The Deathless

by Peter Newman

  That was the day he’d made his name, he recalled. Being the youngest Sapphire, many slots had already been taken: Yadva was known for her strength, Umed for his grace and patience, Gada for his reliability. Everything he did in his first lifecycle was compared with their achievements, almost always to his detriment. Snippets of disdainful conversations came back to him, and it irked him that after all these years they were still so clear in his mind, when other brighter times had faded away, only salvageable again in the right company. But he flew better than all of them, even Yadva, and none could deny it.

  After that day, the family had treated him differently, as if he’d gone from being a favoured pet to an actual person. Those wings had changed him forever.

  It had been an indulgence to keep them, usually old suits of crystal skin were returned to the Gardener-smiths, who fed them back to the new crystals to keep the link, but he hadn’t been able to let them go.

  It struck Vasin that this lifecycle had been something of a failure. It had started well enough, but his mother’s trial and subsequent exile had dominated, the trauma precipitating his retreat from public life.

  And, if I’m honest, from all life: I sought oblivion, when I should have been seeking answers. If I had been stronger, perhaps I could have helped Mother already.

  He realized that one of the reasons he felt so strong in his crystal armour was that it connected him to older parts of himself, to previous lifecycles when he wasn’t plagued with doubt. In past days his castle would perform the same function, but many of the things that celebrated his glory had either gone or been moved from prominence, replaced with bland gifts he’d kept out of politeness but rarely displayed.

  He was looking at a pair of boots he’d worn in his third lifecycle – what big feet that body had! Yadva’s jokes were so very tiresome – and was trying to recall why they were significant, when Yi stepped out from behind a set of boxes.

  Though poised as ever, Vasin noticed the dark around her eyes and the drawn skin of her face. He checked over his shoulder to make sure no one else was there, but they were alone, this part of the castle rarely used. ‘Yi? What happened?’

  Her voice was croaky. ‘They searched the castle. I had to move Lord Rochant here.’

  ‘He’s here?’

  She pointed behind the boxes. ‘Drugged.’

  ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘Couldn’t leave him. Too many unfriendly eyes.’

  ‘I’ll get you food and drink.’

  She nodded gratitude. ‘Nothing big. Nothing obvious. Nothing they can smell.’

  ‘This is a disaster. We need to get him to reveal wherever it is that baby is hidden.’ Yi watched him but said nothing, despondent.

  Vasin shook his head as if to clear it. ‘I’m no match for Lord Rochant but we both know who would be. Do you think you can move him from the castle?’

  ‘Difficult.’

  If Yi was saying that then the odds were bad indeed. ‘What would you need?’

  ‘Supplies. A distraction. The searches have ended but they’ll be watching the entrance.’

  Vasin rested a hand on his old wings, letting his eyes follow the contours. They’ve always underestimated me. Perhaps I can use that. Something of his old fire was returning and it felt good. ‘Gather your strength, Yi. When you’re recovered, I’ll get their attention, have no fear of that.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Pari sat on her throne of cushions, trying to rein in her sense of frustration. They had spent a long time propping her up in this fashion and she still wasn’t comfortable! The injuries she’d sustained were healing too slowly, and some of them not at all. This body wants to give up and I can’t let it. Not yet.

  In front of her, Ami walked back and forth, her shoes boosted to give her extra height. She was dressed in Pari’s clothes, her lips painted gold, her body padded in several places to give it the right shape. My shape.

  ‘No, dear Ami. You must be slower and more deliberate, otherwise your youth will spoil the illusion.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘And don’t speak to anyone but Sho. If a servant comes, you must gesture, like this.’ She made a small decisive movement of the hand. ‘Or simply use your eyes.’ Ami swept her gaze to the left. It reminded Pari of a Birdkin tracking some potential food. ‘No. No that won’t do. Stay with your hands.’

  She bobbed her head.

  ‘And don’t nod like that. Just a slight tilt of the head. Slight. Imagine you are balancing a glass of acid on your head. If you spill it, you die.’

  ‘Shall I walk again?’

  Pari gestured for her to do so whilst wishing she didn’t feel so grumpy all the time. Lord Taraka may have gone, but his visit had left her unsettled. The thought of her brother living with High Lord Tanzanite wasn’t helping either.

  She was just starting to feel like a drink when Sho arrived with refreshments. At the sound of his voice, Ami retreated behind a nearby screen, a precaution should anyone else be with him. For the moment Ami’s presence here was a secret, and it had to remain so if Pari’s plan was to be successful.

  But Sho was alone, a tray in his trembling hands.

  ‘Ah, Sho, it’s as if you read my mind.’ She sipped some of the honeyed wine he’d brought, enjoying the feel of the warm mug almost as much as the sweet liquid it contained.

  ‘I have news, my lady. Your young man has returned. I thought it best to keep him out of the castle for now.’

  ‘I agree. Have you spoken to him?’

  Sho’s face crinkled, unhappy. ‘He refused to tell me anything, insisting that his news was for your ears only.’

  ‘He’s a good boy.’

  ‘If you say so, my lady.’

  They exchanged a look. Sho’s getting grumpy too in his old age. A fine pair we make these days! ‘Find a way to bring him here discreetly.’

  She made a gesture to cut off any further grumblings and Sho left.

  An hour later, Lan was slipped into the room. Sho had dressed him as a messenger. The boy looked tired but his eyes were bright with excitement. He and Ami hugged each other quickly before the young man rushed forward and proudly displayed the earrings in his hands.

  ‘You found them? Excellent.’

  ‘Yep, the baby an’ her mum, an’ that Varg, an’ their Dogkin. It were a monster! You never said she was so big!’

  Pari chuckled. ‘Did Glider give you a hard time?’

  ‘Nearly got me head off!’

  ‘It sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure. Tell me everything.’

  ‘They were in Sagan, like you said. In that house on the edge. They got this family from Sorn living there an’ all.’

  Pari frowned. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Parents and a couple of little ’uns. They want you to come get ’em. Not the family. Varg and the Honoured Mother.’

  ‘What’s the situation there?’

  ‘Bad. There are patrols on the roads. Hunters too. And Sagan’s packed full of people and there’s fights. It don’t look good.’

  ‘No, but you’ve done very good work, Lan.’ The young man beamed. ‘Sho will give you some decent food and a place to sleep, but don’t get too comfortable. You and I will be leaving again soon.’

  Strange thoughts occupied Sa-at’s dreams. The thing fed to him by the Birdkin had left him feeling like a different person to the one he’d been the day before, his brain could not stop fizzing. For the first time he understood that everything had a name, even him.

  Its name is Crowflies!

  My name is Sa-at!

  Sa-at yawned and flexed his little body, stretching it from toe tip to fingertip. The skin of his maimed hand tingled painfully and he pulled it back to his chest with a gasp. This had happened before, he realized. He had stretched and it had hurt and then he had forgotten and stretched again.

  It is a hand.

  It is my hand.

  I have a hand!

  He decided to have a look at his hand. To his surpri
se, two shapes, not one, floated into his eye line.

  I have two hands!

  This was so exciting, so unexpected, that all he could do for a while was wriggle and make noises. In doing so, he lost sight of his hands and forgot why he was excited in the first place.

  A man moved into view, making the candle flicker. Sa-at could see he was still inside the black tree and that he was lying on something soft that tickled his feet if he rubbed them on it.

  He rubbed his feet on it.

  He giggled.

  He rubbed his feet again.

  He giggled again.

  ‘I see you like my fur quilt,’ said the man.

  A word burst into Sa-at’s mind: Devdan.

  He is Devdan.

  His name is Devdan!

  And then, immediately after, another:

  Fur.

  This is fur.

  It tickles.

  Sa-at decided that he liked fur.

  ‘It’s good to hear you laugh. Hollow’s a good listener but she doesn’t say much.’

  Sa-at looked up at the sound of Devdan’s voice for a moment, then went back to rubbing his feet.

  ‘Good isn’t it? Tough to make though.’ He held up the end of the fur and pointed to one of the rough squares. ‘Every one of these had to be caught, killed and bled. Beast blood doesn’t get the same attention as our blood does but it gets enough. When you’re older,’ he smiled, his yellow teeth stark against the white of his beard, ‘much older, I’ll teach you the technique. Assuming they let me keep you, that is.’

  He held out a hand and Sa-at grabbed it.

  Devdan has a hand!

  I have a hand!

  Without thinking, he tried to put Devdan’s finger in his mouth. His gums were itching terribly and he had the irresistible urge to chew on something.

  ‘Hey!’ said Devdan, snatching his hand away. ‘Got your teeth coming through then, sharp too. Look what you did.’ He held his finger in front of Sa-at’s eyes, just out of reach. The pale skin had a red patch on one side, with three small indentations, slowly fading away.

  ‘Let me find something more suitable for you to savage.’

  Devdan moved out of Sa-at’s view but he could still hear the man moving about. Bored, Sa-at had another wriggle, and in doing so, saw something out of the corner of his eye.

  It is a hand.

  It is my hand.

  I have a hand.

  I have two hands.

  They were not like Devdan’s hands. They were smaller and browner. One of them was missing a finger. This made Sa-at sad. A memory came of that finger, of a tongue wrapping round it and teeth, much bigger and pointier than Devdan’s, closing on his skin. There was a twinge of pain in his knuckle, remembered.

  Very quietly, Sa-at began to snuffle.

  ‘Oh, hey now,’ said Devdan, reappearing. ‘Don’t cry. Here, try this.’ He held out a chunk of cured meat. ‘Should keep you busy for a while.’

  The meat had a salty taste. It was not wet and smooth like his mother’s milk nor wet and sour like the thing Crowflies fed him – he wanted more of that! – but chewing it made his gums itch less.

  ‘There you go. That’s scale jerky, taken from some of the toughest Lizardkin you’re liable to see this side of the Ruby lands. Told you it would help. It’s good value too, will probably last longer than either of us.

  ‘I wonder who you are? Doesn’t look to me like you were born here. Old Hollow thinks you must have come from one of those floating castles in the sky but I’ve never heard of any children, let alone tiny ones like you –’ he paused to tweak Sa-at’s toe ‘– coming down to our level. Believe it or not, my family used to live in the sky too. Was a long time ago though, back when old Hollow was still alive and a good few years before I was born. I wonder if you were banished too?’

  Sa-at continued chewing the meat. It was firm, dry, and as he worked, drool began to run from the sides of his mouth.

  ‘Well, however you got here, you’re special. I’m not surprised that demon was so keen to get its claws into you. The Wild’s always hungry for humans, especially babies. But don’t worry, I’m going to take extra care this time.’ He brought the skull with the mounted candle closer and peered at Sa-at. ‘Mmm. Not sure what the demons did to your hand, but at least the injury is healing nicely. Let’s hope it stays clean and nothing starts growing on it. Be a shame to have to cut any more of you away.’

  The candlelight danced merrily, drawing Sa-at’s eye. He let go of the meat with one hand to try and take it, but as he reached out Devdan moved it further away. Sa-at was seized by indignation and he gave a squeal of protest.

  ‘Oh no, this isn’t for you. This flame is hot. Dangerous. No touching.’

  It is a flame.

  It is called a flame.

  ‘See how it melts the wax? You don’t want to touch that either. Hot wax will stick to you as well as burn.’ He knocked on the skull with his fist. ‘Not that old Hollow minds any more. Those of us with skin on our bones like you and me have to be more careful.’

  Hollow. Wax. Skin. Bone. The names flew through Sa-at’s mind, attaching themselves to objects, forming islands of certainty in a chaotic sea. Suddenly, it was too much. The jerky slipped from his fingers and his eyelids drooped. He felt the need to sleep, to dream, to give his eyes and mind a rest.

  Devdan picked him up and started to rock him. It was not his mother’s arms and it was not like being wrapped in the wings. It did not matter, he slept all the same.

  Chandni awoke to the sound of Varg arguing quietly but vehemently with Glider. Not quite yet, she thought, and allowed herself a moment to enjoy the novelty of being warm. It was getting harder and harder to remember her life in Lord Rochant’s castle but there had been a time when every day started in a cosy bed.

  Meanwhile, the dispute escalated. Glider’s barks grew in volume and Varg started gesturing in a vaguely threatening manner as he spoke. With some reluctance, Chandni sat up.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Glider wants to go out. I’ve told her she can’t but she’s not having it.’

  ‘It’s not her fault, Varg, she just wants to go to the toilet.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Call it intuition.’ The truth was that now she was fully awake, she needed to go quite urgently herself.

  ‘That Fiya was pretty clear. We can’t leave till she gets back. I’m not sure I trust her, but I reckon she knows what she’s talking about.’

  ‘I agree. Glider, can you hold on for a while?’

  The Dogkin looked at her and whimpered, uncertain.

  ‘I see. Well, please try, for our sake. The space isn’t very large and I don’t think our host will approve.’

  ‘She won’t, trust me,’ said Varg. ‘I’ve smelt Glider’s mess before.’

  Glider put her head on the ground and covered it with her paws.

  A little time passed, and Chandni could feel the broth she’d consumed with such abandon pressing to get out. Natural windows in the bark allowed the last of the day’s sunslight inside. She used it to examine the space for appropriate nooks or holes. Unfortunately, there weren’t any, and the jars looked to be already full, though with what, Chandni could not guess. It would be easy enough to wipe off the layer of grime on the outside and investigate, but the idea of touching them made her feel slightly ill.

  ‘Can we talk about something?’ she asked.

  ‘Sure.’

  His voice sounded strained, and when she looked at him, she noticed his jaw was set tight. He’s as desperate as the rest of us! ‘Varg, if Fiya doesn’t come back soon, what are we going to do?’

  ‘Clench.’

  ‘I’m all for being civilized, as well you know, but this isn’t worth dying for. Can you find anything we could use for our … indignities?’

  ‘There’s the cooking pot.’

  Chandni put a hand to her mouth. ‘That’s disgusting!’ Satyendra made a little huffing noise and took
on an intense expression that to her horror, Chandni knew well. ‘He needs to go too, and he won’t wait.’

  ‘Oh shit.’

  ‘Quite.’

  They both started searching, more frantically this time. Fiya had few possessions, it seemed, and only one cooking pot. Chandni was just about ready to risk venturing outside the tree when the old woman returned, the sudden appearance of her head at the entrance making them all jump.

  ‘What’s this then?’ she asked, her voice as hard as her face.

  Chandni took a moment to consider how suspicious they all looked, rifling through her things. ‘Oh, it’s not what you think.’

  ‘Is it not?’

  ‘No. I mean, we’re not trying to steal anything.’

  Fiya shook her head. ‘Would have thought a sky-born would remember the ways of host and guest.’

  ‘I do. That’s why we didn’t leave.’ Satyendra made another huffing noise. Time was running out. ‘But we need to go, all of us. Quite urgently in fact.’

  ‘Go where?’

  ‘Anywhere we can relieve ourselves without soiling your home.’

  There was a pause, then Fiya’s brows shot up. ‘Come with me.’

  Glider was on her feet and bounding out of the tree so fast that Fiya only just managed to get out of the way. Varg wasn’t far behind her, Chandni and her hard working baby close on his heels.

  They were led a short distance from the grand tree. By the time Fiya had called them to a stop, Glider had already vanished, done her business, and returned to them, a happy spring in her paws.

  ‘Get your Dogkin to dig a hole. You can all go in that. When you’re done, sprinkle the remains with these.’ She passed a small drawstring bag to Varg. ‘Use plenty. Then cover the hole. I’ll be waiting for you outside the tree.’

  When Fiya had gone, Glider obliged with a shallow hole; neither of them could stand to wait for a deep one.

  ‘Who’s going first?’ asked Varg.

  ‘I don’t mind. I don’t think Satyendra can wait for long but you—’

  ‘Great, thanks!’