by Tammy Salyer
“Please—ah—help!” the spark cried.
Sure his assurances would fall on deaf ears, Jaemus tried breaking through the man’s panic anyway. “Saxton, Saxton, listen to me! You’re not in any danger. The slangarook is a—friend?” He knew better than to believe that was the specific truth, but perhaps of all words it would be one that would calm the spark.
“I don’t want to die!”
Or not.
If you do not find a way to silence him, speck, I will, came the slangarook’s ominous warning.
“Er, well”—a blast of a wind caught his back, and Jaemus turned to see a much larger Glisternaut ship than the one they’d just encountered settling to the surface—“just let him go, I suppose. It looks like our rescuers—that is, our Glisternaut rescuers, are here.”
The creature did as asked, and Saxton, having seen the ship as well, began to kick his way toward it with a haste that would almost have given a fleech a run for its money.
The slangarook did a slow spin in the water to face the newly arrived craft. It was at that moment that Jaemus realized he no longer held the shelksie. A side hatch of the cosmocruiser—for he could see now that it was the same type of command ship as the Bounding Skate—had begun to open, readying to send crew out to retrieve him and the spark, who was already nearly close enough to touch its hull.
As the cruiser’s staff aided the frantic Saxton inside, the slangarook sent: In as few words as you can possibly manage, tell me what other aid the shoal can provide you. We know the danger the rogue Verity poses for Himmingaze and shan’t be idle until the one called Balavad has been dealt with.
Sighing, Jaemus sent, I don’t suppose you could convince the rest of the Himmingazians that the Creatress is real, could you? He thought a moment. No, I imagine the only reason I can hear you is because of the Mentalios. If you spoke to the Council of Nine Crests, or anyone ’Gazian, they would probably think your roars were the opening notes to a dinner fugue.
You really are a simple species if you believe your minds are that impenetrable to us. Lífs shall do what needs to be done for Himmingaze. Now, if you don’t mind, go and rejoin your own. Call us when our aid is needed again, Mystae Bardgrim. But only if our aid is needed. Spare us your insipient speck prattling…
With that, Jaemus found himself floundering alone in the sea once more, the slangarook having swum off so fluidly that he barely noticed its leaving. The danger to the Himmingazians seemed to be gone. That was, if you didn’t count a giant sea dragør capable of swallowing a human whole dangerous. He supposed he no longer did.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jaemus paddled to the cosmocruiser, somewhat desultorily if he were to admit it. If the slangarooks really could bring the whole of Himmingaze around to a better understanding of their new lease on the Cosmos, the question of “what next?” still remained. Would his world accept the truth of things, given how much more persuasive a giant, potentially man-eating beast could probably be than a few literally starstruck Glisternauts? And it struck him—was he more worried about that, or was this dispiritedness about his no longer feeling that he, personally, had much purpose anymore? His purpose had finally been achieved, after all, and the thanks he’d gotten for it was not thanks at all.
He nearly sighed again but caught himself. There had been quite enough of that. If he was incongruously sad about having nothing left to do after saving his own world, he could at least take cheer in now helping to save another. But really, was that anything to be cheerful about? He caught a glimpse of the preposterousness of his own whirling, bizarre thoughts and sympathized with the slangarook that had saved him for a moment. He really did burble a lot, didn’t he?
Upon reaching the cruiser, he steeled himself for the rough handling he expected to be in for and looked up toward the hatch. A ladder had been lowered, and a Glisternaut he recognized, Spark Engineer Bannus, was at the top, waving him up. And… smiling?
“What kept you, Glint Bardgrim? We came as soon as we could. Captain Illago will be so pleased you’re back,” the Glisternaut called down.
Pleased?
Once aboard, he still fully expected to have his hands bound. Instead, the crew member handed him a towel and asked after his health.
“… I’m well?” he half asked, half stated.
“Good, come with me. To the bridge.”
As they began the lengthy traverse through the cruiser’s passages, a handful of other crew members, all of whom he recognized from the Bounding Skate and subsequent trip to Vinnr, welcomed him back. He tried to ask what in the worlds was happening, but his escort merely said that Captain Illago would explain it all.
The bridge was expansive and well-lit, with Cote seated at the helm, where he belonged. As Jaemus entered through the main doorway, Cote spun around and stood up.
Jaemus lingered in place a few breaths—and realized he had no idea what to say.
A heartbeat later, Cote’s arms were wrapped around him. “I’m so glad you’re safe, Jae. I know I said you were a hero, but for all our anni-cycles together, I’d always thought that was supposed to be my job.”
For maybe the first time in his life, Jaemus was speechless. Finally, words returned. “But… Spark Saxton said you told the Council I wystified all your brains and tried to turn you into heretics.”
Cote gave him one more hard squeeze, then stepped back, his hands still clasping Jaemus’s elbows. “Of course we did.”
“Of… course. You did? I understand your words, but I have no idea what you’re saying, Cote. And I’m supposed to be the smart one.”
“Sorry, sorry, let me back up. I was just too excited to see you. I forgot you don’t know.”
“Don’t know…” Jaemus was starting to feel self-conscious at his new habit of trailing off, but nothing in his life had fully, or even slightly, prepared him for this new and worrisome sort of intrigue.
“The Council didn’t believe us, Jae. Not a word. They insisted that we must be muddleminded, that nothing like what we were describing was possible. They would rather have confined us all to a home for the incapacitated for the rest of our lives than believe the Creatress was real or celestial powers had brought Himmingaze out of the Cloud. So we had to think fast, and I knew the only way we would be able to stay out of lockup and be here to help you if you and the Knights needed us was to say what they wanted to hear.”
“… That’s good then, I guess. If I have it right, I’m actually the only heretic in Himmingaze, at least officially, then.”
“Well, you and Vreyja and the rest of her group of Creatress followers.”
“Oh, water and lightning! Tell me they haven’t tossed my gramsirene in a cell.”
“No, no. Don’t worry. She’s as wily as you are brilliant, Jae. She never stepped foot in Vann. The moment the Glisternauts were off their ship, she and the others just… disappeared. No one has seen them since.” He winked then, and Jaemus realized Cote knew exactly where Vreyja was but would be keeping that secret from anyone that couldn’t be trusted with it.
Jaemus took a step back and leaned heavily against the wall. He looked around the bridge and took in the smiling but guarded faces of his old crew. They were on his side, still on his side. The relief he felt was almost staggering, and a sense of fatigue suddenly hit him. Saving the world was indeed a memorable achievement, but he’d never realized it would be so tiring.
“Cote, I can honestly say I’ve never felt less like a hero. If we could just go home right now, drink every last drop of chuffee in the house, and sleep for forty Glister cycles—although, I guess we’re not going to be calling them Glister cycles much longer—I’d be willing. More than willing.”
“I know, Jae. Me too. But since you’re here now, does that mean… ?”
He shook his head. “No, things in Vinnr aren’t going as we’d hoped.”
Cote’s sea-green eyes sharpened, his gaze and posture shifting from mere man to commander of the Glisternaut fleet. “So since you’re
here, that means—what is it they need from us?”
“Nothing big really. Just, well, Vinnr needs the fleet.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You were supposed to have been done laying charges at the mainsail hours ago, Sveinungr, not getting yourself caught out by a Third Phase. I don’t think I need to remind you what’s in store for us if we’re found out.”
With slowly dawning awareness, Ulfric recognized first that his hearing was returning, and then that the voice belonged to the chancellor. His senses of the outside world had been badly muffled by his host’s Egsil’s unconsciousness, but he could hear Aoggvír clearly now. Egsil must be coming to. He was thrilled on one hand, on the other, Egsil’s own blooming alarm colored the awakening.
When her eyes opened, he caught a grainy, out-of-focus glimpse of a wooden floor through her vision. This suggested an indoor setting, and he guessed from the vantage that they were seated. Egsil gave her head a brief shake, sending a shooting pain through it that started at her jaw where the blow from Venerate Sveinungr had struck her.
“Hmmph!” she tried, and she and Ulfric realized at the same moment her mouth was gagged. “Hrrrmph!” The next moment, they discovered her arms and feet were lashed tightly to her chair. Her head was the only part of her that moved.
A sour taste exploded in the venerate’s mouth, like rancid lemon juice. Her sight came back sharply, only minor tatters clouding the periphery of her vision now.
“Stay still, Venerate.” Aoggvír moved closer. “For your own good.” She gave Sveinungr a meaningful look that Ulfric couldn’t read, and judging by Egsil’s confusion, neither could she.
The Fifth Phase venerate stepped closer too, staring into Egsil’s wide-open eyes. Ulfric’s host seemed to have little idea what was happening, but he was beginning to put it together.
“We can use her, perhaps,” Sveinungr said. “Should anything go wrong when we launch our first assault, if the charges I’ve laid are discovered, we can blame this one.”
“It would mean her death,” said Aoggvír.
Sveinungr nodded. “True, and by our own hands. We couldn’t let Balavad have her. She already knows too much, and we’ve both seen the way he’s able to get… inside. There are no secrets from the foreign Verity.”
At this, everyone in the room grew still.
The chancellor came and stood over his host. “I would like to release you, Egsil, I would. You stumbled into something you shouldn’t have.” Aoggvír’s tone sounded truly regretful. It did little to ease the venerate, however. Looking back at Sveinungr, Aoggvír continued. “You’ll need to make it look like she died accidentally while setting a charge. Take her down by the keel. Her body won’t be easily found, yet it would be the obvious place for someone intent on sabotage.”
Egsil’s breathing picked up, drawn frantically through her nostrils, and Ulfric couldn’t help but pity the woman. Overhearing the terms of one’s own death being discussed would probably be more unsettling than the manner in which one died.
Sveinungr nodded. “And what if the Ivoryssians never attack? What should we do with her? The dishonor would taint her Line for a century.”
While the two Dyrraks discussed the woman’s fate, Ulfric made his own calculations. He was shocked to learn that that the chancellor and her cohort Sveinungr had plans of their own to disable if not outright destroy some or all of the advance fleet. The reasons why—greed, self-preservation, treachery—would be easy to guess if they were anyone but Dyrraks. Yet he couldn’t quite believe any of these would be the chancellor’s intentions. Dyrraks thought of themselves as one thing: incorruptible servants of Vaka Aster. Nothing mattered to them but showing their worth. Even the Domine Ecclesium had not totally subverted this norm. He’d done exactly as Balavad had commanded him, arguably to prove his worthiness, even if it were to another Verity.
So what, then? Treachery was the only option with any teeth, but he couldn’t imagine the chancellor would be attempting to aid the Ivoryssians. The Dyrraks’ disdain for them was as fundamentally Dyrrak as breathing was.
To find out, he’d have to ask. And to do that, he’d have to reveal himself.
“Get her up,” Aoggvír said.
Egsil was panicking, her body shaking uncontrollably at the knowledge she was about to be murdered. Ulfric had to face the reality that he had gotten the woman killed, and potentially disastrously, he had no idea what would happen to him.
“Wait!” he shouted, projecting himself through the memory keeper still on the chancellor’s desk. “I propose we discuss other options.”
Weapons materialized in the two Dyrraks’ hands immediately, conjured as if from nothing. The surprise on their faces as their eyes darted around the room exceeded any expression he’d ever seen on a Dyrrak, including those who’d recently worshipped him.
“Don’t be alarmed, Chancellor. You most likely remember me. Here, I’m speaking from the pendant Venerate Egsil brought earlier.”
Everyone looked toward the open-topped box containing the pendant. From Egsil’s eyes, Ulfric could see the glow within, the crystal now illuminated with his presence. With a dart of her chin, Aoggvír gestured to Sveinungr to retrieve it. The Fifth Phase approached and stared down at it, and his face blanched. He dropped to a knee before the desk, speaking two words.
“Vaka Aster.”
After throwing Egsil an unreadable glance, Aoggvír crossed the room. When she saw Ulfric’s face in the crystal, her eyebrows drew together sternly, even angrily. Ulfric hadn’t expected the Dyrraks to think he was still Vaka Aster and was spinning through the ways he might be able to use this to his advantage. This brief encouragement, however, quickly deflated.
“No, I don’t think so,” the chancellor said. “Stallari Aldinhuus, I’ll admit that your many tricks and illusions are intriguing, but the time for such games ended when the Domine Ecclesium stained Dyrrakium eternally with his infidelity to the true Vaka Aster. Explain yourself now, starting with two things: tell us where you are, and tell us why the Knights Corporealis betrayed our maker.” She stepped closer and picked up not the pendant, to Ulfric’s frustration, but the box it was in. “If you don’t, this pendant goes into the Verring Sea to spend eternity in its depths. And you, I hope, with it.”
She knew. She knew. Maybe Ulfric yet had an ally in Dyrrakium who could help him turn the tides of war away from Ivoryss.
He’d never needed to be more convincing in his long life, even when he’d worn the guise of Vaka Aster herself.
“The Knights Corporealis never betrayed Vaka Aster. I did.” Good start, he told himself as he watched Aoggvír’s scowl turn into something frightening in its severity. “And that, even that, was because of Balavad. Let me explain.”
By the time he’d wrapped up the story, leaving out most of the events of Arc Rheunos, he had no assurance they believed him. The Dyrraks’ enduring impassivity was every bit as remarkable as their devotion to their maker. Finally, Aoggvír set the box back on the desk and broke the silence, but she wasn’t speaking to Ulfric.
“You see, I was right,” she said to Sveinungr. “The Ecclesium lost his faith and has tainted all of Dyrrakium because of it.” In a fluid, unexpected swing, she buried her dagger angrily in the desktop beside the pendant. “When I’m finished carving him up, his bones will be used as serving ware, and I’ll crush his eyes to jelly on Penitence Rock while all the empire watches.”
Ulfric let the image of that pass unexamined through his thoughts, knowing she meant each word literally, then said, “So you’ll help me?”
“From what you’ve told us, Aldinhuus, you’re as effective in stopping Balavad as a fly. What good can come from helping a fly?”
Ulfric clenched his ephemeral jaw. She was acting exactly like he’d come to expect—like a Dyrrak, to be precise. “You think you can stop a Verity on your own? He obviously has no concerns he won’t be able to control you, and hasn’t even seen a need to make you into one of his puppets.”
He thought he detected the skin around her eyes tighten at the insult, but her self-control was infallible.
“I truly want to know, Chancellor, why scuttle the fleet under your own command? What are your plans from here, knowing that the Domine Ecclesium has all but handed the realm to a foreign Verity and broken every vow to Vaka Aster the Dyrraks hold as dear as the honor of their own Lines?”
She studied him, then looked at Sveinungr, saying nothing aloud but much through her eyes. The Fifth Phase venerate appeared to consider her unspoken words and tilted his chin a fraction in agreement.
“We need to draw the might of the full Dyrrak Phalanx away from Dyrrakium,” she finally said. “It’s the only way we’ll be able to attain Vaka Aster’s vessel and steal it away from Her Holiness Balavad—and from Dyrrakium if we have to.”
Her? Ulfric thought, then remembered the Knights’ explanation. Balavad’s new vessel, a spy left behind in Vinnr, was a Battgjaldic woman. With Battgjald destroyed, the spy was just one of who knew how many remaining. Balavad had had the foresight to seed the Cosmos with many other potential vessels in his quest to control it all. Though the Battgjaldics didn’t blend in well among the Vinnrics, there was no saying how many still existed in other realms, saved from Battgjald’s destruction by their absence.
Putting that aside, Ulfric said, “You’re trying to protect Vaka Aster’s vessel.”
“Since you failed to, yes.”
That one stung. But the truth of it was right there, undeniable.
The chancellor continued. “Despite it being certain death, we’re sure the Ivoryssians will launch whatever paltry attack they can at some point, and when they do, Sveinungr, I, and several others will damage our own ships enough to make it seem as if the Ivoryssian forces have more strength and weapons than they do. We’ll be able to force our crews to withdraw and reassess, and buy our allies in Dyrrakium more time. If the Ivoryssians have any sense, those who can will flee and save their lives.”
