And oddly, this saved me. For as I felt my spirit being sucked into one of the sword Crypttongue’s many gems, I used every bit of shamanic will left in my wounded body to keep that will and body together.
Jewelwolf’s murderous grin changed to anger, and she raised Schismglass. It was not all black in that moment, but reflective, like polished obsidian.
She plunged it into me, beside the first wound.
In addition to the excruciating pain, there was a peculiar relief—for it was as though some of the current sweeping me toward Crypttongue was diverted to Schismglass. Both blades wanted my spirit! They were contesting for it, dogs fighting over a bone.
I don’t know what might have happened had the struggle continued. Perhaps my essence would have been rent, or one of the swords would have prevailed. Anyone but I, it’s clear, would have been destroyed. Don’t give me that look. You have no experience sending your spirit outside your body. I know all the tricks. Are you writing down everything I say? When I get my strength back, you’re getting a drubbing.
My strength was giving out then. But with a resounding clang of metal, Steelfox knocked the magic blades from my gut.
They did more damage on the way out, but I figured, Who’s complaining? Although it seemed clear I would die, at least I’d die as me.
Haytham was there too, desperately trying to bind my wounds and saying sweet stupid things about holding on. Such a boy. My vision swam with the sight of Steelfox and Jewelwolf with weapons raised against each other. I noticed Nine Smilodons beside my mistress and Jewelwolf’s two guards dead upon the ground. My estimation of Nine Smilodons rose.
Steelfox screamed, “Our father’s laws—”
“To hell with our father’s laws!” Jewelwolf answered. “Nine Smilodons, subdue your mistress or die!”
“I respectfully decline, khatun,” the soldier said.
The falcon Qurca screeched into the tent and savaged Jewelwolf’s face. The khatun cursed and tried to skewer the bird with one magic blade or the other, but maybe she had too many options, for Qurca was already wheeling around.
Outside there were shouts of alarm. I heard talk of balloons.
Qurca alighted beside me and Haytham.
“Haytham,” Steelfox said, “we’re getting out of here.”
Jewelwolf, face slashed and seeping in many places, laughed. “There is no help for you, sister. At last I have broken the ice-covered river of your heart, provoked you into violence. Now you are outcast, a traitor, and you have no companion but your own shadow.”
“You are wrong,” Steelfox said, and for all Jewelwolf’s words, I had never before heard so much winter in Steelfox’s voice. “I have companions. You have only servants. Even your husband the khan is only a servant.”
“You say you have companions,” Jewelwolf said. “I will remedy that.”
And now I heard the cry of Jewelwolf’s horse, Aughatai, the bond-beast who had always so agitated Qurca.
It burst into the tent, whinnying its madness, and as its hooves came down upon Haytham and me, I saw one of its eyes glowing troll-green.
CHAPTER 32
CHAMPIONS
“What are you all doing out here?” Walking Stick said, staring at Joy’s right hand. They all stood in the snow-covered courtyard of the Fortress—Joy, Snow Pine, Flint, and Inga on their way to the captured Karvak balloon, Walking Stick on some unknown errand. The city seemed hushed, panic given way to exhaustion. They saw few people.
Joy explained about Innocence.
Walking Stick shut his eyes. He was silent a long moment. “I cannot come with you. I have a duty that I cannot deny.”
“What is it, teacher?” Joy could see a weariness in him she’d never seen before.
“If you are going where you are going,” Walking Stick said, “then I cannot tell you. May I dissuade you?”
Now it was Joy who shut her eyes. She had a vision of Innocence. He had landed upon the snowy fields near the tents of the Karvak princesses, and he was borne laughing in silk robes upon a litter. He shouted commands to cowled figures with shining serrated swords.
She opened her eyes, shocked by the twisted cruelty upon Innocence’s face. Could he have changed so much?
“I have to talk to him,” Joy said.
Walking Stick sighed. “All things have their roots and their branches. If you would go, then I suggest you seek out the efrit Haboob, for he may yet have some sympathy for you.” He placed his hand upon Joy’s head. “You are my beloved student, A-Girl-Is-A-Joy. Would that you had had better teachers. But I have done what I can.”
With that he leapt to a nearby townhouse and let himself inside.
“What the hell is he up to?” Snow Pine said.
Some intuition made Joy cold, but it was the warmth building within her hand that she must obey. She’d seek the fire. “Let’s find Haboob.”
Jewelwolf was not in her tent, so Innocence and Dolma strode up to that of Steelfox. He heard struggle within and turned to Dolma and his escort. The six members of the Fraternity entered fighting stances. He was grateful for their presence. Two pulled the tent flaps aside, while four more slipped into the tent with weapons ready, stepping over the bodies of two dead soldiers.
Innocence could scarcely believe his eyes. Jewelwolf’s horse Aughatai was trying to trample Haytham ibn Zakwan and Northwing, who rolled together away from its hooves. Northwing seemed to be unconscious, trailing blood. Steelfox and her bodyguard had swords raised against Jewelwolf, who bore two curious-looking swords in her hands.
“Innocence Gaunt!” Jewelwolf shouted. “Slay my sister.”
Innocence could only stare.
“We are sworn to your service, Steelfox,” Dolma said, though disbelief filled her voice. “What are your commands?”
“Subdue Jewelwolf,” Steelfox said. “Do not kill her.”
The Fraternity rushed in.
Jewelwolf lashed out with her blades, but now the odds were six to one. She slew two of the dexterous martial artists, one with each sword, but Dolma kicked and knocked one of the blades, a black longsword, out of Jewelwolf’s grasp. Nine Smilodons scored a hit upon Jewelwolf’s shoulder. Blood stained the khatun’s deel, and she sagged.
“Aughatai, to me!” said Jewelwolf.
At once the horse, troll-light glowing from one eye, ran to Jewelwolf’s side. Despite her wound, the khatun leapt upon the horse gracefully, and as she galloped out, Innocence thought he’d never seen anyone so beautiful.
Steelfox, for her part, looked very plain, with warts here and there. Gasping, she said, “Our lives are forfeit at this moment. Dolma, you say you serve me. Will you flee with me, though the Karvaks want us dead?”
Dolma hesitated only a moment. “We do not lightly give oaths. You gave us a haven when our land Xembala cast us out. But we also serve Innocence Gaunt.”
The homely princess looked at Innocence. “Well?”
Innocence’s world seemed to pitch and sway. All he knew at that moment was that while Jewelwolf was beautiful, he trusted Steelfox. “All right. Let’s get aboard the balloon. But I don’t think the Wind-Tamer on board will help us.”
Haytham said, “Northwing will, if the shaman lives. I’m reluctant to move Northwing, but we can’t stay here. Help me!”
Innocence helped Haytham, though the inventor’s pleas were cacophonous to his ears.
The ragged group struggled toward the balloon, abandoning Innocence’s litter. He regarded it as an artifact from ancient times.
An arban of ten Karvak soldiers was already positioned between them and the balloon. More were rushing toward them.
“Stand aside!” Steelfox shouted.
“I’m sorry, Lady,” said their commander. “I do not think that would be wise.”
Innocence was surprised how ugly the Karvaks all seemed; given his trollsight he’d assumed men in the business of killing would have appeared more handsome. He raised his hands. “I am Innocence Gaunt, the chosen of the Heavenwalls
of Qiangguo. You know of me. The trolls have helped me understand my power. I command you to step aside.”
“I’m sorry, Lord Gaunt,” said the man. “I can’t do that either.”
“Lord Gaunt,” Innocence mused. “I like that.”
He called upon his chi, and with a squint from his splintered eye, he drew upon the power from the distant East. It was as though he flung open a door, and a divine wind blasted its way from his hands to the arban, scattering the men with a thunderclap.
The balloon, too, surged off the ground, and its anchor cable flew loose.
Steelfox rushed forward and grabbed the cable, yanking it downward. Dolma joined her. “Get aboard!” the Karvak princess said.
Innocence weaved as though in a dream, watching the others climb aboard. There was a brief struggle and a Karvak Wind-Tamer was tossed out of the gondola. Soon, at Steelfox’s and Dolma’s urging, Innocence leapt into the craft.
They lofted skyward, arrows flying after them. Shafts stuck into the bamboo and felt, but the envelope itself was ironsilk.
Steelfox looked through a porthole, down at her people. “‘Now you will have no companion but your own shadow,’” she murmured.
“What?” Innocence said.
“It is nothing. Lord Gaunt. We are quite the crew, are we not? I have betrayed my people, as perhaps was my fate all along. My friend and shaman lies dying. And you . . . you appear to be becoming a fine little overlord. Well, what are your plans? Do you think the trolls will give us shelter? I doubt the Kantenings will.”
“I . . .” He looked down at the shaman. Northwing was a bloody mess, and while he was no expert on the human body, he’d learned a bit from Walking Stick. He doubted Northwing could survive these wounds.
He knelt, placed his hands gently upon the shaman and willed open the door to power. He stilled his breathing, remembering the frame of mind that went along with the exercises to unblock chi flow. He gently touched the thirty-six essential pressure points and let bursts of his power pulse from the distant Heavenwalls into his hands and thence into Northwing’s body. Slowly, carefully . . . if he unleashed too much power it would destabilize things, stop the heart. But in the right measure, it might . . .
The shaman’s eyes opened.
“. . . Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“It’s not me,” he said. “It’s the Heavenwalls. And a little of the Chain.”
“No matter. Let me sleep. I know, I know. ‘Northwing, we’re on an outof-control balloon. Help us steer, Northwing. We’re all going to die, Northwing.’ You deal with it.” With that Northwing fell into a deep slumber.
“You still need to tend to those wounds, Haytham,” Innocence said.
“I should do fine, in the absence of insane horses and vengeful Karvaks,” snapped Haytham. More gently he added, “That was well done, whatever it was.”
“Yes,” said Steelfox. “I thank you. I cannot lose any more friends, just now.”
“Maybe we should find Skrymir,” Innocence said. “Maybe he can mediate whatever’s happening between you and your sister—”
Nine Smilodons said, “Lady! Another balloon!”
“Whose?” said Steelfox.
“I’m not sure, but it comes from the city!”
“What?” said Haytham, peering out the porthole. “Yes, that’s the one Walking Stick captured. Who is trying to steer it?”
Innocence looked, but he did not need to. “It’s A-Girl-Is-A-Joy. I think that’s her mother, and her mother’s lover, beside her. And the troll-girl. They’re coming for us.”
Joy hadn’t wanted really wanted her mother and Flint and Inga to come aboard the balloon—they were injured, all—but there was no stopping them. It was both a comfort and a worry. She was glad for their help, but there was a desperate edge to them that troubled her. The failure in the fjord weighed on her mother. Snow Pine seemed to channel that anger into a fierce desire to battle the Karvaks, a notion that suited Inga as well. Flint for his part seemed eager to demonstrate his devotion to Snow Pine.
A dangerous mix, all around.
Joy shook her head at them—and then at herself. Here she was, younger than any of them, acting as though they were all her responsibility.
She looked down at besieged Svanstad, with its walls and its burnt-out perimeter, and at the countryside filled with foes. Somehow all these people, so alien to her, were her responsibility.
Innocence, she thought, what do you think you’re doing?
“Haboob,” she said. “That’s Innocence Gaunt out there in that balloon. I want you to take me to him.”
“O dreadful and imperious girl,” the efrit said, taking sooty shape before her, “I decline to do any such thing.”
She raised her hand. “Walking Stick was able to control a Charstalker demon. I bet I can do the same to you.”
Haboob laughed. “I am no bland demon, full of malice. I am an efrit, full of everything! But especially mockery. In truth, A-Girl-Is-A-Joy, I wish to comply, for my current master Haytham ibn Zakwan is also aboard that vessel, and I would speak with him. However, my skills do not extend to controlling air currents. Do yours?”
She hadn’t thought of that. “The power of the Chain seems to enhance whatever I’m already doing. But I have no idea how to control wind.”
“You can manipulate chi,” her mother said. “I’ve never understood that craziness, but I’ve seen it happen. Maybe with the Runemark you can do what Walking Stick could do, and use your vital breath to shape air currents.”
“Here goes,” Joy said, and raised her hand. Nothing happened.
“It’s the lack of fighting,” Inga said. “I think you need to be fighting to make anything work. Here, I’ll punch you.”
“Argh! Hey! Let’s see if there are any other options . . .”
Flint was staring through a spyglass at the city. “Something is wrong.”
“What?”
“I know that face,” Flint said. “Huginn Sharpspear. And some others from Oxiland. They are opening the gates . . .”
Joy’s mother said, “Maybe they’re coming out to fight.”
Inga raised her fist. “At last!”
“No . . .” Flint said, his face pale. “No one is coming out.” He swung the spyglass. “The Karvaks. The Karvaks are rushing into the city. As if it was all prearranged.”
“He betrayed them,” Joy said. “That Huginn, he betrayed them all.”
Flint put the spyglass aside. “If they’re true to their history the Karvaks will kill almost everyone.”
“Take us back, Haboob,” Joy said, clenching her fists.
Even the efrit sounded subdued. “I cannot, O child.”
Below them the horde rode into Svanstad like a dark, diverted river.
“We can’t go back, Joy,” Flint said. “We would make no difference.”
Joy turned to face the balloon where she knew Innocence flew. “There is one place we might make a difference. He’s going to explain himself to me.”
She raised her hand, and the Runemark flared red.
Wind gusted and swept them toward the other balloon.
“Do you mean to crash us?” her mother said as their quarry loomed larger. “I’m not complaining. I’m just wondering.”
Joy raised her arm again, and the wind ebbed. “Just talk. At first. Just talk . . . Innocence!”
A stone’s toss away, the ger’s flap opened. It almost seemed a pleasant, ordinary visit in the skies, as people died far below.
“I’m here,” Innocence said. His appearance shocked her. He was leaner, fiercer. Green light glowed from one of his eyes. A mark of two interweaving dragons was visible on his forehead. “Hello, Joy. I see we’ve both . . . changed.”
“You more than I.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Do you see what’s happening down there?”
He lowered his gaze. “What always happens when people defy the Karvaks. But this is the worst of it. After this . . . they
bring culture, civilization, peace. No more arguing about kingly succession. Or religion. And women are better off, Joy—”
“Shut up! I can’t believe you’re going along with them.”
“The world’s a broken place, Joy. That’s not my fault. Maybe you don’t know the Kantenings the way I do. Maybe you haven’t seen them slaughter each other.”
“I know the Kantenings! They’re brave and loyal!”
“You’re naive.”
“Who is that with you . . . is that Princess Steelfox?”
“She’s under my protection.”
“I don’t know you anymore. But I know what I have to do, Innocence.” She lifted her hand. “I’m taking Steelfox hostage.”
The Karvak princess chuckled. “That may not go quite as you expect.”
“Shut up!” Joy raised her hand, and power flared.
Fire, she thought.
Smoke rose from the envelope of the other balloon. It was ironsilk, however, as were the cables beneath. They resisted her power.
The ger below was a different matter. Flame sprouted from its structure.
“No!” Innocence brought his hands together. With a thunderclap the fire went out.
“Fine, be that way!” Joy grabbed a rope and leapt across the gap.
She kicked him on arrival. Startled, he tumbled backward. The others in the ger were at first too shocked to respond.
Joy tied the rope to a bamboo strut and grabbed a sword from the wall.
“You’ve neglected pugilism,” Joy told Innocence. “Shifu would be disappointed.”
He wiped blood from his nose. “Never wanted to fight you . . . you’ve become a maniac, like the Kantenings.” He leapt forward and delivered a spinning kick. Objects clattered in the narrow space. She dropped low, but his foot still clipped her head, and colors filled her vision.
She feigned incapacitating pain (it wasn’t hard) and shot a punch at his larynx. He gurgled and twisted backward.
Her Runemark flared, as did the mark upon Innocence’s forehead.
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