by Stephen Deas
Away from the crowds, the boy turned a corner. Instead of running, he hunched down into a corner among the shadows. When the rider barrelled round a moment later, the boy let him pass and then stood up behind him.
It was done in an instant. The man's steps faltered as he wondered which way to go. A blade, blackened so it wouldn't catch the sun, flicked out of the boy's sleeve and into the rider's side in one fluid stroke. The boy was already running again before the man even knew he'd been stabbed.
The rider launched himself after the boy again. He took a few steps. His hand went to his side, and then he stopped. He looked at his hand and at the blood streaming out of him. Inside he was suddenly burning. He couldn't speak. The pain grew and grew, filling him up from his core to the tips of his fingers and toes, and yet he couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't even scream. Mercifully, when the pain reached his head, everything went white and then dark.
The boy dropped the knife and kicked it aside. He zigged through the maze of wooden pens out of caution, but no cry went up behind him. He sprinted. He'd chosen the place to murder the knight quite carefully, but now time was against him. He ran to the edge of the pens, to where another rider, this one in full dragonscale, was waiting with two horses. When Rider Semian saw the boy, he nodded and climbed into his saddle.
'Is it done?'
The boy gave a curt nod and mounted the second horse.
'What about the other one?'
'I recognised him. He's another one of Jehal's.' The boy threw off his cloak. When he took off his hat, long dark hair streamed out. He wiped the dirt off his face and suddenly wasn't a boy any more, but Lady Nastria, Knight-Marshal to the Queen of the North. 'Go! We need to be quick.'
Nastria wheeled her horse and pushed along the muddy paths between the pens, retracing her steps. As they got close to the dead dragon-knight, a couple of old women got up and ran away. They hadn't had time to steal much more than the dead man's purse, and Nastria didn't begrudge them that. The two dismounted and tied the body across the back of Nastria's horse. Together, they galloped towards the Adamantine Palace and the City of Dragons. As they drew close, Nastria dismounted again, put her peasant cloak and hat back on and led both horses up to the palace gates.
'Rider Semian, pledged to Queen Shezira,' declared the knight. The gate guards looked him up and down, took a good look at the body on the other horse, then nodded and let him pass. Nastria carefully stared at her boots. The guards barely noticed she was there at all.
They made their way to the Tower of Dusk in the western wall of the palace. There were many towers scattered through the palace, and each one had been given over to a different dragon-king or dragon-queen while the next speaker was being chosen. Queen Zafir resided in the Tower of Air. King Valgar had been given the Tower of Dawn on the eastern wall. King Tyan had the smallest of them, the Humble Tower. Kings Narghon and Silvallan had the Tower of Water and the City Tower over in the northern section of the palace. The Tower of Dusk had been given over to Queen Shezira. Nastria led the horses right up to the tower doors. Rider Semian opened them and they went in, dragging the body of the dead knight with them.
Inside, several other of Queen Shezira's riders were waiting. As soon as the doors closed behind him, Nastria threw off her disguise again. She pointed at the body. 'Get that down to the cellars. Where's the queen?'
'The queen is with the speaker.'
The riders parted as Lady Nastria pushed between them. Two reluctantly picked up the body by its arms and legs. 'Your Ladyship, this man isn't dead.'
Lady Nastria paused and frowned. 'Just get him down there. Let Master Kithyr know that he's needed.'
The knights exchanged nervous glances. Nastria shooed them down the stairs. In the wine and food cellars they cleared a heavy wooden table and laid out the body. Nastria looked him over. They were right. The man wasn't quite dead after all.
She slapped his face. 'Can you hear me, traitor?'
The man didn't move, so Nastria moved around him and jabbed a finger into the wound in his side. This time he moaned and opened his eyes.
'Hurts, does it?' She pushed her finger further in. The man wailed and screwed up his face. 'Rider Tiachas. A few months ago, you flew your dragon out of Outwatch with your two other brothers in treachery to the edge of the Barnan Woods. You took them to meet some outlaws. They went to buy something. You took them to the edge of the woods and they never came back. Do you know what happened to them? They were killed. I paid a pair of sell-swords to do it. I often wondered what went through your mind when they didn't come back. Were you afraid? And then, slowly, as the weeks turned into months and no one came for you, there must have been hope. Pointless, useless hope, Tiachas, because there's always been someone watching you. Can you hear me?' She wiggled her finger and Tiachas squealed. 'All I want to know, Tiachas, is who poisoned your soul. I was there, just now, when you bought the poison from that Taiytakei clown. I saw you with Prince Jehal's man. Was it Jehal, then?' She forced open his eyes and held out the satchel. 'What is this, Tiachas? Some sort of poison? Did Jehal pay you to murder our queen?'
Tiachas rolled his head from side to side. His tongue lolled out of his mouth. Blood was pouring freely from the wound in his side again, pooling on the floor under the table. Noises bubbled in his throat, but if he was trying to speak, the sounds made no sense.
No? Are you trying to tell me that I'm wrong?' Nastria pulled a knife out of her belt and started to toy with it. 'I don't think I believe you, Tiachas, but I don't mind. You're trying to pretend you still have some courage and honour, and that's a good thing.
So I'll humour you. All I want to know is who, Tiachas. Who bought you?'
The head-shaking intensified.
'I will torture you, Tiachas, and you will tell me. And when you have, I will parade what's left of you in front of every court in the realms before I hang you. I will destroy your family, root and branch. They will lose everything, and they will hate you because you were the traitor who brought this down on them. Do you understand?'
Tiachas lunged at her, but he was feeble and slow, and Lady Nastria moved easily out of the way. The pair of riders caught him and held him down before he could roll off the table.
Nastria turned away. 'Let him go, and leave us. Please encourage Master Kithyr to hasten himself.'
The riders released Tiachas. They seemed uneasy and left slowly. Nastria watched them go.
'You know what disturbs them so, don't you? No, perhaps you don't. Master Kithyr is not a torturer but a blood-mage. So you will tell me what I want to know. And if you were hoping to die before I found out what I wanted, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed there too.'
Nastria walked slowly around the cellar. Everything here had been laid in by Speaker Hyram's stewards for Queen Shezira and her knights. Hyram must have done the same for all the dragon-kings and -queens. How easy it would it be to poison an entire clan.
She put that thought aside. No speaker in two hundred years had murdered a guesting king or queen, and she doubted Hyram was about to start. She selected a bottle of wine, opened it and poured some for herself. Eventually she heard Kithyr padding across the stones towards her, but she didn't look round.
'Tiachas is a tool,' she said softly. 'I want to know who the craftsman was.'
It took the sorcerer an hour. There weren't even any screams, but then that was always the way with Master Kithyr. Always quiet. Throughout it all Nastria didn't look round. She stood statue-still, sipping at her wine, and by the end the bottle was empty. She didn't feel even slightly drunk. Instead she felt cold. Blood-magic. Another necessary evil. Like sell-swords.
When the blood-mage was done, she heard him padding softly back towards her.
'Well? Am I right? Was it Jehal?'
'No,' whispered the sorcerer. 'The Taiytakei.'
She thought about that for a while. The mage didn't move.
'He met one of them, who gave him something,' said Lady Nastria after a
while. 'A flask. Filled with liquid silver. Like the last one. I still want to know what it is and what it's for.'
'Ask your alchemists. There are plenty of them. You know there's only one liquid that is of interest to me, and it is not silver in colour.' She could hear the sorcerer's disdain.
Nastria spat. 'Every time I do that I lose another alchemist. Huros, Bellepheros…' A second of silence passed between them.
'What should I do with the body?' asked the sorcerer. 'Shall I leave it here?'
'No, Master Kithyr. Make it go away. Where no one will ever find it.'
She sighed as the sorcerer went about his work. So much for parading her traitor in public. It simply wasn't the same when all you had was a collection of bits.
43
A Crack in the Stone
High above the city, perched on a tiny plateau of rock overlooking the top of the Diamond Cascade valley, Hyram and Queen Shezira stood side by side, watching the water rush by hundreds of yards beneath their feet.
'Queen Zafir. How is she?' Shezira stood inches from the edge. Hyram was even closer. The tips of his boots were actually sticking out into the void. One good push and both of them would be dead.
'Recovering well.'
'That's good to hear. So was she poisoned or wasn't she?'
'She's been a little unwell of late.'
Shezira cocked her head. 'A little? Hyram, when she collapsed everyone thought she was dead.'
'She choked. That's all.'
'Well then I'm sorry for you that she ruined what was left of your feast.'
Hyram laughed. 'We both know it was ruined already. When Queen Zafir collapsed, most of you couldn't get out of my hall fast enough. She was doing you all a favour. Giving you a polite excuse to leave.'
'Very kind of her, I'm sure.' Shezira swayed slightly as a gust of wind whistled along the valley. 'I would prefer to return to the pavilion now.'
Hyram didn't move. 'This always used to be one of my favourite places when I was younger. You can see right across the realms from up here.'
'I prefer to be on dragonback.'
'I know. But standing here is a reminder of how far the likes of you and I can fall. One missed step and we plunge to our dooms. It's been more than two years since I came here, you know. I couldn't stand like this when I was sick; I would have fallen.'
'Hyram, when we ride we wear harnesses to secure us to the backs of our dragons so we cannot fall, no matter what we do. That is what the dragons do for us. We can be as foolish as we like and our dragons will save us.'
'They didn't save Aliphera. Or Antros.'
'They won't save anyone who refuses to wear a harness.' Shezira turned away. 'If you stand there on the edge for long enough, Hyram, you will fall. Learn from your brother's mistake.'
Set back from the edge was the small pavilion built by Speaker Mehmit some two hundred years ago. The Purple Spur mountains were littered with little follies like this. Most had fallen into ruin, but this one had been popular with the speakers who'd followed him. From the bottom of the cliff it was invisible, and even from above it was almost impossible to spot unless you already knew it was there. It had become a little secret that the speakers had shared, passed down from one to the next. It was also an excellent place to spy on the Diamond Cascade, which had always been a popular place for dragon-lords and dragon-ladies who hungered to be away from the eyes of the palace court.
She went inside. There wasn't much to the pavilion, only a single airy room with open arches instead of windows. At the back were two wide alcoves, both generously piled with luxurious furs and soft cushions. It wasn't hard to guess what the speakers had used those for.
Has he brought Queen Zafir up here? Shezira pursed her lips. Of course he had.
She heard Hyram come in behind her and turned. 'It's good to see you in such good health, Hyram.'
'I can promise you, no one is more pleased than I am.'
'Are you going to marry her?'
That stopped him. For a moment Hyram froze. 'I think Queen Zafir stole the secret of the potions from the Viper to spite him. She knows how I feel about him.'
'Everyone knows how you feel about him.' Shezira cocked her head. 'But I'm not quite sure I understand it.'
'He's poisoning his own father.'
'Is he? Is he really?'
'I am certain of it.' Hyram's brow furrowed. 'Can't you feel it from him? The coldness? He's not human like the rest of it. He's vicious, callous, arrogant, self-obsessed-'
'You could be describing any of us.' She smiled slightly.
'You don't understand, do you?' Hyram shrugged. 'Ask Queen Zafir. She knows exactly what I mean. Maybe she'd be able to explain it better.'
Shezira's smile faded. 'Yes. So are you going to marry her?'
Hyram didn't smile. 'Yes, Shezira, I am.'
'And are you going to name her speaker, so you can carry on in the shadows behind her?'
This time he didn't say anything.
'Does she understand that she has to give up her throne, her crown? Does she have an heir ready to take on those burdens?'
That made him laugh. 'Do you?'
'We have a pact, Hyram. If you name Zafir instead of me, I will challenge her. And you will make a bitter enemy of me. Isn't Jehal enough?'
He looked at her. After a few seconds he turned away.
'I think I shall leave now.' Shezira strode past him back out into the open air. She signalled to the dragon-knights circling high overhead to take her back down to the palace. Almost at once a dragon tipped its wings and almost fell out of the air towards her, landing perfectly on the flat area of rock outside the pavilion. The rider threw down a rope ladder but didn't change position. Shezira frowned. Her riders knew better that that. Whoever it was should have moved aside so that she could take the reins.
When the queen didn't move, the rider lifted her helmet. 'Are you coming up or not, mother?'
Jaslyn. Shezira climbed up to sit behind her daughter.
'I would like to fly Silence back to the palace, please.'
Jaslyn looked at her as though she was mad and didn't move.
Shezira bit back her irritation and buckled herself into the second harness. Jaslyn clucked at Silence, who ambled towards the edge of the cliff and flopped lazily into the air, gliding down over the Diamond Cascade valley, out over the falls and into the immensity of space over the City of Dragons.
'You're upset, mother,' shouted Jaslyn.
Shezira kept her lips tightly pressed together. Upset? Upset?! I'm furious, you stupid girl. More than furious, and you would be too if you knew. If you had any ambition, you'd be seething! There wasn't any point in saying anything to Jaslyn, though. / suppose I should be grateful that she's noticed anything at all.
'Mother, you're making Silence anxious.'
For an instant everything went red. She twitched in the saddle, half of her set on lunging forward to wring Jaslyn's neck, the other half determined to stay in control. Underneath her she felt the dragon twitch too, and lurch suddenly forward.
'Mother!'
Shezira clenched her fists. Jaslyn could tell something was wrong because her dragon could tell something was wrong. That was much more like her daughter.
'Take me straight to the palace,' she snapped.
Jaslyn tipped Silence into a dive. The dragon tucked his wings into his body and simply fell, head first, tail stretched out behind him, towards the palace. They dropped like that, half a mile vertically through the air. The wind was immense. It was impossible to say anything; by the end, as the palace spread out before them, it was almost impossible even to feel anything except the rush of it, and the sharp terror, tightly held in check, that they were going too fast, that they couldn't possibly stop…
Silence spread out his wings. Shezira pitched forward, helpless as the dragon slowed. She couldn't breathe. She must have blacked out, because one moment there was a crushing weight on her back and everything was grey, and the next the weight was
gone, and they were floating down in looping circles, already below the tops of the palace towers. When they landed, Jaslyn threw down the ladder. Shezira climbed down very slowly and carefully. She was shaking. When she got to the bottom, Jaslyn was looking down at her with a big grin on her face.
Shezira didn't smile. 'Hyram is going to name Queen Zafir the next speaker,' she said. 'Why don't you take her for a ride and see if you can crush her to death.'
She turned away and strode towards the Tower of Dusk.
44
Semian
Rider Semian's leg still hurt. On the outside the wound had scarred over and healed weeks ago. Inside, though, it ached. If he tried to run, the ache got worse. Climbing the stairs of the Tower of Dusk left him sweating at the pain. Even if he simply stood still, it slowly grew worse until he had to sit down. The sell-sword's arrow had hit the bone in his thigh. He must have chipped or fractured it, and it was never going to be quite right ever again. He tried not to let it show, but the other dragon-knights were slowly realising that he was a cripple.
He stood stiffly straight as Lady Nastria climbed wearily up from the cellars. She looked very tired, more drained that Semian had ever seen her. A strange smell wafted up from behind her. Something bitter and acrid. Then the sounds started. Soft tearing sounds at first, then bones cracking. He shuddered and tried not to think about it.
At the very moment that Lady Nastria emerged from the cellars, a dragon landed in the yard outside. Semian recognised it at once. Silence. Others opened the door as the queen strode in. She looked angry and shaken.
'Your Holiness.' Lady Nastria stepped out in front of her. 'I have found-'
Queen Shezira waved her away. 'Hyram is going to name Queen Zafir the next speaker.'