by Peter Newman
‘Hello,’ says Vesper, ‘and welcome to Crucible.’
The two place their canes on the ground and lean on them, studying Vesper. ‘Gut-pumper has a question,’ says Gorad.
‘More of a thought really,’ adds Gut-pumper.
‘Yes, more of a thought. You see, he was wondering about the way things are going. You’ve been wanting us to come here for a long time.’
Gut-pumper nods. ‘Years.’
‘Yes, years. And now, all of a sudden, we have to come to here, you know, for these talks.’
‘More than that though.’
‘Quite,’ Gorad agrees. ‘Now we have to commit even before the negotiations start. No choice is there? Not with The Seven on the move.’
Vesper spreads her hands. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thing is …’ continues Gorad.
‘Yes,’ says Gut-pumper, ‘my thought is …’
‘His thought is,’ cuts in Gorad, ‘that it’s very interesting timing. No activity and then all of a sudden, they turn on you and us all at once. Very interesting.’
‘Convenient,’ Gut-pumper adds.
An eye opens at Vesper’s shoulder, irritated. ‘Are you seriously suggesting that I’m trying to trick you into negotiations?’
‘Gut-pumper isn’t suggesting anything. He’s just thinking how odd it is that you, the great Bearer of Gamma’s sword, the hero of the Empire, is being attacked by The Seven, especially when you’ve got one of them on your back.’
Vesper thinks for a moment. ‘I understand. That’s why Crucible exists actually. It’s a place where we can get to know each other properly and shed these misconceptions. I’m sure that now we’re here, face to face, we’ll be able to see the truth in each other.’
‘I’m sure we will,’ agrees Gorad.
‘My people will show you to your quarters and the areas marked for your followers to camp. But before you go, I have a thought of my own.’
Gorad and Gut-pumper both pause. ‘Oh?’
‘I’ve not been to Slake, but I’ve heard it’s a big place with a population in the tens of thousands. So I can’t help but think that your group seems small.’
‘Ah,’ says Gorad. ‘Well, that’s the thing with large numbers, they’re hard to manage.’
‘Complex,’ adds Gut-pumper.
‘We can’t force people to come with us. And we can’t force them to stay either. Not everyone is convinced about this threat of The Seven coming. Even we have our doubts as you know.’
An eye narrows at Vesper’s shoulder. ‘Yes. Well, I’m sure you’ll want to get settled in.’
Scout grumbles to himself as the delegation passes, Samael shakes his head.
‘I know,’ says Vesper, ‘I don’t trust them either.’
The First watches the rows and rows of people passing. ‘I see little loyalty here. You could remove them and put more … agreeable individuals in charge.’
‘No we can’t,’ says Vesper, firm. ‘If I do that, I undermine this process before it starts. Half the delegations would turn round and go home and the other half would be waiting in fear.’
‘It is your choice, but I would suggest a little disruption now will make things much easier in the long term.’
Vesper folds her arms. ‘I’m not here to make this easy. I’m here to do this right, to build something that will last. If we start this with bloodshed, it will end that way.’
‘Very well, though I remain curious as to the value you place on this morality. How many will have to die before you change your mind?’
‘Let’s hope we never find out the answer to that question.’
The buck pays little attention to the bedraggled humans and half-breeds trudging along the bottom of the valley. He is much higher than them, safe at the top of his sloping kingdom.
Grass is abundant here, along with all manner of things nestling in the sloping earth and rock. The buck is content to spend his days exploring, finding delicacies at all manner of strange angles.
But something is not quite right.
The buck pauses in his chewing, listens. There is no sound but the feeling persists until the buck straightens and looks up.
The valley remains unchanged but his gaze is drawn by instinct until he is looking up at the top of the dome. As the source of the distraction is revealed, his tongue flops out in surprise.
Another goat is there, a doe, brown and white, with mismatched horns, one straight, the other crooked. Her beard is crooked too but the buck finds his dark eyes drawn to it. However, the doe turns from his stare, coy.
The buck watches for a moment, then resumes eating, assuming a nonchalant air, until the feeling of being watched returns.
Eagerly, he looks up but the doe has already turned away. They repeat this ritual several times, the buck’s chewing becoming increasingly drawn out.
While her attention is elsewhere, the buck dips his head between his legs, dousing his beard in his own urine. Prepared, musky, he waits for her.
And waits.
And then, at last, the doe is not looking away. She is staring right at him.
Joy turns quickly to panic. Now the buck looks away, looks for any kind of inspiration. Spotting some particularly long grass, the buck rips off the biggest clump he can manage, so successful that his lips cannot touch around it. Slowly, certain that she can see, the buck lifts his head in a triumphant display.
But the doe is no longer there. She has vanished without trace, like a dream upon the dawn.
Grass falls from his mouth, forgotten, and for some time after the valley is filled with anguished bleating.
As the days pass, more delegations come. Next are the people of Red Rails, more than three quarters of which are ratbred. They are led by their self-proclaimed prince, Savmir, who has a list of requirements, dietary, decorative, and diplomatic.
After that are the warriors of West Rift. Survivors of a nameless plague, they are so badly scarred, and so carefully wrapped in cloth and steel, that it is impossible to tell which are tainted and which are not.
Vesper greets them all equally, keeping her smile in place and the sword in its sheath despite what sometimes seems to be the best efforts of those she seeks to help.
However, when the news comes that a group from Verdigris have arrived, all frustrations are replaced with excited nerves.
Vesper appears early to meet them, forcing her people to wait with her. Rain pours from a dark sky, making rivers in Vesper’s hair and miniature lakes at her feet.
At Vesper’s request, the First is not present but Samael and Genner are there, enduring the elements alongside her. Genner’s training forbids complaint and Samael has little connection to his body, leaving Scout to grumble for all of them.
As soon as Tough Call comes into view – one-armed, tattoed, face set against the wind – Vesper breaks into a run, throwing her arms around the older woman.
Verdigris’ leader seems bemused by the display of affection. She returns the embrace firmly, if a little more restrained.
‘You came!’ says Vesper, delighted.
‘Said I would.’
‘You did but that was when it was just for talks.’
‘Well, difference between talks and fights isn’t much in my experience. Besides,’ she adds dryly, ‘we’d have brought the guns anyway.’
Vesper looks at the weapons they carry. Lances and launchers of elegant silver, made in the Empire of the Winged Eye’s earliest days. At her shoulder, the sword laments. Vesper brings a comforting hand to its hilt. ‘These were meant to protect people, not kill them.’
‘I reckon we count as people too.’
‘Oh yes, of course, I didn’t mean …’
Tough Call shrugs off any offence, waving her fellows forward. Vesper is re-introduced to some of Veridgris’ senior figures. She tries to hide her surprise at how much Marshall Max and Marshall Maxi have aged. Time has worked quickly on the Usurperkin twins, cycling them from birth to their prime, towards their death beds in a third of a
n untainted human’s span. Hair spikes are almost completely yellow now, straw-brittle, and green skin is mottling, going white in places. However age brings its advantages too, curbing legendary tempers and, for now at least, their muscles remain firm, their strength barely diminished.
Doctor Grains approaches next, his white jacket adorned with a simple symbol of the Winged Eye. He kneels before Vesper and she smiles at him, awkward.
He does not see, his head down, reverent. ‘May the Winged Eye watch over us, measure us, judge us.’
‘I’m hoping we’ll be able to watch over each other.’
Doctor Grains nods. ‘Yes. I’m sure that together, we’ll be able to do what’s right.’
‘And for the right price, yes?’ adds a new voice. It belongs to a large man, dripping in wealth and self-satisfaction, sat atop a waggon that is just pulling up.
Doctor Grains glares at the newcomer. ‘Not everything is about coin, Ezze.’
‘Ah, but there are many kinds of coin, my friend. We are all to be trading here, selling one thing or another. Do not look down on Ezze because he has a fondness for the physical.’
‘Alright,’ cuts in Tough Call, ‘I’m sure Vesper’s got better things to do than listen to you two bicker.’
‘Ezze could not agree more, great leader,’ replies the merchant, his smile generous. ‘We should embrace the spirit of friendship and the mutual winning, hold it to our bosom, yes? And this is why I wish to speak to our great and young and kind Vesper, to make her an important, time sensitive offer.’ He turns his smile on Vesper, pats the seat next to him. ‘Perhaps you would wish to be hopping up here? Or would you prefer a more private setting, away from the wagging of tongues?’
Vesper holds up her hands. ‘I’d love to talk to you Ezze, to all of you.’ She makes sure to acknowledge Doctor Grains as she speaks. ‘But first I’d like the chance to speak to Tough Call, alone. The rest of you should make yourselves welcome here. We’ll speak soon I promise.’
Max and Maxi wait for Tough Call’s subtle signal, then grunt appreciation, leading the rest of the group into Crucible. Doctor Grains pauses as he passes Vesper. ‘Forgive my boldness, but if I could speak to you at your earliest convenience, it would be appreciated.’
‘Of course.’
Ezze’s waggon rolls by shortly after. ‘And don’t forget to come to Ezze. To win, first you must be in!’
Vesper waits for Tough Call at the top of the valley, watching as the rest of Verdigris’ delegation trudges into Crucible. Her attention is briefly taken from greater worries by a goat she hasn’t seen before. ‘Oh, hello there,’ she says.
The doe watches her from a distance, cautious.
Without thought, Vesper reaches into her bag and pulls out a pink-skinned piece of fruit. ‘You want some?’ she asks.
The doe takes a few steps forward, then stops, uncertain.
‘It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Vesper and this is my place but you’re very welcome to stay.’ Kneeling down, she peels a strip off the fruit’s outer skin and puts it on the ground, backing away. With each step, the doe advances, maintaining proximity.
On the other side of the valley, the buck stretches his neck, straining for a better view.
A few more paces and the doe works up the courage to take the peel, watching Vesper carefully as she picks it up.
‘There you go! It’s good isn’t it?’ She takes a bite of the fruit herself and for a while the two chew in companionable silence.
With an excited shriek, the buck plunges down the far side of the valley.
Not long after, Tough Call arrives. ‘This is quite an operation you’ve got here.’
‘Thank you,’ says Vesper.
‘Care to talk me through it?’
They walk along the valley, Vesper pointing out the newly dug trenches and sinkholes, then moving on to the bunkers being built by Slake’s engineers. She talks about the army already massing, her own people, the Thousand Nails, the units from Slake and Red Rails and West Rift. She adds that the First has nomads making their way from the coast, that they have their own sky-ships, and that her knights are travelling with them. When she is done, she glances at Tough Call, inviting comment, desiring approval.
‘Like I said, quite the operation. We’ve got Usurperkin of our own. Most of them are third generation. Not as big as your Thousand Nails but not as wild either. And we’re bringing the big guns to the table.’
‘I know,’ replies Vesper, ‘and I’m grateful. But what I really want is your expertise.’
‘Go on.’
‘Can I speak to you honestly? I know that you’re here as Verdigris’ leader first but you’ve always been a good friend to me. I feel like I need you now more than ever.’
Tough Call smiles. ‘Reckon I can be here for you as both.’
‘Good. Because you’ve been leading a city of mixed groups for a long time, successfully too. How do you do that?’
‘There’s not much to it. I keep a few simple rules. Real few and real simple. If I can give folk what they want, I do it every time, but I make sure they know I’m giving it and what I expect back. I don’t play favourites. Things like our talk will always be noticed so if you haven’t been having private chats with the others, it’s time to start.’
Vesper blushes and nods.
‘Don’t promise anything unless you have to and always deliver on your promises unless it kills you. And don’t take shit from anyone, especially people like me.’
For a moment Vesper blinks, surprised, then she bursts out laughing.
‘You know, we nearly didn’t come here. Grains and his believers feel a lot like The Seven do when it comes to anyone with the taint, and Ezze suggested we wait until after the battle before pitching up.’
‘But you came anyway, why?’
‘Because times have been hard, they’ve made me hard too. Sure, I’m holding Verdigris together and that’s no small thing, but you? You’re trying to make something new, something better. Seems like times have made you shine and if we’re going to have any kind of future, I reckon you’re our best shot.’
‘Thank you. Most of the time it just feels impossible.’
‘Yep. Don’t expect that to change anytime soon. And don’t expect anyone to thank you either. And you better know, whatever seeds you plant are only going to be seeds in your lifetime. We’re doing this for our grandchildren’s children. They’re the ones that are going to benefit, not us.’
Vesper sags. ‘My daughter was in the Shining City. I have no idea if she’s still alive.’
‘That’s tough to bear but you can’t let it own you.’ Tough Call sweeps her one arm over the various groups working. ‘These are all your children now. And it’s on you to keep them safe, and teach them not to be shits to one another.’
The two women talk until duty drags them back to Crucible. As they are descending, the buck leaps onto the top of the valley. He scampers around, looking left, then right, but the doe is long gone. Dark eyes shimmer with dismay, eventually alighting on Tough Call and Vesper’s backs, narrowing, blaming.
Doctor Grains smooths the Skyn along the side of Vesper’s palm, glancing up at her as she winces. ‘Don’t worry, the pain meds will take effect any moment now.’
‘Thank you,’ replies Vesper. ‘I feel a bit silly asking you to do this.’
‘It’s really nothing. You saved my life, this is the least I can do. Besides, I’m always keen to expand my knowledge and I’ve never treated a goat bite before.’
She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know what’s got into him, lately. He’s usually so gentle. Anyway, you said you wanted to talk to me. This seems like a good time.’
‘Yes. Since you came to Verdigris, things have continued to change. Many of our citizens have returned to the ways of the Empire. I’ve heard that it’s your intent to negotiate on our behalf when The Seven come, to save us from Their wrath.’
‘That’s right. I’ll only fight if I have to.�
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The quote comes easily to Grain’s lips. ‘And so it was that Gamma always knew when to hold back and when to strike.’ He looks at her, his expression intense. ‘I want to offer my aid when you go to them, to prove that some of us have not fallen from the path.’
‘That’s kind of you. I’ll give it some thought.’
‘Whatever you think is best, of course. I wish only to serve.’
After he is gone, Vesper paces, shaking her hand until the Skyn settles and the stinging subsides. Over by the wall, the sword stirs, an eye looking towards the door.
Vesper goes and opens it. ‘Come in, Samael.’
The half-breed knight does so. ‘The First’s nomads have arrived. The Order of the Broken Blades is with them.’
‘Great.’
‘I was wondering if this might be a good time to give them the swords I made.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.’ She thinks about how small her order of knights are in the grand scheme of things as she picks up the sword. They make up a tiny fraction of the forces assembling at Crucible, their needs almost insignificant in the face of what comes. In fact, despite the grand nature of her endeavour, most of her days are filled dealing with petty requests. But for Vesper they are not petty, just those of individuals rather than empires. And what, she thinks, is the point of having an empire if the people in it are overlooked?
Samael remains in the doorway. ‘Do you think the order will accept them?’
‘The swords? Yes. But maybe not at first. You need to understand that my knights might take a while to adjust.’
‘Yes.’
He remains stranded in the doorway and for a moment, she sees him. Not the monstrous knight or the half-breed with mismatched eyes and a patchwork soul. She sees a person, alone, anxious, struggling to find his place in world. He needs the knights to accept the swords, she realizes, because she needs them to accept him. ‘Come on, my friend,’ she says, taking his arm, ‘I’m with you.’
He does not really feel the contact, but when it registers, she sees his head tilt in surprise, and his hand moves carefully over hers. ‘Yes.’
The Order of the Broken Blades make a semicircle, neat, around Samael, Vesper and the new swords.