The Deathless

by Peter Newman

  She had almost reached the stairwell off the main corridor when she heard a woman’s voice behind her. ‘Hold there!’ It was coming from the other end of the entrance hall. She was not surprised that the speaker was unfamiliar.

  Pretending not to hear, she walked a little faster, giving Satyendra a calming smile, and making sure her body blocked him from sight.

  ‘Hold there, I say!’

  She turned into the stairwell and, as soon as she was out of view, took the steps three at a time, her feet skidding off the end of one, straight onto the other, threatening to fly out in front, as her long hair flew out behind.

  Satyendra’s eyes grew wide and his hold on her tightened, but the baby kept his peace, just as his mother did.

  Like a thing tossed from a storm, she burst into the kitchens, her feet bruised, her nightdress filthy, her knees swollen.

  ‘Ooooh!’ crowed the old cook, who moments ago had been asleep but was now most definitely awake.

  Chandni straightened, and raised an imperious finger, cutting off the questions forming on the cook’s lips. She’d served the Sapphires all her long life and was talented but slow, and liked the sound of her own voice far too much for Chandni’s liking. ‘Open the outer door. Tell no one that I’ve been here. You have not seen me or Satyendra, do you understand?’

  ‘Of course, Honoured Mother. But what—’

  ‘—Immediately, dear Roh.’

  The cook beamed at the use of her name, then went the wrong way, snatching up a bag and stuffing it with food.

  Chandni channelled her mother again as she admonished the cook. ‘Were you not listening? Or is this an act of deliberate insubordination?’

  ‘But you’ll be wanting something for the baby, and a cloak for your shoulders. Wouldn’t do for you to be seen out there in your nightwear, I’d never forgive myself. And what about your poor feet?’

  Behind her, Chandni felt rather than heard someone enter the room. She went to step away but a hand caught her arm.

  She turned to find a woman dressed in House Sapphire uniform – but most definitely not House Sapphire – looking at her. The absolute lack of respect in the assassin’s eyes was chilling. She was about to say something when the assassin pulled out, not a sword, but a long, thin needle coated in something that glistened in the gemlight.

  Chandni made to pull away but the assassin simply stepped with her, keeping close, the needle arcing down towards Satyendra’s neck.

  Instinct took over, and in the next moment she felt something bite into her palm, briefly painful, and then suddenly, worryingly numb.

  The point of the needle protruded from the back of Chandni’s hand, quivering inches away from her baby’s skin. Blood rather than poison coated it now.

  Chandni exchanged a helpless look with Satyendra, whose little eyebrows raised questioningly, as if asking if this was an appropriate time to cry.

  Yes, she thought. This is the perfect time to cry.

  If the Bringers saw Pari, they made no comment as they passed out of the chamber, keeping to their ritual path. She listened intently as their robes whispered their way to the door, paused, then came the measured sweep of the door opening and them passing through, one by one, taking the light with them. The door closed with a heavy thud, plunging them into darkness. She heard Rochant sigh.

  ‘You can come out now.’

  Pari used the pillars to navigate through the darkness, letting each one brush cool against her fingertips. ‘How did you know I was here?’

  His voice was tired but not without warmth. ‘I didn’t, I just hoped.’

  She reached out for him, finding the line of his shoulder in the dark. ‘Ah, there you are.’

  ‘Yes.’

  She wiggled onto the side of the slab, enjoying the feeling of his warmth against her, and leaned down so that her lips hovered just above his. ‘And here I am.’

  ‘Yes.’ He lifted his head so that the word brought their mouths brushing together.

  Pari longed to stay like that but neither her conscience nor her back would allow it. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, breathlessly. ‘But we have to talk, you and yours are under threat.’

  ‘Something’s happened?’

  She told him quickly of the assassins, of the recent deaths in his line and the attempt against baby Satyendra that she’d foiled. He didn’t argue or interrupt until she’d finished.

  ‘Who would do this to me?’

  Pari considered. ‘High Lord Sapphire could have done it, the Bringers implied he was angry with you.’

  ‘You heard them? By the Thrice Blessed Suns, is nothing sacred?’

  ‘No, and you should be grateful. Without me things would be much worse.’

  Rochant found her hand and squeezed it. ‘You’re right about me but wrong about my High Lord. If he had wanted me removed it would be done publicly, as an example to others. He would never stoop to knives in the dark.’

  ‘Perhaps that was true once but I hear rumours that High Lord Sapphire is not the man he was.’

  She felt Rochant turn his head away. ‘I tell you it is not his way.’

  ‘Who then?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Even someone as charming as you must have enemies.’

  ‘Whoever it is has planned well. They’ve taken full advantage of the disruption the ceremony causes.’ She could hear the interest in his voice. Despite the threat, he was intrigued by the puzzle. ‘The assassin you confronted, you said he was in Sapphire uniform?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did it fit?’

  Pari thought for a moment. ‘Yes, like it was made for him, in fact.’

  ‘So that means either he had been working here for some time, or he’d had the uniform made specially.’

  Pari shook her head, then realized Rochant wouldn’t be able to see the gesture. ‘Or he found a guard of similar size and stole his.’

  ‘In any case,’ Rochant continued, ‘this is something that has been planned well in advance.’

  ‘I agree but how does that help us here?’

  ‘Motivation. Someone wants this done but is willing to wait to achieve it.’

  ‘But why? Revenge? Ambition?’

  ‘That’s the next thing we have to understand.’

  ‘No,’ said Pari. ‘The next thing we have to do is get you out of here.’

  ‘Wait, I’m not ready to move just yet.’ Though his new body was exhausted, his mind seemed agile as ever. ‘There are two obvious reasons to remove my line. One, because the person or persons behind this desire my death. Two, the person or persons behind this stand to gain from my death. If I and all of my descendants were gone—’

  Pari nodded, ‘—then High Lord Sapphire would be able to raise a new member into the Crystal Dynasties. Who would he have in mind? We need to find out …’

  ‘And I need to think about the past, cases I have presided over, decrees I’ve made, anything that could have seeded resentment.’

  ‘While you’re doing that, I’ll go and make sure Chandni is coping with Satyendra. I fear life outside the castle is going to be a bit of a shock for her.’

  ‘Quite.’

  Though she couldn’t see it, she could imagine Rochant’s expression. His face rarely gave much away, but there was a whole language kept in the crinkles around his eyes. She resisted the urge to touch his face, seeking them. ‘It’s good to have you back.’

  He took breath to reply but the second door to the chamber opened suddenly, interrupting him.

  Pari slid from the slab, darting behind the nearest pillar.

  She just had time to tuck herself out of sight before a pair of boots could be heard marching on the stone, and then Dil’s voice, oddly cold, ‘My lord.’

  ‘Dil? Is that you?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘Ah, the mantle of adulthood suits you, captain.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord.’

  Something in Dil’s manner seemed off, but it was hard to read the m
an by sound alone. Unable to help herself, Pari peeked round the pillar. With the second entrance wide open and light flooding the chamber, she was able to see, not just Dil, but two other guards alongside him.

  But I only heard one pair of boots!

  She had to hold her hands together to stop them shaking. The assassins were here, and Dil was oblivious. She prepared herself to act. Perhaps between them, they could hold off the killers long enough for help to arrive.

  ‘Forgive me, my lord,’ said Dil, ‘but you are about to be attacked by an assassin sent by the Tanzanites.’

  The comment was so ridiculous, so unexpected, that she nearly came out of her hiding spot to argue.

  Luckily Rochant seemed happy to do it for her. ‘Explain yourself, captain. The last I heard, our accords were strong with all the crystal dynasties.’

  ‘They are, my lord. But after we’ve killed you, that’s what we’re going to tell everyone, and I suspect the accords won’t matter then.’

  Dil turned to the man and woman behind him. ‘Find the Tanzanite.’

  They immediately drew weapons and split up.

  Pari retreated further into the darkness on the opposite side of the chamber. After we’ve killed you! Who is this man? Dil had served Rochant his whole life. Where was the faithful, quiet child she remembered?

  ‘There’s no one here but us, captain,’ said Rochant, the epitome of calm.

  ‘That’s a lie,’ replied Dil, ‘but then you’ve always been good at lying, haven’t you?’

  If the sudden change of tone surprised Rochant, again he gave no sign. ‘Ah. I see anger in your eyes and can only assume I am responsible. Whatever the problem is, let us solve it peaceably. You have always been reasonable, even as a boy. Negotiation is the only path, surely you can see that?’

  Dil snarled and sprang across the gap.

  Still weak from the ritual rebirth, Rochant was unable to defend himself and Dil clapped something over his mouth, hissing, ‘I don’t want to hear your voice ever again. But I want you to know that I was the one that ended your line. Me!’

  Pari could see her lover struggling to breathe. Dil intended to kill him, wanted to, but something was holding him back. Perhaps he just wanted to make Rochant suffer first but that didn’t fit. The man seemed impatient, even desperate, to get revenge. Whatever the reason, she would not stand idly by as her lover was murdered. She edged into position, removing her remaining earring. The pin was too short to be very effective but if she could get it into one of his eyes, she might have a chance.

  But, before she could make her move, another figure appeared at the door.

  ‘We’ve searched the castle. There’s no sign of the baby or the mother.’

  ‘Then search further,’ snapped Dil, releasing the pressure from Rochant’s face, ‘and keep searching until you find them.’

  Without a word, the silhouette vanished as quickly as it came.

  From nearby, startling Pari, the woman spoke, ‘What now?’ She’d been so absorbed in what was happening to Rochant, she hadn’t realized how close she’d come to being discovered.

  ‘Have you found the Tanzanite?’ Dil demanded.

  ‘You’d know if I had.’

  Dil swore under his breath, then covered Rochant’s mouth again, and Pari tensed, the urge to protect her lover battling a strong instinct that she should wait, though it tore at her to stand by.

  Dil maintained the pressure until Rochant stopped struggling and flopped on the slab, unconscious.

  ‘You, grab one end,’ he called out to the man, then to the woman, ‘you the other. We take him with us.’

  ‘They won’t like this,’ muttered the woman.

  ‘Piss on them! We can’t kill him yet and we can’t leave him here. Now do what I say.’

  Pari stayed silent as the two assassins carried Rochant from the room, Dil following behind. Several times he checked over his shoulder, but each time, she ducked out of sight. She was just about to give chase when the door swung shut behind them, sealing her inside.

  In the dark again, Pari fumbled her way forward until her palms pressed against stone, then the door they’d left through. She tried the handle but the door was locked. Frantically, she made her way round the outside of the chamber to the first door, the one the Bringers had used, but this too was locked. She let her forehead rest against the stone, trying not to panic as she thought about what to do next. About Rochant. About Chandni and the baby.

  To be of any use she had to escape, and there was only one other way out of the Rebirthing Chamber.

  Pari hugged herself tight, feeling the many complaints of her tired, aching body.

  Come on! she urged herself and felt her way to the third exit. It was set into the floor directly beneath the slab of stone that Rochant had recently lain on; seven hinged triangles that could be released independently or all at once. This allowed the Bringers to jettison abominations, slab and all, without needing to untie them, and ensured they would fall fast and hard. She felt the edge of one of the triangles, marvelling at the intricate designs under her fingertips that would never be seen or appreciated by anyone save the Bringers, and pushed down. Unlike the other doors, this opened easily, and a cool breeze washed across her face. Pari climbed inside, settling her legs over the edge of the chute.

  The other end would eject her from a hole at the base of the floating castle. If she failed to hold on, a long drop would follow to the chasm waiting below, and then another, into the bowels of the earth and beyond.

  In order to avoid thinking about what could go wrong, she thought of Rochant, and she thought of Dil, of what she would do to the traitor when she caught up with him. And she thought of the mystery demanding to be solved.

  And then she jumped.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Chandni blinked, at least she thought it was only a blink, but when her eyes opened she was sat in a chair, Satyendra in her lap, and a thick wad of fabric strapped around her hand and several bands wrapped painfully tight around her wrist. Underneath the padding her hand felt hot, far too hot.

  On the floor at her feet the assassin was sprawled out flat, dead, her expression frozen halfway between smug and surprised.

  ‘Nasty little fingers,’ said the cook, looking at the body with disdain. ‘Dirty nails. In all my years I’ve never seen one of good Lord Rochant’s soldiers with dirty nails. You can’t trust one that can’t clean themselves.’

  ‘Thank you, Roh. I won’t forget this, but how did you—’

  The cook waved off her questions and hooked a bag over Chandni’s shoulder, plucking her own cloak from a peg. It was warm from the stove and full of pouches, many of which felt full. ‘Eat from the left pockets but not the right, Honoured Mother, never the right.’

  She tried to take this in as a wave of nausea hit her. ‘I don’t … I don’t feel myself, there was poison …’

  ‘Aye. I’ve drawn and treated it best I can. Have to wait and see now. Stick a pin in the wound when the suns are at their peak. If you don’t feel the pin, lose the hand. Then stick a pin in your wrist, your forearm, until it hurts. Keep what hurts, Honoured Mother, lose the rest.’

  Chandni nodded, too shocked to speak as the cook unbarred the outer door and pulled it open. Air, cold and fresh, rushed in, and she closed the cloak around Satyendra to protect him.

  The cook helped her to her feet and propelled her towards the door. ‘Do you have somewhere to go?’

  ‘I do, a—’

  The cook raised a finger, mirroring Chandni’s earlier gesture with almost mocking perfection. ‘Less you say, Honoured Mother, less I can say.’

  ‘There are more enemies in the castle. They’ll be angry that you helped me.’

  ‘They won’t suspect a daft old woman,’ replied the cook with a wink, pushing Chandni outside.

  ‘But what are you going to do about the body?’

  The cook tapped the side of her nose and smiled to reveal a full set of yellowing teeth. ‘Don’t worry, Hono
ured Mother,’ she said as she closed the door, ‘they won’t even find the bones.’

  Chandni stumbled away from the castle. She was so tired she felt it should be dark outside, but all three suns were just visible on the horizon, the two greater ones, red and gold, Vexation and Fortune’s Eye, only half visible, while the smaller third, Wrath’s Tear, arced above.

  Underneath her cloak, a small hand tugged at Chandni’s nightdress and she realized she’d stopped moving. She’d lost focus, lost time, staring at the suns like a simpleton.

  This will not do!

  She staggered on, feeling the vibrations beneath her feet. For the great chunk of rock that the castle sat on was shot through with veins of crystal, and these crystals chimed and sang, rising and falling like the tides.

  Though Rochant’s castle floated it was not static above the chasm, it bobbed slowly up and down. Because of its size these movements were rarely noticed, like being on board a vast ship, but if one looked outside, they would see the horizon gradually moving.

  An outer wall circled the perimeter of the rock, protecting Chandni from the worst of the winds but doing nothing about the cold. Soon her feet had become clumsy lumps on the end of her ankles and she feared she would fall. The drop in temperature was easing her fever however, allowing her mind to function more clearly, and the burning sensation in her hand was less distracting.

  A few eager travellers had tucked their tents alongside the wall, like plush barnacles, no doubt wanting to be the first to take advantage of Rochant’s return. None of them were flying Tanzanite flags but that was no surprise. Wherever Pari’s man was, he’d be trying to keep a low profile.

  She could not escape the feeling that she was being watched, and began to worry that more assassins had been placed outside.

  It’s what I would have done.

  After discounting the first tent because it was too grand, and the second because it was crammed full of people, Chandni came to one discreetly pitched next to a wagon. A five-legged Dogkin, white-furred and almost as big as the wagon itself, slept alongside.