The Company of Glass

by Tricia Sullivan

  ‘Epse, tell us of the Sekk. What did it look like, and what was it doing?’

  The Snake’s voice was a whisper. ‘I did not see the Sekk.’

  ‘Then how can you say they were Enslaved?’ Ajiko mocked.

  ‘I know of no other explanation,’ murmured Epse. ‘There was another man among them when I saw them in the morning’ –

  Probably a Pharician, thought Tarquin. There is treachery afoot.

  – ‘a Wolf Clan chieftain. He seemed to be in charge. King Lerien, General Ajiko, truly I do not know more than this. I only know what I have told you, and I am not lying.’ His voice shook. ‘I would swear it was a Sekk. The way they acted when they attacked their fellows, I would swear they had been Enslaved by a Sekk. But perhaps the spell wore off later.’

  Ajiko said, ‘Who was your commander? Urutar?’

  ‘Sir, it was Jenji.’

  The general’s left hand was clenching a scroll; it crackled in his fist. ‘You have all been trained in the methods to escape the Slaving spells. How is it that your fellows could have succumbed so easily?’

  The Snake hung his head. ‘I cannot say.’

  ‘What did you do after you got away?’

  ‘I followed them on the heights until I could see that they were heading deeper into the hills, travelling west. I could do no more: I had fled with no provisions. I came here as quickly as I could, but all told it has been three weeks since this incident.’

  ‘And the locals?’ said Ajiko. ‘Did they witness any of this?’

  ‘The people of the Snake Clan refused even to approach the bodies, and they are abandoning their steadings. There will be more refugees in Jai Khalar come a week’s time.’

  ‘Yanise, you heard that. You will have to confer with Hanji about where to put them.’ Lerien looked at the Snake soldier. ‘You may go, but inform Yanise of the names of the dead so that their Clans may be notified. Ajiko, there is already too much doubt about the positioning of the commanders in the Wolf Country. I begin to think we should pull our men out of there before we lose control of their movements. Have your horsemen not reached them yet?’

  Ajiko said, ‘I am still waiting for their reports. Mhani was to maintain contact with their Carry Eye; is she not here to tell you?’

  ‘Mhani is in the Eye Tower,’ Lerien said. ‘I want to hear reports from the ground. Vallitar, did you have any success with the birds?’

  A pimply Seahawk teenager near the back of the room stood and shook his head. ‘They will not fly so far inland, my lord, and there are few Animal Magicians now who can use them well. The art of Flight was lost with Eteltar.’

  Yanise leaned forward and said something in the king’s ear. Lerien passed a weary hand across his eyes. ‘Yes, we will discuss this in private, Ajiko. We need to change our tactics in the distant mountain regions.’

  There was a brief, unhappy pause. Tarquin was thinking that it was cruelty on the part of Hanji to expect him to sit through this; the formality of these proceedings would put anyone to sleep. He wondered what sort of treachery was going on in the Wolf Country and why Ajiko was acting so uptight. He felt sorry for Epse the Snake Clan soldier. Tarquin knew all too well how it felt, trying to explain the inexplicable to people who were bereft of imagination. His lip curled. Ajiko could be such a pile of bricks.

  Then the king’s secretary shuffled documents and announced, ‘The king will now hear the matter of Lieutenant Kassien, the Scholar Xiriel, Honorary Lieutenant Istar, and Pallo the Pharician. Please come forward.’

  The armoured woman and her coterie walked up the aisle and knelt before the king. Tarquin’s old instincts for evaluating men flashed into operation. The lieutenant looked reasonably sharp. He was of no great size, yet well knit as Bear fighters were wont to be. He was brown-haired and handsome bordering on pretty, and he moved without fuss or swagger while still managing to convey an air of warning that he should not be touched. The one called Xiriel was much taller, darker, and clad in the robes of a Scholar instead of battle costume; yet of the four this was the one Tarquin would have chosen for a warrior. There was something unexpected in his eye, a hardness that suggested he was capable of ruthless intent. By contrast the other, the Pharician, was a blond slip of a boy, probably completely incompetent at arms to judge by the delicacy of his wrists and forearms. Nervously the Pharician scanned all the faces, his glance slipping past Tarquin without recognition.

  ‘Be at ease,’ the king said to the little group. ‘You may state your business.’

  At first Tarquin had been annoyed that he had to wait behind these neophytes, but as he focused his tired eyes on the Honorary, he found himself studying her face perplexedly. There was something about her. She was familiar; yet there was no way he could have seen her before – not in Everien.

  She was no more than twenty by his guess, but sported a battle scar from right temple to jaw. Her skin was olive and well-tanned, and her features sat in her face uneasily, as though jostled from their proper places and proportions. She wore her black hair in several dozen small, neat braids, decorated by beads in the Seahawk Clan’s colours: orange, dark green, and silver. Her prominent, hooked nose bore a bone ring with a sapphire inset, and her forehead had been painted with four parallel waves in silver indicating her rank. She looked formidable: although she was not tall, her physique was broad and her large hands capable. The scabbard at her side was battered and scratched, and her leather uniform was almost as journey-worn as his own. When she spoke she laid her palm heel unconsciously on the pommel of her sword, and her dark eyes scanned the room assertively, resting on each of the assembled in turn with a confidential air. Even her body language was familiar, but Tarquin couldn’t imagine how he had met her. The Seahawk Clan had been his own, long ago when he had been called Quintar and was bound body and blood to his people; but she would have been an infant then. And yet …

  ‘I have no brothers,’ she was saying in a husky contralto. ‘I was my parents’ firstborn, and my father was killed in the war against the Sekk while my sisters and I were still young.’

  It was a familiar story, and her tone was matter-of-fact, not seeking pity.

  ‘This is why I wear the costume of a man, and why I know how to use this sword – because I am responsible for the honour and even the very survival of my family. I have served in the army for four years, and in that time I have fought Sekk slaves and monsters, and once I fought and killed a Sekk Master. My lord, I am battle-hardened. As for my comrades … Kassien’s name is well-known here as the commander who repelled the H’ah’vah invasion of the tunnels at A-bo-Manik last year. Xiriel is a Seer, a specialist in the history of the Knowledge and student of my mother, Mhani, these past ten years—’

  Now the rough wind of memory tumbled against Tarquin: memory, and grief. Mhani he knew well: she had been the mate of his best friend, Chyko, lost under Tarquin’s command at Jai Pendu. Their daughters would now be grown: this was Istar, the eldest. Only a week or two before the Company’s ride to Jai Pendu, she had been named into the Seahawk Clan by Quintar’s protection. Under laws that traced back to the time when the Clans had been at constant war with one another over the scarce resources of the wild country, the offspring of marriages between two different Clans could belong to neither – preventing such alliances was a way of protecting the autonomy of the Clans and keeping any one Clan from gaining too much power by means other than martial. It also kept the bloodlines pure for the practice of the Animal Magic. Mhani was Deer, and Chyko was Wasp. They had asked Tarquin to take their children into his own Clan, which he had done gladly, having no offspring of his own. But soon afterwards he had renounced the Seahawk Clan when he renounced everything, so he knew his foster child not at all.

  Now that he knew who she was, he could see nothing but Chyko in Istar’s face. The resemblance was striking: they shared the same fierce nose, almost the same colouring, the same wide mouth and flashing white teeth. Why had he not seen it immediately? Tarquin remembered Chyko�
��s mouth laughing as he danced drunkenly by firelight; he remembered that same mouth with its lips curled in agony, the head thrown back and the tendons of the neck standing out like trees. Tarquin’s hands clenched the arms of his chair and he held his breath, fighting his emotions as the memory swept over him like a wave. Perhaps he had not recognized Chyko in the young woman’s face because it hurt too much to recall his friend. He forced himself to listen to what Chyko’s daughter was saying. Something about an expedition …

  ‘—because it’s clear that Jai Pendu holds the key to the Everien Artifacts. Xiriel can explain this better than I can, but when the Everiens fled from the Sekk they probably used Jai Pendu in some way. Perhaps they sailed away in it; for the few references we have discovered all suggest it is like a great ship, a ship the size of a city. Each of the two Glasses that was brought back has proven to be a great boon to us, and each has dismayed the Sekk. Yet all you have to do is look around you’ – she gestured to the building at large with a broad sweep of her hand – ‘to realize that we have penetrated only a tiny fraction of Everien Knowledge. Imagine what we could do if we had more! The Scholars have calculated that Jai Pendu is due to pass through the Floating Lands this very summer. It is an opportunity that comes only once in nine years. King Lerien, my comrades and I are here to petition you for aid in mounting an expedition to Jai Pendu.’

  There was a rustle of feet shifting; murmured commentary; a collective sense of everyone who had been holding their breath letting it out. Tarquin didn’t move. He was too dazed – yet he no longer wished to stay awake. It was better to think of all this as a bad dream.

  Ajiko stood up and said, ‘Kassien, Istar, you are both old enough to remember the most recent pass of Jai Pendu nine years ago. Since Quintar returned without the Company, the White Road has been lost to us; Ysse believed it closed forever. Why she believed this is unknown to me, but I do know that the Pharicians attempted to cross the Floating Lands anyway, and came to grief there.’

  Lieutenant Kassien spoke up. ‘Yes, their land forces were killed and their fleet was displaced and scattered wide across the sea. But we might learn from their tactical mistakes.’

  Istar raised her voice above Kassien’s. ‘Xiriel has studied the Floating Lands extensively. He can find a way through that does not depend on the White Road.’ She gestured to Xiriel the Scholar – no, Seer they had called him, Tarquin recalled. The tall, brooding young man cleared his throat and said, ‘It is clear that the Floating Lands once connected Jai Pendu to the mainland, and though damaged, even now they are joined by bridges like stepping-stones out into the sea. In the past, Jai Pendu has come within spitting distance of the last island.’

  ‘No one – not even Ysse – has ever crossed the Floating Lands to reach Jai Pendu. They are more than dangerous – they are impossible!’ Ajiko was exercised at the very suggestion, but the Seer answered him calmly.

  ‘I agree that the White Road is the only sensible way through the Liminal that divides Jai Khalar from its sister city Jai Pendu. But the Floating Lands were once connected to Jai Pendu. We believe they were damaged in the collapse of Everien in ages past, and their structure is fault-ridden now. They intersect the Liminal, but they are also a part of our world, much like Jai Khalar only less organized—’

  A loud guffaw exploded from Ajiko’s direction. ‘How much less organized could you get?’

  Xiriel continued as if he hadn’t spoken, addressing his words to Lerien. ‘We have accounts of those who have tried to cross the Floating Lands before, as well as images from the Eyes that have recorded fragments of Everien history. There are systems of codes, a kind of language the Everiens used in managing the Knowledge, and they seem to control the bridges and passageways among the Floating Lands. These symbols are not unlike Pharician musical notation, which appears as marks on paper but to the mind of the musician signifies sound. The Everien codes have the same power to—’

  ‘You’re talking nonsense,’ Ajiko interrupted. Lerien glanced up, frowning.

  ‘Yes, it does make me cross-eyed,’ agreed the king. ‘What is the final meaning of all this, Xiriel?’

  The Seer took a patient breath. ‘It means that we may not be able to call the White Road up and walk easily to Jai Pendu by magic, but that doesn’t prevent us from crossing the Floating Lands. We know more than the Pharicians do, as Kassien said.’

  Eagerly, Istar added, ‘We only need ten or twelve swords to support us. Kassien and I are both tried and tested in facing the creatures that the Sekk call down from the heights and up from the depths. We are not faint of heart.’

  Tarquin was on his feet.

  ‘Are there no lessons in history?’ he said in a clear voice. ‘Istar, if you had seen what happened to your father at Jai Pendu, you would not attempt such a stunt now. Lerien, do not make the same mistake Queen Ysse made eighteen years ago, or these young people will throw their lives away.’

  Istar’s sword was out and she was ploughing toward him, pushing aside chairs, small tables, and people as she went. ‘Who dares use the king’s bare name, or disrupt this Council? Come, answer for your disrespect!’

  She had a clean eye and the fine energy of a sword fighter, so she had done well by the Seahawk Clan. Her blade wove hypnotically as it came towards him, but Tarquin forced himself to stand still. Beyond Istar, he saw Lerien rise and lean across the table, gaping.

  ‘Quintar? Istar, stay your hand. Why did no one tell me Quintar was here?’

  The secretary had conveniently vanished, but Hanji sported a faint smirk. Ignoring Istar’s sword, Tarquin bowed to the king.

  ‘I bring news, Lerien, but not, I think, for the ears of the entire Council – not yet. I have been riding hard from the borders, and I hope I am in time to do some good.’

  The king passed a hand over his forehead. ‘Yes, I see. Istar, Kassien – I will have Yanise send for you as soon as I have time, but for now I must dismiss you.’ He extended an arm across the room. ‘All of you, actually. I will see Quin – forgive me – Tarquin – alone, in my rooms. Thank you all – we will reconvene as soon as may be.’ The assembly began to pick themselves up, muttering and casting curious glances at Tarquin. Istar put away her sword but kept watching him; he couldn’t read her expression.

  ‘We should talk,’ he said to her. ‘There are so many things—’

  ‘Tarquin, now!’ Hanji tugged his sleeve and he turned away from Chyko’s daughter blearily, aware of her eyes on him as he followed the king.

  On the way to Lerien’s chamber they passed through two sunset windows and across a courtyard quilted in midnight sky. They traversed galleries tiled with maps of lands Tarquin had never heard of. They disturbed a squadron of pale green doves that descended suddenly from above only to disappear into an ornate piece of grillwork in the corridor floor. Tarquin was not pleased. His carefully prepared speeches were being evaporated by the Knowledge that seemed to emanate from Jai Khalar’s very stones like a smell, compounding his fatigue with confusion. Yet the urgency of his message meant that even in his delirium he kept trying to tell Lerien his news. He knew he was saying a great deal inside his head, but he was not certain which of his words were making it out.

  For example, he was thinking: Lerien, you should have seen the Pharician army. All of them wear exactly the same armour and carry the same weapons and they are organized in groups of identical size and disposition. Their numbers are obscene. What country sends men to war as if they were cattle when it is well known among the Clans that a well-trained warrior can stand for an entire village, even if he fights a winged monster or other large predator? I do not understand the Pharicians and I never will.

  Whereas what he heard himself actually say was, ‘They remind me of bugs.’

  He must have been making some sense, though, because after a while Lerien began to direct replies at him.

  ‘Surely when you said the plains of Ristale you simply meant the garrison to the north, where the Pharicians are in the habit of t
raining their men to patrol the wild country and protect their herds. Perhaps there is a larger force than usual stationed there for exercises. For I know nothing unusual has been Seen—’

  ‘No,’ Tarquin interrupted. ‘Not a garrison. They were marching. Supply trains. Thousands. Herd animals.’

  He swayed; Lerien took his arm and he lost track of things for a little while. He remembered climbing stairs and panting. Then Lerien brought him to a map painted on the wall of some vast hallway. The colours were far too bright. Tarquin tried to point out the positioning of the Pharician force, but when he put his finger on the place, the entire map broke up and became a cloud of butterflies. He began to sneeze. Hanji appeared then, emerging from a nearby tapestry with a large book clutched to his chest. He cast a sceptical glance over Tarquin.

  ‘Details,’ he said, and snapped his fingers. ‘When. Where. How many. And what under the belly of the Great Nesting Toad have you been doing all these years that you return to us in this condition? Lerien, let’s bring him into your rooms before he faints.’

  ‘I’m trying to find my rooms,’ Lerien responded in a slightly petulant tone.

  Hanji snorted and opened a door Tarquin would have sworn wasn’t there a moment ago. The old seneschal ushered them both into Lerien’s private apartments, which were as spacious as Ysse’s had been but more cluttered – mostly with books and papers, which Tarquin thought was odd, since Lerien had never been known to read anything in his youth. Tarquin yawned and rubbed his eyes. His head was slightly clearer now, and he no longer wanted to collapse. He was shown to a comfortable chair but perched himself on the edge of it in an effort to hold his alertness.

  ‘I’m going back to my kitchen,’ Hanji announced, and he slipped away through a green glass window. They were left with Yanise, who provided more sita and made himself inconspicuous among what seemed to Tarquin an inordinate amount of documents. Lerien nodded to him and sat down at a table covered in papers. He steepled his hands beneath his chin.