The Company of Glass

by Tricia Sullivan

Xiriel fell into step with her.

  ‘There’s no such thing as an Honorary wood pigeon,’ Istar said peevishly.

  The Seer gave her a blank look.

  ‘I’m tired of being male when I’m not male,’ she explained.

  ‘Oh.’ He frowned, considering. ‘You could change your status. Find a Seahawk man for a mate. Or take up a woman’s trade.’

  ‘Are you crazy? There are no men – for mates or otherwise. I tried being a Seer. Believe me, I tried – Mhani begged me to become even the lowliest Scholar rather than take the sword. But I have no patience for it. Nor for anything else. I mean, can you see me as a weaver-woman or something?’

  ‘I must admit you would make a rather mediocre woman, Istar. No offence.’

  ‘No offence? What do you mean, I’d make a mediocre woman?’

  ‘You’re bossy and you can’t cook. And if I were your mate, I’d be afraid of you.’

  ‘Thanks! Any more compliments from you and I’ll be blushing.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’ The Seer’s mouth twitched with a suppressed smile. ‘What makes you think you want to be a woman all of a sudden, anyway?’

  ‘I’m tired of having all the responsibility of being male and none of the fun. Pentar disrespects me, yet because I’m not a woman, I can’t take offence.’

  ‘I see your point, but I don’t know whether you’d like being female. Have you ever had a man?’

  Of their own volition Istar’s eyes went to Kassien ahead of them. She sighed wistfully.

  ‘Yes. I dressed up as a woman and rode out into Deer Country last summer. I found this young shepherd and spent several hours with him. I wanted to make sure I’d got the hang of it.’

  Xiriel took a surprised step away, his eyes wide. ‘Just like that?’

  ‘How else would I do it? In Jai Khalar you can’t sneeze without everybody knowing about it.’

  ‘So how was it?’

  Now she was blushing.

  ‘It was all right as long as he didn’t talk to me.’

  ‘That bad, eh? Why didn’t you pick somebody you knew?’

  ‘Because! I’m an Honorary. None of you even knows I’m female. Do you?’

  Xiriel shrugged. ‘I never really thought about it. You’re just Istar. Why are you worried about this, anyway? Shouldn’t you be thinking about the Floating Lands instead?’

  ‘I leave that to you,’ she answered, and leaned over to elbow him in the ribs. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Pentar and Anatar had almost caught up with them; they looked a sorry sight, one badly injured, the other blindfolded, helping each other along. She didn’t feel any pity for Pentar, whom she suspected of eavesdropping all this time. It was his fault that she was in this mood. After all the work she’d done to establish her authority among men, now Pentar had to come along and by his provincial ignorance disrupt her operation. Bad enough that the two had succumbed to the Sekk and now burdened the party with their injuries; but that they should also threaten Istar’s leadership was intolerable to her. She began to wish she’d killed them both, kin or no.

  Kassien’s face when he alluded to what Pentar had seen – what was that look he’d given her? He had caught Pentar and roughed him up, yet he’d cast rather warm eyes on Istar himself. If he recognized that Pentar wanted her, did he not also acknowledge a kind of complicity? Had he, for a moment, seen her as female first and Istar the Honorary second?

  Better not to think about that. It was easy to admire Kassien from the safe distance of being an Honorary and his comrade at arms to boot; it was another thing entirely to think of doing anything about it. Besides, there was too little to go on. Someone like Kassien would never have more than a passing interest in someone like her. She had lived among men long enough to know how easily they were aroused yet with what difficulty they were actually caught as mates. They could be incredibly undiscerning towards women, especially if they hadn’t seen or touched one in some time – but if Kassien really desired her, he would be making a right fool of himself, and that hadn’t happened.

  She knew this, but it was pleasant to imagine that he was attracted to her. Actually, it was more than pleasant. She replayed that memory of his eyes on her again and again; it stayed with her like an actual touch, even after she’d grown bored of thinking about it and tried to wish it away.

  Order

  Kassien said they had gained so much time by using the H’ah’vah tunnel that they could afford to rest more, and though Istar didn’t like to admit it, she needed the reprieve as much as any of them except Anatar, who staggered along supported by Pentar, sometimes in a delirium. Eventually Kassien was obliged to remove Pentar’s blindfold so that the hapless pair wouldn’t go astray.

  They rested at midday in a clearing beside the river, where Kassien tried to teach Xiriel how to catch fish with his hands. Xiriel bent his long body over a swirling backwater, hands poised to plunge, head bent as he focused on the dimly seen fish with total intensity. Kassien leaned against a rock and lay back, chewing on flatbread and chuckling. Pallo climbed around in the underbrush, examining the foliage minutely.

  ‘That,’ he said excitedly, making a great show of pointing out something attached to a red leaf, ‘is surely a northern cousin of the rusted nail flying beetle we see in the coastal forests of Pharice. There are some dozen variations depending on the type of vegetation where they live, but I have never seen one with such dark eye stalks. I wonder if it is camouflage meant to disguise the feelers as sunburnt pieces of grass – that’s what they look like, don’t they, Istar?’

  ‘Mmm.’ She wasn’t listening. Having abandoned the river, Xiriel bent over and took a closer look. ‘It’s a bug,’ he pronounced. ‘Whatever are you so excited about?’

  ‘I think it’s interesting, that’s all,’ Pallo said defensively. ‘Look how he moves. Look at the coordination of the legs, and look at the way the carapace seems to float over the body. All the bits that are sensing and feeling are on the underside, beneath this shield. All the soft parts are on the inside – the bone, the structure, like our skeleton, is on the outside.’

  ‘So?’ Kassien drawled.

  ‘So you could study it for combat. It’s got built-in armour. But mostly I’m just excited because it’s unfamiliar to me. I thought I had seen and catalogued most of the plants and animals of Everien but I was wrong! I have stayed too close to Jai Khalar. There is much to study.’

  ‘Is that why you keep pulling leaves off the trees as you walk?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll press them and try to catalogue them later.’

  ‘But … why?’

  ‘It’s how we study things in Pharice. We try to know as much as we can about the world, and write it all down, and learn from it. My teacher collected thousands and thousands of plants and insects to learn their characteristics. He had a room with hundreds of glass cases and everything he knew about each item was written beside it, and he could use these things to create new medicines or advise farmers how to control pests, or make poisons.’

  ‘My grandmother could do all that walking through the woods, tasting things and spitting,’ said Kassien. ‘Why make such a production of it?’

  ‘That is how they do things in Pharice,’ Pallo said. ‘By keeping careful records. They believe there is an order in things, and they’re always trying to find it.’

  ‘Here’s an order,’ Kassien said. ‘Find us some watercress for supper. I miss eating greens. Only see you do not bring back poison mushrooms, even if they look like a Pharician delicacy! Pick only what you know.’

  Pallo sniffed and went off.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ Kassien snapped at Anatar and Pentar. ‘You sit there all gloomy and disapproving but say nothing. Why don’t you go help Pallo and earn your keep?’

  ‘No,’ Istar said. ‘I want them where I can keep my eye on them.’

  Pentar hesitated; he had been about to follow Pallo. Now he glanced at Istar, at the ground.

  ‘What is it with you, man?’
Kassien said irritably. ‘This is not Ajiko’s army. Say something! Raise your eyes.’

  Pentar obeyed, but there was no expression in his eyes.

  ‘It’s no good,’ Kassien said. ‘You can’t behave this way. If you don’t show yourself to be a man, what choice have we but to believe you still Enslaved?’

  ‘The Sekk is dead,’ said Pentar. ‘Istar killed it. My life is now forfeit to her.’

  ‘I am not interested in your life,’ Istar remarked dryly, still annoyed about the waterfall incident. ‘Anyway, Pallo killed the Sekk.’

  ‘You live in a dream world!’ said Kassien to Pentar. ‘Get your sword and let me remind you what it’s all about.’

  ‘Kassien, calm down,’ Xiriel said. ‘It is no good fighting amongst ourselves.’

  ‘You embody everything about Ajiko’s policies that I despise,’ Kassien told Pentar and Anatar. ‘Blind obedience, pigheadedness, self-sacrifice and stupidity. I don’t want you in my command anyway.’

  ‘My command,’ Istar corrected, bristling.

  ‘Ajiko’s army knows discipline and respect,’ Anatar said. ‘You four behave worse than a band of teenagers in a wine cellar. I have never seen such incompetence or lack of organization and purpose. I have no sword to give, and I am ill and probably dying, but I’ll crawl under the bushes and die like an animal before I submit to the likes of you.’

  He began to walk away, his upper body canted sideways as a consequence of the wound. Pentar started to follow and then halted, gazing at Istar.

  ‘Why are you looking at me?’ she asked shrilly. ‘You want to be a soldier. You want to give and take orders. You question my ability to wield a sword even after I sliced up your friend. I don’t want your fucking loyalty.’ She spat. Then she walked away. After a moment, she began to smile. For the first time since the fight with the Sekk, she felt all right.

  Late that afternoon the river emerged from its cutting and slowed as the land flattened out. They had reached the edge of the sea plain. Rain had brought a sudden riot of wildflowers and young grass to the sandy lowlands. As Istar’s party came down from the hills they could see colour steeping the plains almost to the fade-point of the long horizon, where the sea was imagined rather than seen. After the austerity of the bare mountains, all this beauty was intoxicating, and they walked captive to its dazzle. Maybe this was why they were only a few miles uphill from the encampment before Pallo spotted the brightly painted wagons, partially hidden by a dense stand of pines lining a brook. Silk tents in vibrant colours were pitched in a rough circle nearby, and a number of animals grazed at the stake. The party ducked into cover.

  ‘They are Bear Clan,’ Kassien said in surprise. ‘The king’s own people.’

  Xiriel was peering over the grass. ‘Looks like a large family. Goats, chickens, everything. As if they’ve packed up their homes into those wagons.’

  Kassien and Istar exchanged glances. They were both thinking with relief of the prospect of getting rid of the two Seahawks. No one looked at Anatar; no one had to. Having cleared the air, Kassien and the Seahawks had made a grudging peace, but Anatar was at the limits of his endurance. Since the night before, the Seahawk man’s face had been grey with pain, his eyes fevered. The stump of his arm was hot with infection. Pentar, for all that he was whole, behaved wretchedly now that he had been disciplined by Kassien.

  Pallo said, ‘How can we be sure they’re free?’

  ‘We can’t,’ Istar said, thinking that Pallo would not soon forget his encounter with the female Sekk. ‘Not from this distance. But the camp seems peaceful enough. No smoke, no loose animals. My guess is that they are safe.’

  Kassien said, ‘We’ve got to go and find out for ourselves. Who knows, Pallo? You may yet get your dinner.’

  At last, Istar thought, something good had happened. She and Kassien walked side by side towards the camp, breathing the smell of sun and flowers. When they approached the stand of pines, two large, long-haired dogs bounded from beneath the shade and stood, hackles raised, barking madly at them. A female voice called them to order, and out of the wood stepped a young woman. Her worried face lit up when she saw them. At Istar’s side, Kassien suddenly straightened.

  ‘Dhien!’

  There Are No Roses in Everien

  With neither thought nor effort, Tarquin’s sword glided out in a long arc, forcing the Sekk to leap back or be slashed across the legs. In the interval between the start and finish of the stroke, Tarquin took in the fact that the scene had changed while he had been under the spell: there were fewer Pharician guards ranged behind and around their Master; Chyko was riding around like even more of a maniac than usual; and when Chyko passed through and among them, some of the Pharicians seemed to be picking up his attitude – but others were fleeing from him blindly. The careful order of the Pharician army had broken down.

  There was black smoke all over the place, carried on the wind from the direction of the siege towers.

  He could no longer see Kivi, but he was reassured by the audible rattle of Deer Clan sticks on Pharician armour. He took the measure of his Sekk enemy, sensing its rate of breathing, relative size and speed, and level of aggression. He felt also the eerie depth of the Sekk, a perception no less tangible than colour or smell, yet impossible to describe. He knew only that the Sekk was a powerful magnet, a hole into which all forces conspired to draw him.

  The sword reached the end of its curve. He lurched to his feet, parrying a counteroffensive automatically as he drifted sideways and aligned himself, avoiding letting his eyes be caught by the Glass. Then he saw that the Sekk was bleeding from its sword arm.

  When had that happened?

  When had the Sekk drawn its sword, for that matter?

  Kivi was screaming from somewhere behind him, ‘Fight, Tarquin! You almost broke the spell.’

  Kivi had to be crazy. Tarquin entered the Sekk’s range with a series of cuts that were repelled, then sprang back out. He had come alarmingly close to being Enslaved himself – what could he possibly have done to affect the Sekk spell? He pressed the Sekk again. It was slimmer than he, fast but not solid. One good slice across the abdomen was all that was needed. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to close, and the Sekk knew it. He could feel its eyeless blank face pursuing him, and even if he couldn’t see the Glass any more, its presence in the closed fist was implied.

  What had become of his violence now?

  Kivi had come into view, locked in combat. His sticks whirled and snapped so fast they couldn’t be seen. He had disarmed a Pharician swordsman and now closed, snapping the sticks across the unarmoured hands, face, and neck with startling precision as he tripped his opponent neatly and continued to thrash him after he’d fallen.

  Tarquin was heartened. He and the Sekk circled each other, exchanging test blows but never committing. Each held back, waiting for an opening. It was all backwards: Kivi knocking down Pharicians like they were toy soldiers while Tarquin hesitated. He felt like he was in a whirlpool. Everything was becoming smaller and faster; he was being forced into himself. To break free, he had to kill the Sekk. He wanted to kill it, take away the Glass it wrongly held, destroy its hold on these men – for when he saw the Glass he had begun to understand what spell was at work here.

  He couldn’t do it.

  There was fire all around now. Panic set in among the soldiers.

  The Glass came out again: the miniature horses, the transparent men. Tarquin charged.

  Her voice was in his ear.

  ‘We sat in the cobalt shadows, and the moon was hunting in the leaves, and you were holding the rose in your hand.’

  ‘There are no roses in Everien,’ he told her. ‘I have never held one.’

  ‘You did that evening. We could smell it, like a chord on the silent air.’ Her lips grazed his spine. She did not touch him in any other place, but he could feel the heat of her all along his body.

  ‘Everywhere the city was falling. You could sense the folds beginning, like striations on an
egg before the chick’s beak comes through. Something was breaking through from inside.’

  ‘I have never even seen a rose.’

  ‘Of course you have seen it. It is your sign – yours is the Way of the Rose. It is on your banner.’

  ‘Ysse gave me the banner, and the ownership of the signs. I do not know what they mean. I do not want to. Not any more.’

  ‘And there was a rending sound,’ she went on as if he hadn’t said anything. Her tongue probed an old scar about his kidneys. Her teeth closed on it, and she toyed with his flesh.

  ‘I don’t remember you,’ he said.

  ‘Really it was folding, but we couldn’t see the pattern from where we were. We were trapped inside it. But the whole city was folding in on itself, disordinating. We had no books to describe this, but you and I held hands and watched, for there was nothing else we could do. We knew we were soon to be parted.’

  ‘Where am I now?’ he said.

  ‘You are in the garden, where we always meet.’

  He let out a sigh of relief. ‘I thought I was fighting. The Sekk Master, it held my Company in its hand, and all I could think was: how did the Sekk get my men? I thought they were dead. But it’s worse than that, isn’t it?’

  ‘They are no longer men. They are the Company of Glass.’

  ‘I saw the Glass in the hands of the Master. I don’t understand. I remember seeing them die, but I knew it couldn’t be as simple as death, if it happened in Jai Pendu. It’s haunted me for years. Does that make sense?’

  ‘There are years and then there are years,’ she said. ‘There is sense and then there is everything else.’

  She pulled away from him a little, and he wasn’t sure whether she’d left him or not. He couldn’t know whether he was in a large space or a small one: in that sense this was a place like twilight, endlessly mysterious. Then she spoke and he had to listen.

  ‘You took your men to Jai Pendu. You stormed through the lost city and you climbed the second Tower that is the Way of the Eye, and there you took the Glass called Water to bring back to Jai Khalar.’