Vespera

by Anselm Audley

  ‘Somebody sent you that ring. Now, either some of your sister’s family are still alive, or, if not, there’s someone who knows what happened to them, and who might be responsible. Either way, do you really not want to know?’

  Petroz nodded, eventually. She wasn’t talking to the Prince of Imbria now, but to a man approaching the twilight of his days who had suddenly discovered that perhaps he did have a family after all.

  ‘Now,’ Leonata said, as a gong sounded from within the Palace, ‘we need to see Anthemia off, and then I think you should find a trustworthy artist who can draw you portraits of your family as you remember them. It won’t be pleasant, but if I’m to help you I need to know what they looked like.’ Thanks to the damnatio memoriae on Azrian and all their allies, not one single statue or picture of them still existed.

  Meanwhile, she had to find a way through the polite façade Iolani maintained even with her allies, and that would be a far more difficult task.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Estarrin Palace,’ Raphael said, tossing his bag into the bottom of the gondola and stepping in after it. The gondolier looked a little surprised, since it would be just as easy to reach Estarrin Palace by land, but Raphael needed a few more moments of undisturbed thought, and he wouldn’t get that battling through the streets of Triton. Besides, it would confuse the crowd of spies who were undoubtedly still following him, no doubt more alert than ever since he’d shaken them off on his way to High Avern. He still wanted to know why Petroz was having him followed.

  Raphael could have done with some firm proof for his suspicions, but he was certain he’d guessed right, everything fit too neatly for him to be wrong. He’d picked up a great deal from Plautius, a little more from the garrulous clerks in the shipping office, and one or two tidbits in the Museion. Not as much as he’d wanted, since the disappearance of the historian Daganos – the man he’d gone to see – had left a pall of fear even over men who must have been Daganos’s enemies.

  The gondola was racing out through the low waves now, skirting the western side of Triton, and he could see Estarrin Palace ahead on its westernmost tip. There was already a launch there, he thought, though a slow-moving cargo barge was blocking his view. No, definitely a launch, and some people on the watergate.

  One of whom, he realised as the barge finally moved out of the way, was Anthemia, unmistakably. She had a bag slung over her shoulder, which meant she was returning to Aruwe with Corsina. The second was undoubtedly Leonata, and the third was carrying a cane. Petroz Salassa.

  Not the best timing, not by any means, but he needed to set this in motion now, and there was no point prolonging it. Valentine wanted results soon, and if Raphael was any judge the Emperor would already be planning his vengeance for Rainardo’s death.

  If only he knew what form it would take.

  Estarrin Palace loomed above him, as the gondolier headed his boat in towards the water-gate. It was far more impressive from the sea, with its green-tiled roofs and square towers almost floating above the water of the Deep. Would its previous owners Clan Eirillia claim it back, if there were survivors among Iolani’s people? If they succeeded in their vengeance, that was. He doubted the Lost Souls could come into the open as long as the Empire had strength to deny them.

  He asked the gondolier to keep station a little way off until Anthemia had given both her mother and the Prince of Imbria farewell hugs, and the launch carrying her had sped out into the Deep, headed for the Hub and the manta which would carry her back to Aruwe.

  The other two watched, standing side by side, as he disembarked and paid the gondolier, but neither spoke until the gondola had pulled away again.

  ‘Why do I get the feeling I don’t want to see you?’ Leonata said.

  ‘You don’t,’ said Raphael. ‘Unfortunately, you need to.’ He stared off across the water after the departing Anthemia, overcome by a sudden and entirely unexpected feeling of distaste for what was happening. Leonata had extended a hand in friendship, her daughter had a different interest, and neither of those had been political.

  But Leonata had chosen to stand for election to the Council of the Seas. Whether her daughter had had any choice in what she was doing at Aruwe was another matter, but Raphael didn’t have time to worry.

  ‘Still on Aesonia’s errands?’ Petroz asked. ‘Or have they wounded your pride too much?’

  ‘Still searching for the truth,’ Raphael said, meeting the old man’s gaze.

  ‘The truth and my sister haven’t spoken for a great many years. I believe if they ever encounter one another again, the result will be fatal.’

  ‘To which side?’

  Petroz shrugged. ‘The truth which can remain untouched by the onslaught of Aesonia and Sarthes doesn’t exist. Ask Ruthelo, if you’re not convinced.’

  ‘Since Ruthelo is dead, that could be difficult.’

  ‘So,’ said Petroz, ‘is untangling threads of truth from the tapestries of lies my sister weaves. Leonata, we’ll continue our conversation later. Thank you.’

  Leonata smiled at him, and he strode off into the watergate. Trusted enough to make his own way back through Estarrin Palace?

  Given that last exchange, perhaps he should have been paying more attention to what Petroz and the agents of Imbria were up to in Vespera.

  ‘Come upstairs,’ said Leonata.

  She hadn’t closed the blinds, and the late afternoon sun was streaming in through the three arches. Raphael didn’t sit down, and nor did Leonata offer him anything. He paced half-way across the room, and then stopped, abruptly.

  ‘Will the Council take its own action over Iolani?’ he asked. ‘I know you won’t for Valentine, but she’s embroiled the rest of you in a blood feud, and put a great many lives in danger.’

  ‘You think I’d tell an agent of the Emperor?’ Which meant, yes, there would be consequences.

  ‘It might make the Emperor a little happier to know Iolani would lose something by what she’s done. A little less prone to target the rest of you in his vengeance.’

  ‘He won’t be content until she and her clan are wiped out, regardless of what we do,’ Leonata said.

  ‘And you?’ Raphael continued, taking a step forward every time he made a point. ‘You were assigned to investigate this by the Council. You know Iolani killed Catiline and Rainardo, and she’s drawn the Emperor’s eyes, and attention on to Vespera. On to this City’s independence, which you treasure very highly, on to your clan, which you have a duty to safeguard and protect, and on to your daughter’s clan, over which you have no influence.’

  He stopped only a few feet from here, by the desk.

  ‘If you’re threatening me and my clan, that’s merely foolish,’ said Leonata. ‘If you’re threatening my daughter . . .’

  ‘I’m not threatening your daughter,’ Raphael interrupted. ‘Your daughter is already threatened, because your allies and partners Clan Aruwe are puppets of Azrian. And, as we both know, that’s who the Lost Souls are. They’re all that remains of Azrian, Theleris, Eirillia,’ he motioned round at the beautiful, frescoed room Leonata had made her own, ‘and the clans who stayed loyal to Ruthelo’s Republic.’

  ‘If Aruwe choose to deal with the Jharissa, that’s their prerogative,’ Leonata said. ‘Jharissa had to pick one of the shipyard clans, if they wanted any mantas.’

  ‘That was what I thought, when I first picked it up. Only that isn’t the case, is it? Jharissa didn’t pick Aruwe at random, or because they liked its clan colours. They picked Aruwe because it was Azrian’s partner, and quite possibly Eirillia’s too. It was Aruwe that built Ruthelo all those extra ships. Aruwe where the shipwright-minded youngsters of those two clans took service. Aruwe which sheltered the survivors after Ruthelo’s defeat. Aruwe which is now run by those same youngsters and survivors it gave shelter to all those years ago.’ He realised he’d been jabbing a finger at the desk with every point.

  Leonata stared at him, caught totally off-balance for the first time since he�
��d met her, her fingers curling around the back of a chair for support.

  ‘You didn’t know, did you?’ he said. ‘You knew something was odd, and quite probably you suspected what it was. But you didn’t ask, because understandably you didn’t want to re-open old wounds. And when Iolani and her people showed up, and gave Aruwe all that lovely new Tuonetar technology, Aruwe paid you off by incorporating some of it in the mantas they built for you. And by giving you guarantees that as long as you didn’t trouble them, Jharissa, with their even better and stronger mantas, wouldn’t trouble you.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Leonata demanded, moving to stand behind the chair, her knuckles white as she gripped the high back. ‘This can’t be true.’

  ‘But it is, and Anthemia will be able to confirm it. She knows, even if you don’t. But for her, it’s only a romantic cause. She’s part of the one clan in Thetia that’s been loyal to Ruthelo’s Republic all these years. The clan that’s kept the memory and the children of those lost clans alive. A powerful thing, Leonata, but a very dangerous one.’

  ‘How much of this did you tell Valentine?’ Leonata whispered.

  ‘As much as he needed to know. He already knew Aruwe were allied to Jharissa.’ Only because Raphael had told him, but there was no need to make things worse by mentioning it.

  ‘May I rot before I offer you my friendship again!’ Leonata said. ‘You’re a serpent, Raphael, and you’ll betray anyone who gets in your way if it’ll further your ambition. Where was your loyalty to the Emperor in High Avern? Or was that simply more ambition, because wanted to solve this yourself?’

  ‘I knew what would happen to Glaucio if Fergho and the Empire got hold of him.’ What did she think he was? He would serve a cause he found worthy, Silvanos and Odeinath between them had taught him nothing less, and if none proved worthy . . .

  If none proved worthy, he would make his own cause, and let others try to stand in his way. He had found his feet here in the chaos of Vespera, and the life he should have been leading, and the power he always knew he could wield.

  ‘And that bothered you? Or do you only prey on the better instincts of others?’

  ‘I haven’t come to prey on your better instincts,’ Raphael said. ‘As I told Petroz, I want the truth. Not the versions you or the Empire or anyone else are determined to give me. I will know what happened. And you will help me by getting me into Aruwe.’

  Leonata opened her mouth to say something, and then stopped, something like recognition transforming her face. Her eyes stayed fixed on him, searching his features as if she wasn’t sure what she was seeing.

  ‘Sweet Thetis, how could I have missed it?’ she said.

  ‘What?’ Raphael demanded.

  ‘You’ll see in, time,’ Leonata said. ‘I’ll help you find the truth. It’ll destroy you, but you’ll find it.’

  Valentine and his fellow pall-bearers stopped as one.

  ‘Who is this man you bear to Admirals’ Reef? By what deeds did he show his worth in life, and deserve his place here in death?’

  The grey-clad Exile stood at the door of the chapel, flanked by his guard of eight decorated naval officers who barred the way to the funeral procession. Around the little floating platform, a brisk wind had stirred the waves up into whitecaps, scurrying westwards with the clouds. The islands of Vespera, even the lagoon itself, were a green shadow on the near horizon.

  At the head of the small procession, all of them clad, like the priest, in mourning grey, Rainardo’s son Eugenio stood forward. A man in his father’s mould, Valentine thought sadly, but without his stature. Perhaps one of the lieutenants or captains of the Imperial or Canteni fleets who stood at his back would prove a worthy heir. Only those with battle honours might set foot on the chapel of the Admirals’ Reef, by tradition, so only a small entourage had accompanied Rainardo on his final journey from the civic funeral in the Palace of the Seas.

  ‘He fought thirty-seven engagements at sea,’ Eugenio said proudly. ‘Of which eight were under another man’s command, seven as captain, and twenty-two as admiral. Of which thirty-seven, thirty-two ended in victory, two without gain, and three in honourable defeat. As admiral, he never knew defeat, and brought honour to his clan and to his people.’

  Eugenio read the list out, the details of every battle Rainardo had fought throughout his long career, from skirmishes and engagements against the Crusaders as a lieutenant and a captain, including the fleet battles at Selandrios and Oromel, through his battles as fleet commander against Ruthelo, one of which he had been working through with Valentine’s officers so short a time before, to his last engagements in the service of Vespera.

  ‘We who keep this place deem him worthy as admiral,’ the Exile said, his voice carrying over the noise of wind in the banners and the Exiles’ robes. ‘Who will vouch for his honour and his worthiness as a man?’

  ‘I will,’ said Gian, stepping forward beside Eugenio. He had been the one who asked Valentine, and the Council, to accord Rainardo the greatest honour any Thetian commander could attain, burial on the Admirals’ Reef in the seas north of the Vesperan lagoon, resting place of naval heroes for almost a thousand years. All the great Thetian admirals were commemorated here, though little more than half were actually buried here.

  ‘I knew Rainardo all my life,’ Gian said. ‘I never knew him to break faith with his allies, to desert his friends, or to leave those under his command to their fate.’

  ‘Then bring him,’ the Exile said, ‘to his final rest with Thetis.’

  Valentine and his fellow pall-bearers moved back to lift the bier onto their shoulders again as the guardians moved to either side and drew their swords, holding them up in salute as the procession passed by and into the doors of the chapel.

  It was a plain building, a military building, its roof hung with battle honours, one from each of the admirals who had been laid to rest here. The walls were bare, and the interior unadorned except for the mosaic of Thetis Victrix in the eastern apse.

  They set the bier down again over the moon pool in the centre, on to the taut ropes ready to be lowered, and stood back while the Exile intoned the blessing, and its military coda, over the still form wrapped in a green Canteni banner. Then, as Gian stood at the end and watched, Valentine and the others lifted up the ropes to incline the board, and the mortal remains of Rainardo Canteni slid down into the clear waters, to rest forever on the Admirals’ Reef.

  ‘Goodbye, old friend,’ Gian whispered. ‘Be at peace.’

  I will avenge you, Valentine said, silently. And as soon as he returned to Vespera, that vengeance would be set in motion.

  ‘You’re leaving tomorrow as well?’ Raphael asked, leaning contentedly on the warm balustrade. The air was still charged with the aftermath of rain, a freshness that still hung in the streets of Vespera. The sound of dripping water was all around them, and tendrils of steam were rising from the gardens of Tucana Palace below as palm leaves dried in the sun.

  ‘Where Aesonia goes, I must go,’ Thais said.

  ‘And where is Aesonia going?’ Raphael said, after a quick look round to make sure there was no-one else on the loggia. Behind them, the hall of Ulithi Palace had been closed again, the alabaster screens pulled over the windows to keep it cool in the daytime.

  ‘They’re not telling us,’ Thais said, absently pulling up a stray fold of her robe which had slipped down. ‘Only the Emperor and a few others know.’

  Valentine’s revenge, then. But what would it be? A hammer-blow, or something more subtle, a plan of Aesonia’s? Valentine would want a military solution, but surely he’d wait to act until he had Raphael’s information from the shipyard at Aruwe?

  ‘I thought you were a priestess of Sarthes now.’

  ‘I’m too frivolous,’ Thais said. ‘No, I’m a priestess of the Sarthien Rite, attached to the sanctuary at Azure. Aesonia can be demanding, but her service is a more interesting place to be.’

  ‘So you’re a courtier,’ he said, straight-faced. />
  ‘Nothing so pointless,’ she said. ‘Courtiers scheme and shuffle paper. I help to make the Empire more than a collection of territories which happen to be ruled by the same person.’

  ‘And thus you dispense with the shuffling paper, to concentrate on the scheming?’

  ‘I won’t be elevated to full schemer status for a few years yet,’ Thais said. ‘Perhaps I should keep you around, some of your natural gifts in that area might rub off on me.’

  ‘We’re both in the Empire’s service,’ Raphael said, aware his heart was beating faster than it ought. He’d felt far more at ease with her since that first meeting, but he knew that feeling of comfort was fast developing into something else.

  Which wasn’t such a good idea at the moment. Not until he knew where he stood, at least. What Thais had said was uncomfortably close to the tapestries of lies Petroz mentioned, but then Raphael had never been as uncomfortable with such concepts as he ought, when turned to a proper purpose.

  ‘Then we may find ourselves in the same place,’ Thais said. ‘Better Vespera than Azure, though.’

  ‘Why not Azure?’ Raphael asked, wondering if her preference was as significant as it sounded. If she expected to be here in the near future, then maybe Valentine’s plans for Vespera were more immediate than he’d suspected.

  ‘It would be a nice enough city, but it’s a fortress, and every time you turn a corner there’s something to remind you, a view of the walls or the pulse cannon emplacements or a drill centurion bawling out his men. It’s surrounded by training camps, and every second man seems to be in uniform.’

  ‘There are women who would kill for such an opportunity,’ Raphael said, deliberately staring out across the Deep and the City rather than looking at Thais.

  ‘Then I wish them joy of the place. I’ll be glad when the capital is back here, and gladder still when we don’t have to have every second man under arms.’

  ‘Good,’ Aesonia said, drawing back from the little window under the roof of the loggia. ‘She’s doing her part.’