Scarred Man

by Bevan McGuiness

  Iskopra continued laughing. ‘You may have heard of him, but I have seen him fight. He is no fraud, believe me. Now, go and get this nameless witch; I am curious.’ As Huitzilin turned to leave, Iskopra spoke again. ‘And you may as well feed the Lady Onaven at some stage. Can’t have her starving, now, can we?’

  Iskopra made his way back to the wheel to check their heading. The night was fair and the wind was clean. They were making good time and should reach the mouth of the Great River of Kings soon enough. He breathed in the sea air deeply. The mighty Silvered Sea was nice enough, but the Umut was his home, and he hankered to return. He felt safe here on the water, far from the chaos the war to the west was bringing. Having seen the insane mob that was bringing destruction, he knew they lacked the discipline to master the waters. No, he reasoned, they would stay land bound. No force like that could possibly mount a navy. But they have to be stopped; we cannot yield the land to them. While I would be happy enough to live out my life under sail, not many others share my feelings.

  ‘Iskopra.’ Huitzilin interrupted his musings.

  Iskopra turned and stared at the beautiful red-haired woman standing in front of him in chains.

  ‘Maida?’ he gasped. ‘Is it really you?’

  Maida returned the stare. ‘You! I knew you were more than just a rootless Seagull.’

  ‘And I was equally sure you were more than you appeared.’ He gave Huitzilin a hard stare. ‘Unchain her immediately, get her cleaned up, see to those wounds on her wrists, and find her a cabin.’

  ‘There aren’t any spare, Iskopra.’

  ‘Then give her yours, you idiot!’

  Huitzilin allowed the shock to show on his face, as did Maida. When he did not move to obey, Iskopra strode forward and grabbed the front of his tunic.

  ‘Do it now, or I will have you thrown overboard!’

  The two men stood eye to eye, motionless for a moment, until Huitzilin broke eye contact by looking down.

  ‘As you wish, Guide,’ he muttered.

  ‘As I wish, indeed, Achulti. This is my ship and on it, my word is law. I don’t care what authority you own on land, on the Queen’s Quest, it is always as I wish.’

  Achulti Huitzilin stepped back and hurried away to do as he was bid. Iskopra turned to face Maida.

  ‘How did this happen?’ he asked, indicating her manacles and dishevelled appearance. ‘When I left you, you were heading for Leserlang.’

  ‘And when you left us, you went straight to these —’ she waved her chained hands so as to encompass the ship and all aboard her, ‘to betray us.’

  Iskopra shrugged, but without apology. ‘What can I say? I work for the Blindfolded Queen. I was sent out with a mission — you. I found you, and did my job. And,’ he added, ‘I did get you out of Vogel.’ He turned and roared, ‘Where are the keys to these chains?’

  Another Agent hurried forward and handed Iskopra a large key.

  ‘Thank you, Itxtli,’ he said. ‘I don’t imagine you would ever chain such beauty.’

  ‘If she tore one of my men apart like she did Patecoatl, I probably would.’

  ‘She is no Midacean witch, I can assure you of that,’ Iskopra said, staring into Maida’s green eyes. ‘For one thing, her colouring is all wrong.’ He gestured at her hair and skin. ‘If anything, she’s Tusemon. Aren’t you?’

  Maida didn’t answer, simply holding her wrists up for Iskopra to unlock the manacles. When he did so, she allowed them to fall heavily to the deck, before pointing down at her ankles. Iskopra tossed the key to her. She caught it and crouched to unlock her ankles. When she was done, she grabbed both sets of chains and, before either man could react, she hurled them over the railings to splash into the sea.

  ‘Now we can talk,’ she said.

  ‘Are you a witch?’ Itxtli asked.

  ‘Do you want to risk finding out?’ she retorted.

  ‘Not really.’

  Maida raised her eyebrows mischievously. ‘That answers that question, then. Anything else?’

  Iskopra laughed again. ‘Come on, Maida, let’s find you that cabin and see if we can get you fixed up a little.’

  He held her elbow lightly and guided her down below deck. Huitzilin was just coming out of a door as they approached. He glared at Maida and gestured back into the cabin.

  ‘This one,’ he said.

  Iskopra gave a curt nod of acknowledgement before ushering Maida inside. She brushed past the Guide and went in.

  ‘It will do, for now,’ she announced.

  ‘Until when? Until you escape? Look out that porthole, Maida. That is the Silvered Sea, the greatest expanse of water in the world. You have nowhere to go, and no way of getting there anyway. Why not just relax and enjoy the ride?’

  Maida glared at him. ‘Do you know what happened to Keshik when these Agents enslaved me?’

  Iskopra shook his head.

  ‘Nor do I!’

  ‘Ah. I think I understand.’

  ‘You have no idea. How dare you presume to know!’

  ‘Maida, I am truly sorry for what might have happened to Keshik, but please understand that I am constrained by my loyalty to the Blindfolded Queen. I must follow her orders and take you back to her. Keshik is incidental to my task.’

  ‘Then you are doubly the fool. There was something we never told you: we had a Seeing from a Mertian oracle.’

  ‘You met the Eye?’

  ‘Not her, no. We met another who was being held prisoner by a merchant in the north. She had a Seeing. You were sent to find the companion of the Scarred Man, but the Scarred Man himself is important. She said: The unseeing ruler will ask but the Scarred Man will answer.’

  ‘The “unseeing ruler”?’

  ‘Sounds like a Blindfolded Queen to me.’

  Iskopra scratched his stubbled chin. ‘That is interesting,’ he said. ‘I told Huitzilin you were the one we were looking for.’

  ‘She also mentioned the light at the end of the world.’

  ‘Did she now?’

  ‘You need to get Keshik, and bring him, too.’

  Iskopra shook his head. ‘No, just you. My queen wants you and I will take you there. The Scarred Man will have to answer for himself.’

  Maida launched herself at him, hands hooked into claws to rake at his face, but he was quick and strong. He caught her wrists and pushed her hands back.

  ‘Don’t make me have you chained again.’ All traces of the jocular sailor were gone as Iskopra stared at her. ‘I owe my allegiance to her, not you.’ He released her wrists and looked at the blood on his hands. ‘I will send someone to look at those wounds.’

  Maida spat at him. ‘Send him armed if you want him to survive.’

  ‘I will.’

  He left, closing the door behind him. Maida slumped to her knees, cradling her injured wrists. The pain she’d felt when he grabbed them was unlike anything she had known. The wounds had already gone septic and needed attention. Anything would be welcome at this stage.

  A scrabbling sound at the door alerted Maida to Tatya’s arrival. She rose and opened her door. The big brown rodent scurried in and rubbed against her legs. Maida stooped and picked her up.

  ‘Hello, Tatya. You found me again.’

  The rodent nibbled her fingers affectionately. Maida stroked her fur and held her close.

  ‘At least you are my friend.’

  The rodent struggled and Maida put her down to allow her to shift form. Tatya blurred and shifted into the beautiful woman with the yellow hair.

  ‘More than a simple friend, Maida. Would you like me to tear that man who just left? He hurt you.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Tatya shivered.

  ‘You should shift. It is still too cold for you here.’

  ‘Soon we will be far enough south and I will not need clothes in this form.’ She blurred into the huge black cat. Maida rubbed her head, eliciting a deep, rumbling purr, while wondering what had happened. She remembered Tatya, but why she should be
here, so long after being released from captivity, was a mystery. A mystery she was happy to leave unanswered for now. Tatya was company and protection, and, when she needed it, her escape weapon. Nothing would stand in her way when she and Tatya decided to leave. There was a knock at her door. Tatya’s form shimmered and she shifted into the rodent as Maida rose to respond. The door swung open before she reached it.

  An Agent stood in the doorway holding a bundle of clothes with a tray balanced on top. He grunted as he gestured with the pile.

  ‘From the Guide,’ he said.

  Maida held out her arms and the Agent transferred his burden to her.

  ‘When you are done, the Ce Atli will see you in his cabin.’

  ‘Ce Atli?’

  ‘Healer.’ The Agent stepped back and closed the door again.

  Dressed, having tossed her ragged clothes out into the sea, fed and feeling better, Maida ventured back out of her cabin in search of the Ce Atli. She padded barefoot along the narrow corridor, swaying unsteadily with the motion of the ship. Fortunately, she was able to reach either wall easily to keep her balance. Beneath her bare feet, the wooden planks were worn smooth by constant use, but unexpectedly coarse grained. It was almost as if all the care in construction was spent on the hull and upper deck. This struck Maida as meaningful, but she could not work out what it meant. She snorted.

  I’ve been spending too much time alone. I am starting to think too much.

  There was a door with a honus leaf carved in it: the universal sign of a healer. Maida pushed it open and stepped in.

  The Ce Atli was a tall, angular man with wide, intense eyes and long, well-tended, fair hair. He was clearly in discomfort as he stood with his back to the wall, wearing the normal red smock of healers over what looked like the blue uniform of the Agents.

  His face was alive with intelligence but his complexion was unusually pallid for a man who spent his time aboard ship. At her intrusion, he looked up from the book he was reading and lowered his sparse eyebrows in a scowl. His eyes flicked up and down, as if giving her a quick examination.

  ‘Maida?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. The Guide said you were going to look at these.’ She held out her wrists.

  ‘Sssa, chains. Hateful things, chains.’ He pushed himself away from the wall and reached out for her. Maida stepped towards him and held her wrists out for him to examine. He took her hands in his own — pale and long-fingered — and leant over her wrists, turning them over as he looked. ‘You are lucky. Another couple of days and this would be nasty. As it is, I can help.’

  He pulled her slightly, moving her towards a chair. When she sat down, he released her hands and almost immediately staggered as the ship rolled. His long arms flailed briefly as he sought something to steady himself. After gripping a beam in the ceiling, he held it tight while he took unsteady steps towards a cabinet. Maida watched him carefully release one hand from the ceiling and quickly shift it to the cabinet before letting go with the other one. Only once both hands were securely gripping the cabinet and he was leaning against it, did he allow himself to open the door.

  Inside Maida could see rows of boxes, bottles and pouches containing all the powders and other various things that a healer might need, in addition to the more wicked-looking implements used for repairing a body when subjected to the kinds of mistreatment that ship-board labour might bring. The Ce Atli made a humming sound as he regarded his stores. Finally, he stopped and selected a small bottle containing a thick-looking yellow fluid.

  ‘This is the one,’ he said. He turned and held it out to Maida. She rose and took it from his hand. ‘Rub this onto the raw skin whenever you remember to. It is very strong and might sting a bit, but it will clear up the infection and stop it getting worse. Who knows? You might even keep both of your hands.’

  When Maida’s eyes widened in concern, he gave a forced smile. ‘Don’t worry. You will be fine, the chains were cleaner than most; you won’t suffer any lasting problems. That —’ he pointed at the small bottle, ‘works every time.’ He leant back against the wall — the hull, Maida corrected herself — and closed his eyes as the ship rolled a little.

  ‘You not a sailor?’ she asked.

  ‘Ten Crossings in the service of the Blindfolded Queen,’ he said unsteadily as the ship rolled again, causing him to grab at the ceiling to steady himself.

  ‘I’ve been on this ship for less than ten days and I am more steady on my feet than you.’

  ‘Being afloat for a long time does not take away the fear.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Too much imagination,’ the Ce Atli explained. ‘I was sunk once, by Seagulls out of Rilamo, and I have never forgotten what that was like, nor the things that rose up from the depths to eat my fellow Agents.’

  Maida nodded. ‘I imagine that would make being aboard a ship uncomfortable.’

  The Ce Atli barked a short, sardonic laugh. ‘Uncomfortable? Yes, a little. Now, if you will excuse me …’ He removed one hand from the beam above his head and gestured towards the door.

  Maida raised the small bottle in thanks and left. As she closed the door behind her, she heard the unmistakeable sounds of someone being violently, uncontrollably sick.

  ‘I don’t envy you,’ she muttered.

  29

  Slave held his Claw in front of his face as he stared at the guards. One of them raised his sword in a similar gesture. There were three and they were nervous. From the bodies at their feet and their own wounds, they had reason to be.

  ‘I have no fight with you,’ Slave said.

  ‘If you want to come through here, you do.’

  Slave lowered his Claw and shrugged. ‘Fine. I will go the other way.’

  One of the other guards barked a harsh laugh. ‘There is no other way.’

  ‘Yes, there is.’

  ‘And who are you, the Desescuro?’

  ‘I don’t know what that means,’ Slave admitted.

  ‘And nothing proves better that you shouldn’t be here than that.’ The guard lowered his sword from the salute and advanced on Slave.

  ‘Don’t,’ Slave said. ‘I don’t need to kill you.’

  ‘But we need to kill you, outdweller.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Supervisor’s orders. Any outdweller in these levels is to die.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since the Rogue Troop started the revolt.’

  Slave sighed. He had known exploring as he went was a mistake, but the troop was moving so slowly and noisily, they were easy to track. It meant he fell behind, giving the authorities time to replace guards and send out new orders. It also meant that these three men might have to die.

  ‘What’s the revolt about?’ Slave asked conversationally as he slowly started edging away, back towards the darkness beyond the range of the torches.

  ‘The Rogue wants his turn at being Supervisor.’

  ‘Why?’ Two more steps. Just keep him talking.

  ‘He’s from the upper-middle level and there hasn’t been a Supervisor from that level in six generations.’

  ‘Where have they come from?’

  ‘Don’t you know anything? They always come from the Peak, right up there where the air’s so thin their brains get addled.’

  ‘And them in the Peak don’t know what it’s like being down here in the lower levels?’ Slave suggested. He was already half in shadow. Another step and he would become a phantom to vanish before their eyes. If he could get them to say another sentence, he could save their lives.

  ‘Yar, that’s right,’ the guard drawled.

  The shadow closed over Slave and he threw himself backwards into a reverse roll, springing up onto his feet and silently sprinting away into the dark, along the passage. Behind him, their startled cries were enough to reassure him that they had seen him all but vanish before their eyes. They would be slow to follow, and if they did, they would bring their torches with them. He was safe now, as they were safe from him.

 
The alternate path that would take him past the guarded door into the next level up was three doors farther on his left. He had sensed it earlier by the smell of the air and had explored it as far as the stairway. Beneath his feet, the ground held the story of its long abandonment and probable slip from the memories of those who no longer lived here. The signs of habitation were everywhere, but the population had slowly declined, shrinking away from these lower levels to move higher up the Wall. From what he had read of the great City of the Wall, if it were to ever fall into disuse — and the mighty magics that kept the dam operating cease — the whole eastern edge of the Silvered Sea would change irrevocably. Such chaos would suit the Revenant’s purpose. That alone made the time spent in this welcoming darkness worth the delay. He knew where Maida and Myrrhini were going and would catch them up eventually. As he would easily catch Keshik and the noisy people with him. They made so much noise as they clattered along, it was no wonder they hadn’t heard him padding behind them. He smiled at their blundering, before he started to run up the stairs.

  … if it wants her dead, we should keep her alive …

  It had become almost like his own dofain, like the one Keshik kept muttering to himself and thought Slave could not hear.

  Why am I following Keshik?

  I know where I am going, I watched him navigate by the stars. I can do that. The Blindfolded Queen cannot hide, I will find her. I will find Myrrhini and keep her alive.

  So why am I following Keshik?

  Memories of panic, near-panic and whole periods of time when he was almost incapable of doing anything beyond putting one foot before the other came back to him. The vast open space of the plains to the north, the terror of the storms, the overwhelming sense of blindness, of naked vulnerability in the open were his constant companions outside. While he could function now, he still struggled with other people. Their ridiculous customs, their mating rituals, the need to hide behind idle chatter, the complexity of trust — these he could not grasp.

  Is that why I am following Keshik? To guide me through humanity?