We walked on in silence. The sky was clear and it would be another warm day. High above the great block of the slaughterhouse, the vultures were already circling.
The interview with Pyncheon did not go as Tyron had expected. He made his offer, and then slid a sealed envelope – as custom required – across the polished surface of the large desk.
The Chief Marshal simply pushed it back with a shake of his head. ‘Tallus married the woman three days ago,’ he said, placing a large piece of paper before Tyron. There was a smaller piece fastened to it.
Tyron picked it up and began to read.
‘As you’ll note,’ continued Pyncheon, ‘clipped to the marriage certificate is a cancelled deed of ownership. It’s all perfectly valid – it was sworn in private before a commissioner for oaths. So the woman is free.’
Tyron’s face fell, but there was nothing he could do about it. Ada was a widow, not a slave. No wonder she’d reacted so violently. She’d married Tallus just days before his death.
I was saddened by the news. To have been married for so short a time and then have your husband snatched away in so brutal a manner – it was tragic. But at the same time I was happy that Ada had her freedom.
Then a third piece of paper with a black border was handed to Tyron. It was the combined death and cremation certificate.
‘The body was burned an hour ago,’ Pyncheon said.
Tyron nodded but made no comment.
The interview was over.
The following day, at breakfast, Kwin arrived with a message from Ada. Her face was still full of grief. She didn’t even glance at me but went directly to her father.
‘Are you all right, girl?’ Tyron said, coming to his feet.
‘I was with Ada when she first woke up. It was bad, really bad. It brought back all the memories from last year when Teena lost Kern.’
Tyron hugged her, and she leaned against him, her shoulders shuddering. ‘It’s not right,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s not fair. Somebody has to put a stop to this.’
He patted her back but didn’t reply. She pulled away from him and straightened up, her eyes flashing with defiance. ‘Ada wants to speak to you, Father. Could you go to the hospital this morning?’
‘Of course I will. I’ll go right away.’
Then Kwin looked directly at me. ‘She would like Leif and Deinon to come with you.’
Tyron frowned. ‘Did she say why?’
She shook her head. ‘She doesn’t say much. But she’s angry, and I don’t blame her. I think she has some sort of plan . . .’
‘A plan? A plan for what?’
‘A plan to deal with Hob. A plan to sort him out once and for all!’
Tyron shook his head, clearly exasperated. ‘Did you know that they were married?’ he demanded angrily.
‘No. They were married in a private ceremony one morning. I work in your office then, don’t I? So don’t blame me!’ she snapped back.
He patted his daughter’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry for doubting you, girl. It’s just that things are moving so fast I can’t keep up.’
We left immediately. The hospital room was small; apart from the bed the only other furniture was a table beside it. On it were the documents we’d last seen in Pyncheon’s office.
Ada was sitting upright with three pillows behind her back, her hands folded across her belly; she was wearing a simple white nightdress buttoned to the neck. There were dark shadows under her eyes and her lips,devoid of paint, were as pale as the rest of her face. Her black hair had grown and had been trimmed into the urchin style often chosen by mothers for their young sons.
We stood beside her bed. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Tyron said.
Ada nodded and stared down at her folded hands in silence. Suddenly she looked up at him. ‘I need to speak to the Trader,’ she said. ‘I need something from him.’
‘He’s due in eight days’ time,’ Tyron said. ‘I’ll fix up an appointment for you. We could travel together by barge, if you like.’
‘No,’ Ada said, shaking her head. ‘We will travel together, but not by barge. If I visit him with the others, it will be common knowledge. What I want must be a secret – especially from Hob.’
‘So you plan to act against Hob in some way?’ Tyron asked.
‘Yes.’
There was a silence while they stared at each other.
I wondered what she planned to do. I was also impatient to find out why she had wanted Deinon and me to visit her.
‘If you want my help, woman, I need to know more than that,’ Tyron said gruffly.
‘I will do what I must – with or without your help,’ she answered, her eyes flashing with defiance. ‘But if I get what I need from the Trader – then I will tell you what you wish to know. You wish to learn more aboutNym? Then I will be your teacher. Is that what you want?’
Tyron’s eyes shone with eagerness and he nodded.
‘Then it’s settled. So can we meet the Trader in secret? Is there a way?’
Tyron scratched his head then gave a sigh. ‘It might be possible. There is a way to summon him. He arrives after dark on the eve of the appointed date for his visit, laying up at anchor out of sight. There’s a greatbronze plate suspended by chains close to the tower by the Sea Gate. Beat that gong, and he will come ashore – though nobody has done so in living memory.’
Ada leaned across and picked up a document from the table, throwing it angrily onto the bed. I noted the black border. It was Tallus’s death and cremation certificate.
‘They burned Tal’s body and scattered the ashes while I was still unconscious,’ she cried, tears springing from her eyes. ‘Couldn’t they have waited for me? It was cruel.’
‘I’m sorry for your grief and pain, but no cruelty was intended,’ Tyron said in a kindly voice. ‘Unfortunately, that’s the custom. If someone dies at Hob’s hands in Arena 13, the body is burned as soon as possible. Hehas been known to come back for the remains he doesn’t take with him; he’s capable of doing terrible things to his victims. He retrieves and preserves souls in order to torture them. The bodies are usually eaten by hisfollowers. In this city we do not bury people lest the tassels eat the dead flesh. Speedy cremation is the norm. It’s meant for the best.’
Ada did not speak for a while, and a heavy silence fell over the room.
‘Did you want to speak to Leif and Deinon?’ Tyron said, nodding across the bed towards us. ‘You asked to see them.’
‘Yes. I want them both to come with us to the Sea Gate and to witness what I do. Deinon has great potential as a coder and will benefit from the experience.’
Deinon’s face lit up and he beamed at Ada.
‘As for Leif,’ she continued, ‘in time I would have him fight with my lac in Arena 13. Would you do that, Leif?’
I gasped. It would be a dream come true. I would be fighting with a lac capable of defeating Hob. Revenge would finally be within my grasp.
However, I looked at my master. ‘I’m being trained by Tyron,’ I explained. ‘Whether or not I fight behind your lac, I still belong to his stable. It would be his decision.’
Tyron looked at Ada rather than me. ‘May I ask the reason for that choice? You’ve never seen him in action. Leif’s just a novice,’ he told her.
‘Compared to him, those I’ve seen fighting in the arena are like slow old men. They belong to the past. He is young, fast and very hungry. He is the future. I’ve seen your daughter move, and she says Leif is herequal.’
‘So with the help of something you hope to buy from the Trader, you intend to defeat Hob in the arena?’
‘Correct.’
‘I don’t wish to be cruel, but your skills couldn’t save Tallus. It was a close contest, but your lac wasn’t good enough to win. Tallus had neither the experience nor the skill to fight to the fore of that lac. The contestshould have been won in the first five minutes: you should have ensured that.’
‘Your words are cruel, but I accept what you say,’ Ada sa
id. ‘I underestimated Hob and didn’t anticipate Tal having to fight him so soon. Poor Tal was an eager novice. He tripped and fell. I shouldn’t have allowedhim to fight so soon.’
‘Why should I put my trainee at risk? He’s a novice too.’
‘My skills are adequate, but in this fallen world I’m denied what I need – as are all who pattern here. I believe the Trader will be able to provide what is missing. Even if you had it, your knowledge of Nym is not goodenough to enable you to use it properly. Help me, and you will see how it is done.’
‘The Trader may demand a high price for what you want. If necessary, I’ll lend you the money,’ Tyron offered.
‘I may well take you up on that offer. Tal has left me a little money, but it may be insufficient.’
‘Will we buy wurdes of Nym – the special primitives necessary to build sentience?’ Tyron asked.
‘That’s no longer necessary – I’ve already developed my own primitives – but there is one further thing that I cannot create. It is a creature called a shatek.’
‘What’s that?’ Tyron demanded, voicing the question on all our lips.
‘A shatek is the mother of a djinni,’ Ada replied, ‘and I will be the midwife.’
‘Then what about the father?’
‘Thrym will be the father, but he will also be the son. He will be twice-born, as I am. He will be sentient. In partnership, he and Leif will slay Hob over and over again until his final self is dead. Before that djinni dieshis final death, he will wish he had never been created.’
THE WARSHIP OF A WARRIOR
The Trader does not come bearing gifts.
Cross his palm with silver.
Even better, offer gold.
Amabramsum: the Genthai Book of Wisdom
Soon after dark on the eve of the Trader’s midsummer visit to the Sea Gate, Tyron drove a wagon hauled by eight oxen towards the western edge of the city. Inside, strapped to a jig – a wooden frame with bindings at theankles, wrists and throat, the usual procedure for transporting lacs – lay Thrym, in the deep sleep.
I was wide awake and sitting on the front seat between Tyron and Deinon. Ada and Kwin were immediately behind us.
It was an unusually warm, humid night, and I could hear faint rumbles of thunder in the distance.
I looked forward to our arrival at the Sea Gate with mounting excitement. What did a shatek look like? I wondered. Soon I was going to find out.
I’d assumed we would follow the course of the canal – the most direct route to our destination – but we veered away from it. When I mentioned this, Tyron just said, ‘It’s too dangerous. We might be seen.’
So we took a winding route through the edge of the forest that probably doubled the length of our journey. Soon it began to rain, the wind buffeting the wagon with increasing fury, thunder rumbling in the west. Asummer storm was building.
At last the canal came into view once more. We had reached the Terminus on the cliff above the Sea Gate, and now began our descent through the woods on foot, having tethered the oxen and sealed the wagon againstthe driving rain.
As we approached the tower, a glimmer of yellow light spilled out from its highest window. Were we being spied upon?
‘I thought the tower was deserted,’ I said to Tyron.
‘The Keeper watches over the Sea Gate. I don’t think he’ll approve of what we’re about to do.’
Tyron led us across to the bronze gong suspended between two stone pillars. It was about six feet in diameter and over a foot thick. Leaning against one pillar was a long-shafted hammer, its heavy head covered withthick leather.
Tyron bent down and gripped the shaft. But Ada came to his side and shouted something into his ear, which was lost beneath a crack of thunder. Then, with a shrug and a grimace, he stepped back; now she seized thehammer.
For a moment it seemed that it would be too heavy for her, but I could see the anger and determination on her face. In a paroxysm of rage, she swung it up to shoulder height and spun her whole body round so that itshead made sudden contact with the gong. She grasped it tightly, striking the gong again and again.
That summons boomed out across the choppy water, and before the seventh strike the door of the tower burst open and the Keeper of the Gate ran over to stay Ada’s hand. But Tyron intervened, pulling him to oneside.
On the thirteenth stroke, lightning forked above the harbour and the gong’s boom was answered by a clap of thunder.
Ada laid down the hammer and stood there in the lashing rain. The Keeper pushed past Tyron, gesticulating and shouting at her, but she simply ignored him, knelt on the wet ground, buried her face in her hands andwept.
Kwin knelt by her side and put her arm round her shoulders.
Deinon looked scared, and my heart was pounding in my chest. Something momentous was happening here.
Then Tyron cried out, ‘Look, Ada! The Trader’s here!’
Lit by another fork of lightning, a dark ship was surging towards us between the narrow arms of the outer harbour, its black sails billowing in the gale. And upon its prow was a carved white wolf, so huge and life-likethat it seemed to bound before the ship. Its tongue lolled from its mouth and its fangs were bared, its eyes blazing with fury as it leaped towards its unseen prey.
I had a sudden moment of insight. This was not the vessel of a Trader. It was the warship of a warrior.
The Keeper was pointing towards the tower, and we followed him through the narrow doorway and stood inside, shivering as water dripped from our clothes onto the stone flags. A single torch flickered on the far wallabove a long oaken table; twelve chairs were positioned along the sides and a thirteenth at its head.
The man disappeared into another room and returned carrying towels, which he offered to us. Gratefully we wiped the rain from our faces. I saw that he was an old man with grey stubble on his chin and a gaunt face,but he had kind eyes. He pointed towards the table, gesturing that we should sit down.
We nodded and took a seat, but nobody spoke. When he left the room, I sat there in a daze, listening to the rain battering against the stones. The Keeper had left the door ajar, and it swept into the room, forming a largepuddle, which glistened yellow in the torchlight.
He returned with a tray of steaming metal tankards, which he placed upon the table. ‘Drink,’ he commanded. ‘It will drive out the chill.’
I lifted the tankard to my lips and sipped the liquid cautiously. It contained hot caudle – a sweet and spicy gruel which slid down my throat to warm my stomach. I sipped again and felt new strength spreading throughmy body.
Suddenly I heard heavy footsteps on the flags, and a giant of a man dressed in chain mail from head to foot stood framed in the doorway; he wore a silver mask, and luxuriant red hair spilled down almost to hisshoulders.
The Keeper went across and bowed low, and I heard him whispering quietly. Then he returned to the table and pulled out the chair at its head. For the first time I noticed that this was larger than the others; on its backwas carved the head of a snarling wolf.
Unbidden, we came to our feet and bowed to the stranger. Although he was dressed as a warrior, with silver chain mail and a long dagger sheathed at his belt, his hair and size told me that this was the same man wehad met in the tent close to this very spot.
He bowed graciously in return and motioned for us to sit, before taking his own seat. I looked at the eye-slits in the mask, and saw the flicker of the eyes behind. There was no opening for his mouth.
The Keeper bowed to each of us and left the room. When he’d gone, the Trader spoke. The deep voice was somewhat muffled by the mask, but his words were clear.
‘For what reason have I been summoned?’ he demanded.
‘I loved a man and now he is dead,’ Ada said simply. ‘And I cannot find peace until the thing that murdered him is also dead.’
‘Name this murderer!’
‘The creature is a djinni called Hob,’ Ada continued. ‘He slew my husband in the arena.’
/> ‘Then what do you wish from me?’
‘A shatek,’ she said, glancing towards Tyron. ‘I will pay the required price.’
Tyron nodded. ‘I’ll be her guarantor. I am prepared to advance the money,’ he said.
‘Do you know what it is that you contemplate?’ the Trader asked, turning towards Ada and resting his huge mailed fists on the table.
‘Do you know who I am?’ Ada countered, an edge of anger in her voice. ‘Do you know me?’
The Trader nodded. ‘I should, for I brought you to this place and awoke you from the sleep that is akin to death, thus making you twice-born. Once, long ago, you were the High Adept of Nym, foremost amongst thosein the Imperial Academy, and amongst your colleagues you had no equal. But now you are but a lone woman in a fallen land. The forces that oppose you are far more strange and terrible than you realize.’
‘The shatek? Is one available?’ Ada asked, becoming impatient.
‘Yes, it’s available. I can supply what you demand now. But my payment can wait.’
‘I will pay you in full,’ she insisted.
The Trader nodded. ‘One year from this very night I will be at anchor in the harbour. If you still live, bring to me what is owed.’
Ada nodded and he rose to his feet. Throughout this interchange Kwin, Deinon and I had remained silent. Even Tyron had spoken only one sentence.
With Ada in the lead, we followed the Trader out into the darkness. The storm had abated, leaving behind a warm drizzle as insubstantial as mist. We waited on the quayside while the Trader boarded his ship and wentdown into the darkness of the hold.
It was some time before he emerged. When he did so, he was no longer alone. Behind him, four squat figures laboured to manoeuvre something up onto the deck; it was a cylinder of dull metal, big enough toaccommodate a large human body.
They hefted it to waist height, supporting it on straps around their shoulders. When they clambered up onto the quay with their heavy load, I saw that they were not human; their naked bodies were covered with a hideof dark hair that glistened in the fine drizzle. Although a head shorter than me, they were much broader and stockier.
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