by Peter Newman
Pari sat crouched by the opposite door. She had changed out of her regalia and into clothes more fit for travel. Truth be told, she didn’t entirely approve of the plan. It seemed too likely to result in pain, hers, which was by far her least favourite.
‘No,’ said Arkav, sounding impatient. ‘Look lower, just on the edge of the sunslight, it’s there, keeping pace with us. Do you see it?’
As the servants tried to assess the threat, Pari opened the door, marvelling at how much faster they seemed to be going than before. No doubt another side effect of this ‘brilliant’ plan.
She didn’t think too hard about what she was going to do. This wasn’t the first time she’d thrown herself into the air without wings, and it certainly wasn’t the worst. A memory of being ejected from Lord Rochant’s castle came to her, of a great expanse of nothing between her and the cracked earth, and then another, of unknown depths into the chasm itself. In comparison the few feet between her and the ground seemed laughable.
However, Pari wasn’t laughing.
With a last look to her brother, she kicked out, sailing wingless through the air, clearing the Godroad and angling towards the dead stalks that lined its edge. Though contact with the Godroad was sure to kill anything of the Wild, the senseless hunger of the forest drove it towards the crystal again and again. Each time the vegetation would burn, the tips turning to ash on contact, the trunks and stems reduced to dry husks that formed a yellow-brown band between the road and the forest.
With a soft crumping sound, Pari hit the bed of dead plants, rolling with the momentum several times to come up standing by the nearest tree. She kept close to it, taking advantage of the cover as she dusted herself down. Neither carriage was slowing, suggesting that her absence had gone unnoticed.
She waited until they were out of sight and then made her way along the edge of the tree line, trying to find the sweet spot that would keep her obscured from passing travellers on the Godroad, yet still be close enough to minimize the chances of meeting any of the Wild’s denizens.
While the suns blazed above her, Pari felt safe. Sometimes the ear-shaped leaves would tilt in her direction, but only for a moment, her presence not enough to wake the forest from its slumber. The smaller inhabitants gave her a wide berth, and aside from the occasional Birdkin, shouting at her from the highest branches, she felt alone.
It took her a while to find the path – the trees had shifted many times since she was last here – but when she did, she was pleased to find it had been used recently. A short walk later and Pari came within sight of a familiar wagon. Time and travel had caressed it a little too eagerly, making it as rough and battered as its driver. The wheels had been repaired more than once, and the roof was mostly patches and thread, but it still looked robust, and Pari found herself smiling at the sight of it.
As a Deathless, she took profound comfort in the familiar, each thing from her last lifecycle that endured was like an anchor, linking her to the present. A large Dogkin lazed in front of the wagon, a fat teardrop of white fur, five legs and just the one tail. Her name was Glider, and she looked up as Pari approached, barking in recognition.
Pari stopped when she saw the Dogkin’s face. The last time she had seen the animal, it was injured, and had struggled to do its duty. Only Varg’s insistence had kept her from killing it. Old puncture scars were visible on Glider’s face, one on the left side of her jaw, the other directly above, on the temple, running down towards her left eye.
To her surprise she saw that Glider’s human eye was open, glaring every bit as effectively as her canine one.
‘It’s only me, you stupid animal.’
Varg’s shaggy head appeared at the front of the wagon. The first streaks of grey had appeared in his beard, which was trimmed shorter than she remembered it. Perhaps that was why he looked a little slimmer, a little sadder, but he seemed otherwise unchanged. He stared at her for a few moments, bushy brows coming together in a monstrous frown.
‘Oh’, she muttered, ‘not you as well.’
His lips moved and she noted they were not forming the shape of her name. He wants to say ‘Priti’, the vessel who lived in this body before me.
‘Pari?’ He eventually asked.
‘Who else would it be?’
He gave her a nod and then jumped down, resting one hand on Glider’s flank. ‘You look … uh …’
‘Thank you, my dear. I see you haven’t lost any of your usual eloquence.’
‘Shit. Sorry. It’s just you look like her until you talk. I didn’t think …’
‘Didn’t think what?’
‘That it would be this hard.’ He stared at her, then realized he was staring, then looked away. ‘She’s really gone, hasn’t she?’
Pari pursed her lips. ‘Yes.’
‘Right. I knew she had. It’s just seeing you now makes it real, you know?’
‘Can we talk about this on the move? I have places to go and people to see, and I need to rendezvous with my carriages before they reach Lord Rochant’s castle.’
‘Where are we off to? Ami didn’t tell me much beyond passing on your message to come here.’
‘Sorn. And I’d add that we’re running late.’
Varg took the hint and started to attach Glider’s harness, but when Pari went to climb onto the wagon, the Dogkin started to growl.
‘Calm down,’ snapped Pari, but Glider’s growl only deepened. ‘Varg, will you tell her that it’s me.’
‘I think she knows,’ muttered Varg under his breath. ‘That’s the problem.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing. Come on Glider, calm it down, there’s a good girl.’ The growling continued and Varg took a deep breath. ‘Shut it, I said!’
Glider’s growl settled into a grumble.
‘Honestly,’ said Pari as she settled into the back of the wagon, ‘I don’t know why you put up with her. We could get another Dogkin.’
‘Not like her we couldn’t. She saved my life, and not just mine either.’ Varg’s face took on a faraway expression, causing Pari to roll her eyes.
‘I wondered how long it would be before you started mooning over her again.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘I think the words you’re searching for are “fuck off, my lady.”’
‘Fuck off.’
‘You’re still determined to go back to little—’
‘Don’t say her—’
‘—Chandni then?’
Glider threw back her head and howled.
‘What is it now?’
‘You said her name. Glider always does this when she hears her name. She misses Chand same as I do.’
Pari held up her hands. ‘Unbelievable. Can we go now?’
They both shouted at Glider until she settled, and then they set off, following paths that wove roughly parallel to the Godroad. Though few were brave or foolish enough to use the other paths, there were always some who preferred to travel unnoticed, enough that the way was mostly clear and easy to follow.
‘I trust,’ said Pari, ‘that Lord Taraka didn’t suspect you when you were in his lands?’
‘Nah.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘He wasn’t even there most of the time, and when he was, I kept out of the way.’
‘Let us hope that was enough.’
‘Mhn. So, once we get this business with Sorn over with, I’m coming with you to the castle?’
‘Yes, what of it?’
‘Then you’re going to get me a place there. Like you promised.’
‘Yes, Varg. Then I’m going to negotiate you a place there …’ She paused for effect. ‘On one condition.’
‘I thought training Priti for you was the condition!’
She waved away his protest. ‘It was, but you must also stop calling the Honoured Mother “Chand”, at least in my presence.’
A blush began to spread beneath his beard. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Honestly? It make
s her sound like some common object to be haggled over at a market stall. For example: I’ll take three bottles of honeywine and a bag of chand. You see?’
‘Piss off.’
She chuckled. ‘I’ll take that as a yes. Now, let’s hurry, I want to be in and out of Sorn long before the suns go down.’
Chandni stepped out of the Chrysalis Chamber into the courtyard, steeling herself against the sudden drop in temperature. Yadavendra’s hunters seemed more relaxed now that their High Lord was elsewhere, but no less dangerous.
‘Where is the Honoured Vessel?’ asked one, a man she had seen before but never been introduced to. He looked strong but in a way that intimidated rather than reassured. His hair was long, braided, and thrice-clipped to his back to prevent it moving during flight.
‘He is with our Gardener-smith, having his armour removed.’
‘And where are you going?’
Such impertinence! She narrowed her eyes just a fraction, to indicate displeasure without making a scene. ‘I am going to ensure that the Honoured Vessel is able to join our High Lord in suitable attire as swiftly as possible.’
‘Alright,’ said the hunter, gesturing for her to continue.
Chandni’s teeth ground with the force of her smile. ‘I will be back presently.’
How dare he! She thought, sweeping past them and across the courtyard. She did not need his permission and she certainly did not need his approval!
However the truth was more complicated. Chandni ran the castle and spoke for Lord Rochant in his absence. This meant that she was host and they were guests who should defer to her. However she was not Deathless, and the hunters served Yadavendra, who stood above all, including Lord Rochant. While acting under his authority, the hunters would feel free to speak and do as they pleased.
As they have just demonstrated, most likely for my benefit.
She did not think about what would happen if the hunters decided to enter the Chrysalis Chamber. Nor did she think about what would happen if Pik lost his nerve, or her Gardener-smith. These things were beyond her control. Instead she concentrated on maintaining a mask of calm and moving as fast as she could without appearing to hurry.
Somehow she would have to get Satyendra from his room and into the Chrysalis Chamber without Yadavendra’s hunters or anyone else recognizing him. And she would have to do it quickly.
So while she imagined everything going wrong and the sense of dread rose and rose within her like a tide, she nodded to those she passed as she would on any other day.
It is fine. Everything is fine. Convince yourself and they will believe it too.
The familiar distance to the bedrooms seemed to have doubled, and were it not for the guards at the end of the corridor, she would have burst through Satyendra’s door, rather than pausing to sing for entry.
He didn’t immediately reply and it enraged her. On top of everything else I have to endure his petty protests! Very aware that the guards were watching her, she gave them a polite smile and they saluted.
It is fine. Everything is fine.
From where they were standing it was possible for someone in the room to reply and the noise not to reach them, so she nodded, as if she had heard Satyendra give her permission to enter, and strode inside.
The room appeared empty at first glance. Of course it did! Satyendra was still hiding in the wardrobe. He wouldn’t come out until he’d heard the knock. They’d agreed long ago that unless he heard the knock he should assume it unsafe.
He’s only doing what I told him to. She felt bad about her earlier frustration. No wonder the guards were looking at her strangely, to them it would appear as if she was asking for permission to enter from an empty room!
It is fine. She thought as she moved over to the frosted glass. Everything is still fine.
She gave the knock, a rapid succession of beats with very brief pauses, three, two, three, five. Considering what a hateful thing it was part of, she’d been surprised how much she’d enjoyed setting it up. There was a pleasure in taking on a challenge, and Satyendra had worked with her, one of the rare times when they’d both pulled in the same direction.
He didn’t come out straight away, so she gave the knock again, sharper, her barely repressed anxiety coming out in the notes her knuckles made on the glass.
When there was no response a second time she pulled open the door and it was all she could do not to scream.
Satyendra was not there.
Do something, Chandni! She urged herself, and yet she remained rooted to the spot, repressing the uncharacteristic urge to break something.
If she could work out where Satyendra was, she might have a chance. She knew his favourite haunts, and his secret ones. Even the courtyard he went to when he thought she was distracted. But if he’d left the room, surely the guards would have seen and recognized him?
I’m doomed. My Satyendra is doomed. We are all going to die a horrible and painful death. There will be a trial that will last for ever as they strip the flesh from our bones and the dignity from our souls, and then we will be cast into the Wild.
No. Everything is fine. It is fine. I have to make a plan. Stay with the plan and it will all work out.
After selecting and folding a few of Satyendra’s best clothes, she left the room, making her way swiftly – but calmly! – back towards the Chrysalis Chamber. Without the armour, Pik would be discovered as a fake within moments, provided the person looking knew him. Yadavendra did, but as far as she knew his hunters did not, and from what she had seen, they were hardly conversationalists.
She would get them to escort Pik back to Satyendra’s room and then she would make up an excuse, say that he was feeling too ill to eat. She could even use Pik’s instability on the Sky-legs to her advantage; claim it as the first signs of sickness.
Then, she would have time to scour the castle, find her son, vent her anger, and prepare him for the High Lord. It was a good plan. She could already feel the tension starting to ease.
As she reached the courtyard however, she heard jeering.
The hunters had not moved from their position, though they watched the other inhabitants of the castle openly, aggressively, staking their claim to the courtyard. The poor souls that had to pass them did so at a scurry. Unfortunately the apprentices had no choice but to practise in the courtyard, and it seemed Yadavendra’s hunters were not impressed by what they saw.
Alongside the need to carry out her plan, Chandni felt an urge to put the hunters in their place. Until Lord Rochant’s return, the people here were under her protection, whether that threat came from within or without.
They made way for her as she approached, but only just. The space between them was slight, forcing her to duck if she wished to pass beneath their crystal wings.
Instead of going through she came to a stop in front of them. ‘I don’t know your names,’ she said.
The one who she had spoken to her before smirked at his fellows before replying. ‘I’m Zax, leader of the High Lord’s hunters.’
‘You misunderstand, I was not asking for your name, hunter. I was making a statement.’
His smirk disappeared and he inhaled deeply, making his chest expand. ‘I don’t follow.’
‘I’m saying that if you were worthy of introduction, the High Lord would have made one. He did not. He simply said that you were here to help protect my son. To help me. Do you understand? You are here to help me.’
Zax understood now. He nodded but she saw his fingers tighten on his spear. Clearly the man had poor self control. Though that saddened her, it also hardened her resolve.
‘So there is no misunderstanding, I will make myself crystal clear: you will do what I say, when I say it, and nothing more. If you shame yourselves in my house again, I will pass that shame to the High Lord. Do you understand?’
They all straightened at that, speaking in unison: ‘Yes, Honoured Mother Chandni.’
She noted that the gap between them had suddenly got wider and
passed through it, head held high. She also noted that they all knew who she was, which proved her point rather nicely.
The Gardener-smith had been busy while she’d been away. Each sapphire piece of armour had been lovingly removed, polished and returned to its stand, leaving a diminished Pik shivering in a corner, despite the heat. Though he was wearing Satyendra’s clothes, he had never looked less like her son.
‘Put the cloak on,’ said Chandni.
‘But it’s so hot in here, Honoured Mother.’
She didn’t bother answering that, glaring at Pik until he’d put on the cloak, and then pulling the hood as far forward as she could. ‘Are you ready to go?’
Pik shook his head. ‘I can’t. The hunters are out there!’
‘Yes. They’re going to escort us back to Satyendra’s room.’
‘But they’ll see me, they’ll know I’m not him.’
‘Not if you keep your head down and your mouth shut.’
‘But they’ll know!’ repeated Pik, the last word stretching out into a whine.
Before she could reply, a familiar voice came from behind her, making all three of them jump. ‘For once, I’m afraid I have to agree with Pik.’
She span round to find Satyendra standing there in a servant’s cloak, a sly smile on his face. For a moment she couldn’t decide whether to hug him or hit him. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Isn’t it obvious, Mother? I’m saving us.’ He began to shrug out of his clothes and she got Pik to do the same, facilitating the swap.
‘That was brave of you,’ she said, ‘but foolish. The hunters must have seen you. How are we going to explain that?’
‘The hunters see what they want to see,’ scoffed Satyendra, ‘a servant, nothing more. Besides, they were too busy recovering from the dressing-down you gave them.’
‘You saw that?’
‘I did,’ his smile broadened, flashing in the bright light of the chamber, ‘and I loved it. I think one of them was trying not to cry.’
‘It was my duty. I took no pleasure in it.’ He raised his eyebrows and she couldn’t help but smile. ‘Well, perhaps just a little.’
‘You were magnificent,’ he said.
‘Thank you. Now, the High Lord is waiting. Are you ready to be magnificent?’