Windsinger

by A. F. E. Smith

  ‘Carlos Tolino.’

  The name was familiar, of course; one couldn’t grow up as a councillor’s son without learning the names that made up the government. But Zander was relieved to find that this one had been an acquaintance, at most. He nodded.

  ‘My father knows him. Knew him. I don’t think I ever met him.’ A smile touched his lips. ‘To be honest, my father tended not to introduce me to his colleagues if he could possibly avoid it.’

  ‘Zander!’ Ree said in mock outrage. ‘You’re not telling us you were a troublemaker, are you?’

  The funny thing was, he hadn’t been. Not to start with. Until he was about twelve or thirteen, he’d done everything he could to be the model of a councillor’s son. He’d worked hard at school. He’d studied every night. He’d been polite and respectful to his father. But then … he wasn’t sure how to explain it. Though he’d been trying just as hard as ever, his grades had begun to slip. Nothing came to him with the ease it had. His father had hired tutors for him, and made him study even longer in the evenings and on free days, but it made no difference. It was as if his brain had stopped working properly.

  Of course, his father hadn’t accepted that. He’d accused Zander of being lazy. Of simply not trying hard enough. And after a year or two, Zander had accepted that judgement – because at least if he was lazy, his failure was through choice and not through lack of ability. Being lazy meant he didn’t even have to try. So he’d abandoned the books that made no sense to him and gone looking for other things to be good at. Unfortunately for his father, what he’d discovered was a boundless talent for mischief.

  ‘My father started leaving me out of formal dinners after I substituted a live piglet for the grand centrepiece,’ he told Ree. ‘But I don’t think it was until I destroyed his second-best carriage that he decided to keep me out of sight for good.’

  ‘Destroyed?’

  ‘Well … exploded, really.’

  She laughed, but her eyes searched his face. Maybe she saw some of the truth that lay beneath his flippant answer. He did as he always did, and turned the moment aside.

  ‘But tell me more about the ambassador’s death. What happened?’

  ‘We don’t know yet,’ Ree said. ‘Not exactly. He arrived in Darkhaven about halfway through fourth bell, and he and Lady Ayla were alone in the library until … I’m not sure, but the sixth bell had already sounded. Then the Kardise all trooped off to supper and bed, and I went off duty and found my parents waiting for me.’ She grimaced. ‘We all know how that went. Anyway, next thing I knew, Captain Caraway was calling us together before the training session this morning and telling us the ambassador had died in the night.’

  ‘That’s all he said? That the ambassador had died?’

  ‘Mmm. And that Darkhaven’s physician and the Kardise are looking into it. So naturally, Penn and I have been speculating about what happened and what it will mean …’

  ‘Ree speculated,’ Penn put in. ‘I mostly listened.’

  ‘… and I’m so used to you training with us that I forgot you weren’t there to hear the news. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Zander said absently. Died in the night. He remembered enough of the strange and unspecific language of government to know that it could mean anything from cruelly murdered to faked his own death for political reasons. But the one thing it couldn’t possibly mean was we are certain this death was unsuspicious in any way, because if that were the case, Darkhaven would have every reason to make it known as swiftly and as widely as possible.

  ‘Zander?’ Ree asked. ‘Are you all right?’

  He nodded – for once in his life, unable to produce a smile. ‘I just hope it doesn’t mean war.’

  She frowned. ‘Do you really think Sol Kardis would go that far?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ It would depend entirely on how the ambassador had died, and how Darkhaven could prove the ambassador had died, and thus far it was impossible to tell. ‘I just … I don’t know.’ With an effort, he summoned the smile that had eluded him. ‘Let’s talk about something else. What are you two doing this afternoon?’

  Soon after that, Ree and Penn went off to firearms training, bantering about the lack of improvement in Ree’s aim – it’s been years, Ree, you’d think you’d at least be able to hit the target by now – but Zander stayed in his seat, staring at the cold remains of his rapidly congealing food.

  War. His friends might not want to believe it, but if there was any suspicion around Tolino’s death, it would come to that. Zander knew it would have been difficult enough to get the Kardise government to consider a treaty in the first place; Sol Kardis had had its eye on Mirrorvale as a potential acquisition ever since he could remember, so it was a significant concession for the larger country to give up any possible future conquest. No doubt their failed attempts to assassinate Ayla Nightshade had contributed to the decision, but it would have been a contentious issue in parliament. So if the ambassador’s death turned out to be murder, those Kardise councillors who were against the treaty would use it as evidence that Mirrorvale was not to be trusted. And, if everything Zander had heard was true, they would have the backing of the Brotherhood.

  In fact, it wouldn’t be entirely surprising if the Brotherhood themselves had ordered the ambassador’s death to create precisely this situation.

  Zander wondered if he should mention that to Ree, but came to the conclusion that she already knew – or, if not her, at least Captain Caraway. Because she’d said the cause of death was being investigated by both the Kardise party and Darkhaven’s own physician. Both sides must be keenly aware of the possibility of treachery. Only a unanimous verdict of some natural cause would be enough to prevent a war.

  And if war did break out, Zander would have to decide what to do: whether to obey his father’s wishes at last, and return home, or to stay in Arkannen despite the fact that a declaration of war would officially make him an enemy of its people.

  He’d originally come to the city for several reasons. Though he might have lost his academic abilities, he hadn’t lost his skill with a sword – so he’d thought he might be able to make something of that, once he didn’t have his father looking over his shoulder. Being away from Sol Kardis, and all the expectations that came with being a councillor’s son, had held undeniable appeal. And, of course, he’d known it would infuriate his father not to know where he was. Yet being framed as Ayla’s intended assassin, not two months into training, had meant he hadn’t been able to conceal his location any longer. His father’s aide had arrived from Sol Kardis to escort him home – but by then Zander’s name had been cleared, and he’d flat-out refused to go.

  Tell my respected father, he’d said in the polite, formal style used among Kardise councillors, that I have been accepted onto a prestigious training programme here. Tell him I intend to return once I am qualified. Then, because he knew the aide by name, and because he found it impossible to maintain formality for long, he’d added, Come on, Leo! All I ever do under my father’s roof is get myself into trouble.

  Don Alezzandro, the man had replied austerely, that is exactly why your father wants you where he can see you. Yet then he, too, had unbent. The truth is, Zander, he knows all about this training programme of yours, and he doesn’t understand it. I’m not sure I do, either. What do you want with learning to be a Helmsman? You’re Kardise. You have as much chance of joining the Helm as you do of becoming a Changer.

  Tell my father I’ll come home when I’m ready, Zander had answered stubbornly, and Leo had said no more.

  Yet, of course, the aide had been right: Zander couldn’t join the Helm. At the end of training, just before the successful candidates were officially announced, Captain Caraway had taken him aside and very apologetically told him so.

  If it were down to merit alone, I’d have you in a heartbeat, he said. I admitted you to training because you deserved it, and because I had the vague idea that something might change … But with the relations
hip between Mirrorvale and Sol Kardis as precarious as it is, we simply can’t have a Kardise councillor’s son in the Helm. I’m sorry.

  It was at that point Zander realised he’d been hoping for a miracle. He’d been hoping the gods would smile on him, that somehow Caraway would be able to make an exception in his case – but of course he couldn’t. While the recruits Zander had trained alongside might accept him, the older Helmsmen certainly wouldn’t. There would always be that degree of suspicion, of uncertainty, in case he turned out to be a traitor. And on the Kardise side, the government might very well take it as an insult. His father, Zander thought with the slow creep of resignation, certainly would.

  What will you do now? Caraway asked him. Will you go back to Sol Kardis?

  I’m not sure … Zander thought about it, then added slowly, Or maybe I am.

  Caraway nodded. If you need anything, just ask. He clasped Zander’s forearm, then walked away.

  Captain! Zander called after him. Did Ree –?

  Caraway stopped and glanced back over his shoulder, smiling. Of course she did.

  Later, Zander considered that smile and decided that the captain hadn’t pressed him on the question of his return to Sol Kardis because he’d already known exactly what would happen. Zander stayed in Arkannen. He got a job as a junior assistant weaponmaster and an apartment in the Ametrine Quarter. More often than not, he joined Ree and Penn when they were training. Except for the little matter of not actually doing the job, he might as well have been a Helmsman.

  Of course, his father wasn’t at all happy with the situation. Soon after that conversation with Caraway, Leo had arrived once more to escort Zander back to Sol Kardis, and again Zander had refused to go. The following week he’d received a long letter from his father, demanding his return, and an even longer one the week after. After that, the letters had become increasingly angry and increasingly terse until the last one read, simply, WHY ARE YOU STILL THERE?

  Zander hadn’t even tried to answer that question. He suspected the truth was both too simple and too complicated for his father to understand. The complicated answer was all bound up with Ree, and friendship, and a sense of belonging; with carving a place for himself in the world that was separate from his identity as his father’s son, and finding something he was good at without his father’s name to smooth his way. The simple answer was that he didn’t want to leave.

  He hadn’t had any more letters since that one, months ago now. He rather thought his father had given up on him. That ought to hurt, but it was mostly a relief.

  Or at least, it had been.

  Because while Mirrorvale and Sol Kardis were heading for peace, Zander had been able to convince himself that he belonged in Arkannen. But now they were heading for war, he wasn’t sure he belonged anywhere. If he no longer had a place in his homeland, but he would soon become anathema in his adopted country, where did that leave him?

  Abruptly, the noisy chatter of the mess hall became unbearable. According to the clock on the wall, he had a little time before fourth bell, which was when he was due to continue the thankless task of showing a bunch of incompetent young idiots how to hold a sword without cutting themselves. As the fifth ring’s most junior assistant weaponmaster, he was given this task every time a training period came round: take the sons of wealthy Mirrorvalese who believed they could buy talent, attempt to drum some basic techniques into them, and help the weaponmasters to decide whether any of them had enough potential to stay for further training. Based on what he’d seen of the current lot so far, his answer was a resounding no. Still, they deserved his full attention; maybe if he walked up to the Gate of Ice and back before starting work, he could clear his head.

  He got halfway there before someone called his name, and he turned to see Captain Caraway emerging from the armoury. After the night’s events, Zander would have been surprised if Caraway hadn’t wanted to speak to him sooner or later, so he stopped and waited for the other man to join him.

  ‘Can I talk to you for a moment?’ Caraway asked, with a gesture that indicated they should continue walking.

  ‘Of course.’ Zander smiled at him. He liked the captain; always had. Even when Caraway had arrested him for planning regicide, he hadn’t been cruel about it.

  ‘I expect you’ve heard about Don Tolino’s death,’ Caraway said. ‘I know this puts you in a difficult position, Zander, and I’m sorry for it. But I have to ask …’

  He indicated a quiet spot at the edge of the stable yard, and they sat down together. Zander expected a question about what the Kardise government might do next, perhaps a request for advice – but when Caraway spoke again, it was something very different.

  ‘Last night, before Tolino died, he and Ayla spent some time discussing the treaty. And one of the clauses in it …’ The captain frowned at his hands, before glancing up at Zander. ‘Your father explicitly requested that the final treaty be contingent upon your immediate return to Sol Kardis.’

  So he hasn’t given up on me after all. Zander wasn’t sure whether to be angry or relieved.

  ‘There you go, Captain Caraway,’ he muttered. ‘If you want to meet a man who’ll do anything to get his own way, up to and including the subversion of a peace treaty, look no further than my dad.’

  Caraway smiled, but it was perfunctory.

  ‘I have to ask,’ he said again. ‘Zander, did you know your father was going to make that request?’

  ‘Know? I had no idea. Why do you –’ But even as he started to ask the question, he knew the answer.

  You think I arranged a murder.

  In an instant, it was as if he were back in the fifth ring as a new recruit, subject to an accusation he had no way to disprove. The same helplessness, the same frustrated sense of injustice.

  Haven’t you already made this mistake once, Captain Caraway?

  Zander didn’t look up straight away, for fear that his unexpected bitterness would show in his eyes. Yet when he did meet Caraway’s gaze, he could see that the exact same thought was in the captain’s mind. That made him feel a little better.

  All the same, he thought, this is what it will be like, if Sol Kardis and Mirrorvale go to war. I’ll always be suspect number one.

  ‘Zander.’ Caraway spoke gently, as if he knew how Zander was feeling. ‘I’m not accusing you of anything. I just need all the information I can get. Every piece of the puzzle will fit somewhere.’

  ‘I had no idea,’ Zander said again. ‘I haven’t heard from my father in months. Though it’s not unlike him to escalate a situation far beyond the reasonable.’ With his earlier musings in mind, he added, ‘But surely, sir … I mean, from what Ree and Penn said, you don’t even know that there’s a puzzle to solve. Don Tolino could have died of natural causes.’

  ‘He could,’ Caraway agreed. ‘But I’m not optimistic about it. The timing is too much of a coincidence.’ One side of his mouth turned up in a not-quite smile. ‘Ayla always says I’m paranoid. Let’s hope she’s right.’

  ‘I’m afraid she might not be in this case,’ Zander admitted. ‘The Brotherhood –’

  ‘I know.’

  He did, of course. The assassination attempts had seen to that. But Caraway couldn’t know, because he’d never been there, what it was like to be the son of a Kardise councillor and hear and see certain things, growing up, that convinced him beyond doubt that all the rumours were true: the much-vaunted Kardise democracy was not a democracy at all.

  To be the son of a Kardise councillor and have every reason to believe that his father didn’t always act on behalf of the people who had elected him.

  ‘They’re quite capable of doing something like this,’ he said, not meeting Caraway’s gaze. ‘The individual lives of their own people matter far less to them than what they see as the greater good, so they’d be quite happy to have killed Don Tolino if they thought it would get them what they want. I expect you know that already.’

  ‘I was afraid of it,’ Caraway agreed. ‘Thank yo
u, Zander.’

  He got up to go. But before he’d gone too far, Zander gave in to the promptings of his need to know the worst and called after him, ‘Captain Caraway! Do you think there will be a war?’

  Caraway turned. He looked grave, and incongruously young; as though he were more vulnerable than he cared to reveal, and just for a moment, he had let it show.

  ‘If Tolino was murdered,’ he said, ‘and if we can’t prove very quickly that we didn’t do it – then yes, Zander. I’m almost certain of it.’

  FIVE

  When Naeve Sorrow travelled between the Mallory family farm and Darkhaven, she usually took the train.

  The original plan for the track hadn’t brought it anything like so close to her door; it had been a straight line between the city of Arkannen and its nearest mine. But once Ayla Nightshade had found out where her half-brother Corus and his mother Elisse were living, she’d ordered a minor detour. Far more convenient to be able to send Helmsmen and messages back and forth by train than by horse or carriage, and less expensive than chartering an airship. Not that the train had been intended to carry people – its purpose was coal – but a few words from Ayla, and suddenly the goods trucks were joined by a coach.

  And so, Sorrow thought with the mental equivalent of an eye-roll, the course of the world is altered by a single woman’s whims.

  Not that she minded. Lana Mallory, Elisse’s mother, grumbled about the train on a regular basis. Too loud. Too dirty. It shed a blanket of coal dust across the far meadow and made the air taste like a factory. But to Sorrow, who found country air far too bland and country landscapes far too green, the train tasted like home. The rattling, grumbling assertiveness of it suited her temperament: a little piece of Arkannen on the move. And strangely, riding in Ayla Nightshade’s coach helped her forget that more often than not, she was on Ayla Nightshade’s business. Hers or Captain Caraway’s; it was all the same.

  Sorrow hadn’t intended to get herself mixed back up with Darkhaven. But once it had been agreed that Ayla had a right to know where Corus lived, and that it would be sensible to set a guard on him and his mother, Sorrow had found herself acting as a go-between for Elisse and Ayla. It was the sort of shitty position she’d never wanted to be in, but since she often travelled to Arkannen for work, it made sense for her to carry news to and from the farm where Elisse and Corus were staying. Elisse and Corus, and Elisse’s mother Lana – because that was where Elisse had chosen to go, back to the place she’d grown up in.