by Peter Newman
It felt wrong to stay and watch, and so Chandni retreated to the entrance of the chamber. She hadn’t been there long when a young guard arrived at speed. It was a few moments before he could speak but she already knew what he was going to say by the manner of his arrival and the strained look in his eyes.
‘Honoured Mother, High Lord Yadavendra is here. He wants to see you and Lord Rochant’s Honoured Vessel immediately.’
‘Tell him we are just having a fitting and will be with him shortly.’ She gave a moment of silent appreciation to Roh. ‘Tell him we have food prepared and will send it to him while he waits.’
‘Forgive me, Honoured Mother. The High Lord is aware of the fitting. When I say he is here, I mean he is following right behind. The captain knows how much you hate surprises so he sent me ahead.’
Her heart began to thud heavily in her chest. ‘Give the captain my thanks. Now guard this door and don’t let anyone in until we’re ready, not even the High Lord, do you understand?
‘Honoured Mother?’
‘Do as I say!’ she snapped, and rushed back into the chamber.
When his mother had left, Satyendra counted to a hundred in his mind, making sure to pause between each number. One of the many annoying things about being an Honoured Vessel was that it was hard to go anywhere without being noticed. And nobody could know what he was about to do.
He pushed himself off from the back of the wardrobe and listened through the door. There were no sounds and no shadows visible through the frosted glass. He opened it a crack and listened again before stepping out.
From under the bed he pulled out a simple grey cloak with blue trim and some trousers. The cloak he’d stolen from Pik on a previous visit, and the trousers he’d traded for with one of the apprentice hunters. He changed quickly, pulling the hood as far forward as it would go, then practised walking up and down a few times. He allowed his head to dip a little and modified his stride to make it slower, mimicking the way he’d seen Pik move.
If those idiots in the castle were willing to believe that Pik was him, then it would be easy to reverse the illusion. There were risks, certainly, but Satyendra rarely got to roam about the castle freely.
The guards outside looked surprised when he emerged from the room. ‘Finished already?’
He didn’t reply immediately, not wanting to appear too clever. When he did, his voice sounded almost identical to Pik’s usual whine. ‘No, forgot my sponge.’
They laughed at that. ‘Better hurry then. When the Honoured Mother gets back, she’ll expect everything to be spotless.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, and turned away.
Once out of their sight, he made his way quickly towards the lower-mid level of the castle, where the apprentice hunters slept. By now all of the apprentices would be training, leaving the rooms free for him to explore. Each one contained four bunks and a single gemlight. Sacks were slung from each end of the bunk, containing their possessions. Satyendra moved between them, searching for things he might need.
If the High Lord can’t be put off, this could be my last chance.
A knife took his fancy. The handle was carved from wood, highly polished, with settings for gemstones. Even unfinished, it would be desired in the markets.
He already had a knife stashed away, but it was a blunt one stolen from the kitchens. This one was much nicer. He tucked it away and continued to rummage, taking anything that might help him effect an escape, along with anything he liked the look of. He was far greedier than normal, and more reckless.
They’ll never suspect me as the thief, and even if I’m caught what can they do? I’m too important to exile or hurt.
With his treasures hidden within his cloak, he made his way towards one of the quieter areas of the castle, a little courtyard that had once been used by Samarku Un-Sapphire to cultivate a rare type of flower called Dawn’s Blush. Since Lord Rochant’s arrival it had been abandoned and left to grow wild.
Why the courtyard hadn’t been maintained or repurposed was not spoken about, but Satyendra liked to think it was an act of pure pettiness. A little shoot of spite in Lord Rochant’s otherwise perfect record.
Whatever the reason, the resulting neglect had led to the creation of Satyendra’s favourite hiding place. Nobody else went there, and it was easy to slip within the net of tanglevine and become anonymous. Years ago, when he had faced up to the idea that the rebirth ceremony could not be put off forever, he had begun preparing for the day he might have to flee the castle. This meant gathering supplies: clothes, food, tools, all the things he’d need to survive alone on the road.
The problem was he’d no idea what those things were. Apart from his adventures in the Wild as a baby, he’d never left Lord Rochant’s floating castle.
His mother was coy about that time, but he’d gleaned that road-born who ventured outside of their villages had to wear special clothes, and that they covered their feet, face and hands at all times. When he had exhausted his patience with her, he’d turned to Story-singer Ban, asking about hunts and travel, and then attacking the old man with questions. However, this proved frustrating, as the Deathless were not troubled by simple issues like needing to eat or sleep outside, and if they were, the practical details were dropped in favour of a ‘higher truth’.
Armed with some meagre facts and his imagination, Satyendra had set about gathering what he thought would be needed. Over time, he strategically started to lose things: tops, trousers, even boots, until he had an impressive stash tucked away.
He carefully opened up his hiding place, adding the knife and the other new acquisitions before covering it all up again and slipping back towards his room.
When he arrived the guards seemed relieved to see him, as if they were expecting someone else, someone worse, and there was a strange vibe in the air as he travelled, a tension that made his mouth water.
Yadavendra is here, and he was both cheered and appalled at the thought. It was easier to feed that other part of himself when the High Lord was around which also meant it was harder to resist. He’d told himself in the courtyard when he’d dislocated Chunk’s knee – the pop still resonated deliciously in his mind – that it would be the last time. He tried to remember that he could also enjoy other things, like his mother’s praise. He resolved to resist. To stay focused on the matter at hand: to cancel the rebirth ceremony or escape the castle.
But on the way back to his chambers, when the plan played out in his mind, he could not banish other thoughts – of using his influence to make others suffer – nor deny how they made his stomach grow warm.
The Gardener-smith carefully attached the plate to Pik’s chest.
Chandni looked back to the entrance of the Chrysalis Chamber. She couldn’t hear Yadavendra yet, but she could feel him getting closer. If he arrived before Pik’s disguise was complete, all of her planning would be for nought. ‘Get the next piece on, quickly now.’
‘The crystal needs to be woken first, then I’ll prepare the next piece.’
‘Put it on, now, or I’ll do it myself.’
The Gardener-smith shook her head, muttering darkly, but she complied. ‘It isn’t the way it’s done. No, we always place the pieces right, then wake them. That’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s how it’s always been.’
‘I don’t want to do this,’ said Pik.
Chandni leaned in close to the trembling boy. ‘Listen to me: High Lord Yadavendra just wishes to see the armour. All you have to do is stand there. Bow when he enters, bow when he leaves. You can do that, can’t you?’
‘I don’t want to lie to the High Lord.’
‘You’d bow to him whether you were in the armour or not, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you’re not lying, you’re being respectful.’
‘What if he talks to me?’
The contents of Chandni’s breakfast bubbled uncomfortably in her stomach. If Yadavendra talked to Pik they were finished. ‘I will occupy the High Lor
d. If he asks you something directly, nod or shake your head, and if you absolutely have to say something, keep your answers short.’
Pik’s head began to shake in time with the Gardener-smith’s. ‘I can’t.’
‘You can and you will, because if you don’t, the three of us will be sent into the Wild. Do you know what happens to boys like you in the Wild?’
Did he know? She knew. A sudden memory of her fight with the Whispercage came into her mind. It had taken her baby from her. She corrected herself. Tried to take him … there had been a moment when the Whispercage had lifted Satyendra from her lap but she had stopped it. The thought of what that monster would have done if she’d failed was too much to bear.
The sound of many boots could be heard outside the chamber, making all three of them jump. ‘Get the helmet on!’ urged Chandni.
‘But the helmet is always last,’ replied the Gardener-smith, stubbornly trying to cling to some scrap of tradition. ‘I haven’t done the gauntlets or the wings yet.’
‘Just get it on for—’ a curse sat on the tip of her tongue. Not a mild one like ‘suns’ either, the kind of salty phrase that she’d reprimanded Varg for many times. The kind she never, ever used. ‘Just get it on,’ she repeated, and hurried over to the entrance and down into the main courtyard.
Yadavendra, High Lord of the Sapphire, could be seen striding across it. Both he and his hunters were still garbed for flight, their wings flashing in the sunslight. Sky-legs empowered each step, giving them a gliding, bounding gait. There was something both magnificent and terrible about the sight. As ever, Yadavendra was dressed in his armour. Most Deathless would have theirs removed upon arrival but he did not. In fact, she struggled to recall the last time she had seen him without it.
Compared to Chandni he was a towering giant, sharp edged, and glinting. In his hand was a golden staff, tipped with a sapphire blade, that swept dangerously back and forth as he approached.
The lone guard that she’d asked to hold the entrance had already stepped aside. Chandni made a mental note that he was not fit for promotion and bowed low, placing herself directly in Yadavendra’s path, like a pebble before a tidal wave.
He didn’t stop until he was virtually on top of her, his armoured bulk blocking out the suns. His hunters settled in a semi-circle behind, more like soldiers before a battle than guests in friendly territory.
‘Hail to you, Yadavendra, greatest of all the Sapphire,’ she said. ‘In Lord Rochant’s name, I welcome you to his home and thank you for honouring us with your presence.’
‘Honoured Mother Chandni,’ he replied. ‘It pleases me to see you. I hear only good things. These lands endure, this castle thrives. You do Lord Rochant credit. When he returns, I will tell him so.’
‘Thank you, High Lord.’ She looked up at him. ‘Were the currents in your favour?’
‘They were.’
‘Do you or your hunters require refreshments after your long journey? My cooks would be delighted to provide for you.’
‘In good time, yes.’ He gestured with his staff for her to move and she had no choice but to comply. In her mind she pictured the Gardener-smith shuffling about, no doubt doing everything in its proper order. What have I become that I am angry at a fellow Sapphire for doing things in the right way? She doubted Pik’s helmet had been attached. I need to keep Yadavendra talking.
‘How may I serve?’ she asked as she stepped to one side.
‘I wish to see young Satyendra. He’s inside, yes?’
‘Yes, and I know that he’s very excited to be able to see you again.’
The smile inside Yadavendra’s helmet was genuine as he strode past her. ‘Good.’
There was little to do but follow in his wake and hope for the best. She didn’t like the idea of leaving the hunters in the courtyard, armed and unattended. There was a restlessness about them that made her nervous. Perhaps it was simply that she didn’t know them the way she knew Lord Rochant’s hunters. Or perhaps it was that they were an armed force within her walls that she could not control.
They stepped inside, the sudden heat taking her breath away. The Gardener-smith had fled to the corner of the room, and Pik was caught mid-turn as he’d gone to follow her. In his armour, he looked like Yadavendra in miniature, save that Rochant’s shoulder plates and bracers were shaped differently. They were less elaborate than the other Sapphire Deathless. Some believed it was to show he was unlike them, coming from a different bloodline, but Chandni believed the armour reflected the man: elegant, minimalist, direct.
She gave silent thanks when she saw Pik was wearing his helmet.
‘Satyendra,’ said Yadavendra, ‘Come here where I can see you.’
Pik complied. The boy was not used to walking in Sky-legs and wobbled slightly as he approached.
The High Lord tutted and glanced at her. ‘Rochant is always steady.’
‘I’m sure it is just his excitement getting the better of him. You know how much he adores you.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘we cannot hold a boy’s love against him. Indeed, it shows he is ready, a true match for Lord Rochant’s devoted soul. Now, Satyendra, do as I do.’
He stretched out his arms, luxuriating in the magnified sunslight. As the sapphire plates on his body drank in the energy they began to shine.
Pik hesitated until Chandni glared at him. Then, the boy complied, lifting his arms. As the crystals on his armour began to glow, the places where the armour was unfinished were highlighted, becoming patches of black.
Yadavendra tutted again. ‘Your Gardener-smiths have some work to do, Honoured Mother. Are you sure they’re up to the task?’
‘I admit their progress has been slow but with so much riding on this rebirth they’re being especially conscientious.’
‘Understandable,’ he mused. ‘But not acceptable. Perhaps we should have them replaced.’
Though the Gardener-smith’s head was bowed, Chandni could still see her imploring look. ‘Please, High Lord, I am sure that they will redouble their efforts.’
‘They’d better. I expect the armour to be joined and alive by the time the Bringers arrive.’
‘It will be, I promise.’
He nodded, appeased. ‘I will take that lunch you offered me, Honoured Mother. Satyendra can dine with me, so that I might better assess his readiness.’
Pik’s squeak of terror was just audible over her reply. ‘My guard will escort you to your chamber and I will have Satyendra changed, prepared and sent after.’
Yadavendra paused. For a moment, she was worried he would deem the idea of needing to change unnecessary. After all, he seemed to live in his armour. ‘As you wish, but your guard can stay where he is. I know this castle far better than he ever will. Which reminds me, with the rebirth so close, we must take extra care to protect Satyendra. As such, my hunters will provide an escort for him.’ He turned to Pik and waggled his finger in what was presumably supposed to be a friendly manner, but came across to Chandni as terrifying. ‘So don’t tarry, Honoured Vessel, they will be as keen to eat as I am.’
And with that, Yadavendra left the chamber, allowing Chandni to worry about new things, like how to switch Pik for Satyendra without the hunters noticing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As Arkav slept and the carriages rumbled along the Godroad, Pari considered the best way to achieve her secret meeting.
The problem with secrets, thought Pari, is that they have a way of getting out.
Overhead, the suns spun brightly while the forest rushed by on either side, a vibrant blur of green, brown and yellow. Their carriages were making good time, the earlier encounter at the tower almost forgotten now it was behind them. Almost. It seemed that once the Sapphire border had been breached, it was easy to travel their lands unmolested. While they had got a few odd looks from the road-born, most treated them with courtesy, their lives and manners untouched by the strangeness going on above.
In fact, the fleeting glances she had seen of Sapph
ire settlements suggested a prosperous people. Though the Wild remained a constant threat, the worst of its ire was directed elsewhere, at Ruby and Spinel. No doubt the Sapphire High Lord would put it down to his inspiring leadership. Pari, meanwhile, suspected something more sinister.
Soon, she would need to make a detour, which was problematic as she didn’t want anyone else to know her movements. Arkav wouldn’t betray her and their servants would be discreet, that went without saying, but if the Sapphire turned against them, no amount of discretion was proof against torture.
Better that they do not know.
‘What is it?’ asked Arkav, his eyes still closed, his head resting against the cushioned wall of the carriage.
‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘I was. Your worrying woke me up.’
She wondered what he was referring to. Do I grind my teeth? Mutter to myself? Or does he just feel it, the way I do? The way he used to. ‘I need to get out.’
Without moving his head, he gestured to the door. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’
‘I wouldn’t, believe me.’ He chuckled sleepily and she realized how much she’d missed the sound. ‘I need to get out without being seen.’
‘And you want me to make a distraction?’
‘Yes.’ He sighed, and it was Pari’s turn to chuckle. ‘But you’re so good at it, at people, I mean. You always have been.’
‘Used to be.’
‘No,’ she replied warmly, firmly, and rested her hand on his. ‘Are. You just need to remember. Treat this as a warm up before we have to deal with the Sapphire.
He opened his eyes so that he could give her a disbelieving look. ‘So you’re doing me a favour?’
‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You are most welcome, dear brother. Now, tell me what you have in mind.’
He closed his eyes again. ‘Something brilliant.’
‘There it is again,’ called Arkav to the servants, as he leant out of the carriage window. ‘A Whispercage, I’m sure of it.’