by Peter Newman
‘Did you hurt her, Satyendra?’
‘Yes.’
Chandni shook her head. ‘The hunters will be most displeased to hear that.’
‘No they won’t.’
Her expression grew colder still. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said they won’t be displeased to hear what I did. If anything, they’ll be displeased with—’ Satyendra struggled to recall Chunk’s real name and resorted to gesturing instead, ‘the way the other apprentices behaved.’
She made a point of looking at all of the surprised and outraged faces before turning back to Satyendra and folding her arms. ‘Explain.’
‘Of course, mother.’ He looked at Nose. ‘What did I say before we started?’
‘That you were supposed to be having a lesson.’
Chandni nodded to herself. ‘You knew you were late and yet you still agreed to play. That makes it worse.’
Satyendra narrowed his eyes at Nose. The boy was such a dung head. ‘After that. After you’d begged me to play and I’d agreed to one,’ he glanced at his mother, ‘very quick game.’
‘Um, you asked which demon you should be.’
‘Yes, and after that?’
‘You …’ Nose looked up and stared hard at the clouds as if he could make out the suns twirling behind them. ‘You said you wanted to be the Scuttling Corpseman.’
‘And what does the Corpseman do?’
‘Oh! You said it kills any hunter it catches alone.’
‘Exactly. As Lord Rochant says, only a foolish hunter engages a demon alone. That’s why in the game it takes three of them together to tag the demon and win. If we had been in the Wild for true, she –’ he pointed at Chunk ‘– would be dead or taken. She failed once because she thought to take me alone. She failed twice when she let her guard down, and she failed a third time when she allowed me to look into her eyes.’
The other apprentices nodded at that, and some space opened between them and Chunk.
‘And the rest of you,’ continued Satyendra, ‘all failed for not keeping up with her. You should have anticipated her charge and supported it. You let the demon win. When Lord Rochant returns through me, he will expect better than this. We must be ready for that day, mustn’t we, Mother?’
‘Yes. We must strive to be worthy of our Deathless Lord.’ They all hung their heads, though a few still looked angry. ‘And you, Honoured Vessel Satyendra, need to get to your lesson at once, we’ve wasted enough time here.’
‘Might I help my friend first? She is in pain and you have often told me that I need to learn the line between perfection and cruelty.’ Chandni stared hard at him, and Satyendra kept his face innocent and dutiful. ‘I try only to be as firm and fair as Lord Rochant would be.’
‘Very well.’
‘Thank you.’
As his mother returned to the castle, Satyendra crouched next to Chunk. ‘I’m sorry about hurting you before and I hope you can understand it wasn’t personal.’ He looked into her eyes, watching the way his lie slipped into her ear and down to her heart as easily as sweetwine.
‘But you smiled at me,’ replied Chunk, sniffing up some of the teary snot threatening to spill over her top lip. ‘You tricked me!’
‘Yes, which is just what the demons of the Wild would do; trick you into letting down your guard. You know the rules: Don’t let the demon get close, don’t meet its eyes, don’t listen to its voice.’
‘But …’
‘But nothing. The Wild is unforgiving. Our people rely on the Deathless and their hunters to keep them safe. We have to be perfect or we fail. You have to be perfect.’
‘You’re right,’ she sniffed.
‘I am. And I forgive you.’
He felt her twinge of indignation, tasting the moment it fluttered into suppressed anger and shame, all of her feelings served to him on a platter of background pain. It was so good his mouth began to water.
What is wrong with me? Why am I like this?
He put his hands on either side of her knee. ‘This is going to hurt,’ and suns save me I am going to enjoy it, ‘Brace yourself.’
‘Okay,’ she replied.
‘One. Two. Three!’ He gripped harder, feeling her tense in discomfort, drawing out her anticipation for a shade longer than necessary, then popped the joint back into position. Chunk screamed, and Satyendra dropped his head forward, letting his long hair curtain off the rapturous smile.
His blood sang with her pain, his skin rippled with it, the hollow lethargy that usually dogged him replaced with energy and happiness, boundless.
So good!
Under pretence of checking it had gone in properly, he manipulated Chunk’s swollen knee with his fingers. Shivering with the pain elicited from each prod.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Nose was staring. As he looked up the boy jerked his head away too late, too abruptly, to seem casual. Did he see me? Really see me? Does he suspect?
‘That should be fine now,’ he said to Chunk.
‘Thank you, Satyendra.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he replied, standing up with reluctance. There was more to milk here but he dared not risk it. ‘Hopefully they’ll have your back next time.’
Aware that he was already late, he said his goodbyes quickly and jogged off to his lesson with the Story-singer. Running felt good. He needed to work off some of the rush before sitting with Ban. The old Story-singer wasn’t the strongest willed in the castle, but he was no fool either.
As soon as his back was turned to the apprentices, Nose had stared openly, not realizing that his suspicious reflection could be seen in the crystals around the archway.
You see me, Nose, thought Satyendra as he passed through the arch. But I see you. Maybe you’re not such a dung head after all. When I’m done with you, maybe you’ll wish you were.
CHAPTER THREE
A bath was waiting for Pari when she reached her chamber, as were servants. The former topped with petals, the latter armed with brushes. A swift and thorough cleaning followed, while Pari tried to collect her thoughts. Always after a rebirth came the horrible feeling of having forgotten something, and this one was no different.
As the servants towelled her dry, Pari considered her body anew. She had asked to be given her granddaughter, Rashana, as a vessel. A perfect match both physically and in temperament, Rashana would have led to an easy rebirth. However, as punishment for going to the Sapphire lands in secret and without permission, she had been given Priti instead, her great granddaughter. Shorter, sweeter, obedient to a fault. The type of girl that would not know an original thought if it struck her in the face.
If the vessel’s body was like a jug, then Pari’s soul was the water. And if the jug did not have room for certain of Pari’s qualities, then they would spill over the edge and be lost.
However, unlike a jug, a vessel could be reshaped, and Pari had seen to it that one of her people visited Priti in secret to complete her education. In the years while she was between lives, he had been working quietly to encourage rebellious thoughts. His name was Varg, and unlike most of the servants, he was not known to the High Lord or any of the main staff. At least, he should not be. She’d had him go in disguise under a false name just to be safe.
Given the ease of her rebirth, she could only assume that Varg had done well. The calluses on her hands suggested her great granddaughter had enjoyed some clandestine climbing, as well as knife work, and she could only guess at the other terrible things he had taught her.
It’s a start, she thought. Though my arms look like they could use some more work.
She would have liked to be a few inches taller too. Such things shouldn’t matter, but they did. She made a mental note to have the platforms on her shoes adjusted accordingly.
Silk was wrapped around her, tight on the arms and legs. Over this was draped a violet gown with loose sleeves and high shoulders that curled to points. A layer of gem-studded jewellery was added to that, and her face was painte
d; gold around the eyes and mouth, subtler tones elsewhere, smoothing the lines on her face and the youth of her skin, obscuring the age of the body to let the Deathless soul shine through.
A woman sang for permission to enter and Pari gave it. She was dressed in the uniform of a majordomo, tanzanite studs flashing at her throat. Her arrival automatically dismissed the other servants, who hurried away as she bowed deeply. ‘Welcome back, my lady.’
Pari looked at her full face blankly. ‘And you are?’
The woman laughed in delight, sounding briefly like a common child from the settlements below. Pari looked closer, noting that the woman’s skin was made up, that beneath it she was pale for a sky-born. She had clearly spent many years in the castle but had not started life there.
‘Wait,’ she added. ‘I know you … Don’t tell me.’ A number of names skipped through her mind. ‘It can’t be? Ami? Is it you?’
The woman clapped her hands. ‘Yes, my lady.’
They embraced, carefully so as not to upset Pari’s outfit. ‘My dear Ami, it is a delight to see you again. Look how you’ve grown! You were a slip of a girl the last I saw you.’
‘The cook and I are the best of friends,’ she replied with a smile.
‘It is always wise to be on the cook’s good side. I take it you’ve come to enjoy our food.’
‘Oh yes. So much better than what I had before. The Sapphire don’t know what they’re missing!’
‘Spoken like a true Tanzanite.’
Ami lifted her chin. ‘Thank you, my lady.’
‘Inform the High Lord that I will be with her shortly. And send Sho to me, I need to know what I’ve missed.’
‘I …’ Ami’s face folded in sadness. ‘Forgive me, my lady, but Sho is no longer with us. I have taken on his duties in accordance with your wishes.’
Pari looked again at Ami’s uniform, taking it in truly this time. So strange to see someone else in it. She had had many majordomos over her lifecycles, but for the last three, they had all been Sho or Sho’s mother. ‘Of course you have, I remember now. Tell me, did he die well?’
‘Oh yes. He was surrounded by family. They sang him on his way at the end, and we all took part. Even the crystals in the castle joined in.’
Pari closed her eyes, imagining what it must have been like. Tanzanite crystals grew throughout her castle, most of them clustered at its base but some wound through the upper floors and laced the walls. It was their power that kept her castle in the sky, and her people had long ago learned to sing and play music that resonated. It was seen as a good omen when the crystal sang back. ‘I wish I could have been here.’
‘Sho wished this too. He has left you some final words.’
‘Where did Sho get his hands on a message crystal?’
‘I don’t know, my lady.’
Pari smiled. ‘He always was a crafty one. Bring it to—no, it had better wait until after the meeting. Do I look ready to face High Lord Tanzanite? Be honest.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
Pari nodded, feeling the statement to be true. In the Unbroken Age, it was said that there were those that could read the soul inside the body and know another’s intent even before they did. Pari had spent lifetimes trying to master the art, with limited success. She had developed instincts, senses for what another person might feel or do, but they were vague, and often hard to interpret.
‘How long have I been between lives?’
‘Sixteen years, my lady.’
‘Sixteen! I was told it would be fifteen years at most.’
‘Lord Taraka said there were complications with your vessel that had to be smoothed out.’
‘Ah.’ I wonder if that was the fault of my meddling or something else. ‘Is Varg here?’
‘Yes, my lady. He is camped with the courtyard traders to keep out of Lord Taraka’s sight. I know he is eager to speak with you.’
‘I’m sure he is. But he will have to wait. Is there anything else I should know before I meet with the other lords?’
Ami frowned as she considered the question. Clearly there were a lot of things and Ami was struggling to filter them. She’s still too easy to read, thought Pari, adding it to her list of things to attend to.
‘Never mind, Ami. If it isn’t on fire then I will deal with it after the High Lord. Have the others arrived yet?’
‘They are all waiting for you.’
Pari pursed her lips. She was tired from the rebirth but the High Lord was forcing her to attend before she had fully recovered. It was a low tactic. ‘Was this gathering overseen by Lord Taraka, by any chance?’
‘Yes, my lady. How did you guess?’
‘Bitter experience.’
Ami wisely made no comment, instead summoning servants to collect the back of Pari’s gown. It was time to face her peers.
The gentle flow of conversation ended as Pari entered the room. Ordinarily, she would have greeted the other Deathless Lords as they arrived, and granted them permission to enter. Ordinarily, it would be she, the Lady Pari, sitting in the chair opposite the door rather than her High Lord. However, on the day of a rebirthing ceremony, the usual laws were put aside.
She tried not to be hurt that of the six other Deathless that made House Tanzanite only three had bothered to attend her.
‘Lady Pari, welcome back to the realm of life.’ High Lord Priyamvada had stood, and the other two immortals followed a beat after. As was her preference, the High Lord had taken a tall body with an ample frame, the bright gold-violet of her gown a broad block of colour. It made Pari feel as if she was looking at a fortress rather than a person. Priyamvada’s high hat became a turret, and her full-lipped mouth a spout for dropping acid on any foolish enough to get too close.
Armoured in paint, that face gave nothing away. A golden tattoo sat like a star on her forehead, commemorating an old death wound gained long before the rest of the house had their first birth.
‘Thank you for holding my walls and my lands while I was gone,’ Pari replied. ‘Thank you for watching my people and keeping the Wild from their doors.’
Priyamvada gave a slight nod, and sat, allowing everyone else to do the same.
Once Pari’s gown had been properly arranged, the servants bowed and slipped away. She tried to catch Arkav’s eye but he was staring at the floor, his mind elsewhere. Despite the skilled work of his tailors she could see he’d lost weight, sharpening his features in a way she did not like.
Why does he ignore me? It’s as if none of us were here.
Lord Taraka indicated a desire to speak. His body had thickened during her absence, and he too was doing his best to compensate for living in a shorter vessel than his previous lifecycles. The many crystals around his neck tinkled delicately as he moved, before settling again on his bare chest. He was sometimes known as The Holder of Whispers, a literal title as well as a metaphorical one, for each crystal captured any words spoken nearby, and Taraka could make them speak at a touch. It was his job to keep a permanent record of oaths, agreements and indiscretions, to be dug up at the worst possible time. He also did a good line in secrets, holding dirt on everyone in the house save Priyamvada herself.
After he had received a nod from the High Lord, he began. ‘Allow me to add my personal welcome to that of the High Lord, Lady Pari. Your new body suits you well.’
‘You are too kind, my dear Taraka.’ One day, I’m going to enjoy making you suffer. She gave him her best smile to better disguise her thoughts.
‘Though I have brought Lord Arkav here so that he could witness your auspicious return, I regret to inform you that he cannot stay.’
She glanced at Arkav but he remained oblivious. ‘May I ask why?’
‘We are sending him to the Sapphire lands to carry out an investigation.’
‘With what authority do we investigate another house?’
It was Taraka’s turn to smile. ‘Some laws are universal, superseding even a High Lord’s right to govern. When High Lord Yadavendra of the Sa
pphire destroyed his sister’s Godpiece, he broke a sacred rule and weakened his house, and all of us, forever.’
The major houses, Tanzanite, Sapphire, Jet and Spinel, each held seven Godpieces, while the minor ones, Ruby, Opal and Peridot, held three. Thirty-seven Deathless in all, spread out like a net to protect as much of the land as possible. Yadavendra’s action had reduced that number to thirty-six and left a gap that could never be filled.
‘Has there been a trial yet?’
‘The Council of High Lords has requested Yadavendra’s presence on several occasions, but he has not come. At first he sent representatives, then messengers, and now, silence.
‘For a time, we have been content to wait. House Sapphire was given a generous period to deal with its own affairs but that is drawing to a close. I understand Lord Rochant Sapphire’s rebirth is imminent. If his return does not lead to them taking action themselves, it will be upon us to act, lest more Godpieces be lost.’
‘Forgive me, but the Sapphire High Lord’s crime happened during my last lifecycle. How could we have stood by so long?’
‘It is not our way to rush into things.’ She winced, knowing that he was making a comment about her recent conduct. ‘There was much grief within the Sapphire, we had to let it run its course. We had hoped that Yadavendra would do the right thing, given time to reflect.’ Taraka sighed. ‘He has not.’
‘There’s rushing into another house’s business,’ said Pari, ‘and then there’s procrastinating, and quite frankly we should have—’
Priyamvada’s eyebrows twitched as if contemplating a frown and Pari took a breath. ‘Apologies. The rebirthing has sapped my manners. I meant to say that I find it hard to believe so little has been done.’
‘We could not commit to anything until the other houses had also taken a stance,’ replied Taraka. ‘For that we needed all of the other High Lords to discuss the matter internally, to debate, to question. You know how these things drag on. Yadavnedra’s stance is unprecedented. To counter it, we needed to be of one mind. That accord has taken time. Understand, Lady Pari, that you were not the only one awaiting rebirth in this period. And there have been other concerns. The Wild stirs on the Ruby borders, worse than we’ve seen in a long time. One of their Deathless has been sent between lives, and their High Lord labours under a severe injury.’