‘It was I who gave her permission to dwell here,’ hissed the barsk. ‘And I can rescind or limit that permission. Know only this: if I find you here again, you will belong to me. Firstly, I will question you. Then I will slay you. Within this city, I am now the law. Wherever I am is the law. And my words are the law. Do you understand?’
I bowed low. ‘Aye, Chacckan, I will do your will,’ I said, giving him the title for Lord, which Peri had told me was used for those who held high rank north of the wall. At that, the barsk seemed to relax and, with a final glare that was no doubt intended to cow me, turned the orl and rode away.
The encounter had unnerved me, but all I could think about were the problems faced by a Genthai archer seeking to shoot an arrow into the eye of either the barsk or its mount. It seemed to me that both would prove very tricky targets.
SOMETHING TOUCHED MY NECK
A sycoda djinni such as Hob thrives on the need for revenge.
He has a capacity for infinite cruelty.
The Manual of Nym
KWIN
It was so dark I couldn’t see Hob, but I could still hear his heavy breathing. He was standing very close. I smelled his sour breath, tainted with old blood. Even without vision I had a sense of his size. In my imagination, he loomed over me like a giant.
I had no doubt that he intended to kill me, but I wouldn’t make it easy for him. Despite his warning not to raise my dagger against him, I tensed my muscles, preparing to do just that. Fear made my heart flutter, but I still believed in myself. I had a chance and I intended to take it. I was fast enough to cut him before he snapped my neck. I readied myself, judging the distance to his throat.
‘Put aside your little blade. I do not intend to kill you now,’ Hob said. ‘I’ll defer that pleasure until later.’
‘You killed Goodwin!’ I exclaimed.
‘His death was merciful and quick,’ he replied. ‘I prefer to kill slowly, and will do so again in future.’
‘But why – why did you kill him?’
‘His will be the first of many such deaths. There was an attempt to destroy me. When that failed, there was a rebellion against djinn rule. The Protector has been removed from office and imprisoned. That cannot be tolerated. He must be restored to power and the Genthai must withdraw from this city.
‘I have pondered upon what has been done and carefully calculated my response,’ Hob continued, his booming voice making the air reverberate around me. ‘Until those conditions are met, I will kill and kill again, targeting those associated with that rebellion. I have spared your life, but will not do so the next time we meet. I intend to slay you in front of Leif. I will kill you slowly, and your suffering will be great – I will delight in witnessing the anguish on your faces. Tell Tyron that. Tell him also that he is on the long list of those I intend to kill. My retribution will be never ending. Even some of the innocent will suffer and die – even those who played no part in the rebellion.’
There was a long silence, apart from Hob’s heavy breathing. Then he spoke again.
‘You remind me of your mother.’ His voice was suddenly much softer. ‘You have her looks and, more importantly, her strength of mind. Yours is the kind of human mind that I shall enjoy breaking.’
‘What do you know of my mother?’ I demanded angrily.
I realized that Hob could see in the dark. He could see my face clearly, and must also have looked upon my mother’s face before she died.
Hob didn’t reply.
But then something touched my neck. My first reaction was to flinch away, but I forced myself not to step back. I realized that Hob was now stroking my neck with his cold fingers, from my jaw to my collar bone.
It was abhorrent to me, but it was also good: his voice had given me some clues, but now I knew exactly where he was in the darkness. I could judge the distance to my target.
Everything he’d said had stoked up the anger within me. I was already balanced on the balls of my feet. I was ready. This was the moment.
I took a step forward and lunged towards his throat. I was very, very fast and my blade was surely on target. But it simply sliced through the empty air.
Suddenly the lights went on again, and I saw that Hob was no longer there.
Slipping the blade back up my sleeve, I looked down and saw poor Goodwin. I knelt down beside him, avoiding the dead eyes staring up at the ceiling. There wasn’t a mark on him, not a spot of blood. But he wasn’t breathing and his head was tilted at an impossible angle, his neck snapped.
He’d been nice – attentive, clever and witty, and on our first encounter he’d made me laugh. I could have blamed it on the punch, but that would just be an excuse. I’d flirted with him, and if I hadn’t done that, his parents wouldn’t have made the proposal that had sealed his fate.
Then he wouldn’t have been here with me when Hob appeared.
Poor Goodwin would still be alive.
There was no easy way to break the news. Back in the function room, everyone was smiling and nodding politely, sipping their drinks and being sociable.
Avoiding eye contact and attempting to compose myself, I passed through the guests, heading straight for my father.
He could read my face like a book: one glance told him that something was terribly wrong. We went outside, and I gave him a brief summary of what had happened and the threats Hob had made. By then I was trembling from head to foot.
My father took over. He informed the militia guarding the west wing of the palace and sent word to Konnit, the leader of the Genthai. This took just a few minutes. Next he spoke privately to Goodwin’s parents. I was grateful that he didn’t ask me to be there. He did his very best to prevent panic.
People panicked anyway.
The screams and sobs of Goodwin’s mother were the catalyst. Soon everyone knew that Hob had slain Goodwin in the lower levels of the palace. They couldn’t get out of the building fast enough.
Back home, my father called me up to his study, where we could talk in private. He made me search my memory and go over what had happened; to repeat Hob’s threats word for word, as far as I could remember them. It was exhausting, and I was still feeling upset after Goodwin’s death.
‘I’m sorry I had to put you through that,’ my father said, patting my hand when it was over, ‘but I have to know exactly what he said. Ada told me that Hob is a type of djinni called a sycoda; they have skills that make them good interrogators, though spying and torture are their main functions. They’re vindictive, and enjoy inflicting pain. Their threats are precise, and they rarely deviate from them.’
He sighed and reached for the bottle of red wine. Then he seemed to think better of it, lowered his hand and shook his head.
‘The Genthai won’t withdraw from the city and the Protector will certainly not be restored to power, so Hob will embark on his murderous attacks. It’s clear that everyone involved in the plot against him will be targeted – that probably includes their families. We can tighten our security and assign guards wherever feasible, but people will die; we can’t guard everybody. This is what I’ve been afraid of. It’s going to be bad.’
‘Hob said that I had my mother’s face,’ I said, watching my father’s expression. His face grew pale – though any reference to my mother always made him sad.
‘He was playing with you, Kwin; trying to hurt you in any way he could. He’s a torturer, and sometimes he uses words as his instruments.’
‘Would he have seen my mother?’ I asked.
‘No doubt. He shifts his shape and walks amongst us unseen. He might have passed her in the market place or glimpsed her in the yard as he strolled past this house. But he is right. I love both my daughters equally but you have your mother’s face – and her indomitable will and fiery spirit too. Sometimes I’m too quick to chastise you – but it is because you remind me so much of her: I hit out in anger because of my own pain.’
Tears flowed from his eyes and I went over and hugged him until he was calmer. Whe
n I left, he was already reaching to pour himself a glass of red wine.
It started badly. Hob began by attacking farms that lay at some distance from the city. Whole families were slaughtered – men, women and even young children. Nobody was spared.
A dozen such attacks took place the night after Goodwin’s death. Hob was using many of his selves to carry out the murders. After a second night of random slaughter, this time in the city, emergency measures were put into place. Genthai warriors had previously patrolled only the city outskirts and the main roads between Gindeen and Mypocine. Now they were permitted in the city to supplement the militia.
They also encircled Hob’s citadel – though that achieved nothing. The killings continued. Either Hob was using secret tunnels to access his lair or, being a shape-shifter, many of his selves already walked amongst us unrecognized.
My father told me that I was to be assigned an armed guard who would accompany me whenever I left the house. I didn’t argue. The danger was very real, although I thought Hob would wait for Leif’s return and try to kill me then.
My guard was waiting in the yard, a tall, muscular figure in Genthai chain mail that came down to his knees. He also wore a black hood and a short cape buttoned to his chin. That was to conceal his throat-slit – for it was Thrym, the sentient lac created by Ada. Together, he and Leif had defeated Hob in the arena.
He nodded to me, and then followed me towards the admin building. At the door of my father’s office he gave a little bow. ‘I will wait outside,’ he said. ‘Call me if you need me.’
‘Firstly, come in, Thrym. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.’ I was curious about him. He’d escorted Leif to his first meeting as mediator between the Genthai and the Wheel Directorate.
At that meeting Thrym had thrown a spear, slaying Cyro, who lorded it over the Commonality, where many lacs were stored. Cyro had been cruel and tyrannical, forcing those lacs to fight each other in an arena surrounded by long blades. Many had died appalling deaths, cut to ribbons by those blades. What he’d done was illegal, but because money was to be made, the powers that be had turned a blind eye.
After executing Cyro, Thrym had disappeared. Some thought he’d gone to join the feral lacs that were thought to live below the Commonality.
We entered the office and I brewed a herbal tea and poured it into two cups. I handed one to Thrym, then we sat down facing each other.
‘What have you been doing with yourself?’ I asked, smiling at him.
‘Waiting for Leif to return,’ he answered. ‘My hope is that Hob will issue another challenge and we can fight him together once more.’
‘But while you’re waiting, what do you do?’ I persisted.
‘Sometimes I carry out tasks for Konnit. Sometimes I meet Ada and Tyron. We talk of the future and things that might come to pass. We plan.’
‘They say that you went down to the area below the Commonality. Is that true?’
‘Yes, I have been in contact with the feral lacs,’ Thrym told me. ‘Now that Cyro is dead and conditions have improved, some have chosen to return to the upper levels and now train with their previous masters.’
‘You say that they have “chosen” to do that … I thought you were the only sentient lac. Are the others also aware?’
‘They are not fully sentient, as I am, but they have a dim awareness. I am able to communicate with them in a way humans cannot. I am concerned for their welfare. Just as Leif, with his dual heritage, could talk to both Genthai and city dwellers, so I can mediate between humans and lacs. They deserve better treatment. Once we have destroyed Hob, I intend to represent their interests.’
‘Yes, they’ve been badly treated,’ I agreed. ‘But some artificers, such as my father, have looked after them well. When you intercede for the lacs, I’ll support you. I wish we could destroy Hob now!’
‘The time to do so lies not too far in the future. But fear him not. While I watch over you, he will not touch a hair on your head.’
Either because of Thrym’s presence or because of his own threat to kill me in front of Leif, Hob made no move against me – though others paid a terrible price.
On the fourth night of the massacres, a single farm was attacked. The farmer, his wife and two of his sons were slain. One son was spared.
It was Deinon.
Hob knew that he was being trained by my father, and told him he would also die, but at a later date. How scared Deinon must have been to find himself face to face with Hob, his family murdered.
Neighbours agreed to take care of the animals and he was brought back to our house. It was days before he managed to regain any sort of composure.
On the seventh night six more farms were attacked, and precisely thirteen houses broken into in the city, every occupant slaughtered. But that night the Genthai had their first success: one of Hob’s selves was caught out in the open and cut to pieces.
Most people thought that this would only provoke Hob. Terror gripped Gindeen and the surrounding countryside.
Like everybody else I was afraid of Hob, but I was even more terrified that Leif would not return. We had expected him back long before now. With every day that passed my sense of foreboding increased.
Then, in Gindeen, things reached crisis point.
Hob had demanded that the Genthai withdraw from the city and that the Protector be restored to power.
At last the Genthai gave their reply.
They executed the Protector.
WE RULE THE STARS
When djinn confront each other, a handshake is the preliminary routine exchange of information to establish identities and purpose.
It is the first stage in protocol.
The History of the Conflict by Eitel the Pessimist
LEIF
I was not permitted to watch the Games.
Shalatan asked that I be allowed to attend if I was chained, but the barska and orla forbade it. They were now the law in the city, and she was subject to their will.
I was frustrated. During the afternoon I stood in the open doorway of my hansha, not daring to venture into the garden in case I was being observed. The huge circular arena was roofed, but I could still hear what was happening within.
There were drumbeats, cries and chants. Every so often these sounds were punctuated by cries and shrill screams, as if a combatant was in mortal agony.
That night Peri visited me and gave me some very bad news.
‘The barska and orla have demanded that Shalatan deliver you into their hands within the week. They say that you are a spy and must be executed.’
‘Will she do that?’ I asked.
‘She has protested and will delay as long as possible, but eventually she must accede to their demands. I am sorry, Leif. I had hoped that we would travel north together.’
I realized that I needed to escape soon. However, I had to conceal my plans from Peri. I changed the subject. I was curious about the day’s events.
‘How did Shalatan’s warriors fare today in the arena?’ I asked.
Peri smiled. ‘Lots were drawn to determine the order of combat. My lady’s do not fight until tomorrow.’
‘What’s the nature of the combat?’ I asked. ‘What are the rules?’
‘Djinni fights djinni, and the victor moves up the rankings while the loser moves down. All manner of weapons are permitted – though of course my lady does not enter the arena herself.’
‘How is victory achieved?’ I asked. I had been wondering about this. In Arena 13 a contest was won by cutting the flesh of a human combatant. In this arena, did they fight on until all the selves of a djinni were slain?
‘I am the target. If I am killed, my lady loses.’
I looked at Peri in astonishment. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being hurt, let alone slain. She was the nearest thing to a friend I had.
‘Why you?’ I asked.
‘Because I am Peri the Communicator. Battles in the arena are the ultimate communication. It is the
method by which rank is determined. It is right that I should be the target.’
I was concerned about Peri, but I knew that, with this new threat to my life, I had to leave as soon as possible. In reaching the High Wall I had achieved everything our mission had hoped for. If I could make my way back to Midgard safely, Garrett would not have died in vain. Although I no longer had my father’s map, I knew now that it was accurate, and the details were clear in my mind; we could now follow the safest route, avoiding the Grey City. Once we reached the High Wall, we would control the gate and could hold this position against the north.
The biggest threat to us on such a journey would be the winged creatures. But at least we now knew of that danger, and could perhaps devise a defence against them.
Each day I waited anxiously for Shalatan to return. To my relief, the first two battles were won by her warriors, but on the third day the unthinkable happened. Peri was slain.
As the warriors brought her bloodied corpse into the garden, I ran over, cradling her head, looking into her unseeing eyes and weeping. The warriors just stared at me, unmoved.
Then Shalatan drew near, and before I could speak she pointed her finger at me. Once more, my heart fluttered in my chest and I fell into darkness.
From that moment on I was confined in a small cell, deep underground, with food brought to me only once a day. But at last, after almost a week, the warriors took me to a circular chamber, which was identical to the one in the krie-kore. There I faced Shalatan, who was seated on a high chair, dressed as I had first seen her, with the ornate daggers at her belt and the black torc with the rubies at her throat.
I knew that it was my place to answer, not to question, but I was angry and still filled with grief for Peri.
‘Why have I been so badly treated?’ I cried.
To my surprise, Shalatan did not reprimand me; there was something that might have been compassion in her eyes. ‘The barska and orla seek your life and demand that I surrender you to them tomorrow before the sun is high. I cannot refuse. I have been too tolerant: I have failed to keep you as a prisoner should be kept. As I taught you our language, we grew too close. That is my fault, and that is why they demand your life. Now it is over. But do not think that I give you to them willingly. My intention was to take you north for judgement. Were the choice still mine to make, this is what I would do. I did not wish it to end this way.’
The Warrior Page 11
