by Peter Newman
‘Hiding in plain sight, right under our noses.’
Gradually, the rest of the staff began to take the hint, and their fear turned back to anger, their looks likes spears directed at Pik’s head.
‘This one,’ continued Satyendra, ‘has been creeping about at night, passing messages in secret, stalking my vessel on the very night of the ceremony. He is a traitor to me and to House Sapphire.’ The room erupted into shocked mutterings. ‘Take him into the depths of the castle and confine him there. Bind his mouth, and leave him in the dark.’
As the guards complied and began dragging Pik from the room, he called desperately over his shoulder, his voice a terrified squeak over the roar of the room.
‘Wait, my lord. I beg you! I can explain.’
Satyendra raised a hand for silence. Instantly, the floor was his. The people’s rapt attention was pleasant, but it was nothing to Pik’s terror; that was like a burst of adrenaline running through his body, wonderful, invigorating. He surged from the throne to get closer to it, until he could whisper in Pik’s ear, ‘There is no justification for treachery.’
‘B-but,’ replied Pik in a whisper, ‘I was serving Honoured Mother Chandni, my lord. In secret. Ask her! She can explain everything.’
‘Have no fear, traitor.’ Satyendra gestured for the guards to take him away. ‘I will deal with her too, soon enough.’
Vasin paced in his room. One floor away, people would be gathering for the feast. People like his brother, who was painfully punctual for everything, and his uncle, Lord Umed, who seemed to genuinely enjoy these occasions. Vasin paced some more, just to be sure that he wouldn’t bump into them, and then stepped out into the corridor and went a few doors down to where Lady Yadva would be getting ready.
He sang for entrance, and she admitted him immediately.
No matter how many times he saw his cousin, he never got over how big she was. Raw physical power radiated from every inch of her. She wore a sleeveless robe to show off the muscles in her arms, with the silk bound tight around her waist. It made her trunk seem thicker, not thinner, which was no doubt her intention. The servants painting her nails seemed like children next to her.
‘Welcome, little cousin,’ she said.
‘Thank you. I was hoping we might speak before the festivities.’
She dismissed the servants with a flick of her eyes. When they had gone, she moved to the window, gesturing for him to join her. ‘When will you do it?’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Vasin. ‘After the Tanzanite have declared their intentions. After he has refused them.’
She grunted. ‘That works.’
‘Do you think Yadavendra will go quietly?’
‘Ha! That is the one thing he will not do. He might fight, he might scream, but it will be loud, count on that. It is well past time though, even House Jet have taken notice.’
‘What happened?’
‘I got an anonymous message from one of their Deathless. It just said: “Deal with him or we will.”’ She laughed. ‘I’ve always liked House Jet, they’re slow to start, but when they do, they don’t mess about.’
‘When was this?’
‘About six months ago. Any chance my father had of making amends is long gone.’
‘Will you wear your armour tomorrow?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Will you?’
‘I’ve thought about it. I don’t like the idea of your father being ascended, armed, and angry, and us without protection …’
‘We can take him, armour or not. You keep him focused on you, and I’ll deal with his glaive. The rest will fall as it does. And then,’ she put a hand on his shoulder, ‘you will declare me the new High Lord.’ Her hand squeezed. ‘Or I will expose your dirty secret to the rest of the house.’
He gritted his teeth. ‘You don’t think it would make you look bad too?’
‘No.’
‘Well, you’ve known and said nothing for all these years. If you admit that, you admit your part in hiding the betrayal.’
‘What?’ The pressure eased slightly as she thought this through.
‘Yes,’ he said, trying to remember the phrase Lady Pari had used. I’m sure it sounded better when she said it. ‘They won’t accept a High Lord who has broken the rules. If you take me down that way, you go down too.’
Her face was blank with thought and then she gave a nasty little laugh. ‘It’s simple, little cousin. You back me, and you live. You stand against me,’ she started to squeeze again, ‘and you know what’s coming. Remember, all I’ve done is stay quiet. I’ll just say I was waiting for Rochant to come back before I spoke out. Or I’ll say something else. It doesn’t matter. Nobody’s going to care about me because they’ll be too busy looking at you. You kidnapped Rochant, you ordered the death of his line, and you’re the traitorous son of Nidra Un-Sapphire.
‘So,’ she added, squeezing his shoulder with renewed vigour, ‘do we understand each other?’
He could feel her fingers boring into the bones of his shoulder. The instinct to shrug her off or push her away was strong. He did neither of these things. The old Vasin acted on instinct and lashed out whenever his pride was threatened. Those luxuries were denied him now.
I cannot fight Yadavendra without Yadva’s help. I must make her think she has won, get her to underestimate me.
He lowered his head and forced himself to say: ‘Yes.’
‘There.’ She released her grip. ‘That wasn’t so hard was it? Now, let’s go join the others. I’m starving.’
She left, assuming that he would follow. He hated her for that, and hated himself for falling into step behind her.
Whatever happens to me tomorrow, I have to make sure the house is restored and the Rubies send aid. And I have to find a way to help Mother.
But, noble as those thoughts were, they did not satisfy him. In that moment, he realized that over the years something in him truly had changed. He was no longer content to hunt and play. He wanted to be High Lord. He wanted to win.
‘Why aren’t you talking?’ asked Sa-at.
Rochant closed his eyes. ‘It all happened a long time ago. To remember, I have to send my mind back there, like taking a walk through the years.’
‘You said you named it. That’s the last thing you said.’
‘I did. Names are important, especially in the Wild.’
‘Why did you call it the Scuttling Corpseman?’
‘That is probably the most important question to ask.’
‘It is?’ Sa-at felt quite pleased with himself.
‘Yes. I told you that the Corpseman had weak spots. Holes in the hard shell that I covered with my skin.’ Sa-at nodded. ‘And I told you that I wasn’t happy about it as a solution.’ Sa-at nodded again. ‘Well, there was this little boy, called Nant, who thought he was something special. He liked to show off by taking risks. If I stayed out later than I should, he’d have to stay out one minute later. If I found a half dozen twigs to use for the fire, he’d have to find a dozen. He didn’t really care about doing these things, just so long as he did them slightly better than the other children in Veren.
‘One day, one of the apprentice Gatherers had found a nice ripe Fleshfruit, about as big as my fist. Of course Nant, who was also an apprentice Gatherer, had to find one bigger. We all knew it was impossible but Nant wouldn’t hear it. He went tearing about the forest, turning over stones and poking in holes and coming up with nothing. Anyway, the suns go down and they make the call for everyone to come in, but when the elders are counting heads at the end of the day, guess who isn’t there?’
‘Nant,’ said Sa-at without hesitation. ‘It was Nant!’
‘Correct. I found his body the next morning hanging from the Stern Tree. What was left of it. The funny thing was it looked like it had been there much longer than a night. Whatever had killed him had stripped all the skin from his bones and sucked away every last drop of blood, leaving a remarkably clean skeleton with its insides completely dried out.
‘What about the Stern Tree?’
Rochant opened his eyes. ‘What about it?’
‘You took something. What did you give it in return?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t know how things worked back then.’
Sa-at looked appalled as Rochant continued.
‘My plan was to make armour out of the bones for my friend. This proved difficult. I’d managed to borrow some of our Cutter-crafter’s tools, but I lacked the skill to use them. Even for a master, bones are hard to work. They chip and break easily. It didn’t take me long to waste half of what I’d recovered. When it came time to use the skull, I abandoned all subtlety.
‘After a bit of pondering, I ditched the jawbone. There was no way to attach it, and my friend had no mouth anyway. The skull was perfect though. I guided the antennae through the eye holes and they held it in place like a helmet. The other pieces I bound in place, hoping that they would eventually be absorbed like my skin had been.’
‘Were they?’
‘No, and when my friend moved, they slipped out of place.’
‘How did you make it better?’
‘I became an apprentice Cutter-crafter.’ Rochant glanced at the water-skin. ‘Could you?’
After a drink, he continued.
‘A few years went by. My friend grew rapidly, to the point where I had to hide it outside of Veren. Each time it shed an old carapace, I provided it with fresh skin and new armour. It soon outgrew Nant’s skull but, as you know, there are always bones to be found in the Wild. I cultivated friendships with the Gatherers and listened to their stories, always waiting for news of a fresh corpse. I rarely had to wait long.
‘Despite this, the forest was quiet, and we enjoyed a time of relative peace. It wasn’t long before my friend became able to fend for itself. Sometimes, it would scurry, sometimes it would rise up on its back legs and walk. I know it wanted to move like I did, but its gait was …’ he gave another of those almost smiles. ‘It used to get so angry when I laughed.’
‘When did you name it?’
‘The trouble with any small settlement is that everyone knows you. I thought I’d been careful to cover my tracks but one day, when I slipped out to see my friend, I was followed by a young girl. Her name was …’ he frowned. ‘Funny, I can picture her face, it was sour, one of those faces that looks middle aged from the cot to the grave. But I can’t recall her name. It’s been such a long time … She watched us together, long enough to see the extent of my crimes against Veren. She saw me giving blood, and she saw me fixing some of the armour. Now I think about it, it must have taken a lot of courage for her to see my friend and not call out. Jes! I remember now. Her name was Jes.
‘Of course, it didn’t matter in the end. My friend doesn’t hear the sounds you make with your mouth, it hears the sounds you make with your soul, and hers was making a terrible racket. It waited until I’d finished my repair work, and then it jumped. Jes was dead after one scream.
‘That was when I named it the Scuttling Corpseman. When the defenders of Veren came running, they saw her body, me standing next to her, and the shape of my friend as it fled. I had to explain how she had died and why I was there. I made up a story that I was courting Jes and we’d sneaked away from our duties to have some time alone together. The elders believed me, but they were most unhappy. They called for a hunt, and I was put forward to be one of the tributes. But that’s a different story.’
‘You called it the Scuttling Corpseman because it has bits of dead body on it?’
‘Yes.’
‘And because it walks in a funny way?’
‘Yes.’
Sa-at was quiet for a while. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Also, the suns were going down and Tal hadn’t returned. I should have gone with him. I should not have left him alone. If bad things happen to my friend, I will feel it forever in my stomach.
The feeling of foreboding would not go away. Sa-at wanted to go and look for Tal, but knew he could not. To do so would be to abandon Rochant, and he was helpless. Whenever they heard a noise, he sat up, peering into the gloom. He became aware that Rochant was watching, bemused, and his mood soured further.
‘I didn’t like your story.’
‘It wasn’t for you to like or dislike. It was to provide you with information about the Corpseman.’
‘And you lied.’
‘I promise you, it was all truth, told for the very first time.’
‘You said that its name was important and it wasn’t.’
Instead of looking offended, Rochant looked – Sa-at struggled to identify the emotion from his placid expression – pleased? ‘Are you sure? Its name is connected to its weakness. I’d say that was important.’
‘You told me about the holes in its body before the name.’
‘What does that suggest to you?’
Sa-at shrugged. ‘That you lied?’
‘Or?’
‘That it’s important that the Corpseman has a funny walk.’
‘Or?’
‘Those are the reasons. You said those are the reasons. You said so!’
‘You suggested those were the reasons, not me. I agreed that they contributed to the name.’
‘There’s another reason?’
‘Yes.’
Sa-at wanted to shake the man in the way a Dogkin shakes its prey. ‘Why didn’t you say? You should have said!’
‘Because if you work it out yourself, it will mean more to you.’
‘You tried to trick me!’
‘Perhaps a little.’
‘We made a pact. You swore!’
‘Please, calm yourself. I swore to tell you everything about the Corpseman and answer your questions about it. This is my way of doing that. It may be frustrating now, but in the long term, it will help you to understand. I’m trying to do more than just give information, I’m trying to ignite the spark within you.’ He looked at Sa-at’s face and added. ‘Not literally. I mean I want to help you become more than you are. That’s what friends do for each other.’
Sa-at tucked his arms behind his back and thought hard, the way Crowflies did when it was pondering a problem. He liked the sound of Rochant’s words but he still felt like he’d been tricked. ‘What is the other reason you named it the Scuttling Corpseman?’
‘There are two. It’s an unusual name and I’d hoped it wouldn’t be associated with the strange Flykin my friend was related to. Something had gone to a great deal of effort to wipe them out and I didn’t want it coming back for my friend. This name was new. I hoped this meant the Wild would take it as a new creature, rather than the spawn of an old one.
‘The second reason is that I suggested it was male. It’s not. It’s asexual. I wanted to suggest it was a lone wanderer, a freakish anomaly. Something unique and singular rather than the progenitor of a new line.’
‘Why is that important?’
‘Because of the agreement my friend and I had made. One just as binding as the one between us, but without words. I would help it grow to its full strength, and then I would find a way for it to breed and restore its kind to power. And that’s exactly what I did.’
‘Won’t the thing that killed them before be angry?’
‘Yes.’
‘Will they fight?’
‘Yes. But I have a feeling it will go differently this time.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the Corpseman is not what it was before. Its injuries made it weaker in some ways, stronger in others. It doesn’t think like a thing of the Wild any more, nor does it think like we do. It’s something new, and is evolving in ways even I can’t predict.’
Sa-at was quiet for a long time. He believed Rochant and this made him nervous. If there is
a fight and all the demons are with the Corpseman, is Murderkind on the other side? Murderkind said the Red Brothers are with the Corpseman and the Red Brothers are my enemy. Does that mean the Corpesman is my enemy? Murderkind is my friend and Rochant is my friend. The Corpseman is my enemy and Rochant is the Corpseman’s friend. So is Rochant my enemy or my friend? The thoughts swirled round inside, confusing and sad. He did not want any more fighting. He did not want to have to pick between one friend and another, any more than he wanted his friends to fight over him.
And Tal has still not come back!
‘Rochant?’
‘Yes?’
‘What did the Corpseman agree to do for you in return?’
‘That is an excellent question. However it is one not covered in our deal.’
‘But it was a deal with the Corpseman, and –’ Sa-at tried to put the shape he had in his head into words ‘– it will help me to understand it better, so it is part of our deal.’
‘Admirable logic. I will reward you with this much: it agreed to help me realize my dream, and become more than I was. It also agreed not to harm me or those I love. There is more, but I won’t be pushed into revealing it. Perhaps, if you come with me, I’ll tell you one day over a glass of good wine.’
‘I’d like that.’
‘Yes,’ replied Rochant. ‘I rather think you would.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Satyendra remained aloof through the celebrations, nodding his way through course after course. Tender meat that fell from the bone, vegetable sticks with just a hint of firmness, sliced fruits on baked biscuits; none of it registered on his tongue. He only sipped at his drink, not daring to let his guard down. Every moment he expected the Deathless to catch on to him. After all, they had lifetimes of shared experience he knew nothing about. It would only take one question or one mishandled reference, and then they would know. There was no precedent for a crime such as his, which meant the punishment would likely be long, painful and involved. Perfect for a Story-singer to dramatize.
It made him wonder though. What if there was precedent? What if others had tricked the Bringers before him? What if the whole thing was a sham, and all of the Deathless were just terrified vessels, pretending to be immortal. He snorted at the thought and then discarded it. The others weren’t like him. Their armour accepted them. They fitted in. They belonged.