The Shattered City

by Tansy Rayner Roberts

  ‘I like the dark one,’ said Delphine.

  Saints and devils, Warlord was here too. The dark-skinned warrior in bright Zafiran silks prowled through the crowd, every inch the panther he was in another life. Kerriden of the cheese shop simpered at him and he towered seductively over her, lips parted as if he was thinking about kissing her, or at the very least saying something terribly wicked. At least three demmes were about to swoon.

  Velody stepped away from the dance. Just one step, but Warlord’s and Poet’s eyes snapped to her. She felt naked. It didn’t help that she knew that they both had very clear memories of what she looked like out of her gown and slip. She took one more step back, and was overwhelmed by the power and scent of another of them, as a pair of female arms in long black gloves wound around her shoulders.

  ‘Velody,’ purred Livilla. ‘We’ve missed you.’

  Delphine had one eyebrow raised in a ‘why is that woman pawing you?’ kind of way.

  Poet and Warlord let the dance draw them nearer. No, the dance was not in control. They were. The merchants and residents of the street eddied and swirled around them, in utter docility. Velody wanted to say something, but she couldn’t think with Livilla’s silk-sheathed hands caressing her neck, with the men coming closer, the thick atmosphere of so much animor clouding the air.

  The sky. They should be in the sky, and soon.

  Warlord nodded to her as he passed from one hand to another, circling around her to the tintinnabulation of the street musicians. ‘We have not seen much of you lately, my Power.’ He was eating a tangerine with his spare hand, flicking peel to the cobblestones and taking small, savage bites.

  Where were her sentinels? Velody looked up and saw Ashiol watching her, not making a move in her direction. Of course not. Had she not told him herself that he had to back off, to let her handle the Creature Court for herself?

  She could handle them. They had been gentle with her since she had proven her loyalty to them. She had rid the streets of the tainted shade of Dhynar the Ferax Lord, and the rest of the Court had tumbled into her lap like tame kittens. To a point.

  ‘I have been busy,’ Velody said, lips dry, lifting her chin to prevent her nervousness from showing.

  ‘We are supposed to be what makes you busy,’ Warlord said in that rich accent of his.

  ‘Feeling neglected?’ she shot at him.

  Poet, closer than she had thought, laughed sharply. ‘Always, my Majesty. Have you not realised yet? We require a great deal of attention.’ His eyes went to Delphine, who lifted her chin and refused to look nervous.

  ‘Yes, I can see that,’ said Velody. ‘Saints and angels, Livilla, get your hands off me.’

  There was something deeply wrong with Livilla. Her eyes veiled a personality far more broken than Delphine or Rhian. Whatever her hurts were, they were old and scarred. ‘Anything you say, Lady Power,’ she purred now, stepping back as if delighted to be ordered around.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Velody asked.

  ‘The mere pleasure of looking upon you,’ said Warlord with his usual gentility. He took one more bite of the tangerine and threw it into the gutter, licking his lips.

  ‘I am glad to have obliged,’ Velody said, losing her nerve. ‘But we have work to do this nox. Delphine — go into the house.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ her friend said, tossing her head. ‘It’s a party, Velody. I want to dance.’ She seized the nearest hand, which was Livilla’s, of all people. Livilla looked almost as startled as Velody. ‘You’ll do,’ said Delphine, and dragged her into the drum beat and bells.

  Velody blew out a breath in a huff. Did Delphine think Livilla was less of a viper than the other Lords because she had breasts? Livilla and Delphine danced against each other gloriously, eyes locked, teasing each other as much as their audience. It was the kind of dance that only happened when both participants wanted to win. Young Giuno and his friends stared in wonder, laughing and blushing.

  For a moment, Velody was dazzled by the image of what the Creature Court could really be like if they all trusted each other — if she could trust them fully. If they concentrated all their energies on fighting their enemies instead of scratching and hissing at each other. It was a fine image, but they weren’t there yet.

  Velody moved on to the pavement, almost crashing into Poet. He looked far too pleased with himself. ‘Don’t trouble yourself, mouseling,’ he said. ‘I’ll keep an eye on your lamb, protect her from the wolves.’

  ‘Who’ll protect her from you?’ countered Velody.

  ‘I was under the impression that the demme could more than protect herself,’ Poet teased, though his eyes were dangerous. ‘Dhynar found it so.’

  ‘Dhynar was a fool, and no loss to us,’ Velody snapped. She could say his name without flinching now, though the memories still flooded her, of the young Lord who had challenged her so many times, who had not been prepared to accept a female Power and Majesty. Dhynar had died forsworn, and his shade had trailed misery and death through the streets until Velody stopped him, consumed him. She still thought sometimes that he was inside her, part of her, crawling under her skin. In the silence of the nox, she could hear the echo of his laugh.

  The sky rippled above her. They could agree on that, at least. There was no time for music and sweetmeats when there was a city to protect. ‘So sad,’ Poet said mockingly. ‘Our evening of slumming it with the peasants is over so soon?’

  ‘I’d sympathise,’ Velody replied. ‘But I’m pretty sure no one invited you.’

  ‘You wound me,’ he sighed.

  ‘You’ll survive.’

  ‘And wouldn’t you feel terrible if I didn’t?’ His eyes danced at her, and then he whipped up into the sky, his garish robes flapping around him as he flew like a pantomime angel ascending to the stars above.

  Velody jumped back and looked around defensively, but she was seeing the blindness of daylight folk at close hand. Two chattering demmes had been standing right behind Poet, and they had not even blinked when he took to the sky. One of them broke off from their conversation when she caught Velody staring, and gave her an unfriendly look.

  So, then. Could she turn into a mess of little brown mice in the midst of this mob, and have them not turn a hair? Every instinct told her not to try. The last thing she needed was her neighbours deciding to burn her as a witch.

  The sky rumbled with a sound that was not thunder. There was a clash and the warm summer evening was suddenly cold, as cold as the Ides of Saturnalis. Velody breathed out, and saw steam. Across the street, she saw Maia from the laundry smiling up at Benedine of the hot food shop, shrugging her light summer shawl a few more inches off her shoulders. They were not feeling the ice in the air. Velody looked around for the rest of them and saw Warlord standing in a small crowd of fruitsellers, charming them all effortlessly, a cup of wine in one hand and a demoiselle in the other. He met Velody’s gaze and smiled at her, showing bright white teeth against his dark skin.

  She tilted her head, just a little, giving him her best stern Power and Majesty expression. He lowered his head in an infinitesimal movement that might possibly have been a nod, and then excused himself from his playmates, disappearing into the crowd.

  Moments later, the silhouette of a large black panther appeared on a rooftop above their heads, and stepped into the sky as if he owned it.

  Livilla prowled her way down the street towards Velody. She stopped only a few feet from her, looking her up and down as she always did, as if Velody was food. As Livilla’s shape was the wolf and Velody’s a horde of mice, it wasn’t far wrong. ‘Aren’t you going to ask nicely?’ Livilla said, arching her eyebrow.

  ‘I didn’t think I had to,’ Velody said. She concentrated on keeping her voice firm and confident, as if she was training a hound — never let them smell your fear.

  Livilla laughed too long, and too loudly. ‘You’ll need us, I suppose, since your fellow King is deep in his cups.’

  Oh, hells. Velody lost interest in Livi
lla, scanning the mob for Ashiol. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘How should I know?’ Livilla kicked her shoes under a table and took to the air as Poet had, right in front of everyone. ‘I’ll be in the sky if you need me.’

  Velody could still hear the Lord of Wolves laughing above her as she ran the length of Via Silviana, looking for Ashiol bloody Xandelian. Someone caught her arm and she spun around, ready to fight if she had to.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Delphine demanded.

  ‘You need to get into the house,’ Velody told her. ‘No gameplaying now. I mean it. Have you seen Ashiol?’

  ‘No, and I don’t care to. He’s a boring drunk, no matter how well he can dance.’ Delphine shrugged one shoulder. ‘I was going in, anyway. It’s freezing. What kind of summer is this?’

  Velody didn’t have time to think about what it might mean that Delphine could feel the chill from the sky. ‘How drunk is he? Have you seen him?’

  ‘You’ll be taking to the sky without him this nox,’ broke in another voice, a grumpy Macready.

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ said Velody.

  She found Ashiol leaning against a wall near the spice shop. His attention had been wholly caught by the reflection of lanterns in the window opposite. Velody resisted the urge to ask him if he might prefer a ball of yarn to play with. ‘The sky,’ she snapped at him. ‘Now.’

  Ashiol turned with a startled movement and half-staggered. Velody caught his arm to stop him falling, but it was more of a job than she had thought. He all but had his dead weight leaning on her. ‘Stop this right now,’ she hissed at him.

  ‘May as well tell the river not to flood in Martial, Saint Velody,’ he said with a slur.

  Her heart sank as she saw how glazed his eyes were and caught the stench of his breath. He had been drinking more than wine, it seemed. ‘You knew the sky was throwing something at us this nox,’ she accused. ‘Why would you be so irresponsible?’

  Ashiol laughed, and it was nothing like the laughter of Livilla that she had already endured this nox. This was an empty sound. ‘I don’t need to be responsible any more, sweetling. That’s what you’re for.’

  Velody shoved him off her, and this time he did fall, sliding carelessly into a heap at the side of the street. ‘I should make you fight the sky anyway,’ she said, but they both knew she wouldn’t do that.

  The air turned even colder, and when she looked up she could see a silvery pattern beginning to spread over the greenish clouds. She had wasted enough time down here. ‘Macready, could you …’

  ‘Way ahead of you, lass,’ said the sentinel, tossing his brown cloak over Ashiol, and then hauling him to his feet with a grunt.

  ‘Don’t think I’m going to help,’ said Delphine.

  ‘My heart’s broken, for I was counting on your kindness,’ Macready shot back.

  Velody tuned them both out, her eyes on the flickering silver strands in the sky. They formed something like a cracked snowflake, all jagged shapes and brightness. Other shapes flitted in front of the clouds — creatures from her own Court. She was needed there.

  If Poet and Livilla could do it, why not?

  Velody soared into the sky without a care for who saw her go. Her skin was chill with the frosty air as she sped higher, into the unknown. Every battle was different, and she hadn’t seen spike patterns of ice like this before. She should be learning everything she could about this new danger, but it was hard to clear her mind of her anger at Ashiol.

  What did he think he was doing? She knew he had wanted her to be Power and Majesty so he wouldn’t have to, but she still relied on him to be there, supporting her. There was still so much she didn’t know about being part of the Creature Court, and Ashiol was the only one she could trust with that vulnerability. Without him, she was truly on her own.

  The wind was freezing cold this high up, chilling her to the bone. Time to pay attention, before she got herself sliced to pieces. Velody gasped as ice blasted her from behind, showering her with tiny pellets that burned at her skin. She swiped them off, and felt another pair of hands helping her.

  ‘Careful, Majesty,’ said Priest, ever the polite seigneur. The large man, the only member of the Creature Court over forty, had not been at the street party with the other Lords, but he was here now. He dusted the last of the ice pellets from her back and hovered there beside her. ‘These nodules are harmless enough, as long as you don’t stay in contact too long. They’re attracted by animor, and if too many cling to you at once it can drain your powers.’

  ‘Good to know,’ Velody said, shivering in her thin dress. Animor usually heated her from within, but right now she couldn’t imagine ever feeling warm again. ‘What else do I need to look out for?’

  There was a cracking sound, and ice blossomed out of thin air. The sky splintered around them, and Warlord cried out nearby as white spikes burst through his chest. Velody saw his courtesi cluster to him, a cloud of cats and brocks and bats swirling around his agonised figure, but it was Livilla who blasted the ice spikes out of him, liquid heat pouring from her hands and through his ribs.

  Velody was certain that would have killed him, but Warlord shook it off. He seized one of the nearest brocks and bit hard into its body, taking enough of a draught of blood from his courteso to return his strength. He kissed Livilla with his messy mouth before they flew their separate ways, hurling bursts of heat into the icy cracks in the fractured sky.

  ‘Mind the frostiels; they hurt like hells,’ Priest said in a grave voice. ‘Oh, and stay warm.’ He glowed white and Velody could feel a moment of heat rolling off him before he, too, plunged into the battle.

  Velody concentrated, summoning her animor with as much heat as she could manage. She called to mind the balmy days they had enjoyed this summer, of sunshine on the side of the Vittorine, bubbling onion soup and flatbread baking on hot bricks. Her nest of blankets and quilts tangled around her as she dreamed of Garnet and battles and little brown mice.

  When the sky broke into bursts of frostiels near her, Velody fought them back, forcing heat from her skin to seal every crack and chip. She ducked and wove, avoiding the stabbing spikes of ice.

  Every attack drained more warmth from her skin, and she fell back, the darkness and cold overwhelming her. She could hear that laughter again, and she was briefly confused, unsure which dead man was mocking her — Garnet or Dhynar.

  Oh, there was a potential source of heat. Anger. Velody flared up with it, letting all her resentment at what had been done to her flood through her entire body. Garnet had stolen her powers, had prevented her from learning what she needed to defend the city against the sky, had used Velody’s own animor to fuel his reign of terror over the Creature Court. He had tricked her into giving up a part of herself. Dhynar had been so sure of her weakness, challenging her again and again, and ultimately destroyed himself, leaving her to deal with the guilt that she had not saved him, had not redeemed him, had not done enough …

  Ashiol had thrown her to the wolves and was having a party, in his cups while Velody and the rest of the Court risked their lives to keep Aufleur safe.

  Heat bloomed out of her skin, striking the nearest crack in the sky before it could shoot forth with frostiels or nodules. Velody’s animor was so fierce that the crack melted into nothingness, sealing the sky closed. She turned on the next and the next, animor whirling from her fingertips. Somewhere along the way her body shaped and reshaped, into chimaera and then mice and then Lord form again. The only thing unchanged was the fire and steam of her animor. The sky boiled around them, and was still.

  Finally, Velody realised that the last of the cracks had sealed. The sky was silent and dark, and stars twinkled as if there had been no battle here this nox. She breathed, and no steam came from between her lips. She slowly became aware that everything hurt — her spine and ribs and skull — as if someone had been pounding her bones with a mallet. Somewhere along the way, she had lost her dress.

  They were all looking at her, the Lords an
d Court, hovering in an uneven circle around her, in their naked ‘people’ bodies. They seemed impressed with her. Some of them were wounded, their skin scratched and punctured in places by those spikes of ice. Livilla licked a smear of blood from a scrape on the back of her hand and gazed thoughtfully at Velody.

  Too late, Velody remembered her duties — to honour the Creature Court for their efforts. ‘You fought well,’ she said, finding her voice. Her throat ached as if she had been coughing up her lungs for hours.

  ‘I’m not entirely sure we needed to,’ said Poet slyly. He came forward, though, and she bestowed the ritual kiss of approval on him. Warlord was next, and Livilla and Priest, then each of their courtesi in turn.

  They were looking at her as if she had done something marvellous, instead of losing control. Velody found herself shaking, and it was all she could do to hold back the tears. ‘You have earned your rest,’ she told them, and then left, sinking too fast from the sky, stumbling as her feet hit the crest of the Vittorine. She felt cobbles bruising her soles, but kept walking.

  She had no clothes, so she kept her animor blazing enough to light her way, and hoped it meant that any daylight folk awake this late would not see her, just as they had not seen Poet fly up from the middle of a busy street.

  Halfway down the street, she found Crane and Kelpie waiting for her, serious and expressionless, not filling the air with whimsical chatter as Macready might have. Thank the saints for sentinels. Crane held out his cloak to wrap Velody in and the gentle touch of his hands made her break down as she could not have done in the sky with the Lords and Court around her. Velody leaned into his chest, inhaling the scent of his skin and his shirt, and sobbed quietly. There was an awkward pause, and then he gently patted her back.