by James Maxey
So you do have feelings for him.
“Yes. I feel like he practically knocked my damn head off the first time I fought him. Also, he didn’t do a bad job of taking down your unstoppable bodyguard. It’s wise to keep him at a respectful distance. The only problem is, if I fly toward the temple, I’m bound to be seen. I’ll have a whole army of knights and truthspeakers waiting for me by the time I arrive.”
You need not fear armies.
“I’m glad you’re so confident in my abilities. I’d feel more encouraged by your words if the army you want me to fight didn’t scare you so badly you live in another reality now.”
Fine. If you fear being spotted in the air, walk.
“That doesn’t help,” said Sorrow. “It’s not like my wings disappear when I’m walking. They’re too damn big to hide with just a cloak.”
Then change your body to something that can be concealed.
“How? I was able to alter my form in the Black Bog, but I can’t just wish away my wings in the material world.”
True. The body of Rott that bleeds through from the abstract realms can’t be gotten rid of. But with bone-weaving, you could still alter your form.
“What? And go back to the tail?”
You could spread the dragon mass evenly across your body. I did so briefly. It was monstrous. Even your face will be covered with scales. Your hands will be hideous talons. You’ll be much larger than your current stature, but not inhuman in size. You could conceal your body beneath a cloak and a veil, and hide your talons with gauntlets.
“Trade my wings for full body disfigurement? You really know how to sell a plan.”
You’re the one who came to me to learn the art of bone-weaving. Now you reject the very tool that would help you reach your goals? Slate’s lack of memories and confusion over his origins leave him vulnerable to emotional manipulation. You could bed him this evening. Given his enviable physical attributes, you’ll no doubt find the experience to your liking. As your body fills with procreative energies, I can guide you in the transformation of your form.
“I was just thinking that, if I did decide to experiment with physical contact with a man, there’s nothing I’d want more than to have a disembodied bystander watching the whole thing and shouting out advice.”
If you reject all my suggestions, I’ve nothing to teach you.
Sorrow hid the lightning rod amid her blankets. “I know,” she said. “Just... give me a little while to think about this.”
As you wish.
BY NIGHTFALL, THE Circus was in quarantine and Levi had gone to secure the necessary papers. He wouldn’t be back until the morning. The Romer children were in good spirits after seeing their brother, but Gale was still pensive as she stood vigil near the wheel, staring at the docks nearby.
Sorrow joined her. She followed Gale’s gaze and saw that she was staring at the slave market, barely fifty yards away. The place was a long dock with a warehouse upon it, with iron bars over every window. A lone ship was unloading, with a string of thirty pygmies walking down the gangplank, their legs in shackles.
Gale shook her head. “I thought I’d raised him better.”
“Levi isn’t to blame for this,” said Sorrow. “Slavery is as old as mankind. We live in a world designed to corrupt. He’s as much a victim of the system as those poor pygmies.”
“I risked everything to oppose that system.”
“As have I. Don’t despair, Gale. The world that exists today is built upon a foundation of lies and oppression. Place the right weight upon it and that foundation will crumble, as it has in Podredumbre. Change is coming. Faster than you think.”
Gale glanced at Sorrow. “I’ve heard your speeches before. You’re fighting for a cause larger than yourself.”
“I’d like to think so.”
“And your battle places you in great danger. Just by allowing you on my ship, I’m placing my family at risk.”
“I won’t deny it. But you’re tough enough to bear the burden of associating with me. You’ve spent the money I’ve paid in the past to charter your ship happily enough.”
“Happily isn’t exactly the sentiment,” said Gale. “But it’s not that far off either. I’d rather be ferrying a revolutionary dreamer around these isles than another load of cotton or booze. I like you, Sorrow. I hope I can help you reach your destination.”
Sorrow tilted her head, not sure if she’d heard Gale correctly.
“Don’t look so surprised. We’re both people who act as if our beliefs matter, even as the world around us tries to make us abandon our most deeply held values. No matter how hard the headwinds become, no matter how rough the sea, you push forward. I’ve no patience for the poor souls of this world who get driven off course the moment they encounter a patch of bad weather. You’re never going to turn away from your goals because the going gets rough.”
As Gale’s words sunk in, Sorrow smiled.
“This isn’t something you should smile about,” said Gale. “Having the courage to stand up for what’s right when the rest of the world is determined to drag you down is a terrible burden.”
Sorrow smiled even more broadly. “I know. But I didn’t know you felt this way. I just... I never meet anyone who approves of my goals. I’m used to people telling me I should let go of my anger. I’m used to people looking at me as if I’m crazy!”
Gale shrugged. “Perhaps we’re both crazy. I sometime think that what the world accepts as sanity is merely the capacity to grow numb to outrage. I find sanity to be a depressingly common commodity. Your anger exists for a reason, Sorrow. I admire that you still have the capacity to feel it. I admire that you’re willing to risk everything in order to try to put the world right.”
Sorrow couldn’t control herself. She threw her arms around Gale and hugged her with all her might. Gale hugged her back, and whispered, “You’re more my daughter than Levi is my son.”
“Oh, Ma,” Sorrow answered, as she choked back tears.
IT WAS LATE at night when Sorrow knocked on Brand’s door. Sage had gone to sleep. Mako was on watch in the crows nest.
“Risk everything,” she whispered. “Don’t be afraid of a patch of rough water.” She took a deep breath as she heard Brand’s footsteps approach.
Brand’s hair was wet when he opened the door, his face pink and freshly shaven. Before he could speak she pushed him back into his cabin and closed the door behind them.
“I suppose it was a bit optimistic to imagine it might finally be Gale paying a visit,” Brand said with a sigh. “What can I help you with, Sorrow?”
Sorrow swallowed hard. She didn’t look him directly in the face as she said, “The... the same thing you were hoping Gale would want from you.”
Brand laughed softly. “I don’t think you know what you’ve just asked of me.”
“I believe I do.”
Brand stopped smiling. “This is... an unusual request.”
“Is it? I was under the impression you’d had multiple sexual partners.”
“I was under the impression you hadn’t,” said Brand.
“Your impression is correct,” she said. “But circumstances have changed. You were present at dinner with Zetetic. He told me that sexual release was an important source of magical energy. I’ve decided I can no longer afford myself the luxury of ignoring it.”
“I can tell you that I’ve felt something very much like magic during, uh, the requested activity. So maybe there’s an energy in the act that you’ll know how to use. But I really can’t help you.”
“Why not? I’m willing to pay you.”
“I’m not a prostitute, Sorrow.”
“I ask as a favor from a friend.”
“There’s a lot you need to learn about friendship.” Brand crossed his arms.
“If you overlook the wings, am I not attractive?”
“For what it’s worth, the wings make you even more interesting. There’s also an appealing honesty about your look. You don’t go ou
t of your way to fool men with make-up or fancy clothes. There’s an innocence about you that’s almost irresistible.”
“Then, why—”
“I’m in love with Gale,” he said, shaking his head. “You know this.”
“But she’s not in love with you.”
“She feels what she feels. It doesn’t alter what I feel. I gave her reason to mistrust me by sneaking a stowaway aboard the Freewind. I’d love to win her heart with some big gesture, but I also accept that it may take me years to earn back her trust. I’m willing to wait.”
“Gale never needs to know anything happened between us,” said Sorrow.
“I would know. If you ever loved anyone, you’d understand.”
Sorrow shook her head. “What I’m asking has nothing to do with love. It need not involve any emotion at all. I’m asking only for physical assistance. It need be no more a betrayal of Gale than if you were to scratch my back.”
“Emotionless sex isn’t anything I’m interested in. One day you’ll understand it’s not what you’re interested in either.”
Sorrow’s shoulders sagged. She’d been certain that Brand would help her.
“Ordinarily, I’d give you a hug and tell you things will be okay,” Brand said as he sat on the edge of his bed. “But I’m worried you might misinterpret any physical contact. You’ve denied your sexuality for so long you probably have a very steep learning curve ahead of you.”
“I was hoping you would be a good teacher.”
“Sex is one of the few things where your first lessons are probably best learned from other beginners. Have you approached Slate?”
“No!”
“That’s surprisingly emphatic.”
She waved her hand as if she were swatting away his words. “He’s not my type.”
“Tall, dark, and handsome isn’t your type?”
“He’s so empty it frightens me. He’s so desperate to fill himself with something. He’s trying to serve a religion he doesn’t even understand. I’m certain he would find sex outside of marriage to be a sin.”
“The original Tower didn’t.”
“And he’s Tower’s opposite.”
“And you don’t want to corrupt him.”
“Corrupting him is very high on my agenda,” she said. “I’d hoped to turn him into an ally against the church, but he seems to be going in the opposite direction. He’ll probably be a saint one day.”
“Why... oh, wait. I get it. Since Slate has no memories, you’ve been able to project all your hopes and dreams onto him. Despite your protests, you imagine him to be perfect. He’s the man of virtue your father failed to be. Having sex with him would shatter that illusion, and make him merely human.”
“Is this more of your carnival act? Just take anything I say and tell me I meant the opposite?”
“How’s it worked so far?”
Sorrow turned to the door. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” She paused as she took the latch in her hand. “Brand, can I ask—”
“I won’t say a word about this. Good luck with your lessons.”
Sorrow left Brand’s cabin. Her arms were wrapped tightly across her breasts. The night air was cold enough that her breath came out as fog. Pale moonlight filtered through the clouds, painting the deck a ghostly gray. A shadow moved before her. Her body tensed as it drew closer. She looked up and found Mako in the rigging.
“I... underestimated Brand,” he said, softly. “I thought he was only toying with my mother’s affections. I didn’t realize how deeply he felt about her.”
“You heard us?” she asked, mortified.
“Sight isn’t a terribly important sense for a shark. But they can hear a wounded fish flopping on the surface from many miles away. Usually there’s so much sound in the world I have difficulty making sense of everything. But late at night, on a sleeping ship, a single hushed conversation is difficult to ignore.”
“Did you also—”
“—hear when Sage and Mother spoke to you about Grandmother’s ghost? I did. Why they don’t simply include me in their confidence is no mystery. How did mother phrase it? That I have freakish hearing? That no girl would ever want me because of my teeth? She’s seen the thing I become when I smell blood in the water. It’s hard enough to know that no girl will ever trust me. It’s harder still to know that my own mother fears me.”
“She still loves you. As do all your siblings.”
“And I love them. Still, the love of my family only serves to remind me that I will likely never have a family of my own. It’s a lonely thing, to be a monster.”
Sorrow folded her wings about her, and ran her fingers along the fine scales that covered the leading edge. “I know how you feel.”
Mako dropped to the deck before Sorrow. He said, “Ma would lash me if she knew I’d left my post.”
“We can’t have that,” Sorrow said, turning her back to him.
He placed his sharp-nailed hand between her shoulder blades. His fingers were rough and callused as he lightly scratched her back. “This need not involve any emotion at all,” he murmured, inches from her ear.
She shuddered as his inhuman mouth pressed against the nape of her neck. She could feel his saw-toothed jaws beneath his cold lips as he kissed her. His hands moved to rest lightly upon her hips.
She placed her hands upon his, feeling the soft webbing between his fingers. She turned to face him. His eyes were dark as the ocean’s depths.
“Some things are best learned from other beginners,” he said, as he brought his lips toward hers.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SAFE PASSAGE
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Sorrow waited on the dock in front of the Circus. Slate appeared on deck dressed in his black armor, standing patiently as Rigger helped outfit the coffin with a rope harness. Slate wrestled the coffin onto his back and headed down the gangplank. Through the holes in his helm, she could see his eyes fixed upon her. She knew he didn’t recognize her. She was outfitted in a suit of full iron plate complete with a jousting helm. Mirrored glass shaded her eyes. She now stood nearly as tall as Slate, and carried an iron mace almost as large as the one she’d crafted for him. He watched her closely as he approached, seeming more wary of her than he was of the trio of Storm Guard next to her.
Of course, the Storm Guard weren’t terribly impressive. None stood even as tall as Sorrow’s shoulders. She also noticed this morning how uniformly thin the residents of Raitingu appeared. Apparently, Tempest believed in keeping his worshipers a bit hungry.
One of the guards bowed toward Slate. He held out a scroll, similar to the one he’d already given Sorrow. He said, “Good morning. I’m Agent Nori. I’ve orders to guide you to the city gates. Beyond, this permit will provide you safe passage as a pilgrim.”
Slate took the scroll, but his eyes were still fixed on Sorrow.
She cleared her throat and said, “You seem fascinated by my new armor.”
“Sorrow?”
She nodded. She could tell from his eyes he had a thousand questions, but he wisely held his tongue as he turned to Agent Nori and said, “We’re honored to have you serve as our guide. Lead on.”
The three guards formed a triangle around the two as they passed through the bustling city streets. The roads were paved with gray gravel and were remarkably clean. Every block was attended by old men with rakes, who worked to smooth out the gravel in the wake of passing carts. The same attention to maintenance was shown in the buildings. Unlike the worn, shabby atmosphere of Port Hallelujah, each building in Kaikou looked freshly painted, albeit in unappealing shades of cloudy gray. Small gardens graced the fronts of each house, but were devoid of flowers. Instead, each was a merely a box of raked sand, sporting a few round stones of random size and placement. A few boxes also featured a single gnarled juniper tree, severely cropped to stand no more than a few inches tall. The gardens reminded her of sand-boxes where children played in the Silver City, but she saw no one playing. What children she sp
otted were all engaged in labor, mending thatched roofs, sweeping doorsteps, and running chamber pots down the steep streets to the river.
At length they reached the city gates. The frame of the main gate was carved in the fashion of a giant dragon’s head, requiring them to enter the jaws in order to reach the barred doors at the back of the throat.
“This is where we must part,” Agent Nori said as he bowed. “I hope you find safe passage beyond these walls.”
“Why would we not?” asked Slate. “We’ve been granted permission, yes?”
“Bandits don’t bother with permits,” Nori said.
“Bandits would be fools to bother with us,” said Sorrow.
“As you say,” Nori replied, with a bow. He turned to depart, with a final blessing: “May the clouds always protect you from the oppression of the sun.”
Slate and Sorrow passed through the iron gates as they slid open. As they walked through the tunnel of the dragon’s mouth on the other side, Slate whispered, “What happened to your wings?”
“It hurts like hell, but I was able to fold them beneath my arms and around the front of my chest. It’s why my armor is so barrel-chested.”
“Your voice sounds different,” he said. “Deeper. Gruffer.”
“It’s probably just my helm that makes it sound different. There’s an echo in here.”
“I can’t help but notice that you’re taller as well. And apparently much stronger, given how swiftly you walk in that armor and how lightly you carry that mace.”
She chuckled as she tossed the mace back and forth between her iron gauntlets. “The mace is hollow; it’s mainly for looks. As for my height, it’s a simple thing to add a few additional inches in my boots and to the top of my helm. The weight of the armor doesn’t matter because I’m wearing almost nothing beneath. My magical control over any iron I touch means I’m moving the armor with my magic, not my muscles. Going on this pilgrimage as a winged witch was only going to cause us both a lot of grief. Going as another knight, I’ll barely draw attention.”