His fingers drew a shape in the air. An unmistakable outline of two islands. With a flourish he put a little bridge between them and shuffled away back to his side, smiled and raised his glass. Tsen was too stunned to move. ‘Where is your other little pet anyway? What do you call him? LaLa? You must like to live with danger, my friend. I wonder: why is your lord so driven to collect such weapons?’
‘Quai'Shu keeps his own counsel there.’ Although I suppose we could ask him if he wasn't demented. His head was full. You want me to burn where?
Vey Rin clambered out of the bath. ‘You might want to have him check up on your friend Jima Hsian. Strange friends he has recently. Unlikely ones, all things considered, and you might find it clears your mind to my proposal.’ He stretched. ‘I think we're finished. You've done some nice design here, given what you had to work with. You always did have a taste for how a bathhouse should feel. If this all turns bad for you, Tsen, I have a place for you in Vespinarr. You'd do a much better job of this than I ever did. We could go to the tiger pits together like we used to.’ Rin chuckled and shook his head. ‘An evening with you and we haven't made a single wager? You must be working too hard.’
Tsen followed him out, even though all he wanted was to stay exactly where he was and have Kalaiya come and join him to tell her about the madness that Vey Rin T'Varr had just put in his head. But he didn't. Partly because what kind of a host would he be to let Vey Rin see himself out, and partly because of that last little needle there. I could live in Vespinarr? I could be a part of your family? I could be your bathhouse designer? One tiny step above a sword-slave? I don't think so, Vey Rin T'Varr.
It took Kalaiya, much later when Rin was gone, to point out that his offer hadn't been an offer at all. It had been a threat.
51
Lessons in Diplomacy
Patience was the prime virtue of an Elemental Man. The golems of stone stood unblinking, unmoving, sealed between doors of gold and broken glass, but patience, beyond all the Watcher's other talents, was always his greatest weapon. Sooner or later the kwen and the Lady Elesxian would decide that he was gone.
The light outside began to fade. Sooner or later they'd grow hungry.
And so they did. He admired them for their care, placing a screen of beaten golden plates where the last glass door had been, passing through curtain upon curtain of thick silver chains, keeping him out from where the Stoneguard stood if he hadn't already been inside one of them. But the golems were stone and not flesh, and so inside he was and they took him to exactly where he had wanted to be. To Quai'Shu’s kwen and to Elesxian, his eldest granddaughter, whom Xican had made crude and brash. Elesxian, when the Watcher closed his eyes, sounded a lot like her father. They were talking about him, about who had sent him. Shrin Chrias Kwen had her hand in his own and knelt before her. It was all very touching.
The Watcher almost wept for them. Were they so stupid? I serve my lord and only my lord.
Blink. The sea lord had been explicit about the Lady Elesxian. Less so about his kwen and so he chose the kwen. He burst into the air behind him, knife at the ready. Chrias was quick. He dropped and rolled away before the Watcher could get his knife around the kwen's neck and sprang back into a defensive stance, blades drawn and swinging around him. Not that it would have saved him on another day, for the Watcher would simply appear above him, knife point down, or else burst from the ground beneath. But the kwen and his kind liked to think there was no attack that could not be blocked and the Watcher saw no reason to disabuse of him of such a ridiculous idea, not today. So he stayed where he was and sheathed the bladeless knife and held up his open hands.
‘Your sea lord sends his salutations to the divine and beautiful daughter of his blood and to his faithful and ferocious kwen.’ The Watcher's words were bland, the greeting carefully neutral. Elesxian spat at his feet. She was shaking. Not so stupid that she didn't realise she had no escape. Shrin Chrias Kwen shook his head, blades still a-whirr.
Blink. Inverted over the kwen's head. Finger outstretched to touch the tip of his ear, a brush of skin on skin, no more. Then back exactly where he'd been an instant before. ‘You may cease your sword dance. It cannot do what you ask of it.’ A pity. Now this kwen would tell others.
Shrin Chrias stopped. For a second he stood frozen. Then he sheathed his swords and one hand touched his ear.
‘Baros Tsen is no sea lord!’ hissed Elesxian. ‘Our sea lord is Quai'Shu and he chose my father to follow him. And my father-’
‘Chose no one,’ said the kwen softly.
‘It would have been me!’
The Watcher tried again, a little more slowly this time. ‘Sea Lord Quai'Shu sends his salutations to the divine and beautiful daughter of his blood and to his faithful and ferocious kwen.’ He gave the words a little time to sink in and then, while they were still staring at him and wondering what he would do next, he walked calmly to the improvised door of beaten plates of gold, pulled it open and vanished into the air.
A warning. That was all. They would understand. Shrin Chrias Kwen would not be a problem again.
52
The Touch of the Wind
After the foolishness with the alchemist Baros Tsen sent her the pick of his men. They were fine enough, sturdy specimens, well built and well hung and they claimed to be skilful. But they were slaves. Zafir scorned them and sent them back.
‘Real men.’ She smiled at Tsen when he called her to him. ‘I like to hunt and stalk my prey, not pick up the leavings of others, however pretty they may be.’
‘A tigress,’ he said.
Her smile faded and she shook her head. ‘A dragon-queen, Baros Tsen.’ Maybe he meant it kindly. She could almost believe it. But if she'd had a knife with her right then she might have stabbed him for that, and patience and waiting and consequences be hanged.
When the lord of Vespinarr in his dragon robes had his moment of madness, she'd stopped Diamond Eye from killing them all. Tsen owed her for that. Another second and the dragon would have burned all the Taiytakei to ash where they stood, and Tsen too. And she could have let it. All she'd had to do was nothing at all and they'd have been dead and Diamond Eye would have feasted on their bones. She could have climbed onto his back and flown away. But she'd done what she'd done and held Diamond Eye back, and afterwards she wondered why. Because she could? To show them that she was the mistress of their dragon? Both reason enough, perhaps?
In the days that followed she thought about what might have been. Climbing onto Diamond Eye's back. Jumping off the edge of the eyrie. Vanishing out into the desert. What if she'd done that and their lightning hadn't brought her down before she got away? What then? The Elemental Man would have come for her, that's what Bellepheros always said. She'd get a mile or two before he caught her and cut her head off her shoulders and there wouldn't be a thing she could do to stop him. But when she looked, it wasn't that that had stopped her.
What if he hadn't caught her? What then? Alone in the desert. They'd hunt her. Fine — she had a dragon — she'd hunt them back. Whatever came for her she'd fight it, and sooner or later she'd die because she had nothing to protect her from the lightning or from Diamond Eye's fire.
But it wasn't that either. Maybe it was because whatever she did, whatever battles she won, she could never go home. Her old life was a world away, a crossing of the storm-dark, but it wasn't that. Even if she smashed and burned their world piece by piece until she forced them to take her home, even if she found a way to do that without them slitting her throat, what then? What was there? What would it look like? One rider and one dragon agains
t whoever had taken her throne?
Closer to the mark now.
She was waiting. She hadn't realised it until now but that was the truth of it. She was waiting for something to happen. She didn't know why or what but it felt right. And she would return to take her throne one day, but when she did it would be with an army at her back. And she didn't know how or when, but that was how it would be, because she was who she was.
And all the time Tsen orbited those thoughts, every single one, and she had to wonder why that was. Did she like him? Flame, I hope not. But no, not particularly. He'd made her a slave and one day she'd kill him for that, and the thought didn't particularly trouble her. And yet while she was waiting and had nothing else to do, he fascinated her. It was his simple lack of interest. She didn't know what to do with that. However hard she tried, it wouldn't leave her alone.
The days passed. The eyrie took to moving slowly over the desert again. Three glasships floated above, pulling it along by their tethers, inching it above the dunes, hour after hour, day after day. The salt marshes and the distant rivers of the Lair of Samim vanished in the night, replaced by a sea of sand. On the far horizon a range of mountains was a constant outline in the haze. Other glasships came and went, sometimes more than one each day, and every morning great floating glass sleds drifted up carrying soldiers and desert men and barrels and crates and pens full of Linxia for the dragons to eat. They came early in the morning and spent half the day shadowing the eyrie while the rim cranes lifted animals and men and supplies for slaves to take over the wall into the dragon yard. Usually they were done by midday, sometimes not until the middle of the afternoon, and then the sleds would go south again, only to return the next morning as the eyrie made its relentless way north. With little else to do, Zafir spent her days watching the other slaves at work or dozing beside Diamond Eye, sprawled in the hot desert sun, thinking the same lazy thoughts in the same lazy circles.