Bane and Shadow

by Jon Skovron

  “In The Book of Storms, it is said there are places in the sea that have no bottom,” said Leston.

  “Impossible,” said Etcher, then flinched when Nea gave him an ominous look. “That is, uh, I am unaware of what physical properties might make that possible.”

  Leston laughed. “I have noticed that the people of Aukbontar seem to put a great deal of faith in their physical sciences.”

  “Of course,” said Etcher. “It’s far more reliable than ritual and superstition.”

  “Etcher has spoken out of turn, Your Highness,” Nea said coldly.

  If it were possible for Etcher to climb inside himself, Red thought he would have done it. He looked downright terrified of Nea in that moment.

  “It’s all right,” Leston said. “I generally don’t seek the company of biomancers, but I would be greatly amused to witness a conversation between one of them and Etcher. Each of them is so convinced of his superiority, but it seems to me the best choice is a union of the two philosophies.” He looked fixedly at Nea. “Wouldn’t you agree, Ambassador?”

  “Of course, Your Highness. I always favor a cooperative solution.”

  Leston seemed not to notice the tension that ran beneath the statement. Red decided that, regardless of how his advice was received, the next time the two of them were alone, he’d tell the prince to ease off all the romantic innuendo. If it continued like this, he’d eventually put her in a corner and then there would be no outcome that was happy for both of them.

  The carriage train turned north and followed the coast for a few hours. Not even Red could keep a conversation going that long among four people who already saw one another daily, so the carriage had lapsed into a comfortable silence, when Red saw a large building slowly begin to rise behind the rolling sand dunes.

  “Is that Sunset Point?” he asked.

  The prince followed his gaze, then nodded.

  Red gave his friend a wry smile. “When you said your mother had gone into seclusion, this wasn’t exactly what I imagined.”

  “Really?” Leston looked genuinely surprised.

  Sometimes Red forgot just how sheltered the prince was. He supposed that compared to the palace, Sunset Point might seem small. But as Red took in the slowly growing view, it became apparent that it was not only larger than the humble cottage he’d pictured, but was big enough to put stately Pastinas Manor to shame. Sunset Point sat at the end of a narrow peninsula. It was only one story, but the grounds covered most of the peninsula, and the house itself was massive. It was bordered on three sides by a wide deck that stretched out over the water, making it almost appear to float on the sea.

  “Look!” Etcher suddenly shouted in the small carriage. He pointed excitedly out the window. “An albatross!” He pulled out his sketchbook and began to draw.

  “Are those uncommon in Aukbontar?” asked Red.

  “Very,” said Nea. “Once a year they appear on the southern coast.”

  “And that’s it?” asked Leston.

  “Long ago, it was how we knew of the existence of the Empire of Storms, although we didn’t know it by name. We just knew that if a bird came from the south, it must mean that there was land of some kind to the south that could sustain life.” She smiled sadly. “Of course, we didn’t realize just how far an albatross could fly, so we did not understand just how far away you were. For nearly a century, expeditions ventured into the Great Southern Sea, what you call the Dark Sea. Some came back, half-dead with nothing to show for it. Others didn’t come back at all.”

  “What changed?” asked Red. “I mean, you can reach us now.”

  “There were improvements to our ships and advancements in food and water preservation. We now have the ability to store food and water in a way that allows it to keep for over a year.”

  “Really?” Red turned to Leston. “Can we do that?”

  He shook his head.

  “Have we ever even tried to get to Aukbontar?” asked Red.

  “Not that I know of,” said Leston. “Certainly not since my father took the throne. He accepts what the biomancers tell him. That Aukbontar is dangerous and should be avoided.” He smiled apologetically at Nea.

  “I hope we will correct that misconception in the near future,” said Nea.

  “And of course,” continued Leston, “there is the Guardian, who roams the northern border of the empire. I believe it exists to keep us here as much as it does to keep Aukbontar out.”

  “So the Guardian is real?” asked Nea. Her tone was casual, but Red sensed there was something much stronger underneath.

  “Come now, Ambassador,” said Etcher. “A real kraken? It’s—”

  Nea said something to him in their language. Red had no idea what it meant, but the tone was harsh and Etcher again sank back into his seat.

  “My apologies, Your Highness,” Nea said in a milder tone. “As you can see, I am still working on Etcher’s sensitivity toward other cultures.”

  “It’s quite all right,” said Leston. “Even our own citizens have a difficult time believing the Guardian is real until they see it with their own eyes.”

  “Have you seen it?” she asked.

  “Several times,” he said quietly, his eyes gazing out the window. “I have never seen it out of the water, so I can’t speak to its exact size, but it is a monstrous thing, bigger than the largest whale. It is fiendishly clever, too. It understands at least enough to know that the people are inside the ship, so it tears the hull apart like cracking a nutshell, then reaches in with one of its long tentacles and scoops out the hapless victims and stuffs them into its gaping maw.”

  Red shuddered. “You’re not too bad at telling stories, Your Highness.”

  “I wish that were all it was,” said Leston. “To tell the truth, I am uncomfortable with its presence in our waters. We pretend that the imperial navy is the greatest power in the sea. But it is nothing in the face of that biomancer abomination.”

  16

  Are we sure about this?” Alash asked nervously.

  Hope had been about to knock on Luscious Lymestria’s dressing room. She paused, her knuckles only an inch from the grimy, scratched wooden door.

  “Are you nervous?” she asked, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. “After all we’ve encountered?”

  “Yes, well, typically you do the encountering, while I stay behind to fire the cannons and such.” He smiled weakly.

  “He is nervous,” said Jilly, more contemptuous than amused. “Sometimes I can’t believe you and Red are even related.”

  Hope gave Jilly a long look. “A Vinchen strives to maintain empathy for the weak, not scorn.”

  Jilly looked down at the boots Hope had bought her. “Sorry, teacher.”

  Hope turned back to Alash. “It’s going to be fine. As far as I can tell, Lymestria has one formidable weapon in her arsenal, and breasts can’t actually hurt you.”

  “Miss Hope!” Alash’s face reddened.

  Hope laughed, then knocked on the door. “Ms. Lymestria? We’re friends of Broomefedies. Can we speak with you a moment?”

  The door opened to reveal Lymestria, now in a dressing gown only loosely tied at the front. She did not appear to be wearing anything underneath. She gave Hope and Jilly haughty looks, but when she saw Alash, her expression warmed.

  “I suppose I could spare a few minutes of my time,” she said at last.

  “Thank you, we’ll be brief, then,” said Hope as she took off her hat and followed Lymestria into the small dressing room. “Do you know Old Yammy?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Lymestria’s eyes remained riveted on Alash.

  “We hear she’s been taken to the Empty Cliffs,” said Hope. “We intend to rescue her.”

  “How marvelous for her,” said Lymestria without enthusiasm. “It’s a dreadful place.”

  “Yes…,” said Hope as she watched Lymestria examine Alash’s jacket and cravat. “We, uh, understand you spent a year there and we were hoping you could give us
some insight on the security and defenses.”

  Lymestria finally turned to Hope. “I’ll tell you all I know about the place, if you let me borrow this one tonight.” She pinched Alash’s cheek.

  Alash was too shocked to respond, so Hope asked, “Borrow?”

  “I have a party tonight and a handsome-looking lacy like this on my arm will do wonders for my reputation.”

  “A party?” Alash looked terrified. “I’m not… terribly good at parties, you see. I may not—that is, perhaps I’m not an ideal escort for you, Miss Lymestria.”

  “Nonsense. You’re adorable. A little fine-tuning, perhaps…” She put a hand on each of his shoulders and pushed him out of his habitual slouch. Then she took his chin between her thumb and forefinger and tilted it up slightly. Finally she brushed a few stray hairs at his temples back behind his ears. “But they’ll all think I’ve got a rich benefactor who’s utterly smitten with my charms.”

  “He doesn’t actually have any money anymore,” said Hope. “In case that was part of your plan.”

  “The truth is irrelevant. If I show up with him, I won’t even need to say anything about it. The gossipmongers will do all the work for me.”

  “Alash is an extremely valuable member of my crew,” said Hope. “I can’t simply hand him over to you.”

  “Yes, thank you, Captain!” Alash looked greatly relieved.

  “If you are to take him,” Hope continued, “I will need to come as well. I’ll keep my distance in order to maintain your deception, but I insist on being able to see him at all times.”

  Lymestria sighed heavily, her body slouching forward. “Fine. You can go with Broom.”

  “What about me?” Jilly asked eagerly.

  “You are going back to the ship,” said Hope. “I believe you have some reading assignments from Brigga Lin.”

  Jilly sighed as heavily as Lymestria. “Yes, teacher.”

  Hope was surrounded by clothing. Costumes, actually, although she wondered if there was really all that much difference. After all, wasn’t most clothing an attempt to portray a certain identity or allegiance? Whether it was a white robe, or black armor, what did it mean, really?

  She stood in a windowless room beneath the theater. All around her were rows of costumes on long, sturdy racks. It smelled a little musty, and all sound was absorbed by the walls of fabric, making everything muted and unnaturally quiet. She looked around at the costumes with a strange sort of wonder. She’d never actually seen a play. Theater was Red’s world, not hers. There had been a time, not so long ago, when she would have been tempted to dismiss theater as frivolous—a distraction, even, from the important things in life. But as she looked around now at the lush gowns, stately uniforms, and fool’s motley, she felt as if she was being absorbed into the old tales her mother had whispered to her as a girl, and she wondered how she had ever been so hardhearted. So unsentimental.

  Something was changing inside her. She understood that, even if she didn’t know what the change was, or where it was going. It was like she had spent ten years of her life with her fists clenched tight, and now her grip was slowly loosening. It was frightening in some ways. But she was so tired of clinging to old darkness, old anger. Surely there had to be something better.

  “Here we are!”

  Broom thrust his way through a rack of costumes, looking very pleased with himself. He held out a red captain’s coat.

  “It’s fortunate you have such a boyish figure!” he said. “This should fit nicely.”

  Hope let that comment go as she looked dubiously at the bright red coat.

  “I would have preferred black.”

  “Hell’s waters, my girl! Dire Bane doesn’t wear dour black! If you plan to use the name, you must look the part! Besides, this will match the red feather in your hat.”

  She reluctantly pulled on the coat. “Well?” she asked Broom.

  He waved his hands at her impatiently. “Button it up properly!”

  She did as she was told, then looked at him.

  “See for yourself!” He seemed giddy as he shoved aside some more costumes and wheeled over a tall mirror.

  Hope had to admit that it fit nicely, loose in the shoulders for easy movement, tight around the midsection, and flared out slightly below the waist. She had never been a vain person, and preening in front of a mirror seemed a little foolish to her. But as she looked at herself, she couldn’t help but smile a little.

  “I do cut a dashing figure,” she admitted.

  “Now you look like Dire Bane!” declared Broom. “Let me find something suitably complementary for myself, and we’ll be ready for the party.”

  A short time later, with twilight just beginning to fall, Hope, Broom, Alash, and Lymestria set off from the theater. Hope and Broom let Lymestria walk arm in arm with Alash a block or so ahead so they wouldn’t spoil her little act. It made it easy for Hope to keep an eye on Alash anyway. Although as they made their way down Honey Street, her eyes were constantly drawn to Broom, who walked at her side.

  Broom’s idea of “suitably complementary” was a large purple hat and trousers, and a black leather vest that he’d claimed was exactly the sort of thing a first mate on a pirate ship would wear. He wore nothing underneath his vest, and his vast hairy belly was proudly on display as they strolled beneath the street lamps.

  “Clearly this isn’t a formal event,” said Hope, indicating his costume.

  Broom chuckled. “I take it you’ve never been to a proper Silverback party?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Restraint and decorum are not prized very highly. Best parties in the empire. Just keep an eye on your drink. Not everyone around here understands or respects a drug-free lifestyle.”

  “I won’t be drinking,” said Hope.

  “That’s a shame. The wag hosting this party brews the best ale on Honey Street. I keep telling him he should stop trying to sell those rubbish poems of his and start selling his drink.”

  “You appreciate finely crafted ale, then?” asked Hope.

  “For a fat old man, there are few things better.”

  “I grew up among the finest brewers in the empire.”

  He gave her a curious look. “Who would that be?”

  “The Vinchen monks of Galemoor.”

  Broom scratched his gut. “Ah, the famed ale of Galemoor. I had a taste of that once. It was after I’d won the Boardmaster, which is a sort of prize for the best theatrical performance of the year. My theater master spent God knows how much money on that little jug, but as I recall, it tasted like liquid gold.” He shook his head sadly. “It’d be even more expensive now, I suppose.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Hope.

  “Well, there’s no brewery on Galemoor now.”

  “I think you must be mistaken,” Hope said sharply. “That brewery has been in operation for centuries. Since the days of Manay the True.”

  “All I know is that not a single barrel has come out of there in the last two—maybe even three—years. I heard that any merchant who makes the trek down there is turned away at the gate.”

  The idea that the Vinchen monks no longer made ale was not an idea that Hope could accept easily. They had always taken great pride and simple pleasure in the crafting of fine ale. It had become as much a part of the order as combat. With Hurlo dead, Hope assumed Racklock had become grandteacher. But she doubted even his twisted soul could spurn something so integral to the Vinchen order.

  Ahead of them, Lymestria and Alash turned a corner and were out of sight.

  “Is that the right way to go?” Hope asked.

  Broom nodded. “We’re nearly there. Don’t worry about your tom. Lymestria will make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

  “He’s not my tom. Just a friend.”

  “Oh? My mistake. You do have one, though? A tom of your own?”

  Hope’s thoughts went immediately to Red. But maybe that was foolish. A man she hadn’t seen in a year. A man who, as B
rigga Lin had cautioned, might be very different from the one taken from her. It wasn’t that she had given up on him, exactly. But when she thought about it, she’d known him for only a short time. She’d spent far longer with her crew, so it was possible she actually knew Alash better than Red at this point. And even if Red had been who she thought he was, and even if he was still that man, perhaps he no longer felt as deeply about her. Unless the biomancers were keeping him completely isolated, he’d probably met many other women at the palace. Glamorous, elegant women. Undamaged women. She had to prepare herself for the possibility that when she did finally rescue him, he saw her as nothing more than a fellow wag. It would be grotesque of her to harbor any resentment if that was how he felt. And yet…

  She smiled sheepishly at Broom. “It’s… complicated.”

  He laughed. “I have a few of those myself.”

  They rounded the corner in time to see Lymestria and Alash enter a large building. The entrance was lit with torches. A man wearing an apple-green cape and nothing but his undergarments pounded on a small drum.

  “What’s the drum for?” asked Hope.

  “It’s to make sure everyone knows where the party is tonight.”

  “Is it the only party in Silverback tonight?” asked Hope.

  “Of course not.” Broom gave her a broad grin. “But it’s the only one that matters.”

  The drum reminded Hope of Jilly’s “beat to quarters,” which, she realized, was oddly appropriate. The people of Silverback seemed as dedicated to celebration as the navy was to battle. Presumably with fewer casualties.

  They walked past the semi-naked drummer to the front doors. Two large men stood just inside, not looking nearly as festive. When they glared at Hope suspiciously, her clamp went automatically to her sword.

  “The bouncers,” Broom said quietly. “Not to worry.” He waved and smiled. “She’s with me, boys.”

  “Ain’t seen you out in a while, Broom,” one of them said, suddenly smiling.

  “Got to make sure people don’t forget me,” said Broom.

  “Have fun in there. Sorry about the fiddler.”