Tellius did not sing with the others as music swelled over them. He had grown to manhood some thousands of miles to the east. He had no half-forgotten knowledge of old songs to dredge up. His childhood prayers had been to a different god, who saw all and seemed remarkably indifferent to any of it. Tellius was not quite sure if he believed in the Goddess of Darien, but he had learned not to cross a vengeful woman and it cost him nothing to observe the forms. A world without even an attempt at a better nature was a cold sort of place, as he knew very well. The journey mattered as much as the destination and he chose to take part. He enjoyed the hymns as well. Some of them were quite rousing.
When the service was at an end, the bearers gathered around the coffin once again, all serious men of matched heights. From the church in the city, Lady Forza’s body would be loaded onto a carriage and taken to a tomb on their estate, a place Tellius had never seen, but which he imagined would be very grand. He said a silent prayer for Elizabeth Forza, wishing her well and hoping she could hear.
‘Sad day,’ Lord Bracken said at his shoulder.
The man was taller than Tellius and seemed pleased about that. Tellius noticed too that one of the Bracken hounds had padded up, seating itself like a statue. There was something not quite right about the way those dogs reacted, Tellius thought. Whatever control Bracken exercised over them, Tellius could never relax in their presence.
‘Very sad,’ he replied. ‘I came to like Elizabeth. I’m only sorry I didn’t know her for longer.’
‘Of course. Feel the same. Still, at least we were spared her prophecy coming true. Perhaps our building of walls and training of militias scared it off, whatever it was.’
‘You don’t believe it can still happen?’ Tellius asked.
Lord Bracken frowned down at him as if he had said something stupid.
‘Old Forza said it would come with the snow, didn’t she? That was what I understood. And here it is. The whole city is shivering and logs are up to fourpence each in some places. I’d say whatever she thought was going to happen has passed us by, don’t you think?’
Tellius saw the man wished to be reassured. Perhaps because he had lived a harder life, it did not occur to him to try.
‘No, my lord. I saw it, when I touched the stone – guided by Elizabeth. It was something savage, something pitiless coming here. And yes, there was snow on the ground. So it could come today, or tomorrow, or any time you see snow over the next few months. All Lady Forza knew was that she would not live to see the spring. There’s something coming for Darien in the cold, my lord. I wish it wasn’t, but this funeral doesn’t change a thing.’
Lord Bracken lost his conspiratorial lean and stood straighter. Tellius had the impression the dog too was looking at him in a more hostile way.
‘Perhaps,’ he snapped, making the word just one syllable. ‘Though I wonder if you aren’t a little smitten by your new position in the Families. It doesn’t hurt you to be able to talk of nameless threats and have all the old ladies fanning themselves and imagining the worst, does it? I suppose our new Lord Forza will be donating a fortune to the wall fund, now his mother has passed, or was that part of your arrangement with her?’
Tellius was certain by then that the man’s hound was watching him with an unnerving scrutiny. He was coldly furious at what Bracken was suggesting, but he suspected the lord knew very well how feared his animals were. There was something unnatural about the Bracken Stone, even to the fact that it could be worn. Perhaps that went some way towards explaining his overbearing manner. Tellius knew the type well and loathed it. If he took offence, Bracken would claim it was all a misunderstanding, that Tellius was merely being too sensitive. Such men lived for victories of exactly that sort. The best defence was to go on the attack, instantly and without mercy.
‘My lord, I’ve been meaning to ask. I remember the night the city was breached two years ago. I fought alongside the Sallet contingent, against Aeris soldiers. I was under fire for an age. I do not recall seeing you there …?’
He waited, with his eyebrows raised, knowing the man would take it as it was meant. Tellius could have crowed when Bracken began to bluster, pursing his lips.
‘I was not in the city that night, sir, as I’m sure you are well aware. If I had been …’
‘Oh, I don’t doubt your pets would have been useful, my lord. I think, though, that those who were not there, who did not stand to protect the city, well, perhaps they feel sometimes that the battle must be fought and refought, over and over, if you understand me? For those of us who actually were there … we know our worth. We know what we endured together. It is a sort of brotherhood, my lord. Now, if you will excuse me, I see Lady Sallet wishes to leave.’
He turned away from the saturnine lord and his dog, the animal softly snarling as it mirrored its master’s emotions. Tellius could not help smiling in response as he went lightly down the steps.
Lady Sallet saw his expression and that of the man he had left behind.
‘I hope you were not measuring your length against Bracken, my dear,’ she said.
Tellius felt his mouth drop open.
‘That is a … surprising phrase, Win. Where did you hear that?’
She shrugged.
‘My father used to say it. He was a naval man. I don’t … Oh!’ She blushed and put a hand to her mouth. ‘I will not be using it again, then. Still, we need his support, Tellius.’
‘He is a bully …’ Tellius murmured as he reached over to kiss her cheek. ‘And he annoys me when he relies on his dogs to growl for him. He had the nerve to suggest the danger of Elizabeth’s vision had passed with the snowfall.’
‘He wants to believe it, Tellius. He is not the first to say that aloud this morning, believe me.’
‘What of the seers?’ Tellius asked, still keeping his voice low.
‘No word from them. Not one glimpse in Darien of a black wave, or the city under attack. I am half-tempted to pay for scryers of memory, Tellius. To have them confirm what we saw.’
‘It would make us look weak,’ he said, shaking his head.
She nodded, accepting his judgement where it was most sound.
‘Bracken is not the only one to voice doubts. Lord Canis is still arguing against gun regiments, though it seems the merest common sense. Regis is openly dismissive of me. I think he distrusts women. Now that Lady Forza has gone, the direct link is broken. You and I are the only witnesses to what we saw – and they will believe we stand to gain, in power, in wealth, who knows? If those other seers were not just promises and wind, we’d have lit a fire under them all by now.’
‘Not one of them has the Forza Stone,’ Tellius said thoughtfully. ‘I have no expertise here, Win, but could we arrange for one of them to touch it? At least to try?’
He saw her pale slightly as she considered. Tellius was content to wait, knowing she understood the games of the Twelve Families better than he ever would.
‘I don’t think you understand even now how rare it was for Lady Forza to bring her family stone out of her estate to mine. They are objects of veneration, Tellius, especially to the subjects. The closest I can think of would be to hand a royal crown to one of them, a crown that has seen a dozen famous kings and been worn in battle. Do you see? What you are suggesting is not a small thing. Nor can I order Reno Forza to do it. He is head of his house now. If he decides to keep the Forza Stone in a vault, that is his right. Not one lord will gainsay him.’
She brushed a hand across her lips and began to pace. Tellius glanced at the guards who waited for her, extending a flat palm to tell them not to approach. He knew them well and they had accepted him. Even so, they would not let anything happen to their mistress.
‘If I persuade Reno Forza …’ she went on, ‘perhaps to allow a visitor to his estate, rather than asking to move the stone again. Yet if we put seer and stone together and there is no vision, we will have vastly undermined our case. Men like Bracken, Canis and Regis would petition the king to end th
e training of militias, perhaps even to cease work on the walls of the city.’
‘A fraud would not arrange such a test,’ he murmured. ‘Those who believe we are exaggerating or have some other end in mind would see that.’
‘But in turn, we run the risk of seeing it all stop,’ she said.
Once more, her fingers brushed across her lips. He wanted to kiss her.
‘Then wait as long as we can. If the other lords strangle the funds, or begin to pull their men out of the militias and the wall teams, then we can decide. If they merely grumble, we will go on. I know what I saw, Win. I will do anything to stop that happening.’
Bosin was not a man to suffer in silence, Hondo had discovered. A great part of the culture of Shiang was veneration of self-discipline. By the time they reached manhood, every boy and girl had been told a thousand tales of extraordinary sacrifice. Of men who had been tricked into giving their oath and yet gone to their deaths rather than break their word, of others who came back from hell to complete a promise to a king. Still more who carried word of a battle to the royal reinforcements, though they died as they handed over the orders, so fast had they run. Duty and discipline and self-control came above all personal considerations. It was the foundation and heartstone of their culture.
The wind actually howled at that height, low and high notes together, so that it moaned or shrieked in their ears. It carried flecks of snow or ice that stung as they struck the bare skin of the four men. That was merely pain, though Hondo feared he would be made blind and walked almost with his eyes closed, sheltering his gaze with his hand whenever he needed to look further. The way ahead was through thick snow, to the level of his knees, so that each step was an effort and sapped his strength. The white surface might even have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so damned cold. Ice swirled there in patterns of shining dust. He could not feel his feet, Hondo realised, with a stab of fear. He had seen the results of frostbite before in black toes and fingers. The pain was brutal before they came off.
Bosin could also not feel his feet. Hondo knew that because the giant mentioned it every couple of paces. The big swordsman had wrapped himself in blankets, so that he could see hardly anything. He staggered along like a bear lost in a snowstorm, complaining with every step. It was infuriating. Not for the first time, Hondo wondered if Bosin had been included in the group just to get rid of him. He imagined his patron lord had been delighted to volunteer the man’s name for a task that would take him from the city for months, if he ever returned at all.
‘I have not eaten since this morning,’ he heard Bosin say suddenly. ‘My stomach is groaning like the wind. My bowels are loose and fit to burst, but I dare not stop and squat in this snow. I would freeze my cock off.’
Hondo clenched his eyes shut. The man could be crude, appallingly so at times. Hondo had already discovered the depths of filth Bosin was capable of voicing when the man had slipped and barked his shin a few days before. There was little point in asking him to stop. The constant stream of complaint seemed almost unconscious. Hondo also suspected the big man was concealing deafness, though he was not yet certain as to the degree. It didn’t matter what he said on Bosin’s right side, anyway. There would be no response. If he gave an order from the left, he’d sometimes catch a startled expression. Perhaps it was just the noise of the wind or the terrible cold, but he hadn’t noticed Bosin favouring one ear when they’d set out.
Hondo ground his teeth together. They had not prepared well enough to cross a high pass in winter. They’d purchased thick furs in the last village, but the reality was much worse than he had imagined. Everything was white or grey and the air bit at his lips. Hondo had listened patiently to the warnings from the village hunters, but they’d had no choice. That was something he had understood better than Bosin seemed able to. They had been ordered west to Darien. If the pass truly was closed, if the shovels they carried were not enough to get through to the other side, they would be found frozen in the thaw. They could not wait until spring, as Bosin had suggested at least a dozen times. The big man had tried what he thought was subtle persuasion on the other three. When that didn’t have any effect, he’d said straight out that he would rather wait until the pass was clear. Hondo had reminded him then that he was not Bosin’s master, that Bosin could wait in the valleys if he wished, while the others went on. For once, the twins seemed of the same mind and Bosin gave up, kicking a bucket over in a temper as he went to say goodbye to his horse in the stable. Being unable to take mounts through the pass seemed to anger the big man more than anything. He had become childishly sullen after that, refusing to speak to anyone.
Hondo glared at the great back. Bosin was a trial to his patience, a great shambling irritation. The man alone was big enough to intimidate an army. Wrapped in fur and then thick woollen blankets, he looked at times like an actual bear. Only the stream of complaint was definitely that of a man.
It had seemed reasonable to explain their duty to Bosin down in the village. The reality, of actually dying while the wind hooted and roared in his ears, felt rather more like failure and disgrace. Hondo dipped his head again and pressed on. His cheeks would lose skin, he was certain. He’d seen mountain men with strange marbled scarring from the heights they’d crossed. He would surely be one of those, if he survived at all.
‘… I am no more than an icicle walking. They will find me blue and stiff in the spring … I should prepare a pose, so I will be useful to them. Yes, I will point the way to weary travellers and they will say, “Look at that poor big bastard, who should never have tried to cross the pass in winter. I wonder which cruel sod insisted on it …” ’
Bosin cleared his throat and roared into the wind as if in challenge. Hondo shook his head, until he understood Bosin was shouting distinct words.
‘Horse skulls, Hondo! Horse … skulls!’
Hondo blinked in confusion, but then he realised the ground they walked on no longer sloped upward. He stopped, understanding at last. Horse skulls. They’d been told to watch for them.
Ahead, half-hidden by swirling snow, two rocks narrowed to a gap a single man could just about push through. It was the only pass for a hundred miles of hard country and there was no room for mounts. The narrow way had been discovered by a group of soldiers decades before. They’d killed their horses rather than leave them to starve, before passing through. Over the years, other travellers had taken up the skulls of the horses and put them on spears. They stood as a warning of the pass, in yellow bone.
Hondo looked up as Bosin trudged forward and fell to his knees to climb the packed snow of the slope. There was no true glimpse of the way ahead, just a white sky that seemed unending.
‘Shovels!’ Bosin called back. ‘Twins, this is work for two young champions. Bring the shovels and dig us a path.’
To Hondo’s surprise, Hi and Je stepped forward without complaint and began to dig.
‘Slowly,’ Hondo called to them. ‘Your sweat will freeze and we have a long way to go.’
Bosin snorted.
‘It’s all downhill after this, remember? We are warriors of Shiang! We’ll run down.’
Gabriel sat on a roll of blankets by the fire and licked blood from his wrist. As the day ended, stillness and the musty air of deep woods lay all around. He felt relaxed and – he searched for the word – content, for the first time since he had awakened in Lord Ran’s long room. Gabriel glanced to where that man lay on a mat of dry pine needles, his hands bound once again. Lord Ran was not enjoying the experience, though it was hardly important if he did. Gabriel needed his knowledge. He’d told the man again that if he ran, he would take his eyes. The threat seemed to have worked. Gabriel wondered idly if the lord would gain a better understanding of the terror experienced by those he used in his experiments. Being truly helpless could mark a man for the rest of his life.
They had ridden hard until sunset and then made a fire in the woods, too far from the road to be spotted. Gabriel had seen a deer as he’d dismoun
ted and gone after it like a wolf. It had been one of the most exhilarating experiences of his life, a moment of absolute joy, with the wind cold in his throat and, at the end, hot blood and meat.
The Fool made no attempt to remove the leash they had placed on his neck, though the flesh had grown raw there. He curled up by the fire and slept like a dog, or better than a dog, with no troubling dreams or anxieties. Gabriel almost envied him, though he was growing filthier by the day.
The pulsing thumps had started to come less frequently as soon as they were heading west. They had not faded, but Gabriel thought the slowly increasing tempo of the beat had been interrupted, or even reversed. He was grateful for it. Water could break even stone in the end.
Marias had served them all slices of venison on plates from the packs. Gabriel watched her cut pieces for herself, now that the others had eaten. She settled back and crossed her legs, leaning over the plate in her lap. Gabriel noticed Sanjin watching her as well. He frowned. A woman always caused trouble in camp, he remembered that much. Yet Gabriel was still uncertain why he had allowed her to come. Was there some part of him he did not own? Some fragment of soul that might yet steal back what it had lost? Having Marias in the camp was like probing a cracked tooth. He had to know why he had brought her. Or perhaps the one she called Taeshin would not let him send her away.
Gabriel shuddered, suddenly reminded he was not in his own body, but that of another. He had grown so used to the strength and speed, beyond anything he’d known before, that he sometimes forgot. When he caught sight of himself in a mirror at the palace, it always involved a shock of confusion. Who was that dark-haired young man glaring at him? With almond eyes and a hard, flat face? He already knew Taeshin had been a swordsman, which explained the grace and strength, though not the extent of it. That had come from the stone that had brought them all back.
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