by Peter Newman
Sa-at forgot he was supposed to be pretending and screamed.
‘That song is much better.’ One flex of Crunch’s powerful arm was enough to dislodge Sa-at’s hold on the friendly tree and leave him dangling upside down. ‘I’m going to squeeze another from you.’
At the same moment, the assembled Birdkin screeched and dived from their perches, swooping downwards. They converged above Sa-at’s head, crashing into one another to become a tangle of dark shapes, blotting out the suns entirely.
Sa-at couldn’t see anything any more, but he felt the feathers brush his face and talons press at his shoulders, taking his weight, shifting him so that he was sitting rather than hanging.
‘Murderkind,’ he whispered.
‘Murderkind?’ asked Crunch, with a tinge of panic.
‘Murderkind,’ echoed the trees a third time, and then it was true.
‘I too have come to hear a song,’ said Murderkind, ‘a secret song not squeezed or screamed; a telling, an understanding, a promise delivered.’ The demon’s voice came from all around them, issued from the throat of every Birdkin. ‘You should not be alone Red Brotherless. You should not be harming that which is under my protection.’
Sa-at felt the buffeting of wings in the dark, and heard the movement of many beaks and many claws. Finger by finger, Crunch’s hand was removed from his ankle.
‘You should not be joining my enemies and walking my domain. You should not be here, Red Brotherless.’
It sounded like Crunch was trying to reply, but it was muffled, as if something were reaching deep into his throat.
‘Red Brotherless, you should not be.’
There was more flapping, more strange gagging sounds, and then Crunch was moving away, moving up. His legs kicked as they went past Sa-at and into the canopy above. There was a glimpse of a foot, thick and twitching, the toes extended, as if trying to grasp a branch, then it too was whisked away. No longer close. Not above nor below.
Gone.
I am glad, very glad, that Murderkind is my friend and not my enemy, thought Sa-at.
He told Murderkind what he knew about the Corpseman, its plans and its vulnerabilities, leaving nothing out. Better to not feel special than to break a promise.
When he was done, the chorus of Birdkin cawed in a self-satisfied fashion. ‘You have done well, bound friend. Much understanding, you have given, and an enemy to feast upon.’
Sa-at beamed. Murderkind was happy with him and the Red Brothers were gone! He felt lighter. And hungry. ‘I’m hungry,’ he said.
‘I will share my bounty with you, bound friend.’
‘Thank you.’ The thought of food was comforting and he decided to try really hard not to eat it all. I must save some for the others. ‘I have a friend who can’t walk. Could you help me move him?’
‘Not that one. And beware who you call friend.’
‘I will.’
‘Then rest with me, and this stout-rooted ally. Be fed,’ said Murderkind, and meat, raw and rich was brought from the shadows. ‘Be calmed.’ Sa-at’s heart settled dutifully. ‘Be still.’
He slept.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘Is everything to your satisfaction, my lady?’
Pari examined herself for the third time. If only her face wasn’t swollen! She wasn’t usually vain about her appearance, but it was one of the few things left about the day she could control. ‘More jewellery, I think.’
Her servant added a second, longer necklace to compliment the first, and draped a string of mixed stones from the horns of her headdress. It might break my neck, but by the Thrice Blessed Suns, they’ll certainly see me coming.
‘Much better. Is Lord Arkav ready to go?’
‘Yes, my lady. He’s been asking after our progress for some time.’
‘Then we had best not keep him waiting any longer.’
Two more servants took up position behind her, kneeling down ready to pick up her train when she moved. Normally she favoured the star-shaped gowns that required four servants, but today was for Arkav to shine, not her, and so she’d toned things down.
He was waiting for her in his own finery, a long violet robe that darkened towards the bottom, spilling out in seven directions at his feet. In one hand, he held a chain from which hung a triangular lantern to represent the three minor houses, with panes of ruby, opal and peridot. In the other he held a wand topped with another lantern, four sided, for the major houses: Sapphire, Tanzanite, Spinel and Jet. Both were lit by a diamond, deftly signalling that the Bringers were behind him as well. From head to toe, Arkav sparkled, the lantern lights dancing on his heavy hooped earrings, and the many tiny stones set like stars in his sash.
Seeing him like this, it was hard to remember how frail he was inside. She hoped the illusion would be enough to convince the others.
‘You look marvellous, my dear.’
He inclined his head. ‘As do you.’
‘The lanterns are a nice touch.’
‘High Lord Priyamvada gave them to me before we set out. They were made by the Bringers.’
‘Well aren’t you blessed? She only had words for me before I set out.’ And not especially nice ones at that. ‘Shall we go and teach the Sapphire a lesson in style?’
‘It would be a shame to go to all this effort just to bring justice and stability to the land.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
It wasn’t easy for the servants to carry both of their outfits in such close proximity, and Pari quickly took pity on them, allowing Arkav to walk in front, though she did mutter quietly about the corridors being too narrow. At least they were better than the ones in the House Ruby castles. The one time she had visited there, it had felt like being threaded through a succession of needles.
Many, many guards lined the walls as they walked, all armed and stony faced. ‘I think they’re trying to make a statement,’ she said to Arkav.
‘Really?’ he replied. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’
She chuckled with delight at his sarcasm. He sounds like his old self today. Perhaps he does have the strength to see this through. Silently, she willed this to be true, firing every positive thought she could at her brother’s back.
Heads held high, the two of them entered Lord Rochant’s throne room at a stately pace. All evidence of the previous night’s festivities had been cleared away. No longer packed full of revellers, and with the tables gone, the space appeared massive. Fresh new hangings divided the grey of the walls in blocks of rich blue, and the stone floors had been polished until they shone.
House Sapphire’s Deathless were already in attendance. The one pretending to be Lord Rochant stood to one side, displaced from his throne by the Sapphire High Lord. In his winged armour, there was no way Yadavendra could sit in it comfortably, which meant not only could no one enjoy the throne, but all of the others were forced to stand as well.
If only they could see themselves.
It was obvious now that Rochant had not truly returned. There was something indefinably young about the imposter that no amount of paint and posing could hide. She wondered that the others could not see it too. Perhaps they do, or perhaps they lack my intimate knowledge.
The other Deathless were at least dressed appropriately, each face aged up or down to make them ageless. They gave respectful nods, even Lady Yadva, though it took a prompting glance from Pari to get it. She and Lord Taraka Tanzanite had witnessed and recorded Yadva’s humiliation in Pari’s previous lifecycle, and she wanted to be clear that it had not been forgotten.
They stopped at a respectful distance, the servants laying their gowns artfully and retreating from the room. She knew that Arkav wanted to flee with them. When he glanced at her, as she knew he would, she turned her head to whisper, ‘I am with you.’
He nodded, and when he addressed the Sapphire, his voice was clear. ‘My sister and I come before you today on behalf of our High Lord, Priyamvada Tanzanite, and the High Lords of Jet, Spinel, Peridot, Opal and Ruby. We demand t
hat Yadavendra, High Lord of the Sapphire, leave here with us to face the judgement of his peers for breaking our sacred laws and threatening the eternal order of the Deathless.’
Well, thought Pari, that was direct.
‘You see?’ replied Yadavendra, gesturing towards them with his golden glaive. ‘This is the tone they take. Ordering me like some common criminal in front of my own family. Strutting about as if this were some Tanzanite hall. But we knew this day would come, didn’t we? And we are ready for it.’
Arkav leant backwards as if blown by a breeze, and Pari sensed, as her brother did, the sudden threat of violence.
Yadavendra’s Sky-legs halved the distance between them in a single bound. ‘Nothing to say, have you! I will not be meekly led away to slaughter. I am High Lord here and I will defend our sovereignty with force if need be.’
Facing an armoured Deathless when not similarly elevated was shocking. It made Pari appreciate what it must be like for the road-born witnessing a hunt. Yadavendra’s anger radiated outward like a physical force. It distressed her, and she dreaded to think what it was doing to Arkav. Her brother seemed rooted to the spot, his eyes wide, unable to do anything but drink in the vision before him.
Unwilling to allow the sapphire-bladed staff to get any closer and unable to retreat, Pari started talking, her mouth going into action before her brain. ‘As my brother said, it is not us making the demands. This is not a Tanzanite matter. It is one for all the houses. We are but messengers doing our sworn duty, as we hope you will.’
‘I see. Well, messenger, I will consider what has been said.’ He brought the base of his staff to rest on the floor with a bang. ‘You may go.’
‘We are keen to do so, High Lord of the Sapphire, but Lord Arkav and I are bound to stay until you acquiesce to accompany us to the Hall of Seven Doors. Though I would not presume to make a demand of you, a demand that binds all of us has been made nonetheless.’
‘You dare?’ hissed Yadavendra.
And just when she thought he was going to attack, Lord Vasin hurried between them. She did not envy him his position in the front line. ‘My High Lord, it is known that the road-born and sky-born serve the Deathless, and it is known that the Deathless serve their High Lords, who stand above all. But a High Lord must serve too, and are as bound by the traditions as any of us. They have to be. Even you must see this.’
‘Even I? You forget your place, Lord Vasin.’
‘If so, it is only because you have forgotten yours. Know that if you stand against the other houses, you do so alone.’
‘Hardly! I have House Sapphire at my back. For your past services I give you this one chance to stand aside. Do so now or be counted with the enemy.’
‘I am standing exactly where I should be. I only wish I had stood here sooner.’
‘For once,’ said Yadavendra, raising his glaive, ‘we are in agreement.’
Pari took in the scene. The High Lord towering over them, the other Sapphire Deathless seemingly as stunned as they were. Lady Yadva was the only one moving, though whether that was to her father’s or Vasin’s aid was unclear.
It doesn’t matter much either way. None of us are exalted. The whole room could turn on Yadavendra and he’d kill us all without breaking a sweat.
For a moment the glaive hovered above Vasin’s head, and it seemed that despite his bluster, Yadavendra was genuinely reluctant to kill his nephew. The moment passed however. She saw it in Yadavendra’s eyes, the twitch of a muscle, the slight narrowing of the iris, little heralds of the death-stroke to come.
On instinct, she moved first, taking two fistfuls of Vasin’s robe and pulling him backwards.
The sapphire blade stabbed the place where he’d just been, and Yadavendra came with it, closing the gap easily, raising the glaive a second time. Pari had long enough to wonder if Vasin’s body would be enough to stop the point killing her or whether he would skewer them both, when Arkav stepped in front of them.
‘No!’ she shouted, too late.
As the Sapphire High Lord lunged, Lady Yadva grabbed the end of the shaft. Unlike the others, her robe was sleeveless, to better show off her arms. One bicep was inked in gold, a many-limbed demon depicted in two pieces to celebrate the time she ripped it in half. Pari watched the image of the monster bloat and shake as Yadva’s muscles rippled with the strain. She had surprise and a good angle, but even with all of this, it took everything she had to twist the glaive from her father’s hands.
‘Traitor!’ he yelled, whirling round. His wing smacked solidly into Yadva, hurling her back across the room as if she were no more than a child. Vasin tried to take advantage of the High Lord’s confusion but, before he could act, Yadavendra had him by the throat and three feet off the ground.
Pari tried to think of what to do. She was unarmed, and there were no real weak spots in the armour she could exploit barehanded, at least none that would allow her to end the fight. She wanted to help Vasin but knew she could not hope to break the crystal gauntlet’s grip.
She put a hand on Arkav’s arm instead. ‘Run,’ she said. ‘Tell the others.’ She would buy him time. If Arkav could escape, he might be able to persuade the Tanzanite High Lord to have her reborn into a decent body.
But Arkav shook his head. ‘No, Pari. No more running.’
He set his jaw and began whirling the lantern on its chain like a weapon. Its light blurred, the trail getting longer until it met itself, becoming a multicoloured disc. Then he let go, and it flew towards Yadavendra, shattering on his chest plate.
There came a sound like thunder, that Pari felt through her teeth as much as in her ears. Yadavendra looked round in surprise just as Arkav brought the second lantern down on his head.
In the aftermath of the second boom, the room was deathly silent. Pari wasn’t really paying attention to the others, she was looking at the way Yadavendra’s arm was shaking. The sapphire vambrace was no longer glowing, and that sense of presence, of him filling the room, was gone. One by one, the plates of his armour began to fall away. They clinked dully as they struck the floor, followed, with a soft thud, by Vasin. The armour on Yadavendra’s chest and back detached next, the wings shattering with the impact, then his helmet, which started to fragment so fast it became a cloud of blue glitter about his head.
Yadavendra remained on his Sky-legs, giving him the look of some strange featherless Birdkin, scrawny, hollowed out, and covered in tattered silks. Pari gasped as the sight of him. The skin was paper thin on his bones, his hair like a faded memory rendered in straw, the paint around his eyes no longer able to maintain the facade of sanity.
Even the ever-stoic Deathless of House Sapphire struggled to contain their shock. Yadavendra turned slowly, seeing himself in their eyes. Pari saw he was looking for support, but got nothing back. When at last he was facing her, she said: ‘It is time.’
Arkav nodded in agreement. He was still carrying the wand the lantern had been mounted on, somehow he made it look like a badge of office.
With something akin to pleading, Yadavendra looked into their eyes. ‘No,’ he said, ‘no, I cannot, I have things that …’
‘It is time,’ she repeated.
With a wail, Yadavendra sprang away. Though it surprised her that he still moved with such agility, it did not surprise her that he was springing towards one of the tall windows that looked out to the horizon.
‘Stop him!’ shouted Arkav.
But the Sapphire made no move to intervene, each lowering their gaze as Yadavendra gathered speed. There was a crash that seemed trivial compared to the sounds they’d recently heard, an anticlimactic breaking of glass, a last sight of him sailing through the air, trailing blood from a hundred tiny cuts, and Yadavendra was gone.
Stunned silence followed.
Then, to her surprise, Arkav started to cry.
This seemed to prompt Lady Yadva to stand and collect herself. ‘Lord Arkav. Lady Pari. I am sure you will respect our need for privacy at this time.
&nbs
p; ‘Of course,’ said Pari, taking her brother’s arm and guiding him from the room.
Satyendra was glad of all the distractions. He didn’t know if he was coming or going. When the lanterns shattered it had felt like someone were placing hot metal under his fingernails, but when Yadavendra’s armour had broken … When they’d met eyes and he’d tasted the depths of the other man’s despair, there had come a high he had not known possible. It was if all the other times he’d indulged the hunger had merely been sniffing at pain rather than tasting it. Yadavendra’s final emotions were a rich broth he’d drunk down, and now his body thrummed with power, his mind working so fast everyone else seemed to be moving in slow motion. The only shame of it all was that Yadavendra had thrown away his life too quickly, leaving only the briefest taste of perfection.
It had been so pure, so potent, it tingled in his bones, making him aware of them in a way he’d never been before. It was as if they longed to stretch. To grow. To change. A thread of fear came with that thought and what it might do to him if they did, but it was hard to hear against the roar of joy and blood in his ears.
The two Tanzanites had left, the guards dismissed, the great doors closed behind them. Only the Sapphire Deathless and he remained. Lady Yadva hauled Lord Vasin onto his feet. She was trying to appear sombre but he could see the delight in her. Surely the others see it too.
‘This is a sad day for House Sapphire,’ she said, ‘but we have to move forward.’
‘Can we not even catch our breath?’ asked Lord Umed. Though his face was composed, Satyendra sensed he was profoundly troubled by what he’d seen, and quietly despairing over Lady Yadva’s obvious greed for power. Umed’s emotions were softer and more controlled that Yadavendra’s had been, but there was a sorrow there, aged like a fine wine, that Satyendra longed to savour. He couldn’t help but move closer to him.
Lady Yadva pointed towards the doors. ‘The Tanzanites are inside our walls. They have seen …’ She scowled in distaste, then flicked a hand towards the broken window, ‘That. We cannot let this be the last image in their minds. House Sapphire needs direction.’ She looked at Lord Vasin, expectant, but he did not meet her gaze because he was looking at Satyendra.