by Stephen Hunt
‘You come to see me off?’ asked Carter. ‘Or are you kindly offering to take my place?’
‘Oh, this one’s all yours, Brother,’ said Tom. ‘I was waiting at the airfield for you, but you’re late, so I rode back to make sure you hadn’t forgotten the prince’s orders.’
‘I’ve got Anna to march me to my duty.’
Tom moved his horse in from the cobbled road to make way for the caravan. Merchants in green Gidorian cloaks rode the carts, the wagon’s flatbeds covered by bundles of spindly single-shot rifles tied together like fire-wood … and almost as useful as a stout branch in beating back the southern armies. Traders hunched over the riding step, flicking their reins, burly men and what might be a woman seated next to them, her face enveloped by an emerald hood. The Gidorians would find a market for their wares readily enough with the thousands of fresh green recruits being drilled outside the city, Carter didn’t doubt. Cheap rifles for cheap lives, and how many will be spent in the next few weeks?
‘Lend me your horse, Mister Purdell, I’ll get there faster.’
The guild courier seemed distracted, staring at the caravan going past.
‘Tom?’
The guild courier turned his attention back to them. ‘I’m in the wrong trade. I should be selling cheap arms to the prince for inflated prices, rather than running coded messages between the guilds. I thought you were a cavalry man now, Carter, you must have a stable full of horses.’
‘They’re all needed for the north’s real business. My company leaves in a few days,’ said Carter, sadly. And damn me for a coward for not leaving with them. ‘They’re under orders to slow down the Army of the Boles and buy me extra time to return with the hostage.’
‘You’ll be back in time for the fun here,’ said Tom. ‘Count on it. I’ll make sure your kite’s running and ready.’ He kicked his horse into action and went galloping through the gate and down the road. A gap had opened in the crowd flowing into Midsburg. Carter and Anna took the chance to slip through the gate.
‘Does Prince Owen still believe the north can win?’
Anna shrugged. ‘Owen’s busy believing for the rest of us, just as he did in the mines.’
‘My father said he’s a better man than the times we find ourselves in.’
‘I hope he’s wrong,’ said Anna, ‘as much as I hope he’s right.’
‘It must rankle,’ said Carter, ‘being blamed for the crimes his uncle committed.’
‘You have no idea,’ said Anna.
‘You should tell Owen how you feel about him,’ said Carter.
‘And how would that go?’ she said, a measure of hostility creeping into her voice.
‘The obvious was sitting under my nose for a long time, too,’ said Carter. ‘It took Willow tweaking me by the nose to waken me to it.’
‘Owen was born a prince,’ said Anna. ‘His family’s murder brought him Weyland’s lawful crown. And me? I’m just a Lakes girl from Heshwick, the daughter of a clockmaker.’
‘Then give him something to live for, beyond hard duty and a harder war.’
‘I’ll keep Owen alive no matter what. Just as I did in the sky mines.’
‘How many thousands of soldiers do we have fighting for the north?’ said Carter. ‘All looking to do the same thing for the assembly and our lawful king. And with all those troops to choose from, Owen still keeps you by his side. You should ask yourself why.’
‘I’m like a trusty dagger,’ said Anna. She tapped the pair of knives hanging from Carter’s belt next to his twinned pistol holster. ‘One you keep around even when you’ve found something more accurate to shoot with.’
‘You’re more than a habit,’ said Carter.
‘Kind of you to say so, Northhaven. But I don’t think so. The only good thing I can say about the sky mines, you got to know the people you survived alongside. That hell surely revealed the character of everyone taken as a slave.’
Carter thought of Willow and Duncan and Kerge and all those who had met their end in the mines, bravely or cowardly, sadly or resigned. So many perished he could barely recall their faces. ‘I’m never returning to Vandia.’
‘I don’t think there’s a single one of us who survived who hasn’t put one last bullet aside, just in case the worst comes to pass,’ said Anna. She glanced sadly back at the city walls. ‘I know who you are, Carter Carnehan. You and your father, both. I don’t need show trials or loyalist propaganda to tell me what kind of people I’m keeping company with. We kept each other alive in Vandia, and we’ll do the same here, whatever direction the winds of war blow.’
Carter nodded. There were bonds far deeper than soldiering.
They came across a wagon travelling from the town’s garrison to the airfield, a sentry relief party in the back, and hitched a lift with them. There weren’t many aircraft on the field as they arrived, and those that were were barely air-worthy. The few kites the rebels had flying for them were desperately engaged in the fighting along the Spotswood, acting as scouts and trying to avoid the superior numbers of the loyalist squadrons. Anna led Carter towards a Culph and Falcke Berrypecker, the very large transport aircraft denied to their party when he’d tried to follow Willow to Arcadia. Standing in front of the heavy aircraft was Beula Fetterman, the rebel skyguard pilot who had escaped with Tom and flown the prisoners out of the south. Tom was there too, his horse tied up, waiting for them to catch up with him. As good as the guild courier’s word, the kite was ready to take off.
Carter eyed the aircraft. It’s too big for the task. ‘Isn’t there anything smaller and faster?’
‘Corn fuel we’ve got to waste a-plenty,’ said the female skyguard in frustration. ‘Pilots and planes are rare. Me and Raven here are what’s going spare so count yourself lucky.’
Raven? Fat Old Goose would be a better name for this crate.
‘You’ll be in good hands with Miss Fetterman here,’ said Tom. ‘She flew our escape party clear of the south’s hospitality quickly enough.’
‘I requested combat duty,’ said Beula, ‘but they’ve stuck me with transport flights.’
‘This is a vitally important mission,’ said Anna, her ebony cheeks flushing with irritation. ‘You wouldn’t even be on this run if Mister Purdell here hadn’t vouched for your skills.’
‘I’ve just been saying the very same thing,’ said Tom.
Beula raised her hands in surrender. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll fly you safe to Rodal and back again. The sodbuster and this secret passenger both.’
‘Make sure you do,’ said Tom, sounding uncharacteristically intimidating.
Sodbuster. That’s all that the people of Havenharl were to the rest of Weyland, simple hick farmers. Who would have thought the day would come when I wished that’s all we were. Not soldiers. Not rebels. Just farmers. Carter slapped Tom’s arm. ‘Enjoy the celebrations tonight. Between you and Assemblyman Gimlette, you’ve stoked the assembly into a fighting frenzy.’
‘It won’t be the politicians doing the dying when the southern armies come at us to rip apart that declaration of treason against the king,’ said Tom.
‘Sadly, that’s true enough,’ said Anna. ‘God speed, Northhaven. Prince Owen is counting on you.’
‘He’s counting on both of us,’ said Carter. ‘You remember what I told you, Anna.’
‘Still trying to look out for me?’
Carter shook his head and climbed up the steps into the plane. ‘I gave up trying to do that back in Vandia.’
‘I’m not going to be around to pull you out of your hare-brained scrapes in Rodal,’ said Anna. ‘Nor is Owen for that matter.’
‘I’m a different man, now, haven’t you heard?’
‘It’s the pirate blood I’m worried about.’
Thomas watched Carter Carnehan say farewell to the prince’s bodyguard and climb on board the aircraft. How much of a problem will the bodyguard prove, I wonder? Anna Kurtain was a large woman, strong and quick and lithe. But an unexpected thrust of a blade
into her lungs would leave her choking on her own blood easily enough. Thomas planned to make it look like the prince had argued with the woman and slain her in an argument, angry lovers squabbling over an uncertain future. That would add an extra frisson of scandal for the news sheets to pick apart when they proclaimed how the cowardly pretender had hung himself upon hearing how close the king’s forces were to poor outnumbered Midsburg. King Marcus was a clever dog. It wouldn’t be seemly for Marcus to execute his own nephew, making the boy a martyr for the rebellious north to use to question Marcus’s claim to the throne. Nobody liked a kin slayer. So hard to kill a dead man, unless you murdered his reputation first. Thomas had already arranged for two of his agents in the town’s garrison to be on sentry duty tonight. Both sides had people hidden in the other side’s camp. That was the problem with a civil war; everyone looked the same and you could never tell what was in a person’s heart unless you cut it out slowly. I’m proof of that.
Kurtain waved at him and he waved happily back. I’m planning your death, you stupid bitch. Yes, a tincture of poison for the prince and his woman first, to paralyse them. Thomas always worked best when he had a silent audience to appreciate his skill. This is the work I was born for.
Beula Fetterman checked the wooden fuel barrels as she knelt beside him, speaking low. ‘Where should I land when I have the emperor’s granddaughter on board?’
‘Not this side of the Sharps Mountains,’ whispered Thomas. ‘Midsburg will be a charnel house by the time you return. There’ll be so much blood running here, the wheels of your undercarriage will spin and you’ll crash a second kite. Land west of the Perryfax River by the coast and find a radiomen’s hold to signal the capital with your location. We’ll send a ship up the coast for you. The Vandians need to believe the girl’s a hostage in Midsburg until they’ve done our killing for us. After the imperium’s crushed the rebels, the king will make a great show of handing her over safe to her family.’
‘And how grateful will they be?’
‘Don’t worry, Fetterman, you’ll receive your reward,’ said Thomas. And so will I. ‘The Vandians are keen enough. I just saw one of Princess Helrena’s killers slip into the city dressed as a Gidorian merchant. And he’s got Lady Wallingbeck on the step beside him as a guide. I’m willing to bet the whole caravan is actually a Vandian raiding party.’
‘They’re here hunting for Lady Cassandra?’
‘I doubt they’re here to celebrate the traitorous assembly’s vote against King Marcus.’ This could be a problem. It wouldn’t do for the Vandians to discover that the girl being held in the city was an impostor. The imperium might divert to Rodal instead and deprive Marcus of his allies just when he was counting on them to win the war for him. I suppose I’ll have to kill them too, now. It would mean diverting all the southern spies and saboteurs inside the city, but their loss to the loyalist cause would be worth it. He imagined Willow’s pretty eyes bulging as he slipped a cord around her neck and strangled her. A pity Carter Carnehan wouldn’t be around to hear the news of her death. That would be a fine parting gift.
‘What about the Carnehan boy? Should he have a reunion with his true love?’
‘Keep Carter Carnehan alive long enough to find Lady Cassandra. But don’t bother bringing him back,’ hissed Thomas. ‘The imperium will be given all the rebel armies’ survivors as slaves. They won’t need a wild fool who’s already escaped the empire’s shackles.’
‘It’s always risky flying with Rodal’s storms gusting against your tail,’ said Fetterman. ‘Easy enough to tumble out of a kite when you’re not a trained skyguard.’
Thomas imagined the shocked look on Carter’s face as she asked him to check the plane’s fin rudder, before resting a hand on his spine and shoving him through the open hatch. Precious. A pity Thomas would not be there to claim that memory as one of his trophies. Still, there’ll be more than enough sport for me in the next few weeks. The end of the rebellion would sate even his refined tastes.
Cassandra swayed on her horse, miserable to her core. Bad enough that whatever her tenuous status with the nomads, she was also a prisoner inside her own body; but she now had to share that misery with Sheplar and Kerge as prisoners of the Nijumeti. Lady Cassandra should have been saddle-sore after weeks riding north towards the heartland of the clansmen, but if there was one silver lining to having both legs paralysed, it was that the cramps and aches of life on horseback had even less effect on her now than the people of the plains who were born to it.
Sheplar and Kerge shared a single horse, one of the nags they had ridden out of Rodal, all the better to slow them down if they attempted to bolt for freedom. Not that they would, with their hands securely tied behind their backs and their horse flanked by nomad guards. A couple of days before, the small band of raiders had linked up with a bigger band from their clan, and now the combined force were riding towards whatever passed for the main encampment of Alexamir’s people. Cassandra’s ruminating was interrupted as the witch rider drew level with her and the two prisoners. Nurai seemed well-satisfied with Cassandra’s broken body. She obviously thinks that Alexamir will abandon me soon enough. No threat to her, now. No threat to anybody. Not that Cassandra’s feebleness was enough to stop the female nomad from flinging barbed comments at her.
‘I heard a thump in the night,’ said Nurai, gazing coldly at Cassandra. ‘I thought perhaps you had slipped your belt and slid off into the grass. But I see your saddle is still occupied.’
Cassandra didn’t bother to dignify that with a response.
‘Why have you kept us alive?’ demanded Sheplar. ‘It’s your tradition to mutilate Rodalians and leave our bones where we fall.’
‘That is not tradition, rice eater, that is practicality. The gods demand your sacrifice or your servitude.’
‘Your tribal group is no longer so … practical, womanling?’ asked Kerge.
She ignored the gask.
‘I will make a poor slave,’ said Sheplar.
‘Of that I have no doubt. Three broken foreigners,’ laughed Nurai. ‘A skyguard without his wooden pigeon, a forest man who cannot dream-walk, and a pampered chieftain’s daughter who cannot walk at all. The girl is only alive because of Alexamir’s foolish oath. As for you two, there are many reasons to keep breath in your lungs. You shall see how my people have changed soon enough.’ She laughed wickedly, and Cassandra had a sinking feeling that the two prisoners would not thank the witch rider for their survival when they reached their destination.
Kerge eyed the witch rider warily. ‘You caught us through the gift of future sight. Do you scry the branches of the great fractal tree and study its periodic boundary conditions?’
‘So, it is true then?’ said Nurai. ‘The forest people on the other side of the mountains can dream-walk without dreams, during the day?’
‘Through meditation and prayer in the direction of the universe,’ said Kerge, ‘usually. If you removed the bonds from my wrists and returned to me my calculator, I could show you our practice.’
‘We do not need your strange abacus machines or any knotty contortions of the mind to gaze into the future. It is a gift to the chosen from Kalu the Apportioner.’
‘If it is a gift from your deity, then the boon has been withdrawn from me,’ said Kerge. ‘My luck is depleted. I have been cast off the great tree and banished from the forests.’
‘I do not need to hear your tale to see your pitiable turn of fate,’ sneered Nurai. ‘Poor unlucky gask. Fate wishes you here, it seems. A nest full of cheeping, defective chicks that cannot take to the sky. But for what purpose? That we shall see.’
Nothing good for us. Cassandra watched Nurai spur the horse forward to reach the head of the nomads’ column. ‘You should never have come back for me.’
‘That Nijumet rogue didn’t carry you off, did he?’ said Sheplar, accusingly. ‘You left Talatala with him willingly.’
‘Alexamir gave his word that he would free me when I asked; that he would see me ret
urned to the imperium.’
‘A nomad’s words are but hot breath against a cold wind,’ said Sheplar. ‘And carry as much weight. How could you believe that blue-skinned dog?’
‘Well, I have been punished by the ancestors for my foolishness,’ said Cassandra, slapping the unfeeling calf of her leg. ‘I will never escape from you or anyone else again.’
‘I was taught the art of the flying wing by a master of the skyguard, Konadun, who earned such an injury,’ said Sheplar. ‘On the ground he was pushed in a wheeled chair by one of his pupils who fought for the honour, but in the air, our venerated flight master was a hawk, the equal of any of us. Konadun taught himself to fly again after his injury, using a flying wing with rudder pedals modified to hand controls.’
‘No one will fight for the honour of shoving me around,’ said Cassandra. She remembered what was expected of the celestial caste crippled duelling in the arena. A short-sword slid into the gut by the injured noble’s own hand, the stoicism of their end broadcast across the kino-screens for the education of the teeming populace. Maybe Nurai will slip me my dagger back if I beg her. Or maybe she will just mock me and leave me like this. She’ll enjoy watching Alexamir abandon me.
‘Konadun used to say that if the spirits had wished to stop him; they would have broken his neck, not his legs. ‘And that his will was still his to command, not fate’s to snap.’
‘I can’t even ride a horse properly,’ said Cassandra, dangling her reins in frustration. ‘Even kicking it to a canter or squeezing it to a halt is beyond me. Every day I must sit lashed up here like a sack of barley.’
‘Yet there you sit.’
‘Be quiet, mountain man,’ said Cassandra. ‘You have failed in your mission to recapture me as surely as I have failed in my duty to return to Vandia a free woman. My mother will never ransom my return now, nor my grandfather, nor anyone in the empire. They would only ask why I have not ended my life. My use to you and your savage friends as a hostage is at an end. If you see a chance to flee, take it. If you attempt to carry me with you, I will howl so loudly you shall think your ancestor’s spirits have breached the earth. I have no place in the world, now. I might as well be here as anywhere else.’