by Duncan, Dave
That was when Luminous discovered a major snarl in the web that Silky had been hoping to weave. The moment Sky Hammer began to rise from his cushion, it was obvious that the effort cost the old man considerable pain. Sky Rider strode forward from the shadows to help. Of course one could not ask why and must pretend to be so engrossed in the paintings that he had not noticed. But if the rancher had sprained his back, come off a horse, or was even suffering a worse-than-usual attack of hemorrhoids, then he would certainly not want to go sightseeing at Heaven’s Threshold tomorrow. Abandon Plan One.
The prince’s bedroom was in a separate building, connected by a tiled and roofed breezeway. Sky Hammer walked slowly, but no slower than was seemly, and his only sign of discomfort was a clenched jaw. When they reached his bedroom, though, he sank into a padded chair with a long sigh of relief. The chamber was spacious and bright, as the Gray Sisters had described it. Twenty-three paintings hung on the walls, their subtle tints emphasized by the brilliant colors of the soft quilts on the brick sleeping platform and the floor’s wool carpets. Luminous stopped and drew a deep breath, as if inhaling the essence of beauty.
“Magnificent! Oh that my revered father could have glimpsed such a miracle, just once in his life!” He did not look anywhere near the muniment chest under the center window, oak and iron, black with age. In there lurked the fake will that was the essence of this entire scam. Nor did he look at the bed, because if Silky decided on wolfsbane as the agent of choice, it was there that the deadly dust would have to be sprinkled.
“It was my own grandfather who began the collection,” Sky Hammer said. “But take your time, Highness. Wallow! Drink deep. Sometimes I feel like a miser, hoarding such beauty all to myself.”
“Who could bear to do otherwise? This is the true Agate Shining waterfall you mentioned. Yes, the brush of the master is unmistakable.” Just for now, Luminous Aspect was a true expert. In a few months, Luminous would have forgotten it all, but he was confident that Sky Hammer would not unmask him.
The old man seemed to have lost any desire to test him. He clearly adored his scroll paintings. This hobby must be most of his life now, and the chance to share it with another enthusiast was a treat. He watched eagerly as his guest worked his way along the wall, scroll by scroll, judging and admiring. The two old men chattered like children. But then …
“Observe up there,” Sky Hammer said, pointing a gnarled finger at a painting, “how the curl of the cloud matches the bend of the tree branch?” A true gentleman should have smooth fingers with long, dagger-like nails. His were chewed and none too clean, the skin ingrained with dirt.
Luminous did not observe the curl of the cloud. He was staring in horror at Sky Hammer 7’s wrist, paler skin exposed where his silk sleeve had fallen away. In this brighter chamber, he could see the distinctive pits of smallpox scars on the old man’s wattled neck also. They might be half a century old, but if Sky Hammer had once survived a bout with smallpox, then he would not succumb again, and Silky’s best plan lay in ruins.
When the visitor came to the ugly muniment chest, he ignored it, but paused to admire the view. He was surprised to see that the building was perched almost on the edge of the cliff, with only a narrow paved terrace and a low wall separating them. Beyond those lay more long vistas of the Fortress Hills—the rounded green females and the larger, taller male ones, with their flat hats of white limestone. Then—in the far, far distance—the great icy peaks of the Western Wall.
“The great masters would appreciate this monumental view, Your Highness. The world does homage at your window. Can you see the Portal of Worlds from here?”
“Regrettably, no. That hill is in the way. I keep meaning to have it moved.” Clearly a standard joke. “But Sky Rider will be happy to conduct you to Heaven’s Threshold tomorrow. The lighting is best in the late morning.”
“Incredible!” There was no point in killing Sky Rider yet.
The roof creaked. The sky roared.
Luminous turned to the door as his host leaped from the chair with surprisingly agility. Before they had moved three steps, the windows shattered behind them, and the floor began heaving under their feet so they could no longer stay upright. Luminous grabbed his host and they went down together, twisting so he ended up underneath the old man. Although the impact was heavy enough to knock all the breath out of him, he had his host’s body to shield him from falling debris, as the roof writhed and began to fail. Both men were screaming in terror.
Brother Luminous had experienced earthquakes before, but nothing to compare with this. The building was flapping like a rug shaken by a housemaid. The noise alone was stunning. He fully expected to die, or be beaten to a pulp by repeated bouncing on the floor. Daylight showed above him as the roof collapsed, massive beams dropping in a hail of tiles. He burrowed in under Sky Hammer as well as he could.
His head bounced up and down on the tiles hard enough to daze him. He may even have been unconscious, briefly, for he had distinct feeling that some time had passed, yet the earth’s rampage still continued. He was buried in darkness, and dust made his eyes water so hard he could not have seen anything anyway. The pressure on his chest was such that he could hardly breathe. The entire roof seemed to be lying on him.
Suddenly, there was light. He was looking at hazy blue sky. He was falling.
When Silky went with Brother Luminous to wait upon Sky Hammer, he had ordered his band to explore the ranch. If challenged, they were to say they had been told to check on their mounts, and thereafter they should try to make friendly and get shown around. Shortly after, when Luminous and Sky Hammer went to the prince’s quarters to study the stupid paintings, Silky followed. The door was shut in his face.
The air was still, hot, and heavy as lead. Pretending to admire the scenery, he sat on the low wall flanking the shady side of the connecting breezeway and leaned against one of the posts supporting the roof. Another hill blocked his view of the Portal of Worlds, which he no longer expected to see on this trip—certainly old Sky Hammer hadn’t been moving like a man willing to spend half a day on a horse for esthetic reasons. Smallpox was drastic and unreliable, strictly a last resort. Fortunately, Silky had brought along a selection of useful toxins. While he was mentally reviewing them, he realized that the vapid Sky Rider was standing just outside the hall, watching him. Likely every member of the team was being similarly shadowed.
“What’s it like here in the winter?” Silky intended to stay at Goat Haven until at least then, once he had taken possession.
For a while, the heir stood and scowled at him resentfully, but eventually he succumbed to Silky’s winning smile and came to join him. He sat on the wall opposite, looking offensively suspicious and untrusting.
“Cold. Windy.”
“How many head do you keep up here in summer?”
Long pause, then a shrug. “Just working stock.”
No surprise. The breeding herds would be out in the hills, growing fat on lush spring grass, while the limited grazing on the plateau would be saved for winter.
“You have much trouble with rustlers?”
“Not after we shoot ’em.”
Conversation was a struggle, answers always shorter than questions. Silky very soon concluded that Sky Rider wouldn’t know which end of a noodle should be eaten first. He did admit that he had buried two wives and had several sons around. The exact number had perhaps escaped him. Silky made a note to identify them, because they might have to be outed also.
About then, the boring conversation was enlivened by an earsplitting thunder, almost immediately joined by a major earthquake. Silky found himself on the ground, which kept tossing him like a salad, so that he was unable to stand or even sit up. The breezeway collapsed. Somewhere, people were screaming. It all seemed to last a lifetime, and he wondered what would be left of Goat Haven.
When the ground stopped leaping and the incredibl
e noise ceased, he heard himself coughing in the dust, and assumed that he was still alive. He had far too many bruises to count, but probably no broken bones. Although the breezeway had gone, spilling him out on the grass, the worst of the debris had missed him. Sky Rider had not been so lucky, for the roof had toppled in his direction as it fell. He was lying on the shattered tiles, moaning, buried from the chest down under beams and tiles. The air was thick with dust and a hundred horses were screaming in terror.
Sky Hammer 7’s personal quarters, where the two self-appointed princes had been inspecting paintings, had vanished altogether. The quake had taken a great bite out of the plateau, and only the front doorstep remained on the cliff’s new edge. The next step would be one’s last. … Luminous Aspect and Sky Hammer 7 and the muniment chest must be far below, buried under thousands of tons of rock. So the princely domain of Goat Haven was to be the personal property of the ninny lying at Silky’s feet, who had now recovered enough to start bleating for help. He would assume the name of Sky Hammer 8 and rule all he surveyed. Or would he? Where was Brother Silky’s great inheritance? Why was Silky not equally worthy? Had not Heaven just sent a sign?
“How badly are you hurt?”
“Help me! I’m in pain. Help me! Help me!”
“I can cure the pain.” When a Gray Brother surrendered his weapons, only visible weapons were involved. In an instant, Silky could whip out a thin cord and scrag the new prince, but a ruptured trachea and cyanosed face would not be consistent with death by earthquake. He found the largest balk of wood he could lift and flattened Sky Hammer 8’s skull.
Now to restore some order to this chaos. The dust had gone. At least three buildings were on fire, but they must be left to burn out. Horses were still tearing around the meadows in panic, on ground strewn with rubble from fallen walls and buildings. Probably much of the stock here at the ranch had already suffered fatal injuries, and the rest soon would. Fortunately, the greater part of the stud was out on open grassland. Those might have stampeded, but they should have escaped serious harm.
Men were arriving, looking for orders, and the only man around wearing a gentleman’s robes was Lord Silk Hand. He called on all his seeming magic to portray authority. Soon he was facing a crowd of about a score of men and almost as many women, plus sobbing children of all ages. His own four helpers were all there, and had come to the front. He raised his arms. Three Gray Brothers and one Gray Sister sank to their knees, and of course the shattered and bereaved inhabitants of Goat Haven did the same.
“The noble prince, Sky Hammer 7, and his noble son, Sky Rider, have both mounted to the Fifth World. May Heaven speed their passage! We must do all we can to salvage what is left of the stud they held so dear, as they would have wished. Who is senior here?”
Who indeed? After some glances and muttering, one man sank to touch his face to the grass. “Assistant Stablemaster Granite, my lord.”
“Up, up! I appoint you Chief Foreman Granite, or whatever the top title is, until we see who has lived and who died. For today, at least, you are in charge. You must detail men to collect and calm the horses as well as you can. They will not settle properly until all the injured ones have been silenced, and you must see to that also. Assign about half your people to locating and rescuing the injured. Women can help with that. Set up a place for the wounded. As for the departed …”
He paused to watch the horror spread, the dread of contact with the ill-omened dead.
“Where is the nearest House of Joyful Departure?”
“In Cherish, my lord,” said Granite.
Cherish? What had happened in Cherish? So large an earthquake must have done some damage there. The full horror of the disaster struck Silky as he realized that his beloved Thunderbot might be among the slain. And his second child, as yet unborn? Realizing he could do nothing about them now, he struggled to put them out of his mind, which was not as easy as he expected. Verdant, too, kept coming back to haunt him and muddle his planning.
“The town will be in ruins. There will be hundreds or thousands of dead there needing care. The road is probably impassable.” Even the trail down the cliff would be. “My men will gather the departed. Prepare a great pyre—”
Quick-witted Carp shouted out, “No, no, my lord!”
Windchime joined in with even louder protests.
“Yes!” Silky thundered. “The bane is greatest for family and household. We, being strangers, may even acquire some merit for a charitable act. So prepare a worthy pyre, Chief Foreman, and my men will lay out the departed for their ascension. I have attended enough funerals in my life to recall most of the blessing, I believe. I will chant a simple farewell for them.”
He saw the relief in their eyes and knew that he had won their respect. They would accept him, for the present. In a few days, it would become a habit. They were humble people who had lost loved ones and security, whose world had shattered under their feet. They needed a leader. If Brother Silky played this right, he would soon be Prince Silk Hand of Goat Haven by the decree of Heaven. Mayhap Heaven was starting to right the many wrongs it had done him.
Chapter 7
Verdant had still not worked out how she would smuggle her son out of the house without her jailer noticing. She had ordered Walnut Shell to bring the horses around to the front door after the midday meal. After that, she would have to improvise.
Plum Blossom had welcomed her back from her ride without the slightest sign of suspicion, which meant nothing. While Verdant was certain that Plum Blossom was spying on her, she found it much more difficult to spy on Plum Blossom. She disappeared for the rest of the morning and none of the servants seemed to know whether she had gone out or if she was still around somewhere. At worst, she knew exactly what Verdant was planning and enjoyed playing cat to her mouse.
Just before noon, though, she appeared in street clothes to say she would not be present for lunch, was there anything Verdant needed from the town?
“Nothing, thank you. You going anywhere special?”
“Down to the nunnery to wash a few corpses. I always find it uplifting.”
“Or plan a few murders?”
“That, too.” She smiled sweetly and departed. She left in a rickshaw, pulled by Mountain Mist, the senior porter, whom Silky called Dense Fog. So both horses were still in the paddock behind the house.
Hoping that she might manage to be gone before her jailer returned, Verdant hurried to her room to start packing. She would not take much, just a few clothes for the journey, all the gold she had collected, and the pistol that had belonged to her first husband, Distant Cloud. Silkworm would need much more baggage than she would. He was half a year old now, still ferociously self-centered—just like his father, his father said proudly.
She had barely laid out a couple of dresses before the door swung open.
“By the way,” Plum Blossom said, leaning against the jamb and folding her arms, “I forgot to pass on a message Silky left for you.” She was rangy, almost scraggy, and had no dress sense. Now she seemed about forty, but when men were around, she looked plumper, sleeker, and ten years younger.
Caught red-handed, Verdant turned at bay. “Why did he not give it to me himself?”
“Because he did not want you to think he does not trust you.”
Worse yet! “And the message is?”
“Just that Thunderbot is his property and stays here. He also hopes you will wait for a better ship than the Jade Swan. That’s a very inauspicious name.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Jade doesn’t float, it sinks. Don’t pretend to be any stupider than you really are.” Plum Blossom was very good at contempt. “As far as Silky’s concerned, you’re free to leave anytime. He admits you’re a good bounce, but he can ride any mare he fancies. He doesn’t love you. Silky can’t love anyone except himself. He’s possessive about his so
n, though.”
Verdant flopped down on the edge of the bed. What had she expected?
Plum Blossom waited for comment, then shrugged. “You’re a fool. Silky lets you live like a princess. You really want to go back to that small-minded, money-grubbing father of yours? He’s a murderer, too, with a lot less excuse.”
“That’s not true!”
“Yes it is. Why did he not warn your husband after Silky told him what was going to happen? Jade Harmony 7? Tell me about Jade Harmony 1.”
“A trader, I believe.”
“No, a pirate, sentenced to impalement for murder. He died with a cangue around his neck, sitting on a spike in the public square.”
“I don’t believe you!” But Distant Cloud had made that same sneer about her family’s origins.
“Silky told me, and his research is always flawless.”
“Pillow talk, I assume?”
“We were in bed, yes, but the pillow was under my ass at the time. I believe him. All the great fortunes start with theft and murder. All of them! Emperors win thrones with wars that kill thousands. When they come to power, they make laws to stop other people doing what they did. That is how all the great families begin, girl—with robbers, pirates, and killers. They end with stupid, pampered, spoiled trash like you.”
There was no way to answer such filth. Verdant stood up and went back to selecting clothes.
“Have a nice voyage,” Plum Blossom said. “There are more guards on the gate now, and they have orders to let you out, but no babies. Have a nice trip. Walnut is hopeless on technique, but great on stamina.” She went away, closing the door softly.
Verdant nibbled her midday meal alone, torn between rage and despair. If it weren’t for Silkworm, she would be gone in a flash, but she could not desert him, leave him to be brought up by his monster father. Where he went, White Petal must go, too, although the girl was so stupid she didn’t care who she worked for, or where. Given two bowls of rice a day, she would do whatever she was told quite happily. Especially for men. She would be pregnant again an hour after she weaned Silkworm.
