And then they were at the throne room itself, the doors crashing open, an utter catastrophe being played out inside. He’d planned for the Emperor to die, the whole damned point was for the Emperor to die, but it still struck him with astonished fear, to see a blood-soaked figure turning towards the throne, sword raised. Orhan shouted something incomprehensible. The men, his own and Tam’s both, screamed with rage.
The bright figure lunged. I’m actually going to see it, Orhan thought wildly. I’m going to see the Emperor die. Whatever comes after, I’ve done it. I’ve brought down the throne. I’ve ended a reign that has lasted a thousand years.
It took him rather by surprise, therefore, when three of the men he’d paid to kill the Emperor pushed the fourth out of the window before he managed it, and then jumped out after him.
The men froze, swords pointing at each other, baffled mutters on their lips. The Emperor collapsed into a heap with eyes so wide with terror they looked like wild horses’ eyes, shit spreading in his lap. Tam Rhyl and Orhan Emmereth faced each other, frowning, each daring the other to make the first move.
Orhan took the only course he could see open to him.
He stepped forward, stabbed Tam in the stomach and prostrated himself before the Imperial Throne.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Thalia opened her eyes. Utter darkness, as always, the shutters of her bedroom closing out all light. And silence. The deep silence of the Temple at night, no one waking, the darkness of the God filling everything.
But something was wrong. She could feel something, pressing around her. A weight. Fear, flowing over her like water. An ache filling her head and her heart. Something was coming. Something was there.
She slid quietly out of bed and lit a candle. The tiny flame was like a jewel in her hand. Without thinking why, she changed from her night robe into a dress. Then she extinguished the candle again. Her eyes blinked for a moment, but the darkness was easy for her. She opened the door to her bedroom and stepped out. The corridor outside was faintly lit, moonlight and starlight filtering in from high windows. And another light. She started and peered out, almost needing to rise up on tip-toe to look. There was a red light in the sky, and smoke.
She crept further down the corridor, towards the stairs down to the rooms where the other priestesses slept. All the windows were shuttered, no one else would have seen. Fear filled the room.
The stairs creaked ahead of her. She stopped, drawing back. Not that way. There was another staircase, down from the back of her bedroom, leading straight to the heart of the Temple. She stole back into her bedroom and went down that way, creeping blind in the dark. She was not even sure how she knew something was seeking her, unless it was through the warning of her God. Demons, she thought. Death things. The ghosts of those she had killed. Then she took a deep breath of the dark air, drawing the dark into her, and knew better. Not demons. Men.
The stairs twisted and turned, the darkness like a living thing. She held her hand against the wall, but went on without hesitating, unafraid. She could see in the dark with her mind, as well as she could see in the light. She knew life and death and light and dark. But the men creeping down behind her would be afraid.
She came to the antechamber at the foot of the stairs. Now came the danger. The only way out led across the Great Chamber, blazing with light. No hiding place. No way to avoid being seen. But the light was her place also. Great Tanis would shield her there, as well and as safely as in the dark. And beyond that was the Small Chamber, the place of death absolute, where she would be safe. The place none would dare to go but herself.
The door opened silently at her touch and Thalia was in the Great Chamber. She gazed around her. Candles blazed, rich golden light; so much light there were no shadows on the floor. Only towards the great high ceiling did the shadows come. The air was warm and welcoming. The red light of the lamp on the High Altar gleamed.
Creaking and a muttered curse, quickly cut off, from the dark behind her. The men, coming down the stairs, frightened by the power of the God. Why did she not cry out, alert the others in the Temple? But the dark and the silence were inviolate. The God was here. The men following her were afraid. And she was the High Priestess, the greatest and holiest woman in the Sekemleth Empire. She would not shout out in fear.
She slid quickly across the Great Chamber, towards the heavy curtain and the room beyond. Slipped quickly behind it, into the Small Chamber that smelled always of blood. Her place. The High Priestess’s place. She would be safe here, surely.
The two slaves crouched against the walls, as they always squatted, day and night, sleeping and waking, waiting for their mistress to bring a life for them to bind, waiting for their mistress to leave a corpse for them to remove. Thalia had never spoken to them. Did not know if they could speak. To hide and wait and watch was their purpose. They too were tools of her God and her duty, like the knife and the stone itself. In the pitch dark of the room their eyes regarded her with dumb curiosity. She stood before the stone, looking at the dim arch of the curtained doorway.
A long time seemed to pass. It was cold in the Small Chamber, despite the heat of the room beyond. Thalia shivered in her thin dress. Faint sounds from the Great Chamber, men creeping in the light, looking for her. There were three entrances through which she could have gone. And they would not dare this one. A voice, muffled, whispering something, agitated, afraid.
The curtain lifted. Not just moved aside but pulled away completely, flooding the Small Chamber with light and heat. Thalia almost cried out in anger. How dare they? How dare they? Four men with swords came towards her.
The two slaves rose to their feet, blinking in the light, confused. The fear of death take you! The fear of life take you! But they came towards her unfearing, undying, and she knew they had come to kill her. They killed the slaves who stood dumbly before them, the pattern of their lives so shattered they could do nothing but stare open-mouthed as the swords went through their hearts. In their long years of service in that room they had perhaps forgotten there was a world beyond the Small Chamber and the Great Chamber and the High Priestess and the knife.
She was frightened. Frightened down into her bones. They had come to kill. They had come to kill her. She thought of reaching down for the knife in its wrappings of cloth. But that would be pointless. She knew how to kill with a blade, not how to fight with one.
I am the High Priestess of the Lord of Living and Dying, she thought. The Beloved of Great Tanis. The most powerful woman in the Sekemleth Empire. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Darkness. The darkness of death. The darkness of living. Darkness and fear.
Power rushing through her.
Darkness and light. Life and death.
Every candle in the Great Chamber went out.
The men screamed in terror. The crushing power of the God coming down. Thalia darted in front of them and began to run.
She did not even know where she was running to. The great door of the Temple was closed but not locked. Never locked, day or night. She could not go back into the warren of corridors. There might be more men there, with more swords. And Ausa would be there, with no hands and no eyes. I will live, she thought. I will live, and live. She ran through the narrow passageway, finding its entrance by feel, by the strength of her desire for life. She pushed open the door, smooth on its hinges. She ran down the steps of the Great Temple, with people scattering before her in the night, and into the street beyond.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Marith opened his eyes. He was in a garden, lying on soft grass. The air smelled of jasmine and lilac blossom. The honey-sweet perfume of roses. Damp leaves. A fountain plashed like children laughing. Birds called from the trees. The ground was cool and pleasant. Everything twinkled with tiny shards of coloured mage glass, red and blue and green and white. Pieces were still falling, raining down on him. He watched them dance as they fell. Like jewels. Like snowflakes. Like eyes. Overhead, the great red star of the Dragon’s Mou
th burned down.
He had no idea how he’d got there, or even where he was. In the gardens of Malth Elelane, on a summer’s night? Then Carin would be there beside him. He stared up at the Dragon’s Mouth. Perhaps he ought to get up. His whole body seemed to be hurting. His mouth tasted of blood.
There was someone beside him, getting to his feet, groaning as he did so. Carin? It didn’t look like Carin. And Carin wouldn’t be holding a sword. Would he?
He was in the gardens of the Summer Palace of Sorlost, and Carin was long dead, and he’d just fallen out of a window.
Marith sat up. Tobias was leaning against a wall. Alxine was sitting next to him, his right arm a shattered mess of blood and bone, his face a mass of bruises. Rate was kneeling retching onto the grass.
‘You … pushed me …’ Marith’s voice sounded weak and distant in his mouth. ‘I was going to kill him … You stopped me.’
‘I did.’ Tobias helped him get to his feet. ‘We ought to get moving. People will be looking for us.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the other bloke paid more.’
They began to walk slowly through the gardens. A silent pleasure ground of flowers, everything heavy with the scent of damp earth and soft petals, overlaid with the stink of death. A languid silence held. The palace burn behind them, the light of the flames making their shadows dance.
They came to a pool in which huge water lilies floated. Marith bent down and washed his face and hands. They were filthy with blood and ashes, the water that ran off them was black and vile. It glimmered with tiny fragments of mage glass.
‘There’s no one around,’ he said.
Tobias grunted. ‘All dead, probably.’
‘Where are we going, then?’
‘Out of this accursed palace. Out of this accursed city. Back to the meeting place, like was agreed.’
They came to a high wall of white porcelain, grown up with jasmine and wisteria and pale sweet peas. Too tall and smooth to climb. They followed it along a little and came to a colonnade giving onto a small courtyard. Marith laughed. The Gate of Weeping. They’d come full circle. They were back where they began.
Tobias sat down on the lip of the dry fountain, rubbing at his leg. He was limping badly. Not as badly as Rate, who was barely walking, he and Alxine supporting each other, their breath short and gasping with pain. The marble woman looked down on them, pouring out her empty vessel onto dry stone, a small shy smile on her face.
‘The gate might be locked now,’ Tobias said slowly. ‘And gods only know what’s behind it. Might be the whole Sorlostian army. Might be chaos. Might be nobody’s even bloody noticed what’s been going on here. The city gates are shut fast for the night, even if we make it that far. And we’re so covered in filth nobody would let us out of them anyway. We’ve got maybe two, three hours till dawn. And when the light comes up we need to be somewhere where nobody can see us. Especially not you, Lord Prince. You look like …’ He barked out a short, cold, harsh laugh. ‘You look like what you are, boy.’
‘So where are we going, then?’
‘I wish I knew. Anyone got any ideas?’
Somewhere I can get enough drink and hatha to drown myself. Marith shrugged. ‘Not really, no.’
They approached the gate. Tobias listened at it, then tried it carefully. It opened and the street beyond it was empty, though there was a sound of distant shouting and the occasional crash. They stood in the shadows by the high white wall.
‘You didn’t really think this bit through, did you?’ said Marith. ‘Or did you just assume we’d all die before we got this far?’
‘I’ve just laid waste to a palace, double-crossed a member of the Sorlostian high nobility and my commanding officer and walked out of it alive with all of my men still in possession of a head and four limbs each,’ said Tobias shortly. ‘I’m pretty impressed with myself, personally, thank you, boy. And getting out’s always the hard bit. There’s no point thinking it through. Whatever you plan turns to shit. They really weren’t meant to turn up with a whole load of soldiers at the end though. The guys in black were all meant to die rather more easily and Lord White Robes was supposed to give us a hand, not just gawp at us.’
‘We could try the Five Corners.’ It was the first time Rate had spoken. His voice rasped painfully, as though he had too many teeth in his mouth. ‘They might … let us in … We’ve got clothes there …’ He trailed off. No one on earth would let them in, looking the way they did. Not to let them out again, anyway.
Alxine said slowly, ‘We find a house to hide in and wait it out until they open the gates. Bit like we did in Telea.’
Tobias shook his head. ‘That was a bloody siege. Half the houses were abandoned. Aren’t many houses round here that aren’t inhabited, as far as I’ve noticed.’
A pause. Then Rate said, ‘There’s a solution to that.’
They all looked at Rate. Oh no. No, no. Not that. Not that.
Tobias laughed harshly. ‘You think? You can’t hold a sword to fight, lad. You couldn’t kill a new-born baby, state you’re in. And you couldn’t do it anyway, not when it came to it, could you?’
‘True.’ Rate’s eyes narrowed. ‘But Marith could.’
They all looked at Marith. Oh no. No, no. He looked back at them. Rubbed his eyes wearily. All the joy had gone out of him. Replaced with shame. Disgust. He never wanted to see another drop of blood as long as he lived. He never wanted to hold a sword again. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. Just make it stop. Make it all stop. Make everything go away. Help me, he thought distantly. Help me. Please.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes again. ‘As long as I get the best bed afterwards.’
It was a small house, tucked next to a bookshop with an alley running off the other side. Quiet, so the neighbours wouldn’t overhear.
He’d thought about it carefully. Not too run down: it had to have half-decent beds, a bath, food in the cupboards. Not much point doing what he was about to do for lice and rats and an empty larder. Not too wealthy either, that someone might be concerned about its inhabitants if they disappeared for a few days. Middling. Dull. Just a house. It was just bad luck for the people inside he happened to choose this particular one. It had grey and black beams on the outside that he rather liked, and a yellow door.
Hoped whoever lived there would be out gaping at the heart of the city burning down around them, or running like hell to get away from whatever foreign army rumour had it was invading. But they were all in bed fast asleep. And so Marith went through the house and killed everyone in it. There was in fact a new-born baby. He killed it. He killed three children, three women, two men, a dog and a cat. Then he found a bottle of what was probably wood alcohol and drank it as fast as he could. By the time he reached the bottom he’d almost blotted out the noise the baby had made before it died. Then he lay down in the best bed and slept for a long time.
Meat. Tea. Warm bread. Wood smoke.
Marith came cautiously down the stairs, following the smells and the sound of voices. He was still covered in blood and filth. Every part of his body hurt. His head was pounding so badly he could hardly see. The sound of the baby’s crying rang in his ears. It was a triumph that he was alive at all.
A large, bright kitchen. Tobias was cooking salt meat and eggs. Rate and Alxine were sitting at a table eating bread and butter and drinking tea. There was a jug of milk on the table. Warm afternoon sunlight poured in through a small window looking onto a garden thick with fruit bushes.
‘You haven’t even taken your bloody armour off,’ Rate said almost cheerfully. Marith looked down. He hadn’t. He’d woken to find he was still holding the sword as well. Luckily the blue flames had gone out. Alcohol, magic fire and bedclothes probably wouldn’t have been the ideal combination for a restful sleep.
‘I’d suggest you have a wash before you come another step closer,’ Rate continued. ‘You are possibly the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen, right now. My Lord Prince. That smell is
really putting me off my food.’
Tobias drew him a bath and helped him peel off the layers of torn clothing and armour, scrub blood and ashes from his hair. Tiny pieces of mage glass streamed off him as he washed, leaving the filthy water twinkling. He’d seen the sea like that, once, alive with phosphorescent creatures. None of the clothes they could find for him fitted, but they were at least clean. Finally he sat beside Rate by the hearth, shivering despite the evening heat. Tobias served him bread and milk and tea and greasy fried meat. An uneasy calm seemed to have come over all of them. They crept around him without speaking of it; he did not speak of it either. But Rate’s eyes strayed occasionally to a bolted door at the back of the kitchen, around which flies were beginning to buzz.
You look like what you are, boy.
‘What’s going on outside?’ Marith asked at last.
Rate frowned. ‘A lot. We had a peek out earlier. Palace finally seems to have stopped burning, but now some other buildings have gone up as well. People on the streets with swords. Could almost be the beginnings of a civil war, by the look of it.’
‘Which would be a right pain,’ Alxine put in, ‘since they might keep the gates closed.’
‘Noble families fighting,’ said Tobias. ‘The ones as paid us to kill His Eminence, and the ones as paid us not to. And the ones as just feel they should probably get involved now everyone else is. Probably all good and happy. They’ll get it all sorted in a few days and go back to just being rude to each other at parties.’
Marith closed his eyes, trying to remember things. All he could see was blood. ‘That man, the man in white … Lord … Lord Rhyl. He paid us to … to kill everyone apart from the Emperor?’
The Court of Broken Knives Page 22
