Darksong

by Isobelle Carmody

  ‘He is sick, I know,’ Ember said. ‘Revel blames Tarsin and the soulweavers for it.’ She explained about the shipmistress’s encounter with the white-cloak novice on Vespi. ‘She never did say but I suppose that was what stopped her contacting me on Vespi.’

  ‘Her father is dying,’ Soonkar said.

  ‘That would explain the way Revel seemed on the trip from Vespi …’

  ‘What arrangements did you have with her for rejoining the ship?’

  ‘She was to go up to the palace and we were supposed to send a message to the ship to say where we were staying so she could send word to us when she was to depart, but, what with one thing and another, no message was sent,’ Ember said.

  ‘So as far as Revel knows, you left the ship and vanished,’ Soonkar summarised. Ember nodded. ‘Well, let us hope the Iridomi officials have been especially officious but finally forgiving, and she has only just received word that she can leave.’

  ‘That would be too wonderful to be true,’ Ember murmured.

  ‘Not all true stories end unhappily,’ Soonkar said. ‘Joy is also a truth.’

  By the time they reached the piers, Kalinda had risen above the horizon like a gleaming bronze disk, and the clammy chill of the fog had abated, though it was still thicker than on the previous day.

  ‘We will go to the trading stalls right on the pier and find a hot drink first,’ Soonkar decided. ‘There are stalls there that open very early for the shipfolk. Fortunately we will not stand out in these clothes because, during festival, many sorts of people are down here day and night in all manner of dress and undress, some rather more bedraggled than you, my dear. Aside from warming our bellies, there is every chance that we will hear all the news we need just by keeping our ears open. Tuck the a’luwtha bag under your cloak.

  Ember obeyed, thinking it a miracle that she had not lost the instrument with all that had happened. The close-stitched hide inside the padded cloth bag ought to have prevented it getting wet when she had fallen in the sewer.

  They smelled the food stalls before they could see them, and Soonkar’s stomach rumbled appreciatively, but Ember felt distinctly queasy and prayed that she would not draw attention to them by vomiting.

  ‘Keep your wits about you,’ Soonkar warned, as the stalls appeared out of the swirling fog as if they had invented themselves. Behind them, the ghostly rigging of ships rocked against a sky only barely blue, and Kalinda squinted at them like a baleful cloudy eye. Then they were moving through the throng of people wearing everything from sombre shipfolk garb to the lavish fancy costumes of the Iridomi nobility.

  ‘Wait here a moment,’ Soonkar muttered, vanishing into the press before she could object.

  Ember moved around the outer edge of the crowd, nearest the waves, because the smells of perfume and perspiration mingled with food odours produced a reek that made her head swim. She fought against nausea, feeling beads of sweat break out on her forehead and upper lip, and reminded herself that they were supposed to be listening to see what they could learn. At first she could hear nothing but a babble of talk, slightly muffled by the masks which everyone but shipfolk wore. Presumably by the water’s edge, the Vespians had some of the sovereignty they enjoyed on other septs. But after a little, she heard some people talking about a dancer they had seen. Another group sneered, extolling the virtues of a trio of wire dancers they had seen. A darkly dressed man with a slurred voice then declared that nothing could match the fire-eaters he had seen at the last Festival of Misrule.

  Suddenly Soonkar appeared at her side and pressed a steaming mug into her hand, telling her that she would enjoy it, then he was gone again. Ember supposed he was doing his own reconnaissance, and it made sense that they would each learn more apart, but she did not much like being left alone. She sipped absent-mindedly at the frothy concoction and was startled to find it was something very close to hot chocolate. She guessed it must contain some sort of stimulant as well, because it warmed her very swiftly and seemed to revive her into the bargain.

  Sipping at her mug, she turned her attention to a pair of young men who had just arrived; one was telling the other about a huge fuss that had erupted at the palace in the early hours of the morning.

  ‘So what was it then?’

  ‘What was it about?’

  It was clear that the other young man had no idea but Ember wondered if it was possible that it had something to do with Duran.

  Soonkar reappeared with a bag of hot rolls. Ember took one automatically as she explained what she had heard. ‘You might be right,’ the halfman said. ‘If Famaki sent word to Coralyn without letting the other ministers know that he had Duran, a call to the palace from Coralyn would really have put the cat among the pigeons. Let’s hope Fridja is as tough and canny as she seems because, if you are right, the next thing is that Famaki will be ordered to bring his prisoners to the palace.’ He shook his head. ‘I have news too. The Stormsong is still in port, and its mistress is still up at the palace, which means that we will need to see what other ships are routed to Myrmidor.’ Something in his expression made Ember uneasy.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘I am not sure. Could you bear another drink?’

  ‘It was delicious,’ Ember said. ‘It reminded me of …’ Her voice trailed away, but Soonkar only gave her a brief enigmatic smile before going back into the crowd.

  ‘My master says we will leave as soon as the last load is collected, and I will be glad of it. I hate coming here,’ a shipman muttered to his companion and Ember followed them a few steps to a little space where they stopped to drink hot mugs of cirul. The smell was revolting, but Ember did not move away, though she stood as if she were gazing out to sea.

  ‘I never go up from the shore. Too much chance of trouble and we all know who the Iridomi officials would fine. If they had not suspended laws on the shoreline for Vespians, no ship would come here.’

  ‘I have heard they pay gangs to waylay Vespians,’ the other muttered.

  ‘It would not surprise me. These are bad times.’

  ‘Bad times indeed. It was on the call-stone bulletin this morning that Tarsin has given the Draaka an audience. What does it mean, I would like to know, that the Chosen of Darkfall gives honour and his ear to a cult devoted to the downfall of the soulweavers?’

  The pair were jostled by two wildly giggling women in dresses that bared slender but heavily tattooed legs and arms. They were obviously drunk or stoned and they all but fell onto Soonkar as he was returning but, miraculously, he managed not to spill the mug of liquid that he carried. The shipmen gave the women a look of disgust and, to Ember’s chagrin, moved away.

  ‘My fault, my lovelies,’ Soonkar told the girls, and made them an elaborate bow.

  ‘Oops, a noble lord, but so short!’ one laughed.

  ‘You fool. Be civil,’ the other hissed and then burst out laughing, too.

  ‘One would forgive such beauties all incivilities,’ Soonkar said, calmly handing the mug to Ember.

  ‘You are generous, My Lord Lynex,’ said the taller of the pair, squinting through her mask. ‘And graceful. I fear that my friend and I have over-indulged our senses.’

  ‘Oh we have!’ the other shrieked with laughter. ‘Do you know, we have been entertained by no less than the head of the Olfactors Guild. He told us that the time was coming when being Iridomi would be all that one needed. He said that an Iridomi servitor would be equal to a noble anywhere else on Keltor.’

  ‘What could he have meant by that?’ Soonkar asked playfully.

  The girl tilted her mask and peered at the halfman. ‘I have never seen a man so short before. Have you left your legs behind?’

  ‘Would your loveliness not render any man legless and brainless as well?’

  ‘Funny!’ she screamed laughing. ‘Oh, but your wit is tall, Sir Lynex.’

  Ember guessed that a lynex was the name of whatever animal Soonkar’s mask was fashioned after, but she wondered what he was playing at.
The girls seemed to be saying nothing useful and yet he was encouraging them and they were so loud that other people were turning to look at them. She would have shrunk back instinctively, but the halfman seemed to have divined her intention and had taken hold of her arm.

  ‘And where will you go now, pretty things? Home to your beds as good young ladies should?’ he teased. One of the girls draped her arm around his neck and burped loudly, and they all laughed. Then suddenly, Ember understood what Soonkar was about because, over the heads of the crowd, she saw a troop of legionnaires marching purposefully towards the stalls. He must have seen them coming down the road as he bought the drink. Quickly, Ember stepped closer to Soonkar and leaned against him, whereupon he slid his own thickly muscled arm about her waist.

  ‘Where have you been this night?’ one of the girls asked, and she was looking at Ember now.

  ‘We have been watching some wonderful acrobats. Women from Fomhika. I would swear they had invisible wings!’ Ember could hardly believe the voice she had summoned up, though Kerd would certainly have recognised it as a reasonable imitation of Unys’s voice.

  ‘I have heard of them!’ the other girl enthused, then she noticed the legionnaires who were pushing their way into the fringes of the crowd. ‘Oh ho, what is this?’

  Ember began to tremble, for several of the legionnaires looked over towards them at the young woman’s slurred challenge.

  ‘Where is your mask, handsome?’ called the other girl, still draped about Soonkar’s neck.

  The leader of the troop was nearest and he gave her a cold look but it did not appear to trouble her, for she began to whisper and giggle into Soonkar’s ear. Ember thought he probably looked like a very short sheik with a harem of three. Several of the other revellers in the crowd called out to the legionnaires, asking what they were about.

  Finally, the captain stopped and announced loudly, ‘We seek a wounded man and a slight veiled woman.’

  ‘I am veiled!’ called an older woman flirtatiously. ‘You can take me if you think you can handle me!’

  ‘You are too young for this one, boy. She would eat you alive,’ her escort cried.

  Everyone laughed except for the shipfolk in the crowd, who watched the exchanges mistrustfully. ‘What have they done that an entire legion is required to find them?’ asked an older shipman. The crowd fell quiet to listen.

  ‘They are wanted by the chieftain for crimes against this sept and against all Keltor.’

  ‘Against Keltor?’ someone else echoed curiously.

  The legionnaire captain hesitated and then drew himself up. ‘We seek the assassin, Bleyd of Fomhika, and the visionweaver Ember.’

  There was silence and then a swell of laughter.

  ‘You are on the wrong island, legionnaire! They are on Ramidan playing hide and hunt with the red legionnaires.’

  ‘I thought the Fomhikan murdered the visionweaver,’ someone near Ember muttered.

  ‘We have been informed the pair are upon Iridom. It is not known which ship carried them here.’

  There was a general murmur from the Vespians, but the legionnaire said in a mollifying tone, ‘It may be that they were stowaways, but there is no other way for them to have come here.’

  ‘Why would the assassin come here of all places?’ someone called, a shipman from the harshness of his voice.

  ‘He must be mad if he did,’ sneered an older, veiled man slumped against the stall’s serving bench. ‘Though he did come from Ramidan and I hear that there is a plague of madness there.’

  Even some of the other revellers looked scandalised at this and the legionnaire captain, now flushed with anger, announced stiffly that there was a reward of a stona of hacoin to anyone with information that led to the capture of the fugitives, and a sentence in the cells for anyone known to have helped them or concealed them. Then he made a gesture, and the legionnaires marched off.

  ‘Idiots,’ said the girl draped on the other side of Soonkar. ‘Everyone knows the assassin is trapped on Ramidan.’

  ‘Not any more. They say the Edict bell rang again on Ramidan this morning,’ said a shipwoman standing nearby.

  ‘That was because of Fulig. Tarsin could not very well refuse the chieftain of Vespi permission to land.’

  Soonkar released Ember’s waist and gave her the slightest push. She drifted obediently away to the edge of the throng and a moment later he joined her, having divested himself of his harem. They strolled to another stall where there was a long line waiting for slices of roasted kalinda fruit. The halfman brought her to the end of the line and said, ‘These will fill your belly without disturbing it.’ Ember gave him a quick look and realised that he must have guessed how she was feeling, despite her efforts to conceal it.

  But her thoughts were less of her own physical state than of Revel. ‘I have been thinking that we ought to at least try to get a warning to the Stormsong about what has happened,’ she whispered to Soonkar. ‘It’s only a matter of time before Hella tells them that we came aboard the Stormsong.’

  ‘I think there is every possibility that the Iridomi legionnaires already know you were on the Stormsong, and this is the real reason they are keeping Revel up at the palace. It is my guess that no ship is being more closely watched than hers, and that it would be a great mistake to go aboard or try to make contact with any of its crew. The other bit of news I have overheard is that the Wildwind came in yesterday and its next port of call is Myrmidor. I will go now and book us a passage on it if you have the coin for it. If not, I will have to steal it.’

  ‘I have plenty of coin in the a’luwtha bag,’ Ember said.

  ‘Good, but don’t fiddle with it now. I will go and make a booking and we will pay upon boarding.’

  He was gone for half an hour, long enough for Ember to be forced to buy and consume some more roasted kalinda fruit. Surprisingly, the food, like the chocolate-flavoured drink, made her feel better, and the pain in her head abated enough that she wondered if half of her ailments were not merely the result of hunger. Perhaps the tumour was not so far advanced as she had feared. After all, there had been no blind moments other than the one ages back; and the doctors had warned her that not eating and drinking would only make her feel worse – she was to eat whether or not she had any appetite. Of course, before Keltor, that had been left to Glynn, who had brought food and chivvied her gently to eat at mealtimes. Left to her own devices, she had eaten little or nothing.

  She resolved to be more responsible for her own welfare in future, and dismissed her ills to do some more eavesdropping. However, this time, she heard nothing of any use from the people around her. Most of the talk concerned the legionnaires and their search for the missing assassin, although twice more she heard mention of Fulig’s arrival on Ramidan and the fact that Tarsin had allowed the Draaka to present herself. Most of the people standing about seemed to believe that the rumour of Bleyd’s presence on Iridom was an elaborate festival prank.

  When Soonkar returned, he said, ‘The good news is that we have secured two berths, but the bad news is that the ship does not leave until late tomorrow.’

  Ember’s heart sank at the thought of enduring so much time before being able to board. ‘Where can we possibly hide until then?’

  ‘Hiding is no problem. The danger will come when we board because the whole deck was swarming with legionnaires when I went aboard and I was required to unmask before I could board.’

  ‘But I can not …’

  ‘I know,’ the halfman said. ‘Let’s adjourn to some cooler and less public place and I will consider the problem. I have an old comrade that runs a trading house just a little along the front street. He will be surprised to see me, but we will be safe in his private rooms upstairs until it is time to go. Best of all, we can see the ship from his windows so we can literally keep an eye on the situation.’

  ‘I wish we knew what had happened to the others.’

  ‘Duran leads the myrmidons because she is the best of them, not be
cause she is chieftain of Myrmidor. Fridja was next in line for the job. If she cannot save them, there is no hope for them.’

  Ember gave the halfman a surprised look. ‘I thought that Duran was chieftain of the Myrmidons.’

  He chuckled. ‘When we are aboard the Wildwind and there is time, I will tell you the story of how Duran, who was named heir to the chieftain of Myrmidor, came also to lead the myrmidons. But in the meantime, let us go.

  segue …

  The watcher was weary, its sense of purpose decaying. It segued to where a woman sat, stroking a cat. Her grief was palpable and her aura sagged grey and yellow at the rim; bruise colours. Her eyes were on the iridescent eternal eye of the television and, for once, she was watching it.

  ‘It’s time I stopped thinking about myself,’ she murmured. ‘I need to be reminded that having someone you love leave is not the end of the world.’

  The cat on her lap purred and butted affectionately at her belly and the watcher saw how the cat’s aura nudged and nuzzled at the woman’s aura and at times even merged with it. This was remarkable because auras seldom merged and mostly those that did were the aura of a child and mother or father, or those of lovers. Cross-species aura-merging was rare because it required a humility of spirit on the part of both creatures. It was difficult enough for animals but almost impossible for humans, whose arrogance was so colossal that it opposed their ability to evolve. That this woman and the cat had achieved a sort of benevolent symbiosis was incredible. The watcher was not surprised to find the Song woven about the pair and it could not help but see this as a sign of hope.

  It segued, for on Keltor, the blonde woman was waking and another parting was inexorably shaping itself …

  27

  My daughter was the first true born soulweaver, and I lay her within the

  Dark Chamber, as my brother bade me. There was much fear in this for

  she had only seen four turns of the seasons. Yet I did as he asked …