by Tom Lloyd
Narin felt a sinking feeling. ‘They’re not willing to be shown up a second time, not after the goshe conspiracy unfolded right under their noses.’
‘Indeed. That a son of House Brightlance was the one to refuse them, they took as significant. Had I not been a Lawbringer I might not have been insulted by that, but had I not held this position I might have called her to duel for such an insult.’
‘Which would’ve hardly helped matters between Dragon and Eagle right now,’ Narin added.
The hard stare and pent-up anger in Rhe’s face showed how close the man had come. Narin knew it wasn’t for the innate antagonism between the Houses of Dragon and Eagle hegemonies, though that was reason enough for most. No, for Rhe it was something more basic to his soul. His allegiance had never been to his House or their Eagle rulers, but Rhe’s was a world of cold certainties. That someone could believe him so venal as to manipulate a murder investigation and the Emperor’s laws for personal or political gains – now that would anger the Lawbringer in a way few things could.
‘I believe,’ Rhe said haltingly, ‘I believe it is time I met your Imperial friend.’
‘I— What? Ah, are you sure?’
Rhe nodded. ‘I am no ingénu. That I choose to keep apart from the politics of the Empire does not mean I am ignorant of it.’
‘Then why?’
‘Because I am not ignorant of what it means when House Dragon wishes to involve itself and a son of Brightlance refuses them. Because your patron is expending considerable capital over a newly-raised Lawbringer and I would like to know why, just as I would like to know why Prince Kashte is not the only experienced fighter at his command. In the Empire, progress is only ever achieved when there is a balance of forces acting upon you. Only then are choices possible and, right now, I suspect we shall be swept aside unless we achieve that balance. The Lord-Martial cannot help me in this so it’s time we found one who can.’
Narin stared at him a while before ducking his head. ‘His name is Prince Sorote, of the Office of the Catacombs.’
Rhe blinked at him. ‘We are of the noble castes, we do not casually drop in on each other. When will you see him next?’
Narin stifled a snort. ‘Ah, something tells me I’ll be dropping in on him this evening.’
‘An excellent idea. You may leave your list with me. No warrior should go on the attack without being sure of their footing; the Etrage Merchant House will wait another day.’
Kesh and Enchei crouched together in the lee of a defunct bootmaker, watching fat flakes of snow make leisurely progress to earth in the street beyond. A steep overhang kept them in shadow while a mouldering barrel provided some form of cover as they watched for pursuers. Spike-topped walls flanked the side-street they watched; large townhouses belonging to noble castes of House Greydawn on the left, House Smoke on the right. The terraces presented a broad obstacle for anyone approaching the high-caste streets of Dragon – forcing any pursuers to sprint around and hope their quarry hadn’t already vanished, or follow them into a choke-point.
Thus far, there had been nothing. After several minutes Kesh could stand it no longer and shifted further back to straighten up.
‘There’s no one there,’ she said, nudging Enchei with her toe. ‘Either they’ve stepped back or we really were jumping at shadows.’
Enchei didn’t respond, lips pressed tight together. She left him to it and eventually the grey-haired man nodded and stood also. ‘Guess you’re right.’
‘I’m always right, or have you forgotten?’ Kesh said with a weak smile, feeling the jangle of nerves inside her slowly settle.
‘What bell is it?’ Enchei muttered, more to himself than Kesh. ‘Dusk’s coming soon. Let’s head back.’
‘Which way?’ Kesh pointed back down the side-street. Ten-foot stone walls ran the full length on both sides and it was hardly an enticing prospect, should any grey-cloaked figures be coming the other way. ‘Probably the last thing they’d expect, us to double-back like that.’
Enchei shook his head. ‘I think we skirt all the way around. We don’t know how many they are, might’ve left one to watch for just that.’
‘Cross the Crescent? Take a boat just further along the bank maybe then south back into your web of mirrors?’
‘Buggered if I know,’ Enchei admitted at last, ‘just a case o’ which side guesses right now.’
‘Fat lot of use you are,’ Kesh said, gently elbowing him. ‘Come on, shake out of it, old man. We can’t have you staying spooked now.’
He nodded. ‘Aye, you’re right. Just feeling my age a little, but that does us no good. If we’re still looking to shake pursuit we’d take a trip round the fortress. No point doing that now so let’s cut east out of here and turn towards home after a couple of streets. Either they’re waiting for us or they’ve passed already.’
He led the way and Kesh followed close behind, careful not to spend too long looking around as they went. The sad fact was Dragons didn’t like women as much as some Houses and there were plenty of high castes around here. It might be suspicious if she kept checking left and right, but it’d certainly be taken as insulting were she to look a warrior caste directly in the eye while she did so.
They passed a well with an ornate canopy, a verdigrised dragon ready to leap from snow-dotted tiles, before following a warrior-escorted litter down to the Public Thoroughfare. So far as Kesh could tell, Enchei saw no one of concern as they crossed and continued south into the Harbour Warranty. They covered the ground quickly as the sky began to darken and lazy flakes of snow began to fill the air.
Before long they were on the commercial street behind the Harbour Walk where warehouses met eateries and taverns, the occupants of one side all filtering across to the other after a long, cold day’s labour. Kesh felt an ache in her heart as they reached the Public Thoroughfare leading down to the harbour market.
She couldn’t help glancing up it at the tarpaulins stretched like skin over timbers of her childhood home, the Crowsnest boarding house, jutting ribs against an angry sky. But as she did, she found herself staring straight at a grey-cloaked figure – just twenty yards off and watching them from under a low hood. Kesh yelped and Enchei spun, one hand on his baton and ready to fight.
The figure did nothing, merely watched them stumble to a halt. For a moment that was all either of them did, then Enchei growled a curse and turned away, heading for the fisherman’s market. It took Kesh a while to work out why, fumbling for her knife as she went, but then it struck her. The market would have been finished hours ago and in winter it was only ever a handful selling there. The blue-tiled stone stalls were a winding network of paths, half covered by steep wooden awnings, through which they could run and hide or fight without bystanders getting caught up in it.
Weapons out, they ran toward the centre of the market only to stop dead. Ahead of them was a second figure in grey. Dressed in better clothes than either of them, Kesh couldn’t see the figure’s face or caste collar, but the cloak was open enough to show a pair of ornate daggers rather than pistols.
‘Get behind me,’ Enchei growled, pushing Kesh back. He looked left and right as the first grey-cloaked figure slipped silently into the market, not far behind them.
‘Now isn’t that fine?’ the second figure announced. ‘She’s brought out his protective side.’
Kesh blinked. It was a young woman’s voice; acid in tone, but hardly sounding like she was possessed by a demon, and nor was she a Wyvern warrior caste. Her gloved hands were empty. Kesh could just about see them bunched into fists behind her open cloak.
‘And there we were wondering if he even had one,’ the other added in a similar voice, ‘but perhaps you can teach an old dog new tricks. Just needs the incentive of a mangy bitch.’
That one slipped off her hood and Kesh saw a pale face, short dark hair and gleaming green eyes. Of a similar age to Kesh, she was the taller of the two figures by a several inches.
‘Stars in Heaven,’ Enchei
gasped, sounding like he’d had the wind punched from him.
‘Really? Is that the best you can come up with?’ said the second, pushing back her hood to reveal a face so similar they had to be sisters.
Her hair was longer and a touch darker, her eyes cobalt blue, but it was the same line of jaw, the same button nose. The woman briefly looked Kesh up and down then seemed to dismiss her and return to Enchei.
‘You’ve had enough time to think about it, after all, or didn’t you bother?’
‘Maiss,’ Enchei croaked. ‘I’m …’
‘Lost for words, apparently.’ She sniffed and stepped forward. ‘So let me instead. Hello, Father. We’ve missed you.’
CHAPTER 24
‘We can’t do this here,’ Enchei said. For once the man looked unsteady and dazed, speaking as though by rote – his old instincts coming to the fore while his mind reeled.
‘Caught you at a bad time?’ asked the green-eyed woman. ‘Somewhere you need to be?’
‘Enay, calm,’ her sister, Maiss, called. The woman’s attention never left Enchei, however. She watched him like a cat; a cold regard that could turn to affection or viciousness in a heartbeat.
‘That was you following me all today? Yesterday too?’
Maiss’s lips twitched. ‘Someone needed to watch your back.’
Enchei was frozen in a moment of indecision. ‘What’s important comes first,’ he muttered to himself.
Putting his weapons away, he started abruptly forward. Maiss didn’t move a muscle until he’d reached her and swept his arms around the young woman, then she seemed to melt under the fierce hug.
Enchei turned them both as he held his daughter close, one hand reaching out towards Enay. The green-eyed woman held back a while, lips pursed. At last she stepped forward and allowed the man to gather her to him, though she stood stiffly and only put an arm around her sister.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Enchei whispered through her hair. His voice was choked and strained, as though Maiss’s embrace was crushing.
‘You left us,’ Enay replied, sounding suddenly child-like and frightened. ‘You always promised you’d return and then you went back on your promise.’
‘It was the only way,’ Enchei said. ‘I couldn’t find another way out.’
‘Why did it have to be a way out?’
‘You know why,’ he insisted. ‘I couldn’t have you hunted your whole life.’
Kesh felt the urge to step back and leave them to their reunion, but they were still out in the open and, whether or not it had been the girls following them all day, Enchei remained hunted. If the hellhounds could find him once, they could do it again.
She coughed. ‘Sorry to break this up, but we need to go.’
‘And in what way is this any of your business?’ Enay snapped.
‘I’m his friend,’ Kesh said carefully, ‘and they still have Enchei’s scent. If we get attacked, I won’t last so long in a fight.’ And look how I’m rising above that mangy bitch comment, choosing to believe it’s the anger talking.
‘Enchei? That’s your name now?’ Maiss asked, half-disengaging from her father’s embrace.
‘My old name’s still known by some,’ he said in a firm voice. ‘Best it’s never spoken.’
‘How about …’ She tailed off as he shook his head at her and stepped back. Maiss frowned at him before turning his head around and parting his hair with her hands. Kesh knew the man had an ugly scar there, one more thing he didn’t like to talk about. ‘Lady Magistrate’s black eyes, what happened?’
‘I cut my voice out, had to.’
‘Why?’ she gasped.
‘Cut your voice out?’ Kesh broke in. ‘I’ve heard you say that before, when you spoke to that demon in the summer.’
Enchei nodded. ‘Astaren can talk to each other from miles away, but it was a power the mage-priests gave me. I realised long before I deserted that it could be turned against me. If they knew there was a traitor nearby they could send out a command my body would be forced to obey – I wouldn’t be able to stop my second voice from calling them to me.
‘Hells, I might not even know it was happening until I was surrounded. Jamming a red-hot blade into my skull ain’t the most fun thing I ever did, but it was better than the alternative.’
‘What? Better than anyone finding out who you really were? What did you do that was so bad? What danger could your family have been in?’
Enay took a step towards her. ‘Enough danger – and that’s all you get to know, bitch.’
Kesh flexed her fingers, the spark-pad still attached to her hand, and took a long breath.
‘There’s no need for that,’ she said carefully. ‘You’re pissed off at your father, fine, but none of that’s my fault, so rein it in, okay?’
‘Cool it, the pair of you,’ Enchei called, somewhat recovered from the shock now. ‘Kesh, just trust me that they’d be in danger.’
‘I always have,’ she replied, ‘but that was when I thought they were worth the trouble. Now I’m not so sure.’
Enay raised a hand, opening and closing it as she gave Kesh a scornful look. ‘I don’t give a damn what you think,’ she said quietly, coming right up to Kesh so they were less than two feet apart. ‘Question is, what do you know?’
‘She knows enough,’ Enchei supplied, ‘and as my friend she’s had the grace not to ask for too many details. She’s not the enemy here, Enay, she’s someone I trust.’
Enay pulled her glove off and closed her fist. ‘Ever noticed a scar on my father’s knuckles?’ she asked, pointing to a thin line that ran down between the knuckles of her first and middle fingers. It was dark red and glassy in the way of a freshly healed scar.
Kesh glanced at Enchei, then remembered she had seen exactly the same thing. He’d cut his hand after their first fight with the goshe in that exact place. From the look in Enay’s eyes, that realisation was clear on Kesh’s face.
Without warning the fresh scarring on Enay’s hand distended and split as a grey point slid out from between her knuckles – faintly serrated, like ridges of bone, but a dull, dark metallic colour. About three inches in length, it looked wickedly sharp and Kesh was suddenly very aware of how close the short blade was to her own stomach.
‘Let’s just say we inherited more than most from our father.’
Enay smirked and the blade darted back inside her fist, whereupon she opened her hand and waggled her fingers at Kesh before turning her back.
‘If you’ve finished showing off?’ Maiss growled at her sister. ‘The woman’s got a point. Kesh, is it?’
Kesh nodded.
‘Don’t mind my sister; she doesn’t play well with others. I’m glad to meet you, but how about we head back into your maze of spirit traps before we do proper introductions?’
A grunt from Enchei sounded like agreement so Kesh gestured for them to lead on and Maiss did so without a word. Her sister darted forward to be alongside her, leaving Enchei and Kesh facing each other for a moment. He shrugged, the ghost of a smile on his face.
‘Oh come on,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth as they made to follow, ‘how likely was it any child of mine would be all sweetness and light?’
Back at the house Narin said nothing as he stormed in, almost shoving past Myken in his haste. He ducked his head into the kitchen and then was upstairs, boots hammering on the steps until he’d reached Kine’s room. Only then did he slow, reminding himself he couldn’t burst straight in for fear of waking Dov. From below there were voices, Enchei and Kesh joining Myken in calling up to him, but Narin ignored them all as he edged the door open.
He peered round the corner to see Kine smile back at him, Dov in her arms. At the sight of him, Kine’s face fell.
‘What’s happened?’
Narin scowled and went on in, shutting the door in the face of whoever was following him up the stairs. ‘Your husband,’ he said darkly, tugging his coat off and unbuckling his sword.
He let them both fall on
the floor as Kine offered Dov forward. The sight of her tiny, wrinkled face couldn’t quell the thoughts churning through his mind, but quietened them enough for him to force a smile. He sat down on the side of the bed and brought the baby up to his lips to plant a delicate kiss on her forehead.
‘That’s better,’ Kine said, kissing him. ‘That’s how you come home to us, not growling like a bear.’
Narin blinked at her and realised she looked as if she’d revived since he’d slipped out that morning. It was still strange to see her without a noblewoman’s full range of makeup and for a moment Narin had the sense she looked larger without it. Dark skin in the Empire was synonymous with strength after all, given House Dragon’s centuries of domination. Kine was a lean and beautiful woman still, but without the edges of her face softened or hair perfectly in place, she had more of Myken about her.
And she’ll need to be strong, a treacherous voice at the back of Narin’s mind added. Even before her husband’s parting gift, she was going to need every ounce of strength to cope with her new life.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered.
‘No apology is necessary,’ Kine said. ‘Just don’t do it again. Now tell me, what has my husband done?’
‘Returned to the city. He met with Prince Sorote this afternoon.’
‘Has he refused to release me?’
Narin shook his head. ‘No, he has.’
‘Then that’s good news, no?’ she said hesitantly.
‘Yes, no, of course it is,’ he said reluctantly, ‘but the terms …’
‘What? Is it Dov?’ she said with growing alarm. ‘Surely he doesn’t want her?’
‘No, nothing like that. He … he wants you whipped for betrayal.’
‘Whipped?’
Narin lowered his eyes, unable to look at Kine directly as he spoke. ‘That bastard Sorote agreed. I doubt he even had to think about it.’
‘Whipped,’ she repeated in a hollow voice. ‘How many lashes?’