The Magelands Box Set

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The Magelands Box Set Page 59

by Christopher Mitchell


  ‘Fair enough. So where’s the rest of the squad I gave you? Can’t be only Leah left.’

  ‘Baoryn’s got a room in the town,’ Kylon said, ‘and Bedig went to Plateau City. But apart from that, the rest are dead.’

  Her heart jumped. ‘Not Kalayne? Don’t tell me that old bastard’s dead.’

  Kylon shrugged. He stood up and went to a trunk. He knelt and started raking about in it for clothes.

  ‘Well?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know about Kalayne,’ he said. ‘He didn’t come with us to the Rakanese camp. He took the road north when we got to the Plateau after leaving Kell.’

  He threw her a pile of clothes. ‘I thought he might be in Rainsby,’ he said. ‘Part of the reason why I’m here. The main reason though, is that I heard a rumour you’d escaped, and guessed you’d come this way.’

  She squinted at him. ‘How did you know I’d be in that tavern?’

  ‘The “Lost And Found”?’ He shrugged. ‘It’s the first place new people see when they come out of the processing centre. I’ve been in there every evening to take a look.’

  ‘Where are we going then?’ she said. ‘Killop’s alive, I saw him in prison in Rahain.’

  ‘He escaped.’

  ‘How the fuck do you know that?’

  ‘I met him.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘In the Rahain mountains,’ Kylon said, ‘leading the Kellach uprising.’

  He opened the shutters, sending in a flood of bright sunlight. Squinting out from the bed, Keira could see a deep blue cloudless sky and, below the horizon, the greatest expanse of water she had ever witnessed.

  She stood, slipping on the leggings and tunic he had given her.

  ‘Fuck,’ she gasped.

  ‘The Inner Sea.’

  ‘No shit.’

  She stood next to him by the open window, the clean and sharp sea breeze blowing through her brown hair.

  ‘So,’ she said, ‘are we going to find my wee brother?’

  ‘No,’ Kylon said. ‘It would endanger his mission. Every soldier in Rahain is looking for you.’

  ‘What can I say?’ she said. ‘I’m a popular fucking woman.’

  He frowned again.

  ‘Kylon?’ she said.

  He turned to face her.

  ‘Are you not going to ask me about, you know?’

  ‘The Rakanese camp?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘No, Keira, I’m not.’

  She took a breath.

  ‘Do you know what I did?’

  ‘I was there.’

  ‘And it doesn’t bother you?’

  Kylon turned away, and stared out of the window, his eyes sharp and full of pain.

  She touched his arm.

  ‘I love you, Keira,’ he said. ‘No matter what.’

  She smiled.

  ‘Good.’

  Keira spat on the ground.

  ‘Ye want me to get in that?’ she said. ‘Are ye out of yer fucking mind?’

  ‘We don’t have time for this,’ Kylon said.

  Leah shook her head, and glanced at Baoryn. The renegade Rahain’s face remained expressionless, but his tongue flickered.

  Large white birds circled overhead, shrieking their harsh cries, as they stood on the long, crowded dockside. Rahain workers and sailors milled around, interspersed with militia, and a few merchants. The ship Kylon had pointed at lay alongside, tied fore and aft with thick coils of rope, its three sets of sails half-raised.

  ‘I’m not getting on a boat,’ Keira said, folding her arms.

  A dark-skinned man walked past, and she turned her head to stare.

  ‘Did you see that?’ she said.

  ‘It’s just a man from the Holdings,’ Leah sighed. ‘Fucksake, Keira.’

  ‘We’ll see a lot more of them where we’re going,’ Kylon said.

  ‘But I want to go back to Kell.’

  Leah’s face went red. ‘We can’t fucking go back,’ she cried. ‘Because of you, because of what you did. Word is spreading everywhere about you, do you think the folks back in Kellach Brigdomin won’t hear about it?’

  Keira turned to face the blonde warrior, clenching her fists.

  ‘The camp next to Plateau City is our safest bet,’ said Kylon. ‘We can disappear there.’

  ‘Is it a shithole like the camp here?’

  ‘I’ve never been,’ he said, ‘but I’ve heard it’s a lot bigger, and easier to get lost in.’

  ‘Someone will recognise me.’

  ‘We’ll colour your hair on the boat,’ he said, ‘and get you a new name.’

  ‘I already have one,’ she said. She pulled her Rainsby registration card from a pocket and handed it to him.

  ‘Alright, Keilyn from Armdale,’ he said, ‘will you get on the boat now?’

  Keira turned to look at the giant ship. She knew that Kylon had handed over a fortune in coins to bribe their way through to the docks, and to secure passage to Plateau City. But the thought of nothing but a plank of wood between her and the deep watery abyss terrified her.

  ‘Not feart, are ye?’ Leah said.

  ‘Of course I’m not, ya cheeky cow,’ Keira scowled. She put a foot onto the gangplank, and swallowed. ‘What are ye all waiting for? Come on, let’s go to Plateau fucking City.’

  She half-closed her eyes, and walked up the gangplank to the side of the ship. A Rahain sailor stood there, holding his arm out to assist her.

  She ignored him, and stepped on to the deck, feeling the gentle sway under her feet.

  A Rahain in uniform approached.

  ‘Good morning ma’am,’ he said. ‘I’m the captain.’

  ‘I have the tickets,’ Kylon said, appearing on the deck beside her. He passed a bundle of papers to the captain. Tied to the ribbon around the middle was a small pouch.

  The captain slipped the pouch into a pocket and opened the documents.

  ‘Very good,’ he said, scanning them. He beckoned to a young lad in sailor’s uniform. ‘Boy, take these passengers to the aft cabin on deck two.’

  They followed the boy across the busy deck. Crates and sacks were being hoisted up and over their heads on pulleys, and sailors were scampering about on the rigging, preparing the sails for departure. Keira took a deep breath, the fresh sea air filling her lungs, and the warm wind blowing through her hair.

  ‘I might get to like this,’ she said.

  Keira groaned, and threw up into their cabin’s slop bucket for the fourth time that night. The wooden floor rolled under her knees, the motion never ceasing. She leaned her head forward, Kylon holding her hair in the dim candlelight.

  ‘Keep the noise down,’ Leah muttered from her bunk. ‘I’m trying to fucking sleep.’

  Keira made an obscene gesture in her direction, and closed her eyes, her guts churning.

  ‘I’m never getting on a fucking boat again.’

  Chapter 11

  The Court of King Guilliam III

  Plateau City, The Plateau – 5th Day, Last Third Summer 505

  Daphne winced as she stretched out her crippled left arm.

  Since arriving in the city, it had ached a little each morning, though she didn’t know if it was the pregnancy or the humidity that was causing it. She had taken to going out onto the balcony when it got light, to savour the chill dawn air, and so she could gaze out over the endless waters of the Inner Sea.

  The townhouses along their side of the street were backed up against the enormous new sea wall, and spaces had been left open between the wide stones, ending in a series of balconies that hung over the rocks where the sea crashed into the shore. The balconies were busy each evening, crowded with the nobility watching the sunset, but they were quieter in the mornings, when the deep shadows created by the wall cast them into gloom, until the sun rose to its noon peak.

  That morning, with a cold breeze cutting through her clothes, the other balconies were empty, and she had peace to apply ointment to her arm, a salve bought by her
father from the city’s finest apothecary.

  She clenched and unclenched her left fist, her knuckles stiff and sore, her withered fingers curled tight. Once the ointment had been rubbed into her dark skin, she unwrapped a fresh bandage and wrapped it carefully round her arm, using a pin to secure each end.

  She reached over to the small table next to her, and picked up the arm-guard that had been made for her in Rahain by a stone mage, who had curved thin pieces of compressed granite into armour, held in place by a fine latticework of polished and etched steel.

  ‘Let me help you with that, Daffie,’ her father said.

  She turned her head as he put a tray down onto the table.

  ‘I didn’t hear you come outside,’ she said.

  ‘The noise of the sea drowns out most things,’ he said, taking the arm-guard from her. He positioned it over her out-stretched limb, and fastened the buckles at shoulder, elbow and wrist.

  ‘A fine piece of armour,’ he said.

  ‘Given to me by Lady Douanna.’

  ‘Ahh,’ he replied. ‘She was the one you were working for, if I recall correctly. The woman who betrayed Killop, when she discovered he was the fire mage’s brother?’

  ‘That’s the one,’ she said. ‘I meant to pay her back before I left, but there was always something more important needing done.’

  Her father finished securing the armour and sat. He reached over to the tray, and began to pour tea.

  ‘Cigarette?’ he said.

  ‘Shella says I shouldn’t. She says it’s bad for the baby.’

  ‘Well, if her Royal Highness says so,’ he smiled, and passed her a cup.

  ‘Thanks.’

  He poured another for himself. ‘Any news of Killop?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘It’s early days,’ he said, ‘I’m sure he’ll come.’

  He watched her as she sipped the hot tea.

  ‘But you know, Daffie,’ he went on, ‘if he doesn’t, you’ll always have the family’s full support. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, and I certainly don’t care about the gossip in the King’s court. You’re my daughter, and the child you’re carrying is my grandchild, no matter who the father was.’

  She bit her tongue.

  ‘And,’ he frowned, ‘I’m sure your mother will come around. She just needs some time to get used to the idea.’

  Daphne raised an eyebrow and looked out over the vast sea. The tall masts of ships dotted the horizon, sailing to and from the great harbour wharves down the wall to their left.

  ‘It’s funny,’ she said, ‘each day the Sanang army gets closer, and everything’s going on as normal.’

  ‘Would you prefer panic, dear?’

  She smiled.

  ‘I know what you mean, though, Daffie,’ her father said. ‘I would have expected a little more urgency. But you must remember that I’m not in the King’s favour, and have never been invited to his court, so I’ve no real insight into his Majesty’s thinking.’

  ‘Is that why you stayed up in Holdings City when the King moved down here?’

  He nodded.

  ‘It was made clear to me that I wasn’t going to be on his Majesty’s council, and I certainly wasn’t in the mood to beg. You’re the only reason I rented this townhouse and came down.’

  ‘What’s the old capital like,’ she said, ‘with no king in it?’

  ‘Quiet,’ he said. ‘Angry. A lot of the nobles who stayed are unhappy with what the new king is doing. We formed a city council to run the place, but most meetings degenerate into a bad-tempered recital of complaints against the crown. We meet in the Lower City, the Upper is practically abandoned, the palace shut up, and the citadel almost empty. Except for the prophet of course.’

  ‘He stayed behind?’

  ‘He said he was too old to travel. Too old to make such a long journey. Time for a younger pair of hands to take over. That’s the official story anyway. Rumour is that he has his doubts about the new king.’

  ‘I thought he’d been plotting to have him crowned for years.’

  ‘That’s what I thought too,’ her father said. ‘Maybe the old man changed his mind when he saw the reality.’

  Daphne shrugged. ‘The King doesn’t seem all bad,’ she said. ‘He hasn’t enacted the religious restrictions we feared.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘He hasn’t. Yet. Though he has been enforcing the alcohol ban, at least here in the capital. In Holdings City,’ he smiled, ‘the bars re-opened the day after the King departed.’

  ‘He’s banned Sanang weed as well.’

  ‘Yes,’ her father nodded. ‘He’s even trying to enforce that in the Kellach camp, would you believe. Though not even his Majesty is foolish enough to try to part the savages from their drink.’

  Daphne’s hand went to her bump as her gaze bore through him.

  ‘Sorry, dear,’ he said. ‘I keep forgetting.’

  ‘You know, father,’ she sighed, ‘I had someone come up to me the other day, who told me flat out that I was a liar, that it was impossible for Holdings to breed with Kellach Brigdomin, and that I must be hiding the true identity of the father.’

  ‘Who dared speak to you in that manner?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said.

  He looked away, his face furious. He lit a cigarette, and they sat in silence for a moment.

  ‘I assume you’ve seen this morning’s mail?’ he said.

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Are you ready?’

  She shrugged. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll do the family proud,’ he said, ‘and who knows, if his Majesty likes you, you may be invited again. There’s been a Holdfast in the court of the monarch since the Founding…’

  ‘Yes, father,’ she said, ‘I know. But I’ve only been asked to attend because I have knowledge of the Sanang war chief. I’m hardly in the King’s inner circle.’

  ‘We shall see.’

  A servant came out onto the balcony.

  ‘Miss Holdfast,’ she bowed, ‘her Royal Highness Shellakanawara awaits you in her carriage outside.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Daphne nodded.

  ‘Shella’s taking me to the palace,’ she said to her father as the servant went back inside.

  ‘It does help,’ he said, ‘that you’re friends with royalty, even if it’s only with an exiled princess.’

  Daphne got to her feet. ‘I’ll leave Bedig here in the house, father,’ she said. ‘The palace guards tend to get jumpy when a savage Kellach is around.’

  Her father winced.

  ‘I apologise again, dear,’ he said, ‘and I must say, Bedig is a fine fellow. His tuition in our language has been going well, though I do have some concerns about the way he flirts with the staff.’

  ‘I think some of them have a crush on him.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘our home here is fast gaining a reputation. Not only does it house the famous Daphne Holdfast and her exotic Kellach man-servant, but with Rakanese royalty and exiled Rahain politicians popping round for tea, I daresay the neighbours’ curtains have been twitching.’

  ‘If you’re looking for a quiet retirement,’ she said, ‘maybe you should move back to Holdings City.’

  ‘Not at all, my dear,’ he said. ‘I’m loving every minute with you being back. And anyway, it might be a little late to think about travelling to the Realm, what with an army of Sanang approaching.’

  She nodded. ‘I best be off,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t keep Shella waiting. I’ll let you know how it goes.’

  He smiled, though his eyes were far away. ‘Good luck, Daffie.’

  Daphne stepped up into the elegant carriage. Harnessed to the front were a gorgeous pair of mares, white and dappled grey, and for the hundredth time she regretted gifting Jamie to the sergeant who had escorted them to Rainsby.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Shella said as Daphne sat on the plush seats, ‘but I’ve already picked up Professor Forktongue from his house on the
way here. Saved time.’

  ‘Hi, Laodoc,’ Daphne said.

  ‘Good morning, miss,’ he replied, while frowning at Shella. ‘I’m not actually a professor, my dear princess.’

  ‘I think she knows that, Laodoc,’ Daphne said.

  Shella laughed as she signalled the coachman to depart, and the carriage trotted off.

  ‘How I marvel,’ Laodoc said, ‘at the smoothness of these carriages. In Rahain the gaien lurch down roads. One can lose the contents of one’s stomach on a bad day.’

  ‘On the subject of throwing up,’ Shella said. ‘How are you feeling? You’re looking a lot better.’

  Daphne sat back and smiled. ‘Sickness has just about gone, at last. I still get it now and then, but nothing like before.’

  ‘That’s very good to hear, miss,’ Laodoc said.

  ‘I have started to get terrible indigestion,’ Daphne said, ‘and I’ve been burping a lot.’

  Shella laughed. ‘Try not to do it in front of the King,’ she said, ‘though it’d be funny to see the queen’s face.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she said, ‘but I’m not making any promises.’

  She glanced over at Laodoc, as the old man looked out of the window.

  ‘How’s your treatise going?’ she asked him.

  ‘Quite well, miss,’ he said, turning towards her. ‘I’ve been working on a section about the effects of emancipating the Rahain slaves and peasants, it’s been most interesting.’

  ‘You’re not really emancipating them though, are you?’ Shella said. ‘You’re not planning on giving them the vote.’

  ‘I do not believe,’ he said, ‘that transplanting the Rakanese strain of extreme democracy into Rahain would be conducive to good government.’

  ‘Why not?’ Shella said.

  ‘What? Having every peasant and ex-slave voting on every decision? It would be utter chaos. Completely unmanageable.’

  ‘I have to agree with him,’ Daphne said.

  ‘But you’re a monarchist,’ Shella said. ‘What do you know about freedom? You’re all subjects of the Holdings crown, rather than citizens of a nation. Your freedom amounts to how liberal or conservative your king or queen happens to be. You whole life is dictated by the whims of one person, whom you don’t even get to choose.’

 

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