Leonata stifled a gasp, and choked back a wave of nausea.
‘I wouldn’t kill for such a thing,’ Valentine said. ‘You’re right, Leonata, it’s a path to terror, and I intend my Empire to be ruled by justice, not terror. But I also expect my orders to be obeyed.’
Raphael’s hand was shaking, and he almost dropped the knife as he handed it back to Zhubodai.
‘Hesphaere,’ Valentine said, without turning round, ‘this man is yours. Make him a loyal servant of the Empire.’
For a second, Leonata thought he meant Raphael, but then the two tribesmen picked up Hycano and dragged him out of the square towards the water, one of the Sarthien priestesses following.
‘I don’t want to depopulate Vespera,’ the Emperor continued, as if the interruption had never taken place, ‘so I’ll make you an offer, and once only. If you cooperate fully and unquestioningly in dissolving the Council of the Seas and surrendering Vespera to the Empire, to become Thetia’s capital again, if you obey my orders without question, I will be merciful. Your clans will continue to exist, and your people won’t suffer.
‘Leonata, Iolani, you’ll both be treated according to your rank until the Council is dissolved. There will be more High Thalassarchs, but I will appoint them. Once the Council is dissolved, Leonata, you will be free to resume leadership of your clan. If you wish them to remain unharmed, and your daughter to remain alive, you will accept these terms.’
There was nothing to do. Not for now, at any rate. Valentine’s action was a thin glimmering of hope in the darkness, that perhaps he might reject the tyranny his mother wanted.
‘I accept, Lord Emperor,’ she said, hollowly.
‘Good,’ Valentine said, and turned to Iolani. ‘Iolani Jharissa, you are a traitor and a murderess, and soon as the Council is dissolved, you will be stripped of your titles and your clan dissolved. Once you’ve walked in my triumph through the streets of Vespera, I’ll hand you over to the custody of Sarthes for your sacrilege in ordering the destruction of Carmonde Abbey.’
‘Thank you,’ said Aesonia, entirely formally; they must have agreed it beforehand.
‘Clan Jharissa and its people are henceforth proscribed,’ Valentine said, more formally now, his voice carrying effortlessly across the square. ‘Every single one of you is now a prisoner of the Empire, without citizenship or appeal. Wherever the law or claim of the Empire holds sway, you will possess nothing, and own nothing. I shall dispose of you as I see fit, that you may atone with the labour of your lives for the murder and treachery you have committed. And once I rule in Vespera, damnatio memoriae shall be visited on you, your clan, your families and everything you have been, that the dishonour of your name shall never again blight the face of the waters.’
Aesonia waited until there was silence before she struck.
‘If they are to possess nothing, and own nothing, then we should carry out your decree immediately.’
Saphir Island died in fire and water.
It was the fire Raphael remembered, because the fire was sheer, naked malice.
Valentine gave a few orders to the tribesmen, and they smashed down the door of Iolani’s house and systematically destroyed everything they found there. Raphael heard the crashes and the groans, the sound of glass shattering and wood being broken, of fabric being torn, the clash of metal as their swords hacked even the furniture to pieces. The little door-charm above the entranceway was tugged down and trampled underfoot, and then they went to work on the garden behind, hacking at the plants and shrubs, breaking the fountain.
Raphael watched in silence, like the others; the Imperials had moved aside so Iolani could see what was happening. How did they even know it was her house? One of the mind-mages must have plucked it from the captives.
Iolani didn’t weep, but her fingers were clenched white against the ropes which bound her, and a muscle in her cheek began to twitch.
The destruction went on, the tribesmen moving upstairs, and the sounds of vandalism continued. Iolani tried to close her eyes, but at a signal from Aesonia, one of the tribesmen moved in with a dagger and forced her to open them again, standing always so she could see what was being done to her.
They were piling her possessions in the main room, Raphael saw, but he didn’t realise what they were doing until the tribesmen came down again. Others had disappeared into surrounding houses, and came out a moment later with bottles and amphorae of oil, which they proceeded to pour all over the inside of the house, and the plants in the garden. They seemed to have save some for the surrounding houses.
And then, when the last of the tribesmen had left, Zhubodai struck flint to light a scrap of cloth, and tossed it with perfect aim through the door.
The oil ignited in a second, flames racing across the inside of the house, lighting up the night with a lurid glow. Lines of fire led across the floor and out into the garden, and smoke began to rise, an acrid smoke like burning food.
Then the fire caught hold, and the flames grew in height as they started to consume the furniture and possessions, the broken remnants of Iolani’s home and life, or at least that part of it she’d kept at Saphir Island. The flames raced up the stairs and took hold on the upper floor and then the roof terrace, black smoke billowing out of the ruined windows. A creeper on the upper wall caught and slowly blackened, the tendrils crisping, charring, falling, as the rising flames consumed the whole building.
The fire was still growing, and tendrils of smoke were wafting out of the windows of the next house. Further away, tribesmen were busying emptying everything flammable into the surrounding houses, yet Valentine and his people still stood in the square, their only concession to the fire a semicircle of empty space in front of the burning house, and a shimmering shield in the air which Abbess Hesphaere had erected to protect them from the heat.
Now the beams of the house were beginning to crumble, the garden was a thick pillar of smoke, and eventually with a loud roar the house collapsed in on itself. For a second Raphael thought the façade would fall outwards, but it held, covering a flaming, blackened shell.
Valentine gave another signal, and the tribesmen began herding the captive Ice Runners out of the square, down towards the sea. Legionaries surrounded Iolani and loosed her from the pillar, hobbling her and then leading her down on a rope leash; others surrounded Leonata and the remaining clan representatives, and took them off, while tribesmen heaved the unconscious Anthemia over their shoulders and carried her away.
‘Lord Emperor!’
A thin, dark man in a blackened lieutenant’s uniform came hurrying into the square.
‘Yes, Captain Palladios?’
‘We’ve found a weapons store, untouched by the wave. There are more of those new weapons there.’
‘I’ll come,’ Valentine said. ‘Aesonia, would you see to the rest?’
He strode off, apparently oblivious to the burning houses, with his usual knot of tribal bodyguards, and Raphael followed Aesonia and her entourage down towards the sea, past the spot where Iolani had nearly killed them two weeks ago.
Why hadn’t she? Perhaps it might have brought ruin on her, and some of her people might have died in the crossfire, but inaction had led to her capture and disgrace.
He wasn’t sure, any more, whether even Catiline’s death had been planned. Too much hatred on both sides, two ships meeting in a remote channel. But no, the poisoned mage . . .
Raphael saw Thais try to catch his eye, and looked away. No. He had to keep the barriers up, there was no way he could deal with what he’d done, not now with the eyes of the Empress and the mind-mages’ thoughts focused on him. Would Thais be disgusted by what he’d done? He hoped so. If she thought it was right to kill a man in cold blood because the Emperor had so ordered, that was a great deal worse.
She tried again, and again he looked away.
They came down to the sea, past the line of trees where the Ice Runners had waited, past broken walls and bodies and flotsam, to where the entire populat
ion of Saphir Island had been gathered on the foreshore under the arrows of the legionaries under harsh aether lights. There must have been four or five hundred of them all told. Including the children.
Aesonia swept down like the Empress she was, and surveyed the scene with satisfaction.
‘Hesphaere,’ Raphael heard her say, quietly. ‘If you take the children, can you make loyal citizens of them one day?’
‘There are a lot, but yes, I can. I thought you wanted them all . . .’
‘We tried that before, and it didn’t work. If we don’t, this whole cycle will begin again. Their parents hate us beyond reason, the children perhaps can be saved, and then when this generation dies, the feud will be over.’
‘Of course,’ Hesphaere said.
‘Guyuk,’ Aesonia said, and another tribesman stepped forward, this one a temple guardsman in a different shade of blue, in armour that looked as if it had been made from kraken skin. ‘Separate the children under about fifteen, and have them loaded on board Cobalt for passage to Sarthes. They’re not to be harmed. Tell the parents their children will be brought up as loyal citizens of the Empire, and won’t suffer for their crimes.’
A gust of wind rustled the trees behind them. Guyuk nodded, and gave orders to his men.
The Empress and Hesphaere watched in silence as the tribesmen went through and removed all of the children. The crying began almost instantly, and rose to a frenzied wail, a dreadful sound on the shore of Saphir. They weren’t rough about it, even when children tried to hold on to their bound parents, but they were efficient, and relentless.
What was most heartbreaking was how many of the parents didn’t even raise a murmur, only looked pleadingly up at the tribesmen in the hope that their children would escape their fate. The children were loaded onto the first group of searays, which were pushed away from the beach by tribesmen. Then the searays were pushed out, and dived, and the children of Saphir Island were gone.
‘And these?’ Guyuk asked, returning. If he felt any distaste for what was happening, his seamed face didn’t show it, but then, they were tribesmen. It wasn’t their own people who were being treated like this, subject to the Empire’s dreadful vengeance.
Raphael couldn’t let himself show weakness.
‘All the ones from the square, any other full Ice Runners, anyone my mages have marked out, will be coming with us to Vespera.’
‘Why?’ Hesphaere asked. ‘Surely they’re a danger there, if there’s a traitor in your ranks.’
From the burning village behind them came a slow rumble, and an ear-splitting crash, as a house collapsed spectacularly. Raphael turned and saw a fountain of sparks shooting high into the air.
‘There are layers and layers of cellars below Ulithi Palace, we can use those for cells. We’ll need some for the Council, the rest are for Valentine’s Triumph.’
‘You’ll have more than enough from Vespera.’
‘There’s a reason, you’ll see,’ Aesonia said, and Hesphaere fell silent. ‘The rest, you can ship back to the bases on Gorgano. Divide them up now.’
‘As you wish.’
‘Oh, and one more thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘They possess nothing, and own nothing. I think you should remind them of this fact.’ She tugged at her sleeve, as if absently.
‘All of them?’ said Guyuk levelly. Now, Raphael guessed, the tribesman was more uncertain. Perhaps there was a spark of human compassion in the man, though Raphael had never seen the tribesmen exhibit any. They certainly wouldn’t in front of any of the despised Thetians.
‘All of them,’ Aesonia said. ‘Including Iolani. Just not the other clanspeople, they’ll be our allies if they behave themselves.’
‘You are a strange people,’ Guyuk remarked. ‘I will do as you ask.’
Raphael watched the destruction of Saphir Island from the shattered observation deck of Sovereign, a little behind the Emperor. Valentine had ordered all of them to be there, and they were, the clan representatives no longer bound, but guarded by the ever-present tribesman. Iolani was still bound and guarded, but at least someone had clothed her when they boarded; she had refused Leonata’s over-robe back on the beach, turning down any comfort that couldn’t also be given to the rest of her people. Raphael hoped her gesture had driven Aesonia into a fury.
There was nothing, it seemed, the Empire wouldn’t do to Iolani, no humiliation or torment of the mind Aesonia wouldn’t inflict. Valentine had been furious when he saw the prisoners on the foreshore, their ruined clothing a black mass underfoot. But Aesonia had only been observing the letter of his own decree, and he couldn’t argue with her in public.
Raphael’s fists were clenched by his side so tightly they were hurting, but it had been too long, and he was having trouble shielding himself any more.
Two moons were still in the sky, giving enough light to see by, when a huge column of smoke and dust erupted from the landward side of the burned-out settlement, a column that spread either way to become a half-circle around the village, trees falling backwards in every direction. The detonation followed a moment later, a titanic rumble like thunder that went on and on.
The edge of the island carrying the village simply tilted and began to collapse, houses and trees crumbling and sinking into ground that seemed to have turned to liquid, higher and higher, engulfing the ruins at the edge of the settlement and then moving inwards as ever larger waves spread out across the lagoon.
The settlement slipped lower, and the waves grew higher, until it was barely possible to tell land from water, and he wasn’t even sure if he caught the moment when the broken dome of the council building slipped under water, and Saphir Island was gone.
He almost missed the last act, so much quieter and more muted was it. Along the line of the reef to the south, six columns of dust flared into the air, muffled thuds resounding through Sovereign’s hull, and the lagoon shook again, but this time there was no drama, simply a slow subsidence as the sand and coral of the reef sank under the waves. The lagoon had been blown wide-open, too exposed for anyone ever to use it as a port or for sea-farming again.
Raphael waited until all of them had left, and then unclenched his fists. His robe was soaked with blood from where a nail had punctured his palm. The pain from his injured leg and arm had subsided, and nothing was broken, or even torn, as far as he could tell; it had been shock and impact.
Sovereign was turning west and diving now, heading away from Saphir Island towards Vespera, while her consorts followed her. Her remaining consorts, that was – there had been an attack by the ships from Corala, which had claimed another of Valentine’s mantas before force and a threat to the hostages drove the attackers away.
Raphael collapsed to his knees on the deck, cradling his blood-soaked hand, pride and humiliation and anger and horror pouring through his broken defences.
I am not your servant, Valentine. I am your enemy, and I will have a part in this only until I can bring you and your mother and your Empire down in broken ruin and despair, until I can bring on you everything you have done to these people, everything you did to Ruthelo’s people, everything you will do to Vespera. I am Raphael Quiridion, and I swear by my life’s blood I will destroy you.
CHAPTER XVII
The Navy gave Leonata a cabin.
She didn’t known on whose orders, but the injured Commander Merelos, whom she knew, didn’t take her and Iolani down to the brig or the holds, as she’d expected. They went down only one deck, and he stopped by a cabin door. He took a knife from one of the tribesmen and sliced through Iolani’s bonds and gag, before handing it back with an expression of open distaste.
‘My cabin,’ he said awkwardly. He had one arm in a sling, and there was pain in his face that wasn’t entirely physical. ‘The doors will be guarded, but you can both use it, the Emperor ordered you be treated like High Thalassarchs.’
Iolani stared stonily at him, beyond words, but Leonata answered.
‘Thank you, C
ommander.’
A marine handed her a neatly folded stack of black clothes.
‘You might want these. I’ve had them distributed to the other prisoners as well, and I’ve made sure your daughter is comfortable. The physician will look at her to check no permanent damage was done.’
‘Why, Merelos?’ Leonata asked, not expecting an answer.
‘The Navy wouldn’t have treated you so, had we captured you. We have our honour, and what happened tonight stained it. I’m acting captain of Sovereign, and while you’re on my ship you’ll be treated as Thetian citizens and human beings. If you need anything, let me know, and I’ll do my best.’
‘Thank you,’ Leonata said, and saw the half-dried cut on Iolani’s cheek, knew there were others on the rest of her body. ‘Do you have alcohol, or a surgical spirit, to clean her wounds?’
He nodded, opened the door, and let them go in. Leonata heard a key turn in the lock behind her, Merelos’s voice giving orders to the guards, his footsteps dying away.
Leonata took Iolani’s arm and guided her through the main cabin, bigger than any normal ship could have boasted even for the first officer, and into the smaller bedroom beyond. Best to be as far away from the guards as possible.
‘Iolani,’ Leonata said gently, sitting the other woman on the bed. Iolani was drawing ragged breaths, one hand reaching up to massage her lips, and her gaze was lost somewhere in the infinite distance. Leonata poured a glass of water and closed Iolani’s fingers around it, before taking one herself, realising how light-headed she was feeling.
She even, without saying anything, persuaded Iolani to put on the robe properly, though Iolani’s fingers were numb, and Leonata had to fasten it up the front. Someone, maybe one of the naval officers, had loosened Iolani’s bonds at one point, to leave some blood supply in her hands, which was a small mercy.
Beyond the window, the water had turned from black to dark grey, and was lightening by the second. Merelos came back with a little brandy and some clean cloths, and Leonata thanked him and went back into the bedroom.
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