by JM Guillen
“’Bel, is all fair winds?” The voice was insistent, a buzz in my ears like summer midges.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the tiny irritant, my eyes still fastened on the abomination in the sky.
“Now you see.” My mother’s voice was quiet.
“Yes.” I couldn’t look away. Darkness, like infinite serpentine coils, spread out from the foul structure, echoing into infinity.
“Remember it. In later days, you may wonder why I chose as I did. This foulness is the answer, Ysabel.”
“Yes.” I looked to my mother, her face so like my own. “I will remember.”
“The first legacy is yours to master. The second legacy is not your strength yet, but it is a strength I can lend.”
“What do you—?”As I spoke, the ring on my hand blazed to life.
It seared against my skin, an intensity of both pleasure and pain. I cried out, but my sensation didn’t matter. The ring burned away my flesh. The liquid silver melted and cut—
“Ysabel, look at me.”
I blinked several times, my eyes tearing.
“Ysabel Dartagne, look at me!” Captain Argent roared.
I blinked, gazing at his sculpted features, and nearly gasped in relief. The perfect planes of his face felt warm under my hand. His bristles poked my flesh softly. Ancient lamplight gleamed blue and white in his hair as droplets from the fountain lodged there, a crown of shining rainbows. He drew his perfect, archer’s bow lips, so suited for his roguish grin, into a straight line of concern.
“What is it?” I looked down at the talisma, where the silver joined with my flesh.
“Knowledge, Ysabel. The first legacy is knowledge.” My mother’s voice held traces of sorrow. “It is a terrible thing. Use it well.”
“But what should I do?!” I was frantic as I felt her fading, fading as she had before.
“Call only upon the second legacy when you are in dire need, Ysabel.” Her voice was faint.
“You haven’t told me what that means!”
Only a flash of silver answered in the far off distant places of my mind.
“I don’t understand.” I blinked at the captain. “She didn’t tell me what to do.” The faint wisps of the melody still danced in the shadows behind my mind.
“Ysabel, are you sound?” He searched my face.
Something in me quailed at his words, not wanting to admit the truth. I cringed, flicking my gaze to the ebony sky.
More stars than I had ever dared to count twinkled above me and not a cloud to be spied.
That dark and terrible temple—
It wasn’t here.
I relaxed. Warmth built in the center of my chest. My hand rose to gently touch my breastbone. Outside all was well, firm and sound. Inside... inside I felt odd: too warm and almost hollow.
“It worked, didn’t it?” Captain Argent grinned madly.
“I—” I looked down to my finger. The silver ring had melded into my flesh. My skin wasn’t red, wasn’t even sore, but when I tried to pull the ring off, it held fast.
It was part of my hand now. Faintly, I still heard that haunting melody.
“I think so. I don’t feel much different, and she didn’t advise—”
“Captain!” Barnabas’ deep voice came from the edge of the courtyard.
“There’s my First Man!” Captain Argent laughed. He stepped over to meet the large Kab but stopped in mid-stride.
Barnabas didn’t look well.
A gash on the side of his head wept blood, and he had a slight limp when he stepped. The large man gave Captain Argent a toothy smile, but it was weary.
“You were betrayed.” My mother’s words echoed in my mind.
“Betrayed?” Captain Argent looked from me to the Kab, seeking confirmation.
I gasped and blinked rapidly as I felt a burning prick in the center of my mind. Strange thoughts rushed through me, a river of knowledge sweeping me along.
(Four of them fled down the street. Barnabas had caught them shadowing Captain Argent. They didn’t fear the large man. No, they feared the wrath of their master if—)
“What?” I spoke the word loudly enough that the two men turned around. Captain Argent gave me a puzzled smile.
“What is it, Ysabel?”
“There were four of them.” I looked straight at Barnabas, my head swimming. “You chased them down, didn’t you?”
“More than four by the end.” Barnabas seemed on edge, confused. “Ysabel, how could you know that?”
“I don’t know.” That hollow place in my chest flickered with an odd warmth for a moment but then was gone. Still, the melody persisted.
“We’re finished here, Barnabas.” Captain Argent seemed a bit uneasy. “Dhakirah sent us here to finish what Iryniå started, but it seems as if our little ’Bel only has more questions.”
“Yes.” I regarded him, my hand on my aching head.
(Barnabas killed one of them, but they weren’t men, not really. They had set dark fire to the part of their minds that was sane and whole, and what was left—)
“Questions?” Barnabas cocked his head curiously.
“Were there any left alive?” I asked Barnabas, and another wave of thoughts cascaded through me. “They’ll keep coming. They knew you were coming before you landed.”
“How do you—?” Barnabas shook off his confusion and turned back toward the captain. “I brought her something to wear, as you said, Captain. I had Grimly fetch it from the ship. He’s here with the others.”
A pack of sorts hung over Barnabas’ back. He handed it to Captain Argent.
“I hoped we’d have that barbaric collar off you by now, but this will make you seem like more than a slave.” He paused. “It’s the smallest we have; I hope it fits.”
He handed me the pack.
I unfolded the deep-green fabric and leather sky jockey uniform. I was astonished. The tunic alone was worth more than fifteen silver centiums. I stroked the soft nap of the rich fabric.
Captain Argent held the heavy, protective, steel devices that traditionally covered the shoulders of the most valued and successful sky jockeys.
I reached for the armor, fascinated with the cog-winged breast piece.
“It’s better than your slavecloth.” He was obviously a touch uncomfortable. “We can look into different clothes—”
“Thank you.” I threw my arms around him as tears coated my eyes. “It’s wonderful.”
The men turned away from me, giving me the most privacy possible while I changed. Still, they spoke, making certain their words were loud enough to hear.
“It’s one of the cults, Captain.” The large man’s voice trembled just a touch with anger. “Corsun says the ship’s mantle—it detects the foulness—started burning white-hot shortly after you left. He did the analyticals to be sure.” Barnabas paused. “They caught a couple rats skulking ’round the outtake pumps. They positively stunk with sorcery.”
“Do we know who they were?” Captain Argent’s tone turned dangerous.
“Brethren of the All-Seeing Eye.” Barnabas spat after he spoke the name. “Captain, they knew we were coming before we set out. Corsun had Blythe ask the men some questions. Intently.” He paused. “That’s why the girl was a debtslave. They knew who you were and why you were coming. They wanted to toss cranks in your cogs.”
“Of course.” I swore under my breath.
(They only needed a little more time. Soon the bounds would—)
“They’ve been looking for you, for the girl.”
“The whole thing’s been wrenched from the start.” Captain Argent paused. “If they were only hoping to slow us down, then they must be very close to collapsing the bounds.”
Barnabas nodded. “Brought a few of the boys with me, Captain. If he bounds are falling, there’s no time to fritter.”
Hastily dressed, I joined them, leaving my slavecloth on the ground behind us.
Captain Argent stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Yo
u don’t know where we should go next. You don’t know where the bounds are.” Neither of these were questions.
“No.” I shook my head. Music and strange thoughts cascaded through me again.
(Captain Argent isn’t his name. If anything, An’Tafaar was closer to the truth—)
Not helping! “I have no fecking idea where any of the bounds are.”
Captain Argent looked at me for a long moment, and then cursed softly.
“We need to leave. It seems Calyptin will fall after all.” He nodded at me. “Get your boots on. We need be quick.” He turned to Barnabas. “Inform the men. We will meet at our planned rendezvous. If these Brethren know we are here, then they probably want to take us before we can leave.” He shook his head. “Not that they haven’t already won.”
“Aye, Captain.” Barnabas slipped off into the night.
“Mayhap we can take some stragglers? Help evacuate the city before it falls?” I yanked on my boots as I spoke, the melody burbling quietly behind my thoughts. (Calyptin Station is home to over seventy-hundred people—)
“Mayhap, ’Bel. We’ll get the crew together and see what’s possible.” He gave me a soft smile. “Perhaps we can get some people out, regardless.”
From the look in his eyes, I knew he doubted it. Yet he continued thinking, gears turning behind those viridian eyes. Finally, he said, “Ysabel, I’ve seen a lot of things in my time on the front lines. Your mother—all bearers of the silver flame—they are capable of many strange and wondrous things.” He sighed. “If you have any hunch, any speck of an idea at all, no matter how blasted it sounds, I’ll listen.”
I noted his serious regard. He would, I realized with some amazement. If I had anything to give him, he would listen.
“Something has changed, in my mind.” I blinked, the melody ringing softly in my thoughts. “I don’t know what it means yet, but if I come up with any ideas, I’ll let you know.”
“No matter how crazy it seems.” He smiled. “We’re both in the dark here. But I’m a man who is willing to listen. Fair enough?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Are you ready?” He peered at me intently, as if trying to judge if I were well.
“Ready enough.” My voice sounded small. “Let’s go.”
And we were off, running I knew not where.
It seemed he didn’t know our destination either. Captain Argent dashed through the streets at what seemed like random. He turned blind corners and rushed down side alleys for what seemed like days.
“What are we running from?” I gasped as we pounded past a grandiose, pretentious temple.
(No longer used for its original purpose—)
“We’re running from danger, of course!” He grinned and stopped then, a hand on my shoulder turning me to face him. “Not running from. Running to.” He leaned around the chipped corner pillar and stuck his head out, looking both ways before coming back for me. He grabbed my hand.
“Where are we going then?”
“First the Causeways to meet our escort. Then, my ship at dock one-eighty.” He glanced back as we jogged along an alleyway between the temple and a gazebo-like playhouse, complete with ornate chandeliers and massive stone animals that matched nothing left alive.
I caught my bearings. “But we’re going in the wrong direction!” I howled to his back.
He glanced over his shoulder and threw me a wild grin.
“I know.”
11
We dodged through the worst of the city, avoiding any large gatherings of people, sticking to the dark alleys between the enormous silvery towers that reflected the bloodstorm’s lurid light.
“The Brethren of the All-Seeing Eye know more than they should.” Captain Argent gave me a wink. “We’re taking the long way, being all chaotic-like.”
A sour note, unbelievably high and piercing spiraled out of nowhere, a whistling shriek of pain and anger.
What? My head jerked around. Back at the end of the corridor, I saw a pale flash of skin zip back around the corner.
All fell silent.
I gasped. We were being followed? I opened my mouth to say something, but Captain Argent was on the move, pulling ahead of me in his haste.
I shut my trap and pounded cobbles. He knew where the danger lay better than I.
I hoped.
Captain Argent dashed along an empty thoroughfare, his boots echoing on the smooth, flat stone, and I followed, chasing this fae-tale man.
(—are all around now. There are eight of them—)
“Captain?” I felt uneasy in the shadowed street, knowing eyes peered from the darkness.
In a trice, men in threadbare, graying cloaks had surrounded us.
“Oh!” I jerked to a stop, a short yip of a scream escaping my lips, cut off by a rough, dirty hand clapped over my mouth. I was drawn back, against a wiry frame.
“Shut it!” a rough voice hissed in my ear.
“Gentle, lads!” admonished Captain Argent in a low whisper. “She’s the treasure we came to find.”
“Should be parceled out by ap’ropriate rank’s proportion, then, eh?” teased one of the men. The rest laughed crudely as they bundled us in dark rags to match their own.
My captain tossed me a grin and a wink.
“Get on with it, then!” he barked sternly to the men.
A soft chorus of “Aye, Captain,” met my ears.
The hands on my person released me as another man shuffled over to jerk a hooded cape over my head.
“Ysabel, these charming skullduggers are my most trusted men,” Captain Argent whispered. He nodded toward the largest one. “You’ve already met Barnabas. That midden-heap of a man next to him is Corsun, and this gentle trogan is Blythe.” He gave me a wry glance. “They’re our way out of here.”
(That one is Eddie-two tongue.)
The lean Sindri man nodded at me.
(He was once caught by Nimjemin harriers and talked his way free. When he smiles, he has a dimple on—)
“This isn’t helpful.” I placed my hand on my forehead and squinted my eyes.
When I opened them, the captain was looking me square.
“Anything, ’Bel?”
His voice was so kind I thought I might cry.
“Nothing that matters.”
“Then we should leave.”
I nodded, and the men began to move, bumping me along. I bounced around the crowd like a child’s marble, ushered from one set of steadying hands to the next, while a staccato rhythm bounded along in my mind.
We looked identical to one another. From the shadows, this gang of gray cloaks gave no hint at who we were. It made an ideal situation if our mysterious foes were, in fact, keeping an eye out for Captain Argent.
Clever, I thought.
For the next several blocks we took odd loops and curved bends. I couldn’t help but think that perhaps the captain was a touch overzealous in his secretive route, but then I recalled how tightly serious he had been when Barnabas told him the name of our pursuers.
The Brethren of the All-Seeing Eye. The name made me shudder.
Soon, we headed into a small tunnel passage, unlit but for a single lantern near the midpoint of the stonework. Midnight black within, the men made certain to keep the captain and me in the center.
Then, discord.
“What?” I spun around.
A wailing note of misery rang through the air, unbelievably shrill. I covered my ears before realizing that I was the only one who heard it.
Then, someone doused that single light.
All was dark. The air clung, close and damp, as men shouted and ran, pushing and struggling. I stumbled in the dark as I was bounced from one set of rough hands to the next, the ball in an impromptu game of keep-away.
(There are nine of them, five in front and four behind. They—)
“There are nine of them!” I yelled as loudly as I could. “Fewer behind than in front!”
“You men heard her!” T
hat was Captain Argent. “Back! Back the way we came!”
Light flared again, and I saw (the cultists of that baleful, all seeing eye—) far more bodies around me than had been there before. Men with long, greasy hair and dirty bands of cloth tied ’round their eyes struggled with the shabby men that my captain so trusted.
“It is seen!” One of the cultists cried, swiping at (Garrick Tripps, a Teredi born—) one of the captain’s men. The man sprang backward, pulling a sleek dagger from the folds of his cloak.
“Back, bilge!” Barnabas stood at my side, stepping toward the man who had swung at Tripps. The Kab lunged forward, bringing a hammer-like fist to bear square on the cultist’s face with a wet, satisfying crack.
Then, the bloodbath began.
I spun around again, pressing myself to the center of the captain’s men. The entire time, a course of alien thoughts cascaded through my mind, borne upon a strange wind.
(It is the blood they seek, the blood spun with wyrding. They’ve waited, hoping to spill it upon their foul altar of blasphemy. They could have taken us at any time—)
“No!” I physically wrenched myself forward, trying to avoid the cascading river of thought.
“’Bel?” My cry broke Captain Argent’s concentration from the greasy man in front of him just for a moment.
The man struck him in the face with an iron rod.
Pulling myself free from the current set of hands, I staggered back a single step and crashed into a tall, bony man. (Jack the Widowmaker, he has been with the captain for many—) Rebounding off him, I whirled to see a cadaverous form, a caricature of a man. He was clothed in tattered gray robes and had a scarlet scrap of fabric tied around his eyes. He shouldn’t be able to see anything, but nevertheless, he reached for me without hesitation.
“Seen and found.” His voice came in a harsh rasp. “Finished now.”
“I’ll finish something.” I leapt forward, clawing at his face. The man cried out, and then I brought my knee up, hard, square into his tenders.
My mother might have recently taught me some new tricks, but my da had taught me all my old ones.
“Bitch!” The man’s cry strangled with pain.