by K S Nikakis
‘I’d heard Astraal was a place of courtesy, but two of our party have been dragged away by your guards. Where are they?’ she demanded.
A Kald-clone rose from the table’s head and bowed. ‘I am Archae Thero, Syld of the Council. Welcome to Astraal, Violet Iris Vacia, and welcome also Thrisdane of the Angellus. Please join us.’
He gestured to the table but Viv refused to budge. ‘I’m more interested in our friends’ welfare than your welcome.’
‘The elddric you refer to were expelled from Astraal some zadicans ago and are not permitted to return.
‘You’ve had them murdered?’ Viv managed to keep her voice steady despite the sickening drop of her stomach.
‘We are not the Valen,’ he said, his lip curling in disdain.
So they were still alive, if Thero were to be believed. She wondered how dilute their prohibitions against lying had become. The dozen or so daimon around the table looked pure angel, but she suspected their looks were a reason they’d risen through the ranks, given the Astraali’s contempt for all things Valen.
‘Kindly take your seats,’ said Thero again. ‘We have many things to discuss and there is much anticipation in Astraal as to their outcome.’
Viv sat next to Thris, which gave her the opportunity to kick him under the table, but knowing Thris, he’d probably politely move his leg. Thero remained standing as he introduced those seated, all of whom were Archae something-or-other, and all of whom had variations of silver or silver-streaked red hair, waves or curls, and dark or light blue eyes. Thero was the only Syld, a title obviously borrowed from the lowly Valen.
A servant filled silver goblets with a pale liquid, which Viv declined, wanting to keep her wits about her, but she accepted several of the delicate biscuits, not knowing where her next meal was coming from. Thris didn’t need to eat, and the Syld had carried the food.
‘I will begin by—’ began Thero.
‘I’m here because I’ve been Called, but I’m also looking for my mother,’ interrupted Viv. ‘The two things might be related. Her name’s Violet Wright, but she might be known as Lettie. She looks like me. Do you know whether she’s in Astraal?’
Viv knew she was rude and hoped that, despite her looks, the Archae would conclude her crassness resulted from a high dose of Valen blood.
‘She is not in Astraal,’ said Thero, wandering the room with the same arrogant strut as Kald. All he needed to complete the show was to steeple his fingers.
‘How do you know?’
‘No female in Astraal looks like you. You carry exceptionally high levels of Angellus blood for you to appear as you do. Tell me of this Lettie Wright, Violet Iris Vacia.’
So much for plan A. ‘My mother gave birth to me in a human caste fold called Moonsun. She disappeared when I was ten zadicans. I didn’t know I had angel blood until my father, Archae Kald, turned up in Moonsun and told me. I left to find her.’
‘And your father was an Angellus from Ezam Fold?’ he asked, stopping behind her.
‘My father is an angel from that fold,’ said Viv, wanting to get off the topic of Lettie. Viv was just an average daimon with no wings.
‘You went to Ezam to search for your mother?’
He was still behind her and Viv willed him to move. ‘To start the search for my mother. My father appointed Thrisdane as my guide.’
‘Why?’
He’d strolled on, thankfully. ‘Seeding daimon is frowned upon in Ezam. Re-uniting me with my mother would cancel out his bad deed with a good one.’ Which was sort of true on one level, except that cancelling out meant generating Brownie points towards transcendence.
‘Why did you come to The Wheel? Did you know of us and believe your mother was here?’ Thero’s glance included Thris in the question, but Viv jumped in before Thris could answer.
‘I arrived here alone and by accident. Transiting rifts is extremely dangerous and we got separated. We travelled with another angel for a time but he was badly hurt, and Thris took him back to Ezam.’
‘So you know how to find and transit rifts, Violet Iris Vacia?’
‘After a fashion. It’s hard to know where they lead. I arrived here after all but suffocating in a fold of sand.’
Thero’s pale eyes swung to Thris. ‘And you, Thrisdane? The purity of your Angellus blood surely makes you a skilled rift traveller?’
‘I’m an angel, Archae, but I’m more experienced than Viv. Even so, many of our transits have gone amiss.’
‘Why are you in The Wheel?’
‘I’m bound by my pledge to guide Viv to her mother but must also ensure Ezam and The Wheel’s safety.’
‘The Wheel’s safety?’
‘More senior angels in Ezam believe a rift connects The Wheel to Ezam and that the rift passes through the sacred lake. Water rifts are rare, often unstable, and dangerous to use.’
There was a burst of conversation from the rest of the Archae that the Syld had trouble stilling. ‘What evidence is there for your claim?’ he asked, when he was able.
‘I was held by the Valen for a time, and while I have no memory of my escape, I was found in the centre of Ezam soaking wet.’
‘Hardly evidence,’ a curly-haired Archae scoffed.
Thero gestured for quiet. ‘Patience, Meresh. Is there further evidence of this rift, Thrisdane?’
‘There’s a vast store of scrolls in Ezam, and two of them warn of the danger. The first reads thus: The Wheel the way, the Wheel a knife; the way of water, the way of strife. The rift can give, the rift can take; do not disturb the sacred lake. And the second: Red mountains rise, red mountains fall, a home for bears and angel halls. The Great Beyond, a gift is given, the sacred lake must not be riven. The journey in, will still suffice, be thankful for the fold of ice.’
Again the silence gave way to a torrent of speech and Viv glanced at Thris. He looked calm but angels weren’t adept at reading human or half-human emotions. The Archae were excited rather than fearful, and Viv’s hands clenched.
Thero had to wait for the noise to ebb again before he spoke. ‘Do you know the author of these writings?’
‘We believe it to the angel Senquar-archae.’
‘By we, you mean the more senior angels of Ezam?’ Thris nodded. ‘And are all Senquar-archae’s writings so obscure?’
‘We believe he wrote so, to ensure his warnings endured. Ezam houses its angel lore in a circular hall called the Bokos. It contains uncounted scrolls, but the central part is empty. We believe the scrolls that referred to the rift were removed to prevent the rift being used.’
Another murmur rippled through the assembly but Thero spoke over it. ‘Our store of Angellus lore is also empty. The Angellus took the scrolls with them when they departed.’
‘Probably for the same reason,’ broke in Viv. ‘I’ve seen the lake here. If it were to empty into Ezam, it would destroy it.’
Thero paused in his stroll and his shrewd gaze swung to her. ‘A rift is not a physical pathway, Violet Iris Vacia, as I am sure you know.’
‘There is a fear it might become so,’ said Thris. ‘The writings tell us Senquar-archae was blue, and one of three angels who appeared in Ezam simultaneously eons ago. I appeared with two other angels also, one of whom is blue. There are no writings that tell of Senquar-archae or the other angels’ transcendence, which is unusual. But we do have the warnings I’ve shared with you.’
‘A blue angel? That would be a strange sight, indeed,’ said Thero, and smiled wryly. ‘You obviously think we now repeat the circumstances of the first three angels’ demise, but the Angellus were not given to belief in portents, and neither are we. The writings you quote contain warnings, but we know nothing of their veracity. Senquar-archae’s writings might have been removed because he suffered a mental affliction. What they do suggest, clearly, is a rift between The Wheel and Ezam, and despite the subtle change in name from Angellus to angel, I believe the Angellus came from Ezam and returned there. The rift in Lake Astraal allows us to do the
same, under your guidance of course.’
‘It’s too dangerous!’ cried Viv in panic. He’d stopped behind her again and she had to screw her head around.
‘We will depart first. We are small in number as you see,’ said Thero, gesturing to those at the table. ‘If there is a danger of disturbance, the effect of our passing should be small. Those of lesser Angellus blood will follow.’
‘The risk is too great,’ said Thris slowly.
‘Risk is comparative, Thrisdane,’ he said, and with a lightning speed, seized Viv by the hair, wrenched her head back, and brought a knife to her throat.
‘Let him kill me,’ gasped Viv, horribly aware of the blade against her skin. ‘You can’t risk all of Ezam.’
‘I’m pledged to protect you,’ whispered Thris, his face agonised.
Thero released her and strolled on, as if nothing had happened, and Viv felt her throat, surprised she was uninjured. ‘We are not the Valen,’ said Thero contemptuously. ‘It was simply a little demonstration of our determination to leave. Violet Iris Vacia will remain in Astraal and be released once we have safely transited. She can follow or not, as she chooses. There will be few left in Astraal to keep her company, but some elddric will remain whose baser blood she might find appealing, although I suspect, not as appealing as yours, Thrisdane.’
He nodded to the door guards and they strode to where Viv and Thris were seated. ‘You will be accommodated separately, so I regret you will not have time say your goodbyes. I trust the separation will be brief. We will depart at dawn. It will give those of lesser blood time to prepare, but it is also when the sacred lake is at its most glorious. It will be a fitting time to farewell it.’
Chapter 29
‘Ataghan? Ataghan? Stinking Soaich. You’ve slept long enough. Come back to me, Syld.’
The gravelly voice came from afar and Ataghan opened his eyes, or at least one eye, the other was glued shut. His head thudded in a sickening rhythm and there wasn’t a part of him that didn’t hurt. He groaned and spat blood from his mouth. ‘Not a pleasant wakening, is it?’ said Baraghan hoarsely. ‘Drink this. You’ll have to hold it till I get my arm working again.’
Ataghan fumbled the flask to his mouth and gulped down the hareesh. It brought the feeling back to his body in bursts of jagged pain, and he panted as he squinted around.
‘We’re in trees, about ten lengths from the wall, which is as far as I could drag you. Didn’t want to stay where passing Astraali might be tempted to finish us off. Our cudgel-wielding friends dumped us like refuse outside the gate, and our packs. Generous of them, really.’ Ataghan groped for his missing knives. ‘They weren’t that generous, Syld.’ Baraghan coughed. ‘All in all, we’ve been fortunate.’
Ataghan heaved himself into a sitting position. The bracelet he’d traded in Esh-accom was gone, but that was the least of his problems. Baraghan was half-propped against a tree, his eyes blackened, his lips split. There was an egg-shaped swelling on his brow, and one arm was limp.
‘Not a pretty sight,’ he croaked, ‘and you’re no better. Although, I tell a lie, unusual for an elddric.’ He laughed harshly and coughed again. ‘You escaped broken bones, at least. I need help to sort my arm.’
‘I’m no surgeon,’ said Ataghan. The trees spun and he fought waves of nausea.
‘No need to be,’ croaked Baraghan. ‘I need your elddric breath, lots of lovely pain-dulling, strength-building, elddric breath. I’ll do the rest. I need it now, Syld. I’ve used mine to help you wake.’
Ataghan half-crawled to him. ‘Tell me what to do.’
‘Help me off with my jacket and shirt.’ Ataghan did as he was bid, then rolled up the shirt to serve as a support for Baraghan’s arm. ‘You missed your calling,’ muttered Baraghan, with a ghastly smile.
‘What next?’
‘Deep breathe directly into my mouth. Keep it up till I tell you to stop. I need your strength to build mine. I don’t need to see a break to mend it, but I need to keep the pain at bay.’
Ataghan knelt beside him, placed his mouth over Baraghan’s and emptied his breath into Baraghan’s lungs, careful to keep in rhythm with Baraghan’s breathing. He closed his eyes, reluctant to watch what Baraghan did; the crunch of bones was bad enough.
Baraghan’s breath bathed Ataghan too and his pain ebbed enough to think. It was dim under the trees which meant he’d been unconscious most the day. He hadn’t suffered a beating like that since he’d left, but revenge wasn’t uppermost in his mind. The Astraali would have made a decision by now and, given how long they’d waited to follow their majestic fathers, he knew what it’d be. He also knew the threats they’d use to ensure the decision was implemented.
‘Enough,’ gasped Baraghan, and Ataghan sat back on his haunches. ‘Always good to have your bones where they should be.’
‘Shall I splint it?’
‘Baraghan nodded. ‘We’ll make a surgeon of you yet.’ Ataghan used a bandage from Baraghan’s kit and straight pieces of windfall he could reach without crawling, and carefully splinted the arm. ‘Now we rest until after Horse Zadic, then go back in.’
‘There’s no reason for you to come.’
‘There’s plenty of reasons,’ said Baraghan thickly. ‘I know where I left the knife stash.’ Ataghan looked at him. ‘I was older than you when they threw me out. I had longer to prepare for my return.’
‘Like using the drain in Daen sector?’
‘Let’s not dwell on the past, Syld.’
‘You’re in no state to run and fight, Baraghan. I’ll retrieve the elddra and get out fast. Thrisdane will have to look after himself.’
‘Retrieve the elddra? Why do you have such trouble saying her name?’ Ataghan shrugged and wished he hadn’t as pain speared through his shoulders. ‘If you want her to stay at your sett, I suggest you get accustomed to her name. Perhaps admitting she’s not the same as the stinking Astraali would help.’
‘I don’t need your advice.’
‘I think you do, but I’ll desist. Rest while you can, Ataghan.’
* * *
Viv stared down at the sacred lake. Horse Zadic turned its still surface to liquid silver but the city’s stone looked more like a graveyard now than any wedding cake. She’d expected to be hurled into a dungeon, complete with wall-chains, but the guard had marched her up countless steps to a plushly appointed eyrie which gave her an excellent view of the lake.
A prison cell, nevertheless, with bars on the window to prove it, and no lock she could find. She clambered onto a chair for a more thorough search and swore. The bars were set into the stone. They might be there to stop people falling out, but it seemed more likely the Astraali had imprisoned guests before.
‘Pack of arseholes,’ she muttered, but was too full of dread to conjure hatred. They’d force Thris into the rift and if the rift tore, he’d drown along with them. And their deaths might be just the start. As well as the risk to Ezam, the lake could send massive walls of water surging down the Vales.
She faltered as she thought of Poss at the Scinta-ril, but the sett would likely be safe, as would Gothral’s on the Kama-ril, and Amethen’s on the Verra-ril. The rils were high in the smaller vals; it was settlements like Esh-accom on the Eshacade, and settlements on the main rivers in the other Vales, that would be destroyed.
Thero had insisted rifts weren’t physical things, and they weren’t normally, but water rifts were a different beast altogether. And if water rifts weren’t dangerous, Senquar-archae wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to leave his warnings behind.
Viv pressed her face against the bars. There was a lot of activity going on around the lake, the small shapes of men, women, and children milling about as they prepared to go to their wonderful new home of Ezam, or to their deaths. Viv’s knuckled tightened on the bars.
Get ya arse into gear, Vivi. Ya not a thief for nuthin’. The window wasn’t an option and there was no manhole, which left the door. The guard paced up and down which gave her a ten-pace i
nterval to pick the lock when he was at the far ends of his round. She had it picked in seven, using the broken owl charm. It was the easiest lock she’d ever come across, but not the easiest room to get out of, given the guard. He’d be elddric and want to catch the rift out, and his replacement likely someone less interested in leaving, older probably, and slower, or so she hoped. If not, it would be time to fly.
To do what, Vivi? ‘I have no effing idea, Rim,’ she muttered, ‘but I’m sure as hell not sitting here on my backside while Thris drowns.’
* * *
Ataghan flexed the muscles in his favoured throwing hand, then in the other hand, then squatted several times and sprang upright. Everything hurt and it had been agony crawling through the tunnels, but they’d reached a disused storage turret and he could stand. Baraghan’s elddric breath, his own elddric blood, and the sleep they’d snatched, had healed the worst of it, but having knives again was the best balm. The knives were in perfect condition, despite having spent thirteen zadicans wrapped in oiled leather, and wedged in a rat run under the city.
Baraghan’s planning had been admirable, but he’d intended to return, whereas Ataghan hadn’t.
‘This would be a fine city without its present inhabitants,’ murmured Baraghan, as he peered out of a chink in the stone. ‘Hard to see much now Horse Zadic’s done, but lots of Astraali hurrying about carrying bundles.’
‘Preparing to leave,’ said Ataghan shortly. ‘I need to see where the Council will depart from to see whether they’ve got the elddra with them, or Thrisdane, or both.’
‘I’m predicting Thrisdane. They’ll have more trust in his rift skills, and they’ll hold Violet Iris Vacia somewhere to ensure his cooperation. They’re likely to utilise the pleasure barges they use in the warmer zadics, given the number of Astraali leaving. The barges dock sunwise of the Hall.’
‘Can we get there from here?’