by Nick Martell
“Enter the Endless Waltz—not for a political marriage, Michael—but to uncover the truth about your father. I know he was set up by a Royal or a High Noble; I just don’t know which one. Oh, don’t look so shocked. I didn’t end up in the asylum because I was drinking or from memory loss… It was to silence me. I was getting too close to the truth.”
Who had enough power to silence Domet? Let alone put him in the asylum? It seemed impossible—as did his assertion that my father had been set up. He was lying… right?
The whisper of bare feet on marble interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to see a young woman, just a year or two older than me, wearing a short dark-blue dress with her frizzy black hair falling to her shoulders.
“High Noble Domet. I wasn’t expecting that you would be released from the asylum so soon. I apologize if I kept you waiting to see Patron Victoria.”
“There’s no need for apologies, Chloe. I have nowhere to be, though I thought you and your mother followed the Wanderer’s teachings.”
Chloe glanced away to the right, caught off guard. “We do… or my mother does. I don’t know what I believe yet. I take the Ravens’ test tomorrow and hoped seeing Patron Victoria would calm me.”
My eyes widened. This frail-looking woman wanted to join the King’s Royal Guard? Compared to Ravens I had seen, Chloe was a leaf in the wind.
Domet awkwardly patted her on the back. “I have the utmost faith in you. You’re Efyra’s daughter, after all.”
I held my tongue, hoping my thoughts were not visible on my face.
“We will see,” she said, catching my eyes and changing the subject. “And who is this, High Noble Domet? I’m unfamiliar with your companion.”
Domet stepped between us. “High Noble Chloe Mason, let me introduce you to—”
“Michael Kingman,” I interrupted, standing straighter. “Youngest son to David Kingman.”
“My mother told me about your family,” she said.
“Before or after she executed my father and took his place by the king?”
She met my gaze levelly, only the sounds of nature and the city around us. “Not all of us were raised on the same stories,” she said with a tight smile. Then: “You must excuse me. The Ravens’ tournament starts early tomorrow, and I have much to do before then. I wish you well, Michael Kingman.” Chloe slipped into her silver sandals and began to walk away. “I hope we meet again on better terms.”
When she was out of sight, I returned to Domet and said, “Explain.”
“I thought it was clear. Your father was framed for the murder of Davey Hollow by a Royal or a High Noble. If you help me prove it, I’ll teach you how to use Fabrications.”
“Do you have any proof?”
“Beyond circumstantial? No.”
“Why should I believe you, then?”
Domet extended his arms, as if welcoming me in for a hug. “That’s the beauty of it, Michael. You don’t have to. All you need to do is investigate for me, and if I’m wrong, then it is what it is. Help me and I’ll give you five suns a day for a month, teach you the basics of Fabrications, and you know what? I’ll even get your mother out of that asylum and placed somewhere she’ll be properly cared for. It would be a new start for your sister, too—free to be something, not just pay the bills.”
My heart felt like it was going to burst. I had expected nothing when I agreed to take the job, and Domet was offering me everything. “Why do you care about my father and what happened to him?”
“Years ago I made the mistake of remaining silent when I shouldn’t have. I knew your father was innocent… but I wasn’t in a position where I could defend him. Too much wine and vodka made me weak. No one would have believed me. But now I’ve recovered and can do something about it.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t die until I’ve made up for my inaction back then. Some days I worry my mistake may have been the catalyst of our country moving from a global power to a forgotten mess.”
“Alright, but why do I have to join the Endless Waltz? If they wouldn’t let me join a Fabricator army, why would they let me join something much more prestigious?”
“You let me worry about those details. I’ll get you into it one way or another. And isn’t it obvious why you have to join the Endless Waltz to investigate what happened? We live in a country where the nobility has access to magic that takes away their memories, and then you have a king, scared of how he’ll be remembered once he’s gone, censoring history to paint him and his decisions in a better light. The truth about your father is locked away in his memories. Thus, only one option is feasible: you’re going to steal them while pretending to take part in the Endless Waltz. It will give you all the access and opportunity you need.”
I backed away from him, light-headed. “This is insane. You’re insane. Do you realize what I’d face if I participated in the Endless Waltz? Let alone attempting to steal from the king?”
“You’d be claiming your birthright. Are you a Kingman or a coward?”
I was a survivor, and returning to the world of the nobility wasn’t surviving. It was charging headfirst into a fire. But he was offering so much in return: care for my mother, freedom for Gwen, the chance to use Fabrications, and money. Could I really turn it all down?
“I’ll do it on one condition,” I said.
Domet gestured for me to continue.
“If something happens to me, you take care of my friends and family. You swear they won’t have to worry about a thing for the rest of their lives. That includes my mother, Gwen, Lyon, Angelo, and my friends Sirash, Arjay, Jean, Ja—” I gulped. “And Trey.”
“Deal.” Domet offered his hand. “Do you want a blood oath, or will my word suffice?”
Blood oaths were a pointless gesture and had been broken so many times in Kingman history that someone’s word was more valuable. Especially a High Noble’s.
“Your word is fine.”
We shook on it. And just like that, it was too late to worry about what I had agreed to.
THE MAN WHO CAME THROUGH THE WINDOW
I left Domet at the shrine. I had never been one to care for deities, or prophets, or patrons, or God, and he didn’t seem to mind, preferring to spend as long as he wanted without worry.
Not that I truly suspected he would care about me if I had chosen to wait.
On my way home I stopped by the public baths in the Student Quarter, since they were the only ones open past Lights Out. It was nearly abandoned, most people preferring to stay inside after everything that had happened on the east side of Hollow. It took me a long time to clean all the blood, mud, sweat, and dust off me, and even longer to get all the shards of glass and stone lodged under my nails out. Afterward they looked as if I had bitten them to the nub.
No one else was home when I returned, so I did the household laundry, ate as much pickled food as I could stomach, and was in the middle of wondering if I should go look for Trey, when Sirash banged on my window. I opened it and he tumbled in frantically and straight into a hug. I was thankful I hadn’t lost him, too.
“Jamal?” he asked as we separated.
“Rebels shot him.”
“Oh, Michael. How’s Trey handling it? How are you?”
I filled Sirash in, a wave of nausea overwhelming me as I did.
“Michael,” Sirash said ever so slowly, “I’m sorry.”
Before tears could form, I asked, “Jean? Arjay?”
“They’re fine for now, but I need your help.” Sirash’s gold-flecked green eyes were darting back and forth.
“What happened?”
“After the attack on the Militia Quarter, all of the refugees have been temporarily moved to the Rainbow District. There’s plenty of abandoned houses, but there’s more tweekers than ever, and people are getting into fights over nothing. Shit, there’s even rumors spreading that some tweekers have begun working together. I need to get Arjay out of there.” He barely paused to take a breath.
“How can I help?”
&
nbsp; “I need money,” he stated. “There’s a place for us in the Fisheries. Not perfect, but only dimmers live there.”
“How much do you need?” I said, pulling out the suns Domet had given me. “You can take this. I don’t have any immediate bills. And if you can wait a few days, I can give you more.”
Slowly, Sirash took the coins out of my hand. “Thank you, but I can’t wait for it to get worse. I have to get out of there tonight.”
I had never seen him this flustered before. Whatever was going on in the Rainbow District had him scared, which took a lot for a former Skeleton. “How much more do you need?”
“Because it’s so sudden, in addition to yours, I need another fifteen suns. By midnight.”
I cursed in quick succession. “How do you expect to get that much in a single night?”
“There’s a two-man job tonight that will do it.”
I had never heard of a job with such a payoff. We rarely ever made that much conning Low Nobles, and Sirash had always vetoed selling Blackberries after seeing the child tweekers in the Rainbow District. I asked him what the job entailed.
“It’s for a Mercenary.”
Before Sirash even finished the word, I said, “No. Not a chance, Sirash. I was caught in the Militia Quarter today and I’m on probation. They’ll arrest me if I do anything that could possibly be linked back to the rebels. Working with a leech definitely counts.”
“Michael, please, I wouldn’t be asking if I had any other option. I found a stash of Blackberries in our house that belonged to Arjay. I don’t know if he’s selling or using or whatever, but I’m worried if I don’t get out tonight, he’ll get caught up in something terrible soon.”
I paced and cursed in my room at the same time. As a Kingman, since our actions more often than not became history, my siblings and I were taught about the world when we were young. We learned a lot about the neighboring countries—the five Warring States that had once been a united empire, the Gold Coast, and New Dracon City—and enough about the countries that were farther away—Eham, Goldono, Azil, the Thebian Empire, the Skeleton Coast, along with others—so we were familiar with the basics of their cultures. But we had spent more time learning about Mercenaries and their Companies than we had on all the countries combined. We learned about their formation, how they had become infamous, and how their Companies had become nomadic city-states, unable to be prosecuted by any noble, king, emperor, prophet, or God.
Needless to say, they were fucking terrifying and I didn’t want a thing to do with them.
But with my thoughts still on Trey, I couldn’t do anything else but support Sirash.
“Do you know what the job entails?” I asked.
“It’s a transfer of information from one party to another. I’m not sure whether we would have to steal or deliver it.”
“Depending on what the information is, it could be treason.”
“I’m aware.”
“Sirash,” I said, “this is by far the stupidest thing we’ve ever thought about doing. Are you sure there’s no other option? There’s nowhere else you could stay for three days while I get the rest of the money?”
“Not unless your foster father is willing to host us.”
Which he wasn’t. Three mouths to feed, excluding his own, were enough to make money scarce. Having two more mouths, even for a few days, was enough to have a lasting impact on us for months to come. Even if I promised to pay Angelo back, it would still take me days to get his permission after explaining the situation and who Sirash was. Especially since the only members of my family who knew he existed in my life were Gwen, Trey, and my mother.
“If things begin to go wrong with the Mercenary, you run,” Sirash said. “And if it comes to that, we’ll meet up again in six days to make sure nothing can be traced back to you while you’re on probation. Good?”
“Good.”
With an agreement, we climbed through the window to meet Sirash’s Mercenary.
* * *
Sirash hadn’t mentioned that we were meeting in what remained of Kingman Keep, my old home on the Isle between the eastern and western sides of Hollow.
For generations, Kingman Keep had been a beacon, its light seen from anywhere in the city. These days, a veil of obsidian entangled Kingman Keep with only the stars left to shine a light on it. Even the nearby streets and houses had been abandoned by the knights and servants it had once employed. Which was a statement; that people would rather live on the east side of Hollow than in the shadow of Kingman Keep. The building itself had suffered during the riots, the holes badly patched with discolored wooden planks. Only the observatory at the top had escaped being broken, gutted, burned, or looted. Instead, it had endured years of neglect to become another damaged memory of the past.
Nature had tried to fix what man had wrought, and half of the keep was covered in the pale white light that came off the Moon’s Tears and their vines. All it did was make it look more decrepit and lonely, as if it were ruins waiting to disappear. But even if I wanted to forget about it, I couldn’t. Kingman Keep sang me to sleep every night, with the screams of those who died in the riots over ten years ago still burned into my mind.
“You didn’t tell me the job was in there,” I declared as we approached the servants’ entrance on the side of the keep.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I knew the Mercenary would be bad enough. Didn’t think you’d ever agree if you knew we were meeting here.”
“Why? Just because the last time I was here was during the riots? Where I watched so-called friends try to kill me in order to better their suddenly bleak positions in society? Did you think I wouldn’t want to relive those memories?” A pause. “Because you’d be right.”
“Do you want to leave?”
“Yes,” I said. “But I won’t abandon you. Just tell me the truth next time.”
“Sorry. I was desperate.”
I tried to let my irritation go as we saw a man ahead, waiting for us.
The Mercenary was disheveled, his long black hair fell to his shoulders and a heavy beard covered his face. His eyes were a smoky grey and he was dressed for a harsh winter, but it was easy to see that he was tall and bulky, more muscle than fat.
“Evening, gentlemen,” he boomed. “Are you two the wonderfully generous con men assisting me tonight?”
I kept my eyes on the Mercenary, not even glancing toward Sirash. He hadn’t told me he had already accepted the deal before consulting with me about it. Another convenient omission. Did he not trust me?
Sirash cleared his throat. “We are. You must be Dark, from Orbis Company. Can you tell us more about the job?”
“Of course! We’re meeting with two people in there. One of them I’ll probably kill and the other I’ll torture for information. Or maybe I’ll let them live. I haven’t decided yet. Sometimes I like to improvise. Once I get the information from them, you’ll be required to take it somewhere. But I’ll tell you where once we have it.”
“You’re lying, right?” Sirash asked.
“No,” the Mercenary said with a smile, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Someone’s going to die tonight, and it won’t be me. Might be one of you, but that remains to be seen.”
I stepped closer to the Mercenary. “Did you truly think we were going to go along with murder?”
“Of course. I—” Dark cut himself off, staring at me instead. “That mark on your neck. You’re Michael Kingman, aren’t you?”
“If you’re asking, you already know the answer.”
“I suppose I do,” he said as he looked me up and down. His tone and posture changed—they were firmer than before—but that often happened when people found out who I was. It didn’t bother me. Even if he was a Mercenary. “I’ll consider this good fortune: a Kingman finally returns to his keep. Let’s head inside. We wouldn’t want to be late.”
“Are you truly planning on murdering someone?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “If you two don’t want
to be involved, you can leave. But I imagine that if you didn’t need money immediately, you wouldn’t be here. So let’s skip the part where you’ll both give me a reason about why you must do this that makes you out to be a better person than me. We’re all selfish monsters—the only difference is some of us are more honest about it than others.”
Neither Sirash nor I said anything in response as Dark placed his hand on the lock and it began to freeze over. With his other hand, he hefted the hatchet that swung from his belt and shattered the lock. Shards of metal fell to the ground like glass. Dark yanked the door and held it open for us.
“Keep your heads low. Try to earn that money in there.”
The three of us entered my old home, cold as a crypt. The dust and cobwebs had taken the place of the servants, the rusted steel replaced the knights, and bloodstained stone was the only reminder that people had once chosen to live in this place. We strode down the corridors where guardsmen had once stood with honor, prepared to fight to the death for the Kingman family, and into the great hall.
Time had reduced it to a hold for soot and scorched stone. The balcony’s wooden barriers had charred away, and the archways were falling apart. The stained glass windows that had once been the envy of all the other High Nobles had been smashed, leaving only shards of red and grey glass to show they had ever existed. The high ceilings that had once made the keep so imposing and grand only filled it with a darkness that wrapped the keep in its tight embrace. As I stood in the center of the room, I looked around, fully expecting that if I closed my eyes, it would return to its forgotten splendor where shadows didn’t exist and everything was as immaculate as it looked in my childhood memories.
“Where’s the war room?” Dark asked me.
“It’s over there,” I said, nudging my head to the farthest room on the right.
“Then let’s get moving.”
