by Jen Williams
‘He wasn’t?’ Y’Gria raised a single, perfect eyebrow.
‘The Spinner was killed,’ said Oster shortly. ‘Before I could speak to him.’
Y’Gria seemed slightly taken aback by this information, but the confusion only lasted a moment. Sebastian watched her creased brow grow smooth again as she dismissed the Spinner’s death as unimportant.
‘Well, that knowledge is your birthright, little brother,’ said Y’Gria smoothly. ‘And it will be yours in good time, I promise. I can tell you everything you need to know. Ah, our other guests have arrived.’
Sebastian had heard nothing, but he looked up to see two figures advancing across the throne room. One was a tall, thin man with dark skin and a pinched expression of weariness about his face. He wore loose white trousers and a cord around his neck which was studded with wolf teeth. The other figure was a woman, short and pale, and her hair was a matted grey mane, tangled here and there with bones and sticks. She grinned at them wolfishly as she came.
‘Dinner?’ she cried. ‘With the family? Are those horns of yours growing on the inside of your head now, Y’Gria?’
The god of growth and life turned graciously to her new guests, and swept a hand towards the table. ‘Can we not sit and have a civilised conversation? Once every few hundred years or so?’
‘It has never served us to do so before,’ said the man. His voice was deep and steady. ‘I must then assume that this must serve you in some way, Y’Gria.’
‘Res’na, must you be so dramatic? Sit down, both of you. Please. A truce, just for the time it takes us to break bread.’
Sebastian clenched his fists under the table. These were the wolf gods, the twins Res’na and Res’ni. He thought of the silent city of Temerayne, doomed to lie for ever at the bottom of the ocean, thanks to Res’ni’s anger. Thanks to her madness.
‘Oh you do make me curious, Y’Gria,’ said Res’ni. She sat down at the table opposite Sebastian, and gave him a sunny grin. It made his flesh crawl. ‘Although it seems you ask us to eat with mortals. A long way to come for you to insult us, you green-haired bitch.’
‘Mortals?’ asked Y’Gria smoothly. ‘Do look again, little wolf sister.’
Res’ni narrowed her eyes. Res’na, who had taken a seat to the right of Y’Gria, turned to her sharply. ‘You will explain this.’
‘Our little circle has grown, Res’na,’ she said. ‘Oster is one of our own, lost and adrift in this world. The other one, the mortal, is something else – a mystery for me to solve, I think.’ Y’Gria paused, clearly taking pleasure in the impact of her words. ‘Shall we eat?’
Sebastian looked down to find his silver plate filled with food; thin slices of rare red beef, fleshy dark mushrooms, and a pile of steamed greens. The smell of it wafted up to his nostrils and all at once he was starving. It curdled his stomach to think of eating what Y’Gria provided, but there was no telling where his next meal would come from, and he would need his strength. He gathered up his knife and fork and ate a slice of the beef. It was bloody on his tongue and the taste of it woke the hunter in him. He took several more mouthfuls before he realised that no one else at the table was eating.
‘How can this be?’ demanded Res’ni. ‘There can be no one but us. We are the lords of this realm, with no usurpers.’ She peered closely at Oster. ‘Where did you come from, boy? What are you really?’
‘He is a god,’ snapped Y’Gria irritably. She waved a hand, and the course on Sebastian’s plate vanished to be replaced with a whole cooked fish, its silver scales dotted with capers. Hesitantly he took a bite, and he thought he’d never tasted anything so good – it seemed made of his memories of Ynnsmouth, the fresh lake-caught fish that his mother would cook on the hearth, filling the house with good, wholesome smells.
‘One that we just did not know about?’ Of them all, Res’na looked the most discomfited. He sat on the very edge of his seat, his fingers resting lightly on the table as though he might up and run away at any moment.
‘It hardly matters,’ said Y’Gria. ‘Do you not see what this means, wolf-brother? Now there is another of us, we can stand together against the mages, now we do not need her and the liar—’
‘Oh this again!’ crowed Res’ni. She turned a delighted look on Sebastian and tipped him a wink. ‘Talk of alliances, of standing together against the mage-scum, of an agreement that we are all equal. I will tell you again, then, Y’Gria, that it is not in our nature to band together. You are a fool.’
‘Res’ni, if you would just listen—’
‘Do I need to remind you of my nature?’ Res’ni planted her palms down on the table and the tableware began to rattle and jump. A bottle tipped over and spilled wine like liquid gold across the red tabletop.
Y’Gria pushed her lips into a moue of distaste. ‘Really, Res’ni. Must you?’
‘You seek an alliance?’ The words were out before Sebastian had realised he was going to speak aloud. He watched with some trepidation as Res’ni turned her attention to him. The plates stopped rattling. Next to her, Res’na was watching him as though he were distant weather approaching on the horizon.
‘She is always seeking an alliance, little human. Y’Gria, big sister, wants us to work together to kill the mages, to wipe them and your entire laughable race off the face of Ede. Kill them all, start again. But that isn’t the whole truth of it.’ She crashed her fist into the table, and laughed at how the cutlery jumped. ‘She seeks to lead us. To be the head of the family, because that is what she secretly believes she is. It will not happen. Ever.’
‘Res’ni, you talk nonsense.’ Y’Gria sounded melodramatically weary. ‘Don’t you see? With Oster on our side now we will be all the more powerful. We need to turn our hands to the same purpose for once.’ She gestured carelessly at the table and the food changed again; now it was fruits, still wet with dew. ‘No more of this wandering Ede, killing a mage here and there, tearing a country half to pieces and then leaving it to the ravens. No more casting cities to the bottom of the ocean and then using your influence to inspire a generation of artists.’ Y’Gria raised a perfect eyebrow. ‘Do not think I am unaware of your proclivities in that regard, wolf-sister.’
‘What makes you think Oster is on your side?’ Sebastian said into the brief silence. Again, all eyes turned to him. ‘You’ve barely let him speak.’
‘You are the one who should not be speaking, mortal creature,’ hissed Y’Gria. She turned her fingers and the peach he held in his fingers was a fat, wriggling beetle. He cried out and dropped it to his plate. ‘I could empty your steaming insides onto the table. So you will hold your tongue!’
‘He is right,’ said Res’na. His voice was steady. ‘Who is to say this stranger would stand with us? He is not our family.’
‘I do not know what I am,’ said Oster gravely. ‘I ask you to tell me. Please, give me the stories I am owed.’
‘And would you stand with us, then?’ asked Y’Gria eagerly. She was suddenly intent, a hawk on the wind who has spotted her prey far below. ‘You would be our ally?’
To Sebastian’s surprise, Oster looked over to him, a questioning look in his amber eyes. When Sebastian didn’t respond, Oster turned back, a closed look on his face. ‘I have no other loyalties.’
‘Do you see?’ Y’Gria pointed a finger at him triumphantly. ‘This one is the edge we need. We just need to stand together. Fate has delivered him into our laps, and it is time to start this world over again. I just need you to listen—’
‘Enough of this!’ Res’ni stood abruptly. For the briefest second, Sebastian saw not a young woman with wild hair but a great black wolf, its ruff bristling with aggression, yellow eyes like moons, and then it was gone. ‘You presume too much, as usual, Y’Gria. I am disaster and disease and chaos, I am not a force to be moulded to your whims. I answer to no one, and I am not impressed by your pretty youth here. Throw him back to the Eye, or let me eat him.’ She bared her teeth at Oster, and her madness was almost a scent in the air.
‘He would be more use to me that way.’
‘Will you not listen?’ The sheer frustration in Y’Gria’s voice almost made her sound human. ‘Do you not see what we can achieve if we work as a single force?’
Res’na rose slowly from his seat. He gave Y’Gria a cold look, somewhere between revulsion and pity. ‘It is not in our natures to do so, Y’Gria, Mother of the Fields. As you have known since we all crawled forth from the Eye.’
Later, Res’ni came to him in the gardens, under a bloated moon.
Sebastian had found a bower so heavy with fragrant purple blossoms that he thought it was possible to sit under it without being seen, but Res’ni advanced towards him out of the gloom as though he sat in broad daylight. Foolish, he told himself, to hide from gods.
‘I really do not have the slightest idea what you are doing here, mortal creature,’ she said. She stood over him in the dark, hands on her hips, and for the strangest moment he was reminded of Wydrin.
‘I’m sure I don’t know what I’m doing here either,’ he answered, amiably enough. It seemed wise to stay amiable with this one.
She snorted amusement, and then prowled around him. He tried to keep one eye on her without obviously following her movements. The back of his neck prickled; it was the same feeling as being in the woods, being tracked by something larger and hungrier than you.
‘You and the new one, there is a link between you. That is very strange. Even stranger, this link smells of my sister. The one that Y’Gria would rather not talk about.’ She tipped her head to one side. Out of the light she was just a shaggy shape in the dark, and it was easy to see the wolf in her again. ‘What are you to him? His body-slave? His companion? He defers to you, watches you when you are not looking.’ She sniffed. ‘It is not seemly for a god to behave that way with a mortal.’
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. ‘Oster? Mostly he sees me as someone who fails to answer his questions, and brings him to places he does not wish to go. I am a nuisance.’
‘If you were a nuisance, he would have ended you,’ pointed out Res’ni. ‘What is the story? Perhaps I can read it in your blood.’
Faster than he would have believed possible she was under the bower with him, her hand at his throat; it was like being held in a gauntlet of steel. He tried to push her away, but he might as well have been flailing against stone. Her other fist was in his hair and she yanked his head back, exposing his throat. As quick as a dog sneaking scraps from the table she bit him, nipping with unnaturally sharp teeth, tearing at his flesh. Sebastian cried out but she was already stepping away from him, wiping her hand over her mouth. She had a thoughtful expression on her face.
‘Interesting. Dragon in your blood.’ She shrugged. ‘Nothing about it makes sense. But that is the sort of thing that pleases me. The question is, what does this Oster get out of it?’
Sebastian stood, pressing his hand to his neck. It was difficult to tell how bad the wound was in the dark, but he could feel his own blood, hot and slick against his palm. He gritted his teeth against a wave of dizziness.
‘He gets nothing from me,’ he spat.
The light under the bower changed, and Oster in his dragon form was suddenly there, pushing Res’ni aside with a curl of his long, golden-scaled body. She stumbled back, startled, and bared blood-stained teeth. She growled, a low threatening noise in the back of her throat.
‘Don’t pick a fight you can’t win,’ she suggested. ‘You are practically a babe, newly born and mewling.’
The golden light of Oster’s scales grew in brilliance and once more it was the man standing there. ‘I don’t believe you’re welcome here any more. If you will not help Y’Gria, then she wants you gone.’
Res’ni laughed. ‘Is that what you are going to do, infant? Curl up under Y’Gria’s breast and hope that she mothers you? It is against our natures to work together, which she knows very well. She doesn’t want family unity, she wants dominance. Why do you think that Y’Ruen isn’t here? The dragon would tear her to pieces as soon as look at her. As she would with any of us.’
‘Go away,’ said Oster, his voice flat. ‘You are of no interest to me.’
Res’ni grinned, and then slowly licked her lips, smearing the last of Sebastian’s blood. ‘And you are even less than that to me. Enjoy your mortal, if he doesn’t bleed to death.’
She jumped away into the shadows and was gone. Oster turned to Sebastian, his brow furrowed. ‘She has harmed you?’
‘She gave me a fair old nip,’ said Sebastian, trying to force a smile. ‘I don’t think it’s too deep.’
‘Come out here where it is lighter. Let me see.’
Sebastian stepped out of the bower. Y’Gria’s floating palace had passed out of the clouds and the gardens were pooled with stark silver light, turning the trees and plants and flowers into creations of cold steel. Reluctantly, he took his hand away from the wound – he could feel the ragged edges of it under his fingers – and Oster peered at it closely.
‘What are you going to do?’ he asked Oster quietly. ‘Y’Gria wishes to destroy the mages. You know we came here to stop that happening.’
‘The mages aren’t my people,’ said Oster. He sounded distracted, distant. ‘Humans are no concern of mine. Here, this plant.’ He turned away from Sebastian and bent to a nearby bush, plucking several thick leaves from its stubby branches. ‘They will help the wound heal. The plants here are plants from Euriale, and I know them.’ He pursed his lips. ‘There is so much I don’t know, but I know that.’ Next he took hold of his cloak and carefully tore a long strip from the hem, leaving it ragged. It was, Sebastian realised, the first time he had seen Oster’s clothes look less than perfect.
‘You don’t have to—’
‘Let me do this.’ Leaning in close, Oster bound the leaves against the wound in Sebastian’s neck, tying the fabric firmly. Sebastian held his breath. Immediately, the pain in his neck lessened.
‘Do you not see, Oster? What point is there in binding this wound for me, if you help Y’Gria to kill the mages, to raze Ede of all human life? I would be one of the ones she kills, and even if she didn’t, I would have to stand against her. I am human too.’
Oster glared at him, amber eyes burning. ‘You are different. I feel it. You feel it.’
Sebastian shook his head slowly. ‘No, I’m not, not really. I share a bond with dragon-kin, it’s true, and I was a fool to try to ignore that. But in the end, I will always be your enemy in this war.’
A cloud scudded across the moon, and for a moment Sebastian couldn’t make out the expression on Oster’s face.
‘But you are …’ Oster shook his head abruptly, his face creased with anger. ‘If you cannot stand with Y’Gria, then you must at least stand with me. You are the only – it is the only way I can keep you safe from the others.’
‘Oster, I have made too many poor choices, and caused too much suffering, to betray my people now.’ Sebastian caught a breath and held it. He realised that as much as it was the truth, he did not want to tell Oster this. ‘If you choose this path, I cannot come with you.’
The anger that flitted over Oster’s face then was easy to read. ‘Then Y’Gria will kill you, and I will be free of this confusion.’
He stalked away into the night, vanishing as swiftly and as easily as Res’ni had.
59
Augusta’s knife pierced the grey skin and sliced downwards in one easy movement. She hooked her blunt fingers under the flap and pulled it back, revealing a dense mat of fibrous red material within the dead man’s chest. The guard standing over her, tall with scars across his bald head, made a helpless sound of disgust at the sight of it.
‘What is the point of this?’ The Banshee stood in the doorway, hanging back from the rest of them. Devinia watched her carefully, wondering if she could get the knife from Augusta and stab it into Ristanov’s throat before the guard got between them. It would be a dirty fight, in a small space – she, armed with a scalpel, against two pirates armed wit
h daggers and swords. She pulled her eyes away from Ristanov and watched Augusta.
‘I’m trying to learn what this sickness is,’ said Augusta. ‘This poor bastard is helping me. If I can get an idea of what it’s doing to the body, maybe I will be able to figure out a way to stop it. Or lessen it somehow.’ Her voice had taken on the distant quality it often did when she was concentrating on her work. Devinia doubted she was even aware of the impatience in the Banshee’s voice. Another cut, and the mess below the skin was further revealed; it was like looking down into a red, alien jungle. Ristanov edged closer, her mouth turned down at the corners, half her face hidden under a thick layer of the red moss. ‘Will you look at this now? On the surface it’s just these fibres, but underneath it’s forming actual cords, and they’re wrapping themselves around the bones, like a creeper climbing a tree.’
Devinia pursed her lips. There was a strange smell, too, sweet and corrupted like over-ripe fruit. There was too much saliva in her mouth, and all at once she thought she might vomit. Swallowing hurriedly, she looked up to see an identical expression on the Banshee’s face. Their eyes met, and she could almost hear the other woman’s thoughts: growing inside me, turning my flesh to mulch.
‘I have had enough of this!’ Ristanov was trying to sound angry, but Devinia could hear the fear beneath it. ‘That priest will heal us today or I will tear out his guts!’
She turned on her heel and stomped up the steps. After a moment, Devinia, Augusta and the guard followed her.
It was an overcast day, the blanket of cloud turning the lagoon’s water a dead-eyed silver. Terin still stood in the shallows, his arms held out to either side, his back to the ships. The men with the crossbows were still there too; they had lowered their weapons, but kept an uneasy watch on the meditating Narhl man.
‘You, priest!’ The Banshee stepped up onto the guardrail. She had given up on the hood, and now her ravaged face was a red smear in the murky daylight. ‘You have had more than enough time to commune. You will heal us now, or you will die, yes.’
