Reign of Beasts

by Tansy Rayner Roberts

  ‘I don’t know if there’s much we can teach him,’ he said finally. ‘May as well let him fly.’

  PART VI

  The Reign of Garnet

  15

  Three days after the Ides of Bestialis

  Topaz didn’t understand these people. They were performers of the highest order, that much was obvious. Preenfeathers, the lot of them. This Garnet saw himself as the stellar, and the rest of the Court were willing to let him take centre stage.

  She had thought the Haymarket was Livilla’s place from the way he’d backed down last time the Lady threw him out, but this time Garnet swept in and made it very clear that he was the King of everything.

  Topaz stayed quiet and nudged the lambs to do the same when they got fidgety. She was busy watching, and noticing things. Like that all the other courtesi were older than them, and that the other Lords only had a few each.

  Mostly, she watched the Orphan Princel, the cove that they called Poet. He was the most interesting person to look at, and not only because he was the only one Topaz knew from before this world had swallowed her whole. Back at the Vittorina Royale, he was the stellar. He was the money, too — they all knew that though he didn’t like it spoken about. Here, Poet followed Garnet around like he was some kind of stagehand. He acted aloof and casual, but his whole body snapped to attention when Garnet was talking to him. Well trained, Topaz reckoned.

  The other coves who were Lords — the white-haired one and the Zafiran — stood there all growls and folded arms, acting tough.

  Then there was Lady Livilla. Topaz couldn’t tell about her. She acted like a leading lady, silently swooning whenever Garnet graced her with a look, but there was something else there.

  ‘Your loyalty will be remembered,’ Garnet was saying now, all grand and puffed up with himself. ‘The past is forgotten. Let us move forward from this day. It is a new reign. A new time.’ He waved a hand at Livilla. ‘Clear my rooms for me. I’m home now.’

  ‘Where will my children sleep?’ she asked, making no move to obey him.

  ‘Oh, that’s another thing,’ said Garnet, in a very casual voice. ‘You have far too many courtesi, Livilla. It’s unseemly. I want you to give the children back to Poet.’

  The Lady blinked. Topaz stared at her anxiously. Would Livilla give them up? Would he make her do it? The lambs had nowhere else to go, but Topaz was damned if she would let them be passed around like lost parcels.

  ‘No,’ Livilla said clearly.

  Garnet hesitated only a moment, then gave her another of those mocking looks. Topaz didn’t like him at all. ‘You gave me an oath, Lord of Wolves.’

  ‘To serve you as Power and Majesty,’ she agreed. ‘But my courtesi are my own. I owe them allegiance and protection.’ Her voice faltered only on the word ‘protection’.

  ‘It’s unlike you to be so rebellious,’ said Garnet, as if she amused him. ‘It doesn’t matter. You can’t have a dozen courtesi. It’s not allowed.’

  ‘Who says?’ Livilla demanded, her voice rising. ‘Is it tradition? Is it written down somewhere? We thought women couldn’t be Kings and then along came Velody, proving us wrong.’

  ‘And look how that turned out,’ said Garnet.

  Interesting. He was trying to keep his anger under control, but his neck had gone red and the flush was creeping up towards his face.

  ‘There’s a difference between saying women make bad Kings and women can’t be Kings at all,’ said Livilla firmly.

  ‘Is that what you want, Livilla?’ he mocked. ‘To be a King? Is that what this gaggle of street rats is all about — a grab for power?’

  The Lady’s expression was gentle beneath her harsh cosmetick. ‘I can see how you might think so. The fact remains, there is no rule that says I have to give up the children.’

  ‘You will obey me!’ Garnet thundered. There was a power in his words that shook the floor of the Haymarket and made Topaz’s bones rattle in her chest.

  Livilla took a deep breath. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not this time.’

  He shaped so fast, Topaz gasped and stepped back. It was like his body peeled into two, becoming a pair of large spotted cats with gleaming teeth, ready to pounce.

  ‘Topaz, now,’ Livilla said sharply, and Topaz could feel what her mistress wanted of her.

  She shifted, too, letting her moist human body fall into tiny, tight, hot lizards, licking and spitting and spreading out between Livilla and the gattopardi.

  Garnet’s eyes flashed, and she could practically feel the confidence rolling off him.

  Topaz burst into flames. The fire burned along the skin of each of the lizards, a glorious warmth that tickled her down to her toes.

  The gattopardi leaped back, keeping their distance from the flames. Topaz wanted to laugh. So much for the big scary Garnet. She could feel something else that she wanted, needed, to do and slowly shaped her small bodies back into one. She didn’t go human, though. Instead she was one large, powerful lizard, flames still running from the crest of her head to the tip of her tail as it whipped back and forth.

  Livilla gasped and then started to laugh, a glorious sound of genuine surprise.

  ‘Garnet, dear, meet my salamander,’ she said happily. ‘I think we’ll be keeping our rooms above the Haymarket, don’t you?’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ said Delphine to Macready.

  A sweet lass she was, trying her best, but she had no idea. Kelpie was gone, wrapped up with that bastard Garnet, and of course it wasn’t his fault, it had been Kelpie’s choice every step of the way. It had.

  But Macready couldn’t forget the look on Kelpie’s face as she walked away, as if it wasn’t her choice. As if she couldn’t possibly do anything else.

  That bastard Garnet.

  Delphine came to the window, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Odd, that. Usually it was him doing the comforting. He couldn’t find it in him to care about the reversal.

  Since they gave up their skysilver, he hadn’t cared about much of anything. He shared Delphine’s bed, and that resolved the situation of where to live, but what else did he have? Who was he now?

  Velody showed no sign of needing protection. Ashiol had vanished — had left the city from what they said at the Palazzo. Crane had gone off spouting some noble cack about finding a life for himself. Macready couldn’t do anything for anyone.

  He didn’t exist.

  Delphine wormed her way around to his front. ‘It’s not over,’ she said firmly. ‘You know it isn’t. And even if it was, would that be so bad? You could have a normal life.’

  ‘And what would I do in that normal life?’ he scoffed. ‘Join the army? The vigiles? I’d make a fine lictor, I’m sure, if they took men my age.’

  ‘You could love me,’ said Delphine.

  He looked at her slowly. He had no idea what she saw in his face, but it must have been something bad because she panicked. ‘I didn’t say that. I take it back.’

  ‘You can’t take it back,’ he said softly.

  ‘Yes, I can! I can do anything. Shut up.’ Delphine tried to slip away from him, but he grasped her waist. ‘I don’t want it,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s ridiculous.’

  ‘Love?’

  ‘Anything. I don’t want you.’

  Macready nodded slowly. ‘I don’t want you, either.’

  She slid her hand down the front of his trews, something she often did when she wanted to change the subject. ‘Good. As it should be.’

  ‘I don’t know how to live in the daylight, Delphine,’ he said in a low voice, trying to keep a brain in his head despite her wandering fingers. ‘It’s been too fecking long. I don’t have a trade, I’ve nothing to offer you.’

  ‘Thimblehead,’ she said, moving her hand slowly and enticingly. Even with this alarming turn of conversation, he was growing hard against her palm. She really was bloody good at the art of changing the subject. ‘I’ll teach you to make ribbons.’

  He laughed, and gasped as her fingers wrapp
ed around him, tugging in no uncertain terms. ‘Aye, that sounds like a grand life. Satin strips and silk thread.’

  She giggled, and managed to slip her frock half off with only one hand. Now there was a skill. ‘Oh, you have so much to learn.’

  Macready seized hold of her, taking her to the bed and climbing on top of her, hands pinning her to the bedspread. ‘Is that what you think?’ he growled, burying his face in her throat.

  ‘That tickles,’ she whispered, and he kissed lower. ‘Oh …’

  His mouth was on her breast now, teasing and sucking until she lost her words entirely and descended into moans.

  He could change the subject, too.

  Rhian walked.

  The air was crisp and cool, rasping in her throat as she set one foot in front of the other.

  This city. She had so loved this city, when she was young. When she was strong and bold, and could climb the hills without bothering to catch her breath.

  She had walked these streets so many times without thinking about it, and the paths from home to the Forum, from home to the docks. Nothing much had changed in her time — nearly two years now — of self-imposed exile from life. But the city looked different, felt different.

  The buildings loomed over her.

  She had been pretending for so long, pretending that she was afraid of her attackers (her victims). Pretending that she was afraid of what men could do to her, instead of admitting her fear was how easily she could destroy them.

  Even when the Creature Court burst into her home with their wild language, odd clothes and stranger manners, she had been able to hold it all together, to preserve the lie that she had been raped. That her odd behaviour, her panic attacks and fears, all stemmed from that fictional assault.

  The truth was so much harder to admit. This city had nothing in it to frighten her, except herself.

  Walking in the fresh air helped to quell the voices, just a little: the frantic chorus inside her head of Seers dead and gone. But when she reached the hidden entrance to the Arches that the Creature Court referred to as ‘the Lock’ and climbed down into the damp, buttressed underground tunnel, the voices rose up again, fierce and demanding.

  So that was why Heliora had spent little time down here. Rhian had thought it would be better, away from the sky, but the wall stank of Creature Court, of their wretched animor, and it made her dizzy.

  As she walked along, she came up with a refrain in her head, repeated over and over, fierce enough to keep the voices at bay.

  Velody’s fault, it’s all Velody’s fault, it’s all Velody’s fault.

  She tripped several times in the darkness, and once nearly fell into the enormous canal in the central tunnel. After that, she let the voices themselves guide her steps. They knew the way, and she did not.

  Eventually, even in the darkness, she found her way to an old grocer’s shop, with lamps burning in the upstairs window.

  You don’t have to do this, Heliora’s voice said, emerging clearly out of the messy chorus of Seers.

  Yes I do, Rhian replied, and knocked.

  After a short while, it opened, and she felt a wave of Garnet’s animor before she could focus on enough detail to see it was him, standing in the doorway. ‘Can I help you?’ he said with exaggerated politeness.

  Rhian clenched her fists, holding herself together, determined not to fall apart here in front of this man. ‘I’m the Seer of the Creature Court. Don’t you think we should talk?’

  Garnet hesitated, and then smiled, stepping back so as to usher her up a narrow flight of stairs. ‘Poet, my dear, we have a guest.’

  It was a warm, elegant room, but their host provided enough frost to make up for that. ‘Mistress Rhian,’ he said, nodding warily.

  ‘I think I should warn you,’ Garnet said, obviously the only one enjoying this. ‘Your predecessor was less than helpful when it came to serving her Power and Majesty.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rhian, glancing carefully around the room before choosing a chair to sit in. ‘But she didn’t like you very much.’

  Poet laughed at that, a sudden surprised bark. ‘She has a point.’

  She was here. Anything was possible. A sudden heat flared in her hands, and she pressed her palms hard against her knees, attempting to calm it down. ‘I came to you because I need to understand my powers. I think we can both learn something useful from the voices in my head.’

  Garnet looked intrigued. ‘Voices? What do they say about me?’

  Heliora was shouting at her. The others too, a cacophonous muddle in her head. Rhian resisted the urge to press her hands to her ears. ‘The city will be saved if you make the sacred marriage,’ she said.

  Poet was watching her intently. Garnet too. ‘And what do you know of this sacred marriage?’ Garnet said finally.

  ‘Nothing,’ she admitted. ‘I think the older Seers in my head know it, but the knowledge is so old and their voices are so weak. I thought you could help …’

  ‘I’m hardly an expert on hearing voices,’ said Garnet.

  Poet muttered something indistinguishable, covering it with a cough.

  ‘I think that the Seer might have a purpose other than seeing the futures of the Creature Court,’ Rhian said, pressing on. ‘Why else would I be able to hear the Seers of the past? If we can learn from them …’

  ‘I have learned everything I need to know about the Creature Court, past, present, future,’ Garnet said dismissively. ‘I don’t need you.’

  He was lying, though. She had said something that drew him in, something that was of value. Wisps of smoke uncurled from the palms of her hands as Rhian stared down at them. She had made the right choice. If it all went wrong, she did not mind Garnet of all people getting hurt.

  She met his eyes. ‘We are going to help each other. We are going to save the city.’

  ‘No,’ he said simply. ‘You would not come all this way to give me a prophecy, not when you could have given it to your Velody. You think you can use one flash of future as coin to bargain with me? It makes no sense.’

  Oh, he was smarter than Rhian had thought. That wasn’t good. Poet was watching Garnet as if he might be about to bite her.

  ‘I came to help,’ she said again.

  Garnet leaned in, dangerously close. ‘No, you didn’t. Tell me what you really want.’

  You can’t do this, Heliora hissed. You cannot trust him with our secrets.

  Rhian ignored her. She met Garnet’s gaze, and for once did not care if her hands burst into flames and her body dissolved under the weight of this strange power she had been infected with for so long. ‘I have learned much about the Seers of the Creature Court,’ she said finally. ‘Enough to know that they made a mistake when they let the futures come to me. I was not supposed to do this. I am not a Seer.’

  Garnet seemed amused. ‘What do you expect me to do about it?’

  ‘Take it back,’ she breathed. ‘I am the last of the Seers, and they got it wrong. You are the Power and Majesty. If anyone can take it away from me, it is you.’

  Garnet seemed to consider it. ‘Tell me everything you have learned about this sacred marriage, and I could be persuaded. History fascinates me, after all.’

  Everything she told him, he could use against Ashiol and Velody. Rhian knew that. But the weight of the futures was pressing down against her and it was wrong, she had to get rid of it before she started destroying people.

  She sighed, and nodded her assent.

  16

  The month of Fortuna

  Time passed. Bestialis became Fortuna. Life without the Creature Court was odd, but survivable. No one had any idea where Ashiol was; he seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth, or at least disappeared from Aufleur.

  Velody started sewing again, just festival smocks at first, but then she sent her cards to former clients and accepted two dress commissions for the month of Saturnalis. She went back to working during the day and sleeping at nox.

  The hardest times were when
the slow rain seeped in through the cracks in the ceiling, or the sky erupted into the lights and colours that signified a battle. Velody would stand at her bedroom window watching, wanting to join in, wishing she could be part of it all.

  Sometimes Macready would come in and sit in a corner of the room, not saying anything, just being there. Delphine never acknowledged the difference between one nox and another, and gave a very good impression of having completely lost any of her sentinel instincts.

  Rhian was never there on those noxes. That was the strangest part. After so long not being able to leave the house, Rhian now absented herself on a regular basis. The first time Velody had found her room empty, she’d had a major meltdown, but she had grown used to it now. It was normal — as much as anything to do with Rhian these days could be normal. She didn’t work. When Delphine had prompted her about the berry fronds and bleeding-heart for Ludi garlands, Rhian had looked at her blankly, as if the words made no sense. Eventually, Delphine found another florister to supply her with what she needed to fill the council order.

  On the last day of the Ludi Plebeii, four days after the Ides of Fortuna, with a wintry chill stinging the air, Crane returned.

  Velody felt him coming. That, at least, hadn’t changed. She ran to the door, grinning all over her face as he let himself in the back gate. ‘You’re here.’

  ‘I told you I would be,’ he said, reflecting her grin with his own. ‘Didn’t you get my last letter?’

  She hugged him, letting his familiar smell enfold her. ‘I thought your mother might want to keep you.’

  ‘She was pleased enough to see me,’ he said. ‘I was able to get in the winter’s firewood for her, at least, and see to the roof.’ A shadow crossed his face. ‘There was usually a cost when I petitioned the Power and Majesty to let me go at this time of year. It wasn’t always worth paying.’

  Velody drew back from him, crossed her arms uncomfortably over her chest. ‘I’m not the Power and Majesty,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I know that,’ he said quickly, and there was an awkwardness between them after that.