Bane and Shadow

by Jon Skovron

  “Sorry, Captain,” said Gavish Gray, holding a still-smoking pistol in his hand. He didn’t sound sorry. “Last order from the Black Rose. She said Red was your one weakness, and if anyone tried to use him against you, I was to kill them before they got the chance.”

  She stared at Gray for a moment, then the dead biomancer. Then she turned and looked around at the field of battle as if for the first time. There was so much death. More, even, than the massacre of her own village. And she was the one who had brought this about. And for what? Her precious cause? Back on Stonepeak, she had decided she would no longer fight for the dead. But how can one fight for the living by bringing more death?

  “Come on, Captain,” said Gray, his tone almost chiding. “You couldn’t let him live. Dire Bane would never let a biomancer live, no matter what.”

  “I am… no Dire Bane,” said Hope. “Perhaps he would’ve happily killed this biomancer, but he also wouldn’t have brought so many innocents to their death.” She closed her eyes and thought back to the smug glory she’d felt when she’d led these people into battle. She had been so sure of her cause. So sure of herself. She remembered how good it had felt as they chanted the name Dire Bane. The triumph she’d felt when so many had sworn their allegiance to her on the Empty Cliffs. She had said over and over again that it wasn’t for her, but for the empire. But she knew, deep in her heart, that somewhere along the way it actually had become about her.

  Now even Red was beyond her reach. And perhaps that was for the best. After all, rather than truly grieving for the loss of the two most important people in his life, she had used the deaths of Filler and Sadie as justification for her cause.

  “I dared to call myself a champion of the people,” she said. “But who am I to claim such a thing? Who am I to throw away all those lives? Now when I look upon the many good people who lay dead because of me, my own arrogance and entitlement sickens me.”

  She pulled off her captain’s hat and coat and dropped them on the ground. The icy wind cut through her thin shirt, drying the sticky blood of other people that marked her so clearly.

  “Hope…,” said Brigga Lin.

  Hope shook her head, her face pinched as she fought to maintain some composure. “I’m not a Vinchen. I’m not a pirate. I’m not a champion. I… I don’t know what I am.”

  She turned slowly as she regarded all the people around her.

  “I am sorry that I brought you here. That I brought death to your companions and to my own. I wish I had more to offer you than that, but I…”

  Her throat closed up. What words were there anyway? Could anything lessen the grief in her heart or theirs? Could anything ease her shame?

  She looked down at the Song of Sorrows. Perhaps it had been trying to tell her all along. Maybe each pang up her arm had been the sword’s way of saying, You are wrong. You are not worthy. If only she’d been able to understand. But perhaps she hadn’t been willing to understand. Until now.

  She took the sword—not in her clamp, but in her hand. It felt strange in that hand. Awkward and muted. She walked away from the people into the thickest part of the rainbow forest of dead girls. Then she thrust the Song of Sorrows into the earth. It sank easily all the way to the hilt, as if it wanted to be there.

  She straightened slowly. Laboriously. Then she kept walking. Away from the sword. Away from the people. Away from everything.

  28

  I must say, Rixidenteron, your mood has improved dramatically since returning from Lesser Basheta,” said Leston as the two sat on a bench in the cliff gardens. Far below, the beige buildings of Stonepeak were turning a gentle pink in the setting sun.

  Red leaned back and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “And how could I not be feeling sunny, what with that huge weight finally off my shoulders?”

  “Honestly, the idea of being under the control of the biomancers makes my skin crawl. Especially that Progul Bon.”

  Red frowned thoughtfully. “You know, I haven’t actually seen him since we got back. Maybe if we’re really lucky, something bad happened to him. But it doesn’t really matter, because now I’m the one who has the power,” said Red. “They still think I’m under their control, and that gives me an advantage.”

  “I’m not sure how much power you actually have if you’re working for Lady Hempist.”

  Red shrugged. “A temporary alliance. And I do owe her one. Besides, I thought you’d be pleased for me, princey. It’s a job. I’ve become a productive member of your society.”

  “How self-sacrificing of you.”

  “Well, I must admit I am getting paid rather handsomely for my services.”

  “Oh?” asked Leston.

  Red patted his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s just say that the next time we go into the city, we can take my coach if you like.”

  Leston smiled. “The imperial tax collectors will be so pleased to have some additional income.”

  Red gave him a look of sincere regret. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. Did I forget to mention that the deal I worked out with your mother is that all my fees are nontaxable? You know, since it’s for the good of the empire and all.”

  Leston laughed. “You really are a rogue, you know.”

  Red sighed happily. “I know, but it’s music to my ears to hear you say it. I was starting to worry this place was making me respectable. Thankfully, now I’m more corrupt than ever.” He looked earnestly at the prince. “I think perhaps politics suits me.”

  “Maybe a bit too well,” said Leston. Then he frowned. “And you’re sure the biomancers don’t suspect?”

  “Not so far.”

  “But the fact that you didn’t kill Nea… wouldn’t that tip them off?”

  “When we got back, I just made a big show of being tired, like I’d unknowingly been trying and failing every night. I also made sure to mention how much security the empress has. Even then, I’ll admit I was a bit worried they’d swallow it. But they’ve seemed so preoccupied, I think I could have blamed it on mole rats and they would’ve just nodded.”

  “Preoccupied? Should we be worried they’re hatching some new plan?”

  “The opposite, actually,” said Red. “According to Merivale, they’d been secretly working on some big experimental weapon down on Dawn’s Light and someone went in and completely destroyed it. Sounds like they lost everything. The experiment subjects, the research data, and a whole pissing lot of soldiers and ships besides.”

  “My goodness,” said Leston. “I’m not sure that allays my concern. If there’s a seditionist movement strong enough to cause that much damage, we’ve got a whole new set of problems to worry about.”

  Red thought of all those Godly Naturalists he’d unknowingly murdered and felt a stab of guilt. “Come on, Your Highness. You have to admit, the empire would probably be better off in your hands.”

  “I’d like to think so,” said Leston. “But we can’t just run roughshod over generations of tradition and government policy. That makes us no better than the biomancers or seditionists.”

  It occurred to Red that this might be one thing he and the prince would never agree on, so he bit his lip and remained silent. He wished Hope were there right then. He would have pointed this out to her as a moment that proved he was maturing.

  “There you are, Your Highness.”

  Nea walked through the cliff gardens toward them. She didn’t come out here very often. She hadn’t said so, but Red wondered if the height made her nervous.

  “My lord.” She nodded to Red.

  She also seemed uneasy around him since that night at Sunset Point. Not that he blamed her. Willingly or not, he had tried to kill her. He wasn’t sure their friendship would ever completely recover from that.

  “Were you looking for me, Nea?” Leston asked.

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Her smile was not her usual polished ambassadorial smile, but instead a genuine flash of triumph. “I wanted you to be the first to know. Merivale just informed me that thanks to
your mother’s influence, the emperor has finally granted me an audience one month from today.”

  “That’s wonderful news, Nea!” Leston looked relieved.

  “Congratulations, Ambassador,” said Red.

  “At long last,” said Nea, “we can begin the vital process of building an alliance between our two peoples.”

  Red met with Chiffet Mek for firearms training the next day. But he could tell Mek was barely paying attention. He didn’t even notice when Red beat his previous record for long-distance target shooting. They practiced in a narrow rectangular room thirty yards long. Red had his back to the wall when he hit the bull’s-eye on the target on the other side of the room three times in a row.

  “You need to make me a longer room,” he told Mek.

  “Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose we’ll have to think of something.” He frowned distractedly. “I think we’re done for today.”

  “Alright.” Red took apart the rifle and laid the pieces on the table next to him.

  Before he could leave, however, Mek said, “Come here a moment.”

  Red walked over, a bit of nerves jangling through his limbs. There was something in Mek’s tone that seemed off. Did he suspect?

  Mek put his hand on Red’s neck, touching the exposed skin above his collar with his fingertips.

  “It is essential for the safety of the empire that you attend the council meeting tonight at midnight.”

  Red felt a surge that was both strange and familiar. Flickers of memory came to him. Something like this had happened many times before. Not just from Chiffet Mek, but Ammon Set and Progul Bon as well. This is how they did it. The touch of biomancery that buried itself deep within him. Or it used to. Now it found no purchase in him and dissipated after a few moments.

  He blinked, as if disoriented, then gave Mek a confused look and said, “What?”

  He was pretty sure that was how he had responded in the past, but he couldn’t be certain. If he was wrong, if Mek figured it out right now, he was dead. So he waited, holding that confused look on his face as every nerve inside him screamed to run.

  “Never mind,” Chiffet Mek said curtly. “You may go.”

  Red asked Merivale to come watch over his bed one last time. Not that he was really worried he would turn into a mindless killing machine again, but… just in case he did.

  Merivale swept into his apartments in one of her finest and lowest-cut gowns.

  “That’s not for my benefit, is it?” he asked.

  She smirked. “I was just coming from an important intelligence-gathering mission and didn’t think I had time to change. But if you feel it will make it difficult for you to get to sleep, I suppose I could cover up with a cloak or something.”

  “I think I’ll be alright,” he said. “As long as you sing to me.”

  “This again.” She sat down on a chair next to his bed. “You’re such a child, you know.”

  “Another of my many charming flaws,” he agreed as he lay down in his bed. “I know you have a list somewhere.”

  “I do, in fact,” she said. “I’m quite fond of making lists. Now, get comfortable, something I know you’re fond of, and I’ll begin.”

  She sang the same song she had the week before on Sunset Point. He wasn’t sure why he liked it so much. Maybe it was the song itself, or maybe it was the keen sorrow in her voice as she sang it. Or maybe it was this moment shared just between the two of them. Now that he was no longer one of Merivale’s missions, and only her employee, he’d seen significantly less of her, and he found that he missed her quite a lot.

  He wasn’t aware of falling asleep, but suddenly his eyes snapped open and he could hear Chiffet Mek’s voice in his head, telling him again to come to the council meeting at midnight.

  He sat up and Merivale immediately went for her whistle.

  “No, it’s okay…,” he said. “It’s still me. But I can also… feel him in me. What he would be doing right now. What I would be doing right now, I guess. It’s coming to me in little flashes. I remember…”

  He walked over to a trunk and found a gray shirt and pants. He put them on slowly as more memories came spilling back into his head. He had done this many times. There was a scarf, too, which he knew he wrapped around his head so that only his eyes were visible. If it was meant as a way to hide his identity, it was a terrible idea, because it left open his most identifiable feature. Then he put revolvers at his hips and lined his shirt with throwing blades.

  “How do I look?” he asked Merivale when he was dressed.

  “Passably terrifying,” she conceded.

  “I better get going, then.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Never something I need,” he told her.

  “Don’t have too much fun,” she chided him.

  “Yes, boss.”

  She knew him well, though, because underneath his scarf, he was grinning like a fool. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his entire body buzzed with excitement.

  He made his way down to the tenth floor, where the biomancer council chambers were. He hadn’t been in that room since the awful night when he’d lost Hope and his freedom all at once. The memory of that dampened some of his enthusiasm, but sharpened his focus. That was probably a good thing, since he was fairly certain that the Shadow Demon was never supposed to be giddy.

  He pushed open the door to the chamber and saw the entire council standing in a line against the far wall, their hands joined, just as he’d seen them that first night. He knew they were able to communicate with one another silently as long as their hands were linked, and that their power was greatly magnified. He noted that Progul Bon was still absent.

  “Good, you’re here,” said Ammon Set. “Stand behind us and be ready for any physical violence to our persons that might arise.”

  “Yes, masters,” he said, remembering as he said it that he’d done so many times before.

  Except as he took up position directly behind Ammon Set and Chiffet Mek, he had no memory of standing in on a council meeting as a bodyguard. This was something new. He wondered what had them so worried that they felt the need for extra protection.

  He got his answer a few minutes later when the doors opened again and this time a group of forty men entered. They moved as one body and displayed a smooth confidence that Red had seen from only one other person. And they all wore black leather armor.

  The forty Vinchen warriors stopped and turned to face the biomancers in unison. Then one of them stepped forward. He was a short, powerfully built man, and his armor had accents of gold trim.

  “I am Racklock the Just, grandteacher of the Vinchen order.”

  “I am Ammon Set, chief of the order of biomancery. Why have you and your order left your seclusion on Galemoor to seek audience with us?”

  “Hurlo the Cunning believed in the seclusion, but his time is over, and I believe the Vinchen should come out of the shadows and once again stand side by side with the biomancers to serve the emperor and the empire.”

  There was a long silence as the biomancers silently discussed this through their hands. Racklock waited, his face impassive.

  “It is fortuitous that you come to us at this time,” Ammon Set said finally. “Perhaps it is the work of God’s destiny.”

  “How so?” asked Racklock.

  “The most immediate threat to the stability of the empire comes from one of your people.”

  Racklock’s eyes narrowed. “One of mine? Are you certain?”

  “A woman dressed in Vinchen armor and clearly trained in your ways. She also carries with her the fearsome blade, the Song of Sorrows.”

  Racklock’s face went almost purple with rage. “I know of whom you speak. She is not one of mine. She is a pet of Hurlo’s and was the root of his undoing.”

  “She has cost us dearly,” said Ammon Set. “For months she has been raiding our ships under the name Dire Bane, sowing dread in the navy and unrest among the common people. Then quite recently she destroyed our most promi
sing experiment and slew its chief architects.”

  Racklock looked surprised. “I had not realized she’d taken to her training so well. And you have been unable to kill her yourselves?”

  “For reasons I am not at liberty to discuss right now, we are not permitted to attack her directly.”

  “My men and I would have hunted this abomination down eventually, even if you did not ask us to. She is a blight on the order and has no right to wield the Song of Sorrows. Her very touch is an insult to such a sword.”

  “There is… something else you should know,” said Ammon Set. “Her chief companion is a female biomancer.”

  Racklock smiled coldly. “Then we are not alone in our shame.”

  “Her name is Brigga Lin,” said Ammon Set. “And you will find her a difficult opponent, especially since you do not yet have the Song of Sorrows.”

  “We will kill our own abomination, then use the sword to strike down yours.”

  “See them both dead, and we will welcome you once again as the mighty right hand of the emperor,” said Ammon Set.

  Racklock drew his sword, and the thirty-nine Vinchen behind him did the same.

  “I swear on my honor,” said Racklock the Just, “that the blasphemers Bleak Hope and Brigga Lin will not see the end of another year.”

  Red stood behind them, almost invisible for all anyone was paying attention to him. And that was a good thing, because otherwise they might have seen the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Feelings for Hope that had begun to fade over the last year sprang suddenly back with full force. She was hitting the biomancers hard enough to actually hurt them. She was the setback to their latest plans. His heart soared with pride.

  But then he looked at the Vinchen before him. Forty men, all as strong and quick and fierce as her. He’d never really worried about her before, because, well, she was a pissing Vinchen after all. But what good would that be to her now?

  29

  Brigga Lin stood on the quarterdeck of the Rolling Lightning with Jilly, Finn, and Alash. They were all that was left of the original crew of the Kraken Hunter.