The Scarlet Star Trilogy

by Ben Galley

  ‘If you like, Master Harlequin, I could make you a horseshoe. Tie around your neck. Ottomans say it is good luck,’ the farrier offered, holding up a glowing twist of iron.

  ‘Ha, no, thank you,’ Merion shook his head. ‘We’re visiting the letters. Are you coming?’ he asked.

  Lilain stood up straight and stiff. ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘Hemzi, you’ll have to tell me about Constantia another time.’

  Hemzi just shrugged and went back to his hammering.

  Yara pointed them out of the forge. ‘Then that way, if you please. And back to work with you, old man. No more stories,’ she tutted, and Hemzi waved them off with a gloved hand.

  Yara spun them a yarn as they walked. ‘Our two letters are very peculiar, or so I was told by my predecessor. It is not often you find letters that can rush, or—in our case—who used to rush. Is that correct, Lilain?’

  ‘It is indeed,’ Lilain confirmed.

  ‘Our third letter died three years back. In a particularly cold Prussian winter, as far north as you can go before hitting the Baltik. Have you ever seen a winter in Prussia? No, I thought not. It is the sort of cold that can freeze your stew between the pot and the bowl. The sort that can turn your fingers and toes black so you snap them off like glass. Kadabra had never seen a winter like it, and we were stuck between towns, lost in the big snow drifts. We had to eat half the horses to survive. That was not pleasant.’

  Yara paused to introduce a pebble to the toe of her boot and send it cartwheeling across the dust. ‘Darabas died two weeks in, a few days shy of us digging our way out. Two people, a brother and a sister, heading west, came across us as we broke free. They helped us back onto the road and found us horses at a local farm. We invited them to breakfast, just like you, and would you know it? They stayed. And as the old gods would have it, they were letters, after a fashion. Unpractised, untrained, but eager to learn. We needed them as much as they needed us, and they have been with us ever since. They have built up quite a collection now. I think you both will be impressed. Besides, I think you have already met them?’ Yara tapped the side of her nose as she dragged back the flap of a wagon on the outskirts of the circus camp. Shan and Sheen Dolmer waved back at her. They both wore long brown aprons over their green shirts and britches.

  Merion wagged a finger. ‘So you’re the letters.’

  Sheen grinned through his tangled beard. ‘We are indeed, young man, and proud of it.’

  ‘We wondered when you might come by,’ Shan said, coming forwards to unlock the side of the wagon, which folded down into steps. It was a close call between who would be the first to grace them. Merion moved quickly, but Lilain was quicker still, despite the youth he had on her. Merion followed, nipping at her heels.

  When they ducked under the canvas roof of the wagon, they stood together, gazing up and around, as if they had stumbled into a cave stuffed full of treasure. To them, this was treasure.

  Countless bottles lined the walls, tucked tightly into shelves or sewn into little patches in the cloth, tied in place. Each one had a tiny label dangling from it, with its shade written in Sanguine, like any good letter would expect. Lilain had already spied a table that folded out from the head of the wagon. It held a leather satchel, propped open and glittering with sharp tools of all different kinds.

  Lilain looked like a starving girl in a sweetshop, her eyes wide and her hands tightly clasped over her mouth. Merion was the same, but at least he had the excuse of age. He was busy trying to count all the flasks, eyeing the Sanguine labels and testing his rusty memory. He wondered what magick each held for him. Merion had not been this excited since his aunt had first agreed to let him train.

  ‘Welcome to our humble abode,’ Shan said, walking along the walls and waving her hairy hands about. He nodded as she pointed out the six veins, and how their collection was divided. ‘And of course, myth, at the very end.’

  ‘Not bad at all,’ Lilain was murmuring,’ not bad at all.’

  Shan curtseyed, and Sheen tipped his small hat, balanced atop a mop of tangled and matted hair. ‘Why thank you, Ma’am,’ he said. ‘We try.’

  ‘We heard you were a letter,’ Shan enquired. Merion had noticed she was barefoot, and that her feet were as hairy as her face. Merion was too enraptured to be bothered about her abundance of body hair. Hell, he would kiss her if it helped get his hands on all this blood, he thought.

  ‘That I am, schooled by some of the finest in the Empire of Britannia.’

  The Dolmers whistled as one. Sheen rummaged through his beard. ‘Well, we could sure learn a thing or two from you, I’ll bet.’

  Lilain was already rolling up her sleeves. ‘I’d be happy to teach you what I can,’ she grinned, and Merion saw the aunt he knew from all those long nights in the basement, talking the hours away, manhandling corpses. She was different when it came to blood, and Merion did not blame her. Like aunt, like nephew.

  ‘And Merion, something for you, young Sir?’ Sheen said, leaning against the side of the wagon and crossing his arms. If Merion blurred his eyes, it was almost as though he was conversing with a bear.

  ‘What were your shades again, Master Harlequin?’ Yara had leant partway into the wagon, and had her elbows on the floor.

  It had been a few days since he had had to repeat his story. Merion stalled for thinking time. ‘Erm …’ he replied. ‘Electric eel, armadillo, and er … bat.’

  ‘Those we have,’ Sheen nodded. ‘Lucky boy, to have three shades,’ he commented as he began to rifle through an open drawer. Glass clinked softly together.

  Merion bit his lip, catching his aunt’s sideways gaze. ‘Well,’ he began. There was something in his voice that made Sheen stop, fingers hovering over the corks of his vials, and that made Yara and Shan both look up. He decided just to come out and say it. ‘I might be luckier still.’

  ‘Something you want to tell us, Master Harlequin?’ Yara asked.

  Merion screwed up his face. ‘I’m a leech, Miss Mizar.’

  There was a moment of silence in the wagon, broken only when Yara hoisted herself up the steps and came to stand in front of Merion, eyes narrowed and cautious. She muttered beneath her breath as she examined him, staring at his eyes and his lips.

  ‘May I ask what you’re doing?’ Merion asked, slightly nervous now.

  ‘You’re not lying,’ Yara told him.

  ‘I know, I …’

  Yara stood up and crossed her arms. ‘Many come to me telling me they are a leech. Wasting my time and my letters’. Those that do come never are, and those that are never come. Kon Kadabra spent his whole life trying to find one. He found a few half-leeches, but they could not come close. He never did find a true-born leech.’ Yara put her hands to her head and paced about the narrow space. ‘Oh how he would have loved this.’ The Dolmers murmured their agreement. Sheen even removed his hat.

  ‘You knew?’ Yara asked, turning to Lilain.

  Lilain nodded. ‘I did indeed. I’ve taught him. So has Lurker.’

  ‘And what are his veins?’ Yara fired the question at Lilain, but kept staring at the young Hark. Merion had never liked it when people did that.

  Lilain opened her mouth to answer, but Merion beat her this time. ‘Mammals, birds, fish, myth,’ he stated.

  ‘We’re still working on birds.’

  Sheen whistled alone this time, clearly impressed. ‘Four veins? I’ve never seen such a thing.’

  Part of Merion wanted to stand proud and tall. The other part wanted to blush. He managed to do a mixture of both. Lilain was looking pleased as well, though a tinge of worry hid there, as it always did.

  Yara had a coy look on her face. She traded a look with the Dolmers. ‘Now, what if I told you we could make it five, or perhaps even six?’

  ‘What? Merion stuttered.

  ‘What?’ Lilain echoed.

  Sheen stepped forward. ‘We know a way of mixing the bloods of two veins, one you can rush, the other you can’t. In small doses at first, so t
hat you train the body to accept the foreign vein.’

  Lilain snorted. ‘That’s impossible. It’s written in your soul what you can and can’t rush.’

  Shan grinned. ‘Not any more,’ she retorted. ‘We found an old man in Vina that had found a way of using shades that cross the barriers of the veins. He’d spent the better half of his life translating an old book of the First Empire. Only worked for leeches though. Not for normal rushers. Something about the aptitude for it.’

  Lilain had crossed her arms, keeping her face expressionless. ‘I’m listening,’ was all she said.

  Sheen continued. ‘You have to heat them, add a solvent, and be patient for it to come together.’

  ‘That’s alchemy, not biology. You can’t treat the shades like that. Have you ever managed it?’

  The Dolmers swapped glances. ‘No, but we watched it happen. The old letter let us come, day after day, to watch him feed a young leech his mixture, a nephew I think,’ Shan explained. ‘It worked. The boy couldn’t stomach the fish vein. After a month, he could rush a dozen shades of it, just as long as it was mixed with a trace of a stable vein.’

  Merion could feel himself fidgeting. He had barely had a chance to mix bloods yet, never mind poke about in unexplored, and so far untouchable, veins.

  ‘I’m still sceptical,’ stated Lilain, gazing around at the bottles and vials.

  ‘Well, we do have a leech right here …’ Yara said, half-smiling. It quickly faded when Lilain glared at her.

  ‘No,’ said his aunt. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Aunt Lilain,’ Merion began, but she shook her head at him.

  ‘Don’t start, Nephew, I won’t hear of it,’ Lilain sternly interrupted.

  Merion frowned. ‘But why? What are you so sceptical of?’

  ‘Your aunt is worried you might die,’ Sheen explained, leaning against one of the cupboards.

  Shan piped up. ‘Rushing shades of veins you can’t stomach, without dilution, will rupture your insides. If the mixture was wrong, it would kill you in a handful of heartbeats.’

  Merion thought about that for a moment. ‘I rushed turtle,’ he muttered. ‘In Fell Falls. That night before the attack,’ he said, just a whisper on his lips. It was all coming back to him now.

  ‘You did not,’ Lilain scoffed.

  ‘You were half-dead, aunt, I would not be surprised if you don’t remember.’

  ‘I remember …’ but Lilain trailed away, as if mentally she were a fisherman probing his net for holes. A flicker in her eyes told Merion she had found a few. ‘Surely not.’

  ‘Neither of us stopped to think,’ he replied, letting the memory flow. ‘I didn’t even question you.’

  Lilain just stared at him, a strange mixture of shock and guilt plastered across her face. ‘Not in all my years,’ she breathed.

  ‘Turtle is a barrier-crossing shade. It’s not an amphibian, but it is very close to the fish vein,’ Sheen explained. ‘If you were rushing hard, you might just have managed it.’

  ‘Five shades,’ Yara interjected. ‘Old blood indeed, Master Harlequin. Your father? Your mother?’ Yara queried, a curious glint in her emerald eyes.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Merion lied, and Yara nodded slowly.

  ‘Tell you what,’ Sheen cut in, feeling the tension growing. ‘How about we stick to the veins we know you can stomach, okay? Here, we have some blend-bottles.’

  Merion pounced on the opportunity to escape, joining Sheen at the back of the wagon, where a number of intricate bottles sat on a shelf, wedged together and wrapped with twine. As Merion began to rifle through them, with Sheen explaining each one, Lilain stepped close to Yara and whispered in her ear.

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Miss Mizar, but that is my nephew, and as such I look out for his safety. I imagine you’re only trying to help and please the boy, but he ain’t the kind for slow and steady. He runs at things full pelt. I won’t have him getting carried away with something as dangerous as this. Do we have an understanding?’

  Yara bowed her head. ‘We do indeed, Ms Rennevie,’ she replied. ‘But in this circus, we let everybody choose for themselves. There is no ownership here, only respect. Merion may want to test himself. We may just have to trust him,’ she said, her voice as soft as warm butter.

  Lilain searched her emerald eyes for a moment, trying to gauge whether she was joking or not. ‘My nephew,’ she repeated in a hiss.

  Yara nodded and stepped back to let Lilain pass.

  ‘Found anything interesting?’ asked his aunt, striding up. Merion waggled his head from side to side, keeping his eyes on the bottles.

  ‘Too many to choose from.’

  Sheen got to his feet. ‘I was just telling Merion here how shades can meet in the middle, finding a common ground in their power.’

  ‘But not all of them do that,’ Lilain corrected him. ‘Some aren’t to be mixed at all.’

  Sheen, to his credit, shrugged and flashed her a smile. ‘I would be happy to learn which, Ma’am,’ he said. Lilain’s stern face softened, slowly but surely, into a smile as well.

  There came a grunt from the doorway, and they all turned to find Lurker tipping his hat. ‘Got any magpie?’

  Shan curtseyed at him. ‘Of course,’ she replied.

  ‘Good to see you too, Lurker,’ Merion chided him, but Lurker was too busy picking coins out of a purse to notice.

  ‘Might as well put that away, Mr Lurker. Blood in the circus is for all. Well, most of the shades, that is. You work for your blood, just like your supper,’ Yara explained, waving her hands. She took the little vial and bent down to place it in Lurker’s palm. The prospector sniffed, and tipped his hat again.

  ‘Then I s’pose thanks are in order, Ma’am,’ he grunted. He turned briefly to Lilain and Merion, nodded, and left them to it.

  ‘Charming, as always,’ Lilain huffed.

  ‘What about these?’ Merion held them up his aunt and she picked at the labels.

  ‘Fox and horse, clever combination. Extends the night eyes of the fox shade, in the right balance, whilst keeping a little of the speed. Carp and deer. Now that’s dangerously interesting. You’d be able to sense other rushers for miles around.’

  ‘Yes Ma’am,’ Sheen nodded, looking proud. He crossed his tanned, hairy arms over his chest. Merion knew the feeling.

  ‘Wolf and sloth, does that not cancel each other out a little?’

  ‘Not in the right balance.’

  Merion was tapping his foot. ‘I imagine you’ll be here a while,’ he said.

  Lilain smirked. ‘I think I will be, Nephew.’ She handed him back the vials. ‘This is good. That last one gives you daggers for claws and makes you fiercer than a stung bear. Get some eel, and … that is sprite, and goblin, if my eyes don’t deceive me.’

  ‘They do not, Ma’am.’ Sheen again.

  ‘Any armadillo? No, alright. Turtle it is then. And eagle, try that again. I hope that’s alright?’ Lilain asked of the Dolmers, and they just nodded.

  ‘Anything for a leech,’ Yara said.

  ‘Thank you,’ Merion said, swiftly stuffing his pockets with his new vials.

  ‘Perhaps you can show us tonight, Merion?’ Yara asked.

  Merion flashed her a smile. ‘Perhaps I can,’ he answered, sounding very pleased with himself indeed. It was not every day he got to rush whenever and wherever he pleased. This was something entirely new, and without a doubt, extraordinarily thrilling. Merion flapped his coat about, feeling the weight of the vials in his pockets. He found himself thinking of Gile, with that wondrous coat of his, tailored for a leech. He felt the question hover on his lips, but he dragged it back. He did not want to give his aunt too much cause for worry in one day.

  Merion said his thanks to the Dolmers, and stepped outside. The evening already had some chill in it, and he shivered. The tent flags, of all sorts of colours and patterns, were dancing idly in the breeze.

  As Merion walked back towards his tent, he smiled every time he fo
cused on the vials in his pockets. No more did he feel like a fledgling. He felt the air under his wings now. Strong and constant. And if that is too prideful, Merion thought to himself, he did not care. ‘I’ve earned it,’ he muttered beneath his breath, to nobody but the breeze and the growing shadows.

  Merion marched back to their tent, a spark of an idea flourishing between his ears. He did not stop to chat. He did not linger, but set a course and kept to it, eager to hear what the faerie had to say.

  The tent was empty and naturally Rhin was nowhere to be seen. Merion closed the flap and stood in the middle of the floor, waiting. Sure enough, Rhin shimmered into view, arms crossed and a questioning look on his face.

  ‘I told them I’m a leech,’ Merion stated proudly.

  ‘Good for you,’ Rhin replied, nodding. He seemed a little surprised. ‘And what of the rest?’

  Merion stepped forward. ‘Tonight, around the fire-pits, we reveal all,’ he said earnestly.

  ‘And how exactly are we going to do that?’ Rhin could not deny the little shiver of curiosity he felt.

  ‘In the best way possible,’ Merion grinned, before launching into his plan.

  As Merion talked, Rhin began to frown, deeper and deeper, until by the end of it, he was thoroughly dubious. ‘I don’t know, Merion,’ he mumbled.

  ‘It will work. We’ll appeal to their showmanship. It’ll be like a circus act.’

  Rhin wagged a grey finger. ‘You just want to join in, don’t you? Be part of the show?’

  Merion stammered for a moment. ‘Well, why not?’ he countered.

  ‘Because that’s not what you’re here to do. You’re travelling east, Merion, that’s all. Don’t get too wrapped up in this life.’

  Merion crossed his arms, mirroring the faerie. ‘I’m not getting wrapped up. I just want to enjoy it while it’s here, now. While I can.’

  Rhin had to sigh. ‘I know what you mean,’ he muttered.

  ‘Now, are you in, Rhin Rehn’ar?’

  The faerie stuffed his hands behind his breastplate and nodded. ‘Fine. But this had better work.’

  Merion took a seat on a rickety stool. ‘It will,’ he said. ‘Now, you were telling me something, before I was whisked away. I want to know what happened to your hand.’