by Adrian Selby
“But we were all there at Snakewood, Prince,” I said. “I remember enough to know you were one of those most interested in the purse I had taken.” This was a subtle mistake, too confrontational.
“Ephedra is an interesting plant, Kigan, as you know. Those who recover, they remember things that never happened, or remember some parts of a conversation or an argument perhaps, and not others.”
His eyes flicked about as he tried to see a way through this. I knew he didn’t believe me, for he was baiting me. He didn’t think I could be brewed up enough to notice but I was on an almost clean rise. He would not yet know himself he was sweating, the first hint of it on the air beneath the jasmine of his hair oil. Nevertheless, I had misjudged the moment again. The brew rose in me. All brews want blood and his subtle slights were stoking a fire I was struggling to control.
“You say you were victim to someone giving you ephedra, and then were on the Droop for many years. If you are speaking truthfully, Kigan, how is that night so clear to you that now you remember me there? I passed by Snakewood of course, but I had a large purse as I recall and a good many better places to spend it than that Post dung heap.”
The lie wrote itself in the glance downward as he said it, his hands meeting in a clasp, then consciously unclasped.
“Did I offend you then, Prince, all of you? We both stand as equals in thought and wisdom, we always did, but you are lying to me now all these years are passed. You can hardly look at me. That is some measure of revulsion.”
“Equals?” He snorted. “At best you were a sophisticated poisoner, apt to experiment on every person who did not suspect otherwise. I, Kailen, all of us, feared you. I am sorry that someone, presumably one of us, sold you into slavery. If I knew who I’d tell you. Not even you deserved slavery, though you’re mistaken if you think I could believe you’d forgotten how to cook. I daresay this wine has a little more than grape in it. I’m finding it easier to talk to you than I am looking to get rid of you. This is a most interesting mix.”
“Where might others of the Twenty be? Now we’re straight with each other.”
He inhaled to shout, realising where my intentions lay and what little chance he had if I was on a brew and he had already taken something I had prepared. I would never flee the palace if he was heard. The filleting knife slid into his throat smoothly, quick enough he could not rise more than a fraction from his chair. I spat into his widening eyes, “Your part in our crew of killers was played with no more quality than my own. We did nothing noble or good, Prince. We killed whoever we were paid to kill, and I was instrumental in our doing it.”
I withdrew the knife and laid his head on his plate, his blood pattering on the marble floor. It was hard not to cut him to pieces, my fist trembling to stab him until he was unrecognisable. I would subsequently adjust the lucin in the brew. The sight of his blood, the act of killing, made me burn as though I were in a pyre. After some moments trying to regain my poise I withdrew from the room and through the chaos of the kitchens and pens. I left the estate on a horse and cart, telling its driver that I was to help with whatever he needed.
My father had been a sailor for some years when I was a boy. He brought back tales from Handar of the tribeswomen that took men into the desert to conceive children with them before hobbling them and leaving them as gifts for Sillindar the Great Singer, whose song caused the winds in the dunes. The grand old Simursian West Road was now a sporadic and cracked highway that was lost in the sands and dead valleys of Handar and its border with Tetswana. It took me through to the coast of Handar with little trouble worth recounting here.
I needed only rum at Olber’s Gate to learn that Kheld was now a master shipwright at Handar’s navy yard, confirming what Milu had said. The labourers I treated to the flasks of rum all appeared to have nothing bad to say of him. He was ever the appeaser in the Twenty when disputes turned to blades. Two nights I spent in the tedious company of these men and I learned he would often stay after his own shift to inspect the work done.
The shipyard itself occupied the eastern edge of the bay, its two great sheds dominating the streets thereabouts. There was little in the way of its security to concern me. I played the part of a labourer with a logging crew that was bringing wood into the yard and the crew thought me one of the yardmen and the yardmen thought me of the crew. Shortly I was crouched in among the logs that were piled and tied near the work-bay where they’d be stripped to timbers for the boats.
A few hours later the yardmen were leaving and the guard changing gave me the opportunity to get closer to the sheds where I could see a hull was forming, the new ship mostly a monstrous empty ribcage supported by a wooden frame. Fitters and smiths were calling and laughing to each other and on the brew I heard them also call to Kheld to join them later for some jars. It was then I saw him, ascending the lip of the wooden frame. He dropped inside the ship’s hull.
The frame was easy to navigate after years climbing the kapoks. The newly cut lapstrakes were still fragrant with their oil. I lay on the edge of the hull where the gunwale would soon be. The guards were still in a group under the main gate. I took my blowpipe out and coated a dart in a paste of the Weeper and some red opia.
Kheld was inspecting the beams, groaning as he hobbled on the leg that was wounded at Tharos, the wound that took him out of the front line to a role with siege engines and fortifications in the Twenty. It was a sign of Kailen’s softening, for years previously he would have simply let the man go.
Kheld sat to light a lamp he had with him, a gloom now filling the corners and joins of the beams and stanchions.
Shadows waved about with the flame, but he was easy to target. I put the dart in his neck. His throat swelled to choke the cry and as he tried to stand the opia killed his balance.
I dropped down the boards to the keel in front of him. He tried to move from me, a coarse choke all he could manage for a shout. He held the lantern up to better see me. His other hand was without fingers.
“You can speak clearly enough if you don’t force it, Kheld.” I took some of the Weeper from its pouch and smeared it on his face.
“Kigan?” he gasped. “What is this? What are you doing?” His eyes searched my face, shocked to see me but unable to react.
“Let me help you sit down, we have a little time,” I said.
I took a moment to look at him. He was still partly a slender man, limbs of sticks that poked out from a large paunch. He was bald now too and the ocean winds he must have spent years sailing in had carved deep lines in his face. He was slick with sweat, the shock of these last few moments and the dart taking effect.
“Whether you live or die is up to you, Kheld. You must think back to when we were with the Twenty, when it ended and we picked up that final purse from Doran and Kailen. You were there on the night we all drank at Snakewood when I was sold into slavery so that Galathia and Petir could be robbed. Do you remember?”
He shivered, the only movements his body could make as the poison spread.
“Argir, yes, Argir, Kailen broke the Twenty there.”
“Snakewood, do you remember Snakewood?”
“That Post House? We stopped there yes, a proper shithole, filled with those howling slaves and miserable croppers.”
I tugged back my sleeve, the crescent a blotchy black where the ink had faded.
“Who did that, Kigan? Are you a slave?” Unless he could resist the Weeper, he knew very little of what happened to me that night.
“What happened to the boy and girl, Doran’s children? I had a purse, they were in my care.”
“Are you killing me, Kigan, blaming me? That was not me. Mirisham and Valdir said they were taking them south.” He sweated now, cold with fear. I despised him. I almost wished he had the courage to despise me. Harlain had died far better than this, despite my mistake.
“I was drugged and I was sold into slavery, Kheld. Like The Prince, like Harlain and Milu, you sit here pleading with me that you were innocent, yet yo
u were at the inn, you tell me that the children were to be taken south and you know nothing of what happened, nor did you, it seems, bother to question it. Why should you, when you despised me as much as any of them? But I’m going to be honest with you. I have no interest in you let alone in keeping you alive. I won’t play games with you or pretend to befriend you again. I don’t have the time or the patience.” The rage of the brew rose more slowly in me this time, filling my muscle, pounding in my head as my blood thickened. I was goading him to talk more of the night, to remember more. If he could not remember it, the Weeper could not reveal it.
“I… I recall Mirisham said something. You were going ahead, to prepare for their arrival. I didn’t see any of you leave.”
“That at least makes some sense. Where are the others, Kheld, all of them?”
He took a deep breath, attempting to fight the urge to tell me.
“Where’s the antidote, Kigan? A fatal dose with a quick counter for good behaviour was your usual procedure. Why shoot me with a dart? I have a son, a woman now.”
“The antidote? There is one of course, but it would be of no benefit to me to provide you with it. I will hear your secrets and I hope you have fewer regrets than Milu.”
I sat next to him, put my arm around him and brought his head close to mine, where I could whisper and hear what he could recall.
He knew where Ibsey was, a Post ‘vanner in Cassica now, though he’d run horses out of Alagar at some point. He remembered little of Snakewood, believed Kailen had gone with Moadd and Sho west of the Sar, as Harlain had said; remembered only that Mirisham, Valdir, Dithnir, Stixie and he were at Snakewood along with the children and I. Digs and Connas’q had gone back south, Bense he believed had gone back to Jua to stay, no doubt to indulge his addictions. I was sure I’d find him there, but Ibsey was next. I would be lying if I said killing him would be harder than killing the others–because he was my tutor–but he is the one man in the Twenty I had hoped would be dead before I got to him.
Chapter 13
Gant
It was as we were leaving Valdir’s village to head off to find Bense that he realised there was a way to get to Cusston quicker than we could have over land. Valdir returned from bidding farewell to his wife Alina, and he was puffing far more than I was from the climb to his house from the harbour, as injured as I was. He’d need to be back doing some forms and shifting some fat if he was going to live through this.
“Been thinking about what you said. If Bense were in Jua and you’re hot with the Reds, we could get us one of these boats for a sliver of one of those coins you got to put us in some small dock there, go past Issana than through it.”
We thought for a moment, then Shale nodded.
“Good idea, Valdir. Guessin’ we’d have to be rid o’ the horses.”
I was sorry again to be losing a good horse, Lagrad was famous for our horses in all the north, and I felt lost without one for all these years I been away, like all of my kin. Valdir was right though, we’d never get through Issana quick enough with the Post on us. It was certain they’d be looking for men of the colour and all their runners would get word back sharp to the Reeves.
“Alina’s cousin can keep them till we’re back,” said Valdir.
It was done. We took them down to the quay and the inn and left them but Valdir didn’t go in for Alina’s sake.
Valdir was having words with some of the captains what were putting out and for a few silver we found one what were going up the coast a bit but the crew were up for a longer stretch anyway, chance maybe for some peace from home for better pay.
The Lucky Margalese took off and we had a few weeks, winds allowing, to get us to Rillion’s Chase where we could put in with little shouting and fuss.
The sailors were curious about us, particularly what we had to do to Valdir, which was to get him on the plant again.
It wasn’t pretty. He’d forgotten how it took hold. After the first slug of the Honour he started shaking. Now was the risky part as his head struggled with the pain and the noisies, the killing lust and the changes in his blood what makes the veins pop and the muscle grow. He screamed for it to stop. Shale had to hold him, shouting him down from madness. The others were quiet and stood back a bit as he grew before them, his clothes not loose like ours for when we had to take the fight brew.
“How the fuck did we ever do this!” he yelled. “And how is it this fightbrew tastes, feels like the Honour? Kailen never told us the recipe.” He hissed as it burned through him.
“He told Shale.”
His legs were all spasmic, shivering as he flushed red, and the green on him from his old colour near lit up.
“He’s goin’, Gant, goin’ under I reckon,” said Shale. “Give him his sword, something to hit on.”
The captain was watching calmly. “Yus hittin’ nothin’ on this boat.”
“He can hit me,” said Shale. He took a mouthful of the Honour, took up his sword and give Valdir his own. He was in a frenzy and went for Shale like he was caught fucking Alina. The boys on the boat never saw two brewed-up mercs go at it and they crowded about the gunwale, as far as they could from the bit of open deck. I saw Shale’s reason. The brew puts you in a fury only working with it can conquer. It was easy to forget the speed and power comes with being on the brew. Even Valdir was moving about the deck like a bull mixed with the spring of a deer. Through it Shale got himself a good test, but was still barking orders at Valdir, much like Kailen did to us when we first took it and needed schooling on our form, being a father and torturer in one.
Then come the point Valdir found it funny, Shale’s movement so exquisitely avoiding the hammer blows and slashes that, without brew, he was hard to keep track of. We both knew Valdir would be all right and the crew give a cheer and shouted him on as he starts laughing and cussing Shale, the other side of the brew that give a calm now his body was up and all the pain was gone. An hour later and the bit of Honour he’d had started its claim. I asked the captain for a bucket, for it wasn’t certain that he wouldn’t shit himself as his guts started.
Shale and I kept eyes on him as he slept. His dreams were troubling, like they always were as the brew dribbled out of your head. The captain come over then.
“How long will we be out?” I asked.
“It’s goin’ to be a few weeks before yus hits Rillion’s Chase. We’ll get our fishin’ done on the way back.”
I thanked him and sat with Shale.
“Reckon Bense’ll still be there?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Hope so.”
“Hard to remember him. Same as all of them I guess,” I said.
“Bit too keen fer the rise was Bense. Worked an’ fought hard, funny an’ all, but the plant was in his bones an’ I reckon he’s a Drooper for sure now.”
“Yeh, seemed to have a sayin’ or joke for everythin’. Good man wi’ the wine flowin’.”
“Feels right to get him though,” said Shale. “We all got over the crossin’ together an’ if it’s Kigan doin’ the killin’, well, it ain’t right. He needs teachin’ an’ I’ll be glad to do it.”
By the time we put in, Valdir was in better shape on the rise, but was in a lot of pain after each session, his body slowly hardening and tightening itself up with the plant and the work of finding a balance and form with an arm gone from the elbow.
A few silver and fewer words to the quaymaster at Rillion’s Chase in the dark before dawn and we were off the boat and on our way without another pair of eyes on us. We headed into woodland past some farms and made a few leagues in the mists before the sun burned it off. Moving then at night we got another week inland without being seen.
Looking to keep our bilt for the troubles we might have getting out of Cusston, with or without Bense, we had to send Valdir in to a cluster of huts for the farmers of a nearby estate, to find some bisks, cheese and meat that would see us to the city. We put on him the makeup that would mute down his colour and he went in as a traveller,
looking in need of a rest and supplies. Unlucky for us there were a few ’vanners in for similar reasons and for all the care we took, the watch was out for anyone who passed through. Valdir picked up the supplies but a tail too. We got through that lord’s holding and out in the country again, only two days from Cusston.
Shale, always watertight, took some luta and got up in a tree on a hill we were making our way over and he soon picked out the tail; five men, one moving a league ahead of the others, belts on all but no packs or mules. This was likely an assault.
We trapped up about our day camp, which was set in a copse of trees, digging out a few ankle breakers and putting the titarum seeds into the dirt and dead leaves over them across the main approaches. I did the watch for I had to have my stomach strapped ready. A few hours after we made it look like we settled, the titarum seeds must have got trampled for I heard a cough escape one, then another went over as he caught his heel on one of the holes I dug. I quickly put feathers and some rubber we had in our packs on our fire and it shortly give off a heavy smoke. Shale and Valdir woke sharply with me moving about and we dropped some brew. It was silent out in the trees, but with the brew we soon enough picked up their song and Shale signed for Valdir to move with him around to the left of where they were coming in, against the wind, Shale guessing they’d look to move in that way for that reason. I stood to draw Juletta and put some arrowbags about to test what plant they got.
I was expecting Agents again, but they were regular Reds, so it would be over in no time for those poor lads. One of them started wheezing a bit and choking, closer than I was expecting. He moved back, knowing he was caught out, but his sound and smell were strong and I leaned out and took a shot that just caught his arm as he leaped between two trunks. He went down screaming as the poison worked in. Then there was a yelling as a couple of others went at it with Shale and Valdir. That was over quick and all. Shale give a whistle, a code for telling that the two Reds left were retreating. I moved from the camp to better listen for them away from the cracking of the fire and I soon picked them up. Shale was nudging them, of course, being the point of noise they would back from. He was moving in line with me but thirty or so yards off to my left. Valdir must’ve took off in a different direction, trying to get behind them. I caught sight then as they engaged with him up ahead, Valdir leaping in from their side. Shale dropped one with an arrow, a fine shot judging by how far off we were. The other’s on his knees then as Valdir worked his noisies and soon the lad was cut to pieces as he begged.