Corruption

by Adam Vine

  At last, Queen Rat said, “I want you to serve me, both of you. I believe that is the purpose the Spiral has sent you here to fulfill. I understand accepting this offer will mean risking your lives…”

  A strange glaze suddenly clouded Zaea’s eyes, pulling my attention away from what Queen Rat was saying. A grimace wrenched Zaea’s lips apart, and a flash of silver leapt from her palm.

  Queen Rat turned with a calm, fascinated smirk that froze as she saw Zaea’s soup spoon flying toward her. My feet had already left the floor. I tackled the queen in the same instant the pewter projectile sailed over our heads, striking the man standing behind the queen with dagger upraised with a juicy thud.

  Only then did I realize Zaea hadn’t been aiming for the queen at all, but at her assassin. It was the man who had been praying in the back of the church when we came in. He’d snuck up on us while the queen was monologuing. The dagger he was brandishing was a cruel stiletto. In his other hand was my flint axehead, fixed with a brand new wooden handle.

  As his face contorted with pain, I recognized the assassin as the gangly gaoler who’d stood guard outside my cell with Gator that morning. Because both of our backs had been turned, neither the queen nor I had noticed him approach. Only Zaea had, and her split-second decision to throw the spoon had saved the queen’s life.

  The man shrieked and dropped his axe, struggling to dislodge Zaea’s spoon from the socket of his left eye. The spoon came free and a crimson spray riddled with thick, squishy white spurted from his face. He lunged for the queen, gripping his wound and desperately slashing with his knife.

  The queen crouched and slid off the line of the attack. The knife came back around, slashing for her jugular, but cut only air. The assassin’s third attack was a straight thrust toward her stomach. The queen sprawled back and grabbed the knife with both hands, drove her elbow into the gangly man’s nose, then grabbed his wrist with an entangling figure-four grip so the assassin couldn’t get his knife hand free. Then the queen bent his arm like a chicken wing, drove her hips forward and stabbed the assassin in the liver with his own blade.

  The assassin shrieked and struggled, but he couldn’t escape. They fought that way for a few minutes, the knife going in and out, in and out, their feet slipping on the slick and the red. At last the man trembled, gave a final hiss, and dropped lifeless to the floor.

  Queen Rat’s right cheek was slashed open. I could see her teeth through the elongated crimson dimple the knife had made. She shot me a look of panicked relief, and quickly set about tearing strips from her tunic to pack the cut.

  In that short instant I looked away, the assassin somehow made it back to his knees and made a grab for Zaea, who gave a surprised yelp before tripping and falling backward over a pew. The bastard still wasn’t dead. Without thinking, I grabbed an iron candelabra sitting on the ledge of the nearest shrine and smashed it over his head. Before I fully comprehended what I’d done, the assassin stopped moving.

  Wild breath scorched my lungs. A furious rhythm pounded inside my skull. I stared at the murky pool of blood spreading out from what was now my second kill with unblinking eyes. This time, I wasn’t sorry.

  “Thanks,” Zaea said. She started to cry. The queen rushed to embrace her. Queen Rat clutched Zaea’s head to her bloody breast, cooing, “Shh, shh, we’re safe now, sweet girl, you’re safe, you’re all right, he didn’t hurt you, he can’t possibly hurt you now. Shh, shh. What else are friends for? Look at us, three brand-new siblings bound by an enemy’s blood, bonding over the corpse of our first fallen foe. Excellent throw of that spoon, by the way.”

  Zaea’s breathing slowed, and she laughed, wiping her face dry with the back of her sleeve.

  The queen nudged the dead man with her boot. “Remind me to punish you for stealing good pewter from my chow hall, Zaea. Don’t think you’re getting away with that. But, later. We’re going to get good and drunk now, and I don’t mean on that pig’s piss we had earlier. We’ll break out the good bottle I was saving for the Feast of Saint Joanna. Where exactly did you learn to throw a piece of fine dinnerware like that, anyway?”

  Zaea bit her lip. “My dad. He can throw anything. He used to show me things like that when I was a little girl. Said they’d be useful when I went to Ganheim. I was in military school before I became a doctor; I don’t think I’ve mentioned that. I learned how to kill a human being with a spoon before I could do long division.”

  The queen must’ve thought that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, because she laughed so hard I had to cover my ears. I couldn’t take my eyes off the twitching mess of slashed cloth and pale, bloody flesh lying dead at my feet.

  No. He tried to kill Zaea. He can rot in Hell.

  “You must have some training yourself. That was quite the disarm,” Zaea said.

  The queen wobbled her hand in the air. “Enough to protect myself when my Moles aren’t around. But I also had a fairly large advantage.”

  Zaea’s eyes narrowed. We both said, “What?”

  Queen Rat gave us a liar’s shrug. “I knew the attack was coming. I haven’t been entirely honest with you. I had a feeling this one was going to make a botched assassination attempt when we first entered the church. Not really the praying type, our friend Spider. Though I admit, I was surprised when he chose me as his first target instead of Dan, whom he was supposed to kill. You and I, Zaea, were only meant to be a nice bonus.”

  “I don’t understand,” Zaea said.

  In an instant, the trust I’d felt for Queen Rat vanished, and my fear and post-fight jitters transformed into wrath. “You knew he was going to attack us? And you let him?” I said, more of a demand than a question.

  The queen’s smile faded, and she fixed me with a callous, analyzing gaze. “Of course I knew he would attack us, Daniel. I hired him.”

  THE BURROW

  QUEEN RAT’S SOLAR was small and cramped, all dusty, empty bottles and untouched piles of ancient vellum scrolls. There was a wooden table and four chairs, which I guessed were luxury items in the Night Country, where trees no longer grew; also a gold candelabra with nine candles, a woven wool carpet, and a brick hearth, where the queen waved on a glowmoss log and Zaea and I sat and drank wine while Gator played music for us on his lute to mask our conversation from anyone who might try to eavesdrop from the hall.

  The queen went to the bathroom to sew shut the wound in her face. When she returned, the severed flesh of her cheek was raw and swollen beneath the stitches, saliva murmuring through newfound passageways when she spoke.

  “You have questions, and I’ve put off answering them for far too long. Of course, you understand why I couldn’t. But now that I know you’re both willing to kill for me, we’ve established a base level of trust, so at last, we can begin,” Queen Rat said.

  “Why don’t you begin by telling us what the Hell is going on? No more bullshit,” I said.

  Queen Rat rolled her eyes. “Daniel, calm yourself, before you impregnate your trousers. You won’t get to wash them any time soon. I promise.”

  I swirled my wine and stared at the fire, listening to Gator play. The bright notes sang in hypnotic succession. The melody reminded me of a church song I’d sang many times growing up, You’ve Gotta Be Good to Meet God. Of course, our little Evangelical congregation only had one singer, an electric guitar, and a keyboard – nothing as fancy or as masterfully played as the beautiful, hand-carved instrument in Gator’s hands.

  The Queen drained her wine and hissed as the alcohol scorched her wound. She patted it dry with a gauze pad. “I have long had suspicions of Spider’s disloyalty, so I sent an envoy to him – an anonymous third party – with an offer to assassinate you, myself, and Zaea on behalf of the Crippled King. I had my catspaw tell Spider a rumor that you would claim to be the Wanderer Returned, and that the Crippled King would pay handsomely for your death. Not only that, but failure to kill you would result in nothing less than the fall of the Amber City. Naturally, they had been paying Spider for
information about me for years… perhaps even since he was a child.”

  Queen Rat smirked into her wine. “Fool that he was, the pickle dick believed my ruse. The scene of the crime was supposed to appear as though you, Dan, had assassinated Zaea and I before succumbing to your wounds. That’s why Spider was carrying your axe head, stolen from your possessions while you were incarcerated, as I’m sure you noticed.

  “Whoever found us was supposed to think you were the Crippled King’s spy, and in return, our creeping, crawling friend Spider was promised safe passage to the Amber City, where he was to receive a fully-furnished mansion, a pretty young wife, and all the food and drink he could consume until the end of his days. I think that last part is what sold him. Like so many of us here in the Burrow, Spider was a slave to distilled spirits.”

  “Care to explain yourself?” I said.

  Queen Rat drained her wine. “I wanted to find where Spider’s true loyalties lay, as well as yours. So I laid a trap for him, and he hustled on all eight of his spindly, spidery legs right into it. You must understand that I didn’t know you, or Zaea, any more than a stone in my boot, and the only way for you to win my trust was by giving you the opportunity to kill me and have you not take it.”

  She sacrificed one of her own men, and knowingly risked her life, so she could see whose side Zaea and I were really on? What a callous, inconsiderate, unethical…

  “Dan, you seem distraught. Is something I’ve said unclear?” Queen Rat said, refilling her glass.

  I tried not to let my voice quiver. “Risking your own life is one thing. But how dare you risk Zaea’s? She could have been killed! We didn’t choose to come here.”

  The Queen eyed me scalp to toe. “Yes, I risked your lives. If you are who I believe you are, a little dismemberment and death is a small price to pay to confirm it.”

  “Who do you think we are?” I said, though part of me already knew.

  “What does the widower say to his ceiling at night?”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, your highness.”

  “It’s a roundabout way of saying your question was idiotic.”

  I got up and paced around the small confines of the room. Gator raised an eyebrow, but kept playing. “All due respect, Queen, but I think we’re all a little too tired and frayed to start drunkenly philosophizing. Right, now we earned your trust. So what? Do you want us to sweep your floors? Search for frozen TV dinners on the Surface? What? If you’re not going to tell us, I’m tired, and Zaea needs to get to bed, too…”

  “I can speak for myself, Dan,” Zaea said.

  I sat down again, my face growing hot. Gator stopped playing to tune his lute.

  The queen topped off our wine glasses. “You’ve won some of my trust, but not all. There is no depth the Crippled King will not sink to in an effort to stop our little revolution. We are a threat to his claim, both as king, and as the mouthpiece of god. I still cannot be 100% sure you are not spies. If you are not, you probably don’t understand why I’m still suspicious of you. But the Crippled King possesses powers you are not yet aware of.”

  Zaea and I exchanged a nervous glance. “What?” we both said.

  Queen Rat drew a spiral in the air with her finger. “The Crippled King can travel the Spiral, like you can. He has the ability to leave his body and inhabit another at will. Our spies in the Amber City have witnessed it. They report he is researching this power obsessively, though he is currently only capable of traveling short distances, and to do so puts great physical strain on his primary body. He is old, weak, and already quite vulnerable. However, he is making progress…”

  I finished the queen’s thought. “… You think it’s only a matter of time before he’s able to take control of someone here and open the gates. That he’s going to use this power to sabotage you.”

  “Even in the best-case scenario, which one should never assume, it will be less than a year before the armies of the Amber City march victorious through these halls, and their banners fly over Salt Town,” Queen Rat said. “I’m no pessimist, but we have no way of killing an enemy who walks among us unseen. This station is the last line of defense against such an invasion, and you’ve seen what a feeble bulwark it truly is. All of our other defenses have fallen to pogroms or disease.”

  “It is a time of ending,” Zaea said, her eyes locked on the fire. “But an ending always means a new beginning, doesn’t it?”

  “That’s funny. Our sources tell us that’s exactly what the Crippled King told the freezing, starving refugees when he was inviting them by the millions to come to the capital to die. But there’s no way you could’ve known that. Hear, hear.” Queen Rat said, and clinked Zaea’s glass.

  She paused to collect her thoughts before going on. “As I said earlier, the Spiral sent you here to fulfill a purpose. You will return here, each night, until that purpose is fulfilled. I know, because it happened to Helm, too. Helm’s purpose was to die for us, and he did. I do not believe you will share his fate, but it is possible.”

  “Here it is,” I said.

  The queen gave me a curt smile. “Serve the revolution until the Amber City falls, and then you can go home. For good.”

  “I don’t understand,” Zaea said.

  “She means we’ll be able to sleep again. Without the dreams. Without coming here,” I said.

  “You are as sharp as shattered glass, Daniel,” Queen Rat said.

  “Why us?” I said.

  It was her turn to stand and begin pacing the room. “You are both Visitors. Thus, you both have an extreme tolerance to cold. My people can’t remain on the Surface longer than a few hours unless there is a false day, but you can. We have recently learned of a secret facility run by the Amber City where our people are being held hostage. We have reason to believe they are being… experimented on.”

  “We’re not soldiers. Well, she is.” I motioned to Zaea. “And, uh… I guess I have some training, too… but neither of us are anywhere near that level,” I said.

  The queen swirled her wine. “Yes, it is possible you will both die. But I have faith in you. Besides, you’ll have eight of my best Vermin to watch your backs.”

  “Fret not,” I said.

  “Once the prisoners are freed, leading them back here will be easy as pie. People of this country know how to defend themselves and travel in the cold. They won’t get lost or accidentally walk off a cliff if you get too far ahead of them.”

  I wanted to see what Zaea thought before I said anything else, but her head was bowed low, her eyes full of firelight and masked intent.

  “Again, why us?” I said.

  “Daniel, are you truly going to deny where you are, and why you’re here? You didn’t fall into Len’s body by accident. You were brought here for a reason. I think we both know what that reason could be. At least, we can hope.”

  She thinks I’m the Wanderer Returned. But why? I’m not a good person. I’m nobody’s savior.

  Not for the first time, Queen Rat read me like a book. She watched my mental wheels spinning with increasing amusement, before finally interrupting, “However, and this is a big however, we of the Burrow do not believe the Wanderer was divine. He never claimed divinity, or attempted to keep his power after his purpose was fulfilled. We don’t even know his real name, or what he looked like. He forbade any image of his likeness. We believe all Visitors have the potential to fulfill this role. Whether or not they do is a matter of choice. And so we wait.”

  Zaea cleared her throat, and said, “Um, Queen? You were going to tell us how we can go home.”

  Queen Rat shook her head. “Oh, right. I tend to go on tangents when I’m a few cups deep. I also do it when I’m sober. Wine does make me love the sound of my own voice, though. The answer to your question is simple. To go home permanently, to rid yourself of this curse, you must kill the Crippled King. There is no other way. Learn how he controls the Spiral. He will not share his secrets with you, otherwise. I promise.”

  “Oh,
for heaven’s sake,” I said.

  The queen tapped her fingers on her thigh. “You came to us in the hour of our greatest need, in the body of one of our greatest fallen warriors. We of the Burrow do not believe in literal prophecy. If we did, we would have no choice but to accept our oppressor, since he technically fits all of the qualifications. Instead, we believe that heroes and villains, saviors and tyrants create themselves. You need to want to help us, Daniel. As you must want to help yourself. And her.” She gestured to Zaea.

  “Seems rather convenient for you, doesn’t it?” I said. “You’re asking us to do the impossible. Otherwise, your own people would have already done it. So you tell us a bunch of pseudo-religious mumbo jumbo about how we were destined to come here, knowing perfectly well that we have no choice but to buy it. Sure, send us on a suicide mission. Who cares if they capture and torture us to death? You talk about choice as if we have one.”

  “Dan…” Zaea said, glaring at me the way Carly used to when I said something that embarrassed her.

  “There is always a choice,” Queen Rat said.

  I closed my eyes and breathed, in, out, in, and out, my thoughts a tired web of drunkenness, pain, and worry. The blurred tip of Jaime Jimenez’s shinai flashed toward me behind my weary eyes.

  Maybe it is fate, I thought. Or maybe it’s just plain old stupidity. Maybe those things really aren’t all that different.

  “I don’t need to consider it,” I said at last. “My answer is yes.”

  “And you, Zaea? What will you do?” the queen said.

  Zaea took my hand and squeezed it. “Dan saved my life. Twice. I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I let him go alone.”

  “Splendid,” the Queen said with a clap. “Tomorrow. The expedition leaves at second torch. Your briefing begins an hour before that, in roughly seven hours. If I were you two, I’d get to sleep as soon as possible.”

  “We’ll be there,” I said.

  “One last thing, Daniel. There was no shame in what you did. I thought I’d already finished the job for you, otherwise, I would have done it myself. And while it may have cost me my good looks – that’s a joke – it was a necessary evil. Does anyone want more wine?”