The Copper Promise

by Jen Williams

  ‘Sir Sebastian?’

  ‘He was a mess, full of rage and grief at what they’d done to him. We became friends, and he started helping me out on some jobs.’ She looked up at her friend, her gaze considering. ‘He wanted to be the worst of us, you see. The most feared, the most ruthless sell-sword.’ Wydrin smiled faintly. ‘He certainly had the skills for it – I’d never seen anyone fight like him, but that wasn’t really Seb.’ She grinned in the dark. ‘Oh, he was wild for a while and we got into some right scrapes, but in the end –’ She paused, searching for the right words. ‘In the end he became a steadying hand on the rudder. Sebastian’s a good man, and he can’t ever escape that.’

  ‘And Gallo?’

  ‘And Gallo,’ the blond man stepped forward, sketching them an elaborate bow, ‘is here to be your guide to the depths of the Citadel.’

  ‘It’s a good thing you turned up when you did.’ Sebastian appeared at his shoulder. ‘The architecture is distinctly unfriendly.’

  Frith stood up.

  ‘You have explored this place? You have the map?’

  ‘My dear man, when you have come to know the Citadel as well as I do, you have no need for maps.’

  8

  Sebastian felt as though a dark cloud had been lifted from his heart.

  The whole thing had been Gallo’s idea; break into the famous Citadel of Creos and carry off the loot. Simple enough, but no other adventurer had ever managed it – and that, of course, was the point. A story to tell in the taverns that no one else could rival, and, Gallo insisted, they would have more offers of work than they knew what to do with.

  Sebastian had been reluctant. For one thing, no one was paying them to do it. Usually they raided a tomb or a temple because some half-sane crackpot was after the sacred gem of something or other, but even your biggest crackpots steered well clear of the Citadel. And secondly, they were shorthanded; Wydrin was away visiting with her brother Jarath, and not expected back for weeks. He insisted they wait: to gather information, find a patron, give Wydrin a chance to join them. Anything rather than take on the Citadel underprepared.

  And Gallo’s patience, what little of it there was in the first place, had run out.

  ‘If you had come when I asked you to, none of this would have happened,’ said Gallo. ‘I couldn’t stand all that waiting and planning, Seb, you knew that. There were adventures to be had, places to be explored! Secrets to be uncovered. And, let me tell you, I have found a few.’

  Wydrin and Frith were following on behind, both looking a little frazzled, but Frith looked up at the mention of secrets.

  ‘What is it you have found, exactly? I have paid your companions a great deal of money to explore this place, and if you have access …’

  ‘All in good time, my white-haired friend!’ Gallo called back over his shoulder. Lowering his voice, he leaned in to Sebastian. ‘Where did you find that one? He speaks like his tongue is made of silver but he looks like a mongrel’s favourite pissing post.’

  Sebastian suppressed a chuckle.

  ‘He is the Lord of Blackwood, heir to Blackwood Keep. Fallen on hard times recently.’

  Gallo nodded sagely. He turned to Wydrin and Frith and gave them his most charming smile.

  ‘You are tired, and hungry, and no doubt smelling quite terrible by now. I will take you to a place where we can rest for a while and eat. Then we can talk about what I have found here.’

  But that wasn’t enough for Frith.

  ‘How is it you are still here? You have been here weeks, by my reckoning, yet you look none the worse for it.’

  Gallo waved a hand at him dismissively.

  ‘I shall get to that. Here, down these steps and then there will be time for questions.’

  They trooped down a winding staircase, so narrow that Sebastian’s shoulders brushed the stones on either side, until they came to a tall, thin set of doors. Gallo pushed them open and threw his arms out to his sides in a gesture of welcome.

  ‘I present to you, the banqueting hall of the mages! Come, sit and eat.’

  They stepped into the room beyond. Wydrin swore softly under her breath. Sebastian shook his head as if to clear it.

  It was a long room of dark grey marble, with a huge table running the length of it, and a hundred chairs set for dinner. On the walls were great stained-glass windows that shimmered in a thousand different colours, casting a rainbow of lights onto the stone floor. There was no possible way daylight could reach them down here, and yet they shone as if a bright summer’s day waited just outside. More extraordinary still was the contents of the table itself: it heaved with food.

  ‘How is this possible?’ asked Frith.

  ‘Who cares?’ cried Wydrin. ‘I’m half starved.’

  ‘A feast,’ said Sebastian as he approached the table. ‘Food fit for a king. For the mountain gods themselves.’

  There were whole roast pigs with apples in their mouths, their skins crisp and glistening with fat. There were silver platters full of rich red meats, and wooden bowls full of potatoes, carrots and parsnips, steam rising off them gently as if freshly cooked. Tureens of huge, rainbow-scaled fish with their heads still on nestled next to smaller bowls filled with the tiny salted shoaling fish of the Yellow Sea, and the famous blue lobsters of Crosshaven. There were red apples stuffed with spiced raisins; fat golden pastries filled with cream and dusted with sugar; huge loaves of crusty bread pierced with toasted seeds, and whole hams, pink and juicy. And all around were tankards, flagons, bottles and barrels of beer, ale, wine, mead, brandy and Tocar, the fiery drink native to Pathania.

  Wydrin took a seat and began tearing into a loaf of bread with her hands, while Frith approached more cautiously. He picked up a goblet of wine and sniffed it.

  ‘Magic?’

  ‘You could say that.’ Gallo walked the length of the table, plucking an apple from a silver tureen and polishing it against his sleeve. ‘Go on, eat. It’s not poisoned.’ He took a bite out of the apple and chewed with apparent relish. The crunch sounded very loud in the empty hall.

  Sebastian realised how hungry he was. How long since they had eaten? He and Wydrin had grabbed a hurried breakfast of eggs and blood sausage at the Boiled Dog, but that had been so early the sun had barely been poking its shining brow above the horizon.

  ‘It must be late by now,’ he said. ‘We’ve probably missed more than one meal.’

  With a lurch, Sebastian realised he had no idea what the time was, or even how long they had been inside the Citadel. Time was strange here, down in the dark between these secret walls, as though it were draining away down hidden cracks, pooling in unknown crevices. The thought made him uneasy, so he picked up a flagon of mead and took a long, deep swallow. It tasted of summer days, bright and unending.

  ‘The mead is good, anyway,’ he said. Frith looked less than convinced, picking up a slice of ham and turning it over in his fingers, but Wydrin was already dragging the plate of blue lobster towards her, a silver fork held in one fist as if to harpoon it.

  They sat and ate for a time, the drinking and chewing and swallowing filling up the need for conversation, until they could consume no more. Sebastian took a last gulp of the glorious mead and, setting down the tankard, mouthed the traditional prayer of thanks to Isu. Looking up, he saw Gallo staring at him, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

  ‘You still do that, then,’ he said, pointing to the badge of Isu on Sebastian’s cloak. ‘Still praying to your chilly mountain gods.’

  Sebastian rubbed the crumbs from his fingers, suppressing a sigh. He and Gallo had never agreed on the subject of Sebastian’s faith.

  ‘Enough of my little quirks, Gallo.’ Sebastian cleared his throat. ‘You’ve yet to explain how you’re here, what you’ve found, or how you’ve existed in the Citadel all this time. I’m sure you have some stories you’re dying to tell us.’

  ‘We need to know what you’ve found,’ put in Frith, leaning over his plate. The Lord of the Blackwood had eaten slow
ly and carefully, cutting up each piece of meat and using all the correct cutlery. ‘Have you seen a chamber, somewhere far beneath the central structure of the Citadel, containing a pool or a lake?’

  Gallo nodded hurriedly.

  ‘Yes, I have seen evidence of such. But let me tell it from the beginning, my friends. I understand I have a lot to explain.’

  Wydrin belched into her hand and waved at Sebastian to pass another bottle of the rich red wine.

  ‘You talk, we’ll drink,’ she said cheerily.

  And so he did. Gallo told them of arriving in Krete, drunk on adventure and desperate to explore the Citadel, how he had paid off the Kretian Council with the money he and Sebastian had collected and hired a guide with what remained. Sebastian felt a flicker of annoyance at that, as Gallo passed over his betrayal as though it were a small thing. He told them how they had entered the Citadel with the aid of his explosives, and how he had lost his guide.

  ‘How did you manage that?’ asked Wydrin.

  ‘There was a terrible creature hidden in the ceiling.’ For the first time a shadow passed over Gallo’s face. ‘It reached down with inhuman arms and pulled poor Chednit up into the shadows. I didn’t see what happened to him but I heard the screaming, and I saw the blood.’

  Sebastian stiffened, horrified to see his friend in such pain.

  ‘I’m sorry, Gallo.’

  Gallo nodded mournfully, staring down at his plate.

  ‘Chednit was a good sort. Brave, even if it was braveness for the sake of coin.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with that,’ said Wydrin.

  ‘He told me we should wait for you, Sebastian. He wanted another sword arm in that dark place. Perhaps he was right.’

  ‘What happened then?’ The light from the lamps cast Frith’s scarred face into sharp relief. There was a hunger in his eyes that Sebastian did not like.

  ‘I wandered, lost.’ Gallo did not raise his eyes from the table. ‘For the longest time. My supplies ran low, my water ran out, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn back, not after … not after what happened to Chednit. Not after taking my good friend’s money. It was dark, but I eventually found places that were lit, like this one. I soon discovered that the map made no real sense, and so I moved listlessly from room to room, searching for something, anything, to make this adventure worthwhile. Eventually, just as I thought I would die of thirst, I found it.’

  ‘What about those strange little men in bandages? Very pale, dusty, sleep in glass tanks?’ Wydrin broke in, holding up her goblet and swishing the wine around for emphasis.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We were attacked by a group of these beings,’ said Sebastian. ‘They tried to force us from the Citadel, and told us they were fighting a war. They called themselves Culoss, I believe.’

  Gallo smiled, although it looked false.

  ‘The Citadel is full of wonders, but these I have not seen.’

  ‘Let him continue,’ demanded Frith.

  ‘I lost track of time. I could have been wandering for days, weeks even. Just when I thought I would die down here and never feel the sweet kiss of sunlight on my face again, I found a room containing a number of huge, clay jars, each nearly as tall as a man and all sealed with a blue wax. It took a great deal of work to get the lid off the first jar, and by that time I was very weak, but when eventually I broke the seal I found a cache of wonders.’

  ‘Like what?’ asked Frith.

  ‘Treasures beyond counting, and enough gold to get even your blood flowing more quickly, your lordship.’ Gallo grinned, although the humour was lost on Frith’s stony expression. ‘And secrets, more of them than I could count. There were maps to enchanted rooms such as this one, where the mages would come to eat their fill every day and never have to lift a finger for fetching or cooking. It saved me from certain starvation.’

  ‘What of the treasure?’ said Wydrin. Her green eyes were wide, and Sebastian fancied he could almost see golden flecks glimmering there, reflections of a thousand gold coins. ‘Where is it all?’

  ‘Too much to carry, my Copper Cat,’ Gallo said, ‘but I did keep this bow for myself.’ He indicated the fine longbow that had saved them. ‘And this was too special to leave behind.’ He drew a dagger from the belt at his waist and held it up to the light. It was an exquisite thing; the grip was covered in fine red leather and traced with golden wire, while blue sapphires and fire-bright rubies glittered on the narrow crossguard. Even the blade was enamelled gold and etched with strange runes, but for all its finery it was fearsomely sharp. Gallo laid it against a side of beef and the flesh parted as though the dagger were white-hot.

  Wydrin was entranced.

  ‘It is beautiful.’ Sebastian could see her imagining how it would look hanging at her waist, perhaps in place of one of her own claws. ‘And there are more like this?’

  ‘Swords and daggers beyond counting, as well as crowns, coronets, necklaces and rings set with gems as big as your thumb, a thousand—’

  ‘What of these maps?’ asked Frith abruptly. ‘Did they show the location of a great lake?’

  Gallo frowned again. There was something in that frown that looked a little forced to Sebastian and that made him uneasy.

  ‘No, my white-haired friend, but there were other rooms with other jars, not far from here.’

  ‘Can you take us there?’ said Frith.

  ‘Hold on a moment, what about the treasure Gallo has already located?’ said Wydrin. ‘I say we go and gather as much as we can now, before the Culoss come back.’

  ‘It might be useful to catalogue what is here,’ said Sebastian. ‘We can add to the map, share our information.’

  To his surprise, Gallo shook his head and stood up.

  ‘Why go over old ground, when there is so much more to explore? Now that you are all here with me, this will be three times as enjoyable.’ Gallo flashed that grin of his again, and Sebastian couldn’t help returning it.

  ‘All right, but I’m not leaving this room without taking something to eat on the way.’ Wydrin unrolled a small sack from a loop on her belt and began filling it with bread rolls and honeyed pastries. ‘Sebastian, how do you feel about carrying a few bottles of that wine?’

  9

  The jars were every bit as impressive as Gallo had described. Frith, ignoring the dull ache in his leg, hobbled over to one and placed his gloved fingers against it. The jar was only a head shorter than himself, and wide enough in circumference for him to have climbed inside it and sat quite comfortably, had he been able to perform such a feat with a crippled leg. It was made of red clay, covered with an intricate pattern of swirls and circles. The longer Frith looked at them the more he thought that they had a meaning beyond decoration, but if they did, he doubted even a lifetime of staring would reveal it. The lid was sealed over with blue wax, smooth and somehow unpleasant to the touch, even through the leather of his gloves. He circled the jar, looking for clues as to what might be within.

  ‘Have you seen these books?’ said Sebastian. The big knight was standing by the wall, looking up at the library arrayed there, his face alight with wonder. And in truth, it was an extraordinary sight. The room they were in was small, but the ceiling was very high, and each wall was lined with bookshelves right up to the very top. They were clearly ancient, their spines crooked, and a good few of them were encrusted with mould. The books were of all shapes and sizes; a true treasure-trove of knowledge. Even the library at Blackwood Keep was not as well stocked, and Frith’s father had spent years gathering his collection from all over Ede. At the thought of his father and his cosy, cared-for library, a shadow passed over his heart. No doubt the books were all gone by now, sold on to collectors across Litvania and beyond.

  ‘They are strange, though,’ said Wydrin, who had joined Sebastian by the bookshelves. ‘Look, how would you reach those ones at the top? There are no ladders. And here –’ she tried to pull one of the volumes from the shelf, disrupting a small civilisation of dust, but a thin metal
chain had been poked through the spine, preventing it from being removed. She gave it a tug, only to discover that the chain passed through all of the books on that shelf, holding them all in place. ‘What is the point of a library if you can’t read the books?’

  ‘It hardly matters,’ said Gallo. He was pacing around the room, staring at the jars. ‘Are you not anxious to see what other secrets are held in these jars? They are not easy to open, I promise you, so best get to it.’

  Frith saw Wydrin raise her eyebrows.

  ‘You can make a start, Gallo,’ she said. ‘Nothing’s stopping you.’

  Gallo laughed, and held up his hands with the palms facing up.

  ‘And deprive you of the discovery? I wouldn’t dream of it.’

  Frith looked up at the rows and rows of books, and dismissed them. It would take an age to look through them all, even if they could get the volumes down from the shelves. The jars were a faster prospect, and if Gallo was correct, they could well contain the information he needed.

  ‘He’s right,’ he said, pulling a dagger from his belt. ‘Start removing the wax.’

  Wydrin gave him a poisonous look, but came over all the same.

  It took them a good while to get into the first jar, just as Gallo warned; the wax was thick and ancient, dried so hard it was almost stone. Wydrin suggested just pushing the jar over so that it smashed against the flagstones, but Gallo spoke up against that quickly, and Frith agreed. They had no way of knowing what was inside, and they could be destroying something delicate with their impatience to get at it. Frith was thinking of the maps that could be in there, so frail and thin by now that a careless fingertip could cause them to crumble into dust, taking the location of the mages’ secrets with them.