The Fade kj-2

by Chris Wooding

  'That is not an answer to my question,' Ledo says.

  I phrase my reply carefully. 'I have fought for you and killed for you and watched my husband die for you, and I know my son. He doesn't have the temperament to survive it.'

  'Perhaps he will surprise you.' Ledo smiles a little. He's toying with me, the fucker, and I have no option but to play his game, knowing I'm going to lose. He's enjoying making me sound like a wheedling, overprotective woman trying to gather her son back under her apron. But he's never seen battlefields full of people with half their heads gone, he's never seen someone's arm ripped off, he's never seen their manhood stripped away until they're just boys, screaming for their mothers as their blood runs unstoppably into the earth. He'll never understand that I cannot allow my son to be among those men.

  'Where is your loyalty, Orna?' he asks. 'You had that boy because I permitted it. He exists because of me. You should be proud to give him up for the Clan. Your husband died a glorious death on the battlefield. You should be-'

  'He died a pointless death on the battlefield!' I cry. I hear Liss's sharp intake of breath and know I shouldn't have raised my voice, but it's too late now and I can't stop myself anyway. It comes bursting out of me on a river of rage. 'He was killed in a miserable failure of an operation and one of our own people sold us out! Why do you want to waste my son's life that way?'

  'I will not be moved by the whims of a slave!' he roars, with a volume that makes me back away. He surges to his feet. 'Your son will fight for me, and die if necessary, because it is my decision! Don't you understand, you idiot creature? I don't care about your maternal instincts. He is my property, as are you, and you will do what I tell you. You will not be told where he is. You will recuperate for as long as is deemed necessary and then return to my service and be as good as, if not better, than you were before. If you are not, I will have your son executed! Do you understand?'

  I understand, all right. It crashes in on me like a landslide. I understand that all my effort has been for nothing, that I could have stayed in prison and died there and it would have made absolutely no difference to anything. I understand that my son is beyond my reach, and nothing I can do will prevent him being sent into combat against an enemy who could well be forewarned and forearmed. I came back to this life of service when I could have stayed free in the world above, and it was all for Jai; but now my hopes are dashed simply because Ledo doesn't feel like cooperating.

  I finally realise how flimsy my plans were. Nereith was right. I've been clinging to hope and refusing to listen to sense. It was the only thing I had to drive me through the grief at Rynn's death. But in the end, everything had been leaning against this moment, the moment when I asked my master for this favour. I'd known how capricious he could be, and I'd chosen to ignore it. But now he's said no.

  I feel betrayed. Rancour swirls into my thoughts like a black mist. I've given my fucking life to this man, willingly. I've murdered for him, cheated on my lover for him, lied for him, tortured for him and been tortured. And as if that wasn't enough, I gave him my son. And he can't grant me this? This sensible, logical thing that I ask of him? The frustration, the fury is enough to choke me. I just want to kill him. A single clean strike, punch the cartilage of his nose like a spear into his brain. It would be so easy…

  'Do you understand?' he demands of me.

  I nod, keeping back tears of rage. Liss rushes over and holds me protectively, shielding me from his wrath.

  'If not for the fondness my sisters have for you, I would have you killed for speaking to me this way. It is your fortune that there is no one else here to witness this, or you would already be dead.'

  Silence. Ledo sits down. The anger has flowed out of him, and he is almost serene. I wait for him to dismiss me, but he doesn't.

  'You have been listening to the babble of the troops,' he says quietly. 'I will offer you this. There was no traitor. Your husband died because of poor planning and bad intelligence. He was not betrayed. You were not betrayed.' He shifts in his seat, becoming suddenly restless. He's tired of this now. 'I suggest you take a short vacation, Orna. I know you have suffered. Use the time to think about what it means to be a Bondswoman. Return to me when you are ready to act like one again.'

  I raise my head. The tears are gone, conquered before they could fall.

  'Magnate,' I say quietly, looking into his eyes. 'Do you know a man called Belek Aspa?'

  A barely perceptible instant of surprise, and then hatred flickers across his face. His gaze darkens.

  'Take her away,' he tells Liss. 'Before I have her tongue ripped out.' I begin to shake uncontrollably in the carriage on the way to the club. Liss and Casta insisted that they take me out as their way of an apology for not swaying their brother enough. I didn't have the willpower left to refuse.

  'Oh! She's shaking!' Liss says, because she's holding my hand. She becomes frantically solicitous, taking my temperature by laying her wrist against my forehead, looking into my averted eyes.

  'Is she sick?' Casta asks.

  'I don't know? Are you sick?' This addressed to me.

  'You're not sick, are you?'

  'I'm not sick,' I mutter, though I do suddenly feel queasy. But it's not sickness; it's the adrenaline comedown, the grief, the rage.

  'It's our cruel brother, isn't it? He frightened you, didn't he?'

  'Cruel,' Casta agrees.

  'Oh, how I hate him! Don't listen to him. We'll protect you!'

  I've never been so stupid in my life. I got out of control. I got riled, I got angry and frustrated, and I shouted at a man who could have me killed with a word. It's only now starting to sink in how close I was, how far I overstepped the line. I can't understand why he didn't do it. Maybe he was in an indulgent mood, or maybe he respected his sister's wishes too much, or maybe I'm of genuine value to him. The aristocracy are nothing if not unpredictable. But still… really, really fucking dumb.

  I've burned my bridges with my outburst. He'll never go back on his decision now. I can taste the bitterness in my mouth. Abyss, I have to do something, but I have no idea what. I can barely concentrate through the haze of despair, anger, failure.

  'You need a drink!' Liss prescribes, having run out of methods of diagnosis.

  'Several, in fact,' Casta chimes in.

  And right now that seems like the best idea in the world. Something to shut it out, something to make it go away. Something to keep me from tipping into this gaping hole that's opened inside me.

  'Several,' I agree. Liss claps and even Casta looks pleased. It's like they've forgotten that I've just lost the only chance to save my son through any legal, honourable method. The only avenues left to me now are traitor's ways, going against my master's command, making my son a deserter. I can't think about them now. Those would be decisions I could never take back. The twins take me to the Black Circlet, the club in the Tangles where I first talked to Liss about her upcoming marriage. We get their usual table, by a window that looks out over a garden of coloured rocks and waterfalls. The third seg has just begun but the club is largely empty. Handmaidens drift about like ghosts, lovers quarrel while trying not to be overheard, middlemen plot on their masters' behalf in the dim light. Through the windows on the far side the sound of the traffic can be heard.

  'This place is dying,' Casta comments.

  'I don't even know why we come here any more. Nobody's here. We should find a new place.'

  'That's what everyone else did,' Casta replies. 'That's why we kept coming here.'

  'Well, I'm sick of being different! I want to be the same!'

  A handmaiden appears and I order hard liquor: spikevine, straight up. The twins exchange a glance and then order the same.

  I barely say a word until the handmaiden returns. Then I take the cup, down it and order another, putting the empty back on the tray.

  'Careful!' Liss warns me.

  'She's grieving,' says Casta. 'It's Ledo's fault.'

  'Bring more,' says Liss to t
he handmaiden, then necks her own drink and begins to choke, clawing at her throat as the liquor burns down into her chest. Casta ignores the drama, leaning over the table to take my wrist in her hand.

  'We can keep at him,' says Casta conspiratorially. 'But you shouldn't have made him angry. He won't change his mind now.' She sighed. 'Ah, if only I were Magnate. I would have granted your plea, Orna. You know that, don't you? But I daren't go against his word, even to find out where-'

  I'm barely listening. 'After all I went through, after everything… Abyss, he wasn't even willing to consider my request. What the fuck am I worth to him?' I snarl.

  Casta is taken aback, not sure how to react. She's not used to hearing such a tone directed at her brother, and certainly not from a Bondswoman of the Clan. There's a warning in her eyes: remember your place, Orna. I glare back at her, too riled to submit.

  'Oh, but Jai will be fine! I just know it!' Liss says, having abandoned her show now that nobody is paying attention to her. It defuses things just enough for us both to get away without a conflict.

  'No,' says Casta, still watching me closely. 'There's the operation.'

  'The operation?' Liss cries in horror.

  'Operation Deadfall,' I say. Casta barely nods. 'You know about it?'

  'I know it's not long now. A dozen turns. Maybe two.'

  I don't want to ask, but I have to. 'What will happen?'

  'They want to break the Gurta in the Borderlands, once and for all. They'll throw everything they've got at the enemy, and try to overwhelm them with weight of numbers at certain tactical points. But it's a risky strategy. It will leave them dangerously overstretched and committed. If it doesn't work, if we're forced to retreat, the Gurta will slaughter us.'

  'It'll be carnage!' Liss whispers, scandalised. It's all so breathlessly exciting for her. She seems to have forgotten that my fucking son will be there. Sometimes I just want to punch her.

  'What was that name you said to our brother?' Liss continues, off on a tangent. 'Brolicaspa or something?'

  'Belek Aspa,' I correct her. 'Just a name I heard in prison. Someone asked me if I'd ever heard Ledo say it.'

  She suddenly gets to her feet, losing interest. 'I need to piss!' she declares, apropos of nothing, and wanders off towards the toilets.

  I'm faintly surprised that Casta has remained seated at the table with me.

  'They intend to end the war in one stroke,' Casta says, returning to the previous subject. 'Many will die, but they think it will save lives in the long term.'

  'And what do you think?' I ask. The spikevine has reached my brain now, and is soothing everything to a fuzz. The handmaiden returns with more, in bigger cups. Casta waits for the servant to leave before she answers.

  'The operation is only good for Caracassa if we push and we fail. Otherwise, the war is over. The Clan is struggling to compete in the market anyway. We make our fortunes treating the wounded. Healers only turn a profit when there are people to heal.'

  'It's in Clan Caracassa's interests to have this operation fail?'

  'Exactly. When the war is over the Turnward Claw Alliance falls to pieces. Clan Caracassa loses its influence.'

  She sees the suppressed feelings on my face. 'I know this is hard. Your son is there. But we have to think of the Clan.'

  I drink my spikevine, and Casta sips at hers. She's never been as dizzy as her sister, but I've rarely heard her talk politics so confidently.

  'What's Ledo up to?' I ask. Casta likes people to be direct. 'Why's he marrying Liss off to a family that manufactures textiles and luxury goods?'

  'He won't say,' Casta replies. 'But I think he's hedging his bets. In case the push does succeed. If the war ends, Caracassa has good links to a peacetime industry.'

  'We convert our factories to manufacture fine dyes and treatment agents for textiles-' I say.

  'And they cut each other a mutually beneficial deal. Clan Caracassa and Clan Jerima go into business together.' She tuts and sits back, folding her arms. 'There's no real money in that. The reason we're being out-competed in the market is because he's dividing our resources.'

  She takes out a cigarillo and lights it. I reach over and take one from the packet. She doesn't care enough to comment. Probably can't remember if I used to smoke or not.

  'We made our money from war and we always have,' she says, blowing a plume of smoke into the air.

  'I don't get it,' I say. 'Does Ledo want a war or doesn't he?'

  'Clan Caracassa needs this war,' she says, then sneers. 'This sham of a marriage is his backup plan in case it all goes wrong.'

  I watch Casta carefully. She seems to phase in and out of her moods. Sometimes she's sharp as a razor and other times she's as clueless and addled as her twin. Right now she's definitely the former.

  I take a slug of spikevine. 'What do you think of Liss's fiance?'

  She holds my eyes steadily. 'I'd like to kill him,' she says. Then Liss comes back, Casta turns all sweetness, and everything is forgotten. I can barely stand up by the time I get home. Liss and Casta have to get someone to help me to the door of my chambers in the Caracassa Mansions. I shut the door behind me and totter gingerly into the centre of the room. It's dark; only the lights of Veya beyond the huge circular window in our living-space provide any illumination.

  I listen to the silence for a long time, knowing that it will never again be filled with my husband's laughter, that we will never eat as a family at that table again. I wonder if Jai will ever come home, but I can't believe he will. It feels so, so empty. A vacant nest is a terrible thing.

  I sink to my knees and curl up on the floor. Lonely, scared, overwhelmed. Sniffles become sobs become great wracking whoops that score my throat, but I can't seem to cry it all out. At some point I stem the flow, and at some point I sleep; but I know that when I wake up in the morning, this shitty world will still be waiting for me.

  9

  The rain is unending here. Sometimes it falls in a fine mist, sometimes a lashing spray, but it never stops. The lakes that sprawl across the enormous cavern – one of dozens that comprise the Rainlands of Eskara – are constantly evaporating with the heat of the magma flows below. The steam rises, condenses on the cooler cavern roof hundreds of spans above, and then returns to the lakes in droplets. Phosphor trees nod in the haze: tall, branched lichen formations with heavy globes of light hanging from their branches, casting a pale illumination throughout the cavern.

  I sit in the doorway of the boxcar, one leg dangling off the edge, watching the world speed past me. The blood-warm rain soaks me, and I let it. The rapid clacking of the tracks has become a metronome, counting time away. I'm going to Veya. I'm going to see Ledo.

  Nereith sits in the shadows, out of the rain. But for a few crates of documents and some damaged but salvageable weaponry, we have the space to ourselves. They even provided some mildewed bedrolls. Other carriages are full of wounded, on their way back from the front, but there weren't enough to fill the train. I'm not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing. At least the wounded are still alive.

  I can see a village in the distance. It's an island of light in the rain-mist, an uneven heap of hanging lanterns amid the lakes. It lies mainly around the base of an enormous, gnarled mycora root, which bursts from the ground and bends upward to the sky. Most of the dwellings are built from huge seed pods. They stand upright on stilts, windows lit brightly and smoke wisping from their tapered tips. Others, like the communal longhouse, are stone or treated wood. Still others cling to the lichen trees or the flanks of the root. The whole village seems to have been grown rather than constructed.

  'Sankla,' Nereith says idly. It takes me a moment to realise he's identifying the village. 'Not too far now. Another turn or so.'

  I stir from my reverie, glance at him despondently.

  'Be patient,' he says. 'If you do this, you have to do it right. Ledo should be in a good mood, at least. You have that on your side.'

  'Why do you say that?'

 
; 'Clan Caracassa has been steadily losing out on business for a while now,' he says. 'Couple of other clans have set themselves up as competitors in the medical supplies trade, and they seem to be doing it better than Caracassa.'

  I know that; it's my job to know. I don't see where he's going with it, though.

  'Those suppliers don't have the output capacity that Caracassa does; they're not so well established. This big military push that's coming up, Caracassa will do very well out of it, I should think. Their competitors won't be able to meet the demand, but Ledo will. I should think it'll pull his fat out of the fire, so to speak.'

  'How do you know about the offensive?'

  He gives me a look. He's certainly not wasted any time getting back in the game.

  'He can spare one officer, I'm sure,' Nereith says, knitting his fingers behind his skull and leaning back against the wall of the boxcar. 'Question is, will he? After all, Jai is a Bondsman. He's been trained for war at Clan Caracassa's expense. He chose his path and you approved it. Why should Ledo listen when you tell him that it was a mistake?'

  'He's a gifted engineer and an inventor. He'd be better serving Caracassa that way.'

  'Away from the front line.'

  'Yes, away from the front line!' I reply sharply. He's needling me and I'm rising to it. I can't help it. I'm too raw right now.

  'You think Liss and Casta will help you out again?'

  I can't believe my ears. Is there anything this Khaadu doesn't know?

  He shows me his fangs. A Khaadu grin. 'I work for Silverfish,' he says. 'I didn't just walk off the street and get the job, Orna. I got it because I earned it.'

  I let my questions drop. 'I can't be certain of anything with those two. Nor with Ledo.'

  'So what if he says no?'

  'I'll find a way!' My tone is getting more irate.

  'If you'll permit the observation of an uninvolved bystander,' Nereith says, stretching lazily, 'the fact that you're getting angry suggests you're afraid to have your plan called into question. And that suggests that you haven't thought about it very hard.'