by Ashley Capes
“Perhaps. But I have come to make provision for my friends.”
“I see.”
“Is there a secret way from the spire? If you were attacked?”
She lifted a thin eyebrow. “You mean, if your activities brought the Vadiya down upon us?”
“Yes.” He saw no reason to lie and Jardila herself had claimed to want him to do something to save the city. And that meant taking risks. Yet if he could negate enough of them...
“There is such a way.”
“I would ask that you take my companions if it comes to such a time.”
She sighed. “Perhaps when, Never, not if. And of course, we will offer such temporary respite if you are to fail.”
“Thank you, My Lady.”
“You have chosen a path of action then?”
“Chosen first steps, at least. Much hinges upon whether Prince Tendov is in the city,” he said. No need to let her know who or what Snow was.
“He is said to be in the palace often,” Jardila said, turning back to the statue. “Though I cannot confirm such a thing one way or another.”
“You have no-one watching?”
“Of course we watch, but we have no eyes in the palace, Never.”
“Few would, I imagine. I’ll take my leave then.”
She did not answer, as if deep in prayer once again.
Outside, Never found no attendant and so descended alone. When he reached his room, passing no acolytes or priests, he found it empty. He searched the other guest rooms but it wasn’t until he found an alcove set off another flight of stairs that he heard voices – giggling.
He peered around the alcove.
Two acolytes sat beneath a window, heads together over a book.
Never cleared his throat.
Both looked up, faces covered in guilt. One girl hid the book, but not before he saw the title – The Songs of Sondella. Common fare, even in reputable taverns, but hardly forbidden material, surely? But then, he was in a sacred place.
“Can we help, My Lord?” One girl asked quickly.
“I’m searching for my friends,” he said, pretending he had not seen the book.
“They’re in the Eyes,” the other replied.
“Eyes?”
“Patrina will show you,” the first girl said, keeping her hands in her lap, Sondella’s book hidden in the folds of her robe.
“Yes, of course,” Patrina said, bounding up.
“That’s kind of you.”
He followed her through an open doorway and a long passage, lit by a lamp that Patrina paused to refill from a canister of oil placed within an alcove. Next a set of stairs, leading up once more and passing a series of doors, curving around the spire until she stopped at a broad, double-door marked with the old rune for ‘seeing’.
“You’ll find them within, My Lord.”
He gave her a smile then pushed on the doors.
A dim chamber was revealed, lit by a thin horizontal window. It took up half the curving wall, broken only by silhouettes. One moved closer as Never’s eyes adjusted – Luis. “Never, you have to see this.” He was grinning. “It might have been made by the Amouni, the priests don’t know, they say it’s always been here.”
Tsolde stepped away from an odd contraption, a set of steel cylinders and a stool mounted on a steel rail. The cylinders were pointed out to the city and the rail followed the curve of the room. “You look through them and the city seems closer,” she said.
“It is impressive,” Vantinio added. “They’ve all been fighting over it since we got here.”
Never took the seat and used his legs to move along the rail a little, pressing his eye against the metal to peer through the cylinder. Glass or quartz distorted his vision, revealing a dark blur only, until Tsolde tapped a tiny lever. “Pull this down or up if you cannot see,” she said. “I was looking at one of the buildings, it’s closer than where you’ve moved to.”
He pulled the lever and a dark mass of a building resolved, an inn with an extravagant garden on its upper story. He could see directly into the windows on the top floor; the foot of a bed, its blankets rumpled.
“Impressive is an understatement,” he said softly.
Elina used her boot to slide him further along. “Tilt the cylinder with that handle,” she said. “Tell us if he’s still there, by the pile of crates near the tailor.”
“Very well.” Never reached up and wound the handle, a deep clicking following. The cylinder eye showed the street in clear detail, close as if he were mere feet away from the cobblestones. The needle and thread painted on a sign revealed the tailor, but he saw no crates. Never slid the contraction further and paused.
There.
A Steelhawk sat atop one of the crates, facing the Spire. Watching?
“I see him.”
“Now switch to this cylinder.” Tsolde tapped on the second.
The Steelhawk was so close that Never could see the apple core the man nibbled upon. The fellow cast it aside then folded his arms. As he did so, his breastplate was revealed – and the lack of Family insignia or rank.
“My my,” Never breathed. The same man who’d convinced the gate guards to let them into the city.
“Recognise him?” Luis asked.
“I do,” Never said with a grin. “And I believe we just found our high-ranking officer.”
Chapter 20.
“Ready?” Never asked.
Nods from everyone gathered in the antechamber before the great doors. It was an exceedingly simple plan. Never would stroll the streets, circling toward an alley chosen from the vantage of the Eyes. Once the mysterious Steelhawk started after Never, Vantinio would follow at a distance. Luis and Elina would, in turn, follow any Steelhawk that might have lingered to trail Vantinio.
Tsolde, much to her frustration, was staying in the Eyes. It was her job to signal with a coloured lantern if she saw something amiss. She’d wanted to help on the ground but Never held back while the others began the descent. “If we’re unlucky there will be plenty of chances for you to take risks.”
She’d narrowed her eyes. “Don’t say that because I’m a young woman, Never. You know I can help.”
“You could indeed. But I need Luis focused on the task at hand. If he knows you’re safe here, there’s less risk.”
Tsolde flushed. “You know... how we feel for each other?”
“Of course and I’m happy for you,” he said with a grin. “Just help us here. Next time I’ll ask someone else to take watch.”
“Fine,” she said. “But you know this doesn’t stop me worrying about him.”
“Don’t worry, I know exactly how you feel,” Never said. “I worry about you all every day.” He shook his head, it was something he hadn’t admitted aloud and in a strange way, it was almost a relief. “I won’t let anything happen to him.”
She nodded. “I know. Go then.”
And now it was time to put the plan into action. There wasn’t too much that could go wrong, the best thing about simple plans. Of course, if something did go wrong it would likely be a disaster. If, say, the strange Steelhawk was hiding twenty men in a nearby building.
Still... if the man had wanted them captured, he would have done it at the gate.
Never removed the bar and entered the square, crossing steadily beneath the dull sun. He wore no disguise this time, not wanting to be missed. What he did carry was his knives. He kept several belted in plain sight. He was taking no chances in catching the man’s eye.
He started up the deserted street where the Steelhawk was waiting but did not search for the fellow. Instead, Never continued on his path, smiling once he heard the tread of boots following. He soon turned into a side street where he bypassed piles of refuse, then back to the broader thoroughfare.
Hooves clacked ahead, the rattl
ing of wheels on stone joining it, and a carriage swung into view. Never stepped to the side, closer to the buildings, as the carriage rumbled by, curtains drawn. No clues as to who it carried. Never resisted the urge to quicken his pace even a little, the steady walk was enough. By now, Vantinio would be following the Steelhawk and Luis and Elina were in turn, keeping an eye on Vantinio.
The pre-arranged alley appeared, marked by the abandoned toymaker, or so Pacela’s priests claimed. It certainly bore a look of emptiness – garbage gathered in the doorway and dust darkened windows.
Never glanced back to Pacela’s tower, taking a moment to locate Tsolde’s window. No coloured lamp, no trouble. Good. He turned into the alley and slowed his tread. Before he reached the opposite end, the Steelhawk entered. Never grinned. A little further, fellow. Never bent, as if to check his boots. Was Vantinio in place? Footsteps halted behind him. Never turned.
A little way into the alley, the dark shape of the Steelhawk stood – and behind the man loomed another figure, who hurled something into the air. The net quickly resolved, weighted ends crashing down over the Steelhawk, who collapsed with a clatter.
Never charged after Vantinio, who was already upon the Steelhawk with a length of rope. “Help me with his hands.”
The Steelhawk struggled but was no match for the strength of two, and was soon bound. Together, Never and Vantinio hauled the man to his feet and shoved him through the nearby door – into the darkness of the toymaker.
Deserted, as promised.
Light from the doorway revealed a bench strewn with chisels, a delicate hammer and half-finished toys like abandoned children, all sombre in the dark. One wooden figure seemed connected by tiny chains but was missing its head. Never dragged a stool into the centre of the room. Vantinio set the Steelhawk down and drew his sword, keeping it at the man’s throat.
“Don’t move,” Vantinio said, speaking Vadiyem.
Never closed the door, reducing the light to whatever pushed through dusty window panes, then drew one of his knives. He flipped it into the air, catching it by the handle as he faced the Steelhawk. “You have no family,” Never began, also speaking the Vadiya tongue.
“It would seem so,” the man replied, an unconcerned expression clear on his delicate features. Yet there remained a gleam of cunning in his eye, each a different colour – green and blue.
“What is your name?”
“I am Andramir.”
“You seem to have been assigned an inordinate amount of power.”
Now he smiled. “Responsibility, perhaps.”
“For what?” Vantinio asked. “And don’t think a lie will do.”
“I have no need,” Andramir replied. He turned back to Never. “Prince Tendov asked me to watch for your appearance and then to ensure you were not still... encumbered by any lingering impediments.”
Lingering impediments? Snow’s words on the mountain. “Vantinio flee.”
“What?”
The Steelhawk only grinned.
Wood creaked and light flowed into the room. Luis and Elina entered the toyshop, weapons drawn. “No-one followed Vantinio,” Luis said.
Never shouted. “Run, all of you – it was a trap!”
Andramir stood and Never blinked. The man had simply passed through the net, passed through the sword tip as if it were not at his throat. “Stay,” he said, and his voice was soft, sibilant, yet it filled the room.
Never could not move.
Vantinio stood like a statue, sword-arm outstretched. Near the door, Elina and Luis were frozen, expressions of shock clear, though their eyes darted.
Andramir crossed the room, walking directly through Luis and Elina to stand outside a moment, then he returned, pausing by Vantinio. “I count three yet no girl. It should be four, including your new companion here. Never, where is young Tsolde?”
“No.”
“It’s no trouble to guess – you left her in the Spire, yes? Inconvenient but not insurmountable.”
“Tell him I will see him,” Never said. “But if something happens to my friends I will make sure Snow fails in all he seeks.”
“Will you?”
“With me dead, he will fail – I know he needs me.”
Andramir narrowed his eyes. “I think this is a terrible bluff.”
“Are you sure you want to take that risk? I don’t imagine my brother would react very well to failure.”
“He is not fond of mistakes, that’s certainly true,” Andramir said with a frown. “But we still cannot have your companions getting underfoot.” He approached everyone in turn and spoke only a single word ‘Slumber’ and one by one, they fell to the floorboards and remained, eyes closed, chests rising and falling in sleep. “And so they will remain until I alone wake them.”
Never kept his relief on hold. “Fine. Take me to my brother.”
Andramir shook his head as he started for the door. “I have other tasks to complete – and you are most capable of finding him.”
“Leave her be!”
“I cannot.” And then he was gone.
Chapter 21.
Too much time had passed.
The shadows of unfinished toys filled the room, crossing the floor and distorting where they covered the sleeping forms of his friends.
He had failed.
Failed to escape and failed those who depended upon him.
Just as he’d feared. Never clenched his jaw. Too many times, far too many times. The old way was the best – if he hadn’t been so arrogant, he might have remembered that. For any who neared him would be dragged into his curse. And maybe they wouldn’t die by his blood but it would still be by his hand that they met their fate.
More the fool that he thought he could keep them safe.
Never roared into the empty store.
Only silence answered with its dust and its indifference.
He closed his eyes.
How long now since he’d lost Zia? Years, yet it struck as hard as ever. The deep indigo of the night, interspersed by the glow of lanterns, wind sweeping across the tower, eating all sound, water flying as he splashed his way through the puddles. Sprinting but too slow nonetheless, her body still and Snow shouting for him – even from a distance Never could see he was too late.
But it had made no difference, none of it, not the medicine he carried or the foolish hope he brought with it. How the Gods had mocked him then; he and Snow had already saved her from the group of thugs, only to lose her to the curse.
No, the bitter argument he and Snow had fought after saving her – that was the cause. Blaming each other as they struggled, jealousy fuelling their knives. And Never couldn’t say for sure whose blood had stolen so much of hers; he experienced none of her memories and Snow had always claimed the same.
They had only each other to blame in the end, arguing over who would run for help and who would stay and hold her.
Wasting precious moments.
Never hadn’t been able to drag himself all the way back, instead stumbling into the shadows and collapsing against the chill stone, struggling to breathe, tears burning.
The last time he’d seen Zia.
The last time he saw Snow until their meeting on the cliffs, years later, where each had vowed the other’s death.
And here he was again, seeking an end to Snow, yet for different reasons.
Never staggered forward, limbs free all of a sudden. Had Andramir let him go? Or had the man’s magic simply worn off? Never crouched by Vantinio; the mercenary still breathed. Good. Yet he could not be woken. Next, Luis and Elina. The same. Never pushed himself back up, limbs aching, no doubt an unfortunate after-effect of being frozen in place.
Footsteps thundered outside.
He spun, knife in hand.
An arm appeared in the light, pushing on the door, clothed in yellow.
“Messenger?”
Lina.
Never lowered his blade. “Yes.”
She stepped inside and gasped. “Are they dead?”
“No. Just asleep, yet nothing wakes them,” Never said.
“Oh. Like the young Hanik woman.”
Never uttered a curse, ignoring the way Lina flushed. “A Steelhawk?”
“Yes. He simply appeared... we couldn’t stop him, we couldn’t even touch him. Some of the Priests he froze, others he beat.”
“I’m sorry,” Never said. Tsolde too – not a surprise, but at least Andramir had spared her. The man had taken Never’s threat seriously at least. But was it anything more than a threat? No way to know. Not until he faced Snow.
Which would surely be soon.
“No-one has died... yet, though Brother Mil has not woken from his wounds.”
“Lina, I need your help, we need to get everyone back to the Spire. Will the Priests come?”
She nodded. “I’ve been sent to find you, the High Priestess wishes to see you. Others are nearby.”
“No doubt she does,” he said. “Now hurry, and thank you.”
She smiled as she ran back into the street.
Never paced the toyshop. He glanced at the figure in the marble ball and it was standing to attention, arms straight at its sides, fists clenched. Tense. Lina soon returned with the priests, who helped with neither complaint nor cheer. Never helped carry Vantinio and once they were each lain in simple beds on the Spire’s ground floor, and once he had checked on the sleeping form of Tsolde himself, he let Lina take him up to the dining hall.
“We eat together with every change of the moon,” she explained. “The High Priestess is waiting in the kitchen.”
“She prepared the meal? For everyone?”
“Assists,” Lina said. “It is tradition.”
The dining hall was vast, taking up what had to be half the entire floor, but it was not full. There were many empty seats and whole sections cordoned off. Were the numbers of the priesthood declining? Many of the heads that sat at benches were silvery or bald, easily outnumbering the younger acolytes.