by Jen Williams
‘I am still myself,’ she said to the empty room. She lifted her hand and placed it against her cheek. Of all the bruises and cuts she had taken fighting Estenn, the strange burn on her cheek was nagging at her. It felt hot under her fingers, and it was difficult to concentrate. ‘I am fast, I am deadly. I am the Copper Cat of Crosshaven.’
You are a shell, replied her mother. You are hollow.
‘I am broken,’ she replied. Her throat was dry. Did she have a fever? Her head was too hot. ‘But broken things can still kill. I was stupid, you are right.’ Her voice cracked a little – so dry – and her mind cruelly supplied her with a memory of Frith’s grey eyes, his seldom-seen smile. ‘Really stupid. But even broken things can learn.’ She closed her eyes tight, willing herself to put the memories and the pain aside, and focus on what would happen next. What she needed to do.
There were footsteps in the corridor outside. There was a rattle of keys and the clank of a lock being turned, and a heavyset man in long crimson robes opened the door. There were two other men behind him wearing similar garb.
‘The Archmage wants to see you,’ he said. ‘Get up.’
When she didn’t move, he took a step into the room and rolled up his sleeves. His arms were thick with mage bindings.
‘The Archmage isn’t a very patient man,’ he continued. ‘You will likely only get this one chance to speak, and there’s no one else to speak for you. You’re alone now, mercenary.’
Wydrin uncurled herself from the floor and dusted herself down. Her weapons had been left in the artefact room, and were no doubt in the custody of the mages now. She felt oddly light without them. Hollow.
‘Come on,’ the man put a hand on her shoulder and guided her out the door. ‘Can’t say I’d want to be in your shoes right now. Reis is in a fine old mood.’
They led her out and down several corridors. She tried to remember their layout, in case she needed to know it later, but they seemed to double in front of her eyes. They brought her to a hall where the walls were hung all over with maps of Ede. There was a long table in the middle covered in scrolls and parchment and small bottles of black ink, as well as long lengths of silk. There were men and women standing by the walls, mostly in black robes, but a few with the red robes of the men who had escorted her to the hall, and she saw Selsye standing to one side of the table. Her face was very pale, and she stood with her hands folded inside her sleeves.
At the head of the table was the solidly built bald man who had stormed into their dinner the night before. He had changed his clothes since then and was now dressed in thick olive-coloured robes. His face was florid and blotchy, his eyes too bright. He openly glared at Wydrin as they brought her in.
‘This is the one, is it?’ he snapped at no one in particular. ‘And what about the other?’
‘The Edeian crafter Lord Frith is dead, sir,’ said Selsye. Her voice was very quiet. As she spoke her gaze flickered over to Wydrin and back to Archmage Reis more than once. ‘He appears to have been killed during the fight.’
‘As were several of our own,’ said Reis. ‘One of many things this unbound snake will answer for.’
‘Where is Commander Xinian?’ asked Wydrin. ‘I need to speak to her.’
Reis stood up and took a few steps towards her, his arms behind his back. ‘Commander Xinian is currently suspended. The charges against her are many. For making use of two carapacers for frivolous means when we are in the middle of a war. For being taken in by a bunch of agents clearly working for our enemies.’ He shook his head. ‘Never would I have thought this of her. She was my most trusted …’ His voice trailed away. ‘The other carapacer? We had a report on that?’
Selsye cleared her throat. ‘Wreckage from a carapacer was discovered near the remains of Zakrnthos in Relios. There were no bodies found inside or nearby, but it seems likely that Silvain and the two enemy agents have perished.’ She looked down at her feet.
Wydrin clenched her fists at her sides. Sebastian. ‘You brought her here with you somehow,’ she said in a low voice. ‘The bitch can make herself invisible so it’s not that hard to figure out. Estenn came here and took Echo and murdered …’ She dug her fingernails into her palms. ‘I was trying to stop her, we were trying to stop her, but you let her get away. She will be going to fetch the other half of the spell now, so how about you stop wasting your fucking time questioning me and get after her?’
To her surprise, the Archmage tipped back his head and gave a harsh bark of laughter.
‘Oh yes, this mysterious Estenn. This agent of the gods. Xinian also mentioned her, claimed that’s who you said was coming here, but no one saw this woman. There is just you, and your dead friend, and a missing artefact of great value. Oh yes, and several dead mages whose bodies have been turned to dust. This Lord Frith of yours was apparently a very skilled mage, something else that Commander Xinian failed to spot.’
‘This is insane!’ Wydrin started forward, and felt a hand land heavily on her shoulder. ‘Do you seriously think it was us? If that’s the case, then why am I still bloody here? Where is the Echo? Who took it, in this big imaginary plan you’ve concocted for us?’
Reis sneered, gesturing around the room at the mages gathered here. ‘Obviously, your plans didn’t quite go as you expected, and you got left behind, your fellow agent killed. I am hardly here to explain your little conspiracy.’
‘You are out of your mind! If I’m an agent for the gods, then who killed my friend?’ She took a breath, willing herself to keep speaking. ‘He was stabbed through the chest with a cutlass. If Estenn doesn’t exist, then who here killed him? Who here fights with a cutlass?’
Reis turned away from her, gesturing to the guards.
‘This is a time of war, Wydrin Threefellows of Crosshaven, and as such we do not have time for hearings and trials, even if I felt you deserved one. Normally agents of the gods would be killed on sight, but we are very close to finishing the Citadel project, and if there are any further moves against us, I want to be able to question you at my leisure. You will be returned to a more permanent cell, and you will stay there for what remains of your life.’
Wydrin was moving before she had consciously made the decision to do so. She sprinted across the room towards Reis, and she had her hands stretched out to wring his neck when a bolt of magical energy hit her side, crashing her into the table. The guards were on her in an instant, wrestling her back to her feet. She kicked and punched at them wildly.
‘NO!’ she screamed. ‘You can’t take me back down there! I have to kill her, I have to tear her throat out, don’t you see?’ Someone grabbed hold of her collar and dragged her partway across the stone floor. The heat from the mark on her cheek was a searing burn. ‘You can’t take this from me! You have to let me go!’
A fist landed in her gut, forcing the air out of her in one blow. She gasped, still struggling to get away, to shout, but there were five of them on her now, and she was being forcibly dragged from the room. Twisting and writhing, she caught one last sight of Reis, his head already turned back to the papers on the table, and Selsye next to him, watching her go with wide eyes.
63
‘You are avoiding her.’
Oster looked up from where he was sitting. There was, improbably, a thick leather-bound book in his lap. They were in the shade of a low stone wall, one of the many ruins that riddled Y’Gria’s flying garden. Oster had taken off his bulky shoulder armour, and now wore a simple tunic of soft grey material. The dragon etched on his shoulder looked like the finest silver filigree against his brown skin. He scowled, and turned another page.
‘She is angry,’ he said. ‘She mutters and she spits oaths to herself.’
Sebastian came and crouched down next to him, his hands held loosely between his knees. The sun was hot, the sky they sailed through pitiless and blue. He thought they were over western Relios now, although he couldn’t be sure. Somewhere out there, Wydrin and Frith were in danger, and he was stuck here.
‘A while ago you told me that your people were known for their tempers,’ he said. ‘It seems you knew more than you realised.’
Oster snorted, and tapped the book with his finger. ‘It is all in here,’ he said. ‘The legendary rages and quarrels, the fights and the petty revenges. It’s a wonder really that she ever thought they would band together as one. Nothing in our endless history suggests it could ever be so.’
Sebastian tipped his head slightly, looking closely at Oster’s face. For the first time that he could recall, the man had a fine layer of stubble on his jaw. The dark shadow against his skin conspired to make him look more human somehow, and he felt an uncomfortable spike of desire. Reluctantly, he thought of Oster bursting into his room in the Arkanium, and he turned his face away in case he caught sight of the colour rising in his cheeks.
‘Where did you get that?’ he said, gesturing at the book. ‘I’ve seen nothing but plants and stone in this place. Y’Gria doesn’t strike me as the bookish sort.’
‘Res’na gave it to me.’ Oster looked guilty now. ‘He came to me before he left. He’s not like the others, not really. He’s not full of hunger and need, like Y’Gria, not full of fever and rage like Res’ni. He is quiet. Measured. He said that it wasn’t right that I didn’t know my own history, that it was wrong that such an important step had been missed.’ Oster frowned slightly. ‘I think the idea of it made him uncomfortable. Actually, I think I made him uncomfortable. He said something about the natural order, about things being out of balance, but then he shook his head and said, “What’s done is done.” He told me that he would not help Y’Gria, because it was not how things were meant to be, but he did give me this.’ He flipped the cover back. On it were the words: The Histories of the Gods of Ede embossed in gold.
‘A useful thing to have, certainly,’ said Sebastian. ‘Is it helping?’
Oster shook his head slowly. ‘It would be easier if the Spinner had been there to sing me my stories. The gods have been numerous. There is a lot to read.’
‘Give me the highlights, then,’ said Sebastian. With a grunt, he sat down next to Oster. The bite on his neck was healing nicely – he had replaced the original dressing with fresh leaves from the plant Oster had showed him, and it was no longer sore. ‘What are your favourite bits?’
Oster frowned at him before turning back to the book. There were beads of sweat on his forehead. Sebastian couldn’t remember if he’d seen him sweat before.
‘In the age of the comet, Danrayus the sun god grew tired of the wars between the humans in the great central continent, and so split the entire thing down the middle, sending each part away to a new place in the sea. The war was ended.’
Despite himself, Sebastian smiled faintly. ‘I suppose that is one way of dealing with it.’
‘A hundred years after that, Sirena the serpent god brokered a peace between two nations, and they declared her the god of peace and built a great statue in her honour. The remains of it can still be seen today, in the Kitai valley of Onwai.’
‘It sounds like the old gods spent a lot of time dealing with conflict.’
Oster turned to another page. ‘During the reign of Queen Kenista, Seriil the All-Knowing came to Ede in his human form and took a human lover. From her he learned that he did not know everything after all, and became a much wiser god. It is said that their passion shook the mountains, and Queen Kenista herself blessed the union.’
There were a few moments’ silence. Sebastian realised he was holding his breath. ‘Oster—’
‘I do not understand everything in here,’ Oster said, not looking up from the page. ‘But some of it, perhaps I can. It is like the knowledge is already with me, and I am breathing it to life with these words.’
Sebastian nodded, thinking of the brood sisters, and how they had treasured books. It was safer to think about than where his mind had been heading.
‘What are you two up to?’
Y’Gria appeared from behind a stone grey wall. She wore a shimmering gown of green silk, embroidered at the neck and hem with glittering sapphire insects. Her dark green hair hung loose down her back, and the smile plastered on her face looked false.
‘What else can we be doing in this place?’ asked Sebastian. He stood up, reluctant to be in a submissive position in front of Y’Gria, and after a moment Oster followed suit. ‘We are prisoners here.’
Y’Gria narrowed her eyes. It was clear that she hadn’t wanted a reply from him. ‘Oster, what do you have there?’
‘It was a gift, from Res’na. To help me know my history.’
She was next to them in an instant, her golden fingers snatching the book up from Oster’s unresisting hands. ‘You accepted a gift from Res’na? Who threw my hospitality back in my face?’ Y’Gria’s smile grew wider, exposing more of her teeth. ‘You of course do not realise, as you are a child, but what you have done is a great insult to me.’
‘I am not a child,’ started Oster. ‘You know that is not how this works.’
‘An insult to your sister, who took you in and sheltered you.’ Y’Gria shook the book at him, letting the pages flap open. ‘Didn’t I promise I would tell you everything you needed to know, once our siblings were all in agreement?’
‘But they are not,’ said Oster in a flat tone. ‘They have no interest in banding together, sister, because they do not trust you.’
She cast the book to the ground and slapped Oster so hard across the face that he rocked back on his heels. Before he knew he was doing it Sebastian had moved between the two of them and shoved Y’Gria back. For a few seconds she was too shocked to react.
‘You, human. You dare to lay hands on me? I have been far too tolerant of Oster’s little whims.’
She gestured, almost lazily, and her slim golden arm grew bloated and pale before splitting into several long twisting appendages with tapered points. Sebastian had a moment to stumble away, before the tentacles shot towards him, wrapping around his neck and lifting him off the ground. Almost immediately the edges of his vision went dark, and he felt his throat being crushed. He tried to hook his fingers around the grasping roots but each one he pulled away was only replaced by another. It squeezed his throat like a strong man squeezing the juice from an orange.
‘Leave him!’
There was a cascade of yellow and white lights and Oster was in his dragon form. He opened his long-fanged mouth and hissed at Y’Gria, before launching himself at the god, crystal claws flying. Sebastian was aware of a startled shout from Y’Gria, and then the pressure on his neck was gone. He fell to the grass in a heap, before lifting his head to see Y’Gria and Oster roiling and hissing together, a mess of scales and claws and green-tinged snake-like roots. He scrambled to his feet, wishing that he had his sword.
There was an ear-splitting cry, and the creature that was Y’Gria scampered away, climbing up and out of sight over the stone wall in a confusion of body parts. Oster was shaking his long reptilian head back and forth, green blood on the jagged horns that fanned out around his head.
‘Oster? Are you all right?’
The dragon turned its gaze on him, amber eyes wide, and then Oster was back, arriving in a herald of lights. ‘Sebastian?’
Oster sagged suddenly as if he might fall, and Sebastian went to him, taking hold of his arm.
‘I …’ Oster looked up at him, his amber eyes full of confusion. And something else. ‘I couldn’t let her hurt you. Not you.’
‘She will be angry with you for this.’ There was a tightness in Sebastian’s chest. ‘You really shouldn’t—’
‘Everything is confusing,’ said Oster, taking his other arm. ‘But you, Sebastian. You are the one solid part of my life. Why is that? Why do I need a mortal at all?’
Oster pulled him close and pressed his forehead to Sebastian’s, closing his eyes. His skin was warm, like a blessing.
‘Please. I need you, Sebastian.’
‘Oster …’
The young god’s lips met his, and
all thought of caution was swept away. Sebastian kissed him back firmly, his hand sliding up Oster’s arm and touching the shining dragon mark there. The silver link that ran between them seemed to open like a river bursting its banks, and he knew what it was to look through the eyes of a dragon, fast and clever and ancient. He felt the need to live, to run, to hunt, and when Oster’s hand tugged at his shirt he lifted his arms up so that he could remove it faster. Oster’s tunic went next, and Sebastian had a few seconds to admire the smooth muscles of his chest before the man bent his head to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses across his shoulder. His new stubble was rough against his skin.
‘This isn’t wise,’ he managed, ‘not here,’ but he was already pulling the man towards him, pressing their bodies together, and all thought of anything else – Y’Gria, the war, the flying palace – was lost in a silvery heat. They fell down into the deep grass together, and Oster pushed Sebastian onto his back.
‘There are some very specific things I want you to teach me, mortal.’
64
The voices were with him all the time now.
They were like the itching. So constant it had faded into a faint background buzz, a thing that he accepted even as it was impossible to ignore completely. Kellan looked at his bare feet against the sand; they were as red as raw steak, his toes twisted portions of gristle. He smiled faintly.
‘Sir?’ A woman with a blue silk scarf tied over her black hair appeared next to him. He had spoken with her often, the sort of career pirate you saw all over the Torrent, but he couldn’t recall her name. The voices hushed that information away from him, as if it wasn’t important. Perhaps it wasn’t. ‘Sir, we’ve made anchor, brought supplies ashore, as you asked.’ She paused. They had also fished as much useful stuff as they could out of the water from the ship he had destroyed, but she clearly didn’t want to bring that up. She also didn’t mention those crew members now stretched out on the sand, too weak to move. ‘What would you have us do now?’
