Flame's Shadow

by Anna Eluvae

  "How does it work?" asked Dravus.

  "The wings?" asked Gael. Dravus nodded. "Lexari spent years, maybe decades, trying to get them to work. He made a study of birds and spoke with natural philosophers. There are diagrams of how the air moves that I'm sure he could show you. He worked with many illustrati of different domains in order to perfect the design."

  "I'm not sure that answered my question," said Dravus. Lexari was a point of light, clearly visible only when he made a turn in the air and began to flap his wings again.

  "He uses his power to shape the wings," said Gael. "The structure takes a great deal of attention, and he needs a mirror to watch as he forms it. There are something like muscles in it, parts of the construct that he can pull at in a way that's become natural to him now, after years of patience. The wing pushes against the air and provides him with lift. Beyond that, you would have to ask him, but in most respects he flies just like a bird does."

  "And I could do that someday?" asked Dravus. He imagined wings with black feathers, like a raven, flying over foreign cities at night and looking down on the lights below him.

  Nemm laughed. "Well, that's the source of your curiosity at least. And no, it doesn't seem likely that you'll be able to fly. I've known more than one illustrati with the domain of air that's tried to get flight working, not to mention those with other less likely domains, and Lexari is the only one who's managed it."

  "Shadow isn't supposed to be common," said Dravus. "So maybe no one was ever famous enough to have the power for it."

  Lexari landed back on the deck and folded his wings behind him until they were only a small pack of light resting on his back. He frowned at his maimed right hand and reformed the light around it. The effect was mostly for aesthetic purposes; they'd taken dinner together a few times, and Lexari had always held his fork in his other hand.

  "Torland is looking well," said Lexari. "Dom, prepare yourself for the unpleasant smells of the world's busiest port. Nemm, be ready for trouble."

  "What sort of trouble?" asked Nemm.

  "Kendrick Eversong, the Blood Bard," said Lexari. He spat the name. "I spotted him on the streets, and believe he was coming to the docks to greet our arrival. He's never been violent in the past, at least not towards other illustrati, but my injury might change that."

  Nemm shrugged. "Four on one wouldn't be odds he'd be willing to take. It's the spectacle that concerns me."

  Dravus couldn't help but feel some elation at the fact that she'd including him.

  Meriwall wasn't built on the sea; it was a mile up a thick, sluggish river that was visible from a distance as a forest of ship masts and a line of low buildings. The crowds had gathered to greet them long before they reached the city proper. It began as small clusters of workers who had taken a break to see the Zenith come in, but by the time they reached their dock just outside the high walls that gave Meriwall its name, the crowds were so thick it was hard to see where the mass of people ended. Dravus had avoided the crowds that surrounded the illustrati in Genthric. He wondered if the reception in Genthric had been like this one was. His sense of the illustrati as enormous figures of myth had returned to him with a vengeance.

  Dravus wore the same purple clothing, overlaid with a simple breastplate of shadow. The clothing had been cleaned and tailored by one of the sailors. They fit him better now, but Nemm still frowned at the tights and cape, and told him they'd need to get him fitted for something more iconic when he made his debut at court. She had on a the same suit of glass armor as she'd had when they'd left Genthric. It hugged her form and presented hard, shiny surfaces. She'd also fashioned a circlet of glass around her head, which held her hair in place. Lexari had on the same damaged suit of armor from before, though the quick alterations that Nemm had made to it had been refined, and now it looked more perfect in its state of ruin. It would be replaced once they had a spare moment in Meriwall.

  Wenaru stood back from the others, and didn't present himself to the crowds in the same way that Lexari or Nemm did. From time to time the wind would carry a shouted word to the ship, "Red Angel", and from the way that Wenaru's jaw tightened, it was clear that he wasn't taking this as a compliment. The connection was slow in coming, but when Dravus put the thoughts together they twisted in his gut. Wenaru Mottram had been given prisoners of war, and this was the country that the bulk of them must have come from.

  The lion's share of the crowd wasn't shouting dissent. Most people were there to see Lexari in all his shining glory, or Nemm in her faceted armor. They cheered loudly as the ship made dock, and the sailors moved forward to guard against anyone trying to get aboard. Dravus saw more than one woman trying to push her way through with tears streaming down her face. That sort of reaction was precisely why Dravus had always avoided the illustrati. He'd seen the gathered crowds a few times, but there was something unseemly about them, just as there was something unseemly about the crowds that watched him race across the rooftops.

  "Ohhhhhhhh," sang a loud voice from within the crowds. People turned towards it, and a pair of hands lifted up a man with a lute above the surrounding press of people. He was dressed in a crimson red, with black tights and a large red hat that sat slightly askew. He had pale white skin and a black goatee, with a slightly pinched face and a wide smile. His voice rang out with a note that was throaty and loud, enough to pierce the murmur of the crowd. It was a toughened voice, one lubricated with ale. His identity was easy to guess. When the Blood Bard was properly elevated, he began to strum his lute, and sing a song that the crowds went silent for.

  Lexari Sunhawk,

  Is easy to mock,

  He's cowardly as a chick-en

  He runs from the fight,

  Off into the night,

  For fear of gettin' a lickin'!

  During the siege of Arronbach,

  The powdersmoke was thick,

  Lexari went to the doctor,

  And played at being sick!

  Ask me any questions,

  About this man I know,

  To tell it true Lexari is,

  As low as a man can go!

  He's fought the villain Zerstor,

  A time or three or four,

  He arranged the fights ahead of time,

  And Zerstor faked his roar!

  I do not call him rapist,

  Nor exaggerate his misdeeds,

  But he's a crooked cowardly craven,

  Always aiming to mislead!

  He travels around with Nemm,

  A woman clad in glass,

  She's a spoiled brat, a murderer,

  And a whore of the highest class!

  The men of the realm must love her,

  They call her a saucy lass,

  In exchange she likes to bend over,

  And let them take her in the ass!

  As the song had gone on, Nemm's armor had changed. Sharp black shards had grown from it, and the spikes elongated. Her face was a mask of barely restrained anger. Lexari had not changed his expression at all, only folded his arms across his chest while he waited for the bard to finish. Neither made any attempt to interrupt him. Wenaru shrank back with downcast eyes. Dravus deliberated on his response. He didn't know what his own part was. The authentic response would simply have been confusion, but while half the crowd was watching the bard sing his song, cheering or booing at some particular line, the other half was watching the crew of the Zenith. Dravus settled for crossing his arms in front of him like Lexari had done. He twisted his mouth and furrowed his brow, and hoped that he looked more upset than befuddled. As the song reached its end, and the affront settled in, it became far less of an act.

  "A pleasant enough song, if you enjoy flights of fancy," said Lexari. His voice was calm and even, and projected for a wide audience. The noise of the crowd was low. People were hanging on every word, and Lexari was speaking past Kendrick to them. "Doggerel verse isn't enough to change a person's mind, especially when your lyrics are soaked through with jealousy and irrationa
l hatred. A better man would speak of his own deeds rather than belittle someone else, but perhaps that would be easier if you had accomplished anything of note."

  "Ah, well, if it's actions you want," said Kendrick with a grin. His eyes shifted towards Gael. "I did happen to write another verse." He strummed his lute again and began to sing before Lexari could interject.

  His name is Gael Mottram,

  The Harbinger of Death,

  He'll cut your vital organs out,

  Until there's nothing left.

  Mottram's killed a hundred,

  He's ripped their flesh apart,

  He cut off legs,

  He tore out hearts,

  He gouged out eyes,

  He's use dark arts,

  He's eaten brains,

  And bo-dy parts!

  Now he travels the ocean,

  Free as a man can be,

  His crimes have been forgiven,

  By her royal majesty!

  But Mottram killed my father,

  In ways both vile and cruel,

  So Mottram, for your recompense,

  I challenge you to a duel.

  Kendrick Eversong gave a deep bow to the crowd, and there were scattered cheers among them. A hulking man pushed his way between the sailors. He carried a thick package wrapped in a crimson cloth that matched the bard's outfit, and as the Zenith's sailors began to push him back, he threw the package overhand towards the deck of the ship. Nemm blurred forward and caught it without any apparent effort on her part.

  "The terms of the duel," said Kendrick. "Negotiable. You know where to find me once you've thought it over." He began to strum on his lute again, humming the tune loudly. "Of course I know that dear Wenaru is a pacifist, so I suppose it shall be the two of us, shan't it Whitespear?"

  It was a trap. That was clear enough. Wenaru had committed a host of crimes against the people of Torland, or at least they believed that he had, which was the important bit. It hadn't been mentioned at all in the course of Dravus's rapid education, but there was little doubt that this was a point of tension the bard was tugging at. The Blood Bard was a bit player in the scheme of things, formerly employed by the illustrati before he'd raised his profile. He wanted a duel to increase his standing, and had chosen Wenaru because it was a justifiable way to get at Lexari. The motive was unclear. Having the champion of good defend Wenaru's supposed experiments would do damage, certainly, and there was little doubt that the Peddler's War was underpinning this whole thing in one way or another. That was as far as Dravus's thinking got before it seemed as though he would lose his window of opportunity.

  "I'll stand in Gael's place," said Dravus. He moved up, past Lexari and Nemm. "I was nine years old when the Peddler's War ended, and had no stake in it. I don't step forward to retread the past. I step forward because for as long as I've known him, Wenaru Mottram has been a kind and caring man." The words came quickly, projected out to the crowd with a voice he'd practiced at sea.

  Kendrick Eversong, the Blood Bard, nodded as though this were the most natural result of his challenge. "Very well then. I'll kill you in three days time, at Amare's Theater, and Wenaru's life will be forfeited immediately after." He rose his hands, holding his lute high. "All are welcome to enjoy the spectacle!"

  Chapter 6

  Kendrick Eversong had been sipping on a mid-morning ale when a young boy came into the tavern, hollering about Lexari Sunhawk flying overhead.

  The last piece of correspondence from Genthric had arrived three days ago, which meant that it was nearly two weeks out of date. At that time, word had been that Lexari was intending to sail to Parance, which likely meant another two weeks until he came to Meriwall, if he kept to his patterns. Something had changed, but it was a mystery as to what. When Kendrick had worked as Lexari's bard, he was always dealing with stories coming in weeks or even months after they'd happened, responding to events that had happened ages ago. By the time word of a broken siege in Lerabor reached Meriwall, the siege had already been over for weeks. It had been a pain then, and it was a pain now, but Kendrick got up and went to work.

  The man that carried him was named Clarence. He was short but wide, and extremely muscular, and had been chosen from among the Council of Laborers for precisely those reasons. The idea was for Kendrick to be held high above the heads of the gathered crowd, moving along as though he was floating. It was important for Clarence to be short so that he wouldn't be too visible to the crowds and draw attention to himself. Clarence and Kendrick had practiced together in a warehouse where racks of lamb were curing, until they could move together in a way that didn't betray the amount of balance and strength it took.

  "Something's wrong with Lexari's hand," said a wiry man from within the Council. He was slightly out of breath, with news that was only minutes out-of-date instead of weeks. "And there's another illustrati with him, looks like shadow."

  "Wenaru and Nemm are on the ship?" asked Kendrick.

  The wiry man nodded. It was really the long-awaited moment then. Kendrick had to resist the urge to show his anxiety. If only the Zenith weren't so fast, he wouldn't have so many gaps in his knowledge. The landscape had changed, and the gambit was now far less certain. There was a strong argument to be made for holding off and waiting for more information to come in, but theatrics demanded that the challenge happen now, when everyone would be assembled and the crowds would be thick. There was no guarantee that he would be able to get all three of them together in public again; Nemm in particular liked to slip off the ship at the first opportunity. In Kendrick's experience, news traveled in waves, and if you timed things wrong you would end up with those waves crashing into each other instead of adding their force to one another. No, it had to be now, whatever the risks.

  When the Zenith docked, Kendrick was lifted up, and sang the song he'd been practicing for ages. From his new vantage point he could see Lexari's hand; "something's wrong" had been understating it by a wide margin, given that most of the fingers were missing. Nemm was looking as radiant as ever, even with her mask of anger. Yet Kendrick's eyes kept going to the newcomer, the unknown element dressed in unfashionable clothing and a breastplate made of shadow, with shaggy curls of hair and a mildly confused look on his face.

  When the man - no, the boy - stepped forward to accept the duel, Kendrick almost faltered. Yet he had honed his skills in improvisation over the course of a decade and a half, and he decided to run with it and figure everything out later. He wanted desperately to stay, to ask what in the hell was going on, or simply to listen to the speech that Lexari was about to give, but the narrative had to be centered on the duel, and that meant making an exit instead of heckling.

  A slight movement of the foot got Clarence moving through the crowds, and Kendrick strummed his lute as though he had not a single care in the world.

  * * *

  The Blood Bard retreated, held aloft. He hummed his tune and idly played his lute, while Dravus watched him go.

  Dravus nearly jumped when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He looked to the side, and saw Lexari standing next to him, with a benevolent smile on his face.

  "This is young man is Lightscour," Lexari said to the crowd. "Ten days ago he was living a hardscrabble life on the streets of Genthric. Nine days ago he killed the Titan of Rust and Ruin." Ripples went through the crowd, hushed murmurs and gasps of disbelief. Lexari held up his ruined hand, the one with fingers of light, and the masses again when silent. "Tonight at Amare's Theater, just after sundown, I'll tell the tale of how I took this wound. And three days after that, Lightscour will prove the strength of his convictions on that same stage."

  He smiled wide, and the crowd burst into cacophony as people talked loudly to each other and shouted questions at Lexari. He merely gave a bow to them, and turned to the others. "The Flower Queen will expect us at Grayhull in not too much longer."

  When Dravus saw Nemm's face, he took a slight, involuntary step backwards. He had thought he had seen all her shades of a
nger before, from the cold threatening calms to the primal fires of passionate rage, but this was something else entirely. He could see her anger in her eyes, and the slight tightness in the muscles of her face, but it was restrained; there was a mask in place. She was going to yell at him later, he'd known that as soon as the idea of stepping forward had occurred to him, but now he was worried that she was going to do him some actual physical harm.

  "To Grayhull," said Nemm with a nod. "This was an inauspicious start to our time in Meriwall." She focused on her armor, and the spikes and shards it had been protruding began to retract in. There was a slight twitch to her cheek as her eyes passed over Dravus and Lexari. "Let's hope that the Flower Queen's Court is in better shape than we left it."