by Anthony Ryan
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The sun dipped behind the fortress city of Keshin-Kho as it came into view, making it resemble the dented conical helm of some long-vanished giant. It sat atop the junction of a waterway known as the Great Northern Canal and a south-flowing river bearing the unedifying title of the Black Vein. Like Min-Tran, the city featured no buildings beyond its walls. As the company drew closer Vaelin could make out two more walls within the outer barrier, each one constructed at a higher elevation than the one before. The city streets grew denser as they rose to a summit from which a slender tower ascended, rendered needle thin by the glare of the fading sun. It stood taller even than the towers he had seen in Muzan-Khi.
“You’d see an army approaching a day away from that,” Nortah commented, shielding his eyes to squint at the tower.
“Two days, lord,” Tsai Lin corrected with a polite smile. “There are optical devices at the top that can see for many miles.”
“Spyglasses you mean?”
“Of a sort, but much larger. The Merchant King goes to great expense to ensure the lenses are replaced regularly. There is an entire workshop in Muzan-Khi where the artisans do nothing but grind glass for the long-eyes, as they’re known.”
Long-eyes, Vaelin thought. Something else to write to Lyrna about.
A short delay ensued at the city’s main gate as Sho Tsai presented his credentials to the guard captain. The sight of the Merchant King’s seal ensured they were quickly provided with an honour guard and escorted through the maze of narrow streets towards the central palace where the Prefecture’s governor resided. In contrast to the streets of Muzan-Khi the people here were less quick to shuffle clear of their path, some standing and staring in open hostility until the soldiers shoved them aside.
“No bowing here, I see,” Nortah observed quietly to Vaelin. In recent days the wine-induced vagueness that had characterised his features for so long had given way to the careful shrewdness Vaelin remembered from their last few years in the Order. Although never as insightful as Caenis, Nortah had always possessed a faculty for quickly assessing potential threats, even if such assessment didn’t always lead to the wisest response.
“Erlin tells me the Northern Prefecture was the last territory to be conquered by the Emerald Empire,” Vaelin replied. “Apparently, they’ve never taken it well. And the prospect of war rarely makes for a happy populace.”
They followed a winding course to the centre of the city. Whoever had set down the plans for Keshin-Kho had evidently known something of siege craft, for the main gates of each successive wall were positioned at opposite points of the compass. Any attacking force that managed to breach one gate would therefore be obliged to traverse numerous narrow streets under the eyes and arrows of the defenders atop the next wall.
The innermost stood taller than the others, at least seventy feet high and featuring overhanging buttresses every fifty paces, which would allow defenders to shower all manner of unpleasantness on an assaulting army. This wall also featured the narrowest gate, barely wide enough to admit two horsemen at once. Sho Tsai led the way into the courtyard beyond where he was greeted by a tall, well-built man clad in a cloak fashioned from the pelt of some white-furred, black-striped beast.
“Captain!” The tall man extended his arms in welcome as Sho Tsai dismounted to offer a carefully respectful bow.
“Governor Hushan.” The captain presented the scroll bearing the Merchant King’s seal. “I come on orders . . .”
“Of course you do!” The governor laughed and clapped a hand to Sho Tsai’s shoulder. “Why else would the Red Scouts honour my humble city with their presence? Especially since I never requested it.” He laughed again, though Vaelin saw his humour abruptly diminish at the sight of the foreigners amongst Sho Tsai’s company. “You bring me strange visitors, I see,” he said, quickly placing another smile on his lips. “This all bodes well for a most interesting evening.”
The governor’s mansion, like everything else in this city, had been built for defence rather than opulence or comfort. Its stone walls were thick and the tiered rooftops sloped at a more acute angle than usual, meaning they would be harder to climb. At Sho Tsai’s request Vaelin accompanied him to Governor Hushan’s private chambers. The governor listened to the captain’s report with a polite attention that only deepened into genuine interest at mention of the Jade Princess’s disappearance.
“She’s gone?” he asked with an appalled laugh. “You’re telling me she has actually departed the High Temple?”
“I am, Governor. I had hoped that your patrols might have encountered her, or at least caught word of her. We have . . . sound information that she was travelling towards this city.”
The governor gave a baffled shrug. “None of my lads have caught the slightest whiff of her. I can assure you of that. Still, we’ve all been somewhat preoccupied of late. You may have heard.”
“The Stahlhast,” Vaelin said, drawing Hushan’s gaze. The man’s expression was very different to the suspicion or outright disdain Vaelin had thus far experienced from other Far Western nobles. It was more akin to the cool appraisal he expected from those well versed in war.
“Quite right, Honoured Sir.” He gave a small grin, eyebrows raised. “I must say it is strange to find oneself confronted by a figure I had thought merely mythical. Tales of the Barbarous East are a particular interest of mine. All those many wars, bizarre beliefs and fantastical events. Tell me, is it true your dread Fire Queen has command of an entire school of red sharks?”
“Only one, my lord. And it died.”
“Oh.” Hushan pursed his lips in disappointment. “Pity. But they do call you the Darkblade, do they not? That is how you are known to your people?” There was a decided weight to the governor’s gaze now, a gravity that went beyond mere interest in fanciful foreign myth.
“My enemies once called me by that name,” Vaelin replied. “But they are enemies no longer.”
“And yet the name lingers. A name my people have come to dread.”
“So I’ve heard. We saw many on the road. They looked hungry.”
“Hunger is the least a coward deserves.” Hushan waved a dismissive hand though Vaelin detected a defensive note to his voice. “This city has long been a haven for all in the north. The people shelter here whilst the horse-fuckers raid for a time before we drive them off. It has long been this way. If that fool Nishun had listened to me instead of marching his forty thousand southerners out onto the Steppe to get deservedly slaughtered, this current mess would probably have faded away. Fighting the Steel Horde in open country with an army that was three-fourths infantry.” The governor snorted in sombre disgust. “He may as well have walked up to the Darkblade and bared his neck for the axe. Now, thanks to Nishun’s defeat and all manner of nonsense spoken about this freshly arisen Stahlhast warlord, and his fearsome name, my people flee south in ever-increasing numbers, no doubt spreading vile calumnies against their governor with every step.”
“Then you do not consider the Stahlhast truly a threat?” Sho Tsai asked. “Everything we have seen and heard would indicate otherwise.”
“Oh, they’re a threat to be sure. But they always have been and I see little to distinguish this recent bout of raiding with others that have come before. If anything, their mischief had been tailing off until General Nishun stoked their ambition with forty thousand bundles of booty. Trust me, Captain, I’ve been fighting the savages of the Iron Steppe since I was old enough for my father to sit me in a saddle, and I’ve never lost yet. Nor will I now. Feel at liberty to inform the Merchant King of this, the messenger service is at your disposal.”
“I will.” Sho Tsai gave another shallow bow. “Your fortitude does you credit. However, you have no doubt received word that the Most Favoured has commanded the mustering of a far larger host which will shortly march north.”
The governor laughed, coming forward to
clap a hand to Sho Tsai’s armoured shoulder. “And it’s my intention to ensure they’ll have nothing to do when they get here. Be sure to tell the Most Favoured that too. Of course, I’ll assist your mission in any way I can, but we’ll talk of it in the morning.” His smile broadened as his gaze swung to Vaelin. “As for tonight, I’ve a mind to greet my most interesting guests with a feast where they can entertain me with all manner of strange and delightful tales.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“And this . . . World Father, he has no wife? There is no World Mother?” Governor Hushan spoke passable if somewhat halting Realm Tongue that still managed to convey the genuine mystification in his question.
“The Father is eternal and ultimately beyond our understanding,” Ellese replied, chewing on a mouthful of roasted pork, which she washed down with a hearty swig of the local wine. It was a heady brew, flavoured with diced fruit that only partially disguised the strong taste of pure spirit. Vaelin’s eyes strayed constantly to where Nortah sat at the end of the table. He said little to Alum and Sehmon, who were seated on either side, and displayed no obvious interest in the numerous bottles passing back and forth.
The other guests consisted mainly of senior officers in the city garrison, career soldiers with a customary appreciation for the comforts of drink. The woman seated at the governor’s left was a marked and elegant contrast, clad in finely embroidered blue silks that matched the sapphire earrings she wore and the paint that shaded her eyelids. Hushan had introduced her only as his third wife; apparently it wasn’t custom for husbands to name their wives to others. Vaelin felt that she resembled a finely made mannequin, her features a porcelain mask of almost unnatural perfection, lips formed into a permanently demure smile that broadened only briefly at one of her husband’s loudly spoken witticisms. She ate nothing and drank no more than a sip or two of wine. Vaelin might have paid her scant attention but for the way Ahm Lin had reacted to her upon taking his seat. The mason strove to hide it but Vaelin saw the way his back straightened in discomfort as the woman’s placid gaze passed over him. Also, throughout the evening Ahm Lin kept his attention firmly on his meal, providing only nods and muttered responses to Erlin’s cheerful conversation.
“But no, he doesn’t have a wife,” Ellese added, smothering a burp. “Such earthly notions are of no meaning when considering the Father’s nature.”
“Then . . .” Hushan’s brows furrowed as his bafflement deepened. “How did he father the world with no womb to receive his seed?”
“By the power of his love, which knows all and sees all.” Ellese favoured the governor with a grin as she refilled her goblet. So far she had displayed no offence at Hushan’s prolonged and skeptical questioning on the tenets of her people’s creed. In fact, Vaelin had long felt her commitment to the Church of the World Father was at best a perfunctory shadow of her mother’s unwavering, if pragmatic, form of devotion.
Hushan blinked and shook his head before raising an eyebrow at Vaelin. “I think I found the Fire Queen’s red sharks a more fathomable notion than Heaven being home to but one all-knowing soul.”
“Oh, my uncle is far above such things, my lord,” Ellese said. She blinked bleary eyes and reached again for her goblet, spilling a drop or two of the contents as she raised it to her mouth. “The Father, the Alpiran gods,” she went on, staining her sleeve as she wiped it across her lips, “the wisdom of ancient scripture, the serenity of prayer. It’s all just dung to him. Mother always forgave him for it though. ‘A life of loss and grief will make even the kindest soul close his heart to the divine,’ she told me.”
“You’ve had enough,” Vaelin said, halting Ellese’s hand as it reached once again for the wine bottle. She stared at him, a measure of the old defiance creeping into her gaze, lips twitching as she fought the drink-fuelled impulse to speak some no-doubt-choice words.
“Do you have something to say?” he asked, tone mild as he met her glowering gaze. “A decision regarding my tutelage, perhaps? I am happy to forgo any further lessons if you wish.”
She clenched her fist and drew it back from the bottle, lowering her eyes, albeit with some obvious effort.
“Master Sehmon!” Vaelin called to the young outlaw, who quickly scrambled to his feet.
“My lord?”
“Lady Ellese is tired. Please escort her to her chamber.” He fixed Sehmon with a hard stare. “And be sure to return swiftly.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Ellese allowed Sehmon to take her arm as she rose from her seat. She bowed stiffly to the governor, and the two of them made a carefully paced exit from the meal hall.
“Always a sound practice to remind them of their place, I find,” Hushan commented. “In these lands a girl her age expressing such strong opinions would find herself locked in a hut for a month. I allowed it tonight in deference to your custom. The men of your lands do, after all, permit yourselves to be ruled by a woman.”
“No,” Vaelin replied. “She permits us to be ruled by her. And we find it a more than fair arrangement.”
The evening wore on for another hour, dominated by Sho Tsai’s continual quizzing of the governor on the preparedness of his city for imminent attack.
“I was surprised to see no evidence of stockpiled provisions, Governor,” the captain said. He was seated at the governor’s right, presumably due to his status as a favoured servant of the Merchant King. Like Nortah, the captain hadn’t touched his wine, and Vaelin judged that his relative silence until now had been carefully calculated to allow time for Hushan to drink himself into a more forthcoming mood. “Also, it is standard practice to enlist the menfolk of the city into a militia in times of crisis.”
“Getting the locals to march in step, let alone wield a spear with any skill, is a thankless task, Captain,” Hushan replied with a casual wave of his hand. “I have close to fifteen thousand men under my command, good soldiers all. As for provisions, given the number of cowardly swine fleeing south, Keshin-Kho finds itself with something of an abundance at present.”
“Nevertheless, I feel the Most Favoured would wish me to make a tour of the defences. Perhaps I can offer some advice . . .”
“Oh, don’t trouble yourself, good sir. It’s all well in hand. Besides, I wouldn’t wish to delay a mission of such importance. The sooner you find our wayward treasure the better, eh?”
Sho Tsai forced a smile and let the matter drop. Apparently, being one of the Merchant King’s favourites didn’t equate to unlimited authority.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“The governor’s third wife,” Vaelin said to Ahm Lin. The gathering had finally broken up close to the midnight hour and they were making their way to the rooms they had been given in the eastern wing of the mansion. “She’s Gifted isn’t she?”
The mason glanced around before replying with a nod. They had been provided a discreet escort of four guards, though they seemed indifferent to conversation spoken in a foreign tongue.
“Does she have a song?” Vaelin persisted.
“I don’t think so. The sense I had of her was . . . unusual. Something I haven’t encountered before. I do know she was both surprised and displeased by our appearance here.”
Ahm Lin fell silent as they came to a suite of adjoining rooms linked by a central courtyard, the roof open to the stars. Sho Tsai and the Red Scouts had been quartered in the main barracks but the governor had seen fit to house his foreign guests in an opulently furnished suite reserved for esteemed dignitaries from the south. Ahm Lin waited for the guards to close the heavy double doors before moving to a small fountain in the centre of the courtyard, lowering his voice so that it was barely audible above the cascading water.
“There’s something else, brother,” he said. “The governor, he lied.”
“About what?”
Ahm Lin gave a wary grimace as he scanned their su
rroundings, clasping his hands together in a manner that made Vaelin remember that, for all his gifts, this man was not a warrior. “Everything,” he said. “The song was clear. Every word that man spoke tonight was a lie.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It had been many years since Vaelin had endured a night in certain expectation of an attack. Nevertheless, he found the sensation an unpleasantly familiar mingling of irritation and anticipation. The journey to Keshin-Kho had been long and the governor’s feast something of a trial, so he would much rather have spent the hours in slumber. Yet another reminder, he reflected, feeling the aches in his back and legs with aggravating keenness, the years pass and are kind to no one.
So, when it finally arrived, the faint grind of metal on metal that told of the lock on the door to his chamber being picked, it was something of a relief. He continued to lie under his blankets, face turned away from the door as it swung open, the creak of hinges muted by the slowness with which the lock-picker entered the room. Two of them, Vaelin concluded, hearing dual scrapes of steel sliding from leather sheaths.
He tracked their movements by their breath, low and well controlled, but even the best-trained assassin is unable to remain completely calm when the killing moment looms closer. One moved to the left side of the bed whilst the other approached from the right. A pause, then a quick intake of breath as the one on the left readied himself for the thrust, the soft gasp then abruptly transformed into a scream as Chien lunged from her position beneath the bed, knife slashing across the assassin’s ankles.
Vaelin cast the blankets to the right as he surged fully clothed from the bed, sword in hand, the covering entangling the second attacker. “I need him alive,” he reminded Chien, glancing down to see her wrapping her arms around the other assassin’s neck, legs encircling his waist as he writhed and bucked, still shouting in pain. The man was clad entirely in black cotton, features concealed behind a leather mask.
