by Peter Newman
‘I suppose so.’
‘I said: Are you ready to be magnificent?’
He sighed. ‘Yes, Mother. I am ready, willing and able. Delighted, in fact.’ He offered his hand. ‘Shall we?’
Nobody else was quite as rude as Lord Lakshin Opal but all made it clear he was tolerated rather than welcome in their own ways. Lady Anuja Ruby kept to her rooms, no doubt conserving her energy, and the other Deathless actively avoided him, though he was sure his name was often on their lips.
He constantly worried about his affairs back home. Had High Lord Yadavendra noticed his absence yet? Did his mother need him? What if there was an attack on one of his settlements? Though things had been eerily quiet in the Sapphire lands of late, he couldn’t help but fear that now his back was turned, the creatures of the Wild would stir once more.
But he could not leave the Ruby High Lord’s castle.
To do so would be to confirm the worst suspicions of the other houses. If he was going to win their trust, he had to stay until he had proven himself. He needed to triumph. And so he felt a guilty kind of relief when he was urgently summoned by Lady Anuja.
As before, she sat in the Ruby High Lord’s throne. Now that he knew about her injury, it was easy to see that she still suffered from it. ‘Lord Vasin, please be welcome and attentive. I have news.’
He grasped her wrist, and she his. ‘I stand ready.’
She smiled, though it barely reached her tired eyes. ‘Good. Fourboards is requesting a hunt and I need you to go in my stead.’
‘Fourboards? Again?’
‘Yes.’
‘But it’s only been … this is unbelievable!’ The idea of a third hunt in the same place in less than a year was so absurd it was all he could do not to laugh. ‘It makes no sense. Where will they find more tributes? How will they sustain the losses?’
‘Fourboards has called for aid. It has offered a sacrifice and we must answer, except …’ she gestured at herself, ‘for me to hunt would mean the end of this body. If things were different I might risk it, but my house needs one of its Deathless in the living world, and so I turn to you, Ruby-friend. Will you lead a hunt in my name?’
‘You honour me.’ This was an understatement, and more than he’d dared to hope for – she was giving him a chance to show that, in the right hands, House Sapphire could be trusted again. However, in the current climate, putting him in charge was controversial. The Opal and Peridot Deathless had been here longer, and had hunted around Fourboards before. They would not be happy. That too was an understatement.
‘Is that a yes?’
‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘I’ll leave at once.’
She nodded in relief. ‘Good,’ she said, and then a second time, to herself. ‘That’s good.’
Vasin spoke his thoughts aloud. ‘This is all connected somehow, I’m sure of it. The repeated attacks, the way the demons went after you, even what Quiverhive was up to on the Godroad.’
‘I agree. But I don’t know how or why. This is beyond me, Vasin. I need to bring my mother back now or there won’t be a House Ruby left when she returns.’
He paused to look at her. This was a Ruby matter, and not his place, but he had grave misgivings about a rushed rebirth. Subtlety had never been his strength, and Anuja sighed when she saw the expression on his face.
‘An urgent summons for the Bringers of Endless Order is already on its way.’
‘You know they won’t like this either.’
‘I do, but it is my decision to make and my burden to bear.’
‘Forgive me,’ he said, bowing.
‘Of course. I have neither time nor energy for pettiness. Now go, prepare yourself, and take care with my hunters.’ She lowered her voice. ‘They are brave but their wings are fresh, and their spear-tips clean.’
‘I will look after them as if they were my own.’
She inclined her head, dismissing him. ‘Hunt well and thorough, my friend.’
Sa-at hid in his favourite tree, trying not to think about food. He should have found something hours ago but he’d been too miserable. Now it was dark and he had no choice but to wait until morning.
At least the tree was comfortable, the branches wide and curving, forming perfect resting places for his back and bottom. It hadn’t always been this shape, but it had taken pity on him when he was small, and in return he had fed it, given it gifts, and the two had grown together.
He liked to sleep squished between the branches in a ball, feet propped up, knees tight against his chest. It gave him the sense of being held, the pressure of his own legs reimagined as the pressure of another.
Crowflies had settled on his feet, warming them. Despite the comfort its closeness brought, Sa-at still sniffled from time to time, punctuating the night with comments like:
‘It isn’t fair.’
And:
‘Why are Gatherers so horrible?’
And:
‘I hate them. Stupid Tal. Stupid Rin.’
And:
‘Next time I’ll let the Spiders eat them all.’
The Birdkin regarded him but didn’t answer, the tilt of its head communicating a most profound boredom.
‘Next time I’ll …’ Sa-at trailed off, then sighed. ‘I hope Tal is alright. If I see him again, I’ll tell him how I saved him and—’
Crowflies cawed derisively.
‘—How we saved him and then he’ll be our friend. I wish I could see him again.’
Sa-at sighed and his stomach grumbled.
Crowflies yawned.
Eyes, normal and faceted, closed, and the two slept.
When Sa-at woke again, it was still dark, Crowflies still sat on his feet, and a second Birdkin had arrived. It too had black feathers though its beak was grey rather than white.
‘Hello. I’m Sa-at. Are you a friend of Crowflies?’ It shrieked at him in reply, and he nodded. ‘Thought so. I don’t have any food, but you can shelter here if you want.’
A third Birdkin arrived, pushing through the leaves to stand next to the second one. Then three more came, all of the same stock.
Crowflies got off Sa-at’s feet and hopped onto a nearby branch.
He had the feeling that something was about to happen, there was a sense of familiarity about it, the way the nerves and excitement jangled together in his tummy. A seventh Birdkin settled inches from his head, an eighth, next to Crowflies; who he noticed was standing differently from normal.
There was a uniformity about the Birdkin, and the more of them that arrived, the more alike they became in demeanour. The soft dark of the tree began to change, began to breathe, becoming a thing of its own. And within that feathered dark, a head emerged. Not a human head, but a thing much like it in shape. Its eyes were large, multifaceted orbs, it’s nose a sharp triangle, the other features lost to the shadows. It pressed itself gently upon Sa-at so that their foreheads touched. There was a gentleness in the gesture, quieting but not quite dispelling his fear.
It spoke, and its voice issued soft from the assembled beaks, making the branch hum against his back.
‘So the seed has become a stripling.’
At the sound of its voice, Sa-at remembered:
It is Murderkind.
Its name is Murderkind.
‘Still quick. Good, this is good. I have need of quickness.’
‘I know you. Are you my friend?’
‘A blood-bound friend am I, and a greater friend you’ll never have.’
Sa-at smiled at that, he liked the idea of having a great friend, it made him feel special. ‘Did you come because I was lonely?’
‘I came to grant your wish, and you came to grant mine.’
Sa-at wanted to help but he was no fool. Though he knew Murderkind meant him no harm, knew it deep in his bones, he had grown up in the Wild and had learned not to agree to anything hastily. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘There is a changing of the tides, a shifting of the powers. I wish to know what it mean
s. Many demons flock to the Scuttling Corpseman’s banner, many dance to its tune. This, I know. It is not right. This, I know. How the tune plays out, I know not.’
‘You want me to talk to it?’
‘No. Beware the Corpseman. Its kind were wiped out long before your seed spilled into the world. It should be, not. It should breathe, not. But it does, scuttling between life and not life, beyond my understanding.’
Sa-at felt relief, but also confusion. If it was beyond Murderkind then surely it was beyond him too.
‘You are small, ungoverned by the laws of greater things. You may go where I cannot. Do, what I cannot. Strike, where I cannot. The Corpseman has allies. They will know things, they will tell you.’
‘Why would they listen to me?’
‘Because among these allies are the Red Brothers.’
I know them!
I’ve met them.
Broken memories flashed through his mind. Impressions, incoherent, and feelings. Sweat broke out on his skin and the knuckle of his missing finger began to tingle in an old echo of remembered pain.
I am afraid, he thought.
‘Yes. Be afraid, this is good.’
‘Why?’
‘They owe you, for your flesh, for your suffering. Let the hurt swell inside, and let the debt be all the greater. Go to them, demand retribution, demand their knowledge. Bring their understanding to me.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘If you do this, I will grant your wish for an unbound friend.’
Sa-at bit his lip. ‘What kind of friend?’
‘A sapling, like you. The one you want.’
‘Tal?’
‘Yes.’
‘How do you know him?’
‘I have tasted his ears. He is here, in the Wild, and he is in danger.’
‘Is it bad?’
‘He will not live to see the sunsrise.’
‘Where is he?’
‘He weeps within my sight, close to the Red Brothers. Find one and you will find the other.’
‘Tell me!’
‘You agree, then? A wish for a wish?’
‘Yes. Tell me, please.’
‘Crowflies will show you.’ Murderkind’s head pulled up into the shadows, his last words carried in the fluttering of many wings. ‘Be quick, be sharp, be triumphant.’
Birdkin scattered in all directions, their screeches caught in the leaves and recast on the wind. When they were gone, only Crowflies remained, settled again, its usual self. ‘Sa-aat!’ it said, and hopped from the branch, spreading its wings and taking flight.
Sa-at gave chase without a second thought.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There were rules to living in the Wild. Sa-at knew them, and he abided by them. He looked after the trees and they looked after him. Crowflies looked after him too, and Murderkind claimed to be his friend. He did not know why and he did not question it, things had always been that way.
However, Tal did not know the rules, he had proved that when he and the other Gatherers from Sagan nearly got eaten by the Spiderkin. The trees would not look after Tal, quite the opposite, and he would have no Birdkin on his shoulder to guide him.
Sa-at was painfully aware of this as he ran, chasing Crowflies through the nighttime. No starlight found its way this deep into the forest, and he navigated by touch and sound as much as sight. By day, the Wild was dangerous, by night, it was deadly, but not so for him. The leaves rustled appreciatively of his efforts, and the sound of the Birdkin’s wings came from only one direction, the true one. His feet did not get tangled in the roots nor caught on the hanging vines. When he took a wrong turn, they waved out, brushing roughly, correcting, nudging him onwards.
Soon, just audible beneath the sound of wings, was the sound of crying, human crying. This spurred Sa-at on even more, for he knew that this sound would be like a siren’s call to the demons that lurked just beyond his perception.
The flapping of wings slowed, stopped, and a familiar call sounded close by. He leapt between two trees, ducked under some branches, twisted through a tight space – brambles pulling at his coat of feathers – and then he was clear, standing in a place given faint illumination by the stars, Crowflies perched not far from his head.
Tal was stumbling in the dark less than six feet away, a miserable shadow, lost in all senses.
Sa-at’s throat grew tight again but he forced himself to be brave. He took a deep breath and said: ‘Hello.’
‘Aargh!’ replied Tal. The young man jumped into the air, then turned and ran headfirst into the nearest tree. There was a crack and another cry of pain, and Tal collapsed on the floor.
‘Ssh,’ Sa-at urged. ‘You need to be like a Mousekin.’
Tal sprang up again. This time he backed away slowly, feeling his way. ‘I’m not looking at you. I’m not looking.’
‘You can’t. It’s too dark here.’
‘I won’t be tricked, I won’t look!’
‘Ssh! Don’t shout or they’ll get you.’
‘What about you?’
Sa-at smiled, though the gesture was lost in the dark. ‘I’ve already found you.’
Tal whimpered and continued to edge away.
‘Don’t be scared, Tal, I’m not here to eat you.’
‘How do you know my name?’
‘I saved you from the Spiderkin, remember?’
‘Oh,’ Tal stopped. ‘I remember. Rin said you tried to kill me outside Sagan.’
‘Not kill, save. You were sick. That’s why you fell down. I saved you and took you home. You should have stayed there.’
He had the sense of Tal slumping. ‘They threw me out.’
Sa-at felt bad and good about this at the same time. Tal was upset, and that was bad, but if he had nowhere else to go, he was more likely to need a new friend. ‘Why?’
‘My ears! They’re all different now.’ Crowflies cackle-cawed softly above them as he continued. ‘Rin noticed and there was this big meeting and then they said I had to leave! I begged them, I did. Said I’d do anything, even asked to be the next tribute. It didn’t work.’
I did this, thought Sa-at. It is my fault. But if I hadn’t got Crowflies to help, he’d have died. Him being alive is my fault too. He wanted to say something to Tal, but the words escaped him. Somehow it was much more difficult talking to people than it was to demons or trees.
‘Now I’m dead,’ said Tal.
Sa-at forced the words out before his nerves could stop him. ‘I could help.’
‘What?’
‘I could help you not be dead.’ He reached out and touched the young man’s arm.
‘I knew it!’ said Tal, brushing him off. ‘You’re a demon! I’m not agreeing to anything and I’m not looking at you! Get away from me!’
‘I’m not,’ Sa-at protested but it was no use, Tal was trying to run again. He didn’t get far, tripping over the first thing he went past and crying out as something sharp cut into the thick leather of his gloves.
The scar on Sa-at’s little finger began to itch and he absently scratched at it. He couldn’t think of any way to make things better and Murderkind’s words were sharp in his mind: ‘He will not live to see the sunsrise.’
If only Tal would calm down and listen. Then he could explain and they could start being friends.
‘Oh no,’ said Tal, sounding anything but calm.
Sa-at squinted but couldn’t see that anything had changed.
‘Sa-aat!’ said Crowflies with a note of warning. Then he understood. In the fall, a bramble must have got past the protection on the young man’s hands, grazing them. There would be blood, just a tiny trivial amount, more a smear than a drop. But that was all it took.
A strange hush fell amid the trees, as if the creatures of the Wild had all paused in their dealings to sniff the air and listen. Every leaf swivelled on its branch to point at Tal.
‘Oh no,’ the young man said again. ‘Oh no.’
This time, Sa-at didn’t bother telling him
to be quiet.
‘Oh ho!’ replied a voice. It was much deeper than Tal’s, and rougher, and uglier. The sound of it made his scar itch like fire. In his guts, he knew that this was Crunch, one of the Red Brothers, and where there was one, the other two would not be far behind. Instinctively, he swung up into the tree next to Crowflies just as Crunch lumbered into view.
Tal was taller than Sa-at, and Crunch was much taller again. He was broader too, and in one meaty hand he held a bunch of burning leaves tied to a stick. He wore no clothes, though thick ropes of skin grew from his head, covering everything save for the red skin of his arms and toes. Big ears guided him, for Crunch had no eyes, his face dominated by a vertical mouth, half-open like a pair of sodden curtains. ‘What’s this? What’s this? An unclaimed morsel?’
Eyesore, the second of the brothers, emerged on the other side of Tal. Physically, he was near identical, save that instead of a mouth, he had three eyes. He too carried a burning stick, and Sa-at realized that its purpose was not to guide, but to obscure. As Eyesore waved it behind him, plumes of grey smoke hung in the air, masking the odour of human blood.
‘Is it plump?’ asked Crunch.
Several clicks and pops could be heard as Eyesore worked his knuckles. Sa-at could only assume that he was communicating assent as Crunch’s mouth began to water.
‘Is it ripe?’
The third brother, Pits, came out behind Tal. Unlike them, he did not carry a torch. His hands unerringly found their way to Tal’s shoulders, lifting the young man off the ground as if he were a babe. There were no features at all on Pits’ face, just a single hole, a nostril, that he pressed against Tal’s forehead.
For a horrible moment, Sa-at thought that Pits was going to inhale the gibbering young man’s head completely, but then he dropped Tal between them and clicked his own knuckles.
‘Good, good,’ said Crunch, patting his belly. ‘I was wasting away, so I was.’
If he did not do something quickly, Tal would be eaten, and Sa-at couldn’t bear that. An idea, half grown, began to form. Murderkind had said that the Red Brothers owed him. Perhaps he could use that favour to free his friend? But, if he used his only currency on Tal, he would not be able to find out what the Scuttling Corpseman was planning, and he would not be able to grant Murderkind’s wish. Murderkind was his friend too, and he’d made it a promise.