The Unbound Empire

by Melissa Caruso

  Part of me rebelled at the idea of playing cards when three thousand people were dead at our hands and Ruven had twisted and broken Marcello, perhaps beyond mending. It seemed almost indecent to grasp after joy when everything was so terrible.

  But to completely surrender joy would be to allow Ruven a victory. I took Kathe’s extended hand, slim and strong in mine.

  “All right,” I said softly. “For a while.”

  He drew me to my feet, and we went downstairs together.

  Zaira and Kathe played cards far more competitively than I did. After a couple of hours, I was yawning, ready to collapse into the oblivion of sleep; Kathe, on the other hand, finally had a solid grasp of the rules and strategy and had a fire in his eyes.

  “Ooh, you’re not just a pretty face after all,” Zaira said appreciatively, after he beat her for the first time in a close-fought game that I’d been knocked out of in the third round. “Keep getting better at this rate, and I’m going to have to start cheating.”

  “Is cheating acceptable, then?” Kathe asked eagerly, sweeping his cards up off the table. “Because if you’re cheating, I’m cheating.”

  I rose, rubbing my eyes. “I, on the other hand, am going to bed,” I announced. “Enjoy yourselves.”

  Zaira waved me off like a fly. “The grown-ups are busy, Cornaro. Go get your baby rest.”

  I paused at the top of the stairs, in the darkened hallway, as one board let out a slow creak beneath my feet. Marcello’s door stood at the far end. I paced toward it as if some current drew me that way. One look, I told myself, to make sure he was all right. To see his face looking almost human as he slept.

  I eased the door open and peeked in. And then I took three quick steps across the room in shock, reaching out with a shaking hand to verify what my eyes refused to believe.

  His bed was empty. The obsidian ring lay neatly on the center of his pillow.

  Claws folded gently around my neck from behind.

  “Shh,” Marcello whispered. “Let’s talk.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  My pulse hammered against the sharp points of his claws. I held utterly still. “It’s difficult to talk when one can’t move one’s throat,” I said carefully.

  “Sorry about that. I’m going to let go in a moment.” His words stirred my hair. “I have a message for you. I’m going to deliver it, then leave. That’s all.” He took a ragged breath. “But if you call for help or attack me again, I have to cripple you on my way out.”

  “That seems uncivil and unlike you,” I said, struggling to sound calm.

  Marcello’s fingers trembled on my throat. “My lord Ruven is upset that you didn’t listen to his message the first time, so he melted my flesh and bone to get the ring off and gave me new orders.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Please don’t test those orders, Amalia. I don’t have the power to resist them.”

  I didn’t doubt it was true, any more than I doubted Marcello’s ability to rip my hamstrings or put out my eyes in the time it took me to blink, with his chimera’s speed. “All right,” I agreed unsteadily.

  His claws eased away from my throat. “Let’s try this again, then.”

  Slowly, keeping my hands in plain sight, I turned around.

  The moonlight caught in Marcello’s scales and glowed in his inhuman eye. He wore the same frayed uniform, his unkempt black hair brushing its collar. Now that he was awake, pain once again haunted and hollowed his face.

  He had my satchel slung over one shoulder.

  I started to reach for it in instinctive panic. My notes were in there, and one of my favorite magical theory books, and my remaining elixir bottles—and worst of all, the jess I’d gotten from the garrison in Ardence, just in case we had a chance to use it on Ruven. I couldn’t let that fall into his hands.

  “Don’t!” Marcello raised a hand in warning, claws unsheathed, eyes widening with real fear. “Don’t come any closer, or reach for your flare locket, or call for the others. Please.” He took a shuddery breath, as if he were fighting something inside him. “I don’t want to take your personal things, and I know how you feel about your books. If you talk to me, I’ll simply complete my orders, then return your satchel. But if you give me a reason to run, I’ll have to take the whole thing, and…” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “And hurt you very badly.”

  My pulse raced like quicksilver through my veins. “What are your orders? I thought you just had a message.”

  “This is part of the message.” His human eye shone bright with unshed tears in the moonlight. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this.”

  He reached into my satchel and pulled out one of my backup elixir bottles.

  “What are you doing? Leave that alone!” I checked myself from lunging at him in panic, with some difficulty.

  Marcello flicked the stopper out with one claw, turned the bottle upside down, and began pouring my elixir out on the floor.

  “Marcello, no! I need that!” Fear spiked my voice louder than I’d meant. I had an emergency vial in the inner pocket of the coat I still wore, but that would only cover tonight’s dose. Without the bottles in that bag, I’d resume dying in the morning.

  “I’m sorry, Amalia,” he said again, his voice rough with emotion. “Ruven made me tell him everything I knew about your weaknesses.”

  He shook out every last drop from the bottle; the smell of anise filled the room. Then he pulled the next bottle out of my satchel and ripped the cork out of that one, too.

  “You’re going to kill me!” I protested, desperate, as Zaira’s laughter drifted up from below. “Why should I talk to you if you’re destroying my elixir?”

  “Oh, you’ll listen,” he said through his teeth. A vicious edge crept into his voice. “Not so easy to overlook now, am I?”

  The sickly-sweet smell of anise strengthened as more potion spattered to the floor. “I’m listening, damn you! Look, you have my attention, you can stop!”

  “Lord Ruven has asked me to tell you,” Marcello said, biting off each word as if he hated the taste of his own tongue, “that he can cure you.”

  My breath froze in my throat. “What?”

  “He’s a Skinwitch and a scholar. He can purge the Demon’s Tears from your veins. You won’t need this elixir anymore.” Marcello tossed the empty second bottle onto his bed and opened the third. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Not to have to depend on anyone.”

  “I depend on you,” I whispered, reaching toward him despite myself. “Fight him, Marcello. You don’t have to do this. Don’t let him make you kill me.”

  He bared his teeth as if he were in agony. “Accept his offer, and you won’t have to die. He can get here in plenty of time to save you. Just swear you’ll serve him, and you can live.”

  A clear stream flowed from the third bottle, splashing onto shining floorboards already dark with the rest of it.

  “You know I can’t do that,” I said desperately, as the well-worn wood soaked up the elixir I needed to live like dry earth.

  “You’d best consider it, or you’re going to die in agony.” Marcello’s orange eye remained merciless, but his green one pleaded with me as the stream slowed to a trickle. “My lord asks for your help claiming more domains, your blood, and your lifelong service. In return, he can cure you permanently and save your life. He can restore me to the way I was. And he can withdraw all his forces from the Empire.”

  “He can do all of those things, yes,” I snapped. “But I’m not such a fool as to believe he will do them, in good faith, with no strings attached. I’m on the Council now—I can’t take a bad bargain like that, even to save my life. I’m calling Ruven’s bluff. If he wants me alive, I need that elixir.”

  Marcello drew out my last elixir bottle. He pulled the cork and paused. “It’s not a bluff,” he rasped. “My Lord Ruven doesn’t bluff. Take his bargain, Amalia. You can live, and I can be human again, and the Empire will be safe. All he wants in return is you.”

  My eyes stayed fixe
d on the small glass bottle, and the line of liquid tipping toward its round rim. “Stop. Stop, Marcello. I know you don’t want to do this.”

  “I don’t,” he agreed softly. “But I have to, unless you agree to my lord’s offer.”

  “Did he command you?” I took an urgent step toward him; he hissed like an angry cat, and I stopped, my stomach clenching. “Tell me what he said, and we can find a way around it!”

  “It’s not like that.” Marcello shook his head fiercely. “His will is my will. It’s not a verbal command I can try to outwit. Now give me your answer.”

  “I need time to think.”

  “Time to stall, you mean. I know you, Amalia. Give me your answer now, before Zaira or Kathe can wander up here and find us.”

  The bottle tipped in his hand. A single drop quivered from the rim, sparkling in the moonlight.

  I could lie. I could get as much as Ruven would give me, then back out before giving him anything too risky in return. If all I gained was just this one elixir bottle, well, at least I’d still be alive to keep fighting him.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll do it. I’ll work with him, if he cures you first. Just put that down, and we can negotiate the details.”

  Marcello winced as if I’d struck him. “You always were a terrible liar, Amalia.”

  He flipped the bottle, and the last of my elixir gushed out, wasted and gone.

  My legs wavered under me. I sank on the edge of the bed, stunned. I was all too aware of the tiny precious vial inside my coat that would buy me twelve more hours of life in which to find an alchemist. Marcello knew about it, too, and by the way he was eyeing me, he hadn’t forgotten.

  Marcello rummaged in my satchel. “Is that the last one in here? If so, next I’m afraid I’ll need—” He froze, frowning. “What’s this?”

  Oh, Hells. He’d found the jess. My hand stole slowly toward my flare locket.

  But what he lifted from the satchel was much smaller than a jess. It was a round golden button, embossed with a falcon—the one he had given me months ago when we parted for a time, so that something of his would go with me.

  He stared at it, the color draining from his face. “You still have this,” he whispered.

  “Of course I do.” My throat ached so much I could hardly speak. “I carry it to remind me of your good advice when I want to do dangerous things, like you asked.” My voice cracked. “I ignore it, of course, but it makes me feel better to hear your voice in my mind.”

  He closed his fist tight around the button, and squeezed his eyes shut. I didn’t dare move. Tears leaked from his human eye, streaming down his cheek.

  Then he dropped the button back in my satchel and set it carefully down on the floor, in the damp patch of anise-scented potion seeping into the floorboards.

  “I’ll be going now,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Say hello to Zaira for me.”

  “Wait!” I lunged for him at last, but he leaped up into the window as if it were something he practiced all the time.

  “Take care of yourself, Amalia,” he said, and the shadow of his old wistful smile flitted across his face.

  And then he leaped down, a jump that would likely have broken his legs when he was human. By the time I made it to the window, he was halfway across the field to the waiting black forest, leaving a sparse line of footprints behind him in the snow.

  Our sleigh hissed along through the night, beneath the cold stars, taking corners fast enough that one runner came up off the snow. Every muscle in my body locked with fear that we’d plummet off a cliff or slam into a tree, but Kathe had enhanced the horses’ eyes to see in the dark, even if we couldn’t. I huddled between Kathe and Zaira, alternately praying for the dawn to come faster, so we could see, and slower, so I could live.

  Zaira gripped the bench with white knuckles. “Slow down, you crazy bastard! Do you get more points in some demon-cursed Witch Lord contest if we all die?”

  Kathe’s teeth flashed white in the moonlight. “No, but that’s an intriguing idea. Would I get a better score if we all die at once, or sequentially?”

  “Don’t make it a game,” I groaned.

  After a tense discussion at the inn, we’d decided to continue north to Greymarch rather than turning back to Ardence; it was closer, and as a major fortress, it had at least one Falcon alchemist and a few minor ones without the mage mark, any of whom could make more of my elixir. Kathe thought we could get there not long after dawn; with any luck, I’d have a new batch ready before I even started to have symptoms. The single dose Marcello had left me inside my jacket had bought me enough time to save my life.

  We flew along through the dark, ragged hours of the night, Zaira and I hanging on tight and muttering curses, until the sky went gray and then gold above the silhouetted peaks to the east. As the rosy light of dawn drew receding fingers of shadow across the snow, the great fortress of Greymarch came into view at last. The Grace of Luck had been with me, for once; we’d made it.

  Greymarch perched upon a hill above the River Arden in the looming shadow of Mount Whitecrown. Its stout outer walls sprawled across most of the hilltop, and a massive stone keep reared up within them, with smaller buildings clustering around it. Proud round towers jutted from the castle and at intervals along the curtain wall, set to glowing by the sunrise. Ranks of cannons pointed down at the road as it ran alongside the river toward the Vaskandran border. Great artifice circles marked the road itself here; unlike the simpler trap circles we’d used outside Ardence, these could be triggered from a control circle in the fortress if anyone was foolish enough to try to march an enemy army this way, but otherwise lay safe and dormant for normal traffic on the road. More artifice circles decorated the bare rocky bluffs beneath the castle, ready to start landslides to block the pass.

  The fortress teemed with activity, which was a relief after how empty the countryside had been all along our journey. Even from a distance it was easy to spot movement on the battlements, and smoke rose from the chimneys. If I recalled my reports correctly, there were some two thousand imperial troops stationed here to guard the pass, including half a dozen Falcons; if they’d been taking in farmers and villagers from the hill country to ensure their safety, well, there was certainly room for another thousand within those walls. I’d seen smaller towns.

  The great fortress gates stood open, showing glimpses of swarming activity as troops mustered in the yard beyond. A handful of officers rode out to meet us, and the sight of their smart blue and gold imperial uniforms eased a knot of fear that had clenched my chest all night. I wondered wistfully if perhaps we could prevail upon them for soft beds and a few hours’ sleep while their alchemists prepared my elixir; it had been a long night’s travel.

  Our sleigh slowed as the welcoming contingent approached. The woman riding in front was a colonel, by the insignia and trim on her coat, and likely the fortress commander.

  “Good morning, Colonel,” I greeted her, as she eyed my finely embroidered coat and Kathe’s feathered cloak with a frown. “I’m afraid something of an emergency brings us here. I am—”

  “Lady Amalia Cornaro.” The colonel bowed deeply; the other officers followed suit. “I’d heard you might be stopping here on your way north. I’m sorry we’re not more ready to receive you, but we’re preparing to march.”

  “Did our messengers get through, then?” I asked. “We’ve been concerned, with the courier lamp relays broken and no word from your fortress.”

  The colonel grimaced. “Yes, we’ve received our orders at last. My apologies that we were unable to march sooner and come to Ardence’s aid. Please, accept what hospitality we can offer, and be welcome at Greymarch.”

  “I’d be delighted, though we can only stop briefly. I need to borrow the services of your alchemists; it’s something of an emergency.”

  “Of course, my lady. Come inside, and we’ll get you everything you need.”

  She reined her horse aside to fall in beside our sleigh, and the other officer
s followed suit. Kathe lifted his eyebrows in inquiry, and I nodded wearily, leaning back in the sleigh. The horses blew white puffs of steam and started forward again, toward the welcoming arch of the castle gate.

  But something caught my eye: a V-shaped black fleck on the rose-tinged sky, high above the fortress. The vulture chimera.

  Ruven knew we were here, and he’d made no move to stop us through all the long night.

  I grabbed Kathe’s hand. He shot me a puzzled glance, and I gave my head a sharp shake; the horses, who’d begun drawing our sleigh forward again, clattered to a confused stop. They flicked annoyed ears back at Kathe, as if wishing he’d make up his mind.

  “Excuse me, Colonel,” I asked politely, “but how did you know I was coming, with the courier lamp relays broken? There’s no way a rider beat us here from Ardence with the news.”

  The colonel didn’t quite meet my eyes. “A runner came from Stonewatch, five miles east. The courier lamps are working there.”

  One of the other officers stared at me intently, almost rudely. Zaira straightened in her seat, eyes narrowing. “Wait. You’re marching to Ardence, you say?”

  “Of course,” the colonel said immediately. “We received orders for our entire garrison to march south and reinforce the city.”

  “No, you didn’t.” The cold certainty woke my sleepy brain like a bucket of water to the face. “We requested one thousand troops from Greymarch, with the rest to stay and guard the pass.”

  “I assure you, my lady, we did in fact receive orders for every soldier in the castle to march to Ardence,” the colonel said, her words hard and precise. “Now if you’ll come with me, I also have orders to make you quite comfortable if you happened to stop here.”

  Her eyes urged me to understand. And I did, all too well.

  She must have seen it in my face. She mouthed a curse and gave a curt wave of her hand; the officers began fanning out into an arc. One of them laid a hand on her pistol.