The Deathless

by Peter Newman

  ‘You want your name kept out of it?’

  ‘Precisely. You will be there as an independent trader. Lord Taraka and his people are always horribly well informed, so you’ll need a new name and a change of appearance.’ He grunted in understanding. ‘Once there, you will find a way to get to Priti and ingratiate yourself.’

  ‘Which one is that?’

  She slapped him lightly on the arm, ‘Rashana’s daughter of course, my great granddaughter. The High Lord has decreed that Priti is to be my next vessel.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Varg looked uncomfortable. It was rare for a Deathless to discuss such things outside of family and very specific staff. ‘Is she in danger?’

  ‘Only of being too dull.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Your job is to get close to her. I don’t care how long it takes, well actually I do, but I don’t want you to rush. Whatever happens, Taraka must never suspect my hand.

  ‘After you’ve made contact with Priti and won her trust, I want you to teach her things, the kind of things her other tutors won’t.’ She gave Varg a sufficiently naughty grin to make him fix his eyes on the road again. ‘Give her a taste for adventure.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘That’s it. They’re trying to limit her world, and I need you to show her some of its forbidden delights, but here’s the tricky bit: you have to do it all in secret, and you have to make sure she keeps it secret too.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Taraka of course, he wouldn’t like it.’

  ‘I mean why do it at all? What’s the point?’

  ‘That’s not for you to worry about.’

  He made an unhappy noise but said no more.

  She ordered him stop the wagon so that he could repackage her comfortably in the back. Then, as they set off, she settled in with her thoughts.

  Taraka and my High Lord think they have cowed me with their strategy. They seek to bend me to their will, make me malleable. They think they will force me to become obedient in order to match my soul with Priti’s body and survive my rebirth. But I will not plane off the edges of myself to fit into a shape of their choosing. No, I will take Priti and mould her to my image, and then I will wait, and plan, and take whatever steps I need to to protect Arkav and myself in the future.

  Yes, she thought. That’s more like it, Pari.

  Spend less time thinking about what I’ve lost, and focus on what I’ve gained and what needs to be done.

  Rochant may be lost to me, but I have new allies in House Sapphire now, Nidra and Lord Vasin. Secrets and fear of mutual destruction bind us, a much more enduring bond than love can ever be. If I can help Vasin take House Sapphire and restore Nidra to their ranks, I’m certain they’ll help me in return. No matter how dark my plans turn.

  Those plans were just starting to take a pleasing shape in her mind when Varg’s voice cut across her thoughts.

  ‘If I do this for you, then after, I want to be with Chandni.’

  ‘If? If you do this?’

  He carried on as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘I don’t care if it’s part of some mission, I just want to be with her. It’s not much to ask.’

  ‘You are mine, Varg. I raised you, taught you, clothed you. You owe your very life to me.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. But what you’re asking … I’ll be giving you my best years.’

  ‘I already told you that I would allow you to visit.’

  ‘I want to live with her.’

  ‘In the castle? Oh yes,’ she said, unable to stop the sarcasm, ‘you’d fit right in there!’ She couldn’t see his face but the way his shoulders slumped was almost too much. Oh dear. Poor, poor Varg. ‘You’ve really fallen for her, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, I suppose I could let you go, it might be useful having some eyes and ears in the Sapphire lands. Though I should warn you, you may find her different when she’s back at court with her stuffy friends.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that your relationship with her was forged in peril. It was scary and dangerous and I’ve no doubt you were an excellent guardian. How strange and exciting you must have seemed to her. But how will that relationship survive when she has guards, staff, a whole castle at her disposal? Think about it. She won’t need you any more, and you won’t fit in there.’

  ‘She isn’t like that.’

  ‘I’m sure you know her better than I do.’

  ‘Piss off.’

  ‘Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?’

  ‘No. Swear you’ll find a way.’

  ‘So be it. I, Lady Pari of the Tanzanite Everlasting, swear that when you have discharged your duty and I have returned, that I will see you placed within House Sapphire in a manner suitable to both of our needs. Happy?’

  ‘And promise you won’t kill Glider.’

  ‘Fine, but I’ll still kick her if she asks for it.’

  He chuckled. ‘All right.’

  ‘Are you satisfied now?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He twisted round to face her. ‘I mean, thank you. This is …’

  ‘I can see.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he smiled at her, shy, and turned back.

  Pari closed her eyes and smiled a very different smile of her own. She’d been planning to send him to spy on the Sapphire anyway.

  Everything is falling into place. I may have misplayed this hand, but I’ll more than make up for it with the next one. The thought of her brother, alone with her High Lord, remained a worry however. Be strong, my dear Arkav, hold on. When I return, I’ll come for you.

  Lord Vasin had escorted Chandni out of Sorn, the Dogkin’s sad whine following them through the woods. She tried to tell herself it was because she’d failed to deliver on her promise of more sausage, but deep down she knew it was more than that. Glider didn’t want me to go. I didn’t want to go either.

  Everything had gone smoothly until they’d reached the Godroad. Soon after they had broken the cover of the trees, a fleet of Lord Vasin’s hunters had dropped from the sky around them. Orders were promptly given, and it was not long after that she was helped into a swiftly procured carriage, the original owners not in sight.

  With trusted hunters driving and surrounding the carriage, and Lord Vasin himself gliding ahead of them, they pulled onto the Godroad to return to Lord Rochant’s floating castle.

  That was when Satyendra began to scream.

  As with most babies, Satyendra had a whole spectrum of crying, and Chandni liked to think she was reasonably good at telling the difference between the noise he made when bored, to the one he made when frustrated, or when he was scared. This wasn’t like any of those. This was pain, mixed with a pure animal fear.

  When she picked him up and put his head on her shoulder, he bucked and kicked, his legs lashing out with surprising force. Chandni rocked him close, soothed with her voice, but it was as if he couldn’t hear her.

  Someone had, however, for there was a knock at the window, followed by the appearance of the lead hunter. Chandni recalled her name: Mia. She was young to hold the post, suggesting either a great deal of talent or backing from someone powerful.

  ‘Honoured Mother? Is everything all right in there?’

  ‘Yes,’ Chandni replied, narrowly avoiding Satyendra’s fist as it flew past her nose.

  Mia pressed her ear against the glass. ‘What was that?’ Between the door and the screaming, it was clear she couldn’t hear a word.

  ‘Yes!’ Chandni shouted. She hated raising her voice. It was so undignified.

  ‘What?’

  Before she could reply, Satyendra flailed again, bashing her cheek. It took her a couple of tries to get a grip on his arm but she managed it. His screaming became even more frenzied, and she worried she’d accidentally hurt him. Am I squeezing too tight? I don’t understand.

  As she struggled to hold him still she noticed something odd about the skin on the back of his hand. It seemed to be bubbling, like water boiling in slow mot
ion, rising then settling again and again. Each time, it seemed to lose some of its colour, going from brown to white, until it became translucent, displaying muscles that swam, like creatures beneath the surface of a lake.

  Dread hooked itself inside her. She did not want to know any more. She did not want to lift him from her shoulder so that she could see his face.

  But that is what she did.

  No.

  The skull was visible through the skin, the teeth through the lips, and these seemed far too long, the gums reduced to pale shadows at their roots.

  No, no, no.

  Within the dissolving thickness of the flesh, he seemed a small and wiry thing, his arms gangly sticks, too long for the body, fingernails turning into vicious claws. The eyes rocked wild in their sockets, devoid of colour, the pupils tiny dots that seemed to float there amidst the threads of veins.

  Such was her horror that she didn’t realize the carriage had stopped. She was gripped by an unthinkable conviction: This cannot be my son.

  Mia opening the door made her shriek as she put her back to the hunter, tucking Satyendra’s hand into his wrap, pressing his head into her chest.

  ‘Honoured Mother! Honoured Mother! Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, yes, you startled me, but I’m fine.’

  There was a pause as Mia tried to surreptitiously glance over Chandni’s shoulder. ‘What about him?’

  ‘He’s been through a lot.’ She could feel Satyendra’s muffled screams against her chest and his knobbly chin, pressing so hard it was sure to leave a bruise.

  Another bruise, she thought, and then immediately thought of Varg. Oh if only he were here.

  ‘Is he … having a fit? He’s very loud.’

  Mia didn’t have the guile to hide her disapproval. For a horrible moment, Chandni thought she had seen something of Satyendra’s flesh peeking from the cover. But no, the reaction wasn’t extreme enough for that. She probably wonders how this noisy baby can possibly grow up to be a suitable vessel for Lord Rochant. However, it was one thing to make judgements, it was another to let them show on your face. ‘It is not your place to comment, hunter. My Satyendra has faced assassins and monsters and things you would not, and could not, understand. He has remained stoic throughout, a credit to the house. If he wants to cry now, in the privacy of this carriage, then he has more than earned the right.’

  The young woman’s nostrils flared with anger but she took a breath and then apologized. Chandni accepted it with a slight nod.

  ‘And I’d thank you to close the door and get this carriage moving again. We must not keep Lord Vasin waiting.’

  Mia seemed to agree with that fast enough, for seconds later the door had been shut, her face gone from the window, and the soft hum of the crystal-tipped wheels skimming over the Godroad became audible under Satyendra’s cries.

  Not knowing what to do and not wanting to see any more, Chandni squeezed her eyes shut and clung to Satyendra. We have come through so much together, surely we will find a way through this fresh torment.

  She wrestled with the unmotherly sense that she was holding a thing and that her son was somewhere else, wrestled with it and crushed it. There are many other explanations. If my Satyendra has become infected, it would make sense that the Godroad would burn it out, like a body does the fever.

  An image of that face, that bloodless face, hung in her mind’s eye. She screwed her eyes shut tighter, shaking her head.

  No. He is not a monster. He is my son and he needs me. No one can see him like this.

  She began to plan, considering which servants were best to ask for, and which should be sent away at all costs. She had planned to confess her crimes to Lord Vasin as soon as they arrived but that was no longer an option. Satyendra needs me still. Only I understand the situation. Only I can protect him. And if Lord Vasin judged her poorly for not confiding in him sooner, so be it.

  When the carriage left the Godroad to bump its way across the Bridge of Friends and Fools, Satyendra simply stopped, his screams dying in his throat and his head falling limp. The change was so sudden that she put a hand on his chest to check his heart was still beating.

  In the sudden peace, with his body warm against hers, she found her own head becoming heavy.

  She dozed, dipping in and out of sleep as the carriage wheels jolted up and down, until they’d left the bridge, passed through the main gates and come to a stop in the courtyard. It wasn’t far from where she’d first met Varg, barefoot, bandaged, and on the run. That felt like a lifetime ago.

  Then, as now, she hid Satyendra under her cloak, the one gifted by the cook, Roh. Ah, I must make sure Lord Rochant hears of her service and is properly rewarded. As soon as Lord Vasin is finished with me, I will go and see her, to say thank you and return her cloak.

  The door opened again and she climbed out to find Lord Vasin towering over her. She could see cracks in the crystal of his wings, but they were still beautiful, their curves caressed by the sunslight.

  ‘Honoured Mother, may I?’ he said, holding out his hands.

  With horror, she realized that he wanted to take her baby. The question was a courtesy, one that she could not refuse. But if Lord Vasin were to see Satyendra in his current state …

  ‘Do not fear,’ Vasin added. ‘I will be gentle with him.’

  ‘I do not fear you, my lord. But what of the assassins?’

  ‘Ah, of course. It must be difficult coming back here after everything that happened. I assure you, the assassins are dead. They will not trouble you nor your baby again, you have my word.’

  Incredibly, she found herself thinking about Varg. What was it he’d said? That Lady Pari suspected a traitor among the Sapphire Deathless? Some hand behind the attacks. She’d dismissed it as nonsense at the time but what if an enemy of Lord Rochant remained, hidden?

  ‘Will you be staying to protect us, my lord?’

  Vasin turned his head away, his face unreadable beneath the helmet. ‘That will be up to the High Lord. But we’ll find out soon enough, he’s waiting inside.’

  ‘High Lord Yadavendra is here already?’

  Vasin turned back to look at her, a firmness in his gaze. ‘Yes, and he’s expecting us.’ He opened his hands again. ‘May I?’

  It was the second time he’d asked. If he had to ask a third then she’d likely be punished for irreverence. If she’d felt it might save Satyendra, then she would have endured it. But she had been raised a Sapphire, and when a Deathless asked you something, there was only one response to make.

  ‘Of course, my lord.’

  She opened her cloak, bowed her head, and held up her baby.

  Vasin looked at the baby being passed up to him. It was tiny, no doubt taking after its mother. Such a fuss over this fragile little object. It hung loose in her hands like a sack, the limbs dangling, a thread of slobber swinging gently from its chin. He automatically committed the image to memory. On the rare occasions he got to see vessels in undignified positions, he always made sure to remember, so that he could call them to mind when his family were being intimidating. It was a petty kind of revenge, for of course, the family had all presided over him in his first lifecycle, and never tired of dredging up stories of bladder failure or when he’d fallen on his face, or when he’d—

  He gritted his teeth and pushed the memories aside. It didn’t matter anyway, for this baby would never become the vessel for Lord Rochant. This baby would grow up, go through the rebirthing ceremony, be tested, failed, judged and destroyed. Then his mother would kill Lord Rochant’s last remaining body. Given that, whether the baby slobbered or not today was irrelevant.

  It shook slightly in the Honoured Mother’s hands and he considered letting her keep it. However, the image of him striding into the main receiving chamber and presenting his prize to the High Lord was too attractive to pass up. But will this sad excuse for a baby diminish the moment?

  Vasin could see two different ways to showcase his victory. He could go direct to the H
igh Lord, caked in the grime of his adventures and show strength. Of course, it was not the done thing to attend an audience wearing one’s crystal skin, but had not the High Lord himself stamped on that tradition? This way, he could face Yadavendra on equal footing.

  The alternative was to bathe, dress appropriately, and paint a picture for the ages of himself as the model Sapphire. If he was going to take Yadavendra’s place one day, it might be better to honour every tradition to the letter, to show the house that he represented a return to stability. Becoming High Lord was a long game, and he only had a decade or two to make it happen. Moreover, Mother’s life depends on my success. I cannot afford a single misstep, especially at key moments like this.

  But what was better to display? Power or respectability?

  He decided to take the baby and examine it before he made his decision, and noted that the Honoured Mother was glancing up at him in what seemed like barely concealed terror. No doubt she was reliving the night of the attack.

  ‘You are safe here,’ he murmured, lifting it from her.

  Some element of the travel or exposure to the Wild had disagreed with it. It’s eyes were puffy from crying, and it had a speckled rash all over, red spots dusting the brown skin. At the touch of his gauntleted hands, it began to stir, unhappy, and he passed it back hurriedly.

  I cannot present it in this state, he thought, wincing as he imagined the scene. Behold Lord Vasin, they will say, as he tracks mud across the halls, proudly carrying an ugly, wailing drool sack. No, I will not give my enemies or their Story-singers such a gift.

  ‘Prepare yourself, Honoured Mother, and your child for an audience with the High Lord,’ he snapped. ‘Do what you can about his appearance.’

  She looked at her baby and choked back a sob of relief. To his surprise he realized she was not embarrassed by the state of it, but delighted with what she saw.

  ‘Of course, my lord,’ she replied. ‘If it please you, I will hand pick some of our best to attend you and your hunters, ones whose discretion can be relied upon.’

  ‘It does.’ He gestured for Mia to join them. ‘Go with the Honoured Mother. See to it she has whatever she needs, and keep her presence here secret for as long as you can. If possible, I want to make our good news a surprise.’