by Peter Newman
‘What does the silver mark tell you?’ said one of the Bringers.
He’d never heard of a silver tattoo on any Deathless before. This is something private, it must be. But is it marking Rochant’s mistake or a prized secret? Satyendra cleared his throat. ‘It tells me that some stories are best not shared.’
‘And what should High Lord Yadavendra fear, if Lord Rochant has returned?’
‘There are many things a High Lord should fear. Betrayal, failure, the price of a bad decision. But he no longer need fear being alone.’
‘A bad decision?’ said one.
‘A bad decision,’ echoed the others.
‘Tell us,’ said the first, ‘of a bad decision the High Lord has made.’
There was a slight change in the air, any sense that the Bringers were more relaxed had vanished. Their green eyes fixed on him like a circle of scavengers waiting for an animal to finish dying.
Though nobody spoke of it openly, the destruction of Nidra Un-Sapphire’s Godpiece was considered a mistake. Indeed, he knew from bits of overheard gossip that beyond House Sapphire, it was seen very poorly indeed. He also knew that Yadavendra living inside his crystal armour went against tradition and was viewed as a sign of instability, but to criticize either of these things felt too dangerous somehow.
‘His only mistake has been to be too generous. Threats to our way of life come from more than just the demons in the Wild. He needs to be harder on those above, be they servant, soldier, Cutter-crafter, yes, even Deathless. Two betrayals cannot be allowed to become three.’
Even as he spoke, he felt his words falling flat. The Bringers are not pleased. One of them looked past him, at someone outside the circle, and then nodded slowly, though Satyendra thought that this gesture also communicated displeasure.
‘Lord Rochant Sapphire is welcome.’
‘Welcome,’ agreed the others, stepping forward and undoing the straps.
As the Bringers filed out, someone began to clap. It sounded like two glasses being rung together repeatedly, immediately setting his teeth on edge.
‘Well said, my friend.’ Yadavendra’s voice came from the far side of the chamber. ‘Well said.’
Now that the immediate threat of death had passed, he became even more aware of how cold he was. He started to sit up. ‘High Lord—’
‘No,’ Yadavendra cut him off, crossing the space between them in three great strides. In the dark his armour glowed like a star in the night sky, his Sky-legs turning him into a giant. Satyendra hissed as a gauntleted hand pushed him back onto the slab. ‘You must rest, my friend. There will be a great feast tonight, to celebrate your return. And then, we must talk, you and I.’
Yadavendra seemed jubilant, but there was a brittleness there too, a need in his bloodshot eyes.
‘Yes,’ agreed Satyendra, thinking about his mother, and Nose, and all of the little grudges he’d nurtured over the years. ‘There is a lot to do.’
With so many Deathless in attendance, Chandni would normally be rushed off her feet seeing to their needs. However, today was the day of the rebirth ceremony, and tradition dictated that an Honoured Mother be spared any other duties so she could make peace with the vessel’s soul leaving the world. This put Chandni in an impossible position. On the one hand, she loved tradition. It gave a sense of stability and connection to something larger than oneself. On the other, she hated the thought of relinquishing control. Her staff were well trained, but she knew their foibles better than anyone, how best to motivate them. In short, this was a very important time for House Sapphire, and it galled her to have to sit back and be idle when there was so much that needed doing.
By tradition, she was supposed to take this time to reflect. The minutes stretched before her, the sound of her water clock tapping out the minutes drip after drip, while a stranger stared back at her from the mirror. Why aren’t you crying? Why don’t you feel anything?
With Satyendra gone, her own time of judgement was coming. While he was alive, her crimes had to be hidden for the good of the house, but from today there would be no more excuses to hide behind. It was time to confess. She had been touched by the Wild, tainted, and soon everyone would know.
Deep down, there were feelings, a great flood of them that she neither understood nor wanted to experience. Being alone is torture! Without distraction I am left with my thoughts. I am tired of them. They only bring misery and are of no practical use.
It was time to do something. Though she would not be so crass as to get involved with proceedings, she could at least go for a walk around the castle to reassure herself that things were in hand. And then, she reasoned, should someone wish to quietly ask my advice, I could give it in a non-official capacity.
She got up and immediately felt better. Checking that the feather was still hidden within the rest of her hair was automatic now, the shame reduced to a dull twinge, mostly forgotten, mostly bearable. Satisfied, she left her chambers, being careful not to seem too purposeful. I’m just going for a walk to help clear my head. A mourning mother hoping to see a friendly face.
The staff that she passed inclined their heads to her. Some showed respect for her sacrifice, a few showed happiness for her great honour, but most of them didn’t know what to show, and just seemed awkward.
Perhaps the tradition isn’t for me at all. It’s for everyone else.
She began to suspect that she shouldn’t have come out. It was selfish, and the castle seemed to be running perfectly well without her.
Soon, the Bringers of Endless Order would emerge from the Rebirthing Chamber and she would know one way or another if it had succeeded. Yadavendra seemed confident because on the surface Satyendra was an excellent match for Lord Rochant. Only she knew about his allergy to the very crystals that gave the Deathless their power. Only she knew about his other face.
A barking drew her from her reverie. At some point she had wandered into the main courtyard, which was full of strangers and their tents. The various entourages of the visiting Deathless, and those that had come from the settlements to welcome their returned lord, too many to accommodate within the castle itself. Old friends were catching up, gossip and goods were being exchanged, and the air was full with happy noise.
There were many Dogkin tethered here, and their barking was to be expected, but something about this one Dogkin made her stop in her tracks. It sounded excited. It sounded familiar.
‘Glider?’
A joyous howl answered her and she rushed towards it, pushing her way through the crowds. Though her status should have got them to part at her approach, her size counted against her, most of the adults not even noticing someone was there until she had gone past.
She was almost to the outer gate when she finally slipped free of them and walked straight into a wall of white fur. Chandni let herself sink into its softness and wrapped her arms as far around the Dogkin’s body as she could. Glider’s great head came to rest on her chin.
‘I’ve missed you,’ she said, and was rewarded with a nuzzle. ‘I’ve been worrying ever since we parted ways. You were in such a state! Now, let me look at you.’
Glider sat back and Chandni scrutinized her. If anything, the Dogkin was even bigger than she remembered. A bite scar under her chin, with a matching one above Glider’s left eye. The eye itself, the human one, seemed undamaged. In fact better than before: the film had gone from it, and she noticed for the first time that it was blue.
‘The Wild changed us all,’ she whispered.
They stared at each other for a while.
‘I am so delighted to see you, Glider. You look magnificent.’ Glider raised her chin proudly. ‘Is Varg here?’
The Dogkin barked affirmatively, and then raised a paw to point.
She spun round to see Varg standing just a few feet away. His beard was trimmed shorter than she remembered, making him look less feral. A decade and a half had added lines to his face, weathered his pale skin still further, but otherwise he was unchanged. His
hands flexed at his sides but he stayed where he was. Locked in place as the flush rose in his cheeks.
He wanted to come to her, that was clear, and she wanted to go to him too, but it would not do, not here in the courtyard with everyone watching. ‘Welcome to Lord Rochant’s castle,’ she said politely, as she would to any stranger. ‘When did you arrive?’
‘Just got here. I was trying to puzzle out the best way to get a message to you and then Glider started barking. I, uh …’ his hands twitched again, and she saw he was holding a small painted stone – the last piece of mosaic. ‘Pari kept me busy, more than usual, so it took longer to come see you than I’d like. But I wanted to come, and now … I still … shit …’ She winced and his blush darkened. ‘Sorry, Chand. Old habits. I stand by what I said, before, you know? About being with you.’
‘Oh Varg.’
‘An’ Pari thinks you’ll have changed your mind, which I don’t want to believe but,’ he shrugged, ‘it got me worried.’ The hope in his eyes was enough to make her want to cry. ‘So can you give me a sign, of how you feel? Only it’s killing me standing here like a fucking post.’
She stared at him, wondering why she wasn’t saying anything. After all these years, why did he have to come now, when it’s too late? The truth was, there had been no good time for Varg to arrive. They might have stolen a few nights together, but her time had never been her own.
It would be so easy for her to go with him. To leave the castle behind and never come back. She wanted that. She wanted to make the fantasy real, but …
Glider barked expectantly and she looked at the floor, unable to meet Varg’s gaze. She could feel it on her though, nakedly hopeful. It was not in her to kill that hope, nor was it in her to lie to him.
She felt Glider’s nose press against her back, and when she didn’t move, the Dogkin butted her gently, sending her stumbling forward, straight into Varg’s arms.
He had the same smell, and it brought back memories of earlier days, of them struggling to survive in the Wild, of them huddling together, out of fear at first, and then because they wanted to. Her left hand began to move on his back, betraying the feelings she wanted to bury. After a moment’s hesitation, Varg’s hands began to move too, gently, guiding her close.
I must not encourage him any further, she thought as she watched herself cup her fingers around the back of his neck.
After that, she didn’t think too much at all. His lips brushed hers, shy at first, but becoming more confident as she leaned into him, going on tiptoes to stop him from breaking contact. She did not want to stop kissing him. It occurred to her that in the past, Satyendra had always disturbed their brief dalliances with his crying. The thought of him sobered her, forced her to face reality again. Reluctantly, she pushed back from Varg. Even now, he finds a way to come between us.
Varg grinned at her, the expression taking years from his face. ‘I liked that sign. Can I have another one?’
She shook her head.
‘What’s up?’
‘It’s complicated. The rebirth ceremony is today.’
‘Course it is. I’m sorry, Chand. Really. Do you want me to come back later?’
‘No. I don’t want you to go at all … He’s gone. My son has really gone. I failed him, right at the end, I …’
Chandni began to cry, the tears coming like an assassin from the shadows, springing up before she even knew they were there.
Varg’s arms were slower, more comforting, as they drew her into an embrace. She let herself lean into him, let his strong frame take her weight, let the tears and the grief take its course.
When she was done, she leaned back, wanting to see his face properly but unwilling to break contact. He smiled at her, and placed the last bit of stone into her hand.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t get to see him full grown. I don’t know what happened, but I do know you’d have done your best for him, Chand. You never do anything less.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘I’m here now. I ain’t going anywhere.’
‘I’ve thought about you often over the years, too often. It was wrong of me to want this. It wasn’t fair on you and I should have said so at the time. I was selfish and I am sorry.’
The frown appeared as the smile left, as if one was pushing the other off his face. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I can’t be with you Varg. I want to, but I can’t, not yet.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘If Lord Rochant returns to us, it is up to him to decide what happens to me. If the ceremony fails,’ please let it not fail, ‘then my fate will be decided by High Lord Yadavendra.’
‘Yeah, but that don’t matter for us. I don’t care what job they give you, it won’t stop me and Glider being here.’
Glider barked agreement and Chandni couldn’t help but stroke her head in appreciation.
‘I love you both, and if things were different I would be with you without hesitation.’ She lowered her voice. ‘But you know what I did to keep Satyendra alive. For years I have kept my crimes secret in order to protect my son. Now he is gone, that duty is discharged. I must face the judgement of my lord.’
‘Bollocks. Like you said, it was years ago and no harm has come of it. Why risk exile now?’
‘Because life is nothing without dignity. How can I expect Lord Rochant to restore the house if I am not willing to restore myself? How can we have a new life together, a good life, if I come to it corrupted by my past deeds?’ She shook her head. ‘If I stay silent, I am no better than Samarku Un-Sapphire, no better than Nidra Un-Sapphire. Unlike them, I put my house first.’
‘Just once, I wish you’d put yourself first.’
Her hand began to creep towards him and it took all of her will to put it back by her side. ‘I can’t change who I am, Varg, not even for you. But if my lord is merciful, we might still be together.’
‘Then I really bloody hope Lord Rochant makes it, because that’s the only chance we’ve got.’
He has to, she thought, for all our sakes.
‘Alright then,’ Varg said, ‘I’ll wait here for you so long as you promise me that whatever happens, you’ll come out and see me one more time.’
If her lord was angry, there would be no room for final requests, but she couldn’t tell Varg that. He won’t understand. ‘You have my word.’
‘Right. Good. That’s something. Be careful.’
‘I will.’
‘I mean, pick your time. Make sure he’s in a good mood. I always forget that when I’m asking Pari for stuff but you’re more patient than me.’
‘Lord Rochant trained me himself. I know how best to approach him.’
‘Right.’ He pulled her close again. ‘Sorry. I don’t want to let you go.’
‘But you must. I should be in mourning, not –’ she paused as Varg blushed again ‘– celebrating. I’ve already lingered too long. If word gets back it would count against me.’
Very slowly, she removed his hands and gave Glider a last fuss before stepping away. It was hard to turn her back on them, harder still to walk away. Lord Rochant’s wisdom will guide me on the right path. Please let him have returned in his full glory. I would rather face his righteous anger than High Lord Yadavendra’s mercy.
Glider’s howls followed her all the way into the keep.
Vasin let the energies of the Godroad carry him. Lady Pari had offered to squeeze him into their carriage but he’d refused. While it was tempting to catch up with Lord Arkav Tanzanite, and solidify their strategy, the idea of sitting still was impossible. They were on their way to face Yadavendra and remove him from power. It had always been the plan, but for so long it had been a distant necessity, below the horizon. Easy to ignore. Now it was here, right in front of him, and he was terrified. And when Vasin got like this, he had to act, to spend the fear in movement, or it would coil up inside like a burrowing Wormkin, and devour his convictions.
Lord Rochant could not have got loose at a worse time. If he managed to escape
the forest – which seemed likely given that he’d allied himself with the Wild – then Yadavendra would have his closest ally back. Vasin fancied that he could stand up to his High Lord, but Rochant had a way of twisting things. A few words from him and Vasin would become the enemy. It would be far better to wait if that was the case, but Lady Pari had made it clear that the Tanzanite would not wait. And the Rubies were already out of time.
Gradually, Lord Rochant’s floating castle became visible amongst the clouds, the hazy outline gathering more and more solidity until it was a great weight, suspended in the sky. His eyes tracked up the structure, from the tapered point of rock at the bottom, rock threaded with veins of sapphire, to the solid walls and slender towers rising above them. He pushed ahead of Pari’s carriage, trying to see if Rochant’s flag was flying and was so disheartened by what he saw he came down to land with none of his usual flair.
The carriage pulled up alongside him, and Pari opened a window. Mounted on his Sky-legs, Vasin was still slightly taller than her. He could see Lord Arkav sat opposite, head down as if in deep contemplation.
‘What is it?’ asked Pari.
‘Lord Rochant’s flag is flying.’
‘Damn, it’s as we feared.’
‘No,’ replied Vasin, ‘it’s worse. Yadavendra’s flag is flying too, as is Gada’s, Yadva’s and Umed’s. I knew the High Lord was keen for Rochant’s rebirth to happen but it’s been postponed for so long, I’d assumed it would be again.’ A horrible thought occurred to him. ‘Do you think Rochant planned this?’
‘Possibly.’
‘I could face Yadavendra, maybe even Yadva, but the whole of House Sapphire?’ He shook his head, despair threatening to claim him. ‘It’s over.’