The Last Sea God

by Ashley Capes

  “Expect a visit between courses,” she said.

  “From who?”

  “One of them, several. It’s hard to say; they like to pretend they aren’t interested. Marinus’ first son or perhaps the king’s niece on the harpy’s side.”

  Notch raised an eyebrow. “One of them has wings and claws?”

  Lady Casselli’s laugh was a purr. “She likes to think so.”

  “I’m causing some unrest, it seems.”

  “They simply want the attention – you are the most interesting thing to happen to the court in years. A man from the new world, it is remarkable. You would be a fine trophy, something to trot out at evenings like this, and then be returned to some gilded cage until the next event,” she said, and her tone had grown dark.

  “And what do you want from me, My Lady?”

  “Perhaps the same.”

  “Am I so fascinating? There’s a whole land full of other Anaskari back across the sea – I’m no more than a mercenary now.”

  “But you are here and they are not, and once a War-Hero, always a War-Hero; that’s the way of things here.” She rested a hand on his own. “Besides, haven’t you ever desired something different to yourself?”

  “I have.” He met her dark eyes. “But I am a stranger here; I cannot trust every beautiful woman who comes my way.”

  “Understandable.” Lady Casselli removed her hand but did not seem offended by what he hoped was a suitably honeyed rebuff. Her servants returned with a large chair and Alosus was finally able to sit. Right on their heels came lines of servers carrying steaming trays.

  The musicians switched to a more stately song as the dance floor emptied.

  Notch straightened at the scent of meat, a lightly sautéed chicken, and had to restrain himself from tearing into it with his knife and fork when it was placed before him.

  But Alosus touched his arm, nodding up to the head table.

  There, the servers were concentrating most of their efforts – and while no-one made any effort to include the king, there was a moment of quiet. Heads were bowed in prayer and one of the older men, a man perhaps Notch’s own age, spoke into the hush.

  “By the grace of Ana but also my grandfather, we are provided this bounty. Be thankful. Savour what has been prepared on our behalf, what the Gods have left behind that we might take and grow strong.”

  And then the clatter of cutlery filled the room.

  Notch ate with as much decorum as he could muster; every bite was better than the last, such rich flavours. Even the odd red peas, the opas, were a welcome spice to compliment the pepper sauce. He talked about Anaskar with his hostess as he ate, occasionally assisted by Alosus when Notch discovered he didn’t have the words.

  Lady Casselli hung on his every tale and it seemed not an act – she was quite interested about the ‘new world’. By the time the first course ended, Notch was beginning to worry his voice wouldn’t last an entire evening, but Lady Casselli stopped her next question and stood. Alosus was already rising, and Notch followed their example as a tall figure reached the table.

  “You honour me, Prince Tanere,” she said.

  Prince Tanere was the fellow who’d made the speech and bore a more than passing resemblance to Marinus. The silver trim on his clothing had a precision to it that hinted at military to Notch’s eye. The prince offered her a warm smile before taking the empty seat, gesturing that everyone should sit.

  “Forgive my disinterest in small talk, Casselli, but tonight I wish to speak with our guests, for we have much to discuss.”

  “Our pleasure, Your Highness,” Alosus said.

  Notch echoed the statement.

  “Wonderful to hear, Slave-Alosus and Captain Medoro of the new world. I find myself very curious about Anaskar and surrounding lands but chief among my curiosities remains a stolen Crucible. Tell me, do either of you know what that snake Vinezi did with it?”

  30. Notch

  Notch hesitated. “Please excuse my limitations with the Old Tongue, Your Highness.”

  Prince Tanere waved a hand.

  “The Crucible died with Vinezi in the mountain temple,” he said, and explained, with Alosus’ help, in brief, the events. Treading carefully, he minimised his own role in the struggle, establishing himself as a bodyguard set to the sidelines for his own safety.

  “I see.” The man’s expression had grown dark as Notch spoke. “This is a grievous blow – Ana damn Vinezi’s mouldering ghost.”

  Yet there was the chance that a second crucible lay somewhere beneath the city. The invaders seemed to think so, since they had Dilo and Tenaci searching for it, and they’d have known Vinezi still carried his own. And if it existed, was it a bargaining chip? Or perhaps the possibility of handing one over might be enough to get what he needed – access to the Library of Souls.

  But if such a powerful item was given to the Ecsoli, what would it take for another Vinezi to attempt to cross the sea with it to seek more bone for forging? On the other hand, did they really have a reason to try it? The whole of Ecsoli believed they possessed the final bones of the last Sea Beast anyway.

  “Your Highness...” he hesitated. “I would like Alosus to translate again, if you don’t mind.”

  “Please do so.”

  Notch kept his voice calm as he switched to Anaskari. “There may be a second Crucible beneath the city and some of the invaders seemed to know this – is it a bargaining chip here?”

  Alosus’ eyes widened almost imperceptibly – had Tanere noticed? The man was drinking from a glass and did not seem to be following too closely, in fact, he was paying Lady Casselli’s breasts more attention. “Notch, if that is true leave it be for now. We can get what we want another way.”

  “It is so powerful?”

  “Yes. Your king would benefit from it more.”

  “And if they already know and we try to hide such knowledge?”

  “I don’t think the prince knows – he would have asked after it. Those Ecsoli who invaded seemed to have kept it to themselves for now.”

  “Then we just have to rely on our clout as novelty items with news from afar?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what do we tell them we’ve been talking about?”

  “Marinus. You’re not sure how much to tell.”

  Notch nodded slowly. That might work. He turned back to the prince. “Your Highness, I do bear some details of your father’s passing... but I feel this isn’t the right setting for such grim talk.”

  The prince leant a little closer. “No. You are doing a fine job of being diplomatic, go on, Captain.”

  Again, and slowly, Notch and Alosus gave a version of Marinus’ death that painted him as driven if greedy, and betrayed by Vinezi. It seemed a neat way to further obscure Notch, Sofia and Seto’s role in the confrontation.

  Prince Tanere took a deep breath and exhaled. “And you saw his corpse with your own eyes?”

  “We both did.” Odd questions for a son to ask but perhaps, in the Land of the Sun, it wasn’t so strange.

  “This is grand news indeed.” He stood. “I will call upon you later, as your testimony will be invaluable. Enjoy the rest of your meal, gentlemen.” He inclined his head to Lady Casselli. “Lady.”

  “Your Highness.”

  The second course, roasted beef, was then brought in, allowing him a moment to gather his thoughts. The meat swum in a peppery-scented gravy. Heaps of golden potato lathered in butter followed, along with pumpkin and what might have been bacon – only it was also fiery. He noticed that Lady Casselli’s plate was still quite full; she had not eaten much, but why?

  The musicians, who were almost hidden in the far corner of the hall, started a new tune, something strident but not so fast as before. Lady Casselli sighed as she stood. “I suppose I should maintain my standing as a Lady. Please excuse me for a song.”

  “Of course,” Notch said, unable to prevent a slight frown as she swayed onto the dance floor. He lowered his voice. “Why now? And w
hy at all?”

  “Remember I told you that Ecsoli was a competitive place – this is one way a woman competes here. As to why now, during the middle of the meal? I believe it is so the Lady can enjoy her dessert.”

  “What?”

  “This way the dance isn’t hanging over her and at the same time, she has remained a dutiful host to her guests by not immediately alighting to the dance right after our arrival.”

  Notch shook his head, part admiration, part disbelief. “You certainly know the way of the nobility.”

  “Yes. Vinezi’s legacy was not all hideous, it seems.”

  Lady Casselli had taken a space all of her own, her dance bearing a sort of pattern but one unpredictable. There was a give and take to her movements, not unlike swordplay. As she moved, her dress spun and twirled, revealing her toned legs – he could not help but notice. Yet there was more to admire in her skill than her figure alone. Even when she smiled over at him, he found himself transfixed, unable to respond.

  When he did manage to glance away, it was clear that other men felt the same – Tanere among them.

  After a time, one of the Inquisitors had risen to continue watching. The others were still writing, marking down their judgements, perhaps.

  “What are the Inquisitors doing?” Notch asked.

  “They are noting down who has performed to what standard. Whoever is deemed the ‘best’ tonight is generally rewarded with gold, silks or sometimes slaves.”

  “Oh.”

  Alosus’ jaw was set.

  Notch leant closer to the man. “I will do all I can to help you find them.”

  “Thank you, Notch.”

  Lady Casselli was returning, a light sheen of sweat across her brow. She drank from her lemon-water and sighed.

  “You are a fine dancer, My Lady,” Alosus said.

  “I agree,” Notch added. “I’m sure the Inquisitors would be pleased.”

  “Perhaps. But now that I’ve danced, I find it was as much for me as them.” She resumed her questions, but now they were more focused on his life. Through the next course and a dessert of light sweetbread and vibrant fruits, Notch spoke of the Glass War and more recent events, downplaying his role but not removing himself. It was probably best if he remained seen as at least somewhat heroic and Alosus did not attempt to stop him.

  Later, when the flautist let the final notes fade into the hall but before the dance floor emptied, Alosus gave him a nod – which was a welcome cue. Another word and his throat would have collapsed.

  “Your hospitality has been exemplary, Lady Casselli,” Alosus said as he stood. “But we are regrettably weary after a long journey.”

  “I would hate to keep either of you from your rest,” she said. Her eyes lingered on Notch. “Do call on me again, either of you, if you need assistance.”

  “We will,” Notch said.

  “Good. And I trust I will see you again, Medoro of the New Land.”

  “I hope soon,” he replied, following Alosus from the room.

  Waiting beside the crystal lamps at the entryway were a small group of servants, dressed in black as the others. In the shadows, they would have been near invisible – easy for the nobles to overlook, perhaps.

  One servant took Notch and Alosus to their quarters, explaining that their weapons and clothing were safely within. Finally, the lad handed over a piece of parchment sealed with the purple of the Inquisitors, which Notch did not open at once. Inside, lamps were already lit and cool water and coffee had been set out on a tray in a sitting room – two bedchambers adjoining the room.

  “What is this?” Notch asked as he broke the seal.

  “A meeting card,” Alosus said, glancing at it. “Within will be Houses and times, evenly spread across the day of course, such is the fastidiousness of those who wear the purple.” He was stretched across a huge divan, eyes closed.

  The parchment bore symbols with times, but no names. One symbol, the wave – the Royal symbol, appeared several times. Others only appeared once, horse, lion, bear and falcon. A twinge of pain at the sight of the falcon; distant relatives of Sofia, no doubt.

  “How can I know which royal is which?” he asked. “There are four silver waves here.”

  “You cannot; doubtless one is Prince Ren. But I will be with you.”

  Notch tossed the parchment onto the sideboard, slumping into the smaller chair opposite. “So who is our best chance? Tanere? Will he be indebted to us, if we testify for him?”

  “Possibly. But do not discount Lady Casselli.”

  “Truly? I understand she is quite... interested in me but is she so powerful? I mean, she dined with servants before we arrived and she was first to meet us. Like she’d been given a tedious chore to take care of while the Mare had their fun.”

  “Look at the same event from a different perspective, Notch. She alone met us in the palace – you are quite the curiosity and it was she who did so. And here, dining alone is not a sign of one without alliances, if that was how it seemed.”

  “No?”

  “No – she is able to dine alone, meaning free to dine with whoever she chooses. That is a sign of her strength in the palace.”

  Notch threw a leg over the chair’s arm. It was soft enough that his calf barely reached the wood beneath the fabric. “But she’s not seen as a threat?”

  “A certain amount – but not all – of that strength comes from Tanere.”

  “And the rest?”

  “She is head of the Carver’s Guild and many believe her to be the finest carver alive.”

  Notch nodded slowly. “Then I will definitely see her again. Tomorrow. I need to get to the Library and you need to find that slaver. What is the symbol of her family?”

  “A fox.”

  “Ah.” He’d seen the symbol of a fox on the list – last in order, early evening at a guess. “Then by tomorrow’s end I want to be standing before the Library of Souls.”

  “If luck is with us, you might just get that wish.”

  “And if not, we’re going to make our own luck, Alosus.”

  31. Ain

  Ain folded his arms as he stared at the green stronghold.

  The walkers were gone, or at least, their fleshy shells were now no more than scattered piles on the ground. What began as a bridge of bodies had quickly spread and then evolved into an impenetrable wall of melded cactus. It had swallowed the building, the creatures sealing off the prison. So far, all attempts to cut through had resulted in weapons being caught fast.

  Salt seared the plants but did not break them down, as if together, they were stronger. Either that, or whatever force had driven them in the first place was using some manner of counter-measure.

  Which spoke of great power indeed.

  And while only the very occasional creak of stone could be heard, it was probably only a matter of time before the building succumbed.

  To combat this, Raila was arranging an attempt to burn the plants but Ain did not hold much hope. And more, he was growing increasingly concerned for Majid and Jedda. How did their party fare? Weeks with no word, and now a force far beyond what it seemed anyone at the Cloud could counter.

  Ain left Raila and the others to try their oil and flame, seeking out Wayrn, who he found sifting through scrolls in the building he had been given to use as envoy. Or perhaps home; the man had been at the Cloud for over a season now, his Medah was even more accomplished and he was growing tanned, where at first, his fair Broann skin had tended to burn.

  “Still searching for that mystery language?” Ain asked.

  Wayrn shook his head with a sad smile as he turned from his desk, which was littered with scrolls, quills and ink pots. “Not today. I fear it may still elude me yet. Perhaps if I could compare the language beneath Anaskar with what you have here once more... but there are more pressing things afoot, of course.” He collected a pair of scrolls, unrolled one a little and nodded before handing it to Ain.

  “What is this?”

  “Perhaps
a precedent to what happened out there,” he said.

  Ain read the text, an old, flowing script. “‘There was a time when our Pathfinders were also warriors, for two generations all clans, Snake, Cloud, Wanderer and Mazu were united in driving back the green Plague-Men’.” Ain paused. “All clans united, how old is this?”

  “It is an account of an elder which was transcribed perhaps five generations ago, maybe more, from an even older document.”

  “And this was in Raila’s library?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  Wayrn grinned. “It’s called Stories of the Sand. It’s a collection of children’s tales.”

  “Sands, truly?”

  “Read on; it gets more interesting.”

  Ain did so. The Plague-Men were said to have been born from the northern sands. They would creep closer and closer to camps, blending with true cacti, until they could puncture skin with their needles, inducing endless sleep, whereupon the plant feasted on its victim. “‘In the end, only the fabled Stones of Shali could turn them back with their ancient thunder.’ I have never heard of the Stones of Shali.”

  “Who might have?” Wayrn asked. “It’s the first clue I’ve found but if it is nothing but a story, I would like to be able to rule it out as soon as possible so I can keep searching.”

  Ain snapped his fingers. “Usrahed. He’s the oldest man in the Cloud, his father used to be a Scroll Keeper. I’ll take you to him now.”

  Outside, the wind had died down, allowing voices filled with frustration to reach him, even as he gave the stronghold wide berth. He took Wayrn between the white clay of the houses, slipping through an olive garden and finally coming to a small home that lay across from one of the wells – Usrahed hated to walk too far for his water.