The Copper Promise

by Jennifer Williams

  ‘I have not. I came to Krete from the North, travelling down through Creos.’ He opened his mouth to say more, and then thought better of it. ‘It was an uncomfortable ride.’

  ‘It is quite a sight. One of the wonders of Ede.’

  ‘I am not here to see the sights.’

  Frith had to imagine it was finer to look upon than the streets of Krete itself. Timbered alehouses crowded to either side, each belching out a hot wind reeking of stale beer and old vomit. Butchers flung their offal directly into the streets, so that a tide of feral dogs moved from one shop to the other, only pausing to fight over the choicest scraps, and whores dangled out of windows, resting their doughy breasts on windowsills and calling down to the men below. Oxen moved slowly through these streets, hauling wagons piled high with produce rushed across the Creos desert from distant Onwai and the island of Crosshaven, whilst traders rushed between them, doing deals on the run. Men and women shouted to each other, children screamed and shrieked, and over it all the baking desert sun beat down, making everything fever-bright and fever-strange.

  As they moved closer to the centre of the city the houses grew more ramshackle, the people poorer. The Citadel sat at its heart at the top of a small hill, surrounded by the impoverished and the desperate. Although it had been dormant for centuries, no one liked to live too close if they could possibly help it. On quiet nights, they said, you could hear the ghosts calling.

  Frith found it hard to imagine there could ever be a quiet night in this place.

  ‘There, look, my lord.’ Frith looked where the knight was pointing. Between two warehouses, one of which appeared to have partially burned down recently, he could see a wide strip of startling blue-green, rippled with bright sunlight. It truly was like suddenly coming upon the sea in the middle of the city. At the sight of it he felt his heart quicken, and he forced himself to walk faster. The path of the gods.

  ‘Good, let us hurry. I have had more than enough of this pestilent city.’

  When they reached the edge of it, though, Frith found that he had to pause. The Sea-Glass Road swept up through the city of Krete like a great frozen river, the surface warped and glossy, and it was indeed an arresting sight. The heat shimmered off it in waves, and if you could bear to look for long enough you could follow its path up the hill to where the Citadel crouched, red stone and black shadows under a merciless sun.

  Frith reached down and quickly massaged his stiff leg. It was already aching from the walk through the city.

  Wydrin appeared at his side, her hands on her hips. She, too, glanced up towards the Haunted Citadel, and nodded as though this were exactly what she was expecting.

  ‘How about it, princeling? Race you to the top?’

  Wydrin took the lead. Sebastian and Frith followed behind, the latter taking great care on the slippery surface beneath his feet, the discomfort evident on his face. After a few moments Wydrin paused, letting them catch up with her.

  Unfortunately for Frith, the Sea-Glass Road was the only way into the Citadel. The four iron gates set into the red-stone walls had long since been soldered shut to keep out the curious and the greedy, whereas the Sea-Glass Road ran straight up from the Creosis Sea, across the sands and up to the very walls of the Citadel, meeting a wide stretch of broken masonry. It was a curious thing, wide enough for ten of the heaviest carts to roll up it side by side, if the horses could abide walking on the warped, shiny surface. Most of them disliked it as much as Frith. It was sufficiently steep so that even Wydrin in her tough leather boots was making slow progress. The glass beneath her feet was a deep green, like the sea it was named after, and the early morning sun created shimmering white lakes of light ahead.

  ‘Who would put such an awkward thing here?’

  ‘You mean you do not know?’ asked Frith.

  ‘I have told her,’ said Sebastian, in a weary tone. ‘But she does not listen.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ she replied, cheerfully. Sebastian was always talking about some old history or another, how was she to know which ones were worth listening to? ‘You’ve never mentioned such a road. I swear it on my claws.’ She patted the sheathed daggers at her waist.

  ‘Here, then, stop and listen.’

  They paused. The city of Krete pressed in on either side of the Sea-Glass Road, like ports against a river, and here and there someone had tried to set up a business on the rippled surface, but it was hard going. They had passed a couple already, men selling red meat on sticks or cold glasses of spiced milk, but the sellers were all frazzled-looking and exhausted. No one attempted to make a living on the slopes closest to the Citadel: they were too close to the guards, and too close to the ghosts. The road itself stretched far into the distance, passing out of the city and dwindling to a slim green thread. On the horizon was the sapphire-blue band that marked the Creosis Sea.

  ‘It’s a long damn thing,’ she said, covering her eyes with one hand to better see the road. They could still smell smoke from the city below, the occasional whiff of sweet spices from the meat sellers, and a slight hint of salt from the sea.

  ‘It grows no shorter as we stand here,’ put in Frith. He was wearing a black woollen tunic and a black cloak, with leather boots gone grey with travel. Leaning heavily on his stick, he looked less than comfortable in the heat. Sebastian, however, who had grown up surrounded by books and histories, was getting the look he got when he had a story to tell. He pointed to the beginning of the Sea-Glass Road in the far distance.

  ‘This was all sand too, once, thousands of years ago. But then there was a war between the gods and the mages, one that threatened to wipe out all life on Ede. In desperation, the great mages of that time gathered together all of their most powerful weapons, all of their most mysterious and dangerous artefacts, and built a citadel to protect them. When word reached the gods that such a cache of power was hidden in a human citadel, they raced across the Creosis Sea to get here, churning up the land as they went so that it fused and turned to glass. But it was all a trap. Once inside they could not get back out again, and so the war was ended.’

  ‘And all the artefacts remain. All the ancient seals of power,’ continued Frith. ‘Yes, it is a fine story.’

  Wydrin shrugged. The Sea-Glass Road was certainly impressive, an extraordinary natural formation perhaps.

  ‘In Crosshaven we prefer stories about pirates and sea-nymphs, or the salt-spirits and the Graces. Usually, a salt-spirit will turn himself into a human man for the day, and get some fish-wife pregnant. That sort of thing. There’s normally a song or two in the middle.’

  Sebastian sighed.

  ‘Let’s keep moving, shall we?’

  It was a hard climb, and at the very top they were met with the equally hard faces of the guards. There were four in all, patrolling the broken expanse of outer wall that marked the end of the Sea-Glass Road. The inner walls of the Citadel rose behind them, and above that the fat drum-shaped bulk of the central building itself, all constructed from the same dull, red stones. The place was certainly large, impressive even, but hardly opulent enough to be the prison of gods, Wydrin thought. The first guard approached them, a tall, lean man with a neat grey beard and dark circles under his eyes. He had a spear in his hand but he wasn’t pointing it at them. Wydrin thought that could all change fairly quickly. The three other guards watched closely from their positions on the wall; two men of middling age and one younger lad, who was watching them with eyebrows that disappeared beneath his half-helm. Wydrin suspected he’d probably only been in the job for a month at most.

  ‘Lost, are we?’ cried Greybeard. There was a suggestion of a smile at the corner of his mouth. ‘The taverns and whorehouses are back down there a ways.’

  They drew level with him.

  ‘No doubt you know of the best pillow houses, Grandfather,’ said Wydrin, giving him her cheeriest grin. ‘Tell me, do they grant discounts to the greatly aged?’

  Greybeard’s little smile faltered somewhat.

  ‘You tell me
. Are you feeling generous today, whoreling?’

  Sebastian cleared his throat.

  ‘Apologies for my colleague,’ he said. ‘We are here on business, actually.’

  The three other guards were edging closer, intrigued. Wydrin suspected that usually trespassers were quickly chased off with a spear point in the ear for their trouble.

  ‘What business could that be? No one’s got business in the Citadel save for the dead, and you all look a little too lively for that.’ He looked at Frith, and shrugged. ‘Save for the cripple here, maybe.’

  The white-haired young man bristled visibly, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘I am Lord Aaron Frith of the Blackwood. I have spoken to the Kretian Council and agreed a price. You should have been informed of this.’

  Greybeard leaned on his spear, rubbing his chin. He made a great show of looking off into the distance, searching the edge of the horizon for something known only to him, and then finally shook his head.

  ‘Can’t say I have, actually.’

  Inwardly, Wydrin sighed. She couldn’t abide a man who could not summon up a decent falsehood.

  Frith stepped forward awkwardly, his stick skittering on the glass.

  ‘I’m telling you, guard,’ he spat the word, ‘the bribe has been paid. Now stand aside.’

  The three other guards were now at Greybeard’s back. Wydrin caught the eye of the young nervous one and gave him a wink. He looked momentarily terrified, and tore his gaze away.

  ‘Well, maybe a bribe has been paid,’ said Greybeard slowly. ‘Maybe it has, maybe to someone who isn’t me. Maybe that there is your problem.’

  ‘What?’

  Sebastian held up his hands, palms out.

  ‘I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement. We are adventurers, after all, and we may—’

  ‘I am not paying this man a single coin,’ snapped Frith. ‘He is a vulture, picking at the carcass of someone else’s deal.’

  ‘Right, well.’ Wydrin slid her daggers from their sheaths, letting the early morning light play along their silvery blades. The young guard’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, but his two companions only drew their own weapons, two notched short swords. Wydrin grinned at the sight of them. ‘I said we should do this in the first place, didn’t I? Easier just to kill them.’

  Sebastian sighed. ‘You did not say that. You said that if we did that—’

  ‘I changed my mind. It’s been a slow morning and I am easily bored. You, fresh-meat. Would you like to die first?’ She held up one of her daggers, showing it to the youngest guard. ‘This one is called Frostling, and the other is Ashes.’

  ‘That’s the Copper Cat,’ he blurted. ‘She’ll kill us all, and take our bodies back to Crosshaven to feed to the Graces!’

  Triumphant, Wydrin turned to smile at Sebastian.

  ‘And you said that rumour wouldn’t stick—’

  ‘Enough of this.’ Frith hobbled forward, coming face to face with the head guard. ‘I’ve paid our way, and paid well. Now get out of my path.’

  Wydrin hefted the weight of her daggers, watching Frith closely. He was standing his ground, his gaze unwavering, and she saw no fear on his face. Greybeard wasn’t as impressed with Frith’s bluster, however, and he lowered his spearhead to point at the young lord’s gut.

  ‘Bloodshed will serve none of us.’ Sebastian inserted himself between the guard and Frith, and for the first time they seemed to take note of his size, and the shining broadsword slung across his back. ‘Wydrin, please. Put your claws away for now.’

  Wydrin rolled her eyes, but did as he bid. In return, Sebastian glowered at Greybeard until he lowered the spear.

  ‘Go on past, then. You won’t last till midday. No one comes out of there alive, everyone knows that. All you adventurer types, with your big shiny swords, your plate armour and your empty heads – you all die down in the dust somewhere.’

  Wydrin walked calmly past the guards, pausing to lay one hand on the shoulder of the youngest. ‘I’ll remember that when I’m reclining on silken pillows in my own marble palace. I shall say, the ugly guard told me I would come to this, and I did not listen.’ She gave him another wink while the boy gaped at her.

  Greybeard spat in the dust by her boot.

  ‘There would have been another man, some weeks back,’ said Sebastian. ‘Did you see him come past?’

  ‘I saw him, aye, young idiot. Blond hair and more knives than sense. He hasn’t come back, either, and neither will you.’ When they looked at him blankly, he waved them on with his spear. ‘Go on, then, go and get yourselves killed. It’s no skin off my arse.’

  5

  Round the corner and out of sight of the guards, they walked within the shadow of the inner walls. Here and there were piles of sand, blown up by the desert winds and left stranded. Spindly plants with long needle-like leaves had sprouted colonies where the stonework had started to crumble. Sebastian looked at the walls and thought of his father. He would have said it was a wonder, he thought. What would he say if he knew I was standing here today in front of one of the greatest man-made structures Ede has ever seen?

  His father had spent his whole life working with stone; breaking it, sculpting it, shaping it to his will. Perhaps everything would have been simpler if he’d just gone into the family business as his father had wanted in the first place. If the mountain hadn’t spoken to me, if the Ynnsmouth knights hadn’t taken me in … He felt a stab of mingled bitterness and longing at the thought of home; the grey stones of the squire house and the treacherous training slopes, all dusted with snow. I live my own life now, Sebastian reminded himself.

  Frith appeared at his side, still scowling after their skirmish with the guards.

  ‘I believe we’ll have need of your map soon, for what it’s worth,’ he said, pointing to the walls ahead of them. ‘I don’t want to wander about needlessly.’

  A huge ornate archway stood in front of them, partially fallen into rubble. As faded as they were it was just possible to see the shapes that had been carved directly into the red stone; heroes with swords, strange animals with more teeth than legs, men who appeared to be half dog, women who appeared to be half fish. Their faces were rubbed smooth and expressionless by the passage of time, as though they couldn’t bear to look upon the place they inhabited. Through the archway a series of low walls formed a sort of maze, which led towards the huge drum-shaped building that squatted at the centre of it all. Once there had been small lawns and rockeries between the walls, but now there was only dirt and weeds, with the occasional lonely statue missing a limb or two.

  ‘That looks to be the way,’ said Wydrin. The desert sun had turned her hair the colour of beaten gold. ‘Let’s get in there, shall we?’

  Frith nodded and drew his cloak closer around his shoulders, and despite the heat of the day Sebastian felt a shiver work its way down his spine. There was an ill feeling here, a quiet sense of anticipation, of loneliness, that felt quite out of place so close to the city. He thought of Gallo coming this way, full of excitement for what he was about to find.

  They walked through the archway and into the ruined gardens. Frith, still leaning on his stick, chose the path dictated by the low walls, but Wydrin climbed over them, heading in a straight line for the heart of the Citadel. Sebastian followed behind Frith, in truth in no hurry to put a stone ceiling over his head. Out here, at least, he could hear the harsh cries of the gulls overhead, and the fat, lazy hum of desert bees. Passing by an overgrown salt-rose bush he heard the slither and hiss of a snake moving in its lower branches, and caught a brief glance of glittering red scales; a ruby adder.

  ‘There are snakes, Wydrin. Keep an eye out, if you must go traipsing through the undergrowth.’

  ‘Ha!’ cried Wydrin, drawing one of her daggers. ‘Cats are faster than snakes.’

  ‘Cats don’t have venom in their claws.’

  He caught up with Frith. There was a thin sheen of sweat on the young man’s brow already, and his mou
th was turned down at the corners with the effort of walking at such a pace. So angry, thought Sebastian. He reminds me of me, a few years ago. Up close, Sebastian was surprised to see how young Frith looked, despite his brittle, bone-white hair. He’d done his best to hide the extent of what had happened to him, but Sebastian had sharp eyes, and when the winds were gusting out on the Sea-Glass Road he’d seen the terrible hole that had once been Lord Frith’s ear. An angry man indeed.

  Frith caught him staring, and scowled. Wydrin was off in front, hacking at bushes with her daggers.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing, my lord. Just contemplating the journey ahead.’

  ‘I’ll get no m’lords off that one,’ he said, nodding towards the Copper Cat.

  Sebastian had to smile. ‘I suspect you won’t, no.’

  ‘Do you trust her? Is she trustworthy?’

  Sebastian looked up to the sky, still a bright, blameless blue. In Ynnsmouth the sky was often that blue, but the air was always fresh. Here, the air smelled like a dung heap left to fester.

  ‘Inside that ratty bag she wears across her back there is a pack of cards,’ he said quietly. ‘Eventually she will ask you if you fancy a quick game of Poison Sally. Find an excuse not to play. Don’t tell her you don’t know the rules, she’ll only offer to teach you, and then you’ll be truly done for. But outside of card games? No more untrustworthy than your usual sell-sword.’

  ‘I am greatly reassured,’ said Frith sourly. ‘And how did a knight of Ynnsmouth come to be partners with a card shark?’

  Sebastian thought of the chaotic time just after he’d left the Order, and frowned.

  ‘It’s a long story, my lord, and quite tedious, I assure you.’

  Frith shot him a look, but said nothing.

  Just ahead of them Wydrin now stood by the great curving bulk of the inner keep, rubbing her fingers lightly over the red stones.

  ‘They’re cold,’ she said, a note of wonder in her voice. ‘Come, touch them.’

  Sebastian did so, pressing his hand to the wall. It was cool, just as though the Citadel did not crouch under the punishing sun every hour of the day, but there was something else too … a vibration? Sebastian frowned, trying to place it, but Frith stepped up next to them and whacked the wall with his stick.