by Alec Hutson
She couldn’t blame them if they were. Fingers of lavender stretched from the horizon into a sky mottled by patches of black and purple. The colors shimmered and twisted, some growing lighter while others darkened, but night – or the dawn – never seemed truly imminent. The city was trapped in an interstitial moment, the kind that usually comes and goes in an instant, barely noticed, like the blink of an eye. Seeing something that should have been so fleeting continue to linger was disconcerting, and made her skin crawl.
She left the main road and entered the narrow, twisting side streets and alleys of the Rat Quarter. Shapes huddled under piles of rags, and small, fierce-looking children crouching in the shadows paused their games to watch her pass. Most of the doors of these listing houses were shut tight, but a few were flung open, revealing the lives of the Rat’s inhabitants. Through one doorway she saw a young mother bend to hack a chunk of meat from the corpse of a small pig, her babe’s thatch of black hair just visible atop the basket slung across her back. The girl looked up and caught Vessa’s eyes and nodded a wary greeting. Vessa glanced up at the sky and felt a flush of shame for accidentally bringing such fear and disruption into their already difficult lives.
She needed to find Del and figure out what in the seven abysses was going on. Instead of recovering the Eye for the faithful of Aradeth, they had in fact been deceived into stealing the artifact from them. But by whom? The Night Brotherhood? Certainly they would be the obvious suspects. One of the shadow societies? Perhaps they were behind all this, and after being hired to find the Eye, they would simply sell it back to the high priest for an outrageous amount. She and Del would serve as very convenient scapegoats in that scenario. And what about Sahm? She had seemed so young and innocent. If it all had been a performance then the girl deserved a spot in the most celebrated troupe of mummers in the city. Vessa shook her head, trying to order her thoughts. She didn’t want to descend into a dreamsmoke den while confused, lest an accidental whiff of the drug trap her within the labyrinth of her own mind, endlessly following the twisting threads of these mysteries but getting nowhere. She needed clarity right now.
Down an otherwise empty alleyway, Vessa paused in front of a small, nondescript door of red wood. Taking a deep, steadying breath – how long has it been? – she knocked loudly.
“Where does the balobo bird nest?” The words were faint, muffled by the thick wood.
Vessa cleared her throat. “In the temqua tree, the roots of which trail into the poison water.”
The door swung open sharply, and Vessa took an involuntary step back, her hand going to her sword hilt.
A small, gnarled woman with skin the color of teak stood in the entrance, blinking up at her. She smacked her gummy lips and smiled toothlessly. “By the last lord of Hardlight, tis Vessa. Haven’t seen you round so much, girl.”
“I was in the south. The Silken Cities.”
“Thought you might have been tryin’ to slip the golden serpent’s coils.” The old woman cackled. “Not so easy, is it?”
Vessa gritted her teeth. “I’m not here to smoke. I need to find Del.”
“Maybe he don’t want to be found right now.”
Vessa crouched down in front of the tiny woman, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the strong smell of rot, and stared hard into her glittering black eyes. “Take me to him. It’s urgent.”
The crone held her gaze for a long moment. Finally she shrugged and turned away. “Come with me, then. And don’t make any problems for the others.”
Vessa followed the old woman as she hobbled down the narrow, darkened passage, then waited as she withdrew a key of black iron and inserted it with a hollow clunk into a massive lock. She gave the key a few hard twists, each accompanied by a grunt of effort, and then the door swung open. Laughter and the sweet strains of a plucked kepla spilled into the passage, along with a tendril of golden smoke that writhed along the floor like a blind snake, groping toward Vessa as if it knew her.
Which it did. Vessa felt the familiar ache begin in her chest. No. No, she had to find Del. Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the dreamsmoke den.
It hadn’t changed in the last few years. Pastel curtains of rippling translucent cloth partitioned the large chamber into a hive of small rooms, each filled with mounded cushions and sprawled bodies. Golden ribbons floated through a glittering haze, twisting around insubstantial images that formed and melted away in moments. A great silver fish flicked its tail and was gone. Shadowy, long-limbed shapes cavorted in a mad dance before dissolving. A child with luminescent eyes reached out an imploring hand, her face twisted in fear, then receded into the golden fog.
Dreams made real. Vessa breathed through her mouth and tried to avoid the thickest strands of dreamsmoke, but even still she felt the old tingling begin in the back of her skull. Her body wanted nothing more than for her to sink onto the cushions and give herself over completely to the drug.
Del. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Del’s life – and her own – were at stake now. She had to be strong.
She found him lolling beside a spent dreamsmoke lamp, the fire beneath it long since gone out. A flaxen-haired girl, her large eyes glazed and skin sallow, clung to him like he was a piece of driftwood in the middle of the ocean.
“Del!” Vessa nearly shouted, and though her partner did not stir, the girl pouted and squirmed deeper into his embrace.
“Up,” Vessa snarled, digging the toe of her boot hard into the soft flesh of the girl’s thigh. Hissing in pain, the den courtesan rolled away and scrambled on her hands and knees through the maze of piled cushions and hanging strips of silk.
With the warmth of the girl gone, Del finally began to move, passing his hand sluggishly in front of his face. “What . . . what’s happening? Mother?”
She didn’t have time for this. Vessa grabbed her partner by his ankles and pulled him forward so hard that his head slipped from its pillow and thunked against the floor. “I’m not your mother.”
Del groaned, clutching at the pillows around him until they toppled over and covered his chest and face. Vessa sighed and thrust her hands into the pile, reaching for his tunic, but then recoiled as a small green snake with gleaming red eyes slithered out from a crevice between two tumbled cushions. The snake flicked its tongue at her and then slowly faded into nothing, becoming faint wisps of shimmering gold.
Vessa shook her head, trying to clear it. She needed to get out of here before the dreamsmoke sunk its claws any deeper into her – escaping the knives of the Lost Men would be impossible while wallowing in the drug’s clutches.
With a snarl, Vessa reached down and hauled Del to his feet. He blinked watery red eyes at her, trying to focus. “Vess?” he slurred, swaying.
“It’s me, you fool,” she said and began dragging him towards the door.
Just before they reached the exit the wizened old woman materialized in front of Vessa, scowling. “Where ya goin’? Yer boy didn’t pay, and he sucked up a dragon’s worth o’ the smoke.”
Keeping Del steady with one hand, Vessa reached into her pocket, then drew forth the gem-bag and tossed it at the feet of the crone. Stones spilled out and the old woman gaped, her slitted black eyes widening.
“I believe this is what the dreamsmoke is worth,” Vessa said, shoving Del through the den’s entrance. She led him stumbling down the passage, barely keeping him from collapsing as they emerged into the alley.
“Vess,” her partner said slowly, his fingers exploring the hidden pockets sewn into his clothes. “I’m so sorry. I think I lost my jewels.”
“I wouldn’t be so concerned about that,” she replied, grimacing as she struggled to keep Del upright. Finally she gave up and slapped his cheek hard.
His gaze sharpened as he tried to fight through the drug’s haze.
“Listen to me carefully, Del. The gems were fake. Sahm’s story was false. We stole the Eye from the priests of Aradeth, not the Night Brotherhood. The Lost Men are hunting us, trying to get it back.�
�� Vessa glanced up at the purple light filling the sky. That’s right, she’d nearly forgotten. “Oh, and the sun was plucked from the heavens by an angry god.”
“The sun did . . . what? Have you been drinking? I can smell it from here.”
Vessa slapped Del again, harder this time, and then yanked on his arm, pulling him along.
As they passed one of the piles of rags and refuse littering the narrow alley, the mound suddenly shuddered and rose up. Vessa reeled away, shoving Del behind her as she scrabbled for her swords. “Cher-Vanok!” she cursed, in her surprise slipping back into her homeland’s tongue.
Pale, delicate hands pulled back the hood of a threadbare gray cloak. Vessa felt a stab of fear at the inhuman beauty that was revealed: a face so white and smooth it could have been a festival mask, yet its large golden eyes glowed with a calm intelligence. High cheekbones, silvery hair that glistened like strands of spider silk, thin lips that gave no hint of the thoughts within. There was no doubt what this man – what this creature – was. Vessa had seen an Aliva before, but at a distance, being carried on a palanquin through the crowded streets of Chep Eras, one of the fleshpots deep in the Imperium. She hadn’t known any of those rare, mysterious people persisted outside the compounds that housed the administrators who served the Gray Emperor. Coldly brilliant, shriven of emotion, devoid of greater ambitions – the perfect bureaucrats.
“Vessa of Ts’kelcha, daughter of Peralin. I greet you.”
She released her half-drawn sword, letting it slide back into her scabbard. “Who are you?”
The Aliva smiled, showing perfect teeth. “My birth name was stripped from me long ago. Here in Malakesh my new brothers call me Wraith.”
This tickled at Vessa’s memory. She had heard whisperings of a Wraith since she had returned to the city – a name colored by respect and fear.
A name spoken in the same breath as the shadow societies.
The back of Vessa’s neck began to prickle. She knew without looking up that men with crossbows crouched on the edges of the roof above, ready to plant a quarrel in her if she drew her swords. Cold sweat slicked her palms, and she forced herself to focus on the Aliva.
“Well . . . Wraith, is there a reason you’re bothering us?” She made a show of glancing up and down his ragged attire. “Do you just want to beg for a spare coin or two? Honestly, I thought the emperor took better care of his pets.”
His thin lips curled up into a faint smile. “You are as charming as they claimed. But no, I do not need any of your coin, or bits of colored glass. And I no longer swear fealty to the Thorned Throne; I have slipped the ancient bonds that bind my people to the Imperium. In their eyes, I am truly a Lost Man.”
With those words her last few lingering doubts vanished. “What does the society want with us?” she asked softly.
The Aliva’s great golden eyes held her gaze without blinking. “You must not pretend ignorance, Vessa. We know you stole the Eye from the priests of Aradeth. We know that this has caused the sun to flee from the sky. We know that you gave the Eye to a young girl dressed in the robes of a priestess.” The Aliva pulled something red from his tattered robes. “You must find the Eye again and return it to us.”
“But we don’t know where it is! We thought we were stealing the Eye from the Night Brotherhood for Aradeth’s faithful!”
The Aliva nodded. “I understand. And it is because of this ignorance that you are still alive. Consider this . . . opportunity . . . your chance for redemption. But I know the task we have set before you is daunting and that the desire to flee the city will be strong. We hope this will keep you motivated to finish what you have started.” The Aliva tossed the thin object toward Vessa; it twisted like a length of rope as she snatched it from the air. She gasped – it was a braid of red, curly hair.
“Carine,” Vessa whispered.
The Aliva nodded. “Bring us the Eye. And soon.”
The Night Brotherhood’s temple in Malakesh more resembled a fortress than a place of worship. Dark battlements clawed the sky, and what few windows Vessa could see set in the high black walls were little more than murder holes.
“Friendly folk,” Del whispered as they meandered along the wide avenue that passed outside of the temple’s forbidding entrance.
“They serve a god called Xeno of the Shadows. It’s actually just about what I was expecting.”
“Thoughts, then?”
Vessa’s thumb brushed the strand of hair she had tied around her finger. There was a burning in her chest, an anger she hadn’t felt for many years. “I’ve had enough,” she said through gritted teeth. “We’ve been played like fools and threatened like children. Someone I care about could be killed because of this idiocy. I have a strong suspicion that the Night Brotherhood is behind everything. I’m going to walk up to that door and knock and demand to see the high priest so we can settle this matter.”
“And if he doesn’t give you the Eye?”
“Then I’ll stick people with my swords until he does.”
“And what if they don’t even open the door?”
“Then I’ll kick it down.”
Del cocked his head, as if considering what she’d said. Then he shrugged. “Good plan.”
“Let’s go then.” Vessa turned sharply from their slow ambling and strode up to the imposing door set in the temple’s outer walls.
“Wait, we’re really going to just ask to be let in?” Del asked incredulously, hurrying to catch up with her.
In response, Vessa hammered on the door of iron and black wood. “Del,” she said as she continued her pounding, “how is it locked?”
Del placed his palm on the door and closed his eyes. “Sorcery,” he said after a moment. “And not particularly complex.”
“Good. Work on opening it.”
A panel slid open at about head height. Vessa peered inside, nearly recoiling when she was confronted by a demon’s leering face.
“I am the gatekeeper of the House of Xeno!” boomed the demon hollowly through a mouth that did not move.
A mask. “Gatekeeper. I must speak with your high priest.”
“The Moonwarden is in seclusion, praying to dread Xeno! He asks our lord how to entreat Aradeth to return the sun so that the moon might rise once more. He cannot be disturbed!”
“That’s just what I want to talk about, actually.”
“The door shall remain closed!” the gatekeeper proclaimed with a note of finality and slammed the panel shut.
Vessa turned to Del. “Almost finished?”
“Done,” Del replied, stepping back from the door.
Vessa heard a click and a grinding, and the temple’s outer door began to swing slowly open. The number sticks are cast, she thought with a grin and slammed her shoulder into the wood, flinging the door wide. Its edge caught the scrawny gatekeeper as he tried to retreat, sending him sprawling in the dirt. Mewling with pain, he scrambled away from Vessa, raising little plumes of dust; when he glanced at her over his shoulder she could see the whites of his panicked eyes through the slits in his mask. She stalked forward and gripped a handful of his robes, hauling him to his feet, then shook him like a doll as he cried out in fear.
“Your high priest! Take me to him now, or by the Moon Mother’s swollen belly, I’ll pull this place down around your ears!”
“Calm, my child.”
Vessa dropped the gatekeeper and turned toward this new voice. From the corner of her eye she saw the priest scuttle away from her, sniveling in terror, like she was in fact some demonic aspect that had crawled up from the abyss.
A gaunt old man in black robes stood in the arched entrance to the temple proper, watching her with mild curiosity. Behind him a half-dozen younger priests stared at her with wide, frightened eyes.
Vessa’s hands itched with the desire to draw her swords, but she restrained herself. “You!” she cried. “I’ve come for the Eye, and while I’m here I’d like a word with that cunning little vixen who tricked me!”
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br /> “We do not have the Eye. I have already said the same to the Red Duke, and have had the Great Effulgence of Aradeth confirm my words.”
Something in Vessa wavered. “You . . . have?”
The Moonwarden dipped his spotted bald head. “Indeed. Of course the duke assumed the Night Brotherhood would be the thieves. Like you, he did not understand the nature of our faith.”
“What nature?”
The old priest sighed. “That there can be no night without the day. One begets the other. Aradeth and Xeno are brothers, and like all brothers they are bound by affection . . . yet are also locked in competition. In this instance, for the hearts of the people of Malakesh.”
“So perhaps you stole the Eye to gain some advantage?”
Dark sleeves dropped away from bony arms as the Moonwarden raised his hands to the purple sky. “Look, my child. There is no day, but there is no night, either. The men and women who have swelled the ranks of our faithful have abandoned us. Whoever wields the Eye has cursed Xeno as much as he has Aradeth.”
As much as he has Aradeth.
He . . . or she?
Del stepped up beside Vessa. “If you speak true, let us search your temple for the girl who first misled us.”
The old priest opened his mouth to reply, but Vessa spoke first. “Sahm isn’t here,” she said softly, her thoughts racing down twisting corridors.
Del glanced at her sharply. “How are you so certain?”
Vessa tilted her head up, squinting into the discolored sky. “Because I know where she is. Come, we need to go speak with Malz.”