by Chris Howard
The king looked disappointed. “Young Stasenor has said something?"
Stasenor? That is his name? How can I not remember my own son's name? “He fights with toys, always Alkimides and Dosianax, and—forgive me lord—always Alkimides kills Dosianax. His game never changes. Alkimides kills Dosianax. It frightens me."
The king ran his tongue along his lips, a thoughtful look on his face. “As it should, Sameramis."
King Tharsaleos waited for his most trusted warrior, most trusted among the oktoloi, to land on the ledge outside his study, before swimming inside with a few strong kicks.
"Come inside. Stand over there.” The king pointed at a clear space against one wall. The rest of the room was crammed with books, scrolls falling off the ends of tables, two desks covered in strange surfacer technology like clocks and electronic parts sealed in plastic bags; a dull orange glow bulb drifted lazily around the center of the ceiling.
"I trust you, Sam, even though you are Alkimides."
The king's carnivore smile made Sameramis’ lips draw back, a jest among rival houses. The start of a laugh dried up. The knife in the king's hand sucked in all his attention.
"Show me your hands, Sam."
The first of the oktoloi held them up, callused, soldier's hands, lead-colored spots forming around the knuckles. Sameramis frowned as if noticing the spots for the first time. “What have you done to me? Something monstrous."
The yellow in Tharsaleos’ eyes was closer to orange in the light, his old man's face cadaverous, triangular shadows below his cheekbones, his beard fiery, smoldering. The king was a monster, he was sure.
Quicker than Sameramis could react, the king's fist shot out and the tip of the knife poked him square in the chest.
"I am giving you the command of my army in the north. That is what is happening."
Sameramis couldn't help lifting the corners of his mouth at the gift, leading the king's army, all houses—except his own. He would be the one Alkimides in battlespace, the one to make history against the Rexenors.
"This is about monsters. There are mollusks, animals that have the softest mantles and godwork in the colors on their shells, whose beauty will stun you. And some of them are monsters. Some have a small tube they insert into their prey, injecting the acid from their stomachs right into another animal. The acid dissolves the prey from the inside out, leaving a bag of fluid food behind for the monster to suck dry. What is happening to you? I have instructed your wife to give you something to hollow you out to make room for ... well, for me."
The silence lasted longer than Tharsaleos anticipated. “Do you trust me?"
Sameramis had no choice but to bow his head, assenting. “With all my heart."
"Well put, Sameramis of Alkimides, General of all Seaborn forces."
The king drove the knife through his breastbone, into his heart.
* * * *
Tharsaleos, Lord Dosianax, King of all Seaborn, planted his elbows on a desk in his study, focused all of his thought, and bent his head into his hands. The room lit up and he could see—see through the eyes of his general.
He swam through the arch, over the ledge and dove straight down to the level of the royal keep where seven of the oktoloi and their squires stood around waiting for Sameramis.
The king's war-bard Theoxena stood alone, one hand resting on the wall at the edge of the patio, her gaze wandering over the Nine-cities.
She turned before the first of the oktoloi could speak. He dropped his feet on the paving and bowed with an almost comical flourish. “The king wishes you to begin assembly of the weapons, milady.” He leaned in and whispered, “You know the ones I mean."
She glared at him, baring her teeth. “The king commands me. No one else. Not through anyone else. Speak to me in that tone again and I will flay you and press your skin into paper."
King Tharsaleos smiled up in his study, all his thought bent on moving and speaking through Sameramis.
"One day, milady, but for now the king would be displeased with you. For he has granted me a high rank.” He spun and swam to one of the squires, a young dark haired man in armor. “Euchaon!” He placed one firm hand on the young man's shoulder. “You are now the eighth.” He turned to one of the trusted. “Polemakles. You are now the first among the oktoloi."
Polemakles jumped away from the wall, a foot into the water, a look of concern on his face. “And you?"
"Our lord has graciously given me command of the army of the north. I am to lead the final destruction of Rexenor."
"Well! Glorious!” Polemakles clapped him on the back.
"Yes. Yes it is,” said Sameramis, the smile vanishing. “I ride in the morning. Good night to you."
"No celebration?” a few of them asked.
Sameramis returned a scheming smile. “Not tonight, most trusted. I mean to celebrate it with my wife."
He threw Theoxena the same smile and kicked past her, down the tower to the streets where he joined a flow of float-carts and dolphin teams to the Alkimides city.
He swam around one of the finer areas looking for Sameramis’ estate, and kicked right in when he found it. Servants bowed to him and he dismissed them as he passed.
A boy swam from an open arch, holding toy orcas and soldiers. “Father?"
"Who wins the battle, my boy?"
"Alkimides has killed Dosianax again."
He took the boy's head in his hands, fingers digging into the back of his neck and he twisted until the spinal column snapped apart.
"How unfortunate."
He released the child's body in the water and continued down the dark tunnel into a broad room brightly lit, globes rolling around in the ceiling in pairs.
Aischyline smiled and swam to him, and he took her by the wrist, hauling her to the bedroom. He locked the door and his smile was gone when he turned around.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Thirty-Two
An Audience
The Nine-cities—Enneapolis—is built on a mass of deep sea vents, an upside down root system of extremely hot water, some of it coming out over 370?C (around 700?F), which nonetheless does not boil because the surrounding water pressure is so great.
—Michael Henderson, notes
* * * *
Nicole opened her hands to slow her motion in the water, running her toes along the ceiling as she stopped Kassandra in the hall outside their bedrooms. “Jill has some competition."
Kassandra stared at her a moment too long without answering, then caught herself and asked, “What are you talking about?"
"Are you okay?” Nicole grabbed her shoulder, yanking Kassandra through the water to get a closer look. “You're sick."
"Nothing. Just something ... I ate."
Nicole didn't release her, but answered her first question. “There's a visitor in the gallery, to see the Lady of Rexenor and you."
"Who is it?"
"Some woman with hair lighter than Jill's. There's already a group of ogling men around her, even with Lady Kallixene telling them to back off."
"Blonder than Jill?"
"More like white."
"Is she pale?"
"Very."
Kassandra looked right at her, but her eyes weren't focused. After a minute, she said, “Really? Let's go meet her. Stay with me."
Nicole kicked hard to keep up in the long underground tunnels. She bumped Kassandra's shoulder. “I'm so nervous. You going to be able to handle a battle?"
"I don't have a choice.” Kassandra had lost her secret smile as the battle loomed. She slowed to let her sister through a narrow door first, pressing her hand against a sharp pain in her stomach.
They kicked through crowded halls of the Rexenor fortress, passing men and women carrying armor and spears, through the crowded barracks, and into the training arena where they found Jill playing with the teams of dolphins taught to attack House Dosianax soldiers.
The trainers reined them all in with whistling noises when the Wreath-we
arer kicked into the arena. Jill looked up, curious, and then swam to her sisters, waving excitedly.
"Dolphins are so cute, even when they team up and rip the Dosianax manikins apart."
Green scales and parts of dismembered dummies littered the floor of the arena, and Kassandra hugged her tight because she liked the blaze in her eyes.
Jill leaned back, studying her for a moment. “You don't look good, Kass. You're skin's nearly gray. Are you sleeping?"
Kassandra's eyes clouded, then cleared. “I don't sleep much anymore."
"This battle's going to kill you.” Jill said it lightly, an attempt at cheeriness.
Zypheria and Michael Henderson swam up at that moment. They didn't hear Kassandra mumble, “Not like I haven't wished."
Kass took Jill's hand, tugging her up toward the hole in the arena's domed ceiling. “We're going to meet a visitor from the south. Come on."
Jill couldn't hide the flash of surprise that lit her face. Kassandra never took her anywhere, always preferring Nicole for any kind of audience, adventure, or battle training.
Zypheria swam close, so quick in the water she dragged Michael along almost as an afterthought. Kassandra glanced at Jill, noticed her joy, but she was in the middle of whispering something and fingering the water, the gestures that hid the glow of the Wreath.
Nicole watched her with sudden concern, then exchanged a concerned look with Zypheria. “Do you know who it is? Why are you hiding who you are? How do you know she's from the south?"
Kassandra shook her head. “I have some news of her, but not much. I've dreamed of her. I want you to pretend to trust her, but I don't know why."
* * * *
The pale woman's hair was milky white, her skin soft, and even whiter than her hair, nearly transparent: veins and arteries visible beneath. There was death in her eyes.
She smiled when three young women and an older couple swam through the wide door at the hall's end. Kallixene's guards fanned out, spears butted, standing on the stones between their lady and the visitor.
Kassandra released Jill, kicking across the chamber at a good pace, inches off the flagstones, directly toward Kallixene's carved stone seat. She pulled up at the last second, plucking a dull metallic crablike device off the right wing of the chair, just as its mandibular claws reached for Kallixene's shoulder.
Holding the crab, Kassandra twisted upright and stood behind her grandmother, placing one hand on her shoulder. Kallixene put her hand on Kassandra's, and then nodded, smiling at Jill on her right and Nicole on the other side of Kassandra.
Zypheria and Michael, arms around each other, stood immediately behind Jill.
The pale woman looked up at one person in the room and bowed her head in reverence. “Lady Kassandra."
Kallixene's smile faded, a flight of questions swimming through her mind. She turned, tilting her head up to give her granddaughter a sharp look and found that she had cast her Wreath-hiding spell.
Had Kassandra met this strange woman before? Did the woman somehow see who Kassandra was without the glow of the Wreath?
The pale woman pouted, an exaggerated girlish expression, her gaze dropping to the wriggling metallic crab in Kassandra's hand. “Oh, you found my pet, Lady Kassandra.” She moved to rise, but Kallixene's guard reacted, blocking her path, and she sat back down, slightly put out. “Forgive me. He has a mind of his own, wandering off.” She waved airily, but then assumed an uncomfortable pose and shamed expression as if some impropriety had been exposed.
Jill leaned back to look over at Kassandra, rolling her eyes, muttering, “Trying a bit hard, isn't she?"
"Ouch!” Kassandra jerked her hand back, grabbing the crab by the rear legs. She brought it close, inspecting its mouth and the haze of blood around its mandibles.
"It bit me."
A flood of anger raced hot through her veins. Kassandra made a growling noise, a rumble in her throat that flowed into a short song. She flexed her fingers, made a swirling gesture, and the mouth and mandibles of the metal crab retracted, burning and twisting into white lumps. A wiry stream of gold and purple continued off her fingers, melting the features off the face of the device. The metal cooled and flakes of silver drifted away in the current.
When Kassandra looked up, she noticed Kallixene's sitting room was silent and every eye was on her.
The pale woman fixed her eyes on her, but her focus was inside, adding what she had just witnessed into her strategy.
Kassandra kicked off the floor, shooting over the heads of Kallixene's guards and sliding gently down next to Corina. She handed over the metallic crab.
"Please keep your pets to yourself.” She gave Corina a meaningful stare. “You don't happen to have any other pets lurking about, do you?"
Corina held her eyes, but only for a moment, dropping them to her open hand. Two linked gold beads rolled in the center of her palm.
Kassandra picked them up. “My aunt's earrings. A birthday present. I gave these to her, you know."
Corina sat up straight, her voice chilling to an even controlled tone. “Of course. That is why she sent them with me."
Kassandra slid them into her pocket. “Look at me, Corina. And answer my question."
The pale woman stared at her empty hands for a moment's indecision. She lifted her gaze. “The only other is the one you carry inside you."
Kassandra played with her right braid, twirling it in her fingers. Behind her, half the guards went alert at her signal. Zypheria had her sword in her hand before most began to react. She elbowed Michael behind her, grabbing Jill by the collar, lifting her off her feet. Lady Kallixene was already into a spell chant.
Kassandra leaned closer to the pale woman, whispering, “Are you so confident in your power that you can enter Rexenor fortress by yourself and believe you will leave here with your head?"
The Wreath-wearer pinned her to her seat with her piercing eyes. The pale woman couldn't move, she couldn't use her voice to whisper the command that would wake Akast?'s parasite inside Kassandra. She couldn't move her lips, her tongue dead in her mouth; her heartbeat slowed. The water went still in her throat, her final breath a warm swirl against the back of her teeth.
The pale woman was a prisoner in the abyss of the Wreath-wearer's eyes.
Kassandra caught her by the chin, steadied her face, and dug into her soul, a deep and intricate dark space with islands and welling currents, something ancient and assuring and so much like the space in her own soul that she gasped in surprise. Kassandra picked up the woman's name from the currents.
"Corina?"
"Yes?"
Yes?
Kassandra's eyes widened, and she kicked away in a rush of fear, somersaulting and landing on her feet beside Lady Kallixene.
"Aleximor! How? How did you break free from your prison? Strates used an earth binding that I've never been able to understand."
The pale woman went stone still, but it only took her a moment to recover. She crossed her legs and calmly rested her hands on them. “Even I must admire Strates’ depth of knowledge—I used to, anyway. I, on the other hand, understand exactly what old Strates Unwinder did to create the prison. I had nearly two hundred years to study it."
Kallixene scowled, gripping the arm of her throne. “Aleximor?"
The question was echoed around the room as the lady's guard positioned themselves to defend her.
Kassandra turned to Nicole's questioning glare. “Aleximor is a very old ostologos Kassander imprisoned on the far side of the world. Lord Neokles’ killer—ended up killing Strates Unwinder as well. He's escaped his prison and he's inside this woman's body. The ostologoi are the creators and minders of the Olethren. They were once anyway."
Kassandra turned back to Corina, jutting her chin to indicate the physical form. “Where did you manage to find her?"
"California. She was a surfacer."
"Ah,” Kassandra nodded. “She released you. Her name's Corina. I saw you for a moment, but not her. She's still
in there, isn't she? That wasn't some dead echo of her that answered me?"
"She is."
Kassandra tilted her head, simply curious, “You don't happen to have an army, do you?"
The pale woman jerked in surprise.
The room exploded with motion, streaks of shiny armor and sweeping weapons. The pale woman kicked into the water column, barking a command with the name, “Akast?” in it. Kassandra doubled over, grabbing her stomach. Nicole gripped the back of Kallixene's throne and pulled her body over it, diving in front of her sister.
The thing inside Kassandra—squirming in her guts for days—erupted with teeth, gnawing through her core and into her head.
Kassandra spun, slapping her open hand on Nicole's back. Her own silvery-blue scaled armor slipped over Nicole's body along with her sword. She jabbed an angry finger at Nicole, mouthing the words, “Protect Jill. Your life..."
* * * *
Kassandra stood in the rushing black currents inside the Wreath, inside her own soul. She had only been here once before, at the end of the fierce battle with the Olethren, the king's vast army of the dead—and it had been old Ephoros, brother of Ochleros, who had died feeding her the last of his strength—just enough to push her up through the center pit and into the raging torrent.
She looked around, knowing the room so well because she saw it in her dreams, felt its current against her thighs when she used its power, almost as if half of her self always stood in the whirl of turbulence in the ring-shaped room.
Feeling the stone floor with her toes, she made her way carefully to the edge and dragged herself out of the water, onto the gray stone walkway that circled the whirlpool and the black pit in the center.
Ninety-six tunnels fed the circular room, and one of the doors on the opposite side of the water seemed to call to her, the touch of a cold breeze and the information carried on it, clicking crab noises, soft metal electric on her skin, three points on the end of a tall spear.
"Wonder what's in there.” She breathed the words in the lowest voice she could summon and every sound ricocheted off the hard walls, chorusing into a loud raucous scream, an echo that didn't merely return the original voice, but raised the volume and pitch.
