by Tom Lloyd
So this is me playing Dad; didn’t see that coming!
‘Why choose?’ Ruhen said eventually.
‘You think they’re both true?’ Ilumene shrugged. ‘Could be right, I suppose. Lord Styrax sending him fishing is the simplest answer, but Nai was part of Zhia Vukotic’s inner circle. No reason she’s not still got her hooks into him - he plays the middle ground which is where she’s happiest too.’ He started walking again, resolving to keep going for as long as he could, but juddered to a halt.
‘What do you think Lord Styrax is up to here?’ he asked abruptly. ‘If he’s got Nai checking the boundary of the library, it must interest him more than we realised. What if he’s got something up his sleeve?’
‘Have faith.’
‘Hah. Emin always said, “Better to have faith in your preparation”. If it’s all right with you, I’ll think it through a bit more.’
‘Good.’
Ilumene waited, but there was no further advice forthcoming. Damn it, do you deliberately act like Emin to goad me, or was Rojak right in saying you’re defined by your enemies?
‘If he does have something planned, then it’s a worry - it could pull everything here out of balance. Linking Lord Isak to Lord Styrax pits the two greatest powers against each other; the Farlan will only win a war on home soil, but they still have to last long enough. If Styrax gains a significant edge he might roll up the West too fast for us to exploit. The Devoted aren’t ready for a saviour, the balance has to be maintained.’
‘And if it cannot?’
He slipped Ruhen from his shoulders and gently placed the little boy on the ground before kneeling before him. ‘You’d abandon your plans?’ he asked, stunned. The shadow was patience itself, its steps slow, but played out over years, decades, even centuries. ‘I’ve never seen you step away from anything before.’
‘There was never need.’
Slowly Ilumene nodded. ‘You can’t control them; by your very design the players are beyond the playwright’s power. What contingency plans can we prepare? We can’t insert prophecies into the Menin history!’
‘What am I?’
‘A child,’ Ilumene began hesitantly, aware the obvious answers would direct him, however foolish they sounded. ‘A boy, a saviour, a mortal… a son.’
‘A son and a saviour.’
‘The Devoted are primed to worship a saviour,’ he breathed, realisation dawning, ‘while Styrax’s only weakness is his son - but you can be both, and preserve the balance that way?’
He paused for a dozen heartbeats while he thought it through. Eventually he shook his head. ‘No, this goes against every instinct I have. No general abandons a successful tactic for the untried, let alone one his forces are ill-suited for. Your disciples are all carefully positioned, your plans primed to bear fruit at specific times - how can we change now?
‘Before offering battle a general must place himself beyond the possibility of defeat; it is a crucial precept of war. To throw away years of preparation flies in the face of everything I ever learned about warfare. And you have always told me to treat this as a campaign.’
Ruhen was quiet for a while, long enough for Ilumene to wonder whether he had overstepped the mark. Rojak had told him many stories of those servants of Azaer who had incurred the shadow’s wrath. King Emin’s secret scribes wandered the Land, collecting tales of hauntings and horror, and Ilumene knew that not all of them were people who had opposed Azaer - some had merely failed him. Their endings were the worst.
‘Even the most perfect fruit may decay,’ the child said at last. There was something in his voice that Ilumene had not heard before, and it made the hairs on his neck rise. With every passing day Ruhen grew faster and faster, growing into the powers he had possessed as a shadow, but it was in a very human manner. After countless centuries of incorporeal weakness, the shadow had grown impatient with its few months of helpless childhood. ‘Consider the forces we play our games with. Corruption is inevitable. We must not fear it.’
Ilumene smiled. ‘So speaks the festering remains of Rojak’s soul.’
Ruhen nodded, shadows dancing in his eyes.
*
‘Of all my curses, womanly and immortal, I reserve especial hatred for you.’
Nai jerked awake again. He could see no one in the dark valley, but that was not necessarily a good sign.
‘Ah, Mistress Zhia?’ he ventured in a croak, his throat dry.
‘Don’t give me “Mistress Zhia”, you stub-footed worm,’ came her velvety growl in his left ear.
Nai flinched, half-falling off the ledge before his fingers found purchase on the stone. He turned all the way around, still seeing nothing more than black stone and the extinguished lantern beside him.
This time the voice sounded in his right ear. ‘Your idiocy is boundless; redeem yourself soon or I will pull out your intestines and hang you with them.’
Nai was ready for it this time and managed not to shy away. In the alcoholic haze of his mind, the necromancer reflected that it would be frighteningly easy for her to carry out the threat.
‘I’m here as you told me to be.’
‘Did I tell you to announce it to the whole fucking valley?’ Zhia snapped. ‘Forgive me for omitting the order to stay sober and not be seen doing something supposedly impossible!’
Nai glanced around guiltily. He couldn’t see the empty flagon; he must have knocked it off the ledge as he dozed.
At least I didn’t attract any guardians, he thought with a small sense of relief. She really would have killed me then. A gust of wind whistled over his body and he pulled his leather coat tighter around himself. He didn’t respond to Zhia’s words, knowing anything he said would only further enrage her.
‘I didn’t show you this spot just so you could announce it to everyone present; for your sake I hope you didn’t risk it for no good reason.’
‘No Mistress,’ Nai said quickly, glad for the chance to change the subject. The snarl of an infuriated vampire had done wonders to clear his head. ‘There is news: Lord Styrax’s men took the Fist this afternoon.’
‘I know that,’ she scoffed. ‘He does like to show off. The foolish boy has been playing with daemons again; he got five of them to incarnate and smoked the garrison out. I felt it happen all the way back to Byora. Tell me what he’s doing in the library.’
‘The library?’ Nai looked confused. ‘Negotiating the surrender of the quarters, you know that.’
‘So far from his troops, in a place where he can’t use his greatest weapons? Don’t be stupid. However wrecked it may be, the Litse Army in Ismess is far larger than the guard he brought - Styrax remains vulnerable all the time he is in here even if he does have his wyvern somewhere nearby. Is he planning on staying more than a day?’
‘I believe so,’ Nai said hesitantly. ‘I overheard him talking to General Gaur earlier; I got the impression he had some research to do here. He was warning the general to keep an eye on Kohrad.’
‘Anything more?’
‘He gave me a project: to walk the perimeter of the valley and mark the places where I could feel energies in the air.’
There was silence for a few moments. Nai half-turned to look up at the cliffs behind him and was rewarded with an icy blast of wind whipping past his eyes.
‘If you find any, be sure to tell me also.’
Nai nodded, though he was unsure what to make of the order. There was a trace of the vampire in the air: her delicate scent, so faint it could almost be a memory evoked by her voice. Zhia’s understanding of magic far surpassed what Nai could learn in his lifetime - it might be that when he returned in the morning, this ledge would be just like the rest of the valley. Perhaps magic could be driven a little way into the perimeter from outside; or perhaps energy simply surrounded her like a diving beetle’s bubble of air.
‘Is there anything else, Mistress?’
‘You’re the one making the report,’ she said, drily.
‘Ah yes, of course.
Knight-Cardinal Certinse is giving the orders in Akell; he arrived a few weeks ago.’
‘Specifically here, or passing through to Embere?’
‘I do not know.’
Zhia paused. ‘I hear he’s got four or five legions with him; that’s more than he’d need to take over Akell; Sourl doesn’t have the guts to rebel against his superior. I can’t believe he’d pull so many troops out of Narkang lands just for that, and that man is ambitious. More likely he has some grander plan that requires actual tangible control over the Order, rather than just official control. The best way to do that is with Raland’s goldmines, and Telith Vener is in control there these days. He’ll have accepted Certinse’s authority over the Order when Certinse was in distant parts and Duke Nemarse ruled Raland, but not now.’ She paused to think, but Nai could tell by her tone that Zhia was satisfied with her logic.
‘Anything more?’
‘There is some sort of magical link between the duchess’s bodyguard, Sergeant Kayel, and our friend Major Amber.’
‘Curious, I saw nothing of that through Lady Kinna’s eyes.’
‘It is very faint - it is like each carries an echo of the other in their shadow. You would only notice it in the presence of both.’
‘Kayel and Amber,’ Zhia mused. ‘That’s an interesting twist.’
‘You know Kayel?’
‘Only through Kinna’s eyes - but clearly he’s far more than a bullying sergeant. Keep your eyes and ears open. I want you to stay here as long as Styrax does. Make yourself useful in whatever manner you can, and report to me an hour after dusk each day -understand?’
‘I do.’
‘Good.’ She hesitated a moment and her voice softened. ‘Nai, this is more important than you can begin to imagine. You will have to trust me that your safety is best served by keeping me informed. Now go, before you are missed.’
Zhia released the stream of magic and sighed, feeling the energies dissipate into the night air. She sat, high up on the cliff, motionless, untouched by the howl of wind, almost as if she were encased in a glass bubble. The piece of rock she sat on was roughly oval, and some ten yards across, the only flat piece of ground in the desolate environment of Blackfang’s upper reaches where it was impossible to travel even fifty feet in any direction without having to climb.
Nothing protruded above the outer ring of cliffs. Within, the surface of the mountain was a jagged wilderness protected from the worst of wind erosion. There were occasional small tufts of grass and patches of moss clinging precariously to the rock, but they were few and far between. Not many birds braved the treacherous gusts and lack of food to nest here; it was a desolate, inaccessible place.
It was a useful place to lurk unmolested.
‘You heard?’ she said after a long pause. She had abandoned her usual silk dress in favour of more practical hunting breeches and tunic, though they were decorated with embroidered sprays of blue flowers. Her long-handled sword was slung across her back, housed in a leather scabbard etched with a pattern that echoed that on her clothes. Furthering the image of martial readiness, her abundant hair was fastened back with long silver pins set with sapphires.
‘I did,’ Koezh replied from the small cave behind her. ‘How far can you trust him?’
‘Not at all.’ A small smile crept onto her lips and she turned to give her brother a look. ‘He’s as honest a man as I know, but with no allegiance except to himself.’
‘So if he finds anything as he walks the perimeter, he’ll tell Lord Styrax.’ Koezh sounded weary. ‘There can only be one reason why Styrax has given him such orders. Whether he knows exactly what he’s looking for or not, he knows the dead space is not natural.’
Zhia agreed, ‘He’s guessed halfway, and he’ll stumble upon the rest.’
A light flared inside the cave, illuminating its cramped interior. Koezh sat upon one bedroll looking at the glass sphere which emitted the light. A small hamper and a few thick leather-bound books were piled beside it. Zhia’s bedding was piled against the opposite wall.
The vampire looked grave. ‘So all we can do is wait.’ He gestured to the few belongings beside him. ‘It’s been a long time since we played camp like this.’
He was ready for battle, dressed in a full suit of ancient black armour, except for the helm and gauntlets, which lay on the rock floor next to him. His hate-filled sword was suspended on a pair of thick iron pins that he’d driven into the rock above his bedroll. Without the ward surrounding her, even Zhia would have found it uncomfortable to look at the weapon Aryn Bwr had instilled with the fury and grief of his heir’s murder.
‘It has been millennia,’ Zhia replied with a slight edge to her voice, ‘and I for one see no reason to repeat it now. It will take him days of research before he can make his move. If you wish to camp out, Prince Koezh, that is entirely your prerogative.’
‘We cannot know how long it will take,’ Koezh replied with a tone of infinite, infuriating patience. ‘You don’t know how far along he starts, and we cannot take any risk. He is not a man we can buy off or threaten as we did Deverk Grast; even if he knew the whole story he would still go through with it. We cannot risk anyone taking possession and we cannot trust the guardian to stop him - quite aside from the destruction it would unleash upon the innocents of Ismess.’ He gestured towards her bedroll. ‘All this you know, so come and sit with me.’
Zhia scowled, falling into long-abandoned habits of the younger sister but well aware that her brother was right.
‘Even if we hand it to him later, we must be sure first,’ she admitted, joining him inside the cave. The icy gusts tore at her clothes for a brief moment while she exchanged one ward for the other. ‘I reserve the right to blame you for a poor night’s sleep, however.’
Koezh inclined his head. ‘Mother always said one must always accept a lady’s blame. I believe the principle holds true even if one suspects it is misplaced anger.’
‘Your meaning?’ Zhia asked coldly.
Her brother smiled. ‘Avoiding a certain young man seems to have put you on edge. It’s all very sweet. Shall I sing to you to help you sleep?’
‘If you do I’ll cut my throat and you can wait by your damn self,’ she snapped, turning away from the laughter on his face.
‘Suicide by petulance; a lesser-known joy of immortality.’
CHAPTER 32
‘Enjoying the morning air?’
Amber turned quickly at the sound of Lord Styrax’s voice.
Gods, I didn’t hear a thing, he thought, before replying, ‘Just so, my Lord. A night in Nai’s company is enough to make a man appreciate a bracing breeze.’
‘The air was not fresh in your room?’ Today Lord Styrax had selected the clothes of an officer at leisure: thick black linen tunic with no braids or badges of rank, black breeches, and tall riding boots polished to a high shine. The white-eye may not have been particularly handsome - indeed, people barely noticed his features, and few would be able to describe them. All folk remembered was the power he wore like a mantle.
‘A little ripe, if you’ll forgive the observation, my Lord.’
‘It was the pork - even my stomach thought it a trifle overspiced.’
Even here in the library grounds where no magic could exist, Lord Styrax’s presence was nearly overwhelming. He may have been one of the largest men in the Land, but he carried his size with ease, moving as deftly and neatly as a dancer. Amber believed the inscrutable giant to be something more than human: as if the Gods had finally perfected the model. Even Aryn Bwr could not have inspired more worship than Kastan Styrax.
Lord Styrax walked the few yards to stand beside the major. The Library of Seasons had only one exit, through an enormous gate. The gatehouse was set into the rock and jutted into the road, looking down the entire length of Hit’s Stair. The arch exploited a natural fissure in the cliff face and square blocks the height of a man shored up the rock. Without gates the library looked remarkably vulnerable, but Hit’s Stair was two
hundred yards of stepped slope more than twenty yards wide, offering no cover whatsoever to those ascending.
The guardians of the library had ensured it was no secret that there were enormous storerooms where, in addition to the weapons belonging to their current guests, there were whole rooms full of arrows - one for every man Deverk Grast had led into Ismess. Whether that was true or not, there were certainly a dozen or more ballistae kept for a similar purpose.
‘Longing for freedom?’ Lord Styrax said, gesturing towards the archway, through which they could see the sparsely wooded hills on the other side of the city and a clear, pale blue sky. It was still early; the sun had risen no more than half an hour ago and the valley remained in shadow. The air was cold and crisp.
It reminded Amber of winter mornings when he had gone hunting with his father and brothers.
‘Just appreciating the view,’ he said eventually. ‘I get a little restless in these gentle surrounds, especially with my men out there without me.’
‘I will keep you busy then. I’ll be in the Fearen House all day, and I shall need someone to attend me.’
‘Of course, my Lord.’ Amber hesitated for a moment, then asked, ‘My Lord, surely Nai would be a better aide? I’ll only be able to contribute by carrying books.’
Lord Styrax nodded. ‘Doubtless true - but never trust a necromancer. Folk might hate my kind for good reason, but we have nothing on the walkers in the dark.’ Styrax’s words immediately reminded Amber of the conversation he’d overheard in Thotel, between the necromancer Isherin Purn, Nai’s master, and Lord Styrax. Without understanding it, Amber had nevertheless recognised there was a subtext to each man’s words, hinting at tensions and allegiances he knew nothing of.
They watched the heads of the guards at the gate turn their way: nervous Litse faces looking like deer that had sensed wolves. The white-eyes were slowest to react. Three of them were facing out towards Ismess, feeling the wind that rose up Hit’s Stair. One had his wings fully outstretched, though he would have to walk another ten yards or more to be able to fly. As large as they were, those wings would not be capable of lifting a man without magic.