The Last Sea God

by Ashley Capes

  “No Anaskari have been harvested.”

  “That we know of,” Giovan interjected.

  “The sightings went on for some time before you asked for Ecsoli help – they’re seeking Ecsoli bones especially, they wanted you to use the Ecsoli in your search.”

  “Why?” Danillo asked.

  She offered no answer.

  Seto leant back and folded his arms. “A fine question, Danillo. And this still proves only what we suspect and not what you claim, Lady. What are you holding back?”

  Her mask of stoicism slipped for just a moment, revealing doubt and anguish, and then the wall returned. She folded her arms. “I have told you all I know. What are my orders?”

  “To return to your cell,” Seto replied.

  “Then you prove yourself a liar, fit for spreading only broken oaths.”

  He chuckled. “I never said forever. Stay there until you are ready to tell us what you are holding back. Giovan?”

  He stood, hauling Bethana to her feet and prodding her into the hall. She said nothing and Seto waited until their footfalls faded before he spoke again. “So, it is clear an Ecsoli is behind the disturbances and now the de-boning. The real question becomes, does Bethana know who and why? Is she involved?”

  “If it’s part of something underhanded, it might explain why she didn’t search. She wanted to keep out of sight,” Lavinia said.

  “Let’s not rule out one of our citizens – the girl mentioned Enso, did she not?” Danillo said.

  “True,” Seto admitted. “The Perfume Rat – it seems he has found powerful friends. I will have him hung from the walls.”

  “Holindo and I will ferret them out, Seto,” Danillo said.

  “And I will continue to work on restoring Abrensi,” Lavinia added. “If there is a Song to reverse what has been done, we will find it.”

  “If Stefano has no ideas, dig into whatever archive you must.” He stood, resting his knuckles on the table – a convenient gesture to cover for the momentary weakness in his legs. “And let’s try and draw Enso’s benefactor out into the open, since we all know he isn’t the one who used Fiore.”

  Danillo nodded. “No surprise if the two are connected.”

  “We’ll soon know,” Seto said. “Let’s have Holindo or Giovan choose someone to volunteer as bait.”

  25. Fiore

  Fiore looked to her feet, to the soft carpet of the Lord Protector’s study. “I didn’t do it. I’m not lying.”

  Lord Danillo removed his Greatmask, revealing a stern face. But his voice was soft, and he didn’t seem angry. “I know, sweetheart. I’d just like to know who made you do it. I know you didn’t learn the Song of Stone by yourself, did you?”

  “No, My Lord.”

  “Good. But you don’t know who it was?”

  “I...” she swallowed. Like every time before, it was suddenly hard to speak. Green flickered across her vision and she shook her head even as she clenched her fists. “I can’t say what I want to.”

  “That’s fine.” He lifted the creepy Greatmask. “I am going to use Argeon here to help me find out who is behind this. It won’t hurt,” he added.

  “Oh.” Fiore glanced to Giovan, who gave her a nod.

  “He knows what he’s doing, Beanpole.”

  The Lord Protector replaced the yellowed bone mask, casting his eyes into shadow. “You may feel a sensation as Argeon searches, but it will not cause pain,” he said, his voice echoing.

  She nodded, sitting still, tensing her muscles, trying not to move.

  “You can relax,” he said. A pale blue glow came from the mask and the sense of something enormous and old, so old that it seemed a part of the world itself, washed over her with a ghostly touch.

  The green flickering flared but when it met the blue it faded a moment, before returning like a fire caught in wind – and that she felt; a heat ran across her skin and her mouth became dry.

  But the blue blazed back then shrunk to a spear that shot through the green and then it seemed to travel miles and miles away, beyond the palace walls, down into the Second Tier and along the streets like an arrow. It did not stop for man, horse or building – finally splashing to a halt in the dim basement of a brothel.

  “Very subtle, Enso,” the Lord Protector said.

  And then all the colours disappeared – taking the heat with it. A faint howl of fury, like an echo in her mind, faded away too.

  The Lord Protector patted her hand, then spoke. “Holindo, do you mark my works?”

  A pause.

  Fi glanced around the bright room with its soft-looking armchairs and huge fireplace. Who was Holindo? And where was this man exactly?

  “It’s the Three Petals; the basement. Fence them in but don’t enter until I am there. The woman has some power.”

  Another pause.

  “Good idea. But wait as long as you can – I am on my way.”

  “What’s happening?” Fi asked.

  The Lord Protector was already halfway to the door. “Thank you, Fiore, you did well. Please stay with Giovan for now.”

  “We won’t need bait anymore, will we?” Giovan asked.

  “No. I tracked our enemy via the hold she had over Fiore, but in doing so have alerted her to the fact we now know where she is. We have to move quickly.”

  “Sure you don’t need one more sword? I could take her to Lavinia?”

  “Hear her story first; she will be able to speak now,” the Lord Protector said, and then he was gone.

  Giovan sighed, but sat across from her and smiled. “See? Just like I told you. Everyone will believe you now.”

  “I suppose so.” She fidgeted with the sleeve of her tunic. “I’m sorry you have to stay here with me. I know you want to go out and fight.”

  “Only to pay them back for what they did.”

  She nodded. “To Lord Abrensi.”

  “To you, Fi. They used you, and I won’t forgive that. Now come on, tell me what happened?”

  “Well, it started in that inn we went to,” she said, and explained about the green light in the fireplace and then the voice. It was as though a weight had been lifted, now that she could finally explain. Now that she had control over her own voice again. “I thought she was kind at first, but I guess she wasn’t. She told me I’d be helping everyone. And I wanted to help, I didn’t know what she was doing,” she said, her words starting to come faster.

  “We know, remember? Now take a breath. Was there anything else?”

  Fi did as he suggested. “She said her name was Vipera and somehow she made it so I couldn’t tell anyone it was her.”

  He nodded. “Good. Everything helps. Did she mention whether she had others with her or was she alone?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  He tapped his fingers on the table. “That’s probably all you can tell us, right?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, it’s fine. Let’s get you to Lavinia, then. See if you can help her with the search for a song.”

  He led her out of the rich room, into another, then out into the halls and down a flight of steps. She followed Giovan through a series of storerooms, the musty scent mixing with fresh fruit that big men were carrying. A kitchen followed, warm and bright, bread and sweet loaves cooling on benches. She breathed deeply. As he passed one bench, Giovan grabbed a pair of the smaller breads and then they were climbing a different set of stairs, rounding a long hallway lined with fading paintings.

  “Catch,” he said, tossing one of the sweet loaves over his shoulder.

  She leapt into the air, limbs flailing, but caught it with a grin. She took a bite, filling her cheeks. It was soft, warm and sweet – like nothing she’d ever tasted before. “Thanks, this is amazing.”

  “Just don’t try that without me around,” he said, licking his fingers. “The cooks can get a little grumpy down there.” Giovan stopped before a pair of ornate doors bearing an intricately detailed feather-quill of silver. “She’ll b
e waiting; good luck.”

  He started down the hall, boots clacking. “Be careful,” she blurted after a moment’s hesitation.

  “I will, Beanpole,” he called.

  Fi smiled. Maybe Giovan was rough and smelt of sweat and leather and steel, so different from Father, but he was kinder than the other people in the palace, nearly all of whom seemed serious and distant.

  Except Lavinia, who she’d only met once but... at least her smile was nice.

  Fi pushed open the door and gaped.

  Books, scrolls and shelves stretched as far as she could see – only one wall was visible before her, where a closed door bearing the stern mask-symbol of the Mascare stood. Otherwise, it was oil lamps and books, books, books. So many! And she’d thought Father Canto’s single, full shelf had been a lot of books.

  Just how rich were palace folk to have all of this?

  “Can I help you, young lady?”

  An older man in a deep green robe stood before her, hands folded before him. His fingers were ink-stained, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

  “Ah, I’m Fi. Fiore, and I’m here to see Lavinia.”

  A slight frown crossed his features. “And you’re the young Storm Singer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lady Lavinia is this way, please follow me.” He took Fi down between the shelves, winding through them in the dimness where the scent of paper and leather and dust was almost strong enough to make her sneeze. They continued until nearing a glow, which turned out to be a large square table covered in books and lamps.

  Two figures sat at the table across from each other – Lavinia and the other Storm Singer, her husband, though Fi couldn’t remember his name. The librarian announced her and then disappeared amongst the shelves.

  Lavinia smiled. Her fiery red hair seemed to burn in the light. “Welcome to the Royal Library, Fi. Would you like to help us?”

  “I want to try but I don’t know if I’ll be able.” After all, Vipera had fooled her so easily, how would she be able to help powerful Storm Singers? Fi pushed down a wave of resentment.

  “You’ll do fine,” the man said, his gentle voice easing her. He was a handsome fellow; even more than Lenaco from the village, and this man’s blond hair was nearly as long as his wife’s. “In fact, we’ve been wanting to try something with you, if you don’t mind?”

  “Like what?”

  “Nothing dangerous,” Lavinia assured her. “Here, join us. This is my husband, Stefano.”

  “We just need you to write out the words to the Song of Stone,” Stefano said once she’d taken a spare seat. “Then, we’re going to try singing them backwards.”

  “Oh.” Fi frowned. “Will that work?”

  He chuckled, a kind sound. “We’re certainly going to find out.”

  26. Seto

  Seto sat in a quiet tavern across from the Three Petals, tapping his foot as he stared across at the grand old building with its trellises and balconies. Potted flowers lined the glowing windows, their colours muted in the night. He waved off an offer for wine or ale, which Giovan accepted, sending the serving girl to the other soldiers.

  “Surely that’s long enough?” Seto demanded. “I’m not a child; they should know that.”

  “Lord Protector’s orders, sire,” Giovan said. It looked as if he was hiding a grin behind his mug.

  “I see? And who is king here, Giovan? Shouldn’t I be the one giving orders?”

  “How am I to choose, with three masters?”

  “Bah. You’re all conspiring against me.”

  The sergeant leant forward. “If I may, My Lord, you need to trust Captain Holindo and Lord Danillo. You’re too important to risk. We don’t know everything this Vipera is capable of.”

  “Well, I mean to find out,” Seto said, as across the street, Holindo’s orange and silver uniform stood out before the pale stone of the brothel. The royal captain signalled, and Seto was striding out the door, Giovan on his heels and the rest of the men following.

  “She escaped,” Holindo rasped, his expression dark. “Well before we or Lord Danillo arrived. He’s chasing her now.”

  Ill fortune. “What of Enso?”

  “Not so swift – the men we had underground took him. We’re holding him inside but we’re getting a bit of trouble from the Madam.”

  “A woman only just past her prime, dark hair? Faint Braonn accent?”

  “Aye.”

  “Leave her to me. Giovan can organise questioning of those who work here. Tell them not to back any Weeds into a corner; just note who they are because we’ll want to watch them instead.”

  “Ah, Weeds, sire?”

  Seto shook his head at his own foolishness. Holindo would hardly be accustomed to highly specific and often unimaginative slang used around brothels. “How easy it is to slip back into the habit of my old role. If the women and men working here are ‘flowers’ then those who also once would have worked for me as spies, are referred to as ‘weeds’. Charming, I know.”

  Holindo raised an eyebrow. “So... visiting dignitaries are preyed upon here?”

  “And sometimes our own lords and ladies. Especially if I cannot learn anything from the Ways in the palace. But that’s enough reminiscing,” Seto said. “Let’s go appease Deylilah and then it’s time for a nice little chat with the Perfume Rat.”

  The brothel’s lavish reception room stood lined with flowers and pale pink and turquoise draping – overall, somewhat gaudy despite the muted tones. Perhaps it was the heavy scent of jasmine.

  Deylilah strode over to Seto the moment he entered. The men Holindo had left on the door strode to stop her but he raised a hand. “It is fine.”

  She had not aged, it seemed, in the time since he’d left his role as Lord of the Underworld... while he himself had aged enough for the both of them. Her hair was still dark and her skin mostly unlined. “Seto, I want your men out of here unless they’re planning to open their purse strings. We had an agreement, did we not?”

  “Of course, and it seems you broke it,” he said, keeping his voice stern.

  Her eyes widened in shock, a true shock if he was any judge of character. “How is that possible? I always—”

  He raised a finger. “Who has The Perfume Rat been meeting in your basement?”

  “A woman. She calls herself Vipera.” Deylilah folded her arms. “I don’t have anything to do with whatever they’re doing down there. I only saw inside once, and I never looked again.”

  “You weren’t concerned? This is your establishment.”

  “I couldn’t choose who became the next Rat now, could I? You left and that was that.”

  “A rebuke, Madam?” It was true of course, but it still stung a little.

  “I don’t need him holding back money or sending the best girls over to the Little Palace or the Arches instead of here, it’s that simple. I kept my mouth shut and looked the other way.”

  “Good. Then I trust you’ll be doing the same now, no matter the outcome.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”

  “Our dear friend Enso is about to find out.” He looked to Holindo. “Which room?”

  “Up the back and to the right, ground floor.”

  “Very well.”

  Deylilah called after him as he started down the corridor. “He won’t talk, you know. He’s just as scared of her as I was.”

  A bloodied Enso sat tied to a chair in what was obviously one of the girls’ rooms, a generous bed with silken sheets and behind a screen painted with erotic scenes, was a basin with make-up and little perfume vials. The Perfume Rat blinked a swollen eye. “She isn’t human. She’ll kill you all,” he sneered as best he could, though the blood trickling from his forehead and lip did much to diminish the bravado.

  Seto signalled for Holindo to close the door. Then, without acknowledging Enso’s words, he leant in and whispered to the captain. “Draw a knife and stand behind him. Close enough to let him know you are there, but make no move or sou
nd.”

  Then Seto sat before the Perfume Rat and crossed his legs at the ankles, hiding the discomfort it caused.

  And he waited.

  Enso twisted his head in an attempt to see Holindo. “You won’t intimidate me.”

  Seto said nothing.

  “I’m not impressed by the theatrics, Seto.”

  Still he waited.

  And waited.

  Time stretched on, no-one speaking. From beyond the hallway came the muffled sound of voices, the words indistinct. A clean up seemed to be in progress, based on the scuffling and thumping, dragging sounds. Hopefully one of Holindo’s seconds had ensured the basement was not part of that clean-up.

  At one point, long after his own muscles had stiffened and he had shifted positions, Seto heard Deylilah’s raised voice but the ruckus soon died down. In the relative hush that followed, Enso licked blood from his lips – a nervous gesture or an idle one? Perhaps the man was simply thirsty.

  “You’re wasting your time. I will not betray her.” He was breathing a little harder now; no doubt the combined injuries and the ropes were starting to get to him. Doubtless the man had served up his share of unpleasantness, but it seemed unlikely he’d received enough that he’d withstand what Seto had planned.

  “Captain, take his head and then drive that blade of yours into Enso’s left eye. Slowly.”

  Enso blinked – but did not crack. Holindo took the man’s head and lifted the blade, pausing. “How far, sire?”

  “Until I say stop.”

  Holindo started lowering the blade. Enso thrashed, heaving his body where it was tied to the chair, but Holindo gripped him harder, unable, for the moment, to use his knife.

  “She will kill me and then kill you,” Enso gasped out.

  Seto stood. “Not if I kill you first. Now speak, where is Vipera? What do you do here?”

  Enso hissed. Seto signalled to Holindo, time to push the Rat. Enso would be able to speak just fine with only one eye.